#dagger watches 911

[warpedpuppeteer]

Throwback to that time Bobby was upset about Athena making a big career decision without asking him and now we have the parallel of him making a big career decision without asking her

[101maverick]

how would dick grayson react to his gf acting possessive towards him out of jealousy in front of a super villain flirting with him. sort of like the reader telling the villain “cut to the chase or I’ll cut your throat” while they’re interrogating the villain

A/n: Okkk we're going strong with the Dick asks! This one is very original :)) lemme see what I can do for u >:)

word count: 911

You, Me, and the Moonlight

Your eye twitches compulsively. You don't know if the sound that's itching to escape from your throat is an exasperated sigh or something suspiciously akin to a growl.

What was supposed to be a relatively normal patrol, with the usual shtick of stopping muggers and the occasional gang dispute, had quickly turned into you and Dick dealing with a Poison Ivy.

Thanks to one of Wayne Enterprises' new unreleased gadgets, a.k.a. one of Batman's new toys, the plant-maniac is currently tied up inside of the warehouse she had been planning on transforming into a home-base for her infesting plants.

Nightwing is currently interrogating her while you watch from the shadows of the rafters. Operating in the dark is always best in these kinds of situations, while dealing with this kind of people. Poison Ivy is notorious for her ability to hypnotise, so it's optimal that she find out of your presence only if need be.

Plus, her mind-control perfume has no hope of working on Nightwing while he's got his air-filtering mask on, and he strategically put the chair she's tied to in front of a mirror conveniently already present on the scene, to make sure to react readily to any attempts of escape.

Nightwing stands in front of her, still and stoic. Despite the lack of cape and the electric blue of his costume, years of being the Batman's sidekick are evident in how effective he is in the intimidation department. His voice is cold and authoritative as he questions the woman in front of him.

“Ivy. Who helped you get out of Arkham?”

Poison Ivy just giggles, responding to his looming stance by slightly tilting her head downwards to better bat her eyelashes at him, her voice sultry as she responds. “Can’t a woman do things by herself, Nightwing?”

From where you are perched, you can see the line of his back tense with well-concealed frustration. “I know you had help, Ivy, there’s no use denying that. Now I’ll ask again,” he leans forward, coming face to face with her, “Who helped you?”

You stalk your way over to a more advantageous view point, steps muffled and careful as you manoeuvre on the support beams. From your new position, you're able to make out the mischievous way her lips curl as she responds. "Let me out of these restraints and I'll tell you without a problem."

Another deflection. Dick's face is obscured by both the domino and the mask, but you can still read his mounting annoyance in the way his hand twitches at his side, a tell-tale sign he's refraining from clenching it into a fist.

Before he can respond, though, Poison Ivy speaks again.

"You've grown up to be such a handsome man, Nightwing, why don't you take that mask off so I can see you better? After all, we have quite the long history don't we?" And wow if you didn't want to bash her face in at the looks she was giving him before you sure as hell want to do so now.

You know it's a tactic meant to make Nightwing uncomfortable in the hopes of making him loose his footing, but you can't just stand aside and let this downright witch play her mind games however long she pleases.

Your boyfriend is quick to move his face away from your prisoner, taking a step back, and you choose that moment to drop down from the shadows of the warehouse roof right in front of her.

You land almost upright, and unsheathe a dagger from your side in one smooth motion as you turn to stare Ivy right in the face.

"Cut to the chase, Ivy. And don't even think of saying something like that again or I'll cut your throat, and you know I'm not bluffing." 634

Ivy's expression turns downright sour, and as she grumbles under her breath before reluctantly spouting off the needed information you feel vindictiveness making a home in your chest, and damn if that doesn't feel pleasant.

————————————

Being able to finally rest after a night of chasing, interrogating and arresting villains feels like heaven on earth, and as you flop down face-first on your bed you're extremely grateful for the fact you and Dick decided to splurge on your mattress.

A smile upturns the corners of your lips as you feel your boyfriend lay beside you, and you stay pliant sa you let him snake an arm around your waist and roll you over to face him.

His breath fans over your face as he whispers in the moonlit silence of your shared bedroom. "Thanks for earlier, with Ivy."

At that, you open your eyes and find him staring right into yours.

"Can't let a creep talk to my man like that, can I?" You let out a low chuckle.

In the low light, it takes a while for your eyesight to adjust, and his features slowly come into focus.

As you keep holding each others' gaze, you drop the humour.

"I'll always protect you, Dick," You whisper while bringing your hand up to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. His eyes sparkle in the almost-dark of the Blüdhaven night. "Just like you protect me."

You wonder how many vulnerable moments just you, Dick and the moonlight are witness to.

Laying there, each of you in the other's gentle embrace, you hope there'll be many more.

————————————

A/n: This was fun! I can't decide if it feels a bit rushed, but I'm still happy with the result :) Fun fact! While I was working on this ask I got another ask that's basically the reverse of this lol, where it's Dick getting jealous because a villain is flirting with reader😂 If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hello!!! Since your fics did this to me, I have a truly unhinged request. Can we get one where Daemon is forced to marry a Hightower (Alicent's sister or someone) after his 'divorce' from Rhea Royce and while Daemon is his usual 'pretend like that marriage never happened' stage, going about ignoring her and fucking whores instead, thinking this wife is probably as boring and meek as Alicent and won't say anything. But, surprise! This one's a complete nutcase and turns out she had long since wanted to marry Daemon (I mean look at the man, reader's me) and now that she has him so close, she won't let him ignore her or escape. He HAS to fall in love with her. So one night, while he's drunk she tries him to their bed and when he wakes up, gets a Valyrian dagger and carves her name upon his chest, telling him something like "See, now I'm so deep into you, you cannot pretend I'm not here." And surprise! Masochist unhinged Daemon actually does fall in love with her. I mean, how can he not! Name carving?! Beautiful! So fucking hot! They fuck (him still tied but she rides him GOOD, like they made her for him only.) And once done, she untied him and then HE carves his name on her back. Because she too wants him so deep engraved into her skin.

Please let me have this!!! Pleasee!!!!!!!

Made For You

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary: You grew up in not one, but two shadows, your older sister's and your sister's best friend's. People often mistook your silence for docility, and perhaps to an extent you were, but in truth, you inherited all the desperation, the eagerness, and the nefariousness of from your family.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, yandere!reader, mentions/depictions of violence (blood, gore?, murder), smut (dubcon?, fingering, bdsm themes, masochism, knife play [but they injure each other 💀], marking, scratching, vaginal penetration, degradation kink, breeding kink, bondage, choking), just general dark/grotty themes, typos, etc.

A/N: ok very much MINORS DNI hello im calling 911 this is crazy and i love it HAHAHAHH update i am very confused if i love it lol HsaL:FHASHFAF. i had a little problem with believing daemon would marry a hightower 💀 so i had to add a part explaining that to convince myself. anyway. i hope you enjoy. idk what happened to be honest. im just glad i got this over with. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx

My compulsive habit of chewing my lip had made me addicted to the taste of blood. And though I was heading to the library, the same one I did every single day, my heart was pounding because I knew today would be different. I knew today the prince would be here.

The moment I walked in, I headed straight for the bookshelf that held the only tomes I knew Daemon read. I sucked the iron off my swollen lip and released a sigh as I began to go through the books.

I snort in a sharp breath when I hear a voice to my side. I turn left and find him, short sliver hair spilling down his forehead, a faint line between his brows, and a slight curve in his lips. He had spoken to me in High Valyrian.

I bring my hands to the side. I pull at the inside of my bottom lip. He watches me, awaiting a correct response to his words.

"Iskan..." I start slowly, "kesīr naejot jurnegon rȳ se tembyr."

I'm here to look at the books.

My stomach flutters when he chuckles.

"Very good," he says, standing straight, walking over to me, "though it's Iksan," he adds, reaching out for a book. He opens it but keeps his eyes on me and repeats, "Iksan."

"Iksan," I mutter, looking down at his book.

He closes the book and mindlessly puts it back, "good," he leans on the shelf, "now once more. All together."

I dart my eyes up to him and lick my lips, "Iksan kesīr naejot jurnegon rȳ se tembyr."

He chuckle, reaching out for my hair, "had you not inherited the ghastly color of your father's locks, you'd have me fooled to be of my blood."

My breathing heavies.

He laughs, muttering words in his mother tongue too quick for me to understand.

When he pulls his hand away, I am eager to say something that will elicit the same response, "I am glad I amuse you, my prince Daemon."

Daemon hums and turns about, "you are eager to please me so. How could I not?

I follow after him as he makes his way back to his chair. I spot the heap of books on his side as he sits down.

"Would you like me to take those back, your grace?"

Daemon turns from me to the books on his side then tilts his head, "I don't suppose you are trying to get a job as a librarian."

My eyes widen at his words, "no, I am not."

He straightens in his spot and crosses his legs, "then tell me, will you make no attempt to escape from your hundred year old prospect?"

I grip my skirt.

Daemon raises his brows along with the corner of his lips.

"You know of this?" I mutter softly.

"Your cunt of a father spoke of it to Viserys in the morn," he pouts in thought, "he spewed some crap about the old man from wherever the fuck being enchanted by you when you met him two nights before at the banquet."

I clear my throat, "Lord Sheperding was... quite eager to speak to my father about my prospects."

Daemon bounces his foot up and down. He grips the armrest, "so tell me," he stands and marches over, catching my face in his hands, craning my head up, "did the cretin that fucked you into your mother ask you to come here and seduce me like he did your bitch sister?"

My throat constricts in panic, "I-"

He pushes me back until my I was pressed between him and the side of the bookshelf. His hands come around my neck, "don't you dare fucking lie to me."

I gulp at the fact he was not putting pressure in his grip. My stomach flurries. I shake my head frantically, "my father would rather kill me than ever allow me to yours."

"But that is what you want," he blurts, beginning to tighten his hold on me, "what you have wanted for long, no?"

My heart hammers in my chest. My hands dart to his sides. I moan out, "yes."

Daemon leans close to me, "then I will give you what you want." He releases my neck and begins to pull up my skirt, "but if I find your father pleased by our union, I will make sure your death is more painful than that bronze bitch's."

I let out an involuntary whine but then bite my lip tightly when I feel Daemon's hands make their way to my inner thigh.

"Oh you filthy girl," he moans, "you don't seem to need my fingers at all with how worked up you've gotten yourself."

I cover my mouth when I feel his fingers brush over my burning core.

Daemon pulls away and rip my fingers off. He tuts me and flips me over, shoving my chest against the shelf, "this will only work if you're loud enough for someone to hear."

And someone very much did hear. As swiftly as Daemon had made me come undone by the shelves of library, the news came to my father of the disgrace I had done to my maidenhood, to our name, to him. So when he came to me, he chastised me and left physical evidence of his sore displeasure and then he came to the king demanding justice.

Upon seeing the state of me, King Viserys called for his brother, and Queen Alicent offered me comfort. Daemon came with haughtiness and scorn. My father and my sister eyed him dirtily. Upon seeing the mark on my cheek, the only mark on my body that he had not left, Daemon looked to the enraged king and agreed to the demand of taking responsibility of his actions.

So with a violet cheek hidden behind makeup, reddish marks on my neck hidden behind a high collar, a swollen eye, and bitten lips, I was wed to the prince.

I was now his princess, his wife.

Yet a month later, I was just a stranger that lived in his house that inconvenienced him. Why just this morning, he came from his chambers where he would bring his whores to fuck them, then came into our shared chambers to sleep, knowing I'd be gone and awake by now.

I watched him from the mirror as he walked across the room.

I stopped brushing my hair by the time Daemon jumped into our bed. I release a breath, "tired, my love?"

"Dorea kept me up all night," he chuckles, "filthy girl."

I cringe at the nickname. He had called me that when he made me his wife. That was my nickname, mine.

I turn over to look at him. He was curled up under the blankets, embracing a pillow. I stand from the chair in front of my vanity, "there is a banquet we must attend in the afternoon."

"Go by yourself," he mutters.

I clench my jaw and walk over to him, "the bastard lord, as you affectionately call will be there."

Daemon, who had his eyes closed, furrows his brows, "which one?"

"The one who called you a tyrant in the making."

He chuckles, rolling over on his chest. He begins to curse in High Valyrian.

I reach our bed and sit by the side, looking at him, wanting so badly to brush back his hair, to snuggle next to him, to make love to him, to cage him in me. I press my hands on the bed. I purse my lips before I whisper, "would you like for me to handle him?"

Daemon does not respond nor move.

"I will do anything for you... I can kill him for you if that is what you want."

When I move to stand, my groom speaks, "kill him then."

He turns to his face to the other side of the bed, I watch as he rubs his cheek on the pillows. He mutters idly, "bring me his head."

"And then you'll let me have you to myself?"

He laughs, "whatever you want."

But he betrayed me still. He couldn't fucking wait to get his cock wet.

I came to him that night with the lord's severed head. He was in his other chamber room, with a whore I have not seen before. And she had been going ah-ah-ah in pleasure as he straddled my prince, but then she made the mistake of turning over her shoulder. She ripped out an ear-piercing shriek upon seeing my figure, drenched in red, both hands clutching things of horror.

She fled the room promptly after seeing me, screeching loudly. Daemon however, was reeling at the sudden loss of contact. It became apparent to me that he was drunk, possibly out of his mind.

I walked over to him, beholding his naked form, his wet erection. I raise one hand, the one holding the severed head. I frown deeply, "your prize, husband."

I throw it to him.

Daemon, instinctively swats as he evades it. The lord's head rolls on the floor. He groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks at me and narrows his eyes, slowly speaking my name, as though he was only recognizing it was me now.

I begin to shudder. I begin to shake in rage. I clench my jaw and my fists. I grab my skirt and lunge at him, pinning him down beneath me, raising my other hand, still clad with the weapon I used to slay the man with. I press it to his throat, screaming as tears fogged my eyes, "I HATE YOU."

Daemon clutches my arms and pushes me back, not before I manage to nick his skin and make red gush down the side of his throat.

I feel like he is pushed into a semblance of sobriety after this, and yet in my rage, I still managed to subdue him in his still very much intoxicated state.

We struggle against each other, but the only important thing to know is that my fury managed to best him. Now here we were. I was straddling his hips and he was tied to the bed, hissing at the feel of my cold blade on his chest.

Daemon was wide eyed and very much sober with the pain at this point.

"It's so nice of you not to scream and call for help, prince husband," I mutter as I etch my initials on to his left pec, "your pride will be the death of you, you know. Be glad I have no intention to kill you. even now."

"Mad cunt," he spits in anger.

"You told me I could have you to myself!" I scream, body trembling in rage, "now I must mark you so your whores know who you belong to."

He huffs, shifting his hips beneath me. I repel him and force him still.

Daemon growls as I toss my blade on to the bedside table and lean and lick the blood on his skin. His blood tastes so much better than mine. I moan at the iron and shift from how I was straddled atop him. My skirt bunches up by his midriff as I suckle on his flesh and nipped at his skin with my teeth

He strains against the bounds I managed to put on his wrists and releases a moan.

I lift my head at the sound of it and breathe hotly against him, "wicked dragon," I sit up then slap him across the face, "you're not meant to enjoy this," I rub his cheek down to his chest, "not really. This is meant to satisfy me."

Daemon looks at me, frazzled by the hit.

"You've been nothing but spiteful even though I've been nothing but obedient, prince husband," I mutter, leaning into him, digging my nails into his chest, "and you insult me so greatly by wasting your precious seed on whores who could not bear you any heirs."

I prop myself up on his chest. Daemon pants at the rocking movement of my hips. I scowl at him as I gather my skirt up until my skin was bare against his. I whimper at the feel of his still hardened member pulsing beneath my own pulse. I recall the whore he was with just moments ago, and how her slick was glistening on his manhood. I feel ire and jealousy burn through me.

"Is it not painfully obvious to you that I can be your whore, your grace?!" I bark through tears as I grab his hair and pull his head up.

Daemon grunts, "fucking bitch."

I desperately retort, "I'll be your fucking bitch, Daemon. I want to be your fucking bitch, your slut, your plaything, your executioner, your bride, your darling. Everything, whatever you want from me, I can become it."

I release his hair, making his head fall down. He looks up at me as I lift myself up and grab his veiny girth, aligning him into my core and burying him deep with me.

"Fuck," he huffs.

I whimper at his reaction, licking my lips as I do so, "I want to hurt you so badly, Daemon, but I love you so much that I'll make you feel good while do it however."

I begin to bounce on top of him while I dig my thumb into his fresh wound and choke him with my other hand.

Daemon begins to exclaim in his mother tongue, gripping tightly on the bounds on his wrists.

I groan and lick the blood off my thumb as I fuck myself on him. I move up and down on his hard erection, mind going wild with the fantasies I've thought of him long before we were even wed. When he begins to let out a strangled sound, I release the pressure on his throat and lean on his chest as it heaves up and down.

"Don't wanna see you with anyone else, Daemon," I mutter as I quicken my pace a notch and begin to feel my stomach tighten, "I'll kill your whores cause I can't kill you. Never you, my love."

Daemon groans as he catches his breath, "faster."

I whine at his command and eagerly give into him, adjusting myself atop him and allowing myself to plop up and down him at a quicker and rougher tempo. I feel my insides flutter at the sound of his moans. I scratch his chest up and down with my nails and look down at his face, mouth ajar, eyes shut, neck straining.

"I was made for you, husband," I mutter, biting my lower lip as I feel my core tighten and my climax build, "was made to be your confidant, your right hand, your bride, your baby maker."

He groans, "is that right, come slut?" He lifts his head up, "you want to bear my children so badly you tied me up to fuck yourself on me?"

I whine and nod my head, "yes," I muffle out, "s'all I think about. Wanna be good to you. Wanna give you everything. Wanna give you sons and daughters."

Daemon replies in High Valyrian. I vaguely recognize it as compliment and a curse.

I begin to lose my breath as I ride him more desperately than ever.

"Then take what you want from me and come on my cock, come slut."

I nod my head and clench around him, "yes, Daemon, yes, yes, yes-"

I feel my body begin to burn and flare at my ministrations. I fuck him eagerly and begin to feel grow manic with every thrash and every grunt.

Daemon huffs and rips at his bounds, "you better not disappoint me, my Hightower bitch."

"No, husband," I grunt,

"You better take me good."

"Yes! Gonna be so good to you, so good."

I hear him say something after, but I don't have time to make sense of it as I feel myself tighten then shatter all over him. I cry out his name in pleasure, and as I ride out the pleasure as much as I can. Only then do I realize that Daemon was thrusting into me as well. It is twice as evident as I begin to slow my pace.

And then my toes curl and my nails dig into his skin when his heat shoots into me. It makes my flesh quake and intensifies my undoing.

I scream out his name. He calls me dirty ones. I bask in our union and slowly come down from my high. Slowly making sure he was just as spent as I was like a dutiful wife.

What remains is a mess. I am a mess of short breath, sweat, and blood as I slowly sink down and fall onto Daemon's chest. I whimper against him, dazed by it all, but completely and utterly satisfied with myself.

I lap at his wound, soothing myself as I enjoy the remaining stretch inside me, the fullness and warmth planted in my belly.

I knit my brows when I feel hands come around my form.

"Take off your clothes."

I lift my head out and look at Daemon's face, his eyes blown and his lips parted. I push myself up, "how did you get o-"

I whimper when he chuckles, my tenderness sensitive to vibrations if his body. His hands run up my back, to the ties on my dress. His fingers begin to tug and he undo them, "you cannot seriously believe to have overpowered me, little girl."

Before my pulse could even calm, it's racing all over again when Daemon easily flips us over and begins pushing my skirt up, "your knots are shite. I'll teach you how to properly tie a victim up."

He arduously rips my dress off my body overhead, up until I was as naked as he was beneath him. He looks down at my bareness and grips my thighs, roughly ripping his nails in a downward motion, making me reach out to him as I whine.

Daemon grunts before he chuckles, "I can feel you clench around me, dirty whore."

I squeak when he pushes forward and reaches out for something. He places my blade between my breasts then adjusts my legs around him as he pushes himself up on one arm. He then grabs the blade and eyes me darkly as he presses the steel on my skin. I slap my hand on my mouth when he begins cut into my abdomen. He looks down at his work as my tighten my legs around him, holding back my sounds as he did.

"Don't be selfish, slut," he mutters, "I own your womb. I ought to mark it now."

Daemon's eyes flick up to me as I scream into my hand and screw my teary eyes shut.

I silently sob at the sting of the blade and try to control my cries until he finishes. I begin to heave when I hear the sound of something being dropped to the floor.

I whimper and open my eyes when I feel Daemon sigh as he sinks back down onto me, face coming to the side of my own. He pushes my hands off my face in order to press our chests together. I lean into his shoulder and suckle at his skin to soothe myself.

"Shhhh," he kisses my cheek, "I'll make you feel better, my bride. Make sure to fill you up until you're full with my seed, okay?"

I nod my head and wrap my arms around him.

"Olvie sȳz," he mutters, "good little slut for me."

[writing-until-i-drop]

Babes, do any of you watch 911???

I just started watching it and god damn do the hot firefighters have a chokehold on me.

I already have fic ideas

I'm the daughter of a firefighter and a 911 dispatcher, I grew up in firehouses and dispatch centers, I could be more accurate than the show 🤣

(Of course I will always be posting our beautiful dagger squad but I have to feed the adhd part of my brain or else we get no writing)

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 03 | Callie Bassett

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Callie and Kelly with “Do you like cinnamon” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.3k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, discussions of breast cancer diagnosis, chemotherapy and side effects from treatment, pining and yearning

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

03. "Do you like cinnamon?"

Callie is sitting on the entryway bench, lacing her boots, when a thump catches her attention. It’s not the dog, she thinks as she watches Rupert pad toward the noise, his nails clicking across the wood floors. Finishing the knot on her right boot, she peers down the hall, trying to figure out if Kelly is awake or if it’s Emma trying to steal treats again.

“God- fuck!”

The breathless cursing lets her know it’s not the cat making all the noise but, in fact, the human she married. She walks into the kitchen to find her wife sitting at the breakfast nook table, hunched over and breathing hard.

“Kelly? What’s wrong? Can you breathe?”

“Yeah.” Callie isn’t convinced by the way she gasps the word, something Kelly notices because she grabs the edge of Halo’s flight suit before 911 can be dialed. “Couldn’t reach the oatmeal, and it took it out of me. Just need a minute.”

Immediately, she feels guilty. Kelly had a chemotherapy session two days ago, and treatment always exhausts her, but Callie had been so busy at work that Aliyah had been staying at the house to help out. She hadn’t even been thinking about how it was day three, the day when Kelly’s appetite usually returns.

You should have known. It’s been four months of this. Are you even paying attention?

Callie continues to berate herself as she rubs Kelly’s back; it doesn’t do anything to help her catch her breath, but it makes Callie feel like she’s doing something. Like she’s actually helping.

That’s been one of the worst parts of this. The worst obviously is Kelly getting diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer, but the constant helpless feeling. She’s not a doctor or a nurse; she’s just a WSO. The Navy's basic medical training can’t do anything to help against mutating cells. She can’t do anything to help the woman she married.

“Okay, other than the breathing, how do you feel? Dizzy? Sore?”

Kelly shakes her head, “Just need to catch my breath. Hungry, though.”

“Yeah? That’s good. You still want oatmeal? Or I can make something else? Whatever you want.”

“You’re going to be late to work.”

“It’s okay. I just texted Mav that everything is fine, but I’m going to be a bit late.”

Kelly’s head pops up, her brown eyes wide with concern and much clearer than when she got back from the treatment center, Callie notes with relief. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. Mav understands.” Callie adjusts the brown beanie Kelly had chosen to keep her shaved head warm, centering the little cow before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re a little warm; you sure you feel okay?”

“Yeah… tired.” Kelly hums, leaning into the hands cupping her face, both of them enjoying the closeness of the moment. They linger, not pulling away until a rumbling stomach interrupts them.

Callie reluctantly pulls away. “Still gonna take your temperature, just to make sure. You want oatmeal?”

Efficient movements get her from the bathroom to the breakfast nook to the kitchen in record time. Pulling the jar of rolled oats from the baking cabinet and measuring everything out as the water starts to heat up. If she’s going to make oatmeal, she’s going to do it on the stove. It’s best to save the microwavable stuff for when Kelly needs to make food herself.

The thermometer beeps, and it’s a relief to see it says 99.5° - slightly elevated but consistent with the other treatment sessions.

“Do you like-” Callie cuts herself off as she catches sight of the wedding photo that was put on the fridge the week after they got married.

It’s the two of them from five months ago, standing in front of the chapel. A smiling Callie is dipping a grinning Kelly, who hadn’t lost her hair yet, both of them laughing at some dumb joke Fritz had made while Aliyah took the photo.

They agreed it was their favorite photo from the day, easily choosing that one to use as the photo on their announcement cards. It was harder to decide on what to write inside the cards. How much of the truth to share.

Hi everyone! We know this is sudden, but we got married in Vegas last weekend! Turns out Kelly has cancer, and her insurance is total shit, so Callie proposed to her pet-sitter-turned-friend after knowing her for less than a year so she doesn’t die! We’re sorry we didn’t let everyone know, but we’re actually committing insurance fraud, so we’re just trying to make it look like a whirlwind love story! Thankfully, we’re lesbians, so no one questioned us hitching the U-Haul to Kelly’s Subaru for our third date! And now to answer the unasked questions! No, we didn’t register anywhere; we feel guilty enough as it is! Kelly’s prognosis looks good; they caught it early, and she’ll be able to get good treatment with Callie’s Tricare coverage! We’re just friends! We sleep in different rooms! But if anyone official asks, we share Callie’s bedroom because it has an ensuite, and Kelly’s room is the guest room. It’s not suspicious because she’ll need space after chemo treatments! Yes, we kissed when the Elvis impersonator said; no, you cannot see the photo. Don’t worry about sending stuff for our first anniversary; we’ll probably be divorcing by then!

They had gone with something very different on the massive stack of announcements they sent out. The newly married couple spending the week traditionally reserved for a honeymoon filling out piles of paperwork to get Kelly coverage as quickly as possible, telling friends the truth, and asking them to lie if questioned by investigators. The worst had been filling out the envelopes, the sober mood turning more and more sour by the second as they realized how many people they were lying to.

Despite the bad taste it left in her mouth, Callie didn’t care. Kelly only had a few more treatment sessions left, and at her last checkup, the oncologist was optimistic about the progress. It’s not how she had imagined getting married, but her friend was going to live, and that was the important part.

“What were you gonna say?”

“Oh!” Callie blinks, grabbing an egg from the fridge and checking on the oatmeal to stall. To shake away the thought that she barely knows anything about the woman she married. About the woman she was going to ask out before the diagnosis came down. “I was gonna add a little brown sugar and cinnamon. Do you like cinnamon?”

“I do, that sounds good.”

Callie nods, distracted as she scrambles the egg and fancies up the oatmeal. She feels guilty for enjoying moments like this. Where she gets to spend time with Kelly, take care of her, but they don’t happen very frequently. Even being married doesn’t get her much quality time with the woman she’s had a crush on for months.

“Here you go. Oatmeal and a scrambled egg - for protein - with your meds as an appetizer. And I moved the microwave food down to the counter for now. We’ll reorganize the cabinets this weekend so everything is easier to reach.”

“Yum.” Kelly grimaces at the medication, but her face smooths out as she gets a whiff of the food. “This smells great, Callie. Thank you.”

“Of course, any time. Aliyah is going to stop by later. And let me know what you want from the store; I’m stopping after work today.”

“Okay, have a good day.”

“Thanks, Kel.” Callie murmurs as she ducks down to kiss her wife’s forehead. “Call me or Mav if you need something, okay? He’ll take care of it if I’m in the air. I’ll see you tonight.”

Callie forces herself to leave, only looking back once to see Kelly digging into the oatmeal. Her heart softening at the sight of the dog by her feet and the cat curled up on her lap, wishing she didn’t have to go to work.

Maybe I’ll finally get to ask her out for real after we get divorced.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[chaotictarlos]

Pain

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos

Rating: General | Warnings / Tags: Angst, Mention of Carlos Whump, Missing Carlos, Grief, Brief mention of overdose, Brief mention of Gwyn's death, Hurt, Hurt/No Comfort

Author's Note: I was originally going to write breakup era TK but then I started writing and this is what came of it. Hope you enjoy it.

For @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day prompt "pain"

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

TK's back hits the wall with a thud and he lets out a disgruntled scream of anguish, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, arms wrapped out his body as he desperately tries to hold himself together.

TK is certain he has never felt pain like this before.

Not when his parents got a divorce.

Not during or after any of his overdoses.

Not when he and Carlos broke up and they spent months apart wanting each other

Not when his mom died - but it's close.

No, he's never felt this deep of a gut wrenching pain before. His entire body aches with it. His heart feels like it's been chipped into tiny pieces and sewed back together haphazardly and shoved into the black hole of his chest.

He can't do this. He can't live without Carlos.

He isn't sure how he's supposed to do anything without the love of his life.

TK slides down the wall, his grief loud and thick around him, swallowing up all of the light in the room and suffocating him. His friends hadn't wanted to let him go back to the loft alone but he couldn't stand how they watched him like he was going to break or "it's going to be okay" anymore.

Each one was like a dagger to his heart.

It isn't okay. It hasn't been okay for seven days.

TK isn't sure it's ever going to be okay again.

His sobs rip through his body and he tightens his arms, as if that was enough to keep him from feeling like his entire life isn't falling apart.

"Carlos," he whimpers out into the emptiness, wishing by some miracle that he'll answer.

But there's nothing except the empty space and TK's sobs.

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

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes

[talltoontales]

High Rolling Spider-Man: HEATED

Prompt: Just wanted to write for my Spidersona (Spider-Man OC)

Prompt By: Me (ToonMan)

Started Writing: 05/21/2024

|| || || || || || || || || ||

It’s a clear day in New Las Vegas as Spider-Man swings above the mid-day traffic, landing on the side of a building. He pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch.

“Huh?” says Spider-Man, “It’s been thirty minutes and no accidents. Must be a slow day.” Spider-Man jerks his head to the side, narrowly dodging a half-empty beer can. As it bounces off the wall, Spider-Man grabs it out of the air with his web. He looks down and sees a man giving him a double dose of the middle finger.

“Yeah! I ain’t scared of you, freak!” yells the man. Spider-Man flings the soda can toward the angry civilian. The man dives to the side, only for the soda to fly right into a garbage can.

“Swish!” says Spider-Man. The man jumps back up to his feet.

“You think you’re funny, bug boy!?” yells the man.

“I mean, I have my moments,” says Spider-Man. The man pulls out his phone and starts dialing.

“Well, I hope you like laughing behind bars,” says the man. Spider-Man leaps down from the wall, passing by civilians stop in their tracks as they watch Spider-Man walk up to the man, close enough to hear 911 over the man’s phone.

“Go ahead,” says Spider-Man. “I got nowhere better to be.” The color drains from the man as his face and hands become so drenched in sweat that his phone starts to slide out. The quickly growing crowd starts recording the situation. Spider-Man’s eyes squint as he leans in closer to the side of the man’s head. “What’s wrong? Scared of itsy bitsy ole’ me?”

Spider-Man feels something soft bounce off the side of his head. It then hits the ground with a soft squeak. He looks at the ground to see a worn-down teddy bear at his feet.

Looking up, he sees a young boy clinging to his mother and staring tear-covered daggers at Spider-Man. The wallcrawler sighs as he leans away from the man. Spider-Man snatches the phone away from the man.

“Hello, 911,” says Spider-Man in a fake voice, “I think I see that web man bothering some drunk guy at the corner of Flint and Chimenea. Oh, wait. I think he sees me!” Spider-Man hangs up the phone and slaps it back onto the man’s chest.

“Anything else bothering you?” The man shakes his head wildly. “Thought so. Have a nice day.” Spider-Man runs away from the man, leaping over the crowd and swinging into an alleyway.

The boy who threw his toy earlier runs as fast as he can to pick up his bear. The man collapses onto his butt as he gasps for air. The boy walks over and grabs the man’s arm with both hands. The mother follows shortly after to help the man back onto his feet. Spider-Man watches all of this from a nearby rooftop.

Good job, Pete, reeeeally helping out your reputation with that one.

Spider-Man leaps from the rooftop and starts swinging through the city again.

God, I can see the headlines now: “Spider-Man attacks citizen with his own drink!” “Spider-Man prank calls 911 call!” “Brave child wards off Spider-Menace!” All because I couldn’t keep my head on straight for five seconds and ignore some rando.

But I mean, who goes up to a wanted super criminal looking to pick a fight? Guy’s lucky all I did was scare the crap outta him. Gah! No! Stop! Don’t think like that!

Spider-Man lands on the railing of a billboard, looking over the busy street below.

It’s not their fault. They don’t know what I know. As far as they’re concerned, Spider-Man tried to kill the mayor who saved Las Vegas from joining California at the bottom of the Pacific. Heck, I’d hate me too!

Spider-Man looks across from him at a video billboard playing an advertisement for the Hexi Guard. Images of Gold Griffin, Mysterio, Mach One, Stampede, and Hydro-Man, all doing generic heroic deeds, play on a loop.

“Can’t even let me sulk in peace, huh?” says Spider-Man. “One of these days, the whole world will see you for the frauds you are. Can’t even live up to your team’s name. Last time I checked Hexi means—"

A massive explosion shakes the entire city. Spider-Man leaps on top of the billboard, looking around until he sees the middle of the Empire Hotel engulfed in flames. Spider-Man quickly slingshots himself at the burning hotel.

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

Spider-Man lands on a roof overlooking the hotel’s entrance. Security guards try to organize fleeing guests with little success. A few police cars come to a screeching halt, but the officers struggle to get through the horde of people.

Spider-Man looks at one of the windows in time to see a chair fly through it. A woman uses a lamp to break the remaining glass in her way as she screams for help.

Spider-Man leaps into action, swinging toward the base of the hotel. He runs up the side of the building, dodging exploding windows and falling glass. A blast of fire launches the woman out the window. Spider-Man quickly jumps off the side of the building and catches the woman in midair.

“Going down?” asks Spider-Man as he uses his webs to safely swing to the ground. Before they even touch gravel, the woman practically jumps from Spider-Man’s, running away as fast as she can. “I guess a tip would be asking too much.”

Spider-Man makes his way to one of the windows on the floor below the fire. He tries to look inside, but the tinted glass makes it difficult. “If anyone’s inside, stand back!”

Spider-Man launches himself through the glass into an unused, smoke-filled room. He runs through the front door into a hallway filled with the burning debris of the next floor. Spider-Man finds a hole and jumps up to the next floor, calling out to see if anyone needs help.

A man calls out behind a door blocked by more debris. Spider-Man throws it away and opens the door. Before the young man could even think, "Thank you,” he immediately takes a step back once he sees Spider-Man.

“Please, I-I have a kid,” begs the young man.

“Then why are you still standing here!” yells Spider-Man. “Stairs are down the hall! Go!” Spider-Man continues down the hall, going door by door, floor by floor, as the fire increases.

On one of the upper floors, Spider-Man sees an elderly woman using a fire extinguisher to try and break down a door. “Seriously!? Hey lady! You’re using that wrong!” The elderly woman sees Spider-Man and holds a fire extinguisher like a bat, swinging at Spider-Man.

“Not a step {cough} a step further!” yells the elderly woman. “I {cough} {cough} {cough} I won’t let you take me or my family.”

-above-

Debris falls above the elderly woman’s head. Spider-Man tries to web it away, but the elderly woman hits his hand away with the fire extinguisher. Some of the debris hits the woman’s head, knocking her out, while Spider-Man webs the rest.

“Crap,” says Spider-Man. He throws the elderly woman over his shoulder before breaking the hotel room door down. Inside, an elderly man holds a young girl wrapped in a blanket. The girl screams once she sees Spider-Man.

“Lynet?” asks the old man. As Spider-Man walks towards the pair, the old man grabs his cane and swings it at him. “S-stay away {cough} {cough}!” Spider-Man grabs the cane and holds it in place.

“Can you walk?” asks Spider-Man. The old man just stares at Spider-Man, putting himself further between the webhead and his granddaughter. “I’ll take that as a maybe. Do you know how to work a fire extinguisher?” The old man continues to stare down Spider-Man. The young girl pushes herself out from behind her grandfather.

“I do!” says the girl.

“Awesome,” says Spider-Man, using his webs to pull the fire extinguisher to him. “Here.” Spider-Man tries to hand the fire extinguisher to the girl, but the grandfather blocks him. “Look you—” Spider-Man glances at the girl.

“Look, this place is coming apart, and I’ve been here too long to swing you out that window. So, you can either help me help you outta here, or I can carry you outta here kicking and screaming in front of the kid?”

The old man continues to stare Spider-Man down, the sound of his granddaughter coughing behind him, until he takes the fire extinguisher himself, stands up, and takes his granddaughter by the hand.

The trio races down the hall, the old man putting out fires, the girl helping to keep her grandfather on his feet, and Spider-Man webbing any debris. They turn a corner to find the path to the stars blocked by a wall of fire a rubble.

The old man blasts the fire, but the extinguisher runs out. Spider-Man lays the grandmother on the ground and tries to web the debris, but his webbing quickly disintegrates in the heat.

“We {cough} {cough} we have to {cough},” the grandfather erupts into a coughing fit as he falls to his knees. The girl tries to keep him on his feet but can’t lift him as she also begins to cough. With tears in her eyes, the girl begs her grandfather to get up, shaking his body.

-fire-

Spider-Man focuses back on the wall of fire, confused.

-Danger-Fire-

The fire in the hallway begins to burn brighter, going from orange to yellow.

- DANGER -

Spider-Man’s eyes widen. He quickly picks the grandparents up. “We need to move now!” orders Spider-Man. The girl runs ahead as he directs her from behind. The two stop in front of an elevator.

Spider-Man puts the grandparents on the ground before grabbing the elevator doors. The hated metal burns right through his suit, causing him to real back. He tries again, pushing and screaming through the pain as he begins to make progress, but the pain is too much. He lets go, and the doors slam closed.

- DANGER-ESCAPE-FIRE -

Spider-Man looks at where they came from as the brighter flames begin to spread down the hallway. He then looks back at the girl as she tries not to cry while also trying to wake her grandparents.

For a second, Spider-Man sees himself as Pete kneeling down next to a homeless man, desperately trying to wake him as well.

“Please!” begs Pete, “Please, don’t leave me alone! I’m sorry! Please...”

- DANGERESCAPEFIREESCAPEDANGERFIRE -

A man with glowing golden skin, red eyes, flowing copper hair, and wearing a matching metallic sleeveless jumpsuit walks into the hallway in front of Spider-Man.

\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\

Spider-Man and the glowing man look at each other. The glowing man tightens his fist, and the fire in the hallway burns brighter. Spider-Man gets into a fighting stance. The young girl coughing grabs the glowing man's attention as he looks around Spider-Man at the girl and her grandparents.

“Hey! Eyes on me, golden boy!” yells Spider-Man, leaping at the golden man but quickly feels the air start to cook him as the two get closer.

- GET-BACK -

Spider-Man pulls himself back with his webs, putting him closer to the family and father away the glowing man. “Whatever’s going on here’s got nothing to do with them!”

The glowing man puts his hands out in front of him. Spider-Man quickly tries to web the glowing man’s hands, but his webs disintegrate before even getting close. The man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as the fire shifts around them.

Spider-Man tries to web the ceiling above the glowing man, but it still turns to ash. Spider-Man falls to one knee as the heat takes its tool. He turns around to see the girl passed out on top of her grandparents.

Suddenly, a cool breeze brushes up behind him. Spider-Man turns around and watches as the glowing man absorbs the heat from the fire, snuffing it out until all that remains is smoke and a charred hallway.

The glowing man opens his eyes, aims a clenched fist at Spider-Man, and fires an energy blast. Spider-Man braces for impact, only for nothing to happen. He looks around to see a massive hole in the wall behind him, pulling out all the smoke. The glowing man places a set of fingers to his ear.

“This is Hot Shot,” says the glowing man, “I got two elderly and one child on the twenty-seventh floor that need immediate medical attention, over.” There’s a pause as someone talks on the other end. “No, I don’t have a visual on Spider-Man. He must’ve escaped.” Spider-Man looks at Hot Shot, surprised.

“See you on the ground, chief.” Hot Shot walks past Spider-Man, the glowing metal on his arms fading into dark tan skin as he picks up the grandparents and the child under his arms.

“Hey,” says Spider-Man as he picks himself back up. “Thanks for the, um, assist.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously,” says Hot Shot. “How are you holding up?”

“A little parched, but I should be good in a minute,” says Spider-Man. “it’ll take more than a little heat to put me down for good.”

“That’s good to know,” says Hot Shot as he throws the trio out of the hole he made.

“NO!” yells Spider-Man.

- brace -

He tries to run after them but gets blasted in the chest by Hot Shot, knocking him to the ground. Hotshot’s legs erupt into flames launching him out of the hotel. He dives toward the ground grabbing the grandparents with his hands.

Then levels out to let the young girl safely land on his back as he lands on the ground. First responders take the family, allowing Hot Shot to land. Hot Shot slicks his hair back, looks to the crowd with a golden smile, and talks in his earpiece.

“All clear!” yells Hot Shot as the crowd erupts into cheers. Back inside the hotel, Spider-Man feels his chest. It stings to the touch, but he’s still in one piece.

Really should have seen that coming.

- collapse -

Suddenly, the entire building shakes and shifts. Spider-Man is sent a foot into the air as the floor drops from under him. “You've gotta be kidding me!” groans Spider-Man.

He forces himself to his feet as he sprints through the collapsing hotel, bobbing and weaving through what remains of the fire. Eventually, he’s forced to dive through a window to escape the hotel, only to crash through another window into someone’s home office.

“…ow…” After dragging himself to his feet, he watches the rest of the Empire Hotel’s collapse. From the massive cloud of smoke, he notices a large, hunched figure with glowing blue eyes stomp away from the scene. “Stampede, which means the Hexi Guard, which also means—”

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

“People of New Las Vegas,” Mayor Harry Osborn stands at the top of the steps of City Hall overlooking a massive crowd. His assistant, Octavious Jr., to his right, and Hexi Guard's second-in-command, Mysterio, to his left.

“As you all very well know, almost seven years ago, Dr. Edward Lansky, otherwise known as Lightmaster, was a proud member of the Hexi Guard, saving not only Las Vegas but the entire East Coast. And even while on death’s door, he still dedicated himself to the recovery and rejuvenation of this fair city.”

The crowd goes silent as people bow their heads in respect. “While a man such as him is irreplaceable due to the rising superhuman threat, The Hexi Guard, the brilliant minds at Oztavious Industries, and myself have come to a decision. Mysterio, if you would.”

Harry steps back as Mysterio takes over at the podium. Her hands radiate a green mist-like energy as large circular screens appear in the air. Each shows athletic men and women doing tests and exercises.

“Let me be clear,” says Mysterio, “to become a member of the Hexi Guard, one must have more than just power. They must have skill, wisdom, tact, and, above all, the true spirit of a hero. And while no one can shine as bright as Light…as bright as Edward, this young man has the potential to shine even brighter in his own, unique way.”

Mysterio claps her hands, and the screens collapse, launch into the air, and explode like fireworks. The crowd looks up to see a figure standing on the roof of City Hall.

“So, if you would kindly give a rousing round of applause for the newest member of the Hexi Guard, Hot Shot, the molten man!” Hot Shot jumps from the roof of the building, and a glowing golden liquid spawning from his chest quickly covers his entire body.

Before crashing into the ground, Hot Shot lets off a quick blast of fire to cushion his landing. Hot Shot whips his hair back as he stands up. Now, with a copper domino mask and a charming grin, the crowd erupts into applause.

\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\

Pete sits with a bucket of chocolate ice cream resting on his chest while watching Hot Shot’s inauguration on TV. Finishing the ice cream, Pete throws the bucket behind him as he slumps in his chair. On the TV, Hot Shot shows off his firepower with short bursts of flight and blasting targets out of the sky above the crowd.

“Welp, needed a new suit anyway,” says Pete.

. . . . . . . . . .

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story! If you have any comments, critiques, or criticisms, please don't be afraid to let me hear 'em (as long as they're constructive (or comical)). Also, if you have some spare time, check out my blog for more stories like the one above. Stay safe, drink plenty of water, and be kind to yourself and others. ToonMan, AWAY!

[muchelburstenstein]

Harvest Celebration

(Content Warning: Burst)

It’s almost time.

I’m pacing back and forth through my dorm room, biting my lip, trying not to cry out. The little monster inside my belly is almost ready to be born now.

It was the costume party. People were drunk. Nobody thought anything of him as he went from girl to girl, leading them away. Not until we found the first of us, trembling and traumatized in a corner, staring down at her swelling belly.

From there… it caught us one by one. Impregnating every girl in the party while the guys helplessly tried to comfort the victims. Dozens of us, all bearing inhuman children against our wills.

All doomed.

One of us went into “labor”. The boys helped lift the skirt of her costume and tug down her panties, she was so humiliated. The pain grew worse, her cries getting louder and more desperate. She said something was wrong, it hurt way too much.

Then she started to bleed. The bulges on her belly clearly much more than kicks now as she arched her back, screaming, crying, and finally… she was torn open from inside. Some wrinkled, ugly monster, like some sort of goblin, punching through her skin and tumbling to the ground. It stood, bit through its umbilical cord, and fled before anyone could catch it, its mother dying in a pool of her own blood on the floor.

The bursting was so painful, but it didn’t take very long at all. Between the first handful of thrusts to looking down at a foul little creature’s head screeching in triumph as it emerges from your ruined belly took no more than a handful of minutes. I watched so many of us try almost everything. Holding it in, only for it to prolong the process, crimson leaking through the poor girl’s fingers as she clapped her hand over the point of repeated impact. Muffled shrieks coming from under her palm as strong hands lifted her limp barrier away once she passed out from shock.

None of the little things could be caught. Always evading the boys that tried to catch them, and it was inhumane to rig one of us up in some sort of burster trap. We only knew they had long, ugly noses and slimy green skin, sharp dagger teeth and seemed bipedal.

Another girl tried to open her legs and bear down even though she wasn’t having contractions. Almost crushed her boyfriend’s hand as she clamped down on it, wailing in horror as the head punched out of her ruined body. After that, we just kind of… waited. One girl tried to cut herself open, but… that didn’t work. It didn’t even kill the baby. And at that point she was one of the earliest in her fatal pregnancy.

911 laughed us off, said that it might be October but this was a serious emergency line, not for party pranks. We told them to send the cops to us then, but they just hung up. We were left to just… wait for the end. Some girls burst hugging their boyfriends, sobbing into their shoulders as their little monsters killed them. Others did more… intimate things, with boys or each other, indulging in carnal pleasure to try and drown out the agony of their hatching pains.

I paced around. Held the hands of doomed girls in the process of delivering. I was splattered with droplets of blood from the deceased, terrified but trying to hide it as my own belly got bigger and bigger, the house growing slowly more quiet.

Then… I fell to my knees, holding my belly, letting out a choked groan at the sudden explosion of pain. The pressure was horrible… it was so strong, I could feel it was ready to come out. “It’s time… it’s time!” I cried, unable to stay silent, the fear forcing me to speak.

A few boys came over, speckled in other poor girl’s lifeblood as well. They helped me crawl over to a wall as a frenzy of thrusting intensified. It was coming so fast, I could feel my insides bleeding already. “I don’t want to die… don’t let me burst, p-please, it hurts, it hurts so much…”

“It’s ok.” One of the boys said in a low, soothing voice. “You’re gonna be ok. Just try to relax. It’ll be over before you know it, just relax your muscles, you’re doing so good, you’re so brave.” I knew the words were lies. I’d said them myself more than once. But I couldn’t help but be comforted by them regardless. I arched my back, the thrusting pulling all the way back along my spine, tearing at the muscles supporting my swollen womb.

“Make it stop, I’m so scared!” I sobbed, tears running down my face as I held someone’s hand. I couldn’t even tell who, everything was a blur of torture and horror, my toes curling in my shoes as I grunted and gasped. Thrust, thrust, thrust, so sudden and rapid. I’d had no warning at all, and I could tell it was already almost over.

I was about to be a mommy.

“It’s killing me!” I screeched, my throat tearing as I felt my body beginning to break. So much pain, burning fire inside me as the fibers of my womb gave way, little claws digging into my belly, starting to pull and cut and shred, opening me.

I was so scared. I was bursting, and there was nothing I could do but let it happen.

“You’re doing so good!” the boy replied, stroking my hair back as he forced me to look into his eyes. They were so pretty. “That’s right, brave girl. Just look into my eyes, just like that, not down. That’s happening, nothing you can do about it. Just look at me. You’re so brave. So pretty. You’re gonna do this, Just let it happen. Nice and calm, breathe slow, good girl…”

I nodded, tried to relax. I couldn’t breathe, the vicious thrusting from inside stealing away my breaths as my whole body was pulled forward time and again, jerking me from the wall, making me look almost like I was having some sort of seizure.

It was coming. I could feel it. The baby was coming out. I opened my mouth to scream, a helpless gurgle coming out as I could hear my body ripping open. It was just like the others, the same sound. It took a few tries, a wet, shredding sound followed by a spray of blood. The pain was unbearable but it wasn’t over yet. Another vicious thrust, and the wound grew. Then… at last, it was enough, one last harsh shove and my body was fully devastated, a cold numbness spreading from the hideous fire of my mortal wound.

I tried to look down, to see what my body told me was my baby, but the boy who had been helping me forced me to keep eye contact. “No. It’s worse if you see it. Just tell yourself it’s a beautiful, happy baby, ok? You did so good, I’m so proud of you. You’re such a good mommy.”

I blinked slowly, my body feeling numb. “Don’t… wanna be… a mommy…” I managed to whisper. He just cupped my face, nodded. “I know. I’m so sorry. But… you’re a very brave, very good one now. You can rest… it’s ok…”

Another panicked scream reached my ears as I was overcome with exhaustion. Another girl starting to burst. Nothing to be done for her now but comfort her as she died, just like the other dozens of girls that would give their lives for their monstrous children after me.

But I couldn’t do anything about it anymore. I had ripened, and then split open, dying in childbirth just like so many other girls before me.

I let my head fall back, and sighed out a deep exhale. Everything was so blurry, but I could almost see that boy’s beautiful eyes, twinkling so stunningly, so lovely… I held onto that image as my sight faded...

[topgunruinedme]

Daggers Daycare||o.3

Synopsis: Maverick finds himself in a situation he cant explain. The daggers are unavailable, and he finds himself in need of help from his old crew. Of cause this wasn't the reunion they expected.

“Did you kidnap an orphanage Mav?”

Warning: age regression (they get turned into children), slight whump mostly fluff, slight swearing, homophobia and 5 idiots with no knowledge on kids caring for some.

Word Count: 1.7k

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapters: Chapter||o.1, Chapter||o.2.

Next Chapter: Chapter||o.4.

//

When Ice stepped back into the room after taking a few moments after his call to breathe. He found the others sitting on the couch kind of just watching the kids.

Maverick seemed to have left at some point during that time. His spot on the couch was abandoned but he could be heard making some noise in another room of the house. 

Slider turned to look at him as he entered, the small downturn of his lips displayed his concern, “You all good Ice?”. 

They both knew not to get into it here, Ice nodded sharply. “Work call” he explained, slipping the phone into his pocket already creating a plan on what to do with the children in the week he had free. 

Mentally he started to write out a list. There were a lot of things that would need to be done. 

1. Get equipment, anything kids would need to survive. 

2. Get means to transport the kids to a safer environment. 

3. Feed children and get them to sleep before a possible doctor visit. 

4. He wasn't quite sure what number four was yet.

Wood looked at them all before snorting slightly, Wolf nudged him, raising an eyebrow.

“How did he get us all here?” Wood asked confused, gesturing at the different attire they were all wearing. 

Which was understandable. Ice was still in his work uniform, Slider looked like he was just climbing out of bed in sweats and an old ‘Who’s” band t-shirt. While Wood and Wolf looked like they were getting ready for something, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. 

“I’m only here because I was promised free booze” Slider admitted, he shrugged with a sheepish smile. 

“I was promised an orgy” Wolf shrugged, not at all ashamed to admit it. The flush on Wood’s face deepened. 

“Same!” Wood agreed almost far too quickly and energetically. 

Ice narrowed his eyes; there was definitely something between those two. There had been something back at Top Gun too but he had never caught the two together. Wood was beaming at Wolf with a soft smile as Wolf grinned at him raising an eyebrow.

They turned to him, Ice gave them an unimpressed look. “I got a 911 text” he shrugged.

Slider hummed “That would do it” he nodded as if assuring himself. Ice wasn't sure if he was meant to feel offended or not. Was he that predictable? He didn't always jump to fix Mavericks' problems, did he? 

It had been terrifying to be sitting at his desk getting ready for a meeting only to see the message waiting for him on his phone. 

Maverick: 911.

He had of course called off the rest of his meetings in a “family emergency” that had Doris, his secretary of 5 years, just grinned. She knew the drill by now. Everyone did. 

Family emergency translated to “Maverick’s done something stupid and I’ll be out of office to fix it before he ends the world”. 

He had rushed straight from the office. Ice would normally scold Maverick for using the 911 message prematurely in the wrong situation. 

“No Maverick, running out of tissues when you're sick is not a 911 worthy emergency”, but looking around him he found it oddly fitting. At least he couldn’t fault the man for that. 

The room was loud; the sound of the other children running around, shrieking. Bradley was laying in a pile that consisted of Payback and Fanboy, laying on top of them as he rested. Occasionally giggling when one of the boys would reach out and tickle him. 

Phoenix seemed content on trying to help the glasses bearing younger boy, that Ice could only assume was Bob stacking the cards. Carefully picking them up and placing them in a pile, he wasn't entirely sure what they intended to do with them but he wasn't concerned as long as they were busy. 

Keeping one eye out on the kids while the adults talked to each other quietly, attempting to give Maverick some time by himself to collect himself. 

Ice caught his eyes drifting back over to the two boys in the corner again. He frowned softly, they hadn’t moved. The blond boy sat in the corner, he was watching him tilting his head as the other boy cuddled up to his side looking at them all with distrust. 

They were being so defensive compared to the rest of the children, his eyes shifting to the photo frame on the table of the daggers. 

It must have been just after the mission, Hangman was grinning his chin resting on Bob’s head who was smiling softly in the man's embrace. Coyote had his arm wrapped around Hangman’s shoulder and Phoenix was smiling softly at the camera. 

As predicted Maverick stood beaming in front of them all smaller than the rest with Bradley’s hand on his shoulder. The boy was smiling down at him instead of the camera.  Fanboy and Payback were on their toes on the back of the group doing their best to give most of the group bunny ears with their grinning faces framed over their teammates shoulders. 

Maverick looked happy. 

His eyes slid back over to the two boys, Hangman and Coyote then. It had to be, the two men were close as brothers. He remembered reading a ‘do not separate’ order in Seresin’s file months ago. He doubted even in this mindset that Coyote would let anyone near the younger man. 

His head turned at the sound of someone walking up to him, the soft click of each step was familiar. Too familiar, Maverick’s boots clicked from an old broken buckle that he refused to get fixed. 

He remembered the day at the dinner when Bradley was still young, maybe 10 at the time. He had been bored and snuck under the table, content to play with his uncles shoes. It had been fine until the boy pulled on the buckle and broke it. Maverick had reassured Carol it was fine and an easy fix, but the man never did. 

Maverick was looking at him with a small smile on his face, “Hondo took that photo”. He stepped forward, his fingers brushing the frame. Ice watched him silently. 

The man was clearly remembering something fond, there was a slight happiness in his expression as he looked at it. Something Ice hadn’t seen since Bradley left, leaving his wingman shattered on his doorstep so riddled riddled in depression so deep ice hand’t been sure he could fix him. 

He hadn't. He didn't fix him. He simply gave him a reason to live, reminded him that if he left Bradley wouldn’t have anyone. 

“We need to organize something,  they can't stay here Mav”. He hated having to ruin the Maverick’s moment. It sounded weird calling him Mav again, not Maverick, Not Mitchell. Mav. 

Mavericks' smile faded but he nodded sadly, “I know” he said quietly. 

Ice winced he hadn't intended to insinuate anything let alone remind Maverick of how his last attempt of raising a child had ended up. 

He cleared his throat, Slider raised an eyebrow at him nudging Wolf and Wood to pay attention. 

“We’ll move them then”,  he really hated this idea but they didn't have any other options, “My house should be big enough for the time being to care for them and have the space for us to crash”.

He saw Wood frown slightly at his wording; he ignored it, “Wood, you and Maverick will stay here to supervise the kids. Do a head count and for heaven sakes write it down, you’re both hopeless with numbers”.

His attention shifted to Slider and Wolf, “Slider, go dig that mini van of yours out of storage. Wolf you're with me, we need to get some car seats. Because they’re sure as hell are not staying the night here”. 

Hollywood slapped Maverick on the shoulder with a sharp grin, “See what did I tell you, Ice has everything under control”. 

Dear god. If this went wrong it would solely be his fault, it would impact his career and his alone. He really hoped he was doing the right thing. 

“What are you waiting for” he asked impatiently when no one moved, “Go, we're losing daylight!”.

Slider sent him a playful look before disappearing, he could hear the sound of a car starting. Wood rolled his eyes stepping towards the kids “Alright you little munchkins. Who wants uncle Wood?”.

Wolf laid a hand on his shoulder, “Are you alright Tom?” he asked quietly. He was looking at him intently trying to find something, an illness, exhaustion, anything he could possibly be hiding. 

“I’m good Wolfie” he shot the man a tired crooked smirk, running his hand through his hair. 

“Busy week” he sighed walking down the hallway with the man by his side silently waiting for him to continue. “This really is the worst week for this to happen” he admitted, unlocking his car letting Wolf slip in after him.

Wolf's hand slid over to grab his, preventing him from starting the car, “We're here for you if you need us Ice, you know that right?”. 

He knew he was talking about their distance. His distance from the group, Ice tore his gaze away from Wolf’s lightly tugging his hand out of the man's grasp, starting the car with a soft purr. 

“I know” he said quietly, they could deal with it later. They had far more pressing things than his mental health. 

He heard Wolf sigh before the man pulled his seatbelt across his body clipping it in, wordlessly Ice copied the man. Putting the car in neutral as they followed the gravel driveway down around the bend onto the main road. 

They could deal with it later, they had to. Because Ice wasn't sure how much further he could go without his boys. 

Wolf's infectious smile, Slider’s gruff laugh and rude jokes that often left everyone howling. 

Wood’s hugs that made you that little bit less homesick and made all your worry disappear. Maverick. His wingman, who had left him in a nest of bogeys. 

Iceman had been homesick for many years, it was about time he came home. 

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

fic origin story

Thanks for the tag @thosetwofirefighters @hippolotamus and @shortsighted-owl 💖

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)? Supernatural. I'd never really got into a show seriously until I watched that and I fell deep. It was my main hyperfixation for years and then 911 came along and gave it the boot

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it? So I technically wrote Halloweentown fanfic when I was a kid, because I had a huge crush on Marnie and I was obsessed with magic

What piece of advice would you give your younger fic-writing self? I've really only recently started seriously writing fic, but I would tell the me of a couple months ago to pace themselves, nothing wrong with taking your time, the world won't end if you don't get everything done all at once

What's an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)? Again, I've only recently started actually engaging with other people in the same fandom as me, and these past few months I've had a lot of amazing interactions and conversations with so many beautiful people in the 911 fandom. There is one person who has been so supportive and has been really inspiring and become a really good friend and I'm very thankful for them and honestly everyone I've interacted with

Post a sentence or two from an older fic and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want). Well I have no idea where the old Halloweentown fic is so RIP to that and I did start writing a spn fic that centered around Claire Novak years ago but there's no way I'm sharing something from that 😆

I will share a little snipped from my fantasy au

Eddie sits on the bed, cleaning one of his beloved daggers. Buck can see the firelight glinting in the bone white hilt, the one Eddie keeps strapped to his thigh.

Buck’s eyes flitter to the strap on Eddie’s leg, empty but still so tempting. The leather hugs the muscles of Eddie’s thigh, highlighting the strength there and shifting with Eddie’s movements like it’s a second skin.

Idly, Buck wonders which would be more soft and supple, the leather strap or the inside of Eddie’s thighs.

The mere thought of having his hands, his lips, his tongue on that part of Eddie, so hidden and delicate and sensitive, makes him shudder.

No pressure tagging @spaceprincessem @buddierights @elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @ajunerose @lostinabuddiehaze @prettyboybuckley (sorry if you've already been tagged)

[warpedpuppeteer]

Buck can't fix Eddie. But he can hold his broken pieces together and fill the cracks with love until Eddie heals himself. Eddie allows Buck to see those jagged parts of him that he's afraid to show anyone else because even at his worst, Buck will always love him anyways.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“A Time to Speak and a Time to Remain Silent” (Whump Prompts)

Whumpee goes on vacation to an amusement park ten years post-recovery. While getting ushered into a ride, Whumpee realizes they’ve been placed right next to Caretaker. Caretaker is oblivious to everything because Whumpee looks very different than they once did. Whumpee doesn’t want to catch up with Caretaker because they know they will dredge everything up again, even though Whumpee has moved on. Whumpee knows Caretaker will probably recognize them by the sound of their voice; so they do not talk to their friend at all before, nor do they scream on the drops and twists (which, of course, prompts their friend to ask how they’re not screaming on the scariest rollercoaster in the Midwest).

The new Whumpee seems to be asking a lot of questions to the rest of them. Are they Whumper’s plant?

Whumpee has become unhealthily attached to Whumper. When Caretaker rescues them, they ask where Whumper is and when they are going to take them back. Caretaker does not reveal that they stabbed Whumper one-hundred-thirty-two times with a dagger. Caretaker, despite trying to keep Whumpee from watching the local news, walks in on Whumpee watching a report about how Whumper has gone missing, and that an unidentified dead body was found in a dumpster not far away from where Whumper lives. Over time, Whumpee puts two and two together, ultimately deciding to call 911: “I know who murdered [Whumper]…”

Caretaker has been conditioned (through repeated unfortunate circumstances) not to utter a single word ever — to remain mute, because if they made any sound, they could die. When they find Whumpee (who they do not know) getting attacked by a group of men who are trying to keep thrm silent, they find they cannot physically get themselves to yell to startle them or cause a commotion that others will hear; so they shove their harmonica in their mouth and start throwing chunks of cement at the walls and through windows to the outside.

[buddiewho]

Okay, so I’ve hopped on The Rookie train...and I was recently watching an episode mid season 5 and it’s about Vday, love etc etc. There’s a line that stood out, “love comes to you when you’re not looking for it.” Hmm, well, that’s interesting. There's a lot of things said in The Rookie that frankly make romantic relationships look easy, so what's the need for the cloak and dagger method that 911 sometimes takes?  

Anyway, I’m just saying...and so I’m really looking forward to what the last episode 911 has in store. Not going to lie; I’m not entirely certain of any confirmation at the end of this season. Although, it looks like it could be very Buck coded if we get it from just one of them. 

[lover-of-mine]

Can I ask what other fandoms/ships have burrowed into your brain and taken up residence, and maybe what you like about them?

Does hockey count kspsksosksos imma use this to let everyone know that hockey season is coming back and you should block nhl, Anna talks nhl, and Anna watches nhl if you don't want to see it. So, I have a 5sos sideblog ( @ghost-of-you ), I would say that's my biggest insanity, but I am being chill about them lately because they are on hiatus, but they're my favorite band, I love those 4 dudes a lot. I rewatch Gilmore Girls once a year to feel something, I've been following grey's anatomy since season 3 and at this point I feel like I keep going just because I put too much time of my life into it kapakaoaka. Teen wolf and stydia, I don't know, I looked at them in the dance at the end of season one and my brain just said "that's them" and I'm still there. The 100 and bellarke, I'm just obsessed with the enemies to best friends thing they had going before the show turned completely bonkers, I do pretend the show ended in s6 so I won't do something extreme. Stranger things, weirdly I'm not invested in shipping with them, I just seriously enjoy rewatching the show, I put s1 to keep me company all the time. Bridgerton, the rookie, Chicago PD, FBI, suits, the mentality, castle, criminal minds, doctor who, outerbanks, runaways, cloak and dagger, fullmetal alchemist but only the brotherhood. I love spiderman, I even own comics. I have a weird obsession with legend of Zelda and I have ocarina of time memorized (I love playing the randomizer, I even used to stream on twitch for a period of time lol). I am weirdly obsessed with the canceled freeform show famous in love and I think about Rainer and Paige a lot more than I probably should for a show that only had 2 seasons and was canceled 7 years ago. I was big on the mcu but I kinda stopped watching after endgame unless it has spiderman. Percy Jackson, been obsessed with the books since I was 12, kinda enjoying the series all things considered. Huge hunger games nerd, you do not want to get me started on hunger games, I will go on for hours. Twilight, the good place, once upon a time, interview with the vampire, the oc. Star wars I even have a millennium falcon poster on my wall. Did I mention 911 lone star? Because that too. I'm also in the middle of watching swat for the first time, but I'm not sure how a few about the show as a whole right now because the point I'm in is kinda boring. I feel like this is the stuff that makes my brain do something because I can think of it and possibly hold a conversation without looking shit up akpskspsksoskso but mostly, I don't know what makes me like something? It just needs to make my brain tingle. If it doesn't I will put it down and never pick it back up lol.

[r3leee]

hiii :3 could i request a hobie brown x fem!spider!reader??

okay so do whatever you want with this, go free-for-all

you're on a solo mission, fighting the villain really well. hobie suddenly waltzes through a portal to where you're fighting trying to sneak up on you, but gets caught off guard mesmerized by the way you fight. his mind comes back to earth and he swings from behind to around you, as you scold him for following on a solo mission. you two end up fighting together successfully and maybe have a small make-out session after when miguel interrupts and has to drag hobie away from you.

anyway have a nice day!!! -🍰 anon

AAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE CAKE ANON TYSM FOR THE REQUEST <33 also sorry if this is kind of short lmao 😭

pairing: hobie brown x fem!spider!reader

summary: the above request ^^

warnings: established relationship, mentions of minor injury, making out, suggestive themes at the end (no direct smut tho)

word count: 911, should take about seven minutes to read

listen to: blitzkrieg bop by ramones

IT WAS SUPPOSED to just be a normal day for you. after having a long week of spider duties, you wanted nothing more than to just sit back and watch your favorite shows all day. but, of course being spider-woman is never that easy.

just as you got yourself comfortable, you heard your watch go off on the coffee table. groaning, you picked it up and saw that there was an anomaly in your universe; nothing too bad.

so, after switching on the news and seeing where the anomaly was, you got your classic suit on, put on your web slingers, and showed up, prepared to fight.

people were running away or ducking behind benches as the villain lashed out. he was your typical bad-guy: black outfit, no real special powers. just daggers and some good parkour skills.

without another word, you swung in, going to tie the villain up with web. unbeknownst to you, however, your boyfriend, hobie, caught news of the attack.

he tended to be overprotective and hated to see his girl hurt, even knowing that it was a part of being spider-woman. so, to hopefully prevent that, he decided to come in and help you fight.

opening up a portal, he swung into your universe, right near the scene of crime. he landed on a nearby rooftop as he watched you fight.

his eyes widened. it was like all of a sudden he couldn’t move. he was lost in your trance.

he shook out of it after a little while, remembering why he even came in the first place. he swung down near you.

in the corner of your eye, you saw him, spider-punk suit and all. you snapped your head to the side. you sighed heavily. “hobie! what are you doing here?” you scolded him.

“helpin’ out, s’all,” he yelled out to you, using his webs to knock the anomaly unconscious. you rolled your eyes underneath your mask. “see, wasn’ tha’ bad, was it?” hobie said, brushing off his hands.

“ya, ya, i guess. this was supposed to be a solo mission, though. i could have handled it by myself.”

“so you don’ wanna see me? i’m hurt,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. you laughed.

“i never said that! i just don’t want you to get in trouble,” you countered.

“nothin’ bad’s gonna happen, i swear,” he said, holding up his hands.

“alright, if you say so.” hobie nodded as he did a “come here” motion, beckoning you to follow him as he swung on a rooftop. you, of course, followed.

he opened a portal to the spider hq, saying something about maybe getting some food. you accepted and walked into the portal, him on your tail.

before getting any food, however, you decided you needed to go to the bathroom to freshen yourself up. he nodded in reply as you left to go in.

as you went in, you quickly realized there was nobody there, to your relief. walking to the sink, you removed your mask. thankfully, you really didn’t get hurt at all during the fight; there were only a few, very small scrapes on your face. your hair frizzed up from your mask, though.

you turned on the water and used it to flatten out some of the frizz and stop the bleeding. hobie must’ve noticed that nobody else was in there at that point, because nobody was coming out.

so, he walked in, prepared to walk out of that wasn’t the case. but, as he walked in, he saw you and only you. again, you saw him in the corner of your eye, snapping your head to the side to see him. you just chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully. “missed me?”

“a li’l,” he replied, slipping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. his figure towered over you, something he always liked. what could he say, you were just so short.

you eventually finished cleaning up, turning around in his arms to face him. you wrapped your arms around him. “i appreciate you breaking the rules. so you could see me, y’know.”

he hummed in response. you looked up to meet his eyes. and in that exact moment, you were both thinking the same thing.

without another second, hobie leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss started short and sweet, but after a little bit, got more intense.

he helped you onto the counter to boost your height a little bit, and kissed you again. his hands slid from your sides to your waist, holding you close as yours got lost in his wicks.

there was no sign of you stopping…until a sound from the doorway pulled you apart. hobie turned to look who it was, and weirdly enough, it was miguel. “hobart, i swear to god, you-“ he quickly cut himself off as he saw you two, a string of saliva keeping you connected. “okay, ew,” he shut his eyes. “you clean that up, then we can talk.”

hobie signed and obliged, turning on the sink and wiping his mouth off with the sink. you glanced at him, and you mad eye contact, giggling slightly. “this is serious!” miguel yelled, causing you to roll your eyes and hobie to do a “he’s crazy” motion next to his head.

“i’ll see you la’er, alright?” you nodded, and he gave you one final peck on the cheek before leaving. maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

[chaotictarlos]

Pain

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos

Rating: General | Warnings / Tags: Angst, Mention of Carlos Whump, Missing Carlos, Grief, Brief mention of overdose, Brief mention of Gwyn's death, Hurt, Hurt/No Comfort

Author's Note: I was originally going to write breakup era TK but then I started writing and this is what came of it. Hope you enjoy it.

For @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day prompt "pain"

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TK's back hits the wall with a thud and he lets out a disgruntled scream of anguish, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, arms wrapped out his body as he desperately tries to hold himself together.

TK is certain he has never felt pain like this before.

Not when his parents got a divorce.

Not during or after any of his overdoses.

Not when he and Carlos broke up and they spent months apart wanting each other

Not when his mom died - but it's close.

No, he's never felt this deep of a gut wrenching pain before. His entire body aches with it. His heart feels like it's been chipped into tiny pieces and sewed back together haphazardly and shoved into the black hole of his chest.

He can't do this. He can't live without Carlos.

He isn't sure how he's supposed to do anything without the love of his life.

TK slides down the wall, his grief loud and thick around him, swallowing up all of the light in the room and suffocating him. His friends hadn't wanted to let him go back to the loft alone but he couldn't stand how they watched him like he was going to break or "it's going to be okay" anymore.

Each one was like a dagger to his heart.

It isn't okay. It hasn't been okay for seven days.

TK isn't sure it's ever going to be okay again.

His sobs rip through his body and he tightens his arms, as if that was enough to keep him from feeling like his entire life isn't falling apart.

"Carlos," he whimpers out into the emptiness, wishing by some miracle that he'll answer.

But there's nothing except the empty space and TK's sobs.

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tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes