#i was thinking thoughts while i made me taquitos

[beck-a-leck]

Saw one too many posts along the lines of 'I put something not oven-safe in the turned off oven for Reasons and then my spouse/roommate/sibling turned on the oven and ruined it!' recently and that combined with my automatic pre-turning on the oven habit of opening the door to make sure there's nothing in there has got me thinking.

I Always check the oven before I turn it on. Doesn't matter if I know for a fact nothing is in there or the racks haven't moved out of the position i want, I always check. And I always check because that's the way I was taught. When I started learning how to cook from my mom, the first thing she taught me to do was check the oven. I always figured that was just a common sense safety thing she passed on, but it also occurred to me that my mom worked as a firefighter/paramedic for a good portion of my childhood. So maybe that was something she passed on from her experiences as a firefighter.

So now I'm curious, and in true tumblr fashion I'm gonna sate my curiosity with a poll.

Note: 'Raised' can mean you had a parent/parental figure who was a firefighter. Or an extended family member who was. Or a family friend. If they served a role in your life that taught you things, they had a hand in raising you.

Obligatory please reblog for sample size. I doubt this will break containment and get more than a dozen or so votes but it would be super cool if it did.

[dollsonmain]

Scott asked me if the store changes what store-made foods are available with the seasons and it doesn't seem like it.

Same sandwiches all the time, though Manager will make something different if what we normally serve isn't available, like if we run out of hot dogs she'll pull something out of the big freezer and make steak and cheese or something like that. We also have "Tornados" which are taquitos but she rarely makes those, or makes them later in the day when I'm not there.

Every once in a while she'll introduce a different sandwich to the case, like we'd kept two rows of pork sausage with American cheese, and recently she swapped one row to pork sausage with pepperjack.

But mostly it doesn't change. The amount we make changes, though. With the kids in school and weather turning cold, fewer people feel like coming in to the store at all so instead of filling the sandwich case all the way, we're putting 3 of each (or 6 of each on ones that still sell well), and brewing a "large brew" on one of the automated pots that we usually brew a "medium brew" on. She ordered a couple cans of pie filling for the grocery and a couple more baking ingredients. That's it.

The decor doesn't change, either. There is a string of Christmas lights along the front window-bay and that's on always.

We do have some seasonal stuff like it was water guns and water balloons, then Halloween candy, and now it's socks, gloves, and hats.

It got me thinking, though, that the store is very light on decor and ambiance in general.

The walls are a peachy-beige, the cabinets are the same, counter tops are a faux granite look, floors a basic, mid-darkness fake wood vinyl plank (which is disintegrating.....), coolers and food racks are black, there are slat walls behind the counter and all along one side of the store that are a light wood color.

I can see why decorating isn't a priority, though, because there's so much STUFF in there. Decoration would probably get a little visually overwhelming.

Every counter surface is covered in a machine and none of them match including around the register, there are lots and lots of different branded refrigerators and freezers standing all around the walls, the drinks/cooler wall is all different colors and types of bottles and cans, the grocery section, which is not tiny, is a complete hodge podge of stuff, there are a few branded light-up signs in the windows, etc.

Also, decorations would have to be stored somewhere and there's no storage space in the store.

Having actually thought about it, though, it's kind of stark and sterile in there despite all the random stuff. They certainly don't want people to get too comfortable and hang around.

It's a "get your stuff and go away" aesthetic.

[livvyofthelake]

ok plans for tomorrow. after work. going to barnes and noble. limit of TWO books. don’t let me entertain the thought of more in serious don’t let me!!!! unless…. no i’m serious two books limit. unless. no seriously. ….. anyway. and then i can get a little treat <3 and then at home i need to pull some more weeds (they are. never ending 😐) in my garden. and OH WAIT. before leaving work but after work. might buy a new pair of jeans. need to try them on. unless the vibe is bad and then i’ll do that tuesday. i basically live at that store i don’t need to be doing everything tomorrow… sad ass statement. anyway. after weeding. shower. try to finish a book. let’s have a poll actually

wow option 2 is giving nothing. expected. knowing what option 2 is. you can still vote for it i’m not saying that as a silent “don’t vote option 2” i would literally tell you if i wanted to rig the votes. anyway. if reading fails, watch tv while accomplishing other tasks. and then dinner. um. well to be honest with you that’s either gonna be frozen pizza or frozen taquitos. and while we’re dreaming big about what i can accomplish tomorrow, let’s add watching a movie to the list! i’m thinking if i want a rewatch i’ll go for barbie 2023, teen beach movie, or descendants 2. don’t weigh in i don’t like your guys’ opinions on barbie 2023 y’all acted like that movie was gonna bring about the apocalypse fr. at worst it made ryan gosling annoying. at best i think it saved margot robbie from having to be Male Gaze Hot Girl until she gets visible wrinkles. ok that’s all goodnight. steam diet pepsi addison rae 🩷

[musingsofanapprectice]

Yesterday I invited my dearest friend to my house for a sleepover. When we're lounging on the couch together, my limbs tangled with hers, the warmth of her is shocking like menthol. In her embrace I am but a lizard, basking on a rock, as close to the Sun as I can bear.

We drank raspberry and black currant wine she found at the liquor store, and we ate flour tortilla chicken taquitos (poor pairing she said, chicken with a dark wine, but who cares? Not me). I mixed salsa with some Tapatio (where's the accent go? I can't remember) so it'd be spicier. I wrapped my taquitos in lettuce because it tastes good that way, and I like having a crisp element to my meals. If she thought I was insane for it, she did not mention it.

She succumbed to slumber before I made it to bed, all curled up against the wallside, under a throw blanket she brought with her, using my actual comforter as a pillow! I couldn't bear to wake her, so I grabbed a throw blanket of my own, a tie blanket another of my close friends made for me, and I climbed into bed with her, the warmth of her body more than enough to keep me cozy. After a few minutes with me in with her, she rolled over and embraced me fully, her face nuzzled into my chest, and I became filled not only with food and alcohol and warmth but also adoration and something akin to devotion.

I did not fall asleep quickly. Not at all, and yet I feel so well rested. I made it to bed half past midnight and rose at half past six, after she snoozed her six o'clock alarm for half an hour. She has left for work but I get to feel the remnants of the domesticity, of the friendship, the bond, the joy of last night and of this morning. Laying half-naked in bed together, laughing at each other and of our friends, going about our own morning rituals. She meditates, I make her coffee. When she emerges, I tell her where the creamer is, and I decide that I will drink tea. She made me a cup of earl grey tea the first time she stayed for dinner at my home, and made it perfectly (milk and honey included) to my tastes, and since, I have craved it like nothing else. I never make it right for myself, but the memory of that perfect cup is plenty. I feed the cats, I feed the dog, I play "Dum Spiro Spero" on the television while she uses the bathroom. She introduces me to a song she found not five minutes ago, and then to one of her favorite game soundtracks, Pyre.

We talk often about what it means to be "living life", how even those who appear to be truly living feel, most of the time, like they are simply brushing their teeth, taking out the trash, going through the motions. How if we could see ourselves a year from now, we would think we finally figured out how to move past that "waiting for life to begin" feeling, and then one year would pass and we would be slightly different people but the feeling of living would be exactly the same: boring. That is what it means to live, I think. To be in a near-perpetual state of boredom. A constant feeling of stagnancy.

I have said this recently with myself, and I shall say it again: it is nights and mornings like this, where you can enjoy the company of another, and live together for a night as if you've been doing it forever, that makes life worth living. It is those scant moments of sheer bliss shared with another human being that being meaning to life. Our interactions with our environment, with each other. I have had the pleasure of many such moments as of late, and I don't think I've been happier in my entire life. I am so excited for what today has to offer, and the next, and the next.

[lieutenant-amuel]

Hi there! Sorry for being so forward with the random ask, but I read your Isla de Sueños fic on AO3 the other day and when I stumbled on it in the Tumblr tag just now, it made me smile all over again just thinking about it, so I wanted to reach out to thank you for writing such a lovely story! I've been on an unexpected EOA kick for the past few days, and I've enjoyed a lot of your posts while I was going through the tags. You have some very based and very thoughtful takes!! 😊 You also have such a sweet and fun story as well. I was just smiling the whole time I was reading it! Those taquitos and the music box were a big highlight. So wholesome! Also the way you wrote Gabe was so soft. 🥺 It warms my heart! He really does have such a soft side under all that bravado, I think. 💙 Anyways, thank you so much for writing and for sharing that! 💕 Not sure if you've moved fandoms or not, but please keep up the good work and best of luck with whatever it is you're working on now. Cheers!! 💖

Thank you! For both reading the story and reaching out to me personally, this is a very nice message to get ❤️

I’m not active in the fandom anymore but I still love Elena of Avalor and think about this show a lot so there’s always a chance of me writing a new story or making some other piece of fandom content. I was going to say I have a sideblog @elena-of-avalor-polls where I host poll tournaments but then I noticed you already follow this blog haha, thank you! I have written a few more fics and posted them on AO3 in case you would like to read them too.

And there’s no need to apologize! You made me very happy by sending this.

[freekzout]

@miidnighters // for funke to talk about hartley

"she's stickin' out the funk a lot better than i thought she would." a feat never to be scoffed at. "look, i'm no stranger to being the victim of a snap judgement. i admit i might'a had this idea in my head about the type of person she was, and maybe i went ahead and decided that was all she could be."

with her pristine appearance and swaggering confidence -- and let's not forget the repulsed scowl -- it was too easy for hartley to dredge up uncomfortable memories from his youth. it's not that funke believed he deserved the acceptance of the socially successful. it's only that he didn't think he deserved their contempt, for merely existing, even if it was in a particularly pungent way.

"her modus operandi made it worse. we get journalists coming out to the sideshow every once in a while; they think we never clock on to what they're really there for. all they wanna do is find some poor chump who's got freeked to the third degree and slap his face all over the tabloids. they never talk to me, 'cause they know i don't tolerate that kind of bull--" and their purposeful distance definitely could not be attributed to any other discernible reason, "and when i realized what she was -- i mean, how's somebody who doesn't know any freeks supposed to know what makes a bad freek? it sat in me about as good as one of those twenty-cent taquitos from 7/11. that is to say, crappily."

his teeth worry at his lip, before he shrugs. "i dunno. thought she might be part of the same crew. she got my hackles up, alright. but now, lookin' back, i probably was doing her a disservice. she's not interfering with nothin' or messin' around with nobody, and the stuff she's lookin' into... i wanna believe it's going to help everybody in the long run. so i was wrong about her, and i hold my hand up to it. i guess the best way to make up for it is to help her where i can."

[avaguenotion]

11/15/2023 - caffeine.

Aight so it's Wednesday the 15th, yesterday I took a little "blue coughing coffin trip" and as usual I kind of peaked out quick with some horrid creative writing and then sleep the entirety of the day afterwards. I think that might have carried over into today as I slept pretty late into the day as well. But who knows? On Sunday the 12th I decided to experiment with going caffeine free after a conversation I had with my mom. We kind of realized that perhaps my caffeine consumption might be one of the underlying reasons for my strange sleeping patterns as opposed to Abilify entirely. I made it 3 days ( sun, mon, tues ) and today like I said not only did I sleep a lot again I also had some mild headaches, so I decided to get the smallest 12oz cup of coffee from wawa's just to help me get through. That should be all for the rest of the week inshallah. I'm not really sure what to be expecting other than more steady sleep which I have noticed. But there is that one wrench in the equation - the coffin - that did not help. Anyway. I should be back by the end of the week if not sooner to take notes. I really do love this blog. And I find it amazing that there are people who consistently like my posts. This form of self reflective writing I find is a lot easier to do than creative fiction. Matter of fact. Here is a small passage I finished up recently. This is early on in the novel "The Pillars of Autumn" where Omar one of the central characters rooted in the author's identity and the guitarist who put out a craigslist ad for a drummer meets with Raven the drummer girl from Brooklyn: . : [ The Pillars of Autumn ] : .

It was a Friday and I was on my way to meet a drummer in Brooklyn. I had put out a craigslist ad a little while back and she was the only one to reply. She sent me some of her recordings and videos and told me she liked my work and that we could meet up at a practice studio not far from where she lived.

Her name was Raven.

I was nervous for sure, but I needed this. My love hate relationship with music was taking me nowhere and I thought it was a shame given how much I had already produced. I knew I was good, just not good enough.

I arrived to the address and in the distance I saw a girl with purple hair smoking a cigarette. I figured that must be her.

Omar: Raven?

Raven: Yup. You must be Omar. You made it. I was worried you wouldnt be able to find it.

Omar: it wasnt too bad.

Raven: Nice case. Is that a black dahlia sticker?

Omar: yup. You like them?

Raven: Nocturnal majesty, sworn to black we'll always be.

Omar: damn. Well then.

She put out her cigarette against the wall and flicked it.

Raven: Let's get to it?

Omar: sure.

Raven: I listened to all of your music and what you have on your soundcloud.

Omar: and?

Raven: some of it is actually really good.

I wasnt used to being complimented on my music let alone being told that anyone had listened to it.

Omar: you know I produced a lot of that while sitting at mt computer and cant play most of it again.

Later that Night

The two of them were sitting in a 711 parking lot in Omars car with Funeralopolis by Electric Wizard blasting.

Omar was munching on some taquitos and Raven was sipping on some coffee. She swore it wasn't too late for coffee. Caffeine barely effected her anymore.

Raven: such an epic riff.

Omar: I think this is the first song I heard by them. Yea. We should cover it.

Raven: what if I told you we could play some shows with them?

Omar sat in silence chewing on his taquito.

Omar: really?

[bew-berry]

So there's a little grey cat that has been hanging around for a while now in our cul-de-sac, and my brother and sister in law have officially decided to adopt him. When he first popped up he was malnourished and has since gained weight because me, my brother, and our neighbor fed him. My niece affectionately named him Taquito and that's what we've been calling him.

My brother decided to get him his own food bowl, and from there they decided to adopt him and changed his name to Takito. They got him a collar with tags and everything. He looked cute! They also got him chipped.

However, a few days later, his collar was missing. Odd. Okay, maybe it came off. It got replaced. Went missing again. Got replaced again. Went missing again and he shows up with a fucking string around his neck tied like a bow. It pissed me off because if it snagged he could have gotten into some trouble. Meanwhile my neighbor has been letting me know each time his collars go missing so I can let my sis in law know. Okay.

This time they got him a collar with a tracker because obviously someone is taking them off on purpose and decided a goddamn string around his neck that can snag is a better idea. Sure enough, it got tracked to a house around the corner, and apparently they own Takito, but they never bothered to call or come and let us know. They've just been throwing the collars away.

They could have fucking fooled me with how they neglected him, left him out the entire time it rained over here. I couldn't let him in because he's not fixed and he's been spraying everywhere and it's becoming an issue but I would feed him and feel bad because there were days he was soaked. I would try to keep him in the patio where it was dry but it broke my heart.

My sister in law told them how the spraying has become an issue and that someone reported my neighbor for feeding him because they thought he was a stray and animal control even came to look for him. These idiots said "oh...yeah...well we were thinking about getting him fixed but...idk...that's how he marks his territory." You ignorant fuck. The spraying is a huge issue! That's not the only way they fucking mark their territory. Asshole.

They have another cat that's indoors and that just pissed me off more. They don't take care of Takito. The appointment has been made by my sister in law to get him fixed and she plans on caring for him and basically convincing him with lots of treats and yummy food to stay on this side of the block because his "owners" are pieces of shit. He's already chipped to her and vaccinated because of her so can they really do anything about it? They don't even care about him. Fuck them. I hate them. It had to be ignorant ass morons who owned him. He obviously loves it on this side because people care for him. I'm so mad.

[pinnithin-writes]

June 6

I binged. I knew it would happen eventually. Once I was able to unstick myself from the habit of eating as little as possible - as healthy as possible - it only took the unlucky coincidence of grocery shopping while hungry after a monthly deposit in my checking account.

I was a monster in that WinCo. I saw something I wanted, I threw it in my cart. Oreos, tortilla chips, Hot Pockets, pork rinds, frozen pizzas, ice cream, microwave taquitos, Milano cookies, beef jerky, Cheetos, sour punch straws, Dove bars, popcorn, M&M’s, powdered donuts - I dumped it all in without even looking at the price.

This receipt says I spent $98.60, but I don’t care. I checked to make sure Gina’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, then carried armfuls of groceries from my trunk to the apartment. I put all the perishables in the fridge, but the rest I hid away in my closet. It’s not that I don’t trust Gina - she’s very mindful of money and possessions, never touching food or kitchen utensils she didn’t buy herself - I just know she’ll notice my complete 180 on junk food and I don’t need her asking about it. 

My roommate is at least semi-aware of my unusual diets, but this one feels personal. A third party is involved now. 

My only restriction on that spree was alcohol. In large enough quantities, I think it could hurt my accomplice. I’ll have to do more research before I’m able to know an acceptable amount to drink without killing it outright. But the idea of getting tipsy with my tapeworm is a funny enough idea to pursue it. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of drinking partners lately. 

I ate as much as I physically could while sitting in the dark in my closet. “Cheers,” I told the tapeworm, right before inhaling an entire sleeve of Ritz crackers. 

Now I’m tucked into a corner in my bathroom, one shoulder pressed against the edge of the bathtub while I stare at the toilet and try not to make myself throw it all back up. My stomach is not pleased with the choices I’ve made, but the worm is. I can feel it wriggling around in the spot it’s chosen against my intestinal wall. It’s not exactly helping the roiling in my guts, but it’s keeping me from sticking my fingers down my throat. 

I can feel the tapeworm’s delight as if I surprised it with a thoughtful gift. And weirdly enough, it makes me feel a little better. At least I can make someone happy. 

A Helminthic Romance

Short story about a girl who falls in love with her intestinal parasite, told through entries in the narrator's journal.

[Posting these in short installments in conjunction with the the dates of the journal entries.]

Read on Ao3

<- May//June//

June 1

Will messaged me again. I should just block his number at this point. He seriously asked me if I wanted to hang out, after everything that happened. I don’t know what he doesn’t get about “don’t speak to me again.”

I’m looking back at my entries from spring break and realizing I never actually talked about the aftermath. There’s like, a two week gap where I didn’t even write anything. I guess it was too raw then. Now that it’s been a couple months it’s kind of scabbed over, so I can poke at it a little. 

After he cheated he tried to go back to how things were before. I don’t know if he was counting on me not finding out or was just planning on lying about it or what, but when I tried to confront him about it he just acted like it hadn’t happened. I had to show him the screenshots to make him actually acknowledge it.

“You can’t just act like spring break doesn’t count,” I told him, and he was like, what does it matter? I’ll never see her again. And then he added a passive aggressive comment about how he couldn’t expect me to give him everything he needed, so he filled in the gaps where he could.

I hate to say it but that was my breaking point, not the cheating. I was almost willing to forgive him and let him have another chance after that. I mean, it’s not like anyone has ever shown any romantic interest in me before him, and it’s unlikely I’ll get another shot at love anytime soon. And I did like him. I still do, really.

But then he went and said that? I gave him everything. I carved out hours of my life to hang out with him. I listened to his stories about how his parents hit him and how all his exes used and discarded him and I hugged him while he cried and I held his hand while he learned to heal. 

We could have been something. He was my broken doll and I was his starving dog. The only two people fucked up enough to understand each other. 

I should have known establishing a boundary would have been taken as an attack. He’s been hurt too many times to assume good intentions. But he didn’t have to turn around and cheat on me.

Just because I can’t figure out what I want doesn’t mean I’m not able to tell what I don’t want. I knew I didn’t want to move in with him after only dating for six months. It didn't matter that I was aging out of the dorms. I didn’t want to live with him because that would give him a front row seat to all the weird shit I do behind closed doors and I knew I wasn’t ready for that. 

I think he took me signing the lease with Gina as a sign that I was going to leave him just like the rest of his exes. The first in a series of steps to distance myself after he showed me all the undesirable parts of him, and I’d decided I couldn’t handle it. If he knew all my undesirable parts he’d have known it would take quite a lot for me to draw the line. Maybe he tried to find where the line was early so he could save himself some heartbreak. Or something.

This is so fucking stupid that I just inherently psychoanalyze people. Thanks, Mom. He’s already wasted so much of my time, but here I am wasting more of it figuring out why he thought that was okay.

God. Whatever. The worm’s doing fine. The one inside my body, that is, not the other one. I’ve sort of gotten used to the indigestion, and it’s nice I can eat whatever I want now. It seems to perk up when I feed it chocolate covered pretzels, which is great because I love eating those. 

I really thought for a second about naming the tapeworm Will, just as a funny joke to myself about how Will is a parasite, but this feels like kind of an insult to the worm. It hasn’t led me on for months only to decide I wasn’t worth the emotional effort of waiting on me. All the worm ever does is wait on me, really. It just sits there in a dark little part inside of me I’ll never get to see, waiting patiently for whatever I decide to give it. It doesn’t complain, and it never leaves because it can’t.

I think I want to be kind to it. It didn’t choose these circumstances, much like a child doesn’t choose to be born. The least I can do is treat it well while it’s forced to exist in my digestive tract.

I don’t know. I shouldn’t name it Will, but I should probably name it something, now that I think about it. We’re past the point of avoiding missing it when it’s gone - I’ll miss it. We’ve already spent so much time together and it’s always there with me. But what does one name a worm that’s attached to your intestines, eating when you eat, sleeping when you sleep, fully dependent on you?

And  if we’re being honest I’m a little dependent on it, not only for getting my weight down, but for keeping me on a schedule. I’d probably be in bed all day long if the worm didn’t stir every once in a while, reminding me to go about the daily maintenance of being alive. I actually showered today because my stomach hurt so bad I couldn’t stay curled up in bed any longer. It’s like it’s reminding me to keep being a person.

Hard to pick a name for someone that important. 

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

The Holidays (derogatory)

hi dont look at this too hard i promise im not projecting at all - also if you like christmas and thanksgiving and that shit and have a good time maybe skip over it, i dont want any ‘yOu DoNt LiKe ThE hOlIdAyS?!?’ on this

pairing: Geraskier

CW: modern au, jaskier is the baby gay who went off and started his own life and is stressed/depressed about the holiday season meaning shitty family members, geralt takes care of him, jask feels guilty?, jask isn’t out to his family, depression tw but not in a wholly wallowing/graphic way?

____________________________________

Jaskier had been functioning. Just functioning and he was rather proud of himself for that much, even if it did still feel like a failure. But he made it to work, pretended he was fine, and had been feeding himself, so when Geralt asked how he was doing he said he was fine. Because compared to previous holiday seasons he had a lot more to freak the fuck out about and he was still doing more than before so he reasoned he was actually fine. 

The fact that his studio apartment looked like a depression cave and he hadn’t cleaned the litter box in a little too long or taken out the trash kind of slipped his mind. The numbness blocked it out. 

So when Geralt showed up at his door with takeout after the third cancelled date it was with mute horror and an apologetic look that Jaskier let him in. Geralt simply set the food out on his dinky little kitchen table and instructed him to eat. When Jaskier just frowned at him, Geralt held him by the shoulders and kissed his forehead before guiding him to sit and opening the pressed aluminum container full of his favorite pasta. 

“You eat, I’ll get the kitchen.”

A strange mixture of relief and embarrassment settled in Jaskier’s gut as he picked at his pasta and watched Geralt clean his tiny kitchen. He’d really only been eating avocado toast and taquitos all month so it wasn’t like there was all that much to clean, but watching some of the evidence of his spiral disappear was nice, even if it really was just a tiny bit. When Geralt was done, he sat down next to Jaskier and ate his pasta, finishing well before Jaskier did, but he didn’t mention it. He kept up a light, pointless conversation about Roach, showing Jaskier a picture of the hole his new husky puppy had made and sat in at the dog park which made Jaskier giggle just a bit. It felt odd, giggling. To be honest, it felt a little hysterical, but it was a nice change from the way he’d been two seconds from crying all week. 

When Jaskier was finally done, Geralt cleaned that mess up too before he led Jaskier into the little nook he called a living room, even if it was really just a carefully positioned couch and coffee table in a weird corner of the apartment. 

Giving him a playful nudge, Geralt winked at him, “If there’s anything you don't want me to see, hide it now. We’re cleaning this up.” 

If he hadn’t felt like absolute garbage, Jaskier would have sputtered, but as it were he just raised his eyebrows in the closest he could get to playful, “And what do you think I might want to hide?” 

“Well,” Geralt started, grunting a little as he leaned down to collect a laundry basket laying on its side, “you were a little jumpy about your butt plug a couple months ago. Just giving you a heads up.” The slight teasing tone in his voice warmed Jaskier’s insides even if he rolled his eyes in response. 

It had been the most ridiculous fight Jaskier had ever had, yelling at Geralt for accidentally finding his little box of toys while he was looking for bandaids. In the end Geralt was laughing his ass off and Jaskier was so embarrassed he thought he’d melt into the floor. Geralt had to drink a glass of water to calm down before he could give Jaskier a hug and ask Were you scared I’d make fun of you? Having to admit to his hot new older boyfriend that he’d never had a boyfriend before and he only figured out he liked men a couple months prior to meeting said boyfriend and wasn’t entirely sure what to think let alone expect from new boyfriend wasn't Jaskier’s favorite conversation, but it did make a few things easier. 

He was mulling over the day as he picked things up and made a pile of laundry to do while Geralt vacuumed and bagged up the trash. It really didn’t take that long, his apartment wasn’t huge by any means, but the difference was incredible. 

Geralt practically made them a nest of blankets on Jaskier’s bed before tugging Jaskier down on top of him and enveloping him in those heavy comforting arms, “Better?”

“Much.” Jaskier sighed, snuggling deeper into Geralt’s chest, “I take it my ‘fine’ wasn’t really convincing?”

“No, and, y’know the holidays,” Geralt tacked an exhausted sigh on after ‘the holidays’ and kissed the top of Jaskier’s head, “Wanna talk about it?” His tone was so careful, so uncharacteristically gentle and quiet that it took Jaskier by surprise for a moment. 

“I… yeah…” Jaskier stumbled over his words as tears welled up in his eyes, “I just don’t know where to start…”

Running a soothing hand up and down Jaskier’s back, Geralt hummed, “Can you tell me what you feel?”

“Scared.” Jaskier surprised himself by putting a name to it so quickly, “Scared and tired.”

“What are you afraid of?” Geralt tucked the blankets tighter around them as he asked, making Jaskier feel that much more cocooned and safe.

“Uhm…” Jaskier did his best to take a deep breath but his breath hitched as he fought a sob, “g-going home? I don’t know how much… uhm... fuck.... I don’t know- how much of any of it I can take? My family isn’t exactly the Adams’,” Jaskier ended on an ugly watery laugh that felt almost as hollow as he was. 

Geralt just hummed in acknowledgement and continued stroking Jaskier’s back as he cried through his words.

“They- they don’t know and they’re assholes anyway and- and- and my mom’s going to make a scene because she does every year and her sisters are a shit show and I cant even get drunk for it because I have to work the next day and I can’t accidentally let it slip I fucking can’t. I can’t handle that on top of all the other family drama right now.”

Tilting his chin up to look at him, Geralt kissed the crease between his brows, “They don’t know about me, or that I’m a witcher?”

Guilt washed over Jaskier as he tried his best to suck in a usable breath. He’d made a point to show Geralt off to all his friends in the city. Geralt had been kept secret in so many relationships and Jaskier hated that, he hated it so much, because Geralt was fucking phenomenal in every way and he deserved the world. 

“No…” Jaskier held his breath as he looked into Geralt’s eyes. They swam a bit in the tears overflowing and blurring his vision, but he didn’t see any anger there, just concern, and that hurt worse. He was supposed to be a fixer, not be fixed.

“Jask, breath for me. Nice and slow- there you go. What don’t they know, love?”

Jaskier sniffed and gave up trying to control his voice, muffling the little wail into Geralt’s chest, “They don’t even know I’m bi!” He sobbed horribly, expecting Geralt to be angry, or at least a little annoyed that they’d been dating for almost six months and Jaskier hadn’t told his family. He prepared his body for Geralt to leave, for the only comfort he could find to be the giant mass of pillows and blankets on his bed. But Geralt only tightened his hold.

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry,” Geralt mumbled into Jaskier’s hair. 

“You’re sorry? But I k-kept you secret?”

“Not with the people you trust.” Geralt squeezed him a little tighter still, just for a moment before leaning back to look at him, “I’m sorry your family never made you feel safe enough to share this part of yourself.” he whispered, wiping tears away from Jaskier’s cheeks away as he spoke. 

Jaskier only squeaked in response, devolving into more tears and shuddering breaths. Geralt held him and whispered soft soothing reassurances until Jaskier had emptied out absolutely everything. 

They didn’t move till the next morning, and even then, Geralt kept Jaskier close enough to pull into a hug at a moment's notice. The holiday season was awful, but at least Jaskier had someone who understood and insisted on holding his hand. 

[pitaparka]

a steadfast heart will conquer

summary: you show up at frankie’s doorstep in the middle of the night after your boyfriend gets violent. he invites you in and lets you stay with him.

pairings: frankie morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of bruises

At midnight, you speak in fragments.

“I’m at your front door.”

He’s more asleep than awake. He doesn’t have the brain to question you.

“It’s raining.”

He can tell. He can hear it through the phone and from his bedroom window.

“Can you come let me in? Please?” You ask, and before he can say anything, you hang up. He stares at his phone, but figures there’s a girl at his front door, waiting to be let in.

He takes a second to unlock the door, in his groggy state, and sure enough, there you are, in all your midnight glory, on his front doorstep. It’s more romantic in movies, he thinks.

There’s nobody outside except for you. The streets are desolate, and the lamplight is obscured by the pouring rain. It thuds off of your car that’s parked in his driveway, and he knows it’ll bleed in through the crack in the door that doesn’t quite meet the frame.

He’ll help you fix it tomorrow.

But right now, you lean into him, slowly, and wrap your arms around his neck. You're wet, he notes. Wet and cold. He’s sure you're soaked down to your socks. Hair, jacket, shoes, all dripping onto his hardwood floor. You're still on the steps, so he pulls you in, but you refuse to untangle yourself from him. The wind sounds even harder now with the two of you inside.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulls back to look at your face, but you're buried deep in his chest. He wishes it was under different circumstances.

The pouring rain punctuates every silence. He can feel you shaking.

You don’t answer.

He lets you not answer.

There’s a storm brewing in his chest. He has a sickening premonition as to why you’re here. He tries to ignore it, but his gut instinct is always right.

He shuffles awkwardly to close the door, and it muffles the rain. He can hear you sniffling now.

“What happened?”

There is only moonlight streaming in from the window over the couch. You keep your face buried in his chest when he flicks the light on. It’s harsh and bright and he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you back to look at him but you don't remove your face from his warm, dry chest.

So he waits.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again, softer, in your ear. You rub your forehead on his worn t-shirt, and his arms find their way around your shoulders.

You find the strength to look at him from somewhere deep inside you, eyes red and swollen, eyelashes dark with tears. You squint almost imperceptibly, adjusting to the light. You’ve never felt more safe than in his embrace. Your noses almost touch.

The last and only thing he wants to do is kiss you.

He notices the red mark right away.

On your temple. His eyes soften. You watch him look at you, almost like it’s the first time.

“He hit me,” you say, congested from the tears.

Like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t feel anger shoot up into his chest, heat and warmth and fire in his fingertips, down the back of his calves and aching his face. His sickening premonition coming true. He can’t come up with a single reason as to why he would do this to you. It makes fury throb in his bones. He can see your boyfriend throwing the punch and it makes him want to vomit how enraged he is.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks sincerely.

“Want me to hurt him? I’ll hurt him, you know I will. I’ll hurt him so bad,” he trails off, jaw hard and teeth grinding. Nostrils flared and lip twitching.

“No.”

He watches you rest your head on his chest, the side that your good-for-nothing dick stick didn’t punch, and he’s so careful with you, soft hands and rigid muscles.

“I just...” you start, and he’s listening. He’s listening to every word.

“I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I didn’t want to hurt him. So I... left. I went and sat in the CVS parking lot,” you admit. He figures you needed someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He’s wide awake now. He still has fight in his blood, so he repurposes it. He holds you, securely. Strong and firm.

“I was gonna fight back... but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I really didn’t.” you say. He closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing. How could someone so sweet, so powerful, so kind, end up with the exact antithesis of all of those things?

“I know,” he reassures, “I know you didn’t.”

You sigh shakily into his chest. He’s there for you. He’s steadfast and unwavering. You could collapse into him and you trust he would catch you, help you up, dust you off, or in your case, dry you off. But you don’t. You stand strong with him, and you let herself be supported by him. You yourself whole still. Shaky, and faltering, but whole, all by yourself. With him there, you feel a little steadier, resolute in your decisions. He supports you, and you love him for it.

“Can I stay here?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies.

His clothes don’t fit you, but you don’t mind and neither does he.

Your hair smells like roses and rain.

You take his bed; he takes the couch.

It’s hard for him to fall asleep there, but he doesn’t mind that, either.

It’s four AM when you wake him up for the second time this morning. The grogginess is stronger than before, it seems. You’re on your knees in front of the couch, face level with him, and he jerks back in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest. His bare chest. His shirt is somewhere, he doesn’t care where. It got hot, he recalls.

“Y’scared me,” he mumbles. Would this girl let him get any sleep?

“Come sleep with me. I feel bad,” you say.

“Woke me up ‘cause y’feel bad?” he asks, and you can tell he’s irritated, but tired more than anything. Sleep carries heavily through his voice.

“No,” you clarify, “I woke you up ‘cause I had a nightmare.”

Now he’s the one that feels bad.

He lets you lead him to his own bed, but he makes a pit stop on the way to use the bathroom. He finds you curled up under his covers, staring at the doorway, waiting for him.

He smiles and joins you. He sleeps on his back. You sleep on your stomach.

He has one pillow. you have one too.

You both listen to each other breathe.

You throw an arm over his stomach. He rubs his thumb over your hand.

It’s not storming anymore, but you can both feel the electricity in the sky.

The old, squeaky mattress creaks as you move, swapping your pillow for his shoulder. It’s not as bony as you thought it would be.

You only wake up when his alarm goes off on the nightstand beside you.

You groan, and realize you’re curled up with someone in a bed that’s not your own. Your face aches as you relive the events of last night.

He wakes up when you shift to turn off the alarm, taking his time to notice you.

“Hey,” you say, in his shirt.

“Morning,” he yawns, not in his shirt.

“Thank you,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No no no, don’t do that, don’t make it...” he trails, sitting up in bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes again. All things considered, he got some decent sleep. He thinks it might have something to do with the warm body that was pressed up against him all night.

“No, really,” you say. You sit criss-cross on your side of the bed, and he has to remind himself that it’s his own bed (singular), not your bed (plural), and the whole bed is his bed. But for now, he can say it’s your side of the bed. At least to himself.

“Thank you for being there for me.” you say finally. He smiles at you.

“Of course.” He whines as he yawns, and things are okay for now. The storm is over.

“You want breakfast?” He asks, getting up and stopping at his dresser to put on shorts. His boxers were fine last night, but now that the sun is shining through the window, it’s kind of weird. He pulls on a shirt too.

“I have taquitos,” he says walking into his kitchen, and you squint at him, hot on his tail.

“Taquitos for breakfast?” you ask skeptically, and he makes his way over to the freezer.

“Taquito time is all the time.” He clarifies, taking the cardboard box from underneath a tub of ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. He freezes, before he turns around to look at you.

“Do you, uh, want some ice for that?” He says, and it takes you a second to realize what he means.

You touch the bruise softly, applying light pressure and wincing when it hurts.

He notices and puts the box down on the counter, wrapping the peas thoroughly in paper towels before handing them to you.

You nod a thank you, and hop up on his counter, holding them to your face.

He notices his shirt on you again, and his shorts on you, and how domestic this would be if that mistake hadn’t laid his hands on you. Though he does admit, you probably wouldn’t have been here in the first place without that run in.

He thinks he’d rather never see you again rather than have you come to him hurt like that.

He moves over to you, and carefully moves your head away from the cabinets holding the dish ware so he can open it. There’s tension in the air. He plates the taquitos and you listen to the buzz of the microwave as they warm up.

Neither of you touch your respective phones while you eat your taquitos. There are decisions to be made that will have consequences. You glance at your phone, but look away each time. Your eyes never meet. You both focus on the plate of miniature crunchy tortillas made with fake corn, filled with beef that was probably artificial. Neither of you mind.

After breakfast, or what could be sufficed as breakfast, he watches you finally check your phone.

“seventeen missed calls,” you read, “and thirty something texts.”

“Wow.”

“Not as crazy as I expected,” you note.

“Wanna see if he left any batshit voicemails?” you ask, grinning. He’s less than excited. Your smile falters as you read the texts.

“What? What’d he say?” he asks, getting up from the table to read over your shoulder. You make no move to hide the texts from him and something like relief floods his veins for a split second.

“Nothing,” you clarify, “just that... he’s so sorry… how he’s such a terrible person, that he’ll never do it again.”

He stares at you.

You ignore the messages and lock your phone.

You look up at Frankie.

“So?” he asks.

“So?” you ask back. He clears his throat.

“What are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, grabbing the empty plate and sliding past him. You turn on the faucet in the sink and wait for it to get hot.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but you don’t respond.

You add soap to a sponge and start washing the minimal dishes there: a bowl, a few spoons, your plate, a whisky glass.

He stands by you, grabbing a hand towel from the countertop and wiping the dishes down before putting them away.

“Why don’t you have a drying rack?” you ask, as he puts away the last of the glasses.

“I dunno,” he says, “I don’t have that many plates and forks and stuff, so I just dry it and put it away as I go.”

“Hmm,” you remark, and turn off the faucet. He hands you the dish towel and you wipe your hands dry before folding it and placing it on the counter. You look at him and sigh. The elephant in the room is demanding your attention.

“What do you think I should tell him?”

He stares at your bruise, and he feels the anger from last night bubble up in his throat again.

“That you’re gonna send me to beat him the fuck up.” He says, and you roll your eyes, staring at him endearingly.

“I’m not getting back together with him.” you say, and he feels his heart do some weird stuff in his chest.

“It’s over for us. I’m breaking up with him the next time I see him.” you say, a finality in your words that make him confident you would do as you said.

“Good.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one side.

“Should I go see him today?” you ask.

“Do you want to?” he questions. You sigh and shake your head.

“You’re no help.”

“Hey! I’m so much help,” he defends, and you smile at him.

“Sure.”

“I can go with you if you want,” he says seriously. You stare at him.

“If you want,” you offer, and he nods his head.

“Okay.” you say.

He watches you grab your phone and your now dry clothes and make your way into his bathroom. He listens as you close the door and waits until he hears the water start running, accompanied by soft music.

He squeezes the bridge of his nose and takes a second to examine the thawing bag of peas on his kitchen table.

He smiles to himself as he makes out the lyrics of your song.

As he puts the bag back in his freezer, he runs a nervous hand through his hair and stares at your car in his driveway.

He wants nothing more than to bruise you up himself, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your hips.

But that thought is fleeting. He gets closer to the bathroom and can hear you singing clearly, and he takes a second to listen before he speaks.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick look at your car, okay?”

The water turns off.

“What?”

“I’m—I’m gonna go look at your car!” he says loudly, “the leaky door!”

There’s quiet for a moment before you’re unlocking the door, in only a towel. His towel.

“Thank you!” you beam, and with one hand clutching the towel to your chest, you hand him your car keys.

“They were in my pocket. It’d be kinda hard to get in without them,” you joke.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He grins lopsidedly, keeping his eyes a respectable distance from your naked torso.

With a smile, you close the door in his face.

The music resumes, as does the water, and Frankie breathes.

It would be a miracle if he made it through the day without sending someone to the hospital.

[pepprs]

i normally don’t post abt my life in like… THIS much detail but today was so fucking insane i feel compelled to document and share it so here we go:

finished my stupid history rough draft at like 1:30am

woke up ridiculously early to get a covid test after saying up an additional 2 hrs basically bc i am stupid.

spent 2 hrs doing working on my presentation and actually finishing it at the expense of one hour of my shift????

got a new chair. and also my ******** bars finally 🥰

ran into my dad and my brother on my way to the office, walked w my brother (🥺) and introduced him to my supervisor (🥺)

ate FOUR rolled taqitos my supervisor offered me bc he accidentally bought an extra pack forgetting abt the break and my stomach was growling obnoxiously loud LMAO. i love one (1) man

passed like 2 ppl i used to be close with on my way to class???? one of my best friends from childhood and one of my hs friends a few grades younger than me. why is everyone important in my life connected to this school in some way it’s absolutely insane

pep talked my brother before his date-that-was-not-a-date-but-was-kinda-a-date (which i encouraged him to make happen lol) over text while having my first actual in depth conversation w the guy who sits next to me in theater class 😳 he is very nice i am thinking just a teeny tiny bit

did my presentation but i was soooo nervous and my voice was wobbling uncontrollably and i was shaking so bad and everyone could see and they kept interrupting me to say encouraging things and to tell me to take deep breaths… embarrassing. i kinda bombed but it’s whatever

scrambled out of class to pick up two vegan brownies my Prof brought me bc his daughter never ended up making me cookies, then scrambled back to the classroom bc i lost a glove (still haven’t found it lol whppps), then scrambled back to the apartment. all of these are extremely far away from each other and i am very small and have a heavy backpack and i literally unironically thought i was about to have a heart attack like i almost fainted and my heart actually hurt. horrible

ate a vegan brownie. aka THE best thing i have ever consumed in my entire fucki ng life.

scrambled to clean my disgustingly messy room and pack everything while having an actual conversation w one of my roommates 😳

came to terms with the fact that i wasn’t gonna be able to finish cleaning and packing in time for my dad to get me and my brother so i texted my family and we determined im coming home tmrrw instead LMAO

got negative covid pcr results

realized that i accidentally had my mask off around my roommate while we were talking, told my mom and she got pissed at me

meanwhile i headed to the main part of campus to hang out w my brother after his date and he told me all abt it and it was so 🥺😭🥰🥺😭🥰🥺😭🥰🥺😭🥰like i genuinely think today is the first time we’ve ever hung out outside of the context of home and i love him so fucking much he is like the most important person ever in the world to me actually

got yelled at by my mom who decided i need to get pcr tested AGAIN tmrrw morning bc i had my mask off around my roommate for maybe all of 3 minutes. so i had to call the covid testing site two times to make sure they can do it even tho it’s thanksgiving and now i have made my parents mad at me and burdened by me once again LOL

hung out in the office and had a deep convo w my supervisor while silently processing the fact that i made my parents mad at me and burdened by me once again. (also i gave him my 2nd brownie as a thank you for the rolled taquitos and also for being him in general bc… 🥺)

discovered during this conversation that all of the campus eateries are closed for thanksgiving break so i missed my chance to get bagels and sushi and i won’t be able to get them again tomorrow when im here all day unexpectedly. FUCK!

vividly intensely relived the moment i left the office for br*ghton and said goodbye to all my [redacted university name] People as my supervisor and i were leaving the office and saying goodbye to each other. lawl

cried abt it while walking back to my apartment

cried abt it to my counselor. the first time i have EVER cried during a therapy session!!!! and the first time ive seen her in like 3 weeks lol. it was such a good session and i felt so much better after and she was proud of me for crying. and we talked abt my future sp*use and k*ds 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🤩🤯🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

got my favorite meal from my favorite local restaurant that i haven’t been to since before i went to br*ghton delivered to me thru gr*bhub (!!!!) which involved basically walking halfway across campus alone in the dark bc the driver had no idea where to meet me but it was ok and he was rly nice 🥺

ate said food (called the giving thanks bowl 😭😭😭😭😭) while listening to marigold by pinegrove (THE quintessential br*ghton album) to comfort myself abt how thanksgiving break is only 5 days and im not actually leaving for good lawllll

called my BELOVED bestie brandon gigagasp for the first time since i moved ere and got to hang out w him and his new cat and see art from him and his students 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 but i got very sleepy and had to hang up earlier than expected but next time we hang out we are going to get food from said favorite restaurant i SWEAR IT

now im lying in bed unusually early waiting to fall asleep but i can’t bc im hungry and i basically have no food here (bc i thought it would be stupid to order groceries for only 2 days but i would’ve if id known id be here for 3) whi bc h means i have to Grubhub stuff and i am gonna try to order more brownies from the restaurant my prof bought them from but idk if i can bc of thanksgiving…. i need to grubhub something i think like i literaly am out of t everything😭😭😭😭😭 oh the grubs you can hub. but i probably should just like make pasta and eatmy ******** bars but wfpbsosfree (🥴) food has no flavor to me anymore bc i am a rebel so i don’t want to lawllll

[bluenet13]

Heroes Tonight

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 911: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Prompt: Taking the Bullet

Summary: Life is but a series of split-second decisions, and when you were born a hero, any one of them can end it all in the blink of an eye. Especially when your boyfriend is about to be shot and you don't think, just leap. Or, Carlos and T.K. should have been safe. It was only their day off. But when a convenience store robbery walks in on them, they end up in even more trouble than if they had been on shift.

Links: ff.net - AO3

"This was a really good idea," T.K. says softly, before taking another bite of his cherry ice cream, "thanks for insisting we do something special."

Carlos smiles, and squeezes the fingers that are intertwined in his. "I'm all about staying in bed all day on a day off, especially if it's with you. But every once in a while I like to go out and show the world that the prettiest boy in Texas is all mine."

"You're a dork," T.K. says, a teasing smile on his face, which quickly turns into a fake pout. "But… only in Texas? And what about the other days?"

Carlos sets his mango sorbet down and captures T.K's mouth in his, anything else that T.K. wanted to say dying on his lips, as he parts them in an invitation and deepens the kiss. Carlos' hands now on either side of his boyfriend's face, as T.K's moves his to Carlos' back and draws him close.

When they both need some air, they break the kiss and smile at each other shily. Carlos then grabs his phone and takes a selfie of the two, doing quick work of posting it to his Instagram. "There you go, now the whole world knows... Maybe we can get Marjan to reblog it so even more people know," Carlos lets out with a breathy laugh, then snickers when T.K. playfully smacks his arm. "As for other days... on those I like to show that boy how happy I'm that he chose me." Carlos again continues right from where T.K. left off, his smile only faltering for a second as he remembers a time when a failed past relationship made T.K. choose fear over him.

"I love you," T.K. breathes out, "and if you let me, I'll gladly spend the rest of my life showing you how I choose you over and over again."

"Rest of our lives," Carlos echoes wishfully, "I like the sound of that."

Carlos and T.K. share another kiss, before T.K. interrupts the moment with a chuckle. "I think the rest of our lives is going to be cut frustratingly short if we don't get out of here and to the Ryder household soon."

Seeing the time, Carlos blanches. Quickly finishing the last of his ice cream cone in one swallow, then grabbing T.K's hand and pulling them both towards the parking lot.

Carlos and T.K. had already agreed to meet the team for another 126 hangs before Carlos convinced T.K. to take advantage of the first day of summer landing on their day off to go on an adventure. So they had spent their Saturday on Zilker Park, then playing a round at Peter Pan Mini-Golf, which Carlos had insisted was a real Austin attraction and mini-golf tradition that T.K. needed to experience. Then stopping at The Range after much insistence from T.K. for Carlos to teach him how to shoot. Argument which had been going on for weeks and which Carlos had instantly metaphorically shot down as soon as T.K. tried to argue that it wasn't just for fun, since they never knew when he would be taken hostage again, and learning how to shoot could help him defend himself. At that, Carlos had mumbled that making the switch to paramedic was supposed to be safer, then told T.K. there was no way he would let him handle a gun, as he already was a trouble magnet without adding firearms into the mix. But T.K. was nothing if not stubborn, so today he had sweetly offered to drive when they left the park, and next thing Carlos knew, they were already parked in front of The Range, T.K. smiling up hopefully at him. Never able to deny his man anything, Carlos had begrudgingly agreed. And so they had spent their next two hours in the shooting range, before ending their magical day at the ice cream parlor.

That's how now Carlos and T.K. were very late. Which wouldn't be a problem if not because they were already in hot water after being no-shows at the last three team gatherings. This time, Marjan had said in no uncertain terms that they were both expected to be there or they would be forced to take a time-out every third shift. Well, that idea had come from Mateo, always the sentimental wanting to keep the band together and preserve the status quo, but Marjan and Paul had easily agreed, much to both Carlos and T.K's displeasure. Judd hadn't particularly cared either way, saying his only job was getting the house ready for the team.

-x-x-x-

"I'll be back in a sec," Carlos says, as T.K. parks the car in front of a convenience store a few blocks from Judd and Grace's house.

"I can go with you," T.K. offers, already turning the key and opening his door.

"Sure?" Carlos inquires softly, "I don't mind if you'd better just wait here."

T.K. shakes his head, shooting Carlos a confident smirk. "I'll just get some snacks while you check the fridge."

Nodding, Carlos gives T.K's hand a quick squeeze before following him out of the car. As much as Carlos always wants to protect T.K, he makes a point to remember that living normally while in proximity to alcohol is a natural part of his boyfriend's recovery.

Intertwining their fingers together, Carlos and T.K. then walk into the store, completely oblivious to the two men arguing next to their car, three spots away from theirs.

Parting in different directions, Carlos goes to pick some beer, while T.K. tries to decide which potato chips brand is better, then meeting back in the center aisle and walking together towards the front. "Wait, I forget Mateo wanted some Takis," T.K. says, cringing, then runs back to the snacks aisle.

As soon as he meets Carlos again in the center aisle, T.K. sees the six-packs discarded to the side, and turning to his boyfriend, he easily recognizes the no-nonsense posture and fiery eyes that Carlos keeps reserved for when he's on shift. But before he has a chance to ask what happened, Carlos moves his finger to his lips in the universal sign for please stay quiet and don't get us into any trouble, and grabs his hand, forcing them both to kneel, as he begins to take quiet steps back.

That's when the voices coming from the front start to filter into T.K's mind, eyes going wide as he realizes what's going on. "...quietly open the register and no one will get hurt. Speak or call for help and you won't live to say another word." A man is threatening in a hushed voice. Then there's silence, and Carlos and T.K. can only assume that whoever is tending the register is complying with the robber's demands.

When Carlos feels that they have backed away enough, he drops T.K's hand after giving it a final squeeze and reaches for the phone in his back pocket.

"We have to do something," T.K. whispers, a broom in one hand, and shovel in the other, his face scrunching as he silently tests which would make a better weapon. Because, of course, and much to Carlos' dismay, he had walked them to a mix aisle containing household, yard and other miscellaneous items.

"We're not doing anything," Carlos warns, "and drop those things!" He exhales long and slow, his hand clawing through his hair as he tries to take control of the situation. "I already messaged my boss, someone should be here any moment now."

"It will be too late, we can't let them get away," T.K. argues, "come on, you're a cop, you can't tell me you're okay with this."

Releasing a pained exhale, Carlos closes his eyes for a second. "Of course I'm not okay with this! But I'm a cop because I know what to do in these situations," he chides, "and I'm not okay with my hothead boyfriend getting hurt either. So, you're staying right where you are," he finished in a low, threatening tone.

T.K. nods and stays put, even if the fighter inside is shouting at him to do anything but that. But with Carlos here, he can't do something stupid and risk his boyfriend's life.

Those thoughts however come to mean nothing as soon as the bell above the door rattles loudly and a mother and her daughter come in, both stumbling and crying out loud as soon as a gun is pointed in their direction.

"Oh, crap," Carlos mutters, turning quickly to T.K. with a pleading look on his eyes. "Please," Carlos tries but T.K. is already crawling forward to get a better look. "T.K!" Carlos hisses but he's too late, and is forced to follow instead.

"You two, come here," the robber directs, grabbing the lady by the arm, pulling her along with the girl, who's holding on to her mother's skirt. "Just stay here, and don't try to interfere," he says, pushing them both down towards the floor, behind a hot bar full of hot dogs, taquitos and pizza slices.

With that done, the man moves back to the register and continues pulling out bills and dropping them onto a bag his partner is holding open. "Come on, man. That's more than enough. Let's go before someone else decides to crash this party." The second robber pleads, speaking for the first time. His eyes looking nervous as he moves them from the register to the front door and back again.

And as if summoned, the bell rings again, and a couple of teenagers step into the store. "Mierda!" One swears loudly as his eyes move between the two men, the cash register, and the terrified store clerk whose back is as far as it would go into the wall, his hands raised and slightly shaking.

"Marcos, vamonos," the older teenager says as he grabs his companion's hand and tries to walk back outside.

"You're not going anywhere," the first robber declares, his gun already being pointed towards the two boys, "we don't need no one calling the cops."

"We won't, we won't. Please, just let us go. My brother and I won't say anything. I promise," the teenager begs in a heavily accented voice. Then out of nowhere, he opens the door and pushes his younger brother out of the store. At the same time a shot rings out and the boy collapses in a pool of crimson.

Back in the rear of the store, the shot seems to set something loose in T.K's mind, because not two seconds later, he's turning to Carlos with an apology in his eyes. I'm sorry, T.K. mouths, then gives Carlos' hand a final squeeze, before he drops it and begins crawling towards the front of the store.

-x-x-x-

Getting to his feet, T.K. raises his hands just as the two robbers notice him for the first time. A lump making its way up his throat as he stares down the barrel of a gun. "I'm a paramedic, I can help. Let me..." he begins to say, but his words are cut short as the gun is pressed directly to his temple.

"And where did you come from," the man asks, "is there anyone else here?"

"No, I was alone, hiding in the back," T.K. explains, releasing a relieved breath as both he and the man with the gun scan the area where he came from but come out empty. "Please, let me help him. He's going to bleed out," T.K. tries again, pointing with his chin towards the teenager.

"Go! But I don't want any more surprises or I'll shoot you both," the man angrily concedes.

"I need a first aid kit," T.K. says. "Please," he adds as an afterthought, because he's open to being polite to the man threatening him with a gun, if it can potentially stop him from getting shot, again.

After getting a nod from the man, the store clerk lowers his hands for the first time, reaching down towards the counter and grabbing a small red bag that he throws to T.K, before raising his hands again just as quickly.

Catching the bag, T.K. wastes no time. Just barely acknowledging the robbers with a clipped thank you, before rushing to the boy and kneeling next to him. By now the boy is unconscious, his wound bleeding freely. Not ideal, but T.K. honestly thinks it's a small mercy as he roughly pushes gauze into the opening. After the wound is packed, T.K. curses to himself when he sees there's no chest seal or sterile medical plastic on the kit. Reaching for his wallet, he instead grabs his credit card, and carefully places it over the hole, then uses some medical tape to hold it in place, doing his best to form an airtight seal on the wound to keep air from being sucked into the wound and preventing the lung from collapsing, while also making sure to leave a small opening to let out air.

With that done, T.K. turns back to the robbers, wondering why the hell they're still here and where the damn cops are, when the boy starts to stir, mumbling in pain. Wishing he could switch places with Carlos, T.K. tries his best to keep him calm, whispering whatever comforting word he can think of in Spanish and promising that his brother is safe. Absentmindedly, T.K. also wonders where Carlos is cause he hasn't heard a single sound coming from the back.

Turning to the rear of the store, T.K. tries to find any sign of his boyfriend, but instead he notices the reflection of blue and red lights bouncing off a potato chips display. Keeping any expression from his eyes and his breathing even and calm, T.K. turns to the door, trying to understand what's happening outside.

Seeing cops beginning to get close, weapons and shields at the ready, T.K. carefully starts to pull the boy towards the first aisle and away from the front of the door so he doesn't get trampled down.

"What are you doing?" One of the men asks, as he and his partner begin to walk towards the door, eyes going wide as they see what T.K. just saw. "Did you call the cops? Or maybe it was that damn brother of yours," he all but shouts, gun going up as his finger tightens on the trigger.

Not knowing what else to do, T.K. raises to his feet and stands protectively in front of the boy, his lips parting as he tries to form words, but before he settles on anything in particular, a voice booms from outside, no doubt amplified by a megaphone.

As a man, who T.K. assumes is commander of S.W.A.T, or whoever came to negotiate their release, asks the men to turn themselves in before anyone gets hurt, the one who's clearly the leader swears loudly, as he begins to take steps back. Then when he feels far away enough from danger, he begins to pace, his gun moving widely along with his thoughts and words.

A telephone ringing is the only thing that stops the pacing, as the man angrily grabs it and starts shouting demands. Not smart, T.K. knows but what can he expect from two guys that took like 20 minutes to rob a convenience store. Not able to hear the other end of the call, T.K. just sighs as the robber asks for a car with a full tank, and for the cops to leave so they can drive away, threatening to shoot everyone if his demands are not met, before he throws the phone into a wall, the device breaking on impact.

Knowing there's no way out now, the firefighter turned paramedic tries to add his two cents in an attempt to get everyone safely out of this situation. "Come on, man. Think this through. The cops are already here, they won't just let you go. Turn yourselves in and I can say this was just a big misunderstanding." T.K. has no idea how he would do that, but he can only hope the men are dumb enough to believe his empty promise.

"But we shot someone," the second man whispers, voice shaking. "There's nothing you can say that would justify that."

What a surprise, the one not in charge is actually the smart one, T.K. thinks and chuckles inwardly. "That's okay. He just came in too quickly and scared you guys. We can explain that to the cops," T.K. tries his best to sound convincing.

Seeing the leader drop the gun to his side, T.K. has a second to think that his words must be sinking in and they will turn themselves in. But there's a reason why he's a firefighter and paramedic, and not a cop. Because next he knows he hears someone shout his name, just as the gun is lifted again and a single shot resonates all around him. Everything happening before he even saw it coming.

T.K. waits for the remembered pain, but it never comes. Instead his mind barely recognizes the voice of his boyfriend as the one who screamed his name, just as the man in question lands on the floor in front of him. Blood already beginning to pool under him.

As soon as T.K's mind comprehends that Carlos just jumped in front of a bullet for him, he tries to run to his side, but the robber is now standing in front of him and as soon as T.K. moves he swings the gun hard against his temple. Stunned, T.K. stumbles backward as tears cloud his vision, and he can only wonder if they're because of the hit or due to the fact his boyfriend just got shot.

Feeling like he has nothing left to lose now, and throwing what's left of his self-preservation out the window, T.K. launches himself forward, tackling the man. Both paramedic and bad guy land hard on the floor and instantly begin to struggle against each other as they fight for control of the one weapon. The robber manages to land the first hit, punching T.K. on the face, but he just shakes his head and swings, connecting with the man's nose and feeling it break on impact. Taking advantage of his bit of good fortune stunning his assailant, T.K. takes hold of the gun and raises to hit feet, backing away from the offender on the ground.

Trying to remember everything Carlos taught him earlier today, T.K. sets his feet down and squares his shoulders as he points the gun at the man who just shot his boyfriend. But before he can cock the gun or even really think about pressing the trigger, T.K. instead disassembles the weapon and throws it to the ground. Not only because his oath says that he's supposed to save people, not be judge and executioner, but because T.K. knows Carlos would never want him to hurt someone on his behalf.

Fight over with and save for the time being, T.K. stands paralyzed as he stares down at Carlos, bleeding out on a dirty store floor in front of him, after being shot with a bullet meant for him.

-x-x-x-

As T.K. took care of the injured teenager, Carlos had stayed hidden in the back. Grateful that his boyfriend was just working quietly and not doing anything special to put himself in even greater danger.

Keeping an eye out on T.K. and the robbers, Carlos had text his boss as the men continued to wipe the cash register clean, moving then to the mother's purse. He had done his best to keep calm as he shared with his boss the internal layout of the store, and information on the number of people inside and where everyone was located. But when the commander of S.W.A.T had started making demands, which were only followed by the leader of the pair making even more demands over the phone, Carlos realized he had seen many stories like this before. And rarely, did any of them end peacefully.

Knowing the men wouldn't voluntarily give themselves up, and not wanting his worst fears to come true, Carlos had begun to crawl forward. Luckily T.K. had been focused on the man with the gun and the injured boy, and the man with the gun on T.K. and the cops, so no one had noticed Carlos getting closer.

When T.K. had started trying to plead with the men to turn themselves in, Carlos had the sudden urge to kill his boyfriend himself. But then T.K. seemed to be gaining ground so he allowed himself a brief smile. Before his cop training kicked in and Carlos recognized the man was not accepting defeat, but preparing to go out in a blaze of glory.

And suddenly Carlos knows what is about to happen. And what he has to do.

"T.K!" Carlos shouts, at the same time as he closes his eyes and leaps.

The pain is instantaneous as Carlos collapses to the floor. Darkness already nudging at the edges of his vision.

With all his energy being used on just being able to take one breath after the other, Carlos barely notices the robber walking towards T.K. before the man is raising his gun and Carlos stops breathing altogether when he thinks he's about to shoot at T.K. again and this time he can't do anything to protect him. But the man just pistol whips T.K, forcing Carlos to release a nervous exhale. Because another hit to the head is not ideal, but definitely better than the alternative.

But then Carlos gets another urge to shoot T.K. himself, because his boyfriend launches himself against the robber and they begin to struggle on the ground. And before Carlos can even try to get up and help, T.K. is standing and pointing the gun at the man, making Carlos curse silently because why did he teach him how to shoot. But T.K. being T.K. never disappoints him, and does what Carlos himself would have done, then seems to lose the remaining of his energy and just stumbles and stares at Carlos with teary, guilt-ridden eyes.

Just then the doors to the store burst open and the scene around them turns to full-blown chaos as cops and paramedics rush inside. Doing his best to ignore everything going around him, Carlos focuses solely on T.K, because he can feel a lot of blood pooling below him and if he's about to die he wants his boyfriend to be the last sight he sees. So, doing his best to clear his eyes, Carlos shakes his head and looks up, smiling at T.K. who just dropped to his knees beside him.

Carlos parts his lips to try to say something to his boyfriend, but he's not listening. "No, no, no," T.K is saying over and over again, his already blood stained hands going to Carlos' chest as he tries to stop the flow of the blood which has already soaked his shirt.

Talking off his flannel, T.K. pushes it into the wound on Carlo's chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but I need to stop the bleeding," T.K. soothes when Carlos grunts and tries to move away. "Damn it! Why is this blood not stopping?" Discarding the saturated shirt to the side, T.K. uses his own hands again, blood seeping through his fingers.

"T.K, it's okay," Carlos tries to say, but stops as he coughs and chokes on a mouthful of blood. "Please stop and look at me," Carlos whispers as T.K. continues trying to stop the bleeding, so he weakly raises a hand and catches T.K's, intertwining their fingers together. "Whatever happens, everything... everything will be okay," Carlos promises, even as more blood trickles down his mouth, "you'll be okay. I love you, T.K."

"No, no, no!" T.K. continues his chant, tears sliding down his face as he desperately shakes his head. "Please, Carlos…"

"I'm sorry," Carlos says with a pained gasp, weakly reaching out with one hand and running it through T.K's hair, stopping on the bruise already beginning on his temple and stroking softly. By now he can hear muffled voices around him but can't make out any words and he knows that he's fading. Then he sees T.K's lips moving and desperately tries to read the meaning behind his words, but his eyes are closing and he's just so tired. When his lids finally close, Carlos can see unshed tears pressing against them, but instead he chooses to focus on the last image he saw. That of two cops grabbing T.K. by the arms and pulling him from Carlos, his boyfriend's teary eyes pleading, as T.K. begged him to hang on and open his eyes.

-x-x-x-

The door opening behind him and a multitude of emergency personnel rushing inside, springs T.K. back into action.

Forgetting all about the boy whose life he just saved, and ignoring the cops and paramedics around him, T.K's only focus is the man bleeding in front of him. He drops to his knees, doing his best to ignore Carlos' attempts to talk, because it sounds suspiciously like his boyfriend wants to say goodbye and he's not ready for that, instead he concentrates on using his shirt, then his hands, as he tries to stop the bleeding. As Carlos grunts, T.K. does his best to push his guilt down, hating that he's hurting him but willing to do whatever is necessary to save his life.

As Carlos continues trying to call his attention, T.K. can only continue his chant and work because if he stops to listen he knows he will break down, and that is not going to help Carlos. But then his boyfriend grabs his hand and squeezes weakly, and T.K. crumbles. Because Carlos' tear-streaked face is looking directly at him, and there's blood on his lips, and he is obviously dying.

But Carlos can't die so T.K. shakes his head and continues to chant, "no, no, no!" His words, a plea for anyone willing to listen. Then he pleads to the man himself but T.K. can see Carlos' eyes are beginning to close and then he's apologizing. Carlos' hand softly caressing his boyfriend's hair, because even when he is bleeding out, Carlos is still more worried about T.K.

As Carlos goes silent, T.K realizes someone else is talking to him, and there are also people kneeling to his side, and someone is grabbing his arm from behind, but he does his best to ignore it all. "I love you, too," he whispers instead, because he didn't say it back and if this is Carlos' last moment, then T.K. needs to make sure he knows. But he doesn't think Carlos understands because he scrunches his face in confusion before his eyes finally slip shut. "Carlos, please, you can't do this to me, to us… please fight… Please, open your eyes." T.K chokes on his own sobs, and then he's being pulled away from Carlos, two sets of hands grabbing him from behind.

"Son, please. Let the paramedics work. And they need to check you out too," a cop, who is not Carlos, but might be his boss, T.K. can't really remember, is saying to him. "That's a lot of blood."

With that comment, T.K. looks down at himself, his stomach threatening to revolt at the sight, but he pushes it down and shakes his head. "It's not mine," he mumbles, pushing away from everyone. He stumbles backwards, almost collapsing, but steadies himself on the same potato chips' display that first alerted him to the cops' presence. If only he hadn't seen them and tried to play hero.

Feeling his anger and guilt begin to overpower him, T.K. uses the last of his strength and swings his arm hard against the display. The sudden movement makes him feel lightheaded, and for the first time, T.K. notices the nausea and headache. Blinking his eyes a few times, he lifts his hand and touches his temple and winces, then frowns when he sees his fingers covered in wet blood. But he focuses on the dried crimson staining his fingers, and suddenly T.K. is stumbling to the back of the store where he remembers seeing a bathroom and standing in front of a run-down sink as he roughly rubs his hands, trying to get the blood, Carlos' blood, out of his skin.

After his hands are as clean as they will be with just water, T.K. stares at himself in the mirror, absentmindedly wondering if the cop had been talking about the blood on his clothes, which is undoubtedly the boy's and Carlos', or about the one that he now sees flowing down the side of his face. Not particularly caring about the answer, T.K. feels the need to strip off his clothes because he just can't keep seeing all this blood that should be inside Carlos' body. But shaking his head, he just sighs and exits the bathroom instead.

As soon as he's back in the front of the store, T.K's stomach drops as he notices the amount of blood on the ground, then the absence of one of the men whose it belonged to, but before he can ask, he sees the stretcher being pushed into a waiting ambulance. T.K. tries to run outside to follow, but with his adrenaline fading, and all his discomforts finally making themselves known, he just swings wildly as his vision dims and he feels arms pulling him down into a stretcher.

"No," T.K whispers, struggling to get up. "I'm going with him. You can treat me in the ambulance... or I can wait until we get to the hospital. Just save Carlos, please," he begs, voice breaking at the end.

The paramedics prepare to argue, but a voice T.K. only heard once but still would recognize anywhere, speaks next to them. "Let him go." Steadying himself on the stretcher, T.K. turns to find Gabriel Reyes staring back at him. "Let him ride with his boyfriend."

"Thank you, sir," T.K. says, then wastes no time and climbs into the ambulance, sitting on a bench next to the stretcher and instantly taking one of Carlos' hands in his.

"Just take good care of my son. I will be by the hospital as soon as we're done here." And by done here, T.K. knows Mr. Reyes means making sure everyone remotely at fault for what happened to his son is sitting in a cell, without any possibility of parole. So he just nods, before the double doors of the ambulance are closed, cutting any further conversation short.

And whatever happens next at the convenience store is lost to both T.K. and Carlos as their magical day ends with another trip to Dell Seton Medical Center.

-x-x-x-

Opening his eyes, Carlos' first conscious thought is asking himself why everything hurts. He then tries to move his hand to rub his tired eyes, but finds an IV there and decides to leave it alone. Trying to move his other hand, Carlos sees no IV or tubing, but his hand still feels glued to the bed, so he turns his eyes downward and sees another hand attached to his, their fingers intertwined together. Following it to its owner, Carlos sees T.K. slumped on a very uncomfortable-looking chair next to him. The sight steals his breath away for a moment, as all the memories of the last day come crashing down on him.

So, Carlos' second conscious thought is wondering how he can still be alive when there was so much blood. Maybe this is all a cruel dream and I'm still in surgery, Carlos thinks, but as soon as his eyes land on his boyfriend again, seeing him unharmed except for a white bandage on his head and brace on his other hand, Carlos pleads with whoever is listening for this to be real. Because if T.K. is okay, nothing else matters.

There's no third conscious thought, as the pull of whatever drugs they're giving him is too strong and Carlos drifts back to sleep. But not before he squeezes T.K's hand, and softly promises that he will see him soon.

-x-x-x-

One of the next times Carlos wakes up, he quickly notices there's no hand in his, instead T.K. is lying on the bed next to him, one of his hands under his head holding it up, the other one carefully set on top of Carlos' chest, as his eyes focus on the rise and fall that tells him Carlos is still alive.

Wanting a moment to take it all in, Carlos says nothing and just stares at his boyfriend, thanking their lucky stars because they're both okay. A few seconds later, still saying nothing, Carlos just moves his free hand and sets it over T.K's, intertwining their fingers from above.

Turning away from their joined hands, T.K lets out a small squeak, tho later he would argue it was only a gasp, then looks up and smiles at Carlos. "Hey babe, glad to see you awake," he says softly, "you really scared me today."

Carlos begins to say something, but his dry throat makes it hard to talk and he ends up coughing instead.

"Here, don't talk yet." T.K. quickly turns to a table next to the bed and grabs a cup of water, setting the straw in front of Carlos so he can drink easily. "Go slow."

Carlos drinks a few, tiny sips, letting the cold water soothe his throat and waits a moment before he tries to speak again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," T.K. whispers, then turns back to the bed and gets closer so he can kiss Carlos' forehead. His lips lingering above as his eyes look down on him with as much guilt and pain as Carlos as ever seen there.

"I'm sorry I scared you, but you also scared me a lot," Carlos admits, barely stifling a grunt as he slowly lifts his head to press a kiss to T.K's lips. "And I'm also glad you're okay."

"You shouldn't have done that," T.K. mumbles, lowering himself back onto the bed as he continues to stare at his boyfriend, as if trying to convince himself that he really is okay. "When you said I wasn't allowed to get shot again, that didn't mean you could just jump in front of a bullet meant for me." With that admission, his eyes glaze over and he squeezes them shut to stop any tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, T.K, but I couldn't just do nothing and see you get shot right in front of me," Carlos says honestly, even when he knows his action forced T.K. to do just that but still not regretting his decision. "Besides, at the moment, I didn't think, I just did."

"That's not how this works..." T.K. begins, but Carlos cuts him short.

"This works however way it ends with both of us alive at the end of the day," Carlos finishes for him.

T.K. opens his mouth to say Carlos didn't know that would happen when he took that bullet for him, that he could have died, but honestly, he doesn't think it matters. Because T.K. would have done the same thing for Carlos, and they both know it. So why delve on it now.

"Thank you," T.K. says instead, "and sorry for also worrying you. I just couldn't let the boy die."

"You saved his life… both our lives," Carlos says proudly, "a doctor came before, the boy is okay. His brother also. He stayed outside and helped explain things to the cops when they got there," he answers the unspoken question on T.K's eyes.

T.K just nods, the events of the day still too fresh for him to say much. So Carlos and T.K. just fall into silence for the next few minutes, eyes locked on each other but no words being exchanged.

Raising his hand, Carlos runs it through T.K's hair, stopping when he reaches the white bandage. "You okay?" He asks softly, breaking the silence in the room.

"You just spent four hours in surgery to fix a hole in your chest and you're asking if I'm okay?" T.K. wonders incredulously.

"I will always worry about you," Carlos says sincerely, "and… I'm very high on painkillers, I can see you're not."

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, T.K's sighs, for once wishing Carlos didn't know him so well. "I'm okay, or I will be. They offered some OTC painkillers but you know I'd rather not."

"Okay," Carlos says simply. He wishes he could do something to alleviate T.K's pain but he knows he can't. This battle is something T.K. always undertakes alone, but as every other time, he will just be here to hold his hand while he toughs it out. "Come here," he says, pulling T.K to him and running his fingers soothingly over his scalp.

Sighing, T.K carefully rests his head over Carlos' shoulder, mindful of all the wires and tubes around him. "Next time we're not going out, and just staying in bed all day, just like this," he says with a breathy laugh, his eyes beginning to slide shut as feelings of content and relief overtake him.

"And next time you guys don't want to hang out with the team you can just say so, no need to be all dramatic and get yourselves shot and concussed again," a voice says from the door and both Carlos and T.K. groan when they see Marjan, Paul, Mateo and Judd standing by the door, no doubt with Owen and Gabriel closed behind… Both cop and paramedic wondering if it's too late to close their eyes and just fake sleep.

[cabinofimagines]

Candy for Dinner (Leo Valdez xReader)

A/N: I really projected myself into Leo and I’m not sorry -Danny

Words: 634

Request: Eh u want spooky request I see well I (an anon) thought of taking Harley trick n treating w idk ur fave uuuuuuuhhhhh leo

“I’m going to eat all the candy in one sitting!” Harley exclaimed.

“I don’t think that’s good for the belly, little buddy,” Y/N chuckled.

“Why wait till you’re sitting down? You should eat it as soon as they give it to you,” Leo replied.

“Don’t do that!” Y/N said in horror. “Don’t listen to your brother, Harley, he’s unhinged!”

“Don’t be a killjoy!” Leo nudged Y/N’s side. “You should try it.”

“I’m not six years old, I won’t eat candy until my teeth fall out of my mouth!”

“Your teeth won’t fall c’mon, live a little!”

“Stop arguing!” Harley groaned. “You sound like a couple.”

“Well, Harley dear, we are a couple,” Leo raised a brow.

Something warm and pleasing spread across Y/N’s chest. The relationship with Leo was relatively new, which meant that both of them would still get all giddy and loving at the thought– What had Hazel called it? Their honeymoon phase.

“Not all couples argue though,” Leo continued. “Y/N just loves to see me all worked up, thinks it’s attractive.”

“Valdez!” Y/N warned him, blushing all the way down to the neck. “Harley doesn’t need to hear this. Let’s just go to the next house, okay?”

“Hmm,” Harley nodded, absently rummaging through his bag of candy.

“Thank you for helping me with the little man,” Leo said, inching closer to Y/N. “He insisted on doing this for days, I was worried about his safety in the mortal world, but I think that monsters get a little confused when they see so many weird things out in the night…”

“It’s not a problem, I love Halloween,” Y/N smiled. “Been a while since I last went out to ask for candy… besides, I’ll always take any opportunity I can get to spend some alone time with you.”

Leo laughed quietly, raising a brow and adopting his teasing smirk.

“Are you saying you actually enjoy my company?”

“You’re my boyfriend, Leo.”

“I know but I’m not tired to hear you say nice things to me yet,” He said, pulling Y/N closer.

“I’m not tired of saying them either…”

They were about to kiss when Harley gawked in front of them, throwing empty wrappers at their faces.

“Stop!”

“Hey, don’t throw garbage on the street, you little runt!” Leo picked up the wrappers and put them away in his pocket. “Keep walking, we still have ten houses to visit on this street.”

“Can we buy dinner afterwards?”

“Dinner?” Y/N snorted. “You’re eating candies since five in the afternoon, how are you hungry?”

“I’ll buy you tacos,” Leo shrugged. “I’m in the mood for them too.”

“What?” Y/N looked at the boy in surprise. “Harley’s going to throw up on Festus if you feed him more than necessary.”

“Hey, you never turn your back on taquitos!” Leo pointed an accusing finger to Y/N. “They’re the best dinner you could get.”

“If you say so,” Y/N teased. “I’m more of a coffee and cereal for dinner kind of person.”

“That’s it. I’m breaking up with you,” Leo made a pained expression. “I can’t believe you’d rather eat cereal than tacos. Who hurt you?”

“The ones I ate that time we went to Mexico and I ended up spending the rest of the weekend in the bathroom.”

“You guys are so weak, honestly,” Leo rolled his eyes. “You eat one sus taco and suddenly you’re dying. You need to get a better immune system. You know how you get that? By eating more sus tacos.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Well if you die I’ll tell everyone you died an honourable death,” He replied with an easy-going smile. “Now let’s go, I want to steal some reese’s out of Harley’s bag…”

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 1

I'm trying out this fanfic/imagine thing so here goes:

Douxie x fem reader

You are Jim's older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures. 

Masterlist in bio!

"Here, Jim, let me do that. I don't want you to be late," you said picking up some trash and putting it into the bin.

"Thanks, Y/n. You're the best." Your little brother grabbed his bike and got on as Toby rode over.

“Hey Y/n,” Toby said then turned to Jim, “We’re late for school, Jimbo.”

They went on to talk about their lunches and whatnot. You smiled at them and checked your watch. “Hey guys, doesn’t your school start at eight?”

“Oh were going to be so late!” Jim groaned, he hopped on his bike and rode off. “Bye Y/n!” "See you later, Y/n!" Toby called out as he took off after Jim. You smiled at them as they rode away, you were very glad to be home. You turned your attention back to the trash that was scattered across your driveway and sighed. Raccoons were so annoying. It didn't take too long though and you quickly checked on your mom, grabbed the lunch Jim had made for you and locked up the house. It was a short drive to Mr. Benoit's and you arrived just as the lunch rush was about to begin. You quickly got to work and soon enough it was over. As you made your way out of the bistro you were sidetracked by an odd shadow in a nearby alley. Just as quickly as it appeared, the shadow disappeared from your sight. Normally an odd shadow wouldn't concern you, but there was something about that one. You kept your eyes glued to the alley and burst out the bistro doors. With your attention elsewhere, you hadn't bothered to check if anyone was coming inside. You collided with someone and you fell to the ground, landing hard. It would definitely leave a bruise. You looked up to see one of your coworkers, you believed his name was Douxie or something like that. You knew it was something old and English, but the two of you had rarely ever talked. "Sorry," he said in his charming accent. He offered his hand and you took it. "No, I'm sorry. I was... distracted." You turned your attention back to the alley and realized that what ever had been there was long gone by now. "Y/n, right?" He asked drawing your attention back to him. He had a lazy smirk on his face and you gave a small smile in return. "Yes, and you're Douxie?" "Yeah," he said. His lazy smirk had turned into a confused frown and you quickly realized the two of you were still holding hands. You took yours away quickly and looked at your watch. Jim was probably home already and maybe even working on dinner. You had to get going. "Well, it was nice running into you," you called to him as you left the bistro. You glanced towards the empty alley and then back at Douxie. His smirk had returned and you waved at him before getting into your car and driving away. There were no lights on in your house when you pulled into the driveway. It wasn't dark out yet, but your house didn't let in much natural light. You looked at the side of the house and saw Jim's bike in it's spot. You were still a little cautious as you walked through the unlocked door. Jim was sitting on the couch staring at his phone. There were no lights on in the living room except that from the tv. You rolled your eyes at your little brother, it wasn't like him to completely ignore life and stare at his phone like that. "Hey Jim, I'm hoooommme!" You called in a sing-song voice as you hung up your purse. He jolted and almost falling off the couch in an attempt to put his phone away. "Hey, Y/n/n, I 'll, um, get started on dinner now." You gave him a quick hug as he made his way to the kitchen. "Ugh! Raccoons!" Jim sighed. "I'll handle it." "Okay, be safe, those things are nasty. I'll heat up something quick in the microwave." He nodded and made his way towards the basement as you walked into the kitchen. You rummaged through the freezer and found frozen chicken taquitos which you popped into the oven. You set a timer on your phone and plopped down on the couch.

It felt nice to sit down after being on your feet all day. You weren't able to rest long though. A scream came from the basement and you leaped off the couch, startled. You grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the front door and held it in front of you like a weapon.

You quickly made your way down the stairs only slowing when you heard voices. You held in a scream when you saw two large beasts in your basement. One was blue and facing away from you, but it appeared to have four arms. The other was facing you and was much larger. It was gray and had green fur with sharp teeth. It looked like it could kill you with no effort.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to attack and at least attempt to save your little brother. You would have the element of surprise on your side.

You stopped yourself though when the blue one began speaking in a refined and dignified voice. “Master Jim you have been chosen. The Amulet of Daylight challenges you to the most sacred of offices.”

“Orifices? What Orifices?” The big one asked and you got the impression that although he talked slower, he was still very smart.

“Offices. It means responsibility,” the blue one explained, then turned back to Jim. “Unbeknownst to your kind, there is a secret world, a vast civilaization of trolls lurking beneath your very feet, hidden from view. ”

“Tro… Tr-trolls?” Jim stuttered and it took all of your strength not to go save Jim that moment. But you were curious, so you stayed hidden, ready to leap out and help him if the brutes tried anything.

“Trolls. Yes, trolls! And it is now your charge to protect them. For you, Master Jim, are the Trollhunter.”

“Trollhunter,” the big one said, which didn’t do much to explain.

“This honor is yours to accept. So, what say you?” The blue one asked. Jim’s eyes widened and he fainted.

“Is that a yes?” The big one asked and even though the two beasts, or trolls, hadn’t done anything to Jim you decided to attack.

You let out a battle cry and charged at the strange creatures, umbrella raised. The two turned to face you, looks of shock and surprise on their faces. The blue one—whom you could see had six eyes, a large orange nose, and fangs of his own—moved to stand in front of Jim.

“Get. Away. From. My. Brother!” You yelled, swinging your umbrella like a sword.

“‘Brother?’ Oh dear, you are the Trollhunter’s older sister, yes?”

“Yes,” you growled breathing heavily. “And I said get away from him!”

With those words, your hand glowed an orange color and the glow traveled along the umbrella like a fire rushing to burn. The glow left the umbrella and flew at the big troll as if you had managed to throw a fireball at him.

The two of you flew back and he hit the opposite wall, making cracks appear in the cement. You hit the staircase and fell hard to the floor, if you hadn’t earned yourself bruises earlier, you had now.

You watched stunned and unable to move as the blue one got closer to you. “I am known as Blinky and this is Aaarrrgghh and I suppose now is not the best time to talk. We will speak later. Goodbye sister of Master Jim.”

The two trolls left and you sat in the nearly pitch black basement for a while, trying to process what had happened. You heard the timer on your phone go off in the distance and pulled yourself from your thoughts.

You looked over at Jim and found him to be out cold. You quickly took care of the food and somehow managed to drag Jim to the couch.

You took a seat next to him and sighed. Whatever had just happened was momentous and would definitely impact your lives in many ways. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you had let out that orange blast of what could only be described as magic. Your thoughts also were buzzing with worry for your little brother. Destiny had chosen the both of you for something and whatever it was, it was important.

****

I hope I did a good job and this is only part one of hopefully many. I hope y'all like it. :)

P.S. The title will make sense eventually

Chapter 2: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/626946338019590144/fire-keeper-chapter-2

[themilky-way]

the help

gif credit: starkissedtom

pairing: peter parker x gn! reader

summary: when peter comes back home from being spider-man, he finds that someone is already there to welcome him. 

warnings: mentions of cuts and bruises, a very hilarious, mistaken taquito robbery (in my opinion, if i’m to be quite honest lmao)

author’s note: back on my peter parker bandwagon bc i miss that mf

----------

as soon as it had come, summer left without notice. the sun rays that continued till the evening were now replaced by the moon’s melancholic ones, and it appeared that this year they were brighter than they’d ever been. tricolored leaves-dry and shriveled from its ending cycle-peppered the crosswalks, streets, and roofs of new york without leaving a junction of space. drafts of sudden wind caused random civilians to pull their jackets closer and walk into the closest coffee shop for warmth. night came sooner now, with the time change and all, so the majority of the city’s lights whirred to life beginning at five in the afternoon. no one ever complained because they’d been looking forward to these aspects of autumn ever since it’d left the year prior, and everyone made sure to express their excitement as vividly as possible. 

the one person who didn’t fit into this group was new york’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, and who could blame him? stacks of messy and scribbled papers lined the desk he should’ve been at, with his backpack unopened from every zipper and pencils and pens of all hues poking out from them. the wall in front of his workspace was decorated with tiny sticky notes that had reminders on them, almost as if they’d encourage peter to finish his tasks. they served a purpose, perhaps not its intended purpose, but more of an excuse in case aunt may asked him. essentially, his plan went like this: cross out random assignments, maybe add a few question marks for emphasis, and hope for the absolute best. so far, it’d worked.

tonight, peter’s plan was still in effect. towers of packets and due dates were now progressively worse than they’d been last week, but his mind was somewhere more important than his college entrance exams. as of now, he was kneeling on the edge of an old building that provided a clear view of downtown queens, internally debating whether a suspicious-looking man exiting a 7-eleven had stolen a box of taquitos or a whole wad of cash. “friday, what’re we thinking?” 

“peter, it may be that he just has these things at random.” 

he furrowed his brow. “no one has stacks of cash unless you’re dwayne johnson,” he paused for a second, and a cricket chirped as if on cue, “that guy’s not dwayne johnson.” he swung away before he could register another thought, changing the direction of his webs to ultimately land at the small shop, and he did what he needed to do. the mask allowed him to voice his witty commentary amidst a series of hard blows, which did not earn any laughs from the opposing side. his vision was pure technology and estimated diagrams-courtesy of friday, thank heavens for her-that enabled the web-slinger to trap the robber against the counter. the man yelled something, but it was too vague for anyone at the scene to fully comprehend. peter snatched the money back and handed it to the owner and then stood back, waiting until the sirens of police cars became more audible to swing away. when he did, he wished his fellow observers a good and safe night, placing a web ball shaped like a spider to a little boy gazing up at him. truthfully, he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t his favorite part of his (unofficial) job because it most certainly was. 

on the way back to somewhere, he asked his computer buddy for the hour, and he realized the somewhere was going to have to be home. so, he swung and he leaped and he ran for a short while to get to the window of his bedroom, except he found the light on instead of how he left it: off. 

his mind first told him it was may who had discovered his absence and was about to give him a whole lot of hell for leaving without notice. yet, as his eyes scanned the window for clues of a foreign presence, the panic in him settled and was replaced with confusion and then with relief. 

“hey-oh, crap-hey, watcha doing here?” peter asked as he entered through the narrow vicinity of his window, bumping the top of his head along the way. it was you he was referring to since you were seated rather comfortably in the chair of his desk, writing what looked to be like his homework?

“may let me in. i just told her you needed help with physics and that we’d be studying,” you spun the seat to answer. you weren’t totally lying per se; you had been filling out his study guide and reading his physics textbook-minus peter. “i hope you don’t mind me showing up like this, and doing your packets. i know you’ve been struggling and i wanted to help.”

the boy standing in front of you still had his mask on, but the moment he dragged it down his tired face, you abandoned everything near you to rush up to him. new but trivial scratches caressed his chin and nose, while a bruise or two accentuated the highlight of his cheekbones. he hadn’t noticed them at all. hell, he hadn’t even felt them for a split second until the pads of your thumbs had touched them. “can you-wait, just hold on for a little, let me go grab the kit,” you stammered. peter’s hand grabbed your own in an attempt to keep you there instead, assuring you they didn’t hurt as bad as they seemed. his eyes were honest, and maybe it was the pent-up fatigue washing over him or the stress of needing to be everywhere at once, but he was genuine about his pain for once.

“you’re tired, too. get some rest, yeah?” his grip tightened on your hand to hearten his request before leaning in steadily to kiss the skin of your forehead. “you’re warm? do you have a fever?” he questioned, “i’ll go run-well, swing actually-and i-i’ll buy you some medi-”

you placed the gentlest touch to his cheek and kept it there so he’d take a breath and calm his nerves, surprising you a bit when it looked like it worked. “i’m perfectly fine, i promise. you need to sleep, too,” you repeated, adding a tiny smile.  

somewhere in the joy of the moment you entangled into an embrace. peter’s suit smelled of smoke and barbecue sauce when your nose pushed against his chest, and he laughed at how detailed you expressed your opinion on the matter. he, on the other hand, was more curious about whether you solved problem three on-what was it? page 5? no, definitely page 6.

in the middle of bickering, you’d cleaned up and peter had changed to regular sleeping attire, to which you’d been offered a matching set as an insinuation for you to stay. “i, personally, would like to rejoice in the act of sleeping in the top bunk,” you proudly claimed.

he turned off the light when he ensured you were under the blanket. before settling down below, he reached up to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“yeah, yeah. it’s full of baby spiders anyway.”