#burly brawl
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And yes I did just imply that a caffienated Emet-Selch would get into a schoolyard brawl with kids if pushed but normally just Elidibus and Azem, thanks for noticing.
#{ Is Azem a kid? No based on the knowledge we have of them do they still act like a kid? Fucking probably }#{ Emet shot G'raha with a gun to be dramatic you can't tell me he wouldn't get into a Burly Brawl with kids }
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Hii, i think a good idea for a one shot could be that there's a canon event where the spiderperson!reader have to do the iconic Spiderman kiss in their universe, like Spiderman 3 (toby's one) with Gwen stacy or whoever you want, but they are in a relationship with Miguel LMAOOO btw im sorry if there's something wrong with the grammar, english is not my first language <3
Rewrite the Stars
((Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader))
A/N: A non Sunny x Miggy post? How odd for me lol. I’m so sorry this is super late and to everyone whose requested, I’m working slowly but surely on y’all’s stuff. If you wanna read some stuff in the meantime, here’s the Masterlist and feel free to join my discord.
A/N: I tried doing the you/yours pronoun thing because this isn’t a Sunny fanfic but I really don’t like it lol.
Warnings: Jealous Miguel?, Unrequited/Forbidden? Love, Female Reader/Female Pronouns, Barely use of Y/N, and no Spanish this time ((I’m trying to find a new translator and hopefully an editor))
The universe.
One of life’s greatest mysteries. A mass of stars and galaxies that housed so many lives within its many pockets. The lives of so many people whose lives were already written within its cloudy arms and their ends cemented in its pools of nothingness.
A beautiful cycle of cruelty and destiny.
A cycle that was the reason for your utter misery as you sat at a bar listening to your dimension’s Ben Riley blabber on about some football game you cared nothing about.
His oblivious brown eyes sparkled at the fascination with the game as his dimpled smile accentuates his sharp jawline. The warm lights from above caused a healthy glow to bounce off of his shaggy blonde hair, almost making him look like an angel. You can see why Spiderverse assigned him as your love interest.
In your earth’s canon, you were a typical woman who had gotten bit by a radioactive spider during a high school field trip and you spent your entire high school experience thrashing goons instead of chasing boys. Even helped take down some aliens with the Fantastic Four and the Avengers at times before college finals. Spiderwoman was New York’s beloved hero and the cockiness of being its one and only SpiderWoman quickly got into her head.
That was until six months ago.
Six months ago, you were fighting the Vulture over the Empire State Building when another, more mutated version of the same villain appeared. They both decided in your state of delirium over the doubles that you would be a good plaything.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, I didn’t ask for a combo with my chicken!” A feminine spider’s voice screeches as she avoids the hooked talons of the erratic variant.
The two villains took turns flying menacingly around the scope of buildings to throw the hero off of their location while the other swooped in and tries to rip her throat out.
As she attempts to escape the feathered monster, its companion would come and slice away the web of salvation, continuing the vicious cycle.
Blood blinded her vision as the loud ringing at the base of her skull grew louder. The causes of that annoying alarm grasp their razor claws into her shoulders before sweeping her exhausted body into the air with a victorious snarl.
‘I guess this is the end…’
As the heavens draw closer to her doom, her life hanging up by the slicing of her muscles and bones, a glimmer of fate happens. The warmth of a flash barely registers as the first ache disappears with a startled squeak and a burly force. The sudden change in feeling takes her breath away as she suddenly begins to plummet below.
Her eyes quickly adjusting to the suffocating drop, she can see that one of the Vultures was now fighting an even more prominent blue figure, his howls of pain and unintelligible cursing heard from the stumbling brawl.
As the flash from her familiar foe reaches around the building, she shoots her web at him and used him as a glider.
“Time to ground you, birdie!” She yells as she throws the villain through a window. Catching her grip on the building, she looks at her new foe in the sky and the wind is knocked out of her from the sight.
The man who saved her was in a futuristic spider suit with his mask now off. His dark hair flutters in the wind as the setting sun makes his tanned skin glow. His red eyes glare at the wiggling mutant as his full lips pull back into a snarl. His jaws open revealing a set of large fans before he plunged them into the mutant.
Who the hell is that?
~~~~~~~~~
“(Y/N)?…” Ben frowns as he realizes his date was lost in her thoughts.
You snapped out of your head and fake an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was remembering something….”
That wasn’t a complete lie. You remembered the day you met Miguel O’Hara. The Spiderman of the year 2099 and the leader of the inter-dimensional Spider Society. The anomaly that had come into your world had brought the two together and you were recruited due to your stubbornness, much to Miguel’s annoyance.
~~~~~~~~~
“No.” His annoyance dripped from these words as he glares down at you. You were caught in wonder at the idea of there being other Spidermen and that they worked together to stop the collapse of the entire universe. The thought seemed too good to be true that you just had to ask if you could join until those red eyes shot your dream through the heart.
“What do you mean ‘No’?” You ask in disbelief. Your own eyes glared deep into his soul as your hands balled into fists. “I’m a Spiderman just like you! How could you-!”
“You are not like me.” He coldly snaps at you, your ranting briefly interrupted as the man towers over you. His clawed hand grasps your face as his glare sets a spark of fury down in your chest.
“You will never be like me and you will never-!” “Is that our new recruit?” A smooth British accent appears behind Miguel as a spiked-headed Spiderman peeks around his bulking figure.
“No, she’s-” The tall punk pulls you away from Miguel with a mischievous laugh as he introduces himself. “Ello, love, my name is Hobie. Hobie Brown.” He leans down with a sly smirk as his mischievous attitude infests your being like a plague. “Just play along, mate. Let’s riffle this wanker’s undies.” He whispers as you giggle.
“Nice to meet you, Hobie.” I allow a sly smirk to slide onto my face as I look back at the now very annoyed Miguel. “My name is (Y/N) and I’m happy to join.”
~~~~~~~~
The distant sound of screams filters through the bar as the distinct sound of a car being tossed into another building.
Looking at my gizmo disguised as a watch, you realized that the canon event was starting.
~~~~~~~~
“You did well today,” Miguel admits under his breath. Looking at him in shock, you realize that he wasn’t scowling like he normally was. He had a softer expression, his eyes shining with approval as his lips quirked into a mimic of a smile.
The mission had almost gone rouge with the escape of a prowler and him hiding low in a crowded dimension. Despite the obvious danger, Miguel opted to go alone like usual, but his lack of spider sense caused him to get caught up in a trap. Talons and Fangs don’t really help if you can’t exactly move around to use them, so he ended up taking serious blows.
Luckily, you managed to get there and tumble with the villain long enough for the others to rescue Miguel, and the team managed to recapture the prowler. Of course all of them looked pretty bad injuries wise, but the look Miguel had as you sat there bandaging up his wounds made it worth it for some odd reason.
“Thanks Boss.”
~~~~~~~~
June 27th : SpiderWoman of Earth 648 will rescue love interest, Ben Riley, from an attack against The Rhino….
The roaring of the mechanical beast fills the panicked screams of the patrons as the sinking feeling falls in your chest. Ben is quick to play the hero like any guy would as he grabs your arm and drags you out towards the emergency exit. Just like the timeline said it would.
You use the chaos to your advantage as you pretend to trip and get lost in the crowd of people struggling to escape from the emergency exit.
~~~~~~~~~
“What do you mean by that?!” I snapped at an irritated Miguel.
Lyla was surprisingly quiet as she watched the duo argue. Miguel whips around at you as his ruby eyes scorched into yours. His talons point at you accusingly as he reiterates your next canon event.
“On June 27th, you are going to be out on a date with Ben Riley. The Rhino is gonna attack that street and you’re gonna save everyone, and afterwards you’re gonna have to kiss him.” His frustration evident as his permanent frown creases.
You stare into his eyes in defiance as you coldly utter, “No. I’m not gonna kiss Ben Riley.”
“And why not? He’s your love interest!” Miguel exclaims, obviously more furious than before. “You’re the Peter to his MJ. You gotta kiss him because you’re destined to be.”
“I don’t love him! I don’t even like his whiny ass!” You snap as you felt your frustrated tears roll down your face.
It’s true. Before you joined this team, you would have been thrilled that you were destined to be with Campus Hunk Ben Riley. He was everything you could ever want from a guy. He was good looking, sensitive, athletic, and social able. The all around good guy you would be proud to bring home to your folks.
But…
Sharp grasp on your shoulder alerts your attention back to Miguel as he slams you back against the desk. His eyes burning embers as he glares down at you.
~~~~~~~~~~
Changing into your spidersuit, you began to fight The Rhino with a distracted daze in your movements.
The memory from a week prior burning in your mind as you sloppily avoided cars and harsh blows. After a few well timed flips and back kicks, the brute decides to throw a large street cleaning truck towards the alleyway. Just like Lyla predicted when she handed you the file.
The Rhino is gonna throw a street cleaner towards the alleyway where Ben is. SpiderWoman will stop the truck before impact and sling it back towards The Rhino ending the fight.
~~~~~~~
“And why is it that you are being so difficult?!” He snaps as his fangs glimmer from his scowl. A cute trait you used to love about him until it was pointed at you. “You are no better than a spoiled child with how you are acting so you better have a good fucking reason!”
You growl back at him with a tear rolling down your enraged face.
He had no right to argue with you about your life, not when he’s the one making it difficult.
~~~~~~~
Shooting a web out towards the buildings, you catapulted yourself into the air and landed in front of the truck. Quickly reusing the web with some enforcements, the truck was bounced back to the The Rhino. The enormous foe gets trampled by the machinery as the crowd cheers for SpiderWoman’s dreaded victory.
“Way to go SpiderWoman!!” A familiar voice joins the crowd as I see Ben on the ground, obviously he either tripped or fell back to avoid the truck. You offer a hand towards him as you thank him softly.
“Thank you.” I faked the smile in my voice as the crowd disappears, leaving the two of you in the alley way.
~~~~~
Finally snapping at him, you yell out in fury,
“BECAUSE HE’S NOT YOU!”
With a frustrated slap to Miguel’s face, you run past him and escaped back to your dimension, heartbroken over how the events to come and what just happened that despite everything you couldn’t change fate.
No matter how many times you fell asleep during long nights talking on his observation deck. No matter how many playful sparring matches turn into flirty comments. Not even the little gestures of bringing the grumpy spider his coffee and him bringing you some sweets during meetings could change that the star already written your path.
You fell in love with a man who isn’t meant to be yours.
~~~~~
It’s been a week since that fight and you still haven’t seen or heard from him. It hurt to know that your confession was brushed aside while you had to continue the continuity. You half at least expected him to be here to make sure you at least followed through with the canon event.
“Would you like a swing home?” I offer just like I’m supposed to. The moment that was meant to be a nervous beginning to a love story felt like the beginning of heartache as I watched a blush form on his face.
“Sure,” he answered before a flash of realization that his date was suddenly not with him. Another trait you wouldn’t have noticed if you were as in love with him as you were suppose to be.
“Hey my date isn’t here…I think she got hurt or lost during the panic.” His concern caused a pang of guilt to stab her in the chest.
Recovering quickly, you shoot out some webbing and playfully hang upside down infront of him. “Well I guess that swinging date will have to be postponed.”
“Wait it was gonna be a-!”
Quickly, you pulled down the mask enough to deliver a quick peck to his rambling mouth. You force out a giggle as he stood looking at you flabbergasted.
“See ya, Riley.” You swing off as the man bumbled to even ask how you knew his name.
Lyla just said it was a kiss, not a what kind of kiss.
With a heavy heart, you swing back home as you tried to remember that this was all for the sake of the canon. That Miguel didn’t care for you the way you did for him. You tried your hardest to tell your aching heart that those past few months were you just making too much out of nothing.
You mournfully entered your apartment through the bathroom window you normally kept unlocked . You stripped away the skin tight fabric before wrapping yourself in the familiar comfort of your robe as you exited the room into a dim lit living room.
You heart stick in your chest as you see Miguel standing there in your living room in his bright blue spider suit and a beautiful spring lily in his hand.
“Miguel? What are you doing here?…” You ask as yoy warily approach him, scared he’s gonna do something to you.
He shakes his head, refusing to answer as he hands you the flower. It’s soft white petals shining in the pale moonlight as you smile fondly at it. They were your favorite flower. Something you told Miguel a million times before.
Before you could thank him for the kind gesture, a soft thump above you alrets you to look up. A spindle of glowing webbing cascaded down the ceiling with the large spiderman now suspended upside down from it. His free hand caresses the side of your face as his eyes stared softly into yours.
“I can’t change the canon, mi amor…” he whispers sadly before mischief lights up his molten gaze. “But we certainly can try to rewrite the stars for us.”
An excited nod from you causes his chest to rumble as he pulls you into a slow passionate kiss.
You were glad this is a canon event for spider men despite it not going as planned.
#miguel o’hara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman into the spiderverse#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara#across the spiderverse#fanfic
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TEAM TADPOLE AT THE TAVERN. LETS GO.
Karlach: Currently drinking a very buff, burly dwarven man under the table. There's a betting pool going on who will win, and Astarion's already rigged it in his favor- nevermind the fact that Karlach could drink an elephant under the table anyways.- Had to help carry Gale and Shadowheart home after they had drank too much.
Wyll: Enjoying the music, enjoying a bit of wine. He has also broken up and prevented about 4 bar fights so far.
Shadowheart: Embracing her inner wine aunt. Maybe she doesn't socialize a whole lot, but she does enjoy some conversation with her closer comrades. She does get a bit more sociable when intoxicated, however, and talks *so much* shit about people in elvish.
Astarion: Has caught the eye of several other people at the bar. He has a naturally flirtatious energy about him- (It's called trauma) -And whether it's people somewhat recognizing him from him luring victims in the past, or genuine attraction, Astarion is a little uncomfortable with some of the unwanted attention. And now that he's free, he isn't afraid to voice it, either. He's also pickpocketed several of the bar patrons so far.
Durge: On edge, and extremely irritated. They've reluctantly grown attached to all of their companions, but Astarion especially (I can't help it, I romance Astarion in every playthrough). Being a child of Bhaal, denounced or not, violence is quite literally in their blood, and they are 100% ready to deck the shit out of someone should they need to- As an avid enjoyer of divorced dad rock, I feel like the vibes are very "Next contestant" by nickelback.
Gale: Started with talis card readings for random bar patrons, and is now very drunk, and spewing weird facts that literally nobody else asked about - Such is the curse of sad Autistic wizards. This is, however, one of the very few instances in which Durge enjoys conversation with Gale. Info dumping about special interests can be more fun when part of a drinking game.
Lae'zel: Mostly keeping to herself. She can handle a lot of alcohol, but she doesn't feel the need to drink excessively. She's not exactly having fun, but she is content. She tried to get in a bar fight at one point, but much to her dismay, Wyll put it to a screeching halt.
Honorable mention, Withers: Is the parent everyone calls when they're too drunk to get home correctly.
Outcome overall: It was a fun outing until Durge started a drunken barroom brawl, and everyone had to get involved. They are now banned from this tavern, and owe some money to cover the damages- Except for Wyll. Wyll made friends with the Barkeep, and got invited to their family gathering next Tuesday.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate meme#astarion#bg3 durge#dark urge#gale dekarios#lae'zel#baldurs gate tav#wyll ravengard#shadowheart#bg3 withers#tavern#scenarios#karlach
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Desmond x Ezio au drabble 🤍
No matter what year it is, a bar is still a bar. Drinking, brawling, flirting, and general chaos will forever be commonplace.
“It's nice to know some things don't change.” Ezio's smooth voice sent a slight chill up Desmond's neck as the Italian man draped his arm over Desmond's shoulders. With a toothy smile Desmond knows he did it on purpose. Always teasing him whenever he sees an opportunity. Always getting a little closer. He may be touchy now, but soon Ezio's hands will roam and only ghost over him. Leaving Desmond craving more, Ezio knows exactly how to push his buttons.
Desmond, however, was not the only person the Italian had been close to tonight. Unfortunately this is where the trouble started.
A tall burly man sauntered up to the two assassins. Head high and shoulders back, the man oozed bravado. Though neither of them paid him a second glance until he loomed over them and started speaking a little too loudly. It was an obvious intimidation tactic that fell short of any real threat to the two sitting at the bar.
“Whitch one of you fuckers kissed my girlfriend!” Desmond could smell the booze on his breath, rancid. Nothing like the sweet scent of wines that lingered on Ezio.
Speaking of which, Desmond shot Ezio a questioning look. Ezio leans back in his chair and shrugs.
“She never said she had a partner, but I did have a beautiful bella kiss me earlier.”
In the blink of a golden eye the mans first started towards Ezio's face, and Desmond's instincts had already kicked in. Grabbing the man's wrist and twisting him around until he kicked the man's back making him stumble forward.
He regained his footing and faced Desmond who now stood between the two drunks. Fists clenched and eagle eyes looking for the slightest movement.
The drunk man charged at him and without thinking and Desmond redirected him and smashed his face into the wooden bar top.
Ezio sat back and watched as fists flew. Both brawlers oblivious to the shouts and cheers around them, too focused in the moment. Ezio saw something else too, something only he could see.
Desmond's posture was straighter, his hands were lower, shoulders more relaxed, and his stance was ever so slightly farther apart. It was like looking in a foggy mirror.
Desmond was bleeding Ezio's fighting style.
By the time the one sided fight was over the drunk was a bloody mess on the floor and Desmond was unscathed except for some busted knuckles. Desmond went to return to his barstool but the three were promptly kicked out for fighting.
Ezio laughed as he and Desmond walked down the street looking for another place to relax. Meanwhile Desmond kind of just grumbled to himself for getting kicked out of the bar.
“I didn't even start the fight! Why am I getting punished for this!” Ezio's rich buttery laughter filled the cool night air once more.
“I might as well have been the one fighting anyway. Why did you get involved?” Desmond knew that Ezio noticed the bleeding effect, but was strangely embarrassed to admit it. Maybe it was because he had one too many shots but talking about using Ezio's experience felt… intimate.
“So why didn't you jump in then?” Desmond's words came out harsher than intended, but as always the Italian just shrugged it off.
“The two of us would have been overkill. Not worth getting both of our hands dirty.” Ezio suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed Desmond's hand. Gently he brought his hand up and kissed his bloody knuckles, all the while staring Into Desmond's normal whiskey colored eyes. “I will admit I enjoyed the show you put on~”
Embarrassed, he pulls his hand away and continues walking. All the while Ezio has that same sly grin on his face. “You're buying the next round.”
“Whatever you say, vita mia~”
Desmond's face felt warm and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he knew the heat in his cheeks wasn't just from the alcohol.
Translations
Bella: woman or beauty
Vita mia: a very close term of endearment. Literally translates to my life
@sulfies his art has been living rent free in my head for a month and was the inspiration for this fic!
#Desmond x Ezio#assassin's creed#a degenerate writes#not x reader#🤍#desmond miles#ezio auditore#pleace check out sulfies art its so good! I am thirsty and it quenches!
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i just saw your post / reblog mentioning anger issues adam being under represented and ur so right why DOES everyone make him a pissbaby
this is me begging you !!! if you feel like it !!! as a formal request PLEASE !!!!! write a little something with adam’s anger issues and a reader who absolutely sucks with anger (like. cries when yelled at) and how adam might handle that AHDJSJDJ
Hot head
Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x F!reader
Click here for m!reader version!
Includes: angst, fluff, brief mention of physical altercation (not between Adam and reader)
Summary: after a brawl at a bar, Adam is left feeling hot-headed and angry, unfairly snapping at his partner.
A/n thank you so so so so much for this request!! It's really nice to be able to flesh his character out a bit more, like don't get me wrong, I love soft fluffy Adam, but he's such a complex character with so many different sides, so it's nice to explore a new one for a change :^)
"Adam please just calm down!" Y/n pleaded, her voice quivering.
"Calm down? Are you fucking kidding me?" Adam yelled, slamming the apartment door behind him as the two entered.
"Why do you always have to undermine me like that? I had it all under control" he continued.
"No you didn't, Adam you're hammered and you were gonna get yourself hurt" y/n insisted, tears welling in her eyes.
"I can't be around you when you're like this, I'm going to bed. Don't follow me" he snarled, as he huffed away to the bedroom and locked the door behind him.
Y/n's boyfriend, Adam, was a tetchy guy. He really was the loveliest guy you could ever meet, but he had issues with his anger. He'd had them ever since he was a kid, probably due to the fact that his dad was nothing short of an asshole, but as he grew older he managed to get his temper under control. That was until he reached his mid twenties and went through a particularly traumatic event; being kidnapped by a serial killer and only narrowly escaping with his life. Ever since then his temper had a hair trigger.
On this particular occasion, it was a Friday, date night for Adam and y/n. They'd gone to a hole in the wall bar just to have a few rounds before heading home, but of course, Adam had overdone it. He wasn't necessarily acting too out of the ordinary, just drunk, which was fine, it was a Friday and he didn't need to be up early the next day. But alcohol made Adam's already short temper even shorter, it took very little to get him agitated, and when a lairy drunk man nudged Adam and sneered "ain't you that guy from the news that went and got himself kidnapped?" Adam completely lost it.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" He spat with an aggressive shove
"You heard me" the drunkard jeered
"Baby, please let's just go" y/n whispered, tugging at Adam's arm, who immediately shook her off.
"You wanna take this outside asshole?" Adam yelled, drawing attention to their squabble now.
The man threw his head back laughing, "Fuck are you gonna do to me you skinny prick?" He shoved Adam back, and in his drunken state, Adam lost his footing and stumbled backwards.
Feeling humiliated and enraged, Adam lunged at the man, landing a hefty punch on his right cheek. The man, who didn't take so kindly to this, grabbed Adam by the scruff of the neck and punched back. This went back and forth until Adam and the man were practically a cloud of fists and hurled obscenities, all to y/n's horror, as she pleaded for them to stop through tears.
Eventually, a rather burly bartender got between them and peeled the two off of eachother. Y/n apologised for the commotion and dragged a still very firey Adam out of the bar.
The couple argued the whole short walk home, Adam adamant that y/n should have just let him knock that asshole out, and y/n tearfully insisting that Adam would have gotten himself hurt, which brings us up to speed.
"I can't be around you when you're like this, I'm going to bed. Don't follow me" Adam snarled, as he huffed away to the bedroom and locked the door behind him.
Y/n sat down on the sofa and let out a few small, quiet sobs. She pulled a nightshirt and an old blanket out of the laundry basket and settled in on the couch, ready for a long and uncomfortable night.
Writhing around in the darkness, y/n wrestled with her racing mind trying to find sleep, to no avail. She hated when she and Adam went to bed mad at eachother, and she hated Adam when he raised his voice. She hated this entire night, and desperately just wanted to get to sleep so that it would be over.
Creeeeaaaak
Y/n became aware of floorboards creaking from down the hall near the bedroom, she figured it was just Adam getting up to use the bathroom.
Creeeeaaaak
That was strange, they were getting closer.
Y/n closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting round two of the argument right at the minute. She heard Adam step closer still, until he was most definitely stood right next to the sofa, looking over her. Y/n wasn't sure where this was going, but still, she pretended to be asleep. That was when she felt something she didn't at all expect; Adam's arms began to cradle her body and lift it up, carrying her to the bedroom gently. Y/n felt herself be placed so very carefully on the mattress, and tucked in under the warm sheets. Adam sat on the side of the bed stroking her hair and whispering so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.
"I don't deserve you, but i want to. I'll get my temper under control, I'll be a better man for you. I don't wanna loose you baby" he breathed, unaware that y/n was hearing the whole thing.
He pressed a soft kiss onto y/n's temple with the most quiet "I love you".
"I love you too" y/n whispered back.
Adam's face flushed red, as he looked down into y/n's now open eyes.
"H... how long have you been awake?"
"The whole time" she smiled warmly.
Adam's gaze softened at her smile.
"I'm sorry baby, I really am. How can I make it up to you?"
Y/n thought for a second, before she settled on an answer.
"Well for starters, you can get under here with me and give me a cuddle" she said, lifting up the blankets and patting the empty spot beside her.
"Sure thing babe" Adam whispered affectionately, his face angelic and soft.
He slipped under the covers next to y/n and held her tightly all night, as though he'd truly realised just how precious the girl sleeping next to him really was, and he was never going to let her go.
A/n requests are open! Check my pinned post for details and masterlist!
#adam faulkner x reader#adam faulkner stanheight#adam saw#saw adam#adam faulkner#adam stanheight#adam stanheight x reader#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#x you#x reader#x f!reader#saw 2004#sawposting#saw#fluff#angst
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Hello!!! would you mind doing a 🌹 for Elias possibly please? They enjoy flirting, and spending time around people! They deeply enjoy going through the actions and symbolism of romance, even if they don't really feel attraction. This is absolutely a favorite time of year for them!!
here's their Bio!: https://www.tumblr.com/the-dye-stained-socialite/729007131094908928/character-bio-elias-leroux-name-title-elias?source=share
The Captain knocks gently on your door, a box full of chocolate sweets, frosted with carefully harvested Honey.
"From my personal collection of lost Dreams, for you. I suggest you'd have one or two tonight, before bedtime. Dreams are shy and fragile, my dear, better let them come to you at their own pace." they seem to be a little hesitant, then smiles a little, a warm and crooked smile.
"Some of them are not just from my personal collection but they're personal. Hope you'll like them, Elias dear. Shall we go?"
The Captain keeps easily your pace, enjoying the light chatting. They always keep an eye on you, as if studying your expressions or the effect something they said had on you. They make way gallantly for you, splitting a crowd of Zailor a little too happy to be back in London with a bow and gesture of their hand. They seem pretty at home here, at the Docks and Elias can't help but wonder where are they headed, as the false-night creeps slowly in.
Some false-stars begin to shine a little more brightly as if the real night had fallen upon London, when the Captain stops near the Dock; they sit with their feet dangling lightly off the edge as they show to Elias some of the Constellation they use to navigate the troubled waters both of the Unterzee and the heart: some of those are deeply tied to loss and pain but also joy and love.
"That one is the Everquesting Knight. Bound to Search for their Desire but never reaching it. And the Zee Beast, over there. And ah... don't trust those stars over there..." each explanation comes in a soft voice, not a trace of the usual salt air in it.
Then it's time for some fun action, as they lead you to a nearby warehouse, all decorated in all the Neathbow colour: bright coloured lamps create a caleidoscope of illusions on the floor.
It seems like they know everyone and you spend the next few hours between music, group dances (it's sort of magnetic and hypnotizing how so many burly people can move in sync and with such grace. Their zee legs influence the way they move in a mesmerizing pull-and-push style of dance)
In between the dances the Captain introduces you to some of the most WILD zailors they know, proud and happy to be in your company tonight.
Occasional show offs of physical strenght and brawls start on the now emptied dance floor, like arm-wrestling and even swashbuckling as if the whole warehouse transformed into some sort of wild and strange zee-themed circus.
The air is so full of joy and shared emotions, you lose sight of the Captain for a while and when they return to you, they're holding a small figurine, masterfully carved out of stygian ivory: it is clearly meant to represent you, in every minute detail of your outfit, laughing or perhaps singin.
As the night grows old, the party doesn't seem to be willing to wind out soon, Francis Dargor asks you if you'd like to see something secret: there's a room in the tallest spire of the Bazaar in which they can senak in and there, they keep a certain item that will shine a new light on London, if you're willing to come with them.
They open up a pathway through a mirror, big and wide, forgotten in a corner of the Dock and you end up in a room where the walls are all silvered mirrors: two doors on opposing walls the only things breaking the mesmerizing views of Parabola. One of the door is open and you can see a small balcony on the other side; the Captain is waiting out there with a small telescope in hand, waiting for you.
Through it, you can barely see the Bazaar but oh so many lights! Small fires or stars are crawling and entwine in the streets of London!
"See those? Those are Love stories. People who love and are loved."
You'd swear that for the briefest moment, the Captain was RADIANT.
For the last couple of hours, the two of you look at London through that telescope trying to figure out the strange dance of all these stars, what kind of love could be moving them.
Once you're back home, you open up the box of chocolate and pick up one to try; it's slightly warm and it tastes like cherry liquor.
That night you dream of a young man, green eyes and dark blonde hair and a number of small, sweet moments with him: a stroll under starlight, real starlight, a game of chess with finely crafted pieces; blue and white and black and red. A playful chase under the sun, golden hair shining so bright.
The next morning you find a small hand mirror, with an inscription all around its frame and a note:
"To all Love its Light, to all Zailor their Dream." says the inscription
"Thank you so much for the night. It'll be a precious memory and a little light I'll bring with me in my voyages. Yours truly, Captain Francis Dargor Morgan."
The envelope smalls vaguely like zee salt, old wood and candles, a kiss imprinted in peligin in the corner. From your window you can see their galleon departing and you can't help but wonder which light will guide them back to London this time...
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Mushy May Day 15: Standing up for them
@forlorn-crows you know how I said there’d be hockey au?
Pairing: Mountain/Rain, implied Aether/Swiss/Dew
Rating: Teen
Words: 758
Contains: Hockey AU (Goalie!Mountain, Left Winger!Rain, Defenseman!Aether), fistfighting
I have drawn Mounty’s helmet before if you’d like to take a look!
...
The easiest way to start a fight is to fuck with a goalie. The goalie might not start something, but their teammates sure will.
It’s halfway through the third period, the Ghouls are up four to one against the Holy Hitters, and they’re starting to get desperate. Despite their name, they play dirty. They cross check when the refs aren’t looking, elbows get thrown in every corner, and their chirps cross the line into threats.
One of their forwards, a burly man close to Swiss’s size, gets the puck, skating towards the Ghouls’ defensemen, Aether and Cirrus. He races down the ice and Mountain gets into position, eyes not leaving the puck. Aether and Cirrus follow closely, sticks reaching but coming short as they skate backwards.
The forward shoves through Aether and Cirrus, before setting his eyes on Mountain. Mountain bends his knees, ready to drop down if he tries to shoot.
He doesn’t try to shoot. The forward keeps skating, full speed, turning so his shoulder is the first thing that makes impact with Mountain’s chest.
There’s several layers of padding between them, but Mountain still feels his shoulder dig into his sternum. His skates go out from under him, and the momentum sends him back and down. There’s a resounding clang as the back of his helmet hits the crossbar, and his back hits the ice a moment later. The breath is knocked out of him, and the goal’s come off of its posts.
Mountain shoves the forward off of himself, instinctively getting back onto his skates as the ref calls for stoppage of play to get the goal fixed.
The whistle sounds again, multiple times, and Mountain looks over his shoulder. His mouth falls open, half astonished, half amused.
Rain’s skating hard at the forward who knocked him off his feet, gloves and stick falling to the ice. Even from here, Mountain can see the unbridled rage in Rain’s eyes.
Rain’s not a fighter. The Ghouls players most likely to start a fight are Swiss and Dew, and Sunshine’s gotten herself into a few brawls, but Rain’s never fought. Rain’s not exactly little, like Dew, and he’s not quite as strong as Aether or Swiss, but he’s still lithe and fast. Rain grabs the Hitters forward by the collar of his jersey and starts swinging.
The Hitter doesn’t just stand there and take it, he swings back, knocking Rain’s helmet off, busting his lip. This doesn’t stop Rain. He keeps swinging, pulling hard enough on the Hitter’s jersey that he loses balance, going down to the ice with Rain on top of him.
Aether skates up to Mountain, gathering Rain’s dropped gear as the rest of their team watches the fight. “Are you okay, Mounty? Heard you hit the crossbar.”
Mountain spares Aether a quick glance before looking back to Rain. He shrugs, raising the hand with his catcher to try and cover his smile, which he’s sure makes him look dopey and does not help him convince Aether that he’s fine. “I’ve gotten my bell rung harder than that before. I’m good.”
Aether sighs, knocking his shoulder into Mountain’s. “Not dizzy or anything?”
“I’ve been concussed before, Aeth. I will let someone know if I start feeling it, promise,” Mountain swears, grabbing blindly for his water bottle on top of the net. He shoves his lid up and takes a drink before spraying himself in the face, washing away the sweat dripping from his auburn hair.
“I still want you to talk to the trainer after this, okay?” Aether says, leaning in towards him. “Just to ease my mind.”
Mountain nods, pulling his lid back down. He can’t see it, but his fingers brush over the oak leaf geraniums painted just over his cheek.
The refs haul Rain off of the Hitter forward, and he looks feral. His dark curls are sweat soaked and wild, there’s still white hot rage in his eyes, and, as he looks over his shoulder as he’s escorted to the penalty box, he grins at Mountain, licking the blood from his teeth.
Mountain feels heat flare in his stomach as he smiles back at Rain. He turns to Aether as the penalty box door closes. “So… I know you, Swiss, and Dew have a thing, but do you think I could hit the showers first tonight?”
Aether laughs, throwing his arm out to pat Mountain’s shoulder. “Get your head checked out first, bud. Then you can go after our left wing.”
“I think, Cap, that he’s gonna go after me.”
#i did briefly consider asking my father what it sounds like getting hit in the head#(he plays pickup as a goalie)#but then I would have had to explain why I'm asking and I'd rather not#mushy may#happy mountain Monday#mountain/rain#mountain ghoul#rain ghoul#the band ghost fanfiction#the band ghost#my writing
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(1/2)
Amphibia Vol. 2 Part 31:Burly Brawl
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The Start of a Short Friendship
"Alert, Oxygen depleted, time until asphyxiation; T-Minus 30 minutes." the serious sounding lady intoned for the third time. An automated warning obviously, but at this point, for two remaining lifeforms aboard, there wasn't much they could do to prevent the inevitable. The ship was spiraling madly and the only other ship in the area was just about to slam into the side of the star in the centre of the system.
Neither would have to worry about suffocating though, not if they didn't kill each other first. The honourable Brutix and the tricksy human sat either side of the connecting corridor. First one to pop their head out would get it blown off or they could wait 30 minutes and the issue would be resolved either way.
Brutix, the mighty taurian mercenary, heard a lighter click on, an inhale, and click off. Said lighter suddenly slid to a stop next to Brutix's wounded leg, a small metal case containing a single smokable stimulant, mildly bent, followed shortly after.
"So... we're dead." Came the calm voice from the other side of the corridor. This human was tricky, she had avoided dying whereas anyone else the Brutix had hunted for this long would have been long since dead and buried. The mercenary had heard of humans, everyone had, it was her first time hunting one however. She had been led to believe the shorter creatures weren’t a threat. She had been lied to.
"..It... would seem so, Human..." she begrudgingly agreed. "Do not take that fact as weakness or mercy, show yourself and I will end you just the same." The warrior promised, thumbing her pistol, ready to thrust it at the first glimpse of the human’s head.
"Nah, wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction, we can just continue this brawl in the next life." Called the voice with a hint of mirth.
"I will destr-… Next life?" The burly Brutix blinked, for the first time even considering that this life was perhaps not the only life. Taurians did not have a religion that all could call a ‘religion’’. Cults, and superstitions, perhaps, but this was the first mention of another life. Another chance to fight and kill and bleed as she had enjoyed in her years leading up to this moment? She enjoyed that idea.
"Oh yeah, I'm not letting you off that easily. But honestly, I'd rather team up to kick the shit out of whatever fucked up God brought about this whole mess." The jovial voice echoed from where the Human remained. Her tone carried more weight than it should have. She wasn’t bitter about Brutix, she was mad at this ‘god’ for another reason.
Humans had suffered. Whilst the rumours and tales often varied, what was constant was that humans had been battered, bruised and shredded from one side of The Spiral to the other. The taurian didn’t care about the alien’s woes however.
"...there's a creature that lives in the after-death? Human; explain!"
"Maybe, let’s say we killed each other today, by gun or choking to death, but afterwards; wherever we end up, we'll call a truce. I mean, if we killed each other, your honour and contract on me is complete right? If you're dead, who’s going to send you any other honour killings? Let's merc’ the fucker that believe themselves above all this!" The human declared, igniting the mercenary’s blood.
The Brutix thought for a moment, she'd always enjoyed killing the more powerful or at least those who thought them more powerful. This human may have got her into a stalemate, but that was not because she was stronger than the powerful hunter, it was just because the Human was tricksy.
"I like the idea of killing a God." Brutix admitted, sitting down and plucking the stimulant from it’s care to observe it.
"Might be more than one..."
Brutix glanced up the hallway.
"..What?"
"There’s whole pantheons girl! And from the stories, the Gods range from giant arseholes who deserve death to those who would welcome you because you had the tits to even try to kill the Gods!" The human said, laughing.
Brutix picked up the lighter, placed the stimulant into her toothy maw and lit it, pulling in the poisonous smoke. It was… enjoyable.
A new life with worthy opponents alongside a worthy ally?
Enjoying the headrush of the stimulant she leaned her head back against the bulkhead, her horns clanging against the metal. She sat for a moment and considered before opening her eyes, looking over the pistol and the gently rising smoke.
"Tell me about one that deserves to die." She asked the human.
"Aww man, let me tell you about this guy called Zeus. Dude could not keep it in his pants to save his life..."
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Police Dog: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Cop!Reader - Chapter 5
Contains: Descriptions of violence, blood
He didn’t want to bring you along.
It was the last thing he would ever want to do, but his hands were tied. He couldn’t risk defying yet another order from King Cole or else he’d risk it all just to keep a Mundy safe.
That’s all you were: A Mundy cop. A human.
Regret clawed at Bigby’s gut in the back of the cab as the damned thing came to a stop in front of the aforementioned club. He was about to tell the cab driver to take you back to your apartment when you had already gotten out, and when you closed the door behind you it practically sealed your fates for the morning.
As you both stood before the club, he felt… something.
He couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it an emotion? Was it his body still trying to quickly heal from his little brawl with Hook a few hours ago? He remembers feeling like this before, but not for many moons. It was like his organs were being squeezed in a vice-like grip, twisting and knotting between two strong hands as his heart beat wildly against his ribcage.
He didn’t like this feeling.
And he especially didn’t like the look of the club before you both.
It was obvious that it was shutting down for the night despite the sun slowly rising over the towering skyscrapers as the bustling city started to come to life. Men started to file out randomly from the front door, heads hung low and rumpled collars drawn up high to obscure their faces for at least a few blocks before they were in the clear. He recognized some of the men just by scent alone, Fables he had met once upon a time when they all fled here.
The bright neon sign suddenly flicked off, signaling that it was really the end of the graveyard shift. Bigby gave the sign an unamused look: ‘The Hungman.’
He briefly wondered if Peter still owned the building before you gently nudged Bigby’s trim side with your elbow to get his attention before nodding towards the door. He jumped at the contact, not used to being touched at all besides getting the shit beat out of him, especially with it being so gentle. Would it be wrong for him to like that? He felt his heart beating louder inside of him, his blood suddenly running like molten lead in his veins.
He needed to play it cool.
This was wrong. He can’t do this. He can’t do this to you.
He turned his attention towards the bouncer with his broad back turned to the two of you, his phone cradled between a burly shoulder and his ear as he spoke rudely over the phone.
He didn’t like the sudden feeling he had growing in his gut.
You had made for the bouncer, about to question him about your suspects like you were trained to do when Bigby grasped at your arm. You felt awful when you felt the butterflies in your stomach flutter and dance around, but it kind of felt amazing having him gripping you. You turned to look at him, praying your cheeks weren’t lit aflame when he shook his head softly. You wanted to pout when he released your arm and made for the door. He managed to catch it behind a man who had just left, sticking the toe of his dress shoe between the door and the frame quickly before he nodded for you to follow. You kept your eyes pinned to the back of the bouncer’s head, watching carefully just in case he spotted you but he was busy being an asshole over the phone to notice.
The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you both alone in a short hallway where the lights were dimmed and soft music played from the speakers overhead.
“What kind of club calls itself ‘The Hungman’?” you whispered to Bigby.
The sheriff bit at his upper lip to keep himself from laughing.
“This is - or at least was - Peter’s club.”
“Peter Pan?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t been around here in ages though, so his lost boys took it over.”
A rile of laughter echoed down the hallway followed by the music changing to something more grating. You were still fighting off the feelings of exhaustion that tugged at your eyes and the music did nothing more than make your temples pound and your skull to hurt.
Bigby started walking and you made to sure to follow close behind. There was a cutout at the end of the hallway that led to the actual strip club. It was similar to the few you had to go to for cases, mostly dealing with missing prostitutes or drug trafficking, but never a murder case. Until now, that is. It had the stage to your left surrounded by two rows of booths on different levels, the stage was decked out with a pole and curtains and even a booth for music. To your right was a bar fully stocked with liquors you would normally see at a bar along with some bottles you had to guess belonged to Fables. In between were rickety old tables with chairs needing to be tucked back in, and along the back wall laid a few dug in booths, one of which was occupied.
Four men sat facing each other, completely oblivious to you both standing there right under the archway. They were laughing, bottles of half drunk beer from a company you didn’t recognize before them along with stacks of bills they were going through and making smaller piles - probably to pay the strippers for the night if you had to take a guess. Rattling over at the bar had you glancing there once again. A very large man stood up from behind the bar with empty alcohol bottles in his massive hands. He wasn’t paying attention at first, but quickly looked over when he finally realized that they weren’t alone anymore. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you both, mostly at Bigby before a lazy grin fell on his face.
“Sheriff Bigby,” he slurred, “never expected to see you here.”
He was obviously drunk, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had finished off the last of those bottles he was setting onto the barback when the services finished for the night.
At his words, the other four men in the booth shot their heads up and looked over with wide eyes. The money stopped getting counted, one of them almost let their beer bottle slip from their hand.
“With a mundy, no doubt, too,” one of the men scoffed from the booth.
“So the rumors are true then?” another smirked like a creep. “Bigby needs a mundy cop to keep him on a leash?”
It didn’t surprise you that news would spread this fast. Not only was this New York City where everyone knew everyone else’s business - even more so in some boroughs - but this was also a close-knit community of people that have known each other and their shit for centuries on end.
“We’re just here to ask you all some questions,” you stated firmly, aiming to get back on track and then get the hell out of dodge.
“What kind of questions, mundy girl?” the large one hiccuped as he slowly rounded the bar.
“Was Captain Hook here a few nights ago causing a disturbance?”
The men at the booth all suddenly got up and exited out onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t like the feeling that bubbled in the pit of your stomach, it was like a cauldron boiling something evil and icy. Bigby took a half step forward, almost like he was protecting you from them. His glare was something dangerous as he made sure to keep an eye on all five of them in case they started something they’d regret.
“And what if he was?” the one with buck teeth and lanky limbs piped up.
“He said that you all assaulted him and took some of his property. Is that true?”
“And what if it is?” the two men who appeared to be twins piped up at the same time.
“This have something to do with those murders?” the one with buck teeth asked in a condescending tone. Your eyes widened at that one, the men only snickered at your expression. “Talk o’ the whole town. Their little neighbor wouldn’t stop squawking about it. And you’re here wasting your time on us.”
“You took something of his that ended up at the scene of the crime,” Bigby stepped in. “You can all either answer the fucking questions or I’ll take you all in for murder and throw you all down the witching well myself.”
“Woah, woah, we didn’t do fucking anything,” the shorter of the bunch spat.
They were all getting agitated. You felt unsafe, unconsciously tucking yourself behind Bigby a bit as you didn’t know what to expect when it came to facing against fables, especially so many at once. Would Bigby even be able to handle this by himself?
“You come into our club and start throwing out this kind of bullshit?” the buck tooth one came closer to the both of you.
“You need to back the fuck up,” Bigby took a heavy step forward.
“No, what we need is for you both to get the fuck out of our club, you fucking mutt. Take your little mundy whore and get o-”
Bigby shut him up with a swift punch to the nose, the man stumbling back as he clutched at his bleeding face.
That started it.
The rest all lunged at the two of you. You were quickly shoved back by the smaller fable, barely dodging his punch when you delivered a swift smack across his oily face. He was taken back by it, his cheek already showing the red handprint starting to form when he suddenly snatched at your person. You yelled, you struggled against him, managing to punch him right in the sternum causing him to drop you and clutch at his body. You were about to push him away when he lunged again, socking you right in the cheek before he suddenly lifted you up and threw you. Your body collided with the flat top of one of the tables before you slid off completely, the table and chairs falling over and clattering to the ground.
You landed on your back. Hard.
You wheezed as the wind was knocked completely out of you, your back seizing and your tailbone crying in pain as your nerves felt like they were being shocked. Your vision went a little hazy, swaying slightly as your vision blurred on the sides.
You heard an odd noise through the muffle in your ear and over the blaring music, it sounded something like an animal snarling mixed with something more monstrous. You tried to sit up, only managing to prop yourself up on your elbows before the pain in your back shot right through you, a short cry cut off from your mouth as you gasped at the feeling.
You suddenly heard the five other men shouting only to be followed by the sudden smashing of glass and crackling of breaking wood. You managed to crane your head up, drowsy eyes finally cracking open to see the smaller of the five hit the ground all beaten and bleeding.
Bigby was surrounded by the rest, his broad back to you. His hands were balled into fists, his knuckles broken open and bleeding, his forearms and biceps flexing as he panted like a wild animal. You almost didn’t notice how his arms looked fuller, and how they looked… hairier? His fists slowly uncurled and your eyes widened at the sight of long, black claws adorning his fingertips where his nails should’ve been.
The men around him had looks muddled fear and anger painted across their faces, especially the big drunk one.
They all went at Bigby one after another, hands balled into fists or holding a shattered beer bottle or two. The way Bigby moved made it seem like his clothes were suddenly too tight on his despite his usual dress shirt and slacks normally looking like they would fall off his person if he lost any more weight. Brawny muscles bulged as he fought them all off at the same time.
Sinking his claws into the smallest one of the lot, he hoisted him up and slammed him down onto the floor, his claws sinking in deep and drawing blood. He didn’t let go, however, and hoisted him up again only to slam him even harder against the dull carpet causing the wood underneath to crack violently. He was about to do it again when the lanky one grappled at his back and yanked him away.
He instead latched onto the poor fool and swung him off, colliding with the twins as the large one socked Bigby across the jaw before Bigby gave him the same treatment back. He stumbled backwards, heavy footfalls shaking the entire floor through the carpet. It was a shock he didn’t just tip over and crash onto the floor with how drunk he already was. Instead, he wiped the blood that had started to dribble from his now very broken nose and swung again at Bigby only to miss this time. Bigby retaliated, slashing at the big guy with his claws and sliced right into his chest.
You had managed to pull yourself back from the carnage but you didn’t get far when your back suddenly seized with pain again. You managed to crawl backwards until your reached the wall and somehow found the strength to sit up against it when you saw the last one fall.
Bigby snarled at the five men lying in a strewn out heap across the strip club’s floor, his eyes glowing a dangerous shade of yellow that cut through the blue tone the lights gave off. He was huffing and puffing like a beast, clawed fingers flexing and his chest heaving as though he just sprinted a full marathon. It took him a minute to finally calm down when he realized you were looking right at him.
He looked ashamed of himself, his brawny shoulders slouching in shame as his eyes widened and were almost mournful. He lost control in front of a mundy, in front of you. You couldn’t imagine the horrible thoughts that were racing through his mind.
Seeing him like this made you wonder what else he was capable of.
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i present to u: the prologue for grounding ! through his pov
“I’m warning you.” he says on the other side, “If you even lift a finger out of line, you won’t so much as see the outside of your cell for a week.” same threats as always.
“I’ll be on my best behavior, officer.” I tell him with false earnesty.
He grumbles something before unlocking the door and pulling me out. He walks me to the cafeteria, with my wrists bound and a hand on my shoulder. As we enter the mess hall, I see a burly inmate, I smile and nod at him, attempting to wave with my cuffed hands. The guard seems slightly off-put by my friendly behavior. The inmate returns the nod. My hands are released and I am free to get my meal. As I go through the line, I turn my head to the sound of the beginning of a brawl. The Burly Inmate talks gruffly to another inmate, the already sour conversation reduces to shoving. Soon The Burly Inmate throws a punch and the other tackles them to the ground. Other small fights start to break out. The guards try with little success to disengage the felons. The door is now unguarded and I slip out of the mess hall.
Of course, guards were called from other areas of the prison to help quell the violence and try to redirect me. But I swiftly slam one’s head into a wall, and his partner into a counter. I drag the unconscious officers to a closest and steal one’s uniform. I cover my face with a surgical mask and make my exit. I make my way out back and rummage through the pockets. The Idiot left his keys and some cash in his pants! Poor Guy should’ve realized that he works with some pretty dangerous people who would love to snatch up his stuff. I press a button on the key fob and am greeted with a pretty little mustang. I skip my way over to the car and drive away.
I stop at a grocer’s and pull some money out of my favorite employee’s account out of an atm. (The Idiot left the tank almost empty, what a jerk.) I grab some snacks to munch on during the drive back to the warehouse.
#my writing#joker my love#ledger!joker#ledger joker x reader#ledger!joker x you#ledger!joker x reader#queue 🍀#joker x reader#joker x you#tdk joker#heath ledger#tdk!joker x reader
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Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting
Fandom: 911 Lone Star
Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Gabriel Reyes, Andrea Reyes
Rating: T
CW: Blood
Summary: When Carlos responds to a call involving a bar brawl, he's surprised to find his fiancé injured and in the middle of it. But that's not the only surprise waiting for him...
For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Lacerations
For @bluenet13
Read on AO3
Carlos doesn’t want to be at yet another bar brawl. They’re messy and loud and chaotic and they take forever because everyone is drunk and angry and it’s impossible to get a straight story out of them.
He’s been watching the minutes tick by ever since a call for assistance at The Driskill Bar came in. A couple other units had responded immediately, but if they need back up, he’s the next closest one. His shift is so close to over, he can practically taste freedom. If he can just make it a few more minutes he can head back to the station and clock out without having any part of tonight’s drunken revelry.
Ten minutes.
Nine minutes.
Eight minutes.
“Three-six-three H-20 this is dispatch, please respond.”
He sighs and clicks on his radio. “Dispatch, three-six-three H-20.”
“Three-six-three H-20 please respond to a disturbance at 604 Brazos Street,” the dispatcher says.
Damn it. Carlos allows himself a half a second to let his head thunk back against the headrest in defeat. He was so close.
“Three-six-three H-20 responding,” he says, flipping on the lights and sirens as he hits the gas and speeds along through the rapidly darkening streets of Austin.
There are five other cruisers already at the Driskill when he pulls up and an ambulance is rolling in behind him. Shit. This is a big one. He double checks that everything is secure on his belt as he heads inside Drunk people are sometimes more crafty than they look, and he doesn’t want anybody grabbing something they shouldn’t.
The Driskill isn’t what he expected. It’s clearly not some dive bar where drunken locals go to drown their sorrows after a long day. The place is posh and polished, all gleaming wood paneling, leather booth seats, and the floor isn’t even the slightest bit sticky.
That being said, it’s is a disaster. Tables on their sides, drinks and food all over, and people everywhere in varying states of distress. A couple officers are still wrestling with unruly patrons while others are doing cursory checks of anybody who might be injured.
He goes to help a woman who is lying on the ground, her blonde hair all a mess. “Are you hurt?” Carlos asks as he pulls her to her feet.
“No, no I think I’m okay. Thank you,” she says, straightening out her dress.
“I’m going to ask you to take a seat over there until an officer can talk to you,” he tells her, holding out a hand in the direction of a couple of booths that are untouched by tonight’s violence. “If you find you’re in any pain flag down an officer or a paramedic.”
She nods and carefully picks her way over to the seats as he turns and looks for another place to be useful.
There’s an officer near him struggling to cuff a burly man who keeps yelling something about, “That little bitch!” so Carlos lends a hand.
“That little bitch! He’s gonna pay for this!” the man continues to yell as they get him to his feet.
“Sir!” Carlos says sternly. “You need to calm down!”
“I’m not gonna calm down! He nearly strangled me!”
Carlos looks at the man’s massive neck and finds that a little hard to believe. “Who?” he asks. “Can you identify your assailant?”
The guy glares at him. “Yeah. It was that little bitch right over there.”
Carlos follows the line of his gaze and feels his stomach drop as he takes in a familiar tousle of brown hair. “Oh…no,” he says slowly.
“What’s wrong?” the other officer asks.
“That’s my little bitch,” he says and then quickly corrects himself. “I mean, my fiancé.”
As if he can feel the weight of Carlos’ gaze, T.K.’s grey eyes snap up and lock on Carlos’, relief flickering through them.
“You can go,” the officer tells him. “I got this.”
“Thanks.”
Carlos strides across the room, broken glass crunching under his shoes, heart beating rapidly in his chest. When he reaches T.K. he’s shocked by what he finds.
His lip is bleeding, his left cheekbone red and swollen.“T.K. oh my god,” is all Carlos can manage as he gawps at the damage to his fiancé’s face.
“Hey babe.” The words are tired and maybe a little embarrassed.
Carlos reaches out and gently cups T.K.’s chin, trying to get a closer look at his injuries. Despite his care, T.K. winces in pain and Carlos recoils immediately. “I’m sorry. T.K., I—are you okay?”
He’s glad those are the words that come out because what he’s thinking is, “What the fuck is going on and why are you in the middle of it?”
“I’ve been better,” T.K. says wanly, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool he’s sitting on, and it’s then that Carlos realizes he’s cuffed. And also covered in blood.
“Are you bleeding?” he asks, panic ripping through him, his hands going to T.K.’s shirt, searching for injuries.
“Just a little.” T.K. lifts his right shoulder a bit and Carlos walks behind his back to find deep lacerations slicing their way up his right arm. He swears and fumbles for the key on his belt, hands slipping as he tries to get it into the slot, a combination of nerves and the blood that is oozing from all the cuts.
“Are you allowed to do that?” T.K. asks.
“Shut up,” Carlos growls at him, too frantic to think about things like procedure. Right now he needs to figure out how bad this bleeding is and get it stopped.
He finally gets the cuffs off and tosses them to the floor. T.K. brings his hands around to his front, grimacing as he takes in the damage. “That actually looks worse than I thought it would,” he says, examining his arm. “I don’t think it hit an artery though. Bleeding’s too slow.”
“Who cuffed you like this?” Carlos asks, anger lacing his tone. Because whoever it is, he’s going to rip them a new one. There’s procedure and then there’s common sense. And cuffing a guy who is bleeding this badly is not common sense.
“Babe, it’s okay,” T.K. says as Carlos searches for something to staunch the bleeding.
He finds a pile of rags behind the bar that appear clean and uses one to firmly apply pressure. T.K. makes a strangled noise of pain. “Sorry, sorry,” Carlos says. “Paramedics should be in here any minute.”
“Great. I was hoping everyone we know would find out about this in the next hour,” T.K. says, his joke about the rampant gossip mill in the AFD falling flat since Carlos is really concerned about the amount of blood he’s losing.
“T.K. what are you doing here?” Carlos asks.
“Not what it looks like.”
“I am…trying to believe that,” Carlos says, even as images of the last time he saw T.K. looking like this in police issued handcuffs flashes through his mind. “I thought you were going to dinner at your dad’s?”
“Right,” T.K. says, looking cagey. “What I said was I was going to dinner with Dad. I just…didn’t specify whose.”
Carlos is beyond confused. “You only have one dad, T.K.”
“Son, I am telling you, that is not proper cuffing procedure.”
The voice, that combination of outrage and annoyance, that’s the voice that cheered at his baseball games, taught him how to fix a fence post, and bemoaned the Astro’s fate at the breakfast table. Carlos turns around, his already frayed nerves feeling like they’ve caught on fire. “Dad?!”
“Oh, Carlos, hello!” his dad calls from across the room. He’s sporting the beginnings of a black eye and looks like he’s trying to take shallow breaths. “Can you please tell this probie to stop cuffing me for half a second so I can show him how to do it the right way?”
The officer dealing with his father looks young and is clearly nervous. “It’s okay,” Carlos says, suddenly feeling weary. “I’ve got him.”
The officer bolts, probably to find someone who won’t give him an earful about doing his job correctly. Carlos grabs his dad by the arm and pulls him over to T.K. “Okay,” he says, officer persona sliding back into place as tries to get a grip on what he’s seeing. “What is going on here?”
Gabriel frowns at his son. “Aren’t you going to uncuff me?”
“Not until I get some answers.” His dad thinks he’s too soft? He’s about to find out just how not soft Carlos can be when he’s pissed.
T.K. and his dad exchange looks. “We were having a drink,” his dad starts.
“I was having a club soda,” T.K. says quickly.
“Yes, right,” Gabriel says with a nod. “And then that animal over there,” he nods toward the burly man Carlos had helped take down moments ago, “started making some…rather indelicate comments. So I politely suggested he stop.”
“Politely?” Carlos asks skeptically.
Gabriel looks offended. “Of course politely! Unfortunately he didn’t appreciate it.”
“So I, also politely, told him where he could go if he wanted to keep making comments like that,” T.K. says.
Carlos can feel his resolve slipping as he watches the two of them concoct their story. He’s not going to go soft though. No, he’s going to go ballistic.
“Well he didn’t appreciate that either,” Gabriel says with a chuckle. “So he threw a punch. And we punched back.”
“In self defense,” T.K. says quickly. “We didn’t start it. But then a few other people got involved too and then…you can figure out the rest.”
“How did this happen?” Carlos asks, indicating the deep wounds on T.K.’s arm.
T.K. grimaces. “Once things really started popping off, big boy got a little feisty. He smashed a bottle and came at me.”
“That was a close one,” Gabriel says, his face serious now.
Carlos closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath so he won’t scream. “How did you get him off of you?”
T.K. immediately starts looking shifty again. “Um…your dad wasn’t the only one I was meeting tonight.”
He nods at something over Carlos’ shoulder and Carlos is afraid to turn around and look. When he finally does, he feels whatever shreds of police officer persona he was still holding onto evaporate. In fact, his cop swagger dries up so fast he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get it back.
“Mama?” he says weakly.
She’s sitting with another officer, her hand on his knee, eyes intent on his face.
“She broke a pool cue over that guy’s head,” Gabriel says, his eyes shining with pride. “Saved T.K.’s life.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Carlos mutters. He turns and looks at the two of them. “Stay here. Do not move.” Then he walks across the room until he’s standing directly next to his mother.
“You just have to tell her how you feel,” she’s telling the officer. “You can’t expect her to try and figure it out for herself.”
“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” the officer asks.
“Well then at least you’ll know.” She pats his knee gently. “And then you can move forward either way.”
This is too much. “Mom.”
She looks up, a smile blossoming on her face as she sees Carlos standing there. “Carlitos! What are you doing here?”
“My job Mom,” he says.
“This is your mom?” the officer asks, clearly confused.
“Yes,” Carlos says. “Apparently it was family night at the bar and no one invited me.”
“Okay, I’ll just…leave you to it then?” the office asks, clearly realizing he’s now in the middle of something.
“That would be great, thank you,” Carlos says.
Andrea gets to her feet as the officer wanders away. “Is T.K. all right?” she asks. “They’ve kept us all separated.”
“He’s hurt, but he’s okay. Are you all right?” Carlos asks, visually searching her for injuries. Unlike his father and T.K., she doesn’t seem to have a scratch on her.
“Oh yes, I’m fine,” she says, waving him off. “Not my first bar fight.”
Her response spawns more questions than answers, but now isn’t the time. That’s when she finally spots T.K. and her husband. “Oh there they are!”
She walks toward them, forcing Carlos to follow. “Ay Dios mío, you both look terrible,” she says when she reaches them.
“It would have been worse if not for you,” T.K. says, even though the blood seeping through the rag on his arm indicates it’s pretty bad.
Carlos is reaching for another rag when the front doors open and paramedics finally start flooding in.
He waits, holding his tongue as the medics examine his father and wrap up T.K.’s arm with something better and more sanitary than threadbare bar rags. “We’ll be ready to transport in a little bit,” the paramedic says as he packs up his things and moves onto the next patient down the line.
“Okay,” Carlos says now that they have some space. “I need someone to explain to me what’s going on here.”
The three of them look at each other and Carlos crosses his arms over his chest. “Anytime now.”
“Your parents invited me to dinner,” T.K. finally says. “We had just gotten to the restaurant when the power went out.”
“We didn’t want to miss out on our time together, so we came here instead,” Andrea tells him.
“We made sure it was all right with T.K. first,” Gabriel says quickly. “We know about his recovery and we would never want to do anything to jeopardize it.”
“I still don’t understand why the three of you were together in the first place,” Carlos says.
“Can’t your parents spend time with your future husband?” Andrea says a little too innocently. “He’s family. We’re allowed.”
It would be sweet if Carlos couldn’t see right through it. He spears all of them with a look. Surprisingly, it’s Gabriel who breaks first. “Just tell him Andrea. He’s not going to let it go. That’s the same look he had on his face every time he wanted ice cream after dinner.”
Carlos does not appreciate his childhood being dragged into whatever scheming these three are up to, but he ignores the comment for now.
Andrea sighs. “We were meeting to talk about your birthday.”
“Your mother wants to have a party,” Gabriel says. “We were having dinner to plan it together.”
When he’s in less of a state of shock he’s going to appreciate that his parents wanted his future husband’s input and took him to dinner to get it. But right now, all he feels is anxious and mad. “My birthday,” he says slowly, eyes going to T.K., searching for the truth.
“Your birthday,” T.K. confirms.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Andrea says.
Carlos lets out a startled laugh. “Well I am surprised.” His mind is still struggling to put everything together. Half an hour ago he’d been mentally headed home. And now he’s stuck with this mess. “The three of you ended up in a bar brawl because of my birthday.”
“As previously stated, the bar brawl wasn’t intentional,” Gabriel says.
“Okay,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair, then grimacing when his fingers catch awkwardly on the gelled down strands. “I’m going to go try and sort this out with the officer in charge. Don’t say anything. Don’t go anywhere.”
It takes a long conversation with the commander on the scene, a call to his boss, a call to his dad’s boss, and a chat with the owner of the bar who has shown up to survey the damage, for Carlos to get things straightened out. His dad’s good standing with the rangers and his own good standing with the APD work in his favor tonight, and he promises to have everyone come by the station in the morning to give their statements.
He’d thought that would be the biggest hurdle of the night. He was wrong.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Gabriel protests as the paramedics stand by, waiting to find out who’s riding in their ambulance and who’s not. “It’s just some bruised ribs and a black eye. I’ve had worse from playing with the grandkids.”
“Your ribs could be broken,” Carlos argues. “You need to see a doctor.”
“Boys stop arguing,” Andrea chastises. “You will go to the hospital and I will follow behind in the car.”
“You are also getting in the ambulance,” Carlos tells her.
“What? Me?” She laughs. “No, I don’t think so. The car is fine. Someone will need to drive it there anyway.”
“Okay, to be clear, I am the one in charge right now,” Carlos says, feeling like he’s about to snap. “If you don’t do what I’m asking you to do, I’m going to leave you here with all these other officers to fend for yourselves. Your options are to go sit in a cell for the night or to go to the hospital.”
“I think it’s a good idea if everyone gets checked out,” T.K. says softly.
Carlos can see pain in his eyes, the way his body is sagging a little on the barstool, and he feels a renewed urgency to get his fiancé taken care of as soon as humanly possible.
“Fine,” Andrea say shortly. “But I am not putting on one of those terrible hospital gowns.”
Carlos bundles them all into an ambulance and follows along behind in his cruiser. There are no lights and sirens necessary, and Carlos can’t decide if the silence is better or worse. It’s forcing him to sit in his anger and worry and exhaustion for far longer than he’d like, and he is not in a good mood by the time they get to the hospital.
His mom is completely fine, thank god. His dad does have a broken rib and a minor concussion, but no facial fractures. They’re both seen and cleared quickly and Carlos bids them a somewhat curt goodnight before going back to his fiancé, who is being sewn back together with thirty-four stitches. The wounds are deep and jagged and it takes a long time for the resident to get them all done.
Carlos holds T.K.’s good hand and wonders for how long this fresh image of T.K. on a gurney is going to haunt his nightmares this time. They’ve been through enough hospital trauma for him to know sleep is going to be hard to come by for a while. He consoles himself with the fact that at least this time his fiancé is conscious.
“I was going to tell you,” T.K. says as the last few stitches are finally going in, “about the surprise party. I knew you wouldn’t want it, so I was going to tell you and have you pretend to be surprised.”
“It’s crazy that the people that raised me still think surprising me is a good idea,” Carlos says ruefully.
“They’re just excited,” T.K. says. “And I think they’re trying a little extra hard to show that they’re supportive of the two of us. Of the engagement.”
“Well maybe next time they could show their support with a little less violence,” Carlos says, forcing a smile as he rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of T.K.’s free hand.
“Your mom probably saved my life tonight,” T.K. says. “At the very least she saved my face.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Which is the second best part of me.”
Carlos knows when he’s being goaded, he can see the sparkle in T.K.’s eyes. “I’m not going to ask you what the other one is. There are people around.”
T.K. bites his lip. “He’s a doctor. He knows things. It won’t bother him. Right doc?”
“I have learned not to get in the middle of this kind of conversation,” the doctor says diplomatically as he snips the last thread. “You’re all set T.K. I’m going to get a nurse to come in and go over the wound care instructions with you, all right?”
“Thank you,” T.K. says, turning his arm this way and that to examine the stitching. He waits until the curtain has closed behind the doctor before looking up at Carlos, eyes full of mischief. “The best part of me is my—“
Carlos quickly puts a finger over his lips. “I know what you think your best assets are,” he says, an amused smile on his face. “You don’t have to tell me.”
T.K. pulls back, uncowed. “Can I tell you yours then? It’s your d—“
“T.K. stop!” Carlos says, full on laughing now even as he nervously looks around to make sure nobody is in earshot.
“There you are,” T.K. says. “You’ve looked so stressed all night I thought maybe you’d forgotten how to laugh.”
“This was…not how I thought my evening would go,” Carlos says, reaching over and brushing T.K.’s hair away from his forehead. “And you know I’m not good at changing plans on the fly.”
“Well if it’s any consolation, it’s not how I saw my night going either,” T.K. says. He looks at Carlos intently. “Are you mad at me?”
Carlos does an emotional inspection of himself. “No,” he sighs. “No I don’t think so. Concerned about how many punches you have on your hospital rewards card. But not mad.”
It’s hard to be mad at T.K. He’s so sweet and soft and he looks at you with those Bambi eyes…and it’s extra hard to be mad at him when he’s hurt.
“Are you mad at your parents?”
That’s a more complicated question. “Maybe a little? They’re my parents. I expect better from them.”
“But not from me?” The sparkle is back.
“From you I expect chaos,” Carlos says, throwing T.K. a knowing look. “From them I expect…decorum.”
T.K. snorts. “Yeah I think decorum went out the window when your dad threw his beer across the bar and jumped on top of a six foot dude with skull tattoos.”
Carlos groans. “I’m going to be hearing about this night for the rest of my life.”
“Your mom is actually a lot more like Francesca than I would have thought,” T.K. says, referencing Carlos’ wild child sister.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Carlos says.
“Hey.” T.K.’s face softens. “Don’t be mad at them for too long, okay?”
The rest of his words remain unspoken, but Carlos can read them in his eyes anyway. You never know how long you have with them. His heart twinges painfully with the few memories that he has of Gwyn and T.K. together. He nods. “I won’t.”
The nurse arrives and Carlos listens intently to all her instructions since T.K.’s eyes are starting to droop a little, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally wearing off.
As they’re passing through the waiting room on the way out Carlos is surprised to see his parents sitting there. “I thought you were going home,” he says.
“We wanted to make sure T.K. was all right,” Andrea says as they both get to their feet. She turns her eyes to him. “How are you doing mijo?”
“All stitched up,” T.K. says. “A couple weeks and I’ll be back to normal.”
“I also wanted to…apologize.” Gabriel seems to struggle at getting the word past his lips. “For my part in what happened tonight. You’d think after all this time I’d learn to keep my mouth shut.”
T.K. shakes his head. “No one should have to deal with that kind of language. If you hadn’t started it, I would have.”
Something about the exchange flares warm in Carlos’ chest. The way his parents are caring for T.K., it’s the same way they’ve always cared for him and his sisters. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of love.
“Are you heading home now?” his mother asks.
“I have to take the cruiser back to the station first,” Carlos says. “We’ll pick up the Camaro there and then head back.”
“Oh that’s going to take too long!” Andrea says, worry furrowing her brow. “T.K. is practically dead on his feet. No, no. We can drive him back to your place.”
“Your car is at the bar,” Carlos points out.
“I had that nice young officer I was talking to drive it here,” Andrea says, as if this is completely normal. “You go take care of things at work and we’ll make sure T.K. gets home safely.”
Carlos looks at T.K. who seems to be waiting for his cue. “It would get you home faster,” he says.
“I don’t mind if they take me,” T.K. replies.
Carlos fixes his parents with a stern look. “No stopping anywhere along the way. Straight home.”
Andrea rolls her eyes. “You give the man a badge and he thinks he can boss his parents around.”
“Ma!”
“We’ll get him home safe and sound,” Gabriel assures him. “Scout’s honor.”
Carlos blows out a breath and turns so that he’s facing T.K. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I know,” T.K. says, closing his eyes as Carlos kisses his forehead.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Andrea says, gently putting an arm around T.K.’s shoulders and guiding him toward the door. “Tell me T.K., what kind of soup do you like? I will whip up a batch and bring it to you when we all meet at the station in the morning.”
How is it possible to feel like his parents are the most annoying people in the world right now, and also that T.K. is the safest he could possibly be with them by his side?
His father stops next to him. “He defended me tonight. He’s a good man.” He pats Carlos’ shoulder. “You made a good choice.”
T.K. has never felt like a choice. He’s fate. Destiny. All the dreams Carlos was too afraid to have, made incarnate. Slightly more of a chaos demon than Carlos would have imagined, but a dream come true nonetheless.
But that’s not something he can explain to his father. “He chose me too,” he says instead. “He chose you and mom, our family.” He looks up and meets his father’s gaze. “Thank you for choosing him back.”
His dad wordlessly squeezes his shoulder and follows the other two out the doors.
Carlos watches them go, three of the most important people in his world together and something inside of him cracks. Another little piece of the wall he built up so long ago, the one made of words like broken, unlovable, inadequate…the one he’d created to keep himself safe, falls away.
He’s making a family. And it’s good.
#911 Lone Star#Tarlos#Carlos Reyes#T.K. Strand#911lsfic#Tarlos Fic#TK Strand Whump#Lacerations#Bad Things Happen Bingo
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thinking about...
being the third stark daughter and held hostage in kings landings. when joffrey is terrorizing sansa, you speak up and nearly get in a brawl with the golden-haired twat. he wants to lash out, as usual, cut your tongue out and think of other ways. his family, primarily tywin, convinces him not to. things are already bad enough for them, if they harm you like that it's going to get much worse.
so joffrey thinks of the second best thing: humiliation.
and he marries the bitch stark to a proper dog, the hound. sandor clegane, the burly and huge man with a face kissed by fire. a way to reward him for his service and punish you for your insolence. his family protests but he doesn't listen. they force you to wed each other and, for once in your life, your speechless. you try as you always do to argue, but the gruff man who towers over tells you gruffly to "shut your fucking mouth 'fore you get your head chopped off like your dad."
which to say, didn't leave you feeling very chatty.
joffrey demands there be a gallery to witness the consummation of your marriage. you feel gross and feel more than nervousness bubbling inside you as sandor and you strip. looking at the gigantic cock that hangs in between his thighs. it doesn't help as you can hear joffreys taunts. you lay down and sandor climbs on top of you, your eyes closing shut tightly to try and block out anything that's happening.
you're surprised when you hear sandor say to you quietly to ignore joffrey. surprised at how gently he thrusts his cock into you, the way he angles his broad chest and shoulders to stop joffrey from seeing you, and a part of you wonders if he means to be gentle when his hand brushes against your back. pulling your body closer to him as he tears your slit open.
you can feel his seed filling you up. the warmth growing deep inside of you as joffrey makes a comment about the hound breeding his bitch. after that, they finally leave and sandor gets off of you. before you can even say anything, he throws you a robe, not making eye contact with you as you cover yourself. he doesn't look at you or say anything until right before he leaves the room, saying in the quietest voice he can muster that he'll have one of your handmaidens run a bath for you.
as you wait alone in the bed you now share with him. your nerves start to dissipate. you watch as he drinks back liqour, keeping his gaze away from you. and you wonder if this is the best someone has treated you since you've been in kings landings.
-- ❄️🐇 (if thats available.)
Losing my mind over here omg I love this
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Ruby gonna fight Neo this volume like
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I keep thinking about unconventional verbiage ( + gerunds + participles + nouns + adjectives LMAO) for tummy kink that evokes unique imagery and a boner (/gender neutral)... 0~0"""""
He swallowed reluctantly at her command, knowing the way ice cream pillages his guts and already dreading its impending siege. As if on cue, a whiny cramp garbled through the spot under his ribs.
You stare as they wince and squirm against the straps, back arching in a meek effort to push their taut torso toward you, as lust pools hotter and hotter between your legs. Their ankles and wrists are rubbed raw from all the tugging and straining. "Nngh... please help my tummy,," they rasp, jaw slack. "My- mnrgh!..." They buckle as a sullen grmolurmoluormlourr.. lurches through their belly and you just can't help yourself anymore. Your chest heaves as you fall to your knees and sieze the burgling bulge with rough fingers.
Their aching belly dangled down and she slid lower to position her head below it, clutching the pouch of their lower gut. "ah...- ooh!..." they moaned as she groped at the flesh and pressed her lips up into it. They arched their back with a gasp to sink her face deeper into their belly. Gurgles rippled and rolled all around her. "Oh... aw..." she huffed between the thrusts of her hips and her mouthy kisses. "Your tummy's sure hard at work huh?"
She shuffled away awkwardly only for a thick churn to chew its way through her angry stomach and leave her balled up on the bean bag chair all over again. "Hey,," they murmured gently, resting their fingertips on her shoulder. "It's okay."
Holy fuck. That was so good, they thought to themself-- the purring in the pit of their belly seemed to agree. After pausing and marveling and their rounded, gurgling middle jutting in the air, they couldn't help fondling it. "Oafff..." they groaned as a slosh glorped from one side to the other. Their handiwork seemed to be brewing up a vat of noise in their big gut... and spilling some molten pleasure a little further down. They pushed and prodded and jabbed at their stomach until it was a squirming, chortling mess, its contents swirling noisily within. Mmph... ah!- oh my god... A snarl thundered through their whole system and cut off with a squelch deep down in their bloated gut, eliciting a moan and sending the fingers of one hand sliding down curve to the seam of their pants. The other hand kept mashing and pressing at their middle. Shivers shot up their spine from how much pleasure was splashing through them, gurgles and sloshes loudly percolating through their full belly as it made wall-slammin love to the feast within.
She kept on infodumping, but he couldn't focus. Something was icky starting to curdle up from the depths of his heavy belly. Sweat started beading his flesh and his hand flew beneath the table. Oh no... he thought nervously, squirming in his seat. Not now... please not now! But it was no use. To his horror, a deluge of sickly burbles spilled from his quivering belly all at once. He nearly doubled over, scarcely able sense anything beyond the sharp cramps brawling through his middle... and her astonished gaze.
With a sigh, you concede. Averting your gaze, you slip out of your shirt to reveal your flushed, swollen tummy moiling miserably under the waistline of your pants. In a swift motion you snap the button apart, and your tummy blimps toward her with a slosh and a cascade of grumbles. She always gets you with that gentle look of worry; that frown pricking at the corners of her mouth, eyes swimming with concern-- no amount of pride nor embarrassment can surmount your weakness for her compassion. You slide your hands to your face to hide your humiliation as she squirts the lotion and begins to butter up your burning belly. You can only lie helplessly under her soothing hands as your stomach defeatedly murmurs its appreciation.
"Don't worry," he purred into her ear as he wrapped his burly arms around her, drawing her
~ 💚💛 sprite slosher anon 0~0""
Mmmm verbiage~
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Hot head
Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x M!reader
Click here for F!reader version!
Includes: angst, fluff, braid mention of physical altercation (not between Adam and reader)
Summary: after a brawl at a bar, Adam is left feeling hot-headed and angry, unfairly snapping at his partner.
"Adam please just calm down!" Y/n pleaded, his voice quivering.
"Calm down? Are you fucking kidding me?" Adam yelled, slamming the apartment door behind him as the two entered.
"Why do you always have to undermine me like that? I had it all under control" he continued.
"No you didn't, Adam you're hammered and you were gonna get yourself hurt" y/n insisted, tears welling in his eyes.
"I can't be around you when you're like this, I'm going to bed. Don't follow me" Adam snarled, as he huffed away to the bedroom and locked the door behind him.
Y/n's boyfriend, Adam, was a tetchy guy. He really was the loveliest guy you could ever meet, but he had issues with his anger. He'd had them ever since he was a kid, probably due to the fact that his dad was nothing short of an asshole, but as he grew older he managed to get his temper under control. That was until he reached his mid twenties and went through a particularly traumatic event; being kidnapped by a serial killer and only narrowly escaping with his life. Ever since then his temper had a hair trigger.
On this particular occasion, it was a Friday, date night for Adam and y/n. They'd gone to a hole in the wall bar just to have a few rounds before heading home, but of course, Adam had overdone it. He wasn't necessarily acting too out of the ordinary, just drunk, which was fine, it was a Friday and he didn't need to be up early the next day. But alcohol made Adam's already short temper even shorter, it took very little to get him agitated, and when a lairy drunk man nudged Adam and sneered "ain't you that guy from the news that went and got himself kidnapped?" Adam completely lost it.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" He spat with an aggressive shove
"You heard me" the drunkard jeered
"Baby, please let's just go" y/n whispered, tugging at Adam's arm, who immediately shook him off.
"You wanna take this outside asshole?" Adam yelled, drawing attention to their squabble now.
The man threw his head back laughing, "Fuck are you gonna do to me you skinny prick?" He shoved Adam back, and in his drunken state, Adam lost his footing and stumbled backwards.
Feeling humiliated and enraged, Adam lunged at the man, landing a hefty punch on his right cheek. The man, who didn't take so kindly to this, grabbed Adam by the scruff of the neck and punched back. This went back and forth until Adam and the man were practically a cloud of fists and hurled obscenities, all to y/n's horror, as he pleaded for them to stop through tears.
Eventually, a rather burly bartender got between them and peeled the two off of eachother. Y/n apologised for the commotion and dragged a still very firey Adam out of the bar.
The couple argued the whole short walk home, Adam adamant that y/n should have just let him knock that asshole out, and y/n tearfully insisting that Adam would have gotten himself hurt, which brings us up to speed.
"I can't be around you when you're like this, I'm going to bed. Don't follow me" Adam snarled, as he huffed away to the bedroom and locked the door behind him.
Y/n sat down on the sofa and let out a few small, quiet sobs. He pulled a nightshirt and an old blanket out of the laundry basket and settled in on the couch, ready for a long and uncomfortable night.
Writhing around in the darkness, y/n wrestled with his racing mind trying to find sleep, to no avail. He hated when he and Adam went to bed mad at eachother, and he hated Adam when he raised his voice. He hated this entire night, and desperately just wanted to get to sleep so that it would be over.
Creeeeaaaak
Y/n became aware of floorboards creaking from down the hall near the bedroom, he figured it was just Adam getting up to use the bathroom.
Creeeeaaaak
That was strange, they were getting closer.
Y/n closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting round two of the argument right at the minute. He heard Adam step closer still, until he was most definitely stood right next to the sofa, looking over him. Y/n wasn't sure where this was going, but still, he pretended to be asleep. That was when he felt something he didn't at all expect; Adam's arms began to cradle his body and lift it up, carrying him to the bedroom gently. Y/n felt himself be placed so very carefully on the mattress, and tucked in under the warm sheets. Adam sat on the side of the bed stroking his hair and whispering so quietly that he almost didn't hear him.
"I don't deserve you, but i want to. I'll get my temper under control, I'll be a better man for you. I don't wanna loose you baby" he breathed, unaware that y/n was hearing the whole thing.
He pressed a soft kiss onto y/n's temple with the most quiet "I love you".
"I love you too" y/n whispered back.
Adam's face flushed red, as he looked down into y/n's now open eyes.
"H... how long have you been awake?"
"The whole time" he smiled warmly.
Adam's gaze softened at her smile.
"I'm sorry baby, I really am. How can I make it up to you?"
Y/n thought for a second, before he settled on an answer.
"Well for starters, you can get under here with me and give me a cuddle" he said, lifting up the blankets and patting the empty spot beside him.
"Sure thing babe" Adam whispered affectionately, his face angelic and soft.
He slipped under the covers next to y/n and held him tightly all night, as though he'd truly realised just how precious the man sleeping next to him really was, and he was never going to let him go.
A/n requests are open! Check pinned post for details and masterlist <3
#adam faulkner stanheight#adam saw#saw adam#adam faulkner#adam faulkner x reader#adam stanheight#adam stanheight x reader#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#saw 2004#sawposting#saw#x you#x male reader#x reader#fluff#angst
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