#not sure if this makes sense but it does in my head and i can write so many words about all the parallels
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11. dusky pink
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.7k
chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance.
an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
“You didn’t have to come to help me.”
Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”
A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”
Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”
It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”
“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”
Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”
Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.
Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.
But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.
“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”
Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”
“But...?”
Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”
Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”
“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”
Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.
Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”
Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.
Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”
His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”
“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”
He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.
“I think you could do something like this.”
Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”
“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”
Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”
Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”
Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.
“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”
Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”
“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”
It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”
“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”
Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”
“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.
Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.
Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.
Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?
If I did, was it appreciated?
I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.
I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.
Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.
See, we have our things.
Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.
I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?
I think I could find something for you to sit on.
Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.
Be a good movie, though.
[SENDS PHOTO]
Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.
It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.
I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.
You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.
Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen.
I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.
Yours love me.
I am very aware.
If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.
Have I told you how pretty you are today?
Such a charmer.
[SENDS PHOTO]
See I knew you looked pretty.
Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.
For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.
Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.
Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.
It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.
You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.
You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—
The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.
Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.
And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.
“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”
He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”
Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.
"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”
Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.
“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”
Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.
And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.
“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.
And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.
Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.
He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.
“This one!”
Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”
His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.
“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”
Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”
“Cause of the spikey back?”
Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”
“He has a little beak too, right?”
Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"
“I’ve been doing my research.”
At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.
Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.
The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.
“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”
“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.
Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”
Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.
“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.
Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”
Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.
“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.
Think you have a new fan.
Stop, do I really?
Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.
Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.
Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?
You not sick of me?
Not even a little bit.
I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.
The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.
It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.
“He hasn’t shut up about you.”
No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.
“Yeah?”
“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”
Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”
And you ramble.
For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.
“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”
You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”
“You’re a filthy liar.”
With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.
“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”
“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.
Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”
“Pretty sure that’s my line.”
Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.
“And, really like? That’s a new one.”
“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”
Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.
A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.
But, then, he’s not anyone.
“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”
Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”
“Only if you have the space too.”
“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”
Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.
“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”
“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”
Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”
“Frankie…”
“Have I… Is it too much?”
Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.
“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”
Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”
“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”
“I’ll make sure to move it next time”
Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”
Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.
You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.
“Send me a photo—post-training.”
His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.
“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”
“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”
Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.
Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.
“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”
“Would you, though?”
Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”
“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”
Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”
“I’m glad I’m useful.”
Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”
Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”
“You sure about that?”
Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”
“You're so thoughtful.”
Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.
Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.
“Frankie…”
“Baby, why don’t we hang—“
“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”
“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”
Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”
Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”
“Francisco!”
His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.
“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”
“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”
Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
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starting our forever, baby
9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 2.1k words | s7 spec, prev bucktommy, getting together, love confessions, love is stored in the kitchen
Eddie wakes up to a surprise visit from Buck and they finally talk about forever.
Read on AO3
Eddie wakes up to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen and the smell of pancake batter and hot butter. Neither of these things is cause for alarm nor out of the ordinary but he is ninety-eight percent certain he went to sleep in an empty house.
He rolls out of bed, shrugging on a sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of soft socks out of his drawer on the way past and to no surprise finds Buck in the kitchen.
“Hey! Eddie,” Buck smiles brightly at him as Eddie cautiously perches himself on a kitchen stool. “Good morning.”
Buck is bathed in sunlight from the kitchen window behind him, a halo of gold filtering through his soft curls, gel-free and touseled on the top of Buck’s head in a way that Eddie wishes he would let them be more often. “Morning, Buck. You’re here early.”
Buck bustles around the kitchen, pulling milk out of the fridge and grabbing a mug from the top cupboard, his body moving around Eddie’s kitchen as if it has been programmed with an innate sense of where to find anything and everything. He could be convinced that Buck knows his way around Eddie’s kitchen better than Eddie does. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just–it’s been a while, yeah? And I feel like I haven’t seen Chris in ages–I miss the kid–and I figured he was probably, if not missing me, at least missing my pancakes. I hope he hasn’t been letting you make them.”
Buck pours coffee from the pot into the mug, tops it off with the precise amount of milk that Eddie prefers, and sets it in front of Eddie before turning to the frying pan and flipping the pancake. “I know you’ve been improving in the cooking department–I can see it, Eddie, and I’m proud of you,” Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “But pancakes are my department.”
“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.” Eddie quips and Buck whips around to wave the spatula at him.
“Exactly!”
“Buck,” Eddie presses carefully because there’s a frantic energy fizzing beneath Buck’s skin, he can see it in the way he moves, the line of his shoulders, and the exaggerated way he swings his arms. “Christopher isn’t here. He’s on school camp until Friday.”
“Oh, right, I knew that.” Buck’s whole body joints to a stop like a record skipping on a turntable and then just as soon he’s back in motion again. “That’s okay! I brought lemon juice for on your pancakes, we can save the bacon for the weekend when he gets back.”
Eddie’s heart grows three sizes in his chest, threatening to burst out all over his kitchen and cover Buck and the bench top in a flood of emotions he’s spent the last month and a half trying to fold smaller and smaller until he can safely tuck them away beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone but himself.
“Buck?” The other man glances at him before turning back to the stove, giving a soft hum in response. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Buck grins at him again but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time.
“You’re buzzing, and not the good kind.” Eddie stands and rounds the counter, he leans against the other side while still giving Buck as much space as he needs. He presses again, softer this time. “Buck? What’s going on?”
Buck deflates and turns the stove off, removing the pan from the element and leaning against the other counter opposite Eddie. “Tommy and I broke up. I broke up with him, or we broke up with each other, I guess.”
Eddie isn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew Buck and Tommy’s relationship had been going smoothly. They were a good fit, even Eddie could tell, as much as it sometimes pained him to admit. But he was happy for them. Seeing them dance together at Maddie and Chimney’s wedding had filled Eddie with a sense of pride even when it also left him feeling like he was walking with a permanent rock in his shoe—a phenomenon he could finally put a name to after a few long talks with Frank and an enlightening if not nervewracking night at a bar called the Peacock that Hen had suggested he visit for ‘research purposes’.
“I thought you really liked Tommy?” Is what he finally manages to say once he unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“I do,” Buck says. His arms are still full of static as he gestures with his hands in that way that Buck does when he’s nervous or overwhelmed and he’s not looking Eddie in the eyes. Buck shakes his head. “I did. I did, and Tommy is wonderful but I think we both realized that it wasn’t going to last. He got offered a job, down in Mexico.” Buck pushes away from the bench, pulls two plates out of the drawer, and starts dividing the stack of pancakes between them.
“After the whole fiasco with the cruise ship, the LAFD decided they wanted someone on the ground down there as a sort of link between the Los Angeles rescue helicopters and the team down in Mexico City. They’re going to put him in charge of his own team and he’s been working towards some sort of promotion for ages so he’s really excited about it.”
“He didn’t ask you to go with him did he?” Eddie can’t help but let the question burst out of him. The thought of Buck leaving already feels like tearing out a lung but he also knows he’s in no position to ask Buck to stay, certainly not for Eddie’s sake.
“He did, sort of.” Buck shrugs. “I think he already knew I wouldn’t say yes. L.A. is my home, I couldn’t leave the 118, I couldn’t leave Maddie and Jee-yun. Christopher, the thought of being anywhere that kid isn’t is just—and I know he’s not—but I still couldn’t. I won’t. Tommy knows that. He also knew that I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Me?” Now Eddie has to swallow down a lump of surprise. Eddie doesn't think that little of himself, he knows he’s important to Buck, they are important to each other, but important enough to be the reason Buck stays in Los Angeles while his boyfriend moves to another country?
Buck turns to place two plates, carefully stacked with fluffy, golden pancakes, each drizzled in lemon juice and sprinkled with sugar—Eddie’s favorite—on the kitchen island, and then he’s facing Eddie again only feet away in all his early morning glory and Eddie dares to hope.
“You.” Buck rests one hip against the counter and turns the full power of those bright blue eyes on Eddie as he finally makes eye contact for the first time all morning. “Yes, you, Eddie. Tommy is lovely and sweet and he has been so, so good to me for the last two months, we’ve been good for each other, I think.”
Eddie breaks the eye contact, he’s heard all about how wonderful and lovely Tommy is for the last two months and while he has been so happy for Buck, truly, it has also been agony. But then Buck is stepping up into Eddie’s space and gripping his elbow. Buck ducks his head until he can catch Eddie’s eyes again and follows his gaze until Eddie gives up on trying to hide from him.
“But it was never going to work long-term, I don’t think it was ever meant to. He’s very sweet and we get along well but it never got any deeper than that. We made better friends than anything else.”
“Okay, so you ended it on mutual terms and he’s moving to Mexico?”
“Not for a few months but eventually he is yes.”
“A few months?”
“Next February.”
“February? Next year? Buck that ages away, why break up now if he’s not leaving until–.”
“Because it was time.”
“Time for what?”
“To stop lying to myself, to you.”
Eddie almost bites his tongue. “Lying to me? Buck, I am so confused right now. Did you hit your head? You do remember coming out to me right? You’ve been dating a man for the last two months. You brought a man to your sister’s wedding. Honestly, I am still living off of the high that I got from seeing your mother’s face when you kissed Tommy on the dance floor, that was—.”
“Eddie!” Buck laughs around his name and it’s the sweetest sound Eddie has ever heard. “Would you let me finish talking? Please?”
Eddie nods. “Right, yes. Sorry. Proceed.” He swings his arm out dramatically and Buck pinches the skin on the back of Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes.
“Eddie,” There’s a seriousness to Buck’s tone that Eddie doesn’t hear often. “I don’t want to presume anything okay, so if I’ve been reading this wrong then please tell me because I don’t want to make this weird, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you uncomfortable but—.” Eddie watches the tick in Buck's jaw tighten. “There’s something here, right? You and me?”
“Do you think there is?” Eddie whispers into the space between them, barely getting the words out past where his heart sits in his throat.
“I dare to hope there is,” Buck whispers back. “I would like there to be. Eddie, you’re my best friend, you’ve been my rock for years and I love you more than anything but I also—I also think I might be in love with you, and I think I have been for a long time.”
“You think?”
“Like pretty God damn certain actually.”
“Good, good.” Eddie nods, barely keeping the grin from breaking across his face. He can feel his lips twitching with the effort to suppress it. “That’s good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He steps into Buck’s space and leans forward until he can press their foreheads together. Buck’s arm slides from Eddie’s elbow to around his waist and Eddie rests his palm against Buck’s chest, sliding it up until he can wrap his fingers over the swell of Buck’s shoulder and press his thumb into that divet in Buck’s throat where Eddie can feel the heat of him and the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the pad of his thumb. “Because I am definitely in love with you.”
“You never said anything.”
“I didn’t know and then I did but you were with Tommy and you were happy. I was happy for you.”
Buck breathes deeply and Eddie reveals in the way it rushes past his cheek. “What about you?”
“I’m happy now,” Eddie says and it’s true, and realizing that only multiples the happiness tenfold. “I’m so happy I could burst.”
“Happy that I got dumped again?”
“You didn’t get dumped, you said it was mutual.” Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “But yes, happy that you might finally be mine, that I might finally get to be yours.”
Buck leans back and when Eddie opens his eyes he finds Buck’s eyes glassy and brimming with tears.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Buck says and Eddie pulls him into his arms until they are chest to chest, chins hooked over each other’s shoulders and wrapped up in each other so completely that Eddie could not tell you where one of them ends and the other begins and it feels so right, so right to have Buck so close to him, for them to be one and the same. They breathe together for a long time, squeezing each other closer whenever the micro fraction of an inch between them begins to field like football fields of distance.
“We take this slow, we do it right,” Eddie says carefully, pulling back just far enough to cup his hand around Buck’s cheek and hold his gaze. A niggly part of his brain tries to remind him of everything that could go wrong, of everything they have to lose, but a bigger part of him can only hope for everything that could go so beautifully right.
“We have the rest of forever, after all.” Buck’s smile is soft at the edges and it smoothes the jagged parts of Eddie’s worry.
Eddie leans up and presses one gentle kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, allowing himself that much for now. The rest will come, he is in no rush for the rest of his life. On Friday Christopher will be home and they can make pancakes again. At the end of the month, Buck’s lease will expire and Eddie will finally have an excuse to never let Buck leave his house again. In February they will wave Tommy off at the airport and Eddie will get the chance to thank him properly. Soon enough they might get to dance at another wedding, maybe their own, definitely together, for the rest of forever.
“Forever and a day.” He promises.
#buddie#buddie fic#911#season 7 spec#prev bucktommy#meegs writes stuff#911 on abc#buck x eddie#eddie diaz#evan 'buck' buckley#911fic#911 fic#eddie x buck#911 fox
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“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾
“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer”
additional tags: (wrongly) assumed infidelity, miscommunication that gets resolved, this must be an au bc mickey would obv never interrupt his own sleep to leave the apartment
Mickey steps carefully into their apartment, taking great care to shut the door without being too loud. He closes it with barely a click. But nothing can prepare him for what happens next.
When Mickey turns, it’s like he’s stepped right into a 90s romantic drama, the single floor lamp clicking on to shine in a perfect spotlight, revealing where his husband is very much awake, and very much waiting for his return.
He’s sitting on the couch. Tucked up in his bathrobe and the most unimpressed frown.
“Fuck.”
���Who is he?”
Mickey glances from left to right. Behind himself. Looks at Ian again, his heart still pounding in his chest from the startle. “Who’s who?”
“Don’t gimme that.” And now Ian’s standing up, gathering his robe around himself as he prepares to fire off The Chin. “You disappear every night - yes, I noticed,” he states before Mickey can interrupt. “Bring a bag with you… Come home sweaty… I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re fucking bad at hiding this, Mickey.”
It takes a second for everything to sink in. For the endorphins from the last couple hours to start pumping upward into his brain this time.
And… Damn.
Ian caught him.
To be perfectly honest, Mickey thought he was getting away with this shit - was being real cagey and everything too - even getting a shower in before sliding back into bed with him.
“Two hours. That enough to meet up with him and do what you gotta do?”
Meet up with who? Yeah right. “You think I can get somebody out at this hour?” Mickey asks, his confusion starting to put him on edge. “Been doing this shit all on my own. Well-... I mean ‘cept for the other handful of guys who show up sometimes…”
And the way Ian’s eyebrows rise is almost as startling as how he stops in his tracks, repeating the words back to him with dragged out intensity. “‘Handful of guys’...?”
It’s got Mickey slugging his bag off his shoulder, the dramatics of it all really killing his high. “Christ, Ian. What’re you bein’ so bitchy for-”
“What am I being bitchy for.” There he goes again, repeating shit. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Mickey are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah - what - I was doin’ this shit for you, anyway. Thought you’d at least be excited about it.”
Oh. Fuck. Ian does not like that. “Excited?” Off comes the robe, in a flurry of angry movements. He’s running hot, and not in a good way. “Why the fuck would I be excited about my husband cheating on me!”
And it’s-...
He’s-...
Wait a second.
“What?”
“You thought you could go out every night and meet up with a ‘handful of guys’ and I’d be jumping for joy?” He sure is using air quotes like he’s having a good time with it, but no no no-
“What the-...” Mickey shakes his head, trying to clear the air because holy fuck, “I ain’t fuckin’ cheating on you, Ian - the hell?”
“You just said-”
“Christ, you think I’m out bangin’ other dudes?”
“Wuh-...! You-...!”
Mickey rubs a hand over his mouth, everything suddenly making a whole lot of sense. The dramatics. The theater of it all. Ian was catching him coming home from the act, but ‘the act’ ended up being two very different things in their respective heads.
“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes out, going for his bag so he can put that thought immediately out of Ian’s head. “Look.”
He tugs the zipper open. Starts dumping out its contents on the floor right between them - his gym shoes - his old-ass iPod - a workout shirt - socks that stink so bad that they’re all he really needed to avoid all this. One whiff would’ve immediately made things clear.
But it’s enough now. Ian is slowly putting all the pieces together, the worry in his brow evening out and his chin returning to normal pointedness. Finally.
“You…” you says, hope returning. “You’ve been…going to the gym…?”
Mickey gestures to the pile of clothes in between them, his tone evening into something honest. “Yeah, man. Thought you wouldn’t notice once you knocked out…”
Ian eyes over everything one more time. Then slowly, his lips pull into a small pout, those eyes flicking away. “I notice every time you’re not in bed.” ‘Bitch.’ He wants to add it so bad. Mickey can practically see it trying to break through.
But he doesn’t. And there’s something so sheepish and honest and vulnerable about it, that Mickey can’t help but smile, peace returning as he stuffs his clothes and shoes back into his bag. “Fuck would I ever cheat on you for, ya dummy?”
A beat passes. Thoughts lingering. “I dunno… I just thought-...”
“Well stop.” It sure makes a lot of sense, though. Now that he sees it through that lens. Fuck, he’d probably think the same thing if their roles were switched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to getchya all riled up…”
“S’okay…” Ian watches as Mickey gets himself sorted. Still has a lot of questions trying to get out - he can tell. And it starts with this one. “What do you mean you were doing this for me?”
It’s the correct one - right away. And Mickey’s glad he asked, actually. Because if he must know…
The floorboards creak beneath his shoes as he steps up into Ian’s space, his muscles warmed up and ready enough to finally show off his skills.
And when he does it - when he wrangles his giant-ass husband in and hauls him up until he's got those thick thighs straddling his waist, Ian’s startle and wide eyes say it all as Mickey slots him up against the wall - all two hundred pounds - keeping him held up in his arms.
“Been goin’ to the gym so I can lift ya,” he preens, impressed with his own strength.
Because he’s been working for this moment. For the look of sheer shock in Ian’s eyes from the rush of it - how it simmers into delight and pride and something much, much steamier the longer he holds him up.
And damn, that little breathy, impressed laugh that huffs out between them. “Fuck, Mick…”
Oh yeah. This is what all that 2am weightlifting has been for.
“You like that, huh?” Mickey grins, the atmosphere shifting familiar and fun - heavy in a good way. “This do it for ya?”
From his arms, Ian nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes a second to eat Mickey up with his eyes, those big arms wrapping around the back of his neck.
He probably thought he was doing a decent job at hiding how hot he gets with this - when Mickey can make him feel small and moveable.
They’re both absolute dogshit at keeping secrets, it turns out.
[ send me a smutty one-liner ]
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Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz
Title: Is this right?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz
Characters: Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz
Prompt: Carlos has his first rut, since mating Charles.
Charles throws all his stuff into his room and makes his way to Carlos' room, just like he does every race weekend, it's surprising that Ferrari still bother to pay for two rooms, especially since now they are mated, thanks to the accidental mating bite during Charles' last heat, but it's been the best things that's happened to them.
"You need to leave, sorry Charles." Carlos' pokes his head round the door, his usual perfect hair all over the place. "Why?" It comes out a lot more bratty than he intended, but it's almost been two weeks since he's seen his mate and the omega inside of him is crying out for it.
"Rut, I can't control myself around you." This is news to Charles, his rut isn't scheduled until the summer break. "I'm your mate Carlos, that's why we were together for heats and ruts or whatever." Charles pushes past Carlos and goes into the room.
"But, I can't control myself Charles..." Carlos' rut scent is so strong in the room, that Charles can feel himself slicking up, soaking his underwear. "I will help you Carlos."
That must be all Carlos needs to hear because the next thing Charles' knows is, Carlos rugby tackling him and flipping him onto his stomach on the bed. Charles squeals in delight, hard cock rubbing against the bed sheets.
"Going to fuck you so hard." Carlos growls, ripping off Charles' sweat pants. "So wet for me, such a good little omega." Carlos pushes his face into the wet patch on Charles' boxers and eagerly licks up the slick, leaking out of him.
"My perfect omega." Carlos' pushes down Charles' boxers shorts and pushes his tongue into the river of slick leaking from Charles' hole. It feels amazing, Charles digs his fingers into the sheets and thrusts up his ass, wanting even more.
"I can't wait anymore, are you sure about this?" Charles whines in protest as Carlos pulls away from him. "Please Carlos." The Spaniard is back instantly, pushing a pillow under Charles' body, raising his ass to the perfect angle.
"Fuck Charles, such a pretty omega, i'm going to fuck you full of my pups." Carlos takes his own dick into his hand, it's huge, Charles can't wait to feel it filling him up, fucking him, breeding him. "Please Carlos."
Carlos seems to have lost all his senses now, he gives a growl as he lines himself up against Charles' dripping hole and sinks inside. It feels like heaven, he can't help but let a long moan at finally getting what he wants, to be filled up by his alpha.
"Mine, mine ,mine." Carlos growls starting to move instantly, filling Charles with brutally hard thrusts, using his hands to spread Charles' cheeks apart, watching as his cock disappears inside of him.
Charles squeals in delight as Carlos takes his arms and pins them behind his back, his lips pressing against his ear. "Who do you belong to? " Charles moans arching his back. "Yours, all yours alpha."
"Yes Carlos." Charles see stars as Carlos hits his prostate dead on, his cock lays leaking and abandoned below him, he's too high up to rut against the bed sheets and with his arms behind his back, he has no choice but to take what Carlos gives him like a good little omega.
"Please Carlos." Charles moans, pushing his hips back trying to get Carlos to hit his prostate again. "You take what I give you, omega." Carlos growls into his ear, it sends shivers down his spine.
Carlos does start hitting his prostate with every thrust, slamming into it so hard, Charles can barely keep up, wave after wave of pleasure fills him up. "Do you want my knot, pretty little omega?"
"Hmmm." Charles can barely focus, his orgasm is almost here, with one last slam onto his prostate he comes harder than he ever has in his life, spilling his load over the sheets below him.
"I said, do you want my knot, omega?" Carlos thrusts into Charles with all his might now, his knot getting bigger and bigger with every thrust. "Please, give me your knot, want to feel it inside me, filling me to the brim."
"Going to knot you baby, fill you up with my come and put my pups inside of you, bet you would love that?" Charles moans. "Please alpha, give me all your pups." That must have set off the primal part of Carlos' brain off, he growls and sinks his teeth into the mating bite on Charles' neck, opening up the old wound.
"Fuck, Carlos." Carlos grunts in response, licking up the blood on Charles' neck in a silent apology as his knot swells to full hardness and catches on Charles' rim, keeping them stuck together.
"I'm sorry Charles, are you okay?" Carlos comes back to his senses, at least for a little while until the next waves starts. He gently moves Charles onto his side and pulls them into a spooning position. "I'm fine Carlos, nothing to be sorry for at all."
"I know I helped you with your heat, we just didn't discuss this." Charles shrugs. "I just assumed this what we do, you help me and I help you, we are mates after all."
Carlos' knot finally pops and fills up Charles with his hot, alpha cum. "As much as it pains me to say it because i'd love to put a pup in you but are you still on birth control?" Charles nods. "No pups until my racing career is over."
"I want to knock you up so bad, put so many pups in you, lock you away and pregnant, keep you just for me. Would you like that Charles?
It seems round two has started much faster than Charles thought.
#formula 1 fanfiction#fanfic#mxm#fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one#mxm smut#charles leclerc#carlos sainz#charlos#c2
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Can I request for Dina?? Vampire Dina and fem reader fluff and also smut? Hope that makes sense. Anyway, hope you’re having a nice day:)))
Yes ugh I love writing for vampire!au’s it’s probably one of my faves. Also idk if you wanted a fic, or headcanons, but you’re getting headcanons so ENJOY😝!
Warnings~
𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟~
✧ since she’s a vampire, obviously she has increased senses. So she’ll 100% do things that get your heart racing and blood pumping (she likes the smell of it..yeah🤞🏽)
✧ is sooo possesive over you, anything or anyone that dares looking at you the wrong way will be dead before they can blink.
✧ whenever you guys are out on a mission together, she’s always guiding you by the small of your back or holding your arm to make sure you don’t fall. (Bc you’re clumsy asf but so is she, so it just works out)
✧ clickers, zombies, and whatever else decides to stumble along your path tend to stay away from you when your with Dina, it’s like they know what she is.
✧speaking of this ⬆️ you told her that one time and you swear it went straight to her head, giving her even more of an excuse to stay near you at all times.
✧ is ALWAYS sneaking up on you, she takes advantage of your weaker instincts, and uses it to fuck with you. And when you get mad when she does sneak up on you, she’ll just smother you with hugs and kisses to shut you up.
“Y/n,-“
“Shit!” You exclaim, heart beating rapidly from the startle your girlfriend gave you. “Fucking hell, Dina! Do you want me to die of a heart attack?” You’re being dramatic, and you both know it. “Mhm, you’ll be fine, babe.” She purrs as she wraps her arms around your waist, planting slow, wet kisses on your neck that make you lean back to give her more space to kiss, a low hum of satisfaction coming from her as you do so.
𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭~
✧I feel like this goes without saying, (but ima still say it) SHES A BITERRRRR. she has such a blood kink (obvi..) so she’ll bite you where she KNOWS other people will see. She’s addicted to the way it looks
✧ another thing shes addicted to is your taste, you always taste so sweet no matter what. (Especially when you’re on your period, you suggested it one time and you swear you saw her jump for fucking joy at the idea of eating you out on your period-plot twist tho, she’s a feen for it and will be between your lefts every time you’re bleeding. No matter how overstimulated you are.)
✧ loves to toss you around and fold you into whatever position she wants you in, the way your body is so easy for her to manhandle makes her head throb and pussy acheeee
✧ She can smell whenever your horny and 100% will tease you until you feel like you’re gonna pass out. And if you’re in public too? She won’t hold back. She’ll just force you to stay quiet while she shoves another finger into your drooling cunt while whispering mean things into you:(
“Such a dirty girl..is this what you were thinking about? Me shoving my fingers into this greedy little pussy? Yeah? Mhm, you’re so cute, babe..”
✧ is OBBSESSEDDDD with your thighs and stomach, always leaving marks and bites on the soft flesh whenever she eats you out.
✧ she gets so drunk off of you, whether is be from your pussy, or your blood, (or both) she always has a dazed look in her eyes that has you giggling breathlessly
A/N~ short, I apologize<3
#luvv4j4ybe11#tlou#tlou fluff#tlou Dina#dina tlou#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou part 2#the last of us#the last of us dina#Dina tlou fluff#dina x reader#dina x fem reader#dina x you#Dina x reader fluff#༄❤︎︎𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#༄❤︎︎𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#vampire Dina
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Could you pretty please give us some rosekiller hcs as you did for jeggy
oh nonnie i would absolutely love to give some of my rosekiller hcs <3 (i’ve copied over some from my “domestic hc” list, so those will be first and i’ve added some other ones on as well!)
— evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)
— barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.
— save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked
— evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)
— i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty
— freaky ass mfs. barty loves to receive praise while degrading someone else, and this dynamic works out really well between him and evan because evan finds a thrill in how barty’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he’s praised and how vulgar and open it makes him feel to be degraded by barty
— there’s a universe where barty is a dirtbag runner ( @moon-seas the idea has not left my head once) and he’s dry scooping preworkout before he goes on his runs while evan is swirling his little glass straw around his cup of fucking fresh pressed cucumber and kale juice
— evan’s obsessed with barty’s teeth, pretty much just teeth in general. and next thing you know evan is investing in a full 1940s style dentist chair that he keeps in his “lab” just so he can strap barty down and start analyzing his teeth until his little heart is content and barty’s just wooed the entire time like “oh wow, yeah, that one’s mine”
— their fucking is a bit clinical meet freak show if that even makes any sense whatsoever. it does it me and i stand by it!
— barty is a wannabe punk skater-boy but he’s more like if a possum got thrown into a bucket of water in the middle of hot topic in 2007 if you catch my drift and then evan is this cadaverous little puppet with an oddly ethereal quality that is both concerning and captivating. it’s like if the bean stalk from jack and the bean stalk got a little cunty, twinky man to be his boyfriend
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Would Cosmere Characters Drive the Speed Limit?
You know, if cars and speed limits existed for them. (Potentially necessary context: I am a USAmerican)
For a different but hilarious take on Stormlight Characters driving, please check out this @saffronique post, which I spent forever looking for because I vaguely remembered someone else doing a driving post and wanted to make sure I hadn't copied them! Anyway it's funny; go read it: https://www.tumblr.com/saffronique/719947907049127936/was-just-struck-by-the-overwhelming-urge-to-rate?source=share
But now for a much more limited question: just, do they go the speed limit?
1. Nale: Yes but also no
As Mr. Beholden-to-All-Laws-of-the-Realm, Nale would of course drive exactly the speed limit! Except that he would also go immediately to the local jurisdiction, get deputized or whatever, and then obtain permission to speed all the time so as to Apprehend Criminals. So he'd actually be almost exclusively speeding but, like, legally.
2. Vivenna: Only at first
Vivenna does drive the speed limit when she first gets her license, because she wants to Follow the Law and be a Good Example for Siri. But, like, everyone is always so mad, and eventually she starts going just like 5 miles over the speed limit, which isn't even breaking the law, really. It's going with traffic! And then maybe 10 miles over, just occasionally 15 but only on a highway when it's safe!
3. Siri: No
Like, going a bit faster is not a big deal, especially if all the other cars are doing the same thing. It's actually safer to go with the flow of traffic!
4. Elend: Depends on who's in the car
Elend drives moderately above the speed limit like most people except if his dad is in the car and then he drives under the speed limit just to piss him off.
5. Vin: No
Vroom, vroom to be honest. Vin doesn't do things slow.
6. Dalinar: Yes
As a young man, Dalinar's speed demon ways led to the deaths of many people. So now he does drive the speed limit and insists that his sons do as well, whether they're in company cars or not.
7. Kelsier: No
Kelsier? Follow a law? I don't think so. He taught Vin to drive, you know.
8. Adolin: Not anymore
When his dad was really into Car Laws, Adolin did drive the speed limit per his dad's instructions. But he's since loosened up a bit. He figures he needs to find his own way to drive!
9. Shallan: No
Shallan drives the speed she needs to drive. Veil definitely drives the fastest, and Radiant is most likely to follow the speed limit. But on average...not so much.
10. Navani: No
Adolin can still remember being in the car with his aunt for the first time and being SHOCKED that she speeds. (In my head this is related to Adolin being shocked when he sees Navani wearing a glove rather than a full sleeve. This may not make sense to anyone else but it feels right to me).
11. Moash: No
Moash always wants to get to his destination as fast as possible. Also I just can't imagine him trying to follow the speed limit.
12. Wax: Depends on the geographic location
Wax drives the speed limit in the Roughs but not in Polite Society (except in dense urban areas where he wishes to avoid, like, killing children).
13. Wayne: Does not have his driver's license
I feel this in my soul.
14. Lirin: Yes
I think Lirin would argue that "getting to your destination thirty seconds faster is no reason to speed and put everyone else on the road in danger! Drive safe - arrive safe! That's what matters!" And then he would go exactly one mile under the speed limit at all times while everyone behind him honks.
15. Kaladin: No
Kaladin spends three months driving very slowly after his dad shows him videos of horrific car crashes but eventually he just can't do it. He NEEDS to get there faster! People are DEPENDING on him! And he likes to feel the WIND in his HAIR as he cruises down the open highway!
(Kaladin and his dad cannot drive together.)
#cosmere#cosmerelists#Nale#Vivenna#Siri#Elend#Vin#Dalinar#Kelsier#Kaladin#Lirin#Adolin#Wayne#Wax#Moash#Navani
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On aroace flags...
I want to be very clear, I am not criticizing anyone specific, but rather the current ways of combining the asexual and aromantic flags into a cohesive flag.
But I've had this floating around my head for a while, and I saw a post similar to it today, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents.
Cut because it got long.
In the ace flag, black means asexuality, gray means gray/demi sexual, white is for allosexual allies of asexual people, and purple means community. (I lost the link to the AVEN post, but someone dedicated can find it. Otherwise you can just look up the meanings on the internet to verify).
In the aro flag, the green and light green stripes are for the aromantic spectrum, white is for non-romantic attraction, and black and grey are for the sexuality spectrum. (Post by the creator saying this here: https://www.tumblr.com/cameronwhimsy/102698477928/whoops-yeah-i-just-realised-i-never-actually-made?source=share).
So black, grey, and white all mean different things for each flag, yet in most combination flags, they only appear once. Do they mean what they mean on the aromantic flag or what they mean on the asexual flag?
The light green and green don't have any arbitrary separations for people who do and don't feel romantic attraction, and the grey and black of the aro flag don't have that for sexual attraction either, while the asexual flag does. Cutting out one of the green stripes or moving the black and grey away from each other don't make sense in the context of the aromantic flag.
I've also seen some that add an extra purple stripe. It doesn't mean anything, it's just aesthetic.
Whether or not you like the sunset aroace flag, it is a good example to look at when trying to create a flag to represent aroace people. It keeps the association with asexuality and aromanticism, without using the original colors in ways that don't quite fit. (Color meaning breakdown by the creator here: https://aroaesflags.tumblr.com/post/181034758671/revised-aroace-flag-after-some-conversation-among).
The whole point of having pride flags is to have a meaningful symbol to represent our communities. For aroace people, mashing two together keeps the association with asexuality and aromanticism, but loses the deeper meaning behind each flag.
Honestly, as an aroace person, I think the only way to really design an aroace flag is to depart from the imagery of either flag. That ensures the meanings are solid, and it ensures no one in accidentally excluded (which is, to my understanding, why the sunset flag was created originally - to have a community symbol that included the whole community inherently). But I understand not everyone shares the sentiment.
So, from one aroace person to another, if you are going to design an aroace flag that's based on the ace and aro flags, please keep in mind what those colors mean in the context of each flag, and don't put them in just to have them. And be sure that your design properly includes everyone you are trying to represent.
#neon's void#asexual#aromantic#aroace#aspec#I just dislike that the community symbol supposedly for aroace people who split their attraction doesn't really take into consideration#the symbology of either community#I am a sunset flag defender (just bc it was made w non-sam aroaces in mind doesn't mean it excludes sam aroaces#it even says that it's meant for all aroaces in the original post)#i get that not everyone's comfy with that and that's their right#but more thought needs to go into these designs#posting this so that I stop editing it ......... NOW
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Just watched The Doomsday Machine. We see Spock, Kirk, and Commodore Decker taking very different approaches to dealing with this massive superweapon.
(If you are keeping track, this is the second automated weapon destroying solar systems they deal with in the series, but not the last. My rant about destroying inhabited planets with no consequences still applies.)
What's interesting to me is that Decker behaves the way people often attribute to Kirk: bold, emotionally driven, thoughtless. Spock tells him he has no hope of destroying the weapon, so they should get away and send a warning instead. Decker refuses to accept this (and I can relate, it's headed straight to Rigel) but his only plan is just to shoot at it, even though his phasers aren't penetrating. Bones and Spock both tell him this is stupid and he refuses to listen. He ends up trying a suicidal plan that he knows won't work, but which feels cosmically fair to him.
Now Kirk's approach looks similar to this on first blush. He, too, refuses to run. He's willing to take chances with his own life, on something he's not sure will work. But Spock trusts him in a way he didn't trust Decker. Why? Because Kirk is thinking, not just feeling. He calculates his odds and has no plan to let himself die. It's that combination of boldness and sense that allows him to accomplish so much.
At times, the show makes it feel like he simply throws himself at problems at the universe lets him get away with it because he's the hero. But actually there's a great deal of thought that goes into his plans, which sometimes goes unspoken. This time, it's spelled out.
Kirk knows the size of the explosion he'll make and the seconds he'll have to escape. He knows it's not a sure thing, but the odds are in his favor and he's risking nobody but himself. Spock doesn't love letting him take the risk, but he does because he has total faith in Kirk's leadership. He knows the only reason Kirk would do this is because it is the right choice—that he's not being reckless because he isn't that kind of person.
Of course it's a success, meaning Jim and Spock get to make eyes at each other while making a very pointed statement about the Cold War. Roll credits!
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Escape
SN!Donnie x GN!reader
Short comfort story
You sighed staring out into the open high rise buildings of New York as the sun began to set, hiding behind the tall buildings, glistening at the orange and red.
Footsteps approached you and you turned your head to see him, Donnie. Your best friend, your lover approaching you with a gentle demeanor and a soft expression, taking a seat next to you heaving his legs over the edge allowing his legs to dangle. “Don’t lose your prosthetic now.” You joked with a small smile. Earning a small jab in the arm from your boyfriend. “Why are you up here Dove?” He began giving you a soft look. “Just enjoying the view a bit.” You half lied. “Now you know how we both are about honesty dove. You only come up here alone when something’s wrong.” Ah yes, he knew you all too well now, he understood you like no other. No use in hiding it now.
“Fine, you caught me.” You admitted. “Just needed to get away I guess.” You huffed. “Away from?” Questioned Donnie.
“Away from life? Works been stressful, my parents aren’t exactly the most understanding of my situation, I’m burnt out, I don’t go out anywhere my sleep schedule is shit and I struggle to just be normal.” You frustratingly said fidgeting at your fingers. “Why would anyone want to be normal? Nothing about this life is normal love.” Began Donnie, gently grabbing your hands to stop you from picking at them he looked out. “I don’t understand the life on the surface much. I’ve only just started to. I can’t help much but I can tell you that it doesn’t have to be that way. I was once told by a friend that you only live in what you allow yourself to live in. Now at first I didn’t understand what it meant, in fact I was too angry to try and understand.” He paused with a small smile. “Only recently I understood finally, and it was by watching you, hearing you now that I see what it meant.” He muttered, his eyes glossing over staring out into the buildings.
“What.. does it mean?” You croaked out, eyes locked onto his expression. He turned to you slowly. “It means, you’ve got to think outside the box, instead of looking at all the problems you have and letting them drown you, try to look for a new angle, see how you can fight it in your own way, not a way someone tells you to. That may seem impossible at first, and it’s difficult, it took me a long time. Though eventually the more you see how you can tackle a problem differently the more you see there’s other ways to everything, there doesn’t have to be just one, and maybe some ways might seem crazy, some might seem absurd. What matters is you find a way to make it bend to your will.” He tried explaining. “I’m not the best at this feelings bullshit so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense.” He grumbled. “No, I think it’s cute..thanks Dee” you smiled, caressing his cheek, earning a soft churr from him.
“Still doesn’t help me escape from all of this.” You sighed.
“Then let me be your escape dove. When you need to just come to the lair, and you can stay for as long as you want.” He offered. “How about this, we go back to my room, we set up a movie for us both. No one will interrupt it will just be you and I my dear.” Which peaked you. “Alright, sure.” You muttered. “Right now I just want to enjoy us.. here.” He nodded at you, locking your fingers together as you leaned against each other, enjoying the sunset.
My sweet escape.
⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
Thanks for reading this short story. I hope you enjoyed.
Taglist: @hikari-michiko @fishsticksloser @daniibirb @peachidee24 @shadow-is-here-and-queer @little-mouse-gardens
#sunnytapiocaspeaks#sunnytapiocafics#rottmnt future donnie#donatello x reader#rottmnt#rottmnt donnie#rise donnie#SN!donnie#Shattered Nightmares AU
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Punishment.
Cult of the Lamb Ficlet because I lost control of my life again
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Lamb and their right hand cat, Narinder, walk about the cult grounds discussing plans for new buildings.
Kallamar and Saleos walk by, the former passively rambling outloud about schemes he will never actually go through with to the latter who just nods along, with the same reverence and eagerness a dog might have toward its owner. Kallamar seems to look at Saleos the same way one might be looked at by their housecat. As little good as they're surely up to, neither god of death pays them any mind, as they have proved to be more harmless together than apart.
Lamb chats to Narinder while sketching vague blueprints, “I saw you at your siblings’ house earlier, Nari’.”
Narinder grunts, “... And?”
“Don’t tell me The One Who Waited has forgiven them after being neighbors with them for only two hundred years?” Lamb teases.
“Of course not! None of my siblings have my forgiveness, nor will they ever. But, that spider is hardly the same person who betrayed me, not anymore. No point punishing the innocent. No point in letting what little remains of their talents go to waste.”
Narinder chooses his words carefully, the Lamb has probably already gleaned from his thoughts that he went to see Shamura, but maybe he could hide his intent behind ambiguity. This is just another facet of the countless indignities and adjustments he has had to go through after losing his Crown.
“Pragmatic!” Lamb smiles, complimenting the cat. Then, why do you think of guilt, Narinder?
Leshy bursts from the ground before Lamb, startling the young god of death. The worm bares his teeth, “Horrendous cruel beast! Why does Heket have to tend to both the farms and the gardens!? And is the head chef? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, IMMEDIATELY!”
Narinder rolls his third eye and picks up the blueprint Lamb had been working on, checking the shrine dimensions and blood plumbing for mistakes or minor improvements. It’s a skill that is easy to learn, but takes eons of practice to master.
Lamb looks at the worm with a wide friendly smile, unsure of his angle. His chaotic thoughts do not help. “Because, Leshy… She’s an ex-fertility goddess of harvest. I know it’s a lot of work, and she said she was the god of famine, but she seems to retain some power or knowledge of the opposite, so I think she can handle-”
Leshy throws his arms up, “SO DO I! I AM THE GOD OF NATURE! LOOK AT ME! I’M LITERALLY PART PLANT! Heket’s domain is merely domestic crops. Allow me to tend to the flowers and the trees, and I will grow them better than she ever could. Those camellias will have no choice but to obey me, FOR I AM THEIR GOD.”
Lamb tilts their head inquisitively, reopening the wound hidden under their bell collar, “Huh, so that’s why you look like that. I always thought you were the god of chaos?”
“Chaos is nature! Plants are not meant to be grown in ugly rows, so called ‘weeds’ are not meant to be pulled up, my hedges not meant to be trimmed into cubes. Nature is chaotic, it’s people who inflict their order upon it.” Leshy balls his fist.
“But, weren’t you also technically the god of order?” Lamb raises a brow, discreetly checking to make sure they’re wearing the blood red fleece, today. Or at least the robe they stole from Narinder.
Leshy produces a flower from somewhere, likely thin air, and uses it as a prop, “I am! Order is nature! Have you ever considered a flower? The intricacies and mathematical perfection of their petals, that I painted? The perfectly rehearsed dance of an ecosystem in balance? Nature is ordered, it’s people who inflict their chaos upon it.”
“Uh…” Lamb smiles, incredulously.
“What? That made perfect sense, right Narinder? The vile lamb must also be stupid.” Leshy says, rolling his non-existent eyes and throwing an arm around Narinder’s shoulder.
Narinder shrugs him off, not seeming to give a shit.
Lamb says, “Thank you for your concern, Leshy, but I think our current camellia output is sufficient. We really can’t spare another lumberjack, especially one as talented as you.~”
The green worm glowers at the Lamb, bearing his teeth. He turns and storms off.
Narinder watches his brother walk off. He turns to the Lamb, “Why did you put Heket in charge of sustenance? She is not above poisoning, or worse, you are aware of that.”
Lamb giggles, dropping the façade and rubbing their neck, “Because working with food torments her, now she can’t eat anything. Not if it’s still solid. She’s still much too proud to do a bad job, though. And I’m not worried about her poisons, anymore.”
Narinder says, “Oh. She always was a glutton, I suppose.”
“You think I’m being cruel, Nari’?” Lamb says coquettishly, licking their own blood and ichor from their clawed fingers.
Narinder’s three eyes narrow at the Lamb, “Cease your reading of my mind. And, yes, of course I do. However, I did not say it was a bad thing. She deserves it. I imagine that is also why you have Leshy cutting trees down, instead of growing them? Scary, how much of my vindictiveness has rubbed off on you, once so innocent... and, come to think, this is also probably why I was made your ‘disciple’, wasn't it?”
The Lamb gives him a sharp smile, “Ehehehe! Now, I’m starting to wonder if you can read my mind. A fitting punishment, yea? Always by my side. So close to the object of your desire, yet forever powerless to take it…”
Narinder’s face turns red and he gets a nosebleed. “I HATE YOU, Lamb! You are horrible and evil and vile, I’m leaving now.”
The three-eyed cat runs back into his hut.
Lamb mumbles to themself, obliviously, “Huh? He’s still thinking I’m cruel. He must really want the Red Crown back, I better keep teasing him with it!”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
As Leshy retreats to a secluded part of the cult grounds with a bottle of ‘very good’ wine he stole, to brood over the Lamb’s refusal, he groans to realize that he’s unfortunate enough for Kallamar to have already been there doing the same thing.
Kallamar smiles and waves, beckoning Leshy to sit beside him. After a few moments of Leshy not reacting, he speaks up, “Hello, Brother! Sit down, sit down! Still living with that mortal cat?”
Leshy sighs as he does so, “Yes. Still living in Heket’s basement?”
“Just because she built a floor above mine doesn’t make it the basement. It’s a ‘cellar’…” Kallamar clarifies.
“Rrrright.” Leshy brings his bottle to his lips.
“You know, it’s funny how you only act like a normal person when you’re drunk. You’re so much more genuine, this way. I much prefer it.”
Leshy spits out his wine, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?! I’M ALWAYS NORMAL!!! … So, anyways, how’s Shamura doing? If you ever need help taking care of-”
Kallamar cuts him off, “Oh, could you? That'd be great. Saleos hardly ever has time to help. Shamura's condition is… well they haven’t been getting any less lucid. They can take care of most things themself, these days. That’s actually what I was about to mention. Narinder came by the house today. Was asking to visit them.”
Leshy’s hand tightens around the bottle’s neck, “What? You didn’t let him, did you?”
“Of course not. Heket would’ve had my head if I did.”
“Huh… Why?”
“No idea, I can never read the guy. Maybe he feels bad? He used to be very close to Shamura, can’t imagine he wanted any of this to happen.”
“Maybe… But why now? We’ve been living here for a century-”
“Centuries, actually. This year, it’s two hundred.” The squid corrects.
Leshy sighs, “... ‘Centuriessssss’. You know what I mean. Maybe that horrid little Lamb put him up to it. Seems to enjoy torturing us like that.”
Kallamar shrugs, “Shamura’s been asking about Narinder ever since.”
Leshy raises his tone, “Shamura doesn’t know any better. They don’t even understand what happened to them, half the time. Even when they still had the Purple Crown, they kept giving him ‘gifts’. As if nothing had changed.”
Kallamar swirls the red liquid around in his bottle, “I don’t know. You really don’t think it isn’t time to extend the olive branch? He’s in the same boat as us, now. To be honest, I don’t even blame Narinder. He did what any of us would have done in that situation.”
“That’s… surprising to hear from you, Kallamar.”
“I just wish I didn’t have to get caught up in the crossfire. And, isolating Narinder has only been driving him closer to the Lamb, somehow. They are our real enemy.”
Leshy rolls his nonexistent eyes, “Ah, there it is… I mean, I don’t disagree. I empathize with him. And I miss having him as a brother, before all of this. But, I don’t know if I could ever forgive him, not after all he’s taken from me. My existence is hell, because of him.”
“Isn’t that more because of the Lamb, Brother?”
“What? No. Don’t get me wrong, I despise the Lamb. But, it was Narinder who gouged out my eyes, who sicced that vile beast on me.”
“... so?” Kallamar raises a brow.
“W-what do you mean ‘so’? Look at me! What he did to me.” Leshy gestures to his bandaged face.
“He did the same to all of us, you don’t see me asking for pity.” Kallamar takes a drink.
Leshy laughs in Kallamar’s face.
“PFFHAhAHAHahah! NO! No-no, no, no. No. We are not the same. I will admit, Shamura received a far worse fate than I, though my own suffering outweighs that of everyone besides. Then, after mine, was Heket’s. Then Narinder’s. And only then, last of all, is you. He Who Waited merely tore off part of the outside fins of your ears, you are not even deaf, not completely… And, I don’t despise you for losing nothing, Brother, I detest you because you got off so easy because you were a coward then, and you won’t even admit it because you are a coward now.”
Kallamar shakes his head, “Lost ‘nothing’? I lost my crown, my cult!”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, but yes. You did, though I’m sure you cried and bitched the whole time instead of fighting like a man. But, it’s not like you were depending on yours just to hear. Or to speak. Or see.” The worm growls.
“You weren’t exactly blind until becoming a mortal. Didn’t you say you could see with the Green Crown’s eye?”
“That… that wasn’t the same! Didn’t you ever try looking through yours!? The Crowns see only truth, that isn’t the same as seeing. Beauty. Is. Not. True. Natural beauty was once all I cared about bringing into the world, it was what gave my existence meaning, what brought me happiness… For centuries, I haven’t been able to remember what flowers look like. I know their fragrance, their feel, their shape, but their color? I am told camellias are red, red like blood. What is ‘red’, Kallamar? The Green Crown did not give me the emotion of red, not the association of blood and passion, not the striking vibrancy, it merely informed me of the wavelength of photons bouncing off chemical bonds in their pigments and the chemistry and evolution of those biomolecules, and I don’t even have that anymore. ‘Dappled sunlight trickling down from the canopy of Darkwood onto a glittering stream between mossy rocks’, these are only words to me. I can no longer imagine it, as I can’t think in images anymore, only in words and concepts… Every time that I feel cool breeze through my leaflets carrying the perfume of camellias, all I can think of is that I will spend eternity never again knowing their beauty. W-whenever my cat gives me one, I…” Leshy’s lip quivers, he shakes his head.
His head drops into his hands, the worm mumbles, “What’s even the point of living anymore? I want… I deserve death. But this vile, horrid, cruel beast won’t even let me die. They know how I feel, their Crown must show them, they know how torturous this existence is for me! And still they stand there, mocking me, with that horrible sadistic smile. Acting like nothing is wrong.”
Kallamar stares at Leshy, his stitched brow furrowing. “How dare you, Brother? How dare you think that you have the right to hate me, when I already hate myself? H-how dare you think so little of yourself as to deserve pity from someone as worthless as me, when you’re still you? Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now, Leshy? Long before all this, even when you were but a wyrmling barely in control of your Crown, I still envied you. Because, you’re right. I am a coward, and a fucking idiot, not even the Blue Crown could fix that about me, because I’m also so fucking stubborn. I never deserved godhood. But it came so naturally to you, you’re so damn confident, and brave, and fucking cool looking! Everyone loved you for it! Your followers were inspired by you, drawn to you! My cult never even respected me, only feared me… Except for Saleos, he’s somehow worse… I should’ve been proud of you, as your elder bloodbrother, but as worthless and horrid as I am, I felt only jealousy… and loathed myself for it… If you think your greatness was taken from you, I never had any to begin with. If you’d even care.”
Leshy stands up, mouth downturned, the moss on his cheeks caked with wet ichor.
He punches Kallamar in the face.
The squid clutches the burst stitches across his face, “OW! What the hell, Leshy?”
Leshy sneers, “Ooh, you think you deserve pity for knowing you’re pathetic? Don’t you try to out-do my pain! Don’t you think you’re the only one that hates himself. If even you couldn’t tolerate your bullshit, why didn’t you just fucking man up and die!?”
Kallamar reaches for his bottle. Leshy hits him again. The squid falls back, over the log, and flat onto the ground.
The worm screams, “You think what the Green Crown did to me ‘looks cool?’, I’m a tree! You can pass as a normal squid. I have to tell people I’m an abomination, because I am. I’m a monster that devoured souls and families, and enjoyed it. And you think that was a good thing? You think they loved me for it? I didn’t even know what love was! Did you really think that I would feel better if I knew you only hate yourself because you weren’t consumed by your Crown, like me? Because you were still a person underneath it?! Do you understand how lucky someone like you is to have Saleos? How little you deserve his forgiveness, his love? After everything he sacrificed to you, willingly? And every day, you spit in his face!”
Kallamar curls up into a ball as Leshy kicks him repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, p-please…”
Leshy stops, tears dampening his bandages. “Now… Saleos is going to tend to your wounds, you’ll talk his ears off about this, and he’ll still be on your side… and I’ll go home, and my cat will tell me all about how much he loves that benevolent Lamb for saving him from Darkwood. For vanquishing that evil god of chaos…”
Kallamar looks between bloody, shaking fingers, “H-he… still doesn’t know?”
Leshy sits down, wiping ichor from his hands, sniffling. “No. Of course not… I’m a worthless coward.”
The Lamb watches them from the temple window, with a horrible sadistic smile.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=⁂=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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hiiii!!! 🖤🧡 what about 43 'Pick up lines only work when I'm drunk.' and 50 'Is it just me or is cold as hell in here?' 😋
#50. "is it just me, or is it cold as hell in here?"
"try the door again."
ian rolls his eyes, but pulls at the frozen metal handle again for the tenth time. still stuck. doesn't budge, not even a little bit.
"i told you, linda will come save us once she realizes no one's manning the store out front."
"yeah?" mickey spits out. "and what're we gonna to tell her when she asks why we're in the freezer together, huh?"
"i'm pretty sure she already suspects something," ian points out. "i mean, we're not exactly slick about it."
"should've fuckin' kept it in your pants," mickey mumbles, not meeting ian's eyes, "you and your stupidass dick."
"didn't hear you complaining a couple minutes ago when i was balls deep inside you," ian replies wryly.
if he wasn't already shivering his ass off, he'd probably die just from mickey's icy glare, sharp cuts piercing into his soul.
"whatever. just stay the fuck away from me."
"fine."
"fine."
mickey lets out a huff before crossing his bare arms across his chest, the security vest doing nothing to keep him warm, making it an obvious point to not look at ian's direction. ian does the same, wrapping the thin hoodie around his body to conserve whatever limited body heat he can, stewing in the frustration at how infuriating the boy in front of him is being.
a few minutes of stony silence goes by, save for the motor of the freezer fan continuously circulating cold air. ian has a moment of weakness and chances a peek out of the corner of his eye, and he's met with the sight of mickey, teeth chattering and goosebumps lining his arms. an indescribable pang of something curls deep in ian's stomach.
"is it just me," ian says, lightly, a feeble attempt at levity, "or is it cold as hell in here?"
nothing. nada from mickey. ian sighs.
"you want my hoodie?"
mickey scowls and continues to give him the silent treatment, mouth pressed into a tight line. but ian can see mickey's tough facade slowly chipping away, the continuing drop in temperature draining the colour from his face.
"c'mon man, you're freezing," ian sighs again. "just take my hoodie."
zip. zilch. ian lets out a huff of exasperation.
"fuck it," he mutters, before taking three steps and wrapping an extremely bewildered mickey into a surprise hug, tight enough so that mickey can't squirm or escape or whack him in the head.
"the fuck, gallagher," mickey practically yells, but his voice comes out hoarse and raspy. ian doesn't budge. "get off me, you lunatic."
"just relax, mick," ian whispers into mickey's ear, softer than he intended, and mickey goes completely still. "no one can see us. and i don't want to bury your body if you die of hypothermia."
ian feels puffs of air tickle his neck. it takes a minute, but ian senses the exact moment when mickey gives in, sagging his body weight into ian's embrace. they've never touched like this before without the pretense of sex, and it almost sends ian down a spiral. his heart starts thumping against his chest when mickey's hands skim along the exposed sliver above his hips, tentatively ghosting his skin like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch.
you can touch me, ian wants to say. touch me wherever you want. do you care about me the same way i care about you? do you?
"gallagher," mickey breathes, and ian's heart soars, "i–"
"ian? mickey? are you in there?"
mickey jumps, breaking apart from ian's embrace, and ian feels the loss immediately as linda whips the freezer door wide open.
"what the–" she starts to say, just as mickey slips past her without a word or a backwards glance. a hollow twist curls tight in ian's stomach. "what the hell were you two doing in here?"
"mickey was helping me with um... stocking the shelves, then the door closed behind us and the handle was stuck, so...." ian trails off lamely.
"uh huh." he can tell by the look on linda's face that she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't push him any further. probably too tired to get into it. "go drink something hot and warm yourself up. i'll call someone to fix the door tomorrow."
ian fully expected mickey to ditch the rest of his shift, so he's surprised when he sees mickey still in the store, standing by his usual spot by the door. ian feels mickey's gaze on him as he passes behind the counter, watching quietly as he starts a new batch of coffee, pour the steaming liquid into two paper cups, then hand over one of the cups.
"thanks," mickey says quietly, and ian nods in response.
mickey doesn't say anything else for the remainder of their shift, but ian can feel mickey's eyes on him when mickey thinks he's not looking.
tell me what you're thinking, he wants to plead. tell me you feel the same way. but he doesn't.
as they silently part ways after work, ian wonders if he'll ever get the chance to break down mickey's walls. if mickey will ever let anyone inside his heart.
and, well. ian is patient. he'll wait as long as it takes.
#thanks for the prompt doshi <3#43 will be answered in another ask!#gallavich ficlet#michy ficlet#ian x mickey#gallavich fic#my words#gallavich
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I promise, this image is NOT a spoiler, but I did make me laugh way too hard
Chapter 11) Zip, Zip
“So, Angie, I'm actually royally pissed!” Cherri Bomb opened the top of her latte to dump in a coffee liquor. “You always said if you ever got married, I'd be there!”
“He was bleedin’ all over the place, was I supposed to call you?” Angel leaned back, sipping his own cappuccino.
“Uh! Yes!!” Cherri recapped her drink. “Especially since it's this guy!!”
Husk looked up, a madeleine in his teeth.
“I thought you were just gonna fuck him.”
“He's old fashioned,” Angel lied. “Plus I've never been married before. I figured it'd be fun!” He grabbed Husk's chin and leaned down, biting off the other half of the cookie.
Cherri laughed into her hand and shook her head. “He's ancient.”
“We're the same age,” Angel argued, swallowing his mouth full. “I've just been in hell longer!”
“I'm also sitting right here,” Husk informed her.
“You look rough,” Cherri told him directly. “Like, not only the shit Angie’s insane brother did!” Angel winced quietly as she went on. “But you look like a rug!”
“Brutal,” Husk sighed, sipping his breve.
Angel jumped to his defense, “Husker isn't sleepin’ well!”
“Oh!!” Cherri was more interested now! “Are you two knocking boots all night?” She squealed as Husk’s blush showed through his fur. “Ang. Is he good?”
“So good!” Angel gushed. “I'm gettin’ spoiled, it's gonna ruin me.”
Cherri lowered her voice and leaned in. “So are you seriously quitting porn? Word is that Valentino is losing his fucking mind.”
“How'd you find out?!” Angel asked in surprise. “It was that sketchy director wasn't it?”
“Travis,” Husk bristled.
“Seriously? That's what you know about my videos?” Angel looked at him flatly. “My foot-obsessed-director?”
“He's a piece of shit!” Husk answered.
Cherri snorted. “The old pussy cat's right, though. It was totally Travis. He's whining about it online!” She showed Angel her phone. “But how'd you pull that off??”
“Through marriage. It's complicated, Cherri, I kinda wanted a break from explainin’ all my bullshit…It's been a long day with Nickie and other fuckin’ garbage.” Angel sighed and crossed his second set of arms. “Plus Husker isn't allowed to sleep anymore, so that's gonna be a whole thing.”
“I bet I can still sleep,” Husker said with a huff. “It's probably an overreaction.”
Now Cherri was even more confused. “... Because of all the fucking?”
“No, because he got all wrecked up by Nickie! See! I didn't wanna talk about it!!”
“You brought it up, Baby,” Husk said, but wrapped his tail around Angel’s leg. “But it's probably just PTSD or some shit.”
“Does PTSD make people scared of zippers? It don't make no sense,” Angel crossed his arms tighter.
“I mean, PTSD made me scared of egg salad for a good few years,” Vaggie swirled her cup around. “But what did zippers do?”
“It's a man covered in zippers. I think they're his skin,” Husk answered with a shudder.
“Oh, hot though,” Cherri grinned, “How many dicks do you think he's hiding?”
“Fourteen,” said Angel, “but he ate them all.”
Husk shuddered again, fluffing his wing nervously. “Not every time I fall asleep is a nightmare.”
“Do you think Vaggie might be full of shit?” Angel asked. “Over exaggeratin’ a bad dream?”
“They're just fuckin’ dreams,” Cherri agreed.
Husk nodded. “...But maybe I should stay awake until we figure it out.”
Angel sipped his cappuccino and considered. “Yeah, you've been sleepin' like 14 hours a day since your contract with Alastor broke, Husk, you sure about that?”
“Well he's a cat!” Cherri laughed. “What's he supposed to do?”
“To be fair, I was on morphine for like 5 of those days…” Husk tightened his tail around Angel’s leg.
“Do you got any left?” Cherri asked hopefully. “I'll trade you for some uppers. These little babies will keep you awake!” She pulled some pills from her pocket. “Angel, you want some?”
“Mmmmnnnnah, I'm actually handlin' sobriety pretty well today! I haven't even drank since yesterday.”
“Fuck. Married life is making you lame!” Cherri looked at Husk. “But how about you, Kitty?”
Husk considered. “I'm probably fine…” he took another sip, but stopped to yawwwn. He finished with a blep, his little tongue hanging out.
“You're so eepy seepy,” Angel stamped his feet as he squealed.
“You're such a furry, Angel,” Cherri said, even though she was equally charmed. “But seriously, you look like you're about to konk out, old man.”
Husk sighed heavily. He looked at Angel Dust, and then at Cherri’s hands. “What is it?”
“A bunch of good shit!”
“I got morphine back at the hotel…take it if you want it…is this gonna fuck me up?” Husk reluctantly held out his paw, letting her drop several multicolored capsules into it.
“Oh, yes it is!” Cherri shouted excitedly.
Angel tried not to look concerned. “I mean, you think he can handle all that, Cher?”
Cherri waved her hand at him. “Pshaw, he's old enough to be my great grandpa. Right, Huskee, you can handle it.”
“You can seriously just call me Husk,” he told her firmly. “But if it'll keep me awake…” Husk swallowed them with a mouthful of his drink. “It's not like it'll kill me.”
“Sure, right,” Angel said, tossing his coffee cup into a trash bin. “Are you two fuckers ready to go out then? We'll wanna be somewhere loud when those kick in…Husker, you're probably gonna wanna dance.”
“Oh?” Husk hopped to his feet, catching himself from falling with his cane. “I'll definitely take up less space on the dance floor now–Baby, you don't have to look so sad every time I bring up my wings.”
Angel covered his mouth and looked away slightly. “I'm not.”
“Oh my God, Angie, you're becoming a tittering mom to this old dude. You sure you don't want a pick-me-up? Maybe a little coke??” Cherri checked her purse.
“Cherri, for fuck's sake, I'm not doin’ it no more, so stop askin’!” Angel grit his teeth.
“Sorry, sorry, fuck! I'm not used to you bein’ all responsible.” Cherri sucked her teeth and stood up. “Are you still drinking at all? Or are you completely boring now.”
Angel scoffed and reached out for Husk's empty cup, tossing it away for him before storming outside. “I think I need a drink to deal with this today.” He rubbed between his eyes.
Husk watched him stand outside of the coffee shop, ears back.
“What the fuck is his problem?!” Cherri directed herself at Husk.
“Coming down is hard,” Husk said simply, “he's been without for almost two weeks…it's a hard hump to get over.”
“Could you go give him a hard fucking hump so we can get on with our day?!”
“Sex won't solve withdrawals, sweetheart,” Husk felt a prickling in the back of his head. “Just give us a minute.” He walked himself outside, lightly touching one of Angel’s arms.
“Hey,” Husk said, voice soft and gentle.
Angel frowned before turning his hand, reaching to hold Husk’s. “...hey.”
“Do you want to ditch her?” Husk kissed his fingers.
Angel laughed a little before frowning again. “No…getting off this shit is hard, Whiskers.”
“I know.” Husk rubbed his cheek against the back of Angel’s hand. “We could go home.”
“Charlie will harass me into doin’ somethin’ today…I don't think so.” He squeezed Husk's hand. “Can we go to a club? I wanna see you dance like an idiot on drugs.”
“I get the feeling I'll be doing that anywhere we go,” Husk said, kissing up his arm.
Angel giggled and swatted him off. “Okay, okay, let's go.” He turned and waved at Cherri to come outside. “Stop fuckin' offering me drugs today, bitch.”
“Fiiiine,” Cherri hugged Angel’s arms on his other side. “I just wanna show you a good time, you know that!”
Angel sighed. “Yea. I know. But not today. Today I wanna remember my husband lookin’ stupid.”
“Then let's gooo!!” Cherri said, tugging them forward with her. “We're actually early enough to catch some of the fuckin' drink deals today!!”
In spite of the bright red daylight outside, the club was dark and only lit up with cool, flashing colors. The music was thumping out enough to make Husk's wing twitch each time. He couldn't make out the words, but it didn't matter!
Instead, it felt good. Husk's brain had started to itch, and the music was scratching in a satisfying beat. He heard Angel laugh, which made him feel warm. Cherri yelled something about his footwork.
Husk was pretty sure at some point he'd gotten his hands on a trumpet, and he jammed out to the music while the crowd howled in excitement. It reminded him of a time he was high out of his mind in a club in Chicago back in the early 40’s.
Husk was barely focused on what was coming out of his mouth. He knew he was sat between Cherri and Angel Dust. He couldn't keep his hands off of Angel’s legs. “You're gorgeous,” he said over and over.
“Enough about that! I wanna know about Chicago!!” Cherri demanded.
“Oh, fuck, I was 12 years into a dead marriage, and I was just craving something different and wild! I hadn't done magic in ages, and I completely crashed my own stage!!” Husk realized there was a drink in his hand, so he gulped it down. “I was so fuckin’ embarrassed, but when I was having a drink after, I got to playing. Some asshole handed me a saxophone, and I fucking love blowing horns.”
“I fuckin' bet you do!” Cherri squealed.
Angel was enraptured, hanging on every word.
“And this little twink comes up to me, he's in the tightest fucking outfit I've ever seen,” Husk was offered a cigarette, so he took it. “And he's hanging all over me, saying how much he loved jazz. He asked if I had jungle fever!” Husk laughed noisily.
Angel looked horrified, but it seemed more internal than anything else.
“Baby, you good?” Husk asked, but Angel leaned over and kissed his face.
“Tell your story, sugar.”
Husk took a long drag on his cigarette, trying to focus again. “It was my first time with a guy, and he knew what he was doing! He fingered himself in front of me and sucked my cock like a champion.” He tapped the ashes into a tray Cherri offered. “When it got down to it, I think I fucked him half the night! I can't believe how long I could throw this kid around.”
Angel fanned himself, looking pleased and embarrassed.
“And I thought, well shit, how did I waste so much time on just women!?” Husk found his hand rubbing up the inside of Angel’s thigh, so he squeezed. “Men are so fucking hot!”
“Yea, that's SO true!” Cherri took a shot.
“Didja ever get his name?” Angel asked, gripping Husk's wrist.
“I can't remember, I was so fucked up! And I had another engagement in Indianapolis the next day, so I had to dip before he was even awake.”
“But you left a queen of hearts on the dresser with a ‘thanks for the lay,’ note on it,” Angel provided.
“Yeah, I–” Husk's ears perked. “Did I already tell this story?” He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray.
“No!” Angel laughed nervously, holding his head. “No fuckin’ way, Husk!”
Husk stared at him in confusion, the drugs seeping into his brain. “Do you wanna dance, beautiful?”
Angel laughed harder, covering his face. He nodded dumbly and let Husk drag him onto the floor.
“Those two,” Cherri rolled her eye, grinning.
Husk was sure Angel was having fun, hearing him shout eagerly as they danced. He registered Cherri joining them again!
“I'm gonna go get us some fresh drinks!” Angel shouted. “Keep an eye on Husker!”
“We're fine!” Cherri yelled back, turning to grind on some massive wolf.
Husk was enjoying how the music made him sway…until he stepped forward onto concrete. He grabbed for the cane hanging on his arm, and it wasn't there. Lights flickered between green and yellow, the crowd disappearing and reappearing with each flash.
“Oh shit,” Husk stumbled back, grunting as he hit a mass.
“Watch it!” A nondescript voice shouted.
Husk stared straight ahead as he saw it. The music faded away, replaced with the sounds as it began to approach.
Zzt…Zzt…Zzt…
He could see it closer than ever. Its face zipped up and down as it walked, revealing a large red orb hidden in inky blackness. Husk turned and bolted, abandoning his cane on the dance floor as he left on all fours.
Angel Dust laughed and shimmied his way across the dance floor. He saw Cherri’s hair and made his way over. “Got you a cocktail, toots!” He looked around, frowning in confusion.
“Uh, Cherri?!”
“Yes, bitch?! Want me to pay you?!”
“No! Where’s Husk?!”
“Huh!?!” She stopped dancing to hold her ear towards him.
“Where is my Husband?!?!” Angel stepped back to find him, stumbling. “Oh, shit,” he bent down to grab his cane. Another demon grabbed his hips as he did, grinding into Angel’s ass. He turned and smashed his drink into his head, “do you fuckin’ mind?!"
“Jesus Fucking Christ!!” The demon shouted, holding his face as he sprayed blood over the spider.
Angel shoved him back and started searching at knee level, looking for a hint of Husk anywhere.
“Oh for fuck's sake, he's fine!” Cherri stepped over the writhing demon to chase after him. “You're worrying too much!”
“He hasn't done anything hard since he was alive over forty fuckin’ years ago, Cher!” Angel shoved through a group, seeing a flicker of red outside.
Husker fell back onto his ass, kicking into the floor as he tried to find his footing again. He grunted as he hit a wall, dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He clutched his chest, sure he was going to have a heart attack like the one that killed him.
It leaned down, wrapping it's lanky fingers around Husk's ankles.
“There you are!” Angel said in relief. However, Husker looked worse for wear. He was having a full blown panic attack on the sidewalk, shoved against the wall of the club. “Way to go, Cherri,” he yelled at her before moving to kneel next to him. “Husker? Can ya hear me?”
Husk's ears twitched and he opened his mouth, only to scream as he was dragged by his leg into the road.
“Can he normally run on his back?!” Cherri was actually alarmed now.
“Uh, No!” Angel was tired of her attitude today! He grabbed for Husk’s hands and pulled him back–
Husk watched in utter terror as the Zippered man buried a hand into the tuft of his chest.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT
“JESUS FUCK!” Cherri leapt back as there was a fountain of blood erupting from Husk’s chest.
Angel stared. Time slowed down…it was becoming easier to trust his hands to do what they needed. He shoved at the empty space above Husk, finding they collided with mass.
“Ah, ah, Angel?” Husk stared at the red sky above them. “It's raining?” Blood rained on his face in fat droplets, warm and comforting.
“Cherri, come make yourself useful, Fuck!” Angel demanded, directing her to hold his chest closed.
“Did he just fucking unzip his own body?!” Cherri was too high for this!
“Just hold it!!” Angel gripped at his own fur, letting out a grunt as he yanked out a long string. He bit it off with his teeth.
“Angel! What the fuck is going on?!” Cherri was definitely too high. “What the fuck are you gonna do with Yarn?!”
Angel ignored her and pressed it against Husk's chest, feeling stupid, but trusting his gut. Like a sewing machine, the string worked itself into Husk’s skin in a stitch.
“Oh, Fuck!” Husk yelled, closing his eyes tight.
Cherri sat back, letting out a breath. “Angie. Seriously.”
Angel clutched Husk into his lap, staring at the empty space in the road. For a brief moment, he'd seen it. “Fuckin' hell, Cherri.”
Cherri took a moment, pushing her bangs out of her face with a bloody hand. “...Sorry, Ang. I fucked up.”
Angel leaned down, pressing his face between Husk’s ears.
“Is it gone?” Husk asked, finally daring to look up again. “Did the rain stop?”
Angel breathed out shakily. “We're goin’ home.”
“Let me…let me call you a cab,” Cherri said. “It's the least I can do.”
“I fuckin’ got it,” Angel said sourly, pulling out his phone.
#huskerdust#husker#mymart#hazbin hotel#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#art#husk#hazbin husk#fanfic#til death do us part#zipperman#Cool!Zipperman
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The Last Time
Read here on Ao3!
Angstpril 2024 | Day 30 | Prompt 30: The Last Time
Rated: G | Words: 1562 | Summary: “...it was the last time…” | Character Focus: Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Echo
“Are you awake?” Tech’s voice asks, right at the edge of Hunter’s bunk.
Hunter doesn’t know how anyone can sleep with the hurricane raging outside the walls. It sounds like the entire city might topple under the weight of its rampant fury. Not that Hunter’s scared. His blanket is only pulled up over his head because the flashes of lightning burn his eyes. But the thin blanket does not protect his frayed senses from the bone rattling thunder and the constant barrage of torrential rain lashing against the walls and windows.
“I’m awake,” Hunter says, voice muffled into his fabric sanctuary.
The edge of his mattress dips as Tech sits down next to him. “Excellent. Would you like to see the weather radar I have accessed?”
No, Hunter thinks, but he hears the slight tremble in his brother’s voice. With a sigh, he leaves the small comfort of his makeshift barrier and sits up. “Sure, Tech.”
It is the middle of their sleep cycle. Their barracks should be dark, but the incessant lightning keeps the room lit with a flickering, white light. Tech does not wait for further invitation before he scrambles the rest of the way into Hunter’s bunk, putting himself between Hunter and the wall. He props his data pad between them, the screen a mass of twisting colors. “We are here,” Tech says, pointing to a tiny blip amongst the chaos.
“What do the different colors mean?” Hunter asks. He already knows. Reading weather maps is a basic part of their training; however, he also knows that Tech finds comfort in over-explaining even the most rudimentary facts.
Hunter becomes so engrossed in the rambled explanation of weather patterns, that he doesn’t notice the shadow prowling across the room until it speaks almost directly into his ear. “What are you doing?”
Hunter won’t admit if his nerves also leapt bodily in surprise, but Tech startles, the small jerk of motion jarring against Hunter’s side.
Crosshair stands there, arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders hiked just a little towards his ears, waiting for an answer.
“Tech’s showing me his weather map,” Hunter says.
Crosshair shifts his weight, sharp eyes cutting away. “I want to see when this karking storm is gonna end,” he mumbles. Like Tech, he does not wait for an invitation to clamber into the bunk. Crosshair puts himself between Tech and the wall. Hunter shifts a little to make more room, Tech tucked snugly in the middle.
Tech starts his explanation all over again, moving the data pad to rest in his lap so that all three of them can see.
“Hey!” an indignant shout comes from across the room. There’s a loud thump, the thudding of feet running across the room. Wrecker looms over Hunter’s crowded bunk, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. “No one told me we were sharing a bunk tonight. I don’t want to be alone either!”
“We aren’t sharing a bunk,” Tech corrects him, “I am showing Hunter and Crosshair the storm’s progress on my radar.”
Wrecker grins. “Then I want to see too!”
He dives into the bunk amidst shouts of protest, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between Crosshair and the wall. Hunter is nearly shoved out of his own bed, clinging to Tech’s arm to keep himself from toppling to the floor.
“We can’t all fit!” Crosshair squawks.
“Yes, we can!” Wrecker says, sounding all too pleased with himself.
“Wrecker,” Crosshair wheezes, “your elbow is digging into my ribs.”
“Oh, sorry,” Wrecker says.
Another pause.
“Wrecker, your elbow is still digging into my ribs.”
“I know, but I’m really comfortable,” Wrecker sighs.
Tech huffs. “At least one of us is.”
Hunter is halfway off the bunk. “We can make this work,” he says, “but not like this.” He drops to the floor and stands up.
“How?” Crosshair asks.
“Sideways,” Hunter says. “Now move.”
“We’re too tall to fit sideways,” Tech points out.
“Do you want to share my bunk or not?” Hunter asks.
At that, his brothers don’t argue, quickly rearranging themselves. Sitting up as they had been, their feet - with the exception of Wrecker - come just to the edge of the thin mattress. They leave space for Hunter between the head of the bed and Tech. Hunter climbs into his allocated spot, and they situate his and Wrecker’s blankets over all four of them.
“Now,” Tech says, taking out his data pad. “Shall I start again?”
They listen to Tech talk about the storm, hardly noticing the stark flashes of lightning or the grumbling of the thunder or the endless onslaught of rain, until one by one they fall asleep.
But it is the last time the four share a bunk.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
"Stop looking at my cards!” Wrecker cries, holding his splay of cards against his chest.
Crosshair scoffs, sitting back. “I would if you’d stop waving them directly in my face.”
“Maybe if you stayed on your side of the table...”
“Can we play just one game without an argument?” Hunter asks, the patience in his voice becoming transparently thin.
A brief moment of silence. Wrecker puts down a card.
“Wrecker, that is an illegal play,” Tech says.
“Is not,” Wrecker says.
Crosshair picks up the card and flicks it back at Wrecker. “Is so. Take it back.”
Wrecker grumbles, but puts the card back in his hand.
The game continues without further incident until Crosshair wins the round.
“How did you know I was bluffing?” Tech asks as Crosshair sweeps his winnings of spare bolts and screws into his pile.
Crosshair grins. “You’ve got a tell.”
“Really? What is it?” Wrecker asks eagerly, squinting at Tech.
Tech rolls his eyes, gathering the cards to shuffle. “I do not have a tell.”
“He does,” Crosshair says to Wrecker, ignoring Tech, “but I’m not going to give it away. It’s my strategy. He counts cards, and I read his tells.”
Hunter groans. “Tech…”
“That is not cheating!” Tech cries, indignant.
“With your enhancement…”
“Now wait a minute–”
“Yeah! Using enhancements is cheating!” Wrecker declares.
Tech huffs. “Then Crosshair shouldn’t be able to read my tells,” he says, then adds, glancing at Wrecker, “not that I have any.”
“How the kark am I supposed to play then? Blindfolded?” Crosshair cries.
Tech shrugs indifferently. “If necessary.”
The table erupts in a tangle of arguments, rational and irrational alike.
It is the last time they play cards before Echo joins the Batch.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
“Here we are,” Hunter says cheerfully, stepping into the clearing and removing his helmet. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the inhalation of pure air, rich with the scents of primitive wilderness. The only electromagnetic signals his senses can pick up are from the Marauder an hour’s march away, and the faint output of Tech’s data pad and their gear.
“If by here you mean the middle of nowhere, then you are correct,” Tech grumbles, shrugging out of his pack and putting it against a tree.
“It was Hunter’s turn to pick our shore leave,” Echo says diplomatically. “So middle of nowhere it is.”
“I like it!” Wrecker booms, scaring away a bird that had been watching them from a nearby branch. “We haven’t been camping in ages!”
Crosshair sighs. “What do you call what we just did on our last mission?”
“Just ‘cause we had to sleep outside doesn’t mean it was camping,” Wrecker says. “Camping means we have a campfire and don’t have to worry about getting our heads shot off by clankers.”
“Now we just have to worry about our heads being bitten off by wild animals,” Crosshair retorts.
Tech immediately cuts in. “There are no predators on this planet capable of such a feat. I made sure of it.”
“See? I feel safer already.” Echo chuckles, pulling off his helmet and grinning at Hunter. “I think I’m gonna like this shore leave. We’ll have some peace and quiet if we can get these two to quit their whining,” he says, nodding at Crosshair and Tech.
Echo receives twin expressions of indignation in response.
However, that night, around the crackling warmth of the campfire, the complaints of the early afternoon are forgotten. The soft sounds of nighttime embrace them, soothing chaotic nature for something tranquil. They watch the stars overhead as things unreachable, winking pinpricks of light against a velvety, black canopy of sky.
Hunter takes first watch, eager to enjoy the serenity they’ve found. Crosshair comes to sit next to him once their brothers have fallen asleep. He bumps his shoulder against the Sargeant’s, and Hunter nudges him back. They don’t speak for long, peaceful minutes, appreciating one another’s quiet company.
“Do you think we could live like this? After the war?” Hunter asks at last, voice hushed.
Crosshair doesn’t answer right away, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees, watching the flames of the fire dance and spark. “We’re soldiers,” he says, “we don’t know anything but war.”
“We could learn,” Hunter says. “Adapt.”
Crosshair chuckles. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
It is the last time they have shore leave before their mission to Kaller.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Hunter tries to remember the last words he said to Omega.
The last meaningful words.
The last words she might remember him by.
In case this mission goes wrong.
In case it was the last time he ever saw her.
But he can’t remember.
END
That's a wrap! [[On the eve of the Bad Batch series finale too!! 🥲]] 30 angsty prompts fulfilled in 30 days! I am honored to have gotten to collaborate alongside the endlessly talented @the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts this month!
A master list post is coming soon with links to all 30 stories/chapters completed this month! So keep an eye out for that ☺️
Happy last Bad Batch eve, my lovelies! **sob**
✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨
Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @merkitty49
#Angstpril2024#Day 30#Prompt 30#The Last Time#the bad batch#star wars#Star Wars the Bad Batch#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#tbb hunter#tbb tech#tbb crosshair#tbb wrecker#tbb echo#Omega mentioned#angst#memories#humor#cadet batch#brotherly love#slight mention of the Bad Batch Season 3#littlekyberthoughts#fics by kyber
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PROTECT ME FROM WHAT I WANT
Chapter 2: Tides Will Bring Me Back to You
Summary: You've been working with Butcher and his team since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander, and months later, you met Soldier Boy. Drowning between hatred and your desire to have your vengeance, you have to face your feelings for Soldier Boy eventually.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Female!Reader
Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Language, fake Soldier Boy gets hurt, soft fake Soldier Boy, mention of death.
Word Count: 3128
A/N: English is not my first language.
When you heard mixed noises coming from the TV and felt a hand on your hair, you opened your eyes lazily. You felt numb and spent. Confused by the sense of loss seized through you, you lifted your hand to touch the one stroking your hair with tenderness.
The hand on your hair stopped, and you looked at the handsome figure above you.
“Hey,” said Ben. “You’ve been sleeping for hours, sweetheart.”
Even more confused, “for hours?” you asked. You realized your head was on his leg.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Didn’t you sleep well yesterday?”
You tried to remember how you fell asleep or what made you feel this way, but it left you even more puzzled. You felt a sense of disquiet take over. You shivered under his soft hands. You did not like this empty feeling.
“What happened?” he asked softly this time, helping you to get up and taking you in his strong arms right away.
“I don’t know,” you murmered while resting your head on his broad and strong chest. The warmth touching your cheeks and hands helped you. “I feel distressed and scared. Maybe I just overslept.”
He tightened his strong arms around you, gave a firm kiss to your forehead, and you pressed your body against his, searching for peace in his presence. You felt desperate yet safe in that moment.
He lifted your chin to look at you properly and see what’s wrong. “Scared of what?” he asked you in disbelief.
You started “Homelander-” but he cut you off immediately by saying, “He died a long time ago, remember? I did it. I am the one who killed him, baby,” and continued, “What can make you scared when the strongest supe ever to live is your husband, huh?” as he gave you a teasing wink.
The sincerity of his words calmed your sensitive heart in a second.
“No one can dare to hurt you as long as you’re with me.”
You believed him.
His conforming touch and sweet talk shadowed and overtook your negative mood.
“As long as I’m with you? What if I leave you? Does it mean they can touch me?” You teased him while you put your hands around his neck.
“They may try,” he growled, and he took you by the neck and crushed his warm lips with yours firmly. Between lustful yet sweet kisses. “You don’t want to divorce or something, right?” he said, and his smile reached his eyes.
“You would never leave me.”
You were melted by his trust and hidden fragility that only you could see under his sharp gaze.
“I would never.”
He believed you.
To boost your mood, he suggested you watch a movie, and you gave him a nod. He certainly didn’t know about the latest movies released in the last four decades, so he let you choose. After Ben settled everything up, he sat on the couch and took you to his lap immediately. You did not remember at that moment if you had ever felt like this before. In fact, your mind was like a blurry landscape filled with joyless and pale colors. However, if there was only one thing you were sure of, it was that Ben’s presence brought you such comfort that you wanted to remember that exact moment and hold on to his love and tenderness for you forever.
As time passed, your thoughts were rather focused on Ben and yourself. Pushing your mind to remember what happened before you fell asleep and the day before, your eyes watered without a reason. You were stuck between nothingness and the abstract void of the present.
Trying not to sound dispirited, you said, “Ben.” Shifting your position in his arms, you lifted your head to check his expression closely. You asked, “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?”
Since you couldn’t recall your memories at all at that moment, you wanted to ask Ben and learn about tomorrow’s plan without sounding bizarre.
Ben’s eyes met yours before he gave you another kiss.
“Your sister will give us a visit. You told me you missed each other a lot, that it had been a long time since you spent time together. Don’t you remember?”
Ben’s gaze was questioning, and he looked confused. You hated yourself for being difficult and ruining the mood.
“Oh, yes. Sorry,” you murmered. “That long sleep must have unbalanced me or something, I guess.”
“Y/N,” he murmered, and he turned off the TV. “Is there something bothering you?”
Judging by his voice, he sounded disturbed, hurt, but also curious.
“No,” you denied right away. You felt terrible for making him feel that way. “I don’t mean to be like this and ruin the night, but I feel a bit strange. I can’t remember a thing from today or yesterday. I just” sighed. You didn’t know how to put your feelings into words properly.
“Do you remember that you love me?” he asked with a pained voice.
“Of course I remember,” you said with pleading eyes, not even hesitating for a single moment.
“And isn’t that enough for you?”
“It’s enough, Ben.”
He gave you a genuine, wholehearted smile before he lifted you as if you weighted nothing. “Good. Let’s get some sleep.”
Despite last night’s strange moments, you felt a joy go through your body when you felt Ben’s presence behind your back as sunlight dazzled your sleepy eyes. His grip was incredibly tight around your arms and all of your body. You tried to turn around and face him, but couldn’t even move a bit, so you hit your hips to his with a sudden and harsh movement to wake him up and loosen his arms. However, you forgot for a moment that he was a supe whose body was tougher than any material in the world, and you were just a human whose bones were more breakable than a tiny rod. You moaned, caused by a sudden pain, and that woke him up.
He loosened his arms right away and held your hip to still you.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a sleepy voice.
You finally turned to him and gave him a short but firm kiss as you played with his messy hair. “Nothing at all,” you murmered innocently. “I was just trying to wake you up.”
He made a soft noise as he pulled you closer. “Well, we both can agree on your capability about that.”
After cuddling some more time on the bed and he talked about Vought and everything, you took a shower while Ben prepared the breakfast. You sat on the chair and watched him while he was doing all the work. He was very meticulous, and he looked so serious while doing it; you couldn’t stop teasing him till he finished.
Ben put on his supe suit and left home after he gave you long and sweet kisses, leaving you with your sister alone.
You gave your sister a big hug as soon as she arrived. Ben was right. You definitely missed her so much that you didn’t want to let her go. Your heart became heavy with sorrow and melancholy, and your eyes watered for a second, but you gathered yourself, pushing the gloomy mood away and keeping the day from being ruined by those emotions.
“Hey,” she chuckled. It was obvious she was surprised. “Did you miss me that much?”
“Of course I did.”
You felt like it’s been a long, very long time since you’ve seen her, as if it’s been months, even years.
. “Are you okay, though?” she asked with a concerned voice as she rubbed your arm, and you both sat down on the couch.
“I am okay.” You smiled at her with sincerity and held her hands. “It’s just that I missed you a lot.”
She rolled her eyes at you and said, “Maybe I should put a long distance between us, so you miss your little sister even more.”
Her teasing voice made you giggle. “Well, if you make this a habit, maybe I wouldn’t. My little sister? You’re just two year younger than me,” you said, hitting her slowly with a pillow.
“So, how is everything going with Ben?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” you murmered. “He is very thoughtful and gentle.” You cut it short, not knowing how to describe marriage at all.
She gave you a suspicious look and asked, “Is that all? You don’t sound very happy.”
“I am,” you denied with a firm voice. “Really, everything is well. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him or the marriage.”
She said, “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N,” with a relieved voice. “Not going to lie, I was about to have second thoughts for a moment about marriage. After all, I’m about to join the Married People Club soon. Big news.” She showed her wedding ring.
“Can you believe?” she said excitedly. “Tim just proposed to me. To be honest, I thought our relationship wouldn’t escalate that fast and end eventually as we fought over stupid stuff all the time, but I guess love always finds a way out. What do you think?”
You were too surprised to say anything, so you just took a look at the wedding ring. She was waiting for your reaction excitedly.
“Wow, Alice,” you said, not knowing what to say exactly. “Congratulations then.” You gave her another hug. “I am so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” she said shyly. “I haven’t told mom and dad yet though. You’re the first to hear, so don’t spill the beans,” she asked with a pleading voice. You gave her an understanding nod.
“How long has it been since you and Tim met, by the way?” You asked, and you tried not to sound mean or in any way that could upset her. You just had a hard time remembering everything.
Slightly disturbed by your question, she said, “Six or something, I guess,” with a distant voice. “Why did you ask?”
“Look, Alice,” you said, touching her arm softly. You were scared to ruin her joyful moment and make her upset. “Don’t you think it would be better if you two gave each other a bit more time? Just in case, you know.”
She frowned and raised her eyebrows as you talked. It was clear she wouldn’t take it well. “Why are you being like this, Y/N?” she asked with a hurt and angry voice. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but she did not let you. “Do you think I’m too naive or stupid to make a decision? Why is everything okay and safe when it comes to you but not me? How does that even work?”
You were overwhelmed by her sudden rage. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want the best for you, and give yourself a bit more time to be sure of your feelings.”
“You did, though,” she said, raising her voice slightly. “Yeah, you sure know more about what I feel than I know about myself. Anyways. I need to go; I’m going to miss my flight.”
You were about to protest, but a sudden, heavy, and unbearable headache appeared. Holding your head, you loudly moaned in agony. You shut your eyes in pain as random memories emerged from nothingness.
“Hey,” Alice said with a concerned voice, touching your back. “Are you okay?”
You pushed yourself to ignore the sudden memories filling your mind, but it was impossible. You screamed in pain. The memories were so horrible and hideous that you couldn’t stand them. They were about your sister's death and the fight between you just one hour before her death. Just like the one you were having moments ago. Tears were dripping from your eyes uncontrallably.
Finally, you came to realize what was happening around you when the headache stopped.
“Y/N?” Alice called out one more time with a worried voice. “I’m scared.”
Her voice broke your heart into pieces. You looked at her with disbelief. She was real and right there, in front of your eyes. She was alive and well.
“Alice?”
“You scared the shit out of me,” she said, letting go of the breath she was holding for like a minute.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, shocked. The tears were streaming down your eyes already. “I can’t believe this.”
You didn’t want to worry about your real body or anything at all. You just wanted to savor this single, small, and vulnerable moment. You wanted to remember everything forever.
“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Alice murmered in worry as she tried to get away from your tight hug to check on you. “I don’t get it.”
“Nothing,” you said, trying to calm her. “I just missed you so much.” It was difficult, but you made an effort to hold back your tears.
Even though you knew it was all a delusion, everything seemed so real.
Ben told you that those delusions were worse than a nightmare.
It was a gift.
“I am okay.” You told your sister to soothe her. “I am sorry for everything I told you, Alice. I’ve never meant to hurt you.”
You knew she was gone, and nothing would bring her back to you. Whatever she said or said, none of them were real, or your words would fix a thing. However, you just wanted to say how sorry you were for having a fight with her, filling her last moments with bitter and irreparable memories.
Alice sighed as she hugged you back, rubbing your arm. “I know.”
“I know you want the best for me, okay? I’m not angry with you,” she said, assuring you. “Hey, I really need to go. I don’t want to miss the flight, but I need to know if you are really okay.”
Remembering her flight, you sobbed between your tears. You knew it wouldn’t change a thing, but you pleaded with her in desperation. “I’m so lonely. Please, don’t leave.”
“Don’t be like this,” she murmured, wiping your tears away. “You’re not alone. Tim and I have been planning this trip for a long time, but we are going to have a great time together when I come back, I promise.”
You wanted to talk to her for hours, hug her tight, and spend time with her as much as you could, but every beautiful thing comes to an end sooner or later. It’s ironic how compassionate yet cruel life is.
You wanted to say so much but didn’t want to end this dream by confusing her or ruining this fake reality. You wanted to end your conversation with her in peace this time, as you should have.
When she rose up from the couch, you followed her to the door. You gave her a longing smile.
“I’m very happy about you and Tim. I truly am,” you said with sincerity. With a heavy heart, you said “Be safe out there, okay? I love you.”
Knowing her flight would turn into a nighmare, that day was the last day you see her and it was your last moment together, you struggled to control your tears.
“Thank you,” she said as she hugged you tight. “I will. I love you too.”
You cried for hours, not caring about what happened to your body or how long you were absent. Your phone rang like crazy, but you ignored it, knowing what it would be about. You made a vow to see the day Homelander died.
Your tears stopped when Ben came back. You rose and went to him with quick steps.
“Y/N,” he murmered with concern. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The gentleness and compassion in this voice broke your heart, because it was all a lie. You knew that you had to force yourself to wake up and break that pathetic and mirrored vision of yours.
“This isn’t right,” you said with a dry voice as you tried to get away from his touch.
.”What do you mean?” He made a move to touch your cheek, embrace you, but you took a step back from him again. It broke your heart to see the disappointment and pain in his eyes.
“You’re not real nor me and this house and this marriage. Everything is fake,” you said with a firm voice.
“I don’t get it. Will you tell me what happened or why you are upset? So I can fix it,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and giving you a captivating kiss.
“I know that you don’t actually love me. I’m aware this is just a dream or a simple delusion, and I want to wake up right now.”
“You don’t make sense,” he said with a firm voice. “I do love you.”
“No.” This time you raised your voice and tried to push his hands away, but he didn’t let you go. If he tried harder, he could convince you at any moment. This Ben was everything you needed him to be. “I will wake up.”
“You told me you’d never leave,” he said. You knew when he finally understood you. “Are you not happy here?”
You wanted to surrender him badly and let yourself get lost in the moment, but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t know what to say. Lost in thoughts, he kissed you passionately.
“Don’t leave me,” he begged again, hugging you tight desperately as if he would prevent what was about to happen.
“But you’re not real,” you murmered, touching his chin.
“If you wake up, he will never love you the way I love you and will care about you. You know he’ll hurt you.”
You knew he was right about every single thing he said. He was trying hard to persuade you, but you knew it was just a part of the delusion, and everything he said was just a mirror of your own consciousness.
“I know, but at least all of them would be real.”
He didn’t say anything this time.
“I don’t want to be here or to be with you. I will wake up,” you said decisively as you finally felt the change in the atmosphere around you. You opened your eyes.
#the boys#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#jensen ackles soldier boy#the boys season 3#soldier boy the boys#the boys series#jensen ackles#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys soldier boy#soldier boy fic#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x you
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Hiii, omg ur taking requests?? i LOVE ur writing sm aghh 😍😍❤️❤️ would u write part 2 to think about me? i adored it sm maybe the reader is sick (she has a fever and really bad cough) but is very horny so she calls gator who’s at work rn but he promises he comes as soon as he can? also her relationship with gator is secret and he comes over when her parents are gone with her little brothers for the weekend and gator takes care of her and also she’s so clingy? <3 and when she vomits in front of him she cries and is so embarrassed…
Part two to Think About Me (but could be read as a standalone lol)
Hope you enjoy! And thank you for enjoying my writing!! <3
CW: Age gap (reader is 20, gator is 27), mentions of smut but no actual smut, Gator being very sweet does that count??
Your relationship with Gator was, surprisingly, nice. He was sweet, brought you pretty flowers and your favorite chocolates. He messaged you first thing in the morning and before you went to bed. He was perfect. You were both perfect. Other than the fact that it had to be hidden.
Your father had made that clear on your birthday. The Tillman's had been invited over and apparently there had been enough tension between you and Gator to raise suspicions from your parents. Suddenly you were too young, too naive to have a boyfriend. You thought it was ridiculous.
You were excited for this weekend, having many things planned out for you and Gator. Your entire family would be gone. Some out of state football game happening for one of your brothers. You had feigned sickness.
Only that had seemed to be your downfall as the early Saturday hours slowly drifted into the afternoon. Your cough worsened, becoming more severe as your cheeks grew hot and sweaty. You brushed it aside, sure that it was your hard work from cleaning so furiously.
"Hello," The raspy voice on the other end of the line drew out playfully, bringing a smile to your lips as you sniffled again, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," You said quickly, already hearing the worry in his tone, "Just some allergies. Do you think you could bring me something when you get off of work?"
"What kind of somethin'?" He teased, making you shift deeper into the couch as a giddy feeling spread through you. It was almost enough to make you neglect the sense of sickness you'd felt.
You thought of the habit he had to sneak into your room when everyone else was asleep, of all the sweet nights you'd had together. He liked kissing you. He liked kissing you everywhere. You were tingly at the thought once again.
"Don't know," You giggled softly as you curled up on the couch, smiling as you felt a rush of pleasure form between your legs at his words, "Something to make me feel better."
"I got the perfect cure for ya, baby doll," He teased, making you feel like you had thousands of butterflies spreading through your stomach, "Can you last a few more hours without me?"
"Mhm," You drew out softly, excited as you glanced back towards the kitchen. You had a crockpot full of chili on and had plans to make cinnamon rolls once he got closer. He liked those, especially when you added raisins to them, "I'll be waiting here for you."
Your plans became even more disrupted as your symptoms grew worse. You piled under blankets and blankets, unable to stop shivering despite how hot your face was. Every time you began to doze off your rough coughing awoke you, your lungs burning from the sensation.
"Hey," Gator's voice awoke you this time around, making your eyes snap open as you quickly sat up. He guided you slowly, holding onto your shoulders as you glanced at the time, "You alright?"
"I overslept," You wheezed out, sighing as you began to couch roughly once again, "Sorry. I was gonna make cinnamon rolls and-," You began to stand but gator gripped your shoulders and quickly sat you back down. You nodded your head, feeling like the house was spinning a little bit.
"You sick?" He mumbled as he brought his palm up against your forehead, then dragged it against your cheeks. You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders, "Where's the thermometer?"
"Um," You paused as you thought about it, "It's in the kitchen drawer. The second to the left." You said, sure of your answer. It hadn't been too long since you had to use it on one of your brothers.
Gator paused, pulling his paper bag open for a moment before he handed you a bag of cough drops and some nighttime cough syrup. You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how disgusting it would taste. You were still grateful though.
He gripped your chin softly with one hand when he approached again, then used the other to slide the thermometer under your tongue. You stared up at him, admiring the concentrated look on his features.
"Bite down," He instructed, making you blink in surprise before you did as he asked. He smirked a little, looking a little cocky as he flicked his eyes from your features and back to the numbers on the screen. He whistled, making your eyes snap up to him, "I'm gonna get you something to bring that down." He mumbled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen again.
"I made us chili," You replied, feeling like it wasn't that big of a deal to have a little fever, "I thought we could watch a movie. I got new pajamas too."
"You did?" He approached again, wearing a smile this time as he placed some pills in one of your palms and a glass of water in the other, "Drink that." You nodded along, doing what he instructed in hopes that you would feel better.
"I wanted it to be a good night," You replied, doing your best to keep from pouting as he unwrapped a cough drop for you next, "Thanks." You said softly as you popped it in your mouth, sucking on it a few times before you began to chew on it. It was a habit. You couldn't help it.
"It still can be," He mentioned offhandedly, as he brushed his fingers across your cheek, "I'll get us chili. You sit here. Uh, here." He paused as he handed you the remote, sending you a soft smile before he went on his way.
Your stomach twisted at the thought of food, so you set your bowl aside and curled up against him instead. He held you close, keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you in tightly.
Your felt a little better curled up to his side, head resting against his shoulder as you drifted in and out of sleep. He was warm, giving you that comfort you needed as he held onto you close. Occasionally you'd hear him chuckle, which you hoped had to do with whatever he was watching and not the fact that you were sure you were snoring.
A cold sweat woke you up this time, making you pull away from Gator as your stomach twisted and turned in odd directions. You glanced at him for just a moment, noticing that he had somehow slipped into his sleep clothes at some point.
"You alright?" He asked as he brushed his palm across your back, rubbing softly as a bitter taste filled your mouth. You felt your eyes widen as you quickly stood, tripping over your own feet as you stumbled into the bathroom.
You made it just in time as you emptied the contents from your stomach into the toilet. You continued to gag for a moment, wishing that you could've shut the door first.
You felt his hands on your back before you heard his sweet reassurances. You held onto the counter for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you suddenly felt hot tears against your cheeks. This was not how you wanted your night with him to go.
"Hey," His voice was soft and warm, smooth like sugar as he continued to rub at your back. It was a little too hard, like he didn't know what he was doing, "It's alright. Just a little puke." He replied, like it was no big deal.
You wiped your mouth, sniffling as you flushed the toilet and sat back on your knees for a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening to the sound of gagging from next to you.
"Fuck," Gator replied as he held his palm over his mouth, shaking his head quickly, "I'm sorry. Shit. Fuck, I'm fine. Really." He nodded his head, but looked a little pale as he rubbed at your back.
"You're fine," You replied as you sniffled, laughing once again as you shook your head, "I understand. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that." You sighed as you stood onto shaky knees, gripping your toothbrush before you scrubbed your mouth clean.
"How about-," He began slowly as he adjusted your pajama shirt, covering up your exposed skin as his eyes met yours in the mirror, "I run a bath for you. How does that sound?"
You paused as you spit into the sink, satisfied that you could only taste mint as you slowly stood to look at him again. You nodded your head, feeling a little shy suddenly as he guided you upstairs.
His hand was warm in yours, strong as he held onto you tightly. Once you were inside the bathroom he got the water to the desired temperature before he slowly stripped you down.
His eyes still wandered, but not in a suggestive way. He admired you, making your heart thump roughly against your bones as he helped you into the tub.
You sank down into the water, sighing at the way the hot water massaged your tense muscles. Gator stood back for just a moment before he crawled in behind you.
He hummed softly before he pulled you back against him, pulling you close as he pressed his chest against your back. It was intimate, far more intimate than the times he'd been buried between your legs. You'd never had him be this sweet before, this caring.
You supposed your night wasn't all that bad after all.
#gator tillman#gator tillman fluff#gator tillman x reader#gator tillman x reader smut#gator tillman x reader fluff#Gator Tillman x you#Gator Tillman x yn
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