#too overwhelmed for anything but snark today

[six-costume-refs]

Meg’s Parr skirt moodboard

[ochrearia]

"Brothers, right?"

The brain is rotting. If my friends happen to mention they have something they need to finish to my face then I go into Pavloving mode and I always promise RGBFverse drabbles if they finish their shit. Like dangling a bite of turkey

BFs in this drabble: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), Yourself (YS)

It was becoming more and more common that YS wouldn't be left alone for very long if any of the others could help it. The more instances he made aware of his existence, the harder it became to find himself actually and truly alone. Whether that consisted of constant text messages in the group chat with teasing snarks of 'Watch what you say, the big scary admin's probably lurking', or having someone just casually stroll through his mirror, it was all the same sentiment.

Sometimes it was someone looking for advice. Actually, that was what YS was always expecting out of them. But now? More often than not they came over just because they could. No real problems- not anything urgent at least. Only eager smiles and mischief in the air, because for most of his other selves 'just hanging out' had a second meaning of 'how can I piss YS the hell off today?'.

They never truly pissed him off. It would take a whole lot to get to that point (Biff did it once, but the more in the past it became the harder it was for him to justify the overwhelming fury it had caused).

Speaking of Biff, he was here. Boyf was here too, he'd come a little later and decided he had nothing better to do. It was pretty late at night, and realistically the both of them should be going home to their partners by now. YS had never had a 'sleepover' with any of them staying over at his place. He'd slept over a few times at Biff's, and once for Beef, but that was an embarrassing story he mainly tried to keep out of his head.

"I very highly doubt my shitty couch and boring selection of TV channels is a better place to crash compared to your apartment where your lovers are." YS snarked quietly to Boyf. He kept his voice low, causing a gravelly effect but still smooth somehow.

Biff was already fast asleep against his leg, curled up and one arm completely bent over his lap. This idiot was going to worry his partners, there was no way he'd mentioned to them he might stay over long. But YS didn't have the heart to wake him up either. Dammit, when did he lose all capacity to be mean?

"Can stay for a bit longer. No harm in it. Not like I have a curfew, you know." Boyf responded. It was strange, there seemed to be agitation in his eyes.

YS shrugged, allowing for his hand to find its way softly to Biff's back, rubbing comforting patterns as he slept away. He hated to admit it, but it was starting to get a little difficult to keep his eyes open too. Seemed like the warmth from one body was enough to placate him way more than he'd admit to.

"How did he do it?"

What? "I... I have no idea what you're referring to, I'm gonna be honest."

"Biff. Look at him." Boyf thought with a sniff. "Content with where he is. Totally comfortable with falling asleep on top of you like it's second nature. And you let him, hell, you indulge him. It's like there's miles of difference between the two of you and the rest of us."

YS grimaced slightly, looking between the sleeping Biff and Boyf. Ah, shit, suppose he was right. "Well-"

"Is it really just because he got to meet you first? Or is there just something about that version of us you like more?"

"I- no, no, nothing like that I swear." YS frowned, getting a little nervous. Shit. He should've been acting less close with Biff around the others, of course they were going to pick it up as possible favoritism. "I- I just... I don't know. Biff's just... I can't say different, because that's not the right word. Fuck, how do I word this?"

Boyf watched him carefully as he struggled to find a way to say what he wanted.

"I care about all of you. I wouldn't have kept in contact if I didn't. I've been left to suffer alone for a while, and somewhere along the line I think I've forgotten how social relationships work. I know I'm guarded, and probably really freaky, and as much as the initial reactions of rejection from everyone hurt, I can't say I don't understand them. If I was normal I'd probably freak out too. Biff wasn't super keen about me at the beginning, but I also kind of sucker-punched him in the face with my microphone as our first meeting. I think I stuck around after to try and make up for that."

"Holy shit, you did? Wait, that's actually really hilarious."

"Ha ha." YS rolled his eyes. "I regret being like that. I don't regret meeting him. I threw everything I had at him in a song that still echoes in my own head from time to time and he still won. Maybe I got intrigued off of that. The way he and I met was wildly different to how I met the rest of you, and I think that also might play a part in our whole... dynamic."

"I guess that makes sense." Boyf sighed, shaking his head. "It's a little funny that you whacked the shit out of him the first second. I guess that one interaction set the tone for the rest of forever, definitely seems like the kind of shit an older brother would do to a younger one."

"I didn't exactly have plans of getting to this point when I did that." YS grumbled. "I was in pain and blinded to any actual logic. Doesn't excuse what I did obviously. Suppose everything I've done since then has been me trying to apologize for how I acted. It wasn't right of me."

Biff shifted slightly in his sleep, causing YS to break out of his thoughts. He didn't wake, thankfully, and the taller one returned to his mindless pattern tracing. Biff was important to him. Really important. They all were. It was sappy, and scary to think about for too long, because he was scared. The rest hadn't reacted all that well to him. Way more hostile than Biff had been on his own at the start. But something tugged painfully in his heart, thinking about the rest. He wanted to be close to all of them, like a family, but he was scared they wouldn't feel the same. He really only felt safe to act like a brother to Biff.

Maybe he really should put some more trust in his other selves, but after everything, losing who he did, god it was so terrifying. He ached for connection but was far too scared to take that risky step to get it. Maybe that would be his fate, since he was such a coward.

"You're all important to me." YS insisted. "I guess I haven't been doing a good job of actually showing that. I'm sorry."

For what it was worth, Boyf looked a little guilty for bringing it up. "No, you've been doing great. It's my fault. The way you act with him is obviously different but I shouldn't have taken it so personally."

"But that's hardly fair, right?" YS cut in, shaking his head. "That's not fair to the rest of you. None of you were in control of the circumstances for how we met, what gives me the right to show clear favoritism for one little brother compared to the rest? That's such a shitty thing for me to-"

"One little brother compared to the rest?"

Fuck.

YS startled, realizing what the hell he'd just said. He looked at Boyf, who's expression became unreadable, and he hated to admit it, but he really, fully panicked.

"I- shit, wait-" YS stumbled, nerves making his muscles tighten. Fuck, why did he say that?! Boyf had had enough of being the accidental target of words YS absolutely should not say out loud, why was it so hard to just keep his mouth shut?! "I'm- I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that, I wasn't supposed to- That's- That's so weird, isn't it? That's weird. I shouldn't have-"

"Why the hell are you apologizing?" Boyf thought, and incredulous look spreading on his face.

YS shifted nervously, not quite being able to meet the other's eyes. "I'm supposed to be guarded. I'm not supposed to say things like that, I reach out to offer help and nothing more, I'm not allowed to take enjoyment out of what I'm doing, that defeats the purpose, that makes me selfish." I'm not supposed to be given nice things.

That last one went unspoken.

Boyf scooted a little closer. The couch was already on the small side, and Biff had to be all curled up as it was to even fit on his side without spilling over the edge. The smallest of the three still slept away, completely unaware to what was going on right in front of him.

"I was jealous."

YS blinked, his panic derailed for a moment from the confession that seemed so out of left field. "Huh?"

"I was jealous of Biff. That's why this whole conversation started." Boyf thought, a determined but slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I was jealous, because he's so clearly a little brother to you, and you're a big brother to him, and you clearly both want it that way. But that's between you two."

A pause.

"I'm a middle child, you know. But because of how things played out, I didn't get to be the middle child really. I had to be the eldest when I didn't want to. I had to miss out on having an older sibling to take care of me when I needed it. I was robbed, but I can't really be mad about it. And then you showed up. And the way you act with Biff, it made me jealous, because why the hell does he get to have a big brother and I still don't?"

YS was silent; stunned into silence, actually, because this was the last thing he'd been expecting. He'd noticed Boyf's random insistence to be taken care of before, though he'd blamed it on how sick he had been when it happened. That wasn't sick-induced? That was just him?

"Don't apologize for what you said. God, don't you fucking dare." Boyf frowned at him. "I didn't think you had the same idea for the rest of us that you do for Biff. I really couldn't tell. It's hard to read you, like, at all. Can't you be my big brother too? If you really see us all the same way?"

He was asking. Letting him decide if he wanted to or not, as if YS had any real choice to begin with. He was in too deep that he couldn't say no anymore- not that he even wanted to. God, he'd just been scared, scared the whole time. Fear of rejection, of abandonment, saying or doing the wrong thing. Not doing enough, doing too much. Judging eyes always on him, the same ones that saw him fit to tear his own wings off after letting the one person he'd cared about die. And now he was here, amongst selves that wanted him to be important to them.

"If... If that's what you want." YS said carefully. If he made it sound like he was just indulging him, maybe it wouldn't feel so undeserved.

"If it's what we both want." Boyf thought firmly. "I don't want a one-sided thing. I want a big brother that wants me to be his little brother, not someone who just does what I want them to. That's not the same."

He was going to make him admit it. Admitting things was scary.

"I..." He hesitated. "I'd really like that."

Boyf seemed pleased with this answer. Good, for once, YS had said something right around him. Maybe if he was just honest with his feelings more he wouldn't fuck up so much. If only that didn't take so much out of him.

YS hesitated for another moment, before silently reaching his arm out to Boyf. An invitation, because there was still space on the couch, and he had another leg that could be used as a pillow if needed. If they really both wanted to be brothers, then closeness could be okay, and not terrifying. Biff had taught him that. Surely it would go the same for the rest?

Boyf barely took any time to think about it. He may have been over a foot taller than Biff, but the minute the invitation was made he was curling up to fit, head leaned against YS's other leg. He managed to squeeze himself into enough of a ball to avoid spilling over the edge of the couch too. It was late, and realistically this probably meant he would stay over too, with how enthusiastically he pushed his head against him.

"You should at least warn your partners you might stay out overnight." YS reminded gently, his other arm coming to mirror what he was doing with Biff. Equal treatment.

"Fine, fine. I know it's late but I just got to meet my big brother for real, you're not kicking me out immediately." Boyf pulled out his phone and started tapping away.

YS couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from his lips. Oh, his eyes were growing so heavy now. Two sources of body heat were curled up against his legs, warmth seeping from the contact points to the rest of his body. The adrenaline from the short panic had immediately ran off, taking extra energy with it. He didn't mind this.

Two little brothers. Maybe more, if I can stop being so scared. But two is enough for tonight.

[4townlove]

Idk if someone has asked this Alr, but could you make an Aaron T fic. doesn’t matter what it is, do what u want!

hello hello dear Anon. today is your lucky day (as well as for all 4townies and Aaron T Stans ) here's something a little romantic and flirty with Aaron T, to kickstart my very late delve into val-day 4Town content. enjoy !

4⭐Town Headcanons: Soft & Sweet Aaron T

"...baby..."

"mmmh?"

"your breath... smells like strawberry mint bubblegum."

"i know. it's good right?" T smirked, and you couldn't resist that smile. crooked and pearly, his eyes dilated as he gazed into your own, his face inches from yours.

"I can't stand you."

"hehehehe! i love you too bubblegum!"

"do not call me-"

"my bubble-bubble-bubblegum baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby...." he sang, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him again, and once again, as always, you melted into his arms.

all day, you and T had stayed in bed, lazing around as the noise of the city chugged outside the french balcony doors of your apartment, talking and laughing at memes and tangling yourself in each other's limbs. you couldnt resist him, and this rare chance to be alone with him and only him made your stomach turn into tickling flutter every time you remembered that you were here with him, that you were his and he was yours.

"tastes just as good too, doesnt it?" Aaron T teased, nudging his nose into your cheek, warm from the blush blooming under your skin.

you rolled your eyes, "would you shut up?"

"you're not denying it though..."

"i'm sure as hell not agreeing either!"

"well..." he huffed, pushing himself up to lean over you, his hands pressed into the pillows either side of your head.

in your dim bedroom, with only the soft warm glow of the lamp on your bedside table making his skin turn to polished bronze and his eyes to liquid gold, it was difficult not to get lost in him.

your smile slowly fades as your breath escaped you, your gaze dropping to his strong body, lean and muscular gold arms on display now that he was down to a tank top, veins lightly pressing up under his skin as he kept himself hovering over you. your heart tripped, then halted all together when your eyes fell to his lips, soft and full, still slightly swollen and rosy from your last round of needy kissing.

Aaron T bit his bottom lip expectantly as he followed your gaze and leaned down a little, his curly brown hair slightly falling over his brow as he muttered, "shall we test that theory? just to be sure? for science or whatever?"

His usual snark was quickly tamed for this tender flirtation that sent your brain fizzing too much to process anything besides trying to breathe. it was all so overwhelming that just as he drew closer, his lips to brushing against yours and he breathed your name, you shuddered and turned away, hiding your burning face in your hands.

T chuckled and lay down again, kissing his way up to your shoulder before muttering into your neck, "awww baby! you're so cute when you're shy."

despite yourself, you turned into his chest and huffed, "you're crazy for making me feel like this... isn't Robaire meant to be the romantic one?"

the faint freckles across the bridge of T's nose arched as he blushed a smile and paused a moment, his hand moving to your side before he confessed, "what can i say... you make me feel confident enough to feel vulnerable enough to be like this with you. i cant... i have to keep my energy up with the guys and everything but with you, i just... i can take a break from the fastlane, yknow? i can breathe for a bit. and turns out breathing is good for you so, if im crazy then, you're pure magic, baby."

your heart stopped at his words and slowly, you lifted your eyes from the warm hollow of his throat to his own.

you can tell from his tender, steady gaze that he was being 100% genuine and that alone made you whole body burn like you were a candle.

T just smiled, warm as the summer sun, and bumped the tip of his rounded nose against yours. "youre still cute, bubblegum." and after hearing you finally giggle at the nickname, T took a breath, before beginning to sing his own part of 4Town's legendary love song just for you. his voice was so soft and sweet that you were sure your heart would burst, but managed to hold it together just enough to listen to him as he sang, " 'Cause you have opened my eyes, and stolen my heart.... you make me believe that... love can be art..."

his gaze met yours again, his eyes illuminated with shimmering light-brown drawn out by the soft nightlight beside him. he blushes a smile, kissed the corner of your mouth and breathed the rest of the lyrics into your skin there, "...and i could never survive a minute apart... you are my...."

his voice trailed off as he suddenly felt how hard your heart was hammering into his chest. T's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fluttered in surprise and possibly slight concern, but you were still, motionless as you gazed at the young man you loved more than anything.

"T..." you exhaled, trembling now.

the young singer's cheeks rouged but slowly, he slid his hand up the side of your neck and cupped your cheek. "Baby..."

and then, the small space between you closed... and your lips met... the kiss deepened as you sank into each other again... and everything, all at once, was perfect.

[byunbhyunz]

Hyungwon - “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

Pairing: Hyungwon/Reader

Genre: fluff, terriblecookerreaderandhyungwon!au

Word count: 1,019

Prompt: “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

It all started with Hyungwon having enough of instant food and it eventually ended in chaos. Also, with a kitchen you had to wipe clean, and magically get rid of the smell of burnt meat.

When Hyungwon arrived home and caught you getting out a suspiciously flat box out of the freezer, he simply said:

“I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

“But you love it.” You tried to convince him or seduce him with the promise of trashy food, which he rarely turned down.

“Third time this week, Y/N. It’s only Wednesday today.”

You groaned, hearing the finality in his voice. His face softened upon seeing you pout and put the frozen pizza back to its original place. He quickly shuffled out of his shoes, which he forgot to took off as he only stepped in the apartment when he caught you in your actions. What a relief that the front door was directly looking at the kitchen!

Feeling his arms sneak around your waist, he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and you melted into his hold, forgetting to shut the freezer. He reached out with a scoff, shutting it, then hugging you even tighter.

“What can I say? You make me lose my mind completely,” you tried to save your ass with some cheesy words, that he loved to hear, but would never admit.

“You don’t need me for that to happen,” he replied with a snark comment, but his plump lips pulled into a smile as he dragged them along your jaw. You sighed at the sensation, already feeling your legs weak from what was about to come.

“So what are we gonna have for dinner if not pizza?” You ask with a sigh falling from your lips. He kisses your skin right below your ear, knowing well what he does to you.

“We could cook. I saw some chicken in the freezer the other day.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hm. It’s hiding right behind that pizza you were tempting me with.”

You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, only got lost in the feeling of his lips drawing a line from your ear to your lips with wet kisses. God, he could be such a tease!

“What do we do with it? It takes hours for it to unfreeze.”

“Put it in the microwave.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why? People always do this kind of stuff. They even post it on Youtube as cooking hacks. If it works for them, it will for us too.”

You could only agree to whatever he was saying.

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of your shoulder, then his plush lips soothed the remaining pain. Then his body retreated from yours, getting things into his own hands by grabbing the chicken, unwrapping it from its package, putting it on a plate, and shoving it into the microwave altogether. He played for a while with the settings, not really knowing what would be the best solution for a quicker unfreezing method.

After setting it, his needy hands were on you again; mouth whispering words into your skin.

“It will take time to unfreeze anyway, so what do you think about spending it useful?”

You chuckled at the lame phrasing of his want, but sighed when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. An expert tease, that’s what he was.

“I try not to think about you just referring to sex as ‘spending time useful’. Never heard anything that mood killer from you in a long time.”

His pout was obvious when he kissed you, but the expected snarky reply didn’t came. Instead, he put his mouth to a good use, which made you quiver for the next thirty minutes or more so.

The chicken was long forgotten, your mind only filled with anything related to Hyungwon: his scent, the softness in his eyes when he looked down at you as he moved his hips in a loving but satisfying way. You were overwhelmed by him, and you loved it.

“What did you say about me killing the mood, hm?” He nudged your collarbone with his nose after he collapsed on you, and refused to move. He would never say it, but he loved to lay on you, in your embrace after making love.

“Nothing. But sometimes your mouth can be really…”

“Sexy? Sweet? What? Finish what you started to say.”

“Annoying.” You smirked as he looked up at you with mocking disbelief on his face. His dark orbs glinted with mischief, but you were already occupied with something else. More accurately, with the weird, bitter smell that was slowly filling the bedroom. “Do you feel it too?”

“Already, baby? We literally just finished, you should give me at least a few minutes to regain my…”

“No, not that! It’s like… like something is burning.”

That grabbed Hyungwon’s attention too. Lazily pulling himself up, he sniffed in the air, then frowned in confusion. Lost in thoughts realization washed over his features. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“The chicken.”

You were faster; tossing the sheets aside, you ran to the kitchen completely naked. There was smoke coming out of the microwave, making you cough immediately.

Hyungwon followed you. He had decency to put on some pants, and upon seeing the state of your dinner-supposed-to-be, he sighed and went to the hallway for the fire-extinguisher, although there was no signs of fire. But where there’s smoke…

“So, should I put the pizza in the oven now or you want to help cleaning first?” You asked Hyungwon smugly, when you put on some clothes and opened every single window in your apartment.

“Let’s just order something,” he grumbled back, then added a little sheepishly: “I’ll try to bribe Kihyun hyung into cooking us something for the rest of the week.”

“I’m sure he will take pity on us if you tell him what happened tonight.”

His sigh probably could be heard on the streets too as he called a take-out place, and glanced over the kitchen waiting to be cleaned.

[ducknotinarow]

[Someone's angy uwu 2k7]

Donatello took in a deep breath towards Raph's suggest of snapping, of getting into a little fight, release that brewing anger within him. Don was good at keeping himself, but even now, it's clear the twin sense was going haywire and feeling the fury burning. But he kept stone faced, slowly moving to place his bottles down, making sure it was out of the way. And then, slowly, he looked to Raph, and practically lunged at them.

Donatello may be good at keeping himself together, but even he needed to release his rage sometimes. There was only so much bottling he can do.

Furniture was banged against, the two tussling on the floor like old times. Don knew that Raph could handle a punch or two, but he always made sure not to hit too hard. But as time went on, his punches grew stronger, his bites harsher. And at some point, eyes began to form,

"I don't understand!" He exclaims, trying to pin Raph, "I just don't get it!"

He finally gets Raph down, that may be a first. Don's shaking as he keeps yelling, letting that rage, that confusion, that hurt, show,

"How! How can you love someone like Bishop!" He slams his first down next to Raph's head, "After all he's done to my Ariel To my wife! To Raph! TO OUR FAMILY LEO!"

Don stops at last, panting hard as he stares at Raph, shaking his head slightly as he seemed to come back too. Moving back, he sits off to the side, letting Raphael get up,

"S-sorry Raphie..." He murmurs, "I think I'm done sparring for today."

| muse interaction continued from [ here]

Raph had spent a lot of years fighting with his brothers for one reason or another years of sparing and training. Just getting into fights over well just about anything the four of them could fight over. One thing they knew most was Don was a biter. Least when they were nothing more than toddling tots causing mischief. Leo and Mikey didn't seem to take to the biting habit, Mikey sometimes still mentioned it and shook as if Don might turn around and take a chunk out of him now as an adult. Raph on the other hand? any time Donnie bite him it turned into a fight. Not like with Leo, where the aim was always to win, different purely out of play. Even when time went on it kind of stayed there thing, Don might get the old urge to take a bite so Raph would turn around and tackle them to the ground. A subtle little single was watching Don snap his teeth when they were just that pent up over something, heck sometimes that so called bite 'bite' came out more through Donatello's snark. So seeing his twin so tight lipped despite following behind his wife made to lug bottles in his arms. The one bit he had said seems a tad forced out like Don had something to say, words to work out but because of who and how he was? they were locked up behind his beak. It always seemed to help to give Don that outlet. He and Don were twins in the end of the day so even Donnie needed that moment to unleash all the built up anger working inside his head. Sometimes though? ya got to step away being too focused is a thing. And well that's what Raphael felt was the case for his brother.

The special connection they had always shared that let him always find Don. and Don find him. Let them have a clue into how the other was feeling even. Maybe it was always why Don seemed to know when Raph was really angry or just in a mood. It was why now Raph knew that Don's mind was swarming, their thoughts getting all knotted up in that head of theirs. Sure Don always was busy thinking but when it came to something like this? seemed they had a lot to work through. Likely trying his best to keep his anger at bay best they could but it was overwhelming them clearly. It's why Raph made the suggestion.

Watching how their shoulders lifted as they drew in a deep breath now, Raphael offered a crook of his head questioning what Don was thinking. Raph could feel it though if anyone knew how it felt to be over taken by anger it was him. It was all he was all he ever would be. So he could feel the anger in his twin stone face did nothing to hide it from him. How it burned in the vines set things a blaze. A fog that settled over you mind making it hard to see anything beyond it. So when Don suddenly lunged his way? Raph hardly reacted. Raph did wish that Don could have in the least gave him some word of warning as he could feel himself slam in to the side of the couch. A slight swear escaping his beak when his elbow banged against the leg of the coffee table. Wasn't anything Raph wasn't used to or couldn't handle. Raph adjust his hold and grab on to Don's shoulder well hooking a leg around them so he could easily turn them around and get some leverage in the moment. Flipping them around, just because he offered himself as a punching bag didn't mean he was going to just take it like the one at the lair. All battered and beaten simply only patched to keep it together from years of getting hit all the time. As they rolled and traded hits though Raph could tell something wasn't right here, least turning that way. Don's hit were different there wasn't much thought behind where they were landing. Just running out on the urge and heat of anger needed to be worked out needing to get out of Don. Raph had to say it was kind of weird being on the side of this. It was like an out of body experiencing nearly, likely in thanks to their special bond is why he could feel it as if it was himself going through the motion of rage. Don's hits were getting stronger as they came at him, it didn't bother him. Raph could take a hit better than anyone after all, hell he sought it out. But it wasn't like Donnie. Once more Raph found himself back on his shell, hands flew up to grab at Don's refusing to pinned down. Teeth gritting firm he only flustered when he saw a gimps of Leo cross over his mind in the moment. It wasn't Leo he was fighting, he needed to remind himself. Or he might really lose it here.

"I don't understand!"

Well that made two of them, Raph couldn't understand it himself, sure Leo was all about balance. Willing to put trust into those he shouldn't. But this?

"I just don't get it!"

Left to suddenly think gave Don the opening they needed as he felt the backs of his hands slam into the hard floor under him. Don finally getting Raph pinned down to the ground. Raphael would have pushed back but, he was distracted by Don's face. He could see the emotions working over that usual tried expression they knew Don for. How their face twisted and fell. Seemed Raph made the right call in getting Don to go for his offer on a chance to just work it out. He knew it helped some when he sucked punched Leo himself. Sure he wasn't who Don was hurt with but still.

"How! How can you love someone like Bishop!"

Raph frozen suddenly, as he felt the wind from the punch breeze by him felt how it seemed to shake the ground just near him. Tilting his gaze up so he could better look at Don. He saw Don but it was clear right now Don wasn't seeing him.

"After all he's done to my Ariel To my wife! To Raph! TO OUR FAMILY LEO!"

Seemed once the words left his beak though Don started to come back to his senses. Staring in shock himself as their body shook and shoulders lifted and fell. The sense of clarity that came after, seemed to bring Don back to where he was now. As they shook their head seeming to clear away their thoughts and rage in the motion. Letting go and shifting off to the side to get off of Raph who simply watch every action and movement his brother made. Studying it intently trying to gain a sense of what just happened. Well Raph knew what happened he was more trying to see if Don understood themself.

"S-sorry Raphie..."

at the murmuring apology Raph set the palms of his hand to the ground and pushed him self up to sit now himself. Sliding in over to Don. Still just watching them intently looking his brother over as if he would just figure out what he needed to if he stared long enough.

"I think I'm done sparring for today."

Don.

Raph slug an arm over their shoulders, they may want to shrink away and burrow back into wherever it was Don went when his emotions got the better of him like so. But well Raph wasn't going allow it. "Sorry?" he asks offering that trademark smirk of his as he playful shakes them around just a bit. "Forgot how fun tusslin' with ya was." he's trying to lighten the mood best he can, least that what Mikey would be doing. But Mikey was making it clear he wasn't getting in the middle of all this right now. Man he missed Mikey right now. "Gettin' rusty might have ta ditch Case on night and drag you out with me when I go out."

one at a time.

Letting his arm slump over Don in a slightly form of a hug now, he let his gaze drop off and stare out to no where just a random mark on the floor. Likely a scrap from the coffee table having scrap across the floor. Slightly leaning in against Don's side now.

"Don ya gotta talk to Leo, even if ya wind up hittin' the guy." offering a shrug of his own shoulders. "I ain't the best with all of this sure but I know what it's like fightin' with Leo better than anyone, or being mad at 'em." Everyone knew how often it was for them to fight after all, nothing like fights with anyone else and Raph. Thing was Raph knew Leo let him do it, maybe cause he knew Raph just needed to burn it out. That's just who Leo was, their leader anything that was good for the team so he always took the Lions share of it all. Letting his brow furrow and knot as he thought to himself. Reaching up to rub at the space between his eyes a moment groaning annoyed not at Don of course. Just at the mess they were in.

"think they got those bottles opened yet?"

[percontaion-points]

Delicious Monsters chapters 25 & 26

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 25

Already almost a month had passed since we moved, and while October in Toronto was a slightly chilled version of September, in Timmins, it was the signal to begin winter. Snow fell intermittently in soft flakes that coated the ground in a thin dusting, and melted shortly after. Some people continued to stubbornly wear short sleeves as if it weren’t happening. 

Me, having lived in the desert of Arizona my entire life: what the fuuuuuck. 

Since the Ted-and-Mary incident, we’d had four more weekends of guests, each of them awarding Mom with five stars. One woman, a Black lady who came up from the city with her boyfriend, even claimed that she felt like an entirely new person after staying. That she was going to write a book about it.

And that would be Brittany’s mum. 

I knew that the timeline wasn’t off. But the way Brittany's first chapter made it seem, Brittany was Daisy’s daughter!!

I knew that I should be going into the house. Trying to do something about a situation that was clearly wrong. But I dealt with the dead, not with houses who fed on the living. King had basically told me it was too late. It was probably going to get worse.

Of course it’s going to get worse if you continue to not do anything! 

If you try every single thing that you know how to do and the house is still taking things from people… Then at least you can leave knowing that you did everything that you could. 

There were more butcherbirds than ever now. They coated the trees in dashes of salt and pepper, but the mansion had become their true home. The guests loved them, taking photos and videos. One of them, some sort of bird-watcher guy, insisted that they should have already moved on from the area by now. It was too cold for them. Besides, they weren’t even native to this region.

Considering that every single thing that I’ve read about butcherbirds tells me that they’re ONLY found in Australia…

I think if I saw hundreds of those birds chilling up in Canada, I’d call every freaking member of the audubon society.

This is how you know that the author doesn’t know shit about bird watching: audubon people are freaks (I say this in the nicest way imaginable). They’d cream themselves over these birds. 

Ms. Kuru was, as far as I could tell, boring. She took only a weekend to grade tests for at least two classes of thirty because she probably had that much time on her hands. Mom, meanwhile, was on a high of business success and somehow still managed to go into town every week for some sort of social appointment.

But maybe that didn’t make Mom more exciting than Ms. Kuru—just busier. 

I think the stupidest part about this description of Grace is that… she’s literally not even doing anything to maintain the property. She’s HIRING people to do it for her, so that she doesn’t have to actually go inside. 

Yet by Katie’s own words, Grace never reached out to her. So exactly what is Grace doing that’s taking up THAT much of her time?

“I would suggest that now you take the time to work on your participation more. That’s five to ten percent of your grade in all of your classes.”

I fucking hate participation grades. Especially in these sort of pass-fail classes. Like why do I need to participate in a lively discussion about plant cells? Why are we having a lively classroom discussion in HIGH SCHOOL BIOLOGY?!

It should 100% be enough that the student understands the material. This is simply punishing children who might be feeling socially overwhelmed and awkward. 

The door shut behind him, and I stood there with his coat. Shivering, even though it was warm.

Chapter 25 summary: A month passed since they moved in. After the first guests, they were pretty full up after that. Every single person gave them 5 stars. One of them was Brittney’s mum, who had her “life-changing experience”, as Brittany mentioned in her own chapters. 

One day in class, Mrs. K hands back tests from last week, and Daisy is surprised that she got a 96%. As she looks through the test, she 1) doesn’t remember learning any of this 2) doesn’t remember studying any of this and 3) doesn’t remember taking the test at all. 

After class, Mrs. K tells Daisy that she’s doing well in school. But that part of the education is also participation. I said what I said about that. Daisy’s opinion about all of this is “Blah-blah-blah, whatever.” 

She runs from the school, her mind in such a tumbling fog that it takes King pointing out that she ran out without her hat, coat, or even any of her school supplies. She then asks for him to tell her what’s going on, but he says that he can’t. But goes on to say that she already knows what’s wrong anyway, so it doesn’t even matter if he won’t say it again. She begs for him to stay away from her, going so far as to beg him to find her another ride to and from school. But he refuses. 

Chapter 26

Nice guys were a weird concept for me. Maybe that was sad, but maybe it was just realistic.

Says the girl who has been moping over a guy who ghosted her, and then gaslit her when she confronted him about it. 

Like your experience with men doesn’t have to be this bad. 

Yes, there are shit men out there. But holy shit, don’t start stalking a guy who made it perfectly clear what you are to him. (Nothing.)

“We shouldn’t have come here,” Mom said. Her voice was its usual volume, even its usual tone, but there was something else in it that seemed to be missing. 

I shook my head. “What are you talking about? We were always going to come here.” 

“I asked you if you wanted to.”

Um… no. You don’t get to put this onto a literal child. 

Grace, you are an adult. You are Daisy’s mother. You knew how unsafe that the house is. 

Daisy is still struggling to figure out this murder house. 

This is 100% on you. 

More than anything, she had always wanted this house. Known about this house. Made sure I knew about it. 

It was always going to be a part of our lives. 

King was right. Knowing was useless. Because even when people knew that something bad could happen, they still went through the motions of whatever they planned to do. I knew it didn’t matter if I wanted to go or not, and I still walked around like it did. 

I said this in an earlier chapter, but sometimes it takes people multiple times to learn a lesson. Apparently, being in a MURDER HOUSE once wasn’t enough for Grace. She had to come back for round two. 

I don’t care about Grace, because she’s a shitty person. But I mainly feel sorry for Daisy, because she went in so goddamned blind to what was going to happen. 

“Then why are you so afraid of going inside?” 

“I never said that.”

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but normal people aren’t given a FREE manor house, move onto the property, and then don’t set foot inside the house. 

But there was a lot of urgency in stopping the house from killing people. I couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter 26 summary: Daisy doesn’t go home, and stands outside of King’s house. She sees one of King’s aunties walking around, and even goes so far as to assure the readers that the woman’s name doesn’t even matter. The woman acknowledges Daisy, but also basically tells her that she fucked up in regards towards the house. Now the house is screaming, and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop.

On her way back home, Daisy runs into Ivy, who points through the bush that there are police all over the manor property. As Daisy watches, they load up a body-bag while Grace sits on the front steps with a strange man. 

Later, Grace complains that they shouldn’t have come. Daisy is quick to call her mum out on her shit. Says that for Daisy’s entire life, Grace has built up the idea of The House. That despite what Grace now says about coming being Daisy’s idea, that Grace would have come, regardless. I’ve said what I said about that. 

Grace then demands to know where Daisy goes at night. Daisy is like “What the fuck are you even talking about? I wake up in the middle of the night and hear you shuffling around. Where are YOU going at night?” What’s worse, is when Daisy asks about what happened with the woman, Grace seems to be hiding stuff from Daisy. 

As Daisy goes to bed, she thinks about how her biggest problem a few hours ago was that she didn’t remember taking that test. Now, she has to deal with a murder house. 

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Dar'Aliit: Chapter 6 - Something Personal (pt 2)

Mer’en paces the room. Bevik, utterly defeated, sits in the corner sulking. We’re all crammed into the controls room where a constant loop of the separatists conversations have been pouring in. It’s mostly reports on the ship. We’ve only got five hours left till rendezvous.

“Good news,” Mer’en turns and paces back past Aftermath. I think about moving my legs off the console, but I’m too tired, especially after nine games of Dejark. Neither me nor Bevik are great losers. But I’m still the ultimate winner.

“We got a ride?” Shave asks.

“We have a ride,” Mer’en confirms. “Bad news. Getting a ride means they’re going to push the rendezvous out another day because they had to commission a ship that could handle the atmosphere. So we’re stuck here another day. Better pack in and get comfortable.”

“Is there anything to eat down here?” Aftermath asks.

“Rations,” I tell him.

“You know, sir, I think the rookie is picking up on my snark and I don’t appreciate it,” Aftermath adds.

I smile at him and get a scowl in response.

“I don’t care about your snark,” Mer’en says. “Now all of you, I want a watch at all hours. Who’s going first?”

Bevik raises his hand.

“No,” Mer’en says. “Kian, Bevik, you both need sleep. You took pretty decent hits today, you can take later watches.”

“I’ll go,” Shave offers.

Mer’en shakes his head and locks his eyes on Aftermath who groans.

“I guess I’m volunteering?”

“Thank you for your service,” Mer’en chuckles. “Shave you can have second. Bevik, third. I’ll take fourth. The usual two hours shifts, understood?”

“Sir?” I lift my hand. “I can take a watch.

“You’re fine, rookie. Get some sleep.”

“If this is about my face, sir,” I sit up.

“It’s not,” Shave butts in. “Kian,” he looks over at me. “We all know you haven’t slept well since you got here. This is your chance, get some rest. Bunks in the crew quarters are clean. Maybe a little stale, but clean.”

I avert my gaze. So, they have noticed the fact I’m up half the night. I can’t help that all I can dream about are faces that look exactly like mine showing up on corpses. I swallow and pull my feet off the control panel. “Yes,” I look at Mer’en. “Sir.”

“Good, now go on. Aftermath, don’t touch a button in here, got it?”

“You put me on first watch,” Aftermath lifts his hands and they’re all I can see from behind the chair he’s sitting in. “Whatever happens, happens,” he says.

“The nothing had better happen,” Mer’en threatens.

Bevik snickers and gets up. I pull myself out of the chair and wander toward the door where Shave is standing. Mer’en follows as does Bevik and we slip out into the hall. Shave takes Bevik ahead of us and Mer’en falls back so he’s in step with me.

“You noticed, sir?” I ask as we walk toward the crews quarters.

“Kian you leave the room at 3am standard time. The light wakes me up.”

“Oh,” I feel my stomach grip in regret.

Mer’en just laughs though. “Don’t worry, we’ve all done it. You go down to the training rooms, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“If you need to spar someone you can wake me up next time.”

I glance at him. “You’ve done this longer than me, how do you put up with it?”

Mer’en shrugs. “Everyone has a way. I focus on making sure you all come back alive, but I can’t really blame myself if we don’t can I? If I do everything in my power, I’ve done my job.”

“Aftermath told me to take it out on stuff.”

“That works too. Just don’t let it…overwhelm you. Otherwise, you’ll lose yourself.”

I look down at my boots and stop. We painted my armor before leaving and there’s orange-yellow stripes across my thigh plates along with a mismatch of patterns Aftermath decided on while we were watching old Mon Calimari opera holos. The stripe down my left arm, the band on my right—except the pauldron, which is Nyo’s. There’s stripes down my chest. I think all of it had some meaning.

I don’t remember what half of it was, but I look like I’m a part of this team. These guys are my brothers. Ner’vod.

How am I not supposed to be overwhelmed with grief if I lose them? I clutch my helmet against my hip. “Does it ever get easier, sir?”

Mer’en blinks. His eyes are glassy, and he looks down the hall. “No. But I guess I’ve learned to become indifferent.”

I nod.

Mer’en rests his hand on my shoulder, right on Nyo’s shoulder pauldron. None of them asked me why it’s different. Aftermath is the only one who really knows. He wouldn’t even paint it.

Said that was up to me entirely.

I can feel Mer’en’s hand on my shoulder, heavy like the burden of all the other hands that have been there, reassuring me, placing their faith in me, every person that I’ve ever known. Every name on the underside of that shoulder pauldron.

They’re all my brothers and they always will be. Maybe Mer’en can become indifferent to the loss, to the death, and the grief, but I don’t think I can. I won’t forget them. My jaw clenches.

Mer’en draws back. “Get some sleep, Kian. Don’t think too much about the past.”

I nod, but my voice is only a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

#

Despite the extra hours, the Republic broke through the atmosphere with a ship that stayed in one piece this time. Shave took the duty of carrying Kit’s body. The rest of us fell in silently and we marched to the drop zone. A team of clones in battered armor escorted enviro-suited operators to take the station over.

As we pass by, I nod silently to the older troopers. Their battle-scarred armor shows not only experience, but survival. They nod to us. There’s a silent reverence. We respect each other. And we respect our collective fates.

“Everyone onboard!” Mer’en calls from the lowered ramp. We shuffle onboard. The pilots remain. We pass through airlocks to clear the acidic air off our suits before we’re allowed into the free open air of the ship.

Bevik whips off his helmet first and gulps down the fresh air. “I could kiss this floor right now!”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Shave says. He veers off with a nod to Mer’en.

I hang back by Bevik. His relief washes over me too. We’re here. We’re alive, and for the first time, I’m not the only one going home.

I blink. What’s the next step? Another mission? On Kamino we filled out time with pointless banter, training, and sleep. There was the occasional recreation.

“Hey,” I walk up to Bevik. “Don’t you still owe me a drink?”

“Think ten-year-olds can drink?” Bevik flashes a smile.

I grin back. “If they’ll let you in, they’ll let anyone in.”

“Hey!” He slams his helmet against my shoulder. I laugh just moments before Aftermath breaks us up.

“Enough!”

“Feeling left out?” Bevik clobbers Aftermath over the head. The two are at each other’s throats and we’re all laughing as Aftermath spouts insults in Mando’a and Bevik takes it all with a smirk.

“Ahem,” Mer’en clears his throat. He leans, helmet off, against the wall. “I believe we’re going to be taking off soon if any of you would care to get settled. We have a cruiser to get back to.”

We’re all three at a loose attention in seconds. I raise my hand in salute. Neither of the other’s do and I see the quirk of a smile on Mer’en’s face at my formality. I lower my hand.

“Sir, think we’re going to make it back in time for the Bolo Ball matches? I gotta get some dye.” Bevik points at his shaved head.

“If you get your shebs in gear, maybe. Go!” Mer’en shoos us.

We scatter like womp rats up to the front of the ship. A crackle over the comms informs us of departure and I feel the ship shudder under my feet as we all scramble for seats in the common room.

I grab the straps and buckle in. I’m not taking chances in the atmosphere this time. My arm still moves stiff at the shoulder even though Shave says it’s mostly just skin laceration that will need time to heal. The bandages peek out from under my bodysuit.

With deep breaths the ship rocks and I feel a ghostly hand on my shoulder.

Afraid of flying?

I inhale deeply and focus my vision on Bevik and Aftermath who are across from me in two of the crew chairs.

“You watch Bolo Ball?” I ask weakly. Morgan and Hook sometimes went wild for that stuff. I saw Nyo try to dye his hair once. Didn’t work.

Bevik nods. “Sure do. Matches are on tonight. I heard the 501st Captain is a pretty big fan too.”

“Are you all going to…get together?”

“You wanna come?” Aftermath asks.

Do I? The ship shudders. “Sure,” I breathe. My breaths come deeper over time. I remember the exercises from Kamino. I focus on the little blip inside my—no Kit’s—HUD and see that we’re rising rapidly. The shaking isn’t nearly as bad this time. The lights don’t even flicker.

We break the surface. I feel it as all resistance is shed from the hull and with something of a last final groan, we’re free. I grip the webbing of my seat.

“Prepare for docking with cruiser,” the intercom drones.

The final thud. The airlocks mate and I’m not focused on my breathing anymore. It’s more like the lull carries a gravity I wasn’t prepared for. The whole ship is silent, but not with death. The universe is acknowledging it.

We’ve done it.

Bevik and Aftermath stand. I follow suit and we file back onto the cruiser. And we’re met by an officer with a skittish look in his wide Rodian eyes.

“Sir’s! A ship is waiting for you in hanger bay delta where you will be debriefed by the General, please proceed immediately there.”

“What?” Bevik’s face drops with my stomach. “Another mission?” he groans.

I look at Mer’en who steps forward. “Delta bay?”

“Yessir. Immediately.”

Mer’en shooed the nervous officer out of the way. “You heard him,” he says, and I can see him sigh. “Report to delta bay, immediately.”

Just like that, the weight hits my shoulders, and my stomach. We might’ve won, but we’re still at war.

We report to Delta bay. All through the cruiser officers hurry from place to place. Clones run from place to place, different platoons manning different stations. No one is sitting around, and no one is waiting.

When we reach Delta bay I can see why. Half the squadrons are assembled. A brown haired and bearded Jedi strides before them. We fall in beside Ronto squad, one of whom glances at us and just nods. The Jedi keeps pacing, hands locked behind his back, his tall figure powerful and stiff. I can’t discern whether his heavy brow is angry or merely thoughtful.

“Men,” he looks at us. “I have received word that General Nidor has become mired on Indol where we will arrive in two standard hours. The separatists have pinned down him and his forces in the city of Manuk. We must aid General Nidor and his men. I will deploy you all to the outskirts of the city near the Gin’das ridge. From there you will flank the enemy forces and take back the main road.”

I felt my chest constrict. A full-frontal assault.

“Half of you will land behind the city and make your way through the forest inside. The droids have not breached these forests as they cannot move their tanks there. We will fortify the main gates from there and aid General Nidor to make a two pronged attack. We will surround the droids. Am I understood?”

Weakly I join in. “Sir, yes sir.”

“You have your posts, move out!” With a sharp point, he directs us to the ships. Kenobi, I think someone once said the name of the General was. I see a worried glint in his eye as we break.

Unlike Krell, Kenobi reminds me of a father. I wonder if it’s real, or a façade he wears. I put the thought from my mind and about face, following the others as we head off to the armory. Two hours. Just enough time to suit up and get ready to deploy.

“So much for Bolo Ball,” Bevik mutters into his helmet.

“Next time!” Aftermath says.

I mute myself and let their idle chatter run through the background as we all file into the armory. All over again I feel myself wishing I could slam the butt of a blaster into the face of something else. We just got back.

“And now we’re going to get tossed out like canon fodder again!” I jerk a rifle off the wall and inspect it, careful not to let anyone see my heaving chest. My fingers tighten around it.

“Take it out on something,” I mutter. I’m holding a DC-15x, a snipers weapon. I inspect it and finally hand it off to a trooper I can see eyeing it. I don’t need long range, so I grab a fresh DC-15A, sturdy and reliable. The model is standard. It’s not fancy, and it doesn’t need to be. It’s the perfect make the slag a droid or smash its head in; Something up close; something personal.

[reidjumpers]

would you ever write something along the line of the minimal loss episode reimagined. so instead of emily being in the ep it’s the reader and spence has the biggest crush on her. it kills him knowing that she’s getting hit and bruised. yeah i don’t know if you would do it but i love that idea.

GUESS WHAT I really love this idea too so I tried to rewrite Minimal Loss reimagined. Please emphasize on tried.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer could feel his blood run cold at the question Benjamin Cyrus fired at him and you. He subtly glanced towards your direction, pressing his lips and tried his best to maintain his composure. He watched you shift on your seat a little bit, eyeing the gun on Cyrus’s hand intensely.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in faux confusion.

“God will forgive me for what I must do,” Cyrus said calmly. Too calmly. Spencer gulped as he heard the clicking sound of his gun. He caught the sight of you gaping and eyes widened in horror as a gun aimed against his head.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“One of you does. Who is it?”

“Me,” your voice was firm, slicing through the thick tension. Spencer slowly turned his head towards you with a wide eye. You glared at him with an eye that screamed don’t you dare at him, determination and fear swirled together in your eyes made him shiver. He could feel dread and helplessness slowly sinking in. “It was me.”

Cyrus lowered his gun that aimed at Spencer, slowly turned his direction towards you. Spencer shot you a glare and silently demanded you for explanation at your stupid sacrifice. You had just deflated your own fear and bargained for your safety in order to save him. There was a bitter taste curled and overwhelmed him at the tip of his tongue upon knowing he couldn’t do anything to diffuse the situation.

Spencer let his shoulder sink a little bit as Cyrus silently holstered his gun into his pants, allowing himself a brief relief upon knowing that he didn’t have to watch your demise today. It took everything inside him not to jump and inserted himself in between you and Cyrus as he yanked you to the ground by hair and a sound of your pained whimper filled the room. He couldn’t even bring himself to flinch when a rifle aimed towards him as his eyes fixated on the sight of you being dragged across the room.

“I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus snarked, releasing his hold on you and slammed you to the concrete floor. Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and could feel the tip of his fingertips go frozen as dread and fear pumped rapidly into his system.

The sound of you being slapped filled the room made him flinch a little bit. He glanced briefly towards the rifle against him, giving him a brief break from the horrifying sight before him. Spencer could feel anger and disappointment filled him with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything besides watching you being beaten mercilessly by Cyrus. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him who took all the beating instead of you. You were everything good left in the world and you are a living reminder that there are lights and hope in life despite all the horror and worst face of humanity he was constantly being contaminated with.

What would he do if you were gone then? The brief horrifying thought flashed before his eyes as he watched Cyrus slammed your defenseless body into the ground again. He could feel hot tears prickling in his eyes at the thought of living his life in void and helplessness if you ceased to exist before his eyes. Spencer collapsed his balled fist into his lap as the realization that he couldn’t live without you washed through him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as your body was slammed against the wall and hit the mirror, refusing to picture the sharp shard of glass cutting your skin.

“Proverb 23rd tells us that bloods and wounds cleanse out evil,” Cyrus recited as he yanked you by the collar again and slammed you against the wall. Spencer could feel anger and disdain boiled inside him as he watched your body helplessly fall into the floor after the impact of your collision with the wall.

“I can take it,” you said with a firm voice. Spencer caught your eyes briefly as your eyes flickered in between him and Cyrus that stood in between you and him.

His heart fell into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy sandbag. He knew what you meant from your firm stares alone. You only said that to reassure him and signal the team outside not to come in a rush. It was a minimal loss situation, Spencer had concluded. He drew a sharp breath as he mentally prepared himself for a situation where he couldn’t possibly save everyone and had to accept however many people he could save while others perished.

Spencer glanced up to meet your eyes again before Cyrus moved to block his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of your eyes screaming I’m fine, I’m okay at him with blood flowing freely from your broken nose. Dread settled painfully in his bones that the possibility of the team having to choose between your life or his was too close than he liked.

He blinked his eyes to shoo away the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t risk blowing up another cover that guaranteed his life when you had sacrificed yours for him.

Cyrus beat and slapped you for another round with disdain painted clearly on his face. “Pride comes before the fall,” he said as he punched your stomach and slammed you to the floor, thinking you were antagonizing him as you repeatedly said you could take it. Spencer let out a relieved sigh as Cyrus took a step back from you and left you shaking with pain on the ground, instructed Cristopher to tie you up and took you upstairs.

Not today, he reassured himself. Forcing himself to be satisfied and grateful for your spared life. Not today.

***

Spencer had just successfully coaxed Cyrus into testing the negotiator for the FBI and proving them that they were not a liar and ensuring your safety. Disgust and anger brewing at the pit of his stomach every time Cyrus glanced his eyes towards him. He somewhat marveled at the plain trust Cyrus gave him effortlessly. The memory of him beating you hadn’t left his mind, still painted fresh and clear as if it still happened before his eyes. He had to mentally restrain himself from glaring in disgust at the thought of Cyrus molesting a child and beating you up until bloody and bruised.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus addressed his man that had been trying to shot down Spencer’s suggestion regarding the situation. Only then Spencer turned his attention fully at him who had been pacing around in agitation repeatedly.

“Some of them had been talking about leaving,” he sighed.

“Leaving?” Cyrus pressed his lips together as Christopher affirmed his question. Spencer balled his fist and hid it inside the pocket of his pants as he waited in antagonizing anticipation with whatever next step Cyrus would take. “Wake the baby. Let’s get them meet the orphan that they made.”

Spencer nodded mutely at Cyrus’s decision. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding this whole time, letting himself loose a little bit and allowed himself to feel relief washed through him. Cyrus had taken the big bait and he had ensured your safety with his lies and negotiation skill. It was the least thing he could do after what you did for him.

He knew he would be damned if he couldn’t get you out of his god forsaken place alive. For now he just has to give and surrender with whatever fate is waiting for him into the hands of the team waiting outside. He took one longing glance outside from the window, wishing that he would be staring into the starless sky with you right now.

***

Spencer watched from the back silently as the members of the cult filled the empty chair inside the chapel one by one. What was once an empty and quiet chapel now buzzing with life and the air was stale and raked with fear. The negotiation test went as smoothly as Spencer could wished for. He heard Rossi rattling out your identity to Cyrus in exchange for your safety from a speaker phone as they released the orphan into the team outside.

You emerged from the opposite end of the chapel, a swarm of children and women pushed through from behind you. Spencer stared and watched the way the sunlight that slips through the chapel window fell into your skin. The glowing sunlight from behind your back casted a halo behind your figure. He noticed that your blood had been cleaned up and there were a few specks of dried blood on the collar of your shirt. Some newly formed bruises littered your face, angry and red and was a painful sight to behold. He hated it.

Cyrus was listing out names from the list he had written the day before as Spencer slowly made his way towards you. Everyone’s attention was focused on their leader calling out the names on the altar, but Spencer’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes were watching Cyrus solemnly as you leaned yourself into the wall to support your weight.

Spencer lifted his hand to touch your face and stopped midair before he realized a tad bit too late. His finger twitched painfully with a burning desire to feel you underneath his fingertips, but he couldn’t risk another round of beating and blowing up plans that had been rolling quite smoothly so far.

Guilt surged inside him like the sea, disdain and bitterness brewing and threatening to explode from the bottom of his stomach. He could feel himself dying a little bit inside at the frightening state you were in, all because you were sacrificing your life for him. For his sake when he wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

You finally acknowledged his presence and spared him a glance. Your eyebrows furrowed together in distress and Spencer had to restrain himself from the temptation to put his thumb in between your eyebrows and smoothen out your stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. If he could take away all your pain, he would.

“He looks pissed,” you whisper-yelling at him. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to respond to your words. Even after you took the downfall and hard beatings for him, you still think about other’s well-being instead of yours.

You took another glance towards him from the lack of response from his part. Your eyes scanned his face briefly before your lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer shook his head, refusing to believe your words. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and full of regret scratching his throat painfully.

“No, no,” you shook your head and quickly squashed his apology. “No apologies. We both know one of us has to take it.”

“But why should it be you?” Spencer hissed through his greeted teeth. His distress and agitation, and overall emotions that he had been trying to tuck and buried it away seeped into the surface. He could feel his mask cracking and threatened to be broken, and he was thankful for the roaring voice of Cyrus listing out names that masked his own. “Why should it be you? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“He had a gun against your head, Reid!” you hissed back with an equal amount of emotions laced on your voice. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let them kill you. I know they would kill you first if one of us refused to answer. I can’t, Spencer, I—” you took a sharp breath and glanced away from his prying wide eyes. He could hear your voice wavering and your eyes glossed with tears. “Look at the people he’s releasing.”

“It’s the one who failed the loyalty test,” he observed. The previous slip of emotions was being put to the back of his mind again as he noticed the new fact he just found. “I’ll get word to the team, wait for the sign from outside indicating what time the raid will come.”

You stared at him with a wide eye, confusion and fear swirled together. You looked so vulnerable and small like that, like a polished porcelain that could crumble into dust anytime. Spencer nodded firmly and gave you a reassuring smile, silently asking you to believe him. He almost jolted with surprise when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and briefly, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

He nodded and turned away to make his way to Cyrus, not believing himself to utter any single words without breaking down. He was determined to make sure you were safe and would make it out alive, whatever it takes.

“Told her she shouldn’t have blinded you like that,” Spencer told Cyrus with a faux exasperation and disappointment. He shuddered when Cyrus nodded sympathetically.

“To either of us,” he corrected him sympathetically, which made Spencer want to do nothing but curl up in disgust. Cyrus jerked his chin towards your direction and addressed Christopher, “Bring her back.”

Spencer watched you being dragged up by your upper arms into wherever they were keeping you. He forcefully gulped and shook away the lump of dread on his throat, disbanding it as soon as it was formed. His eyes were apologetic and yours were nothing but filled with determination and forced bravery.

Those who had failed for the test were ushered out of the farm through the front door. Spencer mentally counted the amount of people who walked out into a guaranteed safety, relieved that it held a much greater amount that he had prepared. It was only a matter of saving the rest and finding a way in for the team to bring you and him out of this place.

Cyrus was making his final and last negotiation call with Rossi, asking for a fried chicken and its sides for their last supper and the presence of media to document his sacrifice to God. A suicide attempt to bring down himself and his faithful fanatic followers was a more appealing option to him rather than surrender himself to the authority apparently. It was obvious from the first time Spencer stepped into the building, but it still didn’t fail to fill him with dread and fear.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Spencer explained to Christopher with a polite smile after he demanded how he had known Cyrus’s plan of final act of sacrifice all along. He maintained his gaze firmly and silently wishing that the team would catch his words through the parable microphone planted outside. It would be his only hope and way for them to come in.

***

Thick smog and fire blinded his sight and blocked his way. Spencer stumbled upon a block of brunt wooden log as Morgan dragged his limping body outside the chapel. Cyrus was dead, but Jesse had finished his suicide mission by blowing up the chapel and the rest of the building. He could hear sirens blaring outside and faint sounds of wails and fearful screams mixed together in the air.

The thought of you trapped inside the building flashed before his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have a moment to glance back to make sure about your whereabouts as he kept coughing and stumbling, Morgan’s grip still firm on his upper hand to drag him outside into safety. Fear started to paralyze his body that he nearly fell into the concrete fall face first. He just needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

He didn’t know that the sight of armed soldiers and police cars could bring an immense amount of comfort for him. Spencer nearly cried at the overwhelming relief that he was out unharmed, slipped by the last strand of his hair from his ultimate demise. But he couldn’t allow himself to be relieved and comfortable before he knew where you were. Before he knew if you were safe.

“Spencer!” your voice came faintly in between the chaotic sirens and the sound of angry fire eating up the chapel. “Morgan!”

Spencer watched you squirm out of Emily’s embrace, running limpy towards him. He knew he had burst into tears as soon as his eyes landed on you, safe, alive, although littered with bruises and dried blood on your shirt. His shoulders sank and shook as your arms wrapped around him tightly, all the horror, fear, and dread that he didn’t allow himself to feel in the past few days before had rushed into him and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Relief and comfort of knowing you were safe in his arms was a breath of fresh air for his burned lungs. Usually he would squirm at the thought of touching someone, but the steady rise of your chest as you breath against him overcame all the unfortunate uncomfortable thoughts that came with the activity of hugging someone.

“You’re safe,” Spencer gasped as he released you from his embrace. He was aware that everyone was watching him hugging you and he fought all the mortification that slowly crept up his cheeks. He tried to mask it away as being a relief to find his coworker made it out alive from the sticky hostage situation.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him with one last firm squeeze on his arms. He wanted nothing but to pull you into his arms again, shield you for any harms lurking in the outside world. The anger that had been forgotten on the back of his mind surged inside him again. But he had to be satisfied with only one final squeeze as you parted from him to be checked by the paramedics.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet and a peaceful one. Everyone was winding up and breathing from the horror of the case that just wrapped up. Spencer tried his best to distract his mind with his book, burrowed in the furthest corner of the jet as the comforting and steady hum of the jet lulled him to sleep.

You slipped into the empty seat right across from him. A weak smile and a timid greeting were exchanged between you and silence followed right after. Spencer knew what conversation would follow after this, and he didn’t want to face it just yet. He had stopped reading from the moment you took the seat and watched him with careful eyes, but he still put up the act in the hope it would steer you away from bursting his bubble.

It did not. Spencer didn’t put up a fight as you gently took his book away from his hands and placed it gently on the table.

“I need you to listen to me,” you started with a firm voice. You were wearing the nice lilac shirt that Spencer liked, and the bruises on your face had started to heal and fade away. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you tilted your head with your lips pressing together, discouraging him to counter your statement. He took a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Do you hear me?” your voice was softer this time. Your hands silently reached for his and held them gently. Your thumb made a soothing pattern on his knuckles, a reassuring and determined smile was on your face. Spencer couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Do you hear me, Spencer? I will do it again. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision.”

“I know,” he answered finally.

“Thank you.”

“Please know that I will do the same for you.”

His words had caught you off guard. You stared briefly before nodding, patting the top of his hand gently with your hand as you gave him a really bright smile. Spencer let himself sink further into the comfortable leather seat and let relief washed through him again. Everything will be okay.

[lovemeian]

soothing you through your storms—

characters ! bokuto kotaro, tendō satori, miya atsumu, and iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader.

basically, i haven’t been able to sleep well in the past couple of days, almost 2 weeks, (sleeping until 12-2am, which is wildly unhealthy for me because i wake up early because life), and today’s been the most exhausting (e-mails, life, etc.), so i wrote this as a self-soothe lol + fluff, just something vv comforting + use of angel on ‘tsumu’s in case that’s too f!centric! but all endearments are gn!reader certified! + also, i am wildly touch starved these days, in need of a physical s/o to hug pls + this got long??? so?? godbless ?

masterlist.

you thought the week could get better, hell, you hoped. prayed. but day after day has just been draining until the next, leaving you unable to sleep until you’ve properly exhausted yourself on the bed— the icky feeling of becoming less human and more moss. more gelatinous. more remnant of life’s drain than anything.

and today just happened to be the worst. . .

BOKUTO KOTARŌ—

kou catches on quick; your muted replies and quick smiles were meant to appease rather than actual reaction. but you had shrug him off when he tried to pry, hoping it would get better. for you, he hoped too. & in little things, he tried to lessen as much burden on you as he can; picking up on his stray clothes that you usually scold him for, buy takeout for the both of you and insist on doing the dishes when you normally take turns— just little things to help, & he smiles softly at every little relief you give him. he just wished for you to feel better and he didn’t want to overwhelm you... until he came home one day, calling out for you softly when he didn’t hear your usual home sounds, entering your shared bedroom and seeing you flat and starfished on the bed, one arm against your eyes as you seemingly tried to block out life; sound, smell and sight.

“baby?” he called out carefully. “you okay?”

softly, you shook your head. his heart broke when he saw your lips tremble before you said, “’wan a hug, kou. life’s been too rough.”

mans quick. his bear hugs are his specialty; he sniffs himself to make sure he isn’t too bad, changes his shirt for good measures and wiping any excess sweat off, before he crawls, slowly, and ever so gently pull you in your favourite hug: basically nestled into him as you intertwine yourself with him like vines, wanting nothing else but to exist like crawling roses over him.

he’s so very warm and smells so much like home; so very kou. and your kou snuggles deeper, pitching his head protectively over your own, tucking you into his neck and chest as he tightened his arms and rubbed your back, pressing soft but so very present, as if marking all the bad day, the worries, in protective, sealing kisses meant to ward them off. & slowly but surely, the world felt a little less heavier each time.

“’a love you so much, you’ve worked so hard and i’m so very proud of you, baby, so, so proud.” just. praises and warm and tight cuddling. will not let go until you’re ready, and maybe even then, he’s a little hesitant. he’ll get you water and order food though, then come right back to you. you wake up tangled legs and to his soft, sleepy smile as he says good morning, and you think life’s a little bit better alright.

TENDŌ SATORI—

your tendō’s a little bit of a tease, a little bit of a shithead if he wants to be. and vice versa, you and him were the perfect match; you balance each other and at the same time, match each other perfectly. more often than not, going head to head with the snark and the teasing. sometimes, being a weirdo.

but the few things he cannot stand is to see you upset. at first he let’s it go, gives you space. it’s never enough to leave him worried as you would always try to comfort him whenever he pried, or joked and roll your eyes... but he’s finally had enough when he sees you visible deflate as your phone rings, deducing it’s probably from work when you hesitate to pick it up. the shadows underneath your eyes seemingly darken as your shoulders slump further. he does it for you instead, snatching your phone before your protest reaches him, putting it on airplane on mode, and keeping it in the highest shelve in the kitchen that you know only keeps the things you guys don’t really need on the daily, and where tendō sometimes puts things so you’re forced to ask him for help.

“satori—”

“enough of that,” he cuts off, voice void of the usual playful lilt. he goes around the counter, looking almost pissed in his determination, and sweeps you against your legs as you shriek in protest. he goes to the sofa and physically cocoons you into him.

“satori—”

“not my name,” he sings, arms tightening around your body.

you frown at him as your thighs settle on either side of him, caged by his long arms. he presses his forehead to yours, teasing the nuzzles and kisses you love so much as a distraction. “it is your name, dumbass.”

he clocks an eyebrow. “well that one’s definitely not my name. you’ve one last or you’ll stay here forever. right in my arms where you should always be.”

you sigh. “i don’t have time for this, tori. that was work—”

“it’s the weekend, that’s against labour laws, darling,” he purrs, nipping at your nose, your cheeks, your chin. “they better get their bootstraps on if they want work done for free, because if i remember, your weekends are mine. and that’s your third try and sadly, that’s not my name either. you are now mine forever and ever. we shall die together in this embrace. just as i’d always hope. i hope when archeologists finds us like this, they’d say ‘oh look, how nice of those friends’.”

you sigh, knowing he was right, and slump right over on his neck, nestling yourself deeper into his warmth and cologne, breathing him in. “you’re a dumbass,” you murmur, heart full of love. “i love you so much.”

his hold tightens, unforgiving to your worries, whilst pressing a solid kiss on the side of your head, blowing raspberries in your ear to make you laugh. “i love you too, paradise. and for reference, the name is most handsome best boy lover in existence— ow!”

MIYA ATSUMU—

boy is a little clumsy when it comes to love and comfort— what he does know is all the comforts you give him, ingrained into his brain for when he wants it and when he needs to use it. he reverts back to all the times you gave him the best hugs, praises, reassurance, and cuddles a grown man could ever want. he knows you’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately, minimising your tossing and turning as much as you can as to not to disturb him. mans operate on tell, so unless you say anything, it’s hard for him to pick up on what you want.

... until you let out the most frustrated huff that startles him from his half-asleep state, the clock blearily blinking 1am.

“angel?” he croaks, fumbling around for you, but you softly thwart him, swearing at yourself for waking up your boyfriend in the process of your struggles.

“‘s nothing, tsumu, im sorry, go back to sleep, baby.”

he rubs his eyes, finds yours arms, and pulls you toward him regardless. “’cmere.”

“‘tsumu, you know i’ll just kick you in the face, and you have practice tomorrow and if you bruise—”

“— and i’ll accept all the beatin’ if it meant you won’t beat yer pretty self all night.” he tugs harder, pulling and pulling until you’re safely crowded 6.2ft mass of a lover as he half-asleep pats your head. “plus, don’cha sleep better in mah arms? they’re made for you, baby. i dunno why you...” he snifles, losing his train of thought.

“‘am not a dog to pat, ‘tsumu,” you grumble, but can’t help nuzzling into his warmth and scent. the familiarity of home that he so embodies is so welcoming that despite your protests, your body wounds its way around him too, completely melted into his embrace. “i hope i dont give you a black eye tomorrow.”

despite your whispers, he chuckles softly, kissing your head. “and i’ll wear it proudly. ‘a love you.”

you kiss his chest. “i love you too baby, thank you.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME—

man has no patience for you dancing around, struggling to keep your bad days to yourself. at first, he’s too busy to notice and you betted on that, putting on an okay facade for him so you don’t bother him. but he notices every minuscule of difference about you— that’s how your haji loves. he observes and he takes action.

and so when you come home one day, calling out that you’re home, he calls back, loudly from what seems to be your shared bathroom. you’re quizzical, but follows after he says ‘can you come here a sec?’, shrugging off your things as you push the door ajar and see him— pressed face, sweater hems pushed back to his elbows and hands soapy, as he finishes fixing the temperature of a freshly made bath with flowers and candles. the smell is on of your favourites— vanilla oil blend and lavender bath salts.

“what’s this?” you ask, voice so soft and chest so warm as hajime clenches his jaw, ears and neck bright red.

“don’t think i didn’t notice you being such a stubborn ass and not telling me when something’s wrong,” he says, drying his hands as he sets his eyes deadset on you. “get in.”

“you didn’t have to...”

“that’s a lie and we both know it.” he stalks to you and gently takes off your clothes, running his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp. your eyes flutter at the nice sensation. “the day i don’t do anythin’ when you’re in a shitty mood, i want you to kick my— hey, hey why’re you crying?”

the emotions overwhelmed you at this point, that the relief of tears has you burrowing yourself into your boyfriend’s chest as he wounds his arms around you, hesitant at first, before tightening, pulling you in further as if he’s trying to shield you from the world.

“ijustloveyousomuch,” you mumble into his shirt, staining it with salty tears.

he rubs a hand down your head. “i love you too, dummy. now get in.”

you sniff, pulling back as you look up at him. “come with me?”

he kisses you sweetly, more recognition than heat. love than anything else. “anything you want.”

made by lavi <3

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

*

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

[giggles-and-freckles]

bed bargain for satine and obi-wan maybe?? 😍

bed bargain: [Obi-Wan] won’t stay in bed. [Satine] convinces them. (from these prompts)

Obi-Wan groans from his desk as knuckles rap against the other side of the door. It’s Anakin, no doubt, come to question him on the events of the day. There’s no confusion on exactly what Anakin will be wanting to know.

Girlfriend. A ridiculous accusation and just something to get under Obi-Wan’s skin. The trouble is Anakin’s always been far too good at that and Obi-Wan let it get to him today. 

He’s in severe need of a break. But Death Watch seems to be a larger issue than the Council had thought and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

The knocking continues.

He sighs deeply and pushes away from the desk. As he stands, there’s a rush of hot fuzziness that fills the space behind his eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone. Yet another side effect of the long day, apparently. To accompany the dizziness that has developed in the past hour.

The knocking is louder. More hurried.

Definitely Anakin.

“I’m coming!” he yells, making his way to the door. “Honestly, all these years and you have learned nothing of patience—“

He stops as the door slides open. 

“You would be amazed at the patience I have developed, actually.”

“Duchess,” he says stiffly.

Her lips twitch into a frown, but flatten back out into a thin line. “Hello.”

“It’s late.”

“Yet you are still awake.”

He casts a quick glance behind him, but the movement is too quick. The room spins and his hand reaches out, blindly. He finds the edge of the door and grips it.

“I’ve been busy,” he says, turning back around to find that her eyes are fixed on his hand, clinging to the door.

She looks back up. “I assumed as much. Before tomorrow, when the Republic will undoubtedly take your words and twist them until I am the villain they are apparently so desperate for,” – she ignores his scoff – “I wanted us to try and get on the same page.”

“We have never quite managed to achieve that, my dear,” he says.

Her frown deepens as she studies him. “Not for lack of trying.”

He clears his throat. “Is this something we could discuss in the morning? I still have–”

“No,” she says, and pushes past him into the room. “Now is good.”

“For you,” he grumbles, but allows the door to slide closed. He turns and follows her in the room. She sits on the sofa easily, as if this is the most normal thing. “I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for the luxurious accommodations. Anakin hasn’t stopped talking about–”

“He’s not what I expected.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He wants to sit, but can’t bring himself to join her on the couch. So he hovers. “Pardon?”

“Your student. He idolises you, clearly. When you used to call and tell me of him–”

“That was a very long time ago,” he says quickly. 

“Yes,” she agrees quietly. Her eyes move to the floor between them. “It was.”

His visions swims and he can’t determine whether it’s exhaustion or a response to the lowness of her tone. The unopened nook of hurt and betrayal that she clearly feels, though he can’t understand why.

But then–that’s not true either. It’s just what he’s told himself for the past ten years, to avoid the habitual pain he was putting himself through for so long. Constantly comming her–and thinking about her in the meantime. Something had to give if he was to honour his commitment to the Jedi and his commitment to Anakin.

He drops to the couch next to her. “I was lost.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you also didn’t want to be found.”

“I needed to…” he frowns, looking for the words. It’s painful revisiting this part of his life, immediately after Qui-Gon’s death, when everything was overwhelming and nothing felt right. “Needed to figure it out.”

“No,” she says, but there’s no chastisement in her voice. “Not by yourself.”

“Yes,” he insists. “I–”

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she says. Fixes him with those eyes that have seen too much of the galaxy and too much of him. There’s too much compassion that he doesn’t feel particularly deserving of. “Accepting help is not a crime.”

He shuts his eyes, but it does nothing to stop the pounding in his head or the pain in his chest. 

“Obi-Wan?” she says, her tone sharper than it was before. Then– “Obi-Wan!”

“I’m all right,” he manages, opening his eyes as the wave of nausea passes. He pulls a weak smile. “Sorry. I just–”

She fixes him with a hard stare. “You’re ill.”

“I’m not ill,” he scoffs.

She lifts her hand and rests it on his forehead. Doesn’t let him pull away. “Stubborn as always.”

Since she’s not letting him move away, he figures there’s no real harm in leaning into her a bit. “You have no experience with that.”

Satine laughs loudly and lets her hand fall to his cheek. They watch each other for a moment and Obi-Wan wonders if she sees the wayward young padawan the way he sees the headstrong young duchess. So much has changed, in the galaxy and between them, but beyond the light wrinkles (which he’d never point out, obviously) and thinner face, it’s the same eyes blinking back at him. He’s thankful for something consistent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for not holding it against me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she hums. Her hand falls to the place on the couch between them. She moves it so that it rests over his.

He rolls his eyes at her snark, but turns his hand over under hers. Links their fingers together. “When Qui-Gon died. You were so…” A deep sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I didn’t do anything, my dear. You–”

“Exactly. You just listened. Let me talk, grieve, process,” he says. “I needed that. Even though I left...you never…”

She squeezes his hand. “There was never a question of you leaving. I knew it was coming–and I wasn’t angry. You had to return to the Jedi. I...I had a system to lead.”

“But even so. When I sought your help–”

“I’ll always be there for you, my dear.”

His gut twists over. “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. Then, lifts their interlinked hands up and drops the lightest of kisses on the back of his palm. “You deserve so much more. More than this harsh galaxy will ever be able to repay you, I fear.”

“With Anakin. And...everything. I was overwhelmed. I was...I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry. I...I didn’t mean to lose you, too.”

She smiles at him. “You didn’t.” Kisses his hand again. “And you never will.” She stands from the couch, then, pulling him up along with her. The motion jars him, and he has to grip her shoulder to stay upright. She looks him up and down with a frown. “I believe it’s time for bed for you, darling.”

He pulls away as well as he can. Grounds his feet and takes a breath. “No. I have to finish–”

“Obi-Wan,” she says firmly. “Bed.”

“I have work to do. Death Watch. They...I need to keep you safe. Need to–”

“As the ruler of this world, I order you to go to bed.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens, then closes. “You can’t,” – he frowns at the floor for a moment, then smiles victoriously – “I have diplomatic immunity!”

“This isn’t the Republic,” she reminds him. “And if you remember–I’m particularly stubborn.” She begins to guide him toward the bed, even as he struggles against her. “Oh, honestly, Obi-Wan. Stop being such a child.”

“Stop treating me like one!” he cries, then stops walking abruptly as the room begins to spin again. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. This bout of dizziness lasts longer than the ones before and it takes him an extra moment to gather himself.

A light hand is at his back immediately, rubbing small circles. For some reason, the motion cracks his resolve.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, scared of how broken he sounds. “When I do...it’s just nightmares. Images, memories–”

“I’ll stay,” she says, and wraps an arm around his waist.

“That’s highly inappropriate,” he says immediately in response because it’s what he’s supposed to say. And Obi-Wan Kenobi has grown very good at saying what he’s supposed to say. If the Council were to catch wind of this. A Jedi Master sharing a bed with a Duchess–

She lifts an eyebrow and his face reddens. Because he knows she’s remembering what he’s remembering. How unconcerned he was with what was appropriate once upon a time. He’s lost the padawan braid since then, though, and she’s gained a system of planets. It’s not the same.

“I’ll only stay until you fall asleep,” she says, saving him from further embarrassment. 

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to admit his disappointment, so he just nods, and sheds his outer robe. She watches as he kicks off his boots and sets them in the corner of the room. Watches as he unties his belt and drapes it over a chair. When he finally makes his way toward the bed, she is waiting for him, standing with her arms crossed and a patient expression.

“Are you quite done?” she says, and her lips quirk up at the corners.

He doesn’t respond. Only rolls his eyes and slides beneath the sheets. She pulls back the other side in a much more graceful manner, making sure her long dress doesn’t get wrapped around her. She’s always had such a talent for making the mundane look like a dance. He tries not to stare; it’s hard.

There is at least a foot of space between them in the bed and neither makes a move to close it. 

“You didn’t use to sleep with so many clothes on,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Neither did you.”

She makes a sound of indignation, then sighs. “Touché.”

He chuckles and reaches for her hand, under the sheets. She flinches when he first grabs it and he wonders if this is too much. Physical contact within the confines of a bed. He moves to pull back, but her grip is vice-like. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him, but he’s glad. He’s still having a hard time not staring.

“Thank you,” he says finally. 

…

When the sunlight filters through the curtains he never drew closed and wakes him up the next morning, she’s still there.

[shortprince-cos]

Patton's Normal And Totally Not Angsty Birthday

Summary: Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people, but his famILY had other secret plans.

Warnings: Crying, being alone for an extended period of time, angst, slight innuendo. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP (all)

{Masterlist}

~~~~~

Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea, considering what had happened earlier last year. Everyone was still on their toes from the...fight.

It wasn't a fight though! It was more like a...big disagreement. That kind of maybe split everyone apart and left Patton alone...

But it was fine! Everyone just needed some alone time! Even if it had been awhile - a long while - since the incident. They just needed to think about things, and when they were ready, Patton would apologize and they would hopefully accept!

Hopefully...

Patton turned in his bed again, trying to sleep for the umpteenth time that night.

He sighed and eventually sat up, glancing at the clock. It said it was 4:16 in the morning, now it was technically January fifteenth.

Happy birthday to him.

Patton wiped the tears off his face and put on his glasses and his cat hoodie. Well, if it was his birthday, he might as well have a cupcake and make a wish. He'd probably need it, to be fully honest.

Patton meandered through the hallway, glancing at everyone's different colored doors. Everyone was probably asleep.

He remembers when it used to be just three doors in the hallway. Just Morality, Creativity, and Logic. Was it simpler then? Or were they just living in ignorance?

"No one knows you better than yourself, am I right, Tony?"

"I know big words too! Ssssssaxophone-"

"Who knows what'll happen if you don't adopt them, and they need a good home!"

"Anything he darn well pleases!"

...Maybe he was the only one not taking things seriously. They say ignorance is...better to live in, and Patton was basically swimming in it before his wake up call.

"We need actual contributions from you, now and then."

Is that why this happened? Maybe he's been ignorant of all the actual dilemmas this entire time. That's how everything went wrong! He didn't just suddenly not know what to do, he never knew what to do! He just hid it with jokes and puns and silly commentary to 'lighten the mood', but really he was just a distraction from their actual problems.

Patton hugged himself as he stood in the hallway, surrounded by the doors of his friends. Well, if they still wanted to be his friend.

Patton glanced at the dark purple door in the hall, cringing at the memories that came with it.

"Now Anxiety, if you don't want to participate, you can just sit this one out."

"Awww you poor little anxious baby!"

"And what about Anxiety, he always seems to get you down."

Patton swiped his tears away, hurriedly making his way down the hall to the staircase.

Janus didn't have a door here yet; he said he'd rather stay with the others in the hidden side of the mindscape.

Probably because of how awful they all were to him.

"Deceit, standing in the spot of one of my four best friends."

"Um, you're in my spot."

"Because Thomas gave his word, but you wouldn't know anything about words, would'ja mister?"

"I may be amphibian, but I can't say that I am fibbin'!"

God, they were so terrible to him. No wonder he doesn't like being around any of them.

Patton's hands shook as he gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, holding in his silent sobs.

All of this is his fault. He caused the rift in his famILY.

Suddenly he heard voices from downstairs. Wasn't everyone in bed? It was four in the morning, who would be up right now?

Patton wiped the tears off his face for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

He stalked down the top stairs slowly, trying to listen in onto what the voice was saying.

"Listen," A voice whispered. "I'm just pointing out all the possibilities."

"More like all the negabilities, seeing how all of them are negative." Another snarked.

"Just- does he even wanna see us? We basically ghosted him for months. We didn't even include him on the Nico situation. Why didn't we do that, he's the heart! He's like, the most important side for that!"

Oh. They were talking about him.

Patton debated leaving, going down there, or keep on listening before another voice spoke up.

"I doubt he would not wish to see us. If anything, I believe he would like to talk about what happened."

"Logan, we're talking about Patton here. If we talk, he'll just say he's fine when he's clearly not fine."

"That's not true." One obviously lied.

So all four of them were downstairs talking about him. Wait, isn't there supposed to be five-

"Hi Potty-cakes!" Remus suddenly shouted from behind him.

Patton shrieked in surprise, before almost tumbling down the stairs before someone caught him.

"Pat! Are you okay?!" Virgil said, slowly helping Patton to his feet.

"Y-Yeah, I'm perfect!" He said, plastering his Patton-ted fake smile.

Virgil squinted at him. "Pat, have you been crying?"

Ah. Guess the smile didn't work.

Patton noticed that everyone was crowded around him, including Janus, which meant that lying was out of the question.

"Uh- kinda?" Another smile.

Someone swore under their breath as Logan spoke up. "Patton, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don't you normally get up at seven?"

Patton stood up straightly instead of leaning on Virgil. "Oh, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep! What're you guys...?" Patton started as he finally looked around the room, noticing the balloons, streamers, and a banner that they had used for every birthday Patton had had.

"...doing?" He finished.

"Uh-" Roman started. "Well uh- we were kind of...surprising you with a birthday party?" He shrugged nervously.

Patton stood shocked for a moment. They were throwing him a surprise birthday party? Why? Why would they do that- weren't they mad at him? There's no way they would just suddenly not be mad at him! What was happening?!

"Pat, what's wrong?" Janus suddenly asked, putting a gloved hand on Patton's shoulder.

"I'm fine, why?" He answered on instinct.

"Padre, you're crying." Roman explained.

Patton touched his cheek, and sure enough, he was crying. "O-Oh. I guess I am."

Another hand gripped his wrist. "Pop-star, are you okay?" Virgil asked with concern and sincerity in his voice.

Patton immediately started sobbing. "No, no I'm not."

Some tentacles wrapped around him from behind - probably Remus - as a bunch of arms started surrounding him as well, securely trapping him in a hug.

Patton kept crying into someone's shoulder as multiple people kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eventually, Patton had stopped crying, just enjoying the feeling of a hug - a hug! - surrounding him.

Then, they started pulling away, leaving Patton with traces of warmth left over.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan asked with concern in his eyes.

Patton rubbed at his eyes again and sniffled. "Y-Yeah. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. I kinda expected to spend today alone..."

Everyone made a noise of either surprise or concern.

"Patton I..." Roman started, looking at the ground in guilt. "I didn't mean to make you feel alone, I just-" He sighed. "I talked to De-Janus, and he helped me realize that it wasn't like you were trying to make me the bad guy, you were just trying to tell me that Janus wasn't one either. So, I planned a party to apologize to you, and well, I guess the surprise is ruined."

Patton immediately hugged Roman the minute he stopped talking. Roman chuckled, but Patton could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm- I'm so sorry I-"

"Shh, don't be." Roman comforted. "We all forgive you."

After another minute of hugging, Logan cleared his throat.

"While this moment is very touching and much needed, it is currently almost five in the morning, so I suggest we all take a nap before we get into the festivities."

Everyone made noises of agreement, when Patton interrupted.

"Um- could we-?" Patton started before cutting himself off.

"What's up, Pat?" Virgil asked.

"Uh- I-I just thought that maybe we could..."

"Cuddle on the couch?" Janus finished with a smirk on his face.

Patton nodded with blush on his face.

"Ooo sexy~"

"Remus, I swear to all things princely-" Roman started before the twins started arguing and Logan had to break them up before they could brawl in the living room.

Eventually, everyone on the was cuddled up on the couch and snuggling in one way or another, and Patton couldn't be more content.

~~~~~

Whoo! I finished on time!!!!!!!! I'm so proud of myself for writing this in one day! Though, I think it's a bit rushed, I forgive myself for that tho because it was written in one day lol

Ty for reading! I really enjoyed writing Patton angst again lol!

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Ask to be added or removed!

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

[kyberphilosopher]

Mᴏʀɴɪɴɢ Lɪɢʜᴛ

Word Count: 2061

“The Sun card represents radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you. On the other hand, the Sun reversed might be indicative that you are being unrealistic. It might be a sign that you have an overly optimistic perception of certain situations. Be warned, for when the sun ceases to shine on you, depression is soon to follow.” - ‘The Sun’ Tarot Card; Full Meaning.

Tap Tap Tap. 

How early was it? Too early. You knew you had training today, but you were certain that wasn’t for another few hours. So what was that insufferable tapping for?

Tap... Tap Tap. 

You shift against your pillow. You can feel your hair stick against your neck, in sync with the tightening fist by your face. Your eyes do open, slowly but surely. You feel groggy, despite the growing alertness inside of you. You’re waking up. What’s more, you’re waking up before you really have to. 

Tap... Tap. 

Your sleepy eyes search around the room. Behind the glass of the window, you can make out a blurry image of yellow and pale skin. Still, you’re exhausted. It could be a silly little trick pulled by your own brain. But on the off chance that it is-

Annie. 

You sit up. Your vision is still smeared like oil, but you stumble out of bed. Your heel skims against the wood of the floor. It probably gave you a splinter, but now that you’ve started thinking about her, you know it’d be difficult to stop. 

You partially hop to the window across from your bed. Your right hand reaches out to unlatch the thing, while the left rubs at your eyes to get the gift of clear sight. As you turn the wood to the right to unlock it, you step back and away. 

The blond handles the rest. Her palms slip under the window and pull it up, and then she pushes herself through. She brushes the clear white curtains to the side and lands on the floor, just as your vision returns to you.  

She’s wearing her favorite white sweatshirt, and standard brown slacks. There’s ODM gear at her hips, complete with all the strappings and buckles. But her face... oh, her face. Despite the time apart, it’s the same one you’d fallen in love with. The big, still blue eyes were gazing at the wood she landed on. Her pale blond hair is pulled back in the usual bun, her bangs hanging loose as always. But her lips look shinier today. Perhaps she tried the new lip tint you’d bought the last time you’d gone shopping. 

“Annie,” you sighed with a soft smile. Any kind of stress you’d been feeling in the past few weeks without her was fading away, at long last. You knew she’d see you again soon, but you hadn’t realized she’d pick today. She must’ve wanted to surprise you. 

Annie’s right hand reaches up to rub the back of her neck. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be up yet.” The girl looks your form up and down. “Or dressed.”

One of your feet rubs against the opposite shin. She’s not wrong. You’re wearing an oversized white shirt and cheap underwear that she can’t even see. Your hair is a mess, your eyes groggy, and your breath making your own throat want to gag. But you’re overwhelmed with happiness to finally see her again. 

“Yes you did,” you challenge firmly, but tiredly. 

Annie’s eyes soften. You’re right. She could picture your tired form in her head long before she’d even set out to surprise you. That and the fact that she’d purposely arrived before the morning chimes. 

“Whatever,” you wave off. You step towards her, your heart reaching out to hers. Her chest is like a magnet to your own. 

Your arms stretch out to embrace her. And you do. Tugging her to you, you feel her warmth. Her chest and neck flushed against yours, feeling your heartbeats fall into sync. Annie smells so good. She always has, but it must be that body wash the Military Police get to use. 

Annie is everything to you. The attraction was immediate, and the build up of trust came naturally over time. Despite the two introverted natures, you spent time together. You ate silent dinners, went through the motions of the days with each other. You taught Annie more about life and perspective more than she cared to admit, and in turn, she had made you feel more confident in your own character. It became fact among the cadets that where either you or Annie was found, the other was never far behind. 

And then, sometime in the midst of it all, the dynamic changed. 

Your faces got closer when you pinned the other down during sparring. You’d share your food from the same spoon when there wasn’t enough. Even begun sharing the same shower. You’d always thought Annie was attractive, but now the attraction was rapidly becoming a solid, almost tangible force. 

The heat radiating between the two of you was undeniable. One night, in the top bunk of your barracks, she crept into your bed and shared a kiss. It was wet and sloppy, but you were close to her. You didn’t care about the lack of experience from either of you. Annie mattered to you. You wanted to be with her, and apparently she felt the same.

Things were never made official by title, but you were even more inseparable than before. You’d witnessed her threaten Reiner for both hitting on you and insulting you on separate occasions. You judo flipped a boy for getting handsy with her. You went to winter markets, stargazed, and spent late nights sparring ending in clumsy make-out sessions. You loved her. You’d do anything for her. You’d already made a nonverbal promise to each other that you’d grow and mature together. What more could you ask for?

“I really missed you,” you admit, taking her in as much as you can. Annie sinks into your touch, closing her eyes in affection. 

“Yeah,” she replies, which is her own way of letting it slip that she missed you too. Both her hands come to rest under your elbows, effectively keeping them in place around her. Pft, as if you were going to remove them for longer than a split second anyway.

“So,” you drawl as you saunter back to your bed. You collapse on it, rubbing the space next to you as a call for Annie. “Tell me what I’ve been missing. The MP’s still treating you alright?”

Annie shifts and averts her eyes in thought. Then she follows your lead, sitting on the edge of the bed as she starts to unbuckle her harnesses. “It’s the same,” she tells you. 

“I know you don’t like them, Ann.  You don’t have to pretend.”

And with anybody else, Annie would’ve been quick to annoyance. But with you, she was glad. Even though she definitely didn’t tell you the truth about everything, she knew she could still be herself around you. She knew you could sense she kept some secrets from you still, but you’d never forced the issue. Everything about your love was focused on understanding. It was more than the girl thought she deserved. 

“What about the Scouts?” Annie decides in return. It’s a tactic at changing the subject, and one that doesn’t slip past you. Still, you don’t push. 

“Just as annoying as we thought. I have to officially get up and at ‘em in a few hours.”

Your lover unties her boots. “Have you been outside the wall yet?”

She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear you say your piece anyway. 

“No,” you sigh. Your hand rests on your forehead, your elbow bent as you stare up at the ceiling. “We have our first expedition this week. We’re taking Jaeger out to try the Commander’s new strategy.”

Annie freezes. Then she continues her movement. “Right. I’d almost forgotten Eren was here.”

You doubted that. “The bastard talked about the Scouts non stop back in cadet training,” you say as Annie twists around to face you. “You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way over here?”

Annie doesn’t answer. But she does gift a hint of a smile. It’s gone in a flash, but it’s more than others get. 

Her ice blue eyes pierce into yours. It’s not threatening, however. It’s loving. Appreciating. She’s trying to memorize all the details inside of them like she’s about to do so for the last time. 

Then Annie lowers head head slowly, until it rests by the crook of your neck. 

“You got up early to see me today,” you say softly. 

Your love shifts off of you, and props her up on her elbow at her side. You mirror her movements to observe her as well. 

“I skinned my knee climbing from my barracks. My gear was giving me trouble.”

Some people may have expressed concern, but you knew your other half was strong. She didn’t need your pity. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” you shrug with snark back. 

“Heh, thanks,” she responds, looking down to stare at your white cotton sheets. 

There is quiet. The sunlight illuminates her hair. Her long eyelashes flutter up and down slowly. Annie is beautiful. No. Annie surpasses the boundaries of being beautiful. 

“Y/N,” she whispers. “Would you love me, if I were evil?”

What?

“What did you say?”

Silence. Annie doesn’t look at you. She seems solemn, troubled. Haunted, even. No, not quite haunted. Maybe just hollow. 

“Nothing,” Annie says decidedly. “I’m just muttering.”

You frown anyway. You know that Annie is weighed down by things that you can’t explain, or understand. It’s different from other soldiers, or just other people. But you didn’t think there was anything she could do to be evil. You had already shown and told her that you were in love with her. You wouldn’t go back on that if you even could. 

Annie was your world. Your lion. Your entire purpose for even making it this far. 

One of your hands reaches out to brush her fringe behind her ear. “I’d always be on your side,” you tell her softly. “There’s nothing you could do to change that.”

You’d be surprised, thought Annie. 

“I didn’t mean to be depressing,” she mutters further. “I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Annie is sad today. 

Both of your arms wrap around her slim figure. You pull her close to you, so her head is between your chest and your neck. Both your bodies cradle against each other as you stroke the soft strands of yellow hair. The sun is seeping through the windows for only a passing moment, before it is covered by a blanket of grey clouds. 

“Let’s go back to sleep,” you whisper to her, your eyes transfixed on the drops of rain hitting the roof one by one. 

“I am sorry,” you hear her speak against your shirt. 

You pull away, your palms against her cheeks so you can look at her stunning face. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Annie.” What more can you say to reassure her? “I’m with you.”

Annie is heartbroken inside. Maybe it was better that she didn’t say anything. Or maybe it was better in another timeline, where you knew. But Annie kept her mouth shut and tried to just relax her nerves. There was no reason to wake up feeling as guilty as she had. She was with you now. You would protect her against the nightmares with her father, or Reiner. Nothing to be afraid of. 

“After this,” Annie says as you coax her head back against your body. “I’ll buy you one of those breakfast sweets you like so much. From the village.”

The rain taps against your window. The sun has all but disappeared by now. Surely the open window mixed with sheets of light rain will result in a damp floor, but there’s no way in hell either of you are going to get up and close it now. Instead you watch the water fall, thinking about how the shade of the sun matches that of your lovers mane. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this really fast. I just really love Annie and wanted to give her some appreciation. A weak plot, but oh well. 

[my-writings-and-musings]

I got a wonderful commission to share here today. I hope you're all ready for some ADORABLE shenanigans!!

MTMTE/Brave Police Crossover

The bots rescue an unusual group out in space, and make some unexpected friends.

"So, how are our new arrivals doing?"

Ratchet kept his voice rather low, but had little need to do so with the bots in question chatting away too eagerly to overhear him. 

"Good, as far as they've told us." First Aid replied, looking over the notes on his data pad with an expression of still overwhelmed awe. These "Brave Police" truly were a marvel; earth made bots just as capable as any Cybertronian, complete with the ability to transform! Casting a glance back to the group, he had to pause at the sight of Drift chatting happily with them all, feeling as left out as everyone else did for the moment. Being the only one who had their particular earth language in his files, the ninjabot had been their translator from the moment of their unexpected arrival, though had quickly become amicable enough with the gathered group to start chatting away even when there was nothing to interpret. Noting that he technically had yet to speak to any of the new arrivals directly, First Aid amended his statement. "Well, as far as they've told Drift, anyway."

"We'll have a language download primed in just a few minutes, conversing will be far easier in short order." Ultra Magnus reassured the gathered bots from his monitor, finishing up the unexpected language program they had so sorely been needing. Despite the copious quantities of data they had on alien languages, not a single file on earth languages had been ready to go... Rodimus had been less than happy at the news. "A few minutes after that, the whole ship will have access, eliminating further language barriers."

"A few slow minutes!" the captain remarked in a huff, tapping his pede as he watched the loading bar crawl to completion. Casting a longing glance at Drift, he made no effort to hide the source of his impatience. "I should have been able to welcome these bots on board, I'm already late to the job!"

"Complaining will not make this go any faster-"

Even Ratchet had to chuckle at Ultra Magnus's expense when the monitor suddenly pinged to notify them it was finished, but Rodimus wasted no time rubbing it in, practically fist pumping only for a moment before diving in. Downloading the program at impressive speed even for him, the captain booted up the new language straight away, leaving everyone else to catch up as he hurried over to their guests.

"Hey everyone!" he greeted happily, loving the thrill of a whole new manner of speaking. The Brave Police perked up at the sound of their primary language, which Drift had referred to as "Japanese", with the aforementioned bot looking especially pleased. Smirking at his friend in particular, Rodimus addressed the whole group as the bots behind him finished up installing the program. "Am I coming through loud and clear?"

Drift smiled, but looked to the blue mech that had identified himself as the head of their team. Even if he hadn't, however, Rodimus could tell by the way he jumped up and saluted that the bot in question was a natural leader. "Very clear!" he said enthusiastically, offering a hand to shake with impeccable manners that almost seemed to be made all the more charming by his boundless enthusiasm. "Though we've already met, I would like to personally introduce myself and thank you for the rescue."

"Not a problem! We were in the neighborhood, you know?" Rodimus replied, finding things infinitely easier now that the two could talk directly. As the rest of his own team caught up behind him, with Magnus giving him a pointed look of disapproval, he allowed the earth based bots to speak freely at last.

"I'm Deckerd, and these are the other members of the Brave Police." said the police bot, looking to his assorted friends and opening the floor for them. 

"I am McCrane." a reserved but friendly mech said, giving a very polite nod of his helm as a greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

A far more brightly colored mech, of a similarly solid build, gestured eagerly to himself. "I'm PowerJoe."

"Call me Dumpson!" a bright red mech announced, flexing an arm to show off his impressive strength. Rodimus had no doubt the bot would be very popular at Swerve's, and almost didn't notice the source of the next introduction from a sparsely lit corner.

"Shadow Maru."

Drift looked immediately impressed at the stealthy mech's skills, but before he could say a word the next member was speaking up quite emphatically 

"I'm Drill Boy!" he said from atop a medical berth, kicking his legs eagerly and bursting with so much energy one might actually miss the soccer ball positioned in his chassis. Every bot present mutually wondered if it was a design or an actual functional ball, especially Rodimus, but the topic was minor enough to be filed away for the moment. A red and white mech spoke up next, his tone so flat Rodimus immediately knew Magnus would have a new friend by the end of the day.

"Duke."

At last, a lightly colored bot chilling on an open chair spoke up, lazily offering a playful salute as he introduced himself. "I'm Gunmax, baby."

Rodimus knew, straight away, he had found his own favorite amongst the group. At least, this bot would undoubtedly be the one he related to most. Behind him, a grumpy presence cleared his vents and spoke up.

"I'm Ultra Magnus. Now that we are all acquainted, I believe it is time for some more in depth explanations-"

"Come on, Mags! These bots have been through enough!" Rodimus said, patting the much larger mech on the arm and ignoring the look of frustration it got him. Perhaps there was residual impatience from the language delay, but he had no intention of sitting through anything he didn't feel like. "Besides, I think we established the basics well enough. You guys are from earth, right? Human constructed?"

"Yes. We were in space to foil a criminals plot. We were successful, but had it not been for your rescue, I fear we would not have made it home." Deckerd replied, calling back to the shell of a space station they'd been rescued from. Evidently some human had invented a kind of interstellar travel for nefarious purposes, been stopped by the Brave Police, but not before managing to get them all incredibly lost. Looking to the floor, the police cruiser continued a little awkwardly. His request was wrapped up as a tentative statement. "That is... we are still hoping to return home."

Rodimus smiled, hoping to get the group comfortable eventually by being as welcoming and laid back as possible. Clearly they weren't accustomed to calling their own shots. "To earth? Hey, not a problem! It's a stone's throw from here... on a cosmic scale."

There was a small groan of exasperation, and Drill Boy hopped off the table, pouting like a sparkling. "Aww, do we have to go back right away?"

"Drill Boy-" Deckerd admonished, turning on the spot to face the younger mech but never getting a chance to finish.

"I agree with him, boss!" Dumpson affirmed, making their poor leader's face turn to mortification as he was quickly outnumbered. Power Joe affirmed the sentiment, gesturing to the medical bay that had awed them when they'd first arrived.

"Yeah! We've only heard rumors of beings like us, yet now look where we are!" he said, recalling their impossible wonder at furniture their own size being *everywhere*. The Cybertronian presence on earth had never been especially heavy in their home country, and with official information at a minimum, their rescue had been a discovery for both sides.

"We certainly can't overstay our welcome!" Deckerd countered, blushing as he tried to compel his fellow officers to comply. Far too polite to share his own desire to stay, the police bot flinched as Gunmax piped up, offering his usual level of laidback snark in a single retort.

"Then let's just stay until we're no longer welcome!"

"Everyone-"

"Hey, no worries!" Rodimus said, stepping in to rescue the poor leader before an argument could break out. Endlessly amused by what he was seeing, the captain was quite confident he spoke for everyone when he offered an extended stay. A quick glance along mostly affirming looks told him as much. "You guys are welcome on the ship while we chart a relaxed course for the blue marble, sound good?"

Deckerd flushed again, looking down and kneading his hands together as he replied. "We wouldn't want to impose-"

"No imposing here. Magnus, Drift, can you relay a message to earth so these bots can call home? Ratchet, any chance you can synthesize some fuel for them out of what's in stock?" Rodimus said, putting an arm around Deckerd and speaking quickly so there'd be no time to argue. There was thankfully no resistance, as Magnus appeared too resigned to offer any. Ratchet, however, had a quick request to make before anything else could proceed.

"I'll need access to... diagnostics. Our anatomies differ quite considerably, so if I'm going to offer care, I'm going to need more information." he said, likely recalling how shocked he'd been upon first scanning them and discovering no sparks. Not to mention their use of earth fuel over energon, or how they lacked transformation cogs, and that was to say nothing of their unfathomable processor design... It had been the first time he'd experienced surprise in the medical bay in a long time.

Deckerd nodded politely, gesturing helpfully to himself as he did so. "I can share my own, doctor. Theirs are based on mine."

"There, we all good?" Rodimus said, guiding the group of new arrivals to follow him out the door. He could tell these poor bots were unaccustomed to a world designed around beings like them, and thus he wanted very much to show them what they were missing out on. Plus, they deserved a bit of fun after everything they'd been through. "In the meantime, how about a tour?"

"Yes! Yes please!" Drill Boy replied, hopping right beside Rodimus and nearly bouncing on his spot. The enthusiasm was almost infectious, and the captain couldn't help but puff up as he pinged the doors to open. 

"Alright, let's go!" 

The entire group followed in short order, even the most reserved of them looking curious as to what awaited them. While the antics reminded him of sparklings, Rodimus had to remind himself they were incredibly young, so the comparison technically wasn't too far off. Considering that, he felt he owed them a good time. Drill Boy made that easy, at least, hurrying beside him with wide and amazed optics.

"Is the whole ship this big?!" he asked as they stepped into the hallway, turning in circles as he tried to absorb the entire space at once. Deckerd stepped forth to explain the actions of his teammate, though he was clearly quite impressed himself judging by the delighted smile on his face.

"Only our office is built to accompany beings of our size." he said, giving the Cybertronian pause as he considered living in a world designed for much tinier beings. Earth had seemed okay while visiting, but suddenly the thought of living there seemed... cramped. Judging by how these bots were marveling at a mere hallway, he wasn't wrong. Did the humans just expect them to squeeze through everything all the time?

Gunmax joined Drill Boy in appreciating the change of stretching out his arms high above his helm and looking quite pleased at how he didn't even come close to the ceiling. "This is way better! There's elbow room to spare!"

"Look! We can fit through all the doors!" Dumpson announced, standing beside a random doorway to emphasize how his bulky frame could easily slip inside. Rodimus had to fight the urge to chuckle at the sight, especially with how delighted every one of his charges appeared at the idea. Several even tried the comparison for themselves with multiple individuals beside a single frame. When they finally did go back home, he'd have to leave them with a parting gift of Cybertronian door technology. Perhaps even some blueprints for a building in their size were due.

"Hold up!"

A familiar voice made him stop and turn on the spot with a delighted grin.

"Drift!" he called out as his friend hurried up behind them, looking just as excited as Rodimus felt. The Brave Police looked equally delighted by the return of their initial interpreter, especially when he was offered a spot on the group. "Wanna help me show these bots around?"

"I'd love to! Magnus is handling the transmission message." he said, looking to their guests with a helpful smile as he explained what that meant. Not that he wanted to assume anything, but interstellar communication didn't seem to be amongst their skills. "You guys will be able to call home when we're done."

"Boss will certainly be relieved to hear we're all safe." Deckerd said, looking like the news had taken more than a little weight off his own shoulders. Exactly who their "Boss" was hadn't been specified, but from the sound of things they did admire and care for whoever it was. Which was good, because if there was even an inkling the humans weren't treating them well... Rodimus had his thoughts cut off by a polite question. "If I may ask, where did you learn to speak Japanese?"

"When I was on earth I spent some time in Japan." Drift replied happily, recalling how he'd explored the country and added the native language to his database to better understand what was going on around him. Thankfully he had kept it despite leaving earth behind, or these bots wouldn't have had a way to communicate their medical needs. Considering how flabbergasted the medics had been... that was an immeasurable blessing. "I've still got a number of other languages saved up, more for the memories." 

"Can you speak English?" Duke said, surprising even his cohorts with the question. Looking a little flustered at the attention, the surprisingly shy bot quickly clarified with an addendum under his breath. "It was... the first language I was programmed for..."

"I'm pretty sure most bots who have been to earth can speak English, learning a language isn't too hard for us as long as we have a download pack for it." Drift explained helpfully, and Rodimus had to stifle a smile at how his friend appeared ready to take the bot under his nonexistent wings. Ultra Magnus might have some competition befriending this one, it seemed. 

"Hey, what's a "Swerve's?" Drill Boy asked, pointing ahead and totally oblivious to the conversation they'd just been having. The bright neon lights on the wall and the bots hanging about gathered the attention of the entire Brave Police, and in an instant Rodimus and Drift shared a knowing look of anticipation. Hopefully, this would be the most fun their guests had ever had.

"The best place on the ship to unwind, make friends, and knock back a few drinks." Rodimus declared proudly, gaining the attention of the bots outside the bar as he did so. While the news of the "Earth made bots" had traversed the entire ship several times over, no one had seen them yet, and thus there was an immediate buzz of excitement. Rodimus hoped they were all ready to become very popular in a short stretch of time. 

"Drinks? For real?" Gunmax said, quickly moving to the front at the mere mention of the word and looking absolutely ecstatic. "About time, I'm parched!"

"But we don't consume the same types of fuel!" Deckerd reminded them all, looking uncertain and perhaps, a little hopeful to be wrong. While he didn't actually know the ins and outs of their differences in fuel consumption, Rodimus knew there was a bot who would, and was banking on him to have already crafted something. 

"Let's see about that." he said, somewhat obscure on purpose as he guided the group past Ten. Each one appeared to go through a cycle of intimidation to confusion when the big tough door guard said his single word and welcomed each of them with a wave. The inside of the bar was buzzing already as they squeezed inside, the newcomers optics going wide as they beheld the incredible activity thumping away to the music. Chatter only increased as their presence was noted, but Rodimus made it clear the group was with him and on a mission. He didn't want to unleash them to the chaos without loosening them up a bit.

"Hey Swerve!" he shouted over the noise, clearing enough space for everyone to gather beside the bar. The barkeep pretended to have just heard him, despite clearly having been watching them all from the moment they came in, and he stepped right up to the counter with a glowing visor. Clearly, he'd been waiting for this.

"Need something, Captain?" he greeted, still playing coy and acting as if he wasn't buzzing with excitement for the new arrivals. 

Rodimus, ever the sport, happily played along. Having ensured the whole ship had access to the language file, and allowing everyone interested to download it at their convenience, he spoke so that their guests could easily overhear the conversation. "Not me, but do you have anything for some travelers from earth?"

Before Swerve could answer, Drill Boy secured a seat at the bar, grabbing an empty drink and holding it up as the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. By the sparkles in his optics it might have been.

"Deckerd, look!! Everything is our size, even the cups!" he exclaimed happily, sitting up haphazardly on the stool as if he'd never had a place to sit in his own size. Technically speaking, he'd only ever had the one, so this might as well have been life changing. 

"I've got more than cups, I've got some mixes for you to drink out of them!' Swerve declared proudly, producing a bottle of oil based liquid that astounded the gathered bots. Having only ever had fuel for practical purposes, the very idea of consuming for fun was resulting in some beautiful expressions of surprise. Loving the reaction, Swerve explained his process with well deserved delight at the accomplishment. Dark, iridescent liquid that shimmered at the smallest movement was poured into waiting cups as he did so. "I looked at your usual fuel formula and made a few tweaks that should make it taste a lot better. What do you think?"

While each bot took their cup and drank with varying levels of bravery, there was still undeniable curiosity from every one of them, even the most cautious. Dumpson, Power Joe and Gunmax knocked theirs back like a shot while Duke, McCrane and Deckerd sipped politely, the rest falling somewhere in the middle as Swerve held his metaphorical breath. Thankfully, the results came in with incredible speed.

"Fuel can taste this good?!" Drill Boy shouted, finishing off his entire cup in a rush and leaning over the entire bar in a desperate search for more. "Please tell me you made enough for us to take home!"

"No wonder Gunmax always drinks it, this is amazing!"

"It never tastes like this, this is something else!"

"Is this why the Boss always drinks so much?! It can be this good?!"

Rodimus and Drift couldn't back some good natured laughs at the reactions, quite happy to have introduced the bots to some much needed fuel and a fun time at once. Swerve, looking like he was overwhelmed with pride and genuine emotion at the compliments, had to regain himself before opening another bottle. 

"I made plenty! Plus, I can make more!" he said, pouring more glasses for his new group of fans as the rest of the bar quickly fed off the growing celebratory energy. "As much as you want while you're here!"

"Hear that, everybot?!" Rodimus said above the din, taking advantage of the segway to set the newcomers free to mingle and hopefully befriend a few more bots. He could already see a few potential takers now; Tailgate appeared to be bursting with questions, and First Aid had reappeared to do the same, not to mention Ultra Magnus and Ratchet were stepping inside... The whole ship had to be present, and thus he made sure to be audible by everyone as he issued a statement so informal it could hardly be called a command. "The Brave Police will only be with us until they have to return to earth. In the meantime, let's show them how to have fun, Cybertronian style!"

A hearty cheer rose up, and by the natural fusion and fission of social groups, the earth bots were soon surrounded by eager and curious Cybertronians acting like long lost siblings.

Rodimus was vaguely aware of a tap on his shoulder, and while he expected to turn and see Magnus, Deckerd appeared rather sheepish as he held a partially drunk cup in both hands. Speaking just loud enough to be heard, he asked a question the captain hadn't actually prepared for. "If I may ask, what is this "Cybertron" I've heard referenced so often?"

The query was unexpectedly heavy, but he answered regardless. "It's our home planet, and-"

Before he could finish, Deckerd appeared shocked by the mention of " planet", as if something had finally come together in ways he struggled to process. "There's truly a whole planet of beings like us-you?" he said, betraying the source of his wonder in a single misspoken word. Rodimus felt his spark, something he had to remind himself the other bot didn't share, ache a little in sympathy for the bot. One could hardly tell they were of different worlds, but for all the problems of Cybertron, it was clear to him who had the advantage. The Brave Police didn't have an entire species of their own, and their time here had undoubtedly made them a bit more aware of that. It only made Rodimus all the more determined to give them a good time. 

"Yeah! It's a little rough right now, but once we clean up a bit you'll be welcome to visit." he said, noting that plenty of friendships would be made today to help that happen. Drill Boy was showing off tricks to a whole team of bots, Gunmax was competing with Dumpson and Power Joe to down shots, McCrane was having a conversation with Cyclonus as Tailgate watched with a glowing visor, Shadow Maru was actually chatting with Ravage, and Duke was indeed hitting it off with Ultra Magnus. There was no shortage of enthusiastic camaraderie to go around. Primus, he merely had to blink and there was a transformation speed contest, his shipmates awed at their shared ability to transform...

"I'm certain it will be fun." Deckerd said as he surveyed the minor chaos with a chuckle, optics warming with delight at his team having so much fun beside their newly discovered companions. Rodimus wanted to tell him that it would be more than fun. The Lost Light was wonderful, obviously, but there was a whole galaxy out there to explore! Hopefully he'd be able to convince them all to come on some future trips when they slung by earth again in the future. Maybe they weren't durable enough for meteor surfing, but they'd undoubtedly appreciate theme parks, virtual reality hubs, and the countless bars that lined the stars. 

"I promise it!" he said enthusiastically, putting an arm around the other bot like an affectionate big brother. For all of his reserved traits, the police bot chuckled at the gesture. Beaming as a monitor and microphone in the corner caught his optic, Rodimus guided the other mech through the crowd, speaking over the noise as he gestured with excitement. 

"Now, while we're still sober enough to appreciate it, let me introduce you to bot sized karaoke!"

[lostinthewiind]

HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN YOU’RE HAVING A BAD DAY

Characters: Tsukishima, Sakusa, Ushijima

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

【TSUKISHIMA】

Because he is so quiet most of the time (except when he is being a little snark-master), he is very astute regarding the emotions of people around him, so he immediately knows when you’ve had a bad day

He can tell by the way you shuffle your feet or close your locker just a little bit more roughly than usual

Since Tsukki has more experience with putting people into bad moods rather than helping them get out of them, he is sort of at a loss for what to do, but he is slowly getting better

His go-to move is to offer to hang out with you after school since he knows you don’t like talking about your problems in front of people, so he’s hoping you will open up a little bit if it’s just the two of you

If that doesn’t work, he will plop his headphones over your ears, blast some of the music that he knows you like, and drape his volleyball jacket over your head and shoulders so you can be somewhere dark where you don’t have to feel like everyone has their eyes on you

It wasn’t really one single thing that had put you in a bad mood that day, but rather a series of small events that had piled up and eventually brought you to your breaking point. With feet that felt heavy like lead and your head hung low, you made your way to the designated meeting spot where Tsukki would meet you after his practice was over and plopped down to wait for him.

As soon as you felt the grass beneath you, the sun shining down on you, and the overwhelming sensation of finally being completely alone, you let out an exasperated sigh and began plucking at the blades of grass between your fingers, willing yourself to at least try to hold out on crying until you got home.

Before long, you had become so distracted by pulling out the blades of grass one at a time and tossing them into the breeze, you didn’t notice Tsukki had joined you until you felt a light, soft weight on your shoulders. You instantly knew that Tsukki had draped his volleyball jacket over you.

Looking up, you forced a small smile. “You’ll get cold.” You moved to shrug the jacket off and hand it back since Tsukki was in just a T-shirt. Before you could, however, he stopped you and sat down beside you.

“Bad day?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. You nodded slowly as he repositioned the jacket tighter around you. “Wanna talk about it?” You shook your head.

“It’s just one of those days,” you told him, trying more to convince yourself than him. “I’ll be okay. Just need to cool off a little.”

Instead of responding, Tsukki pulled his headphones out of his bag and placed them gently onto your head. Seconds later, a song that you had sent him just the other day started playing just loud enough that you could still hear Tsukki talking beside you.

“Let me know if I can do anything,” he said, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

You smiled again, this time not forced, and continued ripping out the grass around you. No matter how flustered he got when it came to taking care of others, your big, blonde middler blocker always tried his hardest, and that would always be good enough for you.

“Thanks, Tsukki,” you just barely whispered, and even though you couldn’t hear it over the music, Tsukki could hear it clear-as-day.

【SAKUSA】

Sakusa is the master of handling bad days

Unfortunately, he hasn’t quite caught on yet that the things that work for him don’t always work for everyone else

He is quick to jump into action when he learns that you’re having a bad day because he knows how much they suck, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in trying to help you feel better that he completely misses the mark on what you need

Always says he will try to do better next time but always ends up forgetting again

You could never stay mad at him though because you know he means well

As soon as you had shown up on Sakusa’s doorstep with that characteristic combination of pout and grimace on your face that indicated you had had a bad day, he was quick to sweep you into the house and settle you onto the couch.

“Sakusa, I-” You chuckled lightly as he wrapped a large blanket around your shoulders and promptly took off toward the kitchen to make you a cup of tea, completely ignoring your attempt to talk to him.

Knowing this act all too well, you simply sat back and resigned yourself to your fate for the next hour or so of non-stop babying from your loving boyfriend. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, you could have had it a lot worse—you could have had a boyfriend that didn’t care about you or your emotions at all. While his actions were definitely extreme, at least they were the good type of extreme and not the bad type.

Having had closed your eyes in order to try to calm yourself down a bit, you jolted a little when the sound of a tea mug being placed on the table in front of you pulled you from your thoughts.

“Thank you.” You turned toward the boy with wide eyes and black curls hanging in his face beside you, patiently waiting for you to ask for whatever else you needed so he could jump up and get it for you. “You can relax now, I’m okay,” you told him.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?” He was so on-edge that you could practically see him vibrating before your very eyes.

Sighing softly, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to calm him down a little. “Actually, there is something else.” You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, tackling him into the couch before he could say another word. “I need you. Just hold me please.”

After getting over the initial shock of being pushed into the soft couch cushions, Sakusa reciprocated the hug and held you close. “Your tea will get cold,” he whispered into your ear.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s okay. I’m sure you can make me another one if that happens.”

He smiled down at you, finally having realized he was being too-doting and forced himself to take it down a notch or five. “Anything you want.”

【USHIJIMA】

I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but this man is just GOD-AWFUL at picking up on other people’s emotions

It’s not his fault, and oh goodness the poor boy tries his hardest, but he is just so oblivious

You are well-aware that he requires you to physically tell him that you are in a bad mood, but sometimes all you want is to curl up into a ball and have him come to you on his own accord

This almost never happens, however, and you’re almost completely convinced that the few times it did was nothing more than a fluke

Even a broken clock is right twice a day

Once he KNOWS you’re in a bad mood, he is an excellent care-taker

Prefers to talk about problems rather than try to distract you from them, and even though sometimes you just want him to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything is okay, you prefer this method in the long-run

Ushijima is an amazing listener and gives great advice (helps you figure out how you want to solve a problem instead of telling you what to do, but does it so smoothly and effortlessly that you don’t even notice)

Shuffling your way over to where Ushijima was sitting on the couch, homework in front of him and attention completely focused on the work at hand, you felt bad about interrupting him but knew that if you didn’t tell him now, you never would and then the poor boy would wonder why you were sulking by yourself all night long.

Clearing your throat, you waited for him to look up at you before speaking. “Just letting you know that I had a bad day today and that I am now in a bad mood.”

Ushijima nodded, silently thanking you for telling him. “Was it something I did?” he asked.

You shook your head as you hugged your hoodie (well, Ushijima’s hoodie, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to wear it once since you had laid claim to it) tighter around your body. “No. Just a bad day.” You shrugged.

Closing the textbook he had been reading and placing it beside himself on the couch, he wordlessly reached out to you and pulled you into his lap. “What happened?”

You huffed and buried your head into the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, hoping it would distract him from forcing you to talk about what was going on. Of course, however, it didn’t. Once Ushijima had his mind set on something, it was impossible to get him off track.

“Hey.” He gently cupped your face with his large hand and forced you to look up at him. “You can’t solve a problem if you don’t confront it head-on.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you groaned. “I know, but can’t you just hold me and tell me everything will be okay . . . just this once?”

Ushijima just rolled his eyes. “What happened?” he repeated.

Slumping your shoulders in defeat, you deflated. “I got a bad grade on a test that I studied really hard for.”

“Why?”

You shot him a dumbfounded look. “I have no idea! If I knew why I was so bad at studying, I probably wouldn’t be in this current predicament!”

Ushijima just ignored your outburst and cocked a thick eyebrow at you, still waiting for a response to his previous question.

Knowing that there was no way you were going to win this, you finally submitted and resigned yourself to his line of questioning. “I don’t know . . . maybe I was focusing on the wrong stuff? I think I have trouble picking out the important information from the less important stuff.”

“There you go. See? You’re smarter than you think you are.” He flashed a hint of a smile as encouragement. “And how could you solve this problem for the future?”

You thought for a moment. “Pay more attention to the stuff that the teacher repeats a lot and puts more emphasis on?” your voice wavered slightly, a little unsure of your answer.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you,” you replied with more confidence.

Ushijima nodded, an even bigger smile spreading across his face. “I think that’s a great plan!” He then squished you into his chest and pressed a big kiss onto the top of your head. “Now I can hold you and tell you that everything will be okay because it will. You’ve got a plan to make sure of that.”

Unable to deny that you did, in fact, feel a whole lot better about the situation now that you had a definitive plan to deal with it, you exhaled and let the tension fade away.

Thank goodness you had him to ground you when you needed it the most.

[whump-town]

November Second

It’s Hotch’s birthday and he’s trying really hard not to let it bother him that everyone seems to have forgotten. (for @therealmadblonde) WARNING: briefly mentions some domestic abuse and child abuse

November 2nd.

They’ve been preparing for a week.

It’s strangely humorous to think that they know one another inside and out and yet, can hardly manage to throw a party for one of their own.

“He’s O negative,” Emily supplies, legs tossed up onto the edge of her desk. She’s twirling a sucker around in her mouth. It’s made her tongue a deep blue and as she speaks Morgan spots it. He points to her tongue-- drawing attention to it with a surprised laugh-- and then points to his own. A silent inquiry if his own has changed color. She nods her head eagerly, “it’s green!”

Morgan nods his head with a proud smile, “cool.”

Dave rolls his eyes at the interaction-- at the idiocy of his coworkers. He loves them, of course, but sometimes he has no idea how he does this every day. “Emily,” Dave says her name with thick disappointment. “You’re the man’s friend. He trusts you and all you can think to add is that his blood is O negative?”

Emily knows more than just that. She knows how he takes his coffee and his Chinese take-out order. That he won’t sleep without a blanket but he doesn’t need a pillow. In fact, he’s more than likely to just sleep without one. He sleeps on his stomach and doesn’t snore. His favorite snack is gummy bears and she’s never once seen him refuse the offer of an oreo. However, she’s failing to see how any of these things amount to “helpful” right now.

So she rolls her eyes and thoughtfully pulls the sucker from her mouth so that she can clearly dictate the amount of sass and snark needed for a rebuttal. “Sorry, Dave.” She shakes her head and motions vaguely with the sucker. “I just thought it would be a little more important to know his blood type than what his favorite color is. Given that he runs into more medical emergencies than battles with evil kindergartens holding him at gunpoint and demanding to know if he likes blue better than green.”

Dave sits back in his chair, shaking his head and leaning his head heavily on his fist. God help them, he thinks. No, God help him.

“It’s good to see you all hard at work,” Hotch comments, dryly as he walks across the cat-walk. He’s walked the path every day for years so it’s nothing for him to keep his eyes glued to the file in his hands rather than where he’s walking. He also knows his agents, his friends, well enough to know that there can’t be any work getting done if they’re all in the bullpen together. Not that he minds. While his tone may divulge a different assumption, they know what he really means-- “please don’t be getting into any trouble”.

Emily turns herself, feet still kicked up, but head now turned so that she can see him. “Hey Hotch,” she greets, lopsided grin pulled to the side by the sucker she’s placed back into her mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”

He comes to a staggering halt on the catwalk. Dark eyebrows knitting together as he turns his attention to the bullpen, his file snapping shut at his side. He’s just come out of a meeting with Strauss-- the only reason the team had gathered in the bullpen to talk so broadly about him. After sitting with that witch of a woman for the last two hours, his brain is a little scrambled-- overworked. So it’s taking him a moment to process the question.

Emily pulls her feet down and smirks, casually caught off guard by the fact that this is so trivial to him. Surely, Jack has laid this question on him. There is nothing children aged 3-6 love more than inquiring about colors. “What is it,” she asks, growing a little more impatient each second he leaves her unanswered. “It’s gotta be green or blue or something.”

He clears his throat, right-- colors. Those are colors. What are his favorite colors?

Purple. It comes to mind first. His eyes dart to Reid the second it does. He associates his resident genius with purple. Lavender, really. Soft. It makes him think of Haley’s funeral, the scarf that Reid had wrapped over his coat. The only real color that day. Hotch’s eyes kept flickering over to it, the only thing that seemed to ground his racing mind.

The answer used to be red. When he was just a boy and naïve and because it was the same color as a fire truck. The color doesn’t associate with firetrucks anymore. He remembers his mother’s busted lip as she urgently shut him into a closet, seven years old and cowering away at the sound of his mother’s choked pleads for his father to just leave. He didn’t need to do this.

“He’ll learn,” she had begged. “He’s just a boy, Mark. Please, please--” He’d flinched when the door was thrown open, his father standing there in the doorway.

And Haley. Red reminds him of the pain. Haley always got cold so easily and he’d just wanted to hold her a little longer. Keep her warmly tucked against him and try to remember the way she used to play with the hair at the back of his head. Pushing her finger against the way it grows.

“Hotch?”

He blinks once-- twice-- “I, uh,” he shakes his head. Trying frantically to remember whatever color he’d told Jack last. Probably like… “Blue or green,” he says with a shrug, trying to play off his reaction. His hands ache with the memory of that day. He’d broken three metacarpals in his left-hand killing Foyet, set himself up for carpal tunnel and arthritis. A price he pays everyday. A handful of medicine to survive the damage of the stab wounds and another to work against the inflammation.

Shaking his head of the thoughts he keeps heading towards his office. That’s not what he needs to be thinking about right now. If he’s not careful he’s going to end up having an anxiety attack on his office floor and that’s just not something he really wants to deal with right now. Especially, here with no medicine insight and where any member of the team could walk in on that.

That’d be just his luck.

Bogged down by work, he doesn’t even think about his birthday. He gets too caught up in Halloween and the party Garcia throws for Day of the Dead and he’s exhausted. Rundown.

He doesn’t even realize how quickly his birthday is rolling in until the morning of.

November 2nd.

He’s fifty-four. Old.

Hitting snooze, he lets himself sink back into the warmth of his bed. He doesn’t want to go to work. He’d much rather stay here. Catch up on sleep and, who knows, eat something crazy for lunch. Chocolate chip pancakes or eggs and too many pieces of bacon.

But he can’t afford that. The office still needs him. There’s still a job to be done.

Birthday or not.

He’s not expecting anything but typically, by now, most of them have sent him a fond message. Nothing crazy.

Garcia bakes him macadamia nut cookies. A dozen, just for him, and takes the team their own. There aren’t any cookies on his desk when he comes in.

Derek and Dave are nowhere to be seen. JJ’s arguing loudly with someone on the phone. Emily’s ducked into her work and Reid’s spinning in his chair. No one says anything to him. He decides it doesn’t matter. Today’s just another day. Every year he tells them how much he hates celebrating his birthday. He does hate celebrating it but… he doesn’t mind it entirely. He does like Garcia’s crushing hug and having to squeeze Reid so he knows Hotch doesn’t mind their hug. He likes Morgan making jokes at his expense and Emily rising to his defense. Dave shaking his head at them all.

Then, when they’ve all left, Dave pulling him in tightly and reminding, “I’m so proud of you, kid. Happy Birthday.”

He guesses they’re not doing that this year.

He’s searching for where Reid’s ran off with the sugar when Emily Prentiss blows through the break room. “What’s the rush,” he asks. Hotch doesn’t talk all that much. He’s prone to silence and a much better listener but he’s starved for a little adult conversation. Something, even a meaningless conversation, is better than the internal monologue he’s had going since he stepped into the office.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she shakes her head, sighing. “A case,” comes her haste reply. “They’ve got me running front for some case in Louisiana.” An obvious hit at Emily to bother her. Southern states are typically covered by Morgan or Hotch. It’s not to be presumptuous but the more southern the state the less likely they are to want to listen to a woman’s advice on the matters of their murders.

He grimaces in sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

She sighs when she sees the other coffee pot is slowly filling, meaning she’s going to have to wait for a cup.

“Here,” he offers her his own cup. The mug is one Jack had gifted him some time ago. Hand-painted. He and Haley had made it when he was only about a year-old. The colors are horrid but Hotch can’t stand to think about parting from the thing. Ugly as it is, in Haley’s fine print are the words: We Love You Daddy! Sometimes rubbing his finger against those raised letters is the only way he can get through the day.

Emily accepts the mug with a sad smile. She knows he’s partial to the mug but she needs the coffee. She slides him her mug, it suddenly hits her when she does. “Shit!”

He frowns.

“I’m so sorry,” she pours sugar into his mug. She’s clearly overwhelmed, visibly upset. “I can’t go to lunch.”

Every year on his birthday they go to lunch. It’s nothing special. They got to lunch all the time. About once a week. So, it’s not really that big of a deal but he can’t help but feel a little sad. He likes spending time with her but he doesn’t so much as let an ounce of that disappointment show.

Taking Emily’s mug, he shrugs it off. “It’s fine,” he insists, well aware that she’ll know he’s lying if he can’t meet her eyes. He makes a point of forcing his gaze on her, settling a rare smile her way. “We’ll catch up later,” he assures with a nod. “Go on, I’m sure the Louisiana PD are waiting on hand and foot to hear back from you.” She rolls her eyes and he smirks. When she turns to walk away he adds, “and, Emily? If they give you a hard time--”

She shakes her head at him, “I know....” Turning back to hurry out she shouts back to him, “happy birthday, Hotch!”

No one else says anything.

He just… sits in his office. His paperwork is done. There’s no reason for him to be here.

Haley would have remembered. She always remembered.

Every year she’d make him a cake-- something crazy and he’d never know what to expect. For three years in a row, she’d burned the hell out of the cakes and he’d come home to her sobbing on the floor. In her defense, they were both very stressed trying to get her pregnant. Things weren’t going well. Then she got pregnant and forgot about the cake and it burned. Having a toddler around the next year had not helped her case.

He’d never minded. She was also so happy to have him around.

The other side of the bed used to be warm. He’d wake up to her fingers ghosting along his back or her head on his shoulder. Now he wakes up alone and raises their son alone.

He killed her and he’ll never forgive himself for that.

Sighing, rubbing at his tired eyes, and feeling the steadily increasing pain in his back he decides he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday anyway. What is there to celebrate? What about him is good enough to praise? On his watch, Reid had been kidnapped. JJ scooped up by the “Pentagon” and sent to war where she lost a child. Emily died. Garcia got shot outside of her home. Morgan was forced to face his abuser, again. Jason left. He didn’t help Elle.

He doesn’t even deserve it. It’s not even worth the time.

“Hotch?”

He flinches at the sudden invasion, squirting to see who it is at his door. Reading glasses askew and pen hovering in the same spot it has been for the last hour, at least he looks like he’s been busy. He forces himself to liven up a bit, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Can I help you,” he asks hopefully, a smile tugging at his lips.

JJ nods, checking the watch on her wrist. “Yeah, uh, Garcia needs you down in the lair. I don’t know-- Listen, I don’t know what it is but she’s been bugging me about it all day. Can you just go check it out?” She sighs and pushes her hair back from her face. “I’ve got to get out of here. See you later, Hotch.”

He just nods. Throat tight.

It’s stupid. This whole day.

He’d never even celebrated a birthday until he was eighteen. Haley had gotten him a cupcake, just trying to make something of the day. For the longest time, she was the only person who even cared. Then Dave and Gideon had come. On his first birthday with them, they’d gotten him a tie. It had birds on it. Then Derek had come and JJ and Garcia and Reid and then Emily. He went for almost twenty years without celebrating a freaking birthday.

This one isn’t even that important.

He’s just being stupid.

Sighing, he makes his way out of his office. No one’s in the bullpen. The place is shut down for the night.

Hands in his pockets, he’s sulking down the hall. Head down and eyes on the tiles as he walks. Vaguely, slowly he hears the unmistakable banter of Garcia. It’s hushed, quick. At the top of the hall, he can see her door is cracked open. Just enough to allow him to see Reid moving inside, his hand being swatter because it looks like… he’s got icing on his fingers. He doesn’t even look ashamed to have been caught swiping at the cake.

Too anxious now to be excited, Hotch makes his way down the hall. Thankful the motion sensor lights have been turned off now that the building should have officially closed some two hours ago. They don’t hear him coming.

Sticking his head in the room he sees Garcia’s entire lair is covered in gifts, decorations, and stuffed with the members of his team. He smirks at the sight. Morgan’s trying to light the candles on the cake, Reid observing that they’re probably going to set the fire alarm off. Emily’s sitting on the couch, fiddling with the zipper on her boot, waiting. JJ anxiously wraps her necklace around her finger.

“Sir!”

He feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

When Garcia sees him, though, her lower lip starts to tremble. “Oh sir, I’m so sorry!”

He stiffens when she hugs him, completely unprepared. “Sorry,” he repeats, looking over her head to the others for some sort of direction. “What are you sorry for, Garcia?’ It’s clear they hadn’t forgotten. If they had he would easily forgive them. It’s a birthday. It doesn’t matter that much.

She hiccups sadly, pulling away to look up at him. “We made you sad,” she whispers. “It was stupid idea,” she says with a shake of her head. “We just wanted to throw you a surprise party but you don’t even like parties!” With each passing moment, she’s just getting more upset. “So, look--” she goes to the left, to a little table where she produces a plate of cookies. The macadamia nut cookies. “I even brought you cookies--”

She’s flustered enough that when he’s the one to pull her into a hug, she just melts.

“Garcia?” She holds onto him tightly. “Thank you.” He can feel her pulling in a breath to push away the words but he keeps going. “No one, other than Haley, has ever cared enough to even make me a cake. Let alone try and throw me a surprise party.”

She sniffles, “that’s so sad.”

He huffs, smirking, “I guess.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Reid really doesn’t want to break up the sweet moment but the cake has been taunting him all afternoon. “Does that mean we can cut the cake now?”

Morgan rolls his eyes, “you’ve had your fingers in the damn thing all day, pretty boy!”

Hotch nods his head and Reid smirks at Morgan, clearly pleased he’s won this argument regardless of the fact that he has been swiping a finger through the icing. But cake is cake. 

“Alright birthday boy.” Emily’s balancing the cake in her hands, bringing it to him carefully. The candles lighting up her eyes in a way that seems scarily mischievous. “Make a wish!”

He frowns at her but the look softens when Rossi places an encouraging hand on his back. He blows the candles out with a smile. 

“What’d you wish for?” Reid asks hopefully. 

Morgan pushes him, “you can’t say it out loud, doofus! It won’t come true.”

Emily rolls her eyes, obviously mentally scorning them both for their childish natures and for Morgan believing that.

It makes him smile to watch. The three of them hovering over the cake as Emily cuts it and Reid and Morgan try to fight for the first piece she cuts. Reid gets it but that’s not surprising. He smirks at Morgan but the devious look falls quickly when he sees Hotch is watching. 

Dave seems to come out of no where. He leans against the wall beside Hotch, “you good?”

Hotch nods, unsure if he can trust his voice right. Very good.