#go look up lone star ticks

[secondbeatsongs]

had a dream that I wrote the funniest joke, and I was trying to send it to all my friends but discord kept crashing, and I was so sad that nobody would get to hear my excellent joke, anyway when I woke up I wrote the joke down so I wouldn't forget it, and now that I'm home from work I checked my notes app and this is what I wrote:

what happened to the alchemist who got bitten by a lone star tick?

she got a metallurgy

[munsons-maiden]

𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Here's a little oneshot for you, lovelies! I hope you enjoy 🖤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (no physical descriptions, though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this request: could i request maybe eddie brings reader to a deal but wants her to stay in the van so she’s safe but the people he’s dealing to see her because she walked out to tell eddie something and it doesn’t go so well. and after the situation eddie and her argue but eddie’s upset and just what’s to protect her 🥺 but ofc it ends well🫡

- I hope you like it, dear!🖤

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fights turning into love confessions, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst with a happy ending, attempted (sexual) assault

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

You can barely make out your surroundings, the little dirt path leading you deeper into the woods, in the darkness between the trees as you slowly draw closer – the moon and stars have vanished behind the clouds as if they’ve gone into hiding, and the taste of a summer storm already laces the stuffy air.

In all these years of being Eddie Munson’s friend, there’s been one simple rule when it comes to him meeting his customers for a drug deal:

Stay in the car.

The customers are harmless. It’s the cops I’m worried about, he tells you, expression stern, whenever you crack a joke about him being scared you could scare away a customer.

It’s tiny little Hawkins, and the deals gone wrong that sometimes make it into the TV news or newspaper headlines are over coke and heroin and all the hard stuff Eddie would never sell, not over something as harmless as weed or the occasional pill of ketamine.

Tonight has been no different.

It was supposed to be a quick deal on your way to the Carnival two towns over at Sycamore where you’re supposed to meet the rest of Hellfire.

Some new customer sent by Reefer Rick.

But the longer you’ve been sitting in Eddie’s van, in the dark, in the middle of the lonely road that cuts through the woods surrounding Hawkins…this nagging feeling started to grow in your chest. First into worry, then into outright panic when you’d watched the clock on the old van’s display tick, one minute turning into five, and five into ten.

What if something went wrong?

What if something horrible happened to him?

What if Eddie needs your help?

You wanted to tell him, tonight at the fair, beneath the see of glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. That you’re in love with him. That you’ve been, for a very long time. That even if he doesn’t feel the same, you need to say it out loud, how you first fell for all the tiny little pieces that make him Eddie and then wholly and utterly and completely.

When ten minutes bled into fifteen, and your mind had come up with the most horrid scenarios fueled by news coverage of drug deals breaking into violence, conjuring up gruesome images of Eddie bleeding out between the ferns and brambles covering the forest floor, blood soaking the moss, you couldn’t stay cooped up in the confines of his old van a second longer.

You broke Eddie’s one rule. You left the car and went looking for him.

As you’re now traipsing along the small dirt path cutting through the brambles and ferns, the fabric of your summer dress you’ve spent an entire weekend picking out at the mall just so Eddie might finally start seeing you as something else as his friend, sticking to your sweaty skin and thorns scratching at your legs, you realize that even if Eddie needs your help…how the fuck would you even be able to help him?

It’s not like you’re carrying a gun in the little bag you’re clutching at your side.

The sound of voices startles you out of your thoughts, and in the dark, your eyes lock on the two silhouettes in the little clearing ahead of you.

You recognize Eddie first – you’d recognize him everywhere.

He’s standing with his back to you. Even with the remaining distance between the two of you, the darkness of the woods, you can tell that his shoulders are tense.

His whole body is holding a kind of tension you’ve only ever seen on him once before, a few years ago, when his deadbeat father had shown up at the trailer park drunken and shouting curses into the wind before Eddie had dragged you into the safety Wayne’s trailer.

A twig snaps beneath your sneakers, and both Eddie and his customer whirl around to you.

And you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.

The guy in front of Eddie is no nervous classmate, not one of the chill stoner guys always hanging around beneath the bleachers. No friendly family dad or stressed housewife looking for a little relaxation or piece of rebellion.

The guy’s buzzcut does nothing to soften the harsh angles of his face, the lines around his mouth formed by the frown that seems to be engraved there.

There’s something menacing in his eyes as they lock on you.

Something evil and predatory.

The guy licks his lips, and his mouth curls into a lewd smirk, a twisted mirror to the abysmal panic in Eddie’s wide eyes as he stares at you.

You can read them like the pages of an open book.

What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car!

The guy slaps a meaty hand on Eddie’s shoulder, hard enough to make Eddie sway a little on his feet with the impact. And contrary to what the jocks at Hawkins High believe, Eddie is strong.

“And at first I thought you’d brought the cops,” the guy laughs – but it’s not a friendly laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either. He’s got muscles. A lot of them, flexing beneath his skin as he lets his arm sink from Eddie’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t do that to your old friend though, would you? Instead, you brought me a present.”

There’s an eagle tattooed across the guy’s throat, wings spread wide. It’s fitting, this bird of prey marking him. You feel like a tiny little robin beneath his gaze.

Eddie’s eyes haven’t left you for a single second.

“I told you to stay in the car.” His voice is strained with barely suppressed fury and, above all else…panic.

“Nah, we’re good,” the guy grins, letting his eyes roam over you.

Making you wish you were wearing something other than a short little summer dress.

“Come on closer, little birdie,” he drawls, “Don’t be shy now.”

“Go back to the car,” Eddie says, louder, the vehemence of his tone flashing in his panicked eyes. His voice is trembling. “Now.”

“What, you don’t want to introduce us?” The man drawls. The threat in his own voice is as clear and tangible as the panic in Eddie’s umber eyes as he shakes his head, the movement subtle, barely visible. Go, he mouths. Now.

At the guy, he adds, “I thought we were here to talk about business.”

“You want me to focus on business when you brought your pretty girl with you, boy?” The guy makes a beckoning motion at you, still frozen like a deer in the headlights, rooted to your spot only feet away from him and Eddie. “Come closer, doll. Don’t be shy now.”

“No,” Eddie interjects, fervor smoothing his voice as it cuts through the rain-laced air of the clearing, despair flashing out beneath the panic, “She’s not part of this.”

You’re scared out of your mind.

But hell will freeze over before you leave Eddie alone with this man.

So you do what the guy told you.

You step closer, coming to stand beside Eddie.

“Tell you what, boy,” the man purrs, tearing his eyes off of you to meet Eddie’s, a flash of yellowed teeth in diffuse moonlight, as his smirk grows into a grin so devilish you wouldn’t have been surprised had they been pointed, “I’m gonna give you a few more bucks and you’re gonna give me a few minutes with your lovely lady here.”

Beside you, Eddie inches closer to you, shifting to place himself between the guy and you.

Trying to shield you with his own body, you realize.

Eddie Munson, who always swore he was no hero outside of D&D, is becoming your hero right now.

“I’ll give you everything I got with me right now, and you leave,” Eddie counters, voice hard.

A desperate attempt to get you out of this situation.

Almost completely hidden from the guy’s field of vision with Eddie having placed himself in front of you, his muscles taut and ready to fight, your hands slowly dive into the bag slung over your shoulder, fingertips carefully feeling for something, anything, to use to protect him, to protect both of you –

“Or,” the man drawls, taking a step closer, with the ease of a predator rounding in on a wounded fawn, “I’ll just take whatever you got and have some fun with your pretty lady.”

It happens too fast to see it coming.

There’s a snapping sound as the flick-knife the guy must have been holding, concealed in his meaty fist and the dark of night, is flipped open, the jagged blade flashing in the obscure beams of moonlight filtering through the clouds and the foliage of trees above your heads – and Eddie pushes you farther behind him.

Placing yourself between you and the knife’s path as he snaps, voice vibrating, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The man lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “And what are you gonna do, hm?”

There. Your fingers wrap around something smooth and cool nestled at the bottom of your bag.

And not a second too soon.

Before the guy can let the knife in his fist soar down to hurt Eddie, you duck around your friend, your own hand flying up as you press your index finger down in the spray bottle in your sweaty grip, sending a blast of hair spray straight into the guy’s face.

He screams, hands flying up to cover his eyes as he stumbles backwards, and the flick-knife lands between the ferns.

Eddie doesn’t waste a single second.

His hand finding yours, he pulls you away from the screaming, staggering man and pushes you towards the path that leads back to the road and the van and safety. Together, you break into a run.

You don’t notice the thorns of the brambles cutting your legs, the burn of your lungs, your muscles, because it all fades to white noise beneath the roaring of blood in your ears, the wild pounding of your heart, Eddie’s own racing steps behind you.

Only at the edges of your panic-addled mind you realize that he’s staying behind you to make sure you’ll get away, first.

The van comes up in the distance, a flash of white among the leaves and branches, and you feel the first tender burst of relief wash through you at the sight.

Eddie rips the driver’s side door open, all but shoving you inside and onto the passenger seat as he climbs in after you, and the old engine comes to life with a sputtering roar. The van jerks forwards with screeching tires as your hands shoot out to grab the door’s handle to avoid toppling over into the footwell.

As the vehicle bolts down the country road leading out of the woods, silence descends upon you, heavy and loud even beneath the roar of the engine, your own panting breaths slowly calming.

You cast Eddie a careful sideways glance.

He doesn’t look at you.

His eyes are glued to the road the way his foot is glued to the gas pedal, jaw set, and his knuckles clamped around the wheel are white.

You’ve never seen him so angry in all the time you’ve known him.

You’ve never felt so angry in all the time you’ve known him, either.

When the van emerges from the woods and lights of the carnival come into sight, the twinkling form of the Ferris wheel rising over the rolling fields of wheat covering the landscape, Eddie steers the vehicle to the side of the road.

By the time he cuts off the engine and pushes the driver’s door open with a force that makes you fear it’ll just rip off its hinges, he still hasn’t uttered a single word.

You reach for the latch in your own door, but before you can open it, Eddie has already rounded the hood, and the door is ripped open to reveal his face, unreadable and void of all the usual humor and goofiness.

“Are you okay?” It sounds strangely hollow, the way he says it.

“Eddie –“

“Are you okay?” It’s nearly a shout, but not an angry one. Only scared. So fucking scared that it makes his voice shake as much as his hands coming up to rake through his curls while his dark eyes roam over you in the diffuse moonlight over the field, the dim glow of the lights inside the van, scanning the tiny cuts decorating your face and arms and legs where the brambles and branches of the woods have left their marks during your flight.

You give a tentative nod.

The breath he seems to have been holding leaves in a sharp exhale as he rakes his hand through his dark curls once more, sending stray leaves falling out as he starts pacing at the edge of the road.

You climb out of the car.

And the storm that’s been building the past few minutes breaks lose – not in the sky, but down beneath it.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

Eddie has never shouted at you.

You’ve never shouted at him, either, but it breaks out of you like a flood-wave.

“ME?! THIS IS MY FAULT?!”

“YES! FUCKING HELL YES IT IS! SHIT. IF YOU HAD, JUST FOR ONCE, LISTENED –“

“ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE MEETING FUCKING KILLERS IN THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“THAT’S WHY I TOLD YOU TO STAY –“

“IF I’D STAYED IN THE CAR, YOU’D BE DEAD ON THE FOREST FLOOR NOW!” The thought of it, of Eddie, bleeding out between the ferns, scared and alone and in pain, makes the tears spill over and your voice shatter as you choke out the rest of the sentence in a miserable little whisper. “You’d be fucking dead!” Saying it aloud brings back the fury at him for being so fucking careless. “HE WAS ABOUT TO HURT YOU!”

“AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WAY BETTER THAN IF HE’D HURT YOU! I CAN’T LOSE YOU, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Eddie’s words shut you up.

They ring through the night, mingle with the soft summer breeze that ruffles the stalks of wheat in the nearby field, the rustling too loud in the shellshocked silence.

The tears which have been glittering in his dark eyes have started running down his pale cheeks.

For a few wild heartbeats, you just stare at each other in the moonlight piercing through the passing clouds, the glow of colorful lights of the fair at the edge of the field sending flares into the night, the stuffy summer night’s air pressing down on the two of you.

In a few quick strides, both of you cross the small distance between the two of you, meeting in the middle.

And then, you’re kissing.

And the world stills, heartbeat accelerating as panic and adrenaline bleed into something entirely else, something that’s been trapped within you for so long it takes a second to realize this, right now, is truly happening.

Eddie’s lips, soft and hot against yours, his palms cradling your face, the metal of his rings warm with the heat of his body as they press gently against your skin.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

He kisses you like he really, truly means it.

Because I fucking love you.

It’s better, so much better than even your wildest daydreams.

You know you’ll never want to kiss anyone else after this.

You know you don’t ever want this kiss to end.

It does, eventually. Eddie pulls away, wide-eyed and panting, lips slightly apart in a gape and curls in a tangled mess – from his own hands raking through it or yours right now, you can’t tell. Even in the half-dark of the night, you can see the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I – I’m sorry,” he breathes, the kiss-dazed gleam in his eyes making room for an appalled expression. “God, fuck, I’m – I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask –“

“I’ve been waiting for you to do this for a very long time,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.

For a moment, Eddie just stares at you, as if he’s contemplating whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “You, uh. You did?”

“Yeah,” you whisper into the few inches of between the two of you. “And now I’ll be waiting for you to do it again.”

He does. Not a single beat of hesitation.

This time, when Eddie’s lips meet yours, it’s softer, slower, yet just as intoxicating and feverish as that first kiss.

His hands snake up to cup your cheeks and angle your head as he slowly walks you backwards, until your back meets the side of the van, the metal still warm from the day and the sweltering night air, and butterflies flood your belly, your entire body, a colorful swarm of them making your skin tingle in all the places his body brushes against yours. His chest against yours, one of his knees between yours, his calloused fingertips gently trailing down the column of your throat.

Kissing Eddie Munson is as easy as breathing.

“I meant it,” he breathes into the kiss, before resting his forehead against yours, the curls of his bangs tickling you, “What I said. I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger.” He swallows. “And I’m so fucking much in love with you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling his smile. “I’ve been loving you for a very long time, Eddie.”

You place your hands over his, still holding your face.

“I was so fucking scared,” Eddie murmurs, voice trembling again with new tears. “Fuck. I was so stupid –“

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers squeezing his, “We’re safe. You saved me.”

“Shit, you saved me. What even was that? Pepper spray?”

You chuckle. “Farah Fawcett hair spray.”

Eddie blinks, before he gives a breathless little laugh, as if he’s not sure he’d rather laugh or cry. Probably both. “Pretty fucking metal.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you tonight,” you amend, and Eddie’s expression grows serious again.

“You always look pretty, sweetheart. I’ve been having a pretty hard time not ogling you every second we’re together.”

“You need to promise me you’ll never ever meet clients in the middle of the woods. Not at night. Not by day either. And –“

“I promise,” Eddie interrupts, voice sincere. “I’m gonna stick to the clients I know. No expanding the business.”

“Good,” you breathe, letting your hands fall away from his to lock them at the nape of his neck, fingertips playing with his dark curls.

“Your hair is really soft,” you breathe, lips not an inch from his, feeling stupid all of a sudden for saying it out loud, but Eddie replies with an adorable little giggle that makes your heart soar and race and squeeze with love all at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s…uh. Don’t laugh. It’s Farah Fawcett conditioner.”

Your own soft laugh fades into the night as Eddie’s lips find yours again, the summer storm brewing over your heads and the glittering lights of the carnival in the distance and the moment of terror in the woods blurring against the radiant joy of knowing the one you love loves you back just as much.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

Requests for angst/smangst remain open. If you want to check out my works in progress, here's the list🖤

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden. 

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay. 

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly. 

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice. 

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break? 

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.”  You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.” 

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back. 

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

[magxnoria]

Starring Tokyo Revengers Men In ✰ Fight Night

Cast Line Up Ran, Rindou, Haruchiyo, Mikey, Kakucho, Hajime and Current Shuji

Rated PG-13

Minors This Isn’t For You

Summary ✰ How The Men react When you defend them! Your Hands getting Bloody Got Their Minds Getting Hazy!

No pronouns up in here but the Reader has a Kitty 

Ran Haitani

✰ For the First time in Ran’s Life he can truly say he flabbergasted, Seeing you one punch a fool out got him standing there shocked

✰ He can't help but Fanboy, You knocked this idiot lights out for him? Oh he's flattered and turned on at the same time

✰ He boasts and Brags about how you defended his “honor” to Rindou and Sanzu whenever he gets the opportunity

✰ “One punch and the fuckers teeth flew out” Ran boasts as Rindou sighs, “ And you stood there just fawning like a fucking idiot while your babe's hands got dirty with blood?” Sanzu asked making Ran dramatically gasp. “Hell No. I got a few stomps in” Ran grinned as Sanzu laughed and Rindou tried his best to ignore the conversation

✰ Ran Hates to admit it but he loves seeing you fight, something about you getting Violent just makes him hot and bothered

✰ “ You look so hot when you're angry maybe I should keep you mad then” Ran teases as his fingers hold your chin up

The day was going well, Ran and you were spending your time together basking in each other's company. You were happy to have Ran all to yourself without him being busy with work or whatever Shenanigans he has with Haruchiyo and Rindou but every good thing comes to an end

“You a bitch, Ran Haitani. A good for nothing blight on society!” Bolstering fool yelled making Ran roll his eyes, “And what makes you able to judge Him huh? Look at you with those grease stains on your shirt and your uneven Haircut” You said back to Bolstering Fool before Ran could even open his mouth 

“You think you're bad because of your Haitani little plaything? Your boyfriend isn't shi-” Bolster fool said before your fist connected with his head, The punch you landed made the man crumble to the ground like a balled up piece of paper. Ran couldn't keep himself from staring at you slack jawed, “ You knocked him out like it was nothing? When you learn how to do that?” Ran asked before grabbing your hand 

“I learned a few things hanging out with the guys and you, thought it would help to be strong myself” You answer back nonchalantly making Ran grin, “ Never thought I would see the day that you would defend me like that” Ran grinned before pulling you close to him. “Now let us go get something to eat I'm hungry” You sighed as Ran kissed your forehead, “ Okay anything for my bodyguard” Ran Giggled 

Rindou Haitani

✰Rindou's eyes had never been wider than the moment he saw you toss the annoying woman who was flirting with him across the floor of the club

✰ The way You was able to bob & weave before picking her up by her hair and rag dolling her got Rindou stunned

✰ Never has he ever seen the side of you, Now he needs to know what makes you tick and when you learned how to fight like this.

✰ “What Rinnie Thought you were the only one who knew how to break bones huh?” You teased as Rindou's eyebrow only raised at you

✰ Rindou's nerves getting worked by Ran and Sanzu every day now, They can't keep quiet about how strong you are 

✰ “Hulked up in the fucking club, Never seen ya babe do that before man” Sanzu laughed while Ran Giggled,” Like wrestling or some shit” Ran grins before Rindou made them hush up. “Keep talking, maybe I'll let the love of my life put your asses in casts” Rindou glared making the laughter stop

✰ With You by his side he feels oddly unstoppable now. He just got to keep an eye on you, don't need you getting hurt or snapping bones like twigs 

Rindou was Annoyed, This woman has been flirting with him up for the last thirty minutes and he had more than enough. “Can't you take a hint?” I’m not interested” Rindou glared as the trifling broad kept flapping her lips, “How can I leave you alone? You look so lonely sitting here by yourself” Trifling broad pouted making Rindou pray for you to show up

His prayers were answered when he heard your voice, “Who the fuck do you think you're flirting with?” You asked Making Trifling Broad look at you uglily. “And who are you?” She answered back with a question of her own, “The one who his heart belongs to. So back off before I get mad” You said while smiling making Trifling Broad's eye twitch before she tried to sucker punch you but you were faster than her

You dodge her punch without any effort before punching her in the ribs and grabbing her by her hair, Rindou's eyes widening as you tossed Trifling Broad across the club by Her hair before coming to sit on his lap while acting as you didn't just use a woman as a human frisbee

“Since when did you know how to fight?” Rindou as you smiled up at him, “I always knew how to fight. Just The opportunity for me to fight never came up” You said before kiss his cheek. “Damn I love you” Rindou groaned before Ran interrupted you two, “That was Amazing” Ran gushed making Rindou sigh

Haruchiyo Sanzu

✰ You got Haruchiyo questioning reality, One Minute this drunk bitch was splashing her drink in his face and the next she was on the floor like a broken chip

✰ He's used to being the crazy one in the relationship but seeing you resort to violence for him? Got him straining in his pants

✰ “Fuck. I  never knew you had this in you” Haruchiyo exclaims as he pushed his wet bangs out of his face

✰ He had never been more turned on in his life, he got to take you someplace less crowded and show you what you did to him

✰ The Haitani's are more cautious around you now, you're as crazy as your boyfriend in their eyes

✰ “Kicked the girl's nose in while wearing stilettos” Ran whispers to Takeomi as Haruchiyo laughs, “Dont forget My babe was Wearing a dress too and looked graceful as fucked while doing it” Haruchiyo grins while Ran just stares at the madman

✰ Yes he's Insane but he's insanely in love with you and that's all that matters

Haruchiyo leaned against the bar as he watched you dance from afar, His drink in his hand as he took in the way you moved only to be disturbed by drunken slurs. “So you're gonna pretend you don't know me, Huh?? After Breaking My heart!” Drunken bitch spat out pulling Haruchiyo from his trance

“Look Lady I don't fucking know you. Can You please get out of my fucking space?” Haruchiyo said while trying not to get pissed off, “You know what? Fuck you bastard” the Drunken bitch slurred before tossing the entire glass of liquor in Haruchiyo's face. Like in a movie you turned around to see everything happen in slow motion.

Before everyone knew it you had delivered a roundhouse kick to a drunken bitch head that Even Made Manjiro Sano say damn, Haruchiyo couldn't help but be shocked as you walked over to him. “You okay baby?” You asked as you grabbed a napkin and dried off his face while he pushed back his bangs 

“I'm alright. That was just so fucking hot” Haruchiyo groaned as he pulled you close to him, “Let's leave. Go somewhere quiet for a while hmmm?” Haruchiyo whispered in your ear as you bit your lip. “Okay Haru, Let's go” You grinned before grabbing his hand and walking over the unconscious body of Drunken Bitch to leave.

“I got that all on Camera, World star!” Ran giggled as Rindou rolled his eyes at his brother.

Manjiro Sano

✰ Manjiro is used to protecting you, The thought never crossed his mind that one day you might defend him

✰ But now he sits in his chair chilled to the core as you wail on the fool that disrespected his name 

✰ The same hands that lovingly caress him is currently turning a man's face bloody, even Sanzu is shocked seeing you go wild with rage

✰ Manjiro is touched, That you would dirty your hands for him and spill blood but he doesn't want you to harm yourself

✰ Is quick to grab your fist and calm you down while his man takes care of the mess you made and the unconscious fool

✰ Manjiro's Love for you is solidified more than ever now, You love him so much that you bruised up your knuckles because a fucker disrespected his name? He needs to buy you a wedding ring ASAP

Another Night in the club but you didn't mind, You liked being around Manjiro and his Men after all he is a king and this is his kingdom. You focused on dancing and enjoying the night but unfortunately, that would be ruined for you. “ Manjiro is a weakling. A tapeworm” Drunk Bastard said pissing you off

“What did you say?” You asked before cracking your knuckles, “ You heard me bitch. Manjiro Sano is nothing but a piece of garbage pail sludge” Drunk bastard slurred making you jump out of your heels as you approached him at rapid speed before decking him in the mouth with your fist

“Say that shit again… Oh, you can't huh? You grinned as you let rage take over as you continued to beat the man senseless, the club coming to a halt as Manjiro and his men watched you Pummel Drunk bastard to a pulp. You only stopped when Manjiro himself had grabbed your fist, “I don't want you to Hurt yourself. Let Sanzu Take care of him” Manjiro said before helping you up

“You didn't have to get your hands bruised and dirty for me you know.” Manjiro said as he cleaned you up, “I want to protect you because i love you” You respond back to him making him sigh. “ You're the most precious person to me, I can't risk you getting hurt.” Manjiro said before kissing your lips, “I love you” Manjiro whispered before kissing your hand 

Kakucho

✰ Maybe it's because he just got smacked across the face but did Kakucho Just see you bodyslam the woman who slapped him unprovoked?

✰ Mans thinks he's hallucinating cause he had Never seen you this angry before nor has he seen you lay your hands on someone like this 

✰ You got Kakucho worried for you, did you get hurt? Has any harm come to you? Got him stressing

✰ “ You didn't have to do that you know” Kakucho whispers in your ear as you iced his face, “ Like hell I didn't. I got to protect you like you protect me” You sighed making Kakucho feel warm

✰ Man does he loves you but please don't put yourself in Harm's way for him, He doesn't know how he would handle it if something happened to you

✰ He hears wedding bells in the distance and he knows that's not a hallucination 

Kakucho was sitting on the park bench waiting for you, the day was beautiful but everything had to turn ugly. “You piece of shit! You broke me!” Misguided wretch screamed shaking Kakucho out of his thoughts, “ I'm sorry but you got me confused for someone else” Kakucho said as he tried to reason with a visibly drunk woman

“How dare you try to gaslight me?” Misguided Wretch screamed before slapping Kakucho across the face but before Misguided Wretch knew it She was being slammed to the ground by you, “ How dare you slap him? My man” You yelled out as your hands pounded on the woman's face

You let your anger boil over as continued to beat her ass even as she clawed at you. You were hellbent on making her pay for what she did, Only stopping when you finally knocked her light out. Kakucho was quick to help you up and fix your clothes but your concern was all on him

“Kaku, are you okay? You asked as you softly held his face, “ Im alright but are you okay? Kakucho replied back as he searched you for injuries. “ You didn't have to do that you know,” Kakucho said making you smile, “ I did it because I love you and no one disrespects the one I love” you responded back before kissing his face. “Now to get some ice for your face” you said before grabbing his hand 

Hajime Kokonoi

✰ You got Hajime's brain not working. he puzzled and in the deepest stages of shock, seeing you knock out the man who spanked your ass in passing

✰ It happened so quickly that Hajime questioning his thoughts, The only thing that confirms that it happens is your bruised knuckles and the unconscious fool who lays before you

✰ He's so turned on right now, he can't hide it. You can fight? Like this? Fuck.

✰ Is quick to clean your knuckles off before massaging them while staring at you with eyes full of infatuation 

✰ “I never knew you could punch like that,” Hajime said while his eyes searched yours for a reaction, “I just got mad that's all” You answer him back

✰ Remind him to never get you mad then, Your punches are lethal. But he has to admit it's so hot seeing this side of you

✰ He got a new weakness and again it involves you.

You couldn't help but feel warm all over as you walked with Hajime, He always made you feel like heaven when your hand was held by his but you were pulled back to earth when you felt a hand that wasn't Hajime Spanked your ass. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You asked before letting go of Hajime Hand and approaching disgusting Sleazebag

“A man who knows when he sees a beautiful ass he has to spank it” Disgusting sleazebag answered back making you snap, before you knew it your anger had taken control of you and your fist was against Disgusting sleazebag's head. You sent disgusting sleazebag flying against the pavement as Hajime stood there confused

“What the fuck just happened?” Hajime asked while you wrapped your arms around him, “ He spanked my ass and I punched his lights out Koko” You sighed While Hajime rubbed your back. “I never knew you had power in your punches” Hajime said making you giggle, “ I never got this pissed off before” You smiled as Hajime Grabbed your hand

“Let get some ice for your hand” Hajime said before walking away with you leaving Disgusting sleazebag on the ground dazed and confused

Shuji Hanma

✰ Shuji thought he knew everything about you but apparently he was wrong, The way you just dropped this fucker who was starting shit with Him got Shuji grinning like a madman

✰ Damn you were made for each other, fucking soulmates in his mind. He can't believe you could be so ruthless

✰ Got Him leaking just from seeing you draw blood from this idiot's head it's like he woke up in the hottest dream ever 

✰ “ Damn Babe. He's out” Shuji says while he pulls you away from the imbecile, “ So fucking Hot, Now let's leave this scene” Shuji groans before catching your lips in a sloppy kiss

✰ He's always talking about how good of a fighter you are, Kisaki is sick of hearing about it

✰ “ before I knew it babe had dodged his punches and had him laying there like a wet duvet,” Shuji says while Kisaki massages his temples 

✰ The damn world better get used to hearing Shuji gush about how quick with your hands you is because he's never gonna shut up

You spent the day with Shuji as he took pictures of the scenery, Your head on his shoulder as he looked through his camera roll. “Looks good Shu” You smiled only for that smile to run off your face. “Look at this, a bitch sitting here with his camera” Blubbering dumbass said making Shuji roll his eyes, “ I dont know who the fuck you think you are but leave us alone before things get ugly” Shuji Responded back making Blubbering dumbass sneer

“You can't tell me what to do, you weak pathetic worm.” Blubbering dumbass quickly snapped back making you stand up, “Look leave us alone.” You said before glaring the man down. “Oh, you think you make me scared? You and your boyfriend isn't nothing but bitc-” Blubber asshole said before he was cut off with a punch to the gut

Shuji's mouth opening up as he watched you beat the shit out of blubbering dumbass, your fist damaging the man with every blow you gave making Shuji get aroused, “ Fuck babe. You got hands” Shuji said as he walked to you before grabbing your arms. “Hes out cold. Don't want you to damage your hands” Shuji said before helping you up

“Fuck. That was hot. Never knew you had that in you” Shuji grinned before kissing your lips, “now let's go home because I got another way you can take your anger out” Shuji groaned as he held your hand

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, And Asks are Appreciated & Loved

Please Don’t Steal My Shit 

[k1ngpin42]

𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐸𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑒’𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝑔𝒶𝓂𝑒.

No outbreak

(Mini fic- a lot shorter than my usuals, longer one coming next, see announcement for more info)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long day for Ellie at work. She worked in administration in a hospital who made her do just about everything for just about nothing. This is what she got for trying to make a difference she guessed. One file at a time. Ellie wasn’t the kind to be silent about it either. “How was work?” “fine.” No. If it sucked, you’d hear about it.

The key clicked and the front door opened. It was around 10pm. You had just been chilling on the couch, watching one of those shows with way too many episodes to be healthy and letting time tick by. A chorus of irritated huffs and sighs escaped your girlfriends lips before you could even greet her.

“Ellie! You’re home, hey baby.” You say excitedly. She sighs.

“Hey babe.” She groans, giving you a quick and resilient hug. You let out a sigh. You were craving her. Bad. But when she was in one of these moods the last thing she wanted to do was use any more energy on talking or…well especially what you had been thinking about all these hours that you were alone here. 

“I can heat you up some leftovers if you’re hungry?”

“No. Thanks though, I’m just gonna take a shower and then play some games before bed.”

“Okay. Oh um, want…me to join you?” You question, and she laughs lightly, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“I won’t be long.” 

It was easier to pretend you had been joking, which Ellie at least thought you were, even if every part of you ached to have your body soften under the heat of the shower while she eats you out and the condensation makes you feel faint and- whatever. It was a joke, you repeated to yourself. 

You scooped yourself a small bowl of ice cream and had been picking at it with a teaspoon for a while, starring back at the screen. After around 15 minutes, Ellie headed up to your bedroom.

“I’ll wear headphones so the game won’t disturb you.” Ellie announces. You nod.

“Oh- how…was your day?” Ellie asked, feeling a little bad when she realised she had barely spoken to you. You gave her a comfortingly smile.

“It was fine. Go, play your game.”

“Okay baby, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

But the more time passed the more frustrated you felt that you couldn’t get off. Before she got there you had tried touching yourself, even using a toy, but each time you got close the sensation fucked off again and you were left feeling how you felt now. Annoyed and lonely.

So you decided to go up there to your room. You always left Ellie by herself when she gamed, it was like an unspoken rule, you had your movies and she had her games and afterwards you’d cuddle and all would be right in the world. You weren’t even sure how she’d react to you trying to distract her, but any attention was better than nothing.

You knocked on the door.

“UGH FUCK. Died again.” You heard Ellie groan through the door. You can’t help but laugh at this, and you open the door, laying back on your bed.

For a while you just watch her. Watch her get more and more frustrated. You walk over, kneeling in front of her and putting a hand on her thigh. She sighs.

“-ugh I-  I need to win just, I’ll just be a second.” You shrug, walking back to your bed with a teasing smile as you remove your pyjama pants, putting your hand in your already drenched panties.

“You look so good over there.” You say, and Ellie still has her headphones in, not really hearing you. That is until you start circling your clit faster, letting out an almost pornographic moan, your eyes rolling back where they were previously on your otherwise engaged girlfriend.

Ellie’s eyes widen and you hear a loud thud from her headphones being dropped.

“Jesus…look at you making up a fuckin mess for me playing video games. Did I not give my girl enough attention?” She coo’d. You don’t say anything, still wanting to keep what little power you had over her. You keep going, a little slower now that her gaze was right on you.

“Couldn’t fucking wait 20 minutes could you, pretty girl? You just had to fucking touch yourself.” You let out a gasp of pleasure. 

“You’re not cumming until I finish my game. Come here.” She orders, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to her gaming chair. 

“Kneel.” You do as she says, your cheeks heating up at her words. 

“Fucking suck on it.” She commands in a way she knows you love. It had taken Ellie a long time to become comfortable with talking to you like this. It took about a hundred “are you sure’s?” And “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that’s” in the past to get where you two were now, but now she’s fucking obsessed with the way she can treat you like nothing when you know you’re everything to her. The way she can call you her ‘fucking slut’ and then call you “babe” and the “love of her life” after.

You obeyed her without protest, unzipping her jeans and pulling them down to her waist. Then, you start sucking on her clit, moving your tongue in circular motions as well. She lets our a few deep breaths and short sighs at this as she powers her game back up.

“I come home from work and my girls all worked up? Wet for me and fingering herself in our fucking bed? You’re such a good fucking slut for- fuck….me.” She added. You hum into her clit, feeling, hearing and tasting her get increasingly more wet at your actions. 

“YES! I almost got I-it…” Ellie moaned as she achieved something in her game. You go faster, adding fingers through her folds as your tongue works at her clit.

“Ah…f- not so fast baby…oh fuck.” You don’t listen, though. Perhaps your first mistake of the night. Then Ellie reaches her arms up in celebration.

“Fuck, finally.” She says, but her victory is soon forgotten when your orgasm swirls through her.

“F…fuck, fuck…” Ellie practically whimpered, putting her remote down and picking you up, putting you’re harshly on the bed. 

“You did good babe. Now stay fucking still, I wanna see what my absence did to you.” She exclaims, putting her fingers into you.

“Fuck, they’re practically drowning in this pussy. You ovulating or something?” You gasp out at the feeling of her long, skinny, perfect fucking fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit. She nods.

“Course you don’t. You get this horny for me no matter what, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You say as her two middle fingers make their way up to your clit. The pressure is so fucking perfect that you’re close already. God damn those fucking lesbian hands. Your favourite god damn necklace too.

She increases her pace and your eyes roll back. She smirks cockily. 

“Close already? I just started.” You sigh, not having the words to retaliate. She keeps going and a chorus of whimpers and whines escape your lips. You grab onto her arm, sinking your nails into the tattood skin as you cum hard on her fingers. She kisses your neck lightly. 

“So beautiful.” She says in your ear. 

[yourlocallyneysimp]

hai! I just found this acc and there’s actually someone that does lyney x readers??? woah /pos I love the writing <3

was wondering if we could get a hurt/comfort lyney x reader? reader having a bad day and then feels jealous for whatever reason.. etc.. anything! would love to see it (bonus points if the reader is touch starved)

"Bad day?"

Lyney x Reader

A/n: Sorry this took a while!

Everything wasn't going well. The props, your costume barely fitting you, and your performance wasn't that successful.

You were upset since you were looking forward to performing your favorite childhood story for months, but everything decided to go downhill. It sucked. It really did.

You felt slightly embarrassed since the people in the crowd didn't seem all that excited in the crowd. Usually, Lyney likes to watch your performances, but he couldn't make it due to work.

Lynette was able to make it though, and she could tell you weren't in the best mood.

Deciding that Lyney would be able to make you feel better, she decided to take you home to see your boyfriend.

At least, she hoped that he could make you feel better..

You and Lynette didn't even make it to your home before almost all your energy was drained away. All you had to do was pass through one of the other stages to see Lyney talking to someone you didn't recognize.

It didn't really help your mood since your social circle was pretty low already. Seeing him smile with someone else made you feel lonely again and go down a familiar road you would rather forget.

Seeing your upset expression, Lynette walked over to Lyney and the unknown person. You took your chance and walked away. You didn't want him to see you like this. You were way too embarrassed...

You sat at the back of the stage, sitting on the floor and head buried in your knees. This wasn't a good day, huh..

You were exhausted....

The clock on a nearby box ticked as minutes passed by, and before you knew it, it had been ten minutes.

Slowly, you found yourself falling into a light slumber. But before you could fully fall asleep, you heard a voice.

"Why are you on the floor, dear?"

You didn't bother looking up. You knew it was Lyney.

You knew you were being childish, but right now, you really weren't in the mood.

Not getting a response from you, Lyney sighed and sat down next to you. You were a little surprised since he didn't have to do that, and the floor was slightly dusty. You knew he didn't like dirt on his clothes.

"I'm guessing your performance didn't go well?"

You buried your head deeper into your knees as you mumbled.

Lyney slightly laughed and gently pulled you closer so you could lean on his shoulder.

He laid his head on top of yours as he closed his eyes. He was also pretty tired, but being in your presence gave him motivation.

The only 'bad' thing was your body thought it would be a good idea to betray you since you immediately leaned into his touch.

It was sort of embarrassing how quickly you leaned on him.

You closed your eyes again.

It was now dark outside, and the stars of Teyvat were shining brighter than ever.

It was just the two of you. No background noise, no people, nothing.

After sitting in silence a while, Lyney said something that immediately made your day into a good one.

"I'll make sure to make it to your next performance. I love you. ♡"

[karniss-bg3]

The cult of the absolute doesn't strike me as necessarily caring about the quality of life of its followers given they can just-- brain wash them into thinking it's the best. What kind of living situation do you think Kar'niss was put into? After all-- they made an ogre stay in the same rooms as other races.

Without a doubt, the Absolute are dogshit at cultist accommodations. If they had a Yelp page it'd be one stars down the line. Although I hear the continental breakfasts have their perks; If you don't mind tadpoles in your oatmeal, that is.

When it comes to our dear baby boy I fear he may have it the worst out of anyone, or the best depending on how you look at it. I don't believe he lives at the tower full time. Driders are bloodthirsty and are required to consume blood at least every four days, otherwise their bodies begin to break down and they can die. Unless Ketheric Thorm had a steady system to meet these dietary needs it would require Kar'niss to go out on the hunt for meals. And if there is one thing driders are biologically wired to do, it's hunt...and often.

I believe Kar'niss spends most of his time at the camp where you first encounter him.

This area is large enough to handle his size and secluded enough to where he's rarely bothered. Stationed so close to the mountain pass it also affords him the jump on any foolish enough to enter the Shadowlands. If you enter through the doorway at the back you also find a lot of evidence that this could be his primary feeding nest.

Bloody drag marks, bodies in trees and rock faces and skeletal remains piling up in the cavern below, it's the perfect spot for a hungry drider to enjoy his meal in peace. He likely drags his victims to the tree, drinks them dry and discards the remains for scavengers or fiends to clean up.

I also believe this is the real reason he was given the moon lantern. Not because the Absolute actually favored him, but because out of anyone he would be required to venture into the Shadowlands most often. This elected him as the impromptu guide for any True Souls that wandered to Moonrise.

As for where he sleeps, I doubt he does much if at all. Drow only require four hours of rest with their trance ability, and Kar'niss is still labeled as a drow in his profile. Rest wouldn't come easy to him with so many voices bombarding his mind, vying for attention. So when he's not being tasked by the Absolute to act as a guide or some other side venture, he's either hunting or looming at the top of Moonrise tower to be closer to "Majesty". I have an idea as to how Kar'niss became so thoroughly mind fucked by them, but that's for another post.

If he does stay at the tower primarily it would be just as lonely as the pseudo campsite. Kar'niss is the Ned Flanders of the Absolute (with more murder), and everyone else is Reverend Lovejoy. Sure, they believe and follow faithfully, but Kar'niss is a bit too extra even for them. His constant ramblings, his fanatic devotion and how temperamental he can be make him an unpopular option to hang around. He's likely dismissed or outright ignored. In fact now that I think about it, I don't think a single NPC addresses him by name. The guard at Moonrise calls him 'drider' and that's it. Perhaps Minthara does but I can't recall to save my life. Sad.

Overall I think regardless of where he chooses to hang his web, it's a very isolated existence. The Absolute don't care about him, non-cultists don't care about him, and he has an invisible timer ticking down toward his expiration date. The poor creature is simply too brainwashed and broken to know it.

Thanks for the ask!

[lvlystars]

15:38 — b.sk

“reservation for two under the name y/n?” you ask, and the host taps on her tablet before she nods. “yep, i have it right here, if you can just follow me? your table is in the back in a more secluded area, just like you requested.” she winks at you before beckoning you towards the more quiet area of the restaurant. you smile back before you follow her to your table, your palms growing sweaty and clammy as you wait for your date to show up.

as you wait, a waiter comes up to you and asks if you’d like anything to drink, and you refuse, saying you have a date coming and you’ll order when they come, but little do you know, you were going to be waiting there for a long, long, time…

“soon, not this again-”

“shhh! imagine!” soonyoung snaps, holding his index finger against your lips as you close your eyes again.

you're waiting there for a long time, and as every second ticks by, you grow anxious, wondering if your date was caught in traffic…or if they met someone along the way… or (worst case scenario) they’re hooking up with their ex…

“soon-”

“i’m getting to the part!” he shushes you again, whining as he smacks your shoulder.

the waiter notices how lonely and dejected you look, and so he comes over to you and slides a little paper towards you. you uncrumple the note and you read the note. it reads:

got stood up? i’m sorry if you did, but if you wanna talk about it, just call me over. ask for seokmin.

and you look up to see the (really cute, if you must admit) waiter smiling back at you, giving you a slight wave. you smile and wave back, shaking your head no as you pull out your phone, ready to text your date.

as soon as you were about to send a text, you looked up to see a (dashingly handsome) man standing in front of you.

“are you y/n?” he asks, and smiles at you with a little crooked smile, and you swear you were smitten, but you didn’t feel like eating at the restaurant anymore. “yes, you’re seungkwan, right?” you reply. “but…i don’t think i want to be here anymore…” you smile at him, getting ready to get up.

“wait,” the cute date says, standing up. “i’m so sorry i was late. i got held up at my job and i really tried to call you but my phone died.” he says dejectedly, trying to reach out for your hand and to your surprise, waiter dude steps in.

“is there a problem here, ma’am?” he asks, looking at you intently as you just stare at the two of them-

“alright enough with your delusions.” seungkwan interrupts, pulling you away from soonyoung, and soonyoung whines, sending seungkwan a stank face as he walks away.

“talk about a human cockblocker!” soonyoung announces before making himself comfortable on the couch as seungkwan rolls his eyes before seating you at the coffee table. “why? it was getting to the good part.” you tease him as seungkwan just shoots you a nasty side eye. “we are not talking about our first date again. you decided to leave the restaurant, and i offered to take you out for ice cream to make up for it. that’s what happened, no ‘what if’s.” seungkwan frowns.

“but what if-”

“nope. no what if’s. you’re mine, and in every scenario, i will make sure you become my girlfriend in all of them.” seungkwan hushes you, pecking your lips before you can make a rebuttal. “you’re jealous.” you giggle, playing with the end of his shirt, and seungkwan chuckles back. “uh-huh, and you’re not hanging out with tiger-boy over there again.”

“HEY! SHE WAS MY FRIEND BEFORE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

wc. 641

tags 🏷️ —

@star1117-archives @kyeomyun @spicyseonghwas @jaehunnyy @leo-seonghwa @wqnwoos @etherealyoungk @amxlia-stars @seuonji

networks 🔗 —

@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @caratsland @k-labels

SVT WORKS

please send me an ask or drop a comment to be added to my general taglist !

ⓒ lvlystars

[mhaynoot]

yjh and his 0th run where everything is perfect and he is happy and he is married to a woman he loves and all his companions are alive and he is ending a joyful life after the scenarios together with everyone.

he can die old and happy and there is a singular god in the stars who will witness his end.

yjh is happy.

and he still has so many questions.

so he forces the god to whisper secrets and truths his ears. and he does. always so indulgent. such a curious constellation is he. demon king of salvation. a presence that had shaken the world for him, laid it down like a fairy tale.

[1 8 6 4] the being from beyond the wall chokes out like whispered tears and yjh accepts it easily.

[dumb bastard] his god says.

perhaps yjh is one but even still what a kind, lonely voice.

he smile and closes his eyes. i will find my answers beyond the [wall].

yjh and 1865th turn later and yjh is not the 0th turn like how he is not the 3rd turn or the 1863rd or the Secretive Plotter either.

yjh is disgraced by an emptiness in life after the scenarios. this world that moves forward like the ticking hands of a pocket watch. this is a world saved. companions he had known for lifetimes and companions he only knew for this lifetime accompany him now into the setting sun of a story without a reader.

he wonders, viciously, how kdj could ever think it would be right to live in a world built by his loneliness.

ah but he already knew this answer, didn't he?

[constellation, 'demon king of salvation', replies that this is the story he wanted to see in the first place.]

years go by and he tries to settle into the world but it chafes like soaked bandages. the days pass then months then years like words unwritten like a story not even worth novelisation. one day, he cuts off the bandages and breaks his sister's heart.

kdj wanted his happinesss more than anything, wanted a future where yjh and their companions can live together and grow old together. always so selfish and selfess. his salvation.

so, yjh breaks his heart. some days he spends it with vicious strikes and reclusive anger and all the lifetimes of hatred kdj had feared from him. other days, he can't bring himself to do more than open his eyes. and some days, he simply wonders the world and stares at it.

do i always have to give you up?

to let him complete a story where his happiness was unwritten.

yjh refuses.

he is not the 0th turn like how he is not 41st turn and biyoo is not shin yoosung. he had fulfilled all the 0th wants and found all the answers but still he is not fulfilled. he stares into the vast expanse of a starless night.

what am i without the scenarios?

he reads each chapter hsy writes over and over again. he rewrites them. he writes his own chapters. he scatters the stories to all these worldlines kdj's stardust have reincarnated into. he smacks around authors and looks around at the world.

how do you save someone who doesn't want to he saved and what does it mean for a story to save someone?

yjh didn't know for sure but he knew has been saved by hsy's story of kdj much like kdj had been saved by her story of his. and kdj had saved them both. writer, reader, protagonist. the lines between them have never been so clear cut yet have long since been blurred.

the questions and answers he has been looking for since the 0th turn until now in the 1864th turn as an ex-regressor. it is one and the same. it will always be the same. he will always search for it in the turn of kim dokja's name if it meant kim dokja could be his forever.

... it wouldn't be a bad thing if the journey continued a little longer.

he is not the 0th turn like how he isn't 41st or the 1863rd or the Secretive Plottor. he is yjh and he is all of them and he is the one kdj knows.

when the power of stories finally finish, he returns home. a saved world. his companions. his sister.

kdj doesn't wish for his happiness. yjh still does not know for sure what his ■■ is and he is still not fully content.

it's alright though.

because the story around them is pushing them onwards into an ending only a reader can imagine and the hospital doors will always open to that, brimming to an unwritten ending.

[vineofroses]

Fic Pride Friday

thanks for the tag @liminalmemories21 !

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

large popcorn with a bag of m&ms (in terms of theme and pulling the theme throughout the fic, this is probably still my favorite fic i've written, and i wrote it three years ago! lol. the old guard.)

The screen in front of her blurs, and she’s in another theater, in another time. Andy, Nicky, Joe, they drop away. In their place is ... she glances to her left, and he’s there. Laughing at whatever is on screen as he eats his popcorn. They snuck into Bridesmaids. Is this then? Nile can’t look away, transfixed on this memory of her brother. She knows it’s a memory but it feels so real; the smell of buttery popcorn fills her nose. The lights from the screen dance across her brother’s face. He leans toward her. She knows what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Can you pass me the m&ms?” the memory whispers. It echoes through her. She holds onto it, traps it inside the very deepest parts of her and doesn’t let go. He fades away just as quickly as he appeared. Where he just was, Andy still is. She catches her eye, but Nile turns back toward the screen, ready to get lost in someone else’s adventure for a while.

peace (second Lone Star fic, where poetry was my focus. this part was absolutely my favorite section. Lone Star.)

Slowly but surely new life sprouted from the ground right at their feet. The embers of yesterday faded as he grasped for the ever growing vines. He latched onto the first signs of life so quickly he never realized his hand was the only one reaching out.

a call (with anything i write i always want the end to have a punch and i really liked how this one turned out. shadowhunters.)

“Forgive me for being so forward, Alexander, but you don’t strike me as someone who receives compliments very well,” Magnus says.

Alec raises his eyebrow. A challenge.

Magnus huffs, shaking his head. “I was going to tell you that you have a lovely laugh.”

Alec ducks his dead, smiling into his coke. He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks.

Magnus laughs, delighted by being right. “You’re going to have to get used to compliments, Alexander.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Because you deserve to hear them,” Magnus says, like it’s a simple truth.

Alec stares at Magnus, the light, fluttery feeling returning. Magnus stares back, and in his eyes Alec sees all his potential, waiting for him to answer back.

echoes (im not very confident about detailing atmosphere and blocking character movements but this part i thought i did pretty well. Lone Star.)

It’s quiet right now. A clock ticks on the wall above his head. An occasional shuffle of someone adjusting their sitting position in the hospital’s unfortunate chairs. Across from him the scratches of Marjan’s pen almost lull him to sleep. But then Mateo’s tapping foot drags him back to wakefullness. Every once in a while, the crinkle of a turned page tunes him into Judd and the magazine he’s pretending to read. Next to Judd, Paul sits unmoving, except for his eyes, silently checking in with Carlos. Each time Carlos nods, but he’s not sure what he means by it. Thank you for calling me. Yes, I’m still here. Yes, I’m scared too.

halted beginnings (really just the last line of this paragraph is my absolute fave. Lone Star.)

Huh. He thinks that seems like something one should remember. The anxious pacing throughout the courtroom, the bored looking witness, plucked randomly from the staff milling about their day. The weeds they pulled from the ground and fashioned into make-shift rings. And the look on his parents’ faces when they showed up to dinner that evening and told them. How a moment’s piercing silence was almost enough for Carlos to doubt that this was what his parents wanted, until cheers and congratulations rang out, engulfing them in a joyous cocoon of happily ever after. The doubt slithered away, defeated. Carlos hugged his parents. In his father’s embrace, he closed his eyes to the look his sisters shared between them, and thought, this is what pride feels like.

why (carlos being fucking dramatic about doing something nice for TK just because it involves Lou II. crack fic! Lone Star)

"Tada," Carlos says with as much cheer as he can muster. This was his idea but he's ready to be out of ideas and never follow through on them ever again. He will obviously accept the award for best husband of century but he will also let it be known that this has been torture.

TK reaches for Lou II and Carlos is happy to hand him over. Lou II agrees if his wiggling body is any indication of how happy he is to see TK. Carlos scoffs. He just bought him pajamas, but okay.

fundamental (there are actually so many parts to this one that i love that it's hard to choose. i was truly in my unhinged writing phase a couple of weeks ago lollllllll. this fic is also one im just super proud of because of the writing process of it thanks in large part to @goldenskykaysani for making the editing process so much fun and thoughtful and yes i will keep tagging you every time i mention this fic because it really would not exist without your help so deal with it!!! lol. this fic also one where every time i think about it im just like, yeah! i fucking did that!)

Iris, I said, Iris, Iris, Iris. I started giggling because wouldn’t that be funny, Dad, that I could find a way to make you proud of me even if it meant dying? Iris, I said again. Would you ever marry me? And she fell back laughing, her beer sloshing over the rim, and I followed her down, sprawled out on her bedroom floor, watching the ceiling fan spin. I took another sip, and filed the question away. 

--

no pressure tagging: @paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @bonheur-cafe @sznofthesticks

@ladytessa74 @theghostofashton

[kill-the-hand-of-shakespeare]

“Unknown”

5

———————

It wasn’t bad. Aziraphale had said it wasn’t bad - what did that even mean? That it wasn’t bad but wasn’t good? Or was it good?

Crowley let himself be brought back to the couch. He’d spent many nights on this couch.

At first, he’d just gotten into the Bentley and drove. He drove all the way to the coast and only stopped when he was far away from any town or houses. He’d stepped out when the Bentley came to a slow stop and turned herself off, tired of his mood.

He’d stood at the top of the onlook and as loud as he could, screamed. He screamed at God. Asked Her why She kept taunting him. Was falling not enough? Taking away his stars? His memory? Ripping him piece by piece and leaving him to glue them back together and now She takes him? His Angel? It wasn’t even unfair at this point. It was bloody demonic.

He’d stayed there all night. It was so dark. Snakes can’t see the stars very well. He couldn’t see the stars very well.

The nebula and local groups, planets and constellations he had formed- he couldn’t see them in all their glory anymore. He could see the moon, pale and plain. Stars were beautiful colours- a million chemicals fighting each other in a beautiful dance, that would end in terrifying blasts of energy.

And all he could see was the moon. A stupid satellite that broke off of earth at one point... or was it a meteor? He couldn’t remember. It had been so insignificant at the time... a single grain of sand in the beach of time.

He let out his wings. Held himself with them. The dark black a reminder of the fires of hell. Pure white singed dark as the night. Maybe Aziraphale was right - they were the bad guys. He was the villain.

He would never be good enough for God, nor the Angel he had come to adore.

When the sun had started to rise, Crowley just watched. Time was a terrible thing. It just kept going. Sunrise to sunset the word kept spinning... that’s just how he’d designed it. Let there be light...

He’d cursed the sun, too. Swore at it and then, as the beautiful colours pushed the stars he could not see away, and made room for blue cloudy skies of dawn, he broke. He let himself sob. He cried until his throat was raw, and no tears came. Until he felt empty.

The Bentley started herself up. And he drove for two more days before going back to his apartment. Where he’d smashed everything in his apartment to dust.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Just as She had intended.

But his apartment became too lonely. The ticking of his clock drove him so mad he threw it away.

The Bentley had driven herself to the bookshop. Parked where she always did. And he made his way into the shop. It was quiet. Muriel was only there half the time they were supposed to be open, but there was a note on the door saying Mr. Fell had fallen ill and went back to his hometown to be around family.

So they were acting like he was dying? That was heavens Oh Great Plan? Cheery.

He’d slept on the couch. He had half a mind to sleep in Aziraphale’s room, but that dropped a heavy stone in his stomach. After a few days he’d ventured upstairs. Lingered around. The smell of the Angel had made him feel homesick - vanilla and Earl Grey. The sweet fragrance of decaying book pages and antique leather.

So he raided Aziraphale’s alcohol. Got drunk enough that everything looked a little less painful, and made his way back up to the angel’s apartment to look through all his little things.

———————

Meepmeep. Here is a short but emotionally draining chapter! Enjoy, ya’ll. 🖤🥲

< Previous Next >

[mamawasatesttube]

So, I'm not a writer, but I am very curious 👀 What do you look for in a fic that features Kon? 👀 What kind of things do you want Kon to do, or experience? 👀 What characteristics of Kon do you absolutely wanna see? 👀 What characteristics of Kon you didn't like but want to see adressed in a fic? 👀 When you're writing, what are three major things about Kon that you MUST INCLUDE NO MATTER WHAT? 👀👀👀 Sorry about the many questions!!!!!

OHHHH this is such a good question okay okay okay. let's see.

what do i look for? primarily, kon having an actual character voice. that's the lowest bar to clear (and yet already takes out... a good chunk of the fics ive seen in the kon character tag 😭😭). he needs to be silly, geeky, deeply kind, earnest, etc. not every fic featuring him will necessarily get into the way he's also existentially lonely and has a Lot of sadness and self-esteem issues (esp after rex leech's roller coaster incident. this has been on my mind today. ough. his self-image never recovered after that one!) but by GOD does he have his issues, so if its a fic going into emotions i want it to do right by his. will def admit thats smth im incredibly picky about.

as for stuff i want him doing? honestly i am here for so much!! i want soft simple character studies. i want action showcasing how fucking powerful ttk can be, especially with a dose of creativity to its use. i want wacky yj space adventures. i want good good whump and hurt/comfort. i want him getting swept off his feet. you could sell me on almost any plot if it's well-written.

re: characteristics... i don't really split them up quite like that, i think! he's a well-rounded character, and that includes both strengths and flaws. ideally, a good fic will include both of these and represent them fairly (like, he's not perfect by any means, and he can do stupid things and struggle with personal issues, but on the other hand very few things tick me off more than portrayals where he's just completely incompetent and dumb as a rock, lmao).

BUT REGARDING MY OWN WRITING. ohhohoohoohooho three things i ALWAYS have to include? a) geek-ass loser (affectionate). i think it is SO endearing and also very humanizing as a quality that he's a trekkie/wendy fan/star wars nerd/etc. b) mixed-race metaphors. they may not be overt depending on the piece but the "child of two worlds that doesn't quite fit into either" thing is Deeply intentional. and c) HES A JUGGERNAUT!!!! i firmly believe adult fully realized kon (a kryptonian, with full kryptonian powers, WITH TTK) is a force of fucking nature. i like this so much and i specifically also always like it when he is at any given moment about 0.4 seconds from freaking the fuck out about how it's Too much strength.

to me, kon is a character made of some very delicious contradictions. he's so painfully human and yet grapples hard with his own personhood and humanity. he's a kryptonian and an alien but he's a child of earth. he's terrified of his own power. he wants nothing more than to protect everyone he loves (and everyone he doesn't love, too). he's always ready to crack a joke or make a silly reference, but he is deeply sad and spent so much of his early life suicidal. he contains multitudes. (and this isn't even getting into my hcs on his gender/sexuality crisis! ksjdhf)

i feel like a gripe i often find myself having when looking for kon fics is that he often gets slotted into the role of "emotional support boyfriend with no personality or role of his own" though, which i guess is why "does he have a distinct character voice?" is my first litmus test for whether i'd want to keep reading or not.

a good kon fic will embrace all his contradictions, i think. (a good fic for any character, really, should show them as well-rounded and three-dimensional.) and i for one love his Problems and Issues, bc man, it's a very fun space to play in! <3

[silveredwood]

Chrysanthemum

| joy • longetivity • eternal life • elixir of life • immortality |

✦✦✦

[warning: angst, deep talk, mentioned of death, fluff towards the end]

|| solomon x mc ||

You never have been felt so grateful with life, even though you face so many obstacles along the way. You manage to pull it off, become the most treasured person for the brothers, the king of devildom itself with his humble and loyal butler, the angels, especially your own beloved sorcerer.

When you arrived being called to the world where the devil belong, you were so scared. Trying just as hard to be good so maybe, after making the one who called you satisfied they will let you go back to where you belong.

It's stupid logical thing, if you think about it. But now, you become more attached to them than ever. You would never let go of any deep friendship with them. Even going back never crossed your mind anymore.

Even if you got dragged, shoved into another timeline where the brothers didn't know you in the slightest. You, still care and love them as much.

You now walking along side them, listening in to their conversation.

"How long do demon live, anyway?"

"Probably about as long as angels, I'm guessing."

"When you think about it that way, human live short-crazy lives, huh? I mean, I guess that doesn't apply to all of them, Like Solomon, for instance..."

It hit you hard at that moment,

You had stopped walking instead of kept listening. Their conversation becomes blurry with each second passing by. You looked down at your shoes.

That's right, you have been loving that famous sorcerer since you came to Devildom. It's like, you depend on him since he is the only human representative for exchange students back on your timeline. These thoughts never crossed your mind, considering you still have so much plenty of time to spend with everyone.

...

You just have to hope that your time not ending so soon, right?

Ever since you woke up from the slumber after accidentally promising in the Fontaine of Knowledge. Everyone became close again to you, they were so afraid of losing you. Remembering every faces looked so relieved to see you awake and about, that made your lips arc up a little.

It feels so warm.. like there is a place where you belong and accepted you.

The night in the Cocytus Hall are different than at Lamentation. It's peacefully quiet sometimes that you wish, it is not as quiet as it is. Because now, your mind buzzing in and off with anxiety. It's almost like going to eat you alive.

Your eyes are now looking up, gazing upon the lonely moon up in the darkest sky from a window in the corridor. You wish that you could hear the moon talk, so that it'll give you answer.

"(Y/n)?"

You turned to the sound of your name being called, the deep spark blue now gazing at you.

When did he get back? You didn't hear any sound coming from the front door or his footsteps?

Ah, yes, teleportation.

"You haven't gone to sleep? It's already late you know.."

"Welcome back, Sol."

You greet him still in your position, offering a smile from which he replied back. He step closer to you and now, stood beside you.

How sweet, to have a company like him. You treasure this moment very much, just the two of you and the sound of ticking clock filling the corridor. It probably complimanting each other with each of your heartbeat.

"The moon look so lonely so I paid a visit and companying them. You see, the stars haven't show themselves just yet." without much thinking you replied. Gazing up again, hiding each thoughts that have been occupied your mind

The man beside you never be fooled that easily. He knows something is up with you. And yet, he didn't address it immediately. Observing you, he noticed the melancholy in your eyes. Now he follow your vision looking up staring at the full moon.

"Is something on your mind? Would you like to share it with me?" He ask with such polite and gentleness.

Silence engulfed them, smile still gracefully captive on your lips, turning your head to the side facing him.

"Say.. have you ever tried to grow human's plants here?"

Solomon tilt his head, you were wondering about an experiment? That's rare. Usually the man itself who inniatively giving suggestions, to what should be experimented. But it did piqued his interest.

"No, I haven't really thought of that. Are you planning to grow it here without any sun?"

You hum answering him, "Yea, I'm curious. Would you help me grow one?"

The gesture make you look towards your hand. The icy touch hug the warm ones.

He smiled, "Sure if that's what you want, we could make it work. We will take care of it together." his hand grasp your hand holding it firmly.

How comforting...

For a second you wondered, will he ever going to miss this moment you have together later on? In hope, those memories that lingers brought smile to his face instead of transparent droplets across his cheek.

✦✦✦

Time passed by so fast, you and Solomon searching the alternative to subtitute the sun and temperature that could make the plant alive and grow in the surface of Devildom.

Of course as a genius and top sorcerer, he find a way, along with special potion for the plants. Soon, you successfully required the flower you have been searching for, it still just a stem that looks fragile.

"Will it be okay?"

You asked the man now carrying the plant along with the gardening tools. You came along helping carrying the water can.

"Trust me, it will worked out! I already make sure which spell and moreover both of us will take care of the rest."

"Did you know, they said if you talk to the plant it hears you. That's why they can grow depending on the words and atmosphere around us."

He said reassuringly, now the two of you crouching down, making a place to given the so called leaf a place to live by.

"Ah, yes, the talking tulips. It can even ask to be given food right?"

"And, we are done for the first step." He smiled towards you.

He nodded, standing up after finish planting. He then cast a spell, called upon a small luminating light decorating the garden area. It is feels like back to the earth.

...

"Thank you, Sol." you smiled back to him, then looking back to the plant, "Grow up strong, little one. Now, this is your new home."

✦✦✦

Planting it at the back of the Cocytus Hall garden together with Solomon, you happily take care of the plant.

Everyday you will take a time to visit it whenever you have the time after solving the following problems of the brothers and helping the preparation for RAD.

When both of you have spared time, two of you will spend the time on the garden. Bringing along some tea and snack— of course prevent the man tempered the food you will consume.

You taking your time placing the tea cup, looking straight to him, "It's pretty famous flower, called Chrysanthemum."

"So, you haven't really told me the name of the plant. What is it?" Solomon ask curiously while looking at you sipping your tea.

"Oh? Why the sudden interest all of sudden?"

You answer him with a smile, "It just struck me and I'm curious! Also the flower is beautiful, it have good meanings too."

The two of you enjoying the tea together, it's as if giving the little flower a friend. You always look hopeful towards the flower. It make Solomon wondered, but he never really brought it up or questioning you further.

"I see.."

...

Every effort seems to be fruitful that soon the white petals appearing yet to be bloom. Looking at the progress, you excitedly run inside to inform the man who take care the flower alongside you, saying that soon it will beautifully bloom.

It is the day, now the two of you stood side by side looking at the flower that successfully bloom. It made you smile cheerfully.

"Look Sol, how beautiful the petals are."

For the time being, the sorcerer smiled towards his significant other.

"Yes, it really is captivating and bring so much joy. Like someone I know." he said while looking at you fondly.

Feel the gaze on you, make your eyes shift towards him. A moment passing by, soon after realizing what he meant heat surfacing across your face. Chuckled in respond of what he said, feeling shy yet content at the same time. How cheeky he is, saying something like that so suddenly.

Solomon reach your figure giving you the warmest hug you ever could received, he then bring your head towards his board chest so you could hear the pit pat of his heart beat loudly.

You closed your eyes, smiling. Feel so fulfilled with each seconds spend along side him. For now, you feel so complete, and for sure will cherish every moment while you still breathing and smiling brightly. And share the happiness with him, making the most of your precious time and just as important in his and your life.

Time.

It is a blessing yet can be cursed just as same. But for now the blissful kiss you shared with him in the middle of Cocytus Hall garden shall never be forgotten.

How lovely..

[maliciousblog]

King of Hell (San)

Life had been really hard on you lately, one thing after another everything that could go wrong went wrong. You were currently on your way to work the midnight shit at your local cafe. The cold air made you shiver, you clutched your jacket bringing it close to your body in hopes of warming yourself up.

As soon as you saw the cafe you rushed in to get some warmth. You put on your apron and went up to the register to get started with work.

The cafe was mostly empty apart from a few students or an occasional office worker waiting for the subway to open. Most nights were like this, you were grateful for that but at the same time it got lonely and dark. You never know what kind of monsters roam the streets at night.

You picked up a book to kill time as the cafe was empty, when you heard the door bell ding as 2 men walked in who look around your age.

One of them took a seat and another called Mingi walked up to you and ordered two Americanos, while trying to have a conversation asking about what you did and where you were from you answered them absent mindlessly not really interested in continuing the conversation any longer as you were getting slightly annoyed by his questions that seemed more like an interrogation.

However he still was a customer so you mustered your best fake smile and answered them as quickly and moved behind the counter to prepare their drinks.

You loaded them onto a tray and dropped it by their table. You could feel both of their eyes on you as you walked away.

A couple of more customers came in and you got busy preparing their orders.

Mingi glanced at the boy next to him.

"Seonghwa , she is perfect, no family, lives alone and no one will even know if she goes missing she will make the perfect fit. Her shift end at dawn, but she goes to get refills for the ice at 1 am and lock up the back, I've observed her routine for the past month. That will be the perfect time for us to take her"

To which Seonghwa simply nodded.

The time started to tick, Seonghwa glanced at his watch and discreetly walked up the back of the cafe and waited for you to lock it up, while Mingi sat in the car ready to get away.

You walked to lock up the back and grab a refill of ice.

You reached down the refrigerator to grab an ice bag when you felt a hand grab your neck and shove you down the refrigerator. You tried to scream but only muffled whines came out of your mouth as you were shoved into the ice.

Seonghwa reached into his coat pocket and grabbed a syringe filled with clear liquid you felt it peirce through your neck and the cool liquid course through your skin draining your energy and your body fell limp.

He grabbed you and swung you across his shoulder and headed to the car. Placing you in the backseat as Mingi drove off into the night.

You woke up in a room illuminated by candles, the walls covered in what looked like pages from a book. Your hands were bound, you couldn't move. The air around smelt of incense and blood a sickly sweet smell. That's when you noticed the floor was stained red with blood with white lines drawn across it which looked like a star with you in the center of it.

The door swung open revealing seonghwa with a knife in his hand followed by Mingi.

You started to panic, you began to sob.

Seonghwa crouched down to you. You were attempting to get away from him, but the rope was tied around you too tight and the more you struggled the tighter it got keeping you in place.

You wanted to scream for help but the gag prevented you from doing so.

Shushhhhh Seonghwa gently cooed at your shaking body. Gently stroking your head to calm you down.

You attempted to talk to him but only muffled noises came out of your mouth, but seonghwa patiently listened until your were done. Moving the hair away from your face and wiping away the tears rolling down your face.

He motioned Mingi to come closer and handed him the knife.

He pulled back the sleeve of your sweater exposing the your arm.

He started to chant something which sounded like Latin as the room began to slightly shake.

You started to thrash around he held you down.

Moved to your ear.

"Stay still. Wont you be a good little girl?, and stop fucking whining. No one will even care if you dissapeared off the face of this planet so stay still or I'll stab you until you do."

You quit moving around figuring it was best to just obey him.

"There was that so hard now, be a good girl for us, you are going to help us become immortal, isn't that a nobel cause. Sacrificing your life to achieve greatness. You should be happy we chose you".

With that he held down your hand as Mingi grabbed the knife as cut into your arm letting your blood flow out. Seonghwa stepped back looking at you will a smile plastered across his face as your blood turned the white star red.

The room began to shake the ground you were laying on started to heat up.

The papers on the wall flying everywhere.

It started to get hot.

You were sweating with each passing second the room started to heat up it felt like you were about to be burned alive.

Screams echoed across the room the candles went out. Your vision started to fade.

But at the corner of the room you could see a human like figure materialize.

You could see a human like figure materialize out of the dark.

As your vision started to fade. You struggled to keep your eyes open.

You could see seonghwa and mingi drop to their feet in submission as the dark figure approached.

You could now see his beautiful face, eyes glowing red.

Skin shining with sweat.

He moved closer to their kneeling form.

"Where is my sacrifice?"

The boys motioned towards you.

He came closer and inspected you.

"Guess you will make up for the trouble of coming here" he said

As he picked your body up and swung you over his shoulder.

His body felt hot.

He moved towards the dark.

When he was stopped by Mingi," what about our wish, we gave you a sacrifice, now you grant our wish".

To which san just chuckled how about" Ill give you a gift instead"

His hand impaled through Mingis chest and grabbed his beating heart.

Dropping it onto the blood stained floor.

You watched in horror as Mingis lifeless body fell.

"You dont give the king of hell orders, you simply obey".

Blood sloshing around as San walked towards a kneeling Seonghwa who was shaking with fear.

He knelt down, placing a finger under his chin while another brushed away a stray tear.

Gently stealing a kiss.

"You will make a fine gift for Hongjoong"

Was all he said before everything went dark.

You felt as if you were falling, you kept falling as if you were throw in an endless void it got hotter by the second.

If felt like you were getting burnt alive.

You no longer had the energy to stay conciousness.

You woke up in a dark room lit my candles your body felt overwhelmingly hot.

You felt like ripping off your clothes.

You started to thrash around in the bed you were placed on. The silk sheets providing a little comfort to your otherwise burning body.

You heard someone chuckle at your struggling.

He walked out of the shadows, it was the same man that bought you here.

You hit his with a train of questions.

Who are you?

Where am I?

Why am I here?

"Slow down now princess, one at a time.

First of I'm Satan you can call me San for short but I'd prefer it if you called me master because after all you are my slave.

And second you are in hell and your only purpose is to serve me.

So why don't you be a good let pet and pleasure your master."

You tried your best not to look at him but once you did you were done for those eyes had you hypnotized.

It was like your body was under his spell.

You walked up to him.

"Kneel down slut"

You dropped to your knees in an instant.

He took of his pants and his cock sprung out.

Your eyes widened at how big it was.

He grabbed the back of your head with one hand and made you look up at him.

While his other hand slipped into your mouth feeling around before her shoved his cock in without any warning making you gag.

He moved your head up and down his length without giving you a second to breath.

Going harder each time you tapped his thigh asking him for release.

Just as you were about to pass out he let you breath for a second before shoving you back down.

This went on for what seemed like hours.

Your face was stained with tears and your jaw was burning.

He seemed unfaced just casually grunting as he moved your head up and down his length eyes shut in pleasure.

You your self could feel a pool of wetness form between your legs.

You felt him twitch in your mouth after what felt like hours he came in your mouth.

He let you pull out but placed a hand across your mouth preventing you from spitting it out, forcing you to swallow his heavy load.

As you were trying to stable your breath he picked you up and threw you back onto the mattress.

"We have only begun and you are already crying. I wonder if you will be able to make it alive through the night".

He got on top you pinning your arms above your head.

Ripping your clothes off with his nails leaving scratch marks across your skin.

He attacked your lips leaving them bruised and bleeding, he slowly moved down to your neck.

Littering your body with marks.

He couldn't hold it in anymore he raised your hips with his hand and shoved himself between your legs.

And began thrusting without giving you time to adjust.

You let out a yelp he was stretching you out to your limit.

He was moving so fast in you.

You wanted to hold to something for support but your hands were pinned against the bed frame.

He kept on drilling you into the matter with each passing second he himself felt that he would loose control.

That's when he landed a thrust hitting your sweet spot causing you to moan he noticed that and kept on hitting it making you a moaning mess calling out his name as if your life depended on it.

That was his tipping point he lost all control and let his inner demon take over.

His eyes turned pitch black, his nails grew longer digging painfully into your skin

His fangs came out gently nipping the skin on your throat.

His horns started to appear they were the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

All through this his movements in you never once faltered even when he grew in you.

He let go of your hands as you grabbed onto him for support as your orgasm approached his own coming soon.

He went on till you came but didn't stop leaving you overwhelmed and in tears from the overstimulation.

You felt his trust get sloppier signaling that he was close he bent down to your neck as he came into you sinking his fangs into your neck letting his poison flow through your veins turning you into a demon like him.

"Now you are mine for all of internity"

[rin-hanarin]

There's this 11 years old Homestuck fic that forever changed my perception of the post scratch timeline called Like Forgetting the Words.

I think about it sometimes and I imagine Rose and Jade would remember important bits and pieces, but Dave and John wouldn't. Alpha Dave gets the shades and the bunny, "had brief obsession with Con Air" according to Dirk, built and entire memorabilia museum, but he doesn't consciously remember. He'd watch things John Crocker was starring in by accident and have a good laugh at how dumb and friend shaped he is and get an unbearable sense of longing for something, but he wouldn't remember anything still. Then one day Rose takes him to some random grave in Washington and says that she needs to visit a friend, and she brings flowers and talks to the stone, and Dave just kinda watches her do that. She asks him vague questions and he has no answers, so he one day comes back alone to the grave and brings red flowers, saying something like "thats probably blasphemy or some shit i hope your family doesnt freak out if they ever see that". He finds the meaning of these flowers in a book by a certain J. English Rose conveniently gifts him one day, and it's something really specific, written in a manner young girl would write and not a famous old rich woman. He comes back to the grave every year in April, talks about whatever at it and has one-sided conversations with himself, and wishes "John" a Happy 13th one day in 2009 and finds it hysterical that it's the date of his death on the gravestone for some reason. He comes to the grave one last time after killing the juggalos because he thinks he saw a flash of blue there and says that he "wanted to bring these motherfuckers heads to you didnt you hate clowns or something? thats kinda fucked up now that i think about it i dont wanna defile your grave with these pieces of shit bro my bad". He dies to the Condesce and thinks that maybe he'd get to see them again.

Young John Crocker would spend hours listening to clocks ticking and writing in journals in different colors, trying to find the right one with the right voice to go with it. He ends up being left behind by his sister, the last thing remaining is her garden with a wide selection of rose plants, so he looks after it to pass the time, begging of Betty not to destroy it. He has a great interest in film and the way it develops during 1900s, but never someone to share it with, and he so desperately wants to that he end up writing his every thought about it like he's writing a letter to someone. He would collect vinyl records and scratch them sometimes for no apparent reason, and asks his son in his will to auction his collection some day after his death, only for some rich movie director to buy them later for such an obscene amount of money that Mr. Crocker expects him to ask for a refund. He never remembers anything, but his family recalls how detached he was sometimes, like his thoughts were in a completely different world, and in the end of the day no amount of movie roles and comedy gigs made him any less lonely.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Gabriel Reyes, Andrea Reyes

Rating: T

CW: Blood

Summary: When Carlos responds to a call involving a bar brawl, he's surprised to find his fiancé injured and in the middle of it. But that's not the only surprise waiting for him...

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Lacerations

For @bluenet13​

Read on AO3

Carlos doesn’t want to be at yet another bar brawl. They’re messy and loud and chaotic and they take forever because everyone is drunk and angry and it’s impossible to get a straight story out of them. 

He’s been watching the minutes tick by ever since a call for assistance at The Driskill Bar came in. A couple other units had responded immediately, but if they need back up, he’s the next closest one. His shift is so close to over, he can practically taste freedom. If he can just make it a few more minutes he can head back to the station and clock out without having any part of tonight’s drunken revelry. 

Ten minutes.

Nine minutes.

Eight minutes.

“Three-six-three H-20 this is dispatch, please respond.”

He sighs and clicks on his radio. “Dispatch, three-six-three H-20.”

“Three-six-three H-20 please respond to a disturbance at 604 Brazos Street,” the dispatcher says.

Damn it. Carlos allows himself a half a second to let his head thunk back against the headrest in defeat. He was so close.

“Three-six-three H-20 responding,” he says, flipping on the lights and sirens as he hits the gas and speeds along through the rapidly darkening streets of Austin.

There are five other cruisers already at the Driskill when he pulls up and an ambulance is rolling in behind him. Shit. This is a big one. He double checks that everything is secure on his belt as he heads inside Drunk people are sometimes more crafty than they look, and he doesn’t want anybody grabbing something they shouldn’t.

The Driskill isn’t what he expected. It’s clearly not some dive bar where drunken locals go to drown their sorrows after a long day. The place is posh and polished, all gleaming wood paneling, leather booth seats, and the floor isn’t even the slightest bit sticky.

That being said, it’s is a disaster. Tables on their sides, drinks and food all over, and people everywhere in varying states of distress. A couple officers are still wrestling with unruly patrons while others are doing cursory checks of anybody who might be injured.

He goes to help a woman who is lying on the ground, her blonde hair all a mess. “Are you hurt?” Carlos asks as he pulls her to her feet.

“No, no I think I’m okay. Thank you,” she says, straightening out her dress. 

“I’m going to ask you to take a seat over there until an officer can talk to you,” he tells her, holding out a hand in the direction of a couple of booths that are untouched by tonight’s violence. “If you find you’re in any pain flag down an officer or a paramedic.”

She nods and carefully picks her way over to the seats as he turns and looks for another place to be useful. 

There’s an officer near him struggling to cuff a burly man who keeps yelling something about, “That little bitch!” so Carlos lends a hand.

“That little bitch! He’s gonna pay for this!” the man continues to yell as they get him to his feet.

“Sir!” Carlos says sternly. “You need to calm down!”

“I’m not gonna calm down! He nearly strangled me!”

Carlos looks at the man’s massive neck and finds that a little hard to believe. “Who?” he asks. “Can you identify your assailant?”

The guy glares at him. “Yeah. It was that little bitch right over there.”

Carlos follows the line of his gaze and feels his stomach drop as he takes in a familiar tousle of brown hair. “Oh…no,” he says slowly.

“What’s wrong?” the other officer asks.

“That’s my little bitch,” he says and then quickly corrects himself. “I mean, my fiancé.”

As if he can feel the weight of Carlos’ gaze, T.K.’s grey eyes snap up and lock on Carlos’, relief flickering through them. 

“You can go,” the officer tells him. “I got this.”

“Thanks.”

Carlos strides across the room, broken glass crunching under his shoes, heart beating rapidly in his chest. When he reaches T.K. he’s shocked by what he finds. 

His lip is bleeding, his left cheekbone red and swollen.“T.K. oh my god,” is all Carlos can manage as he gawps at the damage to his fiancé’s face. 

“Hey babe.” The words are tired and maybe a little embarrassed.

Carlos reaches out and gently cups T.K.’s chin, trying to get a closer look at his injuries. Despite his care, T.K. winces in pain and Carlos recoils immediately. “I’m sorry. T.K., I—are you okay?” 

He’s glad those are the words that come out because what he’s thinking is, “What the fuck is going on and why are you in the middle of it?”

“I’ve been better,” T.K. says wanly, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool he’s sitting on, and it’s then that Carlos realizes he’s cuffed. And also covered in blood. 

“Are you bleeding?” he asks, panic ripping through him, his hands going to T.K.’s shirt, searching for injuries.

“Just a little.” T.K. lifts his right shoulder a bit and Carlos walks behind his back to find deep lacerations slicing their way up his right arm. He swears and fumbles for the key on his belt, hands slipping as he tries to get it into the slot, a combination of nerves and the blood that is oozing from all the cuts.

“Are you allowed to do that?” T.K. asks.

“Shut up,” Carlos growls at him, too frantic to think about things like procedure. Right now he needs to figure out how bad this bleeding is and get it stopped.

He finally gets the cuffs off and tosses them to the floor. T.K. brings his hands around to his front, grimacing as he takes in the damage. “That actually looks worse than I thought it would,” he says, examining his arm. “I don’t think it hit an artery though. Bleeding’s too slow.”

“Who cuffed you like this?” Carlos asks, anger lacing his tone. Because whoever it is, he’s going to rip them a new one. There’s procedure and then there’s common sense. And cuffing a guy who is bleeding this badly is not common sense.

“Babe, it’s okay,” T.K. says as Carlos searches for something to staunch the bleeding. 

He finds a pile of rags behind the bar that appear clean and uses one to firmly apply pressure. T.K. makes a strangled noise of pain. “Sorry, sorry,” Carlos says. “Paramedics should be in here any minute.”

“Great. I was hoping everyone we know would find out about this in the next hour,” T.K. says, his joke about the rampant gossip mill in the AFD falling flat since Carlos is really concerned about the amount of blood he’s losing.

“T.K. what are you doing here?” Carlos asks. 

“Not what it looks like.”

“I am…trying to believe that,” Carlos says, even as images of the last time he saw T.K. looking like this in police issued handcuffs flashes through his mind. “I thought you were going to dinner at your dad’s?”

“Right,” T.K. says, looking cagey. “What I said was I was going to dinner with Dad. I just…didn’t specify whose.”

Carlos is beyond confused. “You only have one dad, T.K.”

“Son, I am telling you, that is not proper cuffing procedure.”

The voice, that combination of outrage and annoyance, that’s the voice that cheered at his baseball games, taught him how to fix a fence post, and bemoaned the Astro’s fate at the breakfast table. Carlos turns around, his already frayed nerves feeling like they’ve caught on fire. “Dad?!”

“Oh, Carlos, hello!” his dad calls from across the room. He’s sporting the beginnings of a black eye and looks like he’s trying to take shallow breaths. “Can you please tell this probie to stop cuffing me for half a second so I can show him how to do it the right way?”

The officer dealing with his father looks young and is clearly nervous. “It’s okay,” Carlos says, suddenly feeling weary. “I’ve got him.”

The officer bolts, probably to find someone who won’t give him an earful about doing his job correctly. Carlos grabs his dad by the arm and pulls him over to T.K. “Okay,” he says, officer persona sliding back into place as tries to get a grip on what he’s seeing. “What is going on here?”

Gabriel frowns at his son. “Aren’t you going to uncuff me?”

“Not until I get some answers.” His dad thinks he’s too soft? He’s about to find out just how not soft Carlos can be when he’s pissed.

T.K. and his dad exchange looks. “We were having a drink,” his dad starts.

“I was having a club soda,” T.K. says quickly.

“Yes, right,” Gabriel says with a nod. “And then that animal over there,” he nods toward the burly man Carlos had helped take down moments ago, “started making some…rather indelicate comments. So I politely suggested he stop.”

“Politely?” Carlos asks skeptically.

Gabriel looks offended. “Of course politely! Unfortunately he didn’t appreciate it.”

“So I, also politely, told him where he could go if he wanted to keep making comments like that,” T.K. says.

Carlos can feel his resolve slipping as he watches the two of them concoct their story. He’s not going to go soft though. No, he’s going to go ballistic.

“Well he didn’t appreciate that either,” Gabriel says with a chuckle. “So he threw a punch. And we punched back.”

“In self defense,” T.K. says quickly. “We didn’t start it. But then a few other people got involved too and then…you can figure out the rest.”

“How did this happen?” Carlos asks, indicating the deep wounds on T.K.’s arm.

T.K. grimaces. “Once things really started popping off, big boy got a little feisty. He smashed a bottle and came at me.”

“That was a close one,” Gabriel says, his face serious now. 

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath so he won’t scream. “How did you get him off of you?”

T.K. immediately starts looking shifty again. “Um…your dad wasn’t the only one I was meeting tonight.”

He nods at something over Carlos’ shoulder and Carlos is afraid to turn around and look. When he finally does, he feels whatever shreds of police officer persona he was still holding onto evaporate. In fact, his cop swagger dries up so fast he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get it back.

“Mama?” he says weakly.

She’s sitting with another officer, her hand on his knee, eyes intent on his face.

“She broke a pool cue over that guy’s head,” Gabriel says, his eyes shining with pride. “Saved T.K.’s life.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Carlos mutters. He turns and looks at the two of them. “Stay here. Do not move.” Then he walks across the room until he’s standing directly next to his mother. 

“You just have to tell her how you feel,” she’s telling the officer. “You can’t expect her to try and figure it out for herself.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” the officer asks.

“Well then at least you’ll know.” She pats his knee gently. “And then you can move forward either way.”

This is too much. “Mom.”

She looks up, a smile blossoming on her face as she sees Carlos standing there. “Carlitos! What are you doing here?”

“My job Mom,” he says.

“This is your mom?” the officer asks, clearly confused.

“Yes,” Carlos says. “Apparently it was family night at the bar and no one invited me.”

“Okay, I’ll just…leave you to it then?” the office asks, clearly realizing he’s now in the middle of something.

“That would be great, thank you,” Carlos says. 

Andrea gets to her feet as the officer wanders away. “Is T.K. all right?” she asks. “They’ve kept us all separated.”

“He’s hurt, but he’s okay. Are you all right?” Carlos asks, visually searching her for injuries. Unlike his father and T.K., she doesn’t seem to have a scratch on her.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” she says, waving him off. “Not my first bar fight.”

Her response spawns more questions than answers, but now isn’t the time.  That’s when she finally spots T.K. and her husband. “Oh there they are!”

She walks toward them, forcing Carlos to follow. “Ay Dios mío, you both look terrible,” she says when she reaches them.

“It would have been worse if not for you,” T.K. says, even though the blood seeping through the rag on his arm indicates it’s pretty bad. 

Carlos is reaching for another rag when the front doors open and paramedics finally start flooding in.

He waits, holding his tongue as the medics examine his father and wrap up T.K.’s arm with something better and more sanitary than threadbare bar rags. “We’ll be ready to transport in a little bit,” the paramedic says as he packs up his things and moves onto the next patient down the line.

“Okay,” Carlos says now that they have some space. “I need someone to explain to me what’s going on here.”

The three of them look at each other and Carlos crosses his arms over his chest. “Anytime now.”

“Your parents invited me to dinner,” T.K. finally says. “We had just gotten to the restaurant when the power went out.”

“We didn’t want to miss out on our time together, so we came here instead,” Andrea tells him.

“We made sure it was all right with T.K. first,” Gabriel says quickly. “We know about his recovery and we would never want to do anything to jeopardize it.”

“I still don’t understand why the three of you were together in the first place,” Carlos says. 

“Can’t your parents spend time with your future husband?” Andrea says a little too innocently. “He’s family. We’re allowed.”

It would be sweet if Carlos couldn’t see right through it. He spears all of them with a look. Surprisingly, it’s Gabriel who breaks first. “Just tell him Andrea. He’s not going to let it go. That’s the same look he had on his face every time he wanted ice cream after dinner.”

Carlos does not appreciate his childhood being dragged into whatever scheming these three are up to, but he ignores the comment for now.

Andrea sighs. “We were meeting to talk about your birthday.”

“Your mother wants to have a party,” Gabriel says. “We were having dinner to plan it together.”

When he’s in less of a state of shock he’s going to appreciate that his parents wanted his future husband’s input and took him to dinner to get it. But right now, all he feels is anxious and mad. “My birthday,” he says slowly, eyes going to T.K., searching for the truth.

“Your birthday,” T.K. confirms.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Andrea says. 

Carlos lets out a startled laugh. “Well I am surprised.” His mind is still struggling to put everything together. Half an hour ago he’d been mentally headed home. And now he’s stuck with this mess. “The three of you ended up in a bar brawl because of my birthday.”

“As previously stated, the bar brawl wasn’t intentional,” Gabriel says.

“Okay,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair, then grimacing when his fingers catch awkwardly on the gelled down strands. “I’m going to go try and sort this out with the officer in charge. Don’t say anything. Don’t go anywhere.”

It takes a long conversation with the commander on the scene, a call to his boss, a call to his dad’s boss, and a chat with the owner of the bar who has shown up to survey the damage, for Carlos to get things straightened out. His dad’s good standing with the rangers and his own good standing with the APD work in his favor tonight, and he promises to have everyone come by the station in the morning to give their statements.

He’d thought that would be the biggest hurdle of the night. He was wrong.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Gabriel protests as the paramedics stand by, waiting to find out who’s riding in their ambulance and who’s not. “It’s just some bruised ribs and a black eye. I’ve had worse from playing with the grandkids.”

“Your ribs could be broken,” Carlos argues. “You need to see a doctor.”

“Boys stop arguing,” Andrea chastises. “You will go to the hospital and I will follow behind in the car.”

“You are also getting in the ambulance,” Carlos tells her.

“What? Me?” She laughs. “No, I don’t think so. The car is fine. Someone will need to drive it there anyway.”

“Okay, to be clear, I am the one in charge right now,” Carlos says, feeling like he’s about to snap. “If you don’t do what I’m asking you to do, I’m going to leave you here with all these other officers to fend for yourselves. Your options are to go sit in a cell for the night or to go to the hospital.”

“I think it’s a good idea if everyone gets checked out,” T.K. says softly.

Carlos can see pain in his eyes, the way his body is sagging a little on the barstool, and he feels a renewed urgency to get his fiancé taken care of as soon as humanly possible.

“Fine,” Andrea say shortly. “But I am not putting on one of those terrible hospital gowns.”

Carlos bundles them all into an ambulance and follows along behind in his cruiser. There are no lights and sirens necessary, and Carlos can’t decide if the silence is better or worse. It’s forcing him to sit in his anger and worry and exhaustion for far longer than he’d like, and he is not in a good mood by the time they get to the hospital.

His mom is completely fine, thank god. His dad does have a broken rib and a minor concussion, but no facial fractures. They’re both seen and cleared quickly and Carlos bids them a somewhat curt goodnight before going back to his fiancé, who is being sewn back together with thirty-four stitches. The wounds are deep and jagged and it takes a long time for the resident to get them all done. 

Carlos holds T.K.’s good hand and wonders for how long this fresh image of T.K. on a gurney is going to haunt his nightmares this time. They’ve been through enough hospital trauma for him to know sleep is going to be hard to come by for a while. He consoles himself with the fact that at least this time his fiancé is conscious. 

“I was going to tell you,” T.K. says as the last few stitches are finally going in, “about the surprise party. I knew you wouldn’t want it, so I was going to tell you and have you pretend to be surprised.”

“It’s crazy that the people that raised me still think surprising me is a good idea,” Carlos says ruefully.

“They’re just excited,” T.K. says. “And I think they’re trying a little extra hard to show that they’re supportive of the two of us. Of the engagement.”

“Well maybe next time they could show their support with a little less violence,” Carlos says, forcing a smile as he rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of T.K.’s free hand.

“Your mom probably saved my life tonight,” T.K. says. “At the very least she saved my face.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Which is the second best part of me.”

Carlos knows when he’s being goaded, he can see the sparkle in T.K.’s eyes. “I’m not going to ask you what the other one is. There are people around.”

T.K. bites his lip. “He’s a doctor. He knows things. It won’t bother him. Right doc?”

“I have learned not to get in the middle of this kind of conversation,” the doctor says diplomatically as he snips the last thread. “You’re all set T.K. I’m going to get a nurse to come in and go over the wound care instructions with you, all right?”

“Thank you,” T.K. says, turning his arm this way and that to examine the stitching. He waits until the curtain has closed behind the doctor before looking up at Carlos, eyes full of mischief. “The best part of me is my—“

Carlos quickly puts a finger over his lips. “I know what you think your best assets are,” he says, an amused smile on his face. “You don’t have to tell me.”

T.K. pulls back, uncowed. “Can I tell you yours then? It’s your d—“

“T.K. stop!” Carlos says, full on laughing now even as he nervously looks around to make sure nobody is in earshot.

“There you are,” T.K. says. “You’ve looked so stressed all night I thought maybe you’d forgotten how to laugh.”

“This was…not how I thought my evening would go,” Carlos says, reaching over and brushing T.K.’s hair away from his forehead. “And you know I’m not good at changing plans on the fly.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, it’s not how I saw my night going either,” T.K. says. He looks at Carlos intently. “Are you mad at me?”

Carlos does an emotional inspection of himself. “No,” he sighs. “No I don’t think so. Concerned about how many punches you have on your hospital rewards card. But not mad.”

It’s hard to be mad at T.K. He’s so sweet and soft and he looks at you with those Bambi eyes…and it’s extra hard to be mad at him when he’s hurt.

“Are you mad at your parents?”

That’s a more complicated question. “Maybe a little? They’re my parents. I expect better from them.”

“But not from me?” The sparkle is back.

“From you I expect chaos,” Carlos says, throwing T.K. a knowing look. “From them I expect…decorum.”

T.K. snorts. “Yeah I think decorum went out the window when your dad threw his beer across the bar and jumped on top of a six foot dude with skull tattoos.”

Carlos groans. “I’m going to be hearing about this night for the rest of my life.”

“Your mom is actually a lot more like Francesca than I would have thought,” T.K. says, referencing Carlos’ wild child sister.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Carlos says.

“Hey.” T.K.’s face softens. “Don’t be mad at them for too long, okay?”

The rest of his words remain unspoken, but Carlos can read them in his eyes anyway. You never know how long you have with them. His heart twinges painfully with the few memories that he has of Gwyn and T.K. together. He nods. “I won’t.”

The nurse arrives and Carlos listens intently to all her instructions since T.K.’s eyes are starting to droop a little, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally wearing off.

As they’re passing through the waiting room on the way out Carlos is surprised to see his parents sitting there. “I thought you were going home,” he says.

“We wanted to make sure T.K. was all right,” Andrea says as they both get to their feet. She turns her eyes to him. “How are you doing mijo?”

“All stitched up,” T.K. says. “A couple weeks and I’ll be back to normal.”

“I also wanted to…apologize.” Gabriel seems to struggle at getting the word past his lips. “For my part in what happened tonight. You’d think after all this time I’d learn to keep my mouth shut.”

T.K. shakes his head. “No one should have to deal with that kind of language. If you hadn’t started it, I would have.”

Something about the exchange flares warm in Carlos’ chest. The way his parents are caring for T.K., it’s the same way they’ve always cared for him and his sisters. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of love. 

“Are you heading home now?” his mother asks.

“I have to take the cruiser back to the station first,” Carlos says. “We’ll pick up the Camaro there and then head back.”

“Oh that’s going to take too long!” Andrea says, worry furrowing her brow. “T.K. is practically dead on his feet. No, no. We can drive him back to your place.”

“Your car is at the bar,” Carlos points out.

“I had that nice young officer I was talking to drive it here,” Andrea says, as if this is completely normal. “You go take care of things at work and we’ll make sure T.K. gets home safely.”

Carlos looks at T.K. who seems to be waiting for his cue. “It would get you home faster,” he says. 

“I don’t mind if they take me,” T.K. replies. 

Carlos fixes his parents with a stern look. “No stopping anywhere along the way. Straight home.”

Andrea rolls her eyes. “You give the man a badge and he thinks he can boss his parents around.”

“Ma!”

“We’ll get him home safe and sound,” Gabriel assures him. “Scout’s honor.”

Carlos blows out a breath and turns so that he’s facing T.K. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I know,” T.K. says, closing his eyes as Carlos kisses his forehead. 

“We’ll take good care of him,” Andrea says, gently putting an arm around T.K.’s shoulders and guiding him toward the door. “Tell me T.K., what kind of soup do you like? I will whip up a batch and bring it to you when we all meet at the station in the morning.”

How is it possible to feel like his parents are the most annoying people in the world right now, and also that T.K. is the safest he could possibly be with them by his side?

His father stops next to him. “He defended me tonight. He’s a good man.” He pats Carlos’ shoulder. “You made a good choice.”

T.K. has never felt like a choice. He’s fate. Destiny. All the dreams Carlos was too afraid to have, made incarnate. Slightly more of a chaos demon than Carlos would have imagined, but a dream come true nonetheless.

But that’s not something he can explain to his father. “He chose me too,” he says instead. “He chose you and mom, our family.” He looks up and meets his father’s gaze. “Thank you for choosing him back.”

His dad wordlessly squeezes his shoulder and follows the other two out the doors.

Carlos watches them go, three of the most important people in his world together and something inside of him cracks. Another little piece of the wall he built up so long ago, the one made of words like broken, unlovable, inadequate…the one he’d created to keep himself safe, falls away.

He’s making a family. And it’s good.