#I hope this doesn’t sound insane and someone else gets what I’m saying

[suzukiblu]

Day eleven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh–is it?” he asks, not really sure what else to say. Or more like, not really sure what else to say that would not sound both desperately, desperately horny and desperately, desperately weird. 

“I dunno,” Kon replies, giving him a quick, sheepish little smile. “Just makes me feel good, that you think I’m worth, like–taking out and showing off, or whatever. Like–without the S-shield on, even.” 

“The S-shield would definitely make date night a lot harder to enjoy, yeah,” Tim says, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to dissolve the entire entertainment industry and all of Kon’s previous romantic interests in acid from the ground up. Slowly. Kon blushes again, his smile widening. 

“And, uh–and that,” he says, glancing sidelong. “And that you wanna hang out with me without anybody interruptin’.” 

I want to hang out with you until I overthrow Gotham AND Metropolis and then I want to install a zeta between them and the biggest beachfront property you’ll let me buy for you and any little Kon 2.0’s you let me make you, Tim’s most insane self thinks and his slightly more rational current self does not say, because he has at least some small and tiny and miniscule scraps of self-control. 

Like, barely, and only lasting until the fifteen-year sidekick-to-supervillain plan goes off, but still. 

“I definitely don’t want anyone interrupting, no,” he agrees instead, and Kon beams at him again and then ducks in and kisses him again–just a quick little peck, but definitely still a kiss. Tim, belatedly, realizes that Kon might actually be getting more up in his space than he was before the whole . . . script issue happened. Just–standing closer, and leaning in a little more often, and things like that. Not in a demanding way or anything; just like he wants to be there a little more often. 

Like maybe he’s a little more comfortable being there, now. Or like maybe he thinks he can do it without anything being–expected from it, maybe. 

Tim doesn’t even know if Kon’s doing it on purpose or not, but he’s definitely noticing a difference either way. Just–there is very much a difference there to be noticed. 

He is definitely, definitely not going to be able to find out who any of Kon’s exes are before he goes supervillain. That’s just not going to work out for his timeline at all. 

Also Bruce would absolutely get upset if he found out about whatever he ended up doing about it, and he’s an emotional support sidekick, not, like, an intern or whatever. He is not here to cause problems, he is here to facilitate Bruce’s mental health, help him manage his paranoia, and minimize the amount of overkill beatings of petty thugs and small-time criminals. 

Admittedly Bruce managing his paranoia is not going great, but it’s a process, alright? He’s doing his best here. 

“So like, if we do go shopping again, wanna pick something out for me to wear for you next time?” Kon asks, still beaming at him. Tim’s brain attempts to reboot a couple dozen times before he manages to remember how to string a coherent sentence together. 

“Yes,” he says in an almost normal-person voice. Maybe. Theoretically. He . . . hopes, anyway. “Uh–yeah. That sounds, uh–like something I would like to do.” 

It’s a little harder to focus on the supervillain thoughts with Kon both wearing that expression and actually asking him to buy him something–especially specifically something he wants to wear for him–so that’s helpful for keeping to his timeline. But also, uh–embarrassing, kind of, because usually Tim is better at thinking than he currently is being. Like, his normal thought processes are a lot more involved than Kon’s so hot and Kon’s so CUTE and hurr durr pretty boy. 

He definitely still wants to ruin some people’s lives, but first he wants to get Kon dinner and dessert and buy out a boutique or four for him, and just like, a small suburb. Or town. City. Tri-state area. 

And also to pick out something for him to wear “next time”, since apparently Kon still wants there to be a next time that he sees Tim Drake and also just like . . . just the whole thing with the picking out something for him to wear thing, because Tim only has so much self-control, alright? He is doing his best here, but he’s only an emotional support sidekick, alright, he’s not made of stone. 

Seriously, Kon asked him to dress him and asked him to buy him something. Tim is not actually sure if he’s more thrilled about actually getting Kon to specifically ask him to buy something for him or frazzled over Kon offering to let him pick out something for him to wear. Just–god. Tim is just not even–Tim does not know what he’s feeling right now. Just–whatever it is, he is feeling it. 

He wonders if it would be, like, a little too pathetic of him to maybe get Kon another crop top. Or, uh, a little too thirsty of him. 

. . . probably, yeah. Probably definitely, in fact. 

. . . . . . but like, if Kon sees one he likes, it's not like Tim's gonna say no or–

Anyway. 

[snakerdoodlle]

Should’ve been a rockstar, but he didn’t have the money for a guitar (Kilorn)

Should’ve been a politician, but he never had a proper education (Cal)

Should’ve been a father, but he never even made it to his twenties (Maven)

Oh I’m gonna be sick

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[neoraso]

riize when they're jealous

shotaro

is a little oblivious at first- for example: tries to make friends with the guy

then as the conversation drags on and taro realizes this guy is barely acknowledging him,, and is literally only talking to you he gets pretty uncomfortable

you are also getting uncomfortable and shotaro notices so he finds a way to quickly end the conversation (pretending you had somewhere else to be or smth)

he doesn't get too down about if afterwards and definitely doesn't blame you for anything he just tries to make jokes about how attractive you are "people just can't stay away from you! you're like the flower to a bee （⌒▽⌒）”

but honestly, it still irks him a bit. pls make sure to give him at least one kiss and remind him he's ur shining star

eunseok

def not the type to be worried about you around his friends or your male friends.. but random guys actually hitting on you in real.

he would never admit to being jealous, he tries to tell himself he's just annoyed with the guy or like.. worried for your safety which- um ok wtv

that being said ,, when he does get this way he goes completely cold. hard frown, glaring eyes, clenched jaw etc. etc.

he's very confident in your relationship but something about the highly unrealistic possibility that you could be swayed to leave him ruffles his feathers to say the least

i hope no one would be bold enough to try to hit on you WHILE you're with him because he'd immediately get in front of you and confront the guy "who even are you? what do you need to talk to her for?"

sungchan

oh dear lord.... it's not good. like he wont hurt anyone but sometimes wants to. like,,,

ok it depends if you were far away talking to a guy he would immediately come over and wrap his arm around you and goes "who's this." and ur like PLS don’t do anything embarrassing 😳

it’s to the point he does not want to hear about your past relationships (unless it was like a serious conversation) bc it makes his skin crawl thinking about another person touching his girl

he trusts his friends but it will take a bit of convincing to trust your friends. not bc he doesn’t have faith in you he would just get pissed at other people thinking they had a chance

i’m making him sound like a freak but he’s very open and vocal about how he feels and wants to work on it with you - but he’s always gonna be protective like a guard dog

wonbin

he’s like ., quiet possessive (?) he's just like " ur only my baby right?" wants you all to himself, near him as much as possible

jokingly says you can’t watch other groups but is like ..half joking he lowkey doesn’t want you thinking other guys are cooler than him

it really just comes down to the fact that he doesn't want to lose you.

if there was a real situation where someone was like actually flirting with you, he would get soooo sulky. - like comes over to you and puts his hand on your back, smiling at you like everything is fine 🙂( 😐)

but when he hears you say "yes, this is my boyfriend i was telling you about." his chest puffs up and he’s like jumping for joy inside T_T needs extra kisses too afterwards

seunghan

you are his baby and is very clear about it in public . always has his hands on you so it would be insane for someone to hit on you but if he walked away and someone approached u…

hhhhh lowkey gets an attitude … mostly with the other guy like tongue in cheek “is this guy serious…”

honestly kind of confrontational “can i help you? what do you need from my girlfriend?” can be intimidating when he wants to and makes sure people know he is NOT playing around

first makes sure you’re ok and then he’s like “wtf.. do i have to give you an ‘i ♡ my bf’ shirt or smth”

with his and your friends he doesn’t have a problem he trusts you all the way he just gets offended when people don’t get the hint that you’re taken

sohee

surprisingly, gets more jealous than you’d expect like sometimes ur like ???

he really just wants all your attention and if other guys try to take it he’s like . abt to start barking

that being said he trusts you 100% but when you notice his smile is like 10% less bright than usual and you ask what’s wrong he’s like “OHHH nothing -_- i just can’t believe i’m up against the whole city bc you’re so pretty. what am i to do ?”

ur just like 😭my sweet boy !! give him a kiss he’ll be cured and recovers pretty quickly

kind of is one that doesn’t really like you having male friends but he doesn’t want to control you so he’s doing deep breathing exercises if you’re really involved in a conversation with someone that isn’t him.

anton

ohhh sweet sweet anton. honestly ! doesn’t get too jealous

like he gives u your space if you’re talking to another guy but if they start subtly hitting on you he’s like ?

will bring it up to you later when you’re sitting with him like stroking your arm and he’s like “sooooo that guy ..” and ur like oh 🙄that was so annoying. did it upset you? :( and he’s like “um . i mean… well not really it was just weird ..”

will appreciate your reassurance more than he shows you

might be one to be insecure with you around the members just because you would get so close to them he’s like ha…. what if they got even closer … but then he remembers none of you would ever do that then he just hugs you a little tighter

[seliasvault]

Comforting the Lieutenant

Simons been waking up every night. Jolted with a heart rate high enough to give him a heart attack for the past week, and it’s your fault.

Last week, on a high-stakes mission, you’d left cover to hit the enemy. You’d succeeded, of course, putting a bullet through every one of the soldiers in the window, but you’d disobeyed a direct order. If Simon hadn’t been so caught off guard, he would have wrung your neck right after you landed. Did you have a death wish?

Instead, he kept it in, shell-shocked with dreams of cradling your dead body, begging you to hold on. Even after his choppy slumber, there’s no respite, the image of your bloody body, holes through your chest burn his retinas, enough to drive any man insane.

And so he finds himself, after a particularly gruesome nightmare, at your door. It’s barely dawn, but he needs to see your face, feel the blood pumping through your veins. He knocks, loud, loud enough to startle you awake.

Walking to the door, stumbling slightly from sleep, you open it, hands rubbing at your eyes as you try to pry them open. Leaned against the door, to your shock is your Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant? It’s-“ You glance your head to the alarm clock that sits next to your bedside.

“It’s four in the morning,” you whine out, confused. You think he was trying to get you on your feet earlier for training.

While you appreciate every moment spent with him, and practically swoon whenever he’s near you, being woken up had the effect to wipe your silly crush out of the picture.

What your met with however are Simons wide eyes, still waking from his nightmare. His hair is tousled, messy from running his hand through it. Mask missing from his face. And while you’ve seen his face before, you’ve never seen it like this.

There’s something else, though. His chest is heaving and his breath is heavy, labored even.

With no response your sleepy brain takes him in, finally catching up he’s in his own pajamas, with a sleeveless shirt. That part surprises you, you’ve never seen him in anything casual.

“Are you okay?” You lean toward him, brows furrowed almost ready to catch him lest he fall. And he looks like he might.

His chest keeps rising, concern now blossoming within you. You take a full step forward, placing you hand on his chest, his heart rate hammering under your fingers.

“Hey, I-it’s okay-“ You move your other hand to rest on his bare shoulder, you’ve learned contact is the best way to steady someone.

“Lt I’m here with you, it’s alright, can you breathe with me?”

Simon had never been this vulnerable in front of someone, especially you. But you’re alive standing in front of him. He can feel the warmth of your skin seeping into his being. But he can’t help his thinking, the trail leading to everyone he’s lost. Can’t help the way his brain spirals, the way his post-nightmare fatigue has got him in a full blown panic.

Your soft voice pierces through the fog, like a beacon of light. He tries to focus, he tries to pull his head out of the water he's under.

With no other idea's you fall upon your only option.

“Simon.” You say for the first time, applying pressure to the hand on his chest, hoping to ground him.

“Simon, can you hear me?” You’ve never said his name before, only ever Lieutenant, Lt or some other lame nickname you and Soap come up with on the field. So you try it, hoping it doesn’t sound out of place, hoping you’d snap him out of wherever he was in his mind. You were familiar with the feeling.

The sound of his name ringing in his ears caught his attention. You’d never said it before, hell it had been a long time since anyone had. His breathing was starting to level out, the weight of your hand on his chest pulling him back to the ground from the ether.

His hand clasping your wrist, finger finding your pulse. Slowing his heart, now beating in tandem with yours.

You feel it, feel the sway of his chest slow, the thumps of his heart lessen.

You never in a million years imagined being in this position, your stoic shielded Lieutenant. Vulnerable in front of you.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You try after a beat, hoping he’s recovered enough to give you an answer.

His brain sobered, he felt out of place. But he didn’t want to let go of your wrist, he didn’t want your hand to leave his chest.

He didn’t know how to explain it, tell you that the fear of losing you had him so torn, ripped to shreds at every waking moment. It followed him in his slumber. So he went with the simplest answer.

“Nightmare.” He said softly, finally responding.

“You want to talk about it?” It was a far shot, knowing your Lieutenant. But you gave him the option anyway.

He mulled it over, he could tell you, but he felt perfectly content basking in your warmth.

He let out a breath, eyes darting to your lips, the cascading light from the hallway illuminating your face in the dark.

He yearned to pull you close, kiss you until you were engraved in his brain, promised to be alive and safe. He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted so many things but most of all, he wanted you.

And so he gave in, lips crashing into yours. He let himself be selfish, for once. Memorizing every detail, from the way you kissed back to the movements you made.

You felt tangible.

And although you’d never imagined your little crush on the Lieutenant to get you here, it wasn’t unwelcome.

[rcmclachlan]

7x09 deleted scene coda

For the anon who requested it! Hope this is as fun to read as it was to write.

When Buck sighs, it sounds despondent, even to his own ears, which is insane considering he’s finally got a medal and isn’t being court martialed for his involvement in the theft of municipal property. There’s no reason to feel this put out.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" Maddie asks, her patented kindness warring with incredulity bordering on annoyance. She used to sound like that whenever he’d get caught skipping school to go hang out at Swatara Creek.

He sighs again. "No."

"Because you’ve been staring at the dessert table for, like, four whole minutes," she says. 

"It's a free country, Mads," he reminds her without looking away from the golden idol he’s just now decided to start worshiping. It totally goes against the Ten Commandments, but according to Eddie, breaking one of those means you can just repent twice as hard. Or something like that. It’s becoming very apparent that Eddie’s whole thing with religion is kind of screwy. "I can stare at a platter of cannolis if I want. Because of freedom." 

"You know you can't absorb sugar molecules through osmosis, right? You're basically just torturing yourself." 

With one last longing look at the chocolate chips dotting the ricotta cream, he turns to her and sticks his tongue between his teeth to be a brat. "Yeah, but my Adonis belt lines can cut glass, so who’s really losing here?" 

The look she gives him is flat as a board. "Still you."

"I… don’t have a comeback for that right now, but I’m working on it," he promises, ignoring her eye roll in favor of searching for something else to focus his attention on. It usually helps to take his mind off the ketonic headache he’s been rocking for the last week. 

His gaze locks on his target with an almost audible click, and he watches Captain Vincent Gerrard stop to take a photo with some dark-haired woman and then make a face behind her back as soon as she walks away. 

That "heard you got your wings" comment has been bouncing off the walls of his mind like a DVD player screensaver for the last half hour, and hot on its heels is the memory of the muscle jumping in Tommy’s jaw in the pause that followed. Normally, Tommy would’ve stuffed that silence with at least two comments so dry and hilarious it would take a minute for anyone to realize they were the shiny wrappers around devastating insults. But he didn’t. It was like his jaw was wired shut, and it physically pained Buck to see it. Thank god Chim was there with a killer response at the ready. 

Tommy’s told him a little about his time under Gerrard and while he hasn’t exactly painted a picture he’s definitely drawn the outline of a paint-by-numbers image that Buck can easily color in. 

There are very few people Buck can say he truly hates, especially when he doesn’t actually know them himself. But he hates Gerrard. He hates him for the way he made and still makes Tommy feel like he has to be someone else, someone so incredibly different than the man Buck has come to know and utterly adore. He hates him for stealing the grin off Chimney’s face today. He hates Gerrard for getting into Buck’s own head and pulling his focus in the first place, for casting a shadow on what should’ve been a perfect day. 

Buck may not be eating sugar these days, but there are about sixty Domino packets in his pockets that will be getting up close and personal with Gerrard’s gas tank before the day’s through.

"Huh. Wonder what that’s about."

Blinking away the red haze from his vision, Buck gives Gerrard’s back a little sneer before he turns his head to see what Maddie’s talking about. He follows her gaze across the room to where Hen and Karen are standing in front of Tommy, shoulder to shoulder like they’re presenting a united front. It’s amazing how they make someone of Tommy’s height and build look small. Whatever it is they’re discussing, it looks grave. Maybe the pall of Gerrard’s presence is affecting more than just Tommy. Maybe it’s opened up old wounds from the days when Tommy was—by Tommy’s own admission—an asshole.

He starts getting to his feet to go over and assess the situation, but suddenly Tommy breaks away from Hen and Karen, and the second he’s beyond their line of sight, the corners of his mouth curve up. By the time Tommy makes it back to their table, plate of cake in hand, he’s beaming.

"Everything… okay?" 

"Everything’s great." Tommy pulls out the seat next to him and wiggles a little as he sits. Buck’s never really understood the phrase "pleased as punch," but he’s starting to get an inkling. 

Buck looks at Maddie, who widens her eyes and shrugs. "Uh, what were you talking about? It looked pretty serious."

Taking a practically pornographic bite of the cake—which is just plain mean—Tommy holds up a finger, smiling while he chews, before he swallows. He presses his knee to Buck's and says cheerfully, "I just got the shovel talk."

"The what?"

Across the table, Maddie rolls her eyes fondly and says, "You know what a shovel talk is, Evan. It's the verbal equivalent of a dad cleaning his shotgun on the porch when his daughter's prom date shows up."

Tommy nods in agreement. "You know: 'if you break his heart, I'll break your knees.'"

It feels like Buck's eyebrows are trying to make a daring escape from his face via his hairline. "Hen threatened to break your knees?"

"Not in so many words, but it was heavily implied." Tommy sounds positively thrilled about it. "They wanted to know if my intentions toward you were honorable. Although I think Karen was just fishing for details, to be honest." 

Maddie's eyes are bright when she leans forward, like this is the juiciest bit of gossip she's ever heard. Buck crumbles up his napkin and throws it at her. She peaceably lets it bounce off her head. "And? What'd you say?"

"That we're taking it slow."

His jaw drops, which only serves to remind him that it's still aching from this morning. "So you lied?"

"I did not," Tommy says primly, knocking his knee against Buck's. "But I also did some heavy implying of my own." 

The wink he tosses Buck's way is downright filthy, and when he takes another bite of his cake he rumbles so deeply with pleasure that the table practically vibrates.

Squirming a little in his chair, with the familiar heat that blossoms any time he's within ten feet of Tommy making its way down his chest and into his belly, Buck scans the room to see if there's an empty coat closet somewhere nearby. The reception's loud enough that no one would hear a thing. Probably. Buck's starting to gain a reputation for being a bit of a screamer.

A fork taps his knuckles lightly, bringing his attention back, and Tommy gives him one of those knowing looks that always leave Buck feeling breathless and exposed on an atomic level. 

"No." The corner of Tommy's mouth curls up, and he nods at Evan's plate of chicken wings. "Eat your protein."

It's truly terrible, incredible timing that Chimney comes back to the table from wherever he went just in time to hear Buck say, voice full of sleaze, "Between our shower this morning and the buffet, I've hit my protein quota for the day."

Without a word, Chimney turns around and walks in the opposite direction.

Maddie collapses into her folded arms, cackling, and Buck can't help but join in. Tommy drops his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. 

"Timing is everything," Maddie practically cries.

"Well, I'm definitely getting kicked out of the group chat," Tommy says through his laughter. "Worth it."

Snickering, Buck nudges him with an elbow. It should feel like hitting the side of a mountain, but Tommy obligingly lets himself be moved, and Buck's rib cage feels like it's both expanding and shrinking at an exponential rate. His bones are going to vibrate to dust and his heart is going to be on display for everyone to see.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, he says, "Hey, most people aren't usually this happy to be threatened with grievous bodily harm, you know. Is this a rom-com thing?"

Still chuckling a little, Tommy takes a thoughtful bite of his cake and shrugs. "I'm allowed to be happy about it."

"Are you?"

"Absolutely," Tommy says, with his signature decisiveness. He slides his fork down through layers of cake and delicately cuts himself a corner with a frosting flower. "This is the first time anyone's ever cared enough to threaten me about someone I'm with. It means this is real to them."

He punctuates that by gesturing with his fork, the flower drawing a sugary line in the space between them, and then brings it to his mouth with a pleased hum. 

Buck has seen at least twenty documentaries about nuclear bombs, with enough footage that Buck could describe in great, gory detail what blast, fire, and radiation can do to someone, to a city. 

J. Robert Oppenheimer's famous quote, used in at least half of those documentaries—if the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky—suddenly comes to mind, damn near taking Buck out at the knees, and he stares dumbly as Tommy chews his cake like he didn't just devastate the entire landscape.

Maddie lifts her head from her arms and catches Buck's eye. There's something gentle and sweet lurking in her gaze, and he ducks his head a little with a smile, feeling caught out, even though he's not the one courting mayhem this time.

The knee pressed to his knocks against it again, and Buck blinks, startled out of his daze, to find a tiny dollop of white frosting held out to him on Tommy's fork. He looks just beyond it to where Tommy's smiling at him, like he knows exactly what he was doing when he said that, and is even happier about it than he was about his kneecaps being on the line.

"It's yours if you want it," Tommy says easily. It sounds like he's offering something else.

Heart pounding, Buck leans forward and wraps his lips around the edges of the tines, taking that small offering onto his tongue where it hits with the intensity of a thermonuclear explosion.

Buck doesn't know what his face is doing, but it makes Tommy's gaze go dark with want. 

A throat clears, and Buck reluctantly looks away to where Maddie is sitting. She's staring at Tommy with an odd smile on her face, one he doesn't think he's ever seen before. It's beautiful, of course, because all her smiles are, but there's an odd promise in it that makes Buck sit up a little straighter.

"Maddie?" 

She doesn't even spare him a glance. "You break his heart? There's no helicopter in the world that will help you escape from me."

Tommy's eyes go wide, and Buck opens his mouth to tell him that she's kidding, that she would never, but he closes it because it feels like it would be a lie to say it.

But a grin breaks over Tommy's face like a sunrise, and the tilled-field lines at the corners of his eyes threaten to become trenches. "Good to know."

It sounds like he's never been so happy in his entire life.

Read on AO3

[eddieandbird]

One More Request —

A reimagining of Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington’s first kiss.

A/N: happy Bridgerton day everyone!! I am still fully on colin and pen brainrot, so enjoy my take on this scene! Even if you don’t watch Bridgerton, I still think it’s a super cute concept -bird

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.2k words | f!reader | love realization

———

As the sun dipped down in the Hawkins’ sky, you gently dropped another cardboard box into Eddie’s van with the rest of your belongings you’d be taking with you to college.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of it,” You grunted, shutting the door.

“Alrighty Miss Indiana State. Are you ready for big girl school?” Eddie chuckled, leaning his back against the car.

“Almost,” You said with an exaggerated exhale. “I have one more request,”

“Oh boy. It’s that bad huh?” Eddie had a wry smile. “Okay, what is it? I’ll try my best not to laugh,”

You gave a humorless chuckle “Oh, I think that’ll kind of be hard,”

Eddie’s eyes widened for just a moment as if to say ‘oh my god’ then he spoke up “Well come on, don’t make me nervous. Out with it, kid,”

“I don’t know, I’m having second thoughts now,” You bit your thumb nail.

Eddie could see you were serious. He had hoped you were just pulling his leg, so he could laugh it off. But of course, you weren't. He peeled his back off the van so he could face you.

“Come on, spit it out. I promise I won't laugh that much,” He grinned, trying to lift your spirits.

You covered your face in your hands for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Will you kiss me?” You shut your eyes tight, terrified to witness his reaction.

Eddie shook his head and waved his hand in confusion “Excuse me? What in the hell-“

“Eddie, I don’t know how to say this, but I leave for college in a couple of days and I still never had my first kiss. And there’s no way I am letting my over-prepared, always anxious self go to college; the land of hookups and parties, without having my first kiss!” You explained so quickly that you had to pause to breathe.

Eddie looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back at you with a bewildered expression, “You sure you're not just messing with me now?” He smirked then nudged your shoulder.

When you didn’t laugh back, he paused, and looked down again with a blank stare, as if he was putting the pieces together in his head, “Oh you’re serious aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds totally insane, but it’s kinda important to me. I wanted to do it with someone I really trust,” Your shoulders slumped forward a bit in embarrassment. You knew you were throwing a curveball at Eddie with this request, but he was one of your best friends. It made better sense in your head.

Eddie shook his head, stammering “But I’m not your- I mean we’re not-“

“No! No, please it’s not like that, it doesn’t have to mean anything or be amazing or whatever! I just really want to do it,” You gulped, your thumbs toying with the cuffs of your sweater.

Eddie was still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. Your reasoning was rational, you wanted your first kiss to mean something rather than just some fling or a situation you were pressured into like most people. He couldn’t help but be impressed, you were such a perfectionist and you truly thought this through.

He sighed, looking at the ground with a cheeky grin, “Yeah alright. C’mere, I’ll do it,” He jokingly scoffed.

You let out all the air you were holding in your lungs when he said yes.

“Oh thank god. I thought I was about to be humiliated,” A nervous giggle was woven into your words.

“Okay do we just do this here or-“ You suddenly realized you did not know what else to do.

A part of you didn’t think you’d get this far, but you were damn proud you did. Unfortunately, the lack of preparation for this part left you a bit frazzled. Eddie chuckled, finding your plan endearing. He was a little nervous himself, not even considering the possibility that you would ever ask him this favor.

“Yeah here is fine, unless you wanted it out in some field of wildflowers and a sunset or something,” He said, grinning wickedly. “Just get closer,” He motioned toward him.

You playfully scoffed as you leaned in, trying not to roll your eyes at his implication. A romantic atmosphere was the least of your worries.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” You mumbled, stepping forward and shifting your gaze upward to meet Eddie’s.

“I said I wouldn’t laugh, I never said I wouldn’t tease you,” Eddie countered. He swung his arm around your hip, pulling you even closer.

You let out a soft gasp as he grabbed you. You cleared your throat.

“Fine, whatever, just tell me what to do first,” You said, feigning impatience.

“Don’t get an attitude with me,” Eddie said with a smirk.

He was enjoying this power that he suddenly had over you. He’d never seen you this nervous before. He was used to you having a witty comeback or retort to counter anything and everything he said, but you were flustered and vulnerable in front of him.

He chuckled as you asked him what to do next, and he grabbed your other hip, so you were standing flush against him.

“Just relax,” He brought his face down closer to yours, your noses nearly touching.

You could hear a gulp clearly in your ears. You tried to relax your shoulders and empty your mind. Eddie then pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, so softly you barely felt it, as if it was a butterfly flapping its wings on you. He was unsatisfied at the quickness and subtly it had, so he decided to do it once more, this time with more enthusiasm.

You were in no state to refuse him. With your eyes closed, you were left to only feel; his breath that tickled your face and his lips that were pillow-soft on yours. He was surprised at how willing you were underneath his touch. Normally you were strong-willed and stubborn. But now, you were soft and quiet. His mouth moved against yours, molding his lips to yours perfectly. His breathing grew stronger as he kissed you, forcefully exhaling through his nostrils.

Eddie pulled back after the second kiss, his eyes slowly fluttering open. It was more of a real kiss, a proper one. To his surprise, he found himself coming undone at the feeling and the thought of you. The kiss completely morphed his view of you as just another person he had grown up knowing and caring for, to someone he didn’t want to let go of.

Eddie’s emotions slowly started to unravel. He always pushed away these thoughts of you or rationalized them in his head. But now, as he had you pinned against the car, his chest against yours, and his fingers tangled in your hair, he was struggling to keep his feelings in check.

You both stared at each other for a moment in silence, standing there frozen in each other’s arms. You were the first to pull away. It shocked you because it actually happened, but also because you enjoyed it. Your body reacted in ways you never experienced before. Your skin was flushed and your heart pounded harshly against your ribs. Fight or flight kicked in, and you decided you had to flee.

“I should go. It’s late and mom’s expecting me to be there for dinner,” You sputtered, halting the silence. “Thank you so much for um… doing all this,”

You gave Eddie one more quick hug before storming off inside your home.

“Oh shit…” Eddie muttered to himself.

He realized then and there he had feelings for you. This sent him into a spiral as he had his back pressed to his van with his chest heaving. You were leaving for college soon and he needed to make a move before he lost you forever.

~~~

Eddie came to see you around the same time the next day. He sheepishly rang the doorbell, then shoved his hands back in his pockets. You opened the door looking at him puzzled.

“Eddie? What are you doing here? We don’t have to get on the road for another ten hours,” You asked, stepping out and closing your front door.

“Hey, yeah, I know. I just have something a little urgent I gotta tell you. Can we go sit in the van?” He pointed with a head nod. He looked worried. You followed him to the back of his opened van, taking a seat beside him.

“Everything okay?” You asked, attempting to decipher his pained look.

Eddie was trying his absolute hardest to hold back his anxiety, but he knew you could see right through him. His hands were shoved in his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting, and he was rocking back and forth on his feet awkwardly. He didn’t know how to word his thoughts at that moment.

Once he was seated with you in the back of the van, he closed the door for some privacy. He was looking down at the ground, avoiding eye contact, before he finally spoke up.

Eddie took a deep breath before speaking, still avoiding eye contact with you. “Yeah, sort of. There’s just something I really need to tell you before we leave tomorrow.”

His mind was racing as he tried to put his thoughts together. How was he going to explain his newly found feelings to his closest friend?

“Oh? Well, I’m sure I don’t gotta remind you that you can tell me anything. What’s going on?” You asked curiously, but light-hearted, hoping to alleviate his anxiety over the conversation.

You tried not to read too much into his expressions, but you noticed that his demeanor was a whole lot like yours from the night before. Eddie chuckled slightly at your words, knowing how much truth there was behind them. You were right, you were his best friend. And he could tell you anything. That also scared him, because what he needed to tell you just so happened to be something he didn’t even fully process yet. He finally looked up at you and met your eyes, but for a split second before looking away again.

He let out a shaky breath, “Yeah I know you’re my best friend, which is why I feel like I should tell you this before you leave tomorrow. I don’t want you to go away thinking I couldn’t man up and tell you my true feelings.”

“True feelings?” You repeated, your voice trembling as you were piecing together what he was trying to say.

Once you did your mouth hung open and your eyes rapidly blinked in shock. You placed a hand on his knee, keeping his attention on you.

“Eddie, what exactly are you trying to say?”

He finally looked up at you and held your eye contact for a couple of seconds.

“God, this is even more embarrassing to say than you asking me to kiss you,” He muttered.

He looked back down to your hand on his knee and he placed his on top of it. “I think I have feelings for you.”

With your predictions confirmed, you were completely beside yourself. You shook your head in confusion.

“I thought- but we’re friends-” You said instinctively.

Eddie saw your stammering and became even more nervous. “I know. I know we were totally in agreement and complete understanding yesterday before that kiss happened, but it made me realize so much and I-“

You interrupted him by cupping his cheek, bringing him into a kiss that matched last night’s urgency. This time you were in control. Your lack of experience or confidence mattered very little. You poured your feelings, all the unspoken affection you had for him finally manifesting in this one action.

“I feel the same. I wanna be more than friends too,” You confessed quietly as you pulled away.

When you leaned in to kiss him, Eddie felt the tension melt away. Suddenly all his nervous energy faded away as your lips touched his. He let out a breathless gasp as you pulled away and then his mind processed what you had said. A grin crept onto his face at your words.

“Yeah? You really mean it?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and looking into your eyes.

Then his smile fell again as he realized the circumstances. “But what about when you leave for college?”

You refused to let school get in between each other. This would not be the end.

“I’m only an hour away,” You said starry-eyed as you brushed your thumb over his cheek. “We’ll make trips out to each other and I’ll be home for every semester break,”

Your tendency to over-plan was working its magic once again. Your heart and mind were racing as you felt his stubble underneath your fingertips.

“I promise I’ll call you every night after class is over and write you cheesy letters all the time,” Your voice was shaky but full of hope. “What do you say, Eddie?”

He was always so in awe of your determination, and how it could transform a problem into a plan. He smiled at your list of promises and ideas, knowing deep down that you always managed to get what you wanted or find a way to make it work. He loved that about you.

“I say you’re a lunatic for wanting to have a long-distance thing with me. But, I don’t care. I like the sound of all that,” Eddie shook his head before bringing himself to kiss you.

[bloodibambiidoll]

I need need NEEEDD to know how rafe n weirdgirl! Reader met !!

I could imagine weird girl reader being a bit scared of rafe at first (bc let's me honest, I totally would be too. . .)

Or !! She's just like enamored by him and watches him from afar, but then he catches her spying on him n that's where their relationship starts !?

Ty bb !! 🪽🫶🏽

Yesss omg!! I keep meaning to write this so I’m so glad you asked!! No warnings but still 18+MDNI!

Rafe hasn’t been here in years, not since Ward’s funeral. But Cameron industries just cut a deal that his dad could’ve only pulled off in his wildest dreams and who could blame him if he wanted to boast a little? He stood in front of his father’s grave, rambling on about all his achievements since his death because honestly? He spent all that time trying to get Ward’s approval and the older he gets he realizes he never needed it to be successful. He did this shit all on his own. He was getting ready to leave when he heard the faintest sound of someone talking. He looked around the row of stones and didn’t see anyone so he started to walk off when he heard it again.

“Well, hello! What’re you doing here?” It had to be the sweetest voice he’s ever heard but as he whipped his head around his eyes still came up short. Was she talking to him? Is there some kind of ghost or some shit?

“Fuuuckk this.” Rafe turns on his heel only to nearly jump out of his skin when he sees a girl sitting in front of a grave on the opposite side of him. “Shit! What the fuck!”

You must not have heard him because you don’t turn around at the sound of his voice and it gives him a second to examine you. You’re sitting in front of a grave with a little orange cat at your side that you’re mumbling to while you stroke its fur. Rafe has seen you, of course, you went to school together and you live on figure 8 so of course he’s seen you but he’s never really noticed you until right now. You’re wearing this pretty little white dress and big giant chunky boots. Your voice sounds like honey as your doting on the cat travels to Rafe’s ears. He can’t see your face but for some reason he’s thinking about what your smile looks like.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Rafe jumps when you turn around to face him, breaking him out of his trance. “Nobody probably ever taught you that it’s rude to stare, but it is.”

“I wasn’t staring, just observing is all.” Rafe chuckles, trying to play it off like he wasn’t actually just gawking at you.

“Well, can you go observe someone else? And if you have something rude to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t have the energy to be fucked with today.” You scoff and roll your eyes before turning back to your furry friend.

“You visiting someone?” Rafe strolls closer to you, changing the subject because for some reason he really didn’t want to stop talking to you. He was intrigued by you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You don’t even turn to look at him and it kind of drives him insane so he crouches down in front of you, tilting his head to try and catch your eyes.

“What’re you being so rude for? I’m just trying to make conversation.” He smiles at you in a way that he hopes is reassuring and he’s not even sure why he cares if you feel reassured or not, but there’s just something about you.

“Guys like you don’t just ‘make conversation’ with me, Rafe. If you have something rude to say just get it over with and leave me alone.” You look over at him with daggers in your eyes but there’s a flash of hurt there and now Rafe really wants to reassure you. He doesn’t know you, but he knows of you, he knows how people talk about you and treat you so of course you’d think he would do the same. A few years ago he probably would’ve. But right now all he can think about is how sweet your voice sounds saying his name.

“Yeah? Well maybe I just want to talk to you. And who’s this?” He looks toward the cat that has now taken purchase in your lap and reaches his hand out for it to sniff.

“Mmm, I don’t know his name. But he’s always here when I come. I just started calling him pumpkin.” You smile down at the cat sweetly as it starts to rub its face against Rafe’s hand. “Seems like he likes you, cats are good judges of character.”

“You never answered my question, by the way.” Rafe smirks down at you and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. It’s not a taunting smirk like you’d expect, it’s almost endearing.

“Oh, yeah, my mom is here. But I just like to come here. It’s serene, quiet and beautiful. Not a lot of people spend time here since cremation is the big thing now.” You shrug as you look off to the side with an almost dreamy look in your eyes and Rafe feels like he’d give anything to have you look at him like that.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah, there’s beauty in everything, if you really look. Sometimes the things that seem the most ‘odd’ or ‘dark’ are the most beautiful.” You still don’t look at him but that gives him a chance to study you up close. You truly are gorgeous. That pretty little dress you’re wearing contradicting with your chunky accessories. The cute way your hair is styled and your shiny glossed lips. Those tiny little tattoos you have littering your body compliment you perfectly. You’re definitely an anomaly.

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean.” And in this moment, he really does. Because you’re definitely odd but you’re probably the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. “Can I take you on a date?”

“What!” Your head whips towards him and a loud laugh spills from your lips. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Nah. I’m dead serious. Let me take you out.”

“Why?” You look at him wide eyed, like a pretty little dear caught in the headlights, he can tell you genuinely can’t tell if he’s fucking with you or not.

“Because. I think you’re beautiful. And interesting. And I’d like to get to know you.” He smiles at you sweetly as he reaches out to gently push your hair off your shoulder. “Please? Promise I’ll make it worth it.”

“Fuck it. Okay.” You sigh and smile at him and he swears he could melt into the ground at how beautiful you are. “Better make it worth it, Cameron.”

All things Rafe and his weird girl here

Taglist: @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @sturnioloshacker @strawberrydolly333 @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @starkeysprincess @rafeinterlude

[radiant-reid]

300

him in cult episodes >>>>

Summary: Reader recalls something Spencer told her months ago when he’s taken hostage by a cult (based on 14x01)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst/fluff)

Content Warning: mentions of most of spencer’s trauma

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist | Navigation

Everything’s a mess.

Y/n’s used to the BAU lifestyle, and today is not the first day a team member has been abducted. It’s not even the first time that it’s been Spencer’s life in danger. Last time it was a three-month-long nightmare that seemed never ending during his time in prison.

It was different now. After what he said, everything between them changed.

She’s not expecting anyone when Spencer slides open the door to the balcony, and she whips her head around to see him.

It’s late in the evening, and she’s escaped the ground floor of Rossi’s mansion, where everyone’s partying, to a quieter balcony upstairs. Cicadas chirp in the spring night air, and there’s a faint beat of the bass of the music from downstairs. Rossi lives far enough outside of DC that the stars are bright, shimmering in the dark sky.

The balcony has a comfortable outdoor couch and armchair, perfect for sitting there and tuning out the world. She needs to do that. Spencer, her fellow BAU team member and friend, has been out of prison for a month, but the stress hasn’t dissipated completely. If she thinks about it hard enough, she’s back sitting at the round table while Penelope reads over an arrest report from Mexico, feeling completely helpless.

“There she is.” He greets her with a kind smile.

His smiling is something she seriously missed when he was away. “Hey.” She replies.

He holds out her jacket that she’d left downstairs, helping put it on her shoulders. “I thought you might be cold up here.” He explains the thoughtful gesture. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” She shakes her head, nodding to the armchair she’s not occupying. “Sit, please.”

He accepts her offer eagerly. Then he follows her eyes out over Rossi’s perfectly maintained yard to the sky. “Wow.” He comments.

She hums at his tone. “I know.” She agrees. “Has everyone else gone home?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, but they’re onto karaoke.” He informs her, laughing before his following statement. “Very alarming sounds.”

She chuckles slightly. He wouldn’t believe it, but he’s funny. She appreciates their time together more now, having gone without it for three long months.

“They’re missing out on your singing.” She jokes, smirking at him.

It’s mostly in reference to karaoke at The Benjamin all those years ago, where they sang all night long. It seems like a long time ago, and so much has changed, but despite what he’s been through, Spencer’s glow never diminished. He’s still the guy who somehow knew how to deliver a baby when he needed to.

“They don’t need to hear that.” He assures her, chuckling. “Again.”

“I thought it was great.” She admits or teases: she’s not sure which. “A highlight was Bohemian Rapsody.”

He cringes, shaking his head at the foggy memory. “I was hoping by then you’d had enough to drink.”

“Oh, I had.” She assures him, earning a confused look from the genius before she reminds him of something he had happily forgotten. “Hotch videoed that whole night.”

Spencer does something he rarely does then, sharing the feelings in his big brain. “I miss him.”

Y/n does too. She’d never missed someone more than she missed Hotch when Spencer was in prison, knowing that his skills as a prosecutor would have been insanely helpful.

“Me too. I’m happy he’s spending time with Jack, though.” She reminds them why it had been his time to go. “The kid deserves it.”

Spencer agrees, but he doesn’t feel the need to say anything, so they sit there in silence. It’s the most peace he’s felt in a long time.

“Y/n?” He asks, briefly getting her attention when she turns to look at him.

“Mm?” She replies, prompting him to continue.

It’s now or never. He draws in a deep breath, preparing for what he needs to say. There’s been so much weight on his shoulders for the last month, and this confession will lift some of it off. One thing he’s learned since prison is that he needs to say what he feels before it’s too late.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He admits, voice wavering slightly. “I think I was always meant to be in love with you.

There’s a beat of silence. And then another. One more.

She’s taking the information in at a slow processing speed, and the words don’t reach her mouth.

He takes it as his answer. He didn’t tell her expecting anything, like her to love him back, just to feel lighter, which works. “I just- I need you to know that.”

She should kiss him. It’s the right thing to do. Not right as in socially acceptable, but right for herself. In her heart, she’s meant to be with him and now is the perfect opportunity. A literal confession spoken to her. There’s no room to worry about him not returning her feelings and their friendship souring. He’s in love with her, and she can’t reply.

More silence, and he decides that it’s getting awkward. He spirals about making her uncomfortable, so he stands up, walking back to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”

She wills her legs to work, to run after him and catch him on the stairs, eagerly jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s wanted to do since she met him in front of Rossi’s expensive artwork. 

She doesn’t.

It’s what she’s thinking about on the jet. Maybe it’s selfish when everyone else goes over where the cult could have taken him, but she’s replaying that evening. How his hand felt when he grazed her bare shoulder, the sound of his shoes as he shuffled away, and how sweet the air tasted that night compared to the bitter resentment she tasted after she didn’t follow him.

“He told you the truth, huh?” JJ asks, sliding into the seat across from her before she even notices someone’s focus on her.

“You know?” Y/n asks in reply, slightly shocked. Sure, they’re best friends, but she didn’t expect Spencer to be spilling his romantic feelings about a colleague to JJ.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know for so long.” She remarks, met with a confused look from her friend. In her mind, Y/n had assumed Spencer had been in love with her for a few months, maximum. “He’s been in love with you for years.”

Her heart sinks in her chest. Is it wrong for her to feel warm? Knowing Spencer’s out there alone- hurt, from what Penelope said- it seems inappropriate. “He has?” She repeats. 

“Since he met you.” She answers before amending her speech. “Maybe a week or two after.”

So about as long as she had loved him. And she might never get to tell him. 

She can’t help but think about how she might stand over his casket and cry next week, wishing she had told him that night, back when everything was perfect.

JJ sees the panic, how her face goes pale, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “He’ll be okay.” She promises. She has to have that faith, too, if she’s going to be able to function.

Y/n nods, willing herself to keep it together. “I know. Let’s get him back.”

She must have spent most of the flight before JJ came to sit with her in shock because soon the plane’s landing, and they’re in SUVs driving to the cult’s compound.

Her heart races in her chest, pulse thumping once they arrive, and Emily initiates the infiltration plan. They’ve got to be quick and quiet, knowing the cult will claim Spencer as their 300th victim without being talked down. To them, his being there is a decade in the making. It’s spiritual, and there’s no way they’ll let him go. 

He’s completely tied up onto a structure, standing upright, when she gets a peek at him, his hands strapped by his side, legs tied, and a band wrapped around his head to keep his head in place. It’s very sacrificial with The Messiah and Agent Meadows standing around him. 

He’s bruising, too, red marks around his face that will develop into a deep purple. She can’t see into his mind, but she wonders if he’s formulating an escape plan because he looks like he’s accepted it, conceded defeat, and come to terms with dying. Even from far away, his eyes are watery and his breathing steady, like he’s finally admitted to himself that they’re not coming to save him. 

It’s easily the most terrifying expression she’s seen on anyone’s face. It’s bone-chilling.

They move in quickly, knowing he has seconds, not minutes. Y/n dashes to Spencer with JJ, the cult members around her getting shot or arrested being blocked out of her mind. 

His face softens when he sees her, fingers flexing as she and JJ untie his restraints. When his hands are free, he falls forward onto her, clutching her tightly, one arm over her shoulder, one under. 

It’s the tightest she’s ever been hugged, his grip making her feel like she’s his lifeline and he’s coming back to life. He pants out a breath like he hasn’t breathed since he was tied up. His hands spread out on her back, he buries his chin in her neck, and they rock side to side. 

“Y/n.” Spencer whispers, closing his eyes and focusing on holding her. “You came.”

“Of course.” She replies. “Always. You good?”

“Can I have another minute?” He asks, practically begs. Even if she’s not his, he needs to hold her for a bit longer before he can’t ever again.

She squeezes him tighter, assuring him it’s okay. “Always.” She repeats. 

It feels like it’s just the two of them, despite the chaos behind her. She takes in his cologne and how right it feels to be comforting him. Her feelings for him are much more straightforward in her head than they were that night at Rossi’s. 

His breathing calms down, so it’s not erratic hyperventilating, and he loosens his grip around her, more than ready to get out of there now that he feels alive and whole again. 

She loses him after that, keeping some distance while he hugs everyone else and thanks them in true Spencer fashion. There isn’t an opportunity to talk to him when they’re on the jet home since Emily is. She just sits and watches him, reminding herself that he’s okay.

She can’t stop thinking about his expression from the cult compound when she saw him, how unafraid he looked despite knowing he was about to get sacrificed. Maybe he knew they were there, like something deep inside him told him he’d be okay, but he looked prepared to die.

There are more hugs when they get back to Quantico, Penelope practically unwilling to let him go or out of her sight. The case has to end, and exhaustion falls over them when the adrenaline wears off, despite a new day dawning. 

That night, she runs after him like she should have done at Rossi’s, barely making it to the elevator before the doors shut. 

He looks surprised to see her. “I thought you went home.” He says.

She couldn’t. She’s not sure she’ll be able to leave him in the BAU ever again. “I didn’t.” She reports then immediately feeling like an idiot because that much was obvious.

“Why?” He asks caringly. 

“You were still here.” She admits honestly, looking up at his gentle brown eyes. They’re always more golden in the morning.

“I just had to do a psychological counseling thing.” He explains.

Her eyebrows furrow, confused about why someone would make him do that only hours after he was saved. “This soon?” 

He nods. “Damaged goods.” He says, like it’s his label. And he fully believes it. 

“You’re not.” She firmly tells him, mostly angry the FBI would subject him to something invasive so early.

“Y/n.” He says in a tone that sounds like he’s begging her not to sympathize with him falsely. 

Y/n shakes her head, eyeing him with fiery irises as she dares him to continue speaking negatively of himself. “You saved yourself, Spencer.” She informs him sincerely. “Are you hungry?” She asks.

The change of topic disorients him, but it seems a better conversation than arguing over how much of a mess he is. “Starving.” He answers. He didn’t have much time to think about it, with being abducted by a cult, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, if you can call a packet of chips lunch.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” She offers before quickly retracting any implications her suggestion could have. “Unless you just need some time alone or don’t want to hang out with him. I won’t be offended.” She wants to tell him, needs to confess what she should have before, but he’s in such an emotional state that she would hate to take advantage of that.

She couldn’t get further from the truth. Spending time with her, specifically, has always made things easier. “I’d really like that.” He admits, sending her a soft smile. 

They barely speak on the drive into DC. There’s a lot of tension in the air, words left unspoken, but Spencer needs time to look at her. He’s at a point where he knows nothing will happen between them, but there’s still a life he imagines when he needs a quick spike of dopamine. She, and an imagined future between them, is his drug of choice now.

He orders pancakes, copying her, rather than getting his usual meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. He ditches coffee in favor of juice, knowing he’s going home to sleep after breakfast when the rest of the adrenaline wears off. 

No deep conversation gets brought up at breakfast, either. Instead, there’s laughter, and every time she looks up at him, Spencer smiles. 

He’s used to going home alone after any trauma in his life. Even after prison and Mr. Scratch, he returned to an empty apartment. After he was abducted by Tobias Hankel, when he got out of the hospital after getting poisoned by anthrax, and even after he got shot in the neck in Texas after Alex dropped him at home, he was by himself.

It’s better with someone else -he decides while they’re sitting there- because he can not think about it in favor of thinking about her.

He eats like he’s been without food for a week, even getting a refill of juice, although everything he’s been through would make anyone hungry.

And he pays, despite her telling him she would, so she drives him home through the traffic-less streets, thanks to everyone being at work.

He hesitates before he gets out of the car once they arrive at his apartment. “Do you want to come up?” 

She accepts, following him up the stairs. It’s a good time to do it, now that they’re alone and in private. 

His apartment is lighter than when she saw it when she went with Penelope once to water his plants while he was in prison. It’s neater with the curtains open, and he might have added even more books to the impressive collection she previously noticed.

Unsure of how long she’s staying, Y/n takes off her shoes on instinct. Spencer’s not sure why he invited her up other than wanting to spend more time with her, so he’s not sure what to do now that she’s there. 

She speaks before he can offer her water. “Were you scared?” She asks before realizing the insensitivity of her question. She doesn’t want to sound like a shitty Bureau psychologist, just his friend, haunted by a snapshot in her mind of his expression. “I just mean... we were, and Penelope was when she came. JJ was because you’re her best friend. You weren’t even shaking. Sorry I didn’t-”

Spencer cuts her off before she can spiral. “I wasn’t. Not when Penelope was safe.” 

“Why not?” She asks. It makes sense, his wanting to protect Penelope, but she can’t understand why he wasn’t scared when he was moments away from death. She’s thought about it enough without coming up with an answer for it to be necessary to ask. 

“Because, Y/n, what I told you that night at Rossi’s.” Her breathing hitches at the mention of the best, or maybe one of the worst, nights of her life. “If that’s the last proper, non-case-related discussion we have, I’m okay with that. I couldn’t die without you knowing I love you.”

She shakes her head, eyes tearing up at the confirmation of his acceptance of dying. “There’s more for you than that.” She says, hoping he knows it. 

He does. 

He’s got three perfect godsons, he’d love to go back to Paris, he’s always wanted a family, a wife and a big house, there are still books he hasn’t read, there are still sequels being written, there are classes yet to teach and profilers yet to train, there are chess games to win and to lose, and old friends left to see. 

They both know his life isn’t close to be finished. 

“You knowing is what mattered.” He repeats. “Right from when I realized I wasn’t going to get out by myself, I knew it would be okay since you knew.”

“It wouldn’t be okay!” She says a little too loudly, close to crying. “You can’t be okay with that.”

There’s more in her head, and he’s reluctant to push her to find out, but he does. “Why?”

She sighs, feeling small standing there in front of him. “Because if you died, I couldn’t have told you I love you.” She reveals one of her deepest fears that she hadn’t realized until recently. 

“Oh,” Spencer says, jaw going slack. He’s rarely speechless. “Recently or...” It’s the only thing he can think to do: establish a timeline.

“For a long time.” She admits. “I just- I froze that night. I couldn’t say it, but I felt it.” 

He senses the apology that’s about to spill and shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He believes it when he says it and walks closer to hold her hands in front of her. She’s surprised by the contact, but it’s nice, even if his hands are slightly cold.

For a moment, they just stand there, and she admires his gorgeous cheekbones and those honey-colored eyes that make her weak when he looks at her so intensely.

He doesn’t rush his next move. Slowly, he drops her hands and cups her cheeks, smiling softly. Then he leans forward, giving her what she’s been waiting for for a long time. His lips are soft on hers like he’s testing the waters, giving her a chance to pull away before pouring passion into it. She matches his pressure while basking in the glow of kissing Spencer Reid. Spencer Reid, who loves her. 

They share a matching fond look when they pull back. 

Then he’s laughing, and it’s the cutest thing in the world, along with being confusing. The slight, amused frown on her face causes him to explain. “You love me, and I love you.” He says like he can’t believe it. “Wow.”

She knows that reaction from when she had it at Rossi’s, and he looks adorable experiencing it, grinning so hard his face might split. For a long time, he’s wanted to be loved by someone romantically, and now he is. After everything he’s been through, Spencer thought it wouldn’t happen, and for the first time in his life, he’s glad to be wrong.

“What are you doing today?” He asks when he’s collected himself.

“Well, I was going to go home and sleep.” She answers, wondering what he’s going to suggest they do while knowing she could be persuaded into almost anything by him.  

“Sleep here.” He says quickly. “Not like that.” A blush fills his cheeks. “If you want. Then we could go to dinner, lunch, a movie theatre, or the park, wherever you want.” 

She’s nodding before he finishes. He could ask her out on a date to watch paint drying in his spare bedroom, and she would eagerly accept. “Yes.”

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[beesspacedotorg]

bbeebeeeeebebebeeee what abt the convo we’re having rn…. a lovely wonderful date with your sweetie hybrid boyfriends linocat and binnierabbit

Hey bro happy birthday. It's still your birthday where I live, so please accept this gift. Thank you for being my friend !! I hope this year around the sun treats you well. I also hope skz comes to (redacted for privacy) so we can meet up. @cbini

There's no smut in this because uhm. Because. But there are sex jokes because I'm me.

You love your boyfriends very much. When they started living with you, everyone called you insane. They asked why you would have a cat hybrid and a rabbit hybrid at the same time. Rabbits can be messy and cats cause problems on purpose they had said. Rabbits are just cats with longer ears and curled tails they had said. You’re signing yourself up for trouble they had said. You had waved your hand in dismissal, pointing at your boys and how much they loved each other and went about your business. Looking at them now, you’re starting to wish you hadn’t brushed off their concerns.

They took you to a restaurant, a nice fancy one, to celebrate. They’d told you to get a little dressed up, so you had, and they’d shown up with their slightly dressy attire and you drooled a little and Changbin had to wipe it off your chin. They’d taken pictures with you, nice aesthetic ones in the low light of the dining area, Minho’s glass of wine temporarily acting as a prop. Minho had made a salacious joke about licking wine off of your body and Changbin had kicked him in the shin. Minho then accused him of being jealous and offered to lick wine off of his body, too. It made the younger flush and shout indignantly.

All in all, the night had gone well. Your boys were handsome and polite to the waitstaff, they’d taken turns making you flush with love and something else, and they’d both made promises about what awaited you at home. The problem only started when they’d gotten their food.

You’ve seen them eat before, you know they have slightly weird eating habits brought on by them being alive or their hybrid genes or something, but it didn’t click in your mind that they would do it at restaurants, too. It had been seconds after Changbin had gotten his plate of pasta, the waiter barely away from the table, that he flipped it over onto the table cloth and started to eat it that way. You stared at him for a minute, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you tried to come up with something to say.

“Was there something wrong with the plate?” You asked, staring at the mess he was making of the table.

“Too small. The vibes were bad,” he said simply. You blinked a couple times at him before turning your attention to Minho when you heard a choking noise.

“Oh, Jesus, this is why you need to slow down when you eat.” You hand him a water and a napkin, praying he doesn’t upchuck all over the table.

“What if it runs away?” He says, staring at you. You watch his ears twitch on his head, listening to the sounds of the waitstaff milling about and the chatter of the other customers.

“Where the fuck is it gonna go?” You point at the food he’s practically inhaled, “It’s dead.”

“You never know,” is what he gives you. You sigh, looking up towards the ceiling before hanging your head in defeat. You start to eat your own food, and outside of their initial outbursts, things seem to be going fine. That is, until Binnie’s ears stand tall above his head and his nose twitches, leg thumping under the table,

“Stop that,” he says, glaring daggers at Minho.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” Minho has a shit eating smirk on his face. He is most definitely doing something.

“What’s that noise then?”

“What noise? Are you hallucinating, Changbinnie? Should we take you to see someone?” Minho fakes concern and you hear the soft little growl that comes out of Changbin.

“Two can play this game, hyung.” You’re suddenly worried for the state of the restaurant.

“What if none played this game? Wouldn’t that be nice?” Your pleas go ignored.

“And what exactly are you planning on doing?” Minho is leaning across the table now, shoving the pretty centerpiece out of the way so he can get closer to Changbin and it’s not too long after that you hear a chirp. Minho’s ears twitch and his pupils widen before he shakes his head and glares.

“Low blow, Seo Changbin.”

“And playing frequencies only I can hear isn’t?”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Loser? I haven’t lost anything.” You sigh when you hear Changbin’s voice start to rise, quickly calling for the tab.

“I’m so sorry,” is what you say to the waiter after he comes back, gesturing to the mess your boyfriends made of the table and the way they’re almost wrestling right now. You tip him well, it's the least you can do.

When you get your card back you stand up, grabbing your things and hauling your boyfriends out of their seats by the collars of their shirts. If you were meaner, you’d pinch their ears between your fingers for causing a ruckus, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

Changbin’s ears hang droopily when you get outside, and he hugs your arm tightly.

“Did we make you upset?” You turn your head to look at him and his eyes are as wide as the moon. You think of that tweet, I’m not arguing with a man who has pretty brown eyes. Whatever you say, beautiful. You sigh and pet the velveteen fur of his ears softly.

“A little bit, but, I’ll get over it.” Minho plasters himself to your other side, and when you turn to look at him, his ears are pinned down.

“Ah, I’m sorry, jagiya. I just wanted to have a little fun.” Changbin punches him in the shoulder and he winces.

“Like I said, I’ll get over it.” You start trying to walk to the car, but it’s easier said than done with the two of them hanging off of you like this. You see their heads move a bit out of your peripheral vision before Minho makes an affirming little hum and you’re being half-carried half-dragged down the sidewalk.

“You’ll get over it faster if you have help,” Minho says, and Changbin nods, long ears flopping around.

“Exactly. We have to apologize to our sweetie.” You squint at them. It’s never good when they both agree on something.

“What are you going to do?” Changbin opens your car door and nudges you gently until you’re all the way in.

“Have you ever been to Paris?” Minho asks, buckling himself into the backseat.

“I was thinking about seeing the Eiffel Tower,” Changbin finishes, sliding the key into the ignition. You snort at the joke, rolling your eyes.

“I think a little tourism would be nice.” Changbin smiles at you, nose scrunching slightly, and rests a hand on your thigh.

“Good. We were thinking the same thing.”

[writerblue275]

Heya! Love your writings. I feel like I'm going insane whenever I read your HCs I just- Aaah! I'm getting sidetracked. Can I see your personal take on how HEARTSTEEL boys would take compliments? Imagining Kayn trying to play it off but then the second he gets alone he's jumping around and- Getting side tracked again. Sorry. LOL

Hiya there Anonnie! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my stuff!! I hope insanity in this case is a positive lmao. Happy to drag some of you along with me in my brain rot! 🤣 But you ABSOLUTELY can have my personal take on this. I LOVE this idea! Thank you for requesting it! 💙

How Heartsteel Handles Compliments

Inspiration: Requested

Genre: Headcanons

Type: FLUFFFF

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!

TW: Swearing. Slight discussion of HS Ez and HS Kayn past which includes low self-esteem.

Extra: So obviously below I’m going to go more in depth for each member, but as a generalization, I think Aphelios and Yone would react similarly, K’Sante and Sett would react similarly, and then (double trouble) Ezreal and Kayn would react similarly when it comes to getting compliments.

Aphelios

Aphelios is interesting for this. I think in general his reactions to compliments depends on a couple factors. 1. Who is complimenting him? 2. What is the compliment about? (Either him personally/his personality or his work, his outfit, etc.)

If the compliment is from someone else (besides you or Heartsteel) about his work, he’ll give a soft smile and say/sign “thank you” to the person. He really puts a lot of love into his music so if people recognize that, then that makes him happy for sure! If the compliment comes from someone else but it’s about him specifically, he’d be shy about it.

Now with the other Heartsteel members and Alune, he knows them. Phel is comfortable with them. So compliments from them don’t phase him too much. He’ll thank them quickly. But even though he knows you and is comfortable with you (I mean you’re his significant other), you’re unique.

Compliments from you are a different story. He really loves it when you compliment him. When you compliment something personal about him? It makes him so happy he nearly short circuits. And it might sound a bit weird but with you he doesn’t express his appreciation verbally.

You will notice his actions express his appreciation instead. Like Aphelios will hold your hand more frequently. Or you notice his cuddles/hugs get a little tighter, his kisses more passionate. That sort of thing. A special sort of non-verbal appreciation and affection for the special person in his life.

Ezreal

Ohhhhhh my goodness. Ezreal needs compliments like someone needs water to survive a desert. Critically. Words of affirmation is his receiving love language, after all.

Not to mention his rougher history in the music industry. When his album got panned, it really shattered his confidence, especially since he was younger. So while he seems like he’s very confident and such, really a lot of that is a mask over some very deep-seeded insecurities. In reality, he puts a lot of value on compliments and how he’s perceived by other people.

Ezreal would d respond to other people’s compliments with that lovely cheeky grin he has. I think he’d want to play it off like “You like my outfit? Thanks! I gotta put my best foot forward for my fans, you know? It’s what they deserve!” It’s hard to describe what exactly that energy is. Self assured might be the best way to put it. (But you know the truth.)

And I think that’s also what energy he’d use early on in your relationship. He wants to seem cool for you. But I don’t think it would take too long for you to see the real him. Once he opens up and shows you that insecurity and vulnerability he’s hiding deep down, that’s when you know you’ve really earned his trust.

So at that point, please give Ez all the compliments you want to at all times. He loves it. He’ll be even more affectionate with you as thanks and will always be happy to compliment you in return. And while he eventually gets a little more used to compliments from the public, I don’t think he’ll ever get used receiving compliments from you. They help him more than you’ll ever know.

Kayn

(A/N: Anon I really like and agree with the direction you headed in your request, though I think there’s some added nuance to it which I will talk about below!)

With the general public/your relationship early on Kayn would play things cool until he’s alone. He has an image to maintain damnit. He’s the “rebel” remember?

But with you? As things progress and your relationship becomes more established, you see a remarkable shift in Kayn when it comes to how he accepts praise/compliments. At least with you/in private.

Part of the reason he brushed off compliments early on was due to inner insecurities after being kicked out of his old group. Not to mention people who were just shmoozing up to him to use him/his fame (fucking social climbers). But as he realizes you’re sincere when you compliment him, you love Shieda Kayn and not just Kayn the rockstar, and you’re not going anywhere, well it’s like a switch is flipped!

Now he needs/wants compliments from you like he needs air to breathe. And he’s far more open about accepting them. He’ll even ask you to elaborate on what you mean. 😂 “I mean I know I’m sexy, baby, but why specifically do you think I’m sexy?” And when you do compliment him, those are the moments when his giving love language of physical touch manifests itself to show his appreciation (use your imaginations).

His receiving love language is words of affirmation. So give him all the compliments you desire. He’ll accept them all! (He still tries to play things cool when he’s in public though, that’s just how it be.)

K’Sante

The fucking epitome of self-confidence like my god. K’Sante knows he’s HIM. (As he should because he absolutely is!) His self-confidence is a goal all of us should attempt to go for. (Literally like wow king go the fuck off I fully support this.)

K’Sante is definitely one of the members who will play it off the easiest. Not in a way where he makes it seem like it’s unappreciated, no no no, definitely not. But rather compliments don’t really fluster him or phase him that much compared to some of the others.

That being said, he still enjoys getting complimented by other people (deep down, don’t we all?), and he’ll thank them. He might be self-confident but he wasn’t raised to be a jerk. He appreciates the kindness of others! He might even respond in kind with a compliment for whoever he’s talking to! Or if it’s you then he’ll have like ten compliments ready to fire back at you off the top of his head.

The one area of his life where compliments really fluster K’Sante have to do with his designs. He puts a lot of effort into each piece he designs and creates, so for someone to notice and compliment that effort is something he very much appreciates. When he is flustered, you’ll notice he has to take a second to gather his thoughts and the right words.

Obviously your opinion means more to him than the opinion of others, so when you do compliment him, watch his smile get wider, watch his posture get a little taller, and watch as his energy gets even brighter and more infectious for those around him.

Sett

Similar to K’Sante, Sett knows he’s HIM. He’s called “The Boss” after all. That’s certainly not a nickname given to just anyone. Whether in the studio or in the ring, Sett knows he’s the man and 98% of the time he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion or approval.

So because of that, again he’s one of the ones who will play off most compliments fairly easily. He’s not super flustered by them, though he appreciates them. And because Ma is the best and raised him with fucking manners, he of course, will always thank the person who complimented him for their kind words.

But now it’s time to focus on the 2% of the time he does care. I’m sure this comes as no shock, but there are only two people’s opinions he reeeeeally cares about. Yours and Ma’s. The two most important people in his life. When the two of you compliment him on something, this giant, confident, usually composed man actually gets a little flustered! Especially when those compliments come from you.

Sett really doesn’t seem like a blusher when it comes to other people, but when you compliment him on something innocent, his cheeks immediately turn just the sweetest bit pink as he gets the happiest grin on his face. (His reaction is definitely different when your compliments are regarding more…private matters, but I’m not going to focus on that rn.)

And his EARS. His ears are the biggest telltale sign he’s flustered. His ears happily flick back and forth, which is admittedly really cute. It’s just very sweet honestly, seeing how much your opinion means to “The Boss!” (He just has such a soft spot for you and I love it.)

Yone

Yone would be in a similar boat to Aphelios. Again it depends on who is complimenting him, what they’re complimenting him about, and the setting he’s being complimented in.

Now Yone is extremely talented at what he does. (We all know this.) And he knows he’s talented. Of course he doesn’t let that make him too arrogant or anything. Any compliments he receives on his music, he genuinely appreciates and will he show/express that sincere appreciation to whoever is giving him the compliment. Making music takes a lot of effort and to become respected like him is only a dream for so many other artists. That’s something he realizes and he is extremely grateful for the fans and everyone else who helped him get to where he is.

Personal compliments he’s just a lot more reserved about, especially ones having to do with his appearance. Like he knows he’s considered attractive, but honestly the only opinion he cares about regarding his appearance is yours. Anyone else he’ll give a soft smile and a “thank you.” But he wouldn’t blush or anything crazy.

But with YOU???? Any compliment you give him makes his entire day, week, month, etc. And when you compliment him on his appearance (because let’s be real how could you not??? That man is so FUCKING FINE) he actually feels pride about how he looks. (AS HE SHOULD.)

Compliments from you make that stoic exterior crack. Yone actually blushes a bit. And your compliments make him smile wider and bring a spring to his step. Compliments from you are what get Yone teased by the other Heartsteel members for reacting just a little bit like a happy puppy at times. (They’re in awe of you for having that power.) That’s your influence over him, honestly, and that’s how much he values your opinion.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for requesting, Anon! I hope I did your request justice! This was so cute and fun to write! Lmao the way I’d be complimenting them all the time because they deserve it. 💙

[gutsby]

Guts you are a fucking insane writer and I'm so grateful we have you, like your works are absolutely incredible they are hot but also like lyrical.. so beautifully written.. you know? Thank you for sharing with us. do you have any advice for someone who has wanted to give writing fics as an outlet a try but feels like they're not creative or talented enough? Tips/tricks sorta thing? Love u madly deeply

FIRST, I LOVE YOU.

SECOND, thank you so much!!! I’m so so glad you enjoy my brainrot stories and I hope to keep them coming for y’all!! 🥹🩷🩷

THIRD, THAT’S SO EXCITING!!!! Fic writing (or any kind of creative writing, really) is the fucking best, and I’d be happy to share some tips!! Pick and choose whichever ones speak to you, but I hope these can be of some use 😩

No matter what you or anyone else says/thinks, YOU ARE CREATIVE AND TALENTED ENOUGH. Wherever your writing goes, whatever you choose to do with it, is enough. I know writing (and sharing your ideas) can seem daunting, but please don’t ever count yourself out of an opportunity just because you’re worried your work won’t be up to snuff!!

READREADREADREADREADREAD! READ!!! Not only fanfic, but flash fiction, short stories, novellas, novels, ANYTHING. I cannot overstate the importance of being an avid, active reader when it comes to improving your own writing. I sometimes struggle to find the time to read and write and work and live life, so I try to set reasonable goals. If nothing else, I read at least 5 pages per day of the book I’m reading, or I pick a short story and go with that. Lately I’ve been trying to expand the kinds of short stories I read, so I have a handful of websites to find what I like: (I’m on mobile so apologies if the formatting below is fucked 😭)

Project Gutenberg (good for finding classics and other popular stories)

The New Yorker (free 30-day trial and I think you get a few stories for free every month after ??)

Lightspeed (I’m not big on sci-fi/fantasy but trying to branch out!)

This loooooong list of literary magazines - not all are free, but many of them are

Write on the Tumblr app (or Notes). I may be one of the only freaks that does this, but I write every single one of my stories on mobile. I just prefer it to typing on a computer. It also may help with making the writing process seem less scary - at least for me, something I’m typing up on my phone doesn’t feel as “important” or intimidating as sitting down to stare at a blank computer screen or paper!

Find a beta reader/share with friends. I haven’t done this myself because I’m a PUSSY and still kinda scared to share my stories with people I know, but getting feedback from a semi-neutral third party can help improve your writing a ton! And also may be less scary than dropping your first fic to a whole online audience if you haven’t done it before !!

Follow whatever the fuck you feel inside at the moment and run. And run. And run. Seriously. I’ve heard this referred to as ‘pantsing’ (?), and it may not work for everyone, but I think some of my best stories came from a single dumbass idea (or even a line) that I let flow and grow and be whatever my brain wanted it to be. No planning or outlining. With ‘Cowboy Killers’ I just really, really, really wanted to use the line, “I’m gonna lay this motherfucker out” and have Reader throw a drink in Joel’s face, and that was it. No thoughts, just profanity and dumb, drunk antics. Don’t be afraid to start somewhere strange or random or really simple and build your story from there.

Speak your dialogue. Something that can be particularly tricky starting out is getting your dialogue to sound like real people are speaking it. You can have characters pontificating and waxing poetic all day long, but the truth is that most of us don’t talk in super long, flowery monologues. We use slang and sentence fragments and sometimes totally nonsensical sayings, and we struggle to find our words. Feature those things in your dialogue, and it should sound more natural, especially when you’re saying it out loud to yourself while you write.

I think this tip is from Stephen King (whose book on writing, cleverly titled On Writing, has some fantastic insight if you want more tips), but when it comes to picking an ending for your story, don’t go with the first one you think of. Odds are your reader is going to be thinking the same thing as you, and it’s nice to give them a little surprise if you can ;-)

There are SO many more pieces of advice you’ll glean over the years—just be patient with this process and with yourself and try to have fun with it!!! Alright shutting the fuck up now I hope this was helpful! Best of luck with your writing!!! 🫶🏼🩷🩷

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐(i’m sensing some sweetness coming! Good for May she deserves all the good things in this world!)

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(CRANBERRY IM SO GLAD YOURE OKAY! And i’m loving how this setup gives a new perspective to the classic Buckley-Diaz family vibes)

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰(BUDDIE TIME LOOP???? BUDDIE TIME LOOP!!!! Cal its insane how with three words you’ve already got me hooked - you’re so good with inexplicable magic as a plot device so I’m so excited for your take on this classic! I’m already sure it’s gonna be absolutely phenomenal!)

Thank you for all this my dear!! And if any of these stories are finished by the time you get to these please know that the odds are good that I’ve already read them and loved every single word!

I hope you have/had a nice weekend! Sending lots of love!!!

Okay! So since I have completed two of the fics here, what I will do is give you 63 (combined total) of my next Gotcha For Gaza prompt fic (which I might have combined with an idea from @exhuastedpigeon ), with no context once again. Here's the emoji: ☠️

---

One reads Chip N. Dales. The other, murder victim. What on earth? 

“Athena!” Eddie blurts. He sounds intoxicated. 

“Eddie?” She gawks at him. “I got a call about a possible death at this address? Please let it just be your name tag.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “That was me. I called 9-1-1. But I’m not really dead. It’s someone else.”

Definitely intoxicated, then. And, from his demeanor, it must not be one of his closest friends who has died. Athena feels a surge of relief. 

“Eddie, who is dead?” She asks calmly. 

Eddie winces. “It’s Captain Gerrard.”

Well. That certainly complicates things, doesn’t it?

▪️▪️▪️

Eddie, a little wobbly, leads Athena into the condo. 

“Is this Gerrard’s house?” She asks. 

“No. Tommy’s.”

“Tommy?” 

“You know? Buck’s boyfriend? Pilot?”

“No, I know who Tommy Kinnard is,” Athena replies. “Just… What are you all doing here with your fire captain?”

As far as she had heard, they all hated the man. And as far as Buck had said, Tommy’s history with his former captain was also complicated. 

Athena has a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling about this. 

“Tommy hosted a murder mystery party,” Eddie says. “S’why I died.”

Oh boy.

Eddie leads Athena into a dining room with sleek, modern black furniture and some very strange wall art. Which is really not what Athena should be looking at. There are more pressing things. Like Captain Gerrard on the floor, swollen and lifeless, as Buck is hunched over him, performing CPR. Buck. The person with the least paramedic training in the room, other than perhaps Karen Wilson. Because for some reason, she is also here.

Athena takes inventory.

Gerrard. 

Buck.

Eddie. 

Tommy.

Hen.

Karen.

Chimney.

 Two men Athena has never seen in her life, but if she had to guess, are also firefighters. 

Everyone has name tags on. None of them say their real names. Characters, more likely.

---

75 for ➰ (OH YOU ARE TUNING IN HERE FOR A CRAZY PART!)

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

He’s almost certain Eddie has never called him that before. Though he feels a soft familiarity accompany it. 

“How did you sleep?” He asks, voice low to avoid waking Christopher in the adjoining room.

Eddie’s lip twitches. 

“Good,” he answers. “I always sleep well beside you, Buck. You know that.”

Buck hums happily. 

“Same here.” Buck replies. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well, whatever you want,” Eddie says. “I know you’ve got an itinerary.” 

Oh, does he ever. They’d done Morro Bay State Park and the nearby history museum yesterday. 

“So glad you’re on board,” Buck grins. “I’m thinking, estuary, let Chris see some sea otters, then head to the beach?” 

“Oh, and you have no interest in said sea otters?” Eddie teases.

“Okay, they’re cute, Eddie!” 

“I know they’re cute,” Eddie replies. “I’m certain you will both look cute gawking at them.”

“Well, then let’s get going,” Buck decides, rolling out of bed. “Let’s wake the kid!”

“You’re a brave man, Evan Buckley.”

“He loves me,” Buck waves off the concern. “More importantly, he loves sea otters.”

When Buck stands, stretching his arms above his head, he notices the old analog clock on the wall. Ugh, that thing. It looks like it’s from the 50s or 60s at least. Not at all fitting with the otherwise modern design of the hotel room. And it’s not even telling the right time. It reads 12:02. As if it’s just after midnight. Buck turns to look at the digital clock. 8:02 AM. Huh. 

“Was it telling the wrong time when we got here?” Buck asks.

Eddie coughs. Small at first, then growing. Like his throat is dry. 

Buck spins to face him. “You okay?”

“Fine. Fine.” Eddie insists. “What did you ask?”

“The clock.” Buck clarifies. “Was it telling the wrong time when we checked in?”

“I…” Eddie’s eyes dart around, like he’s trying to remember. He looks very confused. Too confused for the nature of the question. “I don’t know, Buck. I didn’t pay attention.”

“It’s weird,” Buck says. “It has the minute right. Just not the hour.”

“I think you might be too worried about a clock, Buck.”

“I’m not worried about it. I’m just curious about it. Do you think it’s for another time zone?”

“We can figure out the clock or we can enjoy our day,” Eddie says. “Starting with a big breakfast?”

Buck smirks. “You sure know how to get through to me.”

➰➰

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on a big patio eating a complimentary hotel breakfast. Chris looks mildly zombified, like he can’t believe he’s awake this early. Nevermind the fact he wakes up way earlier than this for school. Eddie is indulging in a very big breakfast - more than he’d normally go for, Buck thinks. He’s practically dumping sugar in his coffee. 

“You’re not going to sleep tonight,” Buck warns him. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Eddie shrugs. 

[gabetheunknown]

@after-the-end-times

Ah, there it is! I saw a post like this the other day and I could not, for the life of me find it back, so I'm glad I get to share my thoughts about this after all (not that anything would've stopped me) Prepare for the essay, I never keep things short!

The Rockrose and the Thistle, is in my opinion a love song of sorts, but a different kind of love song that Extraordinary Things is, focused on the first part of it. Both songs are very similar in more ways than just recurring notes. Both songs are written in Dminor. (wheras Extraordinary Things has Minor Melodic elements that raises the 6th note to create the G major chord he plays when he sings the lyrics ‘extraordinary things’ and sings an A on top which sounds really pretty and immediately caught my ear) 

The notes everyone is referring to are in the intro of Extraordinary Things, D C D E F E F G A B♭ A G A  (I put it on a scale because I can and I’m a nerd. I also love the harmonies)

And it doesn’t just come back in the Rockrose and the Thistle, there’s two other songs written in Dminor in the Horror and the Wild and that is The Horror and the Wild, where the repetition of these tones are beautifully audible in Madeleine’s ‘You are the son of every dressing up box’ and Farewell Wanderlust, where they immediately accentuate that B♭ (which is the 6th note of the Dminor scale) in instrumentals. In Farewell Wanderlust they also play with more chromatic elements as they add a flat second note and a flat seven. The use of chromatic elements (half note distances) isn’t new for Joey and Madeleine and in my opinion it just adds a lot to the musicality of it all, it’s clever, it immediately catches my ear, it’s subtle things like that that make me keep coming back to their music. Rather than a melodic minor scale, Joey could’ve just added that half note distance to add a major G chord to his scale, because the use of major chords in minor scales is just chef’s kiss in my musical opinion, especially in combination with the words he sings. The notes he uses are not uncharacteristic for Joey’s music.

NOW LISTEN, I LOVE this ask because it means I can break down every aspect of what I love about Joey’s singing and what different things I love about Jaskier’s singing. Because oh my god the TALENT, to still make people go ‘wait I just found out that Joey Batey sings both in the Amazing Devil and as Jaskier in the Witcher’ to this day astonishes me and I’m never surprised when someone stumbles upon that realization. The breathiness he uses on his voice in both the Rockrose and the Thistle (and more TAD songs) and Extraordinary Things blows my mind. But there’s a difference to the way he uses it in both songs, let me try to explain. He sings with an aspirated voice (Which means to sing with a breathy voice) in The Rockrose and the Thistle, but in Extraordinary Things, it feels like sometimes he is just breathless and it’s so beautiful and small and soft and intimate, considering the words he’s singing. We, as singers at the conservatory, were taught to make our breaths as inaudible as possible, to remove as much breath from our voices as possible, when singing on record. So needless to say it is a DELIGHT to hear Joey just put his whole heart and soul into every breath he takes, he’s considerate of every syllable, the volume of his voice, the clearness or lack thereof, the shakiness of his breaths fucking kill me dead… ALSO what astonishes me the most about the difference between his TAD songs and his Jaskier songs is the change in vibrato. Jaskier uses more vibrato in his voice than Joey does in the Amazing Devil and I go INSANE about that because my teachers have always said that vibrato is a hard thing to control and requires a lot of training and he’s just out there, mending it to his will as if it is no big deal, like :-) King? I’m jealous, hello? 

I’ve nothing else to say about this for now (lies) it’s already become a full on essay, so I hope this satisfies your needs for now lmao

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

First of all, I just want to say. I called it lol

Finally an sskk face off since the sacrifice. I am going insane. I can’t articulate all my thoughts rn but something about the way Atsushi aimed a kick at Akutagawa that he fully expected the guy to block (because they know each other’s usual fighting styles!!!) only for it to connect and hurt him; Atsushi begging Akutagawa to recognize him because even if he still can’t consciously admit it, Atsushi has become convinced that Akutagawa wouldn’t be attacking him like this if he knew it was him; pleading for him to snap out of it and demanding to know why he saved him aghhhhh I’m going feral we know the reason Atsushi we know whyyyyy

I can’t believe it actually. We are at the point where sskk do not want to genuinely hurt each other. Atsushi attacked only out of self defence and was taken aback by actually breaking his wrist. Akutagawa refused to kill Atsushi in the Fukuchi fight and Atsushi is now convinced he’d stop attacking if he recognized him. Holy shit. Oh my god.

And Sigma badass moment! My boy, he pulled through! Either him or Chuuya had to break the stalemate; hell yeah, validation. Wasn’t there a meme someone made? “Prison arc -> prison arc if Sigma still had a gun”? Well Sigma’s got a gun and things are picking up babyyyy! His retort to Fyodor was quite possibly the funniest thing he could’ve said in response. Just completely shut him down. Using what he’s learned running the empty home Fyodor previously tried to buy his trust with. Beautiful. ADA Sigma real??? (I think the story will have to acknowledge his very public involvement with Taneda’s shooting and the acts of terrorism the Hunting Dogs now know he is responsible for… so I’m not sure how that will go but I’d like to see him end up with the Agency tbh… so long as it makes sense.)

Things I did not expect:

Mysterious note left in Russian??? It could be Mykola I suppose but… why? What happened? If he’s actually in trouble I doubt he’d need help escaping. Is it a trap? But what for? Alternatively… could it be Pushkin? He was in Meursault initially right? We never found out what his connection was. It could be a new Russian author too! Intriguing! There’s also the matter of it being written in Russian in the first place - who is it meant for? Sigma specifically? Or is it meant for someone else who speaks Russian?

Dazai is actually injured! I was certain he had something ready to get out on his own but I like this much better. Tbh I know this sounds bad but I’m actually way more invested now that Dazai has a broken leg and Fyodor was just shot. There’s higher stakes, you know? Damn though. I think Dazai’s injuries are. Worse. He’s being terribly self-sacrificial, and is apparently going to face off against Chuuya next time we see him. I do think now the stakes would be too low if Chuuya was completely free of the brainwashing tbh… I’m hoping for a double “I know you’re in there” fight between skk and sskk. Not that Dazai can do much physically but his strength has always been with words anyways, and I am certain Chuuya’s already fighting back. And I know Atsushi will reach Akutagawa. Manifesting sskk reunion where they challenge Fukuchi again and win this time via the power of unbreakable trust (delusional).

Sigma asks Fyodor “WHAT are you?” Which is interesting, and I’m hoping will acknowledge the way Fyodor doesn’t seem to age… but also intriguing is the “getting closer” part on the side which implies he’s not quite right. I think Fyodor will still turn out to be human tbh (it’d be weird otherwise, thematically), but now I’m starting to lend a little more weight to that theory about a Fyodor double…

Well anyways. This was a lot. I’m going to helplessly whir about it for a bit now.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

In honour of Antonio’s birthday, you may have this fic. For nobody in particular.

Mirabel stresses about Antonio’s sixth birthday and making it more than perfect (to make up for last year), to the point she completely crashes when the day finally rolls around. Antonio doesn’t want to spend the day without her.

Mainly fluff!

The Best Gift of All

Chatting idly, Dolores and Luisa made their way into Casita, each carrying crates of decoration and treats and other supplies. The Madrigals were hoping to get everything prepared for when Antonio returned home for school for his birthday party. They both winced as Camilo suddenly pushed between them, grumbling under his breath and tearing up a streamer in his hand.

“¡Ay! Careful, Camilo! You almost made me drop this,” his sister chided.

“You know, the party is happening in Casita, Camilo. You’re going the wrong way.” Luisa teased. “Aren’t you helping us with decorations?”

Camilo made a face at them, “I was! But if I’m in a room with her any longer, I’m gonna actually punch her!”

Luisa raised an eyebrow curiously at him, while Dolores rolled her eyes. She settled her gaze on Isabela, who was busy conjuring up piles of amber leaves in the courtyard - there was already a thick enough layer that covered the tiles, swishing and crunching under foot.

“Isabela Cristina Rojas Madrigal, you better be behaving yourself in there,” she muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

“I am.” Isabela insisted.

“Uh huh, you mean to tell me you haven’t messed with Camilo or anyone else at all?” Dolores challenged. She was very unconvinced, even if Isabela sounded innocent.

No sooner had she said those exact words, had she and Luisa crossed the threshold, only for a massive pile of leaves to be dumped on them.

Dolores scowled. Isabela burst out laughing uproariously at the reaction, collapsing onto the floor. The mass amount of leaves breaking her fall. Luisa shook herself off, chuckling a little in amusement at her fellow prank victim. Camilo, who clearly hadn’t walked off in this time to see the prank, was also laughing along, bracing himself against the wall.

“I despise you all.” Dolores hissed.

“No, you don’t, you liar,” Isabela scoffed at her. “You love us and our antics.”

Luisa nudged Dolores playfully, “Come on, it was just a little prank. And the look on your face was priceless. I can’t believe you fell for that, as if Milo would ever be mad at Bela.”

“What?” Camilo piped up. “That wasn’t part of anything - hell, I didn’t even know Isabela was gonna do this. I am actually about to punch someone!”

“Right, so what else am I telling Isabela off for?” Dolores inquired.

“Not her! I’m talking about Mirabel!”

“Mirabel?” Dolores and Luisa questioned simultaneously. They shot each other a confused glance.

Isabela nodded, “Oh yeah, she’s been wound up all morning.” She gleamed off into the dining room, presumably where Mirabel was. “It’s actually insane. I think her mind has finally snapped, like a brittle stem. She keeps yelling at everyone.”

“Don’t say that about my hermanita!” Luisa snarled. “She’d never do anything like that!”

“It’s true! She’s an actual nightmare!” Camilo exclaimed, pulling at his hair in frustration. “Every time I try helping, she immediately starts yelling at me! ‘Primo, that streamer doesn't go with the palette of the room. Don’t you know basic colour coordination? You need to use orange’! ‘No, that’s not orange, that’s tangerine’! ‘No, that’s not orange, that’s mango’! Like, for fuck’s sake, it’s all fucking orange!”

Everyone turned to Luisa, who winced under the pressure. “Okay, yeah, maybe she would do that. A little… But she wouldn’t yell if she didn’t have a reason to yell!”

“Enough, I’m not dealing with you lot arguing all afternoon.” Dolores quickly intervened, stepping between them. “Camilo, why don’t you head into town and calm down? See how Tío Bruno and Agustín are getting along? Isabela, you can get rid of the rest of these pranks that I’m sure you’ve set up throughout the entire house.”

“How have you come back to being mad at me?” Isabela pondered aloud.

Dolores ignored the comment. “Luisa and I will finish the decorating and preparations here. And deal with Mirabel. Isabela can help when she’s done.”

Camilo huffed but didn’t really argue, disappearing down the road. Isabela tried to convince Dolores to let her leave her pranks in place, as Antonio would find them funny, but lost that debate and was made to remove them all. Which Dolores supervised. Luisa set the crates aside for the time being and was very disbelieving of the whole Mirabel thing. She was constantly babbling away at how Camilo had probably done something to upset her or was being overdramatic as usual.

With the pranks gone, they finally made their way into the dining room to where Isabela had said Mirabel was. The younger girl had been charged with the present wrapping - something Mirabel enjoyed way more than the average person for whatever reason. And, to her credit, the gifts she had already wrapped looked wonderful.

“See?” Luisa whispered to the older two. “Look how happy and peaceful she is. She’s so precious. I knew Camilo was lying.” She grinned, crossing her arms smugly. “Don’t you two look stupid?”

Dolores opened her mouth immediately - she never did like being made to look less intelligent than she believed she was - but Isabela simply held an arm out stopping her. Isabela being oddly calm and not immediately also trying to argue with Luisa was strange, and maybe for a second, some doubt appeared in Luisa’s face.

Isabela waved her hand, creating a tiny pink flower of some kind. She flicked it with her fingers, sending it directly towards Mirabel. Only for it to be immediately and harshly crushed under a book, with a force and speed that was very unlike Mirabel.

“Isabela Madrigal, you incompetent twit!” She screeched. “Fuchsia is not part of the colour scheme! It isn’t even a complimentary colour! You need to learn how to use your eyes properly, young lady.”

“Still seven years older than you, sis.” Isabela reminded, lazily.

“Then act like it!”

The others stood quietly taking this in. Dolores hummed in satisfaction that Luisa hadn’t been proven right, while Luisa was immediately trying to excuse her previous statement.

“That’s what she’s been like,” Isabela concluded to the pair beside her. “I don’t know why Camilo got so mad about it. I think it’s funny. I’m just proud that she does have a backbone in there somewhere - and, to be honest, if it only comes out for Antonio, that’s fine by me. As long as she actually has one. I was starting to worry it broke in Casita’s fall.”

“How sisterly of you, Isabela.” Dolores commented.

“I know, I’m such a good role model.”

Luisa shuffled out from between Isabela and Dolores, stepping closer to Mirabel, reaching for a hug as usual.

Mirabel shifted away from the hands. “Don’t you dare touch me, I’m in the middle of folding a corner! It needs to be even!” She explained, pointing with her lips to the book that she was now wrapping.

“I mean, does it really matter? It’s gonna be ripped off in seconds, Antonio won’t even notice what it looks like.” Isabela said.

“Isabela is right. People don’t care about wrapping. You are fussing over nothing,” Dolores added.

“How dare you? This is very important!” Mirabel countered. “And I’m sorry if you don’t care about the little things as much as I do - it is honestly your mistake - but I am not going to be the reason for Antonio having another ruined birthday!” She stopped, taking a breath to calm herself. “I would rather die.”

Mirabel clearly intended for some of that to be quiet, or maybe not even heard at all. But given how close Luisa was and Dolores’ enhanced hearing, and Mirabel not thinking clearly, it was heard. Even Isabela, who did not have the benefit of the other two, seemed to work it out, judging by the silence that fell over the room.

As soon as the corner was folded over and stuck down, Luisa made her move again, closing her arms around her sister. Too quick for Mirabel to pull away again. She was horribly tense, not that Luisa was by that - something had to be upsetting her for her to be so unlike herself. Bony joints poking into Luisa’s sides. She didn’t even move to reciprocate the hug, but she was too tired to fight it. Instead, she rubbed a hand at her temples, glaring slightly.

“Hermanita, I think you need to stop for doing this and take some time calm down, okay?” Luisa attempted to console Mirabel, however, seemed to have the opposite effect as Mirabel burst into tears.

“How can you even suggest that?” Mirabel sobbed. “At this rate, his birthday is going to be a disaster, Luisa! He’s going to hate me! Everything needs to be perfect but there’s only an hour until school ends and we haven’t finished decorating Casita! I’m staying to help! I could be on death’s door and I am still going to work my last breath into this. I haven’t finished wrapping the presents because I have to keep fixing everything Isabela and Camilo do because they keep doing it wrong! I haven’t even had the time to make the arequipe I promised Antonio yet!”

Luisa eyed her sister sadly, sympathetically.

“There isn’t even enough ribbon for the presents. How can it be a real celebration without ribbon?” Mirabel weeped into her hands.

Isabela blinked in confusion, “Don’t you have a shit ton of ribbon in your room—”

“Now’s not the time, Isabela.” Dolores hushed her before Mirabel could shrug off this defeat and immediately go back to working.

Luisa broke from the hug, crouching down beside Mirabel’s chair. She lifted her sister’s head up gently, slowly - she is going to assume that Mirabel has given herself some kind of headache from all this stress. And, knowing Mirabel, it won’t be as simple as headache or migraine. She’ll have been worrying about this for months - as early as the 15th of November, as soon as Luisa’s party was over because Antonio’s would have been next important birthday for Mirabel; she wouldn’t have given a care to her own.

“I get that you want the best for Antonio, we all do, but you are taking it a little bit too far, okay? You are hurting yourself over this, Mirabel, and that’s not okay. And somewhere inside you know you’re overthinking and overworking yourself.” Mirabel just glanced away, stubbornly. At least, she had stopped arguing, that accounted for something. “I’m gonna take you up to bed now, so you can calm down and try sleep a little. And before you say anything, it’s not up for debate. I will carry you up the stairs and put the piano in front of your door if I have to.”

~~~~~

Mirabel wasn’t sure what time it was.

She hadn’t fallen asleep but she wasn’t paying enough attention. Luisa had covered the windows, so there was no natural light to disturb her supposed sleep, and took the alarm clock so Mirabel couldn’t just set it for when Antonio would come back from school.

She felt ill. She had all day. Okay, fine, maybe the whole week leading up to Antonio’s party, but she didn’t want to say anything. The attention shouldn’t be on her. Not again. (And she was sure it would just pass. A couple of restless nights of poor sleep and a few skipped meals wasn’t too bad, right? Heck, half of her family barely sleep the recommend amount for her age! Who were they to talk?) In spite of her effort, she’s done it anyways. Ruined everything, like always.

Too engrossed in her own misery, she hadn’t noticed the opening and closing of her door. In her defence, the party seemed to be going on loudly downstairs - chatter, music, her father twisting his ankle while dancing, laughter, a food fight started by presumably Camilo or Isabela. It was only their family, but it might as well have been the whole town with how loud they were.

“Mirabel?”

Carefully, she lifted her head to find Antonio stood at the end of her bed, wearing a party hat embellished with a big number six. In his hands, he was holding a glass of juice and a plate with a slice of cake.

Of course it was him to check on her. He was sweet like that. But it hurt her more than just having her mother come and confront her about not taking care of herself.

“Dolores said you weren’t feeling well enough to come to the party, so I brought the party to you.” He explained.

Well… this wasn’t going how she thought it would.

Antonio shuffled around to the side of the bed as Mirabel adjusted her pillows, sitting up. He handed the glass to her. “I remembered you said apple was your favourite, so I had Papa make that. Is that right?”

Mirabel was still trying to catch up. “Y-yes, you are. But you don’t need to know that—”

“And Tía Julieta said to bring you some food because she doesn’t think you’ve eaten.” He gestured to the plate, which he placed on her bedside table, pushing her glasses aside to make room. “Oh, she says she’s going to speak with you later about that.”

Ah. There it is.

She was expecting Antonio to leave after that, he had given her a drink and some food like he’d been encouraged to do by the adults - he was free to go now - but, instead, he clambered up onto the bed, sitting across from her.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Mirabel said. “I don’t get why you’re up here with me. I’m fine. You can go downstairs and enjoy your party.”

“I want to be here. I want to be here with you! I don’t care about the cake and the balloons and the music, I want to be here.” Antonio insisted, offering his best puppy dog eyes. “I didn’t get to spend my last birthday with you.” Because she left as soon as the camera made an appearance and was losing her mind the rest of the evening about the cracks in the walls. She’s a terrible cousin. “I wanted to make up for it this year because you are my bestest friend!”

Mirabel just stared at the boy with tears in her eyes.

“But if you really want me to go, I can.” Antonio offered. He was fiddling with his sleeve nervously, as though expecting to be turned away.

She placed the glass aside, reaching over for Antonio’s hands. Wiping tears from her eyes with her spare hands, “Of course you can stay with me if you’d like, primito. It’s your birthday, you can do whatever you’d like.”

His eyes practically lit up. He clambered over to her, hugging her tightly. She returned the embrace, pulling him into her lap, hoping to hide some of her tears. She didn’t even know what was making her cry so much at this point. Perhaps just the sheer relief that she hadn’t disappointed him after all? The clarification that it was just a silly anxious thought in her head, rather than some fact she’d been dreading coming true?

When they pulled away, Mirabel was still rubbing at her eyes. “Well, what would you like to do first? You can tell me all about your day at school—”

“Can you read to me?” Antonio asked. “Like you use to do? In the nursery?”

She nodded, “I’d be more than happy to read to you. You’ll have to go get something though, I don’t have anything here for you in my hundreds of books. I mean, I doubt you’d be interested in reading An Analytical Study of Needlepoint or Colombian Philosophy and Morality Through the 1500s.”

Antonio bit his tongue, thinking. He agreed that those books did sound a bit boring - he didn’t really understand some of those words in the title anyways. A lightbulb flickered in his head.

“I know, I’ll go get the book you got me!”

Mirabel watched him jump off the bed fondly, skipping towards the door. She can’t believe she ever thought he’d be mad at her.

“Happy Birthday, Antonio,” she smiled.