#these are stitches if that wasn't obvious

[clowniconography]

I freaking....cleant him!!

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[sunni-stuff]

HEYY so I was wondering if you could make a small story about Simon x New!Medic!Reader and getting interested by her because she managed to punch the daylights out of a soldier that was bothering her. And maybe out of interest getting to know each other better *wink* *wink* 😏😏

Eye-catching

Of course, he noticed you. Ghost noticed everything.

You, the shiny new recruit, brought a buzz to the force that was hard to ignore.

When Price first mentioned you, Ghost had snorted dismissively at your file. Price was adamant about your potential, swearing by the renowned doctor who had trained you and recounting your impressive handiwork he'd witnessed firsthand. Price only picked the best.

But Ghost had his reservations. In his eyes, your lack of field experience was a glaring flaw. Still, it wasn't his call to make. If Price vouched for you, Ghost would reserve judgment.

Your arrival on the base was met with indifference from Ghost. He barely acknowledged your polite "hello's" and attempts to connect. You weren't the Cap'n, and you certainly weren't Soap, who, for some unfathomable reason, couldn't stop singing your praises.

Since day one, Soap had been relentless. In the mess hall, he went on about how sweet you were and how Ghost should at least introduce himself properly—after all, you were teammates. If that wasn't enough, when Gaz got injured on a mission, you stitched him up with such skill that he barely felt any pain. Gaz, too, joined the chorus of your admirers, extolling your expert skills as a medic.

It seemed everyone on the team adored you, speaking of you as if you were a miracle worker. To Ghost, you were just a decent medic at best; he saw nothing worth bragging about.

How wrong he was.

About a month after your arrival, Ghost injured his shoulder sparring with Soap. He'd really messed it up, the strain and tension becoming a constant burden. He tried to push through it, gritting his teeth and refusing to let a mere shoulder injury slow him down. For a week, he endured, hissing in pain as he lifted weights, struggling with loads he would usually handle effortlessly. Stubborn as ever, he refused to visit the med bay.

This went on until the following week when Soap, unable to take it any longer, practically scolded the lieutenant for his hard-headedness and dragged him to the medic bay himself.

You were already in the middle of organizing supplies when Soap and Ghost walked in. Ghost, begrudgingly being led, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Soap's face lit up when he saw you, and he immediately started talking about Ghost's shoulder, explaining the situation while Ghost stood there, a grimace on his masked face.

You turned around, offering a warm smile despite Ghost's obvious displeasure. "Lieutenant," you greeted him politely, "why don't you have a seat, and I'll take a look at that shoulder."

Ghost hesitated but finally gave in, taking a seat on the examination table. Soap, satisfied with his handiwork, gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving you to your work.

The room was quiet as you began your examination, your hands gentle but firm as you checked for any signs of injury. Ghost watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, trying to gauge whether you were as good as everyone said.

"Looks like you pulled a muscle pretty badly," you said after a few minutes, "but it's nothing I can't fix." You were about to approach and help fix up the lieutenant's troublesome arm when a loud commotion erupted outside. "Excuse me, I'll be right back," you said, stepping out of your office.

An argument was unfolding between a medic-in-training you recognized as Sherry and a soldier you've heard unsavory things about named Allen. Sherry looked nervous, staring at her boots while Allen yelled at her. "I don't want some fresh-blood working on me. Where's Dr. Whitfield?"

Stepping between them, you patted Sherry on the shoulder, positioning yourself protectively in front of her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Whitfield is on family leave right now, but both Sherry and I are qualified to help."

Allen glared down at you, attempting to use his height to intimidate. "I'd rather have someone reliable to help me, not some trainee or a medic with a shiny new coat."

You smiled, recognizing his type immediately. Gently pressing a hand to his shoulder, you said, "While I understand your concern, there is no one more reliable than us, as we are directly trained under Dr. Whitfield. So please, follow me." You attempted to guide him to an empty room, but he jerked his arm away and flicked your forehead while you were stunned. "Are you hard of hearing? I just said—"

Standing your ground, you brushed off his flick and cut him off. "I heard what you said, but if you're going to be an asshole, you should go. Sherry, there's another patient down the hall."

Turning to let Sherry be on her way, you were about to head back to Ghost when Allen suddenly grabbed your wrist, forcing you to face him. "So that's it? Is no one going to tend to me?"

"I've already told you your options. You insist on rejecting what I'm offering. Now let me go." You tried to pull your arm back, but Allen's grip was relentless. His insistence on disregarding your expertise and blatant disrespect tested your patience. "Let me go."

Allen didn't take you seriously, clearly thinking he could talk to the "new kid" however he wanted. Before he could react, your fist shot out, connecting solidly with his jaw.

The impact echoed through the hall as Allen stumbled back, clutching his face in shock. The surrounding soldiers and medics turned to watch, their expressions a mix of surprise and approval.

You stepped back, maintaining your stance. "Anyone else have a problem with the medical staff?" you asked, your voice steady and commanding.

There was a brief silence before Allen, still holding his jaw, muttered something under his breath and stormed off. You returned to Ghost, an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry for that. Give me one minute to wash my hands."

Ghost watched as you disappeared into the bathroom within your office, absolutely stunned by what he had just witnessed. He had observed the entire ordeal, ready to intervene if necessary, but he found himself taken aback by how well you had handled the situation—better than he had expected.

The image of you standing your ground and delivering that sharp, decisive punch replayed in his mind. He had seen plenty of confrontations, both on and off the battlefield, but your composed and resolute demeanor in the face of Allen’s aggression was remarkable.

He had underestimated you, and that realization was both surprising and impressive. You weren’t just a medic; you had the grit and determination that demanded respect.

Ghost saw you through a more transparent lens. How the curve of your figure swayed as you walked, the resolute look on your face when you stood your ground, and how much you clearly loved your job.

♡! I know you said short story but you gave me an idea for atleast one or two more parts!!! I'm ngl this ask couldnt have come at a better time bc I was absolutely cooked with writers block.. thank you for your service. 💞

Ghost felt a different kind of throb and this time it wasn't his arm.

P.S. this wasn't proofread.

[ahqkas]

♯ PUPPY PRINCESS ; remus lupin

PAIRING! young!remus lupin x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! every gift of yours is something remus tends to cherish, especially your love for creating from nothing (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, remus is nothing but smitten and wrapped around your finger

NOTES! autumn’s coming and my obsession with the marauders is slowly defrosting ☹️ all the credits to the pretty devider below belong to @aqualogia !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

I. A TANGLED WEB OF YARD AND ADORATION

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TALL WINDOWS of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. You're sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, with your hands working steadily, creating a rhythm with the yarn and crochet hook. The familiar motion of looping the yarn through the hook brought a sense of calm, a quiet joy that you've always found in crafting.

Remus Lupin sat nearby with a thick textbook in his lap, but the words kept getting tangled in his mind due to his lack of attention on the subject. He was supposed to be studying — there's a Transfiguration exam tomorrow that he really should be preparing for — but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you. He watched the way your hands moved, the smooth, practiced motions that seem to come so naturally to you. There was something about it that fascinated him, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You're staring again," you say, glancing up and meeting his dark eyes with a small, knowing smile. Your tone is light, teasing. You're used to it now — how his attention drifts from his studies to you whenever you're engrossed in one of your hobbies.

Your boyfriend looked slightly embarrassed, flushed cheeks caught in the act, but he smiled back at you. "Sorry," he replied, though it didn't sound as sincere as it should. He wasn't sorry for admiring you and your skills. "I just . . . I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" you asked, your hands never pausing in their work. The yarn slides smoothly through your fingers.

"Make it look so easy," he said, genuinely curious. "It's like you're weaving magic with your hands."

You gave him a soft chuckle at that, shaking your head as you finish off another row. "It's not that complicated, really. It's just practice. Anyone can learn if they have the patience."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, though he was not entirely convinced he could manage it. The heavy textbook was set down, the revision long forgotten. "What are you making this time?" he asked you, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued which charmed a smile on your lips.

"A scarf," you answer, keeping your focus on the yarn as you hold up the length of your still unfinished work that's slowly but surely taking shape. The stitches were tight and even and the colour of the fabric shined in the fire of the fireplace. "Winter's coming soon, and I figured you could use something warm."

Remus' brows lifted in surprise, eyes flickering between your face and the scarf in making. "For me?"

"Of course," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I wanted to make something you'd actually use. Plus, it's a good excuse to work with this colour."

He couldn't help but linger at the scarf — a deep burgundy, the color of his tie, which reminded him of autumn leaves and Gryffindor pride. It was a shade he'd always liked, and the thought that you'd chosen it specifically with him in mind made him feel a quiet sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you," he said quietly now with sincerity lacing his every word. "I really appreciate it."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze with a smile, the kind of smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. Something unspoken passed between the two of you — an understanding, a quiet connection that didn't need words to be felt. "I enjoy making things for people I care about," you replied. "And you can't go wrong with a good scarf."

There was a comfortable silence as you returned to your work, and Remus found himself drawn once again to the way your hands moved with such practiced grace. He'd always been fascinated by the kind of magic that doesn't come from a wand — the quiet, everyday magic that you brought to life with your hobbies. He watched as the yarn twisted and turned, forming something tangible and warm, something that wasn't there just moments before.

After a while, you glanced at him again, your eyes thoughtful. "You know," you started, voice casual but inviting, "if you ever want to learn, I could show you how to crochet. It's not as difficult as it looks."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. He'd never thought of himself as particularly crafty — his talents have always leaned more towards theoretical things, like books and spells. But the idea of sitting with you, learning something new together, was oddly appealing. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A part of him was terrified his hands weren't stable enough for such work as your own were.

But you just shrugged lightly, focus still on the scarf as it grew longer with each stitch. "It's not about being good at it," you exclaimed. "It's just . . . something calming to do with your hands. A way to focus your mind on something simple."

The werewolf considered this, watching the way your hands moved with a steady, comforting rhythm. There was a kind of peace in it, a meditative quality that he couldn't help but find appealing. "Maybe I'll give it a try," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "If you promise not to laugh at me."

"I would never. I think you might surprise yourself."

The hours slipped by as the common room gradually emptied, students heading off to their dormitories as the evening wore on. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but you and Remus remained where you were, content in each other's company. The scarf in your hands grew  longer with each passing moment, the yarn slowly transforming into something tangible, something with weight and warmth.

Eventually, you finished your work, holding up the completed scarf for Remus to see. The stitches were beautifully done, the pattern simple yet elegant, and the color — rich and deep — seemed to glow in the firelight. "What do you think?" you asked, a hint of pride in your voice at your boyfriend's speechless reaction.

Remus reached out, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It's perfect, he thinks, not just because of how it looked, but because of what it represented — your care, your thoughtfulness, the time and effort you put into making something just for him. "It's . . . perfect," he opened his heart to you, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You gave him a sweet smile, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

II. THE ART OF CLAY

THE SOUND OF RAIN ECHOED SOFTLY AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF THE HOGWARTS GREENHOUSE, creating a gentle rhythm that blended with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from overhead plants. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and blooming herbs, an atmosphere so comforting to you that made the space feel like a world apart from the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You were seated at a small worktable near the back, a lump of cool, gray clay before you, your hands already beginning to shape it into something more.

Remus Lupin stood quietly nearby, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually as he simply watched you. There was a sparkle in his gaze, the kind that comes from someone who finds fascination in the smallest details, in the quietest moments. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of you working with the clay, your hands moving with a practiced confidence that hints at countless hours spent honing your craft.

The room was otherwise empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy amidst the bustling school and your friends who were constantly full of life (named James Potter and Marlene McKinnon). The greenhouse, usually a place for Herbology classes, had became your private studio, a place where you could indulge in your love for pottery — a hobby that was as grounding as it was creative.

"Do you ever get tired of making things?" Remus asked, breaking the comfortable silence. There was no hint of judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. He'd seen you immersed in various crafts before — crocheting, jewelry making — but each time, you seemed as passionate as ever.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not really," you replied to his question, your hands still working the clay. "It's like . . . I don't know, a way to clear my mind. I like the idea of starting with something so simple, like a lump of clay, and turning it into something that wasn't there before."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following the movement of your hands as they smoothed the surface of the clay. There was a certain grace in the way you worked, a rhythm that was almost hypnotic to him. "What are you making today?" he questioned again, this time moving closer to get a better look.

"A bowl," you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers pressed gently into the clay, shaping the walls of the bowl with careful precision. "Something simple, but useful. I thought it might be nice to have one for our common room. We could use it to hold things — keys, cigarettes, chocolate frogs."

A charming smile appeared on his lips at that, the idea of something as ordinary as a bowl bringing a sense of homeliness to the often chaotic Gryffindor common room. "That sounds like a good idea," the praise left him naturally when it came to you, pulling up a stool to sit beside you. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to the clay. "But be warned, it's not as exciting as it looks."

Remus didn't agree. He'd always been intrigued by the way you found joy in creating things, in bringing something new into the world with your hands. As he watched, he noticed the subtle movements of your fingers, the way they coaxed the clay into shape, turning a shapeless lump into something with form and purpose. It was a process that seemed almost magical to him, though he knew it was nothing more than skill and practice.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the sound of your hands working the clay. Every so often, you dipped your fingers into a small bowl of water, smoothing out imperfections and keeping the clay pliable. Remus had never seen you look so beautiful; hands dirty, hair messy, and you clothed in one of his favorite sweaters.

"You make it look easy," he commented after a while, his voice low so as not to disturb your concentration.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not always. There's a lot that can go wrong — air bubbles, cracks, the clay drying out too quickly. But that's part of the fun, I suppose. It keeps you on your toes."

He gave you a nod, understanding the appeal in a way.

After a while, you sat back slightly, examining your work with a critical eye. The bowl was nearly complete, its shape smooth and even, the walls sturdy yet delicate. "What do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus with a small smile.

He leaned in closer, studying the bowl with a thoughtful expression. "It's an excellent work," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really got a talent for this."

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but there was a pleased look in your eyes. "Thanks, love. I'm glad you think so."

III. CRAFTING CONNECTIONS THROUGH SILVER AND STONE

THE CASTLE WAS QUIET AS EVENING SETTLED OVER HOGWARTS, the usual loud of students giving way to a serene calm. The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, with only the flickering fire casting warm shadows across the burgundy rugs and tapestries. You were seated at a small table by the window, a soft light of the moon illuminating your workspace, where an array of tiny tools, shimmering beads, and delicate chains lay spread out before you.

Remus Lupin sat nearby, his attention drawn to the intricate work you were doing. He had always been fascinated by your hobbies, each one opening a door to your soul. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching you make jewelry — something in the way you handled the delicate materials with such care, transforming them into beautiful, wearable art. Watching your smaller hands mend the delicate pieces stirred a feeling in his chest.

"Doesn't it get frustrating?" the werewolf asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes following the careful movements of your fingers. "Working with such tiny pieces, I mean."

You smiled softly, not taking your eyes off the silver chain you were holding. "Sometimes," you admitted, carefully threading a small brown stone onto the chain. "But there's something satisfying about it too. It's like solving a puzzle, finding the right combination of stones and metals to make something that feels just right, y’know."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the array of materials on the table. Tiny glass beads of various colors sparkled in the firelight, alongside small stones and bits of silver wire that would soon be part of some new creation of yours. "It's impressive," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "How you can take something so small and turn it into something so . . . meaningful."

You glanced up at him, a pleased smile on your lips. "Thank you, Remus. I think that's what I love about it — how something so simple can become something special, something that can be important to someone."

He watched as you carefully threaded a few more stones onto the chain, your fingers moving with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was a kind of magic in it, he thought — a different kind from what they learned in class, but no less powerful. It was a magic that didn't come from wands or spells, but from the heart and soul, from the desire to create something beautiful and meaningful.

"What are you making now?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in a bit closer.

"A bracelet," you replied, holding up the nearly finished piece for him to see. It was simple yet elegant, made of fine silver links with small brown and black stones interspersed between them. The stones caught the light as you turned the bracelet in your hand, their colors shifting subtly in the firelight. "I thought it might make a nice gift for someone."

Remus took in the bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship, the way the silver and stones complemented each other perfectly. "It's beautiful," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Who's it for?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a softness in your gaze, something almost shy. "I was thinking . . . maybe you'd like it," you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

For a moment, Remus was taken aback, surprised by the offer. He hadn't expected you to be making it for him, but now that he knew, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of gratitude and something more, something deeper. "For me?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to make something that would remind you of our time together," you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. "Something you could keep with you."

Remus felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else — something tender and profound. He looked at the bracelet again, seeing not just the beauty of the piece, but the thought and care that had gone into it, the meaning behind every detail. "I . . . I don't know what to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's . . . it's perfect. Thank you."

You smiled, the tension easing from your posture as you saw the genuine appreciation in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice soft. "It's not much, but I wanted to give you something special. Something that's from the heart."

Remus reached out, his larger fingers brushing against the cool silver links as you handed the bracelet to him. The metal was smooth under his fingertips, the stones cool and solid. He could feel the weight of it, not just the physical weight, but the emotional significance it carried. "It's more than just 'something,'" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It means a lot to me. Really."

You watched as he carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the silver and stones catching the light as they settled into place. There was something incredibly intimate about the moment, the quiet exchange of a gift that held so much meaning. It was more than just a piece of jewelry to him.

As Remus fastened the clasp, he looked at you with deep, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. The bracelet fit perfectly, resting comfortably against his skin, the cool metal and smooth stones a constant, reassuring presence. "I'll treasure it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of contentment that came from knowing you had given him something truly meaningful. "I'm glad," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze drifted through the window. There was a sense of peace in the air, a quiet understanding that didn't need words to be felt. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the evening, he knew that this — these simple, heartfelt moments with you — were what he would carry with him through the darkest nights, a light to guide him through whatever lay ahead.

[redvelvetcupcakes21]

Bobby greeted Hen and Chimney with a hug, "Any updates?" He asked, knowing from their maudlin expressions that nothing had changed since early this morning.

They both shook their heads no. "Docs are hopeful he'll wake up, but they're worried about damage to his spine." Chimney said lowly, rubbing his jaw tiredly.

Bobby nodded sagely; he figured the damages would be serious. His breath had been knocked out of him when he saw the younger first responder had been impaled by a branch and his face had been cut up by glass. "Has the hospital been able to contact his family?"

Hen licked her lips, looking a bit teary as she and Chimney shared a sad look. "His cousin is on the way from San Francisco." She said tersely.

Bobby frowned at that, "That's it? What about his parents? Siblings?"

Chimney shrugged; his arms crossed defensively. "They stopped wanting anything to do with him, Bobby."

Bobby felt a rush of annoyance at that, he was ready to snap till he realized...

"Oh." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Has Buck even left his side?"

It was Eddie who answered, coming up from behind Bobby with a carrier tray of hospital coffee. "Nope." Eddie sighed, "Hasn't left his side since they got him out of the OR."

Bobby checked his watch; Buck had been awake for more than 24 hours then. They were already doing a 48 and where in hour 40 when they received the call. Despite Bobby's orders, Buck rushed onto the scene.

Buck's yells had him nearly want to sedate Buck or hug him once they saw how hurt Tommy really was.

"He needs to get some rest." Bobby insisted, "Did he even eat?"

"We tried, he's not handling this well, Bobby." Hen confessed worriedly; her voice shaky as Eddie pulled her into a half hug.

Bobby swallowed audibly.

He knew his soft spot for Buck was obvious. He saw bits and pieces of himself in Buck, he saw a version of what Robert Jr could have been if he had lived.

He had never wanted this for Buck.

For Buck to go through the worse thing Bobby had ever gone through.

To see the man he thought of as a son sob and shout about saving the love of his life as they pulled Tommy away from the wreckage.

Barely breathing and bleeding and impaled.

"I'll talk to him." Bobby decided, feeling both uneasy and strained. He couldn't blame Buck for not wanting to leave Tommy's side.

But the kid had to take care of himself for Tommy's sake.

"I'll go with you Cap." Eddie nodded to Hen and Chim, a silent conversation going on between the three of them that Bobby wasn't privy to and was unsure if he wanted to know.

Bobby didn't know what to expect. He didn't think seeing Tommy hooked up to so many machines, his face littered with stitches and bruises, and his chest and arm wrapped in badges would break his heart like this.

Buck was pulled right up against Tommy's bed, back turned to the door and hunched over. Bobby could see that Buck was holding Tommy's hand in both of his, his eyes wet and face red. Still in his uniform and looking as disheveled as he did when they got to the hospital.

"Buck?"

Buck jumped in his seat, turning but not getting up- he still had one hand still holding Tommy's, he wiped his nose with the other as he sniffed. "Cap." He sounded so horse that Bobby winced. Before Bobby could say a word, Buck beat him to it.

"You're not gonna convince me to leave, so don't bother." He warned gruffly, wiping away some tears before turning back to Tommy.

"Buck, c'mon man, you can't-" Eddie had stated to say but Bobby rested a hand on his shoulder, a silent plea to stop.

Bobby stepped closer, "Buck, you haven't slept or eaten anything in over day, and you were already coming off a 48-hour shift when we got the call."

"So."

Bobby inhaled deeply, not missing how Buck held onto Tommy's hand tighter, his lips pressed right against Tommy's skin.

"So, you need to rest, maybe eat or at the very least shower." Bobby eyed what he hoped wasn't dirt and dried blood that looked to be caked onto Buck's uniform. "Tommy is alive and he's going to need you to be ready to take care of him when he wakes up, so you need to get ready."

Buck sniffed, his voice hollow and broken as he told Bobby, "I can't leave him Cap."

Bobby squeezed Buck's shoulder, "I know, but he would want you to be okay too." Bobby knew that to be true, Tommy would have wanted Buck to have at least shower and eat.

He knew how protective and doting the two were with each other.

"I'll be fine." Buck insisted, tears cascading down his face, "He needs me here."

Bobby pressed his lips tightly together; he saw Eddie look even more worried. They both knew what it felt like, to lose the love of your life. They knew how Buck would shatter if something bad happened and he couldn't be with Tommy.

It happened to them.

Bobby took a shallow breath; he knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Buck to leave without feeling guilty. "How about this, you let Eddie take you home so you can shower and nap, and I'll stay here. I won't leave his side till you return."

"Bobby-"

Bobby raised a finger at him, "Two hours. Just allow yourself two hours Buck."

Buck's voice sounded so broken as he asked, "What if he wakes up and I'm not here?"

"The moment Tommy's eyes open I'll tell him I sent you home, my orders." He saw the look of doubt on Buck's face, "Buck, Tommy knows you love him, he'll know that-"

He watched in horror as Buck crumble at that, "I never told him." Buck started to sob, alarming Bobby and Eddie now as they watched the younger man cry into his hands.

"What?"

"I never told him I love him. We never got that chance." Buck cried. "You can't ask me to leave Cap, please don't ask me to."

"Hey," Eddie's voice was soft as he patted Buck's back, "You and Tommy will get that chance Buck. He's gonna wake up and he's gonna need you and all of us, but Bobby's right- you can't keep going like this. He needs you to be okay."

Bobby kneeled down, he could see Buck's knee shaking, "Buck," he said slowly, "You have my word that the moment Tommy wakes up, I will call you. I'm not asking you to leave for the whole day, just two hours so that you can come back here with a clear head. Tommy's cousin is on his way here, he's gonna need your support as much as you're gonna need his. For Tommy's sake, kid, you need to be okay."

Buck looked like he was close to throwing up as he stood up, wobbling and barely getting caught by Bobby and Eddie in time. "O-Okay." Buck's voice was barely audible, Bobby couldn't take looking at him for too long- Buck’s blue eyes were blood shot and his skin was clammy to the touch. "You promise you won't leave him?" He asked Bobby.

Bobby felt his heart crack again as he was reminded about Robert Jr- how he would make Bobby promise he would come home in time for their favorite show.

"I promise kid." Bobby watched with bated breath as Buck finally stood on his own, still shaky as he pulled Bobby in for a tight hug.

Bobby held on tighter.

"Two hours?" Buck asked them both, looking and sounding uncertain- as though it was a trap.

"Two hours." Eddie promised, already leading Buck to the door since he was still unsteady. "I'll even warn you when the two hours is almost up, okay?"

That had Buck look mildly appeased, "Okay." He said roughly, wiping away more tears and snot. He was barely out the door when he turned around and leaned over Tommy, kissing him on his forehead and whispering something to him that neither Bobby or Eddie could hear.

Bobby sighed as he looked down as his former firefighter, taking a seat where Buck had been.

"Hey Tommy." Bobby took Tommy's hand in his, "You scared us out there, we thought we were going to lose you." Bobby had watched how terrified Hen and Chim were when they realized Tommy might have suffered spinal damage from the impact of the crash. How they hurried to stop the bleeding from Tommy's mouth and stomach where the branch had impaled him. "I need you to fight to come back to us, Tommy. You can't leave us yet. You can't leave Buck; I don't think he'll ever be okay if he loses you to tell you the truth. That kid has been looking for his other half for as long as he's been looking for a family. He has us and he needs you, we all do." He brushed away Tommy's curls from his forehead, "You have a family with us too, we need you. Not because you’re Buck's boyfriend, we just need you kid." He sighed, regretting the times in where didn't push for Tommy to open up to him.

He was just as guarded as Bobby was back then when they were both at the 118. But Bobby could see it, there was a level of uncertainness that Tommy had carried on his shoulder when he was with the 118. He figured it was guilt and something else, something that made Tommy seem closed off even when he was trying to relax during team dinners.

"Listen," Bobby pulled out his rosary and miniature Bible, "I know you don't consider yourself Catholic anymore, but praying is what I do for my family." He leaned back in the chair and started to pray.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

Steve’s bedroom door is open. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, pretty much everyone else wedged in here with him. Rob is on the bed too, leaning against him. Jon and Nance are sitting at the bottom. All the kids are sitting on the floor.

Everyone's quiet. Waiting. Straining to hear.

El and Eddie are next door.

And Steve has no fucking idea what the hell is going on.

The gates are all closed. Hawkins is a mess, but within the first twenty four hours there was a big push to start repairs. The government is probably pouring cash on this to tidy it up, clean it up, cover it up; make sure everyone knows it was an earthquake.

Gas main damaged in the quake leaked; if anyone saw anything weird, they’re already convinced it was a hallucination. So there’s that.

Everyone got out of hospital within hours; the worst off was probably Steve himself. His wounds from the bats, from their first run in with Vecna, still hadn't healed and one of them had been growing steadily more infected. He has fresh injuries from this time around; all of them inflicted by Eddie. Steve has two broken ribs, and he sounds like he's been smoking 100 a day for sixty years from where Eddie nearly choked him out. He needed twelve stitches in the nasty gash he picked up on the back of his head, but luckily no concussion this time. He's covered in scratches and bruises, but the hospital were happy to let him go with antibiotics and firm instructions to rest.

Eddie, surprisingly, has a clean bill of health. He was filthy, and the scars were bad but...otherwise, he didn’t have so much as an open scratch on him. Everything healed up completely. Which makes...no sense. Steve literally saw him die.

But that also means while they were preparing...planning...working to take down Vecna...he had Eddie the whole time. Potentially, that was nearly a week. The shock they had all had, seeing Eddie again. Obviously they hadn’t planned for that, hadn't factored it into their plans, and it completely and utterly fucked everything up.

They were done for. They were all going to die, no question. But something happened. Something changed. Steve was convinced he was about to get choked to death by Eddie, or maybe impaled on that ridiculous sword but...no. Eddie had blinked awake. And then he’d cut Vecna’s head clean off...which, unexpected, but still a win.

Eddie had dropped the sword, stumbling along after everyone else to get out before the gates closed on them.

Since then, Eddie's been silent. Going where he's told, stumbling through the examinations, sitting on the periphery of the group, staring into space. He looked broken, even to Steve, who realistically didn't know Eddie that well. Eddie had the vacant stare of someone who's just been though something traumatic.

When Dustin had tried to hug him, even, Eddie had flinched away.

No one tried to touch him after that, giving up talking to him pretty quickly. Eddie wasn't going to answer. Steve could practically watch Dustin getting more and more distressed over the state of Eddie. Everyone was aware; all they could do was sit and watch it happen.

Once they were out of the hospital they could look after him; try and figure out what the fuck was happening.

Eddie had disappeared pretty much the moment he had opportunity. He’d mumbled something about finding a bathroom, pretty much the first words he;d spoken, and as the minutes ticked by, it became increasingly obvious that Eddie wasn't coming back. The hospital was a mess, and they were supposed to wait for Owens.

Obviously the kids weren’t willing to let him out of their sight that fast. Vecna’s done something to him, controlled him somehow, that much is obvious. Just...nobody knows what.

When Owens finally showed, it was done and dusted fast. They confirmed Henry/One was dead. Owens had a lot of other shit to sort out; they were no longer his priority and they knew it. Dustin had been ball of barely contained anxiety the whole time, clearly wanting to track down Eddie but...by some sort of group mutual understanding...no one mentioned Eddie was alive. No one said he'd come back with them.

In the confusion, no one seemed to question it. Owens clearly hadn't bothered to look at the hospital's records, or whatever it was he could do. They left as fast as they could without raising suspicion.

The kids had found Eddie again pretty quickly, more through luck than anything, but finding Eddie sitting on the porch of some random house, nursing a bottle of vodka was...well. Everyone’s got their own coping mechanisms, Steve guesses.

Eddie still hasn’t spoken about what happened, but he was pretty quick to pass out on the spare bed.

El’s got that look on her face when she comes back, like she’s thinking big thoughts.

“Is he okay?” Dustin asks first. Obviously there were concerns. Vecna had Eddie for days, there could be anything in Eddie’s head. What if there’s something...lingering...from Vecna? Could be a risk.

El shakes her head, “he is very sad.”

“Sad about what?” Nancy, this time.

“When Eddie was…” she makes a face, she doesn’t have the words, for a moment, to convey what she wants to say, she puts the fingertips of both hands together, making bars, “Vecna put Eddie’s mind in a cage, he doesn’t remember what his body was doing, I don’t think.”

“So Vecna had him as a kind of puppet? He couldn’t get out of the cage?” Robin clarifies, “that’s good right, he didn’t see himself hurting us?”

El tilts a hand from side to side, “he did not want to leave the cage. Vecna made him…” she purses her lips, “love. He was in love. They had a baby, she grew up, she was going to college.”

“That makes no sense, he was there less than a week?”

“Time is different in dreams.”

“Yeah,” Dustin chimes in, “even if a dream feels long, it actually happens really fast.”

Steve huffs, “right, but he knows now, right, that it wasn’t real? So it doesn’t matter, right?”

“It matters to him,” El tells him so firmly Steve feels like he fucked up, “it was real to him.”

“Steve,” Nancy turns to him, “imagine if you got married, had...I don’t know, six kids and a Winnebago,” Steve winces because, yeah, okay, he might have deserved that, “and you come home after years and years of living that, being happy, only to find out it wasn’t real, how would you feel?”

“It’d be like they died,” Robin says next to him, suddenly gasping and making a pained noise, “oh that’s horrible. Poor Eddie.”

El’s nodding, and everyone else is silent, clearly letting that sink in.

And, yeah, Steve figures...that’s got to be pretty awful.

The kids have gone home, but Nancy, Rob, Jon and Argyle have all stayed. They promised the kids they would watch over Eddie, which wasn’t hard since Eddie’s been asleep pretty much since they got back. Steve doesn’t know if is the most of a bottle of vodka Eddie had downed, or the week he’s had but...he’s still asleep.

They take it in turns to check on him, every half an hour, someone comes up. Just to check.

Steve doesn’t know what woke him, but he needs to piss. Robins passed out next to him, snoring her wheezy little snore. Steve gets up and goes to the bathroom, figures he should check on Eddie.

And Steve finds himself suddenly very awake at the sight of an empty bed and an open window.

They split up, heading for likely places. Nancy, Argyle and Jon pile into Jon’s car, heading for Wayne first and then with a vague plan to work through town on the way back if he’s not there.

Steve and Robin strike out in the opposite direction.

“Lets head for the place the kids found him.”

“You think he would have gone back there?”

Robin shrugs, “why did he go there in the first place?”

“You think it means something to him?” A horrible feeling starting to form in the pit of Steve’s stomach, even as Robin shrugs ‘maybe’ at him.

They can’t see Eddie, but Robin insists they check it out. Steve’s glad Robin has half their brain, because she was dead right. There’s smashed glass on the porch and the door is open; someone has broken in.

Part Three

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos

[callofdudes]

So, uh, I was watching Bad Boys 2 with my dad and when the shootout scene happened and Marcus accidentally got shot in the ass I couldn’t help but wonder after I was done LMFAOing; how the COD boys (or the guys from 141 if you have a character limit) would react to and deal with having been shot in the ass? Especially if their S/O or best friend was there?

Ouchie ouchie. Here ya go anon! Sorry it took so long!

Getting shot in the ass.

Fucking humiliated.

First off, it hurt and oh boy he would not talk to anyone. If you're not in the immediate vicinity of medical attention he is going to have to be taken care of by one of you.

He'd probably trust either you or Price. He loves Johnny but not enough to touch his whole ass.

If you're his spouse you will 100% try to make jokes to calm him down, and it doesn't end up making it any better. Simon laying on his stomach writhing in pain while you've got him pantsed.

He's never speaking to any of you again. He'd rather be buried alive than have you bandaging his whole asscheek so he doesn't bleed everywhere.

"Are-fuck! Are you done yet!?" He growled, turning into a whine near the end because he's in pain. Come on man...

"Almost Simon, just hang in with me ok?"

He whines, and you continue to as gently as you can patch the wound. And like a meanie you're trying not to laugh the whole time.

When you're done you'll pat his butt gently and help him up. "Fuck you, and fuck that last 20 minutes of my life." He winces, attempting to stand.

"It's an occupational hazard y'know-"

"In my ass. MY BLOODY ARSE!"

"Well it's not bloody anymore...??"

Yeah he's never speaking to you. Or the others. He'll go back to that coffin where he was safe and his beautiful ass wasn't being threatened 24/7.

When you get back if you tell anyone he's suffocating you in your sleep. Not like the medical team will let him go. Surgery to get the bullet out of his arse and then was hurting for weeks.

Glaring constantly because now he has one of those butt pillows that you'd sit on after a BBL. And the recruits are bugging him because, "Got a lift Lt??" "Thought it was already big enough."

His arse is a point of contention for him and now he's being pointed out for the masses.

"You... You want me to help??"

"Nope." He dragged his leg, limping his way as blood spilled.

"You've uh, got a hole in your-"

"I'm very well aware!" He grimaced, trying to ease down on his side. "Other room." He demands.

"I can help-"

"OTHER ROOM."

"Yes sir."

You step away and let Price undo his belt and survey the damage himself. The last time he was bleeding from his arse his military dad was spanking him upside down and sideways.

By the time he realizes he's going to need a little help he's already regretting his life. He's nearly had his balls shot off before, this shouldn't be news to him, but also, why....

Begrudgingly he calls you back in after messing with it enough it hurts twice as much as before.

So you grab some bandages and get to work.

"Don't-"

"I'm very well aware of where my hands are going captain, you're fine."

"Gross."

"You're bleeding."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." He rubbed his forehead, sighing.

You feel less inclined to snicker at Price because the poor man is just trying to make a living fighting crime. He doesn't deserve this. His beautiful soft ass doesn't deserve this.

When you get back he is just wanting the bullet out by that point so he doesn't fight medical. They get the bullet out and he is taking painkillers like they're going out of style. (No, not in an unhealthy way)

Will probably stay between his room and his office. He wants to do work very badly and hasn't enjoyed sitting around doing nothing for long periods of time.

Can't wear his favorite pants now because they're tighter and the seam cuts right into the stitches. Sweatpants and butt pillow it is until he's out of this hell.

Most recruits know not to poke the bear, unlike you. Or Simon.

"Whew, that was close." You panted and looked at Johnny with relief. "No kidding." But as the adrenaline wore off, Johnny felt lightheaded, and fell to his side.

"Ow-" He winced, his leg feeling numb. You quickly rushed to him and looked him over. He wasn't shot anywhere... Oh. Oh, no never mind, yes he was.

"Johnny..."

"Yeah..?"

"You're shot."

Johnny followed your gaze and saw.

Surprisingly calm. Like, out of everyone he doesn't panic as much. Pulls up his shirt into his mouth and tells you to get it out.

You're hesitant because it's trying to pull a bullet out of someone's ass. And pulling a bullet out is never... Fun. But he trusts you, even if his cheeks are glaringly red from utter embarrassment.

But he doesn't want anyone else to do it for some reason, so you do your best.

Long story short, it did not go well. You ended up messing with the wound that his right ass cheek was so swollen. He looked like an idiot. Laying on his stomach in pain while waiting for Evac.

"I'm sorry..." You rubbed his shoulder.

You'd pulled his pants down further, while still being respectful. But man if he didn't look stupid, and it looked like it hurt. One cheek much bigger than the other, red and swollen.

Johnny promised to never get shot in the ass again. After he was put on bed rest because he had an infection. So uh... That was a fun adventure.

"Why the hell did you try to dig the bullet out of my ass??" He looked over at you when you visited him.

"You told me to do that! I told you it was a bad idea."

"Oh yeah..." He sniffled and crossed his arms, pouting his lip.

"Johnny.. come on, it'll get better."

"Well it can't get worse. Can it?"

"Ow!! Bloody- shit!" He slid down a wall and looked down at his side, expecting the stinging pain he felt to have hit his leg, he was dismayed to find the bullet had got him in the ass.

"Oh fucking of course!" He groaned and tried his best to hold something over the wound while still getting bullets pelted at him.

"How're we looking, sergeant??"

Kyle looked back briefly and then adjusted his gun. "Fine! But I've got a bloody hole in my arse!"

"Say again?"

Kyle groaned. Falling out of helicopters, getting shot in the ass, what was next huh?

"I've. Got. A. Bullet. In my ass!!"

Mortified when the others get to him and see he was not lying. Kyle must have just about the worst luck because what the hell is this?? They got him to medical and they did indeed confirm he had a bullet where the sun don't shine.

His perfect, pretty, unscarred butt was now about to be dug into to get a bullet out. How humiliating. He had bad stuff happen to him, but this he refused to talk about.

"How're... How're you feeling?" You asked after he came out of surgery. Still high on drugs, Kyle glared at you. "Don't even..."

"Don't what?" You snickered slightly.

"Oh fuck off..."

You smiled a little and sat down. "Hey, you'll recover. It sucks, but you've gotten through worse."

"Bullet in the ass."

"Had a bullet in the ass."

"It was still there at one point. That was my reality, y/n!"

You lovingly shushed him with a glass of water.

Kyle did not say a word about it. Even when he needed a pillow to help him sit after the surgery, he never pointed it out. And the others saw the look, if they said anything Kyle would drag them behind a shed and suffocate them with said pillow.

And therefore, for everyone's collective safety, it was never brought up.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

jason being obvious about his crush is literal energy drinks for my brain

Bruce headed down the hall, a first aid kit under his arm and stopped at your door. Listening to the low rumble of a male voice- Jason's voice. And he blinked.

The door was open. So he peered inside.

You were awake. You'd had a shower and gotten redressed. And you were curled in your Papasan chair. Jason knelt in front of it, a kit of his own open on the floor. Bruce couldn't see his face. But the tone of his voice was... almost gentle. And when you looked up to meet HIS eye where you felt him in the doorway, you didn't seem upset but... confused.

"Well," Bruce said, deciding to announce his presence to his son, "It seems like someone got the drop on me."

"Jason helped Dick last night," you explain- what Jason told you. About the storm.

Jason didn't look up from his bandages, pretending to look through the kit for something for your hand. He didn't know why, but he wanted to kiss your palms. He'd been lingering. Debating. But he definitely wouldn't do it in front of Bruce.

"I'd heard," Bruce said, keeping his feelings neutral for your benefit but his tone said he had other things to say.

"You don't look too bad off," Jason said finally closing the kit. "Nothing needs stitches."

"That's good," you murmur. "I usually need to be knocked out for those."

"Annoying in this line of work," Jason snorted.

"Incredibly," Bruce agreed, posting up. He wasn't sure what was going on but- he wanted to talk to Jason anyway. "How are you feeling?" he asked you.

"Foggy. I don't remember much of yesterday. Kinda hungry."

"Alfred saved you some pancakes," Bruce said, smiling a little and offering Jason a hand off the floor before kissing your head. "They're there when you're ready."

You nod and stifle a yawn before looking up at Jason, "Thank you- for my hands."

"You're welcome," he mumbled, cheeks burning. "Didn't want them to get infected. They looked bad in the dark."

"I usually come clean it up," Bruce said. "Gives us a chance to catch up." He winked at you and when you rolled your eyes he smiled. A young woman of few words but that didn't mean you didn't say exactly what you wanted. "but since you did it for me," he said to Jason, "that means we can get started following that lead early this morning."

"Joy," Jason groused. "No good dead, I guess."

[suiana]

I cant do this anymore our science and ap subject now have math

so sorry to hear that babe... but imagine dying and ur yandere! scientist who's your best friend that's not-so-secretly in love with you brings you back to life after you accidentally die

you're dazed, body completely stiff and sore as you take in your surroundings. huh... why did it feel like you just woke up from a super duper long nap? where were you? weren't you dead? you were pretty sure that you got hit by a truck when you were walking home...

that's when you realize that you were chained to a bed.

"what the-?!"

"good morning darling! did you sleep well?"

your best friend pops out from nowhere, surprising you as he holds out a few of his thingy majigs. what? were you in his... home or something? doesn't look like it but since he's here it's not completely impossible-

"you're in my lab, my cute lil frankestein ❤️"

???

um... were you hearing correctly or did he just call you frankestein?

"whaha... funny joke my guy-"

and then you sit up and realise that he wasn't joking. you really did look like a freak of nature. a real frankestein.

your skin was stitched together, the colour looking almost green and- what the hell did you lose an eyeball?

"you-! did you steal my body from the cemetery?!"

"i couldn't let my darling die now, could i?"

the scientist merely shakes his head, clicking his tongue. you could only stare at him in horror as he begins going on another one of his stupid rambles about how he needed you by his side and how he would die if you weren't there with him.

"uh, i never said it when i was alive but dude, don't you think you like me a little too much? it's almost like you love me or something haha-"

"oh my, wasn't it obvious? i am in love with you."

oh my balls.

"if it wasn't obvious from how i talked to you, i'm pretty sure it is through my actions. i mean,"

he pauses, looking at you before sighing dreamily. he clasps his hands together, wearing a crazed look on his already crazy face. you could only shiver as he presses a kiss to your forehead and sits down uncomfortably close to you.

"i brought you back to life after all."

you feel your mouth grow dry at his words, unable to get anything out. what were you supposed to say to that? i mean, yeah, you think he's devoted if he brought you back...? like???

"good news though! i found a way to help you live forever! you won't ever die now!"

"what?!"

if it were possible, you think your only remaining eye would've rolled out of your skull as well.

"oh don't worry, my sweet darling. when the time comes i'll make myself a frankestein too! that way we can be together forever!"

that was not what you wanted to hear, damnit.

sure you loved him as a friend but now that you know that he likes you? and that he's crazy enough to steal your body from the cemetery (which you're 99% sure is a crime) AND bring you back to life... you're pretty sure you'd be trying to find another way to die if you had to spend the rest of time with him ngl.

"we'll never be apart again ❤️"

oh hell nah you're getting BACK in the coffin

[sunnyd666]

A LIL BIT OF 'FASHION' FUN (head-canons?)

Uzi Likes zip ups, hoodies, and leggings and since she's creative she definitely puts some work into customizing or making her own clothes. This includes painting, stitching, and accessorizing tf out of stuff that she already likes. I wanted to give her finger-less gloves or big ol' arm warmers but I couldn't figure out how to make if work. Scarf is there because why not, they steal clothes off of corpses, she would def grab a scarf.

V and J have to wear flexible clothing for obvious reasons.

V wears thin, stretchy, and durable material so you'd probably be able to see her little symbol through some of her tops and I just think that flared pants, ruffled or not, would look really good on both her and J. She goes through clothes so easily though, it's not intentional, stuff just rips or gets stained. Her top was originally supposed to be one piece but I said NAAAH. So she got a racer top...halter thingy... with weird lil sleeve bits. I'd love to give her loose sleeves but they'd get ruined so fast :(

J is all business she gotta have that cropped blazer. (My friend sent a pic to me and I was like THIS IS PERFECT) Her bottoms are based off of these weird leggings that flare out and kinda look like a skirt/garter belt/thigh high combo. I wasn't even planning on drawing J till I saw those pants. I wanted to slap a tie on her but I connected that to needing a dress shirt under the blazer and didn't wanna do that. J def wears business and business casual, cause she's classy like that. Type of person to unironically wear company branded stuff too. She won't ditch her cute hair ties though...why would she?

Excuse my grammar errors. I am illiterate as hell :(

Warning for flashing lights/colors

Thx to my friends for entertaining me and giving me ideas :3

[aangelinakii]

CAT SCRATCH.

— nothing but a flesh wound.

summary : you're stitching up your best friend. just for continuity sakes', i'll repeat that you're best friends.

note : part three in the "cats and dogs" series that no one asked for but everyone seems to be enjoyîg !!! really trying to keep with the animal theme 😭😭

this wasn't the first time jason had sat before you, shirt and jacket and guns discarded to the side. but, god, it's not what you think!

his torso was bare, but battered up, and you could care less about the view; today, you were playing doctor, preparing to perform surgery (put a plaster) on some very fatal wounds (a few bleeding cuts).

"you're really stupid, you know that?" you scoffed at him as you rummaged around on the sterile metal tray beside you for the correct equipment. "like, really, there was no need for you to run in the way of gunfire."

from further above, from his perch upon the medical bed in the batcave's infirmary, jason shook his head, sighing. "there was a cat in the road." he spoke as if it were a passage of the bible — thou shalt not allow the death of a felin upon thy hands.

dousing a cotton ball in antiseptic fluid, you gave an obvious roll of your eyes. "so you decided to risk you life?" tucking your swivel chair further between jason's legs, you gave a sigh, this time more playful, a smile upon your lips. "what am i going to do with you?" and you caught his eye, your smile contageous.

"probably what you always do," jason chirped back, looking down at you in a way that helped him ignore the throb of shrapnel embedded in his skin. he'd only been nicked a few times, luckily.

"and what's that?" you hummed in return, leaning into his torso to dab at a raging entry wound just missing his abdomen. his skin tensed beneath your touch, but he willed himself to relax. it was you, after all. you could never hurt him, even if you shoved him to the ground and kicked dirt in his eyes.

one of his hands absently came up to your ear, rough fingertips carefully tracing the soft skin of the shell. casual intimacy wasn't unheard of between you, so much so that you were constantly accused of dating, being so bad at hiding it this whole time that it was a miracle neither of you had been sent to jail for lying so poorly to a police officer at least once; that you both have done many-a-times.

the words brushed past his cracked lips like a prayer, but their effect on you was unobvious.

"forgive me."

and, that, you always did.

regardless of how true it was or wasn't, you sent him a glare that failed to meet your lips — a smile upon them, instead — as you moved further up to disinfect a wound just beneath one of his pecs, which were already scarred up and burned.

a comfortable silence consumed the air between you, with your attention focused on picking up the blood from his wound with a clean cotton bud, and his on the shape of your head from this angle.

you'd patched him up many times now, it was like second nature, but with the way your hand lingered on the cold skin of his bare waist to ensure precision, jason could begin to feel himself heat up.

but his temperature regulated again as soon as you pulled away, tossing the last dirty bud in the bin by your feet.

you sprayed your hands with antiseptic once again as you pulled away from his form, wheels of your chair squirming against the ground.

"okay," you quietly began, ripping open a clean pair of tweezers. "i'm going to start taking out the shrapnel. are you okay with that?"

from his perch, jason let out a chuckle, eyes twinkling down at you when you glanced over at him.

"what's so funny?"

jason's half-crescent eyes watched you as you slid back closer to him. "it's just that you say that every time," he laughed, one of those genuine smiles growing on his face; only a smile you saw, and if anyone else ever saw it, it was only ever directed at you. "even though the answer is always yes."

despite thumping a little in your chest, you gave a dismissive shake of your head, smile ever-present around him. "i don't see what's funny about that. consent isn't a laughing matter."

your elbow brushed against the tactical material on the top of his thigh as you positioned yourself to reach that lower entry wound, and jason brought his hand up to place carefully upon the side of your head.

normal friend interactions.

"not saying it is," he breathed, just so below his breath, which brushed against your forehead. "i just like that you care enough to ask." fingers circled careful patterns against your scalp, and your not too sure how you managed to maintain concentration. "if it was alfred, or bruce, or dick, they'd just go for it, because they know i'm okay with it. and i know you know i am, too, but you care enough to ask."

the metal tips of the tweezer latched on to a chunk of shattered bullet, and you carefully inched it out of jason's skin, the area around the entry beginning to calm to a pink as opposed to the previous red.

you leaned back to plop it in the container you'd laid out on the tray, and glanced up at him, his hand retracting from your head and laying upon his lap.

"you're my best friend, jason," you stated, although you couldn't hide the vulnerability in your tone fast enough. "when i'm with you, you're my priority, whether you've been stupid enough to purposely get shot, or not."

and you wheeled yourself back in between his legs, ready to dive in to retrieve another bullet from his skin.

[deluweil]

People, what is it I hear ya'll having problems separating the real from fantasy?

I said it before, after Ryan separated permanently from his wife and I'm saying it now when two grown men who spend years working together are both, as far as we know, single and are vibing on another level,

Just because something seems like something doesn't mean it is. You have no idea what is happening on the other end, and to be fair, it's none of your business.

For reference though, Ryan totally refers to Oliver as "bro" so let's be real for a second.

But even if it wasn't so hilariously obvious from Oliver in stitches just looking at Ryan's 'stashe as he poses for Kenny.

You have no right to "out" anyone! Don't go and pull "Heartbreaker" crap on your beloved actors.

You don't get to try and force anyone out!

You wouldn't want it done to you, don't go making assumptions on anyone else.

And if you are into RPF or RPS that's great, I wrote Rpf for a long time, but I kept it to LJ at the time and never felt the need to inconvenience any of the real people with my lovely written delusions.

Indulge, but do it in fan places with those who are vibing with you.

You keep this up, Oliver and Ryan will stop sharing things with us and be more careful around each other in front of cameras.

DO NOT PULL A HEARTBREAKER KIT CONNOR ON RYAN AND OLIVER.

I repeat:

DO NOT PULL A HEARTBREAKER KIT CONNOR ON RYAN AND OLIVER!

It will be bad for everyone involved and would be really sad if they withdraw from social media afraid of their own fans.

Keep fan delusions to fan spaces!

Again,

KEEP FANS DELUSIONS TO FAN SPACES!!!

[just-jordie-things]

choso drabble based on that one line in lilo and stitch !! this is for @delzinrowe bc i'd be nowhere without my nanami flowershop anon helping to feed my delusions <3 ___

"want to catch a movie on friday?"

choso's hopeful with his question. for the last few weeks your friendship had been transitioning into something... new. he couldn't quite describe it, but it was a good change, and he wanted to chase it.

you'd just wrapped up a casual lunch with him and his younger brother, yuji. as it always done when you spend time with either one of them, time had flown by, and you were probably going to have to jog a good portion back to work in order to clock in on time.

"i can't," you sigh through the soft rejection. "i'm working late to cover gojo's ass- he's probably just prolonging his assignment because i know that sweet shop he keeps in business is in sendai" she mutters through the last part, clearly bitter.

choso tries to hide his disappointment as he nods in understanding, watching as you slide on your coat and adjust your hair in a rush. he thinks there's no sense in you checking your makeup in your little compact mirror- you look perfect- but the words get stuck in his throat.

"that's alright," he tells you with a comforting sort of smile that you mirror back at him as you stand from your seat. "another time?"

you're nodding, smile brightening momentarily before the anxiety of getting to work on timee settles in your mind again.

"yeah, yeah, another time," you agree, voice soft as you settle it in yuji's hair affectionately as you pass him. he's been busy with the coloring sheet the restaurant provided, but he still bids you a polite goodbye. "bye guys!" you call, picking up the pace as you leave in your hurry.

choso huffs as he picks around the leftover food on his plate. sure, you'd agreed to rain check, but all he could do was hope it wasn't out of sheer politeness or obligation. he hoped you meant it.

"don't worry," yuji pipes up, green crayon still in his fist as he tries to color in the lines as neatly as possible. "she likes you"

choso's brows raise in surprise, and curiosity.

"oh really?" he asks, not knowing what else to say. he was a good big brother, but he hadn't exactly been telling the seven year old about his growing feelings for his closest friend- and a figure who'd been in yuji's life for quite some time now as well.

"yeah," yuji says with the utmost certainty. so confident in his response, he's still focused on his coloring sheet. "she told me. she likes your butt and fancy hair"

choso blinks, still staring down his youngest brother in shock, even though the boy held more care for his coloring than their current conversation. were you a direct source? you'd told him this? you talked about him with yuji? you liked his messy buns? choso's heart was a flutter and it showed, a million micro expressions dancing across his face in a minute. his next question is obvious,

"she thinks it's fancy?"

[telleroftime]

Servant Reader and Sukuna idea where it's deep in the dead of winter and all his servants are left to suffer the cold but he tosses one of his robes over you when you won't stop shivering.

He lies of course telling you to stop the incessant teeth chattering because it's annoying. You're swimming in the thing because of course he's so much bigger than you but it's warm and you aren't complaining one bit. You are insanely confused though.

Imaging trying to be extra careful with it too by rolling up the vast excess of fabric in your hands so that it doesn't drag on the ground. You're content with your feet getting cold and muddy as long as Sukuna's robes remain clean. He's not too happy about it though. If he cared about the state of the robe he wouldn't have given it to you. He won't say it out loud, of course.

Seeing you squirm is amusing to him at first, however it also quickly gets boring. He'll dirty it on purpose if he has to, be that by throwing snow at it with his own two (well, four) hands or by making you walk through mud with him. He'll make a point to stare down the muddied trim too so that you know he's aware it is dirty, but then he'll look away in indifference. A silent permission to not stress over it.

If you try and wash it and hand it back to him two things would happen. The robe would either end up back in your servant quarters somehow. 'Somehow'. Or he would wear the robes and tell your to come up to him. You won't know what he's up to until he drags you into his lap and by extension into his clothes. He won't explain his actions though, he'll just return to lounging as he had been as if you weren't even there.

Outside of Sukuna, the obvious favouritism makes you a target in the eyes of the other servants. They don't like going cold without you freezing too. So, the extra jealous ones risk it. The moment you are distracted with work they sneak into your room to cut and tear Sukuna's robe into pieces.

When you come back to see it it's an emotional hell. Trying to stitch it back together with shaky hands and teary eyes, all whilst knowing it won't ever look the same again, is enough to force you into a state of panic. You spend hours trying to fix the mess. You spend long enough for Sukuna to notice you missing.

It doesn't take him long to find you, and when he sees you on the floor of your room, crumbled with bleeding fingers from the sewing, he is furious. Someone had toyed with you without his permission. Yes the fear in your eyes when you see him and the pathetic begging is aimed at him, but he's not enjoying it. He wasn't the source, and if your efforts to fix his robe was anything to go by, he knew you didn't do this.

It didn't change the fact that someone in his temple did, and it's only a matter of time before he finds them and punishes with a blank expression. Not his usual smile of murder, but pure godly wrath.

He'd only play favourites more after this. He wouldn't even come up with excuses. He'd act however he pleases and stare down any observers with a poorly veiled challenge in his eyes.

I love how slowly but surely he's just becoming a tsundere in our eyes.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Home [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy

Summary: Living in the woods in a small cabin with your family was something you thoroughly enjoyed. You knew Daryl needed this; space and time to process the loss of Rick - and of course, to search for him. But then your family gets forced to return back to your original home - and the reason couldn't be sweeter...

Warnings: TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, angst, fluff, pregnancy stuff & 'complications', throwing up, dad!Daryl

The Whisperer Era!

Word Count: 2,6k

a/n: I promised you some sweet pregnancy fluff and here it is! I hope ya'll don't mind the angst... 👀

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya okay?" You nodded shakily and tried to wrap the old, rugged blanket even tighter around your body. "Yeah, jus' cold," you answered - as if it wasn't obvious that the probably harshest winter in decades raged outside the factory you, Daryl, Teddy and Dog sought shelter in. Not that you didn't know that it was kinda risky to travel in that weather. Both, you and Daryl knew that a snowstorm was most likely approaching and yet the archer took the risk and led you away from the cosy small hut, hidden in the woods your little family called home for over two years. Not anymore. But you could understand your man's kinda headless act...

Daryl clenched his jaw; worried eyes scanning your whole body, before he quickly slid the black, greyish poncho he wore over his head and went to wrap it around you as well. But you shook immediately your head and reached out your hand to hold him back. "No, Daryl... Keep it. You'll get cold. I-I don't want you to freeze to death." "I ain't freezin' to death, don worry," he said and draped the poncho over your body. "Gotta keep ma family warm and safe..." The archer's eyes darted shortly to his nine-year-old son, laying snugly bundled up in a warm sleeping bag you had found quite some time ago; Dog nestled against the boy's side. Teddy had draped an arm over the faithful canine; both sleeping soundly.

"All of ya," he stated firmly and pressed his palm against your presumably three-month baby bump.

You swallowed hard, but nodded; knew exactly what was on the line.

Unlike your pregnancy with Teddy, was your second one anything but easy - so far. Nausea, circulation problems, agonising back pain. Not to mention that the world around you was different ten years ago... It caused uneasiness, especially upon Daryl. He was worried... You could tell. And when you started to have bleedings now and then, he totally lost it and intended to take you back to Alexandria immediately; let Siddiq have a look.

The archer knew how to stitch up a wound or how to treat a cold - but not how to check on a unborn baby.

Daryl gave you another nod and pressed a sweet kiss, mixed with fear and worry against your lips. "Try ta sleep, sunshine. I'll check the doors 'n look after the fire. Can't let it burn out..." "I'll try, but..." You responded and freed one arm from the cocoon of blankets to grab his gloved hand. "... what about you? You should sleep, too, sweetie."

Daryl squeezed your hand gently, "'M fine." and carefully tucked you in once again, before he grabbed his torchlight and went to check for the doors.

You knew that arguing with him would be most likely in vain anyways, so you didn't even start.

Letting your eyes wander to Teddy and Dog for a long moment to check on them, you smiled and felt how your eyelids got heavier with each passing second. It didn't take you long to fall asleep.

Unfortunately, lasted the heavenly state you were in not very long. Your churning stomach ripped you out of your peaceful sleep. You immediately felt uneasiness and the first wave of nausea creeping up on you. You sighed.

Not again... Not another sleepless night...

You swallowed; tried to get rid of the lump in your throat, but it was no help. Shifting around in discomfort, you knew that you had to get up and search for a - wow, that sounded so wrong and weird - fitting place to most likely vomit your guts out.

Rubbing your eyes frustrated, you slowly slipped out of the warm cocoon; feeling the cold hit you immediately. You shivered; draped at least one blanket back around you, over the already thick woollen poncho you wore. Then you scanned your surroundings; saw Teddy and Dog a few meters away from you still sleeping soundly and heard the peaceful crackling of the fire. But then...

"Y/N..." Daryl - of course. You heard footsteps approaching you; causing you to turn into the right direction. "Why 'r ya awake?" Your long-term boyfriend asked; noticing immediately the uneasy look on your face.

"Everythin' alright?" His palms cupped your waist. You shook your head; swallowing hard once more - and Daryl knew. It wasn't the first time. "Nausea?" "Y-Yeah..." The archer nodded, "C'mere." and slowly guided you out of what once probably was the main production hall and into a little side room, which looked like a former office. A more or less completely destroyed office. Files, folders, other papers and usual office stuff laid every which way around the room. Several cupboards were moved or thrown over - just like two of the three desks.

Daryl quickly freed an office chair, while you steadied yourself against the last remaining intact desk and helped you sit down. Then his eyes scanned the quite spacious room; torchlight in hand. Once he found the object he desired, the archer made sure you weren't threatening to fall off the chair and climbed above some 'obstacles' to retrieve an old trash can he had spotted. Whatever was left inside said trash can landed on the ground, before he placed it on the floor in reach for you.

Kneeling down in front of you, Daryl took one of your hands in his; blue-greyish eyes meeting yours. You smiled through your uneasiness and lifted your free hand to tuck a loose, stray curl of chestnut brown hair behind his ear. "T-Thank you," you whispered.

Daryl just gave you one of those sweet smiles of his. You took deep breaths; eyes falling shut to focus on not losing your balance. Dizziness had joined the game.

Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you weakly gestured for the trash can. "D-Daryl, h-have to-" Before you were able to finish your sentence, your man had swiftly moved over and helped you holding the makeshift vomit bag. Not a second too early.

While you indeed puked your guts out, Daryl's other hand switched between steadying you and rubbing soothing circles in your back.

Once your nausea calmed down again, you wiped your mouth with a rug Daryl gave you; taking again deep breaths. "Feelin' better?" You nodded. "Y-Yeah... Jus' still a bit dizzy." Your boyfriend helped you to get back to the main hall, of course, where he sat down; leaning against one of the walls and gesturing for you to get comfortable as well - something you didn't let yourself tell twice. After all, it was a long, cold, hard day of walking and you were tired. Plus, you had just emptied your stomach entirely.

You sat down on the blanket between Daryl's legs and leaned against his chest; cuddling close. He helped you draping the two old blankets around you (and him); trying to give you as much warmth as possible.

"Ya warm enough, sunshine?" You nodded; smiling softly. "With you cuddling me? Yes." Daryl's arms gave you a gentle squeeze in response.

Silence settled over the both of you - until the archer broke it; ripping you away from the entrance of dreamland.

"M sorry." You blinked; trying to focus again. "Sorry? For wha'?" You could tell that he was either swallowing hard or chewing on his bottom lip. Probably both. "Tis. You feelin' like shit." You frowned, "Why would you be sorry for that?" and turned your head; trying to look at him. He was chewing on his bottom lip. "Well... 'S kinda my fault. If... If I wouldn't have got ya pregnant..." You raised an eyebrow at him and couldn't help the giggle, which slipped past your lips. "Sweetie..." You started; nuzzling your head against his chest. "Don't pretend it isn't a welcome accident. And once we're back in Alexandria, Siddiq can help me. So, stop being sorry."

You felt Daryl's hold tightening around you. "M trying, sunshine. 'S just... I want ya 'n the baby ta be okay." "We will be."

The storm had subsided through the night - luckily. The roads were completely covered in snow; making it for the whole family difficult to move fast - and it kept on snowing... Especially Dog and Teddy were struggling, since they had the shortest legs.

Daryl was at the front; trying to pave a way, but he couldn't do it the entire way to Alexandria. He was strong - but not that strong.

"Dad!" Teddy called out to Daryl, causing the archer to immediately stop in his tracks and turn around. His son pointed across a field on a group of walkers. Ten. Probably even twenty. "Sickos!" Daryl narrowed his eyes; watching them for a long moment, before addressing his son again. "Let 'em be, buddy! They can't move. Least not fast. Snow's too high. Even for them." The nine-year-old gave him a nod; almost causing the blueish beanie on his head to slip into his face.

You had watched the scene, being 'squashed' between your two 'men', while Dog was glued to your side; not leaving you out of his sight. You scratched the faithful canine's head in a loving manner. "C'mon, sunshine. We have ta keep goin'." You nodded and kept on following your man; always making sure to look over your shoulder to not lose your son. Although you knew that you wouldn't. After all was Daryl Dixon his father. He had taught his boy well. That was the reason why he trusted him to walk at the end of the line. To make sure you were safe. And Teddy did his 'job' perfectly. All of you arrived cold and freezing, but safely at the gates of Alexandria.

Michonne was on guard duty this cold December afternoon. She narrowed her eyes when she saw a small group approaching her home. Taking the binoculars on the wooden ground beneath her, the leader took a quick look through it - and smiled. Probably the brightest smile she smiled since RJ's birth. "Open the gates!"

"Who is it?" Aaron called back up to her from the ground; slightly worried. Michonne turned to face her friend. "Family."

The doors got immediately opened for you and your family to enter your old home. A place you loved and held so many beautiful memories of.

Aaron was already greeting everyone, when Michonne had climbed down the guard tower. "Daryl, Y/N, Teddy! How long has it been?" She asked; still smiling brightly and immediately went to hug Daryl. "Two years," answered the archer. "Way too long if you ask me," Michonne answered and gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. Then she looked over the archer's shoulder; spotting the not so little boy anymore, who started to look more and more like a spitting image of his father. "Teddy?" Michonne stepped forward to squat down and hug him. "Look at how big you got since I lastly saw you!" Teddy just giggled shyly; hugging the woman back. "Hello, Michonne," he then whispered. Well, he was his father's son... "Jude will be happy to see you."

Then Michonne stood up to face you. Last but not least. "Y/N..." You grinned at her and quickly ran to hug your friend. "Hey, Mich. It's so good to see you." She squeezed you against her body. "Likewise..."

After inviting you all inside, since it was really getting cold by now and welcoming little RJ as well, you all sat by the fireplace in the living room with a cup of tea in hands.

Teddy and Judith sat at the kitchen table, drawing and RJ had slept in on Michonne's lap. Dog had curled up beside Daryl, who sat on the floor and leaned against the sofa; getting head scratches from his master. You sat beside Michonne; still wrapped up in Daryl's poncho and cup in hands.

"So... Why are you here? Just to visit, or...?" Your friend asked; clearly curious, but also kinda hopefully.

You exchanged a short look with Daryl; his lips curling into the soft, sweet smile you loved so much. "Y/N needs ta pay Siddiq a visit." Michonne frowned; was immediately alerted and not noticing the subtle smile on both your faces. "Is everything alright?!" "Well..." You started; pulling Daryl's poncho over your head. Michonne's eyes widened to the size of plates as you cupped your small, yet clearly visible baby bump. "You... You're pregnant?!" You nodded; smiling and reached for Daryl's hand, who happily accepted the offer. He enveloped your smaller hand and gave it a gentle squeeze; all the while exchanging another loving gaze with you.

A happy laugh escaped your friend's lips. "That's wonderful, you two! Congrats!" You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear; smiling bashfully. "Thanks, Mich. It was a beautiful surprise, but..." You swallowed; remembering that this pregnancy wasn't remotely comparable to the one with Teddy. "Being pregnant now is a whole other thing than ten years back..."

You felt how Michonne's hand landing on your free hand. "I know, Y/N, but I made it, too. You, Daryl, Teddy and Dog are more than welcome to stay here. You know that. And Siddiq will be at your side, too."

You nodded. "I-I know, but... I don't just mean that the whole circumstances changed. I mean the pregnancy itself as well..." "She's been havin' bleedings lately. 'S why we're here," Daryl jumped in. "That's why we packed our stuff and left our other home." Your man nodded. "Worried the shit outta me the last days..."

Michonne swallowed as well and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "This doesn't have to mean anything, you know that. But Siddiq should definitely check. Go to him. Now. I'll stay with the kids and Dog."

You exchanged another look with Daryl. He gave you a nod. "Michonne's right. Better do it righ' away."

So that's what you did.

Siddiq welcomed you, of course, back with open arms and went immediately to work. Especially after you told him about the pregnancy and bleedings.

Luckily was your baby alright and healthy - as far as the doctor could tell.

"But... What caused the bleedings then?" You asked; sitting up and straightening your sweater. "I unfortunately can't tell. This just happens sometimes, but I'd like to keep an eye on this. As for you... You should rest a few days and do as little as you can. And-" He reached over to a little shelf and grabbed a small bottle with pills. "Take these prenatal vitamins." You nodded and took the vitamins. "Alright, doc. Thank you." Siddiq smiled, "Of course." then looked at Daryl. "Make sure she takes them and rests." "Oh, definitely. Ya ain't have ta worry 'bout that." "Good."

Since the news of your arrival spread quickly, was the rest of the day spent with meeting and reconnecting with old friends and family members. It was wonderful and you couldn't be happier; the difficulties of the pregnancy forgotten for a while.

It was already quite late when Daryl slipped underneath the warm sheets to join you; wrapping both his arms around your body and pressing his bare chest against your back; accompanied by a kiss on your neck.

"Daryl?" You whispered into the darkness; searching for his hand which was resting on your little baby bump. "Yeah?" He answered immediately; instinctively pulling you even tighter against him. "I'm happy to be back here. Don't get me wrong, please. I love to be out there with you and our boys, but... I have to admit that I love being here as well. Alexandria is home... Always will be."

There was a short moment of silence, before Daryl spoke up as well. "I get what ya mean, sunshine," he started. "Me too. 'S all about you 'n the baby now. Yer all safe... 'N that what matters most."

You smiled; gazing out of the window and slipped your fingers through Daryl's. "Yeah..."

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @mischief-dream @lou12346789 @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919 @erebus-et-eigengrau

[stsgluver]

tags. criminal mind!au, gojo x reader, unestablished relationship, mentions of blood, slight angst

"stop hovering."

there had to be at least two dozen emergency staff buzzing around you, ranging from medical to the fbi. everyone had a role to play in aiding the injured and ensuring no one else died tonight.

your job, for the most part, was complete. you'd profiled and detained the unsub and, although the adrenaline racing through your body had you on high alert still, you were more than ready to climb into your hotel bed.

"gojo," you called out the name of your white-haired colleague after he didn't respond to you. he wasn't listening, too focused on the movements of the paramedic who was sterilising the cuts on your arm and forehead. luckily, you didn't require any stitches. "satoru."

his first name, which you ever so rarely used while on duty, had him at least making eye contact with you. he wasn't injured but he definitely needed to shower - there was dirt staining his face and hair.

"i’m fine," you repeated for what felt like the millionth time. you loved your team, you really did, but you all worked the same dangerous job that came with the same dangerous risks. you came out of the ordeal as unscathed as you possibly could've been and while you were grateful for their concern, there needn't be any.

“barely," gojo muttered, electric blue eyes tracing the cut on your forehead that had yet to be cleaned, the blood still staining your skin.

you lightly shook your head, "that’s an exaggeration."

that set gojo out of whatever daze he'd been in as he frowned at you. "is it? what if i’d been another thirty seconds?"

out of everyone on the team, gojo was your favourite for several reasons. whilst yes, there was the obvious closeness between the two of you as your similar age had meant you'd quickly become close friends, there was also his attitude. it was rare that you ever saw gojo so serious, always finding a way to lighten up the mood no matter how dark or twisted your job gets.

this, however, was not lightening any mood, and you felt a pang of guilt that you were the cause of his unease.

"but you weren’t," you countered softly, trying not to sound like you were arguing or dismissing his worry.

you'd entered the building alone - inside was the unsub and a hostage and no one else would be on site for at least a few more minutes. the kidnapped girl did not have that time so you risked it.

after an altercation with the unsub, the hostage had managed to run free but you'd been left pinned down on the ground with a gun pointing at your forehead. no amount of negotiating could talk them through the psychological break they were experiencing so it was very likely that had gojo not shown up and put a bullet through him that you may died tonight.

but he did show up. he always did.

"yaga didn’t give you clearance."

"i know he’s already lectured me." it was exactly what you had wanted as gojo had helped you out of the building. he'd even stood by you as yaga spoking, supporting most of your weight as you'd twisted your ankle. "i don’t need to hear it twice."

"don’t you? i-" gojo stopped himself for a moment, running his hands through his hair as he so often did when he was frustrated. "we could’ve lost you." you felt bad for the poor paramedic who probably just wanted to get their job done and not have to listen to your quarrel.

"i’m fine satoru." you felt like a broken record.

your insistence wasn't enough for him to overcome his anger towards you and you had to fight off any tears as you watched him storm off into the crowd of people around you.