#..even though he looks a little different now i hope you still like him!
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cherrygirlfriend · 3 days ago
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touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc.
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a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.
it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.
after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.
"everything okay?"
you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.
"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."
"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.
you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.
"you should keep the apartment."
"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"
"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."
your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.
you didn't know what you were expecting.
stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.
"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."
you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."
"you're not-"
"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."
you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.
hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.
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it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.
you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.
"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.
"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"
"do you have any names in mind?"
"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."
when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.
"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"
"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."
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for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...
the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.
"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."
rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"
"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."
rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.
untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"
you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.
you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.
"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."
rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.
"look. that's our baby."
"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."
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just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.
you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.
you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.
"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.
"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.
"what's wrong?"
"i'm pregnant."
without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.
to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.
his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.
you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.
a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.
and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.
an engagement ring.
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takumiraine · 3 days ago
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Once Upon A Time chapter 5
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Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.
From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?
Fuck.
Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.
He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.
What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.
“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”
“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”
“If you liked me less?”
“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.
“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”
“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”
“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.
“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”
“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”
Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”
“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”
Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”
“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”
“Cheese fountain?”
“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”
Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.
He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”
“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.
“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -
“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.
“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.
“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.
“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.
The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.
Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.
It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.
Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.
Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.
He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.
He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.
Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”
Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.
Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.
But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.
Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.
All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.
Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.
“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.
He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”
Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.
Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.
The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.
Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.
When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.
Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”
They did.
Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.
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buckevantommy · 2 days ago
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Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.
The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.
But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.
After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.
"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.
And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.
"Um. I-I, uh."
"Are you okay?"
A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."
"Are you hurt?"
The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.
"Guess that depends."
"On what?"
"What kinda hurt you mean."
There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"
Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.
"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."
Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.
So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.
"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."
Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."
"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."
It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."
"Evan.."
Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."
Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."
Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.
Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."
He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."
Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.
"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."
Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..
"I'll meet you at mine."
Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.
*
It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.
He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.
Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.
He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.
Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.
And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.
Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.
He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.
Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.
"About that engine.."
Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.
"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."
Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."
buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.
and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.
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eu-nicola · 3 days ago
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the ferrari couple
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summary: when Charles signs with Ferrari, his life takes an unexpected turn when he falls in love with you "Princess Ferrari". Together both become the perfect couple, but behind public perfection, the pressure of your careers leads both in other ways
warnings: nothing
word counter: 4559
author's note: english is not my first language
this is a request from @pperlaaiy
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The sound of engines rumbled across the Monza circuit. It was the 2018 Italian Grand Prix, and Charles Leclerc, still a Sauber driver, walked around the paddock with a mix of pride and nervousness. That year had been crucial for him; rumours of his possible promotion to Ferrari felt increasingly real. However, the pressure of being at home, surrounded by tifosi who idolised the Scuderia, kept him on his toes. 
As he made his way to the Ferrari hospitality area, Charles paused for a moment, awed by the spectacle before him. Surrounded by photographers, journalists and Ferrari employees, there was you. You seemed to shine with a light of your own, dressed in an impeccable white two-piece suit that bore discreet touches of Ferrari red, the colour that so represented your lineage. Perfectly coiffed hair, dark sunglasses and a confident smile that showed no trace of nervousness. In that moment, you were everything Ferrari stood for: tradition, elegance and power. 
“Who is she?” Charles asked his engineer, unable to look away.
“Don’t you know? She’s related to Enzo Ferrari. Her mother, Sofia Ferrari, is practically the queen of the car group. She’s like the princess of the house.”
Charles nodded slowly, impressed, but also intimidated. He had heard about you before, how you were an iconic figure in and out of the world of motorsport. You were known not only for your surname, but for your involvement in Ferrari’s most exclusive events, your innate elegance, and the way you upheld your family’s legacy. The fact that you were unreachable only added to your aura.
However, what happened next took Charles completely by surprise. While he tried to hide his interest and continue on his way, you turned around and your eyes met his. Taking off your sunglasses, you smiled with that mix of kindness and confidence that baffled everyone.
“Charles Leclerc, right?” You asked, stepping closer gracefully.
He blinked, surprised that you knew who he was. "Uh, yeah, I'm Charles," he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though he felt the heat rising to his face.
“I have to say, you’ve impressed many at Ferrari this year,” you said, shaking his hand. Your tone was gentle, but your words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “My uncle won’t stop talking about you. I think you’re destined for great things.”
Charles scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture contrasting with your poise. “I hope so. Being part of Ferrari would be… a dream.”
“A dream, but also a responsibility,” you replied, your gaze becoming more intense. “Ferrari isn’t just a team, Charles. It’s a family, a history. The tifosi don’t see you as just a driver; they see you as a symbol. And that’s not something just anyone can carry.”
He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of your words. He’d heard similar speeches before, but coming from you, they held a different meaning. “I know. And I’m willing to give my all to live up to it.”
You stared at him for a moment, assessing him. Finally, you smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine warmth. “I hope so, Charles. I’d love to see you succeed at Ferrari. But for now, enjoy Monza. It’s a magical place, don’t you think?”
“It is,” he replied, relaxing a little. “Even more so now.”
Your laugh was soft, but enough for the few people around to notice the chemistry that seemed to be brewing between the two of you. Before you could respond, a team member called out to you from a distance. With a slight nod to Charles, you walked away, leaving behind a sweet scent and an impression he wouldn’t soon forget.
Charles stood still for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened. He had met the “princess of Ferrari,” but beyond your name and lineage, what had struck him most was your presence. There was something about you that challenged him, that made him want to prove he was worthy of being in your world.
That night, during the official Ferrari dinner, they met again. You were surrounded by important figures in motorsport, but when Charles entered the room, your eyes instinctively sought him out. This time, you didn't need to approach him; he took the initiative.
"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to yours.
You smiled, amused. "Of course. I hope you're ready, Charles."
"If I can survive Monza, I think I can handle this," he replied, feeling more confident.
And so, over glasses of wine and conversations filled with jokes and witty observations, something began that neither of you could have foreseen. You weren't just Ferrari's princess; you were a challenge, a mystery. And for Charles, the young driver who dreamed of conquering the world, you became the most fascinating target of all.
After that first meeting at Monza, Charles couldn't get you out of his mind. Despite being immersed in the demands of his season with Sauber, he found moments between races and training to remember the conversations he'd had with you. For your part, there was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was his humility, his ambition, or the way he seemed to shine even under the pressure of the spotlight.
The next few times you met were at Ferrari-related events, always in formal settings where professional distance was the norm. However, that barrier slowly began to break down.
It was a cool evening in Maranello. Ferrari had organised a private dinner to celebrate the season's achievements and start looking ahead. Although the evening was for the official drivers, Charles was invited as a gesture of goodwill, as the announcement of his joining Ferrari for the 2019 season was imminent.
You met him in the event's illuminated gardens, while escaping a boring conversation with a group of executives. Charles was alone, a glass of wine in his hand, admiring the statue of Enzo Ferrari that presided over the place. You approached him with a light smile.
"Thinking about how to fill those shoes?" you asked, stopping beside him.
Charles turned his head, surprised but genuinely happy to see you. "More like wondering if I'll ever make it."
“It’s a start,” you said, shrugging. “He always said that the true spirit of Ferrari isn’t in perfection, but in passion. If you have that, you’re already halfway there.”
He looked at you, with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “Do you feel that passion too? For Ferrari, I mean.”
You nodded, crossing your arms to protect yourself from the cold. “Of course. I grew up surrounded by this world, but it’s not just the family name. It’s everything it represents: the history, the tifosi, the constant struggle to be the best. It’s not easy to live with it, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
Charles was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then he smiled, a soft but sincere gesture. “It’s funny. All that you describe is what scares me and excites me at the same time. Being at Ferrari means so much more than being a fast driver. It’s… something bigger.”
You turned to him, studying him carefully. There was something about his honesty that disarmed you, a rarity in a world full of appearances. “And you think you’re ready for it?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I want to try. And I’ll do my best to prove that I’m worthy of it.”
The determination in his voice made you smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to admit your doubts, but you’re not afraid to face them either.”
He stared at you, as if he was trying to figure something out in you. “And you? Have you always been this sure of yourself?”
The question took you by surprise. You looked down for a moment before answering. “Not always. But when you grow up in this family, you learn to hide your insecurities.”
Before the conversation could go any deeper, one of the attendants called out to you from a distance. “Y/N, you’re needed inside.”
You sighed, but not before giving Charles one last smile. "Don't let them intimidate you in there. And remember: Ferrari is more than a car, it's a family."
The real change in your relationship came weeks later, when Ferrari made the official announcement that Charles would be a driver for the 2019 season. The news flooded the headlines and thrilled the tifosi, who saw him as the future of the team. That evening, you hosted a private dinner at your family villa in Maranello, inviting only a few people close to the team, including Charles.
"Thank you for inviting me," Charles said when he arrived, wearing a simple but elegant suit. There was something different in his gaze that night: a mix of confidence and gratitude.
"Of course," you replied as you greeted him. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate our new star."
The evening passed quietly, with laughter, anecdotes and toasts to the future. However, you both noticed that your eyes met more often than usual. When dinner ended and the other guests began to leave, Charles was one of the last to stay.
"Would you like to see something special?" You asked, taking a glass of wine and leading him towards the villa's garage.
Inside, covered by tarps, were some of Ferrari's most iconic models, from the first cars created by Enzo to the most modern ones. Charles walked among them in wonder, like a child in a candy store.
"It's amazing," he murmured. "It's like being in a private museum."
"It is," you said, leaning against one of the cars. "Every car here has a story. And now you will be a part of that story."
He stopped in front of you, his expression serious but warm. "I hope I can live up to it. Not just for Ferrari, but for you as well."
The intensity of his words took you by surprise, but you didn't back down. There was something about his sincerity that drew you hopelessly.
"Charles..." you began, but he interrupted you.
“I’m not saying this because you’re from the Errari family or because you’re in a position of power. I’m saying this because you, as a person, inspire me. And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to not let you down.”
For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. And as the silence stretched between you both, Charles took a step towards you. There was no need to say anything else; the moment said it all.
That night marked the start of something special. What had started as a casual connection became a relationship that you both knew would be intense, complicated, but also unique.
After that, the end of 2018 was a whirlwind of emotions for Charles. He had closed his season with Sauber in an exceptional way, earning the respect of the tifosi and securing his place at Ferrari for the following year. But the most unexpected thing for him had been the relationship that had formed with you. During those months, you went from being two occasional acquaintances at events to becoming confidants and something more.
Your meetings, although few due to his constant travels, were full of complicity. He had invited you to accompany him to a couple of races outside Italy, and although you kept everything under a strict low profile, the members of the paddock were beginning to notice that there was something between you. The candlelit dinners, the walks through Maranello and the deep conversations.
For Charles, you were much more than a "Ferrari". You were someone who understood him, someone who saw beyond the image of a promising driver. For you, Charles was a breath of fresh air in a world full of appearances. In him, you found someone honest, humble and passionate.
However, you both knew that things would change in 2019. With Charles officially becoming a Ferrari driver, the attention on both of you would increase, and you would have to decide how you would face what was to come together.
When the 2019 season began, everything changed. Not only was Charles Ferrari's new rising star, he also unwittingly became the centre of media attention. The relationship between the two, which until then had remained in the shadows, inevitably began to come to light.
The first time photographers caught you together was at the Monaco Grand Prix. You were in the paddock, leaning against a railing as you talked animatedly to Charles. You were wearing a red outfit that paid homage to the Scuderia, and your laughter echoed above the roar of the engines. The media was quick to dub you the “prince and princess of Ferrari.”
“Does all this attention bother you?” Charles asked you that afternoon, as you walked together through the Monte Carlo harbor.
“A little,” you admitted, adjusting your sunglasses. “But I also know it’s inevitable. I guess we’ll just have to learn to handle it together.”
Charles nodded, taking your hand gently. “We will.”
It was an intense year, full of challenges for both of you. Charles had to deal with the pressure of being a Ferrari driver, while you were constantly surrounded by the critical eyes of the press and tifosi, who analyzed your every move. Far from separating them, however, those challenges brought them closer together.
The moments they shared off the track became their refuge. There were days when Charles would arrive exhausted after a difficult race, and you would call him to give him words of encouragement. There were also nights when you, exhausted, would find comfort in his embrace.
By 2020, you were no longer just a couple at Ferrari; you were the couple. Cameras followed you everywhere, and social media couldn't stop talking about you. Photos of you at Formula 1 galas, at private Scuderia events, and even on vacation in Italy went viral instantly.
The tifosi loved how they represented the essence of Ferrari: Charles was the young driver full of talent and promise, and you, the sophisticated and passionate woman who seemed to be the embodiment of the Ferrari legacy. No matter where they were, together they projected an image of perfection that fascinated the world.
However, behind the flashes, things were not always easy. The 2020 season was a complicated year for Ferrari, with performance issues testing Charles as a driver. For him, it was frustrating to go from being a constant contender to fighting to stay in the top 10. There were times when tensions were palpable, but you always found a way to remind him of his worth.
“Charles,” you told him one night after a disappointing race at Spa, as you both sat on the balcony of his hotel room. “You are not just a Ferrari driver. You are the future of Ferrari. Enzo always said that difficult races are the ones that make true champions. And you are one of them.”
He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Luckily, you won’t have to find out,” you replied with a smile.
That mutual strength was what made you two so special. While Charles faced the challenges of the track, you struggled to keep outside pressures at bay, defending your relationship from rumors and criticism.
By the end of 2020, you were more than a couple; you were a symbol. The prince and princess of Ferrari, two figures who represented everything the brand stood for: history, passion, and the promise of a bright future.
What no one imagined was that beneath that image of perfection, the first cracks were beginning to form. Because, although the love you felt for each other was real, the demands of your worlds were not always compatible.
The end of 2020 marked a turbulent time both on and off the track. Ferrari was facing one of its worst seasons in years, and while Charles continued to show his talent, the car simply wasn’t up to par. You, for your part, had been dealing with the mounting pressures of your family name: new projects, the constant expectation that you represent Ferrari at key events, and increasing scrutiny over your relationship with Charles.
Through it all, you never let the internal tensions leak outward. To the world, you were still the couple. You were seen smiling at events, with Charles looking at you as if you were his anchor, and you showing yourself unwavering, like the pillar holding him up. But what no one saw was the distance that was beginning to form between you.
The breaking point began subtly, with small misunderstandings and differences that you had previously managed with grace.
During the final races of the season, you noticed that Charles was more distant. Although he remained affectionate with you in public, in private his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His days were consumed by endless team meetings, interviews, and hours of work trying to squeeze the maximum potential out of an unresponsive car. When he came home, he was exhausted, and conversations between the two of you were reduced to an exchange of short sentences.
“How was it today?” you asked, waiting for an answer that never came with any depth.
“Good, the usual,” he would reply, often without looking at you, lost in thought.
It wasn’t Charles’ fault, you knew. The weight he carried on his shoulders was immense, and you wanted to be understanding. But you couldn’t help but feel displaced, as if your place in his life had taken a backseat.
For your part, you were dealing with your own problems as well. Your family expected you to take a more active role in the company, and every step you took was scrutinized. The endless meetings, strategic decisions, and social expectations were draining you. There were nights when you sat alone in your Maranello apartment, wondering if this was the life you really wanted.
The night of the final race of the season, in Abu Dhabi, you decided you needed to talk. You had prepared dinner in the hotel suite, hoping to reconnect before heading back to Italy. Charles arrived late, tired but trying not to show it.
“This looks amazing,” he commented, cracking a smile as he sat across from you.
“I wanted us to close the year with something special,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.
For a while, the conversation flowed as before. You talked about the race, the tifosi, and even joked about how the media had called you “Ferrari royalty” in a recent article. But then, the tone changed.
“Charles, I’ve been thinking,” you began, hands shaking slightly. “Do you think… we’re okay?”
He looked up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve grown apart,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, we don’t spend time together. I feel like all of this—” you gestured vaguely at the world around them, “—is consuming us.”
Charles sighed, setting his fork down on the table. “I know. I’ve felt the same way. But I thought… that it was temporary. That after this season, things would get better.”
“What if they don’t?” you asked, facing the fear you’d been suppressing for months.
For a moment, Charles didn’t say anything. His silence was like a confirmation of what you both feared: that the weight of your individual lives was overshadowing what you had together.
“I love you,” he finally said, with a sincerity that almost brought tears to your eyes. "But I don't know if I'm being fair to you. I don't know if I can be the person you need right now."
The decision wasn't made in one night, but that conversation marked the beginning of the end. Over the following weeks, both tried to hold on to what they had, but silences were more frequent than words, and the emotional distance became increasingly evident.
The news of their separation came in January 2021, shortly after the Christmas holidays. There were no official statements or public explanations; they simply stopped appearing together, and rumours began to circulate.
The paddock was in shock. Neither of them had given any indication of trouble, and for the tifosi, they represented perfection. But those who knew them closely knew the truth: there was no big fight, no betrayal, just the inevitable wear and tear of two people trapped in worlds that demanded too much of them.
The last time you saw him was at a Ferrari event in early 2021. He was beaming, smiling at photographers as he spoke to management. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, almost melancholic smile, which you returned with a similar gesture.
There were no words, but they didn't need to be. You both knew that what you had was unique, special, and that it would always be a part of you. But you also knew that you had made the right decision, even if it hurt.
The prince and princess of Ferrari had split up, leaving the world baffled and the tifosi heartbroken.
The months following the breakup were like a whirlwind, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. You and Charles had decided to keep the reasons for the end of your relationship private, but that only fueled the speculation. The media kept wondering what had happened between the prince and princess of Ferrari, and the tifosi couldn't accept that something so perfect had fallen apart for no apparent reason.
Despite the noise, you both tried to move on, each in your own way. But as they tried to build new routines, the world kept watching, waiting for some sign, some word that would explain the inexplicable.
The first image of Charles with another woman appeared one day in March. It was a casual photograph, taken by a fan in Monte Carlo. Charles was in a café, smiling as he chatted with a blonde, light-eyed girl. It didn't seem like a romantic encounter, but the closeness between the two and the carefree smile on Charles' face unleashed a wave of comments.
“Who is she?”
“Has she replaced her already?”
“She’s probably her cousin or something, Charles wouldn’t do this.”
For your part, you tried to ignore it. You knew Charles had the right to move on, as did you, but you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as fans began to theorize about his love life.
It wasn’t long before you were making headlines too. A few weeks later, during a gala event in Milan, you arrived accompanied by an Italian businessman known for his charisma and fortune. He offered you his arm as you walked down the red carpet, and although you maintained a professional smile, the camera flashes captured something that the media interpreted as complicity.
The reaction was not long in coming.
“She already has a boyfriend? This can’t be real.”
“Charles and her were perfect, this doesn’t make sense.”
“The princes of Ferrari are dating commoners now, apparently.”
Social media became a battleground between fans. There were those who supported the idea of ​​the two moving on with their lives, but there were also those who clung to the hope of a reconciliation. Every photo of Charles with his supposed new partner was analyzed in detail, and the same was true for you.
On your Instagram profile, the comments were a reflection of the tifosi's pain:
"Please tell me this isn't true."
"Why did you break up? I never understood it."
"Get back together, there's still time."
Charles faced the same thing. Even in the simplest photos — an afternoon training or a day on the simulator — the responses were full of mentions of you.
"Everything is more boring without Princess Ferrari."
"I hope you're happy, but I'll never forget what you had."
Neither you nor Charles made any comments on the matter. You both knew that any statement would only fuel further speculation, and the last thing you wanted was to turn your past relationship into a public spectacle.
At Ferrari events, it was inevitable that your paths would cross, although you always kept your distance. During a presentation of the Scuderia for the 2021 season, you sat in the front row next to the management, while Charles took his place on the stage, talking about his expectations for the year.
Your eyes met for a brief second. It was enough for the photographers to capture the moment, but not enough for either of you to show any obvious emotion. You held his gaze calmly, while he quickly turned his gaze towards the audience.
After the event, you avoided the cocktail party that followed. You knew the media would be waiting for any interaction between you, and you weren't about to fuel any more rumors. However, as you were leaving, you received a text on your phone.
"I saw you left early. I hope you're okay."
It was from Charles.
You read it a few times before pocketing your phone without responding. Although the message seemed innocent, it only made the emptiness in your chest feel heavier.
Despite appearances, moving on wasn't easy for either of you. Charles could put on a smile next to his new companion, but in moments of solitude, he found his mind drifting back to the days he shared with you. The walks through Maranello, the conversations in the early morning, even the small arguments over insignificant things: it was all still there, like an echo that refused to go away.
You weren't immune either. Although you were dating someone new, you hadn't felt that connection you once had with Charles. Every time you saw their name in the headlines, your heart beat a little faster, and images of what was and what could have been filled your mind.
Still, you both kept going, at least in the eyes of the world. The smiles at events, the carefully curated posts on social media, everything seemed to indicate that you had put the past behind you. But the others seemed unwilling to let it go.
The tifosi kept waiting. In every Ferrari post, in every interview, in every public appearance, someone always asked about you.
"Will you come back one day?"
"You were the heart of Ferrari."
"Without you, this is not the same anymore."
And although neither you nor Charles answered, that question kept hanging in the air, like a wound that time did not quite heal. Because although you had gone your separate ways, the world was not ready to forget you.
And, perhaps, deep down, neither were you.
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aka-indulgence · 2 days ago
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Soundwave fic? Yes. I love him. I want him to kidnap me. What who said that
Anyway here’s a fic where tfp Soundwave kidnaps you because he likes you and you’re alone on the Nemesis with him for the first time kdsjlfjds
(Soundwave x F!Human Reader)
—————
As soon as he arrives on the ship, Soundwave transforms, shifting you from the cockpit into his hands as he does so. You make a small cry, bracing on his thumb and holding on for dear life as you wildly look around like a frightened animal.
The door behind him closing and the sunlight disappearing from its cracks only furthered your panic- Soundwave could hear the sound of your little frightened breaths, quick and shallow. It was unbearably cute.
He walks with calm, even steps through the hallways. As much as he adored your mannerisms, he didn’t want your (permanent) stay on the Nemesis to be unpleasant. He scrolls through the camera feed on his visor and finds Megatron on the bridge and heads his way.
It was quiet. Even though Soundwave had quite literally stolen you in broad daylight in front of the Autobots that could do nothing but watch him fly away with you, you still found reassurance from him. You looked up at him from time to time; furrowed brows, watery eyes. He can’t stand it. He was the only thing on this ship that was familiar to you, and so he was the only person you would seek comfort from.
A few vehicons saw him on his way to the bridge. All have balked on the sight, but they deserve credit. They were smart enough not to interfere with him, nor to question his new ‘girlfriend’.
“Commander Soundwave,” one nodded as he passed. Only someone like Soundwave could hear the slight shake in his voice.
It must be so hard for someone as small as you. Everyone and everything was so much bigger than you, even the vehicons. Even Laserbeak.
So cute…
He reaches the bridge and the doors slide open. Megatron stands ever vigilant, watching the skies.
“Soundwave. You’ve returned.” His master angles his head before fully turning around, “have you acquired the data I have asked of you?”
Soundwave nods and his screen blinks, displaying pictures of artefacts and text. Megatron’s eyes brighten and a dastardly grin widens.
“Cybertronian artefacts the humans uncovered? Excellent Soundwave. I’m surprised the humans had the forethought to store them in different places, but they won’t stay in their vaults for long…”
Coordinates show on his face of their locations, before he shows one particular artefact.
“A magnetic destabilizer. Did you retrieve it?”
His screen changes to a video of multiple army men shooting at him before the autobots arrived.
“Humans.” He sneered. “For such small creatures, their little guns can feel like scraplets when they are numerous. Even more reason to terminate these pests,”
Soundwave feels a twitch in his hand.
“Which begs the question… why have you brought one back with you?”
His liege sounded curious rather than chastising. His head dips down to where you sat. Poor thing- you were shaking now, your lips parted and gripping his finger tighter than before, unable to speak, wide-eyed staring back at Megatron.
He wraps his fingers around you in the hopes of comforting you, but it only makes you gasp in alarm, swinging your head to look back at him. You’re anxious. He pets your head and prods your cheeks for a moment before turning back to his master. To Megatron, he simply goes over pictures and footage of his encounters with you he managed to capture, then he holds you closer to his chest.
“I see…” Megatron nods. “Very well. I trust you can keep it in check. Although you were unable to retrieve the artefact, the data you brought was most valuable- we will certainly retrieve the rest. You are dismissed, Soundwave.”
Soundwave nods, and both he and Megatron turn to their next objectives; which, for Soundwave, was to have a private moment with you.
*****
Your heart is beating a mile a minute. You’re still having trouble wrapping your head around it. You were going on a human mission to meet with Fowler’s guys one moment, then taken aboard the Decepticon warship the next. And you still don’t understand why Soundwave took you in the first place, when you assume he already took all the information he needed from the unidentified objects database. Now you find out not only did Megatron not ask him to bring back a human, he specifically targeted you. What could he possibly want from you?
A door opens to an empty, barren room with a single shelf-like desk and a huge window that spans from the floor to the ceiling. Oh, and there was a bed on the desk too. Pillows, blankets, white linens and all. It looked rather plush and high quality.
So that’s what happened. You manage to think in the middle of your fear induced paralysis. Everyone had been so confused when Agent Fowler came in with the reports of Decepticon activity at a mattress store, of all places. And after a thorough checking with Ratchet, you’d found nothing else sinister has happened with mattresses. Until now, of course.
You’re placed gently on the table, far gentler than you’d expect a Decepticon to be capable of. Soundwave doesn’t look to be expecting anything from you right now, so you look around. You walk to the bed and feel the sheets; soft, slightly cold, and crisp compared to the beat up bedding you had back home. It reminds you of a hotel bed. You lift your head to look out the window: the perfect view of earth above the stratosphere. It was still day, clear from the bright blue the earth was practically glowing with- but you were so high above ground that there wasn’t enough atmosphere to scatter the light. You could even see the earth’s curvature.
The gravity of the situation, how far away you were from everything, how crazy this situation was that it didn’t feel real- it finally hits you like a ton of bricks and you were broken out of your disconnected paralysis. You were alive again. Your head feels hot, your heart is thumping, and it didn’t feel like you could breathe deeply enough. Fear and uncertainty rises in you like bile.
It’s too much.
Overwhelmed, you hiccup, and the tears start flowing.
You jump at feeling something on your side, and you’re turned around to face the one who captured you. Your hands are shaking, your lips are trembling, sobbing uncontrollably despite your attempts to hide them. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you knew Decepticons were cruel creatures. You wish you knew what he was thinking about, his emotions impossible to read considering that he’s faceless. He simply looks at you, in the silent way Soundwave always did, head tilted slightly down.
Was he judging you? Was he showing disdain? Did he think you were a pathetic, crying thing?
You couldn’t move again, with his hand bracing your back, watching his other hand approach, fingers extended. You sniffle and squeak as it gets closer but- then, very precisely for someone as enormous as he was, he wipes your tears away with his fingers.
“Huh..?”
As he caresses your head, he leans in closer, and you’re suddenly reminded of when children played with their dolls. Coddling them, playing with their hair, that unwavering stare. It makes you nervous, and you squish into his hand more trying to make space from him. You’re confronted with your own reflection in his visor, your eyes reddish and wet.
“Wh-what,” you swallow, mouth dry. “What is it that you want from me,”
Your voice was small and pitiful, shaking with the sobs that still racked your body. He tilts his head, as if he was asking isn’t it obvious?
One slender, extended finger pokes the center of your chest, on your sternum.
Static sounds from his face, and the voice you hear is yours.
“You.”
Me? What do you mean you ‘want me’?? You thought in distress. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing, or if you liked that answer.
“I still don’t… know what you mean by that. Do you want me so y-you can hurt me? Torture me? Put me through some Decepticon experiment? Wh–?!”
The last word turns into a high-pitched squeal as Soundwave lifts you off the ground and brings you close to his face. He isn’t viewing you like he did before, instead steadily bringing you closer and closer. His faceless appearance frightens you, and with alarm you feel like he’s about to squash you against his face- like he was trying to eat you, if he had a mouth. Your panicked breaths turn into a yelp, covering your face and your body seizing up.
You jolt when you feel his visor pressing to the entire side of your body, keenly aware of how much you’re trembling when you’re pressed against this wall that was his face. You kept your eyes shut, feeling him press you further into him, whimpers escaping you.
… But nothing happens. Instead, Soundwave starts moving his face against you, up and down in a rhythmic motion. It’s gentle, careful- he isn’t trying to hurt you. The pressure his hand is putting on you is only just enough to slightly squish you against him, and you feel like a plush toy with your cheek smooshed on his visor. A soft, smooth, deep sound emits from within him, strong enough that it shakes you, but low enough that it isn’t overwhelming. Like an engine revving.
Is he. Nuzzling you?
You open one eye, the other shut from the decepticon’s face rubbing. “Whuh- what’s happening,”
You try to push off his face to make room for yourself, but this only makes Soundwave press you back into his face, this time nuzzling you from left to right.
You sputter, your nose and mouth pressing against him from his motion, before he finally pulls his face away from you, his shoulders bouncing with what might’ve been laughter.
Your puzzled face was clear on his visor.
“I like you.” He says. “I like - Y/n.”
Now that really confused you. You could accept him wanting you for nefarious reasons, even for personal ones but- was Soundwave liking you the reason he took you? You can’t believe it, even as the man in question has his fingers on your cheek again, tickling you and making you close your eyes again from his obsessive petting.
You get a moment to speak when his petting finally stops. You could feel the redness and heat radiating from your cheek from where Soundwave pressed his face on you.
“S-so… you don’t want to hurt me,” you clarify. You had to make sure.
Soundwave shakes his head. “No.”
Phew. That was a relief. You were still on the Decepticon warship of course- but at least your kidnapper wasn’t here to harm you.
There were others on the ship though, who you’re sure aren’t fond of humans.
You simmer in that thought, looking away from Soundwave, who patiently waits for you to say something. You let him thumb you, stroking your hair down placatingly. You have to admit to yourself, it was working more than you thought it would.
You sigh out the heaviness in your chest, and turn back to Soundwave. You open your mouth, hesitating for a second.
“Promise,” you say, “promise you won’t hurt me? Promise you won’t let anyone hurt me,”
You knew there was no way you could really demand something from a Decepticon, your difference in size astronomical, not to mention in strength. But you hoped Soundwave liked you enough that he would honor your request.
Soundwave stares silently, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But you notice his head tilting imperceptibly downwards. You aren’t sure if it was a nod, or just a small movement indicating he was thinking about it.
For now, it was enough.
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seoulmatez · 2 days ago
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— 𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 ౨ৎ
itoshi rin x reader. 2k wc. ノ fluff ノ college au ノ reader wears a skirt ノ mentions of an injury + a little blood
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you aren’t one to believe in silly superlatives, but the last few months have helped you understand why itoshi rin is regarded as the most unapproachable student on campus.
he works alone and during the moments when he’s required to collaborate, the man is incredibly blunt. outside of class, you rarely see him accompanied by anyone other than his team and even then he never seems thrilled to be around them. the aloof expression he constantly wears only solidifies everyone’s perception of him—everyone’s but yours.
you’re a firm believer that people are more than they let on and rin is no different. beneath his frigid exterior, there’s something more. at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the last several weeks. if you weren’t convinced, how else would you explain your efforts of getting close to him?
you’re on a mission, one to see if you can chip away, thaw, the icy exterior that encases itoshi rin.
“rin!” you shout, but your call doesn’t elicit any sort of response—he doesn’t pause, doesn’t turn his head, just keeps walking as though your voice is nothing more than a gust of wind. his disregard fails to deter you as you pick up your pace to catch up with rin’s long strides. it takes a bit but when you finally do, you smile and link your arm with his. you look up at him before asking, “hey, didn’t you hear me calling your name?”
“i did. i was just ignoring you.” his teal eyes finally spare you a short glance before he’s shaking you off, pulling his arm out of your hold and stuffing his hand in the pocket of his long, beige coat. it’s you again, he thinks.
you remind him of something—a gnat, that’s it. small and bothersome but easy to swat away. though, just like them, you always seem to make your way back. he’s grown used to your repeated appearances, even if he finds them slightly inconvenient.
“this is why you don’t have any friends, you know.” you sigh, the stream of air that leaves your mouth visible as a foggy cloud in front of you. you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “you’re so cold.”
he’s silent in response to your statement and you expected as much. still, you send him a smile and continue talking. “i’m willing to look past that, though. what are you doing now?”
“going home.” rin hopes his answer is enough to dispel whatever thought is brewing in your head.
“perfect! so you’re free.” he turns to you with a frown. what part of “going home” gave you the impression that he had nothing else to do? “wanna go get sushi? it’s on campus so we wouldn’t have to go far.”
“no thanks.” he looks away to finalize his answer.
“aw, come on, rin.” if you’re going to get anywhere, you can’t keep letting him brush you off. “it doesn’t have to be sushi,” you try to bargain, but he doesn’t budge, only continues toward his destination.
maybe you should just drop it, try again another time, but your body has other ideas. you take a few quick steps forward so you’re standing in front of rin. you’re walking partially backward as your next words come out. “we can get whatever you w-”
the ground beneath your feet doesn’t feel as stable as it did a moment ago, it’s slippery now, enough to make you lose your balance. you slide forward on a patch of ice before the concrete is back under you. the bottoms of your shoes catch on the roughness of the ground, launching your forward. your knees and the heels of your palms skim the sidewalk, drawing a pained gasp from your lungs.
“shit, are you okay?” rin’s voice cuts through the air, and it’s closer than it was when you were upright. you turn your head to find his face right beside yours. his eyes are zoned in on your hands and you swear you can see a glint of concern pass over them.
“i’m fine,” you tell him, sitting back on your knees and painting on a smile to cover up the pain. you shake your hands at the wrist but the cool air only bites at your open wounds. “it just stings a little.”
you’re a lousy liar, rin thinks. did you think he wouldn’t notice the breath of air you sucked in just now? blue-green irises scan over your hands and knees. the fall was enough to tear your tights and break the skin. there’s blood slowly pooling from the surface of each scratch.
“come on,” rin sighs, straightening up and shrugging his coat off his shoulders. you stare up at him with lips parted in confusion. he jerks his head in a silent gesture for you to stand up.
“where are we going?” you ask, carefully boosting yourself up from off the ground.
“to my apartment.” he glances at your outfit before holding out his coat to you. “put this on.”
you want to ask him why but you figure your constant questioning will put him off. you keep your lips sealed as you accept his coat, slinging it over your much thinner zip-up. your eyes dart back to where he’s standing—or where he was standing. he’s not there anymore but it only takes a tilt of your head to find him. he’s bent at the knee in front of you and his arm reaches over his shoulder to pat his back. “get on.”
your eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and triumph. the gesture itself catches you off guard—before now, it was hard to ever picture rin being so… helpful, chivalrous. on the other hand, this is the first of what you hope becomes many wins in your pursuit of melting away what you think is his frosty façade.
a quiet laugh pushes past your lips as you bend down to wrap your arms around rin’s neck. he hooks his hands under your knees, a low grunt rumbling in his chest as he rises up from his position.
you can’t help but think it would be a lot colder if you weren’t wearing rin’s coat. maybe you should have taken a look at the weather before you decided to put a skirt on this morning. it’s only then that it strikes you—he didn’t give you the jacket to keep you warm, he gave it to you to keep you covered. if the length of the outerwear wasn’t draped over your legs, this piggyback ride would be a lot more compromising.
your cheeks and the tips of your ears are flaming hot compared to the nip of the cold air. you aren’t sure if you’re flustered because of the close call or the fact that rin was attentive and considerate enough to protect your decency. he’s a lot more thoughtful than he puts on.
despite your fall being entirely unintentional, you have to say, the timing couldn’t have been better. the walk to rin’s apartment isn’t far at all and if you hadn’t found a way to stop him, you wouldn’t have gotten through to him today.
with you still on his back, rin fishes out his keys from his pocket, sticking one into the keyhole and twisting until a click signals that the front door is unlocked. you can’t see far into the apartment over his shoulder, but the kitchen and the little glimpse of the living room are exactly what you expected—neat. there are no dirty dishes littered about the counters and the blanket hanging over the back of the couch is tidily folded.
the bathroom is directly to the right of the entrance and rin nudges the door open with his foot to allow the both of you in. he kneels in front of the toilet, setting you down on the closed lid. you survey the scratches on your palms as rin washes his hands and grabs the first-aid kit he keeps under the sink. he kneels down in front of you to start treating the scrapes on your knees.
the process is a silent one, rin’s focus solely on cleaning your wounds. the silence makes you want to squirm but the thought of being reprimanded by rin keeps you glued to your spot. his presence is always overwhelming but much less so when it’s accompanied by conversation. so, you speak, “this is your fault, you know.”
he stills for a split second before continuing, but you don’t miss the way his eyebrows knit together. “how is you slipping my fault?”
you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. the empty statement was merely a poor attempt at filling the silence, but you’re beginning to think that you can use this to your advantage. “i was just trying to be nice and invite you out. if you agreed to lunch with me, this all would have been avoidable.”
rin clicks his tongue. he knows what you’re doing; you’re trying to guilt trip him, make him feel bad. and he does, he recognizes—but not for the reasons you think. he’s never been particularly benevolent but something drove him to act today, something he can’t quite put his finger on. all he can say for sure is that he wouldn’t be doing this for just anyone.
“don’t worry, though.” your voice brings rin back to reality from his thoughts. his teal gaze lands on your face and you smile. it’s pretty, the thinks, but there’s a gleam in your eyes that isn’t as sweet. “i know how you can make it up to me.”
“am i not doing that now?” he asks as he finishes bandaging your second knee.
you ignore his question, holding your palms up at rin’s nod toward them. “i’ll forgive you if you take me up on my offer. going out for lunch, i mean.”
a gnat. persistent and pesky.
“what makes you think i want your forgiveness?” his words, the bluntness of them, starkly contrasts his touch. the lithe finger applying antibiotic ointment to your torn skin is gentle, tender even.
“maybe you don’t,” you hum curiously. you were sure he would have given in by now but his resolve was starting to seem unbreakable. there’s one strategy you have left, one you were hoping you wouldn’t have to turn to. although, you suppose you could always go back on your word. and rin didn’t have to know that.
you clear your throat resolutely in hopes that your next statement comes out smoothly. “i’ll leave you alone if you humor me this once.”
rin almost snorts. he highly doubts that will be the case with your track record and all. despite his skepticism, he doesn’t immediately jump to rejecting you and the lack of a prompt “no” surprises you both.
rin sticks the last square band-aid to your hand while he contemplates your proposal. something about this unplanned interaction has surfaced unfamiliar feelings from the depths of his heart. he still doesn’t understand why he decided to lend you a helping hand, but he figures there must have been a reason—one that he’ll come closer to finding out if he swallows his pride and agrees to your outing.
“fine.” he sits back on his heels, letting his hands rest on his thighs.
you blink at the one-word answer. “fine?”
“that’s what i said.” rin stands up from his place on the floor and starts toward the door. he looks over his shoulder to see you still seated. “come on before i change my mind.”
it would be dumb of you to miss this opportunity—the one that you had sacrificed your physical well-being and a pair of cute tights for—all because you’re awestruck. so you quickly stand and scurry over to rin with a satisfied grin.
you can feel him tense beside you when you loop your arm through his once more. “i knew you’d warm up to me.”
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thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎
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coryndoll · 3 hours ago
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plot ── tasked with interviewing actor drew starkey about his latest movie, you unintentionally steal the spotlight, leaving him blushing and lost for words under your mesmerizing gaze.
content ── reader being toooo pretty that drew is just like woah, drew being so observant ugh love him, reader not even trying to get his attention at all but ure just so alluring to him
authors note ── yea FUCK my series even tho i made that poll tbh im just so unmotivated. i saw this pic of drew n had some ideas for this lil oneshot of reader interviewing him post-premiere or something and him literally falling in love n reader noticing the little things n he becomes soheart eyes for u omg
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you were a little nervous, to say the least. it was supposed to be a one-on-one interview, which somehow felt more intense than group ones with an entire cast. at least in those, the attention wasn’t entirely on you. but now? now it was just you and drew starkey, a handful of questions, and an awkwardly large camera crew standing just out of frame, watching everything. no pressure, right?
your boss had insisted that this interview focus on drew’s performance in his latest film. fair enough, but it also meant no backup—no costar to bounce off of or share the spotlight. it felt intimate in a way you weren’t entirely comfortable with, no matter how many times you’d done this. at the end of the day, it was just you sitting across from a celebrity while everyone else quietly judged your ability to hold a conversation.
you had almost turned this job down when you first started, not because of the nerves (though there were plenty) but because of the sheer vulnerability of it. still, the exposure wasn’t bad, and the paycheck? even better.
as you stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, the tension in your chest tightened just a bit. drew starkey, an actor you were only somewhat familiar with, sat casually in his chair. outer banks, hellraiser, the other zoey—you’d done your homework, skimming through his projects like your career depended on it. because, well, it kind of did. and he was . . . well, better looking in person, if that was even possible. the kind of face that made you forget you had questions to ask in the first place.
meanwhile, drew had been at this for hours. interviews were basically part of the job, but after a while, they all blended together. same questions, same conversations, just with different faces. he was tired but not miserable, holding onto the thought of dinner plans with some friends later that night.
interviews weren’t bad—he liked the connection when it happened, like the guy he was first interviewed by had laughed when he cracked a joke—but there was only so much charm drew could muster after a full day of talking about himself and the same film.
when you walked into the room, he barely glanced up at first. another assistant, probably, or someone from the crew running around to keep things moving. he didn’t pay much attention until you stopped right in front of him, introducing yourself and the network you worked for, arm extended for a handshake.
his gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he forgot how to move, but he pulled himself together quickly, or at least he hoped it looked that way. he shook your hand, smiling the kind of easy, practiced smile he’d perfected over the years, but there was something a little shaky in his voice when he said, “nice to meet you.”
he sat back down, reminding himself to focus. you were a professional. he was a professional. this was just another interview. but it was hard to ignore the way his heart picked up every time you looked at him like that—focused, curious, maybe even a little nervous yourself. he wasn’t sure what it was about you, but for the first time that day, he couldn’t wait for the next question.
his hand went to his earlobe almost instinctively, a nervous habit he hadn’t really noticed until now. yeah, you were . . . stunning, in the kind of way that made him feel like he should stand up straighter or check his hair. if someone had told him you were a celebrity, he wouldn’t have questioned it. but the fact that you were here to interview him? that just felt unfair.
but the interview was smooth, the kind he’d done a hundred times before. the questions were predictable again, circling around the same themes: his character, the challenges of filming, the energy on set. drew answered easily, slipping into that familiar rhythm, but every so often, his focus wavered—not on the questions, but on you.
you glanced down at your list, scanning it for the next prompt, and then back up at him with those eyes. god, those eyes. drew swore they could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even though he knew there were at least ten crew members just beyond the cameras.
he noticed it, though—how bored you seemed, even if you were too professional to let it show. your smile was polite, your tone unwavering, but every now and then, you hesitated just slightly before asking him a question, like you were already tired of the script you’d been given.
and then there was him, barely able to hold eye contact. it was almost embarrassing when he caught himself smiling at you, just a small, almost shy curve of his lips, but it was enough for you to pause, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him.
"are you okay?" you asked softly, your own lips quirking into a smile that practically knocked the wind out of him.
it was such a simple exchange, but drew could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “yeah. yeah, i’m . . . awesome,” he managed, clearing his throat and looking away for half a second before his eyes found their way back to yours. he had to play it off, had to stay professional, but the way you smiled back at him, like his answer had made your day a little brighter? it felt like a win. still, he reminded himself: there was only so much time left. you were on a clock, and he couldn’t afford to waste it, even if you made it almost too easy to get distracted.
you just laughed, accepting his answer, but the moment lingered. your smile lingered. and the questions rolled on, one after another. nothing groundbreaking, but you kept it light, adding just enough to make it feel like a conversation. drew appreciated that. but eventually, after a particularly shared laugh—he couldn’t even remember what the joke had been—he leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.
“okay, so what did you think about the movie?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. it caught you off guard; he could tell by the way your posture shifted, your pen stilling over your notes.
and then you started talking.
at first, it was simple—a few observations, some praise for the direction, the performances. but the more you went on, the more animated you became, your voice lifting slightly, your words flowing effortlessly. you dove deep, unraveling moments and emotions from the film like you’d been holding them in since the premiere. drew leaned back, one hand resting against his chin as he watched you, utterly mesmerized.
you talked about the subtlety of his character, how his guarded exterior felt like a shield hiding something raw and vulnerable. you mentioned the tension between the characters—the way their connection felt like a push-and-pull dance neither could fully commit to but couldn’t walk away from either. you dissected the music, the cinematography, how it all wove together like a symphony of yearning and restraint.
and the way you talked about his performance . . .
you didn’t gush, which he appreciated, but your words were thoughtful, specific. you spoke about his quiet expressions, the way he held so much in his body language—the hesitation in his glances, the way his character seemed to pull back just when you thought he’d lean in. it was like you’d been watching with a magnifying glass, picking apart moments even he hadn’t considered.
he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. not just because you liked the movie, though that didn’t hurt, but because it was you. you, sitting across from him, completely unaware of how captivating you looked while tearing apart his work in the best possible way. if someone had asked him to focus on anything other than the way you gestured, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your clipboard, or the way your lips curved when you spoke, he would’ve failed miserably.
drew just sat there, watching you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you weren’t just pretty—you were sharp, insightful, and clearly so much more than the routine questions your clipboard suggested.
“you’re good at this,” he said when you finally paused for a breath, and he meant it. but he couldn’t help the slight teasing edge in his tone, the way his smile softened just a little as his eyes met yours again.
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daisymbin · 1 day ago
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hellooo are u still open for the prompt request? if u are pls do suggestive #1 with joshua 🥺🥺 tysm have a nice dayyy
yes I am, lovely!! thank you for requesting 🤍
request your own: full prompt list!
check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list
suggestive prompt #1: "if you keep looking at me like that, I might kiss you."
you didn’t even realize you were doing it, did you?
joshua’s hands tightened around the stem of his glass as he watched you, completely lost in your own world. your eyes lingered on his face like they always did—curious, thoughtful, and just shy of mischievous. it wasn’t the first time he caught you staring, but tonight, there was something different.
it wasn’t playful. it wasn’t fleeting. it was deliberate.
he tried not to react. he really did. he made small talk with the others at the table, smiled at the jokes, even laughed when seungkwan exaggerated some story about the last time he got drunk. but his focus was razor-sharp on you, the way your gaze burned into him as though daring him to crack first.
what were you trying to do to him?
it wasn’t fair. joshua was composed, self-assured, the kind of man who never gave too much away. but right now, all that control was hanging by a thread.
he finally looked over, catching your eyes in a way that said, i see you. your lips curled up just enough for him to notice, and he felt his resolve waver.
"what are you thinking about?" his voice was low, smooth, and aimed only at you, though no one else seemed to notice.
you shrugged, and that slight tilt of your head, that tiny quirk of your brow, made his chest tighten.
"nothing much," you replied, too casually. but your eyes were anything but casual. they were intense, tracing the line of his jaw, flickering down to the way his hand rested on the table.
you're doing this on purpose.
his fingers twitched, itching to reach for you, to see if you’d react the same way under his touch. instead, he let the silence hang between you, hoping you’d falter first. but you didn’t.
when you took a sip of your drink, your lashes fluttered just enough to make his throat dry.
he leaned in a little, his voice soft and measured. “if you keep looking at me like that, i might kiss you.”
the words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate.
your eyes widened slightly, but not with surprise. no, you weren’t caught off guard. your reaction was something else entirely—intrigue, maybe, or something darker, something that made his pulse quicken.
you set your glass down, slowly, carefully, as though testing his patience.
"what’s stopping you?" your voice was quiet but steady, challenging him without hesitation.
his chest tightened. was this what you wanted all along? for him to break his composure, to be the one to act first?
joshua glanced around briefly—everyone else at the table was absorbed in their conversations. the buzz of laughter and chatter gave him a thin veil of privacy, but not enough.
he leaned in closer, until his shoulder almost brushed yours, until he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.
“you’re playing with fire,” he murmured, his lips curving into the faintest smile.
you didn’t flinch. if anything, you leaned in too, closing the distance just enough for him to feel your breath ghost against his cheek.
“then burn me,” you whispered.
his breath caught, and for a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the crowd, the rest of the world. it was just you, staring at him like he was the only thing you could see.
he thought about it. god, he thought about it. the idea of closing that last inch, of tasting the words on your lips, of finally caving into this tension that had been building for weeks.
but no. not here. not now.
joshua leaned back slightly, just enough to make you frown.
“not here,” he said softly, his tone firm but laced with something electric.
your expression shifted, curiosity blooming across your face.
“then where?”
he let the question linger, didn’t answer, didn’t have to. the way his gaze dropped to your lips and back up to your eyes was answer enough.
the corner of your mouth curved, and joshua felt a surge of satisfaction. you might’ve thought you had the upper hand tonight, but he wasn’t about to let you win so easily.
“finish your drink,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “then let’s get out of here.”
he didn’t wait for your reply. he turned back to the table, picking up the thread of a conversation with minghao as though nothing had just happened. but he could still feel your gaze on him, lingering like a whisper, a promise.
he didn’t have to look to know that you were smiling.
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patolemus · 3 days ago
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Wip Thursday
Got tagged by @gege-wondering-around and @dontcallpanic so here you have another snippet for my demon!stiles au!
“So. I know what this thing is,” because there comes a point where your only option is ripping off the bandaid, and also, Stiles has exhausted all his other resources. “The good news is I know how to get rid of it.”
“And the bad news?” Derek already sounds like he doesn’t want to know the answer. Stiles would feel guilty, he really would. Only, Derek brought this on himself, really, letting Stiles into the pack all those years ago. He should just accept that Stiles will do his thing and rest easy.
“Uuuh… I’m going to have to talk to my Father and that always sucks,” and he’d been doing so well, too, dodging his messengers and little notice-me calls. The fire had been a little too on point, though.
“The Sheriff? What for?” Scott tilts his head in that way that makes him look exactly like a puppy. Stiles has a sudden urge to squeeze him until he bursts.
Heh, good old cute rage.
“Oh, no, not my dad. My Father. Completely different people,” Stiles is met with blank expressions. Huh. Right, the puppies don’t know who his Father is. Eh. Not his problem. Derek can explain it to them on his own time. “Anyways, it’ll be a pain in the ass because I’ve been trying to avoid his calls for a while now and he’ll be so clingy and smug, but I’ll take one for the team,” he says, ever so graciously. Ugh, Belial is going to be unbearable, too. Stiles is so not looking forward to that conversation.
More blank stares. Stiles smiles, nods once and turns around. He’ll have to go kill an animal or something for his sacrifice, since his Father still refuses to get signal on Hell. So messy. Stiles hopes his Father understands he won’t be returning until he gets stable wi-fi connection because he is not giving up Google.
“What? Stiles that explains nothing!” Lydia says, exasperated. Stiles doesn’t know what she’s talking about, he made perfect sense of himself! “You haven’t even told us what this thing is!”
Oh. Okay, maybe that one’s on him.
Please don't take this seriously. I beg of you. Also I know this makes absolutely no sense at all but it will be. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. Tagging @oldefashioned @salty-fryingpan @novasillies @hedwig221b and of course @dontcallpanic and @gege-wondering-around again, thank you so much for the tag!
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solarnomoon · 2 days ago
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your eyes on me -♥̩͙ sim jaeyun smau
chapter 03 - dino for the huzz
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the time of reckoning has come! everyone is linked to their soulmate when they're born, but only after they turn twenty does that link become visible. however, you don't expect much, because the stupid red line tied to you is only seen when they're close by. for now, you'll just help your best friend with their soulmate, hoping it'll happen to you too.
previous <> masterlist <> next
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"y/n, why do you even have that shit?" heeseung asks, still laughing even after two whole minutes. y/n had set his mask on the table next to them after scaring them, winter letting y/n know that the boys in front of them happened to be some of enhypen.
some of the others in the store had given them a weird look, but nothing more than a quick judgment before moving on with the rest of their lives. y/n, though sometimes shy and more introspective, has basically no limits when it comes to winter, especially considering he knows that she'll support him through and through. he's grateful for it, which is why he wanted to pull up in a stupid mask anyway, just to get a laugh out of her.
the last thing he expected was some of the guys to be there as well, causing him to be a little more embarrassed than he usually would, but they seemed to take it well, which gave him at least some comfort.
"a boy can't just wear a mask for fun?" he responds, looking over to sunghoon, knowing he's done the same thing. "remember halloween?" he raises his eyebrows, and sunghoon just rolls his eyes.
jay looks between y/n and his friend, "what the fuck happened during halloween?"
sunghoon takes a sip from his drink, while pulling up the picture, revealing that him and y/n had switched costumes halfway through just for fun, and because both of them had masks on, they genuinely both thought that they could trick people that they were each other. it didn't work, due to their height difference, but drunk boys could try anyway!
"so yeah, we thought it was gonna be funny, but we looked dumb as fuck." sunghoon then nods his head over to y/n, "and this one over here was like 'oh em gee sunghoon i love you so much, you're amazing!'" he mimics in a high pitch voice, trying to sound like y/n.
y/n just scoffs, lightly hitting him, "i do not sound like that you fuck."
winter laughs loudly, getting the attention of everyone. when she meets eyes with y/n, she quickly looks away and corrects herself: "yeah, hoon, what the fuck." when y/n looks back, she sticks out her tongue playfully, indicating she definitely agrees with the guy.
"anyway, what time are you guys coming over?" y/n asks, realizing that it is in fact getting closer to 4:30, which is the time they decided to meet up. "i still have to get ready... or not, honestly i don't know what to wear."
sunoo, sitting down at the table playing a game, answers him. "probably around like 4." he looks up when he dies, face contorting into a smile, "wait, can i get ready with you guys? i don't like getting ready with ni-ki, he always steals my shit and then hogs the bathroom."
"yes, of course king! lix and chae are coming over soon, so we can all get ready together!" y/n replies back, getting excited that he's able to hang out with more people other than just heeseung.
sunoo smiles, going back to playing his game.
"what about me?" heeseung pipes up, pout evident on his face.
"ou..." y/n retracts away, closer to winter, "who is this man..."
"okay fuck you too."
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taglist (open!): @bubblztaro @zhaegon @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @strayy-kidz @starchasing-cryptid @matchawook @ashersdeadinside @isa942572 @sumzysworld @xavi-in-kpopland @winuvs @channieismylove @kkurbys @onementally-unstabel-kid @leoleoleone @conwunder (bold means i couldn’t tag :o)
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maxinemeows · 3 days ago
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So multiple things inspired me to write this little angsty Flower Husbands drabble: their interactions in this season, the scene on bread bridge in Limited Life (and how Jimmy seems to be okay to ask Scott for lives as if they're nothing,) and also in general how I am noticing how their dynamic is more antagonistic and violent now (similarly how Joel and Scott are usually.)
Also, Jimmy not knowing who was Scott's soulmate when he was doing the Life Series quiz made me think that it would be cool to include here!
(if you know my last Scott post you'll probably understand why this thing exists- PGFJGHF.)
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A Deal with heartbreak
Session 6 started with a bang, multiple people dying because of the sudden appearance of the wildcard from today, Jimmy being one of them, making him be a red life now.
Scott walks near the cherry wood stairs of the Bamboozlers and looks around to check on them to see if they found out something new about the wildcard.
“Hello? Anyone here?” Scott calls out until he notices Jimmy coming down the mountain. He seems to be wearing the clothes he did last session, but this time they’re different colors.
Jimmy waves at Scott and approaches him rapidly.
“Hey.”
“Hey!” Scott smiles warmly. Sure, Jimmy is red but he wouldn’t attack him out of the blue, even though last sessions he kind of did, but Scott hopes he won’t now.
“Dude this wildcard is crazy! I can’t believe I died so quickly! I mean, at least I wasn’t the only one.”
“You have to be more careful Jimmy, Mumbo died last session so you might follow him…”
Jimmy sighs and crosses his arms shaking his head.
“Yeah, you’re still a green man, I don't know how you do it!” As Jimmy says that he gets an idea.
Scott shrugs at that. He just goes under people’s radars, though he is also good at the games, but better than Gem and Joel? Probably not.
“Scott man, I really need a life… Now that I am red is more urgent than yesterday! Please can I kill you?” Jimmy puts his two hands together and tries to make the best puppy eyes.
Scott chuckles at his request, and for a moment he considers it.
“Uhm, sorry Jimmy, I really don’t want to lose a life now. I gave one to Pearl yesterday so-” He gets interrupted as Jimmy gets closer to Scott, making him visibly more nervous.
“Oh! You gave her a life so she wouldn’t be red right? This is the same situation! Please man!” 
“But that’s different Jimmy! She’s my teammate and I also promised her that if she turns red she could kill me!”
With that said Scott thinks this is over but he then sees how Jimmy is suddenly holding a sword.
“How is that different? What about me asking you yesterday? Also! Our teams are kind of allies right? Don’t you think it’s a good idea to help your ally?” Jimmy waves his sword around, making Scott be very vigilant of the situation he’s in.
“I understand that, but Pearl, Impulse and Cleo are the first people I allied with this season! Of course I am going to prioritize them! Plus if we’re like this then Pearl was my soulmate a couple of seasons back so!” Scott says that without thinking, realizing suddenly why this moment seemed familiar. 
He, for a moment sees a black leather jacket and a long bridge extending on both of their sides.
Jimmy furrows his eyebrows in confusion and anger saying: “What? Okay and? Also your soulmate wasn’t it Cleo?”
Scott finds himself dumbfounded. He steps back and sees Jimmy closing the distance, and as he does that Jimmy accidentally steps on a poppy when he swings his sword at Scott.
In that moment, something in Scott gets broken. His stomach feels like it's turning and his hands buckle into fists. A sword appears into Scott’s hand and he swings it to block the blow; he then redirects his sword near Jimmy’s neck.
“I’ll give you 30 seconds Jimmy, to get out of my sight before I kill you for good.” Scott looks coldly at Jimmy, his eyes beginning to glow, but not only that, multiple more seem to appear and open on his neck and arm, glowing alike.
Jimmy’s sword disappears into his inventory and he huffs as he turns around and walks up the stairs of his team’s mountain.
Scott’s hands tremble. He sighs, and writes a mental note to not visit the Bamboozlers anymore.
-----
So I thought Jimmy was yellow at the end of session 5- checked, and he is red, but well this is a silly drabble anyways!
I had to make a reference to Deal with Destiny in the title okay? Was it obvious? Was it not?
Hope you liked it! ^^
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midnight-shadow-cafe · 7 hours ago
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Full Throttle Heart
Pairing:Eddie Munson x Reader
AU: Mechanic Eddie x reader
Warnings: none
Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I need Eddie so bad rn- especially with the release of Gladiator 2
Word Count: 1.1k
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+
You weren’t surprised to find yourself back at Munson’s Garage, not after how your car had been behaving lately. The thing was a mess—sputtering and groaning like it was on its last legs. Eddie Munson, though? He’d been fixing it up for years now.
Years. You weren’t sure how time had passed so fast, but it had been nearly five years since Eddie had rolled into town, taking over the garage after his uncle retired. You remembered the way Wayne Munson had always been kind to you, fixing up your parents’ cars on the cheap. When he handed the reins to Eddie, you’d been skeptical.
Eddie, who you’d known vaguely from high school, was more known for playing his guitar in the cafeteria and making dramatic speeches about “the conformity machine” than anything resembling responsibility. You weren’t exactly close back then, running in different circles, but you remembered his energy, his loud laughter, and his ability to command attention.
When you walked into the garage that first time and saw Eddie, covered in grease but still rocking his signature chain and bandana combo, it took a moment to recognize him. He grinned, leaning against the workbench like he had all the time in the world.
“Well, well. Look who’s stumbled into my domain,” he’d said.
Your car had needed a new starter then, and Eddie had been surprisingly competent. The snark and flair were still there, but underneath that was someone who really cared about his work. You left the shop that day with a working car and the faint beginnings of a friendship you didn’t expect.
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Now, all these years later, you realized just how much Eddie had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t just car trouble anymore. Anytime you had an excuse to swing by the shop—whether to drop off coffee, borrow his tools, or just complain about your day—you did. And Eddie? He always made you feel welcome, even if it was with a teasing smirk and some exaggerated comment about how much trouble you were.
You’d told yourself for years that you didn’t think about him that way. He was Eddie. Loud, messy Eddie who played guitar in his garage band and spent half his weekends fixing up junkers with some of his old high school friends. But the more you showed up, the more you saw him for who he really was: funny, kind, hardworking, and, yeah, ridiculously attractive.
It was in the little things. Like how he remembered how you took your coffee. Or how he never charged you for little fixes, no matter how many times you insisted. Or the way his face lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes.
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That autumn evening was no different. You walked into the shop, shivering against the chill, and found Eddie bent over an old Chevelle. The sight was one you were used to—his wild curls tied back, grease smudged on his cheek, his bandana barely holding his hair out of his face.
“Munson, tell me my car isn’t completely dead,” you said as you crossed the room.
He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before grinning at you. “Sweetheart, your car’s got one foot in the grave, but I’m a miracle worker. You know that.”
Rolling your eyes, you leaned against the workbench. “So, what’s wrong with it this time?”
He launched into an explanation about the alternator, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you found yourself watching the way his hands moved when he talked, the way his lips quirked into a smile when he teased you, the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary.
“And that’s why you need to stop ignoring the weird noises it’s been making,” he finished, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. “What was that last part?”
Eddie’s grin widened. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Just fix it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. “But only if you agree to dinner.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Dinner?”
He shrugged, trying to look casual, though the slight twitch of his fingers gave him away. “Yeah, dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever excuse you need to keep coming back here and making my day.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the admission, but you quickly covered it with a smirk. “Fix the car first, Munson. I’ll think about it.”
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The next day, you returned with coffee and takeout, feeling more nervous than you had any right to. Eddie greeted you with his usual teasing grin, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Peace offering?” he asked, taking the coffee from you.
“Something like that,” you said, handing him the bag of food.
As he worked on your car, the two of you fell into your usual rhythm—banter, jokes, stories from your day. But beneath it all was something unspoken, something that had been building between you for years.
When he finished, he leaned against the car, crossing his arms as he looked at you. “She’s good to go. But, uh, you know, I meant it. About dinner.”
You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I know.”
“And?”
You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I’ll pick you up at seven. But only if you clean up first.”
Eddie laughed, the sound warm and full of promise. “Deal.”
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Dinner turned into takeout on the hood of your car, parked by the lake where you used to hang out as kids. Somewhere between bites of fries and Eddie’s terrible jokes, he reached for your hand. You let him, the grease-stained calluses on his fingers grounding you in the moment.
“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.
“Guess so,” you replied softly, leaning just a little closer.
Eddie Munson, once the loud kid from high school, was now the quiet comfort you didn’t know you needed. And as the stars reflected on the water, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.
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Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜
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formylovetodaryldixon · 1 day ago
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"For life." Daryl Dixon Imagine.
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(Not my gifs)
Daryl tells his daughter about the day she was born (And she asks him an awkward question)
A/N: Just a continuation of my first imagine with dad!Daryl. My everything. I don't know why but I always imagined his daughter as Lexi Rabe, Iron Man's daughter, (I took a scene too, sorry hehe) but as always, you can imagine her differently. Thanks for the love my imagines are receiving! I had so much fun writing this so i hope you like it♥
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“Shit…” Daryl whispers, and the group around him sinks into silence.
The few present, some members of his family, including his wife, stare at the map on the dining room table, plotting in their minds what was the best option to attack Negan’s clan before he attacks Alexandria again, before he puts at risk the lives of the innocents who had been caught in the crossfire.
But the silence is broken by a small voice, as sweet as honey since she learned to speak.
“Shit.”
They all turn to the staircase behind them, especially Daryl, who could recognize his daughter’s voice among a sea of ​​murmurs, even if they were louder than her small voice. Daryl had a good memory, and he had memorized her voice since Marley said her first word, which, to his delight, was daddy. But now Marley Rose Dixon is 4 years old already, and although her bag of words as he used to call it was still limited, she had learned to memorize a lot of things at her young age.
Daryl walks over to her, who is sitting on the bottom step, wearing her pajamas with little baby elephant prints on them, and he lifts her up in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth. For her part, Marley hugs his neck, and she smiles back at him, a little sleepily because it is already past midnight.
“What are ya doin' up, youn' lady? It’s late and ya should be sleepin'.”
“Shit.” She repeats, laughing, just to make him uncomfortable, although she didn’t know she was actually doing it.
You chuckle, as do Rick, Michonne, and the others.
“No, angel, it ain't 'kay to say that word.” Daryl scolds her, softly as he uses one hand to push some strands of her brown hair out of her face. “That word belongs to mommy, so only she can say it.”
Marley frowns, tilting her head to look at him with her deep blue eyes and an accusatory expression.
“But you said it, daddy.”
He clears his throat before answering.
“Yeah, but only 'cause Mommy lends it to me sometimes, right, Mommy?” Daryl glances in your direction, and when everyone turns their gazes to you, the weight falls on your shoulders, so you just nod with a solemn expression. “See? Now we’re gonna take ya back to yer room, 'kay?”
Marley hugs his neck closer, their noses touching, making Daryl smile.
“But can you tell me a story?”
Before you or Daryl can speak, though, Rick ends the meeting. Everyone retreats to their own homes, kissing Marley on the cheek or stroking her hair on their way out, and when the three of you are alone again, you all head up the stairs to her room.
Once there, Daryl sets Marley down on her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you grab a book from her shelf. There weren’t many children’s books in that new world, so the two of you had started reading Marley books about wild animals, exotic flowers, and more.
He lays down next to her on the blanket, their heads touching on the pillow as you hand him a book. But Daryl skims through it first, frowning as he looks back at you.
“What? No pictures this time?”
“Borin’!” Marley replies, mimicking her father’s expression.
Her words make you let out a deep breath, but you chuckle too, just because even though you had given birth to her, she looks more like her father than you.
“Oh no. Look what we did. We created a little Daryl Dixon. As if we didn’t have enough with the one we already have at home.” Shaking your head, you walk out of the room, hearing your husband’s voice behind you.
“I’m so proud of the daughter I raised!”
You hear the laugh in his deep voice, but before Daryl can open the book, Marley gently pushes it away.
“Daddy, tell me one of your stories.”
He settles down on the bed, looking into her eyes that were just like his own. Daryl could get lost in the depths of her blue eyes, all day, all night, or all his life: it was like that from the first time he saw her anyways.
“Did Mommy tell ya about the day ya were born?”
She shakes her head.
“Well, we were waitin' for ya for several months now, but ya were two weeks early. It seems that Mommy’s belly wasn’t very comfortable anymore. That night, Daddy had gotten to the gates after a run when Aunt Maggie told me that Mommy was ready to give birth, and when I got to our room, she was very, very scared. So I sat behind 'er on the bed and told 'er how brave she was, that she jus' needed to endure the pain a little longer to meet our baby.”
Daryl smiles slightly at the memory despite the fear he felt, because there was always a chance of losing his wife or his daughter, and Marley looks at him curiously.
“Were you scared?”
Daryl chuckles, stopping himself from saying shit again.
“Terrified, angel. Daddy couldn’t do anythin’ to stop Mommy from havin’ that pain, but we both know how strong Mommy is, and I knew she could do it. Ya took a long time to be born, but in the end, yer cry was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. Ya were healthy, and that was all yer mommy and I asked of life. Then the doctor put ya on mommy’s chest, and suddenly ya stopped cryin' when ya looked into 'er eyes.”
“How did I look at Mommy?”
Daryl smiles, bringing a hand up to Marley’s face to caress her cheek.
“Ya looked at each other like ya’d known each other forever.”
“And how did I look at you?”
Marley chuckles as he leans closer to her, so close that he can rub his nose against his daughter’s, hearing that sweet sound he’s memorized as well.
“Ya looked at me like ya were goin' to love me yer whole life.”
Marley smiles.
“But I love you, Daddy.”
“For life?”
She nods quickly.
“For life.”
For Daryl, who was never given a touch of affection, he knows well that he would give his life for his daughter, because she had loved him long before she knew what love was. But she grew up surrounded by it, by her family, by her mother, and most of all by him, who always knew how to love despite not having been loved when he was a child.
And it is easy for him to say the words that he never received.
“Daddy loves ya, Marley, with all his heart.”
She smiles, kissing his nose before wrapping an arm around his neck.
“I love you too, daddy, with all my heart.”
“That’s good to know, ma little angel.” Daryl caresses her cheek one more time before pulling away from her, getting up to tuck her in before leaving. “Ya must sleep now, sweetheart. It’s late.”
“Daddy?” Just as he adjusts her blanket for the last time, he stops. “Can I have a pet?”
Daryl thinks for a moment: it’s been a while since anyone had seen a pet.
“How about a fish? Daddy can take ya fishin' and we can come home with a pet fish.”
Marley wrinkles her nose.
“I don’t want a fish. You can’t take them for walks.”
He chuckles.
“And what animal would ya like?”
“An elephant!”
Daryl can’t help it, he frowns at her, head cocked to the side.
“What’s that word Mommy always uses when I get obsessed with somethin'?”
“Fixation.” She laughs, finding the word before her dad does.
Daryl chuckles.
“Ya really got a thin' for elephants, angel.” He leans down to kiss her forehead before leaving, but on his way to the door, her voice stops him again. “Yeah?”
“And how did I get into mommy’s belly?”
Daryl chokes on his own breath: but he would rather face 100 walkers than explain to his daughter how a baby was made.
“What?”
“You said I was in mommy’s belly.” Marley cocks her head, an action she learned from him. “How did I get there?”
“Well…” Daryl frowns in a thoughtful expression, because Merle had told him about it when he was a kid, but in a very grotesque way. “Daddy will try to get ya an elephant, I make no promises, but I'll try, 'kay?”
Marley smiles.
“Okay.”
Daryl can feel the relief as he closes her door, but he knows that sooner or later, she’ll ask again. When he gets to his own room, he can see you standing in front of the window, staring out at the cold world, but at least inside his home, it was always warm. Like a good hunter, Daryl comes to you quietly, wrapping you in his arms, his face hidden in your neck, his warm breath tickling you.
“How did yer parents tell ya how a baby is made?”
You laugh.
“What?”
“Marley asked me how she got into mommy’s belly.” Daryl lifts his head, meeting your amused gaze. “Merle told me when I was 6, and I ain't repeating the words he used to ma daughter.”
You shrug, agreeing with him.
“I met him, so I can imagine his words. I was never told that babies are delivered by the stork or anything like that. But, we already talked to Marley about calling her private parts by their names, so we can start there.”
Daryl growls.
“I’ll be there but, could ya do it? I ain't ready to teach ma baby how to make a baby.”
You laugh.
“Fine, I’ll do the talking. Although now that I think about it, my brother once told me that he was explained it when my mom was pregnant with me, so it was easier for them and him.” When you look back at him, Daryl is looking at you with an amused smile, the one he used before asking you if you wanted to make love. “I’m not saying we have another baby! So keep your hands off me.” You pull away from him a little, looking at him with a serious expression. “Before you say it, no. No, no, no, and definitely not. And if that wasn't clear to you, hell no.”
Daryl shoves his hands into his pants pockets, smiling like a child.
“I jus' think maybe it’s the right time to give Marley a little brother or sister.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? Are you planning on giving birth to that baby?” You ask, but when he shakes his head, you narrow your eyes. “Then think twice, Dixon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to sleep. And if you dare lay a finger on me, I’m going to bite it. I’m not kidding.”
The moment you turn your back at him, however, Daryl has you in his arms, kissing the arch of your neck before you can ask him to let you go.
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Note
The babbling of human words became more familiar, the tone of reassurance a comfort for her. Words were lost, but tone could be felt...and the woman's tone was warm. It was far less harsh amongst these people than the trappers on the boat, to be sure. It was...nice listening to them talk, even if Stranger couldn't exactly understand them. The leader's mother seemed so kind and so warm. Would she and her human mother have gotten along? She hoped so.
If nothing else, knowing that there were people who lived with dragons like her made her feel less alone in the world. She felt far less isolated, despite meeting these people from within the bars of a cage.
Sunchaser leaned into Valka, rumbling at her and accepting the gesture she offered. The brothers, too, felt less alone upon meeting these people, especially Valka. They never knew about humans who lived with dragons and certainly no one who was anything like Stranger. Granted, Valka wasn't completely feral like they were, so she likely lived with dragons when she was much older unlike Stranger who was taken in as a child.
Looking over the older woman's shoulder, Stranger peered at Toothless and Seabreak sitting next to one another. Though she rejected his offer to play, she was glad to see the alpha treating herself and her brothers with patience, kindness, and acceptance.
Though...seeing the branch in Toothless's mouth gave her an idea. Ever since she was young, she had an instinct to convey her thoughts in any way she could, including visually. Sometimes some stray flowers could stain on stone walls, sometimes a stray branch allowed the sand to become a veritable canvas.
None of the other dragons had this instinct...so maybe that was something uniquely human for her. Maybe...maybe in place of words, she could communicate with pictures!
Getting up and shaking herself, her dragonskin wrappings crinkling with the sudden movement, Stranger quickly scrambled away, leaving her meal on the nearest rock, to find a suitable branch. One not too big, not too small...one with a blunt end and a narrow end.
Approaching Toothless once she had found a suitable branch, she squinted at him. This wouldn't be her best work, given that it's just meant to be a demonstration, but it would have to do.
Warbling at Toothless to stay still, Stranger immediately got to work, starting with his face. She used the blunt end of the branch for the outline and shape and the narrow end for the smaller details, like his eyes, nose, and the little spines on his forehead. She'd drawn her family enough times to know the shape of them by heart, even if Toothless was a little different. He had more appendages on his head than they did and his ears were much longer. He wasn't as smooth as they were, but his shape was similar enough that this was easy for her.
Occasionally, she would have to pause to approach him, being sure not to touch him without permission to count the number of spines on his feet or the number of points in his fins on her fingers. She could really only comfortably count to ten. She could count higher than that, but that was difficult. Thankfully, she didn't have to with Toothless.
It took a bit of time, but she finished with a satisfactory rumble in her throat, only taking one moment to observe the symbol on Toothless's prosthetic before etching it in with the narrow end of the branch and deciding she was finished.
Carefully, she laid the branch down across his likeness's mouth to complete it, mirroring the dragon holding it now as she turned to the humans with a small warble. Do you like it? Did I do a good job?
At the offer of the stick, Toothless accepted, gingerly picking it up in his mouth.
He plopped down next to Seabreak, trying to convey that he was grateful.
Hiccup waited, turned away, only looking forward again once he felt the dragon's nose press into his palm. Stepping closer, he began to stroke the dragon's head. "I know it can be hard, but maybe we can help your sister, and the three of you." Glancing over at the woman, he looked back at the dragon in front of him. "I just wish we could...communicate better...but, we'll find a way..."
Valka gave the girl a soft smile as she pulled away.
Her eyes widened slightly as the girl spoke another Norse word. "Oh...no, it's-it's perfectly alright, lass..." She turned to Sunchaser, holding her hand out to him, using a method she learned under the Bewilderbeast to offer him some comfort as well. "It looks like you four are quite close, yes?"
Hiccup made his way back over to them. "Is she alright?"
"Yes, she seems better. She might now a few more words than we think, actually, which is great news."
"Yeah?" Hand to his chin, he got an idea. "What if we taught her our language? Then, then we can see what her story really is, what she and these dragons are looking for?"
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charrfie · 7 months ago
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Sooooo I updated my spamton design... he looks different now!! I wanted to lean a bit more into canon with his appearance :^D also included here are some doodles of my very self indulgent lighter!arrfs au (uncolored ones are roughly a month old so my design changes had not yet been reflected in them.. but you can't really tell since his design was altered so slightly)
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swordmaid · 6 months ago
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i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…
#the whole setting is jb hanging out in the rock post war#and tyrion became lord of the westerlands / the rock is his but he’s off doing stuff in kingslanding and jaime is just filling in for him#atm . but after tyrion comes back his original plan WAS he’ll get married to brienne right away and they can move back to tarth or be#travelling hedge knights together or whatever brienne wants to do he’s down for it. but the important thing is that he wants to stay with#her .. so he’s using the time they have together currently to court her bc she deserves that at least !!#so jaime goes off trying to court and woo brienne but she just thinks they’re hanging out bc they got relatively close in the war#so jaime being touchy feely isn’t anything new. jaime making innuendos and being kinda flirty isn’t anything new either#but this time he means it LOL he’s like I want to kiss you SO badly and brienne will be like lol silly jaime (:#I was also thinking they’d help rebuild lannisport just bc it’s a time for healing now and it would be good for the people to get to know#jaime and the lannisters in general bc of how they would just used to sit high above the rock looking down on everyone#but now jaime is like. actively helping and being known and being with the people rather than just being that absent distant lord#also he’s thinking he might as well try and foster some relationship with the commoners to his house bc it’s for tyrion anyway#so he’s off doing that and brienne is tagging along bc she does not want to go home yet#she wants to stay with him and she’s helping out as an excuse to stay a little longer but she doesn’t exactly want to leave him#but how do you tell someone that and ignore the big glaring part that she’s actually in love with him and the fact that they both survived#the war is getting her hopeful???? u want her to admit that?? like a normal person??? no..!!#so she’s just staying and helping out bc a) it’s the sensible thing to do b) so she can bask on the sun that is Jaime Lannister#for like a few more days. weeks. maybe a month bc the weather is soooo bad in the stormlands rn 🙄😳#anyway jb hanging out! and everything is going well and good but jaime is now getting popular w the people and he’s also looking quite#rugged and handsome post war now that he’s thirty flirty and thriving and he also has a new scar across his lip that makes his#smirks even more ! rogueish … ! and he looks quite nice with the greying hair 👀 so now there’s gossips around him#not to mention he’s single too and I think if you were one of the heroes who helped win the war they’ll forget the kingslaying#man with no honor business so lo and behold brienne eavesdrops a group of ladies bc she’s a chismosa at heart and they’re talking about a#potential marriage for a lord lannister (!!!) and there’s going to be a big tourney held in Kingslanding for it (!!!)#and brienne remembers jaime mentioning the ought to go to Kingslanding in the next few weeks (!!!) and now she’s remembering jaime IS a#lord though not theee lord of the westerlands STILL a lord from one of the seven houses and he’s single and very eligible for marriage rn#and now she’s realising everything is returning back the way it was before the war where society rules matters and she has her own role as#now the evenstar bc rip selwyn and jaime has his own role too and the court is a whole different battlefield#one that she isn’t equipped in and even though she had found some new confidence in herself bc killing a bunch of ice invisible zombies#with your own magic sword will do that for you she doesn’t think (and she’s being objective not negative) she stands a chance in THAT
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