#HES BRINGING BACK TITANIC GET HIM TO SAVE HER TOO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellishjoel · 9 days ago

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titanic

10.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

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summary: frankie sees his father for the first time in years over a tense birthday dinner. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), marijuana, smoking, swearing, dual POV, descriptions of food and drink, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.) and wears a swimsuit, explicit smut, pet names (baby, angel, carino, princesa, etc.), angst, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol, and an additional warning that I'm considering a spoiler (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers - if you're a fan of the series but fear the unspoiled trigger may affect you, pleaes message me and we'll talk!) A/N: *spongebob voice* four months later... special thank you to @devineconjuring for being my beta for this chapter. annie is more than a masterbeta, she's also my cheerleader and co-conspirator. thank you lover <3

Irina’s European Bakery has the best bread and pastries in town, if not the world.

Irina is an older Russian woman whose gray hair is always tied back in a braided bun. Her face shows her age, but she wears her smile lines with pride, as she should. Her parents immigrated to America with nothing but $500 in their pocket. After finding work, they saved up as much money as possible and opened a small bakery named after their daughter.

An old Russian proverb says that girls should be able to sift flour before they can walk and knead bread before they can talk. Irina’s mother took that pretty seriously, considering Irina was in the kitchen beside her mother, learning all her delicious family recipes by the time she was a toddler. She was too short for the table, so she’d stack up old baking cookbooks to learn.

Now, all these years later, Irina runs the bakery with her three daughters, who yell at each other in Russian. Let’s just say that, with all the time you’ve spent with Irina smoking out back in plastic lawn chairs, you’ve picked up a couple of phrases.

After a loud metal bowl clangs on the floor and shouts echo from inside, you turn your head over your shoulder with narrowed eyes before returning your attention to Irina.

“Did Vera just say she would stab Nadia with a steel dough cutter?”

“Your Russian is improving,” Irina let out a stale laugh and a tired grin. “You want something. Spit it’tout.”

You roll your eyes at her crassness and offer her the rest of your cigarette. “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow. I’ll give you free breakfast for a week if you make him your Vatrushka. With the strawberry jam on top?”

“Boyfriend? You get boyfriend and don’t tell your Russian mother? Since when d’you have boyfriend, eh?” She shifts her jaw around before lifting the lit cigarette to her mouth between two stiff fingers, taking a long drag with narrowed eyes. All of a sudden, she begins to grin obnoxiously. “Must be that pretty boy you complain about all the time. What was his name? Francisco?”

With wide eyes, your jaw drops at her words. “He’s still just as insufferable and annoying. But now he wears a different title.”

Irina says something cocky in Russian along the lines of I told you so, but you convince her to make the Vatrushka–sweet dough buns filled with cheese. Frankie likes the ones with a fruity jam on top; strawberry or raspberry are his preferences.

When you first started waitressing at Tommy’s, you’d bring different pastries from Irina’s to schmooze the line cooks. Usually, in case you rang in an incorrect order, which, at the time, was every day.

Frankie would always eat the ones with the strawberry topping and moan after taking each bite. Then he’d say some half-ass thank you with his mouth full and lips cast in a sparkly sugar coating.

Irina snuffs out the last of the cigarette and smiles, lines forming by the outer corners of her eyes and under her thick cheekbones. “We have a deal. You come back tomorrow morning for it, yeah?”

“Thank you,” you eagerly coo, biting into the soft, chewy cookie she gave you for visiting.

The drive back to Frankie’s apartment is set against a yellow and orange sunset. It’s nice to reflect as the radio crackles out a Fleetwood Mac song, the wind whistling through the window that’s rolled down a crack. Things are so different from a year ago.

Work used to be work–rolling silverware, counting change, and praying for decent tips. Just trying to get through the day scrubbing tabletops and making pots of coffee.

There was a tall goofball in the back kitchen who was a little older, always flirting with you whenever he got the chance. He wore a red bandana that you’re not sure he ever washed. He donned a crooked smirk and mischievous eyes that never failed to rake slowly up and over your body whenever given the chance.

He used to call you Princess and still does sometimes, but now he calls you by your name more often than not.

You once despised him for his sleazy comments about how short your skirt was or how he could smell your pretty perfume. Now, he puts butterflies in your stomach and talks a little sweeter to you. He puts whatever wants and needs you have above his own–eats where you want to eat for dinner dates, lets you pick the movie, cooks dinner at your request, and drives you places when your busted beater car goes down.

And you realize he’s loved you for a really, really long time.

You’re only just starting to get it, to pay it back. But Frankie doesn’t see it that way. There is no sort of give and take. He’s never asked you to pay him back or said you owed him when he needed a favor.

Frankie just might be the most devoted, loyal, kind, loving, imperfect human you’ve ever come across. And he’s your fucking boyfriend.

You once thought you were unloveable because it was so easy for people to leave and extra easy to push them away when they got too close. But not Frankie. Frankie was patient. He waited for you, never gave you an ultimatum, and always validated that you were allowed to take your time.

You’re getting it now. You’re really getting it. Francisco Morales is your person.

This is a love story.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Frankie, happy birthday to you,” your voice singsongs in the late morning hours. You hold a mini strawberry and cream cheese vatrushka with a single lit candle shoved into it in one hand and a lit blunt in the other.

“God, you’re perfect.” Frankie lays slumped against his headboard, his orange tabby Leo curled in his lap as you shuffle up the bed on your knees before displaying his sweet before him. A sleepy smile eventually breaks across his face, and he shakes his head as he glances between you and the flame.

“Isn’t this a fire hazard?”

Frankie pulls you closer by the arm, causing you to fall softly into his front. Leo doesn’t seem to mind as he stretches his legs out and wanders to the edge of the bed. You glance down at the vatrushka as your fingertips make imprints in the sweet and soft dough. Frankie’s head tilts as he considers his birthday wish. It’s curious, the look behind his eyes. He waits a moment before taking in a large inhale and blowing out the flame in one go.

He chuckles at your sleepy cheer, shaking his head as he plucks the blunt out of your hand, takes a hit, then bites into the flaky birthday treat.

“You’re my favorite person,” he speaks through muffled bites, holding up the vatrushka for you to bite into, to which you easily comply.

“And you’re mine. Happy birthday, Frankie.”

He smiles against your kiss, and you think this is what lips are made for: gentle morning kisses where you can feel the other person grinning into your mouth.

In honor of Frankie’s birthday, on top of it being a Saturday, you insist that he spend it however he wants. Fishing, hiking, visiting the zoo, going to the movie theater, whatever he wants.

“I wanna see you in something hot,” he remarks with an all too obvious smirk.

An hour later, you’re out and away from your small town and at the beach under the hot Texas sun, wearing your favorite swimsuit. You always feel gorgeous in it, and Frankie’s adoration of your body only adds to it.

Trudging through the sand, you manage to find an empty spot that is a little more private, farther from the parking lot and all the other beachgoers. Frankie pulls the cooler stocked full of beer and food behind him, his eyes focused on your backside.

You can’t help but taunt him as you glance over your shoulder. He’s watching your ass move with each step you take in the grainy sand. “My eyes are up here.”

“Mine ain’t,” Frankie mutters, shifting his jaw from side to side as his exposed upper half basks in the sun’s heat. It makes your own focus shift. You should be throwing down the beach blankets, and Frankie should be setting up the large umbrella with a red-and-white striped pattern around the outer canopy. Instead, you’re both a little lost in the sight of one another.

Frankie’s dark chest hair swirls along his pecks, and you can’t help but observe the line of hair that goes down the midline of his abdomen before growing thicker again at the very top of his cherry-red swim trunks.

Your lashes flutter, and something deep inside your stomach tugs with yearning. At this moment, with a shirtless Frankie galavanting across the sandy beach and other eyes lingering on his tanned and toned body, you’re reminded that outside of Tommy’s Diner, Frankie’s hot.

It was hard to see before, behind the guise of his sloppy work clothes and sweaty bandana. But free of it all, half naked on the beach with thick chest hair splotched along his torso, he was turning heads. And by no means were you jealous; you were staring along with them.

“Hey,” he playfully barks, your head snapping up as he smirks goadingly down at you, closing the distance between your bodies as his lips linger next to your ear. “My eyes… are up here, Princess.”

Fuck. You are so caught.

That nagging feeling burning in your core would have to wait.

Frankie, ever the chef, prepared a gorgeous picnic basket with munchies to hold you both over in the sun. There’s fresh fruit and sandwiches, his favorite salty chips, and you stuffed two ice cream sandwiches in the drinks cooler so they would stay as frozen as possible.

You enjoyed the distance away from the eager families with screaming children and frat boys throwing footballs and frisbees. This is your perfect slice of heaven. You always liked each other’s company more than anyone else’s.

Frankie makes a point to thoroughly spread the cold sunscreen across your body, not afraid to cop a ‘birthday feel.’ Lounging under the umbrella on a beach towel, you lay between Frankie’s legs and continue where you left off in a book you had read on and off throughout the year. The smooth pages feel warm from the sunlight, and a soft breeze makes the heat comfortable, like you could fall asleep under the sun. Your face lies against his glistening chest as he rests his chin on the top of your head, reading your book with you.

Once the sun’s beating rays finally get the best of both of you, Frankie runs with you through the coarse sand until your feet touch cold water.

“Slow down!” You belt. “It’s cold, you asshole.”

Frankie’s got his arms snaked around your waist, tightly holding onto you as he only drags you further into the water, the cold blue lake reaching the tops of your legs and rising. A breath catches in your throat as it reaches your stomach, but once you’re in, your body quickly adjusts.

“Sometimes you gotta dive right in,” Frankie remarks with a smirk, pulling you under before you can protest. You hold your breath, and the sounds of the world turn hollow.

Your vision is cast in a deep blue, and the resistance of the water slows all of your motions. The sun’s beams glimmer through the surface but fade as they sink deeper. The giggling children and chittering adults you could clearly hear on the surface now sound distant and muffled.

Turning your head, your hair floats and swishes slowly as Frankie enters your view. He’s such a goofball that he holds his deep breath in his puffed-up cheeks. You bring your hand up to poke his cheek, and air bubbles float out of his mouth to the surface. He doesn’t last more than a few seconds before rushing up and out of the water.

“What was that?” you ask upon your own break to the surface, the water rippling around both your bodies as you kick to stay afloat. Your panting breaths fill the space between you, Frankie weakly laughing.

“I was trying to hold my breath!”

“In your cheeks? You look like a chipmunk with a month’s worth of nuts lodged in there.” You can’t help but tease him–you’d never seen him do that before!

“What? Like it’s so weird to hold your breath like that?”

“I can’t name one person-”

“Not one?!” He exaggerates.

“-Not one person who holds their breath like you do.”

“So you’re sayin’ I’m pretty special,” Frankie smirks, always finding some way to inflate his ego. “Thank you, princess.”

Cooling down in the lake was both energizing and tiring. Frankie led you back to your towels and umbrella, drying you off before he wiped down his soaked self. It’s impossible to ignore the way water droplets glide down the slopes of his broad shoulders and trickle down the definition of his stomach, running all the way to his swim trunks.

“Did your parents ever not let you swim after you ate?” Frankie asks with a mouthful of his ham and Colby Jack cheese sandwich on sourdough bread. “Like that saying, you should wait at least thirty minutes after eating before going into the water again?”

The picnic basket he packed was filled with sandwiches, cut-up fruits, and a store-bought birthday cake–arguably the best kind.

You hum a response around a piece of fruit before you swallow. “Yeah. I was always terrified that I was gonna die if I did because they never fully explained the reason why. Like my family never said to avoid swimming after eating because…” You fill in the blanks with random hand gestures.

Frankie narrows his eyes. “Why do they say that? Is it just a lie like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?”

You match his confused face. “What do you mean, like Santa Claus?”

You both buy into the bit momentarily before laughing and googling the exact reason behind the saying. Turns out it’s most likely just a myth that if you don’t let your body have time to digest your food, it could cause you to have stomach cramps while swimming. But again, myth, so you both moved on.

“I don’t know how you feel about lying to our kids, but telling them about a fictional fat man that slides down chimneys to deliver presents feels sort of asshole-ey. I mean, ten years, that’s a long time to keep up a ruse.” Frankie says offhandedly, making your eyebrows shoot up for a moment.

Kids, huh? It was an untalked-about subject.

As soon as he said it, he seemed to have picked up on the weight of his words.

“Uh,” Frankie faltered and anxiously ran his fingers through his wet curls, which were still dripping dry. “Please don’t think too much about that. Stop. Stop your brain.” He teased as his hands came up to grab the side of your head, jostling it lightly.

A laugh of relief bubbles past your lips, and you cup his cheeks softly as you bring him in for a soft kiss. “It’s okay. I think it’s sweet you think about our future. And… you saying that didn’t exactly scare me.”

Shocking, right? Are you getting over some stuff? Is this the growing people have been talking about? You pat yourself on the back after gliding through that conversation with ease.

Frankie’s face splatters with rosy heat, embarrassed by the words that slipped through the gate of his brain. You reach over and squeeze his knee, offering him a red strawberry that matches the apples of his cheeks. “It does seem sort of asshole-ey to lie to them–and for that long, too. But you might change your mind seeing their faces all excited. Y’know, Christmas magic and all. Besides, somebody’s gotta eat the cookies and drink the milk. That should be us.”

You both revel in that moment, one where talking about your lives intertwined in the future doesn’t scare you so much anymore. Kids, yeah, that was a big conversation, but you’d let future you and Frankie figure that out.

Frankie’s eyes soften, and a light and gentle smile appears on his lips. It was a look of pride. One that you didn’t know you craved.

He kisses you again and again, exchanging giggles and hiccups past your lips as the sun moves closer to the horizon.

You’re not more than a foot back into Frankie’s apartment when he asks, “You wanna smoke?”

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, but he merely shrugs. Clad in nothing but swim trunks and a short-sleeve button-up left undone, his sun-kissed chest is fully exposed, drawing your gaze. You resist the urge to scold him for smoking right before dinner with his father–it’s a source of stress for him, and you’d promised to support him in any way you could.

Grabbing a pre-rolled cone, you pack it with focus, evident in how your knitted brows almost kiss. Once the ground-up green fills the cone to the brim, you twist the end of the rolling paper, gently bringing the joint to his lips and offering him the lighter.

He stares down into your eyes, something intimate passing between you.

“Light it for me,” he mutters around the joint.

You hold your breath as the flickering orange flame meets the end of the joint, Frankie’s eyes slowly growing hazy as he inhales.

Frankie’s shoulders draw back to his spine with how much he takes, and you know that he’ll be buzzing after this large of a hit.

He takes the joint between his index and middle finger, removing it from his pink lips. You expect a large, grey puff of smoke on his exhale, but he surprises you.

Frankie closes the distance between you, one large palm sinking warmth into your hip, the other gently tilting your chin to brush your lips with his.

With a tilt of his head, he exhales, and the cloud forms a narrow bridge between you as you inhale his smoke. The warmth of his breath mixes with the bite of weed, and you’re entranced.

Before the last bits of fog fade, his mouth attaches to yours. It’s not hasty, but deep, like he’s inhaling you. He wants every particle, every taste, and every piece of you in his lungs. He’s intoxicating like the lingering smoke, all heady and bold.

You part to catch a breath, eyes softening as your lips gently brush against the coarse hair of his stubble. He presses a kiss to your cheek and doesn’t let go of your hip, both of you wrapped in each other.

Your high is less intense than the one Frankie is surely feeling, but it’s nice, like you’re floating with him.

A slow smile curls on your lips as you gently pat his chest. “I have to shower.” Your eyes betray you as they linger over his features.

He sighs defeatedly and moves to the bed, watching you move about the room while he takes another long drag. “Wait,” Frankie directs you with two crooked fingers in your direction, his voice raspy from the smoke. “C’mere.”

You narrow your eyes at the man but ultimately abide by his wishes. Once you’re close enough for him to reach, he drags you into the bed with him, guiding your legs to straddle his lap.

His eyes rake over your body, taking all of you in. His dark lashes flick up, and he licks his cherry lips. “Kiss me first.” His voice, rich and commanding, only heightens the sensation in the pit of your stomach. There’s a raw magnetism to him, an undeniable allure in the way he casually leans against the headboard, jaw twitching with desire.

His fingers glide dangerously over the strings of your swimsuit, and you know he’s eager to get you bare. He closes the gap, starting slow as your mouths kiss in a dance that has your hips working slow ovals over his lap.

Your arms snake around the tops of his shoulders, fingers knotting into his dark windswept waves.

He kisses you with lazy movements of his tongue against yours, no urgency in how he removes your swimsuit with care and delicacy. He touches your skin like you’re something sacred, praying to a goddess he doesn’t feel he deserves.

His kisses are impactful, each one making your heart skip a beat.

The joint goes out in the ashtray on his bedside table as you get lost in exploring one another’s bodies.

“Be with me,” he whispers against your lips, a touch of yearning exposed. “With everything going on, just… be here with me, baby.”

You nod breathlessly, a hand on his jawline guiding his lips back home.

Frankie’s large hands untie the strings, letting your top fall loose to expose your breasts. A shiver travels up your spine as his fingers dance down your back, all while he places slow kisses along the column of your throat.

Every touch feels heightened, more intense, like you can feel the energy and space between you as if it’s tangible. It’s the high, you remind yourself. Frankie’s hot mouth suckles on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud until it grows perky in his mouth. It sends a shockwave down to your core, a loose whimper leaving your throat as you work yourself against Frankie. His swim trunks tighten, his cock hardening with the friction.

“Fuck, angel,” he whispers breathlessly, moving to your other nipple as your chin tips to the ceiling in pleasure. “You’ve made this the best year of my life, cariño.”

Warmth travels to the back of your neck, that floating feeling coming back tenfold as he pleasures your most sensitive body parts and gifts you compliments.

Frankie moves you to your back, and he notches his knee at the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs further apart as his body slots perfectly between your soft thighs.

He presses slow, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts, all while he curls his greedy fingers around the band of your swimsuit to pull off anything that remains in his way.

“Take off your clothes,” you accidentally beg, gliding the heels of your hands along Frankie’s hips to nudge down his cherry-red trunks.

Naked together, you fit like two puzzle pieces. This never used to feel like a possibility, but now, it was your everyday. The very thing you were afraid to be–someone who could be vulnerable and fall deeply in love–was what you had become.

You know you’re high, and you’re feeling more in touch with your feelings than you normally would, but simply put… you’ve never felt better than this.

Frankie’s hard against your center, rocking his hips against yours. He fists his shaft and pumps a few times. He plants one palm beside your head, his strong bicep bulging as he runs his tip up and down your dripping center. The muscles in your thighs jump anxiously at his teasing caresses. You hold your breath, biting back a needy whimper when his tip catches at your entrance, and he pushes into you.

Frankie’s dark eyes find yours, a smirk dancing across his lips as he leans down to the shell of your ear and whispers, “Tell me what turns you on.”

Your blown-out pupils go wide, your lips parting. “What?”

Frankie licks a warm stripe along the shell of your ear before nibbling your lobe. “I asked what turns you on. Spit it out, princesa.” The sensation of goosebumps flies across your skin, and you gasp as his cock plunges deeper and deeper.

Your jaw aches as your mouth falls open wider, but no words come out.

He’s so fucking arrogant. The man you used to know so fondly in the kitchen of Tommy’s Diner is now between your legs with the same old smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

It’s hard to think when all of your senses scream Frankie. The heady scent of sweat on his skin after spending a day in the sun. His body crowding yours as his thick body carves a spot made just for him between your legs. Not to mention the stretch of him making you want to scream.

The answer to his question is there, almost reachable, but every time you get close, your senses become overwhelmed again.

“Fuck, I like,” your eyes roll into the back of your head as his firm hand comes up and squeezes the plush of your breast, sending a shockwave of arousal down to your core. “I-I like it when I can feel your weight on top of me, feels good to be held down,” you admit.

Once the first truth is out, Frankie rewards you by bottoming out inside you.

Your body tenses underneath him, a gasp bouncing off the walls.

Just as you get used to being full, he reels his hips away, and you’re left missing him. You need more, more, more.

A dark chuckle escapes Frankie as his stubble scratches perfectly along your cheekbone. “What else?”

It’s a desperate thing to want someone to fill you up so badly, clear your mind, and hold you in this space with them. So you babble.

“Goddammit,” you whimper, your breath catching as he slowly sinks into your warmth once more. “I like that you take control when you talk to me like I’m-I’m—”

“Like what?” Frankie grunts.

A string of curse words from both parties mingle between you, his lips and teeth on the curve of your jaw as he fills you up completely, starting a steady rhythm.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hands searching desperately for something to hold on to, so you settle for one in his windswept waves and the other on his bicep. “Like–fuck–like I’m your sex toy, when you use me. I feel good when you feel good.”

None of this has ever been said aloud, only in actions. When Frankie fucks you, it’s like you’re the center of his universe. You’re his goddess, and his bed is the temple in which he worships. The thought of this used to scare you, to have someone know and appreciate you so profoundly. Now, it’s like you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Frankie is the center of your universe.

Frankie nuzzles his nose against yours, a lopsided smirk on his lips as he stares into your big, blown-out eyes. You’re both so out of it, floating in something deeper than love.

“You want me to use you?” His husky voice ripples in your ears.

All you can do is wobble your head up and down as he gives you his first powerful thrust. “Yes,” you squeak. The headboard bangs against the wall, and your body falls deeper into the plush mattress.

He keeps a pace–one that’s not rushed and eager, but he never lets up fully. Every slow drag of his hips leaves you breathless, and when he plunges back inside, it feels like you’re whole again.

Frankie rips your claws from his flesh and pins your wrists above your head, using his upper body strength and the hand planted on the bed to keep him hovered. All the muscles in his body are taut and on display, his biceps bulging and the veins in his arms highlighted.

He looked like a fucking god.

“I like using you,” he grunts, “Never thought I’d get the chance to use you. Now,” he pants as he locks his fingers with yours. “Now, I use you whenever I damn well please.” His husky voice growls in your ear, causing a shudder to slip up your spine.

Frankie grinds his hips against yours, the coarse hair that grows along his base stimulating your clit. Your thighs pulse, the nerves thumping excitedly as the crescendo of your orgasm builds.

One gasp, two, turns to three, and your back arches off the mattress as he forces your legs wider, pushing them toward the direction of your head so you’re splayed open for him at the perfect angle.

Your hazy brain is in pleasure overdrive, Frankie’s hips slapping menacingly against yours, ignoring the stretch of this position, just drilling himself into your pussy and taking what he needs.

It’s easy to forget how strong Frankie is. At the diner, he throws fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar over his shoulder and hauls hefty cases of meat to the freezer weekly. He’s built. And watching him fold you in half with only one arm supporting his weight while the other spoils your clit is exactly how you’re reminded of this.

You cry out his name in a wrecked, overstimulated sob. He only smirks.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “that’s a good girl.” His thumb adds pressure to your pearl as he works tiny ministrations around her. “This pussy is so goddamn perfect. Goddammit, I wanna finish deep inside her.”

It’s heart hammering, this orgasm more sneaky than all the rest as it twirls recklessly inside of you. Your hips sting and your lungs are pinched of air, but seeing this hot lumberjack of a man on top of you has your orgasm racing to the finish line. And he’s doing exactly as you asked–crushing you with his weight as he sinks lower and lower over your body while he uses you however he likes.

It’s perfect.

In a chorus of curses and breathy pants, you finish in unison. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, a dirty rhythm that works in sync with your pulsing cunt.

Frankie rests his forehead against your temple, neither of you letting go of one another. You whine as he pulls out, leaving a mess between your centers. You don’t even realize you’re kissing. Everything just feels so natural and calm.

All of it comes crashing down when you lazily look at the display on his alarm clock.

“Shit,” you gasp as you push Frankie off, grabbing his hand and yanking him out of bed. “We’re gonna be late!” Frankie groans exhaustedly, tripping over his feet as he follows you from his bedroom to the bathroom, all while watching your ass with each step you take.

“Fuck! The water is too cold!” His muffled voice echoes after you yank the shower handle, apparently not far enough to warm.

“It’ll warm up. We’re gonna be so fuckin’ late!”

Dinner with Frankie’s father was quickly off to a bad start. Getting Frankie in the truck was hard enough, but getting him to decide on the right thing to wear had been nearly impossible. Not perfect, but right. It feels important to emphasize that Frankie’s not looking for approval from his shit dad, but there is a certain weight pressing over tonight. It wasn’t exactly one he was looking forward to.

He’s run his hand through his perfect waves about fifteen times, and it’s made his roots oily and his pretty curls a bit frizzy. He resigns himself to the fact that he’ll have to wear his hat, but he worries the restaurant will be too fancy for a hat with a large bass on the front.

“We can cancel.”

“No,” he mutters, staring in the mirror as he adds some sink water to his hair. He’s being short with you, but he doesn’t mean it. He’s an anxious ball of energy, and this was your time to step up. His eyes dart to your softer pair in the mirror. His large hands grip the pearly sink’s edge as he releases a sigh that sounds like it holds the weight of his world.

You slowly wrap your arms around his middle, pressing the side of your face against his oak-brown jacket. Slowly, your hands move up his body, and you feel his heart racing against his ribs. He braces even tighter against the sink, closing his eyes as his body relaxes in your hold.

“Please, let me help,” you ask as you push up on your tip toes and notch your chin over his shoulder. His panicked face ultimately releases tension and he nods.

After you sit him on the toilet seat and tie a towel around the tops of his broad shoulders, you spritz him with water from a spray bottle.

“You know, I used to have bangs-”

“Bangs?” Frankie interjects as his anxious hands settle on the back of your thighs, his own widening to allow you further into his space.

“Yup, bangs. They were really cute,” you pause to run a thin comb through his hair, “but the thing that sucks about bangs is if your skin gets oily on your forehead, your bangs get oily. But I didn’t always want to jump in the shower or wash my whole head again, so I’d do a sink bath. I would soak just my bangs with water, shampoo them, rinse, and then style.”

“Is that what we’re doing to me?”

You hum something affirmative, giving Frankie a small dollop of shampoo that smells like coconut and turmeric. The best thing you ever did for this man was to get him away from the 3-in-1. Nothing needs to be that ratio. Ever.

As your fingers gently massage into his scalp, allowing the shampoo to grow white and foamy, he closes his eyes in a moment of peace. Your movements are slower, synchronizing with his tender breaths.

He breathes your name, a little desperate for your kind heart.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your sudsy hands on the towel wrapped around him before gently clutching his cheeks. “Stop,” you insist, angling his chin to look up at you. You’d never seen his eyes so round and hurt, like he was preparing for the pain that was about to come. “We don’t have to go. He left his number on the letter. I can call and cancel.”

The decision weighs heavily on him. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek before he ultimately shakes his head. “This will be the last time I see him. Even if he comes back with apologies or claims that he’s changed, I know this is where it stops. I refuse to let him hold any power over me—not even in my mind. He took my childhood. I won’t let him take any more of my life.”

He takes solace in your touch, his arms tightening around your body. He looks up at you like you hold the moon and the stars in the sky. You never knew you could be this important to someone.

Witnessing Frankie with his father was similar to experiencing the seven stages of grief–one emotion after the next, all barreling toward the inevitable fallout.

Frankie appeared prepared when he walked into the buzzing restaurant. He carried himself with the quiet tenacity of a soldier stepping onto a battlefield, fully aware of the scars it bore; however, this battlefield consisted of wine glasses clinking and white tablecloths with polished and proper stainless steel cutlery.

The strained and tumultuous terrain of his relationship with his father was familiar ground. Yet, he moved with a sense of purpose, as if bracing for the inevitable clash while refusing to back down.

The sundress you wore to the classy restaurant hugged your curves–the ones Frankie held onto like a life preserver. A tall waiter with strawberry-blonde hair guided you to a table along the wall of windows.

You held your breath at the sight of the older man who sat alone at the four-chaired table. His resemblance to Frankie was striking: the same dark brown eyes, sharp jawlines, and aquiline noses. His hair was curlier than Frankie’s, streaked with far more silver. The faint wrinkles at the start of their eyebrows were identical, though deeper with age on his father’s face.

A distinguishable difference was their eyes. People say the eyes are the windows to one's soul. Frankie’s eyes are filled with warmth and kindness, whereas his father’s appears tired and worn after years of hardship. His father’s frame was smaller and thin, his cheekbones slightly hollow–a stark contrast to the tall and broad man at your side.

The older man stood from his spot at the table as you neared, removing the cloth napkin from his lap.

“Francisco,” he greeted, his voice jagged and grainy like gravel. “Nice to see ya, son. You look good.”

Frankie’s tight-lipped grin and firm nod were all he offered before turning to you for a proper introduction. “This is my father, Anthony.” With the silence between them, his father’s gaze awkwardly averted from his distant son to the woman standing protectively by his side. Anthony reached his hand across the table, a lopsided smile on display as you shook his cold hand politely.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart. You must be Francisco’s…” His words trailed off on purpose, allowing you to fill in the blank.

“Girlfriend,” you said definitively, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Morales.” Knowing their past, you withheld judgment in your face and smiled softly. For the first time tonight, Frankie cracked a small smile.

Was it the first time you announced and accepted the title?

Everyone held their breath until Anthony ultimately stuttered on his footing and slowly moved to grip his chair. “Please, please, sit down,” he urged, disguising his misstep as honest hospitality.

Your eyes curiously shifted to Frankie’s, but he simply pulled your chair out for you and sat down stiffly on his own.

One could slice the tension at the table with a knife.

Anthony cleared his throat and smiled, sliding what appeared to be a birthday card across the table. It was in an eggshell envelope, but the vibrant color of balloons glared through under the lighting. “Happy birthday, Francisco.”

Frankie stared at the envelope. In slanted letters, his father’s handwriting was displayed in jagged pen strokes. It wasn’t just a birthday card, not really. Opening that card opened the door to a relationship, and Frankie wasn’t ready for that. But the gesture was kind enough.

You’ve always been tough—a girl who’s seen her share of heartbreak and disappointments. That’s why you kept your heart so carefully guarded when things first started with Frankie. It felt safer that way.

In a strange twist of fate, you now find yourself wishing Frankie could learn to do the same, that he could build the kind of walls and boundaries you had mastered to protect himself from his father. It wasn’t something anyone else could do for him; he had to find the strength not to get his hopes up and keep his heart safe.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie tapped the card with the pads of his fingers and nodded gently. “Thanks, pops. Let’s eat.”

Frankie's POV

The first half of dinner was spent catching up over expensive steaks and creamy garlic mashed potatoes, talking about how the two of you met. The tension knotted in his shoulders begins to unravel, and the headache lurking behind his temples eases its grip. Your thumb traces gentle, unhurried circles on Frankie’s knee, each touch radiating a soothing warmth that melts away the weight of this moment.

Frankie thought he knew what he was going to say to his father. He would be cold and cut him off, tell him this would be the last time he saw his son’s face, and pay for his own birthday meal because he didn’t need his father anymore. Despite the challenges he faced, he had come out the other side.

Still, he couldn’t deny there was a sad, pathetic piece of him that wanted to hear certain things from his father’s voice. He wanted to hear him say he was sorry and regretful for being a piece of shit. That he felt horrible about missing out on Frankie and his little sisters’ childhood and that they had to grow up without him. And that he hated himself for leaving their family when mom needed the help of a grown-up, not a young boy who didn’t know how the world worked.

Before it all went sour, there was some good. Frankie, the firstborn, was his father's pride and joy—his miniature reflection with the same sharp eyes and wild dark curls. And if Frankie was to be his father’s son, there was much for him to learn.

His father took him to his first rodeo. Frankie wore his shiny new brown boots and a cowboy hat to match, cheering loudly as he sat on his father’s shoulders to get a good look at the cowboys roping the cattle.

Frankie wasn’t allowed to touch the barbeque. Still, he remembers being perched on his father’s hip as he prepared traditional asado and empanadas. As the smell of sizzling meat filled the air, his father told him stories of how his father had taught him the art of cooking these quintessential meals.

They sang his mother’s favorite folk songs to her, played soccer, and went fishing. Frankie began to remember that, for a time, his father had been a pretty good dad.

He doesn’t remember a whole lot after that. It’s like a few years of his childhood were blocked out and repressed, probably for the better. The last strong memory he truly recalled was the physical fight he had with him when he was ten years old. Maybe he was eleven? Twelve? His memory never felt concrete, but the images his mind displayed were vivid and unhappy.

So why did he find comfort in how they shared the same smile? The way that their cheeks rounded and their eyes glittered when they talked about things they cared about.

Frankie's resentment toward his father was beginning to crumble—not completely, but the barriers he had constructed were gradually being dismantled by the only person he'd entrusted with the tools to do so. The same hands that had built those walls now seemed to know exactly how to take them apart. A charming smile here, a hearty laugh there, and Frankie found himself yearning for the impossible: to feel like he had his dad back again.

It was stupid. He knew it was. Putting hope out there into the hands of someone who had broken it time and time again. Maybe he was too trusting or sanguine. He couldn’t explain it. He tried to stay neutral and reserved, but the laugh echoing from his throat surprised even him.

“I didn’t break ma’s lamp. You did.”

His father’s raspy voice wheezed, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Francisco, you threw your football in the living room, and she told you to take it outside so many times—”

“Noo,” Frankie strung out the syllables, setting his fork down on his plate and jabbing his pointer finger toward his father. “I did take it outside. You broke it when you stumbled in one night and-and I remember I woke up to the glass shattering.” Frankie’s mouth hung open for a few moments, both of them pausing their amused faces as realization set in.

Anthony’s eyes glanced down to his food he’s barely picked at before ultimately nodding. “No, you’re right, that was… yeah, that was me.” He cleared his throat, and the moment settled, the waiter swinging by to clear our plates and offer dessert and boxes for leftovers.

“No box,” his dad said, to which Frankie’s eyebrows furrowed. It was an expensive meal, and he had nothing more than a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and bits of his steak. “But it’s my son’s birthday. Do you have a slice of cake we can get him?”

Frankie’s eyes slowly softened, squeezing your hand under the table as he looked at you with a boyish look in his eyes. Your expression made him falter, confused for a moment before he felt another reassuring squeeze to his hand.

He leans over and whispers in your ear, “You okay?”

Were you okay? It felt like you were watching the first hour and thirty-eight minutes of the movie Titanic, right before it hit the iceberg.

You tried to discount yourself. Maybe you were just being paranoid or protective, but something seemed off with Anthony. This was your first time meeting Frankie’s father, and you knew nothing about him other than Frankie describing him as a piece of shit. Frankie’s guard lowered so quickly, and now he was easily unraveling before his father, who seemed to be drinking it up.

In no way are you saying that you hoped that Frankie would have punished his father more. You’re just a bystander who responded to a few basic “get to know you better” questions from Anthony, but Frankie pushed all his concerns to the wayside as early as when the appetizers were brought out.

You take in a shaky breath and smile softly at your birthday boy.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

He nods and smiles warmly, hoping to ease your concerns. But his ease of doing so only made something sour settle in the base of your stomach.

After the waiter disappeared for dessert, Frankie turned back to his father. “No box? Dad, you barely ate.”

Anthony hesitates before quickly rebuffing the offer. “It’s fine, m’not all that hungry. Had a late lunch.” He scratches at the inside of his wrist and then along his neck before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

But Frankie was insistent. “That’s what the box is for, have it for tomorrow. The steak was really good.”

“M’fine.”

“You just ordered an expensive ass meal. Take it home and eat it, dad.”

“I don’t like steak that much.”

“Then why did you order it? Just take it-”

“Dammit, Francisco,” His father scoffed angrily, slamming his fist down on the table that caused the salt and pepper shakers to jump and your silverware to clatter. “I said no.”

Something burns in both of their eyes, uneasiness settling over the table as Frankie slowly sits back in his chair and crosses his arms–a mirror of his father–as silence follows.

Of course, the waiter returns at that moment with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle sticking out the top. He lights the wick as a gaggle of waiters and waitresses join in to sing Frankie happy birthday. By the end, they grow quiet and soft, and all Frankie and his father do is stare at each other.

“Happy Birthday…” the waiter says with a tight-lipped smile as you slowly nod your head to get him away from the iceberg.

After a moment of silence, you glance over to Frankie, whose hardened exterior has resurfaced after his father’s outburst.

Frankie visibly gathers his strength before letting out a half laugh, half scoff. “What d’you got? Or are you in withdrawal again?”

You look between them, Frankie’s hold on your hand tightening instinctively. Resting your other hand on his forearm, you offer him an out. “Let’s just go.”

He either doesn’t hear you in his growing rage or chooses to ignore you. Because he’s looking for a fight. You can see it in how his lip snarls, his jaw is wound tight, and his eyes pierce his father's with unwavering hatred.

Anthony sighs uncomfortably and shakes his head with a frown. “M’sorry I snapped at you.”

“Anything else you’re sorry for? Do you want me to roll out the red carpet for your apologies? It’s a long list, and I don’t have all night. So how about you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve never seen you this skinny and there’s no fuckin’ white in your eyes; it’s just yellow. The hell is wrong with you, Anthony?”

The shift from dad to Anthony visibly makes his father’s eyes grow sorrowful. Frankie’s outburst causes the nearby tables to gawk again. You feel guilty. He brought you here for support and you’re just about as stunned as the rest of the restaurant.

“Frankie,” you offer warmly, looking between his father’s wary eyes and Frankie’s stern look. “We don’t have to do this. We can go home.”

“No, no. Tell me why you mailed that letter. I haven’t heard from you in ten years, and now you wanna see me on my birthday? You need something. You’d never reach out to me with just the love in your heart. So, spit it out. You’re sick, aren’t you?” Frankie’s words are slick with venom, but all you can see is the little boy whose features are worn with disappointment.

Anthony noticeably has tears welling in his eyes, his round fingernails as white as the tablecloth in front of you as he wipes them away. For a moment, you all hold your breath before he ultimately nods.

You watch Anthony’s shaky hands run down his face, seemingly uncomfortable to lay his weaknesses out on the table. “Yeah, son. M’sick.” He takes Frankie’s cold silence as a nudge for him to explain further. “I don’t know, guess it started with liver disease then turned into the cancer. They did lots of tests, and all that turned into a biopsy.” Anthony opens his mouth to speak before taking a moment to find his words. “Docs say I’m not a candidate for a transplant. Kinda disqualified myself after all those years of downing shit I shouldn’t.”

The revelation changes the energy of the table. It’s clear what he’s implying.

“You were going to ask Frankie if he’d donate part of his liver?” Your voice lacerates the tension between them. Your gaze flicks over to Frankie, whose expression is entirely unreadable.

Anthony scratches his skin and stares at the flaming candle wax melting downward onto Frankie’s birthday cake.

“I didn’t want to tell you. Not today. It’s your birthday, and I wanted you to be happy.” Anthony forces up a wavering laugh, but it only makes things worse.

Frankie’s jaw shifts from left to right, and he looks from Anthony down to where you hold his hand for support.

After a breathy sigh, Frankie expels the truth that’s sat with him for decades. His eyes are solemn and devoid of hope once again. “I’m never happy when you’re around, dad. You’re not here to say you’re sorry. You’re not here to make things right. You’re not here for me. This is about you because you’ve got fucking cancer!” Frankie’s bottom lip quivers. You can’t tell if he’s so angry he could cry or if he’s so sad that he’s angry with himself. “You can tell me you’ve changed, that you’ve gone to substance abuse meetings and got sober, but the cancer came on anyway. I don’t know or care what pulled you out of the gutter. I just know it wasn’t me, wasn’t your family. If you’re just here to apologize and ask for my forgiveness as part of your stupid twelve-step program, just know that they don’t fix the years of absence and abuse. Ma was a good woman, and we were good children. You’re fucking poison, Anthony, and now you’re soaking in your own poison like a sponge. You’re sick. And you’re not getting a thing from me.”

Frankie whips the cloth napkin off his lap and onto Anthony’s plate of cold food. His next words are enough to cause a shiver up your spine. “And if I hear that you ask my sisters for a cut of their livers, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”

The tables around us start to whisper and gasp at that, turning their curious, eavesdropping ears like owls as they chitter about the drama at table thirty-four.

Anthony sat across the table with his lips parted, eyes filled with hurt but more so of an understanding that he deserved this. He wiped at his eyes again and slowly nodded, giving you a half-apologetic smile.

“It was nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

The ride back home in Frankie’s truck is quiet. He couldn’t even stand the radio’s Top 40 as he jabbed his thumb into the volume button and let the truck cab fall mute.

He was wrestling with what to say. So were you.

No words felt right or good enough. What could you say to make him feel better? Or were you not supposed to say anything and let him feel this pain? Would he wallow in it, or would it help him resolve his feelings?

These questions were answered for you as his wavering voice ended the silence.

“Please,” Frankie’s tired voice whispered, “tell me somethin’ good.”

You look up. You’re parked outside his apartment building, the truck idling in the dead of night as the navy sky watches over you both with twinkling stars.

At the sight of Frankie’s silent tears gliding down his cheeks, you feel compelled to take the pain away in any capacity possible.

In one swift movement, you lift the center console that separates you from him and lock it in place, filling the space beside him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you. His arms hesitate but ultimately snake around your lower back, and the hold he has on you only tightens as he realizes this is exactly what he needs.

Your fingers weave into the mess of curls at the nape of his neck, his hat knocking off his head as he buries his nose into the space between your shoulder and neck. A sob escapes from somewhere deep in his throat, and it thrusts you into tears.

You've never experienced a love so profound that their pain becomes your own, cutting through you with an intensity that defies all reason.

Frankie's POV

Frankie’s experienced overwhelming sadness before. When he was a child, it used to be all he knew. All those memories were coming back, not in little flickers of light, but huge waves that made him feel as if he was drowning under the weight of all that he endured.

The corners of his vision crackled and glitched like an old, broken television. His hearing went fuzzy, and he could only hear the pounding of his heart.

His father returning only to leave him with more scars and tears was too much to handle. He should have said no to seeing him. He should have left when you offered. But for some reason, he was drawn to his father.

He wanted his apology and attention. To be the one to let him down this time. To take back his personhood and disown his father for good.

A part of him hated to hear that Anthony was doing better than he was before, because why couldn’t he have gotten better for him? Was he not good enough? Was he not worth turning his father’s life around?

These horrific questions ping-ponged inside his brain until he couldn’t breathe. The fear and anxiety surged all the air from his lungs, and what was at first a tearful release of cries turned into strangled breaths.

He was losing control, suffocating on his thoughts. His pulse throbbed angrily against his throat and his bleary eyes could sparsely make out the shape of your body against his.

“Fuck I can’t—” Frankie’s eyes clenched closed, talking only making things worse. Heat filled his head, a thin layer of sweat gliding across his skin as he gasped for air.

The echo of his name breaks the high-frequency buzzing in his ears. He blinks through his tears, feeling your thumbs swiping away at the waterfalls on his cheeks.

“Frankie,” you whisper, voice steady and strong, like an anchor in a hurricane. “I’m here. Breathe with me.” Your hands take his trembling ones and guide them to the much slower, more relaxed rhythm of your heart.

“I can’t,” he chokes, his voice raw and jagged.

“You can,” you said, your thumb making circles over his clammy and cold palm. His fingers twitched against your own, wanting to pull away but unable to garner the strength.

“Look at me, Frankie.”

For a moment, his gaze fluttered around the cab of his truck before it finally centered on you.

Frankie stares into your eyes, and his memories are pulled in a separate direction–one filled with the blinding yellow light that filters through the diner in the early mornings and paints the entire room in sunshine and gold.

The clock reads fifteen minutes after seven in the morning.

“You’re late, Francisco,” your teasing voice echoes like he’s in a dream. You’re haphazardly trying to balance a serving tray of pancakes, toast, an egg scramble, and a cute Mickey Mouse waffle you had made yourself. He knows because you put the two sausage links on Mickey’s eyebrows, bright red strawberries on his cheeks, and a whipped cream smile along his signature grin. You walk towards a family of four, but he quickly rushes to your side and takes the teetering tray from your hands.

“I got it, Princess. Do me a favor and say we came in together, and I’ll make your breakfast special for you. With a coffee.” Frankie entertained you with a wink, knowingly playing into your flirtatious repertoire.

You scoffed and gave him that wicked smirk, your eyes catching the sunlight and turning into a completely different color that he would love to explore under a microscope for hours if given the chance.

“Deal,” you smile with ease as you hand him the packed tray. He quickly serves the happy family before following you like a dog into the back kitchen.

“Ah-ah-ah, Francisco Morales. Do not tell me you were late again, or I’ll have to whoop that cute little butt of yours out onto the street, and you’ll be lookin’ for a new job.” Carla, the manager, held a motherly tone whilst playfully snapping at her favorite line cook as she brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

Frankie pauses his footsteps halfway through the kitchen like a kid caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Your head whipped to look up at him, both of you sharing a look until you casually shrugged. You point to the tray in his hands and look adorably confused.

“He was helping me carry some plates out. Oh, Frankie, did you forget to clock in again? We came in together. You can write in his time card the same as mine.” You’ve always been a terrible liar. You gulp after each nervous breath.

Carla lets out a not-so-convincing mhmm before she walks through the swinging door.

Frankie smirks down at you with a breath of relief, tying his dirty apron behind his back and hanging his hat on a hook while he replaces it with his red bandana. “I so owe you. Let me take you out for a drink tonight.”

“Only in your wet dreams, Francisco.”

“Good,” your voice whispers to him. He blinks, and he’s back with you in his truck, his vision a lot less foggy and his breathing slower.

“That’s good. Now, follow my breaths.” You draw in a deep puff of air, exaggerating the motion so he can see. “In through your nose and count to four,” you wait, thumb still rubbing soothing circles on his hand, which is the grounding touch he desperately needs. “Now, out through the mouth for six.” You count with him, and he starts to feel his senses return to him unhurriedly.

With each breath he takes with you, he grows steadier by a fraction. The tension strung tight between his shoulders and neck slowly eases.

One of your hands leaves his to press against his damp cheek. His skin burns under your palm, but it feels good to sense your gentle touch.

“You’re not alone,” you murmur. He’s not sure if he started leaning his forehead in or if it was you, but your skin lightly brushes, and he craves the feeling of love you so easily give him.

“Tonight was… a lot. I’m so sorry, Frankie. But you’re not facing this by yourself. I’m not leaving you. I’m here.”

You both eventually fall into a hug once more, his head dipping and resting against your shoulder as his breathing mellows. You wrap your arms around him tight, and the compression helps. He can feel his breaths this way.

“I’m here,” you repeat, your voice a steady promise that he knows to be true. “You’re who I want. I love you.” Your fingers thread through his messy hair, and he lets out a soothing hum of appreciation.

He pulls together the strength he needs to find his voice. It’s rugged and muffled against your warm skin. “I love you.”

The next morning, Frankie notices the pale white envelope sticking out of your purse. It was the letter his father slid across the table before shit hit the fan.

Your eyes catch on to his one-sided staring contest, padding across the carpet with two mugs of coffee in your hand as you’re quick to distract him. “I didn’t want to throw it away without your permission, and last night didn’t seem like the time to ask.”

He nods understandingly but stands anyway, grabbing the card silently before settling back down beside you on the couch. You pull the thick dark green blanket over both your laps and slowly run your hand up and down his back, working supportive circles over his freckled skin.

“You don’t have to read it,” you remind him. He wonders what would hurt worse: knowing what’s inside or never knowing.

“Am I a glutton for punishment?” Frankie asks with his familiar teasing smile, ripping open the envelope by its seam, letting out a long breath before looking down at the card.

It’s abundantly clear that his father perused the birthday card aisle and followed the signs alphabetically from boss, brother, child, to nephew, sister, son and chose the first one with a funny picture on the front.

Frankie cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head in annoyance at the sight of a large cartoon grizzly bear who dons a bow tie, glasses, and a party hat and balances the words Happy Birthday, Son! over its head.

Your hand protectively wraps around his bicep, your temple connecting to his shoulder as you rest your head there. Your beautiful eyes flick up to meet his under dark lashes as you exchange a wary glance.

Frankie presses a kiss to your lips, one that feels like heaven after a night of hell.

He’s unsure what to expect when he opens the card. His jaw shifts from left to right at the sizable letter written with a pen on the inside. Maybe he had more to say that he could never properly verbalize.

“What’s it say?” Your tender voice asks beside him. Frankie takes a deep breath before clearing his throat and reading for himself.

“Francisco, I don’t know where to begin or if these words will even matter to you now. I made so many mistakes when I was younger, ones I know I can’t take back, no matter how much I wish I could.

I’m sorry I never came into your room when I heard you crying. I’m sorry that I stopped coming to my arranged visitations with you. I’m sorry that I didn’t attend your high school graduation. I’m sorry I’ve let you become someone I don’t know anymore. You deserved a better dad, someone who didn’t let their own mess spill over into your life. I see that now and see how much I took from you. I wish I could take it all back and change it. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t even know if I deserve it. Learn from my mistakes and be a better man than me. Truth be told, I already know you are.

Happy birthday, Francisco. I hope it’s not too late to say these things, even if I should have said them a lifetime ago.

-Dad”

whatcha think? probably our most dramatic episode thus far. hope you liked the angst xx that's for reading all this, that's crazy! you just read 10k+! can't believe you spent all that time reading my little fic chapter :')) ily

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 6 months ago

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Jenna Well, that scene at the desk where Jim comes really close to Pam. I remember when we were shooting this, that this is the first time that our characters had been in one another's intimate, personal space in a really long time.

Angela And not only was he in her sort of close proximity. But he was gentle. He kneeled down. He was next to her. He was being earnest. There was a connection between the two of them in that moment that we haven't seen in many episodes.

Jenna He was being Jim. He was being old Jim. All of the posturing of Athlead was gone, and he was being the guy that she fell in love with.

Angela That's right.

Jenna And it was very moving to me. And it was hard for me to not kind of melt in that moment as Pam, you know, because she's wanted this for a really long time. So this was a really fun scene to play. It had a lot of levels. And then it leads to the scene in the parking lot. Pam decides to run out and give Jim his umbrella.

Angela And he hugs her. And I wrote this to you, Jenna. We were trading texts. I said, Jim hugs Pam like she's the last life preserver on the Titanic. He grabbed on to her.

Jenna He does. And this is just such a beautiful scene. Pam is resistant at first, and he just will not let her go until she breaks down that wall. And she hugs him back and they kiss and they say, I love you.

Angela I teared up.

Jenna I know, and they have this flashback to their wedding of Jim's brother, you know, reading from Corinthians. And you know, that footage didn't exist. We had to bring Blake Robbins in and set up the church, just that one corner of the church. And he had to do that reading. We shot that just for this episode. All the other footage was footage that we already had from that episode. But this was really beautiful. You know, we had a fan question from Marie R in Omaha, Nebraska, who said, In the last scene where Jim and Pam hug and then kiss and remember their wedding, I noticed that it was in the parking lot where Jim first professed his love for Pam on Casino night. Was this intentional or just a coincidence? Marie. This was intentional. It's there. It's happening in the same spot. This is such a wonderful book ends for their story. Kind of the first moment that Jim said, I'm in love with you. And then here in the parking lot again to save the marriage. It's just really beautiful writing.

Angela Yeah.

Jenna And we talked about this too, Angela. You see in that moment, the way John Krasinski, as Jim swoops down to get to Pam's level for that hug. That is a classic John Krasinski hugging move. We've talked about this before. He gives the best hugs.

Angela He gives such great hugs. He is just like that cozy blanket that makes you feel better.

Jenna I know.

Angela I just love now that he's a dad and has little girls because I know he hugs them like that, you know?

Jenna I know! I thought the same thing!

Angela That's the hug you want. That's the hug that makes everything feel like it's going to be okay.

Jenna Yes. And it is that kind of hug. When he gives you a hug, it is like, oh my gosh, what was that bad day that I was having? Everything is going to be fine.

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inferno-0 · 11 months ago

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Choleric

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Just the attitude of the Titans to your temperament.

Let me remind you: Choleric is active, impatient and hot-tempered extroverts.

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Godzilla

* Being a serious and calm creature, Kaiju is not used to your persona. He was amazed at your courage in front of him.

* He liked your extroversion to some extent. Unlike him as a loner, you literally communicated with every creature in your path. But the best quality he has revealed is to be a Leader.

You literally managed to chase away the skullsaurs that interfered with him, of course, it was not without escape, but still.

A Brave Man.

* Wanted to chase you away, but you were too persistent.

*You are now his Watchdog.

* To be Choleric is to be aggressive to some degree. To be honest, it sometimes amuses him. If you were a Titan, you'd definitely start fighting him to the end. But I like to watch how some little guy tries to move the tip of his tail and shouts something very bad at him.

* Thankful for keeping the raging gulls away from his dorsal plates while he swims. Will wait for the moment when you banish the Monarch from his eyes.

Mothra/Mosura

* She likes your activity and perseverance. You're eager to learn anything and everything that Mothra is amused about. But your short temper . . .

* It's not that Mothra is annoyed, she's worried about you. After all, the argument gets out of control at some point.

Your impatience may be misplaced somewhere, and the Titan tries to calm you down so that there are no unnecessary problems.

* Your irritability frightens her.

Even though it's several thousand times bigger than you.

* Sometimes he presses you to his fur, hoping that you will calm down and stop driving anger to the whole world.

* Tries not to glow too much at the sight of you. Since there was a moment where you accidentally ordered her to turn off her flashlight out of annoyance, to which Mothra choked.

I think she'll give you a lecture.

* She also appreciates your leadership skills.

Rodan

* Someone, help him.

* I have never met such a person as you in my life. No, of course he is. Partially. But this Titan is compared to you, forgive me, Bug. Your audacity amused him. Until you started throwing rocks at his beak and eyes, to which the Titan was ready to go back to the volcano and anywhere else from you.

* His ego has been suppressed since that time. You're not afraid of him.

And now he thinks: Are you stupid or are you really driven by something?

* He was surprised when he found out that you wanted to be friends with him. Okay, instilling fear throughout the city wasn't good, he needed communication. Of course, your character is not great, but at some moments he is ready to laugh at you heartily. Especially when you are the one who gets into trouble.

* And now let's forget about aggression, let's remember about Leadership qualities:

"Wake Up, Silly Bird"

"Thank you so much for this morning, kind little creature," ─ grunts Rodan as he emerges from his warm nest.

* No, he sometimes likes your mindset to boss others around. Although, he has frequent flashbacks about it.

King Ghidorah

* Very brave. Very brave.

* Three heads could have hit you to certain death right away, but something caught on them. Your aggression was wonderful, of course it's a pity to hear it from a person.

* Throwing sticks and anything else you can get your hands on when he literally saved your life for five minutes.

Only these five minutes still last for some reason.

* Okay, it them off, but it's still funny. A brave little king. Ghidorah kept you as a pet, but only because you weren't a coward.

* Ichi is proud of your anger at other creatures. He likes the way you command them.

Ni has the same relationship to you as Ichi, but is only watching for fun.

San is a little disturbed by your behavior, believing you to resemble his brother Ichi.

*Sometimes they deliberately bring you into conflict (mostly Ni) to laugh at your face.

Although, in the absence of an instinct for self-preservation, you give them a savory response, to which the Titan begins to retreat.

* Humans and other Kaiju find both of you insufferable. Godzilla is even willing to ask people to take you away from there, as Ghidorah's yells from another argument can be heard even in his nest.

King kong

* You didn't look like Jia. Jia is calm and understanding, and you are like a tomboy, irritated about everything. He still thinks about how his little human friend made friends with you.

* Jia introduced you as a good person, but with a strong character that you just have to accept. Kong had expected anything but this. Although he appreciated the ability to command others. You'd be good at managing your own tribe, if you had one. But given the Skullsaurs that are on the run all over the island from you, humans would have joined them themselves. Your aggression was out of bounds.

* Kong sometimes worries about your recklessness. You're not someone who sits still like Jia. You're always going somewhere. And he doesn't understand what you need. And Jia, who is used to all this, just says to calm down.

* Kong has never been in conflict with you. He tries to stay on the edge of patience.

The truth is trying..

He likes that enthusiasm, but please stop. Otherwise, he'll put you in this flying object that people use.

────────────────────────────

#Godzilla #godzilla x kong the new empire #Godzilla x reader #King kong #King kong x reader #xreader #Mothra #Rodan #King Ghidorah #All Titans #Titans x reader #Kaiju #godzilla kotm #godzilla vs kong

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 18

WC: 1565, Masterpost

“Here to bring me to a debrief?” Danny asks the shadow lurking in the doorway. He swears that Batman almost looks chastised at that. “It’s fine, Batman, I know how these things work.”

“The core Titans are insisting on being there, for moral support,” Batman rumbles. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, they’ll be sent away.”

Danny chuckles; that really is like them. “No, I might as well only go through it all once. Besides, that’s sweet. Can I at least take the time to put on real clothing?”

Batman narrows his eyes at Danny. “You’re still injured. Loose clothing only.”

“Gods, how does no one see what a dad you are,” Danny teases.

Batman smiles, just for a moment, before he turns to sweep over dramatically out of the room. “I’ll send in Flash with some approved clothing.”

“That better be my Flash you’re sending in!” Danny calls after Batman. When the doorway is free of the luring hero, Danny lets himself fall back against the pile of pillows.

A debrief. How is he supposed to explain any of this? So far he hasn’t been allowed to explain things, really. Part of it is that he’s spent most of the last several days asleep. When he has been awake, it’s to a rotating cast of heroes; all heroes that he was close to and knew behind the mask. With every able bodied hero busy with clean up, no one has been able to stay long. He sees Barry the most, what with the other’s leg, but even Barry is busy helping coordinate the recovery efforts.

(Danny’s also pretty sure that they’re using the chance to visit him as a way to make people take a break.)

While the heroes are with him, it’s been mostly Danny getting updated on everyone and whoever is with him getting information to update everyone else with. They won’t even let him work, but they do pass on information about his crews at least. It’s Wally who’s with him the most. Wally was there the first time Danny woke and as Danny breathed through panic attacks and to patiently reply to the endless stream of messages for Danny.

Speak of the devil… Danny’s phone chimes again.

He can’t look at it.

He hasn’t been able to look at it since the first message from Jasmine came in. Since they all remembered.

Wally hadn’t asked. He had just let Danny shake apart in his arms and has handled Danny’s phone from then on. ‘This is Danny’s boyfriend. He’s alive and will recover. He’ll contact you at a later time.’

“I thought we put that thing on silent,” Wally says with a glare at the phone as he steps into the room.

Danny makes shameless grabby hands at the clothing. “So did I. Who is it?”

Danny’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake at the question.

Maybe it’s fair that they’ve all been avoiding the big big questions. Maybe it really is obvious that he’s still only hanging on by a thread. He certainly feels less like a live wire and more like the one, stubborn fuse still humming in the circuit breaker.

He certainly feels weak.

“Jasmine again.”

Danny sucks in a staggered breath and lets it out slowly. “Just… just tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t yet.”

Wally presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’ll remind her that you’re healing too. You just worry about getting dressed.”

“What, don’t want to help out with that part?” teases Danny as he undid the tie at the base of his neck. The Watchtower might have pretty nice quality, but any medical garb was going to be a little scratchy, and Danny is glad to have it off. He’s careful with his taped over IV port as he slides on the plain white shirt and then the well worn hoodie. It has a faded Nightwing logo and smells like Wally.

Something in Danny’s chest relaxes a little as he buries his face into the fabric and it nearly makes him sob.

“Danny?”

Danny just shakes his head.

“Oh, babe, it’s okay, I’m here. I have you.” Wally tosses the phone onto the bed and wraps Danny up into a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around—”

“Don’t, you were saving lives,” Danny says and tucks his face against Wally’s neck. “It’s what you needed to be doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. I’ve officially been pulled off duty. My job right now is you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“You aren’t. Babe, you’re why we’re all still here. Let yourself be cared for, okay? I promise if anything comes up that really needs my help I’ll go, but let me make you my priority,” Wally urges.

Danny closes his eyes. “I told myself I’d never ask that of you. I know what you are.”

“You aren’t, I’m offering. Please, babe, let me make you my priority.”

He wants to. Gods does he want to. He wants to go back home to their apartment and have Wally with him and just let the other take care of everything, just for a little bit, just until it stopped feeling like his insides were hollow. Just until he could be okay enough to lie and say that he was fine.

Just until then.

“Okay. I— yeah, okay. I think I need that right now,” Danny manages to admit.

“Thank you,” Wally whispers like it was Danny doing him the great service. “First act, let’s get you out of those pants.”

“You cad,” Danny gasps dramatically.

Wally rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now so Danny counts it as a win. “And get you into the sweatpants.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to debrief in sweats,” Danny says as he lets Wally help him finish changing. He’s a little less balanced in his feet than he’d like to be.

Okay, a lot less balanced.

Wally doesn’t even let him walk to the debrief, instead he insists on pushing Danny there in a wheelchair. Danny knows there’s no shame in needing a wheelchair, but it doesn’t help him be less frustrated at the way he feels weak down to his bones. Hell, he feels weak down to is core. At least he gets to move himself to a regular chair once they’re inside the conference room.

"Thank you for being willing to do this, Danny,” Wonder Woman says. She’s leaning forward, arms resting on the table, and offering a smile. At the table is a selection of other top tier members: Batman, Superman, a Green Lantern (Hal Jordan in this case), John Constantine, Zatanna, and, right next to Danny, Barry.

The Titans are off to the side, slightly behind the Dark members, in chairs that were obviously dragged into the room. Garfield gives Danny an enthusiastic thumbs up that almost makes him laugh.

“Of course. I get why there are questions,” Danny says instead.

“There are,” Superman agreed. “Now, as you aren’t a Justice League member and are in no way under any sort of investigation, this is going to be a bit informal. We’re just trying to make sure our report on recent events are as clear as possible.”

Danny huffs out a breath of air. His gaze darts over to Wally before dropping. “It’s a big more than that, isn’t it?”

“Kid?” Barry asks gently.

“You all want to know what I am, which is fair. If I could have, I would have told you.” Danny looks back at Wally again and gives a half hearted smile. “Sorry I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Batman asks, though the rumble of words isn’t unkind.

A sour smile twists Danny’s lips. “Curses are like that. Aren't they, Laughing Magician?” Danny hears Constantine and sucks in a breath and steels himself to look up at him. “How much do you know about her? About Desiree?”

Constantine shakes his head. “Not much. It’s not wise to go digging into the affairs of a member of the Infinite Realms, even an ended one.”

“Speak normal for the rest of us,” Hal says. “A who of what?”

“Infinite realms. That means a sodding ghost,” Constantine snaps.

Barry scoffs. “Ghost’s aren’t real.”

“Boo,” Danny replies. His smile is slightly too wide.

“Not funny, Danny.”

Danny shrugs. “Not trying to be. I’m half ghost.”

“How is someone half ghost?” Hal asks.

“I’m like Schrödinger’s Cat,” Danny explains. He can’t help for for his gaze to flick over to where the Titans are sitting and find Wally’s eyes. “I’m still in the box, basically. I’m half alive and half dead. Both and neither. A balance.”

“A myth.” Constantine leans forward. He taps the butt of his unlit cigarette against the table. “Or so we always thought. You telling me that you’re a halfa?”

The question pulls Danny’s focus back to the main table of heroes. “Yep. One of three. Me, my godfather, and my clone.”

Superman clears his throat. “Ah, your clone?”

Danny just gives another shrug. “Shit gets weird when you’re a teenage vigilante.”

“Danny,” Batman says, and Danny can’t help but smile again because the man is clearly one step away from pinching the bridge of his nose like he does as Bruce when one of his children is driving him mad. “Start from the beginning. State your name for the record.”

“Danny Jasper Fenton.”

---

AN: Vote was in favor of splitting it up. I've got a chunk of the next part written, so hopefully I can get it finished up next week! Sorry if there are lots of issues, words and me are struggling atm.

Poor Danny is really struggling with things as his world has once again changed. And what will everyone think of him now...?

I no longer tag, instead you can subscribe to the masterpost.

#dp x dc #abson #quick death ship #quick death #danny/wally

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uncouth-the-fifth · 10 months ago

Text

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

#leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy/reader #leon kennedy x reader #uncouthre #leon kennedy #resident evil #user uncouth

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domnamewoman · 1 year ago

Note

I was wondering if I could request an angst we’re all of the MK 2023 characters S/O get turned injured severely by Titian Shang Tsung (could have a happy end, could not…up too you!)

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: Angst 😭, Canon-Typical Violence

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

Liu Kang’s heart stopped as he saw your body lying there, lifeless on the ground. He bent down to cradle you in his arms as tears fell from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it, the love of his life was now gone. He blamed himself for not getting there in time. Why was fate always so cruel, was he really destined to be alone? No, no he wouldn’t accept it. He was the Keeper of Time. He would reverse time and make sure that he is here to prevent such a horrid outcome. He would end Titan Shang Tsung once and for all.

Raiden felt as though he could throw up as he looked at your unconscious body lying in the bed. Titan Shang Tsung had blasted you off a cliff and you hit your head on a rock when you landed. The physician told Raiden that you were in a coma from the head injury. There was no telling when you would wake up or if you ever would. Raiden held your hand and rested his forehead on it as he let his tears fall. All he could do was stay by your side and wait. And he would, even if it was forever.

Kung Lao was angry. At himself for not being there, at the physicians for not being able to save you, but mostly at Titan Shang Tsung. He was the cause of all of this. Kung Lao placed one last kiss on your lips as he promised you to get revenge. He would stop at nothing to see Titan Shang Tsung taken down. He pushed his grief to the side and focused on making a plan to get to Titan Shang Tsung. He would grieve once his promise to you was fulfilled.

Johnny Cage struggled to find meaning in anything anymore. Without you, there just wasn’t any point to life for Johnny. Who cared about the movies, or the awards, or even saving Earthrealm from destruction? He couldn’t bring you back by doing any of it so he deemed it all useless. Johnny stopped trying, losing his arrogance and bravado. How great is “Johnny Cage” if he can’t even save his love? He was nothing but a failure in his eyes now and that’s how he would live.

Kenshi Takahashi felt all the joy in his life slipping away as he felt your blood slip through his fingers where he was applying pressure to your wound. He tried to smile and reassure you that the physician was on their way and you would make it out alive but he knew it was too late. He knelt there, helpless as you exhaled your final breath, going completely limp. Kenshi sat there with you in his arms for hours, pushing away Johnny and Kung Lao as they tried to get him to let you go. He couldn’t, not ever.

Kitana released a scream as she heard your neck snap at the hands of Titan Shang Tsung. Why? Why did it have to be you to charge at him? Why didn’t you listen to her when she told you to wait? Why couldn’t she move fast enough to prevent this from happening? Kitana gripped your shirt and cried into your chest as the fight continued around her. How was she supposed to go on? But she had to, for you. It’s what you would have wanted her to do. She vows to you as she grabs her bladed fans that she will avenge your death.

Mileena spent all of her time trying to find someone to help you. She was the Empress and she would spare no cost of getting the best physicians, the best medicine, whatever was needed to accelerate your healing process. The court could be mad all they wanted, but she didn’t care about her duties. Her only priority right now was seeing you healthy and back on your feet again. The only thing that could distract her from this is any updates on Titan Shang Tsung’s whereabouts. She would make sure that he died by her hands for harming her love.

Tanya watched in unbelief as Titan Shang Tsung stuck his claws deep into your abdomen. You crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. Tanya rushed over and held you in her arms. She didn’t know how could she let this happen. She was Umgadi for goodness sake. And yet, she could protect her love from danger. She pulled you out of the path of battle, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be as she applied pressure to your wounds. She would make sure that you survived no matter what.

Bi-Han was filled with rage. Titan Shang Tsung dared to take his love away from him. How could Bi-Han call himself Earthrealm’s protector when he couldn’t even protect you? No, he would make Titan Shang Tsung pay for what he did. Bi-Han would gather all of the Lin Kuei and hunt him down. No longer was their purpose protecting Earthrealm. Their only mission was to kill Titan Shang Tsung to avenge the death of his lover. Nothing else mattered or was more important to him.

Kuai Liang couldn’t control the fire rolling off of his body as he saw you there unmoving, at Titan Shang Tsung’s feet. He rushed toward him, swinging out his chained knives aiming for his head. Kuai Liang fought with everything in him, letting his anger fuel his fire. He didn’t worry about his own well-being, what was the point now that you were gone? He ignored all the pain from his injuries and pressed on. He would put an end to Titan Shang Tsung, or he would die trying.

Tomas ran with all his might holding on to your limp body. He had to get you to a physician and quick. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t lose another family member. After his family was killed and he joined the Lin Kuei, he thought he would never have to go through heartache like that again. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. He pleaded with you to stay with him as he looked down at you taking shallow breaths. He ignored the burning in his legs and he pushed himself to run faster. He won’t lose you too.

Syzoth didn’t believe what they told him when he arrived at the palace. How could you be dead? It wasn’t possible. While he was out on a mission Titan Shang Tsung attacked? No, no that couldn’t be. He continued to deny it until they brought him to see your body. This couldn’t be happening to him again. Why could he never protect his loved ones? Why did he always have to be left completely alone? He will get his revenge. He will take away everything that Titan Shang Tsung has ever held dear.

Baraka knew that fate could be cruel when he got infected with Tarkat. But he thought he would be allowed some form of happiness in his life. That proved to be wrong when you were killed, leaving him all alone. Baraka could feel his sanity slipping. He was left with nothing yet again. The only one he loved was taken from him. All he could think about was shredding Titan Shang Tsung into pieces. He would turn into the savage beast everyone thought he was. He had nothing more to lose.

Shang Tsung couldn’t believe you were killed. To make matters worse, it was at the hands of his doppelganger. Shang Tsung would question what type of person he was for there to be a version of himself out there that would commit such a heinous act. Shang Tsung would practice all the sorcery in the world to find a way to bring you back. He didn’t care how many souls he had to steal. Starting with the soul of Titan Shang Tsung. He would prove that he was the best version in all timelines.

Zeffeero dropped to his knees in front of your lifeless body. What was it all for? He spent all his time trying to get power and status and for what? Just for the beloved to no longer be a part of his life? Zeffeero looked up, no one seemed to notice you, the most important person to him, lying on the cold ground. No, they didn’t get to go on with their lives like nothing happened. He would ruin their lives just like his now was. He would rain down an endless flood and drown them all.

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celaenaeiln · 1 year ago

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i mean this in the most neutral tone, but, im genuinely confused with this eldest daughter syndrome dick thing? as far as i know, he never lives in the manor with other batsiblings and personally take care of them except damian, and just "yeets" from any possible trouble or tension within the siblings or when they have issues with bruce

No worries I totally get it! And I'm here to deliver!

First, to be fair to Dick, no one lives in the manor aside from Damian and sometimes Tim.

Dick lives in Bludhaven, Steph lives in Gotham U? She's been in and out of comics but otherwise her own house. Cass lives in Leslie's clinic, Tim alternates between the Titans and the manor, Jason lives anywhere that doesn't have Bruce, and Duke lives with his uncle.

However that doesn't mean they don't all rely on him.

I think the confusion comes from scenes like this-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Where it seems like Dick just left Tim to deal with Bruce on his own. But-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Dick called him. When Tim when to him for advice, he gave him advice but also knew it couldn't just stop there. So he called Bruce to get it through his thick head that he's allowed to be happy. If there's anyone that can change Bruce's mind on anything it's Dick.

Which brings me to my next instance of Dick acting as the mediator and emotional burden lifter of his family. When each batkid dies (or almost dies in Dick's case), Bruce grieves in a different way. With Jason he took it out on criminals, with Tim he took it out on himself, with Dick he took it out on criminals and heroes, and with Damian, he wanted to undo what happened. He torments Jason about it, goes too hard on the criminals, gets worsened by Barbara, gets helped a little by Selina but also feels a billion times worse about Damian's death so-

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He locks himself in a simulator for days trying to see and fix where he went from when Heretic killed Damian. Nothing gets through to him so Alfred pulls out the Big Guns - he calls in Dick.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

"Richard just came in from Chicago to--"

"Talk some sense into me?"

"Yes, I've implored you to shut this...thing off and join the living, but you have turned a deaf ear for days."

"This calling in the cavalry routine is getting old, Alfred."

Since the dawn of Batman and Robin, Dick has always acted as the mediator for Bruce and the family. Always.

With Dick's help, finally, after days, Damian's saved.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

And Dick finally brings Bruce back to life.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He took a destructive, dead-man-walking and breathed life and hope back into him to stop him from taking his grief and anger out on his family and criminals.

Also-

LOOK AT THE WAY THEY'RE SEATED. DICK IS LITERALLY BRUCE'S THERAPIST.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

Calling in the cavalry always works.

Of course there's times when Dick doesn't help mediate. But the issue is not that he doesn't want to or he pushes it off, it's that he can't. What the hell are you supposed to do when the mediator who mediates all your problems is themself broken?

Dick really wants to help Tim but he can't. He can't find it in himself to barely live right now because Donna-his platonic soulmate-is dead.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

He really can't.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

She was his sister too. Pretty much blood.

I actually think the fact that Dick doesn't live in the manor makes the fact that he still takes care of all his siblings and their problems with Bruce even more important. To calm and rationalize down Bruce and take care of his siblings, he's constantly flying or driving back and forth between different cities, dropping his cases and work, ignoring his problems, just to be there for them.

For another example, when Dick hears that the newest Batman is causing problems in Gotham and Bruce just abandoned Tim to deal with everything and Tim nearly got hurt, he comes all the way back to Gotham to rail Bruce out for doing that to him.

Robin (1993) Issue #8

When Bruce teams with Damian their relationship so tumultuous but once again Dick steps in.

Batman: The Return

"I need a partner who can stay focused and keep up."

"Bruce, come on! I made a career out of not doing anything I was told when I was Robin. He gave up everything for this. You can't just take it away...you can't cut him out."

He keeps Robin from being fired and continues being Damian's support system.

It's not just mediating though, Dick fully steps in to take care of the batfamily whenever Bruce absconds or there's trouble.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #24

He's like the command center of the family.

This picture just embodies his role.

Batman (2011) Issue #15

And as Bruce once said-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #22

He's really the eldest daughter and caretaker.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #robin tim drake #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

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elspethdekarios · 2 months ago

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Okay we all know about the Solas/Varric banter with the man on the island, but I was listening to DAI banter earlier (as one does) and now that we know about the titans/lyrium bodies/the blight there are several others that are SO GOOD and worth talking about so here goes. I might not be saying anything new here but I needed to get it out of my brain.

Trickster Figures in Dwarven Literature

Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor. Varric: Wait, you read my book? Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common? Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent? Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature? Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types. Solas: Curious. Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.

So it's obvious in hindsight that Solas is asking about trickster figures because he is one himself, but now that we know what we know, I think it's incredibly poignant that he's specifically asking about trickster figures in dwarven literature. It makes me wonder if he's not only asking out of curiosity but because he wants to know if the dwarves write about him. Is he a trickster figure in their legends too? Now that so much time has passed since ancient Arlathan, do the dwarves have some twisted memory of the Evanuris like the Dalish do? Do they have a tale about Fen'Harel who tranquilized the Titans and severed the dwarves' ties to their ancestry?

I don't quite know what to think of Varric's last line: "Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things age." I wonder, though, if this eases Solas's concern about appearing in their mythology. If dwarven writing is idealistic/optimistic, there's probably a slim chance the truth will be revealed that way. Maybe the fact that humans write "to figure out how things are" gives him pause - but I think humans aren't concerned enough about the elves to write themselves into discovering his secrets, so I don't think Solas really has a reason to concern himself with trickster figures in human literature.

The Lyrium Trade

Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium? Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well. Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium? Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why? Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves. Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more. Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

And here we have yet another attempt by Solas to see what the dwarves know about him without giving himself away. He wants to know if they're aware of what lyrium actually is, and, by extension, if they know about the history of the Titans and the Evanuris. There are several banters between these two where Solas is incredibly curious about Orzammar. Varric is like "wtf man, stop asking me about Orzammar, I'm a surface dwarf" and Solas gets frustrated that Varric isn't interested in his ancestry at all. This is partially because Solas places so much importance on ancestry in general, but part of his frustration has to be because Varric can't tell him what he wants to know. Also, imagine waking up after however many years and the dwarves are sustaining their economy almost completely on the literal blood of their ancestors - the ancestors you destroyed. That has to be horrifying. Harding brings this up at the end of her personal questline in Veilguard, when you return to Kal-Sharok and interact with the carvings on the wall. It's different for her, of course, because those are her own people, but the sentiment is the same, and the question is the same: would the dwarves sustain themselves on the lyrium trade if they knew the truth?

In the same lyrium vein:

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it. Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff. Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't. Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is.

I think this is Solas trying to ease his guilt by offering solutions. Is it a little egotistical of him to assume the carta/dwarves/Varric haven't already thought of this? Yeah, but he's Solas AKA Pride Personified. Anyway, I think this is Solas's way of assuaging his guilt just a little bit.

A Once Mighty Hero

Solas: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little. Varric: And why is that? Solas: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream. Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

Okay, Solas is definitely doing his twisting-the-truth thing in the first lines. He knows why dwarves have little to no presence in the Fade, because he is the reason, but he's so close to revealing the truth here. Not about him, and not about how, but about why. The image he paints of the once mighty hero in a pool of blood sounds metaphorical, but it isn't. The dwarves - so reliant on the lyrium trade, living where lyrium grows, mining it, their livelihoods revolving around it - are quite literally lying in a pool of their own blood.

Solas sees what the dwarves are now compared to what they could have been. They're an imitation of their once-great ancestors. And it's his fault (and Mythal's, but this ain't about her). In this particular banter, Solas seems to pity the dwarves, hence Varric's warning, but he's the only one alive who knows the truth. The dwarves don't pity themselves: in another banter where Solas asks Varric if he misses the stone, Varric responds with "How could I miss what I never had?" - and that applies here as well. The dwarves may "twitch to give the appearance of life" to Solas, but that's his guilt talking. Varric isn't insulted (as far as we know) because he doesn't place much importance on his heritage and he understands that Solas isn't trying to be demeaning, but he hears the pity in his statements - he wouldn't warn him about speaking to the Carta otherwise.

Anyway this was a lot of rambling and I'd love to hear anyone else's interpretation of these or other lines too!

#datv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #dragon age meta #dragon age lore #solas #varric #solas spoilers #da4 spoilers

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fanfic-obsessed · 6 months ago

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Pit Magic

This one…This one is going to start a little strange, and with a bit more world building than I let myself indulge in for my Tumblr ideas, but the set up is a bit necessary. As always there is no Canon to see here.

The first important note here is magic and how magic works. Magic here is both sentient and not. Magic does not necessarily have thoughts, but does have opinions about who and how it is used. With Spells powerful enough to leave remnants behind, those remnants do not work well going against their original purpose or used by people whose intentions are too different from their first caster. All magic, after enough time, can be corrupted (made to work against its original purpose- so remnants of a spell made to kill used to heal would also be a corruption) but even corrupted magic is, for lack of a better term, protective of anyone or anything that matches the vibe of its pure form.

This brings us to the Lazarus Pits. There is no recorded history of the Pits, with its mystical water that cures the sick and kills the healthy. No one ever recorded its true origin. The truth is the original Lazarus Water was a non magical spring in a cave system in what is present day Turkey, a location that was long lost even before Ra’s Al Ghul began using the Pits. This cave was the home to a small tribe in the middle of the last ice age. An illness struck this tribe, nearly wiping out the entire tribe in a matter of hours. All except the daughter of the tribe's leader, who had a natural magic. Though grieving, her main intention was to help, to save those she loved no matter the cost to herself. Her magic reacted creating a powerful spell to revive her tribe and kill the illness that afflicted them. She gladly gave her life so that they would live.

The spell was so powerful it left long lasting remnants that sunk into spring water, turning the water of the spring into a healing elixir, the predecessor to the Lazarus Pits. The spell also changed the tribe irrevocably, making them heartier, slower to age and more resistant to illness and infection; these resistances and the healing that came with them passed through the blood of the tribe, which then passed to most of humanity as the generations flew by. Though no one had ever had cause to make the connection, the more of that lost tribe's blood that flows through a person's veins the better the Lazarus Pits work for them, the less the madness affects them.

By the time Ra’s Al Ghul took control of the Lazarus Pits, the original spring was lost to time and the remnants of the original spell were hopelessly corrupted.

This brings us back to what this is setting up for. Due to the nature of the League of Assassins, who their clients are, who their victims are, no one in living memory who had been exposed to Lazarus Water had come face to face with someone whose vibe matches the love and need to help of the original caster. This vibe check can only be done in person, not through surveillance equipment, or photos or reports.

Until Jason Todd attacks Tim Drake at the Titans Tower.

Stubborn, self sacrificing, loving Tim Drake. Feral, protective, willing to do anything for his loved ones. And he loved so deeply, so desperately.

The exact match of a girl so long ago who poured everything she was into a spell to heal the people she loved. Who died gladly, with no regrets, creating a healing spell so powerful that it changed humanity itself.

Jason Todd had broken into Titan’s tower, mind drenched green with Pit Madness, intending on hurting the little Replacement Robin. That is until he entered the room the Robin in question. The madness did not clear, instead it switched from Anger to ‘Mine! Protect!’.

The Pit Madness in Jason’s head screams that this is not a safe place for Tim (someone intending to hurt him had just broken in). Running on adrenaline, madness, and an overwhelming protectiveness, Red Hood scoops up the little Robin and exits the tower stage left to get somewhere safe (depending on which is funnier, he either manages to escape with a struggling Robin over his shoulder-no knocking out Robin, that would be hurting him- , or said Robin figured out that Red Hood was Jason Todd and went quietly for ‘It’s Jason’ reasons). Somehow Jason runs with his captured Robin straight back to the only safe place he can think of, Nanda Parbat.

Later, after he is not running so fully on strange instincts, Jason would not be able to say how he got from San Francisco to the League of Assassins in the middle east, but somehow he did.

While not every Assassin in the League has had a dip in the Lazarus Pits, most have and every single one of them, from Ra’s Al Ghul to Talia to Damian to the lowest Assassin who had been dipped in the Pits takes one look at Tim Drake and go ‘he is our precious cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure’. It should also be noted that they do not want Tim to become an Assassin, not even Ra’s; this really is a ‘we must protect the innocent boy from all the evils of the world’ kind of situation (Which is hilarious given the age difference between Damian-who has declared himself Tim’s personal bodyguard- and Tim).

So now Tim Drake has been abducted by the League of Assassins and they all want to give him…hugs? Like Tim knows he’s a bit touch starved, ok, but he didn’t realize it was so bad that an actual villain organization would get concerned. And there is talk about how he needs to be protected. Yeah, they are not letting him contact anyone or leave, but they are also not torturing him or trying to kill him. It is a little strange that he is getting more maternal affection from Talia Al Ghil than from his own mother, who he is not even sure knows he is missing yet. AND Jason Todd is there, which means Jason is alive, so Tim is trying to get Jason to come home. Tim is also trying to figure out if this made his life weirder or not.

Back in Gotham, Batman is losing his whole mind. He has video from Titan’s Tower of The Red Hood abducting Robin, now one has heard from either since. It has been weeks. In addition no one has reported Tim Drake missing. It has been weeks and there is no one outside their nightlife that would notice if Tim disappeared? Bruce has been trying to get in contact with Drakes for all of those weeks (in between his frantic searching for Tim himself). The messenger he sent to find them, one of the Justice League undercover, was told essentially not to bother them about Tim, just talk to him directly and refused to listen when being told he might be missing.

Listen when Bruce gets Tim back from wherever he has been abducted to, he is going to be concerned about the implications of his parents actions. Right now he and Dick are scouring all of their contacts to find their missing Bird. Crime is at an all time low in Gotham, in spite of the Bats not patrolling.

There was precisely one(1) Arkham breakout since Robin went missing. Instead of the normal round up, where the various Rogues all had time to get to their preferred battlegrounds before being gently (and until that breakout none of them would have ever considered that the Bats were actually being gentle with them) recaptured, with fights that served as enrichment in all of their enclosures the four rogues that escaped that night were all put down fast, and with broken bones to would put them out of commission for months, by an impatient Batman or Nightwing. Neither have time for the normal crime fighting until they bring Robin home, they are on a Mission. And everyone knows not to bother the Bats on a mission.

#fanfiction prompt #batman #jason todd #tim drake robin #tim drake #ra's al ghul #talia al ghul #damian al ghul #bruce wayne #Teen Titans tower #Jason Todd did not Attack Tim Drake #The Lazarus Pits made everyone love Tim Drake #this is wierd #world building #lazarus pits

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owl-falls-au · 5 months ago

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How do the Mystery Twins meet the Owl House gang? I wanna know their opinions on the entire cast there, hell, I want to know their opinions on the Boiling Isles! I also want to hear any and all headcanons on how the Twins will interact with the Hexsquad (Luz, Amity, Willow, Gus (esp Gus!!!) and Hunter)!!! Feel free to use this post to rant about it. *GASP* How does the end of season 2 happen? Does the Hexsquad still get stuck on Earth with no portal???

IN ENGLISH

I can't say this enough! I love your questions!

How does the Season 2 finale happen? And how do the Mystery Twins meet the Owl House gang?

During the events of season two, Stan, Luz, King, and Eda prepare for Unity Day, and as Eda's last request, Stan stays with the Hex Squad to protect them.

After the events of the fight against Amity's mother, Alador joining the good guys' side, and Luz's capture, Stan takes the reins and leads everyone to a safe place to plan something quick

The rest of the events of the season finale occur the same, with the exception that Stan protects Luz's back and supports her, defends her and says that none of this is her fault, that helps her to deceive Belos and thus put a coven mark on him to weaken him

To make matters worse, the Collector is freed by King and although he stops Belos, he causes more chaos, Stan, seeing the door that could lead home, decides to do something to save his remaining family, ordering Hunter . Let him take everyone to the door while he is in charge of taking part of the investigation of Belos and the portals

Oh, right, and he also tries to get Luz to the door to save her from all the chaos, because he's a very protective foster father.

In the end, King pushes them both out the door and the portal, which leads directly to Ford's cabin, is destroyed, leaving the Hex Squad, Stan and Luz trapped in the human world.

There, the Mystery Twins and Ford meet the Hex Squad, and in the process, try to comfort a group of scared children, along with a very nervous Uncle Stan, eager to recreate the portal, thanks to the titan who was able to bring Belos' research with him...

The Gravity Falls Squad's opinions on the entire Hex Squad

Ford: he is not at all happy that Stanley has continued with his attempts to return to his dimension of origin, on the other hand, as soon as he saw the children injured and showing signs of exhaustion, he did not hesitate to give them a place to sleep, especially Stan, although we all know that there is too much to talk about between them

Stan: When he saw him for the first time after his appearance in the comic "A tale of two stans", he believed that it was Bill's trap, until he saw that it was indeed the real one, the next thing he knew, Stan was determined to reopening a portal, now to take those children home, he had to admit that that was something noble, but dangerous, he still thinks he is irresponsible and even an idiot, at least until he discovered that he has a magic staff and very interesting knowledge... .

Luz: reminds him a lot of Dipper and Mabel, she is a combination of both, since she is very intelligent with wild magic and is also strange, but she has a good heart, she cares a lot about her actions

Hunter: He is worried about his health, he notices how tense he is, he likes him, but he knows that he is very distrustful, apparently, he is more attached to Stan

Gus: He sees him as the weakest, yet he sees his maturity and his desire to learn about the human world, sometimes he reminds him of Stan, but he doesn't want to think about that.

Willow: Is it normal for her to be the strongest in the group? At first he thought she would be the smart girl, until he saw how she controls the magic of plants and thought a little more about it, he has his doubts about whether she is okay after these months.

Amity: he respects her, not only because of her determination, but also because she is very intelligent, although somewhat shy and clumsy at times, she reminds him of Dipper since she is very studious, it is also like seeing a small version of himself

Dipper was excited to meet his Uncle Stan in person, he didn't expect it to be so soon or with several extra guests, but when he heard that they were young witches, his desire to learn helped him interact with them naturally.

Stan: Dipper will never lie when he tells you that what he was most excited about was meeting Stan in person. When the door opened and he was finally able to talk to him, the first thing Stan said was that they needed to remake the portal to take the children. Home, since then, Dipper helps Stan with his work as best he can, while listening to his stories and adventures on the boiling islands.

Luz: he likes her, she looks a lot like Mabel, she is very kind, and being almost the same age, she is great in Dipper's words, he likes talking to her about Eda and King, he really likes hearing about that other one. world he comes from

Hunter: they are both similar, curious, they were interested in wild magic and palismans Hunter is one of the few people I would consider a "brother" or something like that, he likes to tell her what he has discovered in Gravity falls and what dreams of finding once they manage to open the portal

Gus: To be honest, Gus is like a little brother he always wanted, someone who is amazed by everything he tells him, someone who listens to him and asks him questions about his discoveries in the human world, someone who also wants to take him to carry out these types of investigations, practically, Hunter, Gus and Dipper are the trio of young investigators looking for mysteries to uncover

Willow: okay, you have to admire that this girl is the toughest of her group, in fact, Dipper openly admits that he had a slight crush on her, but like in all his few crushes, it hasn't come to anything, yes, admire Willow's strength and determination

Amity: Curiously, he likes her very much, since they are both considered the star students of their respective schools, although nowadays this is no longer the case, they understand the pressure of having to be perfect, get good grades and try to be better than the others. Furthermore, in fact, thanks to her, Dipper understood that he should not be like Ford, because that was damaging his friendship with Mabel, she is a good girl, she gives excellent advice

Mabel is the happiest to have her new friends living in the cabin, it's like having a sleepover all summer. What could be better than that?

Stan: she was the one who most wanted to have Stan at home, when he appeared with the Hex Squad, Mabel was the first to come up to hug Stanley, he is protective, responsible, to a certain extent, he keeps a good eye on all the children, he is playful and charismatic, he spends a lot of time with her and asks her for help with the portal

Luz: "She's my older sister! Say no more!" She wants to be like her when she grows up.

Hunter: "my dream boy..." She once said while smiling dumbly, she was one of the ones who helped Hunter the most, now she sees him as her best friend, although Willow fights for that position, since she also loves him a lot to Hunter "Oh my god, looks like I found a new couple to make!" He said while already making dating plans between Hunter and Willow

Gus: she loves him a lot, she plays with him at things like sleepovers and I teach him the interesting concepts of human dating and his way of courting, something tells her that Gus is very comfortable with her, and although he is just starting, he doesn't It bothers him, it's actually nice...

Willow: "And she's my other big sister!" He once said enthusiastically, "She's very strong! And very tough!" He loves playing sports with her, although he also likes to do her makeup and comb her hair.

Amity: He likes her, but since she is closer to Dipper, he doesn't talk to her much, although when he does, he loves to see her with Luz, he is very happy for the Lumity couple.

Gravity Falls Squad's opinions of The Boiling Islands!

Stan: A living hell... At least until you meet the right people...

Ford: A fascinating place But dangerous, it should not be possible to access that place, it would be best not to open more portals...

Dipper: I could have answers to many of the questions that have never been solved before... I could learn magic, real magic... I wish I lived there...

Mabel: I wanna be a witch! And do magic like Grunkle Stan!

Coming soon: headcanons about the Twins' interactions with the Hexsquad

EN ESPAÑOL

¡No me canso de decir esto! ¡Amo sus preguntas!

¿Cómo ocurre el final de la temporada 2? Y ¿Cómo conocen los Mystery Twins a la pandilla Owl House?

Durante los eventos de la segunda temporada, Stan, Luz, King y Eda se preparan para el día de la unidad, y como última petición de Eda, Stan se queda con el Hex Squad para protegerlos

Después suceden los eventos de la pelea contra la madre de Amity, Alador uniéndose al bando de los buenos y la captura de Luz, lo que hace que Stan tome las riendas y dirige a todos a un lugar seguro para planear algo rápido

Los demás hechos del final de temporada ocurren igual, con la excepción de que Stan protege la espalda de Luz y la respalda, la defiende y dice que nada de esto es su culpa, eso la ayuda para engañar a Belos y así ponerle una marca de aquelarre para debilitarlo

Para empeorar las cosas, el coleccionista es liberado por King y, aunque detiene a Belos, causa más caos, Stan, al ver la puerta que podría llevarlo a casa, decide hacer algo para salvar a la familia que le queda, le ordena a Hunter que lleve a todos a la puerta mientras el se encarga de llevarse parte de la investigación de Belos y los portales

Ah, claro, y también trata de llevar a Luz a la puerta para salvarla de todo el caos, porque es un padre postizo muy protector

Al final, King los empuja a ambos por la puerta y el portal, que da directamente a la cabaña de Ford, se destruye, dejando al Hex Squad, a Stan y a Luz atrapados en el mundo humano

Ahí, los gemelos misterio y Ford conocen al Hex Squad, y de paso, tratan de consolar a un grupo de niños asustados, junto a un tío Stan muy nervioso y ansioso por recrear el portal, gracias al titán que pudo traer las investigaciones de Belos consigo...

Las opiniones del Gravity Falls Squad sobre todo el Hex Squad

Ford no está nada feliz con que Stanley haya seguido con sus intentos de volver a su dimensión de origen, por otro lado, apenas vio a los niños heridos y con señales de agotamiento, no dudo en darles un lugar donde dormir, en especial a Stan, aunque todos sabemos que entre ellos hay demasiado de que hablar

Stan: cuando lo vio por primera vez después de su aparición en el cómic "A tale of two stans", creyó que era una trampa de Bill, hasta que vio que efectivamente era el verdadero, lo siguiente que supo es que Stan estaba decidido a reabrir un portal, ahora para llevar a esos niños a casa, debia admitir que eso era algo noble, Pero peligroso, sigue pensando que es irresponsable y hasta un idiota, al menos hasta que descubrió que tiene un bastón mágico y conocimientos muy interesantes...

Luz: le recuerda mucho a Dipper y a Mabel, es una combinación de ambos, Pero tiene un buen corazón, le preocupa que ella esté más interesada en el bien de todos, sin importar las consecuencias a largo plazo

Hunter: está preocupado por su salud, nota lo tenso que está, le agrada, pero sabe que es muy desconfiado, aparentemente, está más apegado a Stan

Gus: lo ve como el más débil, aún así, ve su madurez y su deseo de aprender sobre el mundo humano, a veces le recuerda a Stan, pero no quiere pensar en eso ....

Willow: ¿Es normal que ella sea la más fuerte del grupo? Primero pensó que sería la chica inteligente, hasta que vio como controla la magia de las plantas y reflexionó un poco más al respecto, tiene sus dudas sobre si ella está bien después de estos meses

Amity: la respeta, no solo por su determinación, sino también porque es muy inteligente, aunque algo tímida y torpe en ocasiones, le recuerda a Dipper ya que es muy estudiosa, también es como ver una versión pequeña de si mismo

Dipper estaba emocionado de conocer a su tío Stan en persona, no esperaba que fuera tan pronto ni con varios invitados extra, pero cuando escucho que eran jóvenes brujas, su deseo de aprender lo ayudo a interactuar con ellos con naturalidad

Stan: Dipper nunca mentira cuando te diga que lo que más le emocionaba era conocer a Stan en persona, cuando la puerta se abrió y por fin pudo hablar con el, lo primero que Stan dijo fue que necesitaban rehacer el portal para llevar a los niños a casa, desde entonces, Dipper ayuda como puede a Stan con su trabajo, mientras escucha sus historias y aventuras en las islas hirvientes

Luz: le agrada, se parece mucho a Mabel, ella es muy amable, y al ser casi de la misma edad, ella es genial a palabras de Dipper, le gusta hablar con ella de Eda y King, le gusta mucho escuchar de ese otro mundo del que viene

Hunter: ambos son similares, curiosos, se interesaron en la magia salvaje y en los palisman/taliamigos, Hunter es de las pocas personas que consideraría como "hermano" o algo así, le gusta contarle lo que ha descubierto en Gravity falls y lo que sueña encontrar una vez que logren abrir el portal

Gus: para ser sincero, Gus es como un hermano pequeño que siempre quiso, alguien que se asombre con todo lo que él le cuenta, alguien que lo escuche y le haga preguntas sobre sus descubrimientos en el mundo humano, alguien que también quiere llevar a cabo ese tipo de investigaciones, prácticamente, Hunter, Gus y Dipper son el trío de investigadores jóvenes que buscan misterios que descubrir

Willow: okey, hay que admirar que está chica sea la más ruda de su grupo, de hecho, Dipper admite abiertamente que sintio un leve enamoramiento por ella, Pero como en todos sus pocos enamoramientos, no ha llegado a nada, eso sí, admira la fuerza de Willow y su determinación

Amity: curiosamente, le cae muy bien, ya que ambos son considerados los alumnos estrella de sus escuelas respectivas, aunque en la actualidad ya no se así, entienden la presión de tener que ser perfectos, sacar buenas notas y tratar de ser mejores que los demás, de hecho, gracias a ella, Dipper entendió que no debía ser como Ford, porque eso estaba dañando su amistad con Mabel, es una buena chica, da excelentes consejos

Mabel es la que más se alegra de tener a sus nuevos amigos viviendo en la cabaña, es como tener una pijamada en todo el verano ¿Que mejor que eso?

Stan: ella fue quien más quiso tener a Stan en casa, cuando esté apareció con el Hex Squad, Mabel fue la primera en acercarse a abrazar a Stanley, el es protector, responsable, hasta cierto punto, vigila bien a todos los niños, es juguetón y carismático, pasa mucho tiempo con ella y le pide ayuda con el portal

Luz: "¡Es mi hermana mayor! ¡No sé diga más!" Quiere ser como ella cuando crezca

Hunter: "mi chico de ensueño..." Dijo una vez mientras sonreía embobada, ella fue de las que más ayudaron a Hunter, ahora lo ve como su mejor amigo, aunque ese puesto se lo pelea Willow, ya que ella también quiere mucho a Hunter "¡Oh por dios, parece que encontré a una nueva pareja que formar!" Dijo mientras ya hacía planes de citas entre Hunter y Willow

Gus: lo quiere mucho, juega con el a cosas como las pijamadas y le enseño los interesantes conceptos de las citas humanas y su manera de cortejar, algo le dice que Gus está muy a gusto junto a ella, y aunque apenas está comenzando, no le molesta, es agradable de hecho...

Willow: "¡Y ella es mi otra hermana mayor!" Dijo una vez con entusiasmo "¡Es muy fuerte! ¡Y muy ruda!" Le encanta hacer deporte con ella, aunque también le gusta maquillarla y peinar su cabello

Amity: le cae bien, pero como es más cercana a Dipper, no habla mucho con ella, aunque cuando lo hace, le encanta verla junto a Luz, está muy feliz por la pareja Lumity

¡Opinión del Gravity falls Squad sobre Las islas hirvientes!

Stan: un infierno en vida... Al menos hasta que conoces a las personas adecuadas...

Ford: un lugar fascinante Pero peligroso, no debería de ser posible acceder a ese lugar, lo más recomendable sería no abrir más portales...

Dipper: podría tener respuestas a muchas de las preguntas que jamás se han resuelto antes... Podría aprender magia, magia real... Desearía vivir allí ...

Mabel: ¡Quiero ser una bruja! ¡Y hacer magia como el tío Stan!

próximamente: headcanons sobre las interacciones entre los Gemelos con el Hexsquad

#owl falls au #gravity falls au #stan pines #gravity falls x the owl house #gravity falls #the owl house #reverse portal au #stanley pines #crossover #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls stanley

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pearlsandpemberly · 1 year ago

Text

until then - levi x reader

Summary:

In this cruel world, it is hard to believe that there’s any meaning to be found. But she means something and so does he. In this cruel world, saying those three words has more meaning than anything, which must be why it is so terrifying to say.

Inspired by No Big Deal (I Love You) by dodie.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

POV: Third Person, f!reader

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46121158

In the morning, we don't say it,

Share the water, that's how we play it

The sun is only just beginning to rise but Levi is awake, body leaning against the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. She is awake too, suppressing a yawn as she enters the kitchen, silently acknowledging him with a bob of her head. He nods back and turns to pick another tea cup from the cupboard, polishing it with a cloth and putting it down next to his own, adding green pines to it.

They move around each other without speaking. She pours the water into their cups and he places saucers onto the table next to the window overseeing the ground of the Headquarters. She tops up her tea with cold water but leaves his alone.

Both captains sit as the room fills with golden light. Levi’s eyes close, his head turned towards the rising sun. She squints against the glow, delicately sipping at her tea. The toes of their boots touch under the table.

In the shower, yeah we save it

Share the water, that's how we play it

She winces as Levi lowers her into the steaming bathtub, the warmth numbing the pains shooting up and down her spine. He’s slow and careful, hands gentle under her arms, so unlike his earlier rushing around when he had been boiling vats of water and scattering dried rosemary and lavender into the bath. He doesn’t believe that the shrubs make a difference, but she believes they do. The aftermath of the expedition has left her too tired to bring this up, but he remembers.

Levi’s eyebrows pinch together as he watches her hands grip onto the rim of the tub, her breathing shallow and her knuckles white. He sits down on a crate, elevated so he can reach her when she needs him. When she does, he supports her shoulders as he rubs soap through her wet hair. He moves his hand down her back, touch light as he inspects her bruises, muttering apologies when she sucks in air through her teeth. He had been quick enough to prevent the Titan from crushing her but had not spared her entirely from all damage.

She sees the lines on his forehead smooth out when his hands touch the hot water. “Get in.”

He shakes his head, lowering her back down to wash out the soap. “I’m not the injured one here.”

“You have military baths everyday and never afford yourself this kind of treatment. Just get in before it gets cold.”

So he does after some gentle persuasion, climbing in and sitting behind her, holding onto the sides of the tub so she can lean against his chest. He sighs as the heat engulfs him, easing his sore muscles in a way cold water never does.

Her head rests against his left shoulder and she asks him if it’s nice. He shrugs with his other shoulder and says it’s alright. They stay there until the water cools.

I don't mind, say I care, you're the best

Yeah, you hold me like its already said

New headstones line at the front of the expanse of graves where fallen soldiers – or parts of them – rest. The Survey Corps hold their salutes but they don’t stay long, moving away as dark clouds begin to darken the sky.

She stays, looking down at the white slabs and the names carved into the stone. Not all graves are occupied, which pains her, but every grave has a name, which is the next best thing. He stays too, coming to stand next to her. To them, just the names aren’t enough.

She clasps her hands together. “We did what we could.”

He makes a bitter sound. “It’s never enough.”

“You’re here. That means there’s more we can do.”

“Don’t say that as if you aren’t here too.”

She doesn’t reply. A tear rolls down her cheek. Levi’s hand comes to rest on her back. The rain begins to fall but they don’t move.

I don't mind, I will do this dance

For the rest of my life, for as long as you want

The candle in Levi’s room is burning low and his eyelids are heavy but he keeps writing at his desk. She’s sat on his bed reading, her arms drooping with the weight of the book every so often. Once in a while she peers over her pages to look at the man hunched over papers. His shoulders are tense, his writing painstakingly slow, his free hand propping up his chin. He doesn’t stop when she asks him to. She doesn’t argue but doesn’t stop peeking at him.

When the candle snuffs out, Levi turns around to see her asleep, book open on her face like it is most nights. And like most nights, he gets up and pries it from her fingers, setting it down on the bedside table. He carefully throws a blanket over her and tucks it under her chin, fingers brushing against her neck as he does so. He lies down next to her.

This, too, happens most nights. She has her own room and bed that Levi could force her to move to, but he never does. If he did, then maybe she wouldn’t come back every evening when the day was done.

He doesn’t sleep, instead using his time to memorise the details of her face, so that when the day comes where she loses like the others, he can remember her.

She dreams of him, dreams that devolve into nightmares. When she wakes, she turns to find him and he’s still there, still alive, even if it’s just for now.

Not that I wouldn't say it first 'cause I would

It's no big deal

They had met when Levi was recruited by Erwin for the Survey Corps. He had been cold and indifferent but she had made an effort to be civil anyway. The two other soldiers who had followed him had been more approachable – the girl had been quick to befriend her, which tempered his manner towards her somewhat.

She had seen the aftermath of his encounter with the Titan that killed his friends. She had wrapped up the girl’s head in her own cape to bring back with them. He had carried the upper body of the boy on his back, refusing any assistance. He had insisted they be burned instead of buried like the other soldiers, which was only allowed because of hers and Erwin’s insistence that these soldiers be an exception.

The ashes are in an urn that sits on an empty bookshelf. Levi cleans it twice a week.

On the anniversary of their passing, he tells her about their time in the underground and the many memories he has of them. She listens and holds his hand, even though she has heard them before. He smiles when he speaks of them, albeit a small one. To her, it’s worth all the smiles in the world.

Levi is voluntarily vulnerable one evening a year.

Look at me like that, hold your breath 'cause we're good

It's no big deal

News reaches everyone that Wall Maria has fallen. They are sent out to help with the evacuation into Wall Rose and protect the civilians. She finds her family’s house has been destroyed by the debris. She doesn’t find any remnant of them in the rubble. She doesn’t find them as they do a head count during the evacuation.

She doesn’t cry or shout or get upset. She works and fights and kills like she’s done before, but she is reckless and sloppy and uncaring. She doesn’t speak unless she’s giving orders. The others try to talk to her but after several days they stop trying.

Levi doesn’t try to speak to her at all but he doesn’t leave her alone. He makes her breakfast and gives her a kick when she doesn’t touch it straightaway. He speaks on her behalf if needed and takes on her paperwork. He stays with her until she falls asleep. He never says a word.

Two weeks pass and they’re in the kitchen at night. She stares out of the window into the darkness, the heat from her teacup numb to her as Levi sets it down. He touches her toe with his own but she doesn’t respond.

It’s the smell of the spiced apple tea that brings her back to the present, memories of the pies her mother used to make for the family when she was young. And then she’s crying. Her eyes, which had been dry since the days the wall fell, are spilling over with tears and she heaves as inhuman sounds force themselves from her throat.

Arms come around her and she falls against Levi, her sobs becoming muffled against his stomach. He says nothing, keeping steady and running his fingers through her unwashed hair without flinching away from the texture or the feeling of her nails digging into his sides.

When she finally pulls away to steady her breathing, Levi’s white sleep shirt is sodden. The first word she has said in weeks sounds broken and raspy.

“I’m sorry.”

Levi shows no concern for his clothing – only for her. He touches her cheek, wiping some of the wetness away. She cries for the rest of the night and he’s right there with her.

On a Sunday we're together

God I love you, says not one of us ever

She holds a bag of ice to Levi’s ankle, lips tightening when he hisses at the pain. After days of not properly resting, she had insisted that he stop going around as if everything was fine, so, much to his annoyance, he’s sitting in his bed with his injury propped up and he’s going to stay there like that all day.

She pays no attention to his complaints, mindful of his swollen ankle as she tends to it. With all the insanity occurring around them, she’s grateful that he can have a chance to rest and silently glad that she can too. The meetings surrounding what took place in Stohess are still occurring and she’s happy she doesn’t have to be involved today.

Levi swears under his breath and she looks up with concern. His jaw is tense and eyes are shut but he waves at her dismissively. She sets the pack so it covers the inflamed area and moves the chair closer to his side, poking his side and avoiding his hand swatting her away.

“Shall I read to you?”

He opens one eye and glares at her. “I’ve not been made completely useless, you know.”

She ignores him and picks up her novel. It’s romance, something Levi hates, but he listens anyway – the bizarre things happening as of late are giving him daily headaches and comprehending not only the brat’s ability to transform, but his fellow cadet too, only makes it worse. Her voice doesn’t.

She changes his ice pack after a couple of hours. She brings him dinner and later some tea. She carefully bandages his ankle and foot, giving him some stern words about getting up in the night.

As she gets up to leave, Levi calls her name softly. “Thank you.”

She smiles and it’s beautiful.

In the half light, where you tease me

God I love you would be far too easy

Levi reaches up to the top shelf but his fingers barely skim the boxes. He grumbles to himself as he pushes up on the counter, balancing his knees on the wood before stretching up and successfully grabbing onto the packaging.

His silent satisfaction is interrupted by an ugly snort from behind him. He turns, face hot as he sees her stood in the doorway, hand covering her mouth. Her eyes are crinkled and shining.

Levi climbs down quickly and leaves the box on the side before approaching her. “Something funny, captain?”

She shakes her head. “Just enjoying the view. Would you like help with the rest?”

“Absolutely not.” He draws himself up on his tiptoes, bringing them to the same height and nose to nose. He grimaces without malice when she giggles again. “Laugh one more time and I’ll teach you a lesson, brat.”

Levi’s features twitch when she touches the top of his head, patting it like she would to a child before carding her fingers through his bangs. “Just because I can’t pull rank on the likes of you doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

He tuts and takes her hand away. He doesn’t let go of it.

Not that I wouldn't say it first 'cause I would

It's no big deal

The cabin is still dirty, despite the new Squad Levi’s hard work. Night has fallen but Levi is still scrubbing away at the floor, his back aching and breathing shallow from the smell of chemicals. Any movements he hears are unimportant to him, knowing it will be one of the kids shuffling around in their rooms. He works, even though he knows that sleep in these times matter more than this grubby hut being his standard of clean. Still, he keeps going.

Her letter is in his pocket and his mind wanders without his permission. She’s with Hange, the compromise they came to when she refused to hide in the city and when Levi put his foot down about her joining his squad to protect Eren and Historia. She had been furious at him and most likely still is, but the night they had evacuated, she had pressed folded paper into his palm and hugged him tightly.

The threat of the government seems ridiculous compared to the threat of the Titans, but she had taken it seriously. Her letter is short and half full of expletives, but also of concern and care, for the kids and for him.

He keeps it on his person, tucked away in his breast pocket. He almost cries when they regroup after Kenny’s attack and it’s gone.

Look at me like that, hold your breath 'cause we're good

It's no big deal

The Survey Corps cape is laid over Erwin’s body, covering his face and wounds. She watches him painstakingly tuck the green fabric around their fallen commander and friend, swallowing hard to try and rid herself of the lump in her throat.

Levi’s shoulders are shaking when he stands, his head bent. She approaches him carefully and puts her arm around him, ready to catch him when he falls. And he does, his nails paring skin off his cheeks, his back hunching as he begins to cry. She braces as he collapses, her own tears following his so easily she almost forgets that this is the first time she’s seen him cry like this since he lost his friends all those years ago.

She mumbles words and phrases that are unintelligible against the back of his neck and he makes sounds akin to a wounded animal.

Hange finds them and they envelop the two in a shaky embrace. When they pull away and ask if they’re ready to go, she waits for Levi to raise his head and make the call. He holds onto her for a little longer, looking to Erwin’s body for a lost reassurance before agreeing to return.

They salute the commander and Levi lets out a gasp. She clutches his hand, anchoring him.

It's no big deal

Sparkling blue stretches out as far as the eye can see. The clear water as bright and colourful as the sky is a sight it takes minutes to comprehend. The kids play in the sea and Hange shrieks about its saltiness, continuing to taste it despite Levi’s stern words against it.

She gazes out at the view. The world as they know it is so much more vast than what they are currently seeing, and they are people walking about it, knowing of this island’s existence and praying for the day they are all destroyed. All these wonders she had heard about in hushed tones from her parents, the wonders that Armin had marvelled at – they are wonders that they are not allowed to touch.

Levi comes up to her side. She glances down to see he’s taken off his boots and socks and she smiles.

“So, you’ve been tempted.”

“It was either voluntary or an attempted attack by the idiot three over there.” He nods his head towards Sasha, Jean, and Connie.

She hums, looking back out at the ocean. “He would hate this, wouldn’t he?” she asks softly.

Levi’s eyes close. “He’d be so disappointed.”

They do not touch. It’s painful not to.

I'll say it here, I'll tell you soon

Until then I love you

The airship door opens and they get a look at the city below them. This is the rest of the world and the start of the war.

She looks to Levi as he tightens his gear and she adjusts the neck his cape, the only Survey Corp member still clinging to the old uniform. Fingers brush against his jugular and she feels him swallow.

She tells him to be safe. He rolls his eyes. She grips the fabric. “Promise that you’ll come back in one piece.”

There’s a fierceness and fear laced in her words.

The words fail him. He touches her wrist.

I'll say it here, I'll tell you soon

Until then I love you

Hange had warned her but she cries anyway at the sight of the bandaged broken man laid out on the wooden cart. Levi’s hair is the only identifiable thing about him, his face covered with gauze and his body shrouded by white cloth. She does not speak in fear of waking him, but selfishly wishes he will stir so she can try to relax.

Hange watches her worry over him, crouching by his side. Their eye is glassy and their hands are trembling.

“I don’t know how he’s still alive,” they whisper. “He should be dead. Perhaps – perhaps it would be better if he –”

“We’d all be better dead,” she says. “We’re the only ones who will be alive when this ends. If Levi keeps living, it means that this isn’t ending yet. Not this way.” She moves his bangs away from his forehead.

Hange furrows their brow. “How can you… after everything, you two… how are you not afraid?”

She exhales and shuts her eyes. “I’m always afraid. So is he. It’s what makes it work.”

“It doesn’t. You know it will kill you. Suffering is a part of loss, but the things unsaid is what will kill you.”

“… I know.”

She can’t look at Hange but her eyes open to look upon Levi again. He’s moving, his one visible eye twitching before it opens. The pupil dilates and focuses on her.

The words fail her. She touches his hair again. “You broke your promise.”

He can only look back at her.

I'll say it here, I'll tell you soon

Levi’s trying to get out of the bunk on the ship but she’s holding him down, saddened that for the first time, she’s winning in a battle of strength between the two of them.

“I need to go,” he growls, scrabbling weakly against her arms. “You’d rather me waste away on this godforsaken ship?”

“I’d rather you be alive,” she says, her voice breaking as she pins his wrists down. One hand is still wrapped in bandages, two of his fingers missing. The gauze covering his face had fallen away as their journey progressed, but he still has only one eye visible, and it’s clouded with anger and frustration.

“Like I’d let you all die in place of me – I have a job to do – I promised him.”

She screws her eyes shut. The boat had docked but the world is still swaying. “I can’t let you do this.”

Levi stops struggling but the fight doesn’t die. He stares up at her with a vulnerable defiance. And he asks: “why can’t you?”

He challenges her. He says her name. He challenges her in a way he’s refused to do for around a decade now. If she answers him truthfully, then surrendering to her demands will be easier. And she knows it.

He repeats the question, sitting up against her slackened grip. Their noses are touching. Her hands are still loosely gripping his wrists. His breathing is shallow.

A tear falls from her left eye.

“I can’t… please, Levi. I… we… we need you.”

She doesn’t say it. Neither does he. That’s how the song and dances goes, how it’s gone all this time.

She loses this fight.

Until then I love you

The flying boat is approaching the billowing steam. The shellshocked soldiers begin to murmur amongst themselves as they prepare their spears and their descent into hell.

He’s there next to her like he’s always been. He knows this will be the last time they will fight side by side. Hange is gone. Erwin is gone. Hundreds of soldiers and comrades are gone. Everyone in the machine is all that humanity has left. She’s all he has left.

She looks at him in a manner she has done thousands of times before. That, too, will be the last time.

His lips are dry and rough and sudden against her own. Her surprise is muffled by his mouth.

It’s over before it has begun. This last time just so happens to be the first time too.

(I wouldn’t say it first, I wouldn’t say it)

Levi rips Pieck away from her father. He rips himself away from Jean and Connie. He can’t look at her because if he does, he know he will stay.

They fly away from the gas and Levi knows he has to look. He has to be there with her in these final moments.

Her eyes are locked on him. She stands alone in the crowd watching them rise above them. She says something and Levi knows that it’s his name.

Her name dries up on his tongue as she transforms into the beautiful abomination that had been their enemy five years ago. A Titan that he will not be able to kill.

The enemy still stands and is still fighting. Levi grits his teeth and snarls. They will not have fallen for nothing.

He fights for humanity and the love he still has within himself for this pitiful existence – he fights for her.

I’ll say it here, I’ll tell you soon

Her memories feel distant and are not all hers, but she is here, alive. They’re all alive.

Her head turns with a desperation she hasn’t felt since her family’s death, searching the scorched earth for him. She stumbles to her feet, touching her friends’ shoulders as she passes them.

Levi is collapsed onto the ground staring at the dust and steam. He’s alive.

She can’t bear it as she crumples to her knees in front of him, the weight of the world crushing her lungs as it falls away. Her cry is not the only one that fills the air as she holds the sides of his face. He mirrors her, fingers pressing into her cheeks as his mouth twists with an impossible combination of joy and misery.

Their foreheads connect with more force than intended but it doesn’t matter. He intertwines their fingers together and she doesn’t mind the odd sensation of his missing digits. They cry to the point where neither of them can speak, but they don’t have to. Perhaps it’s ignorant of them to believe that they have time, but they do.

Not that I wouldn't say it first 'cause I would

It's no big deal

As the oldest and longest serving Survey Corps members, she and Levi had earned their retirement. So, they vacate to one of the surviving towns when it’s safe to do so, taking Falco and Gabi under their care, though they don’t particularly need it. Onyakopon visits them to help them acclimate to the change and to update them on the Alliance’s plans for peace.

Healing is difficult but they have each other. They have the kids. And they have time.

Despite everything, they find themselves repeating their routines from lifetimes ago. He boils the kettle and she pours the water. Their feet touch under the table. She retrieves items from higher shelves. He tucks her in when she falls asleep before him. They sleep beside each other.

Inevitably, things are also different. He requires a wheelchair as standing for more than five minutes drains him of all his energy. Her hands are ensnared with tremors that can calm but do not cease. He is paralysed with night terrors that have him screaming when he finally wrestles free. When heat feels overbearing, she becomes suffocated and only stops hyperventilating when put under a cold shower.

They adapt and adjust and help each other like they always have. Her arms come around him in the night. His hands style her hair in the mornings. She insists on pushing him around when they leave the house and he does not object, reading as go about. He lets her sit in his lap when they stop in the park and they read together.

Their lips find each other. That too is different, but it feels as routine as their oldest habits.

Words become easier to say as time passes and wounds heal and safety envelops them. She is kind. He is beautiful. She is a pain. He is stubborn. She’s her best when she is waking. He’s his best when he is ready to sleep. They are best when they’re together.

The words do not fail.

Levi’s on the bed. She’s tying his shoes, despite his complaining that he can do it perfectly fine on his own. He rolls his eyes but then sees that she has pulled up his sock for him and straightened his trouser ankle the way he does. She does the same to the other leg, taking her time to make it even just as he does.

She straightens up, on her knees in front of him, and she smiles. “Satisfied?”

“I love you.”

It’s easy.

Look at me like that, hold your breath 'cause we're good

It's no big deal

Her smile widens. Her eyes glisten. His eyes are wet too and he’s smiling. The scarred side of his mouth doesn’t turn all the way up so he is a little lopsided and there’s nothing more beautiful than that. She laughs and it’s the loveliest sound in the world. She shuffles closer, rising herself on her knees so they’re at eye level. He touches her cheek and he’s content. Almost.

She leans in and their lips brush against each other.

“I love you too.”

It’s that easy.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi

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clare-875 · 1 month ago

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Until The End (Levi x Reader)- Chapter 37

[In the End]

_____ A/N: Posted on Wattpad (@CLARE_875) but also decided to post here :)

Summary: "You can push me away, but I will still fight by you, and I will still follow you… until the end."

The ever-so-stoic Levi Ackerman has only ever known the terrors that living in a cruel world could bring. This all changed one fateful day when he encountered [y/n]; a girl renowned for her looks and abnormal speed. As they escape the confines of the Underground together, they soon discover that freedom doesn't come easy in a world full of Titans. As they rise through the ranks, [y/n] becomes known as "Humanity's Angel", a beacon of hope to humanity as she melts the walls Levi had built around his heart. However, she has her secrets too, and a dark past that might just threaten to pull them apart.

The storyline and characters of Attack on Titan do NOT belong to me, but all to Hajime Isayama; however, I do own this story, and all that occurs disparate to that storyline.

[Series Masterlist] [Chapter Thirty-Six] <- _____

[5 years later]

The soft glow of the rising sun peaks through the windows of a quaint home in Marley, causing you to shift and stretch gently in the bed you lay. When your eyes open you are met with the serene face of Levi who lay in a tranquil sleep and you smile. Through all your time as a Scout, he was plagued with insomnia, and though the two of you sleep better in each other's presence, now you could truly say that he slept in peace. He seemed so vulnerable next to you and you felt yourself flush with warmth at the thought that you would be the only one who could ever see him this way. You reach out, fingertips tracing the edge of the thin scar that ran from his right eye to his lips, lightly touching the contrast between its roughness and the softness of his skin. You smile up at him, still so handsome and so beautiful to you. One moment passes until you feel him shift as he groans softly and his right hand reaches out and grasps yours.

Levi slowly looks up and meets your warm stare. The light of the rising sun illuminates your figure next to him, so ethereal, so perfect. The room is filled with nothing but serene silence and he feels himself wonder how lucky he got to have you, by his side; to finally live in the dreams he held onto for years, and to wake up to you, always smiling to him. You grin as he murmurs that it's too early to get up but you meet his gaze teasingly as you scoot closer to his warmth. He instantly envelops you and you feel like you could be there forever, and you realise, that finally, you could. No danger lurks beyond your doorsteps, no fear encompasses you both when you leave the confines of your home. No anxiety dictates your lives and no squad awaits your presence at insane times in the morning. Nevertheless, you press your lips softly to his collarbone before looking up to his fond gaze on you.

"They'll be waiting."

.....

When you are finally dressed, and you help Levi do the same, you both leave the confines of your home in a small town in Marely. You push Levi along the streets in his wheelchair as you hum a light tune and bask in the liveliness of streets that surrounds you. The markets are on today and vendors call out to you in greeting as you wave back, Levi maintaining his bored stare despite them calling to him too. The both of you were well known in the small town. Yes, you two were known as heroes who saved the Earth from the Rumbling several years ago, but you were also owners of a popular cafe in the middle of town. There you and Levi worked selling tea and pastries with Gabi and Falco who would often join you two.

You had also both helped with the plantations of trees that occurred throughout the nation, to rebuild the ecosystems tragically lost with the events that had occurred. With your volunteering, your shop and both of your easily recognizable appearances, the two of you had become a very popular couple. Despite Levi voicing his irritation at the crowding at times, you knew he was happy to live the simple life he always longed for - and that you always longed for - together. You couldn't ask for anything better, nor a better ending than the one you found with Levi, and you always took every day in grateful stride, never wasting a second of the precious life you were gifted here.

Today was a rare day off for you and Levi, as you closed up your shop for the day and headed for the rebuilt port. Gabi and Falco had spotted you approaching and they yelled out to you brightly from where they sat as you smiled to them. They were now in their late teens, no longer the kids you met all those years ago. "[y/n], [Levi]!" Gabi calls as she bounds over to you, Falco following close behind with a smile on his face. "Morning," he says from behind her, while Gabi envelops you in a hug and you laugh lightly, seeing her so excited for the day. "Aren't you excited, they're coming home!" You smile at her words. Indeed, Armin, Jean, Connie, Pieck, Reiner and Annie would be coming back on the ship from Paradis after having to go back for a short while to discuss some things with Historia, who now thrives with her small family.

They had all become Peace Ambassadors and were successful two years ago at convincing those in Paradis that stopping the Rumbling had been the best course of action. It had taken a lot of work, according to what you have heard but it was worth it to stop any more conflict from affecting the world once more. You had heard that Mikasa was also coming down with them, and you smiled brightly at the idea as it had been a short while seen you'd seen her as she prefers to stay by Eren's grave on the Island. You had tried to stay true to Eren's words to you that day. 'Look after them for me.' You always try to look out for your squad whenever they need to talk or even if they want to just come and see a familiar face once in a while, with a warm cup of tea. You had also taken a few trips to Paradis, just to make sure that the young woman was doing okay, knowing the pain that comes from losing someone you love.

You stand next to Levi who looks up at you. You know in his masked gaze he is also excited. The quiet was nice to have once in a while, but you had both missed the lively banter of your prior squadmates, and you were happy to get to see them once more. Sure enough, an approaching ship moves to port from the distance, horns blasting as though in greeting. Your smile widens when you see the familiar faces of the people you had missed so much shouting and waving at you.

"Hey! Captains- I mean [y/n] and Levi!"

"Gabi! Falco!"

"Did you miss us?!"

You grin at their rushed voices and yell out a greeting in return, as you reach out for Levi's hand and grasp it excitedly. You see Mikasa look over the edge of the ship as well, a small smile reaching her face when she sees you. "Mikasa! I missed you!" You call out, much to the embarrassment of the woman who blushes lightly and you laugh, as she gives you a small wave. When you glance down to look at Levi, you're surprised to see his gaze on you already and not your approaching friends. You raise an eyebrow in question, but he merely smiles at you and tightens the hold on your hand. You smile softly in happiness before turning back to your squad. So lucky to have so much to live for in a world where so much had been lost.

.....

[Decades later]

The end had come many years after you started your life in Marley.

It was an early morning day when Falco and Gabi had found you both.

Your hair was grey and your skin no longer its flawless complexion but Levi still loved you every day of his life. You had both grown old and you had both lived. Your squad members had visited you often, now with their own families in tow. Though the two of you never had children, Gabi and Falco who you had both essentially taken under your wing had children of their own now and helped keep your shop going. It allowed you and Levi to spend your days more quietly the more you grew older. The years you spent together were... beautiful. Not a day passed that you did not feel the depths of Levi's fond gaze on yours, not a day without soft laughter exchanged, not a day you didn't feel content by his side.

So, when the time had come to move on, it ended the way all other days did.

You were in his gentle grasp, the lingering of a good night in the air, the soft caress of your hair, the soft press of his lips on yours. It was so much more peaceful than you thought it would be. Not in the clutches of some Titan or by the gun of some enemy, but enveloped under the soft embrace of the man you loved for all of your life. The last glimpse you had was your husband's soft gaze on you, before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. It was so quick, so painless, you hadn't even noticed that you had reached the end.

Falco and Gabi had looked at the sight of you and Levi, clutched loosely in the other's grasp, and felt their tears brim the corners of their eyes. Your lips were upturned into a gentle smile despite the ceased rising and falling of your chest, and the lack of thrumming in both of your hearts. In the end, you never had to live a moment without the other's presence, because, in the end, you had both died in your sleep, beside the other.

When you opened your eyes once more you were met with the sight of a clear blue sky and flowers that swayed in the wind around you. You felt yourself confused but even more so when you looked down at your hands and saw their young disposition. You hear a calling of your name and your head perks up at the frantic and nostalgic sound of a voice. "Hey!! [y/n]!!" Hange? When your eyes do meet theirs, you stand up instantly running over to them in a flash and relishing their embrace. "Hange, what are you doing here?" You ask, but they grin in their joy, and you notice that they now have both of their eyes once more, free of any injury or burden. Your eyes widen as they reply, kind gaze on you, "You took your time, [y/n], we've been waiting you know," they smile teasingly and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

We?

But when Hange lets you out of their embrace and moves to the side you feel your shock envelop you once more. Erwin, your squad members, comrades you have lost, all of them looking to you with a proud gaze. You feel someone mess up your hair momentarily only to look up and feel tears prick the side of your eyes. Furlan... He grins the same charismatic smirk on his face, while Isabel bounds over to you, clutching your middle. "Big sis! You're finally here!" Her face is forever entrapped in her youth and her bright eyes have not changed as she looks happily to you. Erwin nods to you in the distance, Petra waves with your squad, and Sasha smiles at you, arms crossed before her body in ease. "You did well, [y/n]," Furlan grins as he squeezes your shoulder tightly. "We've been watching you all this time. But someone's been waiting for you, he's pretty impatient for someone who's only been here a few minutes though..."

You frown confused at the blond-haired boy, but suddenly the crowd shifts, and there he is. Not the Levi you saw just last night, though you could tell it was still him, but Levi with both eyes and working legs, embodied in the prime of his youth. His grey eyes widen before he makes his way to you quickly, still getting used to being able to run once more. He stops momentarily before embracing you in his arms and you stop, suddenly realising what's going on. "So, we're-" You start seeing the dots connect, and why so many of your deceased comrades now surround you. "Yeah..." Levi mutters but when he breaks away you can't help but brush away his hair, now back to its raven colour and meet his loving gaze. "I guess we made it then," you laugh tearfully looking at the man who can't keep his gaze off of you, despite being surrounded by so many of your friends. "This is the end."

It's so open, so free.

Levi smiles softly before rolling his eyes at your words and grasping your hand in his, "Tch, I wouldn't call it the end, you're being dramatic," he mutters, and you laugh while he drags you along. Furlan and Isabel run close behind you as they shout about showing you the strange place you now find yourself in, but you are truly lost in your bliss. You couldn't believe your luck. You never had to live a moment without him, without Levi. You saw so much loss, you lived so much of your life and you loved together...until the end. But as you wondered hand in hand in the place that stood after your deaths you realise that so much more awaited.

Until the end and beyond that, you had loved and you were free.

_____

A/N: Oh my goodness!! We have come to the end of this story!! Thank you to all of you who read through everything, and thank you to all the kind comments along the way; I have utterly adored reading your thoughts and reactions!! 💗 This was so much fun to write, and probably the longest thing I have ever written. I guarantee that I will be back in some shape or form!

Thank you to everyone and I truly hope you enjoyed <3

_____

[Chapter Thirty-Six] <-

Tags: @batboygirlie @crmnic @levisbrat25

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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Dave Lizewski x Vampire!Reader

Premise: Dave finally finds the courage to go to an underground goth bar he found while scouring internet forums on how to pick up a goth girlfriend. What he doesn't realize is he may have found more than what he bargained for.

Tags/CW: nerdy!Dave, loser!Dave, Goth!Reader, Vampire!Reader, blood, drinking blood, bathroom sex, p in v, semi public sex, oral, virgin!Dave, Dom/switch!Reader, Sub!Dave.

Dave has always had a thing for goth girls, he hates to admit how much he wishes he had a one for a girlfriend in particular. He knows he's too nerdy for anyone as dark and suave as he fantasizes for. They would never be attracted to him. It's not like he could bring one back to his room either. Not with the posters of Elvira, Morticia, Raven from Teen Titans, and Abby Sciuto (he only watched NCIS for her.) that hung across his bedroom walls. And if it wasn't for that, the rest of his nerdy figurines and extensive comic book collection was sure to run them off. Dave was way too much of a Certified Virgin, as his friends called him, to pull a goth girl on his own.

So, he decided to try a different method. He searched the internet, his one true social outlet, looking for the most authentic goth bar New York City had to offer. Then he went in search of the best goth clothes he could find without looking like a total poser. He sprang for a thrift store black dress shirt and black skinny jeans. He contemplated whether or not he should ditch the studded belt(he bought it just in case.), and then he delved into goth bands and culture so he would have something to talk about.

That's how he ended up here, at an abandoned church that had had a red and black macabre makeover. Still, even with the pulsing music and plenty of goth men and women to choose from, Dave found himself a wallflower next to a fake, hung up skeleton. He could hardly talk to the skeleton, so he sat there like a dork, phone in his hands, and a sprite in his glass since he was only 18 and he didn't have the balls for a fake I.D.

That was, until, you caught sight of him from across the dancefloor. You with your midnight hair, dramatic make up, and lovely black lips. You smelled Dave's delicious blood as soon as you walked in. Now all you needed to do was reel him in. You danced hypnotically through the crowd, and soon enough, Dave glanced up and caught sight of you. Of course he laughed nervously to himself when you caught his gaze, and you could tell by his thought of "Did she really just look at me?" that he would be an easy prey. You could also tell by his basic "goth" attire he wasn't a regular. You were intrigued by such a nerdy little human...

You work your way closer, and Dave shifts nervously, unable to get his mind working for what he's supposed to do. He takes in your gorgeous body, your corsetted waist making your hips look so tantalizing, your hands moving to the music, bell sleeves whipping slowly with them. What made Dave shiver was your red contacts and pearly fangs. Of course, you were one of those vampire obsessed goths. He had to admit, that was a fantasy that turned him on most. He knew it would never be real, but even the idea of roleplaying with someone about his vampire fantasy had his cock aching. Still, he had never seen someone with such a convincing costume.

Before he could question it more, you were already before him, taking his sprite and setting it on a nearby ledge.

"Hey cutie, let's dance!" You smile, and your fangs glint in the flashing lights. You know this boy will never guess that they're actually real, and somehow that makes it so much better.

"R-really?" Dave can barely utter back before you're nodding and pulling him into the crowd.

The speakers blare Depeche Mode and for a second Dave wonders if it's you that's his "Own Personal Jesus". You truly came from nowhere, like an angel in black, and saved this night from being the most pathetic, stupid thing he's done to try to get a date. You can feel the relief wash over him as you find a spot where you two can really dance.

The music guides you, and Dave tries to keep up, his hands never knowing where to go. You place them firmly on your hips and wait for him to glide them where he sees fit, and you have to laugh a little when he nervously waits, a smile that's wholly pleased and confused on his face. You move his hands once again, letting them glide over black velvet and lace slowly until he has a hand full of your ass. Now, he can't help but squeeze, his mind reeling from the fact that he's touching such a lovely creature of the night and her soft, plump ass.

After that, Dave gets the memo, taking you grinding into his cock in stride, his care about other people fading as the dance floor becomes just you and him. The dark lighting and crowd made it so easy for him to let loose, and soon enough he's taking his hands to places he never thought he would get with a girl.

He's blushing so hard, but his grin and the adrenaline are taking over. For once, he's actually starting to feel like he fits in somewhere. Maybe goths do have the right idea...

You, on the other hand, can hear all his horny thoughts about you. You love how much he desires you, and you think it's cute how badly he wishes he could bend you over and fuck you right here. You also hear how much he feels like he truly fits in, and for a moment, you feel bad that a part of you just wants his blood.

You continue dancing and hearing his thoughts, and you decide that if you're going to satisfy your own hunger tonight, you might as well satisfy a part of Dave's hunger as well. Besides, it's not like you just picked him because he smelled so tasty. You really did have a thing for nerdy boys, and based on how hard he is in those black skinny jeans, you think he'll satisfy you more than enough.

You turn to him, your red eyes gleaming and soft.

"I want you." You say plainly, and Dave doesn't even realize you used your vampiric powers so that he could hear you so clearly in his head.

All Dave can do is nod along, helpless to your temptation. You're surprised you didn't even have to use any mind tricks to get him to go with you. He's so horny and helpless to a woman like you, that he happily comes when you tell him to follow.

This church is your typical hunting grounds, so you know exactly where to take him. You leave the sweaty, writhing crowd and head to a more private, single stall bathroom. Dave looks at you with puppy love eyes, and you feel that pang of guilt once more. You lead him inside, locking the two of you in, the yellow fluorescents not doing much to hide who you truly are.

Dave is just so happy a girl would give him any attention that he's more than willing to be here with you. The music is muffled by the walls of the bathroom, so you lean in and whisper.

"I want you to fuck me, Dave..." He looks at you with a soft smile, but a confused brow.

"How did you know my name was Dave?" Ah, you forgot you had gotten that tidbit out of his head.

No matter, your hands run down the buttons of his shirt, and you smile softly.

"You told me, remember?" And suddenly, even though Dave truly does not remember, he doesn't care.

He doesn't care because a sexy girl is slowly unbuttoning his shirt and allowing him to keep his hands gripped to her ass. You could have told him his name was anything and he would have agreed, he wants you that badly.

You undo his shirt, surprised to find a well defined body under there. He may be nerdy, but it seems like he's done some working out at least. You trail a red tipped nail down his chest until you meet his pants, pulling teasingly on the waist band with a smile.

"W-wait..." Dave says and you look up, curious.

"I just um..." He starts, and moves his glasses nervously. "This is my uh, first time and I guess I just had certain ideas about what would h-happen..."

You nod, listening, and you're surprised by yourself. You really must kind of like this nerd. Usually you would already be halfway done with dinner, but for some reason, tonight you decide to take your time.

"And how would you like to start...?" You say, softly playing with one of his curls, looking at him with understanding.

"I um...I always imagined that I would..." You see the idea in his mind before he says it and smile. "I would take care of you first..."

You're starting to really like this guy. The fact that he's not even worried about where or how it happens, just that he gets you off first has your pussy throbbing.

"We can make that happen." You pull him seductively over to the counter by the sink, hopping on and pulling him down to his knees. He is more than happy to do so, and you pull your skirt up to reveal your lack of panties. Dave let's out a nervous breath.

"Oh w-wow..." He pushes his glasses back up once more. "You came prepared..."

"Mhm..." You sigh out, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, as if to say, "Yes and?".

He's wanted this for so long, studied so hard on forums online for how to properly eat a girl out, and now here's his big shot, with only thee hottest girl in this club. Shit...He better do a good job.

He wastes no more time, pulling you close and letting you put your legs over his shoulders. You happily welcome that mess of curls between your legs, and Dave has you perfectly propped on the corner of the counter. He is already being overtaken by how badly he wants to please you, his tongue getting to work on your pussy.

He starts by lapping up all of it greedily, and to your surprise, not for the first time this night, he's actually really good at it. Maybe you will keep him around for a bit longer...

He plays with you, sucking and teasing before finally getting fed up with his foggy glasses and tossing them on the counter. Now, to get to the real work.

He slowly begins to place two fingers inside of you, and you are more than ready. You're already wetter than you thought you would be, and you begin to wonder who's seducing who. It makes it all the better that you can hear and sense how horny Dave is for this, he is already so drunk off your pussy, tasting every bit of you and fucking you just right with his fingers. For a virgin, he's so good at this.

You take a handful of his curls and pull him in deeper. He moans into you, more than happy to let you take control and use him up. He sucks on your clit, driving you mad with attention there, and hitting that perfect spot inside you with his fingers. Fuck...you might just cum that quickly. How did this dork make you this horny so soon...?

You go with it, feeling yourself clench around his fingers, looking down and seeing those lovely, desperate blue eyes looking up at you. You love how badly he wants this, and you feel so close already.

"Please..." He whispers between breathes and licks. "Cum on my face..."

The fact that he's asking for it sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself unwinding. You pull him in deeply, finishing and shaking with Dave between your thighs. You can hardly stop your legs from closing on his head he makes you cum so hard.

And when you're done, you slowly let him up, his mouth wet from you, his eyes dazed and happy. You look down and see how hard his cock is struggling against those jeans and smile.

"Fuck me, I need your cock inside of me, now..." You command him softly, knowing you only need to ask.

Dave happily unbuttons his jeans, pulling his cock out and leaving the rest on. He gives himself a few pumps just to test, but he's already so fucking hard. His mind feels like melting when he thinks about how good his cock will feel inside of you. He doesn't go right for it, no.

He kisses you. And you're surprised by how badly he wants more than just a fuck. You can hear his thoughts, and can tell how much he needed this, this connection. He slips in tongue in your mouth while you pull him close enough to slip his cock in your cunt. He breathes out a shaky breath, taking it slow. He's already so overstimulated he thinks he may cum just from putting it in.

Dave let's his cock rest so deeply inside you, filling you to the brim. You find yourself moaning into his mouth, his tongue sliding over one of your fangs. He pulls back, looking at you for a moment. "Were those really that sharp?" He thinks, and you pull him back in, before he can think on it too deeply.

He goes with it, taking your kiss and letting you run them down his neck. As you begin to suck there playfully, he groans from how good it feels. He slowly begins to pump his cock inside of you, testing how much he can take so he doesn't blow his load too quickly. He breathes out shallow, heavy breaths from how much he wants to bury his cock in you and fill you up. His brow scrunches up as he wills himself to last longer, and you shutter from how full he's making you.

You almost forget what you're actually here to do. As he continues, and begins to get so close he can barely take it, you decide then to sink your fangs into his neck. Dave cries out, both from the pleasure and pain, and he can't help but buck into you hard, going deeper than you even thought possible, filling you up with his hot, sticky cum.

You drink deeply, and Dave feels as if he can't stop cumming. The bite is so delicious for you both, and he makes no moves to stop you. Instead, he finds himself holding you closer, wanting you deeper and to be deeper in you. It feels so good he doesn't notice when he starts to get light headed.

But you do. And you have to force yourself to pull your fangs from his neck, lapping at the wound until it heals.

"What...what did you do to me..." Dave says, sleepily.

"Here..." You bite your own wrist, blood dripping down slowly.

"What...?" Dave is confused, but not protesting. You give him a look, and he opens his mouth. He figures this must just be apart of goth culture he didn't read about.

He takes your blood in stride, sucking until you tell him to stop. And even after, he wants more.

"What...are you...?" He says, his face relaxed and his eyes heavy with afterglow.

"I think you know." And he does. He nods, and you help him get cleaned up.

"What do we do now?" He asks so sweetly when you're finished. And you already know that you've decided it.

You want him, and he is now yours. You explain it to him. You will let him go about his daily life, but when he feels the call of your blood inside of him, then he must come and let you feed like tonight. In return, of course, you let him know that you will let him fuck you as much as he desires. Dave is more than happy about that arrangement, a heavy after-sex grin on his face. You're happy to have a steady meal that you don't hate and a fat cock to sit on when you feel like it. What a cute blood doll you've acquired...

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#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x vampire!reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #my writing

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