#and hits three home runs in a ski mask

[janosglove]

“thats so cold… its still cold.” 4.2.24

[gothamite-rambler]

When caught in a hostage situation by wannabe twitch streamers and can't be Batman

Bruce Wayne attended the gala alone; nobody wanted to go with him, and now he found himself with a gun aimed at his head. It was just another Tuesday in Bruce's life. He knew there was nothing he could do except kneel on the ground and wait for his kids to rescue him.

Bruce (in his head): I should've stayed home; then I could've saved the day. But no, I had to show up! Damn it, the things I do to keep my identity separate from my hero life.

Bruce (out loud): Can you hurry this up? Some of us have places to be.

Lennie, the goon leader, wore a white, expressionless face mask that only added to the absurdity of the situation. He sucked his teeth, visibly annoyed at Bruce's indifference to having a gun pointed at his head. It was as if he were trying to put on a show of intimidation, but the lack of reaction from his hostage only served to frustrate him further.

Lennie: We’re almost done setting up the livestream, geez!

Bruce (sarcastically): Oh yes, let’s make sure the whole world sees a bunch of no-name thugs holding a fancy party hostage. That’s smart. Truly brilliant. You're a real trailblazer.

Lennie: Yeesh, you don’t gotta be rude.

Bruce (dryly): Am I being rude? I’m just trying to maintain my composure here while you’re aiming a gun at my head. A little nervousness is understandable, don’t you think?

As if to prove his point, Lennie raised the gun away from Bruce’s head in a moment of misplaced confidence.

Lennie: Please, I’m an expert shooter—

Just then, Lennie's finger slipped, and the gun went off, shooting across the room and hitting a statue, which promptly shattered—sending shards flying and making a woman at the party scream in terror.

Lennie (shouting): I told you to stop screaming!

Bruce glared at the man for a second, then turned back to staring ahead, internally counting the seconds ticking by like they were days as he waited for literally any of his children or even Kate to arrive to save him.

Lennie: All right, I’ll just hold the gun at my side and grip the back of your neck. Don’t do anything stupid; the gun is still loaded.

Bruce (indifferent): You’ve shot it twice already, so that doesn’t bode well for your "expert shooter" credentials. But hey, start the stream for your three followers to enjoy.

Lennie (enraged): Hey! We are on the come-up! Oz, is everything ready to go?

Oz, a blonde man in a blue bandana with eye slits cut into the fabric, checked the wireless conference cam that sat on a nearby chair and glanced at his phone.

Oz (hesitantly): Um, yeah, I think?

Lennie: Cool, start it.

Oz: It’s already running.

Lennie: What? For how long?

Oz (pointing at Bruce): Well, since he mentioned we were using Twitch for our heist.

Lennie: God damn it! I told you to wait for my signal before hitting the stream button!

Oz: I thought you’d be more professional when I started the feed. What did you want the signal to be, “Cool, start it”?

Lennie: …

An old man at the gala couldn’t help but chuckle as he realized that was the signal.

Old Man: Good thing you’ve got guns, because your performance so far is downright terrible!

Bruce (aggravated tone): You must’ve failed clown college, didn’t you? This is your backup plan? Want to look like a joke in a different way?

Lennie: Shut up! Fuck, you’re just like my parents! Lucy!

Lucy strolled over, holding a similar gun and wearing a light purple ski mask.

Lucy: Yes, babe?

Lennie: Lucy, I told you not to call me that during this!

Lucy: Sorry, baby! I mean Kenny—oops, sorry, Lennie.

Lennie groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lennie (whispering to his girlfriend): Just stand next to the rich guy while I read the ransom. You’re better with guns.

Lucy (cheerfully): Okay!

Lucy walked over to Bruce, lightly gripping the back of his collar while aiming the gun at his upper shoulder.

Lucy: Hi, Mr. Wayne!

Bruce: Don’t chat with me right now. Why are you aiming the gun at my shoulder?

Lucy: Gotta start lower and work my way up, you know?

Bruce: That actually makes sense in a messed-up way.

Lucy: Thanks! Lennie, you starting soon?

Lennie (covering his eyes in frustration): I need a fucking minute… Okay, Oz, get the stream going!

Oz (confused): Again?

Lennie: What do you mean "again"?

Oz: The one I started two minutes ago is still streaming. We’ve got viewers too! Do you want me to end that? Why? You’re already wasting time.

Lennie clasped his hands together, feeling the pressure as his plan began to crumble, and Bruce—ever the thorn in his side—wasn’t letting up.

Bruce: You’re doing a terrible job if you wanted an audience’s opinion.

Lennie (angry shouting): I’d shoot you right now if I could! I have to talk to the actual audience because if I have to talk to that smug asshole one more time, I’m going to beat your ass.

Bruce: That’s rich, coming from you.

Lennie growled, huffing as he tried to rein in his temper. He turned to the camera, his irritation palpable, and prepared to begin the ransom speech he had memorized.

Lennie (clears throat): Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most glamorous hostage situation of the decade! If you think this is a PR disaster, you're absolutely correct!

Bruce (with a sarcastic edge): Wow, did you actually memorize that?

Lennie held up his index finger, then pulled a white bandana out of his pocket and stormed over to Bruce, tying the scarf across the man's mouth to silence him. Bruce rolled his eyes dramatically as Lennie turned back to the camera, as if he were the star of a reality show gone wrong.

As the wannabe streamer continued his speech, Stephanie, Tim, and Duke were perched atop a nearby building, close to the glass rooftop where the gala was taking place. They waited for the signal from Nightwing, who was in a different location, to ambush the kidnappers—but for now, they were watching the stream. Their reactions varied widely.

Tim let out a long, frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tim: Yep, yep.

Stephanie was practically doubled over with laughter.

Stephanie: I can’t believe the guy in the white mask wasted two bullets! What a dumb ox with some serious daddy issues!

Duke, sporting a worried expression, chimed in.

Duke: I don’t know what scares me more—his incompetence accidentally getting Bruce shot or the fact that this stream has a concerningly high number of viewers!

Stephanie nodded, still chuckling.

Stephanie: Right? It’s like a bizarre comedy show!

Tim: I definitely recognize the ring leader by his grating voice. We took social psychology together at CUNY. Well, we took that one class before he dropped out to pursue... whatever this nonsense is. This missing chromosome was a jerk back then and hasn't changed.

Duke (raising his left eyebrow): He has a YouTube channel where he harasses people but calls it "pranks"?

Tim: No, it’s a TikTok page!

Stephanie burst out laughing harder, shaking her head in disbelief.

Stephanie: This is too good!

Tim: This is going to be an interesting mission.

[silent-raven13]

Hobie never cries but... 3

(Part 1)

It's only 1pm, the sound of the clock ticking seems to get louder by the second, as if it knows when they are supposed to leave. Rio stood looking in her vanity mirror, she did not look so good. Well who can say they look good, when their own child had been murder by a monster, and was secretly Spiderman! The shock on that first day will forever haunt her

~three weeks ago~

Mrs. Morales came running through the crowd as the news play Spiderman's death from a strange glitched out monster. Somehow a reporter and cameraman was able to catch the whole thing on camera as Spiderman say a little girl while risking his life, the beam struck through the hero's chest only to die among his fellow Spider-heroes.

It was odd enough that there was many Spiderheroes that caused the civilians of New York to talk about, but the shocking realization of their own Spiderman- Spiderman number 2, they like to joke around had been killed from saving a life.

The cameraman was able to zoom in Spiderman's face showing a young black man with a short shaved head, and this is where Rio was at home watching the news with little Billie. She was drinking a cup of tea, glancing over at her daughter and then, her tea feel to the wooden floor having it shattered. The pool of tea surrounded her sandals, as her hands trembled, and eyes widen by Spiderman's identity! It was her son!

Without another thought, she put on her big blue jacket, grab her toddler, and Smartphone and keys and booked it out of her apartment. She ran through the crowds as everyone stood in place watching the incident that happen in their city. "No puede ser! No puede ser! No puede ser! No puede ser!" Is all she could think about, the sound of her phone ringing and ringing, possibly from her husband, Jeff and her family members. Tears drips in her eyes still holding that false hope her son was still alive.

As for Jeff, the cops came to the massive destruction in fifth avenue. Many of his fellow workers gave him a sad look, "Jeff... I'm sorry." One of his old friend turns away.

Jeff at first couldn't believe it. The other policemen had to surround the area by the antsy civilians wanting to spot their Spiderman. He felt a cold at on his back for the moment, "Huh?" He glanced over feeling the chills down his spine, that swooshing feeling in is stomach. He knows he's going to throw up, it's a matter of when. There was no way Miles is Spiderman, that boy could never finished cleaning his room let alone save the city. Denial ran through the middle Chief Policeman walking so very slow.

He spotted a small group of Spidermen over a body being covered in a white sheet that's slowly staining red. The skies still in a dark shade of grey as if there's a storm coming. He noticed one Spiderman being so big like twice his size, another one that is average size carrying the little girl that's been saved... then two younger ones without their masks. "Gwen?" He finally asked out loud almost too in shock to believe.

The buff young man hugging a tearing Gwen, who didn't respond to Mr. Morales and too ashamed to look at him in the eyes. His called had the other two Spidermen looking over him, they seemed upset, dishearten to tell him.

Jeff rushes over the body until he heard the large Spiderman spoke, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Morales." His voice almost broken.

But that isn't what broken him, he saw Hobie right next to the body on his knees, part of his body covered in blood, bruises, and his wicks not as bouncy as before it's as if it has it's own life. His face stuck in place, the color washed out, his eyes dead and red from all the tears he been pouring out.

"Hobie..." Jeff finally said softly, still disbelief by the truth. Then reality hits when he saw his son's partner wearing his own Spiderman suit in red and blue color schemes, and his hands holds a bloody mask of Spiderman... his son's mask! The young punker stood quiet still weeping while the other two young Spider heroes cry out loud.

The middle age man got on one knee, his hands tremble as he pulled the stained sheet away from the body. Just then, Jeff couldn't comprehend his reality, he's staring at his dead son... his nineteen year old son, will bright cheeks and an addicted smile that brightens anyone's day, all gone. His son's corpse all grayish, purple from the bruises and so lifeless. He pulled more being surprised at the large bloody hole in his own son's chest.

The Chief of Police quickly got up to throw up away from his son's body. This terrible feeling had him feeling nauseous, his heart pound heavily against his chest, his breathing growing rapid. "No-no! That's not my boy..." He wipes his mouth being in denial, again. Until, his policemen peaked to see then turn their heads away from shock, and sorrows. Jeff's eyes landed on his son again, he felt water coming down his cheek.

"What?" He touches his cheek noticing he's crying. "But that's not my boy! That's not Miles..." He thought. Yet, he knew the lie wouldn't help any longer.

"Miles... my boy!" Jeff finally dropped to his knees having to cry over his son's body. He weeps as the skies began turning dark, small rain drops began pouring.

Hobie could only stay in place hearing Jeff crying for his son. Everyone except for Gwen and Pav were in silent. Peter tries to wipe his own tears, but his mask prevents him too.

"MUEVETE! MOVE!" The loud voice of a familiar woman screams out loud, "Let me through! That's my son over there!"

"Rio?" Jeff quickly got up being surprised his wife arrive to the scene. She stood in front of the crowd arguing with one of the policemen while holding their daughter.

"Move! I know him! He's my son! Let me see him! I need to know he's okay!" Rio shouted in panic with tears running down her cheeks.

"Rio?" She heard her husband calling her name causing the policeman to turn over him.

"You know her?" He stupidly asked, must be a new guy.

Rio pushes him out of the way, "Jeff! Where is he?" She runs to her husband, while having Billie in her arms.

"Honey, this is not a good time. You shouldn't be here-" Jeff tries to keep her away from the sight of his son. She cut him off, "No? Que quieres decir no? Ese es mi hijo! Quiero verlo!" She handed him, their daughter Billie to go find Miles. "Where is he? I-I need to see him! I need to know if he's breathing!"

"Rio... he's..."

"No, es miu hijo! Mi bebé, Jeff!" Rio begans crying as she glanced over to find Hobie over a body, "No! Nononono!" She passed by her husband and Billie to go over a body being partly covered by a stained sheet.

Miguel spotted the frantic woman trying to stop her, "I don't think that's a good idea!" He stood in front of her. "Tu no querrás verlo así." Speaking Spanish to ease her down. Then he felt an arm pulled by Peter.

"Mig... just let her. It's only fair." Peter softly spoke having Mayday in his arms. His daughter softly crying in his shoulder.

Miguel quietly move away letting Rio to see the body. She stumble a bit with her eyes widen in disbelief, a gasp came out her mouth. Her hand covering her mouth as she saw her son's lifeless body and Hobie just sitting there. "Mi hijo..." She dropped down on her knees, her hands tremble caressing her son's once warm cheeks, his bubbly smiles all gone. Cheeks as cold as ice, skin no longer a warm brown tone but dull and grey.

She holds her son crying out loud, "Mi hijo,! Despertar. Despierta por tu mamá! It's okay. I'm not mad... I'm not mad your Spiderman..." She rocks back and forth having her son's lifeless body to her chest. "Please... please dios don't take him away. Mi bebé!"

Her hand accidentally touches the large wound seeing the blood covering her hands, she wails out loud! That's the worst kind of cry a Mother's wail. When a mother lost their own child, their cries send shrive, fear, and sorrows down everyone's body and soul. The policemen bow their heads having to remove their hates as they softly cry, and the same for the crowds that surrounded the scene. Their Spiderman is gone!

Rio's loud cries will forever haunt the Spidermen, especially Hobie. Those were is nightmares from here on out. The mother of Miles Morales didn't let go of her son's body until Jeff had to forcefully pull her away from him.

~present~

Rio looks at the mirror seeing the dark circles around her eyes, she has slept well in days. The preparation for her son's funeral was too hectic, so many pauses because she couldn't handle picking a coffin for him. It was all too much for her, she would stay up late at night to sleep in Miles room, to hug his clothes or pillow. Sometimes Jeff would join with Billie to ease the mourning process, but it would be too much for him, too.

Jeff would quietly cry seeing his brother's vinyl in Miles' room, and now his own son is dead. His boys dead, he wishes there was a way to prevent this. Work helps him handle his mourning. The two decided to go to therapy to handle this, because they still have Billie to take off. They know this is going to be a long, painfully healing, but they know this is important for their daughter.

"You can do this, Rio." She said to herself, with a tired sighs. She wore a long black dress, her hair tied in a neat braid, she puts on her earrings being prepared for her son's burial. She never thought this would happen, her burying her own son. It's supposed to be her to be buried instead of him.

Jeff came into the room with Billie in his arms, "Hey, you ready?" He wore a black suit with a white collar shirt, and Billie wore a black puffy dress.

"No, but we have too." She softly said.

The little girl wave her hand being confused, "Mils? Mils?" She wonders where her brother went, she misses him so much. The thought of life and death doesn't exist in her mental process.

"Sí, mi vida. We're going to see Miles..." She went over to kiss her husband cheeks, and holds her daughter. Then she asked Jeff, "Is Hobie going to be there?"

"I dunno. That boy wasn't the same after...." Jeff still couldn't finished his sentence. "I hope he comes."

"Me too. I want him to be there." Rio said. The family getting the final touches before being ready to leave. They want to be there early to make sure everything is alright. The Morales have to be mentally prepare for this very heart aching day.

At the funeral, the family had all their close friends and family gathered at the memorial service. Jeff's cops and all of New York City basically came by to say their good byes, even the mayor and Government came to pay their condolences.

Miles' parents never felt so proud for their son and his heroic deeds. It felt all too surreal. Sadly, Rio wished she knew her son's true identity another way that didn't involves death. Then, the bizarre thing that happen is the sky suddenly had many of these colorful portals and massive groups of Spider-heroes popping out to pay their respects.

Billie awed at the pretty colors of the portals and heroes coming out of them, "Ohhh." Rio only let a small smile seeing how many friends her son made along the way. "You're watching this, mi amor?: She thought to herself as she prays to her son. Hoping he was watching them above heaven.

Jeff saw the large Spiderman, assuming he's the leader of this whole Spider-heroes group. "Mr. and Mrs. Morales," Miguel began, "your son was an amazing Spider-man. Probably the best ones out of all of us, and he always prove himself. I'm sorry we couldn't... I should've-" He stop himself feeling too ashamed at his failure. "Your son is one of kind."

Rio said, "Thank you, Spiderman. He did what all Spidermen do, save lives and does whatever he can to save them. Every life is important." She tucks a piece of her daughter's hair behind she tiny ear.

Miguel nodded at the two parents being pleased to hear this. It made the mood rather lighter. As the funeral continues, Peter Parker came wearing his Spiderman mask and in a black suit with bouquets of flowers for the Miles' family. While his daughter stood behind him wearing a black dress, and her mask on being upset.

Gwen and Pav came without their masks. Gwen finally hug Rio and Jeff to say how sorry she is, and wishes she could've save him. Same goes with Pav. Jeff hugs them tightly, "You two done nothing wrong. Just be the best Spider-hero you need to be for Miles."

"Si, he deserves that." Rio wipes her tears.

Peter let his daughter near Miles' body, "Okay baby. This is where we say our goodbyes face to face before the burial." His hand gently pat her hand.

The young girl peaks over to find Miles' lifeless body looking so weird. His skin color didn't look warm or lifeful? It's faded, lips purple and stuff painted on his face, even his body looks odd. She didn't like this. Then she felt Miguel's hand on her upper back, "It's okay, mi niña. You only need to say goodbye."

She didn't want to!

Mayday never saw a dead body of a family member before, seeing Miles again in a cleaner weird state made her more upset with herself. It was her fault she was in the way. She couldn't handle it, so she went to hide somewhere. "May?" His dad called out for her, but she only whimpers going inside a dark room.

The six year old hug her knees sitting in a dark corner crying herself, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Miles! I didn't mean to..." She whimpers missing her friend. "I'm sorry..."

"What do we got here?" She heard a familiar British low voice.

"Huh?" She lift her head up noticing the room lights turned on, she spotted a very depressed and sad Hobie standing in front of her. His funeral outfit was made from whatever clean he can find in his closet, he still carries his guitar on his back and no mask on.

He squat down on Mayday's level, he wipes her tears away, "What's wrong, luv?" His breath reeks of alcohol, his eyes darken and red from his own tears, he looks exhausted. Not too good in May's opinion, he looks like he caught a cold.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I was in the way. It was my fault, big brother, Miles died!" She cries again.

"Nah, luv. You- We all didn't know the monster would attack you. You were safe by the portal. Miles had to do his quick thinking and- well," Hobie let out a low sigh, "Us, Spidermen or heroes... our luck runs out. I guess, his decided to end."

"But- if I wasn't there then he would be alive!" She cries trying to wipe her own tears and snot, "It's my fault."

"No, darling. It's just how it is. Miles save your life, that's all he ever wanted to do. Save lives no matter what." He softly spoke. May went into his arms to hug him tightly as she cries out loud. "Shh, it's okay, luv. You did nothing wrong." He calmly tries to comfort her with his hand gently rubbing her back.

It felt good to hug someone that is able to comfort her. Her dad couldn't, because he's her dad, he has to say certain words to not make her upset. But no, hugging and talking to Hobie was better for her. Even if he smelled of weed and beer, it was enough to make her feel a bit better.

The two were unaware of Miguel standing by the door way listening to them. He could only bite his bottom lip letting his fangs dig deep in his bottom lip being too upset with himself. This guilt, this shame he carries made him feel worst than the lost of his daughter. Hearing Rio's cries send him into a panic of his own PTSD from his own experience. Oh he knows how traumatic it can be when your own child disappears from your grasp and there's nothing he can do about it.

He knows how dangerous it is to step in certain situations like Miles' being Hobie's Gwen, he promise himself to never bring it up, to never mention it. Maybe with Miles' crazy luck and breaking-all-the-odds energy he would've lived a happy life with Hobie and everyone else. Sadly, Death is cruel, sadistic and she loves playing around heroes' life to satisfied her own hunger. At least, that's how he sees it.

Miguel moves away from the door to avoid meeting Hobie. That kid already hates him enough, it's much worst now with Miles' death. Honestly, he would hate himself too if he ever found out about this and did nothing. "I didn't mean to..." He thought to himself, "It's all by chance." Maybe if he tried, Miles would be alive.

Well for now, he will stay away from the punker, and provided help to all of Miles' friends when they need it. He spotted Peter softly crying to himself, "I should've been responsible. I shouldn't have brought May... Oh gawd, I let Miles die." He softly mutters in the dark hallway with his mask lifting to reveal his mouth and nose. Peter wipes the snot from his nose with a tissue, softly crying to himself. "God, I'm so pathetic."

"Parker," Miguel whispers low enough for the Spiderman to hear, "You okay?"

"Oh, Mig! Yeah," He quickly whips his nose, pulling his mask down, "All good!"

"Peter..." Miguel's voice softens, "it's okay. You can let it out."

"I can't... I shouldn't. I deserve this pain and deal with it. I'm the one who should've kept May home. I thought her being by the portal would be safe! I thought if she was near it she can jump in and-and be alright, but no! She was almost killed and Miles- oh god, Miles ended up-" Miguel hugs Peter letting the middle age man cry into his arms. "I should've been the one. That way Miles would've lived. God, he was only 19! 19 year olds, Mig!"

"Shh, we all failed on him. He saved Mayday, and that all it matters to him." Miguel softly spoke as he comforts his friend.

"God, I'm a pathetic Spiderman!" Peter weeps.

Hobie got out of the room holding Mayday in his arms. The two decided to look at Miles together, they thought it was best to have a should to cry on instead of being alone.

When Hobie enters the room where Miles' body was being held in the casket, his eyes met the Morales' family. Mr. and Mrs. Morales looked pleased to find him here. He didn't smile, though, too ashamed to.

Rio let Jeff hold Billie in his arms as she went over to Hobie, her warm brown hands gently cupping the tall punker's face. She could smell weed and alcohol from the boy, she couldn't judge him, she too have been drinking bottles of wine to ease the pain. Her brown eyes teary and she had a wide smiles to her son's partner, "Me alegro que estés aquí, mijito."

Hobie understood what she meant by the years of hearing her speak Spanish. "I'm...I'm," Hobie's voice cracks as he weeps, "so sorry, Mrs. Morales." Tears began coming down his cheek as he held Mayday tightly in his arms.

"No. No!" Rio had him lean over so she came press her forehead against him, "Nada de esto es tu culpa. I heard how you stood by him till the end... how he..." She sniffs trying to control her cries.

"He said he's sorry..." Hobie finally said, "That he loves you guys. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want to believe it."

Rio wipe her nose with her hand while her other hand caress Hobie's cheek, "I know, I didn't want to believe it, too. Why don't you come sit with us. Miles would've want you to be with us, after all we're family."

"I- I will. After me and the little nipper go see him one last time." Hobie said with a low woe in his voice.

"We'll join you. I didn't have the chance to look at him, too. I," Rio sighs, "didn't want to remember him like this."

"Me too, Mrs. Morales. Me too." Hobie agreed.

The Morales family, Hobie and Mayday went to look at Miles' body one last time. Gwen and Pav decided to join in, Pav rest his head on Hobie to give some comfort. Gwen decides to carry Billie so Jeff can hold his wife as she weeps for their son. Billie looks at her brother's body, "Mils.. Miles..." She calls to him but he never woke up, the sound of crying made her weep, "Miles!" She wave her hand wanting her brother to carry her, but he never did.

Mayday cries into Hobie's arms as they kept taking in their beloved friend's body. His hair neatly cut, makeup trying to give him life that could never capture his beautiful glow, and his pale purple lips glossed over by a very bright neutral pink lipstick... it didn't suit him.

Whoever painted him try to their best to give some sort of life, yet they never knew Miles. They would never see Miles' bright cheeks, his cute freckles, that beautiful bright smiles that made his face lit up. He's a Sunflower! He's Hobie's sunflower! That what hurts the most, that he could no longer see his Sunflower again.

When the viewing of Miles' body was over, the kind Spidermen decides to carry his casket to his burial spot. The whole family, friends, and Spidermen went to watch Miles' burial. A priest stated a few words about life, god and death. It made Hobie rolled his eyes, because he never witness what he saw. Mayday being carried by her weeping dad as they sat to watch Miles's casket being placed inside the hole.

Hobie watches from afar seeing how he didn't feel too comfortable being around people. Mrs. and Mr. Morales weep together while Rio holds Billie, they tossed in red roses onto Miles' casket. Everyone with a rose did too. Hobie on the other hand lean against a tree, "He would've want Sunflowers..." He thought to himself as he wipes his tears away.

"You know red roses represents love and grief." He hears an older woman's voice, who's holding a bouquet of random flowers. One of them being a bright big Sunflower. His eyes couldn't take off the flower, it's perfect for Miles.

"Really? My luv prefers Sunflowers... he said they make him happy." Hobie softly spoke to the older woman holding her flowers, she had dark skinned tone with a rocker goth outfit. He could've sworn the older woman had pale skin tone.

"They often mean happiness, optimism, positivity... they are such lovely flowers," Her British accent coming out, her long dainty fingers touch the flower, "You know it has a deeper meaning in relationships, it means purity, sincerity and true love. That's cute, ain't it?" She finally looks at him with her ghostly eyes, such dark deep eyes that sparkles almost too alluring.

"Really, huh?" Hobie turns back to everyone gathered around his boyfriend's casket, "I wish I could tell him."

"Hmm, I think he knows..." She hums with amusement, then slowly pick out the sunflower with care, "I know you want this flower to give to him as a way to say goodbye..."

Hobie arched his eyebrow listening to her soft voice, "but," she paused having to eye on his wrist, "something tells me, you had other plans, hmm?" The punker quickly hide his wrists behind his back, he recently try to hurt himself, instead he cowardly decided not to. The black bandages were supposed to play off as accessories than it's true purpose.

"Aye, ma'am, how di-did-" Her giggles had some sort of echo, "I just know where to look. It would be a waste for you to do it, you have such a beautiful life ahead of you." Then she tilt her head to the side as if she heard something then smiles, "And I'm sure your partner would hate you to do that." She holds out the Sunflower.

"How would you know?" Hobie scowls a bit.

"Well, wouldn't you get upset if you partner took his own life to be with you?" She calmly asked.

"No." Hobie mutter, "But it's different with me. He's perfect. I'm just a bloke who drinks."

"You're Spiderman, you save lives. You have a beautiful gift, and purpose. No matter the sorrows and pain each Spider-hero goes through, in the end you inspired everyone around you. You saw how the City mourn for him, and he won't be the last Spiderman of this world. Someone else will be inspired and take his place. That's the point of being a hero." She handed him the Sunflower, "If that doesn't stop what you're planning to do, then how about a deal? You won't hurt yourself anymore, and you can have this flower. I'm sure you would want to make your partner very happy with this pretty flower."

Hobie took the flower, "Th-ank you?" He didn't know why this woman is so nice. Maybe the graveyard had many waves of being kind to one of another. He sniffs the

"Your welcome, luv." She smiles at him, "You know, you gotten too close with the blade last time. I'm still amazed you survived, but that's what makes you a Spiderman. You all have the strangest luck."

Hobie turns to her being in shock, "Wait, how di-" Being cut off by Gwen's voice, "HOBIE!" She ran toward him, "Dude, come on. say your goodbye. The family is doing a small repast. There's gonna be food and everyone closed to Miles are coming." Her blue eyes widen at the flower, "Whoa, where did you get that flower?"

"what are you talkin' about? There was this woman-" He turns his head seeing the woman gone, as if she disappeared from thin air, "Huh?"

"What woman? You were standing here by yourself this whole time." She rub her chin then scold him, "Man, are you smoking weed, dude. Come on, this is a graveyard!"

"I swear, I'm not!" Hobie walks along Gwen hearing her lecture him about being respectful in a graveyard and how it's considered rude!

When she left him alone by Miles' grave, he got the chance to look at the tombstone. The hole already filled up leaving a fresh pile of dirt pressed down in front of the tombstone. Miles Gonzalo Morales. A loving son, brother, friend, partner. The world's greatest hero and beloved Spiderman.

Hobie sighs trying to hold back his tears then his lips quiver, "Fuck, I thought this was gonna be easy, luv. Shit, I'm sorry... give me a moment..." He breathes slowly as he got on one knee to get closer to his beloved's tombstone, one hand on it to feel the marble texture. He sniffs, "God, why did you have to leave me, Miles? I'm so lost without you! I almost-" He gently stroke the tombstone trying to avoid his cowardly attempts, "Ahhh, I need you... I miss you. You make me be a better person... A better Spiderman. Now, you're gone. Fuck. I love you, Miles."

Mrs. Morales watches from afar as Gwen hugs her for comfort. They hope Hobie gets the closure he needs from this. They had the car waiting for him.

The punker wipe his nose, "Shit, I got boogies. This is fucking fantastic. I love you, Miles... you don't know how much I do. I rather be fine if it was mean that was killed instead of you. You deserve so much." Just then he felt the cold wind on his face, he felt a warm peck on his cheek, "Awe, luv. I know, you're here watching me." Tears dripping down his face, his vision being blurry, "Shit, I could never forget you or move on, Sunflower. You're my soulmate, I could never love someone as much as I do with you." His fist gently pounded on the tombstone, "Heh, I guess this is it, huh? Our good-bye until then? I don't think I'm ready for this... I rather it be bye till next time. Your mum wants me to visit her the same way, which I don't think you have a problem with. Ha, even your dad is okay with this."

Then he holds the Sunflower up at the tombstone, "Darling, I got this beautiful sunflower from a kind lass. I hope this will make you happy." He placed the Sunflower on the bottom of the tombstone, "You like?"

The wind blew again having one of the petals of the Sunflower land on Hobie's nose. For the moment, Hobie thought he saw Miles playfully placing the petal on his nose with his bright smile. He could hear him say, "Of course, bae!"

Hobie let out a wind smiles then let out another cry, "Good-bye, Sunflower. Hopefully we see each other again in another life." The wind blow against his face again, he could feel a warm embrace before it started to feel cold. A small smile appeared on the punker face's, then he turns around to walk toward Mrs. Morales and Gwen. The two gave him a big hug before they walk together heading into Jeff's SUV, where him, Pav and Billie waits for them.

The old woman stood by Miles' tombstone with a soft smile on her face. "You know, he's gonna come back to visit?" She felt the wind through her face and long coily thick hair, "But that's okay. He loves you too much to end it this way. After all you two are soulmates." She giggles before she disappears leaving the tombstone alone.

Hobie sat in the car seeing Billie playing with her toy. Jeff driving through the busy streets, they saw many civilians throwing a party or their own repast for their Spiderman. Many hosted memorial spots for him as a way to thank the family and him for his heroic deed. Hobie saw one kid doing graffiti art of Miles' face part of it being his Spiderman mask on a building. A cop tried to chase the teenager, but he left with a quick swift. The art is beautiful tho.

"She's right. We inspired them." Hobie thought to himself then he heard Billie shaking her rattle.

"Mils! Mils!" She would say, then saw Hobie handing him her rattle. "Ah! Obs."

"Yeah, rattle!" He shook it.

"Mmh!" She nodded then laughs as she took her rattle back, "Mils! Mils!" She would say again.

"You know, you're welcome to stay over, Hobie." Rio said being in the front passenger seat.

"Yeah, you're always welcome to come by and chat. Your family." Jeff agreed.

"Wow, look at Jeff being nice to you." Gwen jokes as she leans to Hobie to teased. She sat at the back seat with Pav.

Jeff scoffs, "I can be nice."

Rio giggles, "Oh yeah? When?"

"You know... I- Um- hmm, I let Miles date Hobie. A good dad would've found a prep boy."

"Ew," Pav laughs, "Those are the worst."

"Aye, I'm a bit offended, Mr. Morales. I spoiled your kid." Hobie chuckles. The rest laughs out loud.

"Mrs. and Mr. Morales, thank you for inviting us. The funeral was beautiful." Pav finally said.

"Thank you, Pavitr." Rio smiles a bit proud, the mood felt much lighter.

Jeff looks at the sidewalks filled with his son's faces, "I wonder who will be the next Spiderman?"

"The universe finds its way, Jeff." Gwen said, "That means it will be now or later on another Spiderman will take over. Its just a matter of time."

"Yeah, this world is still part of the Wed of Destiny!" Pav said out loud.

"Wed of Destiny?" Jeff arched his eyebrows, "Okay, you guys gotta start from the beginning because I thought you get powers and wear tight spandex?"

Rio giggles, "Mi amor, it's complicated." She already heard everything from Gwen, when she tries to explain to her about Miles being Spiderman. "The Wed of Destiny follows all the multiverses of Spider-heroes..."

"Huh? Now we gotta bring in science to this?" Jeff asked out loud.

Billie shakes her rattle while laughing out loud. Hobie lays comfortable in his seat hearing the cheerful chatters.

Yeah, things are going to be fine...

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Had some time on my hands & decided to give y'all an update. Enjoy the chapter & thank you for the love! And be safe!-Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

THREE.

The Saturday after your run-in with Aizawa and your museum arrest, you’re feeling damn good about yourself. 

You know that it has nothing to do with arresting those four fools with their fancy quirks and ski masks at the International Pro Museum or even the hostages and, surprisingly, the cops for crediting you for your skills when they got a look at you on the security cameras beating the shit out of the robbers. 

You know that the bubbly feeling in your chest and the confidence you feel for the entire weekend is attributed to your surprise meeting with Aizawa in his hero’s gear, goggles, and all. God, did he look sexy. Even better than he does at school.

You were glad to actually talk to him, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to without your hero’s gear. Being in those clothes and behind that mask allows you to slip into another skin and be someone else for a chance. Someone sexier, fiercer, and much more mysterious than you. 

You were even happier to have saved Aizawa from certain death. It feels good to save anyone’s life, but to save the life of a seasoned pro? That was even better.

Though he didn’t credit you for helping him during the robbery when he was interviewed by the local news, just knowing you were there in that moment and lent a helping hand filled you with glee as you sat on your couch on Saturday morning with a bowl of cereal, watching it all on TV. 

You had come home at the ass crack of dawn that morning, tired, achy, and in need of a shower. You slipped into your cat form and jumped up into your bedroom, stretching once your paws hit the floor.

Once you were inside, you got out of your hero’s gear, took a hot shower to wash the night away, and slept all Saturday, never being interrupted by anyone. 

Now, on a free Saturday night, you’re about to do it all over again. Except now, your stroll into the city is less about fighting crime and more about enjoying a simple nightly stroll. You feel like you’re owed that for constantly busting your ass to stop villains from taking over your city every night. 

You don’t even remember when you first created Night Claw, but what had started out as a little fun pastime to spice up your nights and make them more exciting had turned into a full-time position overnight. You go for the crime that occurs on the quiet streets at night: from petty theft from the kid who’s bad news to the expert villain looking to make a name for themselves in the nation. 

So technically, you are too busy with work to date. You’re a school counselor by day, and an ass-kicking hero by night.

You walk the streets looking for trouble, trying to snag any arrest you can to boost your name even more. The only person who knows is Nemuri after she caught you crawling into her apartment by accident in your hero suit, which is how you two became friends. 

And being the good friend she is, she had offered to help you become an official pro hero. “With a body like that, you’d make it,” she giggled, smacking you on the ass. However, there are three things wrong with that, as you told her:

You didn’t graduate from UA; just a normal high school where you were bullied every single day for being a cat hybrid if not harassed by horny teens. 

You know as a cat girl, you’d never be taken seriously, so you resort to kicking ass in secrecy despite the possibility of being arrested because you don’t have a license. 

The Hero’s Commission is a bitch according to Nemuri and Mic’s horror stories and you do not want to deal with them. Plus, pros also have to deal with the public up their asses, constant harassment in the streets, and the possibility of being killed while fighting villains too. 

No, thank you. 

So this is your solution to spicing up your nights and flexing your quirk. You love doing this and you don’t count on stopping anytime soon. 

This is why after making sure the apartment complex is quiet, you slip out of bed, throw on your hero fit, and shift into your cat form.

Immediately, all of your senses shift, increasing times ten: you can see the lint on the floor; hear the vibrations of someone vacuuming the floor in the lobby; feel the fibers of the carpet against your paws which your claws instinctively begin to knead into before you jump up onto the window ledge.

You then jump out onto the long branch of the cherry blossom tree at your window where the bark is chipped off from doing the same thing many, many times over the months. 

The heightened senses, claws, and ability to shift into a cat are just some of the things your quirk allows you.

Your eyes can switch between the pretty browns of a human and the yellow slits of a feline, allowing you to blend into the human population better (besides your obvious tail and ears) and use your cat eyes to your advantage during your crime-fighting sprees.

You’re also given great agility and flexibility even in your human form, allowing you to jump, leap, and run at mindblowing speed. 

But what’s even better is that every time you shift into human form after being in cat form, you stay in the clothes you’re in before shifting (which saves you some very embarrassing moments).

You’re also in complete control of your quirk; however, during dangerous situations when your fight or flight kicks in, you transform into your cat form without warning, which comes in handy too. 

However, there are some cons and drawbacks. For one, you have cat-like tendencies, which means you play with anything shiny or small. You always get bored easily which has led you to carry toys and a bit of catnip in your tote bag when you’re on break. In addition, when you’re angry, you tend to growl or hiss at someone, or when you’re relaxed or content, you purr. 

And for two, which is also something you’re trying to be careful with, your cat form only lasts for so long. You usually use it as an easier way to roam the streets without gaining attention and utilize it during your missions.

But if you happen to stay in it for longer than twenty minutes or so, you start to grow exhausted which stays even after you shift back into your human form. This is why you alternate between shifting while out on the town, only shifting into human form when you’re sure it’s time (which is usually when you’re kicking ass). 

Tonight, you don’t plan on being out or in cat form for too long. You just want a nice, quiet walk in the city. So you jump from your spot in the tree, land on all fours, and immediately begin tottering away from the UA campus. 

The walk into the city is a breeze, except for the occasional squirrel you try to chase or ant you paw at as you cut through Musutafu’s park. Not many people are out tonight–just the dog walkers and runners. It’s a beautiful night for each. There’s not a cloud in the starry sky and the air is cool on your stark black fur. 

When you finally get downtown, the quietness begins to fade. Now it is replaced with the roar of activity on a Saturday night: the young crowd roaming the streets, looking for some fun; the usual crowds banded together outside of bars and nightclubs, whose feet you have to watch as you slip into alleyways; the rush of cars beeping and honking impatiently. You make sure to steer clear of them. You love the constant noise and rush of activity. It always brings some excitement. 

‘What to do,’ you wonder to yourself, eyes fixating on the many buildings that lie in wait for your consumption like a row of cakes. As if answering you, your stomach rumbles and you realize you haven’t eaten dinner. 

You decide to walk through a random alleyway and that is when you catch the whiff of something: BBQ. You look up at the building you stand beside, realizing that it’s a homely-looking Korean BBQ restaurant. The scent of the many spices and herms fills your nose. Your mouth begins to water, especially when you stand in front of the restaurant and see the chicken dumplings and beef skewers in the window.  

‘Hell, yes!’ you think excitedly. Surely, you can sneak in there when someone opens the door, jump into the window, and snatch a bite without anyone noticing. You silently sit in wait, perched at the door, fully prepared to snag yourself some of that bomb-ass food. 

What you don’t prepare for, however, is the sudden drop of water that falls onto your head. You let out a small mew of surprise and confusion. 

‘Da fuck?’ you think as you look up at the sky, only to find the clouds beginning to cover the twinkling stars above. Another droplet falls, this time on your nose. You scrunch it and wipe at the droplet with your paw, shaking out the fur on your head. 

Then another falls. And then another. And then suddenly, it begins drizzling, which means it will be pouring soon. 

‘Shit!’ you think in panic. Immediately, you turn around to hurry back to campus, running as fast as you can. If you’re not fast enough, you’ll be out here all night in the rain. And God, do you hate rain! 

As you run through the city, the drizzle quickly turns to a downpour. Sheets of cold rain fall from the sky, soaking your fur. The cars that rush by only make things worse, their tires sloshing rainwater all over you. But still, you don’t stop though your legs burn. The adrenaline in your feline body pumps blood into your heart and veins, pushing you on through your journey home. 

You turn a right corner at the end of a street and begin to run across the empty, wet street. ‘Gotta get home,’ you think. ‘Gotta–’ 

A sudden pain shoots through your front right paw, crawling up your leg. While you say “ow” in your head, it comes out as a hiss. The pain causes you to fumble and you fall onto your side in the middle of the street. 

‘Shift, you idiot!’ you think. 

You slowly inhale, trying to conjure than familiar warmth that overtakes you before you shift back into your human form…but it doesn’t happen. You’re still a cat. 

‘What the fuck?’ you think, panicking even more. It must be because you’re hurt. Your injury has fucked up your quirk completely! 

‘Get up!’ you think. ‘Get up before you get killed, idiot!’ 

You try to do so, but the pain in your paw doesn’t even allow you to place it on the ground. Every time you try to put weight on your foot, it pulls at the muscle in the tiny bones in your leg, making you mew in agony. You must have been running for too long or pushed yourself too hard. Either way, you’re hurt. Biting your tongue, you try again to gingerly place your paw on the ground, attempting to limp home. 

From the corner of your eye, you see bright lights emerging from the darkness, getting closer and closer. A loud honk cuts through the air and into your eardrums. A car. You freeze, your eyes wide and tail frizzed in fear, knowing that this is your end. 

However, the car suddenly stops right in front of you, nearly brushing your whiskers. You watch, still frazzled, as the cat door suddenly opens and the driver steps out with an umbrella.

Warely, you look up into the soft eyes and wrinkled face of a very old woman wearing a pink trench coat and an umbrella that she holds over her head. Her silvery blonde hair makes her look like an angel, and in your delirious, exhausted state, you think she is one.

“Oh, dear!” she gasps, covering her mouth. “Poor little thing. Are you alright, little one?” 

The old lady crouches down to your height and slowly moves to pick you up. ‘Wait!’ you want to protest, but all that comes out is a pitiful meow.

The lady’s face softens as her eyes drop to your limp paw. “You’re hurt,” she states softly. “Don’t worry; I won’t hurt you.” She goes to pick you up, carefully placing both hands on your sides as she scoops you up, her umbrella held under her armpit. 

“Don’t you worry,” she coos, placing you close to her chest. “You’re safe now, little one.” 

‘Wait, lady!’ you scream internally. ‘You don’t understand! I’m not a cat! Put me down!’ 

But you’re so exhausted and feel so safe under the umbrella’s protection and in the woman’s arms that all you can do is close your eyes as she carries you into her car, your panicked run finally catching up to you. 

You fall asleep in her lap, not feeling the car move as she drives you to her destination. You only awaken when the car suddenly stops, jolting you awake.

“Here we are, little one,” the lady coos, scooping you up and holding you securely against her chest as she gets out of her little car. “Welcome to your new home!” she giggles. “For now, at least.” 

She motions an arm out to the cute little cafe sandwiched between a flower shop and a ramen restaurant. Outside of it are potted flowers, and tables and chairs for sitting outside to eat.

But through the large glass windows of the building, you can see the many scratching posts, cat towers, and toys littering the clean hardwood floors. Above the doors reads “Koa’s Purrr Palace and Cafe” in the most adorable, pink cursive. 

While the cat cafe would’ve been cute to you as a human, it certainly isn’t cute now, especially when the lady unlocks the door and begins to carry you inside. ‘No!’ you want to shout, but it comes out as a meow of protest.

The lady glances at you, chuckling. “Alright, alright, I’ll feed ya, but after we get you cleaned up and warm. Don’t want ya catchin’ cold.” 

All you can do is sit and take it as she carries you into the back of the clean, lavender-scented cat cafe. The lady sits you down on the counter of a sink as she fills it up with warm water and soap with the scent of eucalyptus. Though you squirm slightly and yowl, she keeps a firm hold on you as she places you in the sudsy water and proceeds to bathe you. 

She hums a tune as she expertly scrubs your fur, gently massaging your pleasure points, including the base of your tail and the bridge of your nose.

Combined with that and the scent of the bath, you find yourself slowly relaxing into the horrible situation you’ve found yourself in. After a few agonizing minutes, the lady pronounces you clean, takes you out, and dries you off with a fluffy, pink towel that you find yourself purring from. 

“There we are,” she coos. “Nice and dry, and nice and happy. You must be exhausted though.”

She picks you back up and walks you to the front of the cafe, right over to the glass boxes holding over twelve cats, some in the same cage. The cages are spacious and comfortable, reminding you of condos with their own scratch posts, litter boxes, food, and water stations, and folded quilt blankets for makeshift beds. Only except for people, all you see are cats cuddled up in their beds, fast asleep. 

The lady begins to open an empty cage meant for you, complete with your own space and privacy. ‘No!’ you want to scream. ‘No, don’t!’ 

You’re too exhausted and relaxed to fight though, your body feeling sluggish and heavy. 

However, the lady must feel your heartbeat accelerate because she begins to pet your head. “There, now,” she coos. “It’s alright. I know it’s new, but you’re just here for the night hopefully.” Gently, she places you into the cage on your new bed with its fluffy, soft fibers, right in front of your bowl of water and kibble.

Then she closes the door and smiles at you, peeking at you through the metal bars. “Sleep tight, little one,” she whispers. 

‘Y/N,’ you want to tell her, your face dug into your cotton-scented blanket. ‘My name is Y/N.’ 

But when she leaves to cut out the lights and you’re left in the darkness and silence of the cat cafe, the exhaustion finally sets in again and sleep overtakes you.

[misteria247]

This wasn't supposed to happen.

None of this supposed to happen.

But here he was, on a small island watching in horror as one of his brothers was thrown into another dimension. Disappearing from the world as if it were nothing. Mikey could only watch in horror as the Krang ship disappeared from the skies of NYC, carrying Leo with it. He could hear Raph falling to his knees and letting out a primal, grief stricken scream into the air, his large frame shaking uncontrollably from the emotional onslaught. Donnie was deathly silent, but Mikey could feel the turmoil and disbelief coming from his older brother. Could smell the tears that had started coming down his cheeks. And Mikey.......

Mikey didn't even think about it before he found himself running towards the edge of the island. He heard Raph and Donnie's voices, broken and suddenly terrified by their little brother's behavior but at that moment Mikey didn't care if he scared them. Didn't care if he had let the mask he wore slip as he ran. Flashes of memories hit him like waves of an ocean. Lifetimes of losing Leo stabbing into him and cutting him deeply.

Leo when he'd been stabbed by Karai and beaten to near death by the Shredder.

Leo when he'd been taken to be used as a sacrifice for monsters.

Leo when he held back Kraang Subprime in the Technodrome, sinking into the sea.

Leo once again beaten by the Shredder to near death, ending up comatose for three months.

Leo nearly having all of his blood be taken and nearly going into shock.

Leo who had patted his head before going out with Casey and being blown to bits and pieces, a broken sword being all that was left.

Leo sacrificing himself at this very moment, throwing himself into the prison dimension with the Krang general to be beaten to death.

Mikey's eyes filled with tears as he drew closer towards the edge of the island, his heart racing. The words of his brothers echoing in his head in their brokenness.

'There's nothing we can do. Leo's gone.'

The box shell shook his head, refusing to accept it. Refusing to accept that Leo was gone for good. He remembered Casey Jr saying that his future self was a powerful mystic warrior. With skills unmatched by anyone. Mikey didn't know what he was going to do, but God damnit he was going to try.

He refused to give up on Leo.

Not when Leo wouldn't give up on him.

Mikey shot his arms out, the tears flying down his face in rivers as he struggled to do something. To do anything. If he could just get to Leo......

More memories of Leo filled Mikey's head, fueling his determination and desperation as he dug deeper into himself, forcing his mystics to do something.

Leo who held him when he had a nightmare.

Leo who made silly puns and catchphrases to annoy them as well as cheer them up.

Leo who always had their backs even when he was frustrated with them.

Leo mother henning them and keeping them safe on missions.

Leo with his selflessness and self sacrificial ways to ensure that his family was happy and taken care of.

Leo with his smile and laughter and wisdom and patience.

Leo, Leo, Leo-

Leonardo.

He wanted Leonardo back. He wanted him back home safely and smiling like he always did. He didn't want to lose Leonardo.

Not now.

Not ever again.

'Give him back-! Give me back my brother-! GIVE ME BACK LEO, GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER PLEASE-!!!'

He pleaded to anyone listening, his blood singing with lifetimes of grief, rage and terror. At that moment something seemed to snap, like a delicate thread that held his mystics back had just snapped. He couldn't make out what Raph and Donnie were saying, instead focused solely on the sudden burning flames that tore and chipped away at his arms and hands. The pier in front of him began to change, a portal being torn open through Mikey's sheer force of will. He didn't care if this would kill him, as long as he could have his brother back then he'd lay his life down in a heartbeat. Mikey was so focused that he nearly jumped when he felt Raph and Donnie grip a shoulder each, taking on some of the mystic backlash that had burning the youngest turtle.

"I don't know how you're doing this Mikey! But don't stop!"

Raph's voice commanded as he gripped his little brother's shoulder. It took a bit before the portal finally opened and there floating around in the vast darkness of the prison dimension was Leo. The red eared slider blinked at the sudden light, his light blue hues landing on his brothers. A look of exhausted relief filled his face.

"Took you guys long enough...."

Leo said his voice gruff but teasing. Mikey felt relief hit him before horror replaced it as the sudden large form of the Krang general appeared behind Leo. A clawed hand reaching out to grab the blue clad turtle and crush him. Raph shouted Leo's name, his mystics sparking to life like a live wire. A large red hand grabbed Leo's wrist and yanked, and as the Krang general went to reach out to grab him and yank him back.....

A drill, sparking and whizzing flew straight into the alien's face and neck, the sounds of the powerful mystic drill tearing at the Krang general filling the air. Donnie with a murderous and cold glare made sure that he didn't miss. Leo was yanked through the portal and the Krang general went to lunge back towards them only to be met with a merciless expression from Mikey. Light brown eyes flashing the youngest threw his arms together in a closing motion, forcing the portal to shut and lock the monster away forever. Chest heaving from the adrenaline Mikey's head snapped towards his brothers seeing Leo laying on the ground with Raph and Donnie on either side of him.

'No, no please don't-don't let him be-'

Mikey felt his chest constrict in a nasty way as he joined his brothers looking at his bruised and beaten older brother.

"Leo....?"

Mikey croaked, his voice barely holding back his panic. A groan greeted him and the others before Leo's eyes opened up gazing up at the trio.

"Hey guys......."

The blue jokester began to say only to stop when he saw where they were.

"Ew-! Stan Island?!? Gross-!"

Leo complained immediately sitting up painfully so he wouldn't have to be laying on the ground. Mikey didn't even think about it before he launched himself into Leo's arms, clinging to him tightly as he promptly started to cry silent tears. Raph and Donnie were quick to join the hug, Raph's large arms circling around them.

Leo was safe.

Mikey hadn't failed him this time.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

They'd Bring You Back

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader 

Summary: You’re an unsub’s latest target, but your personality is way more than he bargained for. 

Warnings: Blood/descriptions of stabbing and cutting, typical CM drama, fluffy dad!hotch 

-

“And what about me?” You’d asked with a puffy lip, arms crossed, pouting as you sat on your father’s lap. He’d just laughed. 

“What about you?”

“If I got kidnapped.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’re so annoying, they would bring you back. And that-” He said as he stood up, taking you with him before setting you on the floor. “Is a promise.” 

Things had changed since you had that conversation. Drastically - back then you were only eight and your dad was a prosecutor for the DA. Your mom was alive. Your brother wasn’t even a thought in their minds at that point. And nobody could fathom what would happen when you were a little older. 

You went off the rails when your mother died. The trauma was enough that you ended up living with Rossi for a few months while your dad figured out how to juggle Jack and the job and all of your issues. That further fractured your relationship when you felt like he forgot about you. But since you moved back in with him, you had started to feel like things could be normal again. Like things could be good again. You were getting into a routine - Jack would stay with your aunt while your dad was on a case since he went to a school on the other side of town from yours, you would watch Rossi’s house while he was gone since you were old enough to stay by yourself, and you’d go pick up your dad when he got back from a case. 

They’d spent a week in Reno and really just wanted to get back to the house after mountains of paperwork. The holidays were coming up and your dad wanted to spend as much time with you as he possibly could, promising to take off some time to go on a day trip with you and Jack. You had made his favorite snack and walked out of Rossi’s front door, locking it and making sure it was locked, before going over to your car. 

You held the covered bowl of food in one hand, trying to get the right key in the other hand. You got as far as unlocking the car before you heard a shuffling noise behind you. You turned, seeing nothing alarming, but when you turned back there was an unfamiliar person in front of you. 

“Hotch, I think you need to accept that she was taken because...” Rossi started the next morning as they walked into the briefing room. The worst part of it was that they were being briefed on you. The police had determined that you’d been kidnapped, obviously, because there was no way in hell you’d start running away when things had just started to get better between you and your dad. 

“How could they have known?” Hotch asked. “How could this unsub have known it was my daughter walking out of your house?” Rossi shrugged, not quite having an answer, and the two sat down. 

“I’ve been thinking that the unsub must have been watching for a while. Long enough to know that she stays at Rossi’s when you’re both gone. They have to know who she is, Hotch. It doesn’t make sense for this to just be a random kidnapping,” Morgan said. 

“And if anyone can get through it, it’s her,” JJ offered. “She’s a strong-ass kid. She just needs to hold on until we can find her.” 

“Uh, guys?” Garcia walked in the room with a remote in hand, switching the large TV in the room over to what looked like a livestream. Of you. 

“Holy-” Morgan started. Hotch’s eyes widened in shock, and as if he couldn’t see he walked up to the screen. “It’s a snuff film.” 

You were tied up in a chair, a rope around your throat and your body so you were forced to sit up with your spine to the back of the chair. Your mascara was running down your face in silent tears.

“My dad’s going to find me!” You yelled to the unsub, looking around the room. They were watching the same camera that your dad was, but you didn’t know that. You didn’t know that you were the star of your very own snuff film. Suddenly the unsub’s voice came over the loud speaker in the dark, cold room. A cellar - you had to be in a basement or a cellar or something. You came to that conclusion at the same time as your father did, and you also came to the conclusion that he was watching you. This unsub was using you to get to your father, and somehow that pissed you off more than the idea of someone kidnapping you just for kicks. 

“He’s using her to get to me,” Hotch determined. “We need to find out how to contact this unsub. Get what he wants. Garcia, do everything you can to track them down. We need to figure out what he wants before he hurts her.” 

“My dad’s going to find me!” You yelled again. “I bet he’s already profiled how small your dick is!” 

“Okay, sweetheart, now’s not the time,” your dad mumbled as if he was speaking directly to you. He rubbed his pointer finger against a scar on his thumb, one you’d given him shortly after your mom died. 

“Although impotent might not actually be that bad of an observation,” Rossi suggested. You struggled against the hard ropes that were holding you down, only getting angrier and angrier at the unsub for not at least facing you. 

You finally huffed and looked at the camera in front of you, then around the room. You were definitely in a cellar or a basement of some kind - maybe even an old nuclear bunker or something. The walls were metal, but they looked home-made almost. The white paint was peeling off of said metal walls, revealing a rusty red color that looked like dried blood. Then you were there, in an antique-looking wooden chair. So it was probably an estate of some kind, you thought. Who else would just have this kind of shit sitting around unless they were older, and it had definitely been a younger guy that kidnapped you. You could only hope your dad made the same observation as he watched you on the other side of the camera. Because who else would that camera be for, right? 

“You know, your walls give off a lot of information about where I am!” You called throughout the room, looking at the green door. Just then, someone walked in. The same guy who kidnapped you, or at least the same body. But he was wearing a ski mask so you couldn’t identify him.

“Really?” The man asked. He actually seemed curious. 

“This chair is antique. So is this room. So you’re keeping me in some kind of family home or estate. I’d guess your grandma’s or your mom’s house because you don’t seem like the type of guy who would ever make it out. And because you’re leaving the mask on, you’re probably not going to kill me. Only people who plan to kill show their faces because they’re scared of being visually identified,” you rattled off. “And we were only in the car for about fifteen minutes, three minutes off of the highway, so there’s no way you took me too far. I take back the impotent thing, at least so far, because you haven’t tried to assault me yet. Anyone who was impotent or had that issue probably would have already.” The man stood there, his arms crossed over a black hoodie. You could vaguely see a shape within the hoodie pocket to know that it was a knife of some kind. 

“Good job, kid. Maybe you are your daddy’s kid. I’ve been watching you, you know.” You spit onto the floor out of pure disgust. How long had this creep been watching you? And how? 

“Yeah, and if you know who I am then you’re planning to ask for ransom money. Which, you should know, you’ll get. If the FBI won’t pay it, my dad will. But if you’re streaming this to him like I think you are, then you’re planning to do something to me until you get that money.”

“You are smart. I don’t have the letter ready yet, so I figured I’d come have a little fun.” The unsub noticed how calm you were and it kind of scared him a little bit - like who the fuck was calm in this kind of situation? He figured you would be scared, beg your dad to save you, but you were actually holding your own. Huh. 

Your dad noticed that, too, and his chest swelled with pride at the same time his stomach ached with fear for you. He kept asking himself why the unsub was sharing it, but he realized. He wanted your father to see what he was doing to you, he wanted your dad to see that everything that happened to you was a reflection of him. 

“He’s not a sexual sadist,” your dad said. “The motive isn’t sexual. At all.” 

“Good,” Morgan muttered. “But what do you think he wants, then?”

“He wants me to see my actions as a reflection of what happens to her,” he concluded. “He’s going to hurt her. Every time I give him something, it’s going to stop. And then he’s going to start again until I give him what he wants. I’m going to assume it’s money. She’s right about the location, at least from what I can see, so I would assume that money is the main motivation for this.” 

“Maybe bail money?” Rossi suggested. “It would make sense. If we put someone away, he would want to see them out. And bail would be a large amount of money.” 

“I’ll go tell Garcia to look for people we’ve put away who would be eligible for bail,” Reid said as he stood up. He shuffled away from the table toward Garcia’s office, leaving them to watch the live stream. 

“I’ll go make sure SWAT is ready when we have our guy,” Morgan said. “I’ll lead. You don’t need to go in there, Hotch, because for all we know he wants to actually hurt you as well as her.” 

“I’ll watch some of the initial footage back. See if we can figure anything about the location,” Prentiss volunteered. Everyone left the table except for your dad, Rossi, and JJ. Your dad had barely even paid attention, too busy looking at the screen as the unsub creeped around you. He had since drawn a knife, twirling it between leather-gloved fingers. 

“If you’re going to hurt me, there’s literally no reason to wait,” you pointed out to the unsub.

“You’re annoying. No wonder your dad doesn’t love you.” That hit a nerve in both you and your father, but you didn’t show it. You just sat up a little bit, adjusting your cold, frozen ass on the seat. 

“If you’re trying to turn him against me, it’s not going to work. I know he loves me, even in his own twisted way. So stop trying to make it seem like he doesn’t. Psychological torture isn’t going to work on someone who watched their mom die right in front of them.” Your dad’s heart fell thinking about all of the trauma you’d already been through, and how little of it you’d even discussed. After your mom died you just shut down to everyone, including the therapists who tried to help you get through it. You had just pretended like nothing was real and nothing was wrong. This, though? This was fucking real. And you couldn’t block it out no matter how badly you wanted to. 

Your father watched as the conversation shifted from just that to actual events that had happened, indicating just how long this guy had been watching. He talked about the fight you had three weeks ago about you accusing your dad of being too overprotective. Then he brought up a fight that was so bad that Jack literally ran down the street to get away from you two. And by then you were crying, begging your dad to just come get you and prove that he loved you. You had been effectively broken by the time the unsub left and he hadn’t even used the knife that he had. 

Your father watched absolutely helplessly as the man hurled abusive, and untrue, thoughts at your brain. He watched as the unsub untied you before leaving, allowing you to curl your legs up to your chest and cry on your own. You were doing so well a few minutes ago, so well that you thought maybe your dad might even be proud of you. But now? 

“Okay, I have a list of everyone eligible for bail that had anything to do with us. Cases we’ve consulted on, ones we’ve actually worked, all that jazz,” Garcia said over the phone speaker. 

“Can you cross reference that with men?” JJ asked.

“Honey, that takes one off the list of fifty,” Garcia answered. JJ sighed. 

“What about family issues? Garcia, check any cases that revolved around families. Where they were the target, the motivation, anything,” Rossi said. Everyone could hear Garcia typing, the sound fading out as everyone watched the screen to see what was going to happen next. Reid came back in the room carrying what could only be a ransom note. 

“It’s addressed to you, not the BAU,” Reid said as he handed it to your dad. He sighed, taking the letter, and sat down. 

Aaron Hotchner: 

You can see I have your daughter. You will deliver two installments of fifty thousand dollars. I will be live streaming to your organization as well as a chatroom. Until I receive funds, from this moment on, your daughter will be the star of her very own film. When you can acquire the funds, deliver them to the P.O. Box below. The installments must be in full, or I will not hesitate to kill her. The installments must be delivered over the course of twenty-four hours. For example, you may not deliver one hundred thousand dollars at once. Thank you for your cooperation. 

- X

“So he’s trying to get money in two different ways. On the chatroom and from you. This is serving more than one purpose,” Rossi said. He took the note. “Garcia, look and see if any of the bail amounts total one hundred thousand dollars. And look to see if any of them are cash only.” 

“Nothing. I’m sorry,” Garcia said after a moment of silence. 

“We’ll give them the first fifty thousand,” JJ determined. Everyone in the room turned to look at her as if she was crazy except for your dad. He was visibly shaken, eyes glued to the camera. 

“What?” Rossi asked. 

“We’ll give them the first fifty thousand as soon as we can get it. We can go ahead and trace the P.O. box, find any connections, and hopefully get our guy before it even gets delivered.”

“And if not?” Your dad asked. 

“If not, then we sincerely hope he’s bluffing about hurting her before he gets the second one. Twenty-four hours is a long time.”

Hotch turned back to the screen to see that you were sleeping until the unsub came into the room again. He slammed the door open, carrying a knife in his hand, and walked toward you. You jumped, but didn’t move. You had nowhere to go. You couldn’t leave, so you just sat there with nervous eyes. 

“I sent them the ransom note,” the unsub said casually. You swallowed. 

“Okay, and? We don’t have that kind of money, and federal funds aren’t going to be...” 

“I don’t care about federal funds. Someone better give me my fucking money. Isn’t it taxpayer dollars anyway?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Oh, I’m so hurt,” the unsub said, “boo hoo. You’ll be the one crying before too long. Sit back in the chair.” You didn’t try to run as he tied you up. You didn’t cry. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at the camera, eyes pleading for someone to fucking do something. If you knew your dad as well as you thought, he’d already made the connections about where you were, hopefully why the guy needed money, and they were already going through the ransom note. 

But, no. Your dad was watching as the unsub started by lifting your chin with the silver knife. Then he brushed your hair behind your ears. And then, out of nowhere, he dug the knife into your skin and dragged it down your arm. 

“Dad, please,” you said, knowing fully well that he was watching. You didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t handle yourself, but you were getting scared that maybe this guy was actually going to kill you if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

“Your daddy’s due to give me some money in a few hours. I figured I’d let you bleed until then.” The unsub was casual as he wiped both sides of the knife on your jeans and then walked out of the room, leaving you tied up. 

Garcia tried to had into the livestream and say something, but it didn’t work - there was no way to get a message to you. Your dad just had to sit there and call the bank, telling them that he needed to withdraw everything from his savings. He felt helpless as he watched you cry and bleed. 

The P.O. box turned to nothing. The guy had paid in cash and given them a fake name. Garcia’s search came up with four possible matches. Then she looked at property records, and then it was time to give the profile of the unsub. Your dad’s eyes were glued to the screen in the conference room, not even listening to the profile that he would usually be concerned about. He just sat there and watched, hoping that you knew he wouldn’t leave your side even then. 

The bank came through and let him withdraw the money, but not before the unsub came back and cut another gash into the same arm. Your dad went to the P.O. box and peeled his eyes away from the screen long enough to deposit the money. They had cops waiting to see who collected it, but nobody did. Nobody even tried to get anything from those boxes. 

“You should get some rest,” Rossi said later that night. Your dad shook his head, refusing to leave the screen. “He got his money.”

“And he said he’s going to hurt her still,” your dad insisted. “I’m not leaving her, even if it’s just a screen.” Rossi sighed. The rest of the team agreed not to leave you, either, and they sat there for most of the night, watching as the unsub cut you like a piece of paper. 

You had told the unsub numerous times that your dad was coming to get you, and those words haunted the entire BAU as they watched you on the screen. They weren’t coming because they didn’t know where to go. And then the unsub talked you up again, mentioning that he knew you were quiet enough that you wouldn’t scream. 

“Garcia, check for neighborhoods. Widen the search again, maybe it’s not bail after all,” Morgan instructed. Garcia started typing again. 

“There’s a Joshua Robinson, he lives twenty minutes from Rossi’s house. It looks like his father was one of our unsubs who didn’t make it four years ago. And it looks like he’s over that amount of time in missing mortgage payments. I think this could be our guy,” she said. 

“I’ll get SWAT ready again,” Morgan said. He stood up and left the room. Everyone went their separate ways except for your dad, who sat there and watched as the unsub full on stabbed you. Fucking stabbed you - you actually screamed at him instead of starting to cry. You called him impotent. A bitch. You called him slimy. You called him everything in the book and it only aggravated him more. 

Morgan drove as fast as he ever had over to the house. They raided it and found nothing - no basement, no nothing. And then they found the reason why the guy was so behind on house payments. They owned the land next to the house, too. It was only a matter of time before they found the bunker and the unsub trying to get away. 

Garcia had stopped the stream as soon as she could and called EMT’s to the scene, knowing how hurt you were and how much blood you’d lost. But it was up to your dad to go down to the creepy bunker and get you. He sighed as he descended the stairs and opened the now familiar green door, seeing you, untied but still in the chair. You were so bloody that he barely even recognized you. 

“Dad?” You asked as he walked in. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. 

“You’re safe, sweetheart, come with me,” he said softly. He threw the ropes off of you and reached underneath you, picking you up and being careful not to hurt you any more than you were already hurt. He took you up to the surface, holding your hand as the EMT’s worked their magic on your arm to try and keep you from bleeding any more than you already were.

They figured out that the unsub had been living at his father’s property, so behind in mortgage payments that he needed almost a hundred thousand dollars to pay for that and for property upkeep so he could sell the place and get a fresh start after attempted murder and kidnapping. You were right about almost every observation you’d made, down to the chair, and when your father looked around the room after loading you into the ambulance he realized just how smart you actually were. And how he hadn’t been paying attention to it. 

The next few hours were a blur - they wouldn’t let your dad come with you for anything at the hospital so he just sat there, waiting, with the rest of the team. The unsub had done quite a bit of nerve damage to your arm, leaving you unable to feel any pain in it for what may be forever, but at least you still had your arm. Rossi bought you a guilt gift of a new phone, too, since you’d dropped yours on the concrete, and said he was adding extra extra security to his house if you ever wanted to go there again. 

“You were watching the whole time, weren’t you?” You finally said to your dad, shutting your new phone off and putting it in your lap. He was going through some folder before he turned to you, nodding. 

“I wouldn’t leave you if I was there. And I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

“I’m sorry that anyone thinks I’m worth a hundred thousand dollars.” That made him laugh, if only a little bit. “You always said that they’d bring me back if I was kidnapped.”

“Because you were so annoying!” He laughed. “I think the guy almost did. He was getting pretty fed up with you.” Joking about it, it seemed, was the only way to not cry about it. At least in your family. 

“Yeah, I think telling him he had a small dick was a lot for him.” 

“I’m really proud of the way you handled that.”

“I had nowhere to go if I tried to run,” you shrugged. “You always taught me that if I’m in a bad situation, stay in it unless I have a way out. You said that’s how you always get through things. Because you don’t just walk out on them.” 

“You don’t feel like I walked out on you, do you? And you don’t think that’s why we are the way we are?” You looked down, thinking about it for a minute, before you shook your head. 

“No. But-” Your eyes lit up when Rossi walked Jack into the room. He was holding another guilt gift, too, and ran up to you. You picked up your brother and put him in your lap, making him laugh.

“What happened to your arm?” Jack asked, poking at a bandage. You tried not to wince, smiling instead. 

“Just a bad guy. But I worked the case,” you told him. He smiled.

“Just like Daddy?”

“Yeah,” your dad said with a smile as he walked over to the two of you. “Just like me.” 

A/N: Just some good ole classic Dad!Hotch for y’all... I hope you like it as much as I do!! 

[lupismaris]

Blackberry Crepes- silverflintham black sails modern au ficlet

(i saw a few posts about how love is sharing food and making breakfast for your loved ones and lets just say this is part 1 of a series in which Flint cooks for his loved ones when saying i love you might not be enough)

Sleep was something of a stranger to Silver. He liked to joke that he didn’t need it, that he could just cat nap for half an hour here and there, and be good for a few days, that he was just built different, the perks of life on the run and never having a real routine. But in truth he’d push himself until his body gave out and he slept for 18 hours and woke up feeling like death warmed over. That was the only way he’d be able to get any real sleep. Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, or, as he had eventually learned with Flint and Thomas, getting well and truly laid until his brain shut off and his body felt like lead.   He preferred the latter, of course, but it still wasn’t something he felt he could readily ask for. Especially when it wasn’t enough to keep his mind quiet. Dreams, nightmares, they’re funny things. You can think you’re too tired to dream and then on your way into an REM cycle you get blind sided by the most vivid night terror you’ve had in the past three months. You could be napping on the couch when the phantom limb starts acting up and your mind conjures memories of when you lost it or just vague ideas of what life would be like if you hadn’t and you wake up unable to tell which is worse. You could be strung out and coming down from an orgasmic high and then feel your stomach drop when you finally fall asleep and your mind tells you it isn’t safe, jolting you violently back to consciousness. Or you could be dozing in the early morning hours, the way Silver had been, after a good night, a genuinely good night, and find yourself halfway between deep sleep and waking, faced with fears you’d buried so far deep you hoped they’d suffocate. They’d gone to dinner, on a date even. Flint and Thomas had made a point to be home and get dressed up and take him out on the town and pay complete attention to him, like he was just a normal lover and not, well, himself. It was still an adjustment for him, this idea that he could just have this, a normal relationship with men who actually wanted him, where using each other wasn’t part of it, where the end game wasn’t someone’s bank account or an act of violence, where there wasn’t even an end game to consider. By the end of July the charms of summer had started to wear thin, even for Silver, and he was tired of the heat and the mirror like cage of the city, he was tired of the long days and the long conversations and the longer shadows on the blistering asphalt. He was tired of the haze that made his mind question what was and wasn’t real, despite knowing what was. It left him on edge and he knew Flint could tell, no matter how hard he worked to hide it. If Thomas knew, he was at least polite enough not to give it away. Dinner had been lovely. A little Spanish place by the promenade, followed by a short walk since the evening was cooler than expected and a breeze of the Hudson meant it was almost blissful. There had been wine and Flint’s homemade limoncello tarts when they got home and endless lazy kisses and one of them always touching him as if trying to keep him tethered. There had been sex, great sex, not that Silver had ever had bad sex with the pair of them (the smug rotten bastards), but the kind where Silver had been able to let go and drown in it for a while, let someone else carry the load, and do the thinking for a while. It still hadn’t been enough.

Silver sighed, a cloud of smoke curling around his face as he watched the rooftops shift and glimmer in the faded teal skies of four am, his second cigarette of the hour dangling somewhat carelessly from his fingers. He had tried, valiantly he felt, to stay in bed with Flint and Thomas, to sleep curled up with them the way Flint always hoped he would after sex. Some nights it worked and he’d wake up when Flint went for his blasphemous morning run. Most nights though he’d wait until Thomas was out cold and snoring like a bear, then kiss Flint goodnight, and slip back to his room next door. He’d fallen asleep tucked into Flint’s chest, with Flint’s arm around him and the deep rumble of his breathing filling his ears. Thomas was spooned up behind Flint, clinging to his husband like a child and snoring loudly, but that too was somehow comforting. He was safe, he was loved, he was home. And suddenly the next thing Silver knew he was choking on nothing and fighting the air, sitting bolt upright in bed with a wordless, noiseless scream of fear. The only saving grace was that it didn’t wake the others, Thomas still sound asleep and curled up under the covers, Flint spooned up behind him, years younger in sleep, a different man. Silver had sat there shaking for some time, half an hour, five minutes, he couldn’t be sure. Once he could breathe without wheezing and his hands had stopped shaking violently, he steadied himself and slipped out of bed, grabbing his crutch from where it rested dutifully against the nightstand. There wasn’t much he was good at in life, but John Silver had always been good at running. This wasn’t any different. Now, he was wrapped in an old blanket, hidden away on the roof where he’d been putting together his own little makeshift garden. Plants that he’d found half dead or dying on the curb, abandoned succulents from friends, houseplants he found on discount at the hardware store that he’d barter down to a dollar. He liked the distance heights gave him, always had, was always climbing things as a kid to try and get a better view, try to hide away from prying eyes. It was harder now that he had the prosthetic, but the elevator could take him up to the loft, and the stairs to the roof weren’t too steep, so he could manage them with his crutch. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the little patch of green paradise that Flint and Thomas had nurtured down below, he loved it and the time they spent there. But this- this little scrap of roof top, with it’s homemade shelves of plywood and resurrected plants, was his. Silver took another drag from his cigarette and watched a flock of pigeons shift their course in flight, heading west towards Manhattan where the morning crowds were no doubt slowly beginning to stir. Even on Saturdays, the city got a bright and early start if it ever truly decided to rest. He could hear tidbits of conversation from his perch, voices carried up to him like secrets as their owners walked past, heading home from work, from a night out, leaving home to go to work, whatever their little lives demanded, existing in spite of themselves, for themselves. Cars hummed past, cabbies and uber drivers trying to catch the last of the club goers as they left the bars in search of a trip home, picking up the true early bird tourists as they tried to beat the others to some absurd event or another. He could even hear music, someone’s window open on their block he thought, and the faint repetitive sound of a piano as they worked through their scales. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. The neighborhood would be well and truly awake soon. The running group would be on the corner waiting for the stragglers, hitting the asphalt by five am. The store fronts and bodegas would start opening up around six, the bars by eight if they served brunch, and the world would come to life at Silver’s feet. He had until then to quiet the noise in his head and remember how to put his mask back on. The sound of the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He thought for a moment that maybe, if he kept still, he’d go unnoticed, they the sparse shelves and plants and the blanket might hide him well enough that Flint, because it was always Flint, would go back down stairs and go for his morning run and leave him well enough alone. But he knew better. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been up here?” came the sleep heavy rumble of a voice. “Depends on whether you want to be disappointed this early in the morning,” Silver replied dryly. And there it was, the telltale sigh of disappointment, because Flint was going to be disappointed no matter what answer he got. “Silver-” “I don’t want to do this right now.” “Do what?” Silver sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He heard Flint move across the roof, the soft footsteps of bare feet on the weatherproof matting slow and well chosen, stopping next to him. “This thing you do where you try and bully answers out of me. I don’t fucking feel up to these games, alright? I just- I don’t,” Silver said, risking a look upwards. Flint was shirtless, as he always was when fresh out of bed, but he’d pulled on a pair of old sweatpants before going to look for Silver. He’d left his hair loose, the rich copper strands hanging in a curtain around the left side of his face, the shaved under cut peaking out along the right. Silver could still see the pillow prints on his cheek, and his beard was disgruntled and unbrushed the way it rarely was when he left the house. Silver loved him like this, he loved Flint always, but there was something about Flint like this, soft and at ease, bare chested and vulnerable that managed to settle even the worst of Silver’s deep seated insecurities. Because who else got to have Flint like this? Who else but Silver and Thomas got Flint at his gentlest? They looked at each other for a moment, Flint frowning softly with his hands on his hips and Silver wrapped up in his blanket, saying nothing, saying everything they could. Then Flint sighed and sat down next to him. “I’m not here to bully you,” he said gently, taking the cigarette that Silver was neglecting. “You were gone when I woke up, thought I’d check on you,” He paused, relighting the cigarette with his trusty old lighter, “but as you were not in your room I figured something was bothering you and you’d be either working in the office or up here.” “You didn’t have to check on me.” “It was for my sake, not yours.” Silver smiled faintly, his eyes stinging from what he hoped was just exhaustion but was probably tears. He didn’t look at Flint, just blinked them away and watched the sky lighten little by little as Flint finished the cigarette. “You know that’s not what I’m doing, right?” Flint asked after a few minutes of silence. “Whats not what you’re doing?” “Bullying you.” “I mean it’s kinda what you do.” “Is that how you see it?” Flint wasn’t looking at him. He was reaching for the French enamel cigarette case that was sitting next to Silver, one he’d stolen in Monaco several lives before, and lighting another cigarette. Silver watched him, a little wistful, and incredibly exhausted all at once. “No.” He said. “Yes. Depends on when you try and do it I guess.” That got a low hum from Flint, smoke filling the air for a moment in a pensive cloud. Silver waited, oddly tense, hoping that Flint would listen to him, and not try and play one of their fucked up little games so early in the morning. They were doing really well these days, not playing any games at all, having real, honest conversations like well adjusted adults who hadn’t done all the awful things they’d done, to each other, to others. But sometimes it was so much easier to just be awful to each other, to fall back into the old way of doing things. “I only check on you to know you’re still here,” Flint said finally. “I only ask if you’re alright because if I can fix it, I want to. I don’t care if you lie to me about what had you out of bed this morning. I don’t give a shit if you never tell me the names of your ghosts, I’ve told you that a dozen times, I know you remember that as well as you remember the names of my own ghosts.” Silver did remember, both the ghosts, and the plaintive way Flint had asked him to trust whatever it was they had between them. “I just want to know you’re still here. That you’ve not gone running off again. That you’ll run to me next time this,” he waved at the rooftop and the skyline as if encompassing all of Silver’s faulty coping methods, “fails and you’re out at sea. I just- I ask those questions to reassure myself, alright?” He paused, taking another drag from the cigarette, tipping his head back with a heavy sigh. Silver could see the age starting to show on his face again, in the soft lines around his eyes, the firm set of his mouth, the scars on his nose and throat, the endless sea of freckles, the faded ink of his tattoos, the streaks of gray in his beard. Before his eyes, the man he loved, his Flint, was appearing, returning to flesh and blood from the land of dreams. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, pup,” Flint added, finally turning his head and catching Silver looking at him. The sea green of Flint’s eyes always seemed to hook Silver, regardless of whether he wanted them to. They could be the deep inky black full of secrets or the still gray of quiet waters, it didn’t matter- if Flint looked at him, soft and open and endlessly patient the way no one else was, Silver would eventually break. Flint knew it, but so far, he never seemed to abuse the power he held. Silver smiled faintly. With a soft groan he shifted onto his knees, loving the way Flint’s hands immediately reached to steady him whether he needed it or not, and crawled into Flint’s lap, straddling his hips and wrapping the worn blanket around them both. He took the cigarette from Flint’s lips and stubbed it out in the ashtray, as Flints hands settled like an anchor, warm and sure, at the small of his back. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, old man,” Silver said, brushing Flint’s hair out of his eyes, “I promised you were stuck with me. No amount of nightmares are gonna change that.” He kissed Flint softly, smiling at the low rumbling purr it got him, at the way Flint’s hands pulled him closer, spread wide on his back. It was a soft, innocent thing, no heat, no hunger, and that too was still something novel to Silver, that he could have this innocent kind of intimacy with someone, with a man like Flint. He craved it as much as he craved the wilder side of love and was grateful that Flint seemed happy to satisfy both moods whenever they arose. “Good,” Flint said, once the lazy kiss broke and Silver tucked his face into Flint’s shoulder with a happy sound. “Because while I would absolutely give chase, I’d rather not have Thomas trailing after us as well. You know the kind of trouble he gets up to, just imagine him trying to find you.” Silver snorted with an undignified burst of laughter. “No, god, he’d be impossible.” “Exactly. I’d have my hands full just trying to keep him in one piece. I’ve got enough gray hair as it is, pup, don’t go giving me anymore before my time, alright?” Flint lifted his chin as Silver’s fingers petted the gray streaks in his beard, letting out another soft rumbling sound. “Alright. Though I do think it’s sexy.” “Yeah yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear,” Flint kissed the top of Silver’s head, nuzzling his messy curls. “C’mon, why don’t we head inside, I think it’s a reasonable time for coffee.” “What about your run? Your awful five am morning ritual I can almost never talk you out of even for a blow job.” “I feel like skipping this morning.” Silver lifted his head, leveling Flint with a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow. Flint returned it with a fond smile. “Its Saturday, I feel like making breakfast,” Flint said with a shrug. I love you, Silver heard. “Can we have blackberry crepes? And scrambled eggs?” Silver asked after a moment. “And that fancy bacon you got from the farmer’s market?” Flint smiled, still fond and impossibly warm. Silver’s heart skipped, flipped, and settled in his chest. Flint had heard the unspoken, skittish, and undeniable “I love you too” tucked into Silver’s reply. Flint coaxed him into another soft kiss, still wearing that same smile.

  “Blackberry crepes it is.”

[rafael-silva]

steady me with your touch: a tarlos fic

A call brings the 126 crew, APD and the Texas Rangers together. When Carlos gets hurt on said scene, Gabriel bears witness to TK working through his worry as he takes care of Carlos, the love and deep connection between them evident as clear as the sun shines. In the aftermath, TK is there for his boyfriend, in more ways than one.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + arm in a sling 

hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, paramedic tk, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, kisses, whump, comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft boyfriends 

5.7k | rated T | on ao3

*****

Walking into the precinct that morning, the air heavy with tension and stress, Carlos had an inkling about the day that lied ahead. And in retrospect, Carlos’s gut was proven right.

*****

Switching off the siren and hopping out of the patrol car, Carlos and Mitchell quickly stride towards their captain, who is wearing a grim look as he speaks to a couple of other officers. Carlos looks around, noticing a perimeter already being set by his colleagues as bystanders start to gather across the street.

Captain Kendricks turns in their direction as they approach him.

“Reyes, Mitchell, good that you got here so quick,” he says.

“Captain,” Carlos nods as he slips on his vest. “We were a few blocks over when the call came in.”

Before the captain can reply, the echo of more sirens grab their attentions. Turning in the direction of the incoming sounds, Carlos immediately finds the bold 126 numbers painted on the side of the firetruck, followed by the ambulance.

His eyes remain fixed on the vehicles as the firefighters disembark, watching as Owen searches the crowd for the person in command of the scene before even his boots hit the ground.

The fire captain’s eyes quickly find Carlos and Captain Kendricks and he says something to Judd before hurrying over to the police officers.

“Captain Kendricks,” Owen greets, extending his hand.

“Captain Strand,” Kendricks replies, shaking Owen’s extended hand.

“Officer Reyes, Officer Mitchell.”

“Captain Strand,” Carlos responds next.

“What’s the situation?”

“I was just about to brief Officers Reyes and Mitchell. We have a hostage situation, it was called in about ten minutes ago. The daughter made the call, she and her parents had come home and according to her, she had gone to her bedroom straight away, and a few moments later she heard arguing and strange voices coming from the living room. She discovered three men in black ski masks, armed, and yelling at her parents. She ran back to her room and called 911. And it appears to have started out as a robbery.”

Owen nods. “So, at least three robbers.”

Captain Kendricks nods. “We’re still trying to establish communication with the intruders, and in the meantime, the daughter is still on the line with 911,” the captain continues. “Where is she hiding?”

“Her bedroom, north-east side of the building.”

“Any updates, Captain Kendricks?” Another voice pops up, approaching the group.

At hearing the familiar voice, Carlos turns to see his father making his way towards them and gets a nod from Gabriel when their eyes meet.

“No new updates yet, Major.”

“Sir,” Carlos greets his father.

“Captain Strand,” Gabriel extends his hand.

“Major Reyes,” Owen reciprocates, shaking the offered palm.

“Captain Strand, I’ll need you and your crew close and on stand by,” Kendricks states, then turning to Carlos and Mitchell, “Reyes, Mitchell, I want you to cover the back door, along with Banks and Carter. Keep your eyes open and watch each other’s backs, report any movement.”

“Yes, sir,” Carlos responds.

Looking back in the direction of the firetruck, Carlos sees the 126 crew standing near, talking together and looking at the building. He quickly finds TK, and unlike everyone else, the paramedic is looking straight at him, also having sought out his boyfriend amid the crowd.

They start a wordless conversation, declarations spoken through brown and green gates as they connect on a deeper level, the world around them momentarily fading away. A wave of understanding sways between them, an invisible string extending and bridging them together; they both know what the other is expressing, speaking through their hearts, the words echoing in their eyes, seeing into each other’s souls. Carlos gives TK a nod, which the paramedic replies to with a small smile.

Turning back, Carlos shares a look with his father.

Gabriel’s hand moves to Carlos’s face, gently patting his cheek then his shoulder.

“Be careful, son,” Gabriel pleads.

“Will do, sir,” Carlos replies, giving his dad a smile.

Gabriel watches as his son glances over his shoulder one more time before walking into the opposite direction and towards the back of the building, his partner on his heels.

Gabriel turns to glimpse in the direction Carlos had just looked in and easily finds TK, the younger man’s eyes trailed on Carlos. The Ranger’s movement then catches TK’s eyes and they share a look. Gabriel gives him a smile and nod, which TK swiftly return.

*****

They found the daughter, TK had overheard Captain Kendricks telling Owen and Gabriel.

The atmosphere is tense and the air thick as PD and the Rangers work to establish communication with the assailants, which still hasn’t proven manageable. And now without the daughter on the line with dispatch anymore, they are blind to what is happening inside the apartment.

A couple of other officers were assigned to the back of the building along with Carlos and the others, but it’s also been radio silence on their end.

TK is pacing back and forth in front of the truck and ambulance, his shoulders squared and face tight, rubbing his hands together, busying himself.

He can hear his father, Gabriel and Captain Kendricks nearby, discussing what the best course of action would be if it remains radio silence for another few minutes.

He stops moving when the radio comes to life with Carlos’s voice.

“This is 363-H-20,” Carlos’s voice is low and hushed. “Possible movement in the back.”

TK holds his breath, waiting, and then his heart promptly plummets into his stomach at the next transmission, his eyes going wide with fear at the words.

“Shots fired, I repeat, shots fired,” Carlos yells, his voice loud now. “Requesting back up!”

TK swallows against his dry throat when his ears catch the harsh sound of bullets hitting steel and brick in the background of Carlos’s message.

The sun watching over them and the heat engulfing them is suddenly too much for TK, his entire body sizzling from the inside out as his heart beats fiercely against his rib cage.

“Four suspects fleeing north, in pursuit on foot,” Carlos continues a few moments later.

“Hey, hang on, brother,” a close voice pierces TK’s ears. He turns to find Judd’s hand on his shoulder. “They’ll radio if they need EMS. He’s okay.”

He’s okay? TK wants to scoff. He just got rained on by a shower of bullets, he thinks.

TK then looks down and realizes he’d taken a few steps forward, unconsciously trying to get to Carlos. All possibilities of what could go wrong start to rush through his mind; what if Carlos got hit but the adrenaline is masking the pain? What if he collapses while he’s chasing the criminals?

And as if Judd had spoken it into the universe, the radio chirps to life, an unfamiliar voice to TK calling for medical assistance.

The foreign voice alone gets TK’s heart racing some more, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that Carlos is the one hurt now that he’s not on the radio. It’s not a given, of course, TK knows, but his mind can’t be convinced otherwise in the moment, his fear of losing Carlos bigger than logic.

TK lifts his head towards the group of officers just in time to see a bunch of them joined by a few Rangers, including Gabriel, rush to their vehicles.

A few other officers make their way towards the paramedics, and lead them to where they’re needed, towards the fallen officer. TK’s legs move on their own accord, he needs to know.

TK feels the sweat roll down his neck and back as they get closer to the officers, he tightens his hold on the medkit, repeating please be okay, Carlos, please be okay, over and over in his head.

He gets a proper view of the officer on the ground and his shoulders sag a little, a sigh escaping him when he sees it’s not Carlos. He drops the medkid and kneels next to the cop, his partner speaking on his behalf.

“He took a round to his vest, it didn’t go through but he said it hurts to breathe a little.”

The paramedics work in unison to get the officer assessed and stable. TK had seen both of the cops at Carlos’s precinct a couple of times but he hasn’t spoken to them before.

A question over the radio grabs his attention then.

“What’s your location, Reyes?” Kendricks speaks into his radio.

“Just passed Brazos and East 4th,” comes Carlos’s quick reply around his pants.

“Copy, back up is in en route.”

TK takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering his nerves. Carlos is going to be okay.

A few blocks away, Carlos watches as the four suspects break into two group, each going in opposite directions.

“They’ve split up,” Carlos relays. “Banks and Carter, go East, Mitchell and I will stay on them heading north.”

Sirens fill the air around Carlos as he pushes his muscles and wills his legs to keep running, the suspects just ahead of him as he sees them turn a corner.

“Suspects have turned a corner, heading West on 5th,” Carlos speaks into his radio, slowing to a jog and eventually stopping.

“Reyes?” Mitchell questions as she slows next to her partner.

“We can cut them off before they reach West Avenue,” Carlos tells Mitchell, gathering his breath. “There’s a shortcut to West 5th,” he explains, pointing to a nearby alley. “Through there.”

Mitchell nods and follows Carlos into the alley. They quickly make their way between the buildings, eventually reaching the main street. They slow down when they’re almost at West 5th street, staying close against the wall to conceal their movements. Carlos carefully peaks his head out, his heart hammering in his chest as he searches for any signs of the suspects.

“Anything?” Mitchell whispers.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies. “They’re heading this way, almost half a block behind.”

Thankfully, the street isn’t busy and there are no bystanders in close vicinity of the robbers. When Carlos gives the signal, he and Mitchell jump out from the alley and into the path of the men, their guns drawn.

The two men freeze, their own guns in their grip and Carlos can instantly read them like an open book.

“Don’t move and don’t even think about it. Lower your weapons and the duffel bags, slowly,” Carlos orders.

“Do it,” Mitchell adds with a stern tone.

The two men don’t move for a few moments before they follow the orders, lowering their guns to the asphalt along with the bags. With her gun still drawn, Mitchell carefully moves forward and kicks the guns away. Then she and Carlos return their own guns to their holsters and move to cuff the suspects.

In a quick move, the man Carlos is holding flicks his head back, and Carlos would have ended up with a broken nose if it weren’t for his quick reflexes, jerking his head backwards and out of the way of the oncoming assault. Carlos’s grip, however, loosens on the man, giving him just enough leverage to slip a little from his hold.

Carlos recovers quickly, locking the man’s wrists to keep him in place as he reaches for his cuffs, but the man continues at his attempt to break free from the officer’s hold.

Carlos is also aware that Mitchell is having her own go with the other suspect, trying to secure him in the same way, too.

The man in Carlos’s grasp sharply and suddenly leans forward, his arms still behind him as he wiggles some more, swaying his body to the side and tipping Carlos’s balance. The man, in another strong tug forward, manages to escape Carlos’s hold when the officer tries to regain his balance. He only reaches the end of the block before Carlos is tackling him to the ground, but not without injury, though. Carlos hears a sickening crack coming from his shoulder when he thuds harshly on his side, his arm and shoulder colliding with the asphalt, his other going around the man to keep him in place.

White, hot pain surges through his nerves and body, and he wants to scream out in agony. He manages to keep the man in place just long enough for Mitchell to run over, having cuffed the other guy and handed him to the back up that arrived moments ago, and takes over using Carlos’s cuffs on the man on the ground.

Carlos breathes out a throaty groan, his good arm free now to cradle his injured shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to regulate his breathing.

“Reyes?” He hears Mitchell call out but he doesn’t reply, the pain clouding his head and preventing him from doing anything except breathe through the continuous throbbing.

He’s vague aware of the sirens around them now, blaring and ear-piercing and he can see the red and blue lights dancing across beyond his closed eyelids.

Carlos’s focus leaves his surroundings and travel to the aching pain and shocks running up and down his arm. But soon, another voice filters through, getting closer. At first, the voice seems so far away, as if Carlos were underwater and the voice above. That voice is one he replies to.

“Carlos?”

“Dad…” Carlos mumbles through clenched teeth.

“What happened?” He hears Gabriel ask.

“Carlos tackled him to the ground, but I didn’t see it happen. I looked up after cuffing the other guy and Carlos was on the ground with him,” Mitchell explains.

“Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Carlos takes a deep breath through his nose and wills his eyes to open. He finds his father’s concerned face through the momentary blur, and he shakes his head to clear his vision. It seems that wasn’t the best of choices because the action sends a sharp sting running through his head but it fades after a few moments.

“There you are,” Gabriel visibly relaxes a little at seeing Carlos awake. “What hurts?”

“Shoulder,” Carlos pants. “Fell on it.”

Gabriel’s eyes go to Carlos’s shoulder and he grimaces at the unnatural angle the joint is in.

“It’s dislocated,” Gabriel sighs.

Carlos groans again, moving his body to the side, as if he wanted to curl into himself and will the discomfort away. However, all he ends up doing is hissing in pain.

“Stay still, Carlos,” Gabriel warns and then turns to Mitchell. “Radio for EMS.”

She nods, getting to her feet and hauls the cuffed man away, pressing down on her radio to request medical and reports their location.

Gabriel then kneels next to his son and gently settles a hand behind his uninjured shoulder.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Gabriel says, and receives a nod from Carlos.

Carlos lifts his good arm and wraps his fingers around his father’s wrist for leverage, and mostly using Gabriel’s strength and with the Ranger’s support on his back, they manage to get Carlos up and sitting in a swift but careful motion, but even the slight jostling sends sharp stabbing like pains through Carlos’s arm and shoulder that have him groaning again.

“You okay?” Gabriel asks, his voice coated with worry, hating to see his son in pain.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies a few moments after collecting his breath, his voice shakier than he intended.

His good arm goes back to holding his other, and Gabriel keeps his hand on Carlos’s back, supporting Carlos both literally and figuratively. A part of Gabriel knows that Carlos can very well tumble backwards if it weren’t for his support and it’s also to remind for Carlos that he isn’t alone.

Gabriel looks up when he senses quick movement approaching and sees the paramedics jogging towards them.

“Major Reyes,” TK is the first to speak, his grip on the medkit strap tightening.

Gabriel can pin point the moment TK realizes it’s Carlos who is injured, by the way the young paramedic’s breath hitches and eyes go wide. But he also quickly observes how TK is doing his best to keep himself composed, focused and professional, and to not let his emotions cloud him or cause him to freeze.

“He tackled the suspect and hit his shoulder and arm on the ground,” Gabriel tells them, his eyes moving back to Carlos.

“Hi babe,” TK meets Carlos’s eyes as he kneels next to him, his green irises radiating worry.

The officer gives him the best smile he could muster in hopes of easing the panic he can see drawn on TK’s face.

“How are you doing?”

Carlos swallows. “Okay.”

“How’s your pain?” Tommy asks next, her voice calm and motherly.

Gabriel notices how TK’s eyes keep moving  from unpacking the equipment they need to Carlos, emitting fear and worry. He can see how TK takes some comfort from the fact that Carlos is sitting up, awake and alert, but Gabriel can also tell it’s still not quite enough to completely relieve the young man’s anxiety at seeing Carlos injured, judging by the strain in his shoulders as he works.

“Uh…the pain is maybe a seven? Eight?”

TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s face, studying him and finds sweat collecting on Carlos’s forehead. His eyes then move down to his middle, where Carlos is holding himself a little unnaturally and taking shallow breaths, TK creasing his eyebrows at the realization.

“Carlos, does anything else hurt?” TK asks, worry evident in his voice.

“My back and down my side,” Carlos winces around a breath. “Breathing hurts a little. It’s like…every breath echoes into my back and it’s like a stabbing pain.”

TK nods and with the help of Gabriel, they gently remove Carlos’s kevlar vest and then TK moves to lift Carlos’s uniform shirt.

He knew to expect a bruise there, Carlos’s momentum when he hit the ground enough to cause that, but he still can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the dark red bruise already formed down his boyfriend’s back and side.

TK sees Gabriel have the same reaction from the corner of his eye. He gently starts examining the bruise, lightly pressing down on the skin around it and Carlos lets out a low groan.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

Carlos nods, it’s okay.

As he lowers the shirt, TK shares a look with the Ranger and sees the same concern surging through his own body mirrored back at him.

“Cap, back and side are heavily bruised.”

Tommy nods in acknowledgment and then turns to Nancy when she speaks.

“Vitals are holding, Cap, a little low, but they’re stable,” Nancy reports.

Tommy nods again. “Lets see what we can do about that pain now, yeah, Carlos?”

Tommy tells Nancy to administer pain medication through the IV line she just inserted and secured. Carlos lets out a steady breath a few moments later.

“Better?” TK asks.

Carlos nods.

“That’s good,” TK gives him a smile.

“Okay, Carlos, we have to slip your shoulder back into the joint. It won’t be pleasant, the pain will only last for a few seconds though and the meds we gave you will help,” Tommy says.

Carlos nods. “Had a dislocated shoulder before.”

“Alright, then, you know the drill.”

TK moves to Carlos’s uninjured side as Gabriel gets up and steps back, giving them space to work. Tommy now opposite TK, together they get ready, positioning Carlos and TK takes Carlos’s uninjured hand into his own, giving it a squeeze.

After a moment or two, Tommy starts counting and in between the second and third count, she expertly reduces the dislocation and Carlos’s shoulder pops back into the socket.

Carlos’s knuckles go white as his grip on TK’s hand tightens, the seconds of pain causing him to squeeze TK’s hand with everything he’s got. He feels TK run his thumb over his skin as the wave of pain begins to wash away.

“All done,” Tommy smiles at Carlos. “It’s going to be tender and sore for a few days, so take it easy,” she gives him a pointed look.

“Reminds me of an exact same conversation we had a few years ago, that time he sprained his ankle and wanted to walk around the ranch to fix some holes in the fence,” Gabriel says, his tone playful and a little teasing. “We told him to take it easy and yet I found him limping down the stairs less than ten minutes later.”

“I just…like to be helpful and I hate it when an injury gets in the way of that.”

“I hear you, Carlos. But don’t push yourself or you might end up doing more damage. And in this case, it means complete minimal movement of your shoulder, and it’s best if you don’t use it at all for a few days,” Tommy says.

Carlos drops his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t forget, I know your boy really well,” Tommy turns to look at TK. “I’ve learned how to deal with a certain version of the phrase taking it easy.”

Gabriel chuckles again at Tommy’s comment, getting the sense that the two young men have more in common than he initially thought.

TK doesn’t argue, instead he reaches for the arm sling and Gabriel watches as he carefully helps Carlos put it on, securing his arm against his chest and tightening the strap so his arm is properly supported.

“There,” TK says. “And take it easy,” he winks at Carlos.

Carlos chuckles and nods.

Gabriel himself relaxes a little more after watching the exchange, seeing how both Carlos and TK were a little more at ease now that the officer was a little better. He can still see concern at the edges of TK’s eyes and on his face, but he supposes it will be a few days until the remnants of worry are completely gone.

“Can you walk to the ambulance?” Tommy asks.

Carlos frowns, eyes going to his father and then TK. “I thought we were done.”

TK shakes his head. “We still need to take you to the hospital, get some x rays to make sure everything is okay and to check on your muscles and ligaments, too. It’s precautionary, just to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and nothing on the inside has been injured in the fall.”

Carlos sighs and nods.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Gabriel says once they get Carlos inside to rig and TK hops in after him.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carlos starts from where he’s lying upright on the gurney.

Gabriel’s shake of his head stops the officer. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he repeats.

“Okay, sir,” Carlos gives him a grateful smile.

Carlos is pretty exhausted and sleeps during the ride to the hospital, TK keeping a steady hold on his hand the whole way, grounding him and giving him comfort.

Carlos is taken to an exam room upon arrival, the nurses allow TK to stay with him while Tommy and Nancy are told to stay in the waiting area, which is where Gabriel finds them ten minutes after their arrival.

“Major Reyes,” Tommy says once she spots him. “Carlos is being examined right now, TK is with him and he’ll come with updates.”

Gabriel nods and takes a seat in one of plastic chairs, fishing his phone from his pocket to call his wife.

After reassuring Andrea that Carlos is okay and he’s being checked over and promising Carlos will call her as soon as he can, he hangs up in time to see TK walk over to them.

“The doctor’s initial exam shows that everything is fine, but they’re taking him to get an x ray to make certain,” TK explains.

“That’s good to hear,” Gabriel smiles, patting TK on the shoulder.

TK nods, returning the smile.

Carlos is back in the exam room shortly after, TK and Gabriel with him. Carlos is speaking to his father after finishing his call with Andrea when TK’s radio comes to life.

“It’s okay,” Carlos says before TK can apologize. “I’m fine, and the x ray is going to show just that.”

“I’ll take him home,” Gabriel nods.

“Oh,” Carlos frowns a little at a realization. “My car is at the precinct.”

“I can have dad take me there after shift and I’ll get it home,” TK says.

“Okay,” Carlos nods. “The keys are in my locker.”

TK nods, moving closer to Carlos. “I’ll see you at home,” he takes Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’ll see you at home, babe,” Carlos squeezes back. “Go save lives.”

“Bye, Mr. Reyes,” TK waves as he walks towards the door.

“Bye, TK. Stay safe,” Gabriel replies.

TK nods again and with one last look at Carlos, who is still smiling and gives him a nod himself, TK turns on his heels and walks through the hospital, meeting his team outside.

*****

“Babe, I’m home,” TK calls out as he walks through the door, dropping the keys into the bowl sitting on the table next to the door.

He immediately spots Carlos in the kitchen by the fridge, who smiles widely upon seeing TK.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos replies, closing the fridge door. “How was the rest of shift?”

“You should be resting,” TK raises his eyebrows as he walks over to Carlos. “It was fine, a little slow towards the end.”

“I am, resting that is, I was just getting some orange juice,” Carlos replies. “Welcome home,” he whispers before returning the soft kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs into the kiss, a hand going to cup Carlos’s cheek. He pulls back slightly to plant another kiss to Carlos’s lips, both of them pouring their everything into it, feeling each other, reassuring each other.

“Hi,” TK whispers when they pull apart, resting his forehead against Carlos’s.

“Hi yourself,” Carlos whispers back, a small smile spreading on his face.

“How are you feeling?” TK asks, a thumb caressing Carlos’s cheek.

“Okay,” Carlos replies. “Me and dad ordered pizza. You know, one of the easier things to eat with…” he trails off, gesturing to his sling.

TK nods.

“Definitely easier than changing out of your uniform with a sore shoulder,” Carlos shakes his head. “And showering.”

TK frowns, eyes turning sad at the thought of Carlos in pain, but Carlos quickly goes to reassure TK.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle though,” Carlos says. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know, I just…I hate that you got hurt,” TK sighs, face falling and eyes going to Carlos’s injured arm.

It’s Carlos’s turn to gently cup TK’s face and guide him to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos soft calls. “I’ll be good as new in no time. A couple of weeks and I go for a check up and we take it from there.”

TK nods, eyes not leave Carlos’s, almost afraid that Carlos would somehow disappear if he looks away.

“Okay,” Carlos says as he closes the gap between them with another kiss.

Before either of them say anything else, TK’s stomach rumbles and reminds him that he’s very hungry. Carlos lifts an eyebrow, making TK chuckle.

“I ordered a pizza for you too, I put it in the oven to keep it warm,” Carlos adds.

“My savior,” TK brushes a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, you saved me today,” Carlos responds.

“Well, call it even,” TK smiles. “I’ll go take a quick shower then I can eat and we can carefully cuddle and watch a movie.”

“Exactly what I need.”

TK, however, doesn’t move and keeps watching Carlos.

“TK?” Carlos questions, his face turning into one of confusion.

“I’m not going until I’m sure you’re sitting safely on the couch,” TK shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Taking it easy, remember? I don’t want you hurting your shoulder again, and your parents hearing about it…I do not want to receive that phone call.”

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Okay, I’m going.”

He grabs the full glass of orange juice off the counter and walks over the couch, setting the cup down on the table and then lowering himself down on the fluffy cushion.

“Safe and sound. Now go shower,” Carlos gestures towards the bathroom. “I miss you and your cuddles.”

“Give me ten minutes,” TK smiles as he walks over to Carlos, dropping a kiss to the top of his head and then to his injured shoulder.

As promised, they’re cuddling thirty minutes later. TK had finished eating and went to grab a couple of water bottles before gently sitting on Carlos’s unhurt side. He lifts his arm for Carlos to come closer and TK carefully places his hand over Carlos’s injured shoulder, mindful not to add any pressure there.

Carlos snuggles against his boyfriend, pressing a light kiss to TK’s neck and then resting his head there. He closes his eyes as he breaths TK in, his mint scented body wash fresh and captivating. That’s what home smells like to Carlos now.

Carlos hums happily when TK starts carding his fingers through his loose soft curls, and TK smiles, knowing very well how that gesture calms the officer and relaxes him.

“How’s your back, baby? I know the doctor said the bruising isn’t as bad as we thought but are you in pain?”

“It’s okay, as long as I don’t move too much, I’m not in a lot of pain. And the doctor prescribed a gel that should make it better.”

TK sighs.

“Baby, it’s just cause it’s only been a few hours since…and sleep is going to help. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll ice it for you and apply the gel before we sleep. Is there anything you need right now?”

Carlos looks up at TK from his position. “I’ve got everything I need right here. You’re all I need, Ty, anytime, anywhere.”

“You’ve got me, ‘Los, always.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a few extra moments. He needs to know that Carlos is really, truly okay, he needs to feel Carlos, and Carlos understands. So he tries to move even closer to TK without pain flaring up across his body.

“My dad was impressed by you, you know,” Carlos says after a few minutes of them watching the movie in silence.

“Me?”

Carlos nods. “With how you handled everything and stayed calm.”

“Oh, no, I was freaking out,” TK replies.

“I mean, he told me he could see how you were shaken up when you realized it was me, but you didn’t let that cloud you or get in the way. You stayed calm through the panic, stayed professional and held your ground even though you were freaking out on the inside. You controlled it, and he told me he’s rarely seen people be able to do that,” Carlos explains.

“Well, I had to make sure you come out of it okay.”

“And he’s also very grateful for that. My mom, too. I could hear it in her voice, she felt better when I told her you took care of me,” Carlos continues.

TK feels his heart warm at the knowledge of Gabriel and Andrea’s support and appreciation. It uplifts him and makes him incredibly happy, and he’s even happier knowing how much their approval of him means to Carlos.

“I was honestly just too focused on the pain so I wasn’t paying much attention to anything around, I hate that you had to see me hurt, but I’m also glad it was you at the scene. Because once I knew it was you next to me, I felt safe. I knew I was safe,” Carlos expresses.

“I’ll be here, always,” TK vows. “Through it all, I’ll always be right by your side.”

“And I will always be right by yours,” Carlos vows back.

“Just, let me take care of you, please. You’ve always taken great care of me, and of everyone really, it’s who you are and I know how important it is to you. But remember, baby, it’s okay to rely on others too, to get help when you need it,” TK says.

Carlos stays silent for a few moments, brushing his fingers over the material of his sweats. “It’s not…the easiest thing for me, doing that,” he eventually replies.

“I know and that’s okay, babe,” TK reassures him. “It starts with small steps. Besides, I always want to pamper my wonderful boyfriend.”

That makes Carlos smile and he nods. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”

They seal their promises with a passionate kiss, each of them giving as well as they’re receiving, immersed in each other in every possible way.

“That also wasn’t the first time I freaked out on that call,” TK admits when they separate.

Carlos sits up, facing TK and frowns a little.

“They called for medical after you reported shots were fired and it was another officer who requested EMS and…I freaked out. I was heard the call and I terrified you were hurt,” TK sighs.

“Oh, babe,” Carlos says softly. “That’s completely understandable. It all happened so quickly, the shots, Ryan getting hit in the vest…next thing I knew, I could hear Robert call for medical and I was already after the suspects. But hey, if I were hurt then, you would have taken great care of me, like you always do,” he strokes over TK’s hand with his thumb. “Like you did.”

TK nods, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears, making the green of his irises even brighter than normal.

“It just scares me,” TK sniffs.

“I know, and I’m scared for you, too. I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, but what I can promise, is that I will always fight to come home to you,” Carlos replies.

“I promise the same,” TK reciprocates. “Always.”

Carlos leans in, touching his forehead to TK’s and closes his eyes, taking comfort in the way TK gravitates towards him and his touch. “I’m okay, you’re okay…we’re okay, baby.”

TK closes his eyes as well, and they breathe together, anchoring each other, hearts beating as one.

“So,” TK starts when they separate, intertwining his fingers with Carlos’s. “What’s that story about you trying to walk around to fix the ranch fence with a sprained ankle?”

Carlos chuckles and settles back against TK’s chest, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Well, I was eighteen and I had taken a bad tackle during a football game the day before…”

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 20 - Betrayal

Summary: “How bad?” Tony asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

Or, Peter just wanted a coffee.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72739866

------

It’s not everyday that Peter is pistol whipped in the face by a Starbucks customer.

Today, however, is that day.

He’s at the front of the line, finally, and just as the cashier hands him his change a man wearing a crudely cut ski mask shoots two bullets into the ceiling. Everyone screams, ducks, and through the mass panic Peter hears his handful of change roll across the floor.

“Are you kidding me-”

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!”

Peter listens, trying his best to keep calm as he assesses his surroundings. The store has six customers and two employees. Another masked individual joins the first, also holding a gun.

That they’re not afraid to use, apparently.

Slowly and praying not to draw attention, Peter’s fingers close around the watch Tony had given him for his birthday and presses the side button three times. He’s only used the distress signal once before, and Tony had been at his side to help within a matter of minutes.

These idiots won’t even know what hit them.

The first man crosses behind the counter and shoves his gun into the barista’s face. “Open the register.”

For a minute, Peter thinks she’s going to refuse, her eyes set with anger and fear. As if getting the same sense, the man with the gun presses the barrel hard against her cheek and she whimpers. “Now,” he repeats, and she obeys with shaking hands.

Even though she complies, the man steps closer, his trigger finger tensing as the first inch of the barrel practically disappears into her face. Spidey sense screaming, Peter stands carefully, hands outstretched, “hey, hey. Come on man. Ease up. She’s doing what you asked-”

“On the ground,” the second criminal yells at him, spit flying from his mask. Peter freezes on the spot, eyes glued on the trembling barista. For one terrible moment, he’s brought back to a dark alley, his hands pressing down desperately on Ben’s chest.

“The register’s open,” Peter reasons, “let her go.”

“Looks like someone’s trying to play hero,” the first robber sneers. He pushes the barista aside and she falls onto the floor with a strangled yelp. “Grab him.”

Peter doesn’t flinch as the man’s accomplice obeys, digging strong fingers into his bicep and dragging him out of line. His back is brought against the man’s chest and the gun is pressed into his throat. He swallows at the pressure and keeps his eyes trained on the first man, who’s stuffing a duffel with cash.

Outside, there’s sirens.

“Damn it!”

The first man slams the empty drawer closed, throwing his gun out widely, “which one of you called the police?”

Peter almost laughs. Almost. “Are you kidding? You would’ve heard it if someone called. It’s a small room, buddy-”

A sharp pain in his face nearly sends him crashing to his knees. Blood pools onto his tongue but he keeps it there, not wanting to scare the other customers. Through the aching pulse in his head he hears a couple of them gasp.

“Not the time to be smart, kid.”

“Well you’re the ones who decided to rob a Starbucks of all places.”

Before Peter can even suck in a breath, he’s hit three more times, all where the first blow had landed. This time he does fall, and the man kicks him in the ribs for good measure when he’s down. The force of it has him gasping and somewhere in the distance Peter hears a kid crying.

Don’t think about Ben, don’t think about Ben.

“Police are here. Damn it. What do we do?”

Peter hears shuffling as he tries to reorient himself, his head spinning like a top. He only makes it to his elbows before his jacket is grabbed at its shoulder and he’s manhandled to his feet. He sways but stands his ground, wiping the blood off his chin with his sleeve.

“We take him with us.”

Peter doesn’t have the energy to argue as he’s dragged to the entrance by his neck. Through the glass and a rapidly swelling eye, Peter sees a semi circle of police, completely closing off an escape. He thinks he sees a flash of red and gold, too, but he can’t be sure.

“Walk, kid. No funny business.”

And he does, grateful, above everything else, that no one got hurt.

With a forceful shove, Peter is thrown out of the store, the grip on his neck still strong. He knows it’ll bruise in the shape of fingers, that he’ll stare at it in the mirror later and shudder at the memory of the touch.

“Drop your weapons!”

Peter yelps as the back of his knee is kicked in, forcing him to the ground. One of the men grabs his hair, forcing his head back, and sticks his gun underneath his chin. “Make another move and the kid gets it!”

It’s only now that Peter realizes his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him. Tony is here, standing on the sidelines of officers, his eyes blown wide with panic before his expression is cut off by his helmet.

He feels too dazed to be relieved.

“Let the kid go!” he hears one of the officers yell.

“Let us go!”

Peter chuckles again, and he’s not sure why. He feels warm blood dribble down his chin, and the grip tightens in his hair until he’s sure it’s going to be pulled right out of his scalp.

Whatever the men holding him had thought this was going to go, it must not be working, because one of the hisses a “get up” in his ear. Peter tries to listen, but he feels shaky and weak, and mostly just lets himself be dragged. He ends up back against the man’s chest, the gun pressed so forcefully into his temple that the opposite side of his head nearly touches his shoulder.

Only now does he let himself be afraid.

He could die.

Not as Spider-Man, not as a hero, but as himself. Right now. At Starbucks, of all places.

In front of Tony.

His mentor would never forgive himself.

“Walk,” the man hisses in his ear, and Peter stumbles obediently along with them as they step away from the door. The police follow them with their guns but otherwise don’t move.

“Where are you going to run?” Peter chokes. “It’s already too late.”

“Shut up.”

“There’s no way out of this.”

“I said shut up!”

Peter gasps when his head is hit again, his vision whitening at its edges. He must slump because the man struggles to keep him vertical. Somewhere in his fall Peter hears a familiar blast of repulsors and the hostile touch leaves him instantly. He falls to the cement, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows.

There’s a sudden rush of movement and Peter winces at the sheer loudness of it all. He hears muffled curses, boots hitting the pavement, the hostages inside the store cheering-

“Peter?”

And then there’s Iron Man, crouched down beside him and lifting up his chin gently with a metal-clad hand. Peter blinks away his double vision and musters a weak smile. “Hey man,” he wheezes, “coffee break?”

Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter hoped he would. Instead, he feels the armour shift under his arms and he’s lifted up, up and away. He jams his eyes closed at the sudden vertigo and lets out a tense breath when they land together on a nearby rooftop. In a second Tony is out of the suit and sitting beside Peter, his hands ghosting over the blood and bruises on his face.

“Concussion?”

“Look at my face. What do you think?”

“Cut that sass, kid. I have enough for the both of us. Anything else hurt?”

“Uh, my pride?”

“Ha. Funny. Now tell me the real answer.”

Peter sighs, and somewhere in the middle chokes on the blood in his throat. It makes his ribs flare and the wince he makes must be enough for Tony to piece two and two together.

“How bad?” he asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

He sighs again and this time it’s easier. He lays down against the pavement in hopes it’ll stop the world from spinning while Tony hovers beside him like a worried mother hen. “Didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“So let me guess,” Tony says, “you smart mouthed them.”

“Yep.”

“Course you did.”

Peter groans, poking gingerly at his swelling eye. He can barely see out of it anymore, which is highly unfortunate. “I lost my change. And I didn’t even get my drink.”

“Well, you’re alive, so that’s something.”

“Starbucks is expensive, Tony. I was treating myself.”

“I’ll buy you the whole damn Starbucks company if it’ll stop you from getting your face smashed in.”

Peter laughs at this. It makes his ribs burn. “Deal.”

Tony is quiet for a minute. “Feel up for a flight back home?”

Home.

He smiles.

“Only if we can pick up a coffee on the way.”

“Good God, kid. Look at these grey hairs. No seriously, I want you to look at them.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, head lolling slightly as Tony pulls him back up by his arms. Before they lift off, Peter is surprised when Tony wraps him in a hug. He blinks, then relaxes into it. It feels as if some of his pain is leaking into Tony.

He feels better.

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

Tony pulls away, ruffling his hair softly, his scalp still sore. “How couldn’t I? You were smart for once in your life and actually used the panic button I gave you-”

“Smart enough for a coffee?” Peter smirks, a cut on his lip stinging.

Tony looks at him solemnly and shakes his head.

“Grey hairs, Pete. Grey hairs.”

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.2)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

Warnings: Language

“Girl and when did all of this go down again?”

Amiyah laughed as she told her best friend , Kelley, about what took place between her and Erik. Kelley was someone who she met when she first started working at the boutique at the age of nineteen. She was only two years older than her. One day they decided to go get lunch together and found themselves hitting it off and have been inseparable since. Now they were two years strong into their friendship.

“I told you about three night’s ago. You would’ve known earlier if you would actually come to work.” She replied smartly while placing a jacket back on to the rack.

“And why am I just now hearing about this? You act like you can’t call me or text me.”

“Well that’s because I wanted to tell you in person to see your face when I tell you this part...He said that he was going to try and start approaching me more because we don’t speak to each other enough.” Amiyah couldn’t contain her smile.

“Are you serious?” Kelley’s mouth dropped. “Wait where was your brother during all of this?”

“Oh um I think he was in his car. Why?”

She shook her head. “Mmm that explains it.”

Curious to know Amiyah stopped folding the shirts. “Explain what?”

“That niggas only want to get bold when they get you alone. Never tough enough to do that shit in front of people. You know that was one of the reasons why I stopped fucking with Tony.” She spoke about her ex.

“First off you and I both know that Erik is nothing like Tony. That nigga was different and I don’t think he’s scared to say it in front of everyone...it’s just you know how my brother can be.”

“Overprotective.” They stated in unison.

“I know you like him sis but just be careful. You know dealing with his situation. Can’t be running around here being nobody’s side piece no matter how fine they are.”

“I’m not anybody’s anything. I’m just telling you what went down between us and you don’t know how someone relationship look like behind close doors.” Amiyah expressed becoming offensive.

Kelley playfully rolled her eyes dropping the topic while taking snap chat pictures by the register. Our manager, Rhonda, walked out of the back office with a clipboard catching her in act. She went up to her taking her phone pointing it at her.

“Kelley I don’t pay you to sit here on your phone lil girl. Do some work now before I make you clock out and send you home.”

Placing the phone down in front of her, Rhonda went back to doing inventory check.

“Not you acting like you my mama.” Kelley mumbled before going over to help Amiyah with the last of the restock.

They both mocked her words before silently laughing amongst one another. It wasn’t too long before they heard the bell on the front door signaling that there was new customers coming in. They turned their heads to see who it was.

“Hello, welcome Bella Ella’s ladies. If you need help finding anything don’t be afraid to ask these young women over here to help you.” Rhonda smiled at the group of four before disappearing back into her office.

Walking over to stand next to Amiyah, Kelley whispered in her ear.

“Aw shit ain’t that ole boy girl?” She turned to face her best friend finding the answer she was looking for by the expression on her face. She shook her head heading back to the register.

It was Alexis. Erik’s somewhat “girlfriend”. No she didn’t think that out of jealousy because there was some truth behind it. From all the conversations that she eavesdropped on between her brother and Erik, Alexis didn’t really hold a title like she thought she did. According to Erik she was just ‘fun for now’, whatever that meant. Alexis wasn’t anyone new around the block. She had her share of men who had some money and power to go along with it. With the pretty face that she had and the body to match it wasn’t hard for her to climb her to the top where the money was. Most niggas in the hood would love to be seen with a girl like her on their arm.

“Yeah.” Amiyah spoke softly to herself as her mood shifted a bit.

“Y’all need to help me find something. Tonight is date night with Erik. We do this every Thursday.” Alexis held up a sweater crop top as she spoke to her friends modeling it in the mirror.

Placing the last shirt on the shelf Amiyah picked up the empty box along with the plastic contents inside. Walking to throw it out in the back she was stopped in her tracks when she heard her voice.

“Amiyah? Right?”

She turned facing Alexis who had a huge smile on her face showing her pearly white veneers.

Amiyah smiled putting her attention on her. “Yes, how are you?”

“I’m good girl I’m just here because me and my baby are going out on a date tonight and I need to find something fast. I heard a lot about this store and I came through to put it to the test. Please tell me y’all have something.” Alexis clasped her hands together in hopes that her mans best friend sister could find her a fit for tonight.

“Sure. Do you know if you guys are going to be out and about or staying in one location? The weather keeps dropping these days and you don’t want to be cold.”

Putting her feelings aside Amiyah went to work helping her.

___________________________________________________

It was around two in the afternoon when Erik got a call from his friend to meet up for lunch. Checking his fit his eyes met with the gold chain resting on top of his crisp black tee paired with black jeans and a pair of white and navy blue Nike 1’s. Throwing over his long gray fleece he sprayed on his Mont Blanc Legend before heading out the door of his condo.

Twenty five minutes was the time it took for him to pull up at the restaurant and meet up with Durkio, who was already enjoying an appetizer. Walking past the hostess he gave a head nod assuring that he was taken care of, he greeted his friend.

“Damn nigga you had to start without me huh?” Erik dapped him up before taking off his jacket and sliding in the booth.

“Nigga that’s because every time I call yo ass it take you a whole hour to get here. I hate that shit. I don’t know who’s worst you or Miyah.” He stated going back to eating his mango grilled shrimp.

Erik smirked shaking his head.” Anyways what’s up with you?”

“Nigga I got a fucking problem that’s what’s up.” Durk finishing the last of his food before pushing his plate aside. He grabbed his napkin wiping off the remnants of the quick meal.

“Oh yeah with who?” Erik turned towards the waitress giving her a small smile after she sat down his water.

“Can I get you started with anything?” Clicking her pen she prepared to take his order.

“Not right now sweetheart, thank you.” Erik gave her a smile revealing his deep dimple.

Flustered from his looks she nodded quickly putting away her pad. “Alrighty, let me know when you’re ready.”

“Damn nigga you tryna fuck on her too or sum?” Durkio smiled sipping his cognac.

“Don’t worry bout where my dick go and tell me about this problem you got.”

“Aight so check it out. You remember how I was telling you how I’m trying to get more products right. Like I’m really gonna be out here next up on a different level and shit. I found a connect who need a distributor in this area.”

“Okay so what’s the problem with that?” Erik sat up waiting to hear what’s going on.

“The problem is Shawn and his people already moving some shit out here. Just found out today. I was been supposed to take his ass out but I been to busy looking for a plug. But that’s not the case. Ole boy Don put me up on game where that nigga stash at. Word is he holding a million somewhere not to far from here.”

Erik figured where this was going once he heard his best friend say he was already thinking about taking someone out. He wanted him to hit a lick for him. That was the reason for this whole meet up. No, Erik wasn’t a drug dealer but he wasn’t clean either. This is what he did from time to time to make money. He would rob people. It wasn’t something that he was proud of but it was a job that kept him well fed when he was out on his own by the age of sixteen. He started out doing a few here and there with one of the boys, Tray, who he met in foster care then eventually Erik found himself doing them alone. With his quick skills and knowing how to tote a gun it became second nature for him.

Which after a while got him caught up but was also the reason he met Durk when he was just only twenty years old. Erik was out doing a job one night that Tray told him about. It was supposed to be some quick in and out job but turned out to go in a different direction.

Erik began putting the ski mask on his head so that it would be easy to pull down for when it was time to go. He sat on the passenger side of an all black Nissan waiting for the right moment. It was about two in the morning.There was three guys sitting on the front porch smoking. He knew that in a minute they would go back inside for a rotation after keeping watch on them for the last three days.

“Listen lil nigga..get yo ass in and out. I don’t need you getting no extra shit like the drugs, leave that there...get the money and bounce.” Tray watched him while he took a pull from his blunt.

“Why you act like I ain’t been doing this shit for years now. Just stay right here I’ll be back in ten.”

He took the safety off his Glock 19 as he exited the car walking towards the house. He pulled down his mask to cover his face. Walking up to the front he took one last glance back to see Tray pulling off.

‘What the fuck.’ He thought to himself as he turned around to see about seven niggas now standing on the porch pointing everything from a glock to an AK-47 at him.

He threw his gun down on the grass in front of him with a certainty that this was his last day on Earth. He knew eventually that it would catch up to him but didn’t think it would happen like this.

“Wait this the young nigga that’s been hitting up all the traps?” Durk stepped down the steps laughing eyeing up and down Erik who couldn’t have weighed no more than 175 at the time. “Nigga take yo mask off.”

Erik lifted up the ski mask not showing an ounce of fear staring him down ,which Durkio saw and knew he had to get him on his team.

“If you gon kill me do it now cause y’all niggas not bringing me no where to be tortured or some shit.” Erik stated getting ready to fight to the death of him.

Durkio smirked. “Nah nigga I ain’t gon kill you. Ima help you.”

From that day on Erik went to work for Durkio and getting at least 8 out of 10 of his jobs done with no problems. Erik shook his head reminiscing about his first time meeting the man who could’ve took his life but became his best friend instead.

“Nigga you over there in wonderland. What you gon do? You gon help me?” Durk asked in need. He knew that there wasn’t no one better for this.

“I don’t know. You know I haven’t did a job in almost two years.” Erik sipped his water.

“Aw shit. Listen bro I know you not trying to get into this shit anymore but you know if I’m coming to you about it, it’s serious. I mean if you don’t wanna do it than fuck it what can I do...but if I die that’s yo ass nigga.”

Erik shook his head. “Nigga stop speaking that over ya life. Told you bout talking like that.”

He was serious. He knew that what you say about yourself can truly be spoken into existence. He experienced it at first hand.

“Yea yeah I heard you-“ His phone rung cutting him off.

“Hello.”

..........

“Yeah y’all need me?”

..........

“Aight say less I’m there.” He ended the call. He looked at the time cursing to himself. “Shit I gotta take this. I need a quick favor.” Durkio slid out the booth putting on his jacket. He threw a hundred dollar bill down.

“Wasup?”

“Pick up Amiyah from work and bring her home. I was supposed to get her almost an hour ago. Don’t let her talk you into taking her anywhere else bring her ass home.”

Erik looked down at his watch and saw 3:35 pm. He still had plenty of time before he got ready for his date with Alexis.

“I got you bro go do your thing.” Erik got up following him out the restaurant.

“Yo Erik let me know what the move is before next week.”

He nodded his head and dapped his friend up one last time before going to his car.

_________________________________________________

“Why won’t you just wait until I get off and I’ll take you home?” Kelley stated while chewing on her ceaser salad.

“Why would I wait that long and you have to close the store. Kells I’m sorry but I am tired and ready to go home. I been here since six this morning and my dumb ass brother know I get off at two thirty.”

Amiyah threw her bag next to her on the bench as she grew frustrated. It was going on four o’clock and her brother still wasn’t here. This was the main reason she wanted to get her license. She wouldn’t have to depend on anyone and could come and go as she pleased.

Scrolling on her phone she gave him another ten minutes before she would just get an Uber which she dreaded . It was something that didn’t feel right to her trusting a complete stranger to bring her home.

The bell on the front door dinged as it open. She looked up finding Erik at the door. Looking over at Kelley she had the same surprising look as she did while remaining to eat her food.

“Hey your brother asked me to pick you up. My bad I’m late. It was last minute.” Erik walked up to her and reached for her hand to help her get up.

She accepted the helpful gesture as she bend over to collect her belongings.

Amiyah timidly looked him in the eyes. “Thank you.” Her hand still connected to his.

He showed his dimples as he sucked in his bottom lip before looking down releasing it. He let her hand go as well.

“I’m parked right here.” Erik walked to the door opening it and waited for her to walk out first.

“Bye girl.” Kelley interrupted their moment clearly witnessing some chemistry before her.

Her shy nature exposing itself due to the fact that her crush was right there, she gave a half wave to her friend. Erik following her view finally noticing the brown skin beauty at the register. He saluted her as well and then left behind Amiyah.

Walking up to his Inifiniti Q60 she reached for the door but was stopped. She looked down and saw Erik’s hand on top of hers.

“You don’t gotta worry about reaching for one of these around me.”

She lightly giggled covering her mouth with her finger tips. Not because anything was funny, she did it to cover up her nerves as much as she can. No man aside from her brother showed her this much chivalry.

“Okay.” She got in making sure she was secured before he closed the door. She watch as he jogged around to his side and got in.

Erik rubbed his hands together warming them up as he hit the pushed to start button. This was his first time with her in his car and second time alone with her in all. He looked over and watched her as she was making contact with every thing else but him.

“You good?” He questioned trying to see what’s up as he leaned back in his seat while pulling off.

She nodded smiling showing her pretty whites.

“Damn what happened? I thought we was on speaking terms now?” He joked with her trying to make her comfortable. She was too shy around him.

“I just didn’t know you were picking me up. It took me by surprise.” She finally spoke up as she wiped the sweat off her palms on her pants.

“Yeah me either but I’m cool with it.”

“Well thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

It seemed to her as if his voice became deeper and raspier within three days.

“So how was your day?” She wanted to make small talk to try and make this car ride go by fast. Thankfully the didn’t live no longer than ten minutes away.

“It was good...had met up with your brother not too long ago then I have somewhere to be in a few.” He checked his watch.

Amiyah knew where but she wanted him to say it. “Oh yeah, what you have plan for the night?”

He glanced at her before focusing back on the road.

“You tryna keep track of me?” He smirked licking his lips.

She rolled her eyes looking out the window. “No it’s just that I saw your girl at my job today. She was looking for an outfit for tonight.” She let him know that she had put two and two together.

Arriving at the building he put the car in park. Leaning back into his seat somewhat facing her. “Who’s my girl? Hm?”

He wanted to put her on the spot to see what she know since she felt it was within her rights to question him.

“I don’t know what’s her name again? Amber or Ashley? Something like that.” She was being petty now.

Erik laughed picking up the jealousy that she was dropping. But he was going to play along.

“Nah her name is Alexis.”

“Oh yeah her.” She tried her best to make herself seem unbothered.

“You help her find something nice for me?” Erik knew what he was doing, he just wanted to see how far it would go.

“I don’t know you’ll have to wait until tonight. Bye Erik. Thanks for the ride.” She grabbed her purse reaching for the door when she felt his hand grab her forearm. Facing him she saw that his eyes were on her.

“Why you seem upset all of a sudden? What I do?”

“I’m not upset I just want go inside. I’ve been up all morning.” She stated somewhat telling the truth.

It wasn’t a secret to Erik that Amiyah liked him. He caught on to that very fast. It was her body language that always gave her away. Whenever he came around her she would tense up. She could never hold eye contact with him longer than ten seconds and she would always make herself quiet the moment he made himself known. There have been times when she didn’t know that he was around and he would hear her speak but when he’d show his face she was on mute. He knew that her experience with being around men that wasn’t her brother was low. She didn’t know how to express herself correctly so instead she would try her best to become unnoticeable. But he noticed her, he noticed everything.

“That’s not my girl. We just be fucking from time and time but I never put a title on her.” He spoke honestly wanting to leave her with some information she didn’t have to spend days trying to figure. As long as it came from him that’s all that matters.

Amiyah glanced down to see his hand had left from her arm. Crossing her arms she sat up straight. “Why you telling me this?”

Erik shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe that’s something I want you to know. Something I can share between just me and you.”

“Okay.” Going back into her timid state she looked down at her thighs.

Noticing this Erik nudged her chin with his fingers making her look up at him.

“I gotta go. But I’ll be around.”

She nodded her head.

He got out the car and opened her door.

“You want me to walk you up?”

“No I’m okay. I’ll see you around.” She smiled.

Before he could stop his actions he found himself grabbing her hand and pulling her back wrapping his arms around her waist for a hug. He felt it was something she needed. Hell he needed it.

He bent his head down smelling a mixture of blueberry and peppermint oil on her neck. That with the feeling of her soft breast pushed on his chest made his dick jump. It was something about her touch that felt different.

“Damn you smell good.” He mumbled but knew she heard him.

Just the feeling of his arms wrapped around her waist alone Amiyah wanted to moan so badly. When his hand swipe the small of her back she bit her lip. She didn’t know the meaning of what it felt like to be touch starved until today. Never would she have thought that a simple hug would make her feel thumping coming from her clitoris. His hands made her feel so safe and protected she didn’t want the hug to end. But of course all good things must come to an end.

Finally separating from each other she looked up at Erik who was staring down at her with low eyes with that bottom lip tucked in and his left dimple showing.

“ Gimmie ya number.” What came out more as a command than a question he reached in his pocket grabbing his phone. He unlocked it for her facing it in her direction.

Out of habit he kept his head on swivel checking his surroundings while he waited for her to make sure they were safe.

Without hesitation she logged her digits in his phone. Trying her best not to show the shakiness in her hands as she wrote her name and then placing a purple heart emoji next to it. Purple was her favorite color.

Erik checked it smiling at her boldness.

“Oh you got an emoji already. Most people gotta earn that in my phone.”

“Well I’m not most people.” She spoke under her breath.

He’d let her get away with that one.

“ Aight I’ma call you soon. Pick up when I do.” He gave her one last side hug before walking to the driver side.

“Wait but I don’t have your number how I’m supposed to know it’s you?”

“You gon know it’s me.”

__________________________________________________________

Part Three

Tag-list!

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @artisticestheticreads @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @thiccdaddy-mbaku @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @erikslulbaby @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree

[transgenderknothead]

I know I've been gone for like ever, but I was working on something super cool, so without further adieu... I Want the Truth a creepy pasta fanfiction just under 2k words!

Truth is undefinable, yes it has a definition, not lying, but how do you determine what’s a lie and what isn’t? It’s difficult, especially when you get different answers from the same person. My mother always tells me I have no memory due to various different accidents. First she said car crash, then she said nearly drowned, then it was kidnapped, her current story is that I had been in a coma for most of my life due to a birth defect. When I ask why her story keeps changing she says she isn’t quite sure what is causing my memory loss, as all of those things happened. My friends and I were hanging out at the old children’s mental hospital, it had burned down about four years ago and ever since my friends and I would go and try to figure out why and how it had burned. So far we had found nothing, nothing that was in one piece anyway, we had found three shattered skull fragments and a lot of broken wood. We’d searched all over the building, except for one room, which we could never open. It was a metal door, that when we tried using axes, hatchets, and even random pieces of wood nearby, they fell apart before even reaching it. We have no idea what’s on the other side, but it feels important, and because my friends are stubborn, we will never stop trying to open it or get inside. “Again!” Toby, my boyfriend, yelled when the head of his metal axe fell off when it made contact with the door. “At least this time we hit it,” I rubbed his shoulder as he slumped, “and it looks like you even dented it.” “If his noodle arms dented it, imagine what I could’ve done,” his athletic twin brother, Evan, flexed. “I don’t know, why don’t ya punch it, see what happens,” Toby argued. “Would you two knock it off,” their 14 year old little sister Jessy rolled her eyes, “what did Mom and Dad say about you arguing all the time?” Toby rolled his eyes, a tiny smile appearing when we made eye contact. “We should head back,” I piped up a little. Back at the house Toby and I went into his room, separated from his twin by a curtain, the tall boy flopping onto his bed. “Are you okay?” I rubbed his back. “Something about that room just,” he rolled over, pulling me with him, “I don’t know, it makes no sense.” “What is it?” “It gives me a weird gut feeling,” he scratched my back lightly, “like something bad is behind it.” I had woken up in the middle of the night, bolting up in bed next to Toby. It was always the same nightmare. I’m sitting in a pitch black room, a fuzzy figure of a purple, pink, blue, and yellow jester with a hammer sitting in front of me. It seemed like it was trying to communicate with me, but I couldn’t hear, or even see, much of it. The next morning we all headed over to the mental hospital again. Toby, having hurt his hand playing guitar last night, was going to let me try opening the door with his brand new axe. So here we stood, axe held over my head, everyone else standing back. When I swung the door flew open and the axe hit the floor instead. “Um, to whichever deity is out there, please help,” Jessy whimpered. I walked in, it looked as though this room had the worst of it. An entire wall caved in, shattered glass everywhere, all of the furniture destroyed. The walls that were left standing had what was very obviously scratch marks from whatever child was in here. “Holy,” I whispered, spinning around to look at the room. I kept looking around until I saw the bed in the corner, it was rusted and broken to no end, but that isn’t what caught my attention. It was the seemingly untouched blue bunny stuffed animal holding a very broken, but unburned, Jack-in-the-Box. I reached for it instinctively, but Toby grabbed my wrist. “Don’t,” he whispered. “I just want to know,” I grabbed the toys, inspecting them, before dropping them and gasping. I slowly picked them back up, and cradled the bunny, who was now missing an eye. “What is it?” Evan stood in the doorway, very obviously too scared to enter the room fully. “My name,” I whispered, just loud enough

to hear, “it’s on both of these.” I twisted the toys to show the red stitched name on the bunny and the carved name on the box. “Oh god,” Jessy whispered. I clutched the toys to my chest and started running back. “WAIT!” Toby called. “I have to know, I need to know the truth about my memory, and the truth about these!” I yelled when he caught up to me, he let go and let me run. “Whoa, slow down kid, where’s the fire,” my mom jokes. “What’s this,” I held up the toys and her face went pale, “don’t even think about lying, I want the truth this time.” “They were a couple of toys your childhood friend’s gave you before they left,” she replied. “Okay, new question,” I stood up straighter, “why were they in the mental hospital?” She gasped and dropped her tea cup. She smiled, looking at me, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Mom, why can’t I remember anything? Don’t give me a story like you do every time.” “You still believed in imaginary friends,” she cried, “you were twelve, that’s not normal for a 12 year old kid! I had to do something to make you realize they were fake!” “So putting me in a hospital and drugging me into forgetting was your grand solution?” I yelled. “You don’t understand,” she started. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but what I do understand is that I’m not the type of person to believe something I haven’t seen, or hasn’t been proved to me,” I crossed my arms, knowing what I had to do. “Don’t do anything stupid,” my boyfriend spoke when they finally caught up. “I have to know,” I spoke before turning around, taking the toys with me, and running into the woods. I ran for a long time, a couple of memories coming back to me. Playing with a tall stuffed clown, a tall red headed man with long hair and wearing a feathery jacket handing me the blue bunny, setting the fire in the hospital. Eventually, I ran up to a familiar metal gate that led to a run down carnival. I opened the gate and it creaked. My heart was pounding in my chest as I clutched the bunny tighter to my chest, the Jack-in-the-Box in my hoodie pocket. I heard a twig snap by the merry go round, causing me to run into the hall of mirrors. I fell against a wall trying to stop myself from crying. “Oh Gumdrop,” a singsong voice came from the entrance. I hid farther into the dark corner, “you don’t need to hide, we’re friends!” I watched the black and white clown look around the room, his hands on his hips. His eyes meet mine, he smiles wider and gets closer. “Jack!” A voice laughed from behind him, the jester from my dreams stepped forward. “It’s her!” Jack pointed, and the jester looked my way. “I’ve been tryna reach ya,” he pulled me out of the dark, “but ya never heard me!” “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, his grip wasn’t tight, but I could tell neither of them were human. “Don’t be sorry! It aint your fault!” The jester giggled, pulling me out of the hall of mirrors and into the big tent, where three more inhuman entities were talking and working. One was a shorter man with black hair, a sketch pad, blue jacket, and a white mask with a red smile sitting next to him. Next to him was a more average height man with dark grey skiing, all black clothes, golden eyes, and what looked like a puppet hanging from golden strands of light coming from his fingers. Across from him was a very tall white haired man dressed like a magician and holding a wand. “There you are,” the man with the sketch book said. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back,” the grey man next to him continued. “She doesn’t remember us,” the magician looked at me. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “Don’t apologize!” The jester rolled his eyes, “we’ll just reintroduce you!” “I’m Laughing Jack!” Jack spoke, “you used to call me L.J. for short!” “This is Puppeteer, who you called Pup,” the man with the sketchbook pointed at the man with the puppet. “This is Helen,” Puppeteer smiled, pointing at the one with the sketchbook. “I’m Papa El De Grande,”

the magician spoke, “you always called me Mr. Magic.” “I’m Candy Pop!” the jester tickled my sides, “you called me Pop.” “Where’s Jason?” L.J. looked around. “His workshop, fixing Mr. Bun Bun,” Puppeteer said, “it’d be best if she went alone.” Puppeteer took me over to a red and white tent near the big one. He told me to just go in, and that he’s never been mad when I was around because he never wanted to scare me away. “Jason?” I poked my head in, and was greeted by a big stuffed purple worm covered in patches. “Glutton!” A voice yelled from farther into the tent, “get over here!” I followed as the worm snaked towards a redhead man with golden eyes, putting an eye on the rabbit that I had come here with. “Jason?” He looked up at the calling of his name, smiling gently when he saw it was me. “It’s been a long time, Dolly,” he handed me the bunny, standing up he towered over me, “come on, let’s go for a walk.” During the walk he answered all of my questions that my mother refused to answer. He caught me up on all of the missing details of the past. And eventually led me back to the front gate. “It’s nearly time for you to get home,” pat my head. “Remember to just wind up the jack in the box when you want to see me!” Jack waved. “I’ll visit ya in your dreams again tonight, maybe now you’ll be able to hear me!” Candy Pop laughed. “Come back tomorrow,” Helen waved from his seat on the stairs of the merry-go-round. “Oh my god,” a voice came from behind me, my mother had her hand over her mouth as she glanced over the people I had spent my childhood with. “I was right, Mom,” I whispered. “Jason?” She whispered the name of the man who was trying to get away. “Yes?” He turned around slowly to look at my mother. “Oh my god,” she whispered, “Jason Meyers.” I looked at my mother at the use of our last name. Jason lowered his head. “Mom?” “You have been spending time with the spirit of your father, and I took that away,” her hand went over her heart, “oh, I am so sorry dear.” “Wait, Mom I didn’t even know,” I stuttered. “I needed to protect you from the things you weren’t ready to know,” he ushered us out, “now come back tomorrow, it’s getting late.” “We have to take your boyfriend to meet them tomorrow,” my mother spoke, causing Jason to look up, his eyes suddenly glowing green and his hair slowly turning white. “Okay,” Jack clapped his hands, his smile gone, “I think it’s time for bed.”

[krakenbait]

olympic update: 3/7

Good morning everyone, and happy Monday! Let’s get into it, shall we?

15 year old Russian figure skating phenom Kamila Valiyeva strikes again, becoming the first woman to land a quad on Olympic ice, and doing it twice, during the women’s free skate during the team event last night. She was leaps and bounds above the other women in the competition, even after falling on her third attempted quad (look, she’s human!). Off of Valiyeva’s efforts, and another first place finish despite a fall from Russian pairs skaters Anastasia Mishina and Aleksandr Galliamov, the Russian Olympic Committee won the gold in the team figure skating event.

Team USA earned silver in that same team figure skating event. Karen Chen had a redeeming free skate after falling during her short program, while ice dancers Madison Chock and Evan Bates had a masterful performance in the free dance, with their theatrical “love story in space” set to Daft Punk taking first over reigning world champions Nikita Katsalapov and Victoria Sinitsina. Vincent Zhou, who competed in the men’s free skate, was unable to join them in celebrating, however- he tested positive for COVID. As I was writing this, he officially withdrew from the men’s singles competition. Wishing him all the best.

Mikaela Shiffrin had her first event of these Olympics, the giant slalom, yesterday. But instead of ending in another medal, this run ended in heartbreak. Just seconds into her first run on the course, Shiffrin wobbled as she rounded a gate, fell to her side, and was unable to get up in time, causing her to be disqualified from the event. It was a hard event for the Americans, as Nina O’Brien crashed during her second run and had to be attended to by the medical team. Sara Hector of Sweden, Federica Brignone of Italy, and Lara Gut-Behrami of Switzerland took home gold, silver, and bronze, respectively.

Irene Wüst of the Netherlands won speedskating gold in the 1,500m, setting records in the process. Her time of 1:53.28 was a new Olympic record, and Wüst became the first person to win an individual gold at five Olympics, as well as the oldest speedskating gold medalist ever at age 35. As a note on the personal side, Wüst said she was retiring after this season and going back home to the Netherlands to marry her girlfriend.

Things got a little weird when the ROC and Canada faced off in women’s hockey. The game was delayed 65 minutes after the ROC had not reported their COVID tests and Canada was concerned. When both teams finally hit the ice, everyone was wearing masks, until the third period when the Russians’ negative tests came back and they took theirs off. Canada won the game 6-1 off a two point night for five different players and three points for Sarah Nurse.

Beat Feuz of Switzerland won the wind-delayed men’s downhill event by a tenth of a second, coming just ahead of French Johan Clarey and Austrian Matthias Mayer. Clarey, 41, is now the oldest alpine skiing Olympic medalist.

Max Parrott of Canada took home gold in men’s snowboard slopestyle. Each man tried to out-style the other, with bigger and flashier jumps on each run. Parrot’s winning trick was a Cab Triple Cork 1620, a trick with three off-axis corkscrews within four and half revolutions, a victory lap for a man who thought he might never snowboard again after being diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma only 10 months after winning silver at the 2018 Olympics (he was declared cancer free in 2019). 17 year old Su Yiming of China won silver, and Mark McMorris of Canada won bronze, as he has in all three Olympic slopestyle competitions. American Red Gerard, the defending Olympic champion, set the score to beat in the first run, but ended up landing in fourth place as the two Canadians and the Chinese overtook him.

Eileen Gu is headed to the women’s freestyle skiing big air finals tonight, her first attempt of three for a medal at these games. The 18 year old from California is competing for China and is a star in the host country.

Curling update: the US lost to Great Britain in mixed doubles and failed to move on to the semifinals. Italy and Norway will face off for the gold, while Sweden and Great Britain will fight for bronze.

In the women’s 15k individual biathlon, Germany’s Denise Hermann took gold.

Arianna Fontana of Italy won gold in women’s short track speedskating 500m.

Ziwei Ren of China won gold in men’s short track speedskating 1000m.

Slovenia won gold in the mixed team ski jumping event, where two men and two women each went and their scores were combined. ROC took silver and Canada bronze.

Here’s tonight’s watch list (times in EST):

Men’s figure skating short program (8:15 pm)

Women’s freestyle skiing big air finals (9 pm)

Women’s snowboarding parallel giant slalom qualifiers & elimination run (9:40 pm & 10:34 pm)

Men’s alpine skiing super G (10 pm)

Men’s snowboarding parallel giant slalom qualifiers & elimination run (10:07 pm & 11 pm)

Women’s hockey USA vs Canada (11:10 pm)

And here’s the medal count as of this morning:

Have a good day everyone!

tag list (let me know if you want to be added): @washyourdamnhands @sonnymilano @18minutemajor @ethan-bears

[2manyfandoms2count]

A blog request from the @mlwritersguild ! Hope Anon sees it and likes it. It was a great prompt to write!

Warning: 75% of this hurts a lot, although nothing's graphic. I was feeling very angsty when I wrote it (and now I cry when I hear OneRepublic's Wherever I go). Happy ending, though!

---

Disappearing Act (AO3)

The magical ladybugs engulf Paris in their tornado and rubble falls back into place in puffs of dust, clearing the streets. Ladybug runs, tracing back her footsteps, until she finds what, or rather who, she is looking for, standing alone in the middle of the road, looking slightly disoriented.

“Chat Noir!” she yells as she picks her pace up to a sprint, hurling herself at the black-clad teenager in front of her.

Her voice has him turning towards her, and he barely has time to process the red and back bullet coming at him at full speed. His eyes widen and he manages to catch her in his arms without them both falling over. He feels her crying against his shoulder, and his arms instantly tighten around her.

“Shh, my Lady, it’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers soothingly as he strokes her hair.

Her head is buried against his chest, her body shakes with sobs, but her hands are balled into fists, striking his shoulders. Her punches are slow, void from the strength he knows she’s capable of, and he knows she doesn’t mean it.

He knows he’d deserve every one of them, though. His heart is still beating too fast from his jump to protect her earlier. He hadn’t even thought about it, his legs carrying him until the blast hit him straight in the chest. Everything had turned black.

Ladybug pulls away and looks up at him with tear- and anger-filled eyes, and he can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. He wipes a runaway tear from her cheek and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling tenderly at her. Oh, the things he’d do for her.

“You have to stop doing that! I thought I’d lost you,” she says through gritted teeth.

He knows it’s to keep more tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bugaboo.” He means it. “I pawmise I won’t do it again.” He doesn’t.

A loud crash a couple of streets away and her earrings' insistent beeps bring back their focus to the matter at hand. The Akuma is still running around, and Ladybug’s first Miraculous cure may have brought Chat Noir back, but not so much time. Ladybug wipes her eyes, takes a shaky breath, and stands taller. She doesn’t make a move to leave, though.

“I’ll hold them off, you go restore. I’ll see you later?” He picks her hand up, winks, and his lips gently brush her knuckles (the gesture is imprinted in her brain, she’s replayed it so much), like everything is going to be okay. He runs off, turning around one last time before he turns a corner, to flash her a confident smile.

Everything isn’t okay, though. Later finds the Akuma defeated, the Miraculous cure cast again, yet Ladybug is collapsed on the floor, clutching a lone, silver ring, at the exact spot where Chat Noir had stood a mere moment before.

As she screams into the void, she barely registers the rain that starts pouring down in a thick curtain, mingling with her tears, and part of her wonders if they will ever cease from flowing.

---

Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks.

Time passed so slowly, yet so fast. Chat Noir wasn’t the only one who didn’t come home on that fateful day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

There’s an empty space in class, right in front of Marinette, and although it could be a coincidence, she knows deep inside that it’s not.

Alya is supportive, and so is the rest of the class, but they don’t, can’t understand the extent of her despair. Nobody can, after all.

The other disappearing act is pulled by the one and only Hawkmoth. She’s surprised, yet relieved, yet furious not to see purple butterflies around anymore. Has the man suddenly grown some morals? Does he draw a line at murdering a teenager?

Because there’s no other word for it, and she knows he knows it, as she fiddles with the ring that now sits on a piece of yarn around her neck. It’s long enough that no one can see it, but she knows it’s there nonetheless, and the cold metal against her skin soothes her. As she holds it in her darkest hours, she can feel Chat Noir’s presence, and she knows his probable disapproval is the only thing keeping her from going on a rampage to find Hawkmoth and make him pay for his actions.

Instead, she does the thing her partner would approve of; she gets dressed in all black, and finds her way to the Agreste Mansion. Nathalie hugs her like she needs it just as much as Marinette does, and the teenager understands from the little she says that Gabriel finally realised how much his son meant to him. Marinette gives her a bitter smile at the news. If only it could bring him back.

A month goes by. Ladybug stops patrolling. It’s too painful to sit at the top of the Eiffel Tower, alone. To get flashbacks of all the battles they fought together anytime she lets her stare linger a little too long anywhere. To walk on rooftops knowing he’s not going to hop at her side at any minute. To feel her heart beat faster every time she sees a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. To feel the pain that invades her chest when she realises it was just a shadow.

More time passes. Mayor Bourgeois issues a communication out for her. A statue in honour of the fallen hero is to be unveiled at the Tuileries. He hopes she will be there, and possibly give a speech.

The day comes, and she hadn’t planned on speaking. She’d tried to imagine what she could say, but everything was too painful, and she couldn’t find the words, nothing felt worthy of him. Seeing so many people turn up, though, some she recognises, a majority she doesn’t, all united in their grief for one person, her person, makes her find her way to the microphone.

She sees the hope in their eyes. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Feels the sting of tears.

She turns around to regain her composure, and is faced with the statue. She hasn’t looked at it properly yet; she couldn’t bear to.

There is Chat Noir, standing in all his glory, wearing a confident grin and seemingly ready to jump into action. She wishes he would.

Behind him, Adrien sits cross-legged, a hopeful smile on his lips as he looks up towards the skies. She can almost hear him singing. She wishes she could.

Taking a shaky breath, she turns around to face the crowd.

“I don’t know where to start with Chat Noir. He infuriated me, so much. He was reckless, which got him in the end. But he was also a great partner. The absolute best. He was kind, caring, and so, so lucid. I… I loved him for it. He didn’t hesitate in the face of danger. A month, twenty three days and a couple of hours ago, he sacrificed himself. He did it for Paris. For us. May this statue be a reminder of him and what he stood for. Faith in Good. Selflessness. Justice.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I learned at the same time as you did that Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste. I’ve had time to think about it, and it makes sense that there weren’t two people as amazing as they were, that they were the same purr-son.” She tries to chuckle, but more tears spill out. She knows he’d like it, though. “He juggled his career, school, and a mask. Let him be an inspiration to us all; never back down from anything you’re passionate about, if it can make you happy. You might be afraid of launching yourself, but eventually you’ll just feel freer. That’s what being Chat Noir brought Adrien: freedom. And rest assured that I’ll still be there to make sure the freedom of this city remains. I’ll be there if Hawkmoth ressurfaces, or if Paris needs me in any other way. Even though it’s hard to imagine how I can go on without Chat Noir by my side, I know it’s what he would have wanted. And I know he’ll be with us in spirit, too.”

She chokes on her tears and has to yoyo herself out to avoid her tear-stained face to be on the front page of every magazine the next day, and to escape the question that’s on every reporter’s lips; will Chat Noir be replaced?

She doesn’t understand how people can even think about it.

---

Marinette waits until the dead of the night to make her way back to the statue. She brings flowers, this time. A red rose, which she tucks in Chat Noir’s hand. A peach rose bouquet for Adrien’s lap. Hyacinths and forget-me-nots, which she deposits between them both, amongst the multitude of flowers that cover the base of the statue.

Sorrow, regret, but also love, gratitude and memory. She wishes she could do more.

It’s late, she has school in the morning, but she can’t bring herself to leave. She walks around the statue a couple of times, tries to dislodge a black cat that has elected Adrien’s lap as his sleeping pad, before sitting on a park bench, facing them, facing him.

You promised you wouldn’t do it again. Her stare silently accuses him.

I know, my Lady. She knows him well enough to know exactly what he’d say.

You left me all alone.

I’m so sorry. She wishes the statue would come alive, and he’d come and hug her. It doesn’t, of course.

Whatever happened to you and me against the rest of the world?

There wouldn’t be any of that without you either, would there? She can almost see his sad smile.

Paris needs you.

They need Ladybug more. He’d counter.

I need you. A tear rolls silently down her cheek, just as many have before it. It hovers at the edge of her jaw before collapsing on her thigh. I can’t believe I never told you, I should’ve said it out loud every day, at every occasion. I love you Chaton, Adrien, the name doesn’t matter. And now you’re gone, and you’ll never know. More tears spill out. She brings her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them and buries her face in them.

“Hello, m’lady.” She looks up at the sound of the soothing voice. Her vision is blurry with tears, and she knows it’s just a trick of her imagination before she even sees that the scenery hasn’t changed, apart from the light breeze that picked up, taking a couple of fallen leaves in its stride, but she can’t help it. Whatever happens, however much it hurts, she’ll always look, always hope. She shakes her head, pressing her forehead against her knees, and takes a deep breath.

It’s getting late. She should probably get going. A sleepless mind (not that she gets a lot of rest anyway, but every minute counts) will only play further tricks on her, and she doesn’t need that.

“That was some speech you gave.”

Her head snaps up, and this time, she wipes her tears.

She might be sleep-deprived enough to hear the things she wants in the wind, but this is too real. She wasn’t expecting it, either.

The night is still. The cat has lazily lifted its head from its paws, and for a second she wonders if it spoke to her, but it’s not facing her, and this is real life. Cats don’t talk. Right?

She pinches herself. Maybe she fell asleep on the bench.

“You know how much I love it when you speak passionately.” There’s a tender smile in the voice now. She remembers it so vividly.

A figure steps out from the shadow of the statue, almost sheepishly. The teen doesn’t look at her directly, so she doesn’t recognise him at first. His dishevelled black hair, leather jacket and ripped jeans are unfamiliar.

Then his green eyes meet hers, and she’s home.

“Y-you,” she stammers, trying to stand up, but she feels her knees buckle under her.

He’s at her side immediately, catching her in her fall and helping her sit back down.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he says while she touches his face, making sure that she isn’t dreaming, that he’s okay, that he’s alive.

She answers by hugging him like her life depends on it (and maybe it does), feeling her tears make a comeback. He rubs soothing circles on her back. It’s exactly what she needs, what she’s been craving for the past months. He’s here.

“Why?” she croaks against his chest. The question is cut short by a sob, but he understands all of its layers nonetheless.

Why did you leave? Why did you leave me? Why did you pretend to be dead? Why did you not let me know? What you were planning, then that you were okay? Why are you back?

“I… I overheard something. Not then, but during a previous Akuma attack. Hawkmoth asked his minion to spare me. Adrien Agreste. The Akuma was confused, and asked him to confirm. I couldn’t make sense of it at first, but the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that Hawkmoth had to be someone close to me, or to my father.” Marinette feels his body tense and holds him tighter. She’s not letting go of him anytime soon. “And then that day, when I saw what the rays did… I had to seize the opportunity. If I could just… disappear, lay low for a while, then maybe…” he trails off.

“Maybe you could get to the bottom of it.” Marinette sniffles. “I get it. But were you safe? It’s been months, Adrien. Where did you go?” She withdraws a little from his arms to look up at him with worry-filled eyes.

He seems taken aback by her questions. “You’re not going to ask me about what I found?”

“Adrien, I’ve just found out that the person I love most in the world, the person I thought I’d never see again but by looking at this damn statue,” she points towards it, but her eyes stay locked on his, angry tears gathering in her eyes, “is alive, I need to know you’re not about to collapse or disappear all over again. I couldn’t-” Her voice catches.

“I know.” He interrupts, cupping her cheek tenderly. “You’ve been so strong, my Lady. I promise you, I’m fine. I had some cash saved up, it paid for a small half-board hotel in the 20th Arrondissement, no questions asked, my makeover, and of course, my stalking.” His thumb stills on her cheekbone as he processes her words. “But wait, did you just say that you love me?”

A month ago, Marinette would have blushed and stammered in response. Today, her response is unwavering.

She grabs him by the collar of his jacket and their lips crash together. It occurs to Adrien that this is his first kiss with Marinette, Ladybug, he’ll hopefully remember. He makes sure to commit every last detail to memory.

It tastes like tears (hers, at first, and then, theirs - they’re all happy, though). Desperation. Disbelief. Thankfulness. Love. He hopes she feels it from him, too.

He takes it all in. Her chapped lips. The way she’s pulling him closer, clinging to him to keep him close, as if he’d ever run away from this. How soft her hair is under his fingers.

Nobody’s ever going to take it away from him.

When Marinette breaks off, leaving both of them panting, Adrien is awestruck. He knows it’s too soon to joke about being able to die happy, but the thought is there.

“So…” Marinette’s hands untangle from his hair to rest on his chest. “Now that my feelings for you are elucidated, and that I’ve established that you seem to be fine, how about you tell me if your disappearing act was at least worth it?” She sniffles a little.

“Marinette, I’ve just had the lights kissed out of me by the girl I love, and you expect me to be able to make a coherent sentence?” He nudges her nose with his.

“I just need to know you’re not going to disappear on me again,” she whispers.

“I purr-omise, my Lady,” he replies earnestly. “Never going to run around and desert you ever again. Not if I can help it.”

“Shut up.” She lets out a small giggle, her first in ages, and punches his shoulder lightly. A pun and a questionable reference. Her kitty’s back alright. “As if that wasn’t a coherent sentence.”

“Maybe the sentence was, but you’ll have to admit the thought wasn’t.” His smile vanishes as he looks around them. “Seriously, though. I’m not sure we should talk about it here.”

“Fine.” She gives him a small smile, and kisses his nose. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll deal with it.”

“You and me against the world.” He smiles.

“Forever.”

She buries herself in his arms once more, and they stay on the park bench until their heads start drooping. Even as they leave, she can’t bring herself to let go of his hand, and it doesn't take a lot of convincing for him to go home with her.

There’s no way she’s letting him out of her sight again. Not if she can help it.

[thedeathdoctor]

Kinktober Day 5: Blood Play

Blood Play - Halloween: Michael Meyers x Reader

Guardian Demon

Tw for Breaking and Entering, Being held at gunpoint

It was ten past two in the morning when you pulled your 2003 Altima into the driveway. Fucking Steve. Ever since he had started as manager, your store had been pathetically understaffed. He never stuck around past four and never saw how long closing duties took. It was just you and Allison now, because “we don’t really need three people in here when we don’t get that many customers, anyway”. 

You shoved your work apron into your purse laying on the passenger seat before dragging yourself out of the car. Everything felt heavy, and your keys dangled limply in your hand. A thought resurfaced in your weary head: the pothole you had hit on your way to work because the assholes wouldn’t let you merge over to avoid it. It sounded expensive, but you had managed to get home, so you just gave a quick glance at it. You weren’t much of a car person, and it was dark; you’d look at it again in the morning. 

Leaning against the peeling paint of your side door, you fit the key in the lock, and found it unlocked. What? Maybe you had forgotten to lock up when you rushed to work this afternoon. Henry had called out for the third day in a row, and they had called you to come in earlier to cover for him. You didn’t want to, but you had to. The shitty washer that came with the unit had broken, and your landlord had refused to take care of it because clearly you had misused it in order for that to happen. A contractor had come out to fix it yesterday; the work was expensive,  he unsettled you in a way you couldn’t place, and in the middle of it all Steve called to ask where you were. He seemed to forget how you told him, to his face, three times, “I won’t be in on Wednesday, do not schedule me,” and still his chicken nugget sized brain forgot and expected you to come in. 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of the work fuckery from your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. It took up enough real estate in your head as is. 

Snacks. 

You dropped your purse on the mess of mail that covered your kitchen table. It would be sorted later. For now, you took your phone with you and rummaged through the cabinets, finding the box of Goldfish you had bought Monday. You padded into the living room, settling down into the couch. Though you lived alone, you had slept here for the past few nights on account of clutter spread over your bed. Well, it was mostly organized. Monday you had found the least sketchiest laundromat in your fifteen mile radius for the three weeks of laundry built up while you fought with your landlord. After all, there was a finite amount of times you could handle rewearing your work clothes before the thought of having to pay for laundry became begrudgingly tolerable. 

The waist of your pants cut into your waist, and you stripped them off and threw them towards the stairs with a growl. Your bra was next, and soon you were comfortable in your tank top and underwear. It had also been an embarrassing amount of time since you had vacuumed the floor, so your socks stayed on to keep your feet clean. 

“Honey, if you ever need help, I can always come over and clean with you. It’s really no problem for me.” 

Your mom’s voice reappeared in your head, kind and soothing. Truth was, you needed help, but couldn’t bring yourself to accept her offer. It was out of mercy. You didn’t want her to come over and see for herself how you, her precious daughter was really doing. She worried for you enough as is, and anyway, you were doing just fine, no need for her to see the bottles that frequently piled up in the yellow bin next to the door or the refrigerator that didn’t hold much excluding the condiments on the door, or the condition of your bathroom sink. You spared her the worry she would feel if she knew. Anyway, you could handle it, all you needed was another day off to take care of everything, two at max. 

Turning on the tv, you chose a random episode of Criminal Minds to watch to distract your brain. It had been your comfort show since you started watching it in 2011, and it filled the otherwise quiet space of the house. You apathetically ate a handful of Goldfish before folding the box back up and letting it drop on the ground. That wasn’t it. Occasionally, lights drifted across the interior of your house, headlights drifting in from the living room window as the occasional car passed by. 

A loud crash shocked you awake from the doldrums of half-sleep. Your eyes shot open as your heart revved from 0 -100, realizing that the sound came from upstairs. Fuck. There were footsteps now. Scrambling to find your phone to call 911, your heart sunk as the screen flickered to life for just enough time to blink its “low battery” icon at you before giving up. You did have a .357, but one too many nights with the bottle led you to disassemble it as much as you could and shove the pieces into a shoebox at the back of your closet, if only for your mom’s sake. 

You listened with bated breath as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs and began to descend. Every single muscle in your body did not reply, even as your mind screamed for you to run. You were frozen to the couch. 

A man, partially dressed in a dirty work coverall tied around the waist at the bottom of a grimy undershirt strode aggressively over to you. A black ski mask hid his face, but you could see his eye twitch as he raised the Glock in his hand to your face. His voice was strained and rough as he questioned you.

“WHERE ARE THEY??” 

“Where is what?” 

You didn’t have much of value at all, the most expensive thing that you had to your name was the Altima sitting outside and that was only $6,000 when you bought it a few years ago. 

“PILLS, SMARTASS. DON’T LIE TO ME. I SAW THE EMPTY BOTTLES. WHERE DO YOU KEEP THEM?” 

Oh. Truth be told, you didn’t have any left. All you had ever really taken was your Adderall XR and Zoloft. The empty Adderall bottle sat pathetically on your dresser, reminding you of the last time you had been able to afford the copay the pharmacy demanded. As for the Zoloft, well, your psychiatrist would keep refilling it as long as you kept showing up to her regular appointments, and the spontaneity of work had made it damn near impossible to keep an appointment with her. So it had been at least a few days since you had tried to taper off of them yourself. But you were unmedicated and well beyond tired, so you responded rather dumbly. 

“I don’t have any more. They’re gone. Sorry.” 

He didn’t react well to that, gritting his teeth and kicking over a folding chair that left a rather large hole in the drywall. Your fucking landlord would have a field day haranguing you for those damages. 

The side door that you had taken care to lock swung open violently, knocking over the bottles perched on the top of the pile in the recycling bin. Heavy footsteps strode through the kitchen and another man appeared behind the first intruder.

“HEY WHAT THE FUC-”

He was cut off as he was violently disarmed, gun clattering to the floor as a blade slashed through every tendon in his arm. Then, his body flew across the room and crashed head first into the Walmart bookshelf and the few books you had left with a horrific crunch. He was crumpled in a way that no human should ever be, and still the other man kneeled and plunged his knife between his ribs, ventilating his body as you would a frozen microwavable meal. And then slowly, stood up and turned to face you. 

He was impossibly tall, looming over the man who had tried to rob you; like him, he was also dressed in a coverall, bluish grey and relatively cleaner aside from the blood splashed across the front. His head was covered too, by one of those rubbery Halloween costume masks that people wear and pretend to be a serial killer or something. Matthew, or maybe Michael? You glanced over at the mutilated corpse at his feet, and the real, actual knife in his hand, still dripping with blood. You didn’t think he was pretending.

You cowered in the corner of the couch, your knees pulled up as close to your chin as possible, shaking uncontrollably. He walked closer to you, stretching out his free hand, and for some reason beyond your understanding, you took it. Your legs trembled like those of a newborn fawn, but you stayed up, mostly due to his hidden strength. Together, you both made your way over to the dead body, letting you collapse to your knees next to it. He dipped the tip of the knife into the man’s blood and brought it to your face. A scream died in your throat as he grabbed your jaw and steadied you as the blade traced over your forehead and cheekbones, painting you with the blood of his kill. On your stomach, he marked you with a simple “MM”. Michael Meyers. You were his. 

When he was done, he pressed you to the floor on your back and stripped you of your tank top and panties with a few quick flicks of his knife. His hands worked the jumpsuit zipper down as he shed his clothing and towered over you. He stroked his cock lazily, enjoying the look on your face as you realized that he wanted to put it deep in you. You were his and he was going to consummate your partnership, right here, right now.

He spread your legs and kneeled between them. It had been a while since you last had any kind of sexual encounter, but the patch of curls was of no consequence to him. Blood slicked his fingers, and you were surprised how expertly the pad of his thumb found your clit, kneading you to orgasm in spite of the horror you had just witnessed. Perfect.

He teased you, running his fingertips up and down your vulva until your hands urged him to get on with it. That was a mistake. He snapped your hands together and held you firmly by your wrists with his free hand. Punishment for being too impatient. Two fingers found your entrance before suddenly plunging into you as deep as they could. Your gasp satisfied him and he returned his thumb to your clit as his fingers pistoned into you at a punishing pace. 

The second orgasm crashed through your body, your arms weakly trembling against his fierce grip as you screamed out in pleasure. When your eyes returned to him, the submission he saw drove him mad with desire. He gripped your hips so hard, you were sure that you would see bruises in the morning, and slid you onto his cock, hissing softly as he entered you. God, he spread you apart like no one ever had before. 

You weren’t the most petite person in the world, but to him and his strength, you may as well have been. He slammed you against him, your thighs stinging as they met his hips, fucking you as if you were a filthy toy, a cocksleeve for him to use as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He paused for a moment, sliding his hands up under your back and supporting you with his arms as he stood up, still inside you. Your thighs wrapped around his waist, feeling the muscles in his torso and ass flex against you. His hips thrust up into you as he held you up in the air, gravity working alongside his powerful body as he ravaged you. Moans dribbled from your mouth as most of your upper body went limp. The back of your head crashed against the wall, but you didn’t care, your body was flooded in ecstasy as you came over and over, writhing in his arms and twitching helplessly around his cock. His fingernails dragged long, deep scratches along your back that smeared and stained the wall with blood as he pressed you against it, his breaths deep, panting, heavy with lust. 

Time lost all meaning to you as he broke you down to a sopping, quivering mess in his arms. It seemed he was intent on folding you in half and pressing you against the wall before his breaths hitched and pulled you as close as he physically could to him. His hips bucked involuntarily as he came deep into you, filling you with copious spurts of his cum. It took on a pinkish tone as it mixed with the blood from earlier, dripping from where your hips met. You were spent, falling asleep before he had let the both of you fall ever so gently to the floor, letting you rest on top of his chest. 

[jasperswh0re]

Savior [Raylan Givens x Reader]

hihihi so im like super in love with this character and i haven’t seen like any writing for Timothy Olyphant Characters besides Cobb and Mickey... so i thought i would do that for our favorite U.S. Marshall, Mr. Deputy Raylan Givens

Might make this a series. Let me know if you wanna be tagged if I make another part!

Summary: You’re going about your daily errands at the bank when there’s suddenly a robbery. Luckily, a U.S. Marshall was inside and there to save the day. Gender neutral reader btw

Warnings: Gun use, swearing

---

You tapped your foot violently against the tiled flooring of the bank. In ten minutes you were to be at an appointment yet this line wasn’t moving an inch. The beat of your toes hitting the ground had you bouncing at insane speeds. You hated waiting.

“You doing alright there?” You heard someone say behind you. 

You flipped around to see a taller man wearing a cowboy hat. He was looking down at you, an amused glint in his eye. He was handsome and his country drawl was deep.

“Just in a hurry,” You shrugged and smiled sheepishly. He chuckled when you turned forward to see that the line still hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Kentucky life can be one hell of a doozy.”

“You’re tellin’ me...” He sighed. He was scanning the area, as if he was searching for something. Though, you didn’t think much of it and held out your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n). Nice to meet you... I haven’t seen you around before,” You introduced yourself, snapping him out of detective mode.

His grin grew wide, “Raylan Givens... I work down at the uh-... Marshall’s Service.” 

“Wow. A marshall. Do we really still have those? You look like you walked out a western film.”

Raylan’s head tilted back with laughter, making sure to hold the tip of his hat, and you felt any sense of urgency wash away. 

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“It’s hard not to say.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Smiles were wide on each face and the socially accepted distance for people in line was crumbling between you two. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Raylan said. You shook your head no. “Where you from then?”

“Way up north. Just a little town in Oregon...”

“You’re a long ways from home then,” He lifted his head up once more to look around the room. His eyes would flicker back to one spot, not far from the two of you, in between sentences. 

“I guess so...” You sighed. You stared at Raylan a little longer while he was focused on something else. When his gaze landed on you once more you checked the line in front of you. One person had been attended to. You and Raylan moved about two inches forward.

“What in the world is taking-”

Before you could continue complaining shots rang out inside of the tiny building. Instinctively, Raylan guarded you and brought you down to the ground. You let out a yelp, along with a few other screams from bystanders, as Raylan forced your body downwards. 

“Sorry...” He muttered.

“Get down on the ground! Everyone on your fucking stomachs!” A man in a ski mask yelled, assumably the one who started firing. You couldn’t see since Raylan was blocking your view of the man. 

No one dared to move a muscle so he lifted the gun at the nearest person to him.

Raylan, who was knelt down, pulled a handgun from his holster faster than you had ever seen. The robber crippled to the ground before he could make the shot.

For a split second, you thought you were saved until another robber in a ski mask came running in with a much larger gun. It must have been automatic, you thought. You didn’t know much about weapons. Raylan directed his gun in the new robbers ‘direction but the newcomer let out a tsk.

“Nuh-uh, you put that here gun down. Or I shoot. I got two buddies coming. This won’t end well for you.”

Raylan didn’t move.

“I swear to god, man. I’ll shoot.”

Raylan thought it through in his mind. This criminal was either bluffing or telling the truth. He could shoot, adding another life to his belt but it wouldn’t matter much anyway. The authorities were on their way. The robbers were wimpy, so this wasn’t going to last long. 

He darted his eyes towards you. You were on the floor still, eyes wide with fear but otherwise gave no indication of being afraid. He looked around at the people and sighed, placing down his gun slowly. 

The robber skittered towards the Marshall and kicked the gun away, holding the automatic rifle toward his face. 

“Everyone. Jewelry and cash. Now! On your stomachs!” He hollered.

And they did. Two more robbers with their faces covered came in once everyone was down and they took any valuables offered. None of the three bothered with their buddy who was bleeding out on the floor and began taking out stacks of cash. 

Before reaching the registers, one of the men stopped by your figure and grinned. A silver bracelet sat on your wrist, you had completely forgotten about it. He went for your arm and you jumped in surprise, instinctively pulling your hand away. 

The man’s smile dropped to pure rage and shoved his gun in your face, his hand still locked around your wrist, “Give it to me.”

Your mind went blank. Raylan watched, ready to pounce at any moment if any moves were made and cursed himself for kicking his gun away. Ever worse, he knew it would be too risky to pull out his backup. So, he watched the robber decisively. And watched you carefully. 

Words couldn’t formulate the feeling in your throat. You wanted to swallow badly but you feared any outside movement would end up in your head blown off. So, your hand moved slowly to unlatch the bracelet. It had zero sentimental value, so you weren’t about to make a fit.

He stalked off after snatching the thin piece of jewelry and you dropped your head in relief. One long breath of air exhaled from your lungs. 

To your left you could hear Raylan muttering something under his breath. He was frustrated. Glaring daggers at the criminals in front of him. You studied his face while he did so. 

“It’s okay,” You whispered. 

His angry expression became thoroughly confused.

“What?” He hissed.

“It’s okay...” You repeated. “You looked angry, not only at these men but... also yourself. They won’t get away with it.”

Your ghost of a smile reassured Raylan. Everyone in this room was shaking in their boots or crying out of fear for their life. Yet here you were making sure that he was okay. Immediately after a gun was propped against your skull.

Had you not said a word, he’d have done something brash. Something that Art would definitely not be happy about. More AUSA cases, more paperwork. His gun wasn’t far, too. Instead here was this random person, laying next to him calm as can be.

And in all seriousness, you were a terrified. You’ve never been a part of something so scary. But you knew just as well as Raylan that these men wouldn’t be successful. Everyone would be okay if they just complied. 

If, is the key word here.

Not far from the two of you, one of the robbers started making trouble. It was the same one that had confronted you. A man on the floor was aggravated, he didn’t want to give up his watch. So, as expected, the robber stuck a gun to his head. Raylan looked at his gun that was a few feet away. 

The criminal continued to shove the weapon in the man’s face, screaming for the watch. 

“I will shoot you fucking dead old man. Give me the goddamn watch.”

The man shook his head furiously. The robber opened his mouth once more to yell but was interrupted by the sound of a gun clicking. 

“You wanna put that down now... don’t try anything.”

Raylan had his handgun pressed against the man’s head. His accomplacises were in the back, trying to open the large safes, so the man was left on his own. 

“You wanna make the right decision now, don’t you?” Raylan’s southern drawl was calm but sharp. “You can either die right here... or go to jail. It’s that simple...”

There was no response, but the criminal set down his automatic slowly. At that moment the sound of sirens blared and officers stormed through the building. Raylan took the man by the wrists and shoved him at an nearby police officer, while shouting that his buddies were in the building somewhere.

With a sigh, you watched the chaos reign through the building. Much to your surprise, Raylan approached you with a grin.

“You’re pretty weird, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothin’ bad,” Raylan folded his arms. “You weren’t afraid. You didn’t even tremble in fear.”

“I don’t tremble,” You shrugged.

“Hell, I’ll believe you. Your hand was steady when giving him your bracelet.”

“I tend to stay calm in situations like these.”

“So you’ve had something happen?” Raylan tilted his head.

You paused, thinking of the words to say. 

“I guess you could say that...” You finally smiled at the man in front of you. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You saved all these people today. Especially that man,” You pointed at a victim. “And in a way, you saved me.”

“I couldn’t save your bracelet,” He lifted his brows. He seemed to regret that he didn’t stop the robber.

“You can make it up to me sometime...” You said, placing a hand on his upper arm. Raylan gave you a sweet smile. “See you around, cowboy.”

[snusbandxknifewife]

How We Got Here/Where We’re Going

Hello yes hi! I am proud to introduce my gift for the lovely and amazing Tess, @clockworkgraystairs ! This started out as a wedding fic, but I couldn’t get it to work right until I was giving @wanderingpages her regularly scheduled Mayari update and saw her asynchronous pregnancy au and was like “!!!!!Holy shit that’s it.” So, without much further ado, I present the beginning of “How We Got Here/Where We’re Going”, an all human, modern au where Cardan and Jude have been a thing since college, ended up getting pregnant and having a daughter and marrying in their late 20s. Now it’s their honeymoon and they’re looking backwards at their past and forward towards their future.

~~~~~~~

Outside, fluffy grey clouds hung over a soft blanket of snow, masking any sound that might’ve accompanied the rising of the sun. Her bed was soft, her sheets warm, her room quiet. Jude couldn’t quite figure out what woke her up. Then, as she stretched out, her fingers hungrily searching as she fought sleep, she realized what it was: Cardan was missing.

Sitting up, her eyes bleary and drool dried on her cheek, she pouted. When she remembered that she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on—and that, plus a snowy log cabin, makes for freezing nips—she grumbled and burrowed back into the comforter.

Oh to have been a fly on the wall in the little cabin bedroom as Jude Greenbriar tumbled around in her nest of blankets, dragging them with her to grab underwear and pajamas and socks and fighting to avoid any cold air as she dressed. Cussing and tripping as she went, Jude scowled into nothing and cursed her fiancé—

Wait. Husband. It’s husband now.

—she cursed her husband for abandoning her to the elements and taking his space heater of a body with him when he went.

Jude wrapped herself up in her ball of bedding and went out the door, now awake enough to listen for movement in the small cabin. A pot clanged from the downstairs kitchen and her husband yelped and she smirked.

That’s what you get, loser.

As Jude walked down the stairs, she couldn’t miss the chaos of the living room. Most of their suitcases were still packed up and set by the fireplace, their skis and snow jackets barely made it in the door, and their wedding clothes were strewn haphazardly across the sofa. She was honestly impressed that they’d made it inside the house.

Just as she made it to the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the sofa to run her hand over her wedding dress, she heard something that made her stop.

“—And how should I know? Honestly Nic I’m not even sure how to bring it up to her,” Cardan sighed from within the kitchen, bustling around like he was making breakfast. “I think it might be good for us. Still, with how everything went when we had Faye, I don’t want to pressure her.”

She couldn’t help but frown in concern as her mind flitted back through everything she could remember about their first daughter and her pregnancy. From the confusion of her missed period to the worry as they waited on the test to the way Cardan’s eyes had lit up when the Ob/Gyn told them they were having a little girl.

What on earth would Nicasia be talking to him about?

Jude tried to tell herself that it was obvious, Nicasia was only days away from popping, and her pregnancy had been a bit of a nightmare. Maybe she was just nervous? But, then again, why ask Cardan about giving birth? Jude had been the one who carried Faye and, far more importantly, Nicasia’s own wife, Taryn, had already had a child herself.

Completely ignoring the fact that calling a man away from his wife on his honeymoon was probably in poor taste, but she digressed.

She kept herself as still as possible, angling her head so she could hear better.

“Yes, I know that, Nic,” he let out a little frustrated laugh, and Jude could just picture the way he would be pinching the bridge of his nose. “But Faye will be starting school soon and that’ll be a circus in it of itself, never mind adding on the stress that this would.”

He went quiet again and Jude crept back towards the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t walk through the kitchen door and catch her spying.

“I know you and Taryn want the little man to have a friend, but you remember how tough it was for Jude our first go round.”

Oh.

Jude’s hand flew to her belly and she had to jump to catch the falling blankets before they made a sound and alerted her new husband.

So she wasn’t the only one who was getting suggestions about expanding the family.

It made sense, everyone had been talking to Jude about the idea as the wedding had gotten closer. Oriana had been completely starry eyed ever since Taryn’s firstborn, Rosemary, had graced them with her presence. In fact, their stepmother had barely batted an eyelash at Jude’s worries when she’d fallen pregnant during college, she was far too excited at the idea of another grand baby. Madoc had gotten past the shock and the disdain for Cardan enough to be hounding them for a grandson. Taryn thought having cousins the same age made for perfect best friends. It was a mess.

Sure, Nicasia being pregnant had bought them a little respite, but she could go into labor literally any minute, so there went that.

Jude rolled her eyes and began loudly making her way down the stairs again, giving her husband fair warning this time as she walked through the living room and towards the kitchen.

“Hold on, here she comes,” he whispered, low enough that he likely thought she couldn’t hear. Then, she hit the kitchen door with her mobile blanket fort and he spun around with a: “hey Hot Mama!”

“Stop calling me that, you dork,” she made a face, instantly regretting her decision not to sneak up and scare him.

He’s stood there by the stove, wearing nothing but his low-slung flannel pajama pants and grinning at her like an idiot as he leaned back against the counter. She refused to let her sneer fall, only growing more annoyed at how he could walk around half naked in such a freezing house.

“Huh?” He must’ve forgotten he was talking to Nicasia because he seemed surprised when she began speaking on the other end of the phone. “Oh, yeah, Jude’s finally awake. Y’know I kept her up last night, heyo.”

Jude let out a disgusted groan and he just started to laugh, giving her an exaggerated wink and thrusting his hips forward in a way that absolutely did not put butterflies in her stomach, thank you very much.

He tilted his head, listening to Nicasia for a moment before finally giving up. “Here I’ll put her on speaker.”

“Hey Nic!” Jude smiled, finally dropping her pretenses and walking over to give Cardan a big, blankety hug and morning kiss. “How did Faye do last night?”

“She was great! Didn’t get up until about seven this morning. Of course the little man already had me up, fuckin’ kid always sitting on my bladder,” Nicasia griped through the phone and Jude snorted. “I don’t know how you and Taryn both did this it sucks.”

“Yeah, but the payoff is really cute,” she shrugged, leaning her head against Cardan’s collarbone. “Especially when they have your nose or your eyes or they start saying how much they love their Mommy.”

“Is Rosemary ready for baby?” Cardan asked as he wrapped his arm around his blanket bundle of a wife.

“You know how she gets, she’s super attached to her moms. Well have to see once Taryn and I actually bring him home.”

“I’m sure she’ll be a great big sister, she’s always been wonderful to Faye,” Jude offered, smiling as her husband pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “She was very sweet when Faye was a baby.”

“She was three then. Seven-year-olds have much bigger personalities.” Nicasia sounded exhausted, more exhausted than a normal pregnant person would be and Jude worried at her lip.

While they hadn’t always been the closest, she and Nicasia had grown into a really solid friendship ever since the other woman had begun dating Jude’s sister, and she didn’t like to see her struggling. Nic had been a huge help in Jude’s own life and relationship, she’d been an amazing friend to Cardan, she didn’t deserve anything but the best, happiest transition to a family of four.

“Well she takes after her mother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jackass?” Nicasia laughed at Cardan, her voice sounding like the tension broke a little.

Jude opened her mouth to give some word of advice or make some statement about how sure she was that it would be ok, but got cut off by the sound of commotion on the other end of the phone.

“What? Oh, yes Faerie-Faye it’s Mommy and Daddy,” Nic said, sounding far away from the phone. “Of course you can darling, here you go.”

Jude’s heart swelled and tears unexpectedly pricked at the back of her eyes as their daughter fumbled with the phone. She felt guilty, having forgotten for a moment that they were on their honeymoon without Faye. It was their first trip alone since her birth, and they’d both been on pins and needles when they’d said goodbye to her at the reception hall last night.

“Mommy?” Faye’s voice, tiny and soft like the twinkling of a wind chime, came through the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey little elf! How are you? Mommy misses you so much,” she gushed, reaching out and taking the phone from her husband in a mindless attempt to feel physically closer to her daughter. “Have you been good for Aunty Taryn and Aunt Nicky?”

Jude listened attentively as her four-year-old prattled on about everything she’d done since she left the reception hall with her aunts and cousin last night. To hear her tell it, Faye had had a great time. While it made her happy, Jude also found herself a little sad at the idea that her baby girl was doing so well without mom.

“And Daddy, Aunt Nicky let me touch her tummy when baby cousin kicked!”

“Were you gentle, Princess?” Cardan asked. He always called their daughter Princess, had since the first moment he’d held her in his arms. “Remember what we’ve said about soft hands.”

“Yes Daddy I used soft hands and nice words!”

“That’s my girl,” he said, that proud grin he always got whenever Faye listened to them plastering itself across his face.

The phone fell away and they heard some distant talking before their daughter was back on.

“Ok Mommy and Daddy, Rosemary is awake and we’re playing Rome. I love you, bye-bye!”

And she was gone before either of them could say another word, likely dropping her Aunt’s phone on the floor, if history could serve as a teacher. Jude tried not to let it hurt too much, she knew how seriously Faye took Rome—her word for the pretend gladiator-style tournaments her and her cousin put on. On any other day she’d be slightly smug at how well her kid swung a sword, but today she was away from her daughter and it really sucked.

“Sorry about that, I’ll make sure she stays on longer tonight,” Nicasia promised before either of them said anything. “But you know gladiator is a serious time in our house.”

“Oh to be sure. My wife is raising a little killer.”

“Looks like it runs in the family,” she laughed back. “Listen I’ll let you to go do gross honeymoon shit. Love you both, I’ll let you know if baby boy makes an early appearance.”

“Love you too, tell Faye we love her,” Cardan said, taking his phone back when she ended the call.

And, just that quickly, the little cabin in the snow-laden forest was silent again. Jude in her mountain of covers looked up at her new husband, her pout from earlier back as she tried not to cry.

“Awe, don’t do that to me Mama Bear; you know she misses you,” he frowned, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“She’s my baby Cardan,” Jude whined, her voice muffled against his chest. “When did Rome become more important than Mommy?”

He scoffed, gathering her and her extra padding and setting the whole pile atop the kitchen island. “Rome is not more important than Mommy, you know that.”

“Rome sure sounded more important than Mommy.”

He turned his back with a roll of his eyes, reaching for the coffee that he must’ve been brewing before she woke up. She stopped her pouting long enough to take in the sight: Cardan’s messy black hair, his low-slung pants, the blatantly obvious fingernail marks carved up his back from last night. It was certainly a sight for sore eyes; it’s not every day you can wake up to something like that when you’ve got a toddler in tow.

“When you’re done ogling, would you like a cup?” He looked over his shoulder quickly, catching her in the act. His eyes twinkled so bright and full of mischief she didn’t even feel bad about being caught, she just smirked at him as she nodded.

Jude looked outside and saw that the heavy grey clouds had given up the fight and large, fluffy snowflakes were falling, bathing the world in yet another layer of snow.

“I hope Nic doesn’t go into labor early, we may be stuck here if the snow doesn’t stop,” she observed, suddenly quiet as she took the cup from his outstretched hand and brought it to her face, soaking in the warmth.

Cardan followed her gaze as he leaned back against his own counter, sipping from her Mrs mug that Liliver had gotten her as a joke. He looked pleasantly tired, not wired like he’d been after an all nighter in college or exhausted the way he was when Faye’d had a bad night as an infant. He looked like he was fit to curl up in bed with a book and be lazy all day, content with his place in the world.

It was a good look on him.

“She told me earlier that her doctor said she was only at 1.5 centimeters, she should make it to her due date.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well you were full of surprises with Faye’s pregnancy,” he mock-glared at her and she chuckled into her drink, remembering the look on his face when she’d told him her water had broken in her final.

Then his words hit her and her smile fell as she remembered what she’d overheard him saying to Nicasia. Cardan, well tuned in to her body language after so many years, noticed instantly.

“What?”

What good is spying if you narc on yourself?

She sighed and stared into her mug, trying to figure out the words as he watched her, worried something was wrong. Then, finally, “I overheard you talking with Nic about my pregnancy with Faye.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Just the end, you talking about how tough it was, how you didn’t want to pressure me,” she admitted, continuing before he could respond. “I don’t want you to think you’re pressuring me I know we’ve talked about it and I—“

“Woah, woah, woah, calm it down Hot Mama let me explain,” he cut her off, taking her cup from her hands and setting it down in the counter so he could hold her. “That conversation wasn’t about the pregnancy, just the timing.”

“What?”

He sighed, his jaw working like it always does when he’s a little frustrated. “Nic called right after I got a text from my brother. I should’ve talked to you first but the timing just worked out weird.”

“From Balekin?” She crinkled her nose in a frown that she knew he found adorable. “What could he possibly want? He knows he literally missed our wedding, right? The wedding that was yesterday.��

She cursed herself internally as she saw his little wince. She shouldn’t have said it so harshly, it just pissed her off that the man who raised her husband would refuse to be there when they got married.

“No, from Dain,” Cardan said, stopping her thoughts right in their track. “It’s about the company. Rhyia is apparently sick of being CFO, wants a peace of the trust fund baby action like me.”

She couldn’t help but grind her teeth at that, remembering that glorious fight all those years ago at his family’s mansion when he’d announced their pregnancy.

“So what do you have to do with it?”

“Dain wants to keep it in the family,” he chewed at his bottom lip. “Remembers I was in for business and you were in for finance. Thinks we could make a go of it together.”

“Oh so now you’re family,” she laughed angrily, her blood already boiling again after four years of avoiding the subject. “You weren’t family when you were a defenseless kid and you weren’t family when we were pregnant and fucking panicking but now he needs something—“

She broke off with a huff, flexing her fists and aching for her punching bag back home in their basement. It really wouldn’t do getting this riled up, it hadn’t helped them before and it wouldn’t help them now.

“Cool it, Supervillain, I see that look in your eyes,” he chuckled, forcing his hands under the blankets so he could grab her by the hips.

“I’m not a supervillain,” she grumbled.

“You’re my supervillain,” he cooed back, leaning forward to press soft little butterfly kisses to her jawline. “My sexy little supervillain Hot Mama.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

She decided not to answer as he continued kissing down the line of her throat, his breath hot over her pulse and his lips soft against her chapped skin.

Jude couldn’t help the way she tilted her chin up, the little grin that graced her face as her eyes fluttered closed. She missed moments like these, times when they could be overly affectionate without having to worry about the baby seeing and yelling about how gross it was.

He pulled away and her eyes shot back open, ready to complain until she saw the look on his face. He was troubled, almost apprehensive.

“I was honestly thinking about agreeing,” he admitted before she could ask what was wrong.

Her brain short circuited for a moment, too distracted by his kisses to remember what they had been talking about. When she finally connected the dots, she frowned. “But you bought out of the company years ago, babe. Why go back to the headache?”

“A higher paying job,” he sighed, stepping away to run his hands through his messy hair and lean against the counter again. “I don’t like the idea of charging your sister more for my help, but I still want to make sure we have a secure future.”

“Baby, I know our finances. We are fine.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Even without my paycheck.”

“Still, I’d rather be safe. Plus Faye will be going to school next year and I’ll have all that extra time on my hands,” he looked away from her, chewing at the inside of his lip as he watched the snow fall. “We’d be able to really change how we live if we took this job. A better house, vacations, secure college fund for the kids.”

Jude studied Cardan, her eyes roving over his midnight black curls, down his ears—which used to be stretched—across the tattoo of her and Faye’s birthdates at his wrist, and she smiled. He’d changed so much since they first met, given up a lot of his more daring, self-destructive ways to provide for her and their family. He’d stepped up when she needed him to, he’d stepped up in a way that no man in his family ever did for him. She was proud.

“I thought kids is what you’d been discussing with Nic.”

His eyes shot back to her, but his head didn’t turn. She was quiet, almost nervous as she said it. They’d talked about maybe one day having more kids, mentioned it the same way one might say they wanted to hike the Appalachian trail some day.

But it had been so scary with Faye, so hard figuring out how to become parents, how to maintain their relationship and build a home, all while they were just barely adults. The pregnancy had been tough and full of shock, the family had been kind of a mess on both sides. It was just a disaster from the word go.

Still, Jude remembered how Cardan looked when he first saw that positive pregnancy test all those years ago. She remembered how he used to love waking up at night to feed the baby, called it his special Daddy-Daughter Time. She saw the way he still held one of Faye’s sonograms in his wallet every time she took her birth control.

“Did you now?” Cardan barely sounded like he was breathing.

She nodded. “I heard Nicasia giving you the same guilt trip Taryn gives me about cousins.”

“They do seem to think that baby boy should have a friend.” His face didn’t give anything away. He was, for the first time in years, so carefully blank around her.

“What do you think?”

The air, still frigid enough to keep Jude wrapped up in her nest, seemed charged with electricity as Cardan finally turned his head back to face his wife. If she’d gazed upon him with an untrained eye, she would’ve thought he looked like the picture of cruelty, an evil sneer pulling at his lips as he studied her through lidded eyes.

But Jude’s gaze wasn’t untrained, she knew her husband. And, so, she knew that the man in front of her was absolutely terrified as he said: “I think there might be some merit to the idea.”

He took a long sip of his coffee to hide his smile as Jude worried at her deformed ring finger.

“You?”

Well, here goes nothing

“I was thinking about stopping my birth control,” she quietly said, trying not to let her heart leap at the slight quirk of his brows. “Maybe not actively trying but, y’know, also not actively preventing.”

As soon as the words were out, she felt kind of panicked. Up until that point, everything they’d done��moving in after they got pregnant, getting engaged, marrying—had felt kind of inevitable. But having a second baby wasn’t necessarily a foregone conclusion. Talking about it felt nerve-wracking, like they were actually moving to make their family a reality.

“You want a kid with me?” Cardan sounded kind of awed, his jaw a little slack as he watched her.

“I have a kid with you, babe.”

“No,” he held a hand up. “No it was different with Faye. She wasn’t planned, she just happened and we figured out how to make it work.”

He set his drink down and once again crossed the distance between them, digging in to her cocoon as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Faye with all my heart, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me,” he continued. “But the idea that you’d be more than ok with, that you’d literally want a child with me—“

“Does it shock you?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as if to clear it before gazing up at her with love in his eyes. “Yes, Jude Greenbriar. Yes it does.”

“Well it shouldn’t,” she snorted. “I carried a little you once before and she turned out pretty damn cute.”

“I think I’m going to need to hear you actually say it.”

She laughed, her head thrown back as the sound filled the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around Cardan and kissed his temple, holding him close and thanking the gods that they’d made it to that point.

“You need to hear me say what?” Jude teased, her grin contagious as Cardan looked up at her.

“Jude, my darling my dear, my sexy little Hot Mama,” he started, dutifully ignoring how she dramatically protested at the nickname, “I need to hear you say that you want to have my child.”

Jude leaned forward, taking in the soft, earthy scent of him with a mischievous smile.

“Cardan, my love my sweet, my amazing sexy husband,” she imitated him, tilting her head to drag her teeth across his jaw.

He leaned back, giving her the room to slide off the kitchen counter and into his arms. The blankets fell off her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air as she pressed herself against him, already feeling just how desperately he wanted her.

She let her hands wander the expanse of his chest, her fingers ghosting over his skin until she could reach around to the nail marks on his back. With a smile, she traced them, remembering how he’d earned those scrapes when he spread her legs open on the floor last night after they’d given up on making it to the couch.

Cardan grabbed her by the hip, sliding one of his knees between her thighs and locking his eyes with hers as he waited with bated breath for her to finish.

Jude, not one to deny herself a good time, let the strap of her pajama shirt fall off her shoulder as she bit her bottom lip, leaned forward, and whispered--

“Put a baby in me.”

~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok so a few things, one the tumblr app wouldn’t let me copy and paste all the story on mobile so I had to retype some online so I’m sorry if the format fucked up. Also I have a bunch of ideas for these kids so if you want to see any more of this AU, feel free to send in requests! Happy holidays @clockworkgraystairs , I hope you enjoy cute Parent!Jurdan doing cute adult shit!

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @illyrianwitchling @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231 @booksandlewks @fateandluminary @addies-invisible-life If you want to be added, just let me know!