#NEED TK TAKE A SEAT

[hazz-a-bear]

😃🤨😂✂️🤭😄😃😄😃😃😂✂️😃😅🩷🎀😂🎀👍😂👍🎀😂🎀😄❤️💔😅😃😅😃😅🩷🥹🩷😄😂🎀😂😂👍😂👍😄

WHAT THE FUCK JUNHUI 😭😭🎱🤨🎱🤨😒🤨🤭😒🤭🤨😒🗣️😭🗣️

[alchemiclee]

I really hate when people say this. if I dont record, I cant "enjoy it in the moment" because I dissociate out of my damn mind and then have no memory of it! recording helps ground me and keep me focused in the moment! let me do what I need to in order to enjoy things you soggy potato 😭

plus, as a photographer/aspiring videographer who hasn't had the luck to become friends with bands and work with them, IM DOING A THING I ENJOY AS WELL, SO SHUT UP LMAO. I enjoy doing video and photos MORE than standing in a crowded, overwhelming room watching people do stuff on a stage. THATS LIYERALLY ME LIVING IN THE MOMENT DOING A THING I ENJOY!!!!! WHY IS THAT WRONG?!

[forever-rogue]

Hi, love! So i’m not sure if your taking requests but i have a prompt for joel and you’re currently my favorite joel writer so 🥰 i can’t get this idea out of my head of reader being joel’s neighbor and being extremely nice and kind to everyone (especially to him and ellie cause she has feelings for him duh) and he’s kinda in love with her too but won’t admit it (ellie knows and nags him about it) but he also kinda judges her and thinks she’s “weak” cause she’s “too soft”, and then one day for whatever reason he ends up snapping at her and saying that “you have no idea what it is to lose a child” only to later find out from tommy that reader actually lost a baby under pretty awful circumstances and then he’s mortified but she’s super mad at him? I have no idea where this came from i guess i just like pain 🤷‍♀️ totally understand if you don’t feel like it though! Tks babe

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of child death

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pie in your hands smelled delicious, still warm and fresh, as you waited on Joel's porch. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you listened for his familiar footsteps to come to the door. Just when you were about to give up and save it for later, the door slowly opened.

"Hey," there was Joel, leaning against the doorway with a lazy little smile on his face, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Me or the pie?" You always managed to fall into an easy rapport with him. Your back and forth always seemed to turn from teasing to flirting, honestly? You loved it.

"Oh, you brought pie? I didn't even notice," your cheeks warmed up at his response. You shook your head and sighed playfully at him. He stepped aside and motioned for you to follow him, "do you want to come in?"

"I suppose I can spare you a few minutes of my precious time," you flashed him a pretty smile as you flounced past him. Making your way into the kitchen, you set the pie down before uncovering it to show him, "I even made your favorite."

"You spoil me," he practically groaned at the sight of the delicious treat. He immediately turned to the cabinets to grab some plates, "what's the occasion?"

"There's none," you grabbed some forks and knives, "the trees produced so many apples we couldn't use them fast enough. I figured pie was a good solution and I know you love it. So here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed softly, "thank you, darlin'."

"No need to thank me," you sat down and cut into the pie, "you just owe me now."

"I am forever in your debt," he down across from you, a knowing little look in his pretty brown eyes. You made a small sound of agreement as you passed him a slice, "whatever you want, just name it."

"I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good."

"Good."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell her you know,” Ellie broke the silence over dinner as she looked over at Joel from across the table. He froze with his fork about halfway to his mouth. He stuffed the bite into his mouth and took his sweet time swallowing it before sighing and raising an eyebrow at her, “don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” he admitted, figuring it was better to admit to the truth rather than lie to her. She looked so pleased with herself as she leaned back in her seat, “but I ain’t doing anything about anything. Get that into your head, kiddo.”

“Why not?” she huffed, waving her hand dismissively at him, “you’re so lame. Ugh.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed with a nod of his head, “but your opinion isn’t going to change anything. I am okay with how things are right now. There’s no need to go and change things up.”

“But she feels the same way!” and it really was obvious; everyone knew. You also knew that everyone knew. It was like the worst kept secret in Jackson, “one of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Ellie-”

“Joel,” she looked at him seriously, her small face taking on a dire expression, “you’re being stupid.”

“Ellie.”

“You’re denying yourself potential happiness,” Joel had to admit that she had a point, regardless of whether or not he would act on it. He was so happy around you, you made him feel so alive and carefree and loved. You were like his very own ray of sunshine. He could only imagine what it would be like if the two of you added romance to the equation. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like to kiss you and touch you and make love to you. It really would have been like a dream, “and her. Plus you’d be so cute together!”

“With that logic, she’s also denying herself happiness,” he wondered if you thought about him the way he thought about you. He’d be lucky if you even spared him more than a passing thought, “so, have you given her this speech?”

“Not yet,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, “I was going to try you first. She’s usually the more logical one…so.”

“So,” Joel mirrored Ellie’s position and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “you’ll leave her alone and drop this.”

“Not a chance!”

“I didn’t think so,” the girl shoved the last mouthful of food into her mouth, “I’m going to her.”

“I know,” Joel drummed his fingers along the table and let out a resigned sigh, “I know.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite Ellie's insistence that he tell you how he feels, he didn't do anything about it. Namely, he couldn't manage to work up the courage to do so. To him, admitting that he had feelings for you was akin to admitting he was weak. Feelings made people soft and made things harder when, inevitably, the relationship would end one way or another. Why would he willing put himself through that again? It had almost killed him when he'd lost Sarah and later when the same happened with Tess. If it hadn't been for Ellie, he wasn't sure he'd have made it. But Ellie was going to be around forever either.

It was a complicated tangle of emotions, and the best solution for him had to been to keep a few people, currently Tommy and Ellie, close while others remained behind a wall. 

You, meanwhile, loved and cared for people so openly. It was easy to see that in everything you said and did. You had a giant heart, but you were just setting yourself for failure. One day something bad would happen and you'd fall apart. Joel wasn't sure he could handle that. 

He didn't want to lose you; he loved you, he really did, but he also didn't want his heart to break.

Ellie had come to you as well and pushed you to profess your feelings. While not as in denial about everything as Joel, you weren't about to make that first leap. What if you overstepped and pushed him away? You didn't want that; you'd rather keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

You'd noticed over the last couple of weeks that something had been nagging at Joel. You didn't push the issue, but hoped he'd trust you enough to confide in you at some point.

It turned out that some point didn't come as you expected.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had come over to your house, and the two of you were making dinner together. It was a routine you'd often fall into and it felt so blissfully domestic. You'd never really made a comment about it before, but something caused you to feel a certain amount of bravado and led you to actually pointing it out.

"You know, this is so much like playing house," you teased softly as you nudged his side with your elbow.

"It does," he agreed with a small smile. He liked the idea of living with you permanently. If he was being honest, the thought of sleeping with you and waking up to you in his arms, of spending lazy evenings in a tangle of limbs was something that crossed his mind more than he cared to admit. In another life, he'd have made those moves already and might have even called you this wife, "kinda nice."

"Mhmm," you continued chopping away at the fresh vegetables that you'd picked for dinner, "all that's missing now is a couple of kids running around."

He stiffened for a moment, his mind first going to the image of you round and pregnant with his child and then to sheer terror. Kids were all well and good, but something just told him they would be a bad idea. He remained silent and kept his gaze on the stove.

"You ever think about having kids in  the future?" you had hesitated for a moment before asking but, how did that old saying go? Curiosity killed the cat?

"No," he said without a second thought. It was a lie, of course it was. He'd thought about it a lot, especially since he'd met you. 

"Oh," your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden shift in emotion. You focused on what was in front of you rather than anything else. Something was off and you could immediately sense that you might have said the wrong thing. It was still hard for you too sometimes, "I'm sure that it's still…hard. Losing your daughter….I'm sure it was the hardest thing ever. I l-"

“Don’t,” there was a furious look on his face and you couldn’t help the way you recoiled away from him. He’d gone through such a shift in emotions that it was a little scary - you’d never seen him like this before, “don’t fucking talk about my daughter.”

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything by it,” you felt a few hot, salty tears run down your cheeks. You took a step back to create a distance between yourself, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, “I was just saying-”

“You don’t know shit,” he stormed towards the door and threw it open harshly. You were surprised that it didn’t fall off the hinges, “you have no clue what it’s like to lose a child.”

With that, he stormed off, leaving you there staring in shock. Your mind was still trying to process what was going on as you closed the door. Your whole body felt like it was trembling as you leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths. 

That wasn’t him, is what you tried to keep telling yourself. That wasn’t your Joel…he would never have talked to you like that. A sensitive topic had been brought up and he was hurting…anyone could have responded in such a manner. 

But, you decided, you’d give him some space. Maybe seeing you wasn’t the best thing for him right now….you were sure he’d come to you when he was ready to. Until then you would just love and support him from a distance; but that was the thing and you hoped he knew it too - you’d always love him. Not matter what happened, Joel Miller had your heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey big brother,” Tommy caught Joel’s attention as he walked into the tavern, flashing him a meek smile. Joel looked up and offered a wave in a sign of acknowledgment. Before he could say anything else, Tommy’s fist collided with his face, causing him to stumble off his stool. He clutched at his face, surprised by the sudden attack, “heard you were being an asshole.”

“What the fuck!?” Joel clutched at his face in shock as he took in Tommy's angry expression. And here he thought that they were getting along well these days. But then he said - your name, "listen-"

"No, you listen," Tommy grabbed by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer so only he could hear his next words, "I can't believe you yelled at her. And you told her she doesn't know what it's like to lose a child? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" Joel's brows furrowed in confusion. Yes, he hated himself for yelling at you, but it had all been in the moment. He agreed with that part anyway, "what are you talking about?"

"You're an idiot and an asshole," Tommy shook his head, "you're not the only one who's lost everything. You're not the only one who's lost their child."

"W-what?"

"She lost her son," Joel's face fell as realization crashed over him like an icy wave, "to one of those clicker bastards. It almost got her too. You ever notice that scar on her face? Now you know where it comes from."

"Tommy-"

"Next time don't assume you know everything," he shoved him and put a bit of distance between themselves, "don't ever be a dick to her again. It won't end well."

With that, Tommy left Joel sitting there with a sore face and aching heart. Not that it was undeserved, but still. Joel knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure you'd give him the time of day. But you were so good and kind that he realistically knew that you'd let him explain. 

All those things that he thought had made you weak actually made you so stronger. Much stronger than he was apparently.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late in the evening a couple of days later when he knocked at your door. You were both surprised but in a way had been expecting him. It was Joel after all, and the two of you shared a special bond; it wouldn’t be so easily broken. 

“H-hi,” his cheeks immediately pinked when he saw your pretty face and he felt like either running away and never looking back or throwing up then and there. You offered him a small smile in return but otherwise remained silent, “I, uh, I wanted to…I came to…apologize. I’m sorry for the other day. It doesn’t excuse it, but I was just wanted to let you know. So…yeah.”

“Do you want to come in?” you asked softly, causing him to look at you in pure awe. 

"I-what?"

"I just made some tea," you stepped aside and beckoned for him to follow, "I couldn't sleep so I thought it might help."

He was incredulous as he stepped into your kitchen and watched you make him a cup. In the warm yellow light of the kitchen, he studied you intently. He noticed the scar running from your cheek and disappearing into your temple. It wasn't the first time he spotted the scar but it was the first time he made the connection.

"Why?" He asked as he sat down across from you, pulling the cup of tea closer, "why aren't you telling me to go fuck myself and leave?"

"There's no reason to," you shrugged before taking a long, thoughtful sip of your tea, "I assume Tommy told you by now."

"How'd you know?"

"I can see the bruising on your face," you reached over and gently ghosted your finger along his skin, "and no one would dare to hit you besides him. Or maybe Ellie."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and giving it a squeeze, "I had no clue."

"It's not something I usually go and advertise," you sat back in your seat and exhaled slowly, "losing a child isn't easy. It doesn't really get easier but time lessens the sting. I can tell you more about…him and everything that happened sometime. If you want to hear it, but not tonight. Tonight we can just…just be."

"Yes," he reached for your hand and put his hand on top of yours, "I know it doesn't seem like it but I…care for you. Very deeply."

"I know you do, Joel," your assurance made him feel so much lighter; it felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders, "I care for you too. There's a lot we still have to learn about each other Joel, but I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here."

"Me too," there was a hopeful smile on his face as you squeezed his hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

[bimobuddy]

Storms

Hazbin TK fic

Writing this because there's currently a storm going on that's not supposed to end until 7 pm, and I'm not doing well :)

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Lucifer

Alastor might be ooc

CW: Fear of storms?? Anxiety

Summary: Hell gets a really bad storm, and Alastor isn't as composed as he normally is. When Lucifer finds out the reason why, he decides to put their rivalry aside and help him out.

BOOM

Alastor gripped his cane tightly in his hands, his permanent grin slightly more strained than usual. Wordlessly, he stood up from his seat and made an excuse to Charlie about needing to finish up some scripting for his next broadcast.

He turned and left the lobby, his shoes clicking as he walked down the hall.

CRAAACK!!

His breath caught in his throat as he picked up the pace a little, his ears starting to fold back.

"Heeey, Bambi!" Lucifer called, appearing in front of him. Oblivious to the Radio Demon's distress, he grinned, ready to harass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Alastor gripped his cane so hard he thought he was about to snap it. "Not that it's any of your business, your highness, but I'm heading back to my room." He replied, trying to mask his fear behind his usual smile and sass.

As thunder sounded again, softer this time, more of a rolling sound, Lucifer picked up on Alastor's anxious demeanor. His tail flicked, and his ears were pinned back a little.

The king chuckled, "Oh come on, don't tell me you of all demons are scared of a little-"

BOOOM!!

Lucifer blinked and looked around. Had Alastor disappeared? The light sound of microphone feedback caught his attention, and he turned to see that Alastor hadn't disappeared into shadow, but instead dropped to the floor and hidden under a table in the hall.

Alastor's ears were fully pinned back as he shook and pressed himself back against the wall.

Sensing this was something deeper, Lucifer kneeled down to be eye level with him. "Hey," he started, speaking softly, the same way he had to Charlie when she was a child and scared of the dark, "You're okay, Al. This hotel was built with angelic power, the storm isn't going to break in."

Alastor, eyes wide still, looked up at the king. When Lucifer took a chance and reached a hand out, he was surprised when Alastor took it.

"When I was a child," the demon started, his voice losing its radio filter, "a really bad tornado hit Louisiana. It devastated our town and nearly destroyed my home. I was in the cellar with my mother for hours until we were found."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little bit, as he felt his heart break for the demon. He gave Alastor's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You know, Charlie used to be afraid of storms too-"

Alastor forced a short laugh. "Wonderful, I'm behaving like a child." He pulled his hand away, and climbed out from under the table, feeling embarrassed for having acted like that in front of his rival. As another boom of thunder sounded, Alastor froze and gripped the table so hard, the wood started to crack and splinter.

Lucifer summoned his wings and wrapped one side around Alastor. "Let me walk you to your room-" Alastor shook his head. "My room is modeled to look like the swamps of Louisiana, I can't-... I can't stay in there during a storm."

"Alright then... My room, come on." He turned and started to guide Alastor in the opposite direction. He folded his wings in and de-summoned them, as to let Alastor retain his dignity when they passed by the lobby again.

As he was being guided, Alastor didn't once argue or complain, much to the surprise of Lucifer. He actually stayed rather close to the king, ears down, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

When they reached Lucifer's room, there was a flash of lightning, causing Alastor to rush in quickly. Seeing Alastor break character so much was very odd and concerning to the king. For as long as he had known the demon, Alastor had the attitude of someone who was untouchable. And now here he was, shaking, and bleating like a scared fawn.

He sighed, feeling bad for him. He remembered when Charlie would come running into his room scared, during a storm. Back then, he would have scooped her up into his lap, and they would have counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the cracking of thunder. And when that didn't work, he'd- Oh there's an idea.

"Alastor?" He started, taking his hat off and setting aside. "You wanna know what I used to do with Charlie when she was scared of storms?" He asked with a smile.

The Radio Demon turned to face him. He was still holding onto that smile, but his eyes showed just how distressed he was. He tilted his head.

Lucifer waved him over, sitting down. "I'll show you, sit down." Alastor approached and sat next to him, willing to try anything at this point to calm his nerves. He set his cane aside and let out a surprised fawn squeak when the king just opened his coat. He was obviously wearing a shirt underneath, but he hadn't expected for Lucifer to touch him.

"It was a little game we'd play. You ready?" Before Alastor could question it, he saw another flash of lighting that made him jump. That was Lucifer's cue to start.

He reached forward and started to scritch his claws against Alastor's sides, up and down. The demon let out a startled yelp, and at first Lucifer thought maybe this was a bad idea. But when the host started to chuckle and lean into it, he smiled and continued.

As thunder rolled and boomed overhead, Lucifer slid his hands upward and spidered over his ribs. Alastor doubled over, laughing harder, yet he barely even noticed the loud noise, only able to focus on the tickling.

Playful claws zipped down and vibrated into his hips, and the radio host couldn't help but curl up and fall onto his side, tail wagging. He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed louder, his own hands shooting down to grab Lucifer's, yet he didn't push him away, seeming to be more than okay with this distraction.

The king gave his hips a break and reached up to gently scritch behind his ears. He couldn't stop the fond smile that painted itself across his face once Alastor's loud laughter melted away into staticky giggles.

Lucifer summoned his wings back and again, and wrapped them around Alastor, pressing them against his back. Alastor normally hated touch, but he welcomed this. It was warm, and the gentle, constant pressure against his back was helping with his anxiety, a lot actually.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer plucking one of his own feathers. His cheeks warmed and his ears folded back, but he didn't attempt to escape. He just squeezed his eyes shut again, and allowed the angel to flutter it under his chin.

Alastor burst into surprised giggles, shocked at just how ticklish it was. It definitely didn't feel like a normal feather, it was worse.

Lucifer chuckled, "Yeah, angels feathers, they're much more intense than birds." He saw the window flash, and brought the feather down to Alastor's tummy, pushing his shirt up. Right when the thunder started, he started to flick and flutter the feather against his skin, grinning to himself when Alastor jumped and curled up, laughing, gently batting at the king.

Yet he didn't even notice the storm outside.

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 1 - The Wingman ❄️

🎁 Today's drabble is dedicated to @eclectic-sassycoweyes!

Summary: While TK is babysitting Jonah, he meets a really sweet barista!

Word count: 765

Jonah screams from his stroller as TK pushes him and TK only feels more and more embarrassed as he backs them into Starbucks. Especially considering everyone sitting in the coffee shop looks cozy in their festive sweaters, with their holiday shopping in bags at their feet. 

“Shh,” he coos, “You’re okay, Jo-Jo, you’re okay.”

Jonah only continues to cry and TK is officially getting looks from the other patrons. He really needs his caffeine fix because toddlers are exhausting and TK is certain he looks as frazzled as he feels.

“Hi,” he says when he finally gets to the counter, after waiting in line and trying to console Jonah the entire time. He rolls the stroller back and forth in a rocking motion even as Jonah keeps wailing. “I’m so sorry about him...We passed a park on the way here, I said no, it was a whole thing.”

The barista leans forward across the counter and smiles down at Jonah in his stroller—which actually manages to get the toddler to stop crying out of his curiosity at the new face smiling down at him—before looking back up at TK. TK’s breath catches as warm, brown eyes turn on him. “Your son’s really cute,” the man–Carlos, judging by his name tag–says.

“He’s actually my baby brother,” TK laughs awkwardly. He’s not sure why he’s quick to clarify as he stares at the handsome barista. Usually he just accepts it when people assume Jonah’s his kid because it’s not worth explaining otherwise to strangers he’ll never cross paths with again. 

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Carlos smiles at TK. “It’s way too cold for the park today and he’s just being a kid. You’re doing a good job looking out for him.”

“Thanks,” TK laughs. “I’m just babysitting but I really did need to hear that today.”

“What can I get you? I’ll make it a venti at no extra charge,” Carlos’s smile is warm and TK sort of wants to melt in it as he grabs a plastic cup and holds up a sharpie, poised and ready to take TK’s order. 

“That is incredibly sweet of you, thank you. I’ll have an iced gingerbread latte with a double shot of espresso and gingerbread cold foam please,” TK says with a grateful smile. “And a tall hot chocolate at kid’s temp for this little guy.”

“And your name?” Carlos raises an eyebrow as he glances back at TK, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth.

“TK.”

“TK,” Carlos repeats like he’s swirling TK’s name in his mouth like a flavorful wine. “That’s nice.”

“Thank you,” TK breathes, so completely lost in the barista’s eyes. 

He pays for their drinks and rolls Jonah forward to the end of the bar and finds a free table where he can sit and face Jonah. 

“I got you a hot chocolate, buddy, are you excited about that?” 

Jonah begins to bounce excitedly in his seat with a happy clap.

A few minutes later, the handsome barista personally delivers their drinks to them. 

“Oh my god, this is so sweet of you,” TK gushes. “Seriously, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Carlos shakes his head with a tiny smile. “How old is he?”

“He’s two,” TK says, “probably explains a bit of the tantrum.”

“Oh, who doesn’t wish they could still throw tantrums and get away with it?” Carlos chuckles. “Seriously, he’s fine. He’s very cute…not unlike his big brother.”

TK practically chokes on his coffee as Carlos winks at him and slinks off, back towards the counter. Suddenly, something on TK’s cup catches his eye. 

In addition to TK’s name and order, a number has been written on the cup with a smiley face and a, “text me! -Carlos.”

TK’s eyes shoot straight up, back to the barista, looking smug as he steams milk behind the counter. He quickly types the number into his phone and texts: do you always give your number out to guys you meet at work?

TK watches Carlos grin as he discreetly checks his watch and reads the message from TK flashing across it. A few minutes later, TK gets a text back: Only when they’re really cute.

TK’s head whips up and Carlos smirks as he catches his gaze, winking at TK. TK just bites his lip. He thinks this barista might just hopefully be the death of him.

“Hey little brother, thank you for being the best wingman ever,” TK chuckles quietly, shaking his head. Jonah just stares curiously at TK while he drinks his hot chocolate.

[paperstorm]

Thank you @bonheur-cafe @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @orchidscript @carlossreaders @henrygrass and @heartstringsduet :)

Musician AU is really starting to take shape. I love this part of writing, where you've agonized enough over the outline that you know what actually needs to happen and the writing is flowing.

-

Carlos catches his eye and steps around his bandmates to make his way to TK across the room. He holds his hand out, a truly maddening amount of sincerity in his humble expression as he says, “Hi, I’m Carlos. This is amazing, man, thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“TK.” He reaches out and shakes, but keeps it brief and lets it fall away quickly. “And yeah, it – wasn’t exactly my idea.”

“Oh.” The line of Carlos’s mouth flattens almost imperceptibly, but TK catches it.

“No, I just mean, I’m not really who you have to thank,” TK clarifies quickly. He wants to sulk about it. He wants to stomp his feet and raise a stink and demand they be allowed to tour with no opening act at all, just to shove it in everyone’s doubting faces when he can still put asses in the seats and money in the bank accounts of their financial backers. But it isn’t fair to make his resentment this man’s problem; none of this was his doing, either. TK reminds himself of that as if he’s a schoolteacher wagging a disapproving finger in his own head.

“Right.” Carlos nods. “Well … I mean, you could’ve said no. So thanks for giving us a chance.”

“Sure.” TK nods back at him, trying to arrange his facial features into a smile that probably ends up more of a grimace. It isn’t the truth. Billy made it very clear that TK couldn’t say no, that Carlos and his band opening was a condition of the tour existing in the first place. TK gets the sense Carlos doesn’t know that, and there is a small, bitter part of him that wants to tell him just to watch the sincerity slip off his face.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @ladytessa74

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[withonly-sweetheart]

Not Quite Right

You're Leon's mystery, he's your mystery. He defends your honor without hesitation, but being around you has him questioning his own morals.

a/n: k personally i didnt deliver with this one i kinda sold but im some kinda block rn needed tk get smth done 🤨😔 (useless core) might rewrite later if ive got inspo

there IS a part two with both a happy and sad ending because i cant let sadness take over but i also just read "if he had been with me" and so yeah ill update this with the links when i post those

tw: angst?? age gap if you squint really hard and look between the lines but nun too serious (theres also suggestive content but wtv)

" if you couldnt tell

they said teamwork makes the dream work

hell i had some help "

wc: 1.8k

The saloon was always bathed in a hazy lemon glow, glaring back at Leon’s squinted eyes as the sawdust kicks up under his boot heels. He peels away from the rowdy crowd and nods to the barkeep for another whiskey. He never really was able to read the small, messy names of absurd drinks scrawled onto the curling paper.

Groaning in frustration, he slams it down, digging his nails into the yellowing parchment. Across the table, he catches your eye, specifically those of which narrow directly at him.

Leon admires your uniform; short, tight-fitted burnt hazel dress. It’s always been ugly to him, but you look… ravishing in it, though his eyes are cool as they flit your way.

And he realizes something else, snapping through his mind rapid-fire.

No one looks at him like that and gets away with it.

“Another round?” he calls out as you saunter past. You eye him sideways but say nothing, shifting your stance at the regulars’ raucous shouts. Not the slightest bit bothered, Leon presses, “Looks like you know your men.”

“Is that so?” you smile, knowingly. “Well, I know that folks say you’ve been ‘passing through’ a while.”

Leon chuckled. “And what do folks say about you?”

“That I know things.”

Intrigued, Leon leans forward. “And what do you know?”

You lean in as well, voice low and intimate. “I know a desperate man when I see one. What are you running from, cowboy?”

“What do you think?”

“That you’re a no-account drifter always poking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Leon chuckles, tilting his hat to adjust to the sudden shift in light. “Reckon I’ll be poking around a while longer then.”

You consider him a long moment. Strangely, Leon wishes he knew what you were thinking. “We’ll see, cowboy. We’ll see.”

Leon smiles. "And what do you suppose that means, miss?"

You chuckle drily. "I’m sure you know exactly what I mean, sir.” And with that vague answer, you turn away, step away, linger in front of him for a moment longer before sauntering away, leaving him with pink ears and flustered thoughts.

If it were anyone else, Leon would’ve been irked. But something about you is different. He doesn’t know why, in a town full of women who adore him, you’re the one to entrance him. He also doesn’t know why instead of pushing you further away, he wants to get closer, unravel your mind like tangled yarn.

So when he walks in the next week, he sits in his regular seat and raises his hand, already spotting you swaying to the music in the back. He knows you see his curled fingers first, before you zero in on his face and the corner of your mouth lifts.

"You seem to have me all figured out." Leon says as you walk past, one hand balancing the drinks on a tray. He tilts his head, studying you curiously. "You’ve done your homework, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

"I sure have,” you reply with a slow, lazy smile, leaning over the counter so only he can hear. “It might come as a shock, but I actually might be using my senses.” You lean away, completely unaware of the effect your husky voice has on him.

He blinks once, twice, before a broad grin spreads across his face. “Well…”

“I’ve got your regular?” you offer, twisting over your shoulder to check the drinks. “On the house?”

“That’s my girl,” he praises as you hand him the cool glass, somewhat back to normal. But your words linger in his mind for an indefinite amount of time. Everywhere, anywhere, whoever’s talking, he wishes it was you whispering weakly into his ear.

Especially when he comes in, as if on a schedule, the next week. His eyes are on you but his thoughts elsewhere, his senses stepping in, flashing warning signs and ringing sirens in his head.

He watches you walk past a group of men he usually sees at this particular bar, in that spot, assuming they’re regulars. What really messes with his temper is when one of them whistles appreciatively and all their eyes immediately switch from your face to a lower area.

“Pay them no mind,” you say dismissively, snapping him out of his trance. “This town has its share of fools.”

Leon pretends to glance you over before returning his stern gaze to them, recognizing one of the rowdy patrons. “Like him?”

The man catches his eye and scowls. “You got something to say, drifter?”

Leon turns back to you with a roguish smile. “Reckon it’s time I shut them fools up, what do you say?”

You sigh resignedly. “Just try not to get yourself killed.”

<><><>

You perk up at the sound you already recognize as his boots shuffling across the wooden planks. You glance back down at the drink in your hands, slightly warmer than usual because he returned so late.

When he excused himself a few hours ago, you assumed he had work to take care of. He always came back, anyways, so why bother yourself with the details when you knew that if he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you.

“Well, where have you been-” You immediately stop talking at his appearance. Blood drips down the side of his face, staining the stubble he’s been steadily growing, trickling down his neck. A bruise lines his jawline, maroon and vivid against his pale skin. He staggers over to you, slumping onto a stool, an awkward lean to the right the only sign of his pain.

“Is that mine?” he rasps, reaching for the drink.

“Kennedy!” you exclaim, gesturing to his state and yanking the glass away from his outstretched hands. “What did you get into?”

“Nothin’.” But you hear the sharp inhale he takes before continuing, “Now, did you get all this ready for me?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, gripping your glass tighter, slightly concerned.

“Use your words,” he chides. And now you aren’t concerned as much.

God, he makes you feel so stupid.

“Yes,” you grit out, struggling to be heard against the bustling crowd.

“How ‘bout this?” Leon hums, not waiting for your answer. “Drinks are on me.”

You can’t help but let a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. “Yeah? Anything I want?”

“For a pretty little thing like you, yeah,” he muses, fully turning to face you. You get a better look at his soft, baby blue eyes, fluffy, sandy hair, the way the ivory lights cast shadows across the planes of his face.

“How about not getting into fights?” you joke. He arches an eyebrow as you pass him napkins. He smears the blood across his chin, right under his lips. You can’t help but stare as he tosses his head back to swallow the drink, imagining the liquid burning his throat. “Did you actually fight that guy? You know I was just jokin’ right?”

Leon rasps something you don’t hear, eyes glazed over. “This… is different. What’d you put in it this time, sugar?”

“Just somethin’ special,” you respond vaguely. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Tastes like shit,” he comments, gingerly pushing the glass away. “What, you going around assuming everyone likes what you like?”

“Last guy did,” you mumble, slightly dejected that he didn’t take well to your concoction. To be fair, you did mess up the first guy’s order, mistaking his single for a double and decided it wouldn’t bother Leon if you got him a different drink, right?

“Last guy’s taste ain’t mine,” he says simply, humming in compliance. You wonder exactly what happened on the way here, why he shows up every week without fail. “Tastes stronger than usual.”

“Can’t handle your drinks?” you jab, the corner of your mouth lifting. It’s always amusing to you when you watch a guy stumble out of the bar, so affected by something you made. It sent a feeling of power rushing to your head, like you could potentially control everyone here.

Or more specifically, the one person you wanted wrapped around your finger.

Leon.

So what if you kept him coming back, glancing up at him every time he left, silently begging him to stay for one more drink? You grew up learning that if you wanted something, you had to work for it.

“I can handle anything,” he slurs, words connecting themselves to the sounds he makes, small purrs escaping his throat and going straight to your head. “It’s just… heavy…”

“Heavy?” You chuckle. “Right.”

“What’d you put in this?” he repeats.

“Just the scotch.” Leon immediately snaps up.

“You know I can’t-”

“Can’t what, Leon? Because you know what I sure can’t do?” His surprised and somewhat curious expression spurs you on. “I can’t sit here and pretend that there’s nothing between us, keep you coming back here every week and have you leave me on the other end of your string.”

You poke him square in his upper chest, digging your finger into the little dip between his collarbones. “And although all the other girls you take to bed can handle that, I sure can’t.”

“I’m… leaving you, sweetheart?” Leon chuckles dryly. “As far as I can tell, you’re the one walking away from me.”

“You walk in here and call me your pretty thing, then leave like it’s nothing!”

“My pretty thing?” The swinging lights dance across Leon's face as he turns, searching my gaze as if seeing new things.

“How much longer? This isn’t how you treat-” In the midst of your rambling, something switches in the air between you and Leon grabs the side of your face, leaning forward, eyes defiant yet demanding.

Quicker than the setting sun through hot summer dusks, he bends his head until your breath mingles, hot and sweet.

And when his lips meet yours, they taste sweeter than you expect, fuller than you see on the outside, like you’re tasting what you can’t see. At the touch of his other hand cupping your head, your doubts slip away.

He doesn’t need words to tell you what his pride had kept tied up tight before. You hear yourself make a sound of protest as he pulls away, suddenly, harshly, eyes shadowed by… regret?

“I… shouldn’t have… shit,” he seethes under his breath. Leon pushes back from the table, the legs of his stool grating against the wooden planks. His brows are knitted tight, like he’s wrestling some demon you can’t see.

You reach for him again but he flinches away, not meeting your imploring gaze. You realize it’s like looking at a stranger wearing Leon's face.

The thought wrenches your heart, so desperately, you plead, “Don’t go. Please. Stay. What do you need to say?”

“I… need to go,” he says, voice trembling. “This was wrong…”

"Don't do this," you beg, hating the tremor in your voice but powerless to still it. Weeks of yearning lead to one perfect moment, shattered before your eyes.

"I'm sorry." The words break on Leon's tongue like he doesn’t mean much to them. He backs towards the door, unraveling with every step while you watch, helpless.

Moonlight throws his anguished profile into sharp relief as you plead, "Stay. Tell me what's got your hackles up, cowboy."

But Leon only shakes his head, hands drawn tight. "You know this won’t work. Us… we can’t."

The words land like blows, stealing your breath. You stagger after him onto the porch, heart cracking down the middle at the distance in his eyes.

"You're running scared is all." Your own voice sounds small and far away. By the set of Leon's shoulders, you know this was a battle you've already lost. “You think you’re not the right one.”

“That’s it,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corner with his smile. “Atta girl.”

“Why?” you insist. “If the shit between us is mutual-”

“Because you’ve got your whole life in front of you, girl!” he says, exasperatedly. “I’ll just fuck everything up for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he cuts you off, voice final. But you can hear how it hurts him too. “I’m not heartless. I’ve got a conscience, and as much as it eats away at me, I won’t let it have this one too.” His dull eyes find yours. “I won’t let it have you, too.”

He pauses at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the inky sky. When he turns, there’s no trace of warmth left in his smile. "Take care of yourself, sweet girl."

Then he’s gone, swallowed up by the dark. You sink onto the creaking steps, tasting tears and the agony of loss, the stars uncaring as they sparkle down at you.

[beaunoor]

In your masterlist for Tokyo Revengers do you write for something like reader being a boyfriend or girlfriend of Kisaki Theta (Kisaki may or may not have rule 63 applied to him) and becoming friends with Hanma ?

Hi anon! sure I could write for him. if this isn’t what you had in mine I can revise later,,,got a bit carried away writing out a backstory sorry

kisaki tetta x gn reader; last timeline au

Notes: one curse, not proofread

You knew Kisaki from when you were teens. You observed from afar—how he associated himself with the ruffians around school, how odd it was for him to change his style to match those who he surrounded himself with, you wanted to avoid any bad karma he would bring…

It wasn’t until years later into your adult life when you had seen him again. You don’t ever pay attention to anything sport related, but when you were asked to deliver files from your boss to the founders of TK&KO company at the infamous race track you couldn’t help but grimace at the task. 

You tried to keep a neutral face when you had handed him the folder. Keeping busy by looking around the box they sat in and casually watching the cars zoom around the track, sneakily glancing at him and how well he’s grown up

“These numbers look well done. Who’s the one overseeing the transactions?”

You cleared your throat.

“That would be me, sir.”

He finally peered up at you from where he sat through the lens of his glasses.

“Oh, L/n right?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Ah–yes that’s right sir.”

“There’s no need for formality, we're about the same age. We go way back anyway.” He stood up from his seat, fixing his suit. “I want to have a meeting with your boss, L/n.”

And that is how you ended up being close to the calculating man. He quite literally bought shares of the company you worked at and now you more or less work as an accountant for him

Late nights spent at the office turned into nightly talks about the past with each other if he was ever in office. Instead of going home like a good homebody would do, you would knock on his door, offering a cup of coffee or tea and you would keep him company until he was done for the day. When you both were out of the building, you would part ways and be on your merry way home.

It wasn’t until one night before you would all be dismissed for holiday when he stopped you from going home and asked to take you out for dinner, hand scratching the back of his head as he struggled to focus on your reaction.

From then on he would do right by you and treated you as a good man should, properly asking to be your partner

You were aware that the gang he used to be a part of still had ties to him so you weren’t surprised to see a friend on occasion

But this—this was a bit different

You awkwardly stood up against the wall of the elevator, trying your best not to turn your head to see the piercing eyes on you as the lanky man who has also gotten onto the elevator up to the office saddled up to you. You were literally sweating bullets at the fact that he was standing so close and was just staring at you, as you had no idea what his intentions were.

When the elevator dinged, you both walked out and you realized he was indeed following you all the way. He had to be important to come to this floor in the first place but this was way too odd.

You knocked on the office door, opening the door ajar to pop your head in to hand Kisaki a document for his meeting, ready to whisper about the creepy man. But another presence opened the door all the way and there the creep stood and you could do nothing but stare in shock.

“Oh, Hanma there you are.” Kisaki said. “I see you’ve already scared Y/n.”

“Ah so they’re that one—” Hanma started

“Y/n you can go now.” Kisaki interrupted

Hanma would wait after that meeting to formally introduce himself. Afterwards, you became an odd pair of friends. 

He teased and bothered Kisaki quite often just for the kick of it, though you would often join in to rile up your man.

Hanma has an odd sense of humor that you try to understand, but sometimes it’s better not to

Yes, hanma has suggested you become a throuple and will continue to do so just to piss off Kisaki

When he would come over to your guys’ place to have a drink the both of them were a lot to handle, but you couldn’t help but smile and giggle at the obvious display of friendship

One night Hanma had drunkenly told you a little secret about kisaki you would never have guessed

“I remember Kisaki when he was a little shy idiot who wanted everything. Even though he was too much of a wuss to confess to this one girl one time and even more of a pussy to talk to you back when you guys were in grade school.”

You egged him on to tell you more before Kisaki shouted at him to shut the fuck up. You still ask Kisaki about the rest of the story but he refuses to tell you.

Hanma was a good confidant when he needed to be and being a photographer he had a good amount of free time he would hang around the racing track or the office when you were in to work

It was a nice connection to have that made you smile

ahh so excited to have my first anon! thank you for requesting!

[1heartfanfics]

Hi, I write sickfics too. But I'd love a sickfic written for me this time. Lol. Either a really sick Dean needing Sam to care for him, maybe after a really bad hunt. Or super sick TK, needing his dad to call Carlos to take of him. Or maybe a really sick Bucky, with a freaked out Peter swinging around frantic to find Steve to help the man while in the middle of a fire fight. :) Emeto galore would be much appreciated. Pretty please!!!

okay so I decided to write it for tarlos because I just watched the mid season finale, but let me know if you want me to do the supernatural one too.

Also this ended up getting a bit de-railed toward the end and being more about Owen coming to terms with the fact that T.K. has Carlos now and doesn't need him as much as he used to instead of actual caretaking. Whoops 🤷‍♀️

warning: depictions of vomit, brief mention of addiction history

T.K. had woken up with a headache. But that wasn’t uncommon, side effect of being a recovered addict he’d been told. So he didn’t think about it too much.

But it kept getting worse, even though he’d been sure to drink enough water and eat throughout the day. And then he realized when he helped Nancy lift a patient onto a gurney that his whole body ached. 

“You good?” Nancy had asked.

“Fine,” T.K. responded shortly. Nancy gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him, but she let it drop. 

By the end of their next call, he was dizzy and cold. They’d just dropped the patient at the hospital and we’re heading back to the station. 

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” Nancy asked as she drove, glancing over at T.K., who was practically slumped against the window in the passenger seat. 

T.K. shrugged, “Not feeling super great I guess,” he admitted. 

“You need to tell Captain Vega dude,” she said as she pulled the ambulance into the station bay. 

“Shifts almost over anyway,” T.K. shrugged again, shaking his head. 

But then as soon as they’d parked the klaxon sounded. ‘Aid car BLANK requested’

“Alright then, let’s just head back out,” Tommy called from the back of the ambulance. 

Nancy shot T.K. a look. His face was pale, even more than it already had been. T.K.’s stomach, which had become increasingly upset for the past hour or so, suddenly flipped. He knew he was done for. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, then threw the door open and practically fell out, landing on his knees with a retch that brought his lunch up onto the floor of the station. 

“Woah!” Someone said, then T.K. felt a hand on his shoulder and his back. 

“Who else is a certified medic?” Another voice asked, Tommy maybe. Everything sounded far away and T.K.’s head was spinning. 

“Yo Marj! Paul!” The voice behind him yelled. Judd, T.K. could tell now.

There were footsteps approaching and then “Woah what happened to him?”

“One of you take T.K.’s place in the rig with Tommy and Nancy. The other one of y’all go get captain strand,” Judd instructed. 

T.K. could hear people running around, then the siren as the rig pulled back out of the station.

"Come on brother, let's get you up," Judd said, grabbing T.K. under his arms and pulling him to his feet. With Judd's help, he walked unsteadily over to one of the benches the firefighters use to put their boots on. As soon as he was sitting he slumped over, head in his hands as he breathed through another wave of nausea.

"T.K.? What happened?" his Dad was asking, suddenly at T.K.'s side with a hand on his shoulder.

When T.K. didn't answer Owen turned to Judd for answers.

"I just saw him spill out of the rig to hurl on the floor, that's all I know. You'd have to ask the girls but they had to run back out on a call. I sent Marj with 'em since they're down a medic," Judd shrugged.

"Thanks Judd," Owen sighed. "I've got him, you can get back to whatever you were working on."

"You sure? Cause he's looking pretty green cap," Judd pointed out.

"Son? Are you still feeling nauseous?" Owen asked.

T.K. just groaned in response, he didn't think he'd ever felt this sick in his life. It had gotten so bad so quickly. He was going to throw up again.

Thankfully Judd was on it, and a trash can magically appeared between T.K.'s knees just in time for him to heave over it. His body convulsed with another gag which brought up more of his stomach contents into the bin.

"Aw jeez kiddo," Owen muttered, sitting down beside T.K. to wrap an arm around him and rub a hand up and down his arm.

T.K. coughed and spit into the trash can, willing his stomach to stop contracting. There wasn't anything left in it to bring up. He felt so weak, like he could hardly hold himself up.

"Woah alright, I've gotcha," Judd was sitting on his other side, an arm wrapped around his chest to keep him from falling forward. T.K. dropped his head down into his hands again, elbows propped on his knees to keep himself upright.

Once Judd was confident that T.K. was stable enough, he pulled back, looking over at Owen. "We need to get him laying down," he said.

Owen nodded, "I think I'm just going to take him back to the house. You mind taking over for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Of course cap, whatever you need," Judd agreed.

"T.K.? I'm going to get my stuff and then we'll go home okay?" Owen said, leaning down to try and meet his son's eyes.

T.K.'s eyes were shut, but he shook his head in response.

"No?" Owen asked, confused.

T.K. shook his head again, "Just call Carlos, please," he said quietly.

"Right. Of course," Owen was taken by surprise, although he really shouldn't have been. T.K. had moved in with Carlos months ago, that was his home now. And Carlos was T.K.'s person, the one he wanted to take care of him.

He looked at Judd, who nodded, silently answering Owen's unspoken request to stay with T.K. while he called Carlos.

"Your dad's calling Carlos now, I'm sure he'll be here soon to get you home. Just hang in there," Judd said, rubbing a hand over T.K.'s back.

As promised, after Owen returned from making the phone call, Carlos arrived within 10 minutes.

"Oh sweetheart," Carlos sighed when he spotted his boyfriend, hunched over a trash can.

Judd quickly stood up, allowing Carlos to take his spot. Carlos wrapped his arms around T.K., gently pulling him from the slumped position to rest against his chest. T.K. went willingly, pressing his face into Carlos's shoulder.

"Thank you for calling me," Carlos said, addressing Owen.

Owen nodded, smiling softly as he watched Carlos take care of his son. He hadn't missed the way that T.K. instantly relaxed a little at Carlos's touch.

"Let's get you home baby," Carlos said quietly. T.K. nodded, letting Carlos help him to his feet with a hand on his elbow and his waist.

"Let me know if you guys need anything," Owen told Carlos.

"Thank you," Carlos nodded, "I've got him, Owen," he added, seeing the worry on the captain's face.

Owen nodded, reaching out to softly clap Carlos on the shoulder, "I know you do." Carlos gave him one last nod, then wrapped an arm around T.K.'s waist and slowly guided him out of the station toward his car.

As much as Owen worried about T.K., he was realizing that maybe he didn't need to as much anymore. Because while most of T.K.'s previous boyfriends hadn't treated him very well, he had Carlos now. Carlos, who clearly loved and cared for T.K. so much. Owen was glad they had found each other.

[inoreuct]

I have a hc that Zoro gets really bad migraines, sanji is usually the one who notices and takes care of him- any thoughts/headcanons on what that looks like? (If you feel like it ☺️❤)

couldn’t resist writing a small drabble,,, more hcs below! 

Zoro yanked the galley door open, vision blotting out in spots of white, banging his shoulder into the doorframe when he misjudged the distance. “Cook—”

“Shit,” Sanji hissed, quickly switching off the stove and grabbing him under the arms as the swordsman stumbled.  

He felt hot and cold at the same time, sweat beading along his forehead and lip and lower back, the throbbing of his head sending neon spikes of colour blooming through his field of sight. A chair clattered as he was set into it heavily, legs scraping along the floor as Zoro immediately folded his arms on the dining table and buried his face into them. 

The fridge door was opened and closed, cold fingers sweeping up the back of his neck as Sanji pressed a bag of frozen peas into his hand. “Idiot. Why’d you let it get so bad?”

“Didn’t notice,” Zoro groaned, trying to breathe deeply as he jammed the plastic package against his right temple, over his eye. The temperature shock was a blessed relief. 

Sanji sighed, long-suffering as he went to rummage through a cabinet. “Here,” he murmured, voice toned low, nudging something at Zoro’s lips. “Aah.” 

The swordsman took it between his teeth and tucked it under his tongue with a long exhale, humming a question as it began to dissolve spicy-sweet, the zing of it prickly on the roof of his mouth. 

“Ginger drops. Should help with the pain.” Sanji carded a gentle hand through his sweaty hair and swiped a bead of condensation from the bag before it could drip. “Wait here, I’ll make you some broth.”

Zoro made a vague noise of assent, content to sit there with his peas and his candy and the pounding in the side of his head that was, thankfully, a smidge duller than it had been when he’d come in. He could hear Sanji puttering about behind him, dimming the electric lamps, pulling things from the fridge again, the soft tk-tk-tk-tk of the gas stove igniter. 

The aura had hit him out of left field this time. By the time he’d realised it was going to be a bad migraine his face had already started going numb, a hot flush growing in the back of his head and something humming in his ears. If he’d stayed in his quarters like he sometimes chose to, he wouldn’t have been able to yell loud enough for Sanji to hear and—

“You should tell the crew,” the cook breathed, and Zoro winced. Listening to anything at all at the moment felt like an ice pick being driven through his temple, but at least the bubbling he heard was slightly soothing. He shook his head. He knew Sanji would see. 

They’d had this conversation a dozen times over by now. Sanji wanted the crew to be aware, at least, just in case for whatever reason Zoro needed help and he wasn’t there; Zoro just… didn’t see a need. He’d handle it. He always had. 

He heard the soft sound of a wooden spoon on ceramic, heard the flame turn off and a cork placemat being put down in front of him. Shoving his face further into the crook of his arm, he smelled the light, savoury fragrance of chicken soup as Sanji brought the pot over. 

“Up,” Sanji whispered, poking at his elbow with a spoon, and Zoro sighed. 

The galley was dim, washed in warm yellow light. He tucked the remnants of the ginger drop to the side of his cheek as Sanji blew on a spoonful of broth and lifted it to his mouth. It was less rich than Sanji would have preferred— Zoro appreciated the consideration. “S’good.”

“Of course it is.” Sanji carefully fed him another spoonful, brows furrowing. “How’s the head?”

“…Better.” Zoro had long since gotten over his qualms at getting spoonfed like a child; after that one time he’d lost his balance and nearly cracked his skull open on a cabinet corner insisting “he could handle it”, he’d given up and let Sanji take care of him. 

The cook took a seat, lifting the chair so that the legs didn’t drag. “This isn’t a weakness, you know.”

“Th’ fuck are you going on about,” Zoro mumbled. He was too tired to even make it a question. His brain felt three sizes too big for his skull and the backs of his eyeballs hurt.

“Your migraines,” Sanji clarified, insistent but still keeping his voice hushed. “None of us would think any less of you, or—”

“It’s not that.” He cut that train of thought off before it could go anywhere. He knew better than to think that, even though it did rub him the wrong way sometimes; but his migraines were more of a liability than a weakness—

Oh. Put that way, those two were kind of the same thing, weren’t they. 

Sanji scoffed at the back of his throat. “Then what is it?”

“Maybe I just like you taking care of me,” Zoro said, and immediately winced. There was more honesty in that than he was willing to deal with at the moment. 

“You—” Sanji started, before huffing in frustration a moment later. “If what you're worried about is getting migraines in the middle of a fight—”

Damn this cook, seeing through him every time.

“—you need to tell them so that we can cover for you if it happens.” 

And that made Zoro pause. Not so we can pick up your slack, but so we can cover for you. So we can protect you. 

He was so tired.

“…Fine,” he allowed, and the gentle smile Sanji beamed at him was so bright that he nearly put his head back down again. 

“Thank you.” 

“For?”

Sanji pushed the pot towards him and got up, going behind his chair to thread his fingers through green hair, rubbing firm circles into his temples and coaxing Zoro upwards. “Trusting us enough to take care of you,” he murmured, grinning, pressing the words into Zoro’s hairline. The cook dragged neatly-trimmed fingernails across Zoro’s scalp and turned away, and the swordsman heard the tap start running. “I want that soup gone, we need to keep you hydrated. Finish the noodles if you can stomach it too, hm?”

“Hm.” Zoro sat. He drank his soup. He ate his noodles. By the time Sanji came around to steal a bite he’d nearly emptied the pot. 

“Oh, this is good,” Sanji mumbled around the last mouthful as he took it to the stove, and Zoro stood up to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and rest his forehead on Sanji’s shoulder. The bag of peas was left on the table, half-thawed and forgotten.

The cook took his weight easily, his warm chuckle reveberating through Zoro’s chest as he heard what Zoro didn’t say. “You’re welcome, marimo.”

Zoro hummed quietly, giving him a squeeze and brushing a kiss to his cheekbone, feeling the cook’s heart thump beneath his palm. Sanji had always been the best at reading him.

He pressed his temple to Sanji’s jaw, and realised his migraine was gone. 

fin.

they’re stress migraines, i think. started when zoro was younger, and they played a part in his drinking problem; he’d try to use alcohol to dull the pain and then wake up with a head-splitting hangover. needless to say he was looking for alternative solutions pretty quick.

he can kind of tell before the real migraine hits. he starts getting numb and feeling out-of-body, then his ears start buzzing and his vision whites out if he moves around and then the pain starts. cold sweat too, definitely, and painkillers help but only if he takes them early. the problem is that it starts getting bad real quick once the aura hits.

sanji found out after they got together, when zoro had a migraine so bad he was curled up in his bunk with his head buried under the pillow. the cook kinda freaked out because?? zoro doesn’t just hide like this wtf?? but zoro gets the gist of it across and sanji spends the rest of the night with him, trying to help as much as he can. it’s not much— but it’s something.

pressure helps. they’ve definitely tried goofy things like zoro lying down between sanji’s thighs like sanji’s sitting on his shoulders and asking the cook to essentially crush his head; nami walked in on them, and that’s how they were forced to explain that they weren’t doing anything funny BUT they also accidentally got so flustered that they came out to the crew by accident.

they still do it sometimes when the migraine isn’t too bad; other days zoro drags himself to the galley and sanji gets some liquids in him, puts an ice pack on his head and lets him shrivel up and die on the cold floor in the corner a little

zoro mentions not wanting to take laudanum, because he’s afraid of getting addicted— so sanji makes the ginger drops. they’re made of concentrated ginger, turmeric, cloves and willow bark, all natural painkillers that help with inflammation and headaches, with a pinch of lavender because after the actual migraine passes zoro likes to sleep it off and a little bit of extra help can’t hurt. AND they’re hard candies and not pastilles because sanji knows that chewing makes the migraines worse.

on that note, he mainly gives zoro some sort of soup or broth, or porridge; something bland and easy to get down and keep down. the swordsman hurling his guts up in his sink and worsening his migraine to the point where he’d nearly cried (he’d insisted that his eyes were just watering) is something that sanji never wants to experience again.

after zoro tells the crew, they’re all a little pissed off that he’d been dealing with it for so long on his own (“what am i, chopped liver?” sanji had scoffed) but they all reassure him enthusiastically that yes, he’s still the big strong swordsman and yes, they won’t baby him and yes, it isn’t an inconvenience at all.

(zoro refuses to admit that he’s touched.)

he only ever actually gets a migraine once on the battlefield, the one time he has to pull his punches so hard because they need to capture, not kill. his head hurts so bad but he still tries to fight until luffy slingshots him back to the boat with strict orders to stay.

he’s smoking mad, but he does stay. he sulks and rages as much as his headache allows but he stays, and everything’s fine in the end. sanji gives him a kiss for being a good marimo (the cook’s words, not his) so he supposes it’s alright.

that’s all for now! as someone who occasionally gets migraines this was nice to write HAHA THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

lemon!!! is it a wednesday in your dimension? I need Uncle Paul content!!! maybe a lil sneak peak?? for meeee?

Hello!!! It is not Wednesday, it is actually Tuesday evening and I have just finished assembling a dining room set BY MYSELF 💪

But for you, bestie, I will share a little Uncle Paul sneak…

—

They’ve snapped all the tracks into place, and Paul and Jonah are currently setting up the train station and the little dinosaur figurines around the tracks while Carlos puts the batteries in the engine.

“Okay,” TK says, voice carrying from where he and Asha have just reached the top of the stairs. He’s carrying mineral waters for himself and Carlos, and a juice cup for Jonah. Asha’s behind him with beers for herself and Paul. “Let’s see this train set!”

“This is actually really cool,” Asha says, hand grazing Paul’s upper back as she passes behind him before dropping onto the couch while TK takes a seat on the floor across the track from Carlos and Jonah.

“It is,” TK agrees, setting the drinks to the side so he can adjust one of the little dinosaurs. “Thanks guys, definitely not necessary to bring a present every time you come over, but I can see this’ll be a lot of fun for him.” His eyes crinkle at the corners like they always do when he’s feeling snarky comment coming on. “And for Carlos.”

“Hey,” Paul shrugs, ruffling Jonah’s hair with one big hand, smiling when it elicits a giggle from the boy. “What’s a godfather for, if not spoiling my favorite godson?”

“Sure,” Carlos laughs as he sets the engine on the track and turns it on, watching Jonah’s eyes light up as he tracks its movement once it begins chugging around the loop.

[morganaspendragonss]

someone to know you too well

title from being alive by stephen sondheim ao3 | 475 words | trevor/tommy, tommy & tk

“Okay. See you soon. Love you too.”

Tommy sneaks a glance at TK as she drives them home. His smile is wide, lovesick, and she wonders if he even knows how his entire being lights up whenever Carlos is so much as mentioned in conversation. Not that she’s judging; she was the same way with Charles, and now with Trevor…who may not even want to be with her anymore after the way she’s treated him lately. 

She will never forgive herself if this is it for them, and not only for driving away the best man she knows. The girls will be devastated to lose Trevor and Melody; they would try, of course, but divorces – not that they’re married, which is really what started all this – have a funny way of impacting the kids, no matter what they do.

Her heart aches preemptively, and god today has been hard enough. She can’t think about this right now.

“So,” she says. “I take it Carlos survived my girls unscathed.”

In her periphery, TK grins at her. He’s practically bouncing in his seat, still on the adrenaline high of escaping that classroom. “Yep. Even his fingernails.”

Now, that is a surprise. “Wow. How does your husband feel about another career change?” she jokes. “If he can get my girls to hold off on the make-up, clearly he’d make an excellent babysitter.”

TK snorts but very quickly goes very quiet, and when Tommy glances back at him, he looks pensive in a way that the situation two seconds ago didn’t warrant. “About that.”

They slow to a stoplight and she blinks at him. “Carlos is switching jobs again?”

He looks at her, startled, as if he can’t possibly fathom how she came to that conclusion. “No. I meant the other thing. The nail thing.”

Tommy swears she has never been more confused in her life. “The nail thing.”

“Yeah,” TK says, then frowns. “I mean, kind of? Carlos”—he waves his phone at her—“wanted me to tell you – or, warn you, I guess – that, uh. Trevor is there. And…he has been all day.”

He bites his lip guiltily, looking for all the world like the messenger about to be shot, but there’s no part of Tommy that’s even a little bit angry at the news. She feels half in a dream as the light turns green and they pull away again, her head spinning to care about anything that’s not Trevor, at her house, watching over her girls without even needing to be asked. She could have died today, and it gives her comfort to know that Izzy and Evie have a man in their lives who, even knowing that Tommy would never ask for pride, showed up anyway.

Because he cares about her girls.

Because he cares about her.

Yeah. She thinks they’re gonna be okay.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

BAU team x Child victim reader

Just watched the last episode of Sherlock and thought if this idea for a oneshot.

Summary: A child wakes up on a plane everyone around her is asleep even the driver, she is the only one awake with knowone to help her.

Third person pov...

The airport was filled with people and families trying to get on the right flight, Currently the L/N family had just got through security. Mrs L/N was holding her daughters hand as they grabbed their bags.

"Hurry up Y/F/N" she yells as her husband teails behind, Mr L/N dragging the heavy luggage behind. It was currently 7pm their flight was for 8pm, 8 year old Y/N was tired of walking they had driven down from their home in Los Angeles.

"I'm tired can we get on the plane yet" yawned the child as her Dad laughed, he then grabbed her and put the tired girl on top of the suitcase he was pulling.

The girl giggles and holds on to the handle her legs swinging, the laughter drew peoples eyes they smiled at the sight. "Happier Honey?" Asks her Dad as the 8 year old Continues to giggle her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Mrs L/N rolls her eyes at her husband and daughter but smiles, at least they can sleep on the plane, their flight was 5hours and 18 minutes from California to Virginia from one side to the other side of America.

Soon the family of three are able to sit as they wait to board their plane. Y/N fidgets in her chair she was bored then saw someone a man he was looking around almost scared.

Y/N stared at him, when he saw an 8 year old watching she quickly looked away and turns to her Dad who gives her his phone to play on.

"Come on N/N time to board!" Exclaimed Mr L/N, Y/N cheers and runs to stand behind the other passengers, she couldn't wait to get to Virginia, she was visiting her grandparents.

Y/N and her Mum sit while her Dad finishes putting the luggage they broughton board in the overhead compartments. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard, we are flighing from California to Virginia we are currently expected to be in the air in approximately seven minutes time" comes the pilots voice once again Y/N dad gives her his phone.

Soon they were taking off and on their way to Virginia. Throughout the flight Y/N slept and played on the phone, the battery was still pretty full so her Dad didn't worry.

2 hours into the flight...

It was 10pm with 3 hours to go, Y/N was half asleep half awake, she was watching a movie on her Dads phone, next to her was her Mum who had fallen asleep as the plane took off.

Pausing the movie Y/N turns in her seat her seat belt off, the 8 year old shook her Dads shoulder gaining his attention. "Daddy, I need the toilet"she whispers the man smiles and points towards the back of the plane.

"Thanks daddy" she says and slips from the seat, putting the phone on the seat behind her, the 8 year old then wlaks to the bathroom, wobbling because of the turbulence.

Soon she made it, when she was done she washed dher hands and opened the door, when she did she was surprised to see the airhostess on the floor, Y/Ns confused.

She walks over tk try and waken then up but they didn't, Y/N was scared. "Daddy, Mommy?" She yells before rrunnig to her seat, as she did she realised she couldn't hear any babies crying.

"Something is wrong" she mumbles, once she go back to her parents she begins shaking their shoulders and shouting but they wouldn't wake up. "Mum mummy wake up please" she shakes her Mother but the woman wouldn't wake up.

Then she tries the pilots she pokes her head through but both are asleep as well, she stifles her cries as she walks back to where her mum and dad where and sat in her seat next to her unconscious parents.

At this point the child started to cry she was alone, she stood up on her chair and looked around she was alone everyone else was asleep like her parents. "What's happening" she cries sobbing in her chair.

She then grabs her Dads phone and turns it on, she goes to the phone app and begins to call 999. "Hello what services do you require" comes the computerised voice.

"Police! Help me please, I'm on a plane but everyone is asleep, even the pilot they wont wake up!" She yells into the phone, as she looks out the window but everything is dark.

"Okay okay, can you tell me your name and how old you are?" Asks the woman

"I'm Y/N L/N and I'm 8 year old, can you help me please" Begs the child.

Virginia, Quantico 1am (Virginia is 3 hours ahead if California)

Penelope was chatting with Spencer and Emily in the bullpen, they had just finished a local case and caught the killer, they were all tired and ready to go home.

"Any plans tonight Babygirl?" Akses Derek, Penelope grins "of course my chocolate thunder I have a date with a marathon of Batman movies she says smiling as Derek kisses her forehead.

Spencer looks up from packing his bag and sees JJ running to Hotches office. "Hold that though Garcia"she says making the others groan.

Couple seconds later Hotch and JJ come out of the officer the blonde runs to Rossi's office. Derek, Penelope and Spencer are now worried. JJ only runs like that when a case is particularly is bad.

"Somethings up" Says the genius, JJ when motions for them to go to the round table, once the whole team was gathered. "Don't sit down, JJ start" Says Hotch, the blonde then begins.

"Okay 30 minutes ago we received this call from a flight 2 hours in from California to Virginia" says JJ before clicking a recording.

""Hello what services do you require" comes the computerised voice.

"Police! Help me please, I'm on a plane but everyone is asleep, even the pilot they wont wake up!" yells the scared child into the phone.

"Okay okay, can you tell me your name and how old you are?" Asks the woman

"I'm Y/N L/N and I'm 8 year old, can you help me please" Begs the child. "Okay can you tell me where you are?" Questions the dispatch.

"I'm not sure I can't see anything it's all dark, please you have to help me!"" JJ clicks off thr recording the team are shocked. "I guess we are the rapid response team then" Says Rossi, JJ nods.

"We are now, we have manged to track the plane that the call came from, it is currently flighing over Kansas, everyone is asleep apart from the child on the phone" Explains JJ

"So the plane is pilotless currently, with noway to land" Says Emily JJ nods sullenly. "Wheel up in 10 minutes we go to the airport from there we can make contact with the flight" Says Hotch, the team then grab their go bags and get to the airport.

With Y/N...

Currently the 8 year old is curled up on the floor under her seat the phone clutched tight in her hand, the dispatcher had long ended the call she was alone.

"Someone help me" she sobbs her head in her knees. Suddenly she hears a beeping sound coming from the front of the plane. So scared to move she looks up. Of course knowone was going tk move but the beeping kept getting louder.

The girl crawled out from her place and walked up to the pilots chair and grabs the communicater. "H-Hello" she says quietly no expecting someone to answer.

It was a man's voice. "Hello is this Y/N" he asks. "Y-Yes I'm Y/N are you going to help me?" She asks. "Yes I am, I'm Aaron Hotchner with the FBI and my team we are here to guide you through this okay" Says the man Aaron.

Y/Ns frozen in fear. "N-no I can't do it! I can't fly this plane I'm just a kid" she cries into the communicate. But the man's voice helps her calm down.

"Don't worry Y/N, okay I won't leave I'm here you help you you will survive, jsit listen to me carefully" Says Aaron

"Okay" Says the child.

At 3am Flight 145 had a very bumpy landing in Virginia Airport in Quantico, As the plane landed the FBI and ambulances met and helped to get the 180 passengers out of the plane.

Aaron Hotchner found Y/N the 8 year old who managed to land the plane by herself with help from thr FBI, Y/N was sat shaking in the pilots chair her hands not moving from the gear.

"I did it, I landed the plane" she mutters tears falling from her eyes, as she cried she heard people and sirens outside the plane.

"Y/N are you here, it's Aaron from the FBI" Calls a voice, Y/N gasps and let's go of thebgear and runs from the cockpit.

She sees a tall black haired man. He spots the 8 year old, "are you Aaron?" She questions him the man nods his head.

The child then runs full sprint towards Aaron when close she jumps into his arms wrapping hers around his neck "thank you thank you thank you" she sobs hugging tightly.

Hotch then carried the scared girl off the plane she was safe and manages to land a plane without anyone dying she will be getting along of media attention.

Months later Hotch would get a thank you card and some cookies from a Y/N from Los Angeles with a kiss, she would neevr forget him and what he did.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot sorry for the wait I am currently trying to write three oneshots for this.

Request are open!

Word count: 1705

[calicomarie11]

Evan and Tommy are sitting at the table in Evan’s loft, a couple of beers in front of them and relaxing now that the clean up from dinner is done.

“So, how’s Bobby handling retirement?” Tommy asks.

“Still fighting to come back, but he does start a temporary gig tomorrow.” Evan answers. “He’s going to be a technical advisor on Hotshots.”

Tommy looks impressed. “That’s a big deal. That show is huge.”

Evan shrugged, “I’ve never seen it.” 

“What do you mean, you’ve never watched Hotshots? How could you miss it. It’s been the hottest show on TV for the past 2 years.” Tommy’s voice is filled with incredulity as he stares at Evan. “We have viewing parties at Harbor, even the off shift crew comes in if they don’t need to sleep.”

Evan lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck and shrugs sheepishly. “I know it exists, I’ve seen the billboards, it’s just….” he trails off and looks towards the ceiling, his go to move when he’s being evasive. 

“What, did you sleep with the star during your Buck 1.0 days?” Tommy teases him.

“Not the star.” Buck takes a breath and fiddles with his beer bottle, tearing strips off the outside as he talks. “So, you are not the first TK that I’ve dated. I used to be off and on with Taylor Kelly.”

Tommy interrupts “The Taylor Kelly who wrote a tell all about the 118? That was your ex-girlfriend? What a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t a good fit. Anyways, after she published the book it got picked up for development and Hotshots was the end result. I think she’s even working on the show as a consultant. I didn’t read her book and I’m not about to watch her show.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t put that together.” Tommy sits back, a thoughtful look on his face. “So does that mean the characters on the show are based on the 118?” He cocks his head and studies Evan and then slaps his hand down on the table. “Holy shit, you’re Sandy.”

“Sandy?” Evan asks, his nose wrinkling adorably in confusion.

“Blaine “Sandy” Sanderson. He’s kind of the show’s punching bag. Last season an ambulance rolled over on top of him during an earthquake and crushed his arm.  This year the season opener had him trapped in a mudslide with his best friends kid.”

Evan takes a slow pull on his beer as he processes that. “Why do you think I’m Sandy?”

“Well, he gets hurt a lot, he’s a daredevil, he’s got a heart of gold, he’s a bit naive, and he always has a collection of fun facts that relate to the rescue at hand.”  

“And that’s what you think of me?” Evan asks with a frown.

“No, baby. But superficially it matches up.” Tommy reaches out to cover Evan’s hand with his own.

“Okay.” Even still looks put out, but a little intrigued. “So, what about the other characters?”

Tommy sits back and purses his lips. “Well, Bea is obviously a stand in for Hen, and Shaft must be Chimney.”

Evan interrupts “Shaft?”

“A nickname they never bother to explain.” 

Evan nods. “Yeah, we never did tell her how Chimney got his name. Who else?”

“Well, the captain’s name is Billy, but everyone calls him Cap and he’s married to a police detective named Artemis.” 

“And you’re just now putting this together?” Even quirks an eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy holds up his hands in defense. “Hey, I wasn’t exactly expecting to see my old house on the hottest show on television. I started watching before I met you.” 

“So is that it? Me, Cap, ‘Thena, Hen and Chim?”

Tommy looks away and shifts in his seat. “There’s also Ricky.”

“Ricky?”

Tommy sighs. “Ricardo “Ricky” Noches. Air Force veteran, single dad to an autistic kid, and Sandy’s best friend.”

“She made Chris autistic?” The outrage is clear in Evan’s voice. “I know she didn’t spend much time with him, but that is supremely uncool.” Evan sinks back in his seat, a look of frustration on his face.

“There’s more.” Tommy says matter of factly.

Evan huffs. “Alright, lay it on me. How much worse can it get.”

Tommy hums and looks around the room, avoiding eye contact with Evan. “There’s a significant portion of the fan base for the show that “ships” Sandy and Ricky.”

“Ships?” Evan says, his face a mask of confusion.

“It means they think they should be in a romantic relationship. Their ship name is Randy.” Tommy says.

Evan sinks into his seat, his brow furrowed. “So, the people who watch this show, based on my life, think that I should be, what, dating Eddie?” 

Tommy holds his breath and nods. 

Evan stares at him for a long moment, a riot of expressions crossing his face, before he bursts out in laughter. It takes him a few minutes to get himself under control, the giggles rising each time he thinks he’s ready to speak. 

He finally wipes away the tears from his laughing jag. “That would be an epic disaster. Don’t get me wrong, I love him like a brother, but he has more trauma than me, and that’s saying something.” 

 Tommy lets out a breath of relief. “I’ll pass that on to Donato.”

“Lucy?” Evan shoots him a look of confusion.

“Oh, yeah, she’s a big Randy fan.  Spends way too much time on shift reading fan fiction.”

Evan lifts an eyebrow at him. “Do you think she knows?”

“That it’s based on people she knows?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy hmphs. “I’ll be sure to tell her.” 

Comments and Kudos AO3 are greatly appreciated

[emsprovisions]

I know I am being greedy here but,

3. I can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, TK

8. being ur partner's mum's favorite.

from romance prompt please.

From this list of writing prompts that I am no longer accepting. Hello anon! Someone else has also asked for no. 3 so I will answer theirs :)

being ur partner's mum's favorite.

Carlos sits on the couch, his ankle crossed over his opposite knee and a beer in his hand as he watches his husband playing firefighter with action figures and a toy fire engine with their young sobrinos on the floor. They keep pausing because they want to hear TK’s stories from his firefighter days, since apparently–according to Six-and-eight-year-old Diego and Juliana–paramedics aren’t as cool. They giggle as TK keeps playfully correcting their terminology of the ladder truck and exactly how many inches of line they should start and Carlos’s heart just swells. 

“Ay, TK?” Carlos’s mom pops her head in from the backdoor, “Are you in here, mijo?”

“What do you need, Ma?” Carlos sits up, uncrossing his legs and making to get up.

“Oh, no, you stay right there, Carlitos. I need TK’s expertise.”

“It’s fine, babe, I could do with stretching my legs anyway,” TK smiles up at Carlos. He gets up, much to Diego and Juliana’s dismay, and promises he’ll be back. He purposely walks around the couch so he can pass Carlos, stooping to kiss the top of his head as he does so. 

After TK disappears, Carlos is left alone with his sobrinos, and they coax him into playing firefighter with him instead. But Tío TK does it better than Tío Carlos, evidently. 

When TK’s been gone for too long, and Carlos’s brother-in-law wanders in to check on his kids, Carlos stands up. 

“Have you seen TK?” He asks Ricardo as he approaches. 

“He’s out on the back porch,” Ricardo says, almost bitterly. “With your mom, and Tía Lucy, and my wife.”

“Uh, thanks,” Carlos says, looking at Ricky apprehensively before excusing himself in search of his husband. 

TK’s got a glass of sweet tea in his hand, slapping his knee, while Ana clings to his arm, gasping for breath. 

“No way!” She laughs. “Tonterías! That did not happen.”

“It did,” TK nods. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

TK looks up as the screen door swings shut and sees Carlos step out before anyone else. 

“Hey, baby!” TK calls. “Come join us.”

Carlos lingers by the door, watching TK fit in with his family so seamlessly. They’ve been married for nearly a year now, but sometimes it still surprises him that he has this. He not only gets to be himself, he gets to be himself around his family, and they are all enamored with TK, too. 

TK’s smiling at him, patting the empty seat beside him and Carlos smiles and slides onto the long bench beside his husband, an arm going around his shoulder and TK’s hand falling into place on top of his knee. 

“What did I interrupt?” Carlos asks. 

“Oh, I was just telling everyone about that call we got the other day, where the neighbors were having a domestic dispute and one of them threw pickle juice all over my patient and it turned out she’s allergic to pickles,” TK grins, catching Carlos up on the story. “Ana here doesn’t believe that we get calls as ridiculous as that all the time.”

“That’s because that’s impossible!” Ana scoffs. “Who’s allergic to pickles??”

“My patient, evidently,” TK smirks at her. 

Carlos laughs, “There’s a lot of stupid people in this world, Ana. You would not believe the absurdity of some of the calls I used to get under APD.”

“Babe, you get ridiculous cases now too,” TK reminds him. 

“Cuéntanos más de tus historias, TK.”

TK smiles warmly at Tía Lucy over in her blue adirondack chair in the deck before looking up to Carlos for help. 

“Tía wants to hear more of your stories,” Carlos tells him, looking up at his great aunt and the delight on her face. She can’t speak English, but she can mostly understand it, and joy and humor are universal languages anyways. 

TK launches into more funny stories from different calls before Ricardo comes outside with a screaming Diego, and it’s time for Ana to go home. 

Andrea takes TK inside and Carlos is tasked with helping Tía Lucy inside and to her chair in her room. 

“You have a sweet young man, Carlitos,” she tells him in Spanish. “Muy guapo y divertido.”

It’s not the first time she’s commented on TK. Honestly, Tía Lucy always fawns over Carlos’s husband to the point Carlos wonders if she doesn’t have some schoolgirl type crush on him. Carlos has no idea how TK charms everyone that comes into his orbit, he’s just happy he’s the lucky guy TK vowed forever with. 

“I think so too, Tía,” Carlos responds in Spanish, winking at her. 

They chat for a while longer before Tía Lucy says she’s tired. Carlos kisses her cheek and wishes her a goodnight. He wanders back out into the main room to find TK and his mom chatting in hushed voices on the couch. TK has his hand on Andrea’s arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her skin. She pulls him into a tight hug, then kisses his cheek and whispers something into his ear.

Carlos watches the scene unfold, feeling a little bad for interrupting. But before he can duck into the kitchen unnoticed, his mom catches sight of him. 

“Oh, Carlitos!” She pulls away from TK and wipes delicately at the skin beneath her eyes. 

“Hi, Mamá. Everything okay?” Carlos asks, coming nearer to them.

“We’re okay,” TK reassures. His eyes are a bit shiny too. He reaches out for Carlos’s hand and Carlos comes close enough to give it to him.

Neither of them offer up any hint of what their conversation was about, but Andrea stands up and gives Carlos a warm and tight hug. And even though he’s almost twice her size, he still folds easily into his mother’s arms. 

It’s not until they’re in the car, driving down the 35, the darkness of the night stretching all around them and Carlos’s hand extended over the console on TK’s thigh, does Carlos find the bravery to ask what that was about.

TK plays with Carlos’s fingers with both hands and says in a quiet voice, “She was talking to me about being a Ranger’s spouse…”

Carlos glances over at TK. It’s hard to get a read on him as they pass through swathes of light from oncoming headlights and the rare street light. 

“Oh?”

TK shakes his head, “You’ve been in law enforcement the entire time we’ve been together, baby, it’s not like her advice was anything I haven’t already worried about before.”

“What did she say?” Carlos asks, his anxiety spiking and suddenly wishing he’d saved this conversation for home so he could see TK better. 

TK’s fingers keep brushing over his knuckles. “She just wanted me to know you could be in danger sometimes, which again, isn’t really new. But she also wanted me to know if I ever need to talk to someone about what I’ll go through as your husband, I could talk to her.”

Carlos glances over again, softening a bit at his mom offering that to TK. “What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s nice.” Carlos can hear the smile in TK’s voice. “I love your mom, and I love that she would want to be there to help me support you.”

“Buuut…?”

“No but’s,” TK says, shaking his head. “She says we’re a strong couple, and sees how much we love each other. She thinks we can handle anything.”

“She’s not the only one,” Carlos smiles, squeezing TK’s thigh. 

“No,” TK smiles. “She’s not the only one. She told me the best thing I can do for you is love you, and remind you you’re never alone in life, and remind you to take care of yourself and put work away when you’re home.” 

Carlos turns his palm up and TK gives him his hand, lacing their fingers together. He takes it a step further by cradling Carlos’s arm and tilting sideways to lean against Carlos’s bicep. 

“You do a good job of making sure I’m taken care of, baby,” Carlos says softly as he takes their exit for home. 

“You’re worth it,” TK says simply, turning his face to kiss Carlos’s shoulder. 

“You know my family’s enamored with you, right?” Carlos smiles.

TK laughs and teases, “Are you jealous Tía Lucy dotes on me now more than you?”

“No,” Carlos says, his voice light. “I love seeing you with our family. It makes me happy.”

TK snuggles up against Carlos’s arm even more in the passenger seat and Carlos tells him he better not fall asleep when they’re five minutes from home. He feels TK’s smile against his arm, and fondness for his husband impossibly grows. 

TK sure does know how to steal a Reyes’s heart.

[paperstorm]

For today have a work-is-published look back at a fic I wrote where TK takes Carlos to Manhattan for the first time after they get engaged

Thanks for the tags @nisbanisba @strandnreyes @tommy-kinard-buckley @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh @corsage @carlos-in-glasses and @butchreyes!

TK removes his coat, hanging it on a coatrack that’s attached to the frame of the booths. He slides into his side of theirs and shakes his head as Carlos tries to sit on the other. Carlos frowns at him, not understanding. TK beckons him over, and without first demanding an explanation, Carlos sits next to him instead, the two of them crowding in their boots and winter sweaters onto the bench seat.

“That was her side,” TK does explain, once Carlos is beside him.

Carlos frowns a little deeper and then his forehead softens. He exhales slowly, lifting his arm so that TK can lean against him. His head tips sideways, temple resting against TK’s hair. Under the table, TK curls his fingers around Carlos’s thigh, anchored to him and inhaling his familiar scent, drowned out just a little bit by the smell of frying oil and savoury meat.

TK feels clenching in his chest but then it dissipates, and he finds it easy to smile. He looks at the empty space she used to occupy, suddenly seeing her face so clearly in his mind it’s as if she were sitting there across from them. Softly, he says, “Hey, Mom.”

Carlos turns his head a little, his nose touching TK’s skin. It’s still cold from the chilly outside air.

“I should have come back sooner.”

“I’m sure she understands, TK.” Carlos rubs his arm.

“I miss you. But I’m okay. You don’t have to be worried about me.”

Carlos kisses TK’s forehead, asking, “Do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

TK’s smile widens and warmth blooms all throughout his body despite the spotty heat and drafty air in the restaurant. He doesn’t need to ask what Carlos means. To thin air that crackles with the shadows of something that used to be, and can never quite be erased entirely, TK says, “I asked him to marry me.”

“I said yes,” Carlos adds, “obviously. I love him so much.”

TK’s fingers bend, the tips of them pressing against the inseam of Carlos’s dark jeans. “He loves me,” TK agrees, finding that more important to say than telling her he loves Carlos back. His mom knows that. He told her so many times while she was alive, how crazy he was about Carlos. And she’s always known TK was filled to the brim with the capacity to be madly, head-over-heels in love – desperate for it in a way that led him to a whole lot of bad choices. What she’s much less familiar with, is TK being loved.

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@tailoredshirt @goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @chaotictarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh

@inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh

@captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@ditheringmind

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk