#i wanted to leave lots of time to animate

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 54: The Farm

Summary: You adjust to your life on the MacTavish farm and learn some surprising things about yourself.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,237 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, A/B/O, alternate universe, angst, emotions, fluff, animals, you might fall in love with a fictional dog, slight language.

A/N: I love this chapter and I hope you will too!

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You’re trying to fight the tears as they sting your eyes, desperately trying to stop them from falling as you walk back towards the house. Lily steps aside, letting you enter before closing the door behind you.

“Aw, hen.” She coos, rubbing your back. “It’s okay tae cry.”

You can’t stop them. They would have fallen without the permission, but being allowed to cry only makes them fall faster. Lily wraps her arms around you, pulling you tight against her chest. Her hand strokes your hair as she coos softly at you, rocking you back and forth gently.

“Saying goodbye is always hard.” She says softly. “I damn near cry a river when Johnny-boy leaves. It’s hard when ye don’t know how long it’ll be until ye see them again. I’m sure ye know that well.”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. You don’t know when you’ll see Johnny or Simon again. If you’ll see them again. You shove that thought aside into the deep recesses of your mind. You have enough to cry about, you’re not going to entertain those kinds of thoughts right now.

Lily kisses the top of your head before pulling back, wiping your tears with her shirt sleeve. “There we go.” You sniffle, trying to stop the flood sliding down your cheeks. There’s a wet spot on her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives you a soft smile, holding your face in her hands. “Ye remind me of my youngest girl. So sweet and soft and polite. All beta. Quite the opposite of the rest of her siblings. She’s in medical school now training tae be an omega specialist.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. It makes you think of Dr. Keller and how she’s doing with her new job, how things are going with Ashley. Maybe you’ll ask John if he knows when you see him again.

“I’m sure she’ll be great at it.” You say. “Takes a lot of patience to work with omegas sometimes.”

You think about how much patience Dr. Keller had for you at the beginning, while she worked on helping you through your trauma and unlearning what the institute taught you. It had taken a long time, but you’re here today because of her and everything she did for you.

“I had an omega specialist on base for a while.” You say. “I owe a lot to her for getting me through those first few months.”

“I’m so glad ye had someone tae support ye.” Lily says, petting your hair. The tears have slowed to almost none. “I’m sure it was a great help.”

“I don’t know if I would have made it without her.” You say quietly.

“I think you could have. There’s a strength to ye. A quiet strength. I can see it.” Lily says, squeezing you against her chest one more time. “Ye’d have tae have it putting up with those boys.”

You giggle, hugging her back for a moment before she releases you.

“Come on,” She says, patting your head. “I have someone I want ye tae meet.”

You tilt your head as she moves into the house, heading for the back door. You follow, unsure who else you have to meet besides maybe the sheep.

“Here,” She says, pulling out a pair of boots. “These should work until we can get ye a proper pair of Wellies in town.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, toeing out of your tennis shoes.

“Course we do.” She says, slipping on her own boots. Storm stands at the door, ready to run out as soon as its open. “Ye need a pair anyway.”

You don’t argue, following her out the door.

The back yard is spacious, a garden set up in one corner, and a veranda in the other with a barbecue. You can imagine sitting out there in the summer, eating a hot dog and watching the sun set over the green hills. Storm races around the yard, tail wagging, all excited.

“Still young at heart.” Lily says as she walks down the path towards the gate. There’s a barn off to the right in the distance, a dirt road leading between the pastures.

You can see why she insisted on the boots now as the ground gets muddy beyond the gate.

“Murray is over the hill with the sheep.” She says, pointing off to the right where a hill rises. “Spends most of his day out there.” She opens a gate to the left, passing through before holding it open for you. “I like to spend my time in here.”

Your boots squelch as you walk through the muddy grass towards a smaller barn.

“Ye ever lived on a farm before?” Lily asks as you approach what looks like a chicken coop.

“No,” you answer. “We always lived close to the base my dad was stationed at. We moved around too much to have animals.”

“He was in the service?” She asks.

You nod. “Marines. It was his entire personality.”

She chuckles. “Usually is.” She pauses in front of the coop. “These are my girls. I let them out early and collect eggs.”

There’s ten chickens that you can count roving around the coop. It’s decent sized, bigger than you would have imagined.

“I leave them in there so the hawks don’t get ‘em.” She says. “Now, who I wanted ye to meet,” She continues towards the barn, the grass getting more and more solid as you go.

You walk up a small hill to the barn, something standing beside it. Something large and brown.

“This here is my coo, Mabel.” Lily says, walking right up to the cow.

You nearly die of cuteness on the spot. Mabel is a highland cow, all thick hair and horns and perhaps the cutest cow you’ve ever seen.

“Ye can get close. She’s very sweet.” Lily says, patting Mabel on the side.

You step up to her, holding out a hand. “Hello Mabel.” You say, Mabel nosing at your hand for a moment. You pet her nose, feeling the coarse, thick hair draped over her face.

“She’s due for a haircut.” Lily says, brushing some of the hair to the side so Mabel can see better. “And she’ll start sheddin’ soon.”

“I love her.” You say, scratching Mabel between the horns.

“Yer welcome tae come out here whenever you’d like.” Lily says. “Mabel comes and goes out of her barn as she pleases. She’s good for some cuddles when you need some love.” Lily grins at you. “She’s a great listener too.”

You smile, continuing to pet Mabel.

You might just like living on a farm after all.

You had stayed with Mabel even after Lily had gone into the house to start on dinner. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but still she insisted on starting early for a proper Sunday roast. Lily had been right about Mabel being a good listener. She hadn’t minded you hugging her, leaning your weight against her body, petting her hair as you told her all of your woes and fears. Storm had stayed in the field with you, running around before settling in the grass with a stick.

Storm followed you back to the house around lunchtime, when you’d left Mabel with a pat and a promise to come back tomorrow. She hadn’t given much of a response, but somehow deep down you knew she understood.

“Will ye wipe her feet with the towel, hen?” Lily called from the kitchen when you entered with Storm.

“Yeah,” You say, spotting the towel hanging near the door. Storm stands dutifully, letting you wipe most of the mud off of her feet. She licks your face before heading for the kitchen, abandoning you for the prospect of food. You don’t mind. Your stomach is growling too.

“How many sandwiches would ye like, hen?” Lily asks, bringing a platter of chips and vegetables to the table.

“Just one.” You answer. She gives you a sideways glance. “I could probably eat two though.”

She smiles. “Two it is then. I won’t have ye going hungry here.”

You don’t doubt she means that.

“Murray’ll be in, in a bit.” She says, setting a plate of two sandwiches in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “He can make his own.”

“I could make my own too.” You suggest quietly.

“Nonsense.” Lily says, waving away the idea. “Yer a guest. I’m more’n happy tae feed ye.”

“Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Of course,” She says, grabbing a carrot off the platter. “John said ye were havin’ trouble bein’ on base. I wasnae gonna let ye live somewhere ye weren’t comfortable. Besides, I’ve been excited tae meet ye, get tae know ye.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet their families too.” You say. “I’ve met Kyle’s sister but that was it before now.”

“Aye, those Garricks are something special.” She says.

“They really are.” You grin. “Like perfect angels.”

“Indeed.” She says.

Silence falls over the table as you eat, Storm sitting by your side on the floor, staring longingly at your food. You’re tempted to ‘accidentally’ drop a piece but you’re not sure if that’ll be allowed so instead you try and look away, ignoring those big puppy eyes staring into your soul.

Murray comes in right before you finish eating, toeing off his boots at the door. His pants are splattered with mud, as is his shirt as he pulls off his jacket.

“Yers are in the kitchen.” Lily says, finishing off her own sandwich.

“Thank ye, love.” He kisses Lily’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“I hear ye like tae read.” Lily says, turning back to you.

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well help yerself to any of the books on the shelves. The kids have some books in their rooms too. Yer more’n welcome tae browse those too.” She says, standing from the table. She takes your plate, heading to the kitchen as Murray comes out with his own plate of sandwiches.

“Did ye have a good mornin’?” He asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.

You nod. “I got to see the chickens and met Mabel.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Mabel’s a sweet old girl.”

“She is. I’ve never been around animals, outside of a few petting zoos.” You say. “But I already like Mabel a lot.”

“Aye, we’ll turn ye into a farm girl in no time.” Murray grins. “Ye can see the sheep when I bring ‘em in later too.”

“I’d like that.” You say.

After lunch you settle into the couch with a book pulled off one of the many shelves in the room. Storm has joined you, curling up beside you with her head in your lap.

“That dog really likes ye.” Lily says as she joins you, pulling out her knitting.

You smile, petting Storm’s head. “I’m not sure why.”

“Dogs are good judges of character.” She says. “She senses something in ye.”

You scratch behind Storm’s ears as silence falls over the room again and you return to reading your book. You wonder if it’s really true, if Storm can sense something about you that’s drawing her in. Whatever it is, you’re glad she likes you. It could be the opposite, you suppose. She could dislike you. You wonder what that would say about your character if that were the case.

Regardless, you’re growing to find her presence comforting. The entire house is comforting, despite the turmoil you still feel inside. The farm is a good distraction, but in these moments of silence you know you’re going to struggle the most. These moments where you have to be present, you have to face down the truth that you’re hundreds of miles from your pack and there’s still a couple weeks before you’ll see them again...before you’ll see John again. It’ll be just you and John for a while. Then Kyle will join you. Then you’ll be three separated from the two others.

It breaks your heart that they won’t retire, but you’d never admit that.

Maybe someday they’ll make that decision, but you know it won’t be anytime soon.

You shift on the couch, Storm lifting her head before settling back down, adjusting herself so she’s even closer to you than she was before, almost as if she can sense the shift in your emotions.

You scan the photos on the wall in the hallway. You’ve been roving around waiting for dinner to be ready, taking in all of the artwork and the many photos decorating the walls. Photos of Johnny and his siblings as kids, family portraits, artistic shots of the farm and the animals and the kids with them. You’ve even found a framed photo of Storm and Bron on the wall.

You pass by a shadow box decorated with military medals and stripes. You’d almost assume it was Johnny’s but you know he’ll still wear his when the occasion requires. No, these are Murray’s. Chief Petty Officer MacTavish.

“You served?” You ask as the man himself rounds the corner.

He pauses, glancing at the box before nodding. “Aye. Royal Navy. Joined as soon as I graduated. Didnae know what else tae do with myself. I was forced to retire when Johnny was still a lad. Hip injury.” He smiles as he stares at the medals. “Moved the family out here, bought a few sheep, rest is history.”

“You must be proud of Johnny then.” You say. You can piece together that his father’s history with the armed forces played a role in his own decision to join.

“Aye. Though his job scares the piss out of me sometimes.” He pats your back. “I hear your own father served.”

You nod as the two of you walk down the hall. “Marines.” You say. “I can’t imagine him doing anything else. He was...very patriotic. Spent a lot of time preaching the necessity of giving our lives to protect the country to us kids. Two of my three older brothers joined too. The rest of us went on to do other things. I never thought I’d be back in it, though.”

“That must have been a shock.” Lily says as the two of you arrive at the table. She’s setting a pan of roast beef on the table. “I can only imagine what it was like tae leave that world only to be right back in it.”

“I was in deeper than I was with my dad.” You say, taking your seat. “It was an adjustment, but I’ll honestly say I’m glad I’m getting to leave it behind.”

“I don’t blame ye one bit.” She says, taking a seat at the table. “The stress is unimaginable, even when they’re not goin’ off tae war.” She passes a glance at Murray. “I’m glad yer gettin’ this chance.”

“Aye, I’m proud of John fer retiring. It’s time he settled down.” Murray says, staring to load his plate.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire pudding. A proper Sunday roast, or so you’re told.

“You know him well?” You ask curiously as you start to load your own plate.

“Aye, he’s been here a few times since Johnny joined his pack.” Murray says.

“We were skeptical at first, but he proved himself alright.” Lily says. “He’s a good alpha, and a good man.”

“But whatever magic ye worked tae get him to retire…” Murray grins. “Consider it an act of god.”

You smile bashfully, your face warming just a bit. “I’m not sure what I did exactly, besides just existing in his life.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man needs.” Lily says, giving you a smile.

The Sunday roast is delicious. It’s better than what you ate at restaurants in town during the weekends that John insisted everyone go out for Sunday dinner. It’s even better than your own attempts at the cottage, though you’d never tell Dr. Keller that.

You’ll have to get some recipes from Lily before you leave.

After dinner the three of you settle in the living room again, Murray turning on the TV. Storm lays at your feet, Bron laying between you and Murray. You’ve got a beer in your hand, cold where it rests against your leg. Murray hadn’t even asked, instead passing one to you silently. You’d taken it, knowing it would be rude to refuse. It’s not your first time drinking by far. You and your brothers used to sneak sips here and there during barbecues and holidays, and the guys have made sure to corrupt you in that way.

Still, the alcohol makes you feel warm as you drink it, chasing away the nerves that nightfall brings.

A lot of things can happen at night, and you can feel the looming darkness outside. It’s darker here than on base, no light pollution to offer some respite from the inky blackness outside.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the windows, even with the curtains closed.

Despite the nagging fear at the back of your brain, the beer makes you feel warm and fuzzy. That, and Storm’s comforting presence against your feet. It’s nice knowing there’s someone that will sense something off before even you can.

It’s late by the time you decide to call it a night. Storm follows you to your room, standing in the doorway as you pull clothes out of your bag.

“C’mon Stormy.” Lily says, patting her back. “Goodnight, hen.”

“Goodnight.” You call, watching Storm hesitate before heading down the hallway with Lily.

You get ready for bed before turning out the light, crawling under the covers. You can still smell a bit of Johnny on the pillow and blankets. You breathe in his spicy, citrusy scent. It blends with the earthy scent of John on your shirt, offering up a comforting cocktail of your boys. You wish they were there still in person, but you’ll take their scents.

You wonder how long it will be until they fade away. You doubt they’ll last the entire time you’re here.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up John’s number. He had texted you earlier letting you know they made it safe, but you need to hear his voice. You listen to it ring, holding your breath. It’s late, and you half expect him to be in bed already. He has an early morning tomorrow, unless he decides to skip working out...you doubt he’ll do that though, now that he doesn’t have you to worry about.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, tired sounding.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly quietly, letting out a breath. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” There’s rustling on the other side of the line. “I was laying awake.”

“Same.” you say, pulling the covers up around you.

“How are things going up there?” He asks.

“Good.” you answer honestly. “I met a cow today.”

“Did you?” he chuckles. “How did that go?”

“Good. I really like her. She’s a good listener.” you listen to his chuckle on the other end. “Storm has also really taken to me.”

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Murray treating you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling onto your side. “They’re amazing. Lily’s a really good cook. Makes me feel sorry for you that you’re going to have to eat my cooking.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” He says. “I survived on it at the cottage.”

“Yeah but that was only a couple times. I can make like three things confidently.”

“Then we’ll learn together. We’ll only have to survive until Kyle’s paperwork is approved. Then he can cook. It’ll be good for him, having something to do.”

What are you going to do? You want to ask it but you’re not sure how well that will go over. What is he going to do once he’s retired? Maybe you can convince him to start a farm. It would be good for him to have some physical work to do every day. He’s used to never having a day off, and you don’t get days off on a farm.

You’ll worry about that later, when the time actually comes.

“How are things down there?” You ask. “How are the boys.”

“Coping.” He says. “Johnny pouted the entire way home. It’s not the same being just us again. We got so used to your presence it feels empty.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “It feels weird not having you here with me. I’m not sure I can survive.”

“I think we can make it.” He says. “It’s only for a couple weeks at most. By the end you’ll be sad to leave.”

“I do like it here.” You muse. “It’s cozy and comfortable and I like having animals around. Wish you were here though.”

“Soon.” He says, muffling a yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow, right?”

He hums. “Earlier than I’d like.”

“Ready to retire?” You ask.

“I can feel it coming.” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You should get some rest too. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

You likely won’t sleep well tonight either, but you won’t tell him that. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. “I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

He hums again. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, John.” You say quietly, holding the phone to your ear until he ends the call.

You stare at the screen for a moment before setting your phone on the nightstand once more. You feel more comfortable now after hearing John’s voice. It’s soothed some of the nerves churning in your stomach. He’s just a phone call away, and soon he’ll be back within reach. Just a couple weeks at most. You should be able to survive that.

You hope you will.

You do manage to sleep.

There’s light coming through the curtains when you wake, and you can hear the faint clacking of dishes down the hall. You squint blearily at your phone. It’s past nine. You’ve slept in later than you meant to. They’re early risers, being on a farm and all. You realized that yesterday when you heard them moving around before dawn.

Here you’ve gone and slept in.

You get up, changing clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Lily’s in the kitchen when you get up, still a bit bleary from a rough night’s sleep.

“Morning, hen.” She says, turning from the dishes when she hears you patter in.

“Sorry, I slept in.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

“None of that now, yer a guest. Ye can sleep in as late as ye’d like.” She says, waving her hand. “I’ve saved some breakfast for ye. Let me heat it up.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to.” She says, pushing you out of the kitchen. “Juice or coffee?”

“Juice is fine.” You say, taking a seat at the table. Storm comes over to you, pawing at your hand. You give her some pets, scratching behind her ear.

“Here ye are.” Lily says, bringing you a plate loaded with eggs and sausage and toast. She sets it down in front of you along with a glass of orange juice. It’s probably freshly squeezed.

“Thank you. It looks delicious.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes delicious too. You never knew a simple eggs and sausage and toast could taste so good. Lily must work magic in the kitchen. That can be the only explanation for how wonderful she can make even the simplest food taste.

You slip on your borrowed boots after you finish eating, following Lily out into the yard again. Storm trots along beside you, tongue hanging out in excitement.

“Ye ever driven an ATV before?” Lily asks you, and you notice one parked next to the gate just past the fence. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday.

You shake your head. “No.”

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll teach ye soon. I’m gonnae go grab some hay from the barn for Mabel. Ye go on ahead and start givin’ her a good brushin’.”

Lily opens the gate to the pasture where the barn sits before climbing on the ATV. You open the other gate to Mabel’s pasture, Storm running through as soon as its open. You leave it open, passing the chickens on your hike up the small hill to where Mabel stands, looking like she has no care in the world.

Her brush hangs in her small barn and you grab it off the wall. Her hair is thick and coarse, the brush catching on a few tangles. You’re careful not to pull too hard, working the knots out gently.

Lily arrives on the ATV, towing a small trailer behind it stacked with bales of hay.

“Come and help me unload this, hen.” She says, climbing off the ATV.

You shove the brush into your back pocket, treading through the grass to the stack of hay bales. Lily tosses you a pair of gloves, something you’re grateful for as soon as you put your hands on the hay. It pokes at you, a few pieces even sticking you through the gloves.

It’s also heavy.

Your arms shake as you lift one of the bales, just managing to get it up off the stack. You heft it the few feet to the barn, stacking it on top of the others. Lily lifts the next bale, making it seem almost easy.

“They’re heavy.” You say, letting out a breath as you return to grab the next one.

“Aye.” Lily says with a grin. “We’ve got tae get yer muscles built up. Turn ye into a proper farm girl in no time.”

You’re out of breath by the time the last bale has been stacked, a few small scratches on your arms where you’d pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt to avoid getting hay in the fabric. Somehow you’ve still managed, feeling the small pokes even through your jeans.

“Keep workin’ on Mabel, I’m gonnae take the trailer back.” Lily says.

Your arms feel like jelly as you grab the brush out of your pocket again, returning to brushing Mabel’s back. You knew you were out of shape compared to what you once were, but you think even if you weren’t that would have been a struggle. Farm work is hard and you’ve barely had a taste of it. It speaks volumes of just how strong Johnny’s parents are that they can do this every day.

Lily returns, walking up the hill to where you are. “We refill her ‘bout once a week.” She says, patting Mabel’s nose. “Can’t keep all of it here, or she’ll eat it all.”

You grin, Mabel’s head tilting as you brush a spot on the side of her neck. You’re getting covered in cow hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“She’ll be sheddin’ her winter coat soon.” Lily says running her fingers through Mabel’s hair, picking out a few chunks. “Things get very hairy up here.”

You laugh, brushing under Mabel’s chin as she tilts her head up for you. “I can imagine.”

“I’m gonnae go find Murray, ye stay out here as long as ye like.” She says, patting your shoulder before heading back down to the ATV.

Storm stays in the pasture with you again, happily laying in the grass while you finish up brushing Mabel.

You lean against her side, resting your head on her back. “We’ll be okay, right?” You ask, not expecting an answer, and you don’t get one aside from a loud cluck from a chicken.

You head back into the house, Storm following you. You toe off your boots at the door, wiping down Storm’s feet before heading into the living room. You pick up the book you had been reading from the coffee table, settling on the couch. Storm jumps up beside you, sitting there staring expectantly.

You stare back, tilting your head. “What?”

She puts a paw on your leg, sniffing your cheek.

“Oh alright.” You put your book to the side before scratching her neck. She leans into you, licking your arm as you scratch her. “You’re so soft.” You say, hugging her against your chest as you scratch down her back. “Must have gotten a bath recently, huh?”

You kiss her head before releasing her, going back to your book. She curls up next to you, leaning against your leg. You drop a hand to rest against her back, feeling her comforting warmth against you.

The days go by and you settle into a bit of a routine on the farm. You start to wake up earlier and earlier, adjusting to hearing Lily and Murray up and moving around early in the morning. You’re still not sleeping well, but you are managing to get some sleep at night.

John’s called every day, wanting to know how you’re doing, how you’re settling in. It gets easier and easier to tell him you’re doing alright, as you start to believe it. But no matter how comfortable you get in Lily and Murray’s home, there’s still a deep ache in your chest, a yearning for your pack, for your alpha.

You thought it might be weird being around an unknown alpha, but Murray has been careful to keep himself from being overbearing and overwhelming. Sometimes you forget he’s an alpha, but his strong scent reminds you every time you smell it. He’s not like any alpha you’ve been around before, but then again, you think he has Lily to thank for that.

You don’t know many alphas that chose to take beta mates over omegas. It was so unheard of in your circle of friends and family friends growing up. Your father surrounded himself with like-minded alphas, traditionalists that prided themselves on scoring a prize omega who could give them pups.

You suppose John had taken a beta as his mate, but you know that dynamic is different, and it became even more complex once you were added into the picture. Maybe John would have wound up more like Murray had it just been him and Kyle in the long run.

A beta’s soothing presence is enough to calm and alpha’s instincts over time. It probably helps that he’s older, those instincts less strong now than they would have been likely just a few years ago. You know alphas calm over time, those instincts settling as they get older, as they settle down.

You wonder how long it will take John’s instincts to start settling now that he’s retiring out of a high-stress job.

You’ve taken to being on the farm and helping out more and more. Mabel has become your lifeline, your stand-in therapist. It’s a bit healing, laying against her side, telling her how much you miss your pack, how nervous you are about this new chapter in your life, how fast things seem to be moving. You’ve only been with your pack for just over a year now and already so many things have happened, so many things have changed. She may not be able to offer much in terms of conversation or advice, but it’s still comforting to have someone there who can listen and not judge.

You’ve even come to know the chickens a bit, gathering eggs a couple times when you’ve gotten up early enough to beat Lily to it. You’ve had your fingers pecked more than a few times, but you’re growing fearless around them, shoving the broody ones to the side to grab their eggs.

A week goes by before you know it, settling into the clock-like rotation of life on a farm. It’s comforting to have a schedule, to always have something to do. It reminds you of being on base, of conforming to the guys’ schedules. You prefer this kind of schedule and work, though.

Maybe you can talk John into a farm. It would be good for him, help him settle into civilian life where you don’t have someone telling you what to do...or where you’re not the someone telling others what to do.

You wake early on Sunday, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lay in bed for a moment. It’s early, but still you hear Lily and Murray moving around. You feel like dragging your feet this morning, but you don’t, sliding out of bed before grabbing clothes.

“Morning Stormy.” You say, greeting the dog laying at your door. She’s taken up vigil in the mornings, laying there waiting for you to get up.

You pat her head before stepping over her, heading for the bathroom. Lily had done some washing for you, despite your insistence that you could do it yourself. She was keen to do as much for you as possible. She said she misses being able to mother someone. Murray won’t let her. He’s stubborn like that.

You head for the kitchen, Lily already up with breakfast at the table.

“Mornin’ hen.” She greets you, pouring coffee into a mug. Murray is at the table as well, sipping his own cup.

“Morning.” You say, taking your seat and the offered mug. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. We’re goin’ tae Mass today.” Lily explains.

You hadn’t really thought much about it, though you should have guessed given the candles and the crucifix on the wall that they were religious. The idea of Johnny being raised Catholic is hard for you to grasp.

“Did ye go to church growin’ up?” Murray asks you as Lily sets a plate of food in front of you.

“Not really.” You say. “Mostly just Christmas and Easter.” As patriotic as your father was, he didn’t pay much mind to religion. Sundays were for beer and football and a good dinner.

“We try tae go every Sunday.” Lily says. “Though we don’t always make it.”

Like last Sunday, you think. They had been busy with helping you get settled in.

“Gives us an excuse tae go into town.” Murray says.

“We’ll do some shoppin’ while we’re there.” Lily says. “Get ye anythin’ ye might need too.”

You’re not sure what you might need. You thought you had brought enough to last you the couple weeks, though something tells you Lily is going to find something you need. She had said something about getting you a proper pair of boots. You wonder what else she might decide you need.

Church went well, although you had no idea what a Catholic Mass was like, nor what you were supposed to do, but you followed along well enough. Shopping afterward had gone as you expected. You got your new pair of boots, strawberry printed, and Lily had decided you needed a couple new pairs of jeans. It was true yours were starting to show the wear and tear of farm life, and they weren’t proper work jeans, according to her. You weren’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t listened to your protests, buying you the pants anyway.

It was a nice, warm day so Lily had taken you out to her garden to help her set up for the spring plants she’d grow. You pulled weeds, harvested some of the last winter vegetables, dug holes, played in the dirt. It felt good doing something with your hands. It gave you purpose, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Sure, being an omega you had your purpose, but lately it had been a bit...mundane. You had been forced into the box of ‘sit there and look pretty and offer us some comfort,’ even if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. You hadn’t even really noticed it until now, until you got some space from it. Now that you were actually doing things, now that you had a true purpose, helping out on the farm, you realized just how deep you had been shoved into that box.

Maybe coming here was a good thing after all.

That night you cry for the first time. You’re not sure why. Maybe the dirt under your fingernails had awoken something in you, some deep crevasse of your emotions opening under your feet.

It’s a silent cry in the darkness, the moon bright through the curtains, bathing your room with more light than even your nightlight. You’d just hung up the call from John and suddenly tears are falling down your cheeks. You miss him. You miss them all. You’re terrified for Simon and Johnny, you’re yearning for your alpha, for your comfort. You want the bed to dip behind you, for his arms to slide around you and hold you close. You want his scent to wrap around you and permeate your being.

You’re homesick.

The magic of the first week has worn off and now you’re feeling the complex emotions that have been brewing under the surface. There’s a deep ache in your chest, harsh and painful. You curl up tight in a ball, trying to ease the pain of missing home, of missing your alpha.

You drift off into a hazy sleep, floating in and out all night until you finally manage to slip into a deep sleep for a couple of hours early in the morning.

You wake later than you would have wanted to, and for a moment you forget where you are. There’s a warm weight against your back, and for a moment you think you’re back in the barracks, that John is sleeping behind you, pressed up against your back.

But as you wake up, you remember where you are: hundreds of miles away from the barracks and John.

The sun is up, shining its golden light through your window. You turn as best you can, the heavy weight pinning the blankets down over you.

You’re met with black and white fur. Storm has somehow snuck her way into your room and curled up on the bed with you. Tears prick your eyes as you turn to face her, running a hand down her back. She lets out a sigh, shifting her body onto her side so her head rests on your pillow.

“Hi Storm.” You whisper, burying your face in her fur.

She lays there, breathing steady and even as you try not to cry, as you fight the emotions welling up inside of you again. Storm licks your hand, dragging her soft tongue against your skin, almost like she’s trying to lick up your sadness.

“Okay, okay,” You sniffle, pulling your hand away. You lay there for a moment longer, both of you still in the quiet morning. Lily must be out gathering eggs or taking care of Mabel. You don’t feel bad for sleeping in this time.

Storm climbs down off the bed as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You grab a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Storm is waiting in the hallway for you and the two of you walk together towards the kitchen. Lily is sitting at the table, reading a magazine.

“Mornin’, hen.” She greets you before looking down at Storm. “Mornin’ ye sneak. Sorry if she disturbed ye. I tried to get her back out.”

You shake your head. “She didn’t disturb me. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Lily hums, patting Storm’s head. “Ye must have needed her, then.”

Tears start to prick behind your eyes, those emotions that you thought you had shoved down starting to come back to the surface. You know Lily won’t judge you for crying, for being homesick, but still that fear of showing too many emotions starts to overwhelm you.

“It’s alright, hen.” Lily says, on her feet before you even know it, pulling you into a hug. “Homesick, huh.”

It’s not a question.

“I understand.” She says softly, patting your head as you struggle to hold those emotions down. “I would be too.”

Her hands rub your back, her scent strong in the air as she tries to help comfort you. You both know it won’t be enough, but still the thought of it is sweet. She’s doing her best to try and make this easy for you, to try and help you through the inevitable breakdown of missing your pack and your alpha. From what John has said, it won’t be long before he’s finally free of the shackles of the military. A few more days at most before he’ll be making the final drive up here to retrieve you, and you’ll move on to whatever is waiting for you on the other side.

It makes you sad to leave too, though. You’ve grown comfortable on the farm, adjusting to life here and its routine and stability. It’s kept you more active than anything, and you’re going to miss having an excuse to do more than read and sleep all day. Of course, taking care of a house will involve a lot more, but you know there’s only so much you can do even in that regard.

You want to feel useful.

You don’t cry as much as you thought you might. Your thoughts have kept you stable, ideas forming, plans putting themselves together. You lean against Lily’s chest, arms wrapped around her. You’ll be forever grateful for everything she’s done for you, even if she doesn’t realize she’s done it.

You pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say.

Lily gives you a soft smile, petting your hair. “Of course, hen. Ye know I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You laugh, sniffling. “You give good hugs.”

“I’ve been told that.” She pats the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some food in ye.”

Storm sleeps in your room from then on. You’re not sure Lily could change her mind even if she tried. She’s on the bed as soon as you open the door to Johnny’s room, making herself at home. You’re silently grateful for her comforting presence, often waking cuddling her up on your pillow.

You’ve become inseparable, unless Lily is in the kitchen, then she betrays you for the prospect of any handouts. You don’t blame her one bit. You’d be in there begging too if Lily didn’t involve you as much as she has started doing. You had asked for recipes, so Lily had taken that as her excuse to start mentoring you in the kitchen, teaching you everything she knows.

You’ve been kept busy, and you’re grateful for it.

Storm follows you around as you do your chores, self-appointed chores. You fetch more hay for Mabel as she’s running low, give her a good brush to help loosen some of her shedding fur, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, pick a few of the last winter vegetables that have ripened before helping Lily make lunch.

You even get to hold a baby lamb.

You fall in love almost instantly.

Another animal to add to your list of animals to convince John to get for you.

Your last day on the farm comes with an unexpected morning phone call. Usually John called at night, but this time catches you by surprise at the breakfast table. You got up to answer, Storm following you down the hall as you speak to John.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” John says. “I have good news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. “Oh?”

“My paperwork was finalized this morning. I’ll be coming up tomorrow to get you.”

Nerves and excitement boil in your stomach. You’re excited that it’s finally happened, that he’s finally free and you’ll get to see him in just a few hours. At the same time you’re nervous for what this means, for this start of the new chapter. There’s also a bittersweet edge to it, from the thought of leaving the farm after the wonderful almost two weeks you’ve spent here.

“That’s great!” You say, trying to sound convincing, channeling that inner excitement.

“I’ll call before I leave so you know when to expect me.” He says, sounding almost relieved.

“Sounds good.” You say, leaning down to pet Storm as she paws at you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know. It’s been long enough.” He says. “I have to get packing, but I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

You walk back to the table, your stomach in knots. Excitement and nerves still race through you. You’re not quite sure what to feel yet, all of it a bit too much at once.

“Everything alright?” Murray asks.

You nod. “John’s paperwork finally went through. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lily cheers. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure yer goin’ tae be happy to see him.”

You nod again. “I am. I’ve missed him.”

“I bet.” She says reaching over to pat your hand.

“But I’m going to be sad to leave too.” You say. “I’ve really enjoyed being here.”

“And we’ve enjoyed havin’ ye.” Murray says.

“Ye can always visit, whenever ye want to.” Lily says, giving you a smile. “Yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” You say, trying to avoid looking down at Storm and her puppy eyes. You have a feeling she’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.

You do your chores the next morning despite the fact John will arrive in a few hours. It just feels right to spend your last day on the farm doing as much as you can, savoring your last taste of farm life. You’ll miss Mabel, and you’ll even miss the chickens despite the few little cuts on your hands from sharp beaks. You’ll miss having stuff to do. Sure, you’re going to settle into your new life easier than John will, but at the same time, you’re going to withdraw from this routine you’ve grown to follow.

You spend the time after lunch cuddling with Storm on the couch. She seems sadder than usual, almost as if she knows this is going to be goodbye for now. Even Bron is at your feet, curled in a ball as you all wait for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Your bags are packed and by the door, including your Wellies, ready to be taken away from this surrogate home, from your surrogate family. Well, they are your family, you suppose. An extension of your pack member.

You’re not ready to get up as the sound of tires eventually does come, Murray rising from his seat to greet John at the door. You let out a sigh, patting Storm one more time before standing.

It feels almost surreal seeing John again after nearly two weeks away. He greets you with open arms and a smile, not even waiting for anything to be said. You’re in his arms almost as fast as he opened them, pressing yourself close against his chest. You’ve been without him for longer, but this time it felt different. You were hanging over the precipice of a drastic change. His arrival has been the first step in that change, the start of a new chapter in both of your lives.

“I trust you’ve been well taken care of.” He says as you pull away.

“Very well.” You say, smiling.

“And ye better keep that up.” Lily says threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He says, giving her a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to have some company.” She says.

“Ye can visit us any time ye like.” Murray says, shaking John’s hand.

John grabs your bags, the four of you heading outside with the dogs. You hug Lily, tears falling as you say your goodbye.

“Call me.” She says, patting your back. “For anything, even just tae chat. And don’t forget to visit.”

“Thank you.” You say, wiping your cheeks. “For everything.”

“Yer welcome, hen.” She says, brushing a hand over your head.

“Thank you, too.” You say to Murray, giving him a hug as well.

“Of course.” He says, patting your back. “It was our pleasure.”

You kneel down in the gravel, giving Storm a hug. She licks your cheek, letting out a quiet whine. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She gives you one last lick before you stand, giving Bron some pats before you turn away, heading towards the car. Sadness but also joy fills you as you climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. You turn to look behind you, the car full of boxes, but in the seat behind John your big bear sits, buckled in.

You smile softly as John climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he turns on the car.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod. “Ready.”

He turns the key, the car rumbling to life beneath you. They wave as you drive down the driveway, and you watch the house until it disappears around the bend. You turn back in your seat, letting out a sigh as John turns onto the road towards Glasgow.

“Can we get a dog? And some chickens? And a cow? And some sheep?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Let’s find a place to live, first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

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[whisperedmeg]

RE-ENTRY BURN ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part vi

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: spencer returns to the field, and the soft parts of him begin to harden. together, they search for a way to hold on.

genre: hurt/comfort, like kinda fluff if you squint I guess?

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, spencer goes back to work, reader gets anxious again but for a diff reason, spencer is still a reassuring sweetie pie, reader meets (part of) the bau, just some kissing but nothing more than that, big moment in their relationship !!

a/n: I wrote, erased, and rewrote the second half of this chapter like five separate times before I was happy with it and I’m still not 100% convinced, so I hope it turned out okay. no spoilers but there’s some major payoff at the end in this one 🙂‍↕️. as always, thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

series masterlist

The call came on a Thursday morning.

Spencer was sitting on my living room floor, back against the couch, flipping through a book of poetry he insisted he didn’t like but kept rereading anyway. I was in the kitchen in one of his old t-shirts, buttering toast and making an omelette and wondering if I had time for a shower before my shift. The air smelled like coffee and rain. It felt like a quiet, ordinary kind of day.

Then his phone rang. And I watched everything in his body go still.

“Yes,” he said after picking up. “This is Dr. Reid.”

His fingers tightened around the phone. His spine straightened. I turned off the burner.

I didn’t try to listen, but I didn’t leave the room either. He only said a few words: Okay. Thank you. I understand. See you soon. But when he hung up, he didn’t just look different — he looked lit up, like something dormant had just sparked back to life.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a second, then looked at me with wide, stunned eyes.

“That was them?”

He nodded slowly. Then, voice thick with disbelief and something close to awe: “They’re taking me back. I’m reinstated.”

For a beat, all we did was stare at each other.

Then I crossed the room and launched myself at him. He caught me, laughing, and spun us around so fast we nearly knocked over a vase.

“Oh my god,” I said, cupping his face. “Spencer, that’s amazing. You did that.”

“I didn’t think—” he broke off, blinking fast. “I thought it would take longer. Or that they’d changed their minds.”

I kissed him, hard and messy and happy and full of relief. He kissed me back just as fiercely, both hands buried in my hair. We were still tangled in each other when the real weight of it started to settle between us.

I pulled back slightly, breathless. “So… what happens now?”

“I report to Quantico next week. There’s some re-entry protocol — updated field certifications, paperwork, so on. Then I’m back on the team.” He paused, then added, “Back on the jet.”

I nodded, trying to keep my smile steady. “Right. Of course.”

But a quiet fear had already begun to curl into my chest — something I didn’t want to name. The fear that maybe the version of Spencer I’d come to know, the one who made me coffee with too much cinnamon and traced my shoulder blades with reverence, was only who he was here, with me.

Who was he when he was chasing monsters across state lines again? Who was I to him in that world?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching for my hand. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I’m so, so happy for you. And I want this for you. I… I just don’t know what it means for us. I don’t know that version of you. Your life is about to get a lot bigger, and I’m still here, going back and forth to Millburn, in scrubs, on twelve-hour shifts, staying exactly the same.”

“You think I’m going to leave you behind?”

I paused. “I don’t really think that. But I still fear it. Which might be worse.”

His grip tightened slightly. “I’m not going anywhere. But… I know this will change things. I just don’t know how yet.”

We sat with that — the not-knowing. It was becoming a constant companion.

He exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against mine. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

—

His first day back, I packed him lunch.

It felt stupid and too intimate and maybe a little bit like denial, but I did it anyway. Hummus, cut-up vegetables, and fruit, plus two hardboiled eggs he’d probably forget to eat. Spencer had a habit of doing that — starting a meal but then getting too absorbed in his work or the documentary on TV or the book in his lap to remember to finish it. I tucked in a note before I could overthink it: You’ve survived worse. Just breathe. You’re gonna be great.

He texted me later to say thank you. Then I didn’t hear from him for six hours.

I tried not to spiral.

When he finally walked into his apartment, he looked… different. Not bad, but sharper. Like someone had ironed some of the softness out of him. I was already waiting for him on his couch — he’d given me my own key last week and told me to use it.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Strange,” he said honestly. “Good. Overwhelming.”

I kissed him and tried to pretend I wasn’t searching his eyes for cracks.

—

By day three, he was already packing an overnight bag.

“There’s a case,” he said, tucking mismatched socks into a duffel. “We think there’s an unsub targeting sex workers.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching. “That was fast.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the job.”

The words landed harder than he probably meant. I swallowed thickly.

“Will I get to know where you are?”

He turned, reaching for me. “You can know everything I’m allowed to tell you. I won’t shut you out.”

I nodded, because I didn’t trust my voice.

He kissed me once — soft and lingering — and then he was gone.

—

The next few days passed slowly.

He texted when he landed in Denver. Again when they reached the local precinct. That first night, he called me from his hotel room. His voice was tired but steady, full of soft reassurances: I’m okay. I’m thinking about you. I wish you were here.

But the check-ins were short. Sporadic. Sometimes twelve hours went by without a word, and I had to remind myself he was just busy. That it wasn’t about me. That he had bigger things to worry about. That he wasn’t retreating.

Still, I found myself staring at my phone more than I wanted to admit. Writing texts I didn’t send. Wondering if this low, quiet ache in my chest was normal or the beginning of something harder.

When he got back four days later, he smelled like airplane soap and adrenaline. His arms were around me the second he was through my front door, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“I missed you,” he murmured against my hair.

I squeezed him closer. “I missed you every second.”

Then he pulled back, and I saw it — the part of him that was already half gone again.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m tired. But yeah.”

“Did you eat the eggs?”

He blinked. “What?”

“In the lunch I packed. On your first day back.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I forgot.”

—

That weekend, Spencer’s work friends invited him out to a nice dinner downtown.

He insisted I join him. Said he wanted me there. That he wanted me to meet more of his team, and that they wanted to meet me, too.

I said yes because I could tell it meant a lot to him — and because I genuinely did want to meet the people closest to him — but I was a nervous wreck over it. I felt like I was going to be interviewed by the people who had known him for years, who had pulled him from blood-soaked crime scenes and watched him unravel and rebuild more than once. People — profilers — who could probably read body language as easily as breathing. People who would know if I was feeling even just a little bit off.

Penelope nearly vibrated with joy when Spencer and I walked into the restaurant, hugging me like I was a gift-wrapped surprise. JJ gave me her usual perceptive, friendly smile, the kind that made me feel both seen and slightly exposed.

But it was meeting Emily and Rossi for the first time that made me sweat.

Emily shook my hand with polite warmth, but her eyes were sharp. Measuring. Assessing. As if she couldn’t help it. As if it was hardwired into her, the way it was hardwired into me to check pupils and track vitals. Rossi gave me a smile so charming it almost felt intimidating — not because he was skeptical, but because he was paying close attention, the way you do when someone you love finally lets you see something they’ve been protecting.

I did my best to hold my own. I answered questions about myself — my job at the infirmary, the story of how Spencer and I met (they loved hearing how I’d given him my number via scrabble tiles), what I liked to do outside of work. I laughed when they teased Spencer about still being the worst at remembering to eat, and about the time he tried to explain string theory at a retirement party and knocked over an entire cheese platter mid-metaphor. He rolled his eyes and claimed it was an unfair exaggeration, but his ears turned pink.

There was a moment when Emily asked what had drawn me to Spencer, and a million different answers piled up in my throat all at once. I just smiled and said, “He’s easy to care about. Even at his lowest, he was still always the kindest person in the room. Plus, he even pretended to feel bad when he kicked my ass in chess.”

Garcia let out a delighted little sound, pressing her hand to her heart. JJ’s eyes softened with something almost protective. Rossi gave an approving nod and raised his glass. And Emily — she didn’t quite smile, but her shoulders loosened, like she was easing off an invisible trigger.

Still, the entire dinner felt a little like walking a tightrope — one foot in Spencer’s universe, the other still hovering over mine. I couldn’t tell if I was holding my breath or just trying to match their rhythm.

“You okay?” JJ asked gently while we waited for dessert. “It’s a lot, I know.”

“Being part of this world?”

She tilted her head. “Being with someone who spends half their life chasing ghosts.”

I smiled tightly. “I haven’t quite figured out where I fit yet.”

“You don’t have to know today,” she said. “But if you care about him — and it’s pretty clear you do — then hang on. He’s worth the turbulence.”

I looked over at Spencer, who was in the middle of arguing with Garcia about the probability of alien life as if the past six months hadn’t nearly broken him. His hands moved as he spoke, his expression animated, utterly absorbed in the debate. There was something so familiar about it — the way he lit up, the way he met the world with open palms and big questions. Like the worst thing had already happened, and now he was trying to believe in wonder again.

“I know he is,” I said softly. “But turbulence still leaves you breathless sometimes.”

—

Later, in the car, Spencer took my hand. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

I shrugged, watching the city pass by through the window. “I’m just tired. It was a good night.”

He glanced over at me, unconvinced but gentle.

“I really like Penelope,” I added. “She always hugs me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“She thinks you are,” he said, no hesitation. “And she’s right.”

I smiled, feeling my cheeks warm. “And JJ. She’s… perceptive. And kind. Like she sees things but doesn’t make you feel too exposed.”

His thumb brushed across my knuckles, slow and steady.

“And Emily was warm in a scary, FBI-chief sort of way. I was terrified she hated me, but then she made that joke about your hair and I felt like I passed some kind of test.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh. “That’s exactly how you know she likes you.”

“And Rossi’s stories are even better than you said they’d be,” I continued. “Though I’m still not convinced that the one about the ambassador’s wife and Ringo Starr actually happened.”

“Oh, it definitely did.”

That made me laugh. I leaned my head back against the seat, exhaling. “It was a good night, Spence. Really.”

Spencer smiled softly, but didn’t say anything. His thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against my hand — like he was trying to ground me without interrupting whatever was unraveling inside my head.

I hesitated. “It’s just…”

He waited, thumb still brushing lightly over my knuckles. I kept my gaze on the window.

“It’s strange,” I said slowly. “Watching you slip back into your world so naturally. Not in a bad way — it’s a good kind of strange. But I’m still figuring out where I fit.” I paused for a beat. “Sometimes I worry I’m just watching your life take off without me.”

He turned to look at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“I know,” I murmured. “But it feels that way sometimes. You’re re-entering a life that’s so much bigger than I ever knew, and I’m still finding my place in it.”

His fingers tightened gently around mine. “You’re not on the outside of this. You never were. You’ve always had a place with me.”

I nodded, though the ache lingered. “I know, Spence. It’s just… kind of a lot, I guess. I wasn’t ready for how much of it existed before me, which I know sounds incredibly silly.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car over with a soft turn of the wheel, settling us into the stillness of a side street, headlights casting long shadows through the trees. Then he turned toward me fully.

“You’re part of my life,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “The best part. I just need you to trust that I’m still in this. Even when I’m gone on cases. Even when I come home wrecked and quiet. I’m still with you.”

I looked at him then, really looked. At the man who had once been shattered, who had let me see every broken edge, who had handed me the glue and trusted me not to cut myself as I helped him put the pieces back together. And who now was flying straight toward the storm again, because that’s what he was made to do.

“I trust that,” I said softly. “I really do. I just don’t want to be the thing that keeps you grounded if what you really need is flight.”

His brow softened, and he reached across the console to cup my jaw, thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone, tender and steady. “You’re not holding me down,” he said. “You’re giving me a reason to land.”

My throat tightened. The knot in my chest loosened — not all the way, but enough. I nodded, blinking against the rush of everything that wanted to spill out.

He gave my hand a final squeeze and slowly pulled back onto the road.

And this time, I really did let myself believe him.

—

That night, we didn’t sleep right away. We just… laid there, wrapped around each other, quiet and breathing like the hush itself was sacred. His hand rested against my back, fingers tracing slow, absent-minded lines — like he was etching something into the moment to keep forever.

It all felt different now. Not just tender, but certain. Like something had settled between us that couldn’t be undone.

He shifted slightly, just enough to look at me. His eyes moved across my face like he was studying it, memorizing it, letting the silence stretch long enough to make my breath catch.

Then he said, softly but without hesitation, “I love you.”

No preamble. No buildup. Just the truth, laid bare between us.

It hit me like a tidal wave, sudden and warm and full. I think part of me had been waiting for him to say that — aching for it, really. I had felt it already, but still, actually hearing it aloud cracked something open in my chest.

I blinked hard and reached for him, tracing his cheek with the backs of my fingers.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “I think I have for a while now.”

Something in him shifted — softened, unknotted. He exhaled like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. And then his lips curled into a smile so bright it almost hurt.

“You mean it?”

I nodded, and his smile deepened, eyes full of hope. “I think I’ve been waiting to hear that since the moment I met you,” he murmured.

Then he kissed me — slow and deep. Not hurried or desperate, just honest. His lips on mine like he was saying it again with his mouth, his hands, his whole body:

I’m here. I’m yours. I’m trying. I love you.

[lillithxnoel]

Drew is, hands down, the best manager I’ve ever known. He’s inherited this carnival from his father when he was twenty. It and the band of misfits pulling it across the country are his and have been for the last thirty years. A point he’s made clear to every idiot stupid enough to bring real trouble to our tent flaps. So it doesn’t surprise me to find the man falling into step as I weave away from my unwanted visitor.

“That looked comfortable.”

“Felt even better.” I say, checking my watch.

Felix the Cat smiles up at me like a psycho, one paw pointed to the five and his tail stretched up to the three. Only ten minutes- the conversation had seemed so much longer.

“Wanna talk about it?” He sounds as comfortable as I feel with the idea.

“Like you ain’t already heard it all.”

“You did cry quite a lot.”

“Do I need to cue up some Randy Travis?” I grin at him.

“You want me to leave you here?” A sandy brow raises over eyes the color of olives.

I know he’s being an ass, but my steps falter anyway. His do too, brown Docs grinding to a stop. I try to recover a smile and the rhythm, but he shakes his head and holds up a wide palm.

“Go help Jax set up the midway booths. I’ll make sure she’s left.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, but then he’s never been the type to hesitate. He just pivots and changes his direction, and I do the same to mine.

At the very least, the directional change improves the smell. The lot the carnival is using sits right alongside the towns rodeo arena, where more than a couple of the cowboys are walking out their horses. Just across the street sit the livestock facilities, where yet more cowboys and ranchers are loading in the assortment of animals to be competed over the weekend.

When I find Jax, he’s haphazardly chucking baseballs looking to be crafted around the turn of the century into red barrels that had clearly been fought away from an angry bear at some point. His eyes are the most striking shade of honey I’ve ever seen in my life, and if they weren’t attached to a man, I may have made some bad choices on the power of them alone.

“The fuck you doin’ over here? Thought you were dressing the pay table.”

“Every table is a pay table.”

“Long as the suckers have the cash, that’s right.” His enthusiasm is infectious, a smile wide as the Mississippi is long. Cackling at his own perceived cleverness, he throws me a fist bump.

Jax is and will always be about the money first.

“Drew sent me over, he’s chasing off an unwanted.”

His dark brow arches and I shake my head.

“Long story. What do you still need done?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just crosses arms he does stupid amounts of math and measuring to maintain, and looks at me. It’s another full minute of stony eye contact before he blows out the single most dramatic breath of air to have ever filled a human lung. His production earns exactly two slow and exaggerated blinks.

“Ugh, never mind. You’re boring me. Go set up the ball popper.”

“Standing right here in front of me.”

“Off duty, sugar. Go be useful to someone.”

“One of us might as well be.”

He flips me the bird and I return the same gesture with a kiss on the tip.

Ball, in this case, means balloon. The stall is already lined up two booths down, right next to the ring toss. The next two hours is lost to the arrangement of latex, darts, rings, and milk bottles while Jax scream sings Prince’s entire Purple Rain album through the midway.

“She was useful after all.” Jax says, hoisting himself to sit on the lip of the ringtoss booth.

I chuck one of the rings at his head and he snatches it from the air smooth as silk with a series of tsks.

“Why so defensive, it was a compliment.”

“Can you be more annoying?”

Mistake, he starts grinning like the damn Cheshire.

“Sure, you want me to show you?”

“I want you to go drink paint.” I hop over the lip of the booth, feet touching ground in time to see Drew come around the corner.

But he isn’t alone.

All of my good humor fades in a second, because the woman next to him is the one he was supposed to chase off. Every line in my body tenses, but to my surprise, they don’t stop anywhere near me. No, Drew guides her past the mess of quick-build booths and into the long trailer at the back of the rides that serves as his office.

“Who’s the broad? She doesn’t seem his type.��

She’s not. She’s a short, willowy figure that even my five-two had been able throw over my shoulder following bouts of mouthy. Drew, however, had always strayed towards more full figures - wide hips. Cassy is certainly not that.

“Broad, Jax? When did we get to the 1920’s and how do I get back to ‘95?”

It’s a weak shot, but I’m still staring at the firmly shut trailer door.

“Easy, you tell me what’s going on.“ A beat. “You know her. She the unwanted?”

I scoff.

“Guess not.”

Another beat, and then Jax’s veiny ass arm is thrown around my shoulder and I’m being bodily hauled in the opposite direction.

“Bitch, this midway is done and so am I. Let’s get the rest of these lazy assholes and get lit.”

I put up a token of resistance, mostly in the interest of regaining my stability. It’s on my lips to shoot him down, but the words catch on my tongue. What would I even do otherwise? Stand there? Wait to ask my boss what the fuck he was doing?

No.

“Betcha we can drag Bartley and Olivia into a game of poker.” I offer a grin and forced conspiratorial laugh.

The effort earns me a mussing of the hair.

I told Cassy myself that our business was separate, and Drew’s not the type to bring trouble into the circle. She’ll be gone by tomorrow, we’ll be leaving in five days, and this whole weird round of bullshit will be over.

Prompt #1189

"Can you be any more annoying?"

"Sure, you want me to show you?"

[penkura]

I would like to request 'body pillow' with Sanji 👀

YES you both get Sanji with the body pillow prompt. 💚💚 @hank88999 and @sheerxfiction you're both wonderful for requesting this, I hope you enjoy it. 💚💚💚 I did my best and hope you guys enjoy a bit of Sanji today~

I'm sorry I went with jealous Sanji, I thought of my Zoro and Dimitri body pillows and this is what happened lol

He’s not jealous, Sanji swears it every time you bring it up, as a joke or being serious it doesn’t matter. Why would he ever be jealous of a stupid pillow?? So what if it has a case on it that has your favorite anime or video game character, he’s not sure which one it is, you bought it at a convention recently and have been using it ever since.

You tell him it helps your back feel better in the mornings, having the pillow between your legs and cuddling it, but it makes Sanji stay up and watch you sleep because he wants to be the one cuddled. It isn’t fair that a pillow is getting all your attention at night, something that isn’t real or breathing, when he’s literally right there next to you every night. How could you ignore him for that??

“You’re so cute, I can’t believe you’re jealous of a pillow.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Even though his back is to you, you can tell he’s pouting and it makes you laugh. Sanji has always been so adorable to you when he’s a little jealous of someone else getting your attention, but you never thought a pillow case would cause him to act this way. Not after you two have been together for years and through much more than a body pillow splitting you up at night.

It does explain why Sanji holds onto you so tightly in the mornings when you give him a hug before you run off to work, or why he hovers while you’re getting ready every day. Why sometimes you come home and your pillow is in the closet or under the bed, he’s jealous even though he denies it but it’s the cutest thing ever for you. To see Sanji envious over a silly pillow case, it’s adorable and funny all at the same time.

“You know I love more than the pillow, right?”

“Of course I do, I love you too, I—”

“Then don’t worry about the pillow, silly. I still prefer cuddling with you, the pillow is just helping my back lately.”

He gets that, it does help him feel a little less jealous about the pillow, but he still doesn’t like how much you’re cuddling it over him at night. He’s still clingy in the mornings even after this, wanting you to take off work and stay in bed cuddling the morning away, ignoring your body pillow and giving him the attention he’s missing.

He’s able to most past it somewhat, ignoring the jealousy when you two spend your evenings together and he snuggles you close before you both fall asleep, but you almost always wake up with the pillow in your arms and Sanji still feels a twinge of jealousy when he notices.

This is stupid, it’s a pillow, its not a real person.

Sanji thinks he’s moving past it until you’re extra cuddly with your pillow one night and he can’t stop himself from prying the body pillow out of your arms and bringing you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Its better to cuddle a real person than a pillow, love.”

He really thinks he’s gotten away with it until you quietly speak up.

“Yeah…you’re right, Sanji.”

You still use the pillow sometimes when your back is in pain or acting up, but the majority of the time you’re back to snuggling closer to Sanji at night and he’s less clingy in the mornings now.

Still pretty clingy, but now it’s not out of jealousy but just out of love for you, giving you lots of kisses and hugs before you have to leave for the day. Sanji will go about his day like normal, but when he catches sight of your character body pillow again, he doesn’t feel jealous but almost victorious, leaving it alone where it lies and just continuing through his daily chores.

I win, stupid pillow.

[jabber-simper]

Drunken Night Delight

Haru Sagara x Reader

Summary: A drunken Haru confesses far more than he should have

"You really are sweet to offer to do this MC. You'll spoil me too much if you do this too often, I mean getting to see your face all night? What more could I ask for." Rui teased as you helped him clean up the tables around his bar. You'd offered to come work for him for the night, wanting to enjoy his and Lyca's company since you had no mission going on at the moment. Besides, Rui had mentioned how this was bound to be one of his busier nights and you mostly volunteered to help Lyca work on his people skills without distracting your poor curse twin.

"It's no trouble at all Rui, it was really fun helping you out the last time." You admitted cheerfully, ignoring his flirtatious comment.

"Why can't you help out every night then?" Lyca whined, "It's much better having you here to talk to instead of just the gigalo and that moth eaten casinova."

"Hey! I'm the one helping you with your people skills by letting you work here." Rui whined back, pouting.

Before you could interrupt them the door swung open and two very familiar figures walked in.

"Oh! Hi Haru, hi Romeo!" You greeted, glancing over at the two. You weren't too surprised to see them, having slowly learned that the two were friends, or as close to friends as Romeo was capable of letting people be.

"It's Fico, BB! How many times must i tell you?!" Romeo huffed, sliding onto one of the bar stools at the bar.

"Hi MC! Didn't expect to see you here." Haru greeted cheerfully with a wink, your cheeks blushing lightly.

"I'm helping out for the night!" You replied, before tilting your head as you noticed something "No Peekabo?" You asked, noticing that the little guy wasn't at his usual spot strapped to Haru's chest.

"Gyahaha, no, I wanted to relax for the night and that's not something Peekabo needs to see. He's safely tucked in at the dorm with a baby monitor and Towa hopefully keeping an eye on him." He explained as he found his seat next to Romeo.

Over the next few hours drinks and conversation flowed and it became clear to you what Haru had meant by "relaxing". While Romeo only had a couple drinks that he slowly sipped on, Haru pounded back a fair amount of drinks and was clearly feeling the effects in full by the time the sinostra vice captain was getting ready to leave.

"BB! I better see you FTITM!" Romeo shouted as he made his way out. You shot a confused look to Rui who just shrugged in sympathy. Before you could even begin trying to decipher Romeo's latest acronym Haru stood up and nearly fell over as he wobbled on his feet.

"I'd better go get back" Haru muttered, nearly falling again as he tried to take a step. You hurried over and helped to keep him steady.

"Harry you're way too out of it to go back to Jabberwock." Rui chidded. "MC do you mind helping him upstairs to one of the guest rooms? I don't think he can make the stairs on his own and I can't really help."

"No worries Rui! I'll help him out!"

"Thanks cutie!"

You giggled a little at Rui's comment and started to help lead Haru to one of the many spare rooms. Haru frowned a bit and pouted.

"I think you're reeeeaaallllyy cute too MC" Haru cooed.

"Oh that's sweet of you to say Haru." You'd be lying if you said his comment hadn't made your heart do excited flips in your chest. You'd been crushing hard on the Jabberwock captain for a while now, and to be flirted on by him was like a fantasy come true. Only problem was that hs was so out of it you weren't really sure he actually meant it.

Haru frowned more and leaned into you "I mean it, you're so...so pretty, and nice, and funny, and you're so good with everyone and the animals. He rambled as you helped him up the stairs. "Peekabo loves you. We talk about you a lot. We both wish you were his mom."

You froze just outside the spare bedroom as you tried to process what you just heard, but Haru wasn't done rambling.

"It's not just Peekabo that loves you either, i love you too, i want to kiss your pretty pretty face and keep you around all the time just so i can tell you how pretty you are." By now your face was deep red with blush. "Could I?" Haru asked suddenly, turning his head to look at you.

"Could you..what?" You asked slowly, unsure what he meant.

"Kiss you" he replied immediately. You wanted so desperately to say yes, you'd been wanting to kiss him practically since you met him, but..

"You're a little too out of right now Haru. How about you get some sleep and if you still want to kiss me in the morning you can." You told him, finally getting him into the room.

Haru pouted at you as he flopped down onto the bed "Fine, deal, as long as i can kiss you first thing" he mumbled.

"First thing." You replied, turning to leave, "Night Haru." But before you could take even two steps away a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Stay" Haru pleaded, gently tugging you to get you onto the bed too. You gave in far too easily as you laid down ontop of the covers next to him. He moved quickly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

You were blushing fiercly and about to say something when the sounds of soft snoring hit your ears. Haru was already fast asleep, holding you tightly in his arms. The warmth of his body next to yours started lulling you to sleep as you closed your eyes.

"Night Haru, hope you still want that kiss in the morning." You whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

[fic-girlie]

What he sees

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x plus-size!reader Summary: Pedro comforts you after a hard day leaves you feeling insecure, reminding you how deeply he loves and sees you. Warnings: estbalished relationship, insecurity, crying, hurt/comfort, soft Pedro, fluff A/N: This was not requested, but... I just got an idea. And since I haven't seen a lot of fanfictions with plus-size readers I thought I'll write it.

It starts with a dress. A stupid dress. You weren’t even supposed to try it on. You told yourself you were just browsing, told the clerk you were only killing time. But something about the color drew you in — deep green with flutter sleeves, the kind that draped instead of clung, the kind you’d seen on women who looked nothing like you. Still, hope is a tricky little liar, and you let it in for just a minute. You carried it into the dressing room on a whim and stepped behind the curtain already bracing for disappointment.

The mirror is merciless. The lighting overhead does you no favors, the cheap fluorescent glare casting every softness as something to hide. You tug the hem down over your thighs, feeling your heart sink with each second. The bodice clings too tightly across your chest, the sleeves don’t fall the way you’d imagined, and the side seam puckers in that telltale way — not your size, not made for you. And suddenly it’s not just the dress that feels wrong, it’s your entire body. You feel foolish for thinking it might have worked, for imagining what it might be like to wear it to dinner with Pedro, to see his eyes linger when you walk into the room.

You don’t cry in the store. You smile at the salesgirl, hang the dress back on the rack, and pretend your phone buzzed with something urgent. But by the time you're in your car, you’re already unravelling. The tears come hot and fast, falling into the collar of your coat as your breath fogs up the window. You hate that it still gets to you — that no matter how much you work on loving yourself, the world always seems to find a way to remind you that you take up too much space.

You don’t want to bring it home with you. You try to shake it off, to distract yourself with errands or music or the way Pedro always texts you a photo of whatever weird snack he finds on set. But the ache lingers in your chest like a bruise, tender and deep, and when you finally walk through your apartment door, the exhaustion hits you like a wave. You don’t notice how quiet you are until Pedro notices it for you.

He’s in the kitchen, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, humming softly to himself. When he turns and sees you, his face lights up the way it always does — eyes crinkling, smile crooked and warm — but it falters when he sees your expression.

“Hey,” he says gently, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You okay?”

You try to lie. You always do. But Pedro sees through you faster than anyone ever has. He walks toward you, slow and careful, like he’s approaching a wounded animal, and you hate how your throat tightens the closer he gets.

“I’m fine,” you murmur. “Just tired.”

He hums, unconvinced, and cups your face in his hands. His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth, his eyes searching yours with quiet patience. You can’t hold his gaze. You look away, suddenly ashamed of everything — the way your body feels today, the way you let it ruin your mood, the fact that he’s touching you like you’re something precious when all you want to do is hide.

“Did something happen?” he asks, softer now. “Talk to me.”

And maybe it’s the way he says it. Like you’re allowed to be soft here. Like you’re safe. Your defenses crumble all at once, and your voice cracks before the words even form.

“I tried on this dress,” you whisper, staring down at the floor. “And I looked awful. Just… so awful, Pedro. I don’t know what I was thinking. It wasn’t made for someone like me. I looked like a joke.”

The silence that follows is so thick it nearly chokes you. You can’t look at him. You don’t want to see pity in his eyes. But then his hands drop from your face to your waist — not retreating, not recoiling, but sliding over the soft curve of your sides like he’s grounding himself there.

“Hey,” he says again, firmer now. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly. And the intensity in his gaze knocks the breath out of you.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that,” he says. “Not in front of me. Not even when you’re alone. Because I don’t know what fucking mirror you looked into, but it’s lying to you. You are not a joke. You never were.”

You blink hard, throat thick with disbelief. “But I—Pedro, I don’t fit into anything. I don’t look like the women in magazines, or in your world. I feel like I’m too much all the time.”

Pedro exhales slowly, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and sure.

“Baby… you are everything. You think you’re too much, but you don’t see what I see. You don’t feel what I feel when I hold you. When I look at you, I don’t want to change a single thing.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. His body is warm and solid against yours, anchoring you with the kind of tenderness that makes it hard to breathe. He kisses the top of your head, your temple, your cheek — little reminders that you’re here, you’re his, and he’s not going anywhere.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he murmurs against your skin. “I see softness where the world’s been hard. I see warmth, and strength, and the kind of beauty that doesn’t fade. You fill a room, but not in the way you think. You fill it with light. With kindness. With that crooked smile you don’t think I notice. And when I hold you…” He pulls back just enough to look at you again. “When I hold you, I feel home.”

The tears return, but they’re different this time. He wipes them away with the pad of his thumb, gentle and unhurried, like there’s all the time in the world.

“I know it’s hard,” he continues. “I know what it’s like to have those voices in your head. But I need you to remember that the way you see yourself in those moments — it isn’t the truth. It’s the echo of every cruel thing you’ve ever been told. And I’m here to drown that shit out.”

You laugh through your tears, shaky and raw. “You always know what to say.”

Pedro smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “No, I just mean it. And I love you. Not in spite of anything. Because of everything.”

The words settle in your chest like sunlight. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to hear them until now.

You let him lead you to the couch, curling up with him beneath a blanket, your body pressed close to his like it’s always belonged there. He doesn’t try to fix you. He doesn’t try to push the feelings away. He just holds you, steady and strong, his fingers drawing slow circles on your arm, your hip, the soft curve of your belly — every place you’ve tried to hide from the world, he touches with reverence.

And for the first time all day, you don’t feel like too much. You feel held. You feel seen.

Later, he brings you tea. The good kind — the one he buys from that overpriced little shop downtown because he knows you love it, even though he always complains about the price. He kneels beside you, offering it with both hands like a peace offering, and when you take it, his fingers linger over yours.

“I’m proud of you,” he says softly. “For telling me. For not pretending.”

You smile, small and real. “Thank you. For listening.”

“I’ll always listen,” he replies. “Especially when you forget how incredible you are. I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

You sip your tea, the warmth settling in your chest, and something in you begins to shift. It’s not gone — that ache, that shame — but it’s quieter now. Softer. And you think maybe that’s how healing works. Not in grand, sweeping moments, but in small ones like this. In hands that hold without judgment. In words that reach the parts of you that still flinch. In the love of someone who sees your fullness — not just your body, but your heart, your spirit — and cherishes every inch.

Pedro doesn’t need you to shrink. He never did.

And maybe, just maybe… you’re starting to believe him.

[meo-juice]

HAII ^^ can i request some headcanons on what it would be like to be part of the bakusquad ? i luvv how u characterize characters <33

being a part of the bakusquad headcanons ✩࿐࿔

͙͘͡ ★ author's note: thank you sm for the request anon!! i hope i can do it justice. bakusquad is bakugou, kirishima, sero, denki, and minaaaaa. requests are open!

͙͘͡ ★ cw: sfw, swearing, mentions of alcohol.

͙͘͡ ★ word count: 603

͙͘͡ ★ dividers by @cafekitsune on tumblr!

being sucked into the whirlwind of a friend group that happens to be the so-called bakusquad (much to it's namesake's dismay), each day brings a new possibility.

being greeted by mina by a knock on your door at the latest hours to paint your toenails and talk the craziest shit known to man. who's hot, who's not, drowning out the low murmur of 13 going on 30 and love island from your tv. she's always ready with hot glue and sequins to make the latest craft trends on tiktok.

kirishima waits for you by the front door every morning to walk you to class and catch up on the tea that he missed the previous night from mina. he is an honorary member of the girls. when the two of you hang out it's all about watching new anime and mocking them when needed. jojo's bizarre adventure is a joint favorite to make fun of but love at the same time.

sero likes to drag you guys out for morning hikes, with many complaints from denki. bakugou will huff but it'll quickly turn into a race for him to make it to the peak first. he always offers a cooldown afterwards with fast food to keep everyone happy. the two of you like to go on long rides with all the windows down blaring everything from taylor swift to radiohead and doing your best 2000's pop punk vocal impressions.

bakugou will greet you in passing each morning, which is a lot for him. sometimes he'll stop by your room to study because, "you're the only other one who fuckin' knows what's goin' on." he secretly just thinks it's nice to work alongside another person and corroborate ideas on paper and in the field.

denki will drag you anywhere and everywhere. sneaking out at 2am to go to the nearest walmart, laser tag and arcades where he always leaves butthurt after you show him what's up. you frequently watch old spongebob episodes and see whatever new games are on steam to try out together.

every friday night is what kirishima has proudly named family game night.

family game night includes several heated (sometimes physical) arguments over mario kart. it truly brings out the worst in people.

when the twister board gets laid out across the floor of whoever's poor soul is hosting that friday, it gets even more intense.

many of the colored circles have been blown through with crispy, blackened edges from bakugou's determined attempts to claim his victory. he never wins. he is about as flexible as a butter knife.

denki tries his hardest to get a couple six-packs back into the dorms. aizawa does in fact catch him every time. they've begun to build up in his own room, he doesn't know what tat kid is trying to drink.

despite friendships almost being broken over blue shells and a right hand on red, the night always ends with a pileup on the couch and a movie that kirishima never gets to pick- he always wants the avengers.

bakugou always heads back to his room before he actually falls asleep, far before anyone else. kirishima goes next, until you one by one drop like flies. it usually ends up with you and sero quietly trying to pick up trash and fold blankets without disturbing the sleeping crowd.

he'll always let you take whatever bed there is, opting for the floor among the tangled bodies below him because he's just too nice.

yet each night you fall asleep feeling the love from your friends. whether they're the type that admits it or not.

͙͘͡ ★ disclaimer: these characters do not belong to me! all written works are my own (meo-juice). please do not repost my work on other sites or apps than tumblr. thank you!

[azzifudd10]

New Teammates, Old Baggage Chapter 7

The next morning, the house was quiet except for the faint clatter of a spoon against a mug and the low hum of soft jazz from Azzi’s living room speaker — courtesy of Paige, who had woken up early to check on everything before anyone else stirred.

Jazlyn was still knocked out in the guest bed, surrounded by a sea of plush animals and Azzi’s old Huskies hoodie bunched under her head like a makeshift pillow. Azzi, meanwhile, hadn’t slept through the night. Paige had gotten up at least three times to help her adjust her ice pack, reposition her leg, or just rub gentle circles into her back when the pain meds started wearing off too soon.

Now, Paige stood barefoot in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a ceramic mug Azzi said was her “game day good luck charm.” She wrapped the tea bag string around the handle with practiced ease. Mint chamomile, just the way Azzi liked it.

The sun was beginning to fill the townhouse in warm slices, gold light cutting across the hardwood floors like a soft spotlight. Paige paused to soak it in. For a moment, everything felt still. Soft. Almost sacred.

Then came the sound of shuffling feet.

Azzi, hair wild from sleep, padded slowly into the living room in an oversized tee and shorts, eyes barely open and bandages still clean but clearly uncomfortable. She looked like a woman who had survived something — and maybe, in some ways, she had.

“You’re up early,” she murmured, wincing as she eased herself onto the couch.

“I never went back to sleep,” Paige admitted, walking over with the mug. “Tea. Not too hot. Just how you like it.”

Azzi took the cup with both hands, pausing as she looked up. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things about you.”

Azzi held her gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between them like a ripple of heat.

“Also,” Paige added, sitting beside her carefully, “I Googled concussion recovery tips at 4am, so we’re doing ice again in fifteen minutes and then a low-sodium breakfast.”

Azzi smiled, slow and lazy. “You’re intense.”

“I’m in love,” Paige said without thinking, the words leaving her mouth before she could filter them.

Azzi blinked.

Paige froze.

It wasn’t a grand confession — no dramatic music, no perfect timing — but it was real. Honest.

Azzi set the mug down slowly and turned to face her. “Say that again.”

“I’m in love with you,” Paige repeated, softer this time. “And it’s terrifying. Because I wasn’t ready to feel this again, not after everything with Jazlyn’s dad, not after what it did to me. But then you happened. And now all I want is you.”

Azzi looked at her like she was something precious. Then, bruises and all, she leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was hungry. Raw. A little desperate — like they’d both been holding their breath for days and finally found air in each other’s mouths.

Paige’s hand cradled Azzi’s jaw with the kind of gentleness reserved for fragile things. Azzi’s fingers tangled in Paige’s hoodie, pulling her closer, despite the dull ache in her ribs. When they broke apart, foreheads touching, Azzi whispered, “You’re a menace to my balance.”

Paige grinned, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s cheek. “Then sit down and let me balance you.”

Suddenly, a tiny voice rang from the hallway.

“EW.”

Both women looked up to see Jazlyn, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, hair in lopsided puffs, one sock missing and the other halfway up her shin.

“You guys are always doing the mushy face stuff.”

Azzi bit back a laugh. “Good morning to you too.”

Jazlyn huffed, climbing up onto the couch and squeezing herself between them. “My spot.”

Paige scooped her up with one arm. “There. Better?”

“Yes. But also I want cereal. The colorful kind. And can I paint Zizi’s nails today? She said maybe and that’s basically a yes.”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “I have a concussion, remember?”

Jazlyn gave her the most innocent eyes she could muster. “Painting nails is therapy.”

Paige grinned. “She’s not wrong.”

And so, half an hour later, Azzi sat with her feet propped up on a pillow while Jazlyn carefully brushed on glittery pink polish — accidentally getting some on Azzi’s toes, the couch cushion, and her own nose.

Paige watched them from the kitchen, flipping blueberry pancakes with her hair tied back and humming to herself. She couldn’t remember the last time a morning had felt so normal. So messy and real and good.

Jon and Jose popped in around noon to “check on Azzi” — which clearly translated to raiding her fridge, giving Jazlyn piggyback rides, and loudly ranking each other’s Instagram followers. At one point, Katie dropped by with extra homemade soup and a box of homemade banana muffins “just in case Paige forgot to feed herself.”

“I’m not the patient!” Paige called from the couch.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need a meal, sweetheart,” Katie replied, giving her a quick one-armed hug and pressing a muffin into her hand. “Moms don’t discriminate.”

Later that afternoon, with the chaos temporarily settled and Jazlyn busy watching a Disney movie on Azzi’s iPad, Paige tucked a blanket over Azzi’s legs and joined her on the couch again.

Azzi looked at her sideways. “You haven’t stopped moving since sunrise.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Azzi said, quieter now. “Because you’re here.”

Paige reached up and brushed a finger along the faint bruise under Azzi’s eye. “I still see it when I close my eyes. Him hurting you. I hate that I wasn’t there.”

“You were exactly where you needed to be,” Azzi replied. “And you came right after. That means more than anything.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, letting the quiet wrap around them.

Then Paige leaned in again — this time slower, softer — and kissed her.

It was different than earlier. Not fiery, not rushed.

Just full.

Of promise.

Of care.

Of something that felt an awful lot like forever.

Azzi sighed against her lips, fingers brushing Paige’s wrist. “You taste like banana muffin.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both smiled.

And as Jazlyn shouted from the other room, “ZIZI! PAIGE! Olaf just melted and I’m sad now!” — both women groaned and laughed at the same time.

Family, Paige thought, getting up with a stretch.

It didn’t always start the way you expected.

But when it was right?

It felt like this.

By late Sunday afternoon, Azzi’s townhouse smelled like roasted garlic, rosemary chicken, and cinnamon. The sounds of cooking and laughter had filled the space for hours — Katie and Tim commanding the kitchen like a team of seasoned chefs, Jon and Jose bickering over who had the better WNBA fantasy lineup, and Jazlyn running from room to room in her self-appointed role as “party planner.”

Paige had offered to help, but Katie had waved her off with a wooden spoon. “You’ve been taking care of Azzi all week, sweetheart. Today, you sit, you eat, and you let us love on you a little.”

So Paige had done just that — settling on the couch next to Azzi, whose leg was propped on a pile of pillows and whose bandages had finally started coming off. The bruises were still visible, sure, but her energy had returned. Her smile was stronger now, her laughter less guarded.

Jazlyn sat cross-legged in front of her with a little notebook and a very serious expression.

“So. For dinner,” she began, flipping a page. “I think you should sit next to me. Because I’m the boss of seating.”

“Obviously,” Azzi said, nodding solemnly.

“And Paige sits on the other side of me, because she cuts my food best.”

“I’m honored.”

“And Jon and Jose can sit far away from the food because they eat too fast and make crumbs.”

From the kitchen, Jon’s voice rang out. “Unfair accusation!”

“You dropped an entire biscuit yesterday!” Jazlyn shouted back without missing a beat.

Azzi shook her head, smiling. “You’ve got a strong case, kid.”

“Also,” Jazlyn added, eyes flicking up with something a little more hesitant, “after dinner, can you help me with something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s secret.”

Azzi leaned in and whispered, “Even from Paige?”

Jazlyn looked between them and giggled. “Okay, she can know. But not the boys.”

Azzi crossed her heart. “No boys.”

Later, after dinner had been served — plates full of roasted vegetables, honey cornbread, buttery mashed potatoes, and that golden rosemary chicken — the house was wrapped in the warm fog of contentment. Everyone was full, happy, still laughing over Jose’s failed attempt to balance a spoon on his nose. Katie had poured tea, Tim passed around a photo album from Azzi’s college days, and the conversation shifted to funny stories about Azzi as a kid (including a highly dramatic reenactment by Jon of her one and only ballet recital).

But it was after dessert, when everyone was lounging and too full to move, that Jazlyn tugged on Azzi’s sleeve and said quietly, “Can we go now?”

Azzi glanced at Paige, who gave a soft smile and nodded.

“Be right back,” Azzi said to the room, carefully rising to her feet with Jazlyn’s help. “Jaz has a top-secret mission for me.”

As they disappeared into the hallway, Paige stayed behind, sipping tea and trying not to smile too obviously. Jose nudged her. “That kid is obsessed with Azzi.”

“She’s got good taste.”

He gave a sideways grin. “So do you.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to being likable.”

—

Down the hall, Azzi followed Jazlyn into the guest bedroom, where the lights were low and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

“Okay,” Jazlyn said, hopping onto the bed and reaching under the pillow. She pulled out a small, beat-up box. “This is my treasure box. I only show it to people I really really really like.”

Azzi sat beside her, surprised. “Wow. I’m honored.”

Jazlyn nodded. “You earned it. Even though your nose still looks a little squishy.”

Azzi laughed. “Thanks, I think.”

Jazlyn opened the box. Inside were small, precious things: a friendship bracelet with fading beads, a pressed flower, a tiny rock shaped like a heart, a photo of Paige holding baby Jazlyn, and now… she held out a folded piece of notebook paper, gently worn at the creases.

“I wrote you something,” she said shyly. “But it’s not a poem. It’s like… a wish.”

Azzi took the paper with care, unfolding it slowly.

In wobbly handwriting, it read:

"I wish Zizi stays forever. I wish we live together. I wish my daddy never comes back. I wish we can make pancakes every day. I wish Paige never cries again."

Azzi’s throat tightened.

She blinked down at the paper, the innocence of the words hitting her like a punch wrapped in velvet.

“I know wishes don’t always come true,” Jazlyn added softly, “but I still make them.”

Azzi didn’t speak at first. She set the paper down, pulled Jazlyn close, and held her tighter than she ever had.

“Those are some of the bravest wishes I’ve ever read,” she whispered.

“I’m a brave kid,” Jazlyn said into her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Azzi murmured, voice catching. “You really are.”

They stayed like that for a long time, quiet and safe in the soft light of the room.

Eventually, Paige peeked in to check on them and stopped in the doorway, heart full at the sight. She didn’t say anything, just watched — grateful and still and stunned at how deeply her life had changed.

When they finally emerged, Jazlyn proudly announced to the family that Azzi had earned “forever friend” status, and that only two people had ever earned that — “Zizi and my one-eyed stuffed panda.”

The rest of the evening passed in warmth and laughter. Katie packed them leftovers. Tim offered to fix a squeaky hinge on Azzi’s door. Jon made a TikTok dance challenge with Jazlyn. And Paige? Paige looked around the room and felt, for once, like maybe the universe was giving her a second chance.

Azzi leaned into her side.

“Happy?” she asked.

Paige didn’t need to answer.

But just as they were leaving — Azzi with her bag of soup containers, Paige balancing Jazlyn on her hip — Paige’s phone buzzed.

She glanced down.

Unknown Number. 1 New Message.

She unlocked the screen. The message was short.

“You’re playing house. But she’s still mine.”

Paige’s heart dropped.

She stared at the text. Cold dread seeped into her chest.

Azzi saw her face shift. “What is it?”

Paige didn’t answer right away.

She looked at Jazlyn, asleep on her shoulder.

Then back at Azzi.

And finally, back at the message.

“We need to talk,” Paige said quietly.

[geiba]

okay sooo i made some sketches for a few of the sprites i'll be using, some of which i'm gonna show here, as well as thinking about the code edits i'll need to do for this project. i don't want to just redraw a shimeji to look like SQQ, i want him to act and move in character, so i have a whole bunch of edits to do

some of my notes:

i'm not yet sure how many sprites some animations will require so i'm not putting in a final number, or numbering which sprites will be used for what animation, but i'm going to throw out an estimate that the final sprite count will be about sixty-ish.

i mostly have all my animations already planned out. i know what i want them to look like and know how to do it, but there's a few i still need to think about, like one of the multiplying animations. i considered just getting rid of the one i have no ideas for, but i'll think on it some more. i'm open to suggestions too

i'm considering if i should code and draw in interactions with other shimejis already. it's a bit of a far off idea but i might make a Binghe or maybe even Liu Qingge or Shang Qinghua? who knows. anyway it'd be fun to make some interactions between them. i could even add a tutorial for adding more "romantic" interactions since i want to leave this area open for shippers. if i make it that is

"pet" - yes you can pat Shizun on the head. it makes him embarrased but he likes it.

i'd like to make this an incredibly intricate shimeji with a lot of animations but i'm worried about the performance. they may not be Chrome level RAM eaters, but they're not the lightest and i don't want to create something which people won't get to enjoy

i'm still considering where to host the files. thought about maybe hosting them on a patreon account (for free. the Shizun Distribution System does not demand payment for what it does) but i'm, again, open to suggestions

i'm making this for the Shimeji-ee DESKTOP SOFTWARE FOR WINDOWS. i've never used things like the shimeji chrome extension nor do i own any apple devices. i don't know how to work with these. HOWEVER, if there's someone who DOES know how to work on those, feel free to make versions compatibile with apple or with browsers, BUT only if those versions ARE DISTRIBUTED FOR FREE AND CREDIT ME AS THE CREATOR. i want as many people as possible to enjoy my shimejis

two long idles, one of which i'm showing the sketch for. in the notes i wrote down "looping" and "sound" - while it may be a project that i do not realize in the end, i thought it would be cute to make an animation where Shizun plays the guqin and add sound to it. there would have to be the option to toggle animation sounds, and another to loop that animation, but i thought it would be absolutely adorable to make a sort of music player out of that animation, allowing the user to add a downloaded copy of their playlist into the files. imagine - you're sitting at your computer, studying, working or filing your taxes or whatever, and Shizun's on your screen, doing his thing, providing background music for whatever it is you're doing. cute, no? but this feels like the sort of thing that might get annoying or make your computer turn into a jet engine from overworking. so, for now this is staying a concept. the animation will be present, that much i guarantee but all that other stuff might not show up

OKAY, SO. as you might have noticed i have three designs. i sorta changed them since i made the first post about this, because as it turns out my computer screen doesn't actually display bright colours all that well. might have to fiddle with the settings on it more. anyway this time i coloured looking at my tablet screen so they should be more accurate to what i wanted. i decided that my previous design didn't look like mint chocolate chip ice cream enough <3

so, i'd like you guys to tell me which design is your favourite! i have mixed feelings about design no. 3 because, while pretty, it's kinda too detailed. i just know i'd get sick of redrawing it so i might simplify it further for the finished product

here's the designs!

*slight correction: the eye colour is not final! i left the sketch in on those parts and forgot to actually draw the finished design for the eyes. i don't have the time to correct that at the moment, however. sorry! for a closer look at how the eyes might look like, see previous design

[snonkerdoodlefizzy221b]

SPOILERS FOR MI8

The ending kinda felt...idk, off? Specifically, the very last scene where it shows Ethan walking into a crowd of people, taking in the fact that they're all still here and living their lives, and then one by one, Degas, Paris, Benji, and Grace show up. But none of them really go near each other. They all stay several feet away from each other, presumably taking in each other and their surroundings and the fact that humans are still out here connecting with each other. They give each other cryptic looks and then walk away -- all of them.

I'm not sure whether it was supposed to come off this way. But to me it felt like it was supposed to represent a breaking-apart of some sort, and signalled the beginning of a new chapter. To me, it felt like the film was saying "job's done, everybody is safe (mostly) and we can all go our own ways now." with no regard for the fact that they all nearly died and all completed a very dangerous mission together and therefore should have developed a very strong bond of some sort with each other. It could've been slightly okay for characters that we haven't known for very long like Degas, Paris, and Grace (although I feel like the bond they've all built with each other should be undeniable, except that's not what this scene is telling me). But for Benji and Ethan, who have known each other for 20 years, and who haven't seen each other for one veeeeery long and stressful week during which they both lost a dear friend and nearly died, and who have also both recently lost another dear friend, and have a very close bond with each other, and for Benji especially who has blossomed so much since Ethan first met him, to not take any moments to talk to each other further and instead simply opt to go their separate ways? That doesn't really make sense for them to me, but I may be biased because I will admit that hurt a lot.

You're telling me that none of them go up to each other and say a Congratulations or something or even just talk to each other for a moment outside the mission, implying that there isn't anything there outside of the mission? I was shocked when even Benji and Ethan didn't say a single word to each other or anything like that. I'm aware that nonverbal communication exists and I do know that Ethan and Benji are close enough emotionally to be able to read each other like that, but it still doesn't feel like enough.

I feel like they should've been sitting at a table, eating together, like in the ending of M:I4. Perhaps Paris would've been flicking pistachios at each other. Benji would be telling Ethan about the pen surgery and Ethan would be silently freaking out but also so proud at how much Benji has grown. Something like that would've shown that they all have a bond outside of the mission and that even if they do go their own separate ways in the end, they've still got each other to an extent. The canon ending made me feel like they were leaving each other behind. Like a divorce.

Or maybe I need a rewatch idk.

Also what the hell is up with this film and making me do in-depth analyses like this? I don't think I ever used to do this, it hurt my brain too much. And I also have the oddest insistent urge to write angsty fanfiction about this film.

About the ending again -- perhaps they all go back to IMF safehouses and end up breaking down because everything is not fine. Yes, the world has been saved from nukes thanks to their efforts. But in the downtime, it's time for Grace to accept that her life as a thief doesn't exist anymore and that the entirety of the rest of her life is devoted to the IMF now, and she can't run away or retire ever because we all know how well that goes -- it's physically impossible because she would be looking over her shoulder too much. It's time for Paris to come to terms with her life and perhaps whether she wants to take a new direction -- saving lives, like maybe with plants or animals, instead of taking them like she used to -- or go back to her old job (I don't remember whether she joined the IMF), not to mention that she also has to sort out her feelings about Gabriel because he probably had her thinking that he valued her as a person until she realized he absolutely didn't. It's time for Degas to sort through everything he has been through because it's very stressful and traumatizing. It's time for Ethan and Benji to come to terms with the death of two of their dearest friends, and for Ethan in particular to cope with Gabriel turning up again. And during all of this, they are all probably going to get new missions or things like that because the IMF never gives its agents any breaks. So they all are probably going to shove the trauma behind a mental dam and depend on being busy all the time so that they have no time to sit down, think, and process everything.

Benji will go back to where he was and it will be as if nothing has changed -- he's going to have his bucket by the bed in case he vomits from nightmares in the middle of the night (and he has some new ones to add to his usual list) and he's probably not going to hear from Ethan in a long time and will instead be consumed with a) being alone or b) being on duty.

Ethan will go back to his place (if he even has one -- or he will just couch hop until he gets another assignment) and he will struggle not to drown in his grief for Luther and Ilsa until he gets his next mission, and he desperately tries to stay busy because if he stays still everything will crash into him.

My point is, at this crossroads, Ethan and Benji need each other more than ever. And it is at this moment that they both turn away from each other.

Oh, and there's also obviously the tragedy of Ethan (and Benji) not being able to retire at all ever because it's his job to live and die in the shadows and it's his job to save the world. There may always be another Lane, but it is not up to another Ethan to save the world from him. It's the og Ethan, the one that tried his very best to have a normal life with Julia but ended up sending her into hiding instead (well, okay, that was the circumstances, but still, and she also found fulfillment), the one that rejected Ilsa's proposal to run away because he knows that they are never free (and she figures that out too), the Ethan whose job is to be of use until he dies. (I cannot for the life of me find the person who said this so if this looks familiar that is why. Sorry)

I need to stop making myself sad with this shit. I don't think I've ever asked for fic recs before but does anyone have some post-TFR Benthan fluff I can read? I also need to daydream up some scenarios where Ethan does get his happy ending.

[sarahisslytherin]

villain and violent.

joel miller x reader

summary: joel grapples with the weight of his past and its effect on his relationship with ellie. he can't help but wonder if you could truly ever love a man like him, a man who has done what he has.

contains: lots of angst, talk of violence and murder, ptsd and a panic attack.

a/n: i hope y'all like coffee cos here's one big-ass shot of depresso. but fear not, fluffy ending as per usual. listen to adrienne lenker while reading for maximum effect. gif by @djo.

word count: 1.2k

He wakes in the night with a strangled gasp. He is still holding the gun, still weaving his way through the maze of dark hospital corridors. He is still looking into Ellie’s glazed-over brown eyes as he feeds her lies. He is still cradling Sarah as she bleeds out in his arms, as the light fades from behind her eyes. And then he is in a dingy bedroom lit only by the rays of pale moonlight that manage to slip in through the cracks in the shutters.

He turns to the sleeping figure beside him, quickly recognizing the familiar sight. He does his best to time his shallow breaths to your even ones as you stir, revealing your face to him. He leans down to press a desperate kiss to your temple, the feel of your skin beneath his grounding him in the present. An almost imperceptible smile graces his lips as you mutter gibberish to yourself, lost in some soft dream far more pleasant than his. He resolves to leave you there for now, quietly hauling his exhausted body out of bed and cautiously shutting the bedroom door behind him. 

Your house in Jackson is modest, with vintage wallpaper peeling and leaks in the ceiling here and there, but it's safe. And the moment Joel Miller set foot in it, it became a home. You still remember the feeling when you saw him that first time, embracing his brother with tears in his eyes. Even from afar, you could feel his warmth. If you’d never worked up the nerve to speak to him weeks later, you would’ve probably lived off the stolen glances and accidental brushes of hands for as long as he would have let you. You never would have learned that he had wanted you just as much as you did him. That he didn’t want to scare you off, him being older and all that. You would never have been able to shut his running mouth with a charged kiss, or fall asleep in his arms every other night. Nights like this one.

You turn to nestle your head in the nook between Joel’s bicep and his chest, but find nothing but an empty mattress and ruffled sheets. You force yourself up and feel your way around the room you’ve come to know like the back of your hand until your hand finds the doorknob. The lamplight in the living room is dim but still harsh on your eyes. You can’t help but screw them shut tight as you wrap the blanket snug against you and call out for Joel.

“I’m here, baby,” he answers, his calloused hands coming up to pull you flush against his chest, “I’m right here”. Your head falls against his chest, and it’s impossible not to note the way his heart beats wildly inside. You step back so that you can truly look at him. He isn’t here at all. His graying hair is disheveled, his cotton shirt wrinkled. Mostly, his brows are tightly knit with worry and lined with a sheen of sweat. And his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes; they’re unfocused, pupils blown wide. You know instantly what thoughts are running through his mind like wild horses, gallops thundering louder than anything else. Yet you hold out hope they’ll let him hear your voice.

“Joel, you’re safe.” You whisper, scared to spook him like a wounded animal. “You’re home with me. Everything is okay.” You let the blanket fall to the hardwood floor as you take his shaking hands in your own and press kisses to his knuckles. “Breathe with me, babe. In… and out… nice and slow.” Joel concentrates on filling his lungs with air and expelling it, chest heaving more and more steadily with every motion. 

“Thank you.” He manages to choke out as tears well in his eyes. He presses a kiss to your hair before turning to settle down on the couch. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

You scoff at that, picking the discarded blanket back up as you sit by his side. The ratty couch whines beneath the weight of you both perched on its edge. “Wanna talk about it?”

This time it’s Joel who scoffs. “Nothing you don’t already know.”

“Joel,” you sigh, and he turns to look at you with glassy eyes, “what’s going on?”

You don’t pry him open, just let the question hang in the air. His eyes dart around the room and his hands rub anxiously at his thighs. You rest a hand on one of them and let him intertwine his fingers with yours at his own pace.

“I’m scared.” He admits after what feels like an eternity of silence.” There’s so much I’ve done that haunts me. Not that I regret it. If I had to, I’d do it all again. It was for her. You know that; you know It was all for her. But it haunts me all the same.” Now he brings your hand to his lips , mirroring your earlier action as if searching to ground himself in what is real and here in front of him.

“I’ve failed her. I failed Sarah and now I’ve failed her. And now I’m scared I’ll fail you too. I’m scared one night you'll wake up and realize you’ve been sleeping next to a monster. Sleeping next to a fucking villain.”

“You’re neither of those things, Joel.”

“You don’t know what I am. I don’t think I know it myself,” he sucks in a sharp breath a tear slides down his cheek, “but I know what I’ve done. What I’ve seen and heard. I’ve taken lives, lives like yours and hers. I-”

“You are the love of my life, is what you are.” You cut him off, taking his bearded chin between your knuckles as your eyes find his. “You are a hero. To Ellie, to me. That kid needs you. I need you. And you’re right, Joel. You’re a lot of things to a lot of different people, and your past will always be a part of you. But guess what? People are going to love you anyway. They’re gonna see the part of you that you keep hidden away and still choose you. I’m gonna keep waking up next to you and seeing the man I fell in love with. And she’s going to keep seeing the man who saved her.” 

The silence that follows is almost tangibly lighter, as if you’d physically chasen his fears away. If only it were that simple. Joel says nothing; instead he kisses each one of your knuckles one by one, his eyes closed as he turns your words over in his head.

“Do you promise?” He asks, his voice gravelly and thick from holding back tears.

“Promise what?” You hum as you lean your head against his shoulder and let your eyes flutter closed.

“You’re gonna keep on lovin’ me?” he mutters. If you weren’t so tired, you might even say he sounds shy. You resolve to give him shit about that in the morning.

“Unfortunately for you, old-timer,” you yawn as you arch your back like a cat, “you can bet your ass I will. The nickname earns you a playful jab to the ribs as Joel scoops you up like a bride in his strong arms. The giggle you let out as he sets you back on the bed might be the most beautiful sound Joel thinks he’s ever heard. But he’ll tell you that in the morning.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @sheraayasher @remusandlunakinnie @arianmock13-blog @redroomproperty @bug-boy32 @snow30285 @unicoroncrack @sweet-lies-4me @iamlittlesparkler

[paramountinplace]

any further thoughts on how the YJs use sign language to communicate with one another? love the idea of them using it to quietly communicate / check in on each other while they are out and about

YJs Sign Language HCs

A big one for them is just the silent "Ok?" check-in when they're out places. They all do it and all know a few different responses beyond a simple 'yes' or 'no,' like something along the lines of 'yes but not for long' or 'no but I will be' or 'yes but I need ___.'

They all have namesigns so as not to waste time fingerspelling each other's names if they're out in public and something happens. Natalie's is a combination of the letter N and the 'headphones' signs. Van's is the V sign tapped against the left cheek twice (she was the one to come up with it because Tai tried to get them all to use the sign for 'car,' but Van wanted something a little easier). Tai's is the sign that indicates 'tying shoes' which is a combination of the 'shoe' sign and a tying motion. Mel's is just the sign for 'frog', which she insisted on. It can get mildly confusing, but they've all mostly taken up just signing 'frog' with one hand and 'M' with the other to clarify when they mean her and not a real frog. And so on and so on.

Everyone knows how to ask to leave in sign language, as well as asking to use the bathroom, indicating if they feel sick, and 'emergency' which usually means something more along the lines of 'something bad happened, just be aware.'

They use it with Van if she's having a tough dyslexia day and is struggling with processing words. It generally uses a different part of the brain than speaking/listening, so it's a big help for her. She'll sometimes end up signing along with her words just to make sure she's getting across what she means to. It slows her brain down a little because she has to think about her hands/face moving and helps her make sure she's choosing the right words.

Jackie and Shauna end up creating a bunch of signs that only they know the meaning of so they can communicate with each other even more secretly. They're not quite fluent enough to have an entire conversation, but it's enough to be confusing if any of the others were to try listening/watching in.

Nat and Lottie are some of the more fluent ones besides Tai and Van. Lottie knows a lot of baby sign language, which in many cases is slightly different than standard ASL. Nat can flip easily between that and normal sign language.

Akilah gets really into learning nature-related signs and gets very excited to show everyone what she's learned when they go out on walks or hikes. Beyond that, she only knows the basic signs that they all know to be able to communicate out in public, but her knowledge of animal/plant based signs is extensive.

If anyone's having a conversation late at night and they're trying to be quiet, there's a big chance they'll slip into signing. It doesn't necessarily work for more complicated stuff, but if someone just wants a drink of water or to climb in bed with someone else, they'll use it to keep quiet.

Mari struggles with signing a little bit because she's already translating between English and Spanish in her head quite often, so adding another language to the mix is a bit hard. She's embarassed about not being so adept at it and for a while makes a lot of comments about how it's dumb and they should all be able to just use their words becuase they're not babies. She backs off the comments once she starts getting the hang of it and maybe after someone sits her down for a talk about how it's not always that easy for everyone to just use their words (she knows that full well and crumbles almost immediately).

Sometimes Jackie forgets she's supposed to make facial expressions to go along with her signing, so she'll deadpan sign something to someone and they'll be like 'are you okay??' and she's like 'yes? what?' why wouldn't I be?"

Gen is quietly very good at signing. She becomes the quickest at fingerspelling without anyone realizing and then whips it out and they're all staring at her confused because she went so fast they only caught every other letter. She knows it's not the most effective manner of communication to fingerspell things that quickly, but she gets a kick out of being able to call people names without them knowing right away.

Also, I think this goes without saying, but the grammatical structure of signed languages is very different from spoken/written ones, but I didn't write anything out like it would be signed just for ease of reading! Something like 'I would like to leave now' would be more like 'I-WANT-LEAVE-NOW' when signed.

Would love to hear anyone else's thoughts on this! Thanks for the ask, anon!

[funkle420]

Turbo Granny blunt rotation WIP

[wishfulsketching]

Benzo, Vander and Silco as kiddossss

[iholli]

living my best life with the new content (deleted scenes getting animated) but this part really gave my brain an itch that I've kinda thought about before and just haven't had reason to scratch at,,,

I think Blitzwing really dislikes getting dirty (or being in a space that could get him dirty), when it's unnecessary? I mean, he'll do it, he doesn't mind or care on a mission or during a fight, but he doesn't enjoy it, and don't expect him to get grease on his frame otherwise.

like, any time he's in a situation where he's getting dirty or scuffed and it's not in a fight, Hothead or Random are usually the dominant response, quickly finding something else to focus on. Icy only responds to complain, because he certainly likes to complain. he gets kind of bitchy about it! (I get it. I don't like unnecessary dirt either. I didn't authorize that. I mean this affectionately, I enjoy when he's bitchy.)

I imagine if he willingly got into a mess (for fun, or cannibalism, or both) it would be fine, but eugh, he wasn't planning on Autobot gunk or Earth grime, no thank you.

[ashmcgivern]

We did a chunk of the scenes in house for the Animaniacs episode "A Brief History of History" and these were some of the ones I was assigned! These scenes were a bit rough to get through because we had a lot of rounds of revisions, and back then I wasn't really happy with my work. In hindsight, they're alright, so I figure I'd share them for all their flaws.