#redacted Colm

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Milo greer takes his mother to lunch once a week

Milo greer has a collection of candid photos of everyone close to him. His favorites are the ones of Darlin' and David, Sam and Sweetheart, Sweetheart, and Marie. Not many people know about the pictures, but sometimes he'll be seen looking at his phone with a soft smile and warm eyes (I got the idea for this one from @penumbra-mayhem )

Milo Greer, who makes a lot of food when people are around, because he knows what it's like when you need to ration food "nobodies going hungry on his watch"

Milo Greer that was so relieved when he found out Darlin' had come home, only to feel dreads cold hands wrap around his throat again, bearing the name Quinn Fox

Milo Greer (practically the entire pack does it at this point) telling his people to drive safe because he knows how unpredictable life can be

Milo Greer who still mourns the relationship he had with his father when he was young. He grieves for the man his father used to be since he knows that he will never be able to let himself give trust to that man again

Milo Greer spending at least one day a month deep cleaning the whole house so he can decompress and slow down (and then inevitably get distracted by Sweetheart)

Milo Greer having long conversations with Darlin' about their wolves and the connection they have to magic. The two of them shifting and going on a run together alone for the first time since they came back to town. Milo telling them, that at the end of the day its their choice what they want to do. He'll be there for then as long as they'll let him

Milo 'loverboy' Greer getting pulled in by the waist by Sweetheart before he leaves for work. Sweetheart pulling a page from his book and making a whole deal of loving up on him before he goes because he tried to leave without kissing them goodbye (he doesn't even have shoes on)

Milo 'young man' Greer helping his Ma move things from her apartment into a real home for once. Marie being caught off guard by how much he really does look like Colm, and her heart hurting that she makes the association since he's forever more than the man he used to call father. Milo knowing that she does, and giving her a small smile in an effort to see hers. Milo promising her that she doesnt have to worry about what happened before happening again. He learned from his fathers mistakes, and he will never be like that with his family ( @dahlia-tourism-board inspired this one with the 'you look like your father' story)

Milo 'lo' Greer playing with the pack kids and that being one of the only times he's not upset about being disheveled. The pack kids loving his wolf because they're still in awe of the fact that their family can turn into animals. Milo proud of the fact that he's someone that the kids feel comfortable enough around to laugh, play, and sleep around

Milo 'mahlow' Greer hanging out with Sam while they wait for their mates to finish sparring. Sam asking Milo how to cook some of his favorite recipes so that he can make them for Darlin

Milo 'big man' Greer arguing with Baaabe over something stupid like the number of jelly beans in a bag or the proper way to fold towels. Baaabe only started calling him that after they confirmed it was ok. The first time it happened was an accident while they were playing smash and their eyes got so wide afterwards that it made Milo laugh. It doesn't bother him

Milo Greer, who feels at home when he has Sweetheart in his arms. Milo who isn't afraid to let himself feel anymore, because he knows tears won't get him yelled at. Milo who accepts his shortcomings because he knows now that failure doesn't automatically come with a punishment

Milo Greer who knows what it means to be truly loved

[poedays]

Misc Headcanons

- Since people have gotten used to the ‘weird dog’ that Babe owns, Asher and Babe will go on runs together while Ash’s in his wolf form. Sometimes they go to the beach and Asher plays around in the waves while Babe chases him around. They’re both smiling, they’re both laughing, they’re in love and no one even knows.

- Gavin will sometimes unconsciously mimic his friend’s features: suddenly his eyes are a warm, fiery brown and he stares at people with that deep rage and passion that Damien does. Sometimes he’ll need glasses, subtly complaining about his vision until he borrows Lasko’s to read something. He’ll change heights, somehow fitting into Hux’s hugs like two puzzle pieces being put together. He’ll get more piercings, borrowing some of Freelancer’s collection to flaunt them when they go out - only to go back to his usual amount as soon as they get home. Sometimes little white streaks will appear in his hair, mimicking the affects of Dear’s vitiligo.

- Porter sleeps with a stuffed animal. Sometimes he apologies so profusely to a version of himself that didn’t know death, that he sleeps with his tears pressed against his face when he holds his childhood stuffed animal close.

- Guy likes wearing flowy long skirts sometimes. Honey likes picking him up and spinning him around.

- Gabe and Colm used to play chess together, Colm knew all the method and madness of it. Gabe has never picked up a chess book in his life - he goes by instinct, thought, and pattern recognition. Colm may know the logical way to play, but Gabe will win for his mind. There’s a difference. “Relax it’s just a game” “It’s not a game, it’s chess.” Something about their views in life.

[grilledcheezy92]

Thinking about Milo in high school during group projects, letting his project partner know they're welcome to stay for dinner.

They see all the pictures of pack outings and ask "Are you sure it'll be okay, looks like you've got a big family."

"Nah, it's just me and my ma. That's all... family friends." Milo replies.

There's a man in the earliest photos that's still there through all of the current ones. Older, more haggard, but present. Removed from Milo who looks to be with his own age group but still standing with the woman who is clearly his mom.

Thinking about Colm coming home drunk one night while Milo has one of these school friends/project partners over and seeing this simmering seething rage in Milo. Whether it gets to Milo's temper boiling over or a shouting match or not.

Thinking about Milo apologizing the next day, embarrassed that anyone had to see his dad or his reaction to his dad.

[redactahoe]

Hiiiii….! Heeeey..! How y’all doin’ ..!

I know it’s been almost two months a minute and I apologize for that there’s been a lot going wrong in my personal life and I’ve been pretty burned out with arguing with cvs about Giving me my adhd meds but I got em so have some funfacts about my sweetheart oc and Milo

Here’s a wip for reference:

—————————————————————————

For reference my sweetheart oc is named Ilya ands a lovable asshole

He’s Sam’s little brother and totally thought that Sam was missing but still alive despite what everyone around him was telling him and part of the reason he became an investigator was so that he could at the very least find out what happened to his brother

Following the whole Sam and iyla being brothers that means that iyla is also freakishly tall and built like a Mac truck. Sam stands at around 6’7 and iyla is 6’9 and it pisses Sam off so bad when ppl mistake iyla for the older one of the twos even though iyla only has a little scruff on his face meanwhile Sam has a whole ass beard)

Despite the fact that iyla is a flaming homosexual for Milo and is deeply and almost obsessively in love with his mate, he still looks like an attractive straight guy or what Lucas (baabe) likes to say a ‘book tok girlies wet dream’ and this causes a lot of… workplace crushes. And while yes at the department that iyla works at majority of his coworkers know and have accepted his relationship with Milo (because 99% of the things iyla talks about is Milo and much he loves his mate) the still get the occasional rookie or incredibly persistent people who either don’t know or haven’t accepted. It’s ok though like I mentioned before(see first point) iyla is a bit of an asshole and has an arsenal of smarmy and sassy shutdowns and comebacks for the overly insistent ones.

Because of his job iyla has to dress pretty professionally so whenever he’s not working he takes every chance he gets to where his stupid little pj pants. You know those pjs that have like superhero’s or cartoon patterns on? Yeah, iyla loves them! He has a vast collection of them and they drive Milo crazy

Speaking of clothing as much as I want to lead you to believe that iyla and Milo are fashion icons, it’s not true. It’s all Milo and iyla truly and whole heartedly has no fashion sense at all. But what he does have is the amazing ability to pick up and match whatever frequency Milo is putting out so it gives the allusion that iyla also has a sense of fashion. But no he’s just really good at matching energy

Milo quite literally changed this man’s life. Ilya can’t take care of himself for shit and survived off of the bare minimum and coffee. And because of this he was pretty malnourished but would never tell anyone and would play off the light headedness, migraines and other symptoms of not taking care of one’s self off and most people wouldn’t push but Milo nore his mama aren’t most people. When Milo found out about iyla basically starving himself and then got the same ‘it’s fine, it’s not that bad, and you don’t got to worry’, Milo wasn’t having any of that. And took it Apon himself to make iyla lunch every single day and take said lunch to iyla every single day. Milo still does this to this day. And while at first iyla tried to convince Milo not to waste his time or resources on him, it was more like trying to convince a brick wall to move. And then Marie found out through Milo and took a step further by essentially forcing ilya to let her mothering him.

Bc of the whole Milo and Marie forcing iyla to take care of himself, he ends of becoming very soft and squishy, at first iyla tried to hide this new development from Milo in fear of Milo not liking his new body, but Milo had long noticed and is incredibly obsessed with the weight and how it looked on iyla and was actively holding back from jumping iylas bones. The only reason Milo didn’t drag that dumb mf into pound town was because he was still trying to considerate and respectful of iylas feeling. Let’s just say Milo ended up demolishing any insecurity in iyla that night >:]

Iyla and aggro are best buddies. Like aggro is the kind of cat that typically doesn’t like being carried but whenever iyla is around, little man is begging to be in his arms. If iyla ain’t holding him them aggro is either on his shoulders/head or following him around like a little shadow. Iyla is not allowed to close his office door or aggro will scream. Milo sometimes likes to joke that he’s the third wheel here which is then responded with lots of love and affection from iyla because Milo will always be his number one priority(aggro comes in at a close second though)

Much like his brother iyla has an accent but it’s ever so slightly lighter and sounds closer to a Cajun accent rather than a country accent but that still doesn’t stop his friends from also calling him a cowboy. But unlike Sam, iyla fully accepts this title and even plays into it\

A lot of people expect him to a cold jaded investigator who expresses a lot of emotion, he is anything but that. He’s a comedic jackass (think Pete Davidson, Deadpool, ) who has no filter. And while most of the time he’s able to keep it tame, he’s still very reactive and does not think before he speaks most of the time.

The first time he met colm(at work because colm knows no boundaries) he was holding back so much snark and was trying so hard to be respectful bc colm is still Milo’s dad and whole he may not have sway on Milo’s opinion he definitely could still affect Marie’s opinions of him. But that all when out the fucking window when colm made an off handed comment about Milo’s sexuality and iyla on reflex called him a cunt and drunkard, proceeded to flip colm off and walk away. Milo found this hilarious though, and could not stop talking about it for weeks. And while colm tried to cry about the ‘no good stealth punk’ to Marie, she told his ass that he should have listened at left iyla alone

Iyla has a bit of a temper and a smoking habit. But don’t worry iyla has gotten amazing control of his temper and he’s been trying to quit smoking since he met Milo. And even when iyla is angry it’s just a lot of comedic yelling and cussing. Not aimed at anyone in particular (usually) it’s just a lot of iyla yelling increasingly creative curses

Iyla working and iyla not working are two very different people. Iyla despite his jokey laid backness. Takes his job very seriously and Coworkers that aren’t close to him kinda don’t believe iyla can genuinely laugh and he has something that Asher likes to call his ‘lieutenant voice’ where it’s essentially iyla speaking in a kinda scary and demanding tone which is usually used when a fellow officer/investigator fucks up, is being dumb, or god forbid being discriminating against anyone, especially iylas family.

Milo thinks the lieutenant voice is very sexy, David of all people is a little scared of it(but he would never admit it out loud), sam is also a little intimidated by it but he will openly admit that he didn’t think his little bro could be that scary, Asher, Angelo, Casey and the rest thinks it’s kind of funny how easy it is for iyla to switch into lieutenant mode

Despite the vast height difference between Milo and iyla, iyla very rarely makes jokes about Milo’s size. He is very aware on how these jokes make Milo feel and he almost knocked Chrissy’s lights out for making a pipsqueak joke about Milo behind his back. But on the other hand he will call Sam every short related nickname under the fucking sun.

On a more serious note iyla is incredibly paranoid about his friends and family’s safety and took it very hard when Casey fell of the the face of the earth to hunt down Quinn. And while at first iyla was mad ad Casey that anger very quickly shifted on to Quinn after iyla decided to look into Quinn’s history and found out that he has had a pattern of targeting to black sheep’s and using that persons loved ones against him.

You don’t wrong iyla or anyone iyla cares about and get away with it. Iyla is a very vengeful person and believes that if you hurt someone for no good reason then you need to receive that hurt back tenfold. He has a long history of getting his lick back on people, and some range from incredibly funny and ironic to down right murderous

On a more lighter note, he’s super competitive and Milo and him playfully argue and banter all fucking day but it usually ends in some form of a steamy make out because their gross and in love

[annahxredaxted]

Little kid milo trying to show his dad a picture he drew, but Colm was watching the game and drinking and muttered a yeah while waving him off, or getting annoyed and yelling at him. so now milo had to relearn being proud of himself and telling people his accomplishments without feeling like a bother.

[porcelaininkpot]

Now I KNOW wolves only come in at puberty but humour me for a second

Imagine baby shifter cubs going through their teething stage, and shifting to bite anything and everything in sight, but mainly their parents. And since they're so gosh darn small, they can only reach their ankles.

Now imagine baby David being an incessant biter, and his mom being his target of affections. Imagine his mom adoring him so much she got the bites tattooed onto her ankles.

Now imagine that when she died, Gabe got them tattooed onto his, they're one of the strongest reminders he has of her and he used to trace over them when he felt lost, they were all David knew of his mom, and it was enough to show how dearly she loved him.

Also imagine Colm not having any memories of Milo's teething, because he was never around, leaving Marie to deal with all of it. She not once complained about it though, she loved watching Milo grow. But in the latest hours of night and rarest of occasions, when Colm would finally come back home sober, he'd kiss Marie's head and apologise for himself, and hold and cradle her and little Milo-even though he was well asleep.

Imagine him smoothening his hand over his son's curls and holding his wife, and bending down to kiss the imprints of bite marks from his little wolf cub.

Those were brief glimpses into the perfect, loving home and family they used to be, the family they could be, and for those rare nights Marie felt whole. Until morning came and he was gone, back to cards and booze.

Neither of the now grown wolves have any recollection of their teething love, all they remember is childhood's harsh bite.

[cherryblossomtea]

I forgot to post this on Valentine’s Day (this is my second time trying to post this. Hopefully it will go through.) anyways here’s what I think some of the characters would like for Valentine’s Day chocolate

Angel loves anything strawberry related David would prefer dark chocolate with a little bit of salt on top to enhance the flavor

Babe loves white chocolate that has a lemon filled center also I feel like Asher would like any sweet type of chocolate, but I feel like Asher would mostly love white chocolate

Milo and sweetheart love milk chocolate that has a caramel filling

Darlin loves dark chocolate with cherry filling, but Sam loves dark chocolate with fudge filling

Vincent and lovely absolutely love white chocolate

Treasure loves milk chocolate, but they’ll take any type of chocolate porter on the other hand absolutely hates anything sweet so he doesn’t do valentines

William doesn’t like chocolate, but he absolutely loves red velvet cake and would have that instead of chocolate

Christian doesn’t like sweet candy but he loves sour candy

Amanda just likes some milk chocolate with some salt on top

Angela(David’s mom) And Gabe absolutely love anything sweet Gabe would definitely take her out to a bakery

Asher’s Mom and Asher’s dad do not care for like over the top sweet stuff, especially like milk chocolate so I feel like they would go for something more like pastries filled with some sort of fruit filling

Marie loves dark chocolate with caramel filling with some salt on top. Colm on the other hand he just likes bitter dark chocolate

[itsrubesshawty]

I’m assuming colm has some how managed to keep his job as a department investigator, and I truly believe whenever sweetheart comes across him they give him dirty looks, or for example, they’re in a lift together, and colm tries to make conversation with them asking about milo and Marie (are his parents still together? bc if I were Marie i would’ve left his ass a long time ago) and sweetheart either ignores him or gives him dry ass replies.

“So… how are you and milo..”

“Good, how’s your gambling addiction?”

[darlin-collins]

you know how the tale goes: everyone with daddy issues end up marrying their fathers

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 28: Angel, Sweetheart, Darlin'

Ao3 | 4.5k Words | Angel, Sweetheart, and Darlin's POVs

Angel would know their husband anywhere. The world isn't right when Asher isn't smiling. David says goodbye. Sweetheart has their teeth around the problem. Milo's betrayal blossoms. Porter gives advice on a clean murder. Darling is ready for this to be over. Sam proposes.

TW: Medical stuff, blood and injury, smoke inhalation, intubation, mentions of death, grief, arguments and conflict, murderous intent.

Everything went fuzzy after the bathtub, and you were pretty grateful for that fact when it came down to it. A fire slowly encroaching on you as you laid helplessly and bled… that was a vision you didn’t want to visit you in your dreams. 

What you remembered was heat and smoke and the pound of palms on your chest. Everything was strange and muddled, the twist of fingers in your skin, the ground pressed into your back. You were lost in the movement and burn of your surroundings, but you knew Davey was there the minute his hands were on you. You would know your husband’s touch no matter how lost you found yourself. You would feel him pressing gentle pleas like compressions into your rib cage until it cracked under the pressure. 

Things shifted back into focus bit by bit. You managed to open your eyes to a light like nothing else, bright and cold and sterile. You groaned but it didn’t escape your throat. Someone spoke over you and Davey responded, but you couldn’t make out the words. You still had one foot in unconsciousness, even as Davey dragged you back from the brink. 

More words, hands on your face, not Davey’s, covered in rubber and freezing fucking cold. Something pressed against your jaw and them forced its way into your mouth. Plastic slid into your throat. 

Intubation. That was not a good sign. 

Your mind and body reconnected inside the hospital. Pain slammed into you, certain and unrelenting. You couldn’t deny it, couldn’t escape it. You struggled against your own body, throat flexing around the tube inside of it, as hands pressed down on your chest and hips to keep you steady. You wanted to comply, to do as the paramedic said, to calm down, calm down, to be a good patient, but you didn’t have much choice at the moment. The pain was impossible, and the only response that was appropriate was to thrash against it like a snake with the head cut off. 

Someone had done compressions. There was a tube in your throat. Dying gasps. 

You’d put it in writing in your twenties. You didn’t want to live on machines. You didn’t want a ventilator to be in the same fucking room as you, let alone breathe for you. So if they couldn’t straighten this shit out, this was it. 

It would be okay. Davey would be okay. This would shatter him for a few years, but he was not alone. 

Please, you tried to say, but your voice was choked and missing, please, Ash. Take care of him. Take care of him. 

Davey’s hands were still on you, planted on your chest, unrelenting. There was shouting by many strange voices. Orders given and followed. Doctors and nurses surged around you as you blinked your eyes open. 

“Sir, you should say goodbye.” One of the doctors instructed while cutting the remains of your shirt to free up your chest. Somebody attached sensors to your battered skin. 

“What?” David snapped, fingers flexing against your ribs. “What are you talking about?” 

“This will be very intensive surgery. We recommend you take a moment before they go into the operating room.” The doctor replied. David’s face went red, and he looked like he might start screaming again. 

Asher appeared like an answer to your prayers, soot smeared across his cheek.

“Hey, guys,” Ash raised his voice, drawing attention in the way only a leader could, “I know time is of the essence, but can we slow down for a sec?” Movement slowed, voices silenced. Ash turned to Davey. “Say goodbye.” Ash ordered. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. So say goodbye.” 

Davey turned to you, his dark eyes wide and wet, plain terror spread across his features.

Davey had known his mother was Navajo for all his life, but he hadn’t started learning about that part of him until after he met you. You were given the chance to watch as he unraveled the complex webs of his relationship with his culture. You watched him learn his language, bit by bit from distant cousins. You watched him grow his hair out. You learned to tie his tsiiyééł.

He had told you once, in the middle of your endless curious questions, that there wasn’t really a word in Diné bizaad for ‘goodbye.’ He said that it was too final, too much of an ending. The closest thing he had translated more closely to ‘alright then- see you later.’ 

“Hágoónee,” he said anyway, finality in his tone, an ending spread across his features. You blinked up at him, smoke choking out your voice, bruise and blood pressing into your head and chest. 

Alright then. 

You watched as he was shuffled away, as the doctors descended on you from all sides, smothering out every other sense with the smell of rubbing alcohol and hunter green scrubs. You couldn’t see Davey anymore, but you blinked your goodbye into the sterile ceiling. 

See you later. 

When you came back to yourself, the first thing you were aware of was a pounding ache in the back of your throat. You swallowed, uninhibited. No tube. Thank God. Davey had been going crazy lately, and you were afraid, somewhere in the depths of you, that he would override your medical directive and put you on a machine just to keep from losing you. 

You could see the haze of lights through your closed eyelids, and you could hear the buzz of fluorescents and the beep of machines. Still in the hospital, it seemed. 

“You need a break.” It was Asher’s voice, hushed and gentle. There was another person, too. A gentle drag of breath. Davey. You would know your husband’s heavy sigh anywhere. “Some food. Some sleep. A shower.” 

“I’m fine, Ash.” Davey replied. He sounded so tired, right back on the defense. Asher, though, was better at this than you were. He had been unwinding Davey’s bullshit for the entirety of their shared lives. 

“No,” Asher said, voice quirking at the end like he was teasing, “you are not. Your spouse is lying in a hospital bed after surviving one of the worst house fires we’ve ever seen. So I seriously can’t imagine how in the world you could be okay. But you are not helping yourself by perching over their bedside like a freaking gargoyle. So go get a cup of vending machine coffee and breathe for a few minutes.” 

Another sigh. A chair creaking. Footsteps receding. 

It took you a few minutes to gain back control of your muscles, but when you did, you turned your head, neck twinging, and cracked your eyes open. Asher was still at the door, staring down the hall, his face uncharacteristically severe. The world just didn’t seem right when Asher wasn’t smiling.

You opened your mouth and only air came out, a rush of cracking lips and lungs. Asher’s head spun around, eyes wide. 

“Oh my God!” He barked, tripping over himself to get to your bedside. “Oh my God!” He said again as he paused over you, hands hovering. You managed to gain control of your right arm and waved towards the water cup that was sitting on the rolling bedside table. Asher snatched it and helped to guide the straw to your mouth. As you tensed to sit up, pain sparked through your chest. You gulped down water anyway, brow furrowing. 

You cleared your throat, swallowed as the straw retreated. 

“Hey, girl,” you croaked, your voice barely a whisper. Asher laughed. The world righted itself. 

“Hey,” he replied. His smile stayed but tears sprung to his eyes. “Hey.” Just when you thought he was about to cry, a shadow cut through the light from the hallway. 

Davey looked tired. Worn down, more accurately. The smell of house fire accompanied him. The cup of vending machine coffee that was in his hand crashed to the floor. 

“Angel,” he breathed. Tears sprang to your eyes at the sight of him. The terror of the situation slammed into you all at once. You couldn’t catch your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that, if you couldn’t see Davey staring at you like you’d just risen from the grave, you could go back to the numbness you’d woken up into. 

Hands framed your throat and face. You would know your husband’s touch, eyes closed or dying or hyperventilating from delayed shock. 

“It’s okay,” Davey’s voice sucked up your attention, grounded you in your spot. “I’m here. I’m here, Angel, I’ve got you.” 

You focused in on that voice, that low rumble, and let it drown out the drill of your heart monitor and the chatter of nurses rushing to check on you at the news that you were awake. Fuck everything else, your husband was telling you that everything would be alright. 

Despite yourself, despite your instincts, despite the thrum of pain in your chest, you believed him. 

__

You were spending far more time inside of Dahlia General than you were comfortable with lately, and the cafeteria food wasn’t getting any better. You poked half-heartedly with your plastic fork at the cold coffee cake that Milo had snagged from the overnight cart for you. He was sat across from you, his eyes downcast. He still smelled like smoke. Colm paced the length of the deserted cafeteria, phone to his ear, as he coordinated with the team on the ground outside the Shaw house and his detectives at the station. 

“Quinn’s little friend ratted out a few more hidey holes,” Colm stepped back towards your little rickety table, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket. “And I’m sure we’ll get more out of him in the next few days.” 

“Please remember,” you said into your coffee cake as you broke it apart with your fork, layer by layer, “that Ben is a victim in this scenario too. No untoward interrogation techniques.” 

“He set you up,” Milo pipped up. He sipped at his vending machine coffee and winced like he did with every swallow. Snob. “So, he’s a fucking asshole and whatever you want to do to him is fine by me.” He raised his styrofoam cup to Colm in cheers. 

“Quinn tortured him.” You said. “He put Ben through the same things he put Trouble through. Let’s not forget that someone we care about could have turned out similarly. Ben is somebody’s son. So let’s talk about him like he’s a human being.” 

Silence from both Greers. It was a familiar speech to you, something you had to repeat to cops often enough it was almost passionless at this point. Or perhaps that was due to how exhausted you were. 

In truth, the sight of Ben’s face still brought a spark of anger and dread to the forefront of your mind. His features, daring to look apologetic, had been the last shred of safety you’d known before Quinn carved you up. It was burned into your mind, and when Colm told you that Ben had been picked up and charged with accessory to attempted murder, you felt sick satisfaction churn in your stomach like bile. 

Milo cleared his throat.

“So we got more places to flush out?” He asked. Colm nodded.

“And they’re awake,” Colm said, “so once I can take their statement, I’ll have more information.” You let out a sharp sigh. 

“Thank God,” Milo breathed, “I thought David… you know.” 

“That kid can’t take another loss.” 

“Don’t question them tonight.” You said. “We’ll bother them in the morning. Let them both rest some.” 

“Every second counts in this.” Colm protested. You set down your fork and stood, rolled your shoulders back. 

“I don’t intend to waste them.” You huffed. “I need those addresses.” Both Greers stared at you, mouths similarly agape.

“No,” Milo said at the same time Colm said:

“Not on your own!” 

Always the challenge with them. You snagged your phone from your pocket and started typing out a message as you finished addressing them. 

“Ansel is already at the first location, I’ll meet him there.” You brushed your curls from your face. “You’re right, Colm, we have limited time, and I’m wasting it here, easing your anxieties. Please find a way to handle those on your own.” 

You left your coffee cake on the table and turned to the winding corridors of the hospital. You knew them well by now, and you paced through the hallway steadily. 

You were a bloodhound and you had his scent. You had your teeth around his fucking throat and you just needed to bite. 

Milo caught up to you halfway to the guest parking lot. 

“Hey!” He snapped, grabbing your shoulder. You bit back a wince as the skin on your stomach protested to the strange movement. The knots of scar tissue were firming and growing stiff. Your body rejected small twists and tugs on the skin with tight discomfort, sometimes jolting you with pain you couldn’t ignore. It was inconvenient at best and dangerous at worst, catching you at the worst times. You really had to get that dealt with. 

“I’ve gotta go,” you murmured. Teeth around the problem, if you lost the scent he’d slip away. He had been slipping away from you for months. Enough. You were ending this tonight, you were putting him behind bars tonight. 

“Sweetheart,” Milo’s voice called to you, pulled you from your singular focus. He was a liability to your work. When he commanded your attention, he got it, no matter what else needed it. “Slow down. Talk to me, please!”

“I am not letting him get away with this.” You hissed. “David built that house from the fucking foundation. They almost-” you choked around the words. Tears burned at the back of your eyes and you growled in frustration. “He almost killed my friend tonight and I am taking him in for it. He’s going to face a jury and I’m going to lay out every crime he’s committed and he’s going to fucking fry!” 

You’d raised your voice more than you intended. A handful of hospital employees were glancing your way as they carried on with their business. Milo stared at you for a long, tense moment. 

“California got rid of the death penalty in 2019.” He finally said. 

“That was an executive order from the Governor.” You seethed. “Not legislation. So that could change.” 

You didn’t believe in capital punishment before Quinn Fox. You also didn’t understand why people had the urge to kill before him. But now, with scar tissue pounding with your pulse and your friend nearly dead a few floors up, you got it. The pleasure of killing twitched in your muscles. You wanted to introduce Quinn Fox to his fate personally. You wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze. You wanted to watch the burn in his eyes go out. 

“What is this guy doing to you?” Milo asked. His face held the ingredients of betrayal. You swallowed.

“Guys like Quinn Fox have always been out there, Milo.” You said. “Serial killers and rapists and child molesters. This one just happened to hit close to home. He’s not doing anything to me, this is the world I live in! This is the shit I worry about! The shit I wanted to keep at bay but they just keep coming!”

“Baby-”

“Everytime one goes behind bars there’s ten more! Like fucking roaches, they just keep popping up! And I’m doing what, exactly? Following around cheating spouses? Investigating insurance fraud? Waste of my fucking time! I blew it in the force and now I’m being fucking wasted while these guys are killing people!”

“Hold on, can you-”

“But I can take care of this. I can take care of him.” Milo went silent as your hatred quieted. You felt it bouncing around in your core. It kept you going, kept your body moving even as it begged to stop. 

“You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Milo said it softly, as though it were already true. 

“Then I’ll take him with me.” 

Betrayal blossomed fully across his features. 

It was better this way. If you burned out on this case, it would be easier for him. If he was pissed, the grief would pass him by. You turned and kept walking, hand pressed into your stomach. The pulse of your scars kept you centered, focused. 

“So I guess all that talk about forever was bullshit.” His voice was quiet when he spoke again, but you still heard it over the pound of your heart. 

You didn’t turn back to look at him. You didn’t have to. When you closed your eyes, it was always him; his face smiling back at yours as he spun you around the empty living room of your house. As you each agreed that you didn’t need rings. That you didn’t need a marriage certificate to show what you meant to each other. That you both knew what forever looked like. 

You swallowed. Teeth around the problem. You’d bite down and be done with it. Forever could wait until then. 

You kept walking. 

__

You had second degree burns on six percent of your body, and Dr. McDreamy was peeling back necrotic skin and debris from the patches across your back. 

You were no stranger to burns, and despite your wealth of experience surrounding injuries of all kinds, you maintained that burn debridement was the most painful experience a human could endure. You’d seen grown men scream and cry during them, chief among them being Gabriel Shaw. 

Of course, that didn’t mean much. Gabriel Shaw cried during sad movies. Gabriel Shaw cried when he thought a bit too hard about how much his son had grown. Gabriel Shaw cried when a baby was just a bit too cute. He might have been a big and burly firefighter, but what he was at his core was a cry baby, and a proud one at that. 

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You gripped your hands into fists so hard your too-long nails cut into your palms. You pressed them in and out of the crescent wounds, let that ground you, pull your mind away from the feeling of being skinned. 

“Almost done here,” McDreamy spoke for the first time since he’d greeted you on his way into the room. As chatty and casual as he had been upon your first meeting, he was equally quiet and reserved now. He must have sensed how volatile you were at the moment. 

You didn’t reply. You closed your eyes. You ran through your plan one more time. 

You knew a guy who could get you a gun in three hours. You’d call him as soon as you were done here. It would be registered stolen, so nobody else would be implicated. You’d contact Quinn, ask him to meet you back at the Moonbound. Tell him he'd proven his point and he could have you. Maybe you would get lucky and it would work twice. You’d kill him as soon as he walked through the door. Someone would hear the gunshot, but you’d call the cops yourself just to be safe. Maybe laying out his own abuses would help you in court and you’d get off easy, maybe you’d rot in a cell for the rest of your life. You weren’t sure whether you cared which eventuality came to pass. 

Either way, this would be over. You just needed this to be over. 

“I can feel you brooding.” you could hear the shit-eating grin in McDreamy’s voice. “I know this is unpleasant, but don’t plot my murder for helping you.” 

“Not yours.” You growled. You knew it was stupid to announce your plans, but you couldn’t help it. It had been your intent all along, when you’d started looking for Quinn with more purpose. He needed to die. He needed to die for what he had done to you. He needed to die for what he was yet to do. He would hurt people, your people, other people, until he was dead. He was in perpetual motion, always toiling away at the object of his obsession until they broke and he got bored. But you had never broken. Maybe that was why he had fixated so fiercely onto you, so fiercely that he tried to destroy everything around you. 

Mission accomplished. He had broken you. What you were certain he hadn’t bet on, however, was that you were much more dangerous in pieces than you were whole. 

“If I may suggest,” Porter said from behind you. His tweezers dropped into his metal tray. Something cold smeared across your back. “A syringe full of air. Stick it in a vein, empty it. Once the air bubble circulates and reaches the heart… cardiac arrest. Bloodless. Clean. It’ll look like a heart attack and no one will ever need to know.” 

You twisted, surprised. He had that answer ready real quick. 

There was a knock on the exam room door. It cracked open a second later. Sam stepped in, his face drawn. 

“Hey,” he said softly. He ran his eyes over you, taking in the burns. Those brown eyes flicked from you to Porter. 

“Second degree.” Porter reported. “Six percent. Debrided, and I’ve started in on the silver sulfadiazine.” He stepped around you and flashed Sam a white-toothed smile. “Care to finish up for me, Dr. Collins?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Sam sneered. “Go. I got it. Please check in-”

“Already done.” Porter snapped off his gloves and snagged a chart from the counter above the scrub station. He handed it over and made his way out of the room. “If either of you need anything,” he said, his front half stuck through the doorway, “you have my number.” The door clicked closed.

Sam flipped through the chart ravenously. He shook his head, tutting softly before letting out a sharp breath. 

“Are…” you swallowed and tried to take the bite out of your voice, “are they okay?” Sam glanced up at you. 

“Um…” he shook his head, “they’re alive and all their parts are attached.”

“I guess that’s something.” You sighed. 

“Broken sternum,” Sam said, “which was what their surgery was concerning. That’s bound to be from the compressions. Usually that break doesn’t require surgical intervention, but in combination with the three broken ribs on their right side, we had to go in and maintain the structure of their chest.” He swallowed. “Alexis supervised and made sure their cardio thoracic system was intact. All good there. They… okay, respiratory arrest at the scene was due to smoke inhalation. The cardiac arrest was due to lack of oxygenation. They lost enough air that their heart couldn’t pump anymore.” 

“I know what oxygenation is.” You snapped. You closed your eyes. He didn’t deserve this. Sam, to his credit, acted as though you’d never opened your mouth. 

“We’re treating the smoke inhalation with an oxygen drip. They were intubated at the scene but indicated in a medical directive they didn’t want to be ventilated. They’re responding well on just the drip and we’ll make adjustments as needed. No carbon dioxide poisoning, that would have been the primary concern. That’s good, that bodes well.” He flipped a page. “Damn.” He sighed. 

“What?” You looked up, hungry for what had surprised him. 

“Their arms were bound, right?” He asked, brown eyes meeting yours. You nodded. “They were cut on the scene. Sometimes, when circulation has been cut off and you suddenly reintroduce it, patients can develop something called compartment syndrome. The blood rushes back into the limb and causes it to swell. By the time they got to the hospital, it was pretty bad, no time for a clean release of pressure. Our orthopedic surgeon was concerned we were too late and noted that he recommended amputation of both arms at the elbow but…” Sam shook his head. “Alexis wouldn’t let him. She and Porter performed simultaneous fasciotomies. Two seven inch incisions down both forearms. That… that’ll be a bitch to heal and we don’t know if they lost function in their arms yet. We’ll just have to wait.” 

You puffed out a breath. It was bad. Really fucking bad. Sam nodded and closed the chart.

“Sammy,” you croaked. When you heard your own voice, you realized from the tone of it that you were going to cry. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

“He can’t do this forever,” Sam said softly, 

“He’ll keep hurting people,” you whispered. You weren’t angry anymore and you couldn’t pretend to be. “I’ve gotta-” you swallowed a wounded sound. “I can’t just wait for him to stop. He’ll outlast me.” 

“What do you wanna do?” He asked. He was closer now, his hand sliding along the back of your neck, cradling your head. 

“I want to kill him.” You said softly. No anger. No pretense. Just factual intention. 

Sam was quiet for a very long time. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. 

“I will not lose you to this.” He said, and it sounded like a vow. 

“I think…” you shook your head, rubbing your awkward buzz cut into his face. He breathed you in, smoke and all, “I don’t think you ever had me. I think he’s been… holding me hostage.”

“Bullshit.” He withdrew before kneeling, knees on the creaky metal step up on the exam table, looking up at you from between your knees. It was his turn to be angry. “Bullshit! Are you kidding me? You are not some half person who’s been torn apart by this mother fucker. Now you say you want him dead, and that tells me you’re about to do something real stupid. I don’t blame you one bit. But a judge is gonna take one look at you and throw you in a cell somewhere. No. I will not have it. You want him dead, I’ll kill him.”

“Sammy,” you breathed, “that’s romantic and all-” 

“Well thank you, I am a charmer.” 

“Sammy.” 

“Stay with me.” He said. He rose to lock his arms around you, avoiding the burns on your back. “Stay with me. I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you to this.” 

“Okay.” You relented. You were so tired. You wanted this over with. And you knew that if you left him to his own devices, Quinn would keep coming. Eventually, he would come for Sam. He would try to force you to choose him or he would kill Sam to drive the final nail in the coffin. 

But Sam begged you to stay on his knees and sounded like he was proposing marriage. When you closed your eyes, you could envision lips wrapped around the words I do. That image was enough, for now. You would kill Quinn whenever he came and hold on to that image as long as you could. 

“I love you.” you said, and it didn’t whiter in your mouth. “I love you. I love you.”

Once you started, you couldn’t stop.

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Milo Asking Sweetheart why they left last time just because he doesn’t want them to feel any sort of way and they’re a good person and he wants to do right by that in the asking a feisty werewolf on a date audio is just something else 🥲 like he’s “ hurt “ but still blames himself and wants them to feel better 🥲 + his saying he’ll take it personally if they don’t eat the snacks he got in the last smash tournament audio is just so funny but also kinda shows his insecurity if you deeply think about it…. That was a lot sorry I just love and relate to Milo so much ��

Small tw for implied eating disorders towards the end

Milo is such an emotionally mature character I love him. It's portrayed really well when he asks if he's the problem because he doesn't want them to be uncomfortable. I imagine that Sweetheart was pretty inexperienced when it came to romance/spicy stuff before Milo and they admitted that to him the first time they were together. Personally I think the reason he was so concerned that he had done something was because of the way Colm was when Milo was growing up. He handled the situation so well, and he was so intentional with what he said to Sweetheart. He even knew how to tease them back into being feisty (they're both feisty let's be honest) so that they could actually ask him out. AND THE WAY HE SOUNDED AFTER THEY ASKED HIM WAS SO PERFECT

His whole thing with the food in the smash tournament made me so emotional 🫠

He's definitely been in situations where food could've been scarce or he had to be careful about the meals he'd make. I think that in his case, there was always enough food for meals, but when it came to stuff like snacks or casual eating that wasn't a meal, it was a lot harder. I imagine Colm was a very harsh person when it came to being 'healthy' and was hard on Milo especially, which led to Milo having a rocky relationship with eating growing up. Now that he has his own life, he's relearned the passion and love that can come from food. Milo loves cooking for people. It's how he shows his affection. Any time he has the opportunity, he will give 110% when it comes to preparing snacks, dips, meals, and anything else he can come up with

[poedays]

Random Headcanons (a sequel):

(1, 2, and 6 are angsty)

- When Asher was a kid, he used to come up with elaborate plans to fight and take down Colm. Full blown sketched out fight scenes and everything. He’d draw Colm with really large angry eyebrows and draw his eyes with red pencil to get the ‘evilness’ across in his stick figures.

-> He would walk up to Marie with his “plans to fight away the evil man”, and Marie would smile down at him, in that bittersweet way, and save Ash’s sketches. She still has them to this day; preserved in a folder.

- Sometimes when Sweetheart gets home from work they’re so out of it that their hands phase through cups or plates they pick up to have dinner. Most of the time they can’t physically pick anything up, but sometimes they pick it up for only a short moment and then phase - resulting in a few broken glasses.

- The hill Lovely tumbled down when newly turned was the same one that Asher and Milo tumbled down in their wolf forms on their hike.

- Honey’s getting into doing goth makeup in their free time, so Guy asked for them to do his makeup, and now Honey’s lockscreen is a Guy 0.5 of him with really intricate goth makeup on.

- Whenever it rains, Darlin likes to go out and run in their wolf form. Sam sits on their front porch with a towel and does his daily sudoko while waiting for them to return.

- When Milo’s stressed he gets hand tremors. Colm had the same thing, and it was his tell for when he had bad cards at the casino.

[moronkyne]

Marie was young when she had Milo. 19? No, maybe 20? The only way she kept track of her own age was based off of how old her only son had grown. And oh, how he had grown to look just like the man she fell in love with. From the daggering slanted eyes to the struggle to maintain facial hair…Milo was almost everything Colm was.

Sorry, no, everything Colm could’ve been.

For Marie, it was love at first sight. A handsome man who took her for a dance, bought her a drink, and swept her right off of her feet. And for Colm? Marie was…a beauty. A gorgeous woman. Together, you’d easily tell they were the most attractive couple in the room.

And sometimes, history repeats itself throughout the generations. In much smaller, more subtle ways.

Marie had always been agile. And so was sweetheart. Both had passion, a firey soul and a burning spirit. Something that made the both of them so, so much more than anything Dahlia could give them.

So did that mean that Milo had been left with the image of his father’s figure blurring into his? The dark freckles and large chest, the rough hands and…gods, those eyebrow scars. Uncanny.

[puffin-smoke]

I need Marie to die. I need Milo to be shattered and exhausted and at a loss for what to do, to feel a grief so heavy that most days he can't get out of bed. I need Sweetheart to help the best they can but still be unable to get through to the man they love.

And then I need Colm to show up. Colm to try to help. To try and offer Milo comfort, someone to grieve in tandem with.

And I need that to make Milo angry. That it took an indescribable tragedy for Colm to care. To get off his ass and be a fucking father. To care about his family.

So he slams the door in Colm's face. Leave him to suffer alone. He hopes it hurts. The grief. The guilt. He hates himself for it but he still hopes beyond everything else.

[moondustwritesblog]

gabe being an attentive husband to his pregnant wife to whatever she needs even the one more worried than she is sometimes

david’s mom: gabe, how many times do i have to tell you? i don’t need anything right now

gabe: are you sure?

david’s mom: yes

gabe: how about water?

david’s mom: gabe

gabe: do you want to eat? i can make that pasta that you like

david’s mom: gabriel

gabe: is your back hurting right now? do you need a back massage?

david’s mom: gabriel shaw!

gabe: huh? what? do you need anything?

david’s mom: actually, i do

gabe: oh? what is it?

david’s mom: i think you need to take me to the hospital

gabe: WHAT? WHY?

david’s mom: i think my water just broke

gabe: IT WHAT?

gabe definitely fainted when she went to labor

frank (asher’s dad) resting his head in his shifted form on his wife’s stomach to feel closer to baby asher and not letting her move away from the bed for maximum comfort

asher’s mom: you’re really not going to let me go, are you?

frank, shifted: *woofs in yes*

asher’s mom, sighing: ok, but could you shift back for a moment?

frank: *shifts back* why? do you need to use the restroom?

asher’s mom: no, but i do want to show something

frank: oh?

*asher’s mom holds on to frank’s hand and puts it on her belly, letting him feel a small kick*

asher’s mom: feel that? that’s asher right there

frank:

asher’s mom: uh, frank?

frank: you are not leaving this bed

asher’s mom: what? but i was going to tell you that he’s kicking for me to get out of this bed

frank: well too bad

asher’s mom: nooo

frank proceeded to feel asher’s little kicks all day without even shifting once

and

colm trying his best to deal with marie’s pregnancy cravings, no matter how weird or how strange the food combinations may be

colm: so, what are we craving today?

marie: hot sauce

colm: marie, i’m not letting you down a whole bottle of hot sauce again

marie: fine. hot sauce and lemons

colm:

colm wonders if her cravings could get any better or worse. probably worse

[qhoaaaa]

Guys.... what if the person Milo was talking about in his recent video with Marie was.....

Colm..