Well if you ask me - and I know you didn't - she should. You're gunning for a wicked hangover tomorrow.
[thank christ he's sticking with war stories. that's good. it means embry won't do something stupid like barrel out into the hallway and get himself hurt. it also means they can be mature enough not to address the elephant in the room and he won't be tempted to let this slide into sexting territory.]
I'd like to think it doesn't sound like bullshit to say no. I remember - running on adrenaline wondering how I was gonna tell two wives there weren't enough pieces left to collect and ship back outta their husbands.
Just because I shouldn't touch doesn't mean I can't appreciate what's been in front of me.
Your turn. Same fight? Tell me what happened.
🔒 (forgot to say this whole thread is private except alicent piously spying irl)
[ he's thought about it. barreling into the hallway just to see what might happen, because death has rarely felt real until he's already down for the count and ash is cursing and dragging him back toward the land of the living by the force of his iron will and the sheer magnitude of his fury that embry would ever try to leave him in such a horrific way.
the fire in the halls doesn't feel nearly as real as the hurt pounding through his chest. ]
it doesn't sound like bullshit. i wasn't scared, either. not until later. when everything started to feel fuzzy and hurt.
[ that's sobering. it reminds him of dag dying in his arms, embry trying futilely again and again to make the call to his sister with no service in a warzone, because dag was asking on his last, sputtering breaths. he would have done anything, including collecting skin or hair or bones to bury just so he could be buried. his gin comes back up as acid bile, and he spends a long moment catching his breath. ]
same fight. i got angry and did something stupid, according to ash. got shot twice. sources say i would have died if he hadn't carried me out into the woods and watched over me until sunup. he stole supplies off some dead carpathian soldiers, patched me up, and pumped me full of morphine to help me make it through the night. three months of rehab and now i'm good as new. do you want to know a secret?
stop doing that. you don't have to butter me up just because you think i'm sad over you dumping me.
Edited (i hit post too soon oop) 2024-08-08 23:28 (UTC)
Ah, so he saved your life too. That's an awful long time to wait out help. Particularly with two bulletholes riddled in your body.
...Did he stay up with you the whole time that night? He must've had to. Rehab - well, not to date myself, but I gotta imagine it's more than it used to be cracked up to be in my day. My version was a little cabin in Delaware. Private, discreet, gifted to me by that Senator I told you about. Took some time to get my head screwed back on straight...but I've never looked back.
Yeah. If you were here, I'd tell you to whisper it in my ear. I'm listening.
i needed the rehab to help me walk again. the bullet tore through my calf. my head was fine.
[ was it ever fine? sources unknown. ]
you don't want me to whisper this secret in your ear. do you remember how you fucked me in the baths after the wolf attack? i was bleeding. damn near delirious, but i didn't tell you that. you weren't in the best of shape, either. i liked it. loved it. that's what happened in the woods that night. ash fucked me with two bulletholes in my body, as punishment for my reckless actions. or something. that's only part of the secret. the rest is that i wanted it. i wanted it exactly like that, while i was high off morphine and bleeding and halfway delirious. that was my first time with him, after years of trying to convince myself i didn't want him. exactly the same as what you did to me.
that's why we worked. because maybe you didn't understand what i needed until right now, but you were still willing to give it to me. and i understood you. i didn't need commitment or coming out or any of that from you. i needed you to be exactly what you are. i just wanted someone else who wasn't pretending to be a good man.
Good thing you can do a hell of a lot more than walk with those legs now, huh.
[he's not buying that for a second, but he'll give him the grace not to push it tonight.]
'Course I fucking remember it. I was bleeding too, and it was - I wanted more. Can't tell you the last time I felt so genuinely starved to see more of it, to take and not worry about you getting precious about it.
So it makes sense he fucked you like that. Makes sense you've probably been looking for it ever since, and not just anyone can give it to you.
Because not everyone is as fucked up as you and I - but we're willing to do what has to be done, consequences be damned, and forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done. Don't spare a thought to the ones we're leaving behind, no time for heartbreak - something like that, isn't it?
[someone who wasn't pretending to be a good man. i needed you to be exactly what you are.
jesus.
for all the times he's shoved himself into the perfect boxes of what everyone wants him to be - senator smith, lucy, mary, cohn, bobby kennedy, joe alsop, his father - even tim, here - he can't remember anyone ever saying that hawkins fuller, wearer of many masks and buried down deep somewhere underneath them all, was fine just the way he is.
he spares a glance over to tim, a polite smile to alicent while angling his phone closer to his body and punching out another reply.]
If I was a good man, I'd tell you to stop. Except: I can't do the things I do and be good - but you know that better than anyone.
everything you're saying is exactly why i want you. everything about you. you fill a need. it's not some fairy tale bullshit i'm chasing. i need this. i need you.
[ the pathetically disgusting reality of that hits him like a slap in the face. there's nothing that could ever shake his love for ash, nor diminish his feelings for greer. but hawk is his solace behind doors that will remain permanently closed, and there's a certain relief in knowing that. there's comfort in the knowledge that he can never disappoint hawk on a monumental scale the way he does ash, because there's no love between them. there's something else of a different sort of complexity that he finds just as important, just as necessary. hawk is the absence of expectation when embry feels like he's suffocating from his secrets, when looking ash dead in the eye physically hurts.
and yet — his bitterness is a living thing, souring his thoughts. at the end of the day, he doesn't need anyone, not ash and not greer and certainly not hawk. ]
but you don't get to close the door in my face and then order me around. i'm not asking you for shit. do i look like the kind of person that needs to come crawling on their hands and knees for a fuck?
[ no matter how much he might enjoy that sort of thing. ]
i'm willing to do what needs to be done. consequences be damned. forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done. i accept everything about you. don't change at all. go do what you said you were gonna do. it wasn't with me.
[fuck. it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out before he's gotten suckerpunched. i need you. it's not the first time he's ever been told it - even if it is the first time he's reading it so plainly in black and white with all the caveats that come with it. hawk swallows thickly, tim and alicent's chatter fading into a dull noise in the background.]
No, but you'd look mighty fine doing it anyway.
[he's a fucking asshole. but he's a fucking asshole who was thrown a bone: of embry knowing that about him and wanting it anyway.]
I'm not closing the door. But I am - I don't like it. I'm sorry.
[another word he doesn't say often enough, if at all. the last part he just leaves on read, guilt roiling his insides something fierce.]
no subject
[thank christ he's sticking with war stories. that's good. it means embry won't do something stupid like barrel out into the hallway and get himself hurt. it also means they can be mature enough not to address the elephant in the room and he won't be tempted to let this slide into sexting territory.]
I'd like to think it doesn't sound like bullshit to say no. I remember - running on adrenaline wondering how I was gonna tell two wives there weren't enough pieces left to collect and ship back outta their husbands.
Just because I shouldn't touch doesn't mean I can't appreciate what's been in front of me.
Your turn. Same fight? Tell me what happened.
🔒 (forgot to say this whole thread is private except alicent piously spying irl)
the fire in the halls doesn't feel nearly as real as the hurt pounding through his chest. ]
it doesn't sound like bullshit. i wasn't scared, either.
not until later. when everything started to feel fuzzy and hurt.
[ that's sobering. it reminds him of dag dying in his arms, embry trying futilely again and again to make the call to his sister with no service in a warzone, because dag was asking on his last, sputtering breaths. he would have done anything, including collecting skin or hair or bones to bury just so he could be buried. his gin comes back up as acid bile, and he spends a long moment catching his breath. ]
same fight. i got angry and did something stupid, according to ash. got shot twice.
sources say i would have died if he hadn't carried me out into the woods and watched over me until sunup. he stole supplies off some dead carpathian soldiers, patched me up, and pumped me full of morphine to help me make it through the night.
three months of rehab and now i'm good as new.
do you want to know a secret?
stop doing that. you don't have to butter me up just because you think i'm sad over you dumping me.
1/2
...Did he stay up with you the whole time that night? He must've had to. Rehab - well, not to date myself, but I gotta imagine it's more than it used to be cracked up to be in my day. My version was a little cabin in Delaware. Private, discreet, gifted to me by that Senator I told you about. Took some time to get my head screwed back on straight...but I've never looked back.
Yeah. If you were here, I'd tell you to whisper it in my ear. I'm listening.
no subject
And for the record - the only people I butter up are the ones dumb enough to think I won't shove them into an oven to cook later.
You're hot, and I have eyes. End of story.
no subject
my head was fine.
[ was it ever fine? sources unknown. ]
you don't want me to whisper this secret in your ear.
do you remember how you fucked me in the baths after the wolf attack? i was bleeding. damn near delirious, but i didn't tell you that. you weren't in the best of shape, either.
i liked it. loved it.
that's what happened in the woods that night. ash fucked me with two bulletholes in my body, as punishment for my reckless actions. or something. that's only part of the secret. the rest is that i wanted it. i wanted it exactly like that, while i was high off morphine and bleeding and halfway delirious. that was my first time with him, after years of trying to convince myself i didn't want him.
exactly the same as what you did to me.
that's why we worked. because maybe you didn't understand what i needed until right now, but you were still willing to give it to me.
and i understood you. i didn't need commitment or coming out or any of that from you. i needed you to be exactly what you are.
i just wanted someone else who wasn't pretending to be a good man.
tell me to stop.
no subject
[he's not buying that for a second, but he'll give him the grace not to push it tonight.]
'Course I fucking remember it. I was bleeding too, and it was - I wanted more. Can't tell you the last time I felt so genuinely starved to see more of it, to take and not worry about you getting precious about it.
So it makes sense he fucked you like that. Makes sense you've probably been looking for it ever since, and not just anyone can give it to you.
Because not everyone is as fucked up as you and I - but we're willing to do what has to be done, consequences be damned, and forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done. Don't spare a thought to the ones we're leaving behind, no time for heartbreak - something like that, isn't it?
[someone who wasn't pretending to be a good man. i needed you to be exactly what you are.
jesus.
for all the times he's shoved himself into the perfect boxes of what everyone wants him to be - senator smith, lucy, mary, cohn, bobby kennedy, joe alsop, his father - even tim, here - he can't remember anyone ever saying that hawkins fuller, wearer of many masks and buried down deep somewhere underneath them all, was fine just the way he is.
he spares a glance over to tim, a polite smile to alicent while angling his phone closer to his body and punching out another reply.]
If I was a good man, I'd tell you to stop. Except: I can't do the things I do and be good - but you know that better than anyone.
Go on.
no subject
you fill a need. it's not some fairy tale bullshit i'm chasing. i need this. i need you.
[ the pathetically disgusting reality of that hits him like a slap in the face. there's nothing that could ever shake his love for ash, nor diminish his feelings for greer. but hawk is his solace behind doors that will remain permanently closed, and there's a certain relief in knowing that. there's comfort in the knowledge that he can never disappoint hawk on a monumental scale the way he does ash, because there's no love between them. there's something else of a different sort of complexity that he finds just as important, just as necessary. hawk is the absence of expectation when embry feels like he's suffocating from his secrets, when looking ash dead in the eye physically hurts.
and yet — his bitterness is a living thing, souring his thoughts. at the end of the day, he doesn't need anyone, not ash and not greer and certainly not hawk. ]
but you don't get to close the door in my face and then order me around. i'm not asking you for shit. do i look like the kind of person that needs to come crawling on their hands and knees for a fuck?
[ no matter how much he might enjoy that sort of thing. ]
i'm willing to do what needs to be done. consequences be damned. forget about the pieces on the floor when it's said and done.
i accept everything about you. don't change at all. go do what you said you were gonna do.
it wasn't with me.
no subject
No, but you'd look mighty fine doing it anyway.
[he's a fucking asshole. but he's a fucking asshole who was thrown a bone: of embry knowing that about him and wanting it anyway.]
I'm not closing the door. But I am - I don't like it. I'm sorry.
[another word he doesn't say often enough, if at all. the last part he just leaves on read, guilt roiling his insides something fierce.]