#even sitting down these somehow managed to make my feet bleed

[feizon]

SOMETHINGS NEVER CHANGE

warnings: blood + suggestive - !nfsw

summary: you had gotten used to your ex boyfriend's antics, the way he would pop out of nowhere and shower you with love just for him disappear from your grasp moments after. This time though, he was in a state you couldn't simply ignore.

note: fem!reader x kaneki ken / not proofread

I barely see kaneki smut so here you go <3

Last October was the last time you saw him, it would almost worry you if it was anything new. You could wait for months, weeks if you cared the slightest, not a text or a letter, heck not even an e-mail just to notify you about his whereabouts.

The cycle became sickingly repetitive. He would disappear without a trace or a single word uttered, would swoop in from nowhere and tell you the sweetest little lies right next to your ear that you fall for each time. Like a forbidden lullaby that lulls you to sleep, to enter a world of dreams that will never be reality.

It was far past noon as the stars twinkled in the sky, a pretty canvas hidden behind your thick, heavy curtains hanging by your bedroom window. You were in the confinement of your bed, sheets wrinkled and your blanket resting just under you shoulder, both hands being placed on the side you faced. You had just ended a typical late shift which slowly began to mess with your sleeping schedule, sleep deprivation knocking restlessly at your door every night. It was the main reason why you were up, a warm glass of milk proving to be useless at your awake.

Before you could even try to enter the world of slumber, you hear the sliding of your bedroom window accompanied by a loud thud as well as faint sounds of labored breathing. You paided no mind to it at first, assuming it was one of the many sleep paralysis demons that came to stir up your thoughts and fears once in a while. But that thought was somehow thrown out the window as the strong sent of blood filled your nostrils.

Your eyes shoot open as you jolted out of the blankets. Mentally cursing yourself for not making sure your window was locked before your went to bed. You stand upright as you try to follow the scent, those pants from earlier getting louder yet softer as you walked cautiously. The closer you got, the more your eyebrows seemed to furrow in disgust but what you saw after was something you could never prepare for.

"...Kaneki?"

Your eyes take note of white hair and a black mask with human like teeth adorned on it. The said man laid on his back, arms draped over his eyes and stomach as small puddle of blood formed near his torso, light from the open window emitting a gentle glow. He lowers his arm, titling his head to look up at you who was still standing on two feet. His eyes look hazy and extremely clouded, as if he was trying his best to stay conscious.

"...Y/N? Ha, Amusing. I came here purely on muscle memory, Arg-!!"

He groans at his attempt to sit up, cause a large spike of pain through his system. He still succeeded, one knee propped up as the other laid flat, an arm dangling from one knee and the other keepinghim upright. He looks down at his lap as you still stand there frozen, all the words you wish to say suddenly stuck in your throat.

"Why are you here."

You ask firmly, all this earns is a soft chuckle from his end.

"It's cute when you try to sound angry, Y/N."

"I'm serious. And why are you bleeding-"

He finally looks up at you as he senses very sutle hints of worry in your tone, he almost sighs in relief at the discovery.

"I was being chased down. They managed to pierce right through my torso but I managed to kill him and flee in time, before his subordinates could come and find me."

"So you so you chose to seek refuge in my home?"

"Subconsciously, yes."

You clench your fist as an attempt to hide your rising anger, venom coursing through your veins as all you could do was sigh.

"How unfortunate that you survived, it would of lifted a burden from my shoulders if you did."

He stays silent, very much aware of the rocky relationship you two had. Former lovers that split due to him being a live bounty, aching to be knocked off many people's hit list. He was a ghoul, a high ranked one in fact. He kills to survive and all the horrible little details in between. He originally left to protect you, from him and the many other disastrous consequences that followed. But like they say, old habits die hard.

He couldn't stay away from you for to long, his body ached just to get some sort of contact with you, your body on his, sexually or not. He loved you dearly, but he knew you wouldn't believe him, not after how selfish he has been lately and he dreads it so so much.

You noticed he spaced out for a bit which made you feel the faintest bit of guilt. You would be lying if you said you resented him entirely, Mostly would be a better word to describe the feeling. You let out a heavy sigh as you distance yourself from him, walking into your bathroom to fetch the mini first aid kit to hopefully stop his wound from staining your wooden floors. As you re-enter your bedroom you noticed that he hasn't moved an inch, the slow rising and falling of his chest acting as the only indicator that he was still alive. Your eyes dot to the puddle causing your face to drop slightly.

'Isn't he able to heal instantly? How bad of a fight did he get himself into...'

The wrapping of bandages slowly turned to the lingering of touches. Your thumb was gliding over is bloodied, bottom lip. Palm resting on his check as he instinctively nuzzled closer to the source of warmth, tears cascading down his cheek. Because of where his wound was, he had to take his shirt off which was currently equivalent to a bloodied rug. One of your knees were placed between his legs as the other was on his side. He was crying for a bit, nothing but murmured apologizes and words of your name falling off his lips.

Occasional sniffles coming from his end as you just stared back with nothing but an impassive expression, but behind your facade you were just as vulnerable. You heart swelled as you saw nothing but sincerity in his words.

"I love yo- hiccup, more than anything."

"..."

"Please."

You somehow felt guilty now, all he's pleas started to make you rather hot and bothered. You bite you lip as you trail your bloodied thumb down to his chin, your breath hitching as your thoughts seem to get darker and darker, lustful even.

"Show me."

You manage to say with a very soft voice, barely louder than whisper. He's eyes focus on yours, brain torn in two to try and interpret your words, to make sure he got the right hidden message.

As if to encourage him, you straddle his legs properly, slow with your movements just to test the waters. As if mimicking your movements, he slowly places his his hands on your waist, squeezing the soft flesh with his eyes heavily focused on you and your reactions. You shudder at this and sink down on his clothed crotch, palm of your hands now placed on both sides of his neck. You move your hips in a circle which erupts a soft groan from him that made your head spin, his hold now moving to your hips to assist with your ideas.

"Mmm just like that, love."

The vulnerable state Kaneki was in was long gone, his mind clouded with nothing but the warmth of you engulfing him whole. You were riding him, actually he was making you ride him as he moved your hips for you, suckling your neck and nipples while leaving open mouthed kisses that made you shudder. He was happy you were still as tight as he remembered, assuring him that you haven't been entertaining anyone else during his absence. I mean he wouldn't blame you if you did, you were no longer his to claim but the thought just made his blood boil.

The lewd sounds of body exchanged was all that filled the air other than your pretty moans of his name, telling him how good he felt inside you. You mouth was agape as tears hung on your eyelashes, mind almost going blank as his pace increased. Hickeys covered your thighs and neck as you managed to leave a few on his neck as well. Bloody kisses could be seen on your perky nipples and lips, the metallic taste foreign to your taste buds but you couldn't help but to lick your lips.

He stares at you with lust and adoration as you whined after each thrust, like you always did when you took him. He let's out an airy chuckle as you begin to push him towards your chest.

"Somethings never change, huh."

@feizon

[harrywavycurly]

Southern Comfort Part 8: How in Tarnation

Masterlist: here

CW: None

Tag List: @wedontknowherorhimorthem

A/N: Harry is full on in love but you just need him to say something because you don’t handle silence very well, enjoy✨

Harry was bending down to pick up a jar of raspberry jam when he felt something ram into his ankle causing him to lose his balance resulting in him bumping his head on the very same shelf he had just grabbed his jam from. He heard someone let out a very loud and in his opinion semi-dramatic gasp as he rubbed his head with his hand that wasn’t holding the jar and stood up straight. But before he could do anything he heard the sound of feet rushing over to him and then he felt hands on his back urging him to turn around so they could asses the damage they’d just caused.

“Oh my goodness I am so sorry.” Harry felt his whole body tense up as your voice hit his ears. “I swear I’ve never in my whole life even bumped into someone else’s buggy before and here I am just rammin into you like you’re a damn bumper car.” Your accent is thick as your words are rushed together while your eyes scan his face, Harry’s hand drops from his head making your eyes go wide. “Oh sweet baby Jesus lord have mercy.” Harry panics at your words as you half mumble them under your breath, he starts thinking maybe you recognize him but his fear is soon swept away as you reach up on your tiptoes so you can cup his cheeks with your hands and he instantly leans into your touch. You gently pull his face down towards you in an attempt to help you get a better look at where his head made contact with the shelf and you let out a huff when you see a small red bump.

“I’m-” he tries to introduce himself but you’re quick to cut him off.

“How did this happen?” Harry has to fight the urge to laugh at your question because to him it’s pretty obvious how it happened, but he’s still in shock that you’re actually standing right in front of him with your hands on his face so he just stays silent. “I hit you in the ankle how in tarnation did you manage to somehow hit your head?” He actually chuckles at your words this time but when you let go of his face he immediately feels the corners of his mouth drop into a frown at the loss of contact. “I’m first aid certified so just let me get a good look.” You take a step back from him and motion with your hands for him to sit down making him raise an eyebrow. “I need you to sit please since you’re just a smidge taller than me.” You explain with a sweet smile and Harry doesn’t hesitate as he plops down on the floor sitting cross legged and placing his hands and jar of jam in his lap.

“Lord okay let’s see can you tell me your name? I’m just trying to see if you have a concussion or something.” Harry knows he should say something but when he opens his mouth you just roll your eyes and shake your head and let out an annoyed groan at yourself. “I don’t know your name so how the hell would I be able to tell you if it’s right or not? Okay uh can you tell me the day of the week? That’s the same for everyone so I’ll be able to tell if you knocked yourself into yesterday or not.” You’re staring down at him with a warm smile on your face but you do have a slight hint of concern in your voice and he knows he should absolutely say something to help ease your mind but he just can’t seem to make his mouth move to form actual words.

“Oh maybe you don’t talk? That’s okay I’ll do enough of that for the both of us because I just don’t handle silence well and I’m sorry again for rammin my buggy into you like that but maybe if you have to go to the hospital or something my insurance will cover it? Is this considered a collision? I don’t know but you’re not bleeding so that’s always a good sign.” You take a step closer to him so you can get a better look at the bump on his head and he can’t help but take in how your accent seems to get thicker and thicker the more you ramble on, as does the speed of your words as they fly out of your mouth.

Harry finds it oddly amusing that when he’s sat on the floor his head comes up to your tummy, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting you to be so small since your personality seems larger than life. He knows he needs to say something so you know who he is and also to help you relax because he can see a wrinkle of worry between your eyebrows. But for the life of him he just can’t seem to find the words so he just sits there and allows himself the opportunity to take in your appearance. You look like you just got off work because you’re wearing a shirt that has the name of a preschool on it and your hair is in a messy bun giving him a good view of the starfish earrings you’re wearing and he can’t help but smile at the sight of them because he knows you probably picked them to go with the theme of your class for the month. He’s never thought someone looked as adorable as you do in this very moment.

“Oh raspberry is a good choice.” Your voice brings his eyes back to yours and interrupts his thoughts as he follows your gaze to the jar in his hands. “I’m gonna feel around your little bump and I’m sorry if it hurts but I’m just checking for some things and don’t ask me what I’m checking for I’ll just know it if I feel it.” Harry just nods as your fingers gently press around his forehead. “Is that a mermaid on your forearm?” Harry looks down at his arm and then back up at you and he can’t help but feel his heartbeat quicken when he sees you smiling down at him. “I like mermaids too and oddly enough I’m a teacher and this month is all about-”

“Life at the beach.” He feels your fingers fall from his forehead as your eyes widen a bit as he finally finds himself able to speak to you. “Hi love.” He adds and his voice is lower than normal due to still partially being in shock but he watches as your eyes scan his face and then quickly roam his body as you take a small step backwards and he can practically see it all begin to click for you as your face lights up as you smile at him.

“Harry?” He just nods his head as you let out a laugh and he’s glad he’s already sitting because the sight of you standing in front of him laughing with your hand on your chest would’ve probably made him drop to the ground anyway because he was right, you do look absolutely beautiful when you laugh. “Well honeybuns if this ain’t fate then I don’t know what is.” Your hands fall to your hips as you just continue to smile at him.

“Do you think I’m concussed?” He asks making you roll your eyes at him while taking a step towards him so you can kneel down and it’s not until your eye level with him that he feels like he just got the wind knocked out of him because it’s not until then that he gets the full effect of your stare and he’s once again thankful for his spot on the floor.

“You’re fine sugar plum.” Is all you say before you stand back up and offer him your hand to help him up. “I don’t bite.” You tease as you wiggle your fingers at him until he finally reaches out and grabs your hand, taking a mental note of how small but soft it feels in his.

“If this is any indication of how you drive love then I think it’s safer if we just walk everywhere in the future.” You laugh as you help him stand up, but he doesn’t drop your hand and he doesn’t feel you trying to pull it away from him so he just continues to hold it.

“I mean honey who manages to hit their head from getting rammed in the ankle? That takes a special kinda talent and then there’s the whole bending down without checking your surroundings which is just proper grocery store manners.” Your eyes are taking in his appearance as you speak and Harry swears he’s never felt more self conscious in his entire life, he’s second guessing his choice of outfit which is just a casual pair of jeans and one of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt since he wanted to be comfortable in the studio which is where he was at a mere half hour ago.

“So that kinda makes this whole thing your fault sugar so this really doesn’t have anything to do with how I drive a buggy or a vehicle.” You add as your eyes stop when they meet his as you look up at him with a smirk and playful glint in your eyes before shooting him a little wink and he knows this is going to be the moment looking back that he tells people is when he fell in love with you but he just shakes his head in an attempt to bring him back to the moment at hand as he looks down at you.

“I forget that everything always comes back to being my fault.” He admits as he feels you pull your hand away from his so you can turn and walk back over to your cart.

“Oh honeybuns admitting to being forgetful is such a gentlemanly thing to do.” Even though he knows you’re teasing him he feels his cheeks get warm at your statement as you place your hands on the cart and raise an eyebrow at him. “Well come on sugar plum I’m not done with my list yet.” You walk past him after tossing a jar of the same raspberry jam he had in his hand into your cart. “I might need to borrow your height on the cereal aisle.” And with that he quickly catches up to you before you make it to the end of the aisle so he can walk behind you and he can’t help the grin that spreads over his face because not only are you actually real but you’re currently leading him around a supermarket, and if he’s being honest he can’t even really feel the pain in his ankle or head anymore.

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt. 5

WOOOHOOO I did it besties. College has been kicking my you know what but I managed to write another chapterrrrr.

Forgive any grammar errors please, most of this was written at 1am and I don't have an editor.

Hope you liiiiiiiiiike

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

Word count: 5.2k

Color bleeds into peaceful darkness like ink spilled in water. The transition from unconsciousness to lucid dream happens so seamlessly you barely register the shift. The world around you focuses and sharpens until you are once again standing in a desolate purple sky. Levitating chunks of rock are scattered as far as you can see. Some are massive, some are as small as river rocks. You realize, as you creep up to the edge of the floating island you’re standing on, that each one hovers above a terrifying void full of swirling dust and shining constellations. The stars look close enough to touch. You kick some loose pebbles off the side of your rock and watch them descend until they fade out of existence, having fallen farther than your eyes can see. A heavy feeling weighs on your stomach. There’s something off about this place. Your head is quiet, your chest hollow. You feel empty.

“Finally.”

You swing around, your hands raising on instinct to cast a defense spell. For the first time in your life you feel nothing when you reach for the weave. That hum of magic that has lived in your chest since you were too small to remember is missing somehow. 

You drop your useless hands to your side and brace yourself to run instead as a figure approaches you. Their expression is placating, their hands raised in a calming gesture one would approach frightened animals with. 

You try to look them over, but by the time your gaze makes it to their plain black boots and back up you realize they look nothing like you thought they did a second ago. 

Their eyes are a different color, their hair lighter, and the shape of their jaw is different. You start over, determined to memorize every detail. You stop at their hands this time. Was their skin always purple?

That thought is yanked from your head with a lurch. You know there is something missing, but not what. Your chest tightens, your throat burns, your body reacts to some horrifying revelation that you can’t remember. The tadpole in your head squirms.

“Relax.” The creature says in a dozen different voices. 

“I apologize for my unfinished appearance. You’re early, I haven’t had time to work on this form yet. I was trying to perfect one that would comfort you, or at least help you to trust me.”

You meet their gaze and watch their pupils widen and swallow the whites of their eyes. Bones shift subtly under their skin, their joints move and bulge. They grow a foot taller. Their bones audibly grind. 

You take a panicked step back. The shapeshifting creature lunges for you, but it’s too late. Your foot comes down on nothing but empty space, and you lose your balance with a gasp. Gravity sucks you into the void below. 

You don’t even have time to scream before it swallows you whole.

You startle awake, wrestling with the blanket that might as well be tied around you until you manage to kick free of it and sit up, your chest heaving with huge gulping breaths that somehow don’t provide you with any oxygen. The sweat that slicks your clothes to your skin cools in the night air and you hug your knees to your chest. The darkness of the night feels unnatural. Alive even. The large campfire set up in the middle of your bedrolls works valiantly to fight it off. 

You see that your companions are set up in a circle around it. Astarion, Gale, and Lae’zel are all accounted for. Flickering shadows dance over each of their sleeping faces. Strangely, you notice there’s a fifth bedroll occupied on the opposite side of the fire. You squint to try and make out any details but darkness completely obscures the figure. Did one of your companions invite another traveler to join your group? 

You roll to your feet and creep closer to the sleeping stranger, a vague outline of a body under blankets. They’re almost unnaturally still. As far as you can tell their chest doesn’t rise and fall with breath. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s almost as if the light of the fire deliberately avoids them. The flickering orange light only touches the ground a hand's width from either side of their bedroll. You take another step, and then another, until the light of the fire abandons you too. The shadows here have weight. They lie on your skin and whisper in your ear. Hushed voices beg you to turn around, to go back to sleep, to forget. 

You shake them off and hold up your hand, casting an orb of light. The shadows scream as they’re dispelled, and a thick silence befalls the grove. There is no crackling fire, or leaves shaking in the breeze, there is only the blood rushing in your ears and your pounding heartbeat. 

There’s a human girl lying on her back under a fur blanket, pale and unmoving. She looks peaceful. Something about her seems so familiar. You kneel down to study her face, and wince when the leg of your pants soaks with something warm and wet. You hold the light over the bedroll and realize it’s drenched in a dark liquid. It reeks of rot and iron. 

You’re kneeling in a puddle of blood. 

Startled, you glance back up at the girl’s face. 

Her eyes are open. 

They’re clouded with death, but you remember them. The druid from the grove you couldn’t save.

A single tear falls from her eye.

The light in your hand winks out.

The shadows laugh.

You wake up with a gasp in your camp once more, tangled in your bedroll. The sky is decorated in the red and orange rays of the setting sun. Like before, the cold air all but freezes the sweat on your skin and wracks your body with shivers. The temperature drop from day to night was startling out here in the wilds. 

“I think I’m in hell” You hiss through chattering teeth.

“I never imagined the nine hells of Baator to be so frigid, but I suppose considering our luck it is a possibility.” A familiar voice responds.

You turn to find that Gale is tossing chunks of meat into a cauldron of boiling stew over the fire you’re lying next to. The smell of it is so sinfully good you almost start drooling. You don’t trust it. You stand on shaky legs and lean forward, poking Gale in the cheek.

Gale regards you with concern, his brow furrowed. He makes no move to push you away, but he looks deeply confused.

“I will admit, I haven’t exactly been a paragon of sociality these past few years, but I think I would have noticed if it suddenly became appropriate to greet someone by way of- whatever it is you’re currently doing.”

“As a paragon of sociality I must disagree, keep up the good work Tav.” Astarion calls from somewhere behind you. 

Gale glares at the vampire over your shoulder, but you pay no mind to their squabbling. Gale’s skin is warm under your finger.

“You feel so lifelike.” 

You grab him by the chin and tilt his head in every direction, looking for the flaw that will prove you’re still dreaming. 

He swats your hand away and leans as far back as he can away from your grasping fingers.

“Ooookay. I think the whole stabbing situation may have had more negative consequences than we originally thought. You should sit down.”

That’s a good idea. You can just wait here. You’ll have to wake up eventually.

You nod and unceremoniously plop back down on your bedroll. Your eyes are stuck unfocused and staring at nothing at all. Your mind is curiously empty. You think you should be feeling something, but honestly you’re just numb. 

A few moments later Astarion drops gracefully into a crouch in front of you, leaning down to catch your eyes.

“Hey Tav? What’s goin on?”

“I’m waiting to wake up.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he strikes, bluntly flicking you between the eyes.

You rear back in shock and rub your stinging skin.

“This wouldn't be the first time someone's looked at me and assumed they were dreaming but you’re not asleep Tav.”

“What the fuck Astarion!?”

He smiles, eyes alight with smug satisfaction.

“There she is. You’ve been out of commission for far too long, hero. If I have to hear one more story about Gale’s glory days I’m going to beg you to kill me.”

Gale scoffs.

“Keep making comments like that and you’ll go to bed hungry.”

“He won’t be able to eat what you’re making anyway.” You attempt to remind Gale before you realize he doesn’t know about Astarion’s… special diet.

The vampire holds up his hand as if to flick you again, an evil glint in his eye.

You flinch back in genuine fear. Your forehead still stings, you’d like to avoid a repeat.

“Ah,” Gale nods in solemn understanding. “Allergies?” 

“Something like that” Astarion agrees, glaring at you.

You clear your throat nervously and glance around.

“Where is Lae’zel?” You change the subject.

“Just listen” Gale responds and tilts his head toward the trees just outside your encampment.

Sure enough you can hear the rhythmic thwack of steel on wood. 

“What is she doing?”

“We needed firewood, the Githyanki needed to violently take her anger out on a tree, everyone wins” Astarion shrugs.

“Didn’t she have a concussion?” You ask. Gale nods.

“I wouldn’t mention it if I were you. She’s rather put out about it. She’s fine though. The Druidic healers were most competent. All four of us have been thoroughly examined and healed of all ailments. Well, other than the tadpoles of course. We still have those. Other than that, any remaining injuries are purely psychological.”  

You nod, reminded of your nightmares.

“And how do I fix those?” 

Astarion reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask, tilting it toward you in offering.

You frown and shake your head, the idea of drinking on such an empty stomach makes you nauseous.

“You asked” he shrugs and tips the remaining contents of the flask into his mouth. He stands and offers you a hand, which you take, and pulls you easily to your feet. Your shoulder throbs in protest, and you start to wonder how “healed” it really is.

Gale loudly announces that the food is ready, prompting Lae’zel to trudge out of the forest a few moments later dragging a small tree behind her. It wrenches the plants from the earth and leaves a deep trench in the ground. 

Maybe you’ll avoid Lae’zel for the night. 

She seems a little upset in a way you’re not equipped to deal with. 

Astarion turns and strides into the forest, presumably to look for his own meal.

You serve yourself a massive portion and eat in appreciative silence, scarfing down the only food you’ve had since being kidnapped. 

When you’ve scraped the bottom of the bowl for every last drop, you turn to Gale, a question you’ve been dying to ask on the tip of your tongue. 

“Gale, you seem to know a bit about cera-“ you trail off as the name of your condition eludes you.

“Ceremorphosis?” Gale finishes for you, and you snap your fingers. 

“Yes! Ceremorphosis. I was wondering if you knew how long we have to… well- live?”

Gale’s expression sobers. He reaches down and grabs a few dry twigs, tossing them into the fire. 

“I only know what I’ve read, I have no first hand experience, but I’ve found the general consensus is seven days.” 

You nod, placing your bowl on the ground next to you as the food sours in your stomach.

“Six days to find a cure then. Surely more has been done with less” you mutter.

Gale nods and leans back on his elbows, studying the night sky.

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t die this way. I refuse to.” 

His conviction is almost strong enough that you believe him. Almost.

When the conversation dies out Gale retires to his tent to learn the spells etched into the scrolls he took from the grove merchant. Lae’zel pulls out her greatsword and begins hacking away at a wooden dummy, presumably left by one of the druids.

You turn your gaze to the crossbow haphazardly tossed to the ground near your bedroll. You had slept for hours after the battle, and Gale’s surprisingly good stew had energized you. There was no way you’d be able to sleep now. Out here on the sword coast the stars were bright enough to cast the grove in a soft blue light. Now was as good a time as any to learn a new skill. Besides, if you sit around wallowing in your impending doom for a moment longer you may take yourself out before the tadpole gets its chance to. You pick up the hefty weapon and stride into the forest, away from any potentially judgemental eyes. You walk for a long time. The dense forest is far too compact for you to practice with a ranged weapon in, so you hike until you stumble upon a small clearing.

You ready yourself and pull the bowstring back until you hear something click. So far so good. You load the bow with one of the five bolts that came with it and aim for the knot of a rather large oak tree. You pull the trigger and watch the bolt sail into the dark woods, far from the tree you were aiming for.

You shake it off, it’s your first attempt after all. You reload the crossbow, take aim, and once again watch as it disappears into the darkness. Maybe doing this at night in the forest wasn’t the best idea. Imagining digging through the bramble bushes to retrieve your missing bolts makes you wonder how bad ceremorphosis could actually be. As much as you don’t want to admit it, it rankles you that you’re terrible at this.

You lean against the nearest tree and slide down it, rubbing at your aching chest. You swear you can hear a clock ticking faintly in your ears. You have six days to live. The cold nights will give rise to the winter solstice in a month or two. If you had known last year’s celebration had been your last, maybe you would have actually celebrated it instead of locking yourself in your office and pouring over the mountains of paperwork your boss had asked you to look over. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, taking a deep breath through your nose. You allow the rustling leaves and the scent of the cool earth to calm you.

A twig snaps.

You freeze.

After a few moments of tense silence, you release the breath you’d been holding. You’re being paranoid. The most dangerous creatures in these woods are bears, and the druids seem to have befriended most of them. You’re safe.

You take a few more deep breaths when you hear it again, a branch snapping along with heavy breathing, from a rather large creature as far as you can tell.

You scramble to arm the bow with a bolt and hold it defensively in front of you. 

You haven’t managed to hit a target once, but whatever roams these woods doesn’t need to know that.

The breathing gets louder as the creature draws closer, snapping branches and crunching leaves under its heavy feet.

You watch as a snout emerges from the bushes in front of you, followed by tusks. A boar shoves its way through brambles and into your little clearing. It spots you, then your crossbow. Its eyes widen with a recognition you didn’t realize boars were capable of. It squeals and whips around, its legs scrambling beneath it as it flees back into the dark forest. You breathe a sigh of relief and lower the crossbow, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll need instruction if you ever hope to use it. 

“What are you doing?” Someone asks so close to you, you feel their breath caress the shell of your ear.

You yelp in shock and drop the crossbow on your foot, letting out a slew of curses a sailor from the pirate isles would blush over.

Astarion is crouched behind you, one hand on the tree you’re leaning against, an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face.

“If I were a monster you’d be dead right now.”

“You’re an undead vampire, I think you qualify, and yet-” You pause to press two fingers to the pulse point in your neck, 

“Yep. Still alive!” You shout.

The boar squeals in the woods somewhere, startling you. Astarion grips his stomach and laughs from somewhere deep in his chest.

“What is it with you and pigs?” You hiss. 

“You’re lucky the wilds are full of those boars you know. I go long enough without feeding and our friends' necks start looking very appetizing.”

You sigh and throw your head back in exasperation, perhaps slightly too hard. Acting on reflex, Astarion catches the back of your head before it can slam into the bark of the tree behind you.

“You’re welcome” 

“I don’t have the energy to banter with you Astarion. Leave.”

He promptly does the opposite and takes a seat next to you, leaning against your tree.

“What’s gotten into you?”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Mind flayer larvae.”

“Ah. So all this moping is about the illithid.”

“I’m not moping.” 

“Yes, you are, and you have every reason to.”

“So do you. According to Gale the tadpoles kill their hosts within a week's time. It doesn’t bother you that we might die soon?”

“My circumstances are… different.”

The response confuses you. The way you see it, everyone that survived the nautiloid is in the exact same situation.

“How so?”

Astarion presses the heel of his hand into his chin and cracks his neck on either side, stalling for time as he thinks of an answer. He sighs.

“If we fail, and I die in the wilderness somewhere a few days from now, I will have traded an eternity of darkness and starvation for a week of sunlight and freedom. Obviously I’d rather not die. I’d give just about anything to live long enough to give Cazador the brutal death I’ve been fantasizing about for oh- a couple hundred years now. But if I don’t get that chance, at least I will die as Astarion, not Cazador’s pet.”

You place a hand over your chest, genuinely moved and only slightly disturbed by that explanation.

“Astarion that was beautiful'' You turn and press your lips together in suppressed laughter at the regretful look on his face.

“No no no, you keep moping, your life has gotten dramatically worse. Continue being sad about it.”

“Well that was the plan but now I’m all inspired by your optimism in the face of imminent death.”

Astarion groans and pushes off the tree.

“That’s disgusting. I’m not an optimist.”

Your answering smile shows all your teeth.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I thought you weren’t in the mood to banter.”

“What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

He sighs, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. His face lights up with some epiphany, and he yanks two crossbow bolts out of his belt to wave them in front of your face.

“Missing something?”

You snatch the bolts from his hand with a grumbled thank you.

His expression remains passive but his eyes fill with mischief. 

“How did you get these?” 

“I was on my way back from my meal when I almost lost an eye to one of them.” He taps his finger against the razor sharp tip of one of the bolts in your hand. 

“It’s how I found you in the first place.”

He motions toward the crossbow resting on the ground by your feet. 

“I can show you how to use that. If you’d like.”

You were just thinking about how you needed someone to show you how to properly shoot the thing. Maybe a distraction is exactly what you need.

“I would.”

He leans down and picks up the crossbow. He loads and fires it within seconds, pinning a falling leaf to the trunk of a nearby tree.

You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“Just making sure it works.”

You expect Astarion to teach the way he does everything else, by flirting with you in a way that makes you wonder if he’s trying to seduce you or eat you. You brace yourself, but the witty remarks don’t come. Astarion simply shows you how pulling back the bowstrings unevenly can make it hard to aim, the timing of when to pull the trigger, and how to account for the wind. He’s a fantastic tudor, and he whistles loudly when you hit your target for the first time. You go from being unable to hit anything to being able to hit within the general vicinity of your chosen mark most of the time within an hour or so. 

“That’s all the basics. Your aim isn’t exactly spot on but that’s not something I can teach you. You need to trust your instincts more.”

“My instincts are broken” You sigh.

“I’ve noticed,” he says darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve spent the last hour or so alone in the dark woods with someone you know would eat you alive given half a chance.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, that would completely negate the whole saving me from the goblin thing earlier. Besides, you just had your fill of boar blood, you can’t still be hungry.”

“You adorable, naive little thing. I wasn’t talking about drinking your blood.”

You shove at his shoulder as hard as you can and he stumbles a step to the side, chuckling like the deviant he is. You’re almost relieved to have the relentless flirt back. The patient encouraging version of Astarion that taught you how to shoot a crossbow was harder to wrap your brain around.

He sobers quickly.

“Does it scare you?” He asks suddenly, as if he couldn’t hold back the words anymore.

“What?” You ask.

“What I am.”

Oh.

“Honestly?”

“Well I didn’t ask you to test your deception skills.”

“Yes.” You answer plainly, and Astarion nods, his expression intentionally neutral.

“Your instincts may not be so broken after all.”

As you gather the scattered bolts from the trunks of surrounding trees, an odd sensation builds in the center of you. You feel… guilty? Astarion both defended you and taught you how to defend yourself in one evening, and you hadn’t done a single thing for him. You feel like you owe him, and you hate owing people.

You know he despises being thanked, but maybe he wouldn’t mind exchanging one favor for another.

You place the bolts in your quiver and return to Astarion.

“I have something for you.”

His blank expression flickers with an emotion you can’t pinpoint.

“Should I be nervous?”

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the amulet you procured from the druid merchant. You hold it between you, watching the pendant sway instead of meeting his eyes.

“It’s a magical item. It allows a person, even someone not versed in magic, to use the spell contained within it. This one holds misty step. It’s a short-distance teleportation spell. You’re our archer, so I thought you could use it to find high ground in a fight faster than if you had to climb for it.” You brave a glance up.

Astarion reaches for the amulet, then drops his hand back down to his side. He looks almost scared of it.

“It won’t bite you.” You joke- an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“I just- I haven’t been given a gift in over two hundred years.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t surprise you.

“I’d like to change that, if you’ll let me.”

He holds out a hand and you drop the pendant into it. He examines it for a moment.

“I have no idea how to use this.” 

You smile.

“I could teach you, if you’d like.”

~~~

“I’m beginning to think there is no magic in this necklace and you’re just testing how long I’ll fall for your tricks.” Astarion growls several minutes later from his meditative position on the ground. 

You sit next to him, your legs crossed in an identical position, your head tipped back. 

“As I said, magic casting isn’t a physical skill, it's a metaphysical one. If you can’t reach for the amulet you won’t move an inch.”

Astarion opens one eye to make sure you’re not looking and reaches for the necklace.

“With your soul not your hand.” 

He drops his hand back into his lap.

“I don’t have one of those darling.”

“It’s a figure of speech darling.” 

He opens one eye again and smirks.

“Careful” He warns in an eerily hypnotic voice, and the hair on the back of your neck rises.

You rub the tingling skin and fix your companion with an admonishing look. 

“Keep your vampire mojo to yourself and focus.”

He closes his eyes and bows his head. His mess of curly white hair immediately falls over his face. He looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

“The magic in the amulet can be felt. It’s full of unreleased energy. It wants to connect with you. All you have to do is allow it. Imagine your consciousness can move independently of your body and reach out to it.”

Astarion’s face scrunches in concentration, and you wait patiently as he tries to connect with the amulet.

A twinge in your skull makes you wince, distracting you. It feels different from the tadpole’s usual antics. Something clicks into place, and you feel a new presence slide into your already crowded mind. Astarion had linked you two somehow.

You feel the exact moment he realizes he’s not alone in his own head. His eyes shoot open and the connection snaps as quickly as it formed.

“What was that?” You whisper.

“I think I reached too far.”

“I wanted you to use the amulet not possess me!”

“You possessed me back!”

“Okay, it’s fine, just- try again. Aim for the amulet this time.”

Astarion closes his eyes again and you stare up at the stars, praying to whatever god was listening for patience.

His gasp brings you back down to reality, and when you face Astarion again his eyes are swirling with silver light.

You scramble to your feet and hastily back up several paces.

“We only get one shot at this until your next rest so make it count. Focus on the ground in front of me and just take a step. You should end up exactly where you want to be.”

He stands slowly, and stares pointedly at the ground at your feet. He lifts his foot, and disappears.

He apparates again no more than an inch away from you, and you lurch back in surprise, stumbling over your own feet. You reach out for something to grab to slow your fall, the closest thing happening to be Astarion, and you take him down with you.

He lands sprawled on top of you with a groan, and you wheeze as the breath is knocked out of you.

Astarion pushes himself up on his elbows, your noses an inch apart. His eyes still glow, the after effects of the spell he cast. He looks almost like a normal elven man in the moments before his usual red bleeds back in, crowding out the silver. You think about his question from earlier, does it scare you- what I am? A vision of a non-vampiric Astarion fills your mind. His eyes metallic, his skin tone warmer, his canines short and dull. This version is in no way preternaturally graceful. His gait is hurried, even clumsy at times. The sharpest thing he ever handles is a letter opener, and occasionally, he slips up and slices his finger when he’s rushing to get done with his work. The sight of the red blood that drips onto the white paper makes him woozy, so he rushes for a bandage, hastily wrapping the wound while refusing to look at it. He isn’t the most observant, but he’s whip smart, and a talented orator. He’s a little cocky but with the bright future ahead of him he has every right to be. He ascends to the role of magistrate in no time. He makes mostly fair judgments, but the lower city of Baldur’s Gate is cut throat, and one night on his way back home from a long night, he turns down the wrong street. 

For better or worse that elf died that night. The man you know is someone else entirely, and has been for centuries. It was the vampire, not the mortal, that saved your life earlier in the day.

Your shoulder throbs when your thoughts shift to earlier in the day. You see in your mind the goblin that sunk its jagged blade into your shoulder, and the murderous look in its dull yellow eyes. The arrow that pierced its neck had spared you a dreadful end.

As if he can sense your thoughts, Astarion’s eyes cut to your shoulder. His smirk fades, and he pulls down the collar of your shirt just enough to reveal your new scar. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, he traces the raised red line with his thumb. His cool skin feels amazing against the still-healing angry scar, and you can’t help the shudder that moves through you. Astarion’s gaze returns to yours, and you’re surprised to find his expression is absolutely wrathful.

“I killed that wretched creature far too quickly,”

“Personally I thought your timing was spot on.”

“Hmm.” Is his only response.

In a moment you become hyper-aware of every place his body touches yours. He’s settled on top of you, one leg between yours, most of his weight propped on his elbow, his other hand still stroking that damn scar. It’s becoming hard for you to think clearly. He on the other hand seems wholly unaffected, lost in his murderous thoughts. You clear your throat to get his attention.

“You can get up now.”

He seems to realize as you did the rather intimate position you two landed in, and a smile slowly creeps onto his face.

“I’m rather comfortable where I’m at”

You know he’s instigating, but the bait is too tempting. 

“Move or I’ll move you.”

His smile turns devious.

“You think you can?”

There’s a challenge in that question. One you’re not entirely sure you can meet. Still, you lift your chin defiantly.

“I do”

He leans in, his jaw brushing your cheek as he brings his mouth to your ear.

“Very convincing.” He whispers, “I’d believe you if I couldn’t hear how fast your heart is racing.” 

You can’t think of a witty retort. 

You can’t think at all.

He leans back with a self satisfied look you desperately want to wipe off his smug face.

So, you reach up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and do the only thing you know will surprise him.

You bring his mouth to yours.

~~~~

Gettin shpoicy

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[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 15 ~ Heart attack

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 4.2k

In this chapter ~ All hell seems to break loose upon Daryl's striking return back to the farm, injured and limping, mistaken for a walker in the distance. In a fit of impatience when Andrea fires a shot towards the figure, they all quickly realized who it really was. And Rose wasn't planning to let her off the hook so easily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ DARYL POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I didn't know how long I had been passed out cold with the freezing water running all over me, but the bolt in my side was beginning to grow unbearable.

I almost didn't quite remember how it all happened, briefly recalling the horse I was riding getting startled by something I couldn't spot by its feet. Then the animal sent me flying down the small hill and into the ravine, one of my bolts somehow managing to pierce through my skin. The pain mixed with the adrenaline and heat apparently caused me to black out for however long as I slowly began to bleed out.

I tried to sit back up with a loud groan leaving my lips, but the world immediately started to spin and I felt myself laying my head back down in an attempt to steady my breathing. I tried not to panic, but I needed to get up, and soon, otherwise I could pass out again and who knows if anyone would find me all the way out here.

A snap of a branch is what caught my attention, making my eyes snap back open as I immediately assumed it was a walker, so I sat up a little too quickly to check my surroundings. With my head spinning and my vision blurring, I couldn't see nor hear anything close by. Sighing heavily to myself, I rested my head back again, preparing myself to try and stand up.

But then I heard rustling coming from just a few feet to my right, now knowing for sure I wasn't alone as the sound didn't die down. I pushed my body to try and sit up, looking at the danger I would be face to face with, but I grew so tired that I couldn't find the strength.

A sudden shadow then hovered over me and blocked the sun from my vision, causing me to squint my eyes to try and get a better look, my eyes struggling to focus on the figure. It only took a few seconds to register, but once it did, I could've sworn it was all a dream.

Rose stood tall right in front of me, waving her hand in front of my eyes to try and get me to look at her, her face full of concern.

"Daryl?" she asked.

Her voice echoed loudly around me as I studied her and tried to figure out what the hell she was doing here, but then I noticed she looked a little different. She didn't have any bandages around her anymore, and the cuts on her face from Ed that weren't quite healed yet, were now completely gone. She was almost glowing. Almost unreal.

"Daryl, hey, stay with me." she spoke in a soft voice as she eyed the arrow still painfully in my side.

I grunted as my chest heaved up and down rapidly, "M' okay." I managed to breathe.

She scoffed, "You have an arrow in your side, you're not okay." she insisted.

"I'll be alright," I said, still slightly in a daze, "What the hell are ya doin here?" I asked her.

"I'm here to keep an eye on you."

"Nah...ya shouldn't be worrying bout me, ya should be restin back at the house." I said.

She then started to laugh a little as she tilted her head at me, "You think I'm real?"

I squinted my eyes as I looked at her again, trying to figure out what was happening to me. She seemed like she was really here, but I had also lost a lot of blood and had been out in the baking sun for hours. Her appearance looked perfect, almost too perfect, but then again I've always thought she looked perfect.

"Yer not really here?" I asked her, not even trying to hide my disappointment.

She then stepped towards me and got down onto my level, lifting her hand to place it delicately on my cheek. I flinched at first, almost questioning what she was doing as her touch felt so unreal to me. But eventually I found myself closing my eyes at the soft feeling, leaning more into her touch. How could I not? She was always so warm and welcoming it was hard to resist. Like she had me under some type of spell.

"No honey, I'm not." she answered, "Now come on, you have to wake up. Come back to us." she almost pleaded.

My heartbeat quickened at the unexpected nickname falling from her lips, my mouth parting to respond. But before I could even get the chance, I heard more rustling in the trees, and she turned her head as well like she heard it too. She then turned back to give me one last long look before removing her hand and began to stand up, walking away from me completely.

"Wait, don't go." I said softly.

She just turned around and gave me a small smile, "I'm not going anywhere...I'll be waiting." she promised.

As soon as she breathed those last words, my attention was pulled away from her immediately as the sound of a walker came from just inches behind my head. Reality coming back to hit me in the face.

I mustered all the strength I had to pull myself up and tried desperately to find my crossbow to kill it, looking around frantically in the water but I didn't have enough time. Then I remembered- the knife that Rose gave me. I still had it.

I reached down for it, pulling it out quickly and took down the walker clumsily, falling down right along with it as my body suddenly felt a lot heavier. My back hit the ground again with a loud slam as I breathed in and out deeply, trying to find whatever strength I had left to make it back to the farm.

But I felt myself get tired once more, a wave of exhaustion hitting me and keeping me firmly planted on the ground. My eyes remained shut as my head continued to spin, now finally processing the fact that I hallucinated Rose to be standing right in front of me. Why the hell was I imagining her here? I had no idea, but I knew I needed to get back to the farm to see everyone...to see her. I missed the feeling of her touch, even if it was truly all in my head.

Good Lord, what was this woman doing to me?

I then slowly pushed myself up again with a groan, starting to get up to gather my things, including Sophia's doll I had somehow found along the way, trying so hard to stay awake. But that's when I heard yet another familiar voice that made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Why don't you just pull the arrow out dummy?"

I glanced up again in disbelief to see Merle standing above me with a cocky smile and a hand on his hip. Great.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours had passed before I finally found a good stopping point on the painting, putting away the watercolors as I planned to let the paper dry for a while. Eventually I found myself wandering back towards the RV, wanting to find a safe place for the artwork and hopefully to find something quick to eat. I instantly saw Dale sitting on one of the fold out chairs just in front of the vehicle, sending him a small smile as I approached.

"Hey Dale, do we have anything to snack on here?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah, I think we have some granola bars if you want one?" he replied.

I nodded my head and he moved up from his seat to head inside, grabbing a few for the two of us. He came back out with three of them in his hands and sat back down, patting the space next to him as an invitation. I gladly took a seat in the empty chair and we began to talk quietly as he passed me the food he brought out.

Andrea was on top of the RV, keeping watch for walkers and would occasionally join in on our small talk. It was nice, especially after all the chaos that seemed to follow us wherever we went. Somehow I felt we needed this in a way. We only began to get lost in the conversation, talking about anything under the sun for however long until Dale hit me with a statement I didn't quite expect.

"So Rose, you never really talked about what your life was like before all of this."

I visibly paused, not exactly knowing how to respond and he caught on quicker than I imagined as he shook his head, "Oh, I'm sorry you don't have to-"

"No, no it's okay," I assured, "But to be honest there isn't a whole lot to say. I grew up in Ohio and lived there for most of my life, working as an undercover cop. I didn't have a lot of friends or family...just mainly focusing on work as it never seemed to slow down. To be honest, I don't really miss anything about it."

His face drastically dropped as he seemed to instantly regret bringing it up in the first place, "I'm so sorry." he spoke sincerely. 

I waved him off, "No, please don't be. It only took the end of the world for it to happen, but I think I've finally found my people." I winked.

He smiled at that but before he could say anything else, Andrea's frantic scream interrupted him.

"Walker!" she suddenly yelled.

My eyes snapped to where she was looking, my eyes narrowing in the distance only to see there was one lone walker coming at us, miles away it seemed like as it was across the large fields. I had to really squint to make out the shape of it, but I still managed to see it slowly limping closer towards us. Upon hearing Andrea's warning, a few of the men rushed over to see for themselves just how close it was.

"Just the one?" Rick asked.

She nodded before suddenly pulling out a riffle, "I bet I can nail it from here."

"No, don't shoot we can handle this." he said to her with an extended hand.

The woman rolled her eyes at him, silently watching as the guys took off in a sprint towards the thing. Though they only made it about halfway across the field before I heard a gun being loaded from right above my head. My gaze snapped up to see Andrea getting down on her stomach on top of the RV, holding the gun close to her face as she aimed.

"Andrea don't." Dale said from beside me.

"Shut up Dale." she hissed.

I rolled my eyes, "Look how far away that thing is, if anything you're going to hit one of the guys, just back off." I tried.

But she ignored me completely though I didn't miss the scoff she let out under her breath, continuing to stall for a few more seconds as she lined up her target. Before she eventually fired the gun as Dale and I watched the walker fall to the ground like a rock.

The three of us watched in anticipation as I could feel the smugness radiating off of Andrea, before suddenly my blood ran cold.

Rick's head whipped back towards us as he yelled "NO!" at the top of his lungs, so loud we could hear it from miles and miles away.

Something was wrong, and without another thought I found myself sprinting towards them to see what happened, ignoring the pain I felt around my middle. It seemed like I couldn't get there fast enough, the twisted feeling in my stomach of anxiety and worry were beginning to overpower me the closer I got. But I still desperately needed to know.

As I finally approached the scene, I saw Rick and Shane holding the walker up, both having an arm around it as they carried it through the grass. It wasn't until I got closer when I realized...it was Daryl. Except he looked awful, covered in mud and his own blood with what looked to be a wound on his left side. And now a fucking shot to the head.

I stood frozen in my spot thinking he was dead, before I heard his familiar voice mutter, "I was kiddin."

Just hearing him speak sent a wave of relief through me, but we still needed to get him back to the house fast. His injuries that covered his skin looked bad, and would only get worse with time. I then heard rushed and heavy footsteps coming up behind me, knowing exactly who it was as they both seemed to follow me right after I took off. And it took everything in me not to completely lash out at her for her stupidity.

"Oh my God, oh my God, is he dead?" Andrea asked frantically as she didn't stop for anything.

"No, he passed out, you just grazed him." Rick responded angrily as he glared daggers at her, seeming to be just as pissed as I was that she didn't listen in the first place.

I didn't utter a word, nothing coherent would even cross my mind, I just followed behind them as they continued to drag him carefully back to the house. My arms were cross firmly at my chest, watching his now limp, unconscious body being held high by the two men as they walked quickly. I couldn't even begin to describe the utter idiocy Andrea seemed to possess, but she only seemed to outdo herself every time.

"Wait guys, isn't this Sophia's?" T-Dog suddenly asked us while holding up a doll that Daryl had apparently brought back. He did good.

"Yeah." Rick nodded simply before he started walking again.

We finally made our way up to the house and once I saw Daryl made it inside safely, I seemed to lose all the self-control I had left.

I stormed up to Andrea, grabbed her by the back of the neck, kicking her legs out from under her so she fell onto the ground with a loud thud. I never let go of her neck as my hands now maneuvered to the front of her throat as I quickly put my right knee on her chest to keep her from moving.

"Why did you shoot?!" I yelled at her, "Why can't you just fucking listen for once?"

She started to struggle from beneath me, clawing at my arms to get me to let go, but I grabbed her shoulders and slammed her back into the ground, knocking the wind out of her before continuing.

"You are so self-absorbed, and don't give a shit about anyone else but yourself. Why did you do it?! To prove to all of us that you're a valuable member of this group? That you actually do something around here?! You're lucky you're a terrible shot because if you weren't, Daryl would be dead, and believe me when I say you would be next." I finished.

She stared at me in shock, stumbling over her words, not knowing what to say as she struggled to steady her breathing. My side was screaming at me as I physically shook in anger, so I finally let her go, standing up to slowly back away from her. I felt a pair of arms wrap around me and I turned around swiftly to see it was Glenn as he slowly pulled me further away.

But I shoved him off of me, not wanting to be touched or pulled back as if I couldn't handle myself. Dale quickly moved to Andrea's side once I stood farther back, noticing that they were the only two people that witnessed my outburst while everyone else was inside the house. He helped her up by her arms as she was still stunned at my actions, looking up at me with widened eyes.

"Rose you're bleeding." Glenn suddenly said with a sigh as he started to move towards me again.

I glanced down upon hearing that to see blood staining my shirt and I let out a frustrated sigh, before slowly pushing past him to head into the house to find Hershel. My steps were slow as I walked up the stairs, peering up to see the room to my right was being occupied by Daryl who laid unconscious on the bed. Hershel was right as his side, cleaning and stitching him up as Rick and Shane stood in there asking question after question as they watched in anticipation.

I felt a twist in my stomach, quickly pushing it back down as I softly knocked on the door that was open a crack to get their attention. They all turned towards me the second I walked in, eyeing me almost worriedly as I lingered in the threshold.

"Hey...when you're finished with him, could you stitch me back up?" I hesitantly asked him.

The old man gave me a disapproving look before slowly nodding his head, not saying a word as he turned back to work.

"What happened?" Rick asked, looking down at my shirt with concern.

I shrugged, "Just a little argument with Andrea...someone had to put her in her place." I finished before swiftly leaving the room.

The door creaked open to the room I was given as I walked in, sitting down on my bed staring off into space for a while as I processed the wild hare that went up my ass. The truth was, I didn't mean to be so harsh, but she needed to know how easily she could've killed someone today. It didn't seem to register with her, and I needed her to know how serious the situation actually was. She had a bad habit of doing whatever the fuck she wanted, and I was about done with that along with everyone else.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the door open again, seeing Hershel coming over to me to stitch me up again. Neither of us said a word as he slowly worked his magic, and the silence was becoming unbearable for me as well as the pain of the needle. He was a little ticked off at me, and I knew that, but the silent treatment was a little immature in my opinion. Although after what felt like forever, Hershel put new bandages on, finally speaking as he finished up.

"I told you not to do anything to physical." he stated.

"I know." I muttered, not meeting his eyes. I felt like I was being scolded by my dad and almost wanted to joke about it to clear the air, but I knew he wouldn't laugh. At least not right now.

"Rose I'm not mad, I just need you to be more careful." he spoke in a much calmer tone. "You can't just do something so exaggerated and expect to heal properly. Please, give yourself a break."

My eyes shifted up to meet his, noticing the genuine concerned look he had on his face, "I will." I promised.

He nodded once and left the room after that, leaving me alone to my thoughts once more. I waited patiently by myself in the silence until I couldn't hear anyone talking out in the hall anymore, before standing up and making my way towards Daryl's room. I wanted to check on him, to actually see him, but not when there were about twelve other people occupying the space too. I didn't really feel like facing the rest of them right now, knowing Dale was practically blabbing to everyone about the things I did.

His door was now shut, and I didn't even know if he was awake, but a part of me didn't care. I just needed to see him. To see that he was actually still breathing as if Hershel forgot to check. I opened the door slowly as it creaked, peering inside to see he was lying on his good side, facing away from the door.

Once he heard the subtle noise from behind his head, he looked over his shoulder quickly to see who it was. But when he registered it was just me, it looked like he relaxed drastically, and I seemed to let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding in.

"Hey," I greeted as I walked over, pulling up a chair to sit beside him.

He gave me a soft, tired smile as his eyes almost struggled to stay open, "Hey."

My eyes scanned over the varies of injuries in concern, "Now it's my turn to ask how you're feeling." I huffed sarcastically.

He chuckled a little, "Yeah, guess so. But m' fine, it's nothin."

"It's not nothing. My God...I could kill Andrea." I muttered as I ran a hand frustratingly over my forehead.

"Yeah," he scoffed, "I think I could too once I get outta here." he joked, but I didn't laugh.

I couldn't help but stare at him, processing how fast we all could've lost him today if Andrea had just aimed a little more to the left. How fast it could've been over in just a split second. How easily you could lose just about anyone in a matter of seconds, all of it hitting me suddenly as I got lost in my mind. His face dropped a little, noticing how serious I became as he sat up a bit straighter.

"Hey, m' fine, okay? I can feel you overthinking from there." he joked again.

This time I cracked a small smile, "I'm not overthinking, I'm actually doing the right amount of thinking. You could've died today...I don't-" I began, but cut myself off suddenly with a sigh.

He raised his eyebrows at me, "Ya don't what?" he asked.

My bottom lip got pulled between my teeth, debating if I should actually say what I wanted to say. "I don't know what I would've done if you died, and left me here alone with the rest of these assholes." I settled with saying.

He scoffed with a shake of his head, "Don't worry, I wouldn't do that to ya" he replied.

"Good." I said simply, before suddenly remembering something, "Oh, hang on one second." I said before leaving the room to find the piece of artwork I had been working on, walking back in a minute later with my sketchbook in hand.

"I started painting the house when you were gone." I stated, showing him the little progress I made as I tilted the page so he could see.

His eyes got wide as he slowly studied it, taking in every single detail that I worked hard at. "This is really good. Didn't know how good ya were." he said.

I felt myself get flustered at the compliment, "Thank you." I said, not being able to meet his eyes.

But I then internally groaned when I remembered I promised Carl I would take him out to practice shooting today. He had come up to me shortly after Maggie and I talked and told me he wanted to learn and Rick apparently had already agreed. It flattered me that he asked in the first place, but I was more than happy to do it. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but now seeing the incident that happened, I found it hard to actually get up and leave.

Though I eventually found the strength, standing up with a sigh, "Well, I have to go. I'll let you rest for a bit before I come and bug you again." I said jokingly.

Closing the sketchbook back up, I stood as I went to walk away, only to be stopped a moment later with his hand grasping my wrist gently. My eyes trailed from his hand to back up to his eyes, seeing the hesitance as his cheeks became pink.

"Do ya have to?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

I smiled and slowly nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry I promised Carl I would take him out to practice shooting. If I would've known you were going to get shot, I could've planned my day a little bit better."

He smiled at my joke, still not letting go of my wrist. "Sorry I messed those plans up."

"Eh it's okay, I'll live." I said with a shrug.

He then looked at me seriously, "So will I." he said.

I couldn't help but just stare at him after he said that, not knowing how to respond. I know we were joking around about it seconds ago, but I was really worried, and he knew that. He saw it. This somehow was his way to promise me that he wasn't going anywhere, and he had no idea how much I appreciated that promise.

I then smiled after a few seconds, "Good." I said again, "I promise I'll be back to check on you later."

"You better." he replied, finally letting go of my arm to I could walk away.

I felt my cheeks heat up slightly, though I just smiled and nodded before quickly leaving the room and shutting the door behind me. As I walked back down the stairs to meet up with Carl, I found myself replaying his last words a few times in my head just to hear his voice again.

But I rolled my eyes at myself as I scoffed. Good Lord, what was this man doing to me?

~ Thanks for reading!

[anotherfatslxt]

Your Mid Year Review

You knew it was coming up. Everyone else in your department had already gotten theirs. You also knew your performance had seriously lacked since the turn of the year, but you had a plan. Dressed in a low cut, tight fitting white blouse and a short (but not too short) khaki skirt, you headed into the office. Sure enough your boss called you into his personal office right after lunch. You sat across from him and smiled while he struggled to maintain eye contact. Your cleavage clearly visible. As expected, the review doesn't go in your favor. Though your boss is clearly uncomfortable. Clearing his throat often. Looking anywhere other than you. Repositioning himself in his seat. You smirk.

He calls you over to his side of the desk, so that he can show you something on the screen. Nevermind the swivel stand the monitor sits on. You lean over his shoulder, awful close. Barely touching him. As he's speaking, he turns to say something to you and is met with a face full of your fat tits. Barely hidden in your blouse. "That's..it", he growls. Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can back away, he is up out of his chair, his large hand squeezing your throat. "You think you can tease me?", he asks. "You think you can make me cheat on my wife?!" He slams you against the wall before slapping your cleavage hard. You cry out. "Shut the fuck up". He spits on your face and is off you in an instance.

You struggle to catch your breath. Coughing and wheezing. Only to look up and see him sitting back at his chair, calmly. Watching you. "come here", he demands lowly. You think about running out, but you need this job..if there's a way...

You head towards your boss. He grabs your wrist as soon as you're close enough and pulls you down. He maneuvers so you lay belly first in his lap. Though, it's a regular office chair. So your squishy belly lays uncomfortably across one arm of the chair. He pulls your arms down so you can't hold yourself up and your tits flatten hard against the other arm. "Is this what you wanted from me, you fxcking idiot?". "No, I-..", his hand comes down hard on your ass.

Smackk

"Don't make any noises", he says before he smacks your ass again. Your tears fall, but you somehow manage not to make a sound. This time, he lifts up your skirt and gives a little gasp. You flush in embarrassment. You'd nearly forgotten. Intending on seducing him, you'd worn a thong and a jeweled buttplug. "You came prepared..", he coos this time. Clearly amused, he rips your panties away with one clean motion and you have to bite your lip so no sound escapes. You're hanging off the sides of his office chair, ass cheeks exposed. Your feet nor hands can even reach the floor to give you some relief as he sits taller than you are. This was not your plan.

Still playing with his new toy, your boss pulls on your plug, shaking it in your ass a bit and you hiss. He smacks your ass again. "Shut. Up". The next time he pulls on the plug, he lets the bulb come half out before jamming it back in. Repeats several time before removing it completely and sticking it in your mouth. You barely even try to resist. Then he's knocking you to the ground. Another surprise gasps escapes your mouth as you look up at him confused. He's already standing and kicks you in your cxnt for your sound. "Get the fxck up, idiot. What are you doing on my floor?". You stand, wobbly. Your pump heels had fallen off your feet at some point but you can't remember when.

Your boss grabs the back of your head and pushes you towards his desk, making sure the ass plug is back in your mouth. He bends you over, slams your head into his computer keyboard twice before lifting your skirt back up. You hadn't made a sound since he'd kicked you in your soaked pxssy. Without warning he shoves his cxck into your ass. No plug could have prepared you for the thickness of his penis. Your lip bleeds as you try desperately not to make a sound. He thrusts into you over and over until you feel a tear and liquid makes the thrusting easier. Your blood has lubed your rape.

He reaches over you, pulls the plug out of your mouth and turns on the intercom from his desk phone next to your head. "Now...you...can..make..some..noise", he grunts, fucking your hole deeper and faster. What comes out of your mouth is a sound you never made before. A cross between a moan and a grunt. Nothing sexy about it. Animalistic..and you don't stop as he fxcks you. Even though you know you're on a conference call with every big wig executive in the building. Your boss cums, lifting you up and squeezing your tits as he empties his load into your tight ass, but he doesn't pull out when he flops you back over the desk. No. Instead you feel a warm substance filling the rest of your ass. He's relieving himself with a chuckle. He plugs it back up with your toy just as the first of the other executives start to arrive. You may not be any good at excel spreadsheets, but at least they found something for you to do.

[casuallivi]

i'm not worthy of your sacrifice

For the lovely @soyzaweels for providing us with that amazing rescue art. I'm always craving some good cradling and hands thank you for being a gift to this fam 💓 (I was typing this yesterday, struck with inspo from your art, and only when i hit "post" i noticed my internet connection was gone… and so was my post 🥲 now i sit here making my second try)

and for Elriel Month 2023. Prompt 6: A Bridge Between Souls @elriel-month

🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇

She’s slowing him.

They both are; Elain and the rescued Child of the Blessed whose name she’s yet to know.

She looks down below at the nefarious enemy camp where she can still see the beasts snarling closer to edge of the hill, chills raising up her arms, the throbbing pain on her foot reminding her of how close one of them came to ripping her limbs apart. The powerful beating of his wings takes them away from the horrible camp fast –her sister doing her best to stable her own appendages– but the piece of land where Prythian's army has stake base is yet to surface in the horizon. 

Elain knows he’s barely holding it together. She can hear it in the heaving of his chest, in the quiet grunt escaping from his lips as he adjusts their weight in his arms, can feel the weak burst of power he tries to direct at his wings, can see it in his wounds bleeding into her filthy nightgown. Deep gashes cut his back and wings; the membrane so lacerated she wondered how he was able to fly such distance. How painful it must be.

Out of nowhere, they fall a couple feet, hair ricocheting in front of her eyes. The girl lets out blood-curling screaming. Without even looking at her, Elain tightens her hold on the girl the best she can, watching the sickly paling of his face, cold sweat sliding down his brow. She looks down again. Her throat bobs at the height, nervousness making her tense. It's a nasty fall till she hits the ground, but Elain figures she'll survive. She's immortal now, isn't she? A fall won't kill her. But if she doesn't lower the weight in his arms, he might not make it back to camp.

In the end, it's not really that hard of a decision to make.

Her finger unclasp from the girl's dress, Elain ready to unloop her arms from around his neck.

"Don't." The low command ripples through her body, stopping her.

Bloodshot eyes dart to hers for the thousandth of a second, heavy with lethal determination. Don't you dare let go, they say.

Cobalt light engulfs the three of them, Azriel working harder to keep them airborne.

Azriel's power give out on the outskirts of their camp, still, he manages to land on his feet, arms steeling around her as he staggered a little. Feyre has it worse, tumbling several times on the hard ground, removing large patches of lawn with her.

“I’m okay!” She gives them a thumbs up, spitting grass.

Elain would laugh was she not so worried about Azriel wincing as he tried, and fail, to tuck his shredded wings behind him, the bone bent awkwardly on the left one, dark red blood mingled with the lighter tone of the membranes.

Azriel bent his knees and relaxed the arm securing the Child of the Blessed, allowing the trembling girl to slip to the ground, who quickly stepped away from them, the scent of her fear thick in the air. Elain prepared to follow her.

Her feet never touched the ground, because Azriel straightened again, his free arm coming under the curve of her knees, holding her up to his chest, limping forward. Elain flexes her chained wrists, grazing his wings in her attempt to hold on to his stiff shoulders.

"I can walk."

Azriel can barely detect her voice. Elain might as well be one of his shadows with that soothing tone, trying to placate him as they have been doing since the moment he noticed she was gone.

"I know."

Their whispers are not enough. Not today.

Azriel has no memory of deciding to go in the heart of Hybern camp because it wasn't a choice. The realization is somehow disturbing for a male who's accustomed to be rational about every aspect of his life. He needs to hold her, to feel her, to make sure she’s actually there, safe and unharmed in his arms. Even now, as he holds her, there is an unsettling quietude inside of him, odd anguish clouding his judgment.

As if she can feel his anxiety, Elain buries her face on his chest, repeating the words of her sister. “I’m okay.”

Elain doesn't know how to calm Azriel. She can only hope that her presence does to him, what his does to her.

Her chains glow in a violet shade where they rest against his leathers. Shadows swirl, sliding angrily between the cuffs and her skin, trying to slip them away.

The next thing she knows, Nesta is yelling, tackling Feyre down amidst her tears, and Rhysand is separating them, gently setting her back on her feet.

“We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet

Her world stops spinning.

Elain stares and stares at him.

The man that promised to marry her, to spend his life beside her, to love her no matter what, has abandoned her at the first minor inconvenience, yet, this strange fae man, who rapidly turned into an essential part of her life, came for her. Risked his life for a chance to try to save her. Even now he worries for her, who is in perfect condition, more than he worries for himself, who is hurt and bleeding.

A little bud of hope sprouts in the pit of despair that has become her heart.

Elain roses on her toes and kisses Azriel’s cheek.

For the first time since she emerged from the dark waters of the cauldron, Elain feels lucid.

For the first time since she emerged from the dark waters of the cauldron, Elain feels awake.

For the first time since she emerged from the dark waters of the cauldron, Elain feels like there’s a life to be lived even if she’s no longer human.

🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇🌸🦇

One of the things I like the most about the rescue scene, is that we tend to forget that Az was carrying both Briar and Elain! But once they set foot on the ground Briar is walking alongside Feyre, but Az did not let go of Elain. I see you shadowboy. I.see.you....

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 8 is live on AO3!

“I’m telling you, I saw its eyes turn red before it charged at me!” Mateo cries.

“Probie,” Paul rolls his eyes. “It’s a pig. Not some sort of hell spawn from one of your superhero movies. Its eyes can’t turn red.”

“Not a pig,” Judd grunts from behind his magazine.

Mateo gives them all a superior look. “I know what I saw.”

“What I saw was you running faster than I’ve ever seen anybody run in their whole life. I don’t think your feet were even touching the ground,” Judd says, making them all laugh.

The javelina call is definitely going down as one for the books. T.K. and Paul had rescued the students from the closet while Marjan, Judd, and Mateo had put out a small fire the javelinas had started in the dorm kitchen. How they managed it with nothing but hooves and tusks is a mystery, but it was licking at the ceiling by the time they got to it. Apparently somewhere along the way Mateo had had a run in with one of the animals and every time he tells the story it gets dramatically more intense.

“At least it wasn’t a gator,” Marjan says, setting her book on her lap. 

“You think a gator is worse than a demon pig?” T.K. asks, feigning disinterest by playing Candy Crush on his phone, but secretly eager to rile his teammates up as much as possible.

“Not a pig!” Judd says again, his tone full of long suffering.

“Um yeah,” Marjan says. “Gators can weigh up to a thousand pounds, they’re incredibly fast, and they have between seventy-five and eight teeth. And if a gator gets you, it’s not letting go. Pigs are just…pigs.”

“With tusks as long as my arm!” Mateo protests.

“Okay do not make me say this again!” Judd says. “Javelinas ain’t pigs! They’re an entirely separate family of animals!”

“Why are you guys yelling about pigs?” Tim asks as he and Nancy walk into the room.

“Yo, you’re not going to believe this call we went on!” Mateo says, taking a deep breath to start telling his harrowing tale for the tenth time.

“Give it a rest Mateo,” Paul tells him, and he deflates, sending her a glare.

“Where’d you all get to?” Judd asks as Tim and Nancy sit down on the sofa.

“Mugging gone wrong downtown,” Nancy says. “Victim probably would have died if not for an off duty cop who took the mugger down. Guy had a knife though, it was messy.”

T.K. is only half listening as he works his way through a particularly difficult level of candy themed fun. But the mention of a cop perks his ears up a little bit.

“You guys were gone awhile,” Paul says, checking his watch.

“The cop was bleeding pretty badly. It took us a long time to get it stopped,” Tim says.

“Anybody we know?” Marjan asks.

Nancy shakes her head. “Some guy named Reyes? I’ve never met him before.”

The world tilts. Air rushes out of his lungs. “What did you say?” T.K. asks, every eye in the room turning to him at his sudden question.

“Cop named Reyes got stabbed during a mugging,” Tim says, then he turns to look at Mateo. “I’d actually like to hear the pig story.”

Judd slaps his paper down onto his lap. “Javelinas!!”

The room devolves into good natured squabbling, but T.K. isn’t listening anymore.

Reyes could be anybody.

But somehow he knows it’s not.

He gets up abruptly and takes himself through the first door that offers privacy, which happens to be the shower room. He sinks down onto the bench that runs through the middle of the space and uses shaky fingers to find Carlos’ most recent text.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[9:26pm] I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to.

T.K.

[9:27pm] My hero.

T.K.

[10:52pm] This is going to sound crazy, but are you okay? 

He waits and waits, the minutes agonizingly long. There’s no response. Not even a read receipt. But it’s late. Maybe Carlos is sleeping. Or with his family. There are a thousand reasons he might not be responding to T.K.’s text.

And yet he can’t shake the feeling of dread that poured over him the second Nancy said Carlos’ last name. 

The locker room door opens and Paul wanders in. “There you are,” he says. “Can you believe Mateo is still going on about those javelina things? It’s like he’s never seen a wild animal before. He’s lived in Texas his whole life but I’m more of a country boy than he is.”

“Mm,” T.K. says, still staring at his phone, willing Carlos to text back. 

“You okay?” Paul asks as he reaches for his shaving kit. “You look worried.”

T.K. sets his phone down and tries to get his heart to stop beating so fast. “The officer that Tim and Nancy just worked on? Reyes is Carlos’ last name.”

“Carlos like, six-pack abs, police officer that you’re obsessed with, Carlos?” Paul asks.

“Yeah. We were supposed to go out yesterday, but he had a work thing come up. And now he’s not responding to my text.”

“Well it is late,” Paul says. 

“Yeah.” T.K. stares morosely at his darkened screen. 

“You haven’t even been on a date yet, right?” Paul asks.

“Not for lack of trying,” T.K. says with a sigh. 

“You’re pretty worried about someone you’ve met in real life for all of ten minutes,” Paul says. “I’m not judging,” he adds quickly when T.K. scowls. “Just trying to figure out where your head’s at.”

T.K. shrugs. “I…really like him. He’s nice. He never makes me feel like I’m bothering him.” He looks up. “You know he sent me and my dad coffee after my dad’s accident? Who does that? Sends coffee to a guy he only knows through a phone screen?”

“A guy whose mama raised him right,” Paul says. “And who clearly likes you a lot.”

“But how is that possible?” T.K. asks, feeling slightly desperate. “It’s just texting. And like, two phone calls. It’s weird that I feel like I know him from that, right?”

“It’s not weird. It’s romantic,” Paul says. “You know, people used to send love letters back and forth all the time. Entire relationships were written out on pieces of paper. They didn’t hear each other’s voices or see pictures, they just wrote down everything they felt and hoped it made it through the mail. This is the twenty-first century version of that.”

T.K. hadn’t thought about it that way. “Well, that makes it seem nicer,” he says, his voice slightly grumbly over the fact that Paul is making sense instead of joining him in the anxiety spiral.

He checks his phone again. Still nothing.

“If you’re that worried, ask Tim or Nancy if they got the guys’ first name,” Paul says. “I really think you’re stressing for nothing though. This is Texas. There have to be at least a few other guys in the APD with that last name.”

“Yeah, maybe,” T.K. says.

But he only knows one who would go after a mugger while off duty.

The rest of the team wanders in to get ready for bed, but T.K. heads back out to toward the rigs. Tim and Nancy are restocking their inventory. “I just think if they’re going to call it America’s Got Talent they should have some talented people on,” Tim is saying.

“You wouldn’t know talent if it bit you on the ass,” Nancy scoffs. “Did you see that choir from South Africa? They were amazing.”

“Isn’t it all fake though? Aren’t they lip syncing?” 

Nancy makes an outraged noise and T.K. decides to cut in before things get even more heated. “Hey guys,” he says.

“Oh, hey T.K.,” Tim replies. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt I—“ He hesitates, uncharacteristically nervous. He realizes how stupid this is going to sound. And Tim and Nancy are part of the firehouse, but he doesn’t know them super well. Paramedic schedules are different than fire and it means their team feels a little separated from the rest of the group. 

“Everything okay?” Nancy asks. It’s clear from her face she thinks he might be sick or hurt in some way.

He’s already here, he might as well go for it. “The cop you worked on during your last call. You said his name was Reyes?”

Tim nods. “Yeah that’s what he said.”

“Did you happen to get his first name?”

“Um, yeah, I think we put it in our notes.” Nancy reaches for a clipboard and runs her finger down the page. 

T.K.’s heart is so loud he can hear it in his ears, feel it throbbing in every part of his body. This is so dumb. The chances are so small, and even if it is Carlos they barely know each other. There’s no reason for him to be panicking like thi—

“Carlos,” Nancy says. 

His heart plummets into his shoes and he swallows hard. It’s his Carlos. Of course it is. 

“T.K.?” Tim’s voice sounds a little distant and a lot concerned. He takes a step toward him. “Are you all right?”

“I—“ He doesn’t know what he is. ‘All right’ is definitely not it though. 

“Dude you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Nancy says. “Do you want to sit down?”

He sucks in a breath, clenching his fists until his nails bite into his palms, using the pain to ground himself. “Was he—how bad was it?”

“I mean, there was a lot of blood,” Nancy says, looking at him curiously, like she’s trying to figure out what exactly is happening here. “The mugger got him pretty good. But he was stable when we dropped him off.”

Stable. Stable is good. But stable doesn’t always stay that way. Especially not when you’ve been stabbed. “Okay, thanks,” he says. His voice sounds wooden even in his own ears. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asks.

“I’ll be fine,” T.K. tells them, then he turns and walks away without another word. He pulls out his phone. There’s still no reply so he texts again.

T.K.

[11:07pm] Please let me know that you’re okay when you can.

There have to be other Carlos Reyeses around. T.K. repeats this to himself over and over as he brushes his teeth, then continues the mantra as he lays on his bunk in the dark. It doesn’t help. He doesn’t sleep. They don’t even get a call to help him take his mind off of it. It’s the quietest night they’ve had in months, something he’d usually be grateful for, but tonight his brain won’t quit. The hours tick by without a response and the longer it goes on the more certain T.K. becomes that Carlos is in trouble. 

By the time their shift ends in the morning he feels a little manic. Reckless. More like New York T.K. than Austin T.K.. There’s an itching under his skin, a buzz, the desperate need to do something. 

“Yo, you wanna grab breakfast?” Mateo asks, slinging his backpack over his should as they head for the parking lot. “This new place has bomb chorizo breakfast burritos. Life changing bro.”

“I can’t,” T.K. says quickly. He’s not sure why he says it. His schedule is clear. The only thing waiting for him at home is his dad who has probably repainted the master bedroom and built a new doghouse for Buttercup by now. His therapist would likely tell him it’s better to be around people when he feels like this than to go stew by himself. He should say yes. But he can’t.

“Cool, catch you next time!” Mateo gives him a little wave while T.K. throws his bag into the back of his dad’s car.

He’s driving before he’s fully formulated a plan and that’s probably why he ends up in Carlos’ neighborhood. He’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, the first time they’d tried to go on a date, in relation to a couple good coffee shops. 

T.K. is aware in the back of his mind that this is stalker behavior. But he’s not planning to do anything. He’s just driving. He doesn’t know Carlos’ house number anyway.

At least, not until he passes a condo with a blue Camaro in the driveway. That has to be his, right? How many people with flawlessly washed and polished blue Camaros can there possibly be on this street?

He puts his car in park, chewing on the inside of his lip as he considers his options. This is a bad idea, but T.K. has never met a bad idea he didn’t at least seriously consider. And he can already tell that today he’s going to let his impulsivity win.

It’s better than drugs, right?

He’s always been an expert at ignoring the voice of reason, so it’s easy to tune it out as he walks across the street and rings the doorbell of a random house on a random street to possibly see a random man he’s barely even met. 

The person who answers the door is not Carlos. “Hi?” the woman says, her dark eyes looking him up and down curiously. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Carlos Reyes?” T.K. says. “Is this—does he live here?”

“Yeah, he does,” she says, those eyes narrowing, clearly trying to figure out what’s going on. “Who are you?”

“I’m T.K.,” he says.

Her eyes go wide and she immediately slams the door shut in his face. He blinks in surprise as she starts speaking in loud, obviously dramatic Spanish on the other side. He’s just about to slowly back away and pretend like this never happened, when the door is wrenched open again and a different woman with the same dark eyes stares out at him. 

“You’re T.K.?” she asks.

“Yes?” What the hell is going on? Carlos never mentioned living with roommates or…T.K.’s stomach lurches. Oh god. What if one of these women is his girlfriend?

What if they’re both his girlfriends?

“Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Luisa. Carlos’ sister.”

His knees nearly give out in relief. Of course Carlos doesn’t have secret girlfriends. He’s gay. “Oh, hi,” T.K. says, trying to recover from his momentary panic and the absolutely insane line of thinking it caused.

“Luisa! Invite him and close that door! You’re letting all the air conditioning out!” a third voice calls from inside.

She gives him a wry look. “Come in.”

He steps through the doorway and his eyes fall on a small, dark living room with a kitchen extending behind it. The first woman (that she’s also Carlos’ sister is so obvious now) is standing next to the couch, and the woman who belongs to the third voice is in the kitchen, a large pile of vegetables on the island counter in front of her.

“T.K. this is my sister Ana,” Luisa says. “She’s going to apologize for slamming the door in your face.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” Ana says, offering no explanation as to why it happened and studying him in a way that makes him feel like he’s being inspected by a military officer.

“And that’s our mom, Andrea,” Luisa nods toward the kitchen.

“Hola!” she calls back, waving a very large chef’s knife at him before returning to chopping. “You’re Carlos’ friend?”

“Um, yes,” T.K. says, unsure of how much Carlos’ family knows about his dating life and unwilling to reveal anything further to them.

Ana’s eyes gleam and she says something in Spanish that has Luisa sending her a cutting glare and sharp response, also in Spanish. Andrea’s eyebrows rise but she keeps chopping away.

When Luisa looks back at him her eyes soften again. “It was really nice of you to come by. I’m so sorry, but Carlos is sleeping right now and after last night he needs his rest.”

“You can stay though,” Ana says. “We’d love to get to know one of Carlos’ friends.”

“Yes, T.K. would you like something to drink?” Andrea is already setting down the knife and turning for the refrigerator. “There’s iced tea, I can make you coffee, or it looks like Carlitos has some sparkling waters in here.”

There’s such an air of family in the room that it’s a little overwhelming. He feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. “No, thank you,” he says. “Is Carlos okay? I’ve been trying to get ahold of him since last night and he hasn’t been responding.”

The mood in the room changes immediately. “You don’t know?” Ana asks. “I thought that’s why you came over here?”

Now he feels completely lost and more confused than every. “I—“

“No, he doesn’t know.”

A voice, scratchy with sleep floats down the stairs and seconds later Carlos appears. He’s moving slowly, one hand gripping the banister for support. His brow is furrowed in pain and he looks a couple shades paler than T.K. remembers. There’s a dark, purpling bruise along his jaw, shadows under his eyes, and his hair is mussed like he’s been sleeping.

Color spirals out into the room as T.K.’s eyes drink him in, his heart lifting in relief even though it’s clear that Carlos isn’t one hundred percent well.

“Hi,” T.K. says.

Carlos’ eyes, the ones he shares with his mother and sisters, lock onto T.K.’s and the pained furrow in his brow smooths out. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Ay, Carlitos!” Andrea moves toward him, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs and gently taking his arm. “You go back up to bed this minute!”

“I’ve been in bed all morning,” Carlos tells her. “I’m fine.”

“You almost bled out last night. Get back upstairs,” Ana says in agreement with her mother.

He rolls his eyes. “I did not almost bleed out.”

Andrea clucks her tongue. “Thirty-seven stitches is close enough,” she says. “Bed.”

“A couch and a bed are basically the same thing,” Carlos argues.

“Ha!” Ana scoffs. “This leather monstrosity is barely even a couch. It’s so uncomfortable it’s a wonder you don’t have back problems from sitting on it.”

They continue to argue and T.K. once again feels like he should slip out the door. He doesn’t belong here. This is family business.

He clears his throat. “I should probably go—“

“No!” Carlos lurches toward him and then lets out an involuntary swear of pain that has all three women lunging in his direction. 

He ends up ushered onto the couch where Andrea begins shoving pillows everywhere she can fit them, cushioning his head, his back, and his legs. Meanwhile Luisa sprints into the kitchen for a glass of water and a prescription bottle, and Ana grabs her phone claiming she’s going to call Carlos’ doctor immediately.

“Oh my god, get off of me!” Carlos grouses, using a tone that only a boy who is being pestered by his female family members can summon. T.K. has used it on his mom a time or two, so he’s familiar. “I just moved too fast!”

“Did you tear your stitches?” Andrea asks, reaching for the zipper on his hoodie as if she’s going to check.

“No!” he says, pushing her hand away. “Honestly the three of you are acting like I’m a child!”

“You called us in the middle of the night from the hospital,” Ana tells him. “This is what you get.”

“Okay,” Luisa says, obviously the peace keeper of the group. “I think we should give Carlos a little space. Maybe he and T.K. would like to visit for a bit? Why don’t we go upstairs and change Carlos’ sheets?”

“It takes three of us to change the sheets?” Ana asks.

“Ana callate.” Luisa grips her arm and pulls her toward the stairs.

“Ow!” Ana says sharply

“I’m barely touching you!”

“Your fingers are like bird talons!”

Andrea heads back into the kitchen and fills a second glass with water, setting it down by T.K. with a smile and then pressing a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Call if you need anything,” she tells him.

“Thanks Mom,” Carlos says as she heads for the stairs.

He sighs and then his eyes meet T.K.’s and the annoyance melts off of him. “Hi,” he says again, a little sheepish this time.

“Hi,” T.K. echoes.

“Ana thinks you’re too hot for me,” Carlos tells him, a wry smile twisting on his face. 

“Is that what she said when she slammed the door in my face?”

“Yes. You’re too hot for me and I’m stupid for not doing something about it faster.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry about them.”

“No, I’m sorry,” T.K. replies. “I didn’t meant to interrupt anything I just…our paramedics came back from a run last night and said they’d had a patient named Carlos Reyes. I texted you, but you didn’t answer.”

Carlos sighs. “Yeah my phone got smashed during the altercation,” he says. “And honestly, I wasn’t in great shape to text anyway.” He looks at T.K. curiously. “How did you find my condo?”

Embarrassment colors his cheeks. “You’d mentioned the neighborhood at one point so I…drove around until I saw your car in the driveway.”

Carlos’ face breaks out into an incredulous smile. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Creeper status,” he says. “I was worried. What happened?”

Carlos fills him in, delivering the story in a way that indicates he’s spent many years writing detailed incident reports. T.K. winces a couple times, his own mind triaging the injuries Carlos lists and mentally field treating them with his dual EMT certification. 

“They stitched me up at the hospital,” Carlos finishes. “I called my mom and she called my sisters. I didn’t expect all three of them to descend on me like this, but here they are. I think my dad would be here too except he’s taking it upon himself to breathe down APD’s neck and get this guy interrogated and brought up on charges.”

“Fun,” T.K. says. “I didn’t know your dad was APD.”

“Texas Ranger actually,” Carlos says. “I went into the family business. Sort of.” He shifts a little and then freezes, pain all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” T.K. asks, immediately sitting forward in his chair, his work mode activated.

Carlos lets out a shaky breath. “I told my mom I didn’t tear my stitches but…it kind of feels like I might have,” he says.

“I’m a dual certified EMT,” T.K. says, concern blasting through his veins. “I can take a look if you want.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to…” Carlos looks awkward now in addition to the pain still creasing the lines of his face.

He did not come all the way over here just to watch this man bleed out on his own couch. “I don’t mind,” T.K. says. “It could save you a trip to the ER.” He glances toward the stairs. “And the wrath of your mom and sisters.”

Carlos considers this for a second and then nods, clumsily unzipping the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling it to the side to reveal a large white bandage covering the left side of his ribcage. “It’s just the ones on my chest. The ones in my arm feel okay.”

“I’m going to be honest,” T.K. says as he sits down on the end of the couch so he can get a better look, “this is not how I thought seeing your abs in person for the first time was going to go.”

Carlos lets out a sharp laugh and then groans. “Oh god, don’t make me laugh,” he says, still smiling despite the pain in his eyes. “Also, fair warning, even though they’re upstairs, my mom and sisters are definitely listening to every word we say. So speak carefully.”

T.K. grins. “So I shouldn’t anything about how I think you’re incredibly sexy?”

Carlos blushes. “Probably not.”

T.K. winks. “Got it. I’ll keep that to myself then.”

He sits forward, using gentle fingers to examine Carlos’ bandage. “I don’t see any sign of significant bleeding. Do you want me to take it off and double check?”

Carlos hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

T.K. shakes his head. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“In the powder room, under the sink.”

T.K. retrieves it and pulls on a pair of gloves before removing the bandage. He grimaces at the neat row of black stitches that follow a jagged line of torn flesh along Carlos’ ribcage and down his abdomen. “I am going to personally strangle the person that messed with these abs,” he mutters in annoyance.

Carlos snorts. “That’s the second time you’ve threatened to murder someone in like three weeks. I feel like I have a duty to report you.”

“Sorry officer,” T.K. says with a smile. “This looks good. Nothing seems loose and there’s some bleeding, but nothing excessive, which is normal. You probably just pulled them a little bit.”

Carlos winces. “So gross.”

“You get used to it.”

T.K. tapes on a new bandage then disposes of the old one and the gloves while Carlos zips himself back up.

“I don’t know if you’re into herbs and supplements,” T.K. says when he returns. “But my dad had me on a pretty strict regimen after I got shot and they definitely didn’t hurt.”

“That would be great,” Carlos says. 

“I can—oh. Well I was going to say I’ll text them to you, but I guess not if your phone is broken. I’ll send them by carrier pigeon?”

“Pony express might be better in Texas,” Carlos says with a grin.

“Forget it. I’ll just bring some by tomorrow. If that’s okay?” T.K. says.

“Yes,” Carlos says immediately. “Please. I’m stuck here for at least a week and then it’s desk duty until these things come out.” 

“Desk duty sucks,” T.K. commiserates.

“We need to reschedule our date too. I don’t think my mom is going to let me out of the house for a few days,” Carlos tells him. “Maybe next week sometime?”

“I’m actually out of town,” T.K. says. “Heading back to New York to see my mom.”

“Oh, nice,” Carlos says.

They compare calendars and are disappointed to discover that between T.K.’s trip and work they don’t have a free day another three weeks. “Well I guess javelinas can’t keep us apart, but the people in charge of the APD and AFD master schedules can,” T.K. says in disappointment.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, looking equally morose.

“Hey!”

A voice hisses at them from the staircase and Luisa peeks down. “Are you two almost done? I can’t hold them up here for much longer. T.K. if you don’t want a full interrogation I suggest you get out of here soon.”

T.K. chuckles and stands up. “I’ll take that as my cue.”

“Thanks for coming,” Carlos says softly, his eyes shining in a way that makes T.K.’s heart do summersaults.

“Do you have a piece of paper somewhere?” T.K. asks.

Carlos directs him to a drawer in the kitchen where he grabs a pad of sticky notes and a pen, writing for a minute before handing the top sticky note over to Carlos. “That’s my number for when you get a new phone. Try not to text somebody else this time, okay?”

“Haha,” Carlos says drily. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow with the supplements,” T.K. promises. “Don’t let them drive you too crazy before then.”

“No promises,” Carlos sighs. “I love them. But they are so much.”

Voices float down the staircase and his eyes widen. “Run. Save yourself.”

T.K. chuckles and turns to head out, but just before he reaches the door he turns around and goes back. Leaning down he gives Carlos a peck on the lips. “I think we should skip coffee and go straight to dinner.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, looking a little dazed. “Yeah dinner is great.”

T.K. grins. “Good.”

This time he actually does go and as he shuts the door he can hear Ana’s voice trailing out behind him. “Did T.K. leave? I wanted to talk to him!”

He smiles. Carlos is in good hands.

[icanbeyourgenie]

[sirens attacking Aeron's ship]

It all happened so fast.

Morgana had finally agreed to let Aeron take a trip on his ship, and the fae couldn't be happier. He even had a pirate suit adjusted just for Calypso, who came with him, and was at first dizzy because of the movements of the ship. But Yasmeen held her hand until she got a grip of it, and now she seemed fine. She was even chatting with her husband, who was in better mood now that he was holding the helm of his ship that he had been in months. Yasmeen knew he loved piracy since... well, since he was a boy always asking her for pirate stories. Malachai came along, and spent more time watching Calypso and Aeron than actually talking. Yasmeen was content just admiring the move of the waves as the ship glided along it, when it all exploded.

The brutal contact with the cold water made her react. She was deep in it, now. Something was holding her leg. She grabbed one of her knives. The water slowed down her movement and blurried her vision, but somehow she was able to make enough damage to her oponent of them to let go of her. It was only when she finally reached the surface that she took a grasp of what happened.

They had been in a narrow path of a shoreline between two rocky cliff. Aeron had not been worried for a second. He had navigated worst paths a million times. But this time, something threw the ship against the cliff, effectively breaking it. Two somethings, actually.

The threat in the water was a bit difficult for Yasmeen to see, but judging by the speed at which the water moved, she would bet on sirens. The threat in the air, however, she never saw it before. Big birds, she thought, before she realized they were only half birds, and half human.

Her blood ran cold, but she snapped out of it. She only had a few seconds to react. She couldn't see where Malachai was, which meant he probably was fighting under the water. Aeron was in the sky, his wings spread. He seldom used them so Yasmeen almost forgot how they looked like. Aeron aimed for the weird bird that currently had Calypso between its claws. It dropped the girl into the water to fight Aeron, and Yasmeen swam towards her protegee.

Her knives slowed her down, but she arrived just in time to fatally wound two sirens that attacked an already injured Calypso. Yasmeen's moves were more difficult in the water. Thankfully, Calypso had turned into a mermaid already. And when Yasmeen became too exhausted to stay afloat after her fourth kill, the princess took her by the waist and quickly made them join the rocky shore.

❝Are you okay?❞ They spoke at the same time, but something moved in the corner of Yasmeen's eye and she was already on her feet, throwing a knife on the head of the bird that was aiming towards them. A few others followed and got closer, using their claws as effective weapons. Yasmeen managed to fatally hurt them before they got to Calypso and, thankfully, Aeron took over and drawed them to him, giving Yasmeen the time to kneel to assess Calypso's wounds. She had a few scratches on her waist, but it was mostly her tail that was bleeding. It probably explained why she hadn't turn back yet.

❝You're hurt.❞

❝So are you.❞ Calypso sounded worried, but Yasmeen had no time to assess her own wounds.

❝It's my job to protect you princess, not the other way around. Now let me see.❞

Yasmeen was aware that they weren't safe. It wasn't an island shore, but the feet of a cliff, filled with pointy rocks that gave them something to sit on and made it harder for the sirens to get to them, but not impossible. Yasmeen trusted Malachai to deal with them, and she knew Aeron could fend against the sky threats. So she focused on Calypso.

Fortunately, the wound wasn't too big. Soon enough, the threats were all dead, and the boys came back to them. Yasmeen let out a breath there. Calypso had grabbed her hand at some point.

❝Are you guys okay?❞ The princess asked, visibly worried.

❝Yes. Are you? Did they hurt you?❞ Malachai answered and the girls shook their heads.

❝Aeron, are you okay?❞ Calypso asked, and Yasmeen thought she was too good for him.

Aeron didn't answer. He was barely standing on one of the rocks, his wings did all of the job. He looked gloomy, almost murderous. He didn't often wear this look. Not that he wasn't dangerous, but Yasmeen knew he was more of the care-free kind of dangerous. The "I'll laugh and smile one second before stabbing you" type. He wasn't the cold-angry type. But seeing this look on his face, she knew he tought of his ship. It was his only joy in the world, it seemed.

❝You'll make another ship.❞ She wanted to think that she said those words respectfully, but she clearly sounded pissed. How dare he care more the well-being of his ship than the fact that they almost lost their lives?

It made him look at her with that same kind of anger, and Calypso immediately changed the subject.

❝What were those things?!❞

❝Sirens.❞ Malachai answered and Calypso rolled her eyes impatiently.

❝I know that already, brother. I meant the weird birds.❞

❝Sirens too.❞ Calypso frowned and he explained. ❝They're very rare, but the siren transformation processus is not unique. When the humans are turned into sirens, their bodies are given two choices.❞

❝So, like... bird or fish?❞ Malachai nodded. ❝You're saying that our brother could've been a bird?!❞

Yasmeen almost laughed but held it back. She could see that Malachai struggled to stay serious too. ❝Pretty much. We do not usually concern ourselves with the bird ones, since they don't live in the sea.❞

❝It was an attack.❞ Malachai answered.

❝We used to. When we lived in the sky. My uncle told me about them.❞ It was Aeron's first words. He looked a little bit more like himself already, but still a bit too serious compared to the usual. ❝My mother said they disappeared, but I already encoutered a few during my travels. Not this many in one pack, though.❞

A look of understanding passed between the two princes. A look that testified that, despite their differences, they were both trained soldiers who represented their respective people, and they knew what they had to do next. They nodded to each other.

❝Calypso, can you swim?❞ Malachai asked.

❝I think I can.❞

❝She can't.❞ Yasmeen chipped in. ❝She needs medical care first.❞ Calypso wanted to argue, but everyone could see that her tail was pretty hurt.

❝Then you'll hold on to me as we go back to court.❞

She nodded, as Aeron turned around to hold out his hand to Yasmeen. The two princes had decided of a way to bring the girls back to the fae court, but Yasmeen couldn't take this hand. She looked at the cliff above her.

❝I can climb.❞ She decided, and she knew she could. ❝I'll just walk.❞

❝Don't be ridiculous.❞ Aeron said. ❝It'll take you days. And you know I can't let you do that.❞

He couldn't. The risk of escape was too high. But she held her ground. ❝I'm not flying with you.❞

Yasmeen knew she was making it difficult, but she would always remember the time she flew with him to that wretched island she'll never forget. Malachai and Calypso were probably completely lost, but Yasmeen could feel Calypso squeezing her hand a little stronger, as a sign of support.

Aeron rolled his eyes. ❝You don't have the choice, wraith.❞

❝Yes she does.❞ Calypso answered, using her authoritarian princess voice. ❝If she wants to walk, then we'll walk.❞

Yasmeen almost smiled, her heart a little lighter to see that, even if Calypso didn't understand the problem, she had seen enough of Yasmeen's discomfort to take her side. People usually didn't do that.

❝Or she could swim with me.❞ All eyes turned to Malachai, who looked at Aeron. ❝You take my sister back, I'll take Yasmeen.❞

They looked at each other again, and Yasmeen could see the beginning of a trust blooming. Or at least the mutual knowledge that they were both constantly trying to avoid their immature parents to start a war. They could at least count on that. They agreed, and the girls did too. Aeron was about to take Calypso in his arms.

❝Wait.❞ The princess turned, and without a word, kissed Yasmeen on the lips. ❝That way, you'll be able to breathe underwater for at least an hour. It should be enough time for both of you to get back.❞

❝Hum... Thank you?❞ Calypso laughed at this reaction. Malachai did not.

❝Okay, time to go Sunshine.❞

He took her in, actually paying attention to her wounds, and they went into the sky together. It's when they were finally alone that Yasmeen noticed Malachai's stretched silence.

❝Are you... okay with that decision?❞

❝Of course I am.❞ He lightened up, or at least forced himself too. Yasmeen didn't understand, but blamed it on the recent fight. ❝But, just out of curiosity, why didn't you want to fly with Aeron?❞

Yasmeen wanted to be honest, but she wasn't ready for that conversation yet. ❝I don't particulary trust him. Does that surprise you?❞

❝If it was just that, you wouldn't have let Calypso go with him.❞

❝He can't hurt her without risking a war.❞ He knew it was only half the truth, but he didn't push. ❝Besides... I lost almost all of my knives.❞ She looked almost sad now. ❝I'd rather be with someone I trust completely if I don't have them with me.❞

He swam away without saying a word and, as puzzled as Yasmeen was, she couldn't help herself but realizing that it was the first time she saw his tail. Red, just like his eyes. She didn't have any time to dwell on her feelings that he already came back, holding said knives in his hand. Her eyes widened.

❝You mean those?❞

She jumped out of her rocks and came closer to him - thankfully, she still had a foothold, since they were near the shore. ❝How did you-❞

❝They all landed on the water when you threw them. I just caught them.❞

❝While fighting a hord of sirens?❞

❝I know how you love those knives.❞ Yasmeen didn't even try to hide her smile. ❝Besides, some of them helped. One of them landed right next to me at the exact moment I needed a weapon. I almost tought you threw it on purpose.❞

She put back each one of her knife in their sheath, trying but failing to find a way to thank Malachai for it, so she just stayed silent. Until the moment he touched one of the cut on her cheek, and she winced. ❝I was truly worried for you.❞ He admitted.

❝Were you?❞ She smiled. ❝Well I, on the other hand, trusted you completely, so I'm a little offended. Have I not proven myself to you?❞ She joked, and was satisfied to make him laugh a little.

❝You always have a comeback, don't you?❞

❝I'm afraid so.❞ In the silence that followed, she noticed how close they were but didn't step back. What was it about Malachai that made him feel safe to be close to? She didn't know. He was a prince, and he had shown signs of interests, she should have avoided him like the plague. But she didn't want to. ❝I like your tail.❞ She said instead, and when he looked embarassed, she immediately regretted it. ❝Sorry, is this a weird thing to say? I'm not familiar with-❞

❝It's not weird. Not at all. Just..❞

She knew he wanted to thank her, just like she did earlier. It appeared they had a lost of issues in showing their feelings, so she changed the subject.

❝It was uncomfortable, I'll admit. Fighting in the water. I couldn't move properly, and my vision was blurry.❞

❝I saw you. You did great, but yes we should totally work on that.❞

❝I can't breathe under water.❞

❝As my sister said, we can easily fix that.❞

❝I'm not sure the princess agreed to kiss me before every training session.❞

❝Well then we'll just have to find someone who's willing to do it.❞

Was this flirting? Yasmeen didn't want to answer this question. Lately, they toyed the line a lot, but always came back into safe territory just after. Maybe it was for the best.

❝Something is bugging me, though.❞ She loved the way he immediately listened. ❝I don't really know what happened. One minute we were on the ship. The next I was in the water. But there's a gap...❞

❝The sirens sang. It's hypnotizing for humans. Even I was a little disoriented by the birds' songs. I never heard it before. But... our ears are more fit to it. It's why we had time to react with Aeron. They stopped singing when we fought back.❞

She hated being reminded how humans were so vulnerable. ❝Is there a way to get used to it? For a human, I mean.❞

❝I admit I don't know...❞

❝I'll ask Nate when we get back. I'd like to try.❞ Malachai nodded. Their smiles dropped when they realized they truly had to go now.

❝Just hold on to my shoulders and I'll do the rest. Tell me if I go too fast, I know humans don't always like that. And if you can't breathe anymore at some point, you know what to do.❞

[obae-me]

stoppp 😭 i was stalking your page and came across the posts revolving around fainting and i have the most embarrassing story ever.

okay so i was like 15 i think? and it was my first day going to my FIRST job ever. it started at like 8 am on a sunday morning. it was weekend so obviously i had to stay up late, and when i wake up very tired in the morning i don’t have an appetite. so i just ate a bunch of tangerines on my way there to atleast eat something, but the structure didn’t feel nice on my tongue so i spit all of them out…

anyway fast forward, everything was going fine and i was trained how to use the devices etc. (i had to prepare packages for people and walk around with a cart to fetch stuff from client’s orders.) still when i was getting trained, i had to bend down and grab something from the bottom shelf, mind you i was on my period too. so of course i stood up too quickly which made me dizzy and see black spots. me being a silly, nervous teenager, i asked if i could use the toilet because i knew something was up and i was not going to embarrass myself on the work floor.

i somehow had made it to the bathroom and i got into a stall, and then it all literally went downwards. i had to sit down but i didn’t want germs from the toilet seat to get on my pants so i pulled them down (BARE WITH ME) and i sat there for a while, still not fainting. and then i started to panic because this had never happened before and i didn’t know what to do. so i decided i should tell a trusted adult… i stood up and somehow managed to pull my pants back up (😭) and then i fainted in the stall.

i woke up very disoriented on the ground, with a throbbing headache and i didn’t know how much time went by which made me panic, because i was scared the person who was training me thought i was blowing up the toilet. (YES THAT WAS MY BIGGEST WORRY) so then i stood up and i noticed a crack in the toilet, which i just straight up ignored. then i walked to two girls conversing with each other and i just said “i fainted 🧍‍♀️” then they told me my eyebrow was bleeding, and i connected the dots, i had hit my head on the toilet. one of the supervisors came and send me home.

but then my headache just wouldn’t go away so my mom send me to the doctor’s and turned out i had a concussion. obviously i didn’t show up to work the next few days and the first time i came back again they had me get trained again because i forgot everything, AND THEN THEY JUST FIRED ME AFTER???? because i didn’t show up… on the same day too 😭. honestly one of the craziest stories of my life.

Goooood that sounds awful! I hate human bodies sometimes! And honestly, the anxiety over what other people would think of me too is such a mood. When I passed out I was more embarrassed about doing it in front of others rather than needing to be taken to the hospital.

That sucks that you got fired though! That makes me so mad, dude! What is with workplaces and just being absolute trash when it comes to personal health? When I called my manager to call out of work for a few days after being in the ER (the doctor there actually told me not to be on my feet for a few days) she... almost seemed annoyed? And I had to be the one to find coverage for my own shifts and she didn't even ask if I was okay... But that's neither here nor there.

I am glad that I'm not alone in the awkward stressful medical events!

Talking about this all makes me think of something...

Maybe it's time for a Dumb Injuries part 3...

[guywithananimepfp]

Hey if your requests are open could you do a part 2 on the hawks fic you made? Hope you’re having a good day 🙏

“I don't understand it either, Babybird” (part 2)

⌜ A Keigo takami x GN!Villian!Reader story ⌟

× SFW. just pretty angsty 🕊️ ×

× Pt 1 found here 🎀 ×

"what's the matter, babybird? Just upset that I got the upper hand on you this time?" He questioned, his right hand tight on your handcuffed wrists. This was such a humiliating position. What would the villain league think if they saw you like this? What would you even tell them? That oh, you got overpowered by the walking chicken guy and now he's sitting on you like a pile of rags. You couldn't help but physically cringe at the thought of itself. If you somehow made out of this situation, you will never hear the end of it for sure. Silence filled the air before Keigo couldn't bite back a snappy response to break the insufferable silence. "You look pathetic in this situation, yeah?" He snarked. "Like.. a cornered mouse with a cat right behind it" he snorted. That snort.. it felt genuine. Not forced, not fake.. but god. Didn't you want to break his stupid nose and have him suffer. That felt fair right? If he wanted to be rough with you, be damned if you didn't handle him roughly back.

"Shut up." Was all you could manage to say. You felt embarrassed, and your ego slightly bruised as a result of the humiliation. Keigo could only grin at the hostility before it was interrupted with a low chuckle. "Well, it doesn't matter now. You're going to jail. Or if the judge thinks you need Villain rehabilitation, then you know exactly where you're going." He then let out a sigh. "Now c'mon. You'll have a long day from here on out. Better not fight it and make it more difficult than it needs to be." He swung his foot to the side, prompting his legs to lift his body back up from the concreted ground. Once he was back up on his feet he bent over and helped you get up. He pulled you up and made sure you weren't suffering from major injuries or Injuries that will need medical attention. Once satisfied knowing you were okay, he began speaking the Miranda rights. "Okay then. You have the right to remain silent, Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right t—" before he could finish his sentence, a harsh impact with the back of your head and his nose connected. Earning a loud crunch noise from the impact. A broken nose for him, and a instant headache for you. Hawks stumbled back, his grip loosening completely on you.

You took this opportunity to create a distance between you two in case he decided to charge after you. Hawks brought his hands up to his face, catching the blood that gushed out of his nose. He winced in agony, feeling his vision blur for a second before his gaze was locked right onto yours. He felt his anger fill up and overwhelm him; and before he could think of what to do, his mouth did all the talking. So he lashed out without thinking about it. "Damnit! Why can't you just comply with my orders, huh? Why do you have to make it even more difficult for me! You know how many nights I go sleepless because I was thinking about you?! About the day where we'd be in this situation where I had to turn you in. You think I want this? You think I want to see you behind bars, huh? Well you're wrong!" He snapped. At this point, ignoring his bleeding nose and how his mind hazed over any sane thoughts.

"..I don't want any of that, damnit! I just want you to be here with me!" He put his hands on his chest as if making a point. "Goddamnit! Why did you have to be a villian? Why did you have to be in this position.. where I have to fight you?" You couldn't help but notice his voice broke. It was clear he was holding back tears. He was close to crying and you could tell by a mile away.

"Damnit.." he cursed again, his voice finally breaking as tears fell down his face. He held onto his face, catching the tears that fell from his tear ducts. You can't tell if you felt bad or.. awkward. Either way, his crying broke something inside you. Whatever it broke, it forced your body to move ahead instead of thinking much about it. Your heart raced and so did your thoughts. Did.. he really mean any of that stuff he spat out? That raw emotion? The vulnerability? You parted your lips slightly.. but nothing came out. Before you could even ask if he was doing okay: he lashed out. Not so much as towards you but.. to himself. "Just.. just get out of here damnit!" He snapped as his messy hair got in his face, shielding his sulking expression from you. It only took him a minute before he took your cuffs off, making the thick metal collapse to the road with a clank. You didn't even think twice before you ran away. You probably wouldn't get a chance like this again if you didn't book it. As you ran, you couldn't help but look back over your shoulder.

There he went. He flew away. And.. he let you go. Figuring you were safe you stopped in your path. What the hell even was that anyway?.. why did he let you go like that? Why did he run? Thoughts crowded your mind before you pushed them out of your head. Your ride was here. You ran quickly and made it to the black van the Villian league robbed from some fool anyways. It was a getaway van afterall. You jumped in the back and when Twice got in he then slammed the back doors shut. Shigaraki slamming his foot in the petal before the van sped off. Away from the scene.. from everything. Just by the sound of it, the mission was a failure. Their plan had failed yet again.. maybe if you just.. used your quirk that once.. maybe you guys would've been successful with the mission. You brushed your hand in your messy hair, trying to soothe your aching headache. What are you gonna do now..?

To be continued......? Perhaps

[pynkhues]

Touch prompt 17 (after an argument) please and thank you!

Whatever Gets You Through the Night Succession gen fic. Roy sibs! TW: for mentions of domestic violence, drug abuse.

1996 / Connor's 33, Kendall's 18, and Roman and Shiv are twins and 14.

-

“Ow, fuck,” Roman bites, wincing dramatically as Connor rolls his eyes, offers up a half-assed watch it as he presses the balled-up washcloth to his youngest brother’s split lip. It’s mostly stopped bleeding now, the cut leaving the start of a bruise the size of their father’s signet ring just below the swell of his mouth, and the thing is, it wasn’t even hard, not really. An unballed fist, an open fingered backhand. Hell, if dad hadn’t been wearing the ring, there’d probably be nothing to clean up at all. The thought dries in ink, certain in a way that eases that hot, panicked, hollow feeling from ten minutes ago, even as he tilts Roman’s peach-fuzzed chin sideways to double check.

“A day, maybe two,” he decides, letting him go, but not quite moving to stand just yet. “I reckon you won’t even know it was there.”

“Shit, was hoping it’d scar,” Roman replies. He’s sitting cross-legged on the closed toilet seat, his eyes cast downwards to where he’s tugging the sleeves of his sweater down over curled fingers. Like this, he looks younger than fourteen, bug eyed and round faced with hands and feet he hasn’t grown into yet. Scrappy, like Kendall was at his age. Like Connor’s pretty sure he was too. “Start my supervillain era.”

It’s then that Shiv finally makes a noise – that loud sort of scoff she’s been managing since she was eight – and Connor exhales, standing up from his crouch to toss the blood-spotted washcloth into the sink.

“Please, you have Henchman Number 3 written all over you.”

“Yeah, well, you have unidentified murdered body written all over you. Probably headless and like, mangled and shit, with someone’s dick stitched to your face.”

Which - - okay.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shiv asks at the same time Connor says: “Hey,” giving Roman a sharp look, and Roman just rolls his eyes, slumping back against the toilet’s tank and pulling a face at Shiv, who’s gotta pull an ugly one back, if the faint grin twitching at the corner of Rome’s mouth is anything to go by. It makes it easier somehow, for Connor to glance back at Shiv himself, and at least some of the colour is coming back to her face.

She’d come into the bathroom after them, but only by seconds, closing the door behind her before deciding to glue herself to it, and in the moment of it, it had been too much. To have been on his own this morning at his place in Medina, to tonight, trapped in the crowded kids’ bathroom at their dad’s apartment on the Upper East Side, these three kids suddenly his to deal with, loud and needy and urgent.

Not that that was a straight line exactly.

No, of course, there was plenty between it, from the private jet to dinner, to - - all of that - - but he’s not really sure how productive that would be to think about right now when his fourteen-year-old sister is staring at him like maybe he has a few answers.

And maybe he does, he thinks, hands still damp from the washcloth.

Or maybe not, he thinks, because he finds himself still looking at Shiv to not look at Kendall.

Thing is, he'd only visited her a few weeks ago – flown to Kentucky to see her compete in the US Equestrian Pony Finals, where she’d ignored him the first day before attaching herself to his side the second – but he swears she’s grown since then. Another inch in height at least, plus - - you know. She and Rome might be twins, but they’ve never looked particularly alike, and now, well. Mom always did say girls grew up faster.

“You okay?” he asks her, and Shiv glances up at him, arms crossed behind her back where she leans against the wall, and he sees it. The way her eyes dart towards the bathtub, but she’s careful not to let herself linger. Rolls her shoulders back against the wall, pushes her hips out like she would when she was still a kid, and she sniffs.

“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?”

Which - - yeah, Connor thinks, finally turning his attention to where Kendall’s sprawled in the empty bathtub, skinny as a rake, all of 18 and more blitzed on your average Thursday night than Connor was at last year’s Burning Man. He’s distracted at least for now, entranced by the ceiling light, his hair still damp from where Connor had splashed some water on his face the second he’d pulled them in here, but after a quick search for track marks (there were none that he could find, at least, although the hand-grip shaped bruise on Kendall’s arm had made him catch his breath), and deciding he wasn’t at risk of slipping into unconsciousness just yet, figured he could wait a sec.

“Don’t know how I was the one he was pissed at with the tweaker here,” Roman huffs, but there’s nothing behind it really. Embarrassment if anything, Connor thinks, because they both know Dad wasn’t actually angry at Roman anyway. The evening is like a flip book in his head: Family dinner and Kendall moony eyed and loose limbed and Sally-Anne’s pointed comments and then Kendall’s slurred insult, then their father’s consuming anger, shrinking the room, climbing the walls. A hand on Kendall’s arm, yanking so hard Connor thought he might’ve pulled it from the socket, Roman standing up saying - - something, Connor can’t remember, just remembers he was too close, whatever he said too much, so their father’s hand had gone backwards, like batting away a fly. Remembers Shiv then, staring hard at her plate, white faced and stormy eyed, and if it wasn’t for Sally-Anne suddenly leaving the room, their father quick to make chase, who the hell knows where the night might’ve gone.

“You just don’t know when to stop,” Shiv tells him, and Connor ignores them, crouching at the edge of the bathtub, grabbing the glass of water he’d poured earlier off the floor and holding it out to Kendall again. His gaze slips to the finger shaped bruises on his arm, and sometimes, in his dumber moments, he kinda thinks that’s the nut cracked. That Roman’s smacked out of the way, shoved to the side, and Kenny’s yanked closer, Kenny’s held down, but that’s not - - Dad’s not - -

Connor shakes his head, reaches for Kendall’s hand, helps him grip the glass. They’re kids, just like he was, and they just need to learn to keep quiet and do as they’re told. That’s all.

“You with us?” he asks, and Kendall blinks bleary green eyes back at him, unfocused, but then - - there’s a little something. A vague flicker of recognition, of regrounding, and Connor’s knees ache.

“Con?”

“Yeah, Kenny, I’m here.”

It makes Kendall blink, mumble something Connor can’t quite make out, but there’s a smile at his lips, so Connor takes it for a win. He rests his elbow against the cool porcelain rim of the tub, easing the glass to Kendall’s mouth.

“You gonna drink some of this for me?”

“You always do stuff like this,” Shiv continues, and from the corner of Connor’s eye, he can see her finally push off the door, starting towards Roman “Like you’re away half the year and then you come back, and start inserting yourself into things that you don’t know anything about.”

“Oh, I don’t know anything about this? About fucking - - fucking Trainspotting over here?”

Which - -

Connor frowns, even as Kendall fumbles a hand to his wrist, holds onto him as Connor helps him take a drink.

“Aren’t you a little young to be watching stuff like that?”

“We’ve seen worse,” Shiv counters. “Pretty sure Roman’s been jacking it to Clockwork Orange since last summer.”

“Yeah, but only to the regular violence, not the rapey violence, so the internet says there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t like you guys messing around with that either,” Connor says, and he’d gesture to make a point, but Kendall’s really holding onto him now. Sobering up, maybe, something. Connor glances back, but y’know what? He has a point here. “The internet. You know, I’ve heard it was secretly invented by Al Gore, which means Clinton’s probably using it as a backdoor to Dad.”

“Oh my god, Connor,” Shiv groans, as Roman laughs, which chafes, and Connor half twists back towards them, annoyed because, y’know, they’re half his fuckin’ age, and he knows stuff about this, he does, but Roman and Shiv are just grinning at each other now.

“Ooo, yes, well, they’ll be getting all the super secret intel like his favourite sports ball team’s latest score as reported by literally everywhere, and pictures of like - - tits and buttholes.”

“I’m serious, you guys, it’s - - ”

Before he can finish the thought, Kendall suddenly sits up, thrusting his glass back at Connor, and okay, yeah, alright, Connor thinks, sensing the incoming mess. He drops the glass to the ground to stand and haul Kendall up as best he can. The kid’s green around the gills, is the thing, throat lurching and shoulders curling, and Connor glances sideways to Roman as he tries to move Kendall, who’s got all the grace of a reanimated corpse right now, and at least Rome’s already lurching off the toilet seat, fumbling around to help Connor pull their brother bodily out of the tub. There’s a bit of fumbling then, turning, but somehow they manage to link elbows with Kendall in the middle, their knees hitting the tiles simultaneously, just in time for Kendall to drop his head into the bath and vomit.

Behind them, he can hear Shiv gag, and Jesus, Connor’s pretty close to it himself. The splatter of bile (because apparently Kendall hasn’t eaten anything today) loud against the porcelain, and the smell something thin and acidic, diffusing in the bathroom, weaseling into towels and clothes.

“That’s good, Kenny,” Connor says, soothing in the way he used to use with his mom, which - - okay. Not something to spend too much time thinking on. He swallows, adds: “Bet you’re feeling better already, huh?”

Kendall makes a vague spluttering noise, and Roman’s face twists into something between sympathy and disgust, and Connor’s knees really aren’t what they used to be. He shifts on the tiles, feeling his pants catch in the grout line, leaving him off-balance, and he means to push a hand to Kendall’s back, half in quasi-comfort, and half to steady himself, only to discover that Roman’s hand is already there. They don’t acknowledge it, instead Connor just raises his own hand to the back of Kendall’s neck, squeezing gently at the clammy skin there, and watching as Kendall heaves out one last vomit, before he lowers his head to the rim of the bathtub.

“Here it comes,” Roman says, voice flat and hand still sprawled between Kendall’s shoulder blades. “You seen him crash before, man? It’s like watching a lizard fall off the ceiling into a trash compactor.”

“He’s done this before?”

Which is a stupid question, and they all know it. They’ve all seen him sneak off at parties, all seen him waxy skinned and red eyed in the mornings, and Connor’s more wondering when it started. He must’ve been Rome and Shiv’s age, more or less. Younger maybe, but that’s not really something he wants to think about either. Can’t quite balance that. His kid brother, always playing big.  

Still, stupid question or not, Shiv and Roman play along.

“Just a couple of times,” Shiv replies, and when he glances back at her, she’s flattened her bare foot on to the back of Kendall’s, her toes curled around his heel, and it’s a weird sort of gesture, but then Kendall’s foot seems to arch to hold it there, and he thinks he’s got no leg to stand on, not really. After all, she and Kendall are the only two of the four of them who really live together right now, what with Roman at St. Andrews and Connor in Medina. The thought sticks, and Connor thinks - - next school vacation. He’ll get them out with him. He can - - something.

“By that, she means only Wednesdays through Mondays. He gives himself Tuesdays off.”

Roman’s voice is cloying, mocking, and it apparently inspires a fresh exhale. A proper, annoyed breath.

“Fuck you, bro.”

And okay, yeah, Connor can work with that.

“Oh! He’s awake!” Connor crows at the same time Roman says: “He’s aliiive!” in as disturbing a Dr. Frankenstein voice as he can manage, and between them, Kendall swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, resting on his haunches, and their arms are still linked, so it ends up being a whole thing that - - y’know - - not to belabor the point, but Connor’s really not sure his knees are up for anymore.

“Yeah,” is all Kendall says, and it’s weird – this moment where Connor feels him start to pull his arm in, closer, before seemingly changing his mind and disentangling. Instead, Kendall drops his hands to his thighs, curling there for a second before uncurling, and he glances at Connor without actually looking at him, before suddenly turning to Roman. Like this, Connor can’t see his face, can only see the back of his head and the slope of his narrow shoulders, but he can see Roman just past him, and then Shiv too, as she moves from behind them to sit on the edge of the tub, and that’s - - not weird, it’s not. Him and Kendall looking at Roman and Shiv, Roman and Shiv looking at - -

Well.

Not them.

Kendall.

Always to Kendall first.

It’s out of the corner of his eye that Connor sees Kendall raise an arm, his hand coming up to the corner of Roman’s mouth, just enough to thumb at some of the dried blood beneath the cut, and Connor can’t see Kendall’s face, he can’t, but he can hear his hoarse, wet breath, hear the mumbled ‘m sorry, and it’s all it takes for Roman’s face to crack open and for Shiv to stare at the floor like she’d stared at her plate at dinner, her own look closed and stormy again, and Connor thinks he might not even be there. Connor wonders if this is a dream, if its astral projection, if he’s never really with them, always on the outside, looking in, and there’s something inside him that tells him stupid, that tells him they’re teenagers, and Shiv is staring at the floor like she knows not to look up and Roman’s got their father’s ring stamped on his face, and Kendall’s got their father’s fingers wrapped around his arm, and he thinks he can’t look at them.

These kids.

He’s supposed to take care of them.

He drops his gaze to the floor, a tentative hand falling to Kendall’s shoulder, and he hates that it’s a relief, when Kendall doesn’t flinch.

The moment sits, but then, like everything else, it breaks.

“Whatever,” Roman says suddenly to Kendall, loose and warmer than he has any right to be, especially when he adds: “Will you throw up again if I stick my finger in your eye?”

(Which yeah, for the record, he will).

[slushglow]

leosagi wip that i'm scrapping

// injury, blood

“Yeah.” Yuichi rasps, “Bleed out all the time.”

Leo's heart feels like it's about to drop out of his chest and straight through his feet, the words bleed out enough to send ice crawling up and down his spine.

“Fuck.” He whispers, quiet and miserable, “Don't say that. You're–” He pauses, frantically tries to get his bearings as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the hole they've found themselves in, “You're gonna be fine. Okay? Just shut up. Stop talking.” He demands.

Yuichi huffs, and Leo realizes with a creak in his ribs that it's supposed to be something like a laugh, as weak and reedy as it is.

“You first.” Yuichi murmurs, choked and dry. There's blood between his teeth. Leo’s heart pangs so violently it physically hurts, and he fiercely grips one of Yuichi’s hands between his own.

The silence is deafening.

Think. Fucking think. You're supposed to be better than this. Leo seethes to himself, uselessness like a heavy coat over his shoulders, bearing down with a weight he can't overcome. His leg twinges as he moves and all it does is make him livid.

Stupid, stupid, shitty fucking leg. You're so fucking stupid, Leo. He thinks, despair crawling up his throat. He wants to cry. Neither of them are in any shape to move, but they can't sit here and wait. There's no telling where the others are, how much longer the stability of their little corner will last. It's starting to dawn on him that they're in very real danger. Very real danger that they could've avoided if he wasn't such a piece of shit.

--

The only light in the darkness is the static flashing of the emergency line on his belt. It highlights the blood caking the side of Yuichi’s face, the way more of it pools into the broken asphalt beside them and down Leo’s legs, black as tar.

“How long?” Yuichi murmurs into the quiet. The gravelly lilt of his voice practically echoes like a gunshot, made all the worse by his ragged breathing.

Leo straightens from where he's slouched, looking at Yuichi’s upside down visage, at the way his best friend is struggling not to grimace as Leo presses the medical gauze to the back of his head just a little more firmly. He goes to wipe some of the matted blood from Yuichi’s brow with a trembling hand, “Maybe twenty minutes? Something like that.” He tries to soothe, “It's hard to tell when my phone is busted and–”

“No.” Yuichi interrupts, quietly. Leo almost doesn't hear him.

“What?” Leo asks, frowning.

“How…long.” Yuichi manages, breathless. His eyes are glazed with pain, but he still looks directly at Leo with all the seriousness of someone that knows they're on the edge of a very steep, downhill slope.

He doesn't look away.

Leonardo’s gut curdles with horror, suddenly, at all the things Yuichi isn't saying out loud.

“You're not dying.”

“Leo–”

“You're not!” Leonardo practically barks. His hands shake and unease crawls up his throat; somehow he doesn't vomit. There is a horrible crack in his voice when he chokes, “You’re such a dick.”

Yuichi just looks at him with a familiar expression, the kind that reads you're a complete fool. Usually he looks annoyed when he makes it, sometimes he even manages to crack a grin.

Now, he just looks so, so sad.

--

The shadows encroach across the edges of Leo’s vision and he swallows past the dust caking his mouth, shell aching with the echoes of a dark, fathomless hellscape and the feeling of an enormous presence crushing him down, down, down. He finds it hard to take in a lungful of air, suddenly.

Your fault, something in the darkness croaks, this is all your fault.

btw for context these scenes r part of the same events but they don't happen consecutively so i put -- to show a change in time LMFAO not like it matters cause this whole thing is getting scrapped pretty much bc it doesn't fit w the story anymore but it's ALL good bc what happens instead is even crazier 😎 also also they r not dating at this point in time they r still besties 🤝

for more context this is taking place after the invasion (several months after, leo and yuichi r seventeen around this point in time) but leo is still struggling w himself just a little bit . anyways they get into a bad accident w another mutant (that's trying to k word them very much) and find themselves in a cave in that happens after the foundations beneath a building give way . leo tries to protect yuichi on the way down but he fails (he blames himself, yuichi is mad at him for the stunt) . it's winter and hypothermia is a real problem btw and they're both very injured so yippee !!! this info wasn't really included in the above scenes so that's my bad 💔 ANYWAYS like i said this is getting scrapped so i thought i would post it 🫶 if u have any questions i will try my best to answer them 😀

[lemmilemura]

LoveSucks part 3!!!!!! ARE YOU READY??????? I SAID ARE YOU READYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

Based on the show All kept gender-neutral, 'girly' used once or twice

I hadn't gone to school for a few days, but we also had a week off, so I didn't think it was that bad. I didn't really talk to Janae, Maeve or Simon either, eventhough I knew that was stupid and I really wanted to talk, but I knew I'd just break down the second I say a word.

I never told my parents. Why would I? They wouldn't even really care anyway. Whenever anyone would come to my place, I'd just ignore the doorbell and pretend I was sleeping, even if I was right behind the door, passing by. I knew it wasn't good for me, but at this point I had gotten used to it. Better this than suffering through awkward silences woth Simon.

The only place I went that wasn't home was the beach. I loved it. Just sitting in the sand, nobody else around me, middle of the night. The only sound was the waves, and they calmed me down. I know it sounds stupid, that's why I don't tell anyone. I was truly and wholly miserable. But my friends didn't know. So it couldn't hurt them.

Every night I was at the beach. Not too far away from my car, but still close to the water. Every now and then if a wave was closer, it'd lightly touch my feet. I let my mind to go wherever it wished, but of course it was mostly Janae, Maeve, and of course Simon. Fucking Simon. He never left my mind, even when I was doing things that had absolutely nothing to do with him. He even appeared in my dreams most nights. I hated it. Well, only somewhat. I missed the three of them immensly, so seeing them in my dreams was the most I could at all.

The rushing of the waves hid the sound of another car approaching, I only heard it when it got close. I turned and saw a few boys from school. I tried to just ignore them, but then they noticed me and started coming closer. I immediately stood up and speed-walked to my car. "Where ya goin pretty lady?" One of the called. I walked faster. "Yeah, why don't cha hang out with us?" Another asked.

Just a bit more, c'mon. Because of the sand I wasn't able to walk as fast as I wanted to, but somehow they seemed to be perfectly fine. "We promise we're nice! C'mon, girly!" They tried again. I looked back to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, then tried to get my keys out of my pocket. But, as always when you're stressed and need to find something quick, it disappears completely and falls every five seconds.

I managed to find the keys pretty quickly, opened the door and got in, but as I was about to close it, one of the guys put his body inbetween me and the door, forcefully keeping it open. "Heyyy, where do you think you're going?" Another then stepped next to him. "Wait a minute, you hang out with Kelleher, right?" "Yeeeeah, now that 'cha say it. What're you doin' all alone here? Finally realized that he's a total freak?" "I'm sure we're much better company that him. So whaddaya say you get out your car and come join us?"

I didn't say anything, saying anything in my, or even worse Simon's defence, would just make this whole ordeal even worse. I turned away and instead worked on getting my car started up. Hopefully if I just drive I can get far enough away and then close the door. I got my key in and the engine started revving to life.

"Hey now..." one guy reached inside to grab my steeringwheel, but just as I turned to face him he got punched in the face. It shook all of us, because it was dark I couldn't really see who punched him, but I was pretty sure it wasn't one of the guys who were trying to get to me. Finally, my car started up, but I couldn't move.

"What the fuck!?" The guy's nose was bleeding from the punch. His friends helped him up then got ready to fight this random dude who was currently my hero. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" One of them asked. "Apparently a total freak" he finally spoke, and I recognized his voice. "Simon what the fuck are you doing?" I whisper yelled, grabbing his arm. "Fucking Kelleher. I'll fucking kill you" the guy he punched started swinging.

I quickly stalled the engine again and pulled out my key, I didn't want any of them driving away in my car, before getting out and doing my best to get to Simon to save him from almost certain death. They sadly already got a couple hits in, but I managed to pull him away and get him in my car. The guys started screaming again, but my brain sort of tuned them out. This time my car was nicer and got started sooner, I backed out of my parking space and drove away, them still screaming after us.

I had never driven that fast in my entire life, I didn't even really care if I'd get a ticket, at this point all I cared about was getting home. As if he'd gotten stabbed or was close to death, while all he had was just a few scrapes. I pulled into my driveway and made the garage door open, then got Simon out. We didn't say anything as I sat him down on the couch in my garage and went to go get our first-aid kit. He just sat there, disheveled, looking around the room. Even when I returned and started assessing the damage we didn't talk.

"You're a fucking idiot." I said. "You were the one at the beach in the middle of the night. Alone." He responded. "Why were you even there? You stalking me or something?" I had to force myself to focus on anything besides the weird feeling in my stomach. "I went to yours but your parents told me you were with Janae. So I called her, and she told me you weren't. I just went to the first place that came to mind."

And then he looked up at me.

How was I supposed to concentrate and get over him if he was looking up at me like a lost, abandoned puppy? Plus our faces were really close, only a few inches apart, so that wasn't helping. I immediately felt a blush coming on, so I turned back to the first aid kit and pretended to be looking for something.

"Should I not have?" He asked. "No, you're fine." I responded. I took a breath and then turned back to face him. "Thank you. Thank you for saving me Simon." I smiled at him. "Heh. Getting beat up was definitely worth it. Don't know what I would have done if they'd done something to you."

The atmosphere finally got too tense, and I decided to just suck it up and started talking. "I'm... sorry for what happened. I just kinda... burst. Just wasn't thinking right I guess." I explained, plopping down next to him. "Well, I still like you." He said, looking to me. "Do you still like me?" He asked, once again giving me a giant puppy face. That fucking face.

"How can I not when you look like a kicked puppy?" I joked, which made him chuckle too. "Seriously though. Did I fuck up?" He asked. "Of course you didn't. I was just... too overwhelmed with shit and overreacted. You're fine, really." I explained. If I could, I would go back in time and not say those things, a lot would be solved and he also wouldn't have gotten beaten up.

"That's good..." We once again sat in silence. I decided to get up and put the first-aid kit away. "So uhm... what were you and Janae listening to that one time you two had a party?" "Wait how do you know about that?" He laughed. "I wanted to come by but saw you two were 'busy'" he said with air-quotes. "So I left" Of course he had to see that. Great.

"It's, well, a playlist we made a while ago." I pulled out my phone and connected it to my speakers. Might as well. "Really? Janae listens to Katy Perry?" He asked. "Kinda? Listen, no matter how you feel about her, Hot N' Cold is amazing." I decided to put it on shuffle, but of course the first song to play was HONEY.

"Okay so we're still friends, but... what about more? Last time we both kinda... blurted it out didn't we?" He said. Shit. That's right. In our overwhelmed-ness we both sort of confessed to eachother. That did happen. "That we did do." I sat back down, this time facing him. "So? What are we? Because I still want to be with you." "I honestly feel like I don't deserve you given how I acted last time."

"Why do you think that?" He asked. "Oh c'mon! I literally flew off the handle at you! I barely let you speak..." I just wanted to disappear that moment, to not have this conversation, but I also knew it needed to happen. "Nonsense! I totally get where you were coming from. But you also can't only blame me for showing up here, it was Janae and Maeve who convinced me."

"They knew??" I could not believe it. My best friend, to whom I had been lamenting my unrequited feelings to knew all that time he felt the same? How could she. The betrayal. "Did you never notice I didn't have any of your notes? I didn't go to school either that day, I just came because I wanted to see you. They convinced me to do it." Janae was definitely getting a phone call later.

"Never thought you would skip school." I joked. "I wasn't skipping. I felt like shit. Not that it mattered, I changed my attendance so it's fine. Changed yours too by the way." "You know you didn't have to do that." I said. "There's a lot of things I don't have to do but still do because, and get this," he leaned closer "I want to" he whispered.

For a moment we stayed like that, faces so close, just looking at eachother. "Just like this." He said, then grabbed my face and kissed me. It happened so fast I couldn't even blink. He just grabbed me, pulled me in, and let me go just as fast. I just stared, obviously flushed, in disbelief. "I still love you." He said. "Do you still love me?" Just as fast, I threw all cautioun out the window and kissed him again, this time actually participaring.

To think that the moment I had waited for so long was finally there was surreal, the feeling completely foreign, but oh so welcome. "I'll take that as a yes" he managed to say between kisses, then pushed me so I was laying down on the couch.

Janae would get that call tomorrow.

[mister-eames]

Listen, you think you can drop this line in the last ask: “Moment number three that Eames realises he is wrapped tightly around Arthurs finger” and get away with it? PAY UP! Tell us about the other instances!!!

Moment One:

The meet in the chow hall on an ordinary Tuesday morning.

Eames and the rest of his cohort had arrived on the base the evening before. The jetlag is still a force to be reckoned with above all else, feeling as if he has weights tied to his eyelids, wrists and ankles. But he keeps his posture tall and picks up his feet, one after the other.

He takes his tray of what looks like mostly rehydrated eggs, piss-weak coffee and looks for a vacant table, keen for a moments peace and quiet before he has to put his face on. He spots a table by the far wall with only one other occupant and makes for it. Taking a seat, he nods and mumbles a greeting.

"Hey."

"Hey."

The other guy at the table is reading a book with a well-weathered spine, looking up from it only when Eames sets his tray.

Eames stares at him.

His skin is smooth. And his eyes are very, very brown.

Eames blinks. Then he says, "Hey," again.

The man stares back. Then down at Eames tray.

After a long moment he says, "Trade you my bagel for your cookie?"

Before he knows what he's doing his arm is already outstretched and handing it over in return for a cream-cheese laden carb. The man rips into the cookie, eating half of it in a single bite, sighing contentedly through his nose.

"I'm Eames."

"Arthur," the man replies, having the good grace to cover his mouth as he speaks with it full. "You one of them guys with The Project?"

For some reason Eames can't help but notice his well kempt, short fingernails as he shoves the other half into his mouth, the bob of his throat as he swallows.

It's gotta be the jetlag.

"That's confidential."

Doesn't matter, Eames thinks, watching the man shrug before digging into his eggs with unrefined gusto. He's not likely to run into him again.

---

Moment Two:

The dreamscape has turned chaotic. The dreamer is dead or dying and the environment is crumbling around them.

Arthur - no, Corporal Levine - is down with a bullet to the gut. He's bleeding out, but not fast enough.

"Shoot me," Arthur gasps.

Eames has never killed a comrade before. Not even in the dreamscape. He's always worked his way out of that particular exit to these manufactured dreams, disappearing at the last minute or applying first aid until the counter ran to zero. He doesn't want that on his hands - he doesn't want to have to remember all of the times he's had to see the light go out of his friends eyes. This is not what he signed up for.

But Arthur doesn't have that luxury. He will die slowly, painfully, before the timer runs out. It seems unbearably cruel to Eames.

Were it anyone else, Eames would place his gun in their hands, curl their fingers around the trigger and walk away. But the resolve in Arthur's eyes weakens and hardens at the same time as his fingers curl around Eames', trembling too violently to take the shot himself.

"Close your eyes."

Arthur does.

Eames pulls the trigger, feels Arthurs fingers slacken, before turning it on himself.

They both wake up, one second after another, gazes meeting over a still slumbering team. Arthur nods his thanks before he rapidly stands, booking it for the lavatory, two doors down where Eames can hear him retching.

He wipes his hands over his face, the gunshot still reverberating in his eardrums.

When Arthur comes back he sits beside Eames on his bedroll, a careful six inches apart, still managing to bump their shoulders together. It helps, somehow.

---

Arthur always manages to snag two cookies after that. Even on the days they don't sit together one always finds its way to Eames' tray.

[galaxysharks]

that second story is maddox and u cannot prove me wrong

I just remembered you called me old

Suffer, Anthony, this 'Incident' was written just for you

Maddox and Jet always say that Maddie's first word was 'needle-nose Pliers' and it was when she was eight. And to the world that's true, neither of them can remember otherwise, and her earlier instructors certainly never heard a peep.

But Auntie knows better.

Auntie remembers when little Maddie was four, small and flinchy, always jumping at loud sounds and pulling at her shirts that felt bad. She loved little Jet though, even when he was too loud, or pulled at her hair. Maddox even seemed to handle stressors better with her brother, less prone to full meltdowns, with baby Jet pushing down on her chest, like he was personally holding down her temper.

It was around 1am and Auntie was with her brother-in-law and his new wife, having a few drinks. This was back when she still mostly tolerated the man, but even then those beautiful babies were the light of her life.

But anyway, it was early and all the sudden little Maddie comes fumbling into the room, little arms flailing and tears streaming.

"Jet Sick! Crying! Can't fix him! Sick!"

Auntie remembers jumping from her seat, rushing to her side and scooping her into her arms. That wasn't helpful, apparently this was a touch-me-not day. She put her down again and grabbed the little stuffed bear from her bag, pressing it into Maddie's chest.

"hey, hey, ssshhhh.... Jet sick? I'll go and take care of him, ok? Stay and breathe, you'll feel better soon, you're a good big sister, you take care of him"

Auntie went into the bedroom and quite immediately discovered what has upset Maddox so much. Jet had gotten sick over himself and was crying. After getting him cleaned up and the sheets changed, she sat with him until he fell back asleep, reading and giving him crackers to settle his stomach.

Tired but relieved, Auntie makes her way back into the sitting room. And really she's not sure what she expected, maybe for little Maddie to be sleeping on the couch, or with her father, but really that was ambitious wasn't it?

No, instead what she found was that Motherfucker and his wife being belligerent drunks, crowding and snapping at Maddox, who had somehow managed to cram herself into the fireplace,which had thankfully already been cooling embers when she first appeared, her little feet and hands now covered in soot. One little fist stuffed into her mouth as she attempted to be as small and quiet as possible.

"what the FUCK do you think you're doing? Get away from her, you fucking maniac!"

"I don't appreciate how you're talking to my wife!"

"I don't appreciate how you're talking to my niece!"

"She has embarrassed us for years by refusing to speak! We believed there might be damage from the car accident, but instead we find out she's just been Lazy! She could speak this whole time! I refuse to let this behavior continue!"

"Take a hike Dante!"

"That is not my name!"

"Frankly I don't give a damn, get away from us before I do something rash"

Auntie watched him storm off, further into the house. She crouched down, gently reaching to pull the little fist from Maddox's mouth, little teeth imprints bleeding. The soot from the ashes had stained her head to toe, and Auntie can already see the red marks from Maddox trying to rub away the filth. Debating on if she would be making things worse, eventually Auntie decided that cleaning Little Maddie would have to take priority, and she reached forward and pulled the squirming child out from her hidey hole.

Using the softest rag she could find, Auntie cleaned up Maddie as best she could while having as little contact as possible, mindful of her fluctuating mood. After clearing the mess and making note of the minor scratches and burns, because evidently the embers were not as smothered as she had hoped, Auntie bandages her up and brought Maddox back to the kids' bedroom. She tucked her into the lower bunk next to her brother.

"hey little one, are we feeling any better now?"

Maddox smiled the saddest little smile, and lightly chewed on her hand, gently this time, bandages growing damp. Auntie figured she'd already picked her battle today, so just lightly ruffled Maddie's hair.

Auntie stood from her place, somehow knowing that Maddox wasn't about to speak again anytime soon, if ever again.

But right now she had bigger fish to fry, the foremost being the degenerate monsters that currently have custody. And she won't stop until her babies are free.

[sevicia]

4 AM notes app monster. I have nothing to say for myself except

We are in the basement as usual. She draws her arm back, holds my head in place and punches me, hard. Hard enough to make me dizzy, to make me bleed.

The blood drips slowly onto the white tile floor, each drop's impact seemingly punctuating my ragged breathing. I want to thank her, but I can't get the words out between sobs, so I look up at her instead. The look of pure disdain she gives me drives me crazy; I can't stop shivering, almost whining in eager anticipation for the next hit, and I know she knows this.

I kneel here, beneath her, where I belong, where the entire world makes sense the way it hasn't in too long a time, and here I am filled with the utmost gratitude towards her; I would bow and kiss at her feet if it didn't mean turning away from her gaze.

She raises her open palm, ready to slap me. I cower and I flinch, but the impact never comes; the sting of not being hit hurts worse than any physical violence she could ever gift me. I hear her laugh under her breath, a sound so breathy and soft it makes my pain worth so much more than any pleasure I could selfishly derive from it.

I feel her grip and pull at the back of my hair, dragging me up so she has better access to my face. My mouth falls open as I gasp, the blood I was not allowed to swallow pouring out of it as she shoves her fingers into my mouth and down my throat, feels me gag and drool around them, pulls at my hair so hard I fear she'll truly rip it off this time, only to let go and hook her fingers on the inside of my mouth instead, pulling the corners as far as they'll go so she can fuck my mouth properly.

The stretch is painful, and my throat spasms around her wildly as I fight the instinct to double over and cry out my love for her. I somehow manage to stay in place as she abuses that weak spot on the back of my throat, making my vision blur until I finally vomit onto the floor once she pulls out; all that comes out is a disgusting mixture of bile and blood, forming a dark red pool my face is soon shoved into, and l can't help but smile.

Nothing compares to this feeling of helplessness. This tortured feeling I bring upon myself, this pain I beg for relentlessly, this brutality I can't find anywhere except here, in the palm of her hand, the only place I have ever belonged.

I can only hear my loud gasps and quiet sobs, then the sound of her bare feet as she walks away, upstairs and out the door —I'll have to check her feet for glass shards later, she can be so careless when it comes to herself—, then, as soon as the door clicks shut, I stick out my tongue and start licking and slurping at the pool of my own blood, desperate to get back this demonstration of our love, to absorb it back into my body, and suddenly I think of how I must look from the outside; bent over, still on my knees, face pressed against the cold, dirty floor as I drool and gasp, dripping with sweat, hands firmly clasped behind my back —since I refused to wear restraints—, and I realize it doesn't matter. I understand I look pathetic, pitiful, vulgar and perverted, yet I also understand it doesn't matter, not when this is who I truly am: a selfish man who will do anything, pray and beg any way he must if it means satisfying his own desires.

I seem to have lost track of time as usual, but she always comes back quickly anyways. I sit up and straighten my back as soon as I hear her coming downstairs, and even though my vision is still slightly blurry from both swelling and tears, I can see her face clear as day. Her hypnotic eyes; her twisted grin and permanent dark circles; the beautiful face that haunts my dreams and blesses my nightmares.

"You drooled all over yourself again", she says, making my face burn and my stomach turn with joy; she teases me lightly now, though we both know I can take more.

My mind fogs over as I feel her hands on me once again, now so gentle I almost want to cry. This turmoil I feel is not born of her violence: I have simply gone too long without this, my entire, miserable life in which I have known nothing but bitter apathy I have longed for this. This bliss, unachievable without violence, this bliss I feel as my blood, drool and tears run down my face; nothing compares to the ecstasy of feeling your devotion drip down your chin, of knowing you're exactly where you've always meant to be.