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determinedwriter · 11 months

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Whumptober 2023: Day 20: “You will regret touching them.”

Note: The idea for the plot was inspired by the first mission listed in this TikTok

Peter and I are on normal neighborhood patrol today as always. Nothing too interesting happens on simple patrols like these. Except for the occasional petty theft or community service stuff I like to do.

I’m definitely more into the simple stuff than Peter is. I like just helping people, even if it’s just helping an old woman carry her groceries. It can be oddly fun to do things like that. But Peter is a lot more into the action. We haven’t had any of that for a while now.

Be careful what you wish for.

Peter swings atop a building and I follow him with my power of fire flight, landing beside him. “Anything to report?” I ask.

“Other than returning a stolen tip jar and webbing up the guy that did it? Nothing.” He replies.

I cross my arms and smirk. “I don’t know, I’d say that’s pretty productive.”

Peter kisses my cheek. “What about you?”

“I took pictures with an Avengers fan. He was super into the costume.” I strike a pose dramatically. “And who can blame him?”

“Does he know The Flare is friends with Spider-Man?” Peter teases.

I giggle, kissing his cheek in return. “He seemed like a fan, yeah. Had merch and everything. It’s pretty wild.”

Peter puts his mask back on. “You know what, I’m gonna go take a picture with this guy.”

“You’re funny, you know that?” I tell him. “Hurry back and we can stargaze or something before my curfew.”

He smiles. “You’ve got it.”

Peter leaves and I watch him swing away like an acrobat. “Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave.” I joke to myself.

After a while, I hear my phone buzz and take it out of my bag, expecting it to be Peter. But it’s Dad. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Why is Peter’s suit tracker off?” He immediately asks.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. He’s not with me right now. We were just gonna hang out but he’s talking to some big Avengers fan I met. He’s got a cosplay armor hand that looks like yours. It’s pretty funny. I’m not sure why he’d switch off his tracker. I can go look for him.” I explain.

Dad pauses and sighs. “If your tracker goes dark, I swear to God, you better not get kidnapped.”

“Understood,” I reply. “See ya, Pops.”

Hanging up the phone, I put it in my bag and leave it behind on the roof, beginning my fire flight around the city. I don’t see Peter anywhere so far. “A.R.I.E.S?” I ask my AI.

“Yes, Aurora?” She chimes back.

“Call Peter Parker.” I request.

“Calling Peter Parker,” A.R.I.E.S. replies.

The seconds go by as it rings with no answer, leaving me anxious. “I know his tracker is offline, but…can you help me scan a signal? You know I know how to hack.”

“You sure do, Miss Stark.” She muses.

My AI is adorable, I have to say.

I cease flight, landing on another roof. “Signal found.”

“Bingo,” I say to myself.

Tracking the signal to an old warehouse, I stay as quiet as I can, entering a room that looks like an obsessive shrine to the Avengers. There’s replica armor, photos, newspapers, and even some alien-looking tech all displayed around a glass case with Peter inside of it.

He looks like one of those pinned-up, dead butterflies in a frame. I suppress a scream, knowing not to draw attention to myself. “Oh my God, Peter…”

Please be just unconscious and not dead. Please.

Running over, I press my hands to the glass. Maybe if I can break the glass and get him out of here quickly enough, I won’t have to fight anyone or get into any trouble with this insane collector.

Wishful thinking, I know.

“A.R.I.E.S, contact my dad. Tell him exactly what’s going on here and send him my location.” I say.

“Aurora, I can’t seem to get a signal.” She tells me.

I gulp. “Do what you can, when you can. I’m gonna need some help here. But I’m not leaving Peter alone.”

“Will do,” A.R.I.E.S. says.

I break the glass, making a loud crash. Gotta be quick. Peter falls forward and I catch him, removing his mask. “Come on, come on, wake up. Wake up, Peter. We have to get out of here.”

His eyes open. “Hmm…Ro?”

“Hey. Hey, babe.” I gasp in relief, taking my mask off to kiss him. “I love you. We’ve gotta hurry and get out of here, okay?”

Peter blinks, slowly becoming more aware. “Right, yeah. This dude is freaking crazy. I’ll tell you more later. We-”

He pauses. I recognize these pauses by now, knowing he must be sensing something with his Spidey sense. “Ro, we have to go now. I mean now.”

Looking around, Peter looks confused, putting his mask back on. I do the same. “Where are my web shooters?”

“I don’t know. We have to get out though. Before-” I’m interrupted by a repulsor beam narrowly missing my head.

Turning around, I see the super fan. “I knew you’d come. I have a display case for you too.”

The repulsor beam comes from a replica Iron Man arm, the fan holding a gun in the other hand. “I won’t kill you. Not yet. I haven’t found out how to preserve bodies. But soon, I’ll have all of the Avengers on display.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. Just let us leave.” I reply calmly. “Please.”

The fan puts some kind of plugs in his ears before quickly pressing a pen-shaped device. It makes an ear-splittingly shrill noise, causing both me and Peter to collapse, suddenly unable to move.

He approaches us. “Sonic taser. A Stark Industries beauty. Only prototypes were made. Never widely produced. It was considered…unethical. I couldn’t believe when I was able to acquire it. It’s a rarity and while it’s not an Avengers-related collectible, I made an exception for this.”

I am dragged across the floor and put inside of a case like Peter was when I first arrived. I am powerless to stop him, completely paralyzed by the sonic taser. Peter is put into a case across from mine.

The case is extremely claustrophobic, making me want to panic. As the minutes tick by, the fan ties us firmly to the cases. God, please tell me that A.R.I.E.S. has been able to alert my dad. Or anyone, really.

We are both eventually able to move, tied tightly to the velvet-lined cases. More like cages. “Please, stop.” I groan weakly, my body still not fully recovered from the effects of the device. “You can still stop this…”

“I don’t want to stop. I just want to keep you in your pretty little frames here. You both look so…perfect. I do have to know…” He reaches for my mask and removes it. “Wow…the Flare is a little girl.”

“I’m not little.” I spit.

“What about Spidey?” He asks, removing Peter’s mask.

The fan laughs. “Spider-Man, huh? More like Spider-Boy.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You called yourself a fan of the Avengers. I’d say you’re more of a freak.”

“I’m the freak? What about you, crawling on walls? And you, shooting fire from your hands?” He argues.

“What’s your plan here? You’re gonna leave us tied up until we die?” I ask.

“Long after that. I’m hoping to preserve your bodies somehow, like I said if you were paying any damn attention. We’ll see how it all pans out though, kid. What’s your name? Your real name?” The fan rambles.

“None of your fucking business.” I snap.

He shakes his head in amusement. “That’s how you’re gonna play this? Alright.”

He rummages through a drawer of unorganized gadgets. “Let’s see.”

The fan takes out a simple-looking black stick that zaps with electricity when he presses a button. “I have all kinds of S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra devices too. You’ll soon learn to fear all of them. Or maybe you’ll get used to the pain. We’ll see.”

Peter struggles against his binds. “You will regret touching her.”

“Is she your little girlfriend? Hmm?” The fan taunts.

He glares at him. “You’re insane.”

“I’m a collector.” The fan corrects Peter.

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re insane,” I argue. “Not that you’ll listen to either of us.”

The fan takes the stick pulsing with electricity and presses it to my skin. “AH!” I scream in surprise, not expecting it to hurt quite so much.

“No…” Peter gasps. “Stop. Stop!”

The fan powers down the device and claps his hands together happily. “This…this is amazing.”

“If you’re such a fan, why are you hurting us?” I ask.

He laughs as if it’s a stupid question. “I want to see how much your bodies can take. You know, considering you’re Earth’s mightiest heroes.”

I gulp nervously. “Yeah, sounds like something an insane person would say. I think Spidey is right.”

The fan looks me in the eyes. “You remind me of Stark. Your attitude…and you have this look about you. Tell me, are you related to him?”

“No.” I lie. “But I get that a lot. You’re not the first.”

He studies my face, likely trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. “Well…alright.”

“But Tony knows I’m here,” I say. “I alerted him before I came to help Spider-Man over there. Your time here is running out, pal.”

The fan chuckles. “Some help you are.” He taunts. “Besides, Tony’s never fought someone with an array of Avengers weapons before.”

“I guess not,” I admit. “But that tech? He knows how to work it better than any of us. You know I’m right.”

He pauses, expression momentarily betraying his tough exterior. “Tell me your name.”

“Tell me yours.” I counter. “Is it like, super nerdy? Does it fit the wannabe badass thing you have going here?”

The fan grabs my neck. “Tell me. Now.”

I don’t know if there would be any negative ramifications for telling him my name, but I don’t want him to win. I’m not about to let that happen. Knowing my name gives him more power than I’d like to give this jerk.

I shrug. “Does it make a difference to you?”

He grins. “I’d just like to know. I’ll even tell you mine. It’s Dan. Now what’s yours?”

“It’s kinda funny you thought that would work.” I chuckle.

“The fact you’re still laughing…shows me I clearly haven’t been cruel enough. This is just the beginning.” He taunts.

I refuse to show my fear. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter looks at me and suppresses a grin. I bite my lip and Dan turns to Peter. “You think this is funny? Huh?”

I shut my mouth, probably being at fault for that gnarly hit. “Sorry.”

He gives me a reassuring look, cut off by a second hit to his face. Dan grins wickedly. “You’re head over heels for her, aren’t you?”

Peter gulps. “The rest of the Avengers are gonna come here and rescue us, you know.”

Dan slowly nods and crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Whether or not that’s true, I don’t really care. Why don’t you tell me your name, boy?”

Keeping his mouth shut, Peter’s expression turns to stone. Dan turns to me, pulling a cord tightly around my neck until I start to suffocate. Peter’s eyes widen and he shouts. “Hey, stop!”

“Just tell me your name. It’s that easy.” Dan taunts.

“Peter!” He yells back. “It’s Peter!”

“Peter what?” Dan doesn’t free me from the cord yet.

“P-Parker!” Peter exclaims. “Now take the cord off! H-Her lips are blue!”

Dan doesn’t budge. “What’s her name?”

He looks at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I have to tell him. I-It’s Aurora. Ro…”

Peter knows he wants my last name too, but hesitates. “Stark. Aurora Stark.”

Dan releases the cord from my neck and I gasp. “Y-You fuck.”

“Stark, huh? I’ve heard rumors, but…I wasn’t sure it was true. Tony Stark is a dad.” He teases me. “You really are a rare collectible yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m a person.” I spit.

“A mutant.” He corrects me. “But I don’t hold that against you. The Avengers with powers impress me the most. I can’t believe I have two enhanced heroes in my own collection. Look at me now.”

“My dad is going to find this place and kill you,” I tell him.

Dan proceeds to light a cigarette and press it against my skin. “Hmm. Nothing. I suppose I should’ve guessed that.”

“Yeah, dipshit.” I laugh.

“You want me to burn the boy instead?” He asks me.

“No,” I reply quietly.

He ramps up the burning, setting my hair on fire. My skin and hair are normally completely fireproof because of my powers, but this seems to have a strange effect. My hair crumbles to ash until the flames reach my scalp and I force my body to extinguish.

Peter’s eyes get watery. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure him.

“Engulf yourself in the flames,” Dan tells me, holding a lit match to my palm. He knows I can harness it and grow the blaze. He knows I can surround myself with fire without it hurting. “Do it or I’ll burn your boyfriend alive instead.”

I take control of the flame immediately, the fire spreading from head to toe. This doesn’t hurt me. Not at first.

But the longer he makes me do it, the hotter it seems to become. I’ve never done it for extended periods of time before. Not without breaks. And not while held captive with Peter right in front of me.

Dan sees my skin start to get a little red, my fire-resistant suit starting to break down. “Keep it going.”

“You’re hurting her,” Peter says, voice shaking. “You have to let her stop.”

Dan smirks. “I don’t think I will.”

Whimpering and wincing, I try to stay strong. Peter shouldn’t have to see this. “My dad’s gonna come here and…and…”

A wave of pain jolts through me and I let out a little yelp. “You’re a d-dead man…”

“I think you’ll be the dead one in due time. I just want to see how long you can stay ignited. After that, I’ll preserve your body like I said.” He explains.

So I guess I’d better stay alight. Or I really am dead.

Minutes slowly but surely tick by, my injuries getting worse. I didn’t know this was possible. But my entire body is now starting to seriously burn and scar. “You’re f-fucking crazy.”

“You know, that’s really getting old.” Dan mocks.

“Just leave her alone…leave her alone.” Peter pleads.

“I don’t think I-”

Dan is cut off by the shattering of glass and my father himself flying in his armor. Finally, finally to our rescue. He and Dan shoot repulsor blasts in unison, causing them both to tumble several feet backward, the explosion of light shattering both Peter and my glass cages.

I’m set free, but fall on the floor in front of me, unable to catch myself. It knocks the wind out of me. “Oof!”

The commotion around me is mostly blurry. All I know is Dad is here and Peter is free. That’s what matters most.

Dad has quickly taken down our captor, hesitating as he reaches for me. “Ro, what…how did this happen?”

I must really look awful. “He made me…d-do this. If I’m engulfed for too long, it…does this. He said if I stopped then Peter would…would…”

“It’s alright.” He reassures me. “I don’t want to hurt you but I need to get you out of here so you’ve gotta be strong for me, okay?”

“It’s bad.” I say matter of factly. It’s not a question. Bad is probably an understatement. “I-Isn’t it?”

Dad locks eyes with me and I see the worry. The fear. “Nothing I can’t fix. I fix things, remember?”

“You do.” I murmur, comforting him rather than really worrying about myself.

“Eyes on me.” He instructs me firmly. “If you drift off, I swear to God I’ll ground you.”

“So no dying or my phone gets taken away?” I ask.

Dad grins at my wisecrack. “Bingo.”

Grimacing as he lifts me, I cry out. “G-God!”

“I know. I know it hurts. You’ve gotta just hold on for me, okay? Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight.” He tells me.

“O-Okay.” I whimper. “I just want the pain to stop.”

Dad carries me out of the warehouse, Peter not far behind. He’s in much better shape than I am, but he won’t stop worrying over me. “Hold on, Ro. I’m right here. I’m so sorry.”

Body aching, I curse myself for letting tears fall. It makes my burned skin hurt more. “It h-hurts so badly. I-I can’t breathe.”

Dad cradles my head and its burned scalp. “I’m getting you outta here, kiddo. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

“Please don’t…” I mumble, head spinning.

My eyelids become heavier until I cant keep myself awake any longer, coming in and out of consciousness as I’m brought to the hospital and treated. Bandages, medicine, IV’s, tubes, and muffled voices flash in my mind.

When I’m fully awake, I see Dad holding one of my bandaged ones. “D-Dad?”

He looks at me with tears in his eyes, quickly blinking them away. “Oh, thank God. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Same.” Peter says, holding my other hand on the opposite side of the bed. “But you’re gonna be fine.”

I exhale shakily. “I don’t know how my powers did this.”

He grins bittersweetly. “Powers are weird.”

“You can say that again.” I groan.

“I can’t relate. My superpower is my IQ.” Dad teases.

“And your insufferable arrogance.” I chime in.

“That’s right.” He replies quickly. “You know me so well.”

I sigh. “I knew you’d come to save us. It happened so fast…I didn’t want to leave Peter there alone. I had to…to…”

Dad very gently touches my shoulder. “It’s alright. I know. And you were right. The moment you went dark, I knew I had to find you. I’m just so sorry it took so long. That place was surprisingly well hidden for a warehouse.”

“A warehouse full of Avengers weapons and memorabilia.” I point out.

“And glass cages made for humans.” Peter adds. “Makes sense he would hide all of it. But he wanted to keep us both captive until he…figured out how to preserve our…erm, bodies.”

Dad shifts uncomfortably in his seat, showing how much the thought bothers him. I take his hand. “It’s okay. You got to us in time.”

“Yeah.” He mumbles.

Despite continuing to talk and make occasional wisecracks, it doesn’t make things feel too much better. My burns are pretty bad and I haven’t dared to try and use my powers again since. My body is too weak and too wounded.

Bruce and Dad both brainstorm ways to help with the scarring, Dr. Cho helping with some synthetic skin grafts as she’s done before. It’s not fun, to say the least. But having my dad and my boyfriend with me helps these treatments be less horrible.

I’m alive. I guess that’s what counts at the end of the day.

But I’ll never forget the way I got these scars no matter how much they fade.

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ink-beneath-her-fingernails · 2 years

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Critical Role Masterlist

Organized alphabetically, chronology within series indicated.

ao3 | primary masterlist

Series Quick Links

a gap in my memory series

cr one-shot shenanigans series

Inks’ 2023 WIP Bingo

Mighty Nein Drabble Spree series

we’re basically gods series

Mighty Nein Campaign

another light, just as bright [559; part 5 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 1 of we’re basically gods]

We are not so different, you and I, the Dodecahedron hums.

Different enough, Caleb thinks.

(Or: The Beacon talks to Caleb. Sometimes, he even talks back.)

betrayer, betrayer, (mis)remember your roots [1.7k; part 10 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 3 of we’re basically gods]

It is the kind of scar tissue that makes it difficult to breathe sometimes, difficult to swallow. It is the kind that curls wide around either side of his throat, that bundles thick inches into muscle and skin, the kind that should've killed him, maybe the kind that did.

(Or: In which Mollymauk Tealeaf's past is not nearly as straightforward as even he thinks.)

divorce the first [3.4k; part 18 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Verbal communication is—something of a phenomenon.

(Or: The Mighty Nein + native languages, and all that that entails.)

eyes never shut [842; part 9 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

She'd actually thought—

For one whole fucking second she'd actually thought—

Ruzza's hands had flowered with the same energy she's grown so used to seeing at Jester's fingertips, right before she takes all their pain away, and Beau had been stupid enough to think that—

Maybe she was going to cure Molly.

(Or: Molly dies. Beau deals.)

from the deep [488; part 7 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 2 of we’re basically gods]

Fjord, no last name that's real or matters, is alive, possibly more than he ever has been.

It'll be a long time before he figures out why.

(Or: Fjord can have a smidge of eldritch confusion, as a treat.)

hypnagogia [972; part 12 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Fjord has a lot of secrets. It seems, with this group, that is something of a common theme.

Here is one of them: he is terrified to go to sleep.

(Or: In which sleep is important, but not always pleasant.)

let jester kill trent 2k23 [614; part 21 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Suddenly, it’s not even a not-quite joke, not really. You don’t like killing people, but you’ll do it if you have to.

And Trent Ikithon simply cannot live.

(Or: Early episode 128, Jester makes observations, decisions, and possibly-maybe a very significant conversation with Artagan.)

let those secrets remain unspoken [1.6k; part 17 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

"It protects me from scrying, detection magic, location spells—the works. It has been many years. I have changed my name, kept a low profile... We should not have to worry."

Should not, because there is always room for error.

(Alternatively: The becoming of Caleb Widogast.

Or, more accurately: the death of Bren Aldric Ermendrud.)

a little birdie told me [1.6k; part 8 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

"I kill people!"

"I'm sure you do, Kiri," Jester coos delightedly.

Kiri absently wonders if the Gentleman somehow had the foresight to keep her name out of their ears, and how he'd managed it for all these years.

(Or: The mob boss Kiri we all deserve.)

a most curious collection [110; part 1 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Nott considers herself, above many other things, a collector.

on matters of punctuation [234; part 14 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

For half a second, Nott hesitates.

(Or: That encounter with the dragon goes a bit differently.)

rise from this grave, spit out the dirt they buried you in [389; part 3 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

He does not know who he is, or where he is. But he does know, with an absolute and growing certainty, that he will die here.

(Or: A tiefling's first memory is of waking up in the dirt. But he is not alone. Not this time.)

a secret for trade (is not how peace of mind is made) [428; part 4 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Your name is Beauregard Lionett.

Your friends call you Beau.

You tell yourself these things once, twice, three times.

(Or: Siff Duthar whispers. Beau listens.)

something truer than words [902; part 22 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

Here is a secret: most people think your favorite of your mother’s friends is Jester, or maybe Caduceus. Maybe, in another world, they’d be right.

Just not in this one.

Because what you’ll never tell anyone is that Uncle Caleb is the best of them all.

(Or: Caleb has a Thing with fire. So does Luc.)

speak of life and i will learn to cherish it [830; part 15 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

His words are accented unfamiliarly.

His turns of phrase are awkward, long and drawn out, the structuring of his sentences inconsistent.

It’s the most wonderful thing she’s ever heard.

(Or: 800+ words of Yasha listening to Caleb speak Celestial and being sappy, because I can.)

these walls have eyes and ears (they kind of look like yours) tumblr | ao3 [1.2k; part 20 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 1 of Inks’ 2023 WIP Bingo]

"We're calling it the M.T. Home now!"

Essek freezes.

"The... Empty Home?"

(Or: The Xhorhouse isn't the Xhorhouse, and what none of the Mighty Nein seem to realize is that they're not exactly the only ones living there.)

this burning hunger [200; part 11 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 4 of we’re basically gods]

"He's hungry," Caleb says, "and so am I."

(Or: Started as an attempt at a fae!Caleb fic, but landed just on Other!Caleb, instead.)

this forest is new and tender (each tree grows from a grave) [594; part 6 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 1 of a gap in my memory]

"Do you ever wish," Caleb says softly, "that you could forget again?"

Molly's heart freezes in his throat.

(Or: On forgetting, and building anew.)

viscera hanging from your lips [932; part 19 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

“Caleb, have you gone to them?”

“He’s not the fighting pit type,” Nott answers Jester before Caleb can open his mouth to do so.

And that's—certainly an answer.

(Or: The group is looking for an underground fighting pit in Rexxentrum. Caleb’s quite familiar with the sort of places that fit that description.)

we breathe the revolution [128; part 2 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

"It starts with the High Richter," Dolan says.

(Or: Not even a week in a big city, and the Mighty Nein are already getting wrapped up in a coup. Typical.)

why darling, your palms are split [476; part 13 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree]

The Mighty Nein have a nasty habit of pushing their luck.

Fjord has a feeling that they might've gone just a bit too far, this time.

(Or: What they did in Dashilla's lair is going to have consequences, of course.)

with gods like these (who needs monsters?) [5k; part 16 of Mighty Nein Drabble Spree; part 5 of we’re basically gods]

He reaches—his fingers wrap impossibly around the wisp that threatens to sift through them—and then he pulls.

And somewhere in the void, it latches on to some unknowable part of him deep within, and as he pulls, something else pulls back.

(Or: We're back on the kind-of-not-really gods au train again, everyone.)

One-Shots

if they ever stopped talking {2019 Red Nose Day one-shot} [1.9k; part 2 of cr one-shot shenanigans]

There is no generous or gentle way for her to do this.

She only has her sword, and only knows how it hurts. The kindest way she knows to cut someone down is with arteries and vital organs; a quick death if nothing else, and if she does it right, hopefully a painless one.

Perhaps she is not the right person for this job.

But she is the only one.

(Or: In which Shiona the adventurer meets what is left of Capo the Great.)

one unworthy hand to another {2019 Red Nose Day one-shot} [2.2k; part 1 of cr one-shot shenanigans]

This is the stuff of epics, of great poets, of the most revered songs of the most talented of bards.

It should have a happy ending.

But the thing about epics, and great poets, and the most revered songs of the most talented bards, is that they rarely ever do.

(Or: In which the author takes great liberty with the bits of character given.)

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piqued-curiosity · 2 years

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The problem people had with what ms-revived-frogs did was not that she called out bi women doing a bad thing and people accused her of biphobia. She is misrepresenting the situation completely. It was that she saw a post that was literally just a singular man with a disgusting fantasy, blamed bi women for it out of absolutely nowhere (or at least implied it was our responsibility to “do better” to prevent this shit or something) and then when people asked wtf she was blaming bi women for, she pulls up screenshots of other posts where men larp as women and have rape fantasies about lesbians. And then blames that on bi women AGAIN because she’s not able to figure out the fact that every single one of those screenshots was made by a transwoman pretending to be a bi woman (despite it being VERY obvious). And she’s twisted the entire situation into “you disgusting bi women are EXCUSING this behaviour” or some shit, pretending we’re getting het up over nothing when all people did was go “hey, what the hell are you blaming this on us for?”

And then she goes “well I’m bi so it’s fine. I can say whatever heinous shit I want about bi women”. Honestly sometimes radblr still surprises me. “Bi women getting blamed for trans identified males having rape fantasies about lesbians” wasn’t on my bingo card but I should’ve expected it. And ms-revived-frogs is just doubling down instead of saying sorry and seems to be saying there’s some sort of underground community of bi women having these rape fantasies??? Based on those posts that were written by men???

Honestly I don’t understand why people I thought were sensible are indulging this. Sometimes you have to go “look I respect you but shut the fuck up and take the L”. Her desperately digging a hole trying to make herself out as this righteous advocate for lesbians calling out an injustice against the evil bi lesbian haters is so fucking embarrassing. Literally none of the stuff she’s talking about was ANYTHING TO DO WITH BI WOMEN. Except for us also being part of this man’s disgusting fantasy.

First I will say that all I saw was her reblog of the OP, and the post I recently reblogged from her. I haven’t seen her screenshots and whatnot.

I agree that her comment on that particular post was misplaced. It wasn’t a bi woman’s post, it was an OSA man’s. So making that particular post about bi women is incorrect. And I believe I acknowledged this when I responded to her post.

What I meant after that, is not that I don’t think bi women should be upset for being blamed for the actions of men. I’m saying that as far as I can tell from my brief dive into this kink or community or whatever you want to call it, it’s not exclusively men. I could be wrong about that! I can’t tell people’s sex just from a brief glance at a blog that I’m viewing quick enough to see if it needs to be reported without making myself sick by seeing the content in full. But I seem to remember finding women running these blogs, and I’m not going to pretend that women are incapable of being disgusting. And if there’s women participating in this, which I’m sure there are, they’re likely bisexual if they experience SSA that leads them to calling themselves lesbians, but also experience OSA that leads them to be turned on by men. Again, I could be wrong. But I don’t think many things like this are 100% exclusive to one sex.

Your implication that lesbians are paranoid and delusional and just hating on bi women by making things up is what I was talking about. It seems to be a running trend that any time a woman, specifically a lesbian but sometimes bi women like ms-revived-frogs who defend lesbians, says “hey bi women can and do contribute to homophobia”, everyone comes out of the woodworks to tell us how mean and crazy we are and we’re just making things up. That’s what I mean by bi women taking criticism badly. I am not talking about bi women rightfully defending themselves from false accusations, I am talking about this constant idea I see that no bi woman has ever been disgustingly homophobic towards lesbians.

So essentially, what I was trying to say, is that the comment on that post was not appropriate. But the responses to it strike me as being upset not only at the context of that comment, but also at the idea that bi women can and do hurt lesbians (though I am willing to admit that I could be biased because of my experience with how bi people respond to any criticisms of homophobia in the bi community). What I was saying was that if ms-revived-frogs had said the same thing on a post by a bi woman, I’m not sure that she’d have received 100% positive feedback. Because people seem to be denying that bi women participate in this at all, and from what I’ve seen they do participate in it. Again, I could be wrong. It’s entirely possible that I’m reading the responses wrong, and/or that the blogs I saw were TIMs and they just didn’t mention it.

Tl;dr:

The “bi women do better” on a post by a man was wrong. Bi women have every right to be upset by being blamed for a man’s actions. At the same time, I recall seeing women participating in this kink, and what bothers me about the responses to that comment is what I am interpreting as the implication that this community is 100% TIM, instead of acknowledging that bi women do participate in these sorts of things that harm lesbians. Because of this, I just wonder if there would still be backlash even if the comment was made on a bi woman’s post.

#asks #anon

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luckyrabbit1927 · 3 years

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Can we talk about Bluey for a sec?

This is a long one, but something that's been on my mind for a while. I've mentioned I'm a fan of this show a few times on my blog now, but I think it's time I delve in and highlight what this show has accomplished, and why I think it deserves to be seen by others.

For those who may not have seen it yet, I'll give a little bit of background. Bluey is a Disney Jr. original made by longtime animator Joe Brumm (Who also worked on the equally awesome Charlie and Lola back when I was a kid!). The series takes place in the real life Australian location of Brisbane, but with actual dogs in the place of the humans. The main setup for this show is to highlight the day to day life of little 6 year old Bluey heeler, along with her sister Bingo, mother Chili, and dad Bandit.

Throughout the various episodes, we see how playtime and games of pretend affect each of the main cast, and the show stresses how important this time is to help not just the children, but the parents too to grow as people. We often see Chili and Bandit getting involved with their children's games or being a strong influence in their lives, and the show frequently highlights the mother and father's wonderfully realistic, but beautiful relationship. This is something I always felt was done especially well here, and is something that is a lot more rare in children's cartoons than one might expect.

Joe Brumm's vision for this show was to not only give a closer look into the more suburban side of Australia, but to also highlight his own experiences as a parent and show how beautiful playtime can be. While the show may be a Disney Jr. original, it is most certainly intended for all ages to take something from it. Its humor is expertly written, enough to get groups of all ages laughing at the family's antics, but there is also a distinctly emotional side as well. In my time of watching this show I've seen it discuss serious topics such as:

Death, and how children can learn to cope:

How quickly friends can sometimes come and go, but the memories will never leave you:

Regardless of whether you're a mother or father, parental stress is going to happen, and in Bandit's case, it's okay to need to take a step back and breathe. While on the flip side, Chili has to learn to enjoy the moment and realize that everything will work out in the end:

Your family will always be here for you, even when you can't see them:

And finally, and my personal favorite lesson; the impact we can have on a child's life with even the smallest of gestures.

Each episode of this show I feel deserves their own posts, especially just how much depth and love goes into the making of each one, (which I'm considering doing a small series of if there's interest). After I was able to binge both season 1 and 2 for myself recently, I feel like I walked away a better person, even though I have yet to have any kids of my own yet. It's wide range is one of Bluey's best strengths. Regardless of whether you're a kid, teen, adult, or a new parent that happens to be watching it with your little one, there is something everyone can take away from this incredible little show. During a time where I had to leave behind my home and find my way in life, I couldn't have asked for better guidance in life than from Bluey.

I don't usually do longer pieces on my blog, but Bluey is something I feel genuinely changed me as a person, and it needs to be shared. I can only hope that my post here might convince any newcomers to give Bluey a chance, and that you too are able to find appreciation in what might be one of the best children's cartoons of all time.

(A quick side note: Since I can't go in depth here without making this post a couple years long, I thought of an alternative. If any of you are wanting to see me make a separate little episode-by-episode analysis series, I'm more than happy to give it a go if that means it'll help gauge more interest in Bluey! I hope to see you then!)

"Gotta be done!"

#lucky rambles #Disney #disney jr #Bluey #tw death mention #tw anxiety #This has been on my mind for a while #This show has been my comfort food since I moved out #I want to be able to share how special it is with people #cartoons #Bluey is for everyone!

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moosekateer13 · 2 years

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Hell on Heels

Jared Padalecki x Reader

For @supernatural-jackles tell me a story bingo

Square filled: Against the Wall

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, One Night Stand , Angst

Summary: Y/N and two ships passing in the night. They shared one night. Jared thought he'd never see her again. One year later at another con in the same city. They meet again. This time she's not alone.

Inspired by Pistol Annies Hell on Heels.

I'm hell on heels. Say what you will.

I've done made the devil a deal. He made me pretty.

He made me smart. And I'm going to break me a million hearts.

I'm hell on heels, baby I'm comin' for you.

This isn't right the paparazzi could catch us. We've both got reputations that could get ruined. After all, I'm the CEO of Y/N Productions and he's an actor from Supernatural, Walker and Gilmore Girls.

I can't bring myself to care though as we tear each other's clothes off in the back alley of the hotel.

Jared thoroughly claiming me as his. And me reciprocating his actions. After he can't fill me anymore we quickly pull apart and redress. No doubt my underwear is soaked with cum. My red dress was severely rumpled and my Y/H/C dishevelled. Jared and I part ways never looking back.

I am known as the ice queen for a reason. Only people in my inner circle have seen my soft side. I don't get attached and few guys like to handle females with an alpha personality. Not that I care. I never see myself settling down. I've lived out my fantasy time to move on.

1 year later…

Westin Harbour Castle Hotel

Y/N

Waiting in this photo op line is making me anxious. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring Elise. There's no turning back now. I shift back and forth with her in line and the moment of truth my turn. Jared just smiles at me without saying a single word. Once we all get into position we take the photo. It's over in a few seconds. Jared tries to speak to me but Cole, his manager shakes her head at him. So he doesn't go after me thank the universe for that.

Finally, it's time for the panel. One of my favourite parts of the weekend was the J2 panel. Seems like Elise likes it too; she's so engrossed in listening to them talk.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

This is Cole Jared's manager. He would like to speak to you after the panel. He'll be in the meeting room just across from the main auditorium.

I feel my palms sweat after seeing that. I immediately text my friend Chelsea to come get Elise. Chelsea, her sister and I all came to town together. They are at a concert nearby and it's finished by now. It was at noon. Without even asking a reason because we both knew this was coming.

After the panel, she's right outside the room and she takes Elise from me to bring her to her hotel room. Once she leaves Jared comes barrelling around the corner and tugs me into the meeting room. His stunning multi-spectrum hazel eyes filled with fury.

"How dare you not tell me about Elise? Don't you dare deny she's not mine. She looks exactly like me." Jared growled.

"I didn't want to burden you because I knew I could handle it on my own. If you think you are going to intimidate me you are sorely mistaken." I retorted.

"Burden me for god's sake you are talking about her like she's a plant. Elise is my daughter too!!!" Jared yelled. Sick of his tone I shut him up with a kiss. He hungrily kisses me back while I snake my hand into his hair and his arm snakes around my waist.

Just like before, we waste no time taking each other's clothes off. I wrap my legs around his waist. Jared shoves me onto the table, rutting into me over and over. Unlike, last time though I got an IUD put in not wanting to risk getting pregnant by another guy. Elise is enough for me. He possessively marks me just like last time. This time though I mark him where it isn't visible. We wouldn't want to be the talk of the convention. His notification goes off signalling it's almost time for the next event. We reluctantly pull apart and make quick work of the shower.

Jared suddenly has clothes in his hands for me. No doubt from Cole.

He doesn't even bother turning around; he just watches me get dressed. I wouldn't expect anything less from his behaviour today. Not that I care though nothing he hasn't already seen.

" I want to meet Elise later beautiful. My number is already in your phone, " Jared said. He places a kiss on my forehead. At the gesture, I feel the heat in my cheeks. I am a stranger to these types of romantic gestures from guys. I watch him exit damn does he look good in that black dress shirt and blue jeans. Then the realization hits me like a ton of bricks Cole purposely picked my clothes to match his.

Even with my stubborn personality, I think maybe he and I can make this work. It would be great to have Elise grow up with both of her parents. I pick up my clothes and shove them into my bag and make my way to the next event. Everyone has their kryptonite and an ice queen like me. I think Jared may be mine. Now the big question is can he handle me?

#hell on heels #jared padalecki x reader #tell me a story bingo #supernatural fanfiction #moosekateer 13 #Smut #Unprotected Sex #One Night Stand #angst #pistol annies

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maximoff-pan · 4 years

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l’amore de ma vie | fred weasley

Summary: When Fred invites you to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, your feelings for your best friend are stronger than ever before. What happens when you realize just how much you love him?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff...i-is that a warning?? Anyway buckle up for some sickly sweet goodness....

A/n: I know, I’m terrible. It’s been a little while longer than I’d intended but I hope this makes up for it! Feedback is very very much appreciated! I love seeing what all of you think of my writing! Without further rambling from me....enjoy!

Sidenote: This is a total AU. It completely deviates from canon, as Bill and Fleur’s wedding goes smoothly in this version. No violence here haha...only happiness! (I guess what I’m trying to say is, in no way shape or form is this an accurate recollection of the books, this is purely from my imagination...)

• • • • •

“Fucking weddings...” you mutter as you walk through the massive white tent that adorns the front lawn of the Weasley residence. Everything is perfectly displayed, tables meticulously set, with delicate flowers littering the venue.

The romance of it all makes you want to throw yourself into Bill and Fleur’s masterfully crafted, six-tier cake. And watching as Molly rushes in and out swiftly with the brightest smile on her face, it all reminds you of how you should be getting ready right now. But you just can’t stomach that.

It’s not that you’re not happy for Bill....you’re ecstatic and you absolutely adore him. He’s been a role model for you almost your entire life. And it’s not like you’re not an absolute romantic, because you are...but weddings always make things complicated. They manage to dig up feelings that you’d rather not confront.

Feelings for a certain Weasley twin...

That’s why when he (said twin) and George invited you to the wedding, you were reluctant to say yes. It’s hard to pin point exactly when you felt your friendship with Fred (at least on your end), morph into something more, but you’ve managed to keep your feelings for him locked away for the better part of four years. And as far as you’re aware, the only person that’s truly caught on is Hermione...because you’re convinced at this point that she just knows damn well everything.

“Something on your mind?” A voice startles you, bringing your attention back to the bustling world surrounding you.

Turning around slowly, you’re greeted with Bill’s towering figure. You huff out a quick, teasing laugh. “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady’s thoughts.”

“Forgive me,” he chimes with a chuckle of his own.

Bill knows your humour, and he knows you well enough to recognize when you’re using it as a defence mechanism.

“It just looks like you’re about ready to make a run for it,” he continues, “and I wanted to make sure my favourite guest doesn’t ditch me on my wedding day.”

“You know I would never ditch you.”

Bill sends you a look, clearly not impressed by your jokes. You can tell he knows something’s wrong, but you don’t want to be the first one to bring it up.

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I promise.”

He only nods at you, and he’s not quite sure if he’s convinced, but he’s confident things will work out in the end. “You know, I best be getting ready.” He grins wide. You reciprocate his grin with an additional giggle.

“You best be. Or else Fleur might divorce you on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.” Bill shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’d have the record for the shortest marriage in wizarding history! Mum would have an absolute shit fit.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, before you’re nudging him out of the tent and towards his home.

There’s a comfortable pause of silence as Bill thinks to himself. He can see it in your eyes exactly what you’re thinking about. Having been around you for years and Fred even longer, and watching the two of you grow up together, he knows what’s troubling you. Bill Weasley is not a stupid man, and he knows love when he sees it. Better yet, he knows the fear of losing that love that runs rampant in your mind. If Bill has learned anything in his years on this earth, it’s that love allows for the greatest of happiness but it also allows for the greatest manifestation of fear. Unrequited love can be more painful than the relief of returned feelings, but Bill Weasley knows you both well enough to know that these feelings you and his brother share, they’re anything but unrequited.

“I should probably be getting ready too.” You break the silence and remind yourself of the upcoming event as you step through the front door of the Burrow.

You both turn to each other, acknowledging your parting of ways. You hear Arthur shouting for his oldest son from above. “I guess that’s my cue.” Bill simply nods in the direction of the staircase, taking a step towards it. You stand still, just watching him for a moment.

He leans his head over his shoulder for a brief second, already a few steps up the winding stairs. “Oh and (Y/n),” he breathes, “my brother may be an oblivious twat, but to give him some credit, I see the way he looks at you, and I’d be blind to say he isn’t in love with you too.”

In love with you too....

And as soon he’s said it, the cheeky bastard’s disappeared up the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and completely still.

Fucking hell. Your mind wanders, his words at the forefront....so apparently Bill knows and surely if Bill knows, George must too. Are your feelings for Fred that obvious?

• • • • •

You step through the doorway to Fred and George’s room hoping to find a certain twin. You spot him sitting cross legged on his bed, fiddling with a prototype for the shop that you’re sure you’ve seen him working on before. His ginger hair is messily in his face, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s the picture of a working artist....pranking materials being his art. You heave a sigh. Like you, he’s nowhere near ready for the wedding that is going to take place in a few hours.

“Do you know?” His head whips up at the sound of your voice. It’s such a vague question, one in which a normal person would question what it itself is in relation to, but George knows exactly what you’re getting at. But maybe he’ll screw with you a little first....

“I know lots of things love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

A groan passes your lips. Maybe he doesn’t know....but the way his lips are turned upward, the smirk that seems to be growing on his face tells you otherwise. You’re not blind; you know the games George Weasley likes to play.

“Don’t be coy asshole.” You send him a look that says ‘try me.’ “I know you know. My question is, why haven’t you told me that you know?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.” He continues testing the waters of your frustration, seeing just how far he can go before you snap.

“Oh fuck me!” You exclaim, hands thrown up in the air. You point at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “You’re a prick George.”

His grin only widens. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong twin (Y/n). Last time I checked, Freddie’s the one you want to fuck.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And....Bingo. There it is. The exact confirmation you wanted and feared.

You recoil, eyes widening at him. Your voice goes soft, serious. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”

His warm eyes meet yours, a calmness to them that is surprisingly reassuring. “I’ve made a living out of not taking things seriously and meddling in other people’s lives (Y/n), but what you and Fred have, I won’t meddle in that.” He pauses for a moment, his voice softening. “It’s not my business to push you two together. You’ll realize it at your own pace.”

“Realize what at your own pace?” Fred leans his body against the doorframe. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair done up nicely, and unlike his twin, he looks entirely put together. The irony almost makes you laugh. You’ve always known George to be the prepared one, ready hours before he needed to be. And Fred a scambler, leaving everything to the last second, to be fashionably late was his life motto.

“Just how stupid the two of you are going to look all dressed up with no dates.” George answers for you, keeping the true nature of your conversation a secret. “Even Ginny’s managed to catch the chosen one.”

You huff out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ah,” George muses. “But I am an idiot with a date.”

Fred grins at the two of you and your banter. “Angelina’s better off without you as her date.” He jokes.

A laugh passes your throat, Fred joining in with you. “Oh, sod off!” George pipes before shoving the two of you out to get ready.

• • • • •

Hours later you find yourself ready on time, a shocking revelation to you and each of the Weasley’s. And George is too. He sits beside you grinning like a mad man. Fred is on your other side, smiling all the same.

The ceremony is wonderful and quaint. You knew the moment you saw Fleur all those years ago, just how beautiful she was, but you never could have imagined just how much you’d grow to think of her like a sister. And it’s funny because you’re neither a Delacour nor a Weasley, and yet you feel like you belong. It’s different from the love you know Harry and Hermione feel for the Weasley’s, because ultimately, they’ll both marry in and it will be official, and as much as you love Fred, you know that will likely never be the case for you. But that’s the thing you love most about Molly and Arthur and their children: you don’t have to be related by marriage or blood to be a Weasley.

And seeing Fleur and Bill smile, seeing the pure happiness that they exude in this moment, it makes you forget why you ever questioned coming. It makes you hope that one day you can find what they have. You’d spent the last few minutes mesmerized by their first dance as a married couple. You’re so caught in a trance that you don’t hear the clapping when they’ve finished and stepped off the dance floor.

Your eyes snap up at the clearing of a throat beside you. George nudges you and you turn to look at him. He points at Fred who’s gazing at you curiously. You must have looked like a daft idiot, an utter love struck expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You laugh. “Did you say something Freddie?”

“Dance with me?” He asks.

Fred’s question lingers as you contemplate whether or not to accept his outstretched arm. But then your eyes drift up to his, and you catch the mischievous glint that rests in them. It’s in that moment that you know there is no turning back.

Groaning, you relent into his touch. “One dance.” You say, but you know that if he asked, you’d dance the night away.

The grin that spreads onto his face is nothing short of beautiful. It’s unmistakably perfect the way the light catches his features, his ginger hair glowing in the overcast moonlight, and an ethereal aura glistens from his skin. Fred looks youthful...and he looks undeniably happy.

Gripping your hand, he leads you to the dance floor. You catch a brief glimpse of Bill whose lips are tugged into an encouraging smile. Fred snaps your attention back to him as he pulls you into his body, bringing your arms to rest around his shoulders. You can hear the faint thrumming of the slow and melodic music drifting towards you, but all you register is the sound of Fred’s heart beating against yours. Wrapping yourself in his embrace, you allow yourself one second to believe that he might feel the same.

Your feet move in sync almost flawlessly, and it’s as if you’re reading each other’s movements without any effort. (Despite being known for your clumsy nature). But if you’re being honest, it’s always been like that with Fred....easy that is. Easy to read each other, easy to be with each other. It’s just natural.

“You’re quite graceful Freddie.” You nudge him playfully, breaking the silence between you.

“And you’re quite...” his voice drifts softly, “something.”

The half scoff, half laugh you let out rings in his ears. “Are you implying that I’m not a good dancing partner?”

“You’re a formidable partner love, just a shit dancer.”

Your eyes light up in amusement. “Well we can’t all be as graceful and beautiful as you Fred Weasley.”

He plays along happily. “No.” He agrees. “I guess we can’t. But I reckon everything else about you, your beauty, your wit, your affinity for kindness, makes up for your lack of dancing skills.”

It’s that self assured attitude that draws you to him. Yet he’s not the slightest bit arrogant. He simply believes in himself, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, is completely aware of his self worth, and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise. It’s addicting to be around, and a quality so desperately you wish you could find in yourself.

And when Fred compliments you, you can believe that he’s telling you the truth. He makes you believe things about yourself that you would never dream to think about on your own. As cheesy as it sounds, he makes you feel seen. He makes you feel special. And it’s so strange because for as long as you can remember, everyone has always thought of you as merely the best friend of the infamous Weasley twins. Hardly to anyone had you been your own person with your own identity. But Fred never made you feel like that. You’ve always been someone to him, not just a product of who you chose to be friends with.

“You shouldn’t say things like that you know.” Your voice goes quiet.

Fred notices the change in your body language as you begin to close yourself off from him. “Why not?” He asks. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

Your eyes catch his and your breath hitches. This feels like something. It feels like a moment, the moment that you’ve been waiting for. You never believed Fred could ever feel the same for you, but the look he’s giving you feels so so real.

“Fred, do you-“ You start, but he cuts in for you.

“Feel it too?” He finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I do.” He replies.

Your heart races in your chest as he pulls you closer into his embrace. This confession of feelings is nearly wordless, and yet it feels perfect. You’ve never needed to say a lot to Fred for him to understand you.

You’ve always just had that kind of connection.

You barely notice that you’re still dancing, your bodies moving on autopilot. And the people around you fade to nothing. Your focus is solely on the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your movements slow as Fred tilts your chin towards his face. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 11 years old.” He says. It’s nearly impossible for your mind to process it. “I’ve known for so long, I just didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I reckon if there’s ever a time to do it, now seems pretty good.”

A gentle smile rests on your face, your heart warm at his words. “Now is perfect.”

Fred hums softly, his warm brown eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. He sees nothing but adoration staring right back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” This is the first time you’ve seen Fred so timid.

You smile coyly, nodding your head. “Such a gentleman.” You tease, pulling him gently towards you. Your lips meet so softly and briefly that you almost miss it.

But no matter how brief, it’s a feeling you’ll never forget. You both want more of each other, but you also know that standing in front of Fred’s immediate and extended family and friends, you can’t simply put on a show for the world to see, as much as he wants to.

You pull back for a moment only to find yourself wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to the music. Most people in your situation would say something. Maybe they’d profess their love, or whisper sweet nothings into their lover’s ear, but right here, right now, words don’t need to be used.

You don’t need to say I love you to feel that you are loved. And you know Fred feels the same.

• • • • •

Off to the side, Bill takes a moment to part from his wife, approaching his younger brother with a shit eating grin.

“Bloody hell.” George runs a hand through his hair, spotting Bill striding towards him.

Their eyes lock for a moment and George notices his oldest brother’s lip quirk upward. “You owe me 20 galleons.” Bill states matter-of-factly.

George grumbles, reaching into his pocket to pull out the payment. Handing it to Bill, he smiles. “Get back to your wife you tosser.”

Bill nods, taking a step towards Fleur. He turns to face his brother, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just know, when they get married, I’m telling everyone I won.”

///////////////////

Taglist:

@amourtentiaa

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x y/n

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

Text

Tales From Bingo Night

AFAB!Reader x Jeon Wonwoo

Word Count: 1917

Contents: handjob, outdoor sex, cum eating

[10:32]

It was quiet as the docks and canoe shed came into view through the dark. You weren’t sure what to say to Wonwoo. The act itself you were fine with but Wonwoo and you had fallen into a comfy friendship and this felt weird. Did he think it was weird too? He was usually pretty awkward when the topic of your sexual exploits came up. You didn’t think he’d want to be stuck doing this.

“You know, we don’t actually have to do this,” you started, not looking at him. Wonwoo didn’t respond so you continued. “Like it’s just a stupid thing on a scavenger hunt. And I can probably get Yanan to do it later anyway, we still have about an hour and a half. So if you don’t want to, I’m okay with that.”

“Are you okay with it?” He finally said.

“I- y-yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You saw his shoulders shrug out of the corner of your eye. “You seem kinda stressed about it. It’s not something you have to do. You know that sentiment goes for you too, right?”

“I- Yeah I know,” you mumbled. “I mean it feels a little strange but I just didn’t expect us to end up in this situation at all this summer.”

Wonwoo slowed as you rounded the shed, looking at the woods between the shed and the edge of the lake. “Yeah I- that makes sense. But, I don’t know, it’s kind of weird but it’s alright. I mean unless you’re terrible at giving handjobs.”

You let out a little laugh, releasing some of your nervous energy. “Okay, hey, I’m good at them. You’ll be satisfied so no need to worry about that.”

“If not I’ll just tell the team you suck and Yanan and Yoohyeon will tell everyone else,” you could see his grin through the darkness.

“Alright, I take it you’re game then,” you snorted. “Do you know how you want to prove it?”

“Hongseok said be appropriate so he’s just going to have to take my word for it.”

“Good to know my reputation rests on a hand job in the woods.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he plopped down in the grass, resting back on his elbows. “You have been talking yourself up to me so…”

“Bragging really isn’t becoming,” you muttered as you kneeled next to him. Your fingers played with the hem of your shorts for a moment while you looked down at his body. “Are you alright if I just start? Do you want me to like, kiss you or something?”

Wonwoo seemed to think about his answer for a moment. “Either is okay. Do you wanna make out?”

“I- uh, maybe? I don’t know, I feel like I usually don’t think this hard about it.” You brought your hands to the waist of his shorts. Your fingers fumbled with the button and zipper.

“Having trouble?” He chuckled.

“Shut up, it’s dark,” you whined, though knowing there was a slight laugh in your voice. You started to shift his shorts down his hips.

“Do you always do it with the lights on?” He questioned.

“Are you going to ask annoying questions the whole time?” You shot back.

“Only if I’m bored,” he chuckled. You stuck your tongue out at him which drew a laugh from him. Your fingers curled around the hem of his boxers and you dropped your gaze down, away from his face, taking in the sight of his cock instead and trying to swallow back your awkward feelings. If anything his joking was keeping you calm. You started to wrap your hand around his cock.

“You’re not just going in dry, are you!?” He cried, a little too loud for your liking.

“Shhhh, shut up,” you hissed. “And… no, I wasn’t.” You pulled your hand away to spit on it.

“And you told me you were good at this,” he muttered.

“I am,” you said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You rolled your eyes before taking his cock into your hand again. Slick with your spit it slid easily. You pumped him in slow movements, listening and checking around you for anyone coming closer. The only sound around you was the small waves crashing along the shore and owls hooting in the distance. Any din of people was too far away for anyone to see you.

He grew harder in your hand as the seconds ticked past. Your fingers teasing the underside of his head, the tip, not moving too fast though you knew your time was limited. You kept your movements slow and even.

Wonwoo let out a quiet sigh and you finally ventured to look at him properly again. His body was relaxing more into the ground, sinking into his shoulders. His eyes had fallen closed and the soft breeze ruffled the hair across his forehead.

“See,” you murmured. “I’m not bad at this.”

“You’re alright,” he hummed.

“I’m still getting you warmed up,” you scoffed. “It gets better.”

“Oh does it?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I have half a mind to work you up and not make you cum,” you grumbled, still loud enough for him to hear and laugh.

“Do we get less points if I don’t cum?”

“I-” your hand slowed as you thought. “I don’t know how they’re grading this.”

“Wait, go back to what you were doing,” he said.

You brought your focus back to the task at hand but the ghost of a smirk was curling your lips. “So you do like it.”

Wonwoo opened one eye to look at you. “Well it doesn’t feel bad.”

You shifted yourself, straddling one of his thighs before leaning down and letting more spit drool onto his cock. Even more slick, your fingers moved more easily and you gripped him a little tighter while taking up a steady pace.

When you sat up to look at him he was staring at you, lips parted and letting out the smallest of huffs.

“Did you think I was going to start using my mouth,” you teased.

“I-I- no that’s not-”

“Do you want me to?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I have permission to not use my brain right now.”

“Not really permission if you do it all the time,” you chuckled.

“I-” Wonwoo let out a moan instead as you squeezed his cock tighter in your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroked him.

“I didn’t peg you as a noisy one,” you teased.

“I- just- let me enjoy myself,” he said, a breathiness entering his tone. You leaned towards him a bit, now watching as pleasure started to show on his features. Your free hand trailed over the top of his thigh before you moved up his body, pushing his shirt up.

“Wh-What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just relax, will you?” you said. “I am doing a good job is what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing j-” you dragged your nails slightly down his stomach as your thumb played with the most sensitive part of his head again. “O-Okay, yeah you’re d-doing good.”

You smiled to yourself smugly as you went back to pumping his cock, a little more quickly and roughly. Your nails trailed over his skin and the night breeze that blew past your drew goosebumps up along his skin. Wonwoo let out more huffs and quiet moans and you felt his hips starting to press up into your hand.

You pulled back just a bit, slowing your movements and catching him eyeing you. “Come on,” he groaned.

“You want me to go faster?” you asked innocently.

“We’re- We don’t have time-”

You chuckled, leaning a little closer to him. “You would be fun to edge, you know that?”

Wonwoo started to sputter. And even in what little light you had you could see the colour on his cheeks at your comment. You still obliged him though, moving your hand now much faster than he was expecting and wrapping your hand around his cock tighter. You added a twist to your movement and Wonwoo let out a moan that was way too loud.

You slammed a hand over Wonwoo’s mouth, hovering over him and meeting his eyes. “Shhhhh, being that loud is going to get us caught,” you hissed.

Wonwoo answered you with a muffled moan and you took in his expression as he did. His eye lids had grown heavy and his gaze was a little hazy, though now focused on you with you being so close. You kept a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as your other hand kept it’s quick pace and he started to press and rock his hips up to meet your hand.

“Are you close?” you hummed, this time with no teasing. Wonwoo nodded, trying to keep his gaze locked with yours.

“Are you going to be quiet?” you asked. He shook his head and as much as you wanted to sigh, a smirk tugged at your lips instead.

“If I knew you were this loud I would have brought a gag,” you hummed. Wonwoo let his eyes flutter shut but his moaning continued as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I didn’t know you would be this much fun. I’ll have to take you way out in the woods where no one can hear us. And now we have those condoms. I can ride you and you can be as loud as you like.”

Wonwoo let out a moan, loud even with you muffling him, and his hips bucked up as he came. You felt the hot cum running over your hand as you kept pumping his cock, feeling more pour out with each pulse of his cock until one of his hands grabbed your wrist shakily.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly as you took your hand away, “Okay I’m good.”

“Well, almost,” you said, pulling your hand away and looking for somewhere to wipe it. But you didn’t want cum on your clothes and you didn’t want your hand wiping through the dirt so you did the only thing you could think of and stuck your fingers in your mouth.

When you met Wonwoo’s gaze you found him frozen, blushing hard, and watching you as you sucked his cum off your hand.

“Y-You- u-uh-”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your fingers out and licked some of the cum off the back of your hand. “It’s the easiest way to clean up.”

“I-I yeah th-that makes sense.”

You looked down at his cock, still coated in his own cum before looking up at him. “Be quiet.”

“Why? What are y- oh,” He let out a shaky, quiet moan as you dragged your tongue along his cock, catching the cum on your tongue. His hips twitched from sensitivity and you moved as gently as you could, finishing by sucking the tip into your mouth before you brought your face up to meet his, fingers grabbing the hem of his boxers.

You were met with Wonwoo’s hands grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss that was much sweeter and needier than you could have expected. You froze as you processed what he was doing and as quickly as he had pulled you in he let you go, staring back at you wide eyed.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said faintly. “I didn’t- I-I shoul-”

“We should go find the group,” you said quickly, jumping to your feet.

“Y-Yeah we should,” Wonwoo mumbled shakily, tugging his shorts up.

#this is one of my fav smuts ive written in a while #its so much more fun writing for actual characters #camp north star au #cns au #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut

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psychicxhearts-blog1 · 2 years

Photo

Here are my bingo card for the anniversary and some templates I made for myself later down the line. I will admit I made this cause of KitaSean, but didn’t agree with everything he made in his wonderful video. So decided to make my own for fun. Anyways under cut is me explaining the card. So if you care to know what the bingo card means, then go there.

Bingo line up: From Right to Left First Row:

Archimedes: Honestly I feel he will be in game and be the quick support we need. Kinda like Castoria for buster users after Merlin. If that makes any sense.

Galahad: The 7th anniversary is a shield so he could come out. Everyone sees this, and I am no different.

Rasputin: He’s a NPC in game. Everyone wants this to happen. So might as well put it here for the memes.

Marie Alter: I am a fanboy of Marie and Maire Alter is a dream of mine. So let me live.

Proto Gil: Look....Proto Merlin is never coming to mobile version. So let’s accept Proto Gil as a concept to make Arcade pissed.

Second Row:

Quick support: We have so many Arts and Buster mains. Give us Quick supports other then Skadi. I am tired of using my NP3 version of her. I need another good quick support servant please!

Bond 10 Mashu: Call me crazy but I think because of the shield we might get more Mashu appreciation. So maybe we can finally get her to bond 10? Or grail her. Either or I would be happy with.

Animation update: Look! So many servants need one, and I swear to god they better get one to Jekyll or I’ll flip.

FP Servant: Friend point servant. Okay that’s a typo. I believe we are going to get more then one. So servants. My bad.

300+SQ: 300 saint quartz or over! LETS GOOOOO!

Third Row:

New Merch: They always drop some new merch...Sucks I can never buy it, but it’s going to happen like it dose every year.

GSSR: Payed guaranteed 5 star. They normally do this as well so on the list it goes.

25+ tickets: I believe it’s going to be over 30 (32-35) honestly, but 25 to be safe or in case I am wrong.

USO Pay: Okay crazy idea. But what if they make a bundle in game where you can buy one of these hard fuckers every month? Do you have any idea how much people would spend for that? Oddly enough I can see fgo doing this.

Forth Row:

Prototype collab: Look if proto gil comes and Jekyll has a animation update they BETTER DO IT!

Tsukihime collab: Putting this here for the memes. I want this, and hope they do it, but it’s still very low on this happening.

New Mystic code: Idk I just think we could get a new Mystic code. We will wait and see.

FER news: As odd as I think this is, but what if they talk more about fate extra record? Nero is the only servant we have yet to see the NP of so it could happen.

Servant interrupts Stream: Okay this can go down so many ways. I feel this could be how it starts out with the FER news. It could be Nero taking control of BB channel, or BB talking, or heck might be a servant interrupting for a different reason. I don’t know I just think it could be fun to see if it dose happen.

Fifth Row:

5 + new servants: I honestly think there going to be 7 new servants in total, but I could be wrong so I put 5 plus to be safe.

7th anniversary: It’s just as it says. Everything is going to be in sevens. Seven new servants. 7 things for maybe a shop Da Vinci grab bag, and so on.

New Costumes: New outfits for servants. I don’t know how many or even who is getting them, but I am for it if it happens!

Choose CE: Every year we pick a CE or 2 so on the list it is.

Adult Andersen: My one huge wish. Give me him as a servant or costume. I don’t care I need this NOW!

#dash #fgo #bingo card #//this took me 2 days to make but worth it honestly #//now I am ready for when the stream happens soon.

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sometipsygnostalgic · 2 years

Note

Mermista and/or hordak bingo

ooo lets do both

I nearly tagged "theyre a horrible person" AND "theyve never done anything wrong in their life" and that goes to show that my feelings on Mermista aren't entirely different my feelings on Catra or Glimmer.

I do think Mermista is the most Catra-like character in the Rebellion at least on the surface level, especially Season 5 Catra, in that Mermista isn't afraid to be mean, but she is afraid to be nice. She's very quick to make sarcastic or pessimistic comments, she's even willing to make the pragmatic jump into using the Heart of Etheria as a weapon, but she has a hard time being nice to the people she cares about. Especially Sea Hawk. Much like how Catra mistreats Scorpia but with far less screentime focus.

We see under the surface that Mermista is a huge nerd and we see some of how she and Sea Hawk work well together, they sing shanties together while beating up Hoardies, she teaches him how to talk Seagull, and she set someone's ship on fire just to see what it felt like xD

Mermista being comfortable enough in the Rebellion to let loose in Mermysteries is a trip, I love that ep and I love her role in Boys Night Out. I do love watching her bully Perfuma too. Perfuma needs a chill pill and Mermista's showing her how to relax, by making her very stressed. It makes sense, trust me!

Mermista gets done dirty by fans because they see her being grouchy to characters like Sea Hawk and especially Entrapta and decide that she must be an entitled asshole who is going to pick fights with all the ex-Hoardies. She's an interesting case study on how a single episode can fuck up an entire fandom's perception of a character, especially if that's their last major appearance. But when Mermista tells Entrapta "We got your back any time", that's not something which comes easily to Mermista, not something she'd say lightly. She means it. So it's not fair to ignore that, and to ignore the nuances of Mermista's personality, because you want your fanworks to have some edgier conflict.

I've written a shit ton about Hordak but honestly not much of it relates to this character bingo.....

Much like Traps and Cats, Hordak is morally complicated on accounts of what else could he have become? He didn't get a morally upstanding upbringing, he's barely his own person for most of the show. But he isn't being actively brainwashed and he pushes away Catra's attempts to connect with him by instead punishing her. Guy has trust issues and is really bad at leadership because he thinks he can do what Prime does and intimidate all his lackies into submission, when he hasn't got tortuous mind control to take over if they start to act up.

I like that when Hordak turns on Prime, it isn't because he's decided that Genocide Is Bad, it's because he wanted to save his first and only friend. He even does a villain speech and says he's proud of what he's done! But does Entrapta care? Nah. She's proud too! Hordak and Entrapta work EXCELLENTLY together. All of their scenes in season 5 break and heal my heart. I think post-series Hordak will refrain from taking over Etheria mostly because Entrapta will give him sad puppy eyes if he tries, and also because She-ra very kindly let him live and he's worried she will change her mind.

Hordak also works great with Catra in season 4. I love how the power dynamics switched from Hordak being the abuser and Catra being his victim, to Catra beating the shit out of him and them both bonding over My Chemical Romance and breaking up with their girlfriends, even if it was based on the foundation of Catra's lie.

#she ra #spop #mermista #hordak

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rafael-silva · 3 years

Text

guide me back (I’m lost without your light): a tarlos fic

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.” “Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

When Carlos and Mitchell respond to the call, the last thing Carlos expects is to find TK in the middle of the wreck. He races against time to keep TK awake and stable until fire and medical arrive, while sending out prayer after prayer that his time with TK hasn’t been cut short. That they haven’t run out of time.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bloodstained clothes

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, established relationship, whump, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, kisses, blood, injury description, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

10.1k | on ao3

*****

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.”

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

The sun sits high in the sky as Carlos grips the steering wheel tightly while Mitchell releases her radio and flicks on the light bar and siren, blaring loudly as they head into the heart of downtown Austin.

It sounded serious, if all available units are being dispatched to the scene, meaning fire engines are being dispatched, too. Carlos fleetly wonders if the 126 will be called to the scene, but he knows he won’t be seeing TK since it’s the paramedic’s day off.

It’s difficult when one of them is working and the other is off; at least if they were both working, there are always chances of them meeting on calls, and if they were both off, well, those days were spent in utter happiness together, either spent in or out, it didn’t matter as long as they were spent together. They make it work, however, spending as much time together before one of them goes to work and then at night, cuddling on the couch or in bed, safe in each other’s arms after a long day.

Carlos hopes the accident isn’t as grave as he’s imagining but his gut is telling him otherwise. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes there’s a big possibility he might be late for the home dinner date he and TK had planned. TK had said he had a surprise for Carlos, and was clearly super excited about it. Carlos was looking forward to it and now…

Carlos’s gut is proven right when they round the corner and he catches sight of the crash from a few blocks away. Dread sets in his stomach the closer they get to the scene, other police cruisers pulling up at the same time.

He might need to tell TK that his shift may run long. He holds back at that, though, first wanting to get a full feel of how the rest of his shift will pan out.

Carlos parks and shares a concerned look with his partner before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. They hop out of the car and Carlos takes a quick survey of their surroundings, noticing that they had arrived at the scene before fire and medical.

Carlos starts moving towards where the accident is the worst, and well, it’s bad. Four cars seem to have harshly rear ended each other, the crushed metal an indication of how sudden and quick it had happened. He can’t really tell one car from the other, all of them mangled together in a way that tells Carlos there are definitely more than a few injuries sustained to the people who were in these cars.

He doesn’t have much time to draw any more conclusions because he’s frantically being flagged down by a man around his own age, who seems unharmed. Bystander, Carlos’s mind supplies.

Carlos jogs over as the man takes a few steps towards him and starts speaking.

“He’s stuck,” the man starts, leading Carlos to one of the cars, or what’s left of one, in the middle of the wreck. “The door on one side popped open from the force of the crash but the guy inside can’t move. And we didn’t want to move him. He’s on the opposite side of the backseat and he’s in rough shape, seems to be going in and out of consciousness.”

Carlos swallows and follows him, whoever this man is, Carlos is going to do everything he can to help him until fire and medical arrive.

“It’s good you didn’t move him, that might have caused more damage,” Carlos tells him, his legs moving quickly.

The closer he gets, the more Carlos is hit with a sense of familiarity towards the injured man. He frowns, his heart starting to race in his chest as he zeroes in on the figure slumped in the backseat.

And that side profile, Carlos can draw it with his eyes closed.

He freezes when the realization dawns on him. His legs stop moving, his feet nailed to the asphalt. It feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest while his eyes go impossibly wide.

TK.

And no, no, no. It can’t be TK. He was just texting him less than twenty minutes ago. He’s worried his brain is playing a cruel trick on him, conjuring up this nightmare. Carlos shakes his head, earning himself a confused look from the man leading him, who has also stopped moving.

But Carlos doesn’t spare him a glance, his attention solely held by the man in the crushed car. And when said man weakly opens his eyes and they catch some light, Carlos knows beyond a doubt that this nightmare is in fact reality.

Those green eyes, even seeing them from the side and through an awkward angle, can only belong to the love of his life.

“No,” Carlos whispers as his heart plummets into his knees, his body heating up. “No, no,” he repeats and then his feet are finally moving again, and he’s running around another car, his eyes not leaving TK.

He briefly registers the man’s growing confusion but he just rushes past him, no time for explanation, the only thing mattering to him is getting to TK. Saving TK.

He only slows down when he’s right by TK’s side, with only the smashed door separating them. The window is shattered, the ground littered with broken pieces of glass that crunch underneath Carlos’s boots.

TK’s eyes have closed again, but Carlos can see his chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath he sucks in.

“TK?” Carlos speaks, the rest of the accident fading away. The movement around is in slow motion, sounds muted, the world narrowing to just him and TK. “TK, can you hear me?”

Carlos can’t even hear his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears, but by the way TK tilts his head an inch towards him, he heard him.

A beat. And then: “‘Los…”

Carlos lets out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he was holding, his shoulders sagging forward a little. “Hey, babe. I’m here, I’m here.”

Carlos runs his eyes over TK, and his heart breaks a little more at the bloody state the paramedic is in.

“I’m stuck,” TK wheezes. “Can’t move.”

“We’ll get you out, just hang on. Help is on the way,” Carlos replies, hoping his voice is steadier than it sounds to his own ears. He then turns his attention to the older man in the front seat. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the man nods. “I’m fine, nothing hurts too bad. The hit was harder from the back.”

Carlos’s fear increases at that piece of information. “You let me know if your pain changes,” he tells him before his attention is back on TK. “TK, can you tell me what hurts?”

“Head, chest…and side,” TK replies through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes as a wave of pain shocks his nerves, running through his battered body. Everything feels like it’s on fire, every breath he tries to draw in hurts, and he’s tired, he’s so tired.

But he isn’t alone anymore, Carlos is here now. TK is aware that his odds aren’t good, based on his years of work experience, but he finds himself not panicking at that thought as much anymore. Because Carlos is right here. He would even go as far as saying he feels a little calm now, but what he can’t answer is whether that is due to shock or Carlos’s presence. TK decides to believe it’s courtesy of the latter. Because shock would be very bad.

He isn’t aware his eyes have drifted shut until the officer’s voice filters through, telling him to open them and TK manages to peel his eyelids open and faces Carlos’s worried gaze.

“Stay with me,” Carlos pleads, those brown eyes that TK loves so much filled to the brim with terror. “Don’t close your eyes, look at me. Focus on me.”

TK obliges. He loves looking at Carlos, loves running his hands over his face, his cheekbones, feeling Carlos smile against his touch. TK wants to reach out, to smooth out the worry engraved on Carlos’s forehead, in the creases that sit above his eyebrows, but he can’t move a muscle. He wants to reassure Carlos that he’s okay, but not only does he momentarily lose his voice, he also doesn’t know how true his statement would be. Because he’s now suddenly very much aware of the amount of blood running down his side, sticky and hot. The side glued to the crushed door.

He groans, feeling the panic start to rise again. Being stuck was already bad enough, but being stuck while also bleeding is far worse that TK doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Hey, hey,” Carlos’s voice returns. “Focus on me, it’s okay. I know it’s scary, but I’m right here.”

“Carlos,” TK cries out, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Carlos, very carefully, reaches his arm through the busted window, and with just as much caution, cups TK’s face and wipes the stray tear with the pad of his thumb. He’s aware of everything all at once, the way his hand shook as he moved it towards TK, how clammy TK’s skin feels, the beads of sweat rolling down his own neck and back.

“I’m right here.”

TK sniffs and nods as he leans into Carlos’s touch. It’s warm, and TK gravitates towards that warmth. The warmth that has become his home.

Carlos begins cataloging TK’s injuries: a cut near his temple that looks deep enough to need stitches, possible concussion, chest pain can be a result of the seatbelt tightening when the crash happened, but he can’t assess how badly TK’s side is hurt from his current position.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, though, because TK is speaking a few moments later.

“My side…it’s bleeding…” TK murmurs once he’s gathered his voice, his mind suppling that he needs to tell Carlos. “I think it’s bad.”

The small amount of color remaining in Carlos’s face drains at TK’s words, his heart dropping further and it feels like he’s been drenched with a bucket of ice water. His mind freezes for a second before he’s shaking himself out of it. He needs to act, and quick.

“Can you reach it and apply pressure?” Carlos asks. “Easy though, slow movements.”

TK attempts to move his arm towards the injury but quickly grimaces and drops his arm.

“No,” TK’s voice shakes, the slight movement exhausting him further. “Hurts.”

“Shit,” Carlos’s own panic starts taking hold, evident in the way his hands start to shake again. They have to slow the bleeding if TK has any chance of making it out of this nightmare.

Then Carlos remembers that the other door is practically already ripped off the car. Making up his mind, he gives TK’s hand a squeeze and rushes to the other side of the car.

“Hang on, TK, I’m coming,” Carlos says as he quickly assesses the area where the door was once attached to the car.

It looks stable enough and the car isn’t tilted to either side or unbalanced, so Carlos carefully climbs in and pauses to see if his added weight caused any shift. Once there’s no evidence of that, he moves closer to TK, their thighs side by side.

Carlos reaches around TK with his left arm, eyes glued to his middle and surely enough, TK’s t-shirt is stained with blood. The officer has to swallow against his dry throat at the sight, there’s so much blood already and TK is looking paler by the second.

Carlos’s hand finds its target, and his fingers brush against the tip of the metal lodged into TK’s side. He feels sick to his stomach as he begins to apply as much pressure as he could without causing further damage or sinking the metal deeper into TK’s flesh.

TK whines at the pain jolting through his body, waking him up a little as he squeezing his eyes shut, more tears run freely down his face.

“I know, I know,” Carlos speaks, his tone apologetic.

TK’s eyes start to droop, the momentary adrenaline already wearing off and his head falls backwards against the headrest.

“No, no, TK,” Carlos eyes go wide, his voice strained. “Keep your eyes open, stay with me.”

“Carlos…” TK whispers.

“Right beside you, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re his fiancé,” the older man’s voice reaches Carlos’s ears from the front seat.

Carlos turns to face him with a questioning look, his eyes drawing together at the statement.

“He was,” the driver pauses to breathe. “He was talking about you before the crash.”

Carlos sucks in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “Yeah,” he turns back to look at TK. “He’s the love of my life.”

TK is still clinging to consciousness and Carlos receives a small smile from him at his declaration.

“That’s it, baby. Stay with me,” Carlos pleads once more, closing his eyes and gently resting his forehead against TK’s uninjured temple, melting into him.

He keeps a steady hold on TK’s side, and senses TK weakly gravitating towards him even more, Carlos his lifeline. TK uses all his remaining energy to reach out into the small distance and latches his hand onto Carlos’s arm, wrapping his fingers there.

“I got you, Ty, I got you.”

A few moments later, the air around them fills with the roaring of sirens, getting closer and closer.

“Hear that, TK? Help is here,” Carlos says, instilling hope with every word.

He turns his head in the direction of the incoming fire trucks and ambulances, watching as red and blue color everything around. His eyes immediately find the bold 126 painted on the truck that comes to a halt on the edge of the crash site.

“Hey!” Carlos calls out for the young man who lead him here. “Direct them this way!” He nudges his head towards the team who are disembarking from the truck.

The man nods and starts running towards the firefighters.

“Hang on, TK, hang on,” Carlos whispers.

He looks back into the open and relaxes just a fraction when he spots Judd on the man’s heels, jogging towards him.

Carlos can pinpoint the moment Judd realizes who he’s moving towards, the firefighter’s eyebrow raising a little.

“Reyes?” Judd calls out before he’s reached the car.

“Judd, it’s TK,” Carlos wastes no time in responding.

Those three words have Judd’s eyes going wide, his speed picking up and he runs the remaining distance to the car, coming to a stop on the side TK’s jammed.

“He’s stuck and bleeding badly,” Carlos continues, looking past TK and at Judd through the broken window.

“Shit,” Judd mutters and then louder, in the direction of the rig: “Tommy! Nancy!”

Judd’s eyes roam over TK’s ashen face, the younger man’s eyes barely opened.

“Hey, brother,” Judd speaks, his voice carrying its natural strength but also soft and filled with concern. “You’re gonna be alright, just hang on.”

He gets a half-nod from TK in reply.

Tommy and Nancy approach the car, each of them clutching their equipment and medical bags, ready to get to work.

“It’s TK,” Judd tells them when they’re by his side. They both pause midair as they’re lowering the bags, their eyes going equally wide as they process Judd’s words.

Carlos can see the worry flash over their faces and they share a quick look of concern before they both switch back into paramedic mode. He knows what they’re thinking, that they have to be at the top of their game. TK is family, and he can feel their fear and pain, but they need to focus so they can save TK.

They both meet Carlos’s worried eyes before getting to work.

“Hey, TK,” Tommy gets closer to the crushed door, gloves on and clicks her pen light. Her voice is calm and gentle, her motherly tone helps even Carlos relax a little.

“Cap…” TK whispers.

“Follow the light, TK.”

She shines the pen into TK’s glassy eyes, his pupils responding to the light as they should, albeit a little weaker than she’d like.

“Talk to me, Carlos,” Tommy says while her attention is solely focused on TK. “Tell me everything.”

“He said his head, chest and side hurt, his side is bleeding badly. I have pressure on it and I can feel a piece of metal stuck in there,” he swallows, feeling the blood seeping through his fingers. “The bleeding slowed down a little but he’s already lost so much blood.”

Tommy nods, accepting the c-collar from Nancy and carefully placing it around TK’s neck to stabilize him.

Judd looks up when he hears the rest of the crew approaching, and after a brief glance with Carlos, Judd moves in their direction, seeking out Owen.

“Cap,” Judd shields Owen’s view of the wrecked car.

Owen frowns, but immediately sees through Judd’s worried eyes. “What is it?”

Judd takes a deep breath. He has always been a straightforward guy, he won’t start beating around the bush now. “It’s TK, he’s in that car.”

Carlos’s heart breaks even more at the gasp he hears from Owen, followed by rapid footsteps pounding the gravel as the captain rushes over.

He’s at the car from Carlos’s side and looking past his shoulder a few moments later, Owen’s eyes blown wide as they move from his son to his soon to be son-in-law.

“Carlos.”

“His side is bleeding,” Carlos tells Owen, more tears gathering in his eyes. “He couldn’t reach it to apply pressure and I had to do something.”

Owen nods, his eyes going back to TK, who’s barely moving. “It’s gonna be okay, son. You’re gonna be okay. We’re here.”

TK slowly opens his eyes the rest of the way and looks in Owen’s direction through his blurry vision. He tries to send a wordless message to his father and fiancé of I’m okay.

Owen gives him a smile, but it’s shakier than he intended.

“Here,” Tommy’s voice grabs their attention. She hands Carlos a large piece of gauze as Nancy moves to the front to check the driver.

Carlos begins to move, and TK instantly whimpers and tries to keep his already weak hold on the other man.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, TK,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He maneuvers his free arm to take the piece of cotton and swiftly lifts his bloodied palm to cover TK’s wound with the gauze and returns the pressure there.

The team has gathered what was happening and crowd the car, Carlos is vaguely aware of Judd telling them they’ve got TK and they should go around the rest of the scene to help.

And then Judd is back, evaluating the situation and weighing their options.

“His breathing is getting worse,” Carlos announces with fright as TK’s hold on him starts to falter. “We need to get him out now.”

“The driver is doing okay, Cap,” Nancy chimes in. “Alert and his numbers are holding.”

Tommy nods. “We get TK out first. Carlos, is the metal connected to the door or is it separated?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Separated.”

“That’s good, makes busting the door open easier,” Judd nods.

“Judd, grab the—” Owen begins.

“Jaws, got them,” Judd finishes for Owen before running in the direction of their truck.

He returns less than a minute later, but it feels like forever for Carlos and Owen as they watch TK struggle to hold on.

“Come on, come on,” Owen whispers, his eyes not leaving his son’s battered form as Judd returns, pushes the piece of equipment into the mangled metal and starts to tear it apart.

Tommy and Nancy get the backboard ready in the meantime, ready to move as soon as it’s clear. A lot of movement erupts when the door is finally ripped open. Judd lowers the jaws to the ground, quickly reaching for the cutters he had also retrieved and cuts the seatbelt off TK. It takes Carlos’s brain a second to catch up with all the action and then his eyes land on Owen now standing on the other side behind Judd as both men make room for Tommy and Nancy.

They carefully place the tip of the backboard against the backseat cushion and Nancy and Judd carefully take hold of TK’s shoulders, moving him sideways and then guiding him to lie on the board. Carlos goes with them, the pressure he’s applying constant and he only lets go once he’s certain Nancy’s taking over, her hand firmly covering his.

He pulls back and watches as Judd and Owen carry TK over to the gurney. He wastes no time in getting out of the car himself, darting to TK’s side.

Once TK is out, Judd starts working on extracting the driver.

Tommy and Nancy work in unison, the Paramedic Captain covering TK’s face with an oxygen mask while Nancy inserts an IV in his arm and runs a line. Carlos then notices that Owen is applying pressure to TK’s side with one hand while the other runs through TK’s hair.

Carlos takes TK’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Let’s move,” Tommy instructs a moment later.

Nancy takes over holding pressure as they push the gurney towards the ambulance, Carlos and Owen trailing behind.

“Carlos?”

Carlos turns at his partner’s voice, coming from a few feet away.

Mitchell is about to ask where he’s been but her eyes go wide instead when they land on TK lying on the gurney.

“I have to—”

She’s nodding before Carlos finishes his sentence. “Go, I’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you,” Carlos gives her the best grateful smile he could muster before hopping in after TK and Tommy.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Owen says once TK is inside the rig.

Carlos nods, taking a seat on the small bench.

Nancy shuts the doors and races to the driver’s seat, climbing in and the sirens wail as they start to move.

Owen watches the ambulance drive away, the hot pit in his stomach growing with each passing second.

Carlos and Tommy don’t exchange words, each of them focusing on TK. Tommy is monitoring his vitals, giving him fluids and administering a local nerve blocker to help with the pain.

Carlos clutches TK’s free hand with both of his own, closing his eyes and willing his racing heart to slow down a beat. He works on his breathing, steading his rhythm but he can’t help the stray tear that falls when he opens his eyes and looks at TK.

Carlos’s chest is in knots, his heart in pieces, TK is too still, too pale.

It’s almost like TK feels his fiancé’s anguish and pain, and on some level, he does because he’s weakly turning in Carlos’s direction. It’s always been a thing TK and Carlos talk about—the way they sense each other and what the other needs and this moment is yet another one to prove that connection true.

“It’s okay, ‘Los,” TK manages, his voice frail and muffled even more by the oxygen mask.

Carlos sniffs, moving closer to TK so he’s in his line of sight and nods. “Yeah, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I love you,” TK whispers.

“I love you too, baby,” Carlos reciprocates. “Hold on.”

TK nods, a promise Carlos clings onto with everything he’s got. And he prays today isn’t the day he loses TK.

They’ve only just begun.

*****

It’s a short but tense ride to the hospital.

Tommy had examined TK’s chest and Carlos’s assumption that it was the seatbelt that hurt him is proven right by the massive red bruise already formed down the paramedic’s torso. Carlos had drawn in a sharp breath at seeing it, heartbroken that TK has been injured to that extent. Tommy had also told Carlos that TK may have also suffered a bruised lung from the force of the seatbelt against his chest.

A team is already awaiting their arrival, tearing the ambulance doors open as soon as it comes to a halt in front of the Emergency Room entrance. Tommy relays all the information as they push TK inside and through the hallways. They reach a point where Tommy, Carlos and Nancy can’t follow and Carlos has to reluctantly let go of his tight hold on TK’s hand.

His heart shatters as he watches the doctors and nurses wheel TK away, feeling like he’s been ripped away from him.

He stands there for what seems like hours, watching the hallway long after TK was pushed into the elevator, Carlos’s eyes fixed on its closed doors. He feels a hand land on his shoulder, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Come on, Carlos,” Tommy’s soft voice reaches him.

Carlos lets her lead him towards the waiting area and he drops into one of the plastic chairs, hating how familiar they have become.

He shakes his head then drops it slightly and only looks up when a few wet wipes are in his line of sight.

He gratefully accepts them but doesn’t move for a few moments after. His gaze is focused on his own hands, his hands that are covered with TK’s blood. And his ring, his ring is coated in crimson, nearly obscuring the silver underneath and it makes his stomach churn in an unnatural way.

Carlos closes his eyes, going back to the day TK had slid this ring onto his finger, to the joy and contentment they had both felt, they way they basked in each other’s love when Carlos had said yes. A tear rolls down the officer’s cheek, one he doesn’t bother wiping away. He sniffs, opening his eyes and begins cleaning his hands.

Once the evidence of TK’s accident and injury is transferred to the wipes, Nancy takes them from Carlos’s hold and throws them away before sitting down, too.

The silence stretches, the feel and sound of the hospital nearly haunting. Owen’s arrival breaks it, Carlos looking up when he hears his name being called from afar.

“Carlos,” Owen’s eyes are wide and movement quick.

“Owen,” Carlos gets to his feet in time for the Captain to throw his arms around him in a hug, which Carlos returns.

Owen gives Carlos a squeeze before pulling back. “Did they say anything?”

Carlos shakes his head. “They took his straight up, didn’t say much of anything.”

Owen nods and sits on the chair next to Carlos’s as he too returns to it.

Tommy and Nancy’s radios spring to life a little bit later, and they reluctantly leave, promising to be back as soon as they can.

Carlos starts rolling his ringer over his finger, a gesture he does when he’s nervous or anxious. TK would always notice, and he’d reach out, taking Carlos’s hand and holds it tightly; a silent promise that he isn’t alone, and that TK’s got him. Carlos would give anything to feel TK’s tender touch.

He notices that his ring is still speckled with blood.

“I’ll be right back,” Carlos says as he rises from his place. “Just going to the bathroom.”

Owen nods. “Take your time.”

Carlos follows the signs to the nearest bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror as he gets closer to the sinks. The bathroom is empty, his boots echoing in the space, his eyes not leaving his exhausted reflection staring back at him. All the color has been drained from his face, his eyes a stark red against his pale skin and his usually neat curls are out of place. His eyes drift lower until they stop at his waist where there’s a large, dark stain. His uniform is stained with TK’s blood.

He swallows as he turns on the faucet and lets the water run down at the coldest temperature before sticking his hands under it and working the remaining traces of blood off his ring. He momentarily relishes the cool sensation against his skin, but he soon breaks watching the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain.

It feels like TK is getting further and further away from him as each second passes by. He feels like he’s losing TK.

Helplessness settles in his bones, barely turning off the water and he grips the marble to support himself as his entire body starts to shake with the force of his oncoming sobs. A cry rips through his throat and he tightens his hold on the marble, afraid that his knees will no longer hold him up and he’ll crumble to the ground if he lets go.

He feels the fear crawling underneath his skin, the terror ringing through his whole being, the longing, the pain…it all washes over him at the same time, and he almost collapses from the weight of it. But he holds on. TK needs him to hold on. So he draws in a deep breath, stands up straight and splashes icy water over his face a few times.

Carlos returns to the waiting area with swollen eyes and Owen runs a hand up and down his back once he’s seated next to him once again, patting his shoulder before pulling back.

“We…we were planning on going over to my parents’ for dinner this weekend,” Carlos’s shaky voice slices through the silence that settles over them. “Our schedules lined up and TK was so excited. He,” he pauses, a small smile forming on his face. “He was saying how we should bake something to take to dinner. Chocolate chip cookies. They’re his go-to when it comes to baking,” he trails off, his hands connecting and he starts nervously fidgeting, rubbing his hands together. “Chocolate chip cookies,” he whispers.

“They were always his favorite kind of cookies when he was a kid,” Owen says.

Carlos turns to look at Owen, his features broken and eyes filled with fragments of loss and aching. “He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be. He…has to be okay.”

“He’s strong, and he’s in the best of hands. He’s going to fight to come back to us, to come back to you, Carlos. The happiest I’ve ever seen my son was when he was with you, even in the beginning, when you were still figuring things out, there was something different about him, I could see it, I could feel it. He seemed lighter, brighter. His eyes lit up. I didn’t want to pry or push to know more, but when I saw you together, I knew. You were the missing piece he needed, you helped make him better, stronger. He’s going to come back to that.”

“It was the same with me. He saved me, in so many ways,” Carlos expresses.

“You saved each other,” Owen replies with a smile, giving Carlos’s knee a squeeze.

Carlos and Owen move to the waiting room on the surgical floor a little while later. Owen sits down on an identical plastic chair while Carlos paces around the room.

He stops when he looks out into the hallway and sees the rest of the team making their way towards them, all wearing the same concerned look on their faces.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Judd says as they step inside.

“Have you heard anything yet?” Marjan asks, her eyebrows drawn together.

Owen shakes his head. “He’s been in surgery for almost two hours.”

“He’s a strong kid, he’ll make it through,” Judd speaks with a steady voice.

“I should go call my mom, let her know what happened,” Carlos starts walking towards the door.

Paul pats Carlos’s shoulder as he passes him, and Carlos responds with an appreciative nod.

Carlos’s short trip to go outside is a haze, moving robotically until he’s stepping into the open air, the sun still high in the sky. It’s hot, Carlos closes his eyes and tilts his head up in the direction of the sun, letting its warmth seep into his skin. He takes a deep breath as he opens his eyes, pulls out his phone and he notices a few texts from Mitchell. He makes a mental note to reply later and moves to the phone icon, touching his mother’s contact from his favorites list.

One ring, two rings, three rings…

“Carlitos!”

“Mami…”

Andrea immediately picks up on his broken tone. “What’s wrong, mijo?”

“It’s…There was an accident…a car pile up downtown and…TK, he…he was in it,” Carlos’s voice cracks.

“Oh, Dios,” Andrea draws in a sharp breath. “How is he?” She asks and Carlos can hear rustling and movement in the background now.

“He…he lost a lot of blood, Ma. He was stuck in the car and his side was hurt…they took him straight to surgery and we haven’t heard anything yet,” Carlos sniffs.

“Where are you? I’m on my way,” Andrea says.

Carlos can hear the emotion in his mother’s voice and he knows she’s trying to keep her worry and fear for TK from breaking through the phone. She’s always been Carlos’s rock, strong and steady, and he can tell by her tone that she’s keeping it together for him. Still, though, he can hear the slight waver in her voice at the knowledge that her soon to be son-in-law is badly injured, currently undergoing surgery.

Since the moment TK was officially introduced to Carlos’s parents, they welcomed him into their family with wide, open arms. They had immediately liked him and adored him, Andrea happily whispering it into Carlos’s ear at the end of that very night. They saw the love between him and their son, and it had uplifted Andrea and Gabriel’s spirits and filled their own hears with so much love and glee.

And when Carlos had called them one night, voice filled with bliss and excitement, telling them that TK had proposed to him, Andrea and Gabriel wept tears of joy.

Knowing how much Andrea loves TK, telling her that he was hurt is one of the hardest things Carlos has ever had to do.

“We’re at West Park Memorial,” Carlos replies.

With a promise from Andrea to be there shortly, they end the call. He returns to the waiting room a few minutes later, everyone’s eyes landing on him. Carlos feels shrunk, his shoulders drawn in, his body feeling so heavy.

“She’s on her way,” he says before turning to stare into the direction of the operating rooms.

“No news yet,” it’s Judd who speaks next, reading Carlos’s mind.

Carlos nods and returns to his seat next to Owen.

Silence falls onto the room, everyone doing little things to keep themselves busy. Mateo praying, Marjan and Paul standing and pacing, Judd grabbing a couch pillow and holding it against his chest, Owen’s head is thrown back against the wall with his eyes closed and Carlos’s leg starts bouncing up and down while he fidgets with his hands. His fingers gravitate towards his ring, the one tangible piece of TK he has with him in this moment. Carlos always gravitates towards TK.

The team eventually get called away to a rescue with their promises too to return as soon as they can.

Carlos’s phone rings and a glance at his screen tells him it’s his mother.

“Ma,” Carlos answers.

“Hi, mijo. I’m walking in now, where are you?”

“We’re in the waiting room on the surgical floor,” Carlos tells her.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Carlos spots Andrea hurrying through the hall, handbag clutched against her side soon after they hang up.

“Carlitos,” Andrea breaths as she steps into the room.

Carlos walks over to her and falls against her as she wraps him in a tight hug.

“It’s okay, mijo. Va a estar bien,” she whispers reassuringly, holding him in a steady grip. It’s going to be okay.

Carlos returns the embrace, burying his face in his mother’s neck, more tears spring to his eyes at being held by his mother and feeling her safety and comfort.

There’s a considerable height difference between Carlos and Andrea, but right now, Carlos may as well be a little boy and she a giant. Her protective hold on him is steady and grounding.

Once they pull back, Andrea cups Carlos’s face and wipes the fallen tears with the pads of her thumbs.

“Any news?”

Carlos shakes his head.

Andrea walks over to Owen, who gets up and they exchange a quick hug.

“He’s going to be fine,” Andrea says as she takes a seat next to her son.

Carlos nods, his eyes drifting back to his ring.

“There was a missing ingredient,” Andrea says after a while.

Carlos frowns as he turns to look at her.

“I was talking to him this morning, I sent him the family recipe for tamales,” she explains. “He wanted to surprise you but there was one missing thing.”

“Our dinner date tonight…that’s why he was out, he was going to the store,” Carlos connects the dots, eyes filling with tears.

Andrea nods.

“That was his surprise,” the realization dawns on Carlos. “He knows tamales are my favorite,” a small smile forms on his face.

Andrea places her palm on the nape of Carlos’s neck and pulls him gently towards her. He goes easily and rests his forehead against her shoulder. She whispers comforting words in Spanish as she runs her fingers over Carlos’s short hair just above his neck. He closes his eyes, evening out his breathing as he soaks up his mother’s comfort.

*****

Carlos is staring into nothingness almost an hour later, his eyes glued to to the hallway but unseeing. His mind on TK, all figures that pass through and walk the hallway blurred. Until one doctor is walking towards the waiting room, his form getting clearer and clearer as Carlos forces his vision to focus on him.

The doctor is visibly tired, his face crunched up, still wearing his surgical cap as he enters the room. Carlos can’t read him, and that worries him even more. He braces himself, swallowing as the doctor starts speaking.

“Family of Tyler Strand?”

“TK,” Owen corrects as he gets to his feet. “How’s my son?”

Carlos and Andrea follow suit, the tension building in the small space.

The doctor nods at Owen. “TK made it through,” he offers them a kind smile.

The collective breath Owen, Carlos and Andrea were holding is released as they breathe out a sigh of relief. Carlos closes his eyes, letting the doctor’s words sink in, sagging forward a little. He feels Andrea’s hand running up and down his back, grounding him and he leans into her warm touch.

“There were some complications, however,” the doctor continues. “We were mostly concerned about the amount of blood he lost, which caused his blood pressure to drop. His numbers were low during the surgery but we were able to keep him stable and with some blood transfusions, his blood pressure began to improve. The metal shard nicked his kidney but it didn’t cause major damage, we were also able to repair the laceration. Brain scans were all normal, indicating no brain injury. His chest is bruised and he has a minor lung contusion from the force of the seatbelt, but that will heal on its own. He’s young and healthy, I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“Can we see him?” Andrea asks, knowing it’s on Carlos’s mind and also knowing Carlos is still processing the doctor’s prognosis.

The doctor nods. “He’s currently in recovery and he can have visitors once he’s settled in a room after some observation. I’ll make sure a nurse comes to inform you when he’s ready.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” Owen extends his hand.

The doctor nods once more, shaking Owen’s hand. “He’ll be home in no time.”

Carlos is rolling his ring on his finger and nervously bouncing his leg a while later when a young nurse approaches them.

“TK is ready for visitors,” she announces with a smile.

Owen turns to look at Carlos. “Go,” he urges.

“Are you sure?” Carlos asks.

Owen nods. “I’m sure, I’ll stop by to see him in a while.”

Owen pats Carlos’s shoulder as the officer gets to his feet and follows the nurse towards TK’s room.

“I’ll be back in an hour to check on him,” the nurse says as they come to a halt in front of a closed door. “The nurses’ station is down the hall if you need anything, or you can just press the call button near the bed.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

He knew what to expect, he knew what his eyes would land on once he stepped into the room but still, seeing TK looking so small and still in the hospital bed shakes Carlos to his core.

An ache bolts up and down his body as he makes his way towards TK, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the only sound aside from the beeping of the heart monitor. He doesn’t take his eyes off his fiancé as he lowers himself on the chair situated next to the bed, watching as the paramedic’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes.

Carlos is at least glad to see that TK has regained some color but it’s the stillness that also makes the officer uneasy. TK is always active, even when he’s asleep, twisting and turning in bed every now and then. Carlos would say he’s a light sleeper, he loved when TK started spending the night in the early days of their relationship. Though TK’s restlessness would sometimes wake Carlos from his slumber, he’d wrap an arm around TK’s middle and drift off to sleep again only for it to happen again a few hours later. Carlos never minded that, though, he’d be woken up by many things over the years, and being woken up by TK’s movement is by far his favorite.

Eventually, those movements from the younger man through the night had become a source of comfort for Carlos over the months, a reminder that TK is right next to him, in his bed. It grounded Carlos, and a sleepy smile would spread over his face as he gravitates towards those movements, warmth spreading through his body.

But here, right now, Carlos shivers, an icy sensation darting through his nerves. TK’s stillness is wrong, all wrong and so unlike TK is breaks Carlos’s heart all over again.

Carefully, Carlos reaches out, clasping TK’s hand in his own and prays that he can feel the familiar pressure.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos eventually speaks, his voice hoarser than he expected. “I’m here and you’re okay. They took really good care of you and you’ll be back on your feet in no time. I just…I miss you, Ty.”

The only response Carlos gets is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

He sighs, running his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “I miss your voice, your smile, those beautiful green eyes of yours…your kiss. Come back to me, babe. This is only our beginning, we still have so much to do together. And I’ll be right here, right by your side, always. I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos vows.

Some time later, Carlos is so focused on TK and watching him, he doesn’t hear the knock on the door or it being pushed open until he senses another presence in the room.

He turns to see Owen stepping in, and stops by the foot of the bed.

“He looks better,” the Captain says, his eyes glued to his son.

Carlos nods, and continues running his fingers through TK’s hair.

“Your mom is heading to your place to pack a bag for you and TK,” Owen adds after a few moments. “She said to tell you to call or text her if there’s anything in specific you’d like her to get. And she’s also getting you some food.”

Carlos nods again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat, though.”

Owen’s eyes soften. “I know, but you have to keep your strength up. He’s going to need you when he wakes up. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of him.”

Carlos knows Owen is right, so he doesn’t argue. “Thank you,” he tells Owen.

“Thank you,” Owen reciprocates. “You saved his life.”

“Part of me hopes I could have done more, I felt so helpless just…I wish I could have done more,” Carlos drops his head.

“Hey, Carlos,” Owen walks over so he’s behind the officer. He places a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and gives him a supportive squeeze. “You did everything you could, I know you did. I’ve seen so many accidents to know that in that pile up today, TK’s chances were…” he trails off, shaking his head. “His chances weren’t good. If it wasn’t for you, TK wouldn’t be here right now.”

The mere thought of that brings tears to Carlos’s eyes. “A guy flagged me down and…I followed him and then I realized it was TK and…my whole world stopped.”

Owen nods. “I hate that you had to go through that but…part of me is glad it was you who got to him. Because I know you would have done, and did do, everything you can to keep him alive. You climbed into the wrecked car, and that says everything.”

Carlos moves his hand to cup TK’s face, lightly tracing his cheekbone with the tip of his thumb. “I would do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

A moment of silence washes over them as Owen dips his hand into his pocket and pulls it out, fist closed before opening his palm in front of Carlos.

“Here,” Owen says.

Carlos looks down into Owen’s open hand and a tear rolls down his cheek when he sees TK’s ring there.

“The nurse gave me his stuff after she lead you here. I thought you should hold on to it for him,” Owen explains.

Carlos sniffs, reaches out and takes the ring. He secures it in a fist and brings his hand over his heart, holding it there before leaning forward and brushing a kiss to TK’s temple.

*****

Owen stays until Andrea is knocking on the door, walking into a room carrying a duffel bag and a brown paper bag. The delicious smell immediately hits Carlos and his stomach rumbles. His mother must have heard it because she gives him a knowing smile.

Owen excuses himself a few minutes later, making Carlos promise to call if anything changes. With one final glance at his son, Owen leaves.

Carlos settles on the small table in the corner of the room as he unwraps the food his mom brought him. Andrea stands near the bed and plants a tender kiss to TK’s forehead then sits in the chair previously occupied by Carlos.

Carlos watches the sweet exchange and feels his heart flutter in his chest at the sight. It’s such a simple gesture but it speaks volumes of the way Andrea had come to love TK and happily welcome him into the family. Carlos had witnessed TK and Andrea growing closer and closer over the course of their relationship and it had made him happier than words could express. He’d smile, his heart soaring as he watched them in conversation or watched TK help Andrea in the kitchen, talking about anything and everything, while preparing dinner together at the Reyes ranch.

There’s pain and sadness in his heart at seeing Andrea sit next to TK’s hospital bed. And even more when he hears his mother’s broken whisper of oh, amor, as her eyes roam over TK’s battered face and he can tell she’s imagining the layers of bandages hidden underneath his gown.

Carlos can tell she’s struggling, trying to remain strong for both him and TK. Because not only is Andrea’s Carlos’s rock and support, but she is also TK’s.

“It’s okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her. There’s so many layers to those three words, and she catches on to each and every one.

She gives him a small, sad smile, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Your dad sends his love, and he said he’ll be by to visit TK soon, once he’s awake and strong,” Andrea says a little while later, after Carlos had finished eating, freshened up, changed into sweats and a hoodie, and returned to TK’s side.

She was about to get up to vacate his seat then, but Carlos shook his head and gestured for her to remain seated there. He dropped into the chair on the other side of the bed, the one Owen had grabbed from near the wall and had been sitting in.

Visiting hours were coming to an end and Andrea was getting ready to leave. With a gentle pat to TK’s cheek, she gets to her feet and clutches her handbag, Carlos following her.

“Carlitos,” she starts but Carlos is quickly shaking his head, knowing what she’s going to say.

“I can’t leave him,” he answers.

Andrea sighs. “It’s going to be busy in here tonight, they’ll be checking on TK every couple of hours and you need to rest, too.”

“I know, but I won’t be able to sleep if I do go home either. I’ll stay wide awake, worrying and wondering and going back home now, going back to our bed, without him or without knowing he’s really okay…I can’t. At least staying, I can grab an hour here and there when they aren’t checking on him.”

Andrea nods after a moment. She knew deep down that Carlos would stay, hence the bag she had packed. She’s cupping Carlos’s face, caressing his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

He goes easily, wrapping his arms around his mother and returning the hug. Her strong hold on him gives him strength himself, almost transferring some of hers to him and he soaks it all up.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Andrea whispers, kissing Carlos’s cheek as they separate.

Carlos nods.

“I love you, mijo,” Andrea expresses. “I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Ma.”

After a similar promise to Andrea like the one made to Owen, she leaves, grabbing the bag sitting next to the door containing Carlos’s bloodstained uniform on her way out.

Carlos returns to his original place next to the bed, his hand going back to TK’s.

“It’s just you and me now, babe.”

*****

It starts with one slow movement. It’s so slow Carlos would have probably missed it if he weren’t watching TK as closely as he is.

The sun has climbed high in the sky, the hours ticked by from the time Carlos had given up on sleep around dawn. It was a night filled with fitful and restless sleep, as he had expected and between the nurse checking on TK and Carlos’s own worry, the officer managed to get three hours of shuteye.

He couldn’t sleep past the moment light cracked through the darkness of the sky above, so he got up, running a hand through his loose curls and stretched his aching muscles. The sun slowly got higher and stronger, painting the sky in streaks of orange, yellow and red, the colors morphing together in a magical way. He watched the process through the thin curtain, getting lost in it for a few moments before directing his attention back to TK.

TK who still hadn’t woken up. Who hasn’t even stirred.

Carlos was awake during the nurse’s more recent visit and she had assured him that it was perfectly normal, that TK’s body still needed some rest and that TK is doing well. He thanked her, giving her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes followed by a nod when she mentioned there’s a coffee station just down the hall.

He feels TK’s ring sitting in his pocket, and he longs for the moment when he’ll able to slip it back on his finger, where it belongs.

He kept a positive attitude, repeating the nurse’s comforting words in his mind over and over, clinging to them as more minutes passed by with no indication from his fiancé of waking up.

“Come back to me, baby,” Carlos had whispered, giving TK’s hand a light squeeze.

He eventually left the room for a quick trip to the mentioned coffee station, and was back by TK’s side in a matter of minutes.

He kept himself occupied replying to texts he had received—from Mitchell, some of his other colleagues at the precinct, and most recently the 126 group chat, while keeping an eye on TK, as well.

The texts were all replied to and the coffee had long been consumed when the slow movement from the bed catches Carlos’s attention.

A small nudge of TK’s head to side, his eyes still closed. For a second, Carlos thinks his mind is playing a trick on him. But then it happens again, in the other direction and that has Carlos moving forward, heart picking up speed in his chest.

“TK?” Carlos calls. “TK, can you hear me?”

His heart is on its way to sinking from the lack of response from the paramedic, but instead flutters because TK is slowly opening his eyes and finding Carlos through the haze.

Carlos’s face breaks into a smile that does reach his eyes this time, said eyes also filling with tears at the sight of the green irises he has so terribly missed.

“Hi, baby, hi,” Carlos continues, his voice soft.

“‘Los,” TK breaths, his voice scratchy and low but it’s his voice and Carlos can almost weep at his nickname that only TK uses.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re okay,” Carlos reassures him. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Carlos’s hand moves to cup TK’s face, caressing his cheek and his heart sings when TK summons all the energy he can and leans into Carlos’s touch.

“Get some more rest, babe, I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos says when he notices TK drifting back to sleep.

Watching TK’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm now, TK’s ring in Carlos’s pocket feels lighter.

*****

The sun is getting lower when TK wakes up again. Andrea had passed by and joined Carlos for lunch a couple of hours before, Carlos feeling better and able to eat properly.

He was sitting in his usual spot on the chair next to the bed, mindlessly going through his phone and switching between apps when the same nudge of TK’s head pulls his attention, albeit it’s a little more frantic than the previous ones.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Carlos gets closer to TK, eyes on his face.

TK’s eyes are faster in opening this time, landing on Carlos and then looking around the room.

“Carlos?”

“Right here, I’m right here.”

“What…” TK’s eyebrows draw together, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Carlos takes hold of TK’s hand. “You were in an accident, you were hurt pretty bad but they took care of you and everything’s okay. Do you remember?”

TK nods after a second and swallows against his dry throat.

“Do you want some water?”

TK nods again.

Carlos grabs the plastic cup from the nightstand and guides the straw through TK’s parched lips. “Easy, slow sips.”

“How—how bad is it?” TK asks once he’s done drinking.

Carlos sighs as he returns the cup. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“Please…I…I need to know,” TK says with a low tone.

After a moment, Carlos nods. “You were stuck in the backseat, you had some cuts and scraps, a concussion, bruise from the seatbelt and…there was a piece of metal lodged in your side. You lost a lot of blood, and I tried to keep pressure as much as I could but I didn’t want to hurt you more and…” he sucks in a shaky breath.

TK uses his energy to squeeze Carlos’s hand, knowing where the officer’s mind is going, taking him back to the horrific accident scene. TK squeezes Carlos’s hand to ground him and bring him back to the present.

“Never in a million years had I expected to see you in that crash…I was actually thinking the opposite, that I won’t see you because it’s your day off. But then the universe flipped the table on me and there you were…” Carlos trails off and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you just woke up, this…this isn’t what you should be hearing.”

It’s TK’s turn to gently shake his head. “Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for. Whatever you need to let out, and everything you’re feeling and thinking…I’m here to listen, no matter what.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Carlos lowers his gaze.

“Look at me, baby, look at me. You can never overwhelm me…I know how tough this has been, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Carlos tightens his hold on TK’s hand. “I was…so scared. I felt so helpless and it felt like you were being ripped away from me. And for a moment you were, when they wheeled you away and it broke me, in that moment, I shattered,” the tears get heavier in his eyes and with a blink, a tear falls and streaks down his cheek.

TK’s own eyes well up at seeing the pain and heartbreak drawn on Carlos’s face and coating his voice, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

“I remember coming to after I blacked out from the initial crash and it was…terrifying. My mind hadn’t completely caught up with what happened and once it did, I was really scared,” TK sniffs. “I felt so alone. But you know what? When I saw you, well, at first I thought I was dreaming but then you reached out to me and touched me and it felt real, you felt real and warm and you were right there…I knew in my heart you were there and I wasn’t scared anymore. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I knew you would save me, like you did so many times before.”

More tears roll down Carlos’s cheeks at TK’s words.

“And you did. You saved me, ‘Los.”

Carlos lunges forward, taking TK’s face gently in his hands and plants a kiss on TK’s forehead.

“You saved me just as much,” Carlos whispers, looking into TK’s eyes where brown meets green, and there’s so much said without needing words, so much love communicated and felt. Carlos leans in, first touching their foreheads together and then brushing a tentative kiss to TK’s lips. And Carlos feels whole again.

“Also,” Carlos starts once he pulls back. “We’re definitely making those tamales once we’re back home.”

“You know?”

Carlos nods. “Ma told me. Missing one ingredient.”

“Yeah…I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I wanted to do something for you,” TK expresses.

“That means everything, TK. I just hate that you got hurt, I know neither of us could control what happened but still…I hate that it happened.”

TK nods. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

“You are,” Carlos drops a kiss to TK’s cheek this time. “And one more thing,” he adds, a hand digging into his pocket.

He opens his palm in front of TK to reveal his ring and TK looks up at him, eyes glistening.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Carlos holds out his free hand to TK.

TK carefully lifts his hand and gives it to Carlos.

He watches as Carlos slides the ring on his finger, the familiar weight of it a comfort. He closes his eyes when Carlos brushes a kiss to the ring now sitting where it belongs, relishing in the touch.

“I love you, Ty, now and forever.”

Carlos's eyes are so soft and filled with love and adoration, it makes TK's heart swell with just as much love. He smiles, knowing he's found a home in Carlos. And he knows with his whole being that Carlos has found one in him, too.

“I love you too, ‘Los, always.”

And when TK gives Carlos the smile that’s reserved for only him, Carlos knows in his heart that they’re going to be just fine.

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