#I'm too tired to even try to look for it if I can

[cherib3lla]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ; 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

warnings — not proofread :( pet names (baby), complete fluff !!

a/n — this is my first fluff fic/blurb so please give me feedback !! i’ve also seen many fics/blurbs like this so credit to the people who have made story’s like this <33 enjoy!

Chris and Matt had been streaming for more than three hours. Ever since Nick had gone on tour with Madison they've been streaming an insane amount. Not that anyone was complaining. The fans loved it.

They typically streamed until late at night. Starting around six or seven o'clock and not ending until at least ten. Even sometimes streaming twice in one night.

You streamed with them for an hour or two. Playing different games with them until you eventually get tired. That's what led you here, sleeping in Chris’ bed while he and Matt played Fortnite.

This was the second stream of the night. You had fallen asleep somewhere in between streams. Chris and Matt started playing Fortnite for the third time that night while you slept.

Everyone knew how mad that game made them. It was unavoidable. Screaming, banging, and chair throwing surrounded the house. To you, it was never that serious. Just a stupid game that they liked to play.

You were wrapped comfortably in Chris’ blankets. Head between two pillows to try and muffle the sound of everything around you. To be frank, it didn't work at all.

“WHAT THE FUCK MATT. GET OVER HERE.” Chris yelled at the screen. Matt yelled back, you could hear him from upstairs. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT CHRIS!”

You slowly open your eyes, accepting defeat. You are still in Chris’ bed, out of frame. You sit up with a huff, hair messy, and lips puffy. You wrap the blanket around yourself, get out of bed, and walk over to where Chris is sitting at his desk.

“MY FAULT? YOURE THE ONE WHO-” he gets cut off by your soft hand on his shoulder, tapping gently to get his attention.

“Chris, please come to bed it's almost — three am,” you state as you look in the bottom right corner of his computer. Unbeknownst to the two of you the chat was speeding by with ‘hi’s and ‘good morning’s directed to you.

“I'm sorry — did I wake you?” Chris replys. You wanted to make a snippy comment and say ‘Yeah no shit’, but you didn't. Too tired to really say anything anymore. But you did anyway.

“Yes, now can you please come to bed? It's almost three,” you repeat. “Of course baby — go lay back down I'll be there in a second!”

He leans up to peck your lips. You dodge it playfully and turn to walk back to his bed. His jaw drops. Ha couldn't believe you just did that in front of thousands of people.

‘Damn’ ‘LMAOOO CHRIS GOT REJECTED’ fills the chat. He turns back to the computer, saying bye to the stream and Matt. “Bye, guys! Love you all” he throws up a peace sign, logs off the discord, and turns off his computer.

He spins his chair around to see you under the blankets with your phone in hand. He walks over to you, gets under the covers, and pulls you against his chest. “I missed you baby,” he says through a yawn.

“Chris I was literally two fe-” he cuts you off with shushing noises.

“Shhhh — you're way too far away. Now go to sleep”

a/n — hiii, i hope you guys enjoyed!! this is super short but i hope it succeeded your expectations.

tag list — @sturniolos--girl-deactivated202 @m0r94n @lovesodakid @sweetreliever @emssturniolo @slxtformatt @prettylameusertbh @conspiracy-ash @probablyoutyappingorsomething @sturniolosandmoree @https-roman @hoeforchrizz @hvlplvss @idontcare4urmom @submattenthusiast

[moonstruckme]

hello maeee!! i hope youre well!!

ive been STRUGGLING with higher level classes recently and its absolutely killing me 😭

could you maybe write something about reader who struggles academically (whether it be on certain subjects, procrastination, overworking , etc. is completely up to you!) with poly!marauders/one of the marauders??

sorry if youve already written something like this, this request is a bit self indulgent 😭

-💡

Hi angel, I'm really sorry you've been going through it! Thank you for requesting though, all the best requests are a bit self indulgent ;)

cw: academic stress

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 678 words

James is a patient teacher, and in an effort to repay his kindness you’re really trying to keep your tears from falling. 

You keep your eyes steadfastly on your potions textbook as you flip through it. You’re blinking rapidly, looking for the chapter that contains yet another bit of information you’ve failed to retain, when Remus’ warm hand closes over your shoulder. 

“Careful,” he warns, bringing a steaming mug of coffee around you to set it on one of your closed books. 

“Thank you.” Your relief is immense. You’re the sort of tired that makes your eyes hurt and your brain feel dead, thoroughly worn out by hours of studying. You pick it up and take a sip. Look at your boyfriend in betrayal. “Decaf?” 

Remus gives you a look. “It’s evening, dove. You won’t be able to sleep.” 

“I’ve got some sleeping draught for later.” 

“Ah, substance abuse.” Sirius tosses you a grin from where he’s lounging on his bed, his own homework long since finished. “Must be very dark times.” 

Your face feels suddenly very hot. You turn it down towards your book again, but the quiet splat of a tear dripping off your nose and onto the pages gives you away. 

“Hey, hey.” Sirius sounds immediately panicked. “I’m joking, abuse whatever substances you like.” 

“Angel, what’s wrong?” James’ voice is surprised, but his hand finds your back anyway, rubbing between your shoulders firm and sure. “It’s okay. We’re nearly done.” 

You suck in a breath, hoping to collect yourself but horrified when it only triggers another hiccup of sobs. You put your hands at your hairline, hiding yourself. 

“I’m going to have to sucker punch Slughorn,” Sirius says, sounding mildly horrified at this realization. 

“Dove.” Remus steps in front of you, lifting your chin. “What’s going on? Are you tired, is that it?” 

You nod pathetically, tears carving hot paths down both cheeks. “I just feel s—so stupid,” you whimper. 

Remus’ brows hook in the middle, but it’s James who says, “Hey, why?” 

He thumbs away the wetness from the cheek closest to him, encouraging you to look at him with his hand on your face. His eyes are big and warm behind his glasses. 

“Because you’re having trouble with your homework? That happens to everyone sometimes.” 

You shake your head. “It used to be sometimes. I don’t know what it is, this year—” you stifle another sob “—I feel like I can’t understand anything anymore.” 

Remus sighs. “I think you’re just overworking yourself, sweetheart.” 

You almost want to laugh. “You think this is the result of working too much?” 

“I think that schoolwork is all you’ve been doing lately,” he says patiently. “I understand that you might be having a difficult time with the upper levels this year, but you’re not going to absorb anything new if you don’t take some breaks.” 

“True,” Sirius pitches in. “That invigoration draught you keep under your bed is making you twitchy, babe. You can hardly expect to pay proper attention in class when you’re nearly bouncing out of your seat.” 

Remus’ eyes narrow. “What?” 

“Bollocks.” Sirius makes a face. Sorry, he mouths to you. 

“Let’s go to dinner,” James saves you, closing your textbook and vanishing your coffee with a flick of his wand. “It’ll be good for you to think about other things for a bit, and we’ll finish up when we get back.” 

The prospect of a break relaxes you enough for your tears to abate. James swipes the remainders from your cheeks and pushes at the corner of your lips until you smile halfheartedly. 

Remus hums his approval. “You need to eat something proper,” he says, pinching you sternly under the chin, “and stop trying to usurp your circadian rhythm with potions.” 

“Substance abuse,” Sirius quips, hopping down from his bed to lead the way to the great hall, “best kept for the weekends, as I always say.” 

“Do you always say that?” James wonders aloud. “Seems rather impromptu.” 

“Well, that’s the mark of a good line, Jamesie. It always sounds off the cuff.”

[dollyhoon]

𝖢𝗈𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖡𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾́𝗌 ° ° break ups with enha

𝑜𝑓 : 𝖤𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 × 𝖺𝖿𝖺𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ,𝟣𝟧𝟢 - 300 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 (for each memeber) , 주의 : 𝖡𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗉 , 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 / ° { 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑔𝑒 }

🍒 • 𝖸𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 ! 𝖥𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 <3 the hyung line ver is here 💕

KIM SUNOO ( 김 수누 )

Sunoo's voice was raised,something you'd rarley seen. "I'm always trying to be here,but nothing i do is never enough is it?" You stood firm,refusing to back down "Because you're not really there Sunno,physically yes,but emotionally?,you're miles away."

"That's not fair." His voice wavered,as if he was hurt,but you couldn't stop. "It's the truth," you murmured "I need more from you,Sunoo,and i've tried to tell you that but,you never seem to listen..." — more under the cut !

Sunoo's expression softened,his eyes clouding with frustration and sadness. "I'm doing my best y/n,and if that's not enough—"

"Maybe it's not." You blurted out before you could stop and think,the weight of the words hitting you both at once.

He looked at you,his expression a mix of shock and frustration. "If you feel way,then i just don't think we're meant to be..."

Tears threatened to spill,but you held them back. "Maybe."

YANG JUNGWON ( 양 정원 )

"I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you," you said, your voice shaking as you stood in front of Jungwon. His eyes, always so expressive, were now clouded with confusion and frustration.

"Where is this even coming from?” he asked, his tone defensive. "I’ve been doing everything I can."

"You’ve been doing everything for yourself," you corrected. "Your career, your image,—there’s no room left for us..."

Jungwon's eyes widened, hurt flashing across his face. "That’s not fair. You knew how important my work is to me."

"And I supported you," you replied, your voice cracking. "But I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine with always coming second."

He looked at you, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak. "Jungwon, I love you, but I can’t keep waiting for you to make me a priority." The words hung in the air, heavy with finality.

"He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how to fix this," he whispered.

"I don’t think you can," you said softly, turning away as tears slipped down your cheeks.

NISHIMURA RIKI ( 西村力 )

"You never take anything seriously," you snapped, your patience worn thin after yet another argument that felt like a joke to Riki.

He leaned back,arms crossed,a playful smirk playing across his lips. "C'mon y/n,why do you take everything so seriously?,it's not that deep.."

Your frustration boiled over at his dismissive tone. "That’s exactly the problem! Nothing ever feels important to you, even when it’s about us."

He shrugged, still unable to grasp the seriousness of the moment. "It’s just how I cope...I don’t want to make things worse by getting too serious," His grin faded slightly, but he still didn’t meet your gaze. "I just don’t see why we should stress about stuff..."

You shook your head, feeling the weight of it all. "It’s not just ‘stuff.’ It’s us. I need you to take this seriously, but you never do."

He fell silent, finally realizing you meant it. "So… this is it?"

Tears threatened to spill as you nodded. "Yeah. I can’t do this anymore."

♥︎ - @icyy-hoon @yuvany @cupidriki @jakesangel @zvouyage @enreveriee @pshwrldd

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[itachiiwrites]

"𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄"

Genre: angst, drabble.

Content: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader, 271 spoilers, character death, grief.

a/n: i miss him guys

m.list! ₊˚⊹ ʚɞ♡︎ ˚⋅.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network 💗

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Satoru understands the burden of presenting perfection. That's why, his eyes always weighed with concern seeing you glued to your laptop with the strongest adhesive known to mankind. Deadlines.

When it's 3 AM, he'd revert his eyes at you, leaning his body onto the door frame with his arms crossed on his chest, like a mother who's about to give her child a nice scolding after getting caught red handed being up late. Why were you up so late? Being up late was his job, wasn't it?

"You don't need to look at me like that you know, I'm just trying to finish up so my boss in not up in my ass.." Even with your eyes glued to your screen, you would audibly make out his chortle before it fades away with his footsteps in the kitchen.

"Don't care..I'm simply trying to get my gorgeous girl to get her beauty sleep, so her prince charming—" He mouths "me" as he returned back, pointing to himself. "Can kiss you to live like... a 100 years!" It makes you smile, his jestful jab, the scent of hazelnut coffee wafting through the room and his seamless concern for you even when he's tired himself. A kiss onto the side of your temple from him felt like you were finally breathing, breathing in when his warmth was around.

"You're a hypocrite you know that..?" You look into his eyes while his azures held a tender gaze, pressing your lips onto the rim of the silly matching cups you bought on an whim for the two of you. He held out it for you in his perfect hands as you sipped, your hands settled on top of his. And it felt like home.

"Me!? A hypocrite!? No..never. I'm simply putting in some life in my girl, so she can face the horrors of the world with her silly little laptop" He'd joke and then kiss you softly like he was making a promise. It was impossible to keep him serious but..

There was no need to anymore because.. now he was gone, all of him, the childish, the unserious, the funny, the yearning. He was no longer there to hold the cup for you to drink your coffee from, tell you how he'd be by your side while you faced the horrors of your mundane life, all while his was a gamble.

You scoff as you hold the same cup in your palms at the memory, your eyes darting to its twin cup that belonged to him, filled yet untouched simply occupying the space in his memory, that periwinkle blue of the ceramic was strangely like him, right across you. And yet that measly looking object was gnawing down a place in your heart that felt like a void— sized equivalent of the world.

It was no longer Satoru's cup, it was simply a cup that you filled just for the sake of it, just to have an ounce of his presence, the illusion of it.

"Did you kiss me and left your own years in my life too Satoru?" You say to it, seeing the steam swirling out of it slowly disappear.

Yeah. He was such a hypocrite.

[star-reaper]

Dean Winchester x Reader One-shot/Drabble

Anniversary

Synopsis: It's your first anniversary. He's supposed to be here. You're embarrassed, you're anxious, you're hurt. You're tired of not feeling like a priority to him. The entire walk home in the pouring rain has you thinking the worst, but what you find in your apartment is not what you had expected.

Hurt/Comfort, angst + major fluff, happy ending, fem!reader, pre s1 Dean, descriptions of injury, blood, typical canon violence

You're pissed. More than that, you're seething.

The embarrassment has twisted into white hot rage and the blood rushing through your body sends your heels tapping away erratically on the tiled floor of the restaurant, knee bobbing up and down and sticking to the leather seat.

The waitress has come back four times in the hour and ten you'd been there waiting, your glass of water anxiously sucked down and replaced with a sickly sweet mai tai twice. She glances up at you from the hostess booth every few minutes, pity practically seeping from her expression each time she does and still doesn't see your date with you.

Everyone knows you've been stood up. Guests around you peer over nosily, sneering. Or even glare at the loud fidgeting you're managing in the cozy corner booth of the facility. It's a nice place, you were so excited to finally try it out with Dean, immediately suggesting it when you two had planned this celebration a month ago. You'd eyed it every day on your walk home from the University you attended, it's classy appeal and crimson red walls practically glowing on the other side of the street, soft jazz music emitting from its doors. It was expensive, you'd both had to scrape together some savings to ensure you could afford it but god were you excited. Excited for a taste of normalcy, domesticity; a lovely night out with your lover at a gorgeous restaurant in the city, good food, fancy cocktails . . . It didn't seem like too much to ask for. And for your first anniversary it seemed fitting too. But now all you can think of is how stupid that notion was.

Normalcy with Dean Winchester? It was laughable. And really, you loved that about him, loved everything about him, but to think that for one night he would push aside his responsibilities to celebrate your anniversary together was just plain naivety.

You weren't a normal couple and you never would be.

And to think, you dressed yourself up all pretty, soft makeup adorning your features and your hair down just like he liked it. Your "once-in-a-blue-moon" jewelry set accessorizes your outfit perfectly, and really, you felt beautiful. You wanted him to see you like this, his green eyes glazed over with that lover boy haze, his usual smirk shifting into that sweet, gentle smile reserved for only you. He'd have his hands all over you and those pretty lips on your neck.

Now it all felt so silly.

You should've known the day was bound for failure when you woke up this morning and he was already gone from your apartment. Not completely unusual, you know of course what he does and you know what his father demands of him. You decided long ago that you didn't care. Anything was worth the pleasures of loving Dean— being loved by Dean. But you'd hoped today would be different. You'd planned to awaken together and spend all morning entangled in his body, loving each other lazily and sleepily and then finally rolling out of the sheets for a cup of coffee and stupid cartoons. Instead you'd left him a voice message,

"Happy Anniversary, Baby." You'd cut yourself off with a yawn, angling the phone away from your lips, then, "Was hoping I'd see you this morning to tell you in person but it looks like duty calls, huh? Call me back when you get this, I'm excited for tonight. I love you, Dean. Bye."

He hadn't ever called back, but really you just thought maybe it was a difficult hunt. He'd get back to you as soon as he could. You knew it. You ached to be angry with him for leaving you alone, for choosing another hunt instead of just giving you 24 hours of his undivided attention on this special day. But you swallowed that anger down and fought hard to remind yourself, it's okay. Shit happens. He isn't choosing work over you, and you know that it's so much more complicated than that. But then why did it hurt so bad? Why did your stomach sink further and further into you with each passing hour and no word from Dean?

The whole afternoon went by with still nothing. You'd called again to see if he was okay, if he was gonna make it to dinner. It went right to voicemail and at that point you felt it was up to hoping. Trusting. You trusted he would make it to your anniversary dinner because he knew how important it was for you. He knew how excited you were and he knew you'd be waiting for him. Part of you thinks you should have reminded him yesterday but you remind yourself that he's a grown man. He should be able to remember your plans together just fine without you breathing down his neck. He wouldn't have just forgotten.

Would he?

Hands shaking, you pull out your wallet and fish three twenties out of the zippered pouch. It's far more than what your drinks costed you and a pretty hefty tip but you felt it was only fair for your prickly attitude and the awkwardness your poor waitress had to endure. Your hand slaps hard against the cold, solid surface of the table. Your jaw is clenched so tight you swear you won't have any teeth left by the time you walk home. Rising on unsteady legs, eyes averted to the ground, you bee-line out of that prestigious restaurant and finally take a deep breath when your face hits the wall of freezing air outside of the building. It's cold in your throat and cold on your flush cheeks.

It's only then that you notice the onslaught of rain pelting down from the heavens in big, cold, droplets. It's just perfect, you think. How fitting would a cliche half-mile walk to your apartment be in the freezing cold rain after being stood up on your anniversary.

Fists clenched at your sides you start to feel that familiar tightness in your throat, prickling up from deep inside of you.

Don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you think.

But it's too late, the tears are falling faster than you can stop them and the hurt, the embarrassment, the anger, the anxiety. . . it all comes crashing down in one big tsunami of fat tears running down your cheeks. You feel pathetic, but you just can't help it.

Your pretty dress slicks to your skin as you begin your trek home, the fabric darkening from the wet of the rain and you can already feel the soppy puddles forming in the soles of your heels. Your hair, once rolling perfectly down your shoulders in precise curls sticks to your face and plasters around your neck uncomfortably. You swear you're wearing holes into your bottom lip with how hard you're biting the flesh, the metallic tang of blood seeping into your mouth as you try to contain your sobs.

How could he forget this? How could he embarrass you like this? You're so sick of feeling like you're on the back burner all the time and you're scared it'll be the breaking point.

By now, you were supposed to be in the passenger seat of his Impala, driving home together with your bellies full and your hands clasped together on the center console, all smiles and loud singing to his music. He'd kiss you deep at the red lights and a familiar warmth would spread inside you at your core. Together you'd stumble into your apartment with a clumsy clash of teeth and lips and roaming hands— thinking about this was just making you feel so much worse. Nothing had gone to plan and now you weren't sure what would happen next. Not sure you could hold it together without blowing up on him as soon as you see him. If you even see him tonight. You have the feeling you won't.

Besides being absolutely drenched, it's also frigidly cold, the wind ripping through the tight collection of city streets and billowing your clothes. You shiver hard, teeth chattering loudly at this point and it's almost tempting to just run the rest of the way home. You probably would if you didn't have heels on. The evening dark sky casts a sad, blue glow across the wet pavement and across your skin, painting you in a cerulean hue of light disrupted only by the yellow luminescence of each street lamp you pass. You would think it was beautiful if not for your sour mood.

You think you're about to be rescued when you hear the thrum and idle of an old classic car pulling up behind you. You straighten up immediately and spin on the noise hopefully, wholly expecting to see that familiar, sleek black car and Dean, running to your aid with apologies shooting off his tongue. You deflate when you see instead, an old red Nova and a sweet elderly couple ambling into a shop together under an umbrella. You sigh hard and swipe your knuckles across your cheek in a useless attempt to will away your uncontrollable tears.

The usual ten-ish minute long walk home feels unbearably long and when you finally reach those double doors and push them open weakly you can't help but feel at least a little bit better. The lobby is dry and empty and warm and you relish in it for a moment before making your way to the elevator and up.

Your fingers are numb from the cold as you fiddle with your keys, fumbling a few times before finally unlocking the door and nudging it open with your hip. When you make it inside you slump against the wood of your front door and slide pathetically down to the floor into a ball, knees drawn tight to your chest and arms around yourself. You're crying again, sniffling and shaking and weeping and it feels horrible and relieving all at the same time.

Your apartment is dark save for the ambiance lamp left on in the living room and the light streaming through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. You cock your head to the side.

Wait a minute. You could've sworn you turned the off when you left, you're usually pretty good at remembering to shut off all the main lights. Then you realize the big, brown boots sitting next to you by the shoe rack. Dean's big, brown boots.

In an instant, you're standing again and striding in big, quick steps toward the bathroom door, heels discarded behind you and wet feet leaving imprints on the wood floors, your dress leaving puddles in your wake.

"Dean?" You call, voice so weak you barely hear it yourself, "Dean, where the hell have you been?"

Your hand is on the handle and you're wrenching the door open before he even has the chance to answer.

You can't help the gasp that slips loudly past your lips, your fingers following in wake to cover your mouth.

Dean sits crumpled on the bathroom floor, a wet washcloth in hand pressing against his temple and there's blood everywhere. Blood both fresh and dried caked on his face, oozing from gashes on his forehead and his neck. His skin is pale and his lips almost blue. His black tee is shredded into ribbons down the front with marks like an animal attack running all down his chest, angry and red, and swollen. Dean tilts his head against the wall he leans against and grimaces when the door you pushed into him knocks him hard in the knee.

Immediately you're at his side, down on your knees to tend to him and you're terrified because he's never come back this out of shape.

"I'm okay, Baby. Hurts like hell, but I'll live." He affirms, shaking his head at your concern, "Just gotta get cleaned up."

You pry the cloth from his hand and move to rinse the blood from it in the sink, wringing it out and re-wetting it before holding it back to the deep wound next to his brow. Your own are furrowed, no doubt displaying your every emotion to him consequently. It's almost instant how quick you forget your tears, consumed by the adrenaline in seeing Dean so beat up. It's not the first time you'd tended to his wounds after a hunt but it is the first time it's been so serious.

His lashes flutter and you realize how exhausted he looks as his eyes meet yours, then narrow as he takes in your appearance. You feel like shrinking under his gaze, averting your own as his hands come up to cup your cheeks and he pulls your face gently towards him to make you look at him again.

"Sweetheart, you been crying?" He asks tentatively, brushing his thumb past the sticky tear tracks drying under your eyes. With sudden clarity he's looking down at your body and your wet dress and sopping hair and his jaw drops wide open.

"Shit. Shit, Baby." His eyes widen and in an instant that exhaustion is wiped from his features, replaced with pure terror and guilt.

"I'm so sorry. Please tell me you weren't waiting for me out there. Please tell me you weren't sitting outside that restaurant the whole time waiting on me." He's shaking his head and for a moment you think he's going to cry now.

You sniffle and have to look away from him, swallowing that damned lump in your throat.

"You forgot." you manage to croak. "You forgot our anniversary."

"No, no, I didn't," - you narrow your eyes at him accusingly - "Well, I did— kind of! Baby, I'm so sorry I didn't realize that was today I just got so caught up in this hunt and Dad—"

"You always get caught up in a hunt. Dean, you left me alone in that restaurant. You left me alone all day. You disappeared before I even woke up, didn't leave a note or anything. You didn't answer your phone, you didn't—" You shake your head, trying not to cry again. "Do you know how embarrassed I was at that restaurant? You hurt me, Dean. This was important to me."

"Let me make it up to you," Dean grovels, eyes pleading, "Please, let me have a redo."

"I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to feel like I'm on the back burner. I know what you do is special. I know it's different and I know it's important to you. But you make me feel shitty when you don't put in the effort to remember these things. When you don't fit me in as a priority, too. It makes me feel like you weren't as excited as I was to celebrate this with you and that's hurtful." You remove his hands from your face to stand and you feel him panic for a moment, thinking you're walking away from him when you're just standing to reach the first aid kit on top of the mirror cabinet.

You pull from the box the bottle of antiseptic and some gauze and go to work on patching up those wounds. No matter how angry, how hurt you are, you weren't going to let him clean himself up the haphazard way he does it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was excited, I was excited to see you happy and to spend time with you. I was excited to show you off. Baby, you mean everything to me, don't think for a moment that you don't." Dean says, and you know he means every word. "I won't let it happen again, I'll shape up."

"Actions mean a lot more than words, you know." you say, not harshly, but matter of factly, quiet.

"I know. I'll make it up to you. It won't ever happen again. I swear it."

He rests his hands on your shoulders, soothing them up and down your arms. "Sweetheart, you're freezing. Ditch the first aid, let's get you into the shower you're gonna catch a cold."

You take one glance at his bloodied chest and know the shower would do him just as good rather than ruining all your clean laundry trying to soak up his blood.

"You too?" you ask, brows furrowed.

Dean nods before heaving himself up, using the wall as support even though you reach your hands out to him to hold him up. He shucks off his jacket and pulls what's left of his shirt over his head, leaving them in a dejected pile on the bathroom tile.

Next, he's pulling the kit out from your other hand and setting it on the bathroom counter before reaching his arms around your body to unzip your dress in the back.

"You still look beautiful. I'm sorry you wasted it on me."

"I look like a drowned rat."

Dean scoffs at that, his lips flitting up into that signature amused smirk of his.

"I love you." He whispers against your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss there before slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders and you return his words.

The dress falls around your legs with a sloppy, wet, slap on the tile and you slip out of it before turning the faucet on in the shower. Dean unbuttons his jeans and you peel off the rest of each others clothes before stepping into the warm shower.

The blood melts into the hot water and down the drain, Dean grimacing from the pain and you delicately circle a hand around his wrist.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? What happened today anyway?" You ask.

"It's a long story, tell you some other time." You leave it at that as his hands come up to massage the shampoo into your hair and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

Together you clean up, pressing kisses to each other in various locations, Dean's hands gentle on your body and in your hair and arms circling your waist.

"I don't deserve you." he whispers so quietly you barely hear it over the patter of the water in the porcelain tub.

"You do, Dean. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be forgiven. You deserve everything good. I love you. And I forgive you because I know you mean it. I know you'd never hurt me on purpose."

You don't say it, but you forgive him because he's Dean Winchester. You love him so hard you'd let it destroy you. You forgive him because he really does deserve it. Dean Winchester who lost his mom tragically. Dean Winchester who looks out for everyone but doesn't expect anyone to look out for him. (No one does). Dean Winchester and the little brother he raised who doesn't even know it. Dean Winchester and his hard ass, stubborn father who treats him like a soldier. Dean Winchester and his heart of gold. Your Dean Winchester.

"I love you, too." He kisses you deep, nose brushing against yours and calloused fingers at your collar, the other arm around your back. Your hands reach around his neck and thread into the short hair at his nape.

"You know, that ice cream place down the road is open until 10." Dean smiles, "Whaddaya say we go get some Rocky Road and bring it home and we can marathon whatever you want all night on the couch?"

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

"Okay," you say with a smile, "that sounds perfect."

"Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart."

[oliversrarebooks]

a good grade in being brainwashed: the perfect pet

tw: pet whump, bbu, dehumanization, brainwashing, memory wipe

Previous > Masterlist

"You need more than good looks to get the lead part, you know," said Toby, casually coming up behind Vinay and leaning against his chair. "That's why they'll undoubtedly go with me. No hard feelings. If you're very lucky, though, you'll get to play a supporting role in helping my star shine that much brighter."

Vinay suppressed the urge to point out that it was Toby who convinced him to sign up for theater in the first place, knowing full well that he was the idiot who let Toby talk him into things. "I'll have you know I've been practicing for this audition all week. You shouldn't assume it will be easy."

Toby sighed and rolled his eyes. "You've been practicing all week and yet you're still so stiff. Stiff as a board!" He shook Vinay lightly as if to make a point. "The lead role isn't stiff. He's adventurous. Dashing! Charismatic! And right now you look like a tired accountant three years from retiring, whose idea of adventure is to buy medium salsa instead of mild."

He scowled, because unfortunately Toby was probably right. He wasn't sure he was cut out for acting at all, and the thought of going up on the stage and delivering his monologue before a judging panel… "What do you suggest, then?"

"Here, I've got it." Toby circled around behind him and put his hands on Vinay's shoulders. "You have to let your muscles relax."

"What are you doing?" said Vinay with considerable alarm.

"I'm helping with your stiffness, obviously." Toby was kneading at his shoulders, and unfortunately for Vinay's resolve, it felt amazing.

"You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"And even though you know that, it's still working."

Of course it was. Vinay never knew what Toby was thinking, giving him a massage in front of everyone gathered for the audition, not that anyone was really noticing.

Actually, no. Vinay knew exactly what Toby was thinking, because it was what Toby was always thinking. He wanted attention, and as usual, Vinay was a convenient source for it.

"Let all that tension out of those muscles," said Toby in a tone that might have been soothing if it weren't Toby. "Just let your mind go blank. And think about what it would be like if you weren't terminally boring."

"Thanks," said Vinay, dripping with sarcasm. "I'll do my best."

"You're so very welcome. I'm always happy to help a fellow thespian!"

Vinay knew he had to do something to take his mind off of warm hands on his shoulders, lest he start to get uncomfortable feelings for his irritating roommate. "I wanted to ask you, have you studied for organic chem yet?"

"Eh, nah. I don't need to. I see organic chem as more of an art than a science really."

"…It's very literally a science."

"So I can probably intuit all the answers. I'll be fine."

That's right, Vinay needed this reminder of how absolutely infuriating Toby could be. He didn't take anything seriously but acting and inflating his ego -- although Vinay suspected there was more going on there, a lot more.

Ever since the very first day they'd been paired together in the dorms, he had an uncanny knack for getting on Vinay's nerves. He seemed to have a supernatural ability for pushing Vinay's buttons just enough to drive him up the wall, but never quite enough that Vinay could truly dislike him. Whenever Vinay wanted peace and quiet, there he'd be, demanding attention. And whenever Vinay was lonely… well, he'd usually be there too. And perhaps that wasn't so terrible.

"You should really study after this. I'll help you."

"Hmm… I suppose I could help you study, if you really want me to. But only if we order Chinese. I can't study on an empty stomach, you know."

"Fine. Deal."

The auditorium went quiet as the director got up on stage. "All right, we're going to begin auditions. Everyone auditioning for the male lead, please head backstage now. When your name is called, you'll have five minutes to deliver your monologue."

"Oh, here we go!" said Toby, cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Time to shine!"

"Right." Vinay tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he followed Toby backstage. He probably wasn't going first, so at least he'd have five minutes to take some deep breaths and calm down before --

"Vinay? You're up first."

Shit.

"Knock 'em dead," said Toby, clapping him on the back. "Break a leg. Break both your legs."

"What?"

"Shatter your collarbone. Suffer third degree burns to over sixty percent of your body."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, if breaking your leg is lucky, more injuries must be extra luck."

Vinay groaned and brushed Toby off as he walked out onto stage with a stride he hoped was confident. He turned to the front and looked at the director.

And his mind went immediately blank.

---

Vinay's mind went immediately blank when he saw the discount pet in the case in the corner, B211.

Toby. It was Toby. But that wasn't possible.

He looked so different from the last time Vinay had seen him. His hair was neatly done and he was wearing a tailored uniform, nothing at all like the tousled hair and loud colors he'd normally preferred. But the most striking thing about him was the smile. It was no longer that cocky grin he always wore when he'd gotten your attention. It was a customer service smile, a meek and submissive smile, a smile tinged with desperation.

But it was Toby. Even though that didn't seem possible, there was no mistake.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right?"

Vinay nodded and let the salesman lead him away to a different pet on display, but his mind remained behind.

How the hell did Toby end up as a pet? Vinay had spent so much time with him in college and never suspected that he might be a pet. Sure, he struggled with his grades, and was a bit on the unstable side, but surely that didn't mean he was a pet. Had he signed up voluntarily? Had he gotten himself in trouble, the sort of trouble that got him designated a risk to himself? Did he have a nervous breakdown?

And did he remember Vinay? No, he couldn't possibly. Pets all had their former memories erased through what was said to be a very humane process, to ease their transition into a better life. Toby likely didn't remember anything at all about him.

And that thought made him slightly ill.

"I can tell this one's not to your liking," said the salesman, and Vinay realized he'd been making a disgusted look in the vague direction of the pet the salesman was showing off. "Well, I think you're going to like this pet. He's low maintenance and is trained to cook…"

"That sounds interesting," said Vinay, trying to regain his focus.

He'd come here to find a companion pet on the recommendation of his therapist. His job left him with plenty of money but even more stress, he'd had little luck with making friends or dating, and he'd been getting desperately lonely and touch-starved. His therapist quite reasonably pointed out that that was one of the primary functions of pets, to ease loneliness.

Vinay had never considered it before. He'd never been fond of his family's Domestics. His father had preferred them unseen and unheard, so they tended to flit around the house like ghosts. Vinay certainly didn't want a pet like that. He wanted a pet with some personality, who could brighten his days and give him something to do other than work and sleep.

And he absolutely could not buy Toby, not that he would even consider it. However Toby had ended up as a pet, it was not his business, and Vinay was a stranger to him now anyway. Even if he didn't have his memory cleaned, Toby would no doubt hate being stuck with Vinay again. Most importantly, there was a rule in the Pet Owners' Handbook warning against keeping pets that the owner knew before they were pets. After all, pets had their memories erased so that their training would take well and so they wouldn't experience any unnecessary duress. Digging up those memories could cause psychological harm.

There was another customer in front of Toby now. Vinay had no reason to worry about him - he probably made a great pet, and would be bought up quickly.

That thought didn't make Vinay feel better at all.

The salesman directed him to the largest case at the end of the show floor. "And I've saved the best for last. This is a premium model, one of the finest we've had in this showroom. He does it all, and does it in style."

The premium pet was perfectly coiffed and very handsome. His smile looked much more natural than some of the other pets', warm and inviting, as though he truly wanted to be your companion. The salesman eagerly listed his attributes: independent, intelligent, capable of being a personal assistant, eager to please…

This one was everything he had wanted in a pet, just the sort of thing he'd been looking for. The pet was expensive, but Vinay could easily afford this indulgence. He'd be the perfect addition to Vinay's lonely condo, one he'd be proud to have.

"If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be best suited to your needs, sir."

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said Vinay with a lack of enthusiasm that surprised even him. After all, wasn't this exactly what he wanted? An ideal pet, perfectly trained, quiet, obedient, affectionate.

Just the right boring, corporate addition to his boring, corporate life.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

Who was this premium pet before he was a pet? He wasn't meant to worry about that. They were all supposed to be volunteers or those who otherwise couldn't live a normal life, and the pet process was supposed to be humane and gentle. It was good for them, and good for pet owners.

But when he glanced over at Toby's blank and docile face…

"Maybe, but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

What was he doing? He couldn't buy Toby. That pet wasn't even Toby any more. He wasn't the roommate that drove Vinay up the wall at every given opportunity. He no longer knew any of Vinay's secrets, shared with him in late night conversations. He was a pet, now, and this premium pet was much better suited to Vinay's needs, just like the salesman said.

His needs. How often did he really think about his needs? What were they? Was a premium pet really what he needed?

Every rational part of his mind was screaming "bad idea" as he walked back to Toby's case. As he approached, a tiny spark of light appeared in Toby's dull eyes, and Vinay knew, against all of his sensible judgement, that he wasn't going to leave here without his old frenemy.

It had to be delusional, leftover feelings from his college years, all the time spent tutoring Toby and trying to get him to take his work seriously, all those times they'd spent laughing and talking about subjects both deep and ridiculous…

Vinay didn't really know what he needed, but he couldn't help but feel that Toby needed him.

"Are you sure?" said the salesman, clearly confused as to why Vinay had gone back here after being shown the premium model. "This one's a refurb. That's why he's on a discount."

A refurb. Someone had previously owned and sold Toby. He'd had his memories wiped at least twice now.

"Do you know why he was returned?"

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course…"

Vinay made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a choke. Of course Toby was attention-seeking as a pet. If there was one thing Toby couldn't stand, it was being ignored or bored.

And his previous owner hadn't appreciated that. He could imagine Toby's desperation as his bids for affection were rebuked by a busy owner. Lonely. Rejected. They surely didn't know how to handle him. Vinay knew, though. He always had.

"I want to buy this one."

The salesman was as surprised as Vinay was, going on about how they don't accept returns on refurbished pets. That hardly mattered. Vinay wasn't going to be returning him.

He was actually going to go through with this. He was going to own Toby.

No, he was going to own the pet that was once Toby. He wasn't the same, and Vinay couldn't treat him that way, lest he damage his new pet.

It would be fine. He'd stick to the rules in the Pet Owners' Handbook, the thick tome he'd already read half a dozen times, and it would be fine. He wouldn't bring up old memories. He'd give this pet a good life and all of the attention he deserved, at least when he was off work. It'd be fine.

And so he'd ended up in the sales office, signing mountains of paperwork to make him the legal owner of B211.

"We'd be happy to offer you any of our very affordable add-on packages," said the salesman. "We have additional skill training, discipline courses, and a wide variety of modifications we can make to your new pet before he goes home with you. For this particular pet, I would strongly recommend additional obedience and docility courses, to make sure he's well suited to your busy lifestyle."

"No, that won't be necessary," said Vinay, thinking of Toby's -- no, B211's -- eyes. Vinay had never seen him so quiet and docile. More obedience training seemed like the last thing he needed.

"Very well. If you change your mind, you can always give him discipline and obedience refreshers as necessary, although it might be more difficult for the pet once he becomes attached to you."

"I understand," said Vinay, signing another packet of papers. His brain was already swimming with how best he should welcome his new pet into his home. He'd planned for it extensively, read all the books, and of course Toby -- no, no, B211, damn it -- had to throw a wrench in his plans.

He was sure of one thing, though. B112 would be safe and happy with him if it was the last thing he did.

Previous > Masterlist

I'm sure this will go well.

@there-will-always-be-blood @kisa-writes @andithewhumper @handsinmotion @whumperhive

@eventide-triptych @pumpkinsncoffee

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: lee seokmin

first love

'when it comes to you, 'forever' sounds so sweet, so good'

there are some things that are just plain facts like earth being round, for example. there are some things that are not up for arguing like banana milk being the best milk. then there are some things that are true but it takes a while to learn them like how grass is not greener on the other side but where you water it. seokmin thought long and hard about it and in the end decided that his love for you is applicable to all three categories: it's both a fact, something that is not up for arguing and some thing that is true but took a while to learn.

and take a while it did. 'seokkie?' your head pops in, smile wide and eyes crinkled. 'sorry for bothering, just wanted to check in. is everything okay? you've been quiet whole dinner.'

seokmin blinks, focusing on you. he wasn't quiet whole dinner per say - he's been talking and engaging with everyone and to anyone who doesn't know him close he looked absolutely fine. but you are very close to him and of course you noticed slight tense posture, how smile didn't quite reach his eyes. seokmin's heartstrings tug at your attentiveness towards him; he smiles, telling you to come in. when you shuffle forward, he instantly envelops you in a big hug, moving you to lay side by side, finding this gesture oddly comforting. in fact, everything about you is oddly comforting - you remind seokmin of home, of that feeling when you're back in your own bed after being away for a long time. it's addictive and after so many years of knowing you and being your friend, he's sure that he doesn't have anyone closer to him than you.

'what is it, seokkie?' you ask in a whisper, turning your head to face him. your eyes are so expressive, seokmin never gets tired of just staring into them; right now they are filled with worry and gentleness that is so you, seokmin can't help but reach out and pinch your cheek cutely. 'hey! don't distract me mister, answer my question!'

'i don't really know,' seokmin answers truthfully. 'i guess i'm just scared of all these upcoming changes, you know? they feel so big, too big for all of us. i'm scared how they will change everything.'

i'm scared they will change you and me is on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't voice it out loud. he won't be able to let go, he knows it. if you go, this void in his chest won't be filled with anyone else, he knows it too. moving away is hard but it's even harder when he loves-

'whatever can happen will happen,' you say, staring at him seriously. 'but it will never change you and me.'

-you. he loves you. it's clear as a day to him when he now stares at you and this realization takes his breath away. and it's not like seokmin is dumb or oblivious - he definitely knew that his feelings for you bordered on something much, much bigger than simple 'like' or 'friendship'. it's more about how he never thought to give them a name and got so used to having them because they became a part of him, of who he is and whoa, isn't that a big and scary thought? that his feelings for you are literally part of his personality? it probably should be but it doesn't scare seokmin for a one bit. loving you, he realizes, is as easy as breathing.

'i don't want us to ever change,' he admits, trying not to choke on his feelings. 'i want it to always be you and me, together.'

he hopes you hear it. he hopes you understand what he's trying to say because he just learned that he loves you and it's a lot. your smile makes him smile back and when you nod, telling him that you two will always be together, he feels his heart beat faster. 'course, seokkie. i love you,' you say and you say it so easily that his breath hitches.

and if you can say it to easily then he can, too. 'i love you,' he voices out, trying out these words on his tongue. they feel good. 'i love you.'

there's a change in your eyes, like you start to get what he means. when seokmin leans in, you don't stop him or lean back. when he kisses you, you don't push him away or tell him to stop - you kiss him back.

and it's not something up for arguing either. because you are his first friend, his first girlfriend, his first love. seokmin dares anyone to tell him that first love is not real or that it won't last - he is here to prove everyone wrong with you. how can it not last, when you're looking at him with your sweet smile and he feels like earth goes around only because you exist?

and it is a plain fact - earth is round, sky is blue, seokmin loves you with everything in him.

a/n: huge thanks to @flipflopscrop for giving me idea for this one! hopefully you all like it <3 - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[starriislxt]

A LOVING MOMENT ✰

⁀➷ rodrick heffley x fem!reader | duration: 539

description: when rodrick is too busy to help you, you decide to take things into your own hands.

content: sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ pregnant!reader ﾉ written with black!reader in mind but can be read as what you imagine.

notes: ahhh, my second rodrick fic posted! i'm happy you guys liked the first one, there's more to come! i always had a crush on him and now i'm happy that i'm writing for him.

masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

“Roddy!” You shout but you know it’s no use when you know he has his headphones while playing his drums, you didn’t want to interrupt his flow so you decide to do this task yourself.

It was an easy task, not like you’re sick, you were only six months pregnant and didn’t need him to get one of your seasonings that was on the very top shelf, you never put it so high but the last time Rodrick helped you cook; he was the one to put away stuff which now you heavily regret.

“Hmph, that’s the last time I ask him to help me cook,” you mumble to yourself as you waddle over to one of the chairs by the dining table. “Okay (name), how do you want to do this?” You ponder to yourself as you come up with a strategy to bring the chair over to where you need it.

You push it over to the spot, making sure it’s in a perfect space where you can just get up and access the top shelf. You set down your knee first, counting to three before giving a big push to get yourself up on the chair. That alone made you tired; having to take a mini break before fully attempting to stand on the chair.

“Whoa whoa, what the hell are you doing?” Hearing his voice stops you right in your tracks; his headphones now sat around his neck. You must have been so focus on getting on the chair to even notice he had entered the kitchen.

“I’m trying to get a seasoning, I need it for the chicken but it's on the top shelf, I couldn’t reach it.”

“Why didn’t you come for me to help you?” Rodrick questions as he makes his way over to you, looking at you crazy, already helping you down. “Well I did try to yell for you but you were in your zone, I’m not going to interrupt you.” You explain, making eye contact with him.

“Princess, I don’t care whatever I’m doing, if you need help, come get me. I don’t want you or the precious little one getting hurt,” he voices, reaching up to grab it for you so effortlessly which pisses you off only a tiny bit that it was that easy for him.

“Alright baby, I’ll ask you next time.” You say, taking the seasoning from him and returning to your chicken while he comes up behind you, rubbing the swell of your stomach, laying soft kisses on your neck. “What you cooking?”

“White rice with some fried chicken and some broccoli,” you comment as he turns your head a bit so he can kiss your soft lips. “Now, stop distracting me, I have to finish cooking. I’m eating for two, remember.”

Rodrick lets out a chuckle before giving you another kiss, telling you he loves you before going back downstairs, leaving his headphones around his neck just in case you need him to do something. He couldn’t wait for the day that your little one would make his appearance, the first thing he was going to teach him is how to play the drums; he’s going to become a rockstar like his daddy.

comments: @cherriespopsicle.

end of video. — all rights reserved © starriislxt 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[olderthannetfic]

My current Fandom Gripe: A while back I joined a discord server for a ship I like only to find it was overwhelmingly inhabited by much younger fans and also run by much younger fans, which is not inherently bad or anything, but the culture is a little different than what I'm used to because of these factors, even though it's an 18+ server, and the server itself was just... really really busy. A lot of channels and sub-channels and discussion threads like-- Forum Levels of stuff going on. (I actually probably wouldn't mind this whole thing if it was an actual forum but the pace of discord with forum levels of stuff going on makes it really just overstimulating and unpleasant because so many things happening so rapidly). And like, kudos to them for making something super comprehensive. I will say it's an impressive server. But it was just *so much* going on and not really my flavor to begin with so I wound up just. Lurking. And then out of the blue there was some really weird drama happening with the mods and people getting kicked and banned and muted for trying to talk in the main channels about what was happening-- I honestly didn't look too deep into it because I'm just, kinda over the whole concept of sticking around for Drama I'm in my 30s now. I have been in fandom in some capacity for like. 16 years. I've run events, I've run forums, I've run discord servers as recently as 2023. I'm no stranger to the kind of drama that crops up. But I'm good man. I'm tired. So I left. But now all these Big Bangs and Swap events that are coming out for the ship that and being announced on tumblr are being organized by and in that server and the baseline requirement for participation is to be in that server and I'm like. SIGH. Like Ok I get it that's a perfectly fair ask/expectation but I personally don't like being in events run within large servers like that with a bunch of other stuff going on. I prefer a separate, simpler, event discord, which is how I've run Big Bangs in the past and joined zines and participated in events before. Dedicated, smaller scope servers that open and close for the duration of the event. And like. Yeah ok. It's a me problem but I'm still salty about it. I don't wanna be in the dang server because I didn't like it. I *know* I can just suck it up and join, or make my own server (which would be it's own headache), or just accept that I can't be part of these events because I don't wanna engage with this server and move on. I know that already. But I'm just bummed.

--

[bedtimescenarios]

Hii! You asked for prompts to stay motivated, so I thought I'd share my all time favorite as a possible request?

I'm a SUCKER for an injured whumpee who's incredibly scared of the caretaker, not understanding that they just want to help them! Maybe they lash out or try to run away and have to be held down to receive the medical care they desperately need, with the caretaker trying to comfort them as best as they possibly can... You know?

/nf of course!! Have a great day!!

This is my first time requesting whump stuff, I hope I'm doing everything right aaa

hey there, anon!! thank you so much for the prompt:) it's actually helped me get to writing, and it's even a bit different from my usual stories, so i had an opportunity to diversify my writing!!

i hope you like this and that it fits the prompt well enough, and thanks again!

p.s i am supposed to be sleeping and have written this at 2 am. if there's any mistakes in there or something that needs to be re-done please let me know😭

. . .

As the door swings open with a squeak, Whumpee instinctively presses their back into the wall and lowers their head. Whumper must have had a bad day, otherwise he would've let them heal before another session. They're not getting that luxury now, they think, as the wounds on their body throb and sting with the reminder of their situation. They prepare themselves. They unclench their jaw so they won't bite down on their tongue, shifting so their knees are facing outwards,- they'd rather endure another leg fracture than be nauseous all week- and they tightly shut their eyes.

"Whumpee?"

The voice that rings out is different.

They don't raise their head, but they hear the person's next footstep resound closer. Another one is their cue to cower, pressing an arm against their bleeding abdomen. Did Whumper send someone else to hurt them? Oh, God, he sent someone to finish them off. He got bored, they're finally going to die, or worse-

"Whumpee, I'm not here to hurt you." The voice says, as if reading their mind, and Whumpee takes note of the apparent gentleness of it. A trick.

They look up through the fallen strands of hair stuck to their forehead, trying to assess the amount of danger- no, pain- they're about to be in. A man stands a few feet away, and they quickly identify him as the owner of the voice. Fuck, he's strong, Whumpee thinks as they notice his buff, tall build. He could break their wrist bare handedly, without much effort. Their eyes slowly trail up to his face, noting the short, dark dreads pulled back into a ponytail that ensures an unperturbed view of his surroundings. Increased efficiency and a boost in fun. I can pair your screams with clear images, Whumper used to say.

Caretaker's obsidian eyes meet Whumpee's, and they imagine him saying that same thing to them. They ignore his manipulative attempt at an empathetic, pitying glance. Having been through this too many times already, they can recognize it from a mile away. They just want their break, at least until their wounds close. And they won't let this random stranger take it away from them. Their gaze hardens slightly, yet it's still tinged with raw fear.

"I'm Caretaker. I won't hurt you, I swear- Just- Whumpee, we need to get you to a hospital."

Another lie. But... taking them to another location? No, no no no. Whumpee's hand clenches around their wounds. Another lonely gathering of walls where their screams will echo for eternity. Whumper is giving them away for good. They're so, so tired. Death suddenly doesn't sound as bad.

Alarms blare inside Whumpee's mind, turning their world to hues of red. They feel their veins burn with adrenaline, and before they know it, they're on their feet, scratching at Caretaker's face. They use all their strength, a final attempt at freedom- one way or another. Like a wounded rabbit scratching at the fox whose jaw is clenched upon its ears.

They expect a hard blow to their temple. Or the sharp prick of a syringe. But nothing comes, except for pressure pulling their hands away from the man's face. As they're pulled away, writhing in the grip, they internally swear at themselves for omitting the possibility of backup. Only when their arms are held firmly to their sides is it that they notice themselves trembling, and only when the two people next to them lower them to their ground do they realize how much of an effort each move is. How much pain each shift brings.

As the people behind them hold them still, hands quickly shuffling through a first aid kit, they can finally make out Caretaker's expression. Beyond bloody streaks, his face is painted with genuine shock- or simply incredible acting. He doesn't step forward again as Whumpee sobs in terror, their eyes glassy and breathing labored. Though, if they look closely enough, they can distinguish tears at the corners of his eyes too. He tilts his head, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards softly.

"Shh...It's okay. We'll make you all better, and you'll be able to trust again sometime."

[heehoonies]

🎀

One last thing,Heeseung loves smelling the other's pheromones

......... ur sick for this I'M TRYING TO WRITE [redacted] HEESEUNG AND U BRING ME THIS?? okay deep breaths everyone...... i am tweaking

also is this kinda off track from what u said? yes. but it's okay 🤭

.

"heeseung, stop," jay tugs him away by his hair, prying the older man from his neck once more. "let me finish this and then i'm all yours to smell, okay?"

heeseung's impatience is visible to the untrained eye, leg bouncing wildly as his orange tinted tail swishes with annoyance and impatience. could he easily ask his other boyfriends and bury his nose in their scent gland? absolutely. but right now he needs jay, mostly because he's been busy all day and has barely seen him. not at all because he came home smelling faintly of a feminine scent, not at all.

now, does heeseung think jay would ever cheat? not at all, the thought has never even crossed his mind once. but the thought of his boyfriend smelling like someone who isn't heeseung sends him into a frenzy.

"jay," heeseung can feel himself about to hiss at his boyfriend, "i've been waiting all fucking day."

"heeseung," jay's tone is a warning as he glances at heeseung for a moment before returning to typing on his laptop, fingers rushing furiously around the keyboard. he doesn't want to be working while at home, their downtime is limited to begin with. but after their manager asked him to be a producer on this new song, finally entrusting such an honor on jay's shoulders, how could he come to work tomorrow unprepared for this new opportunity?

heeseung's tail flicks, the soft fur grazing along jay's exposed leg, a tantalizing feeling that heeseung knows gets jay going.

"fucking hell, heeseung," jay slams his laptop shut, rising to his feet suddenly. he crowds heeseung's space, pressing him up against the wall of jay's bedroom. "can't even be patient for me, huh? always have to be a little brat."

"it got your attention, didn't it?" heeseung smirks, leaning forward to bury his nose in jay's neck, to mark jay as his once more. jay avoids the movement, eyebrow cocking in confusion.

"why are you so obsessed with scenting me right now?"

heeseung's nose twitches as he eyes jay, defiance rushing through him. "i'm not obsessed with scenting you right now." heeseung argues, blood pumping wildly, "can't a man smell his boyfriend, or is that a crime, too? just like wanting your attention?"

jay scoffs, watching his boyfriend with a trained gaze, "what the fuck is going on with you right now?"

"nothing is 'going on with me'!" heeseung's voice raises for a moment. "why won't you let me smell you?!"

"just tell me why you're acting so weird and maybe i will!"

heeseung shakes his head, looking off to the side, suddenly feeling pinned down by jay's gaze. "just... just let me scent you, okay?"

"hee, why?"

"because you smell like someone else!" heeseung explodes, "and i'm sick of smelling her nasty ass perfume on you! i need you to smell like me again!"

jay sighs deeply, watching his boyfriend with a slightly relieved look. "now, was that so hard?" heeseung rolls his eyes as he brings his eyes to jay's once more. "you jealous, kitty?"

"i'm not fucking jealous, jay."

"sure you're not. so you'd be fine if i just... accidentally fell asleep before showering tonight? smelled like her in our bed and when i go to work tomorrow?"

heeseung's face begins to grow red, "what the fuck? no!"

"then admit it! you're feeling territorial."

heeseung heaves a deep sigh, jay's gaze watching his every move. "fuck... fine. i am tired of you smelling like anyone who's not me. are you fucking happy now? happy to hear that i'm jealous?"

jay shakes his head, chuckling lightly, "not happy, no. just wanted you to admit it to me and stop lying..." jay holds heeseung's face between his hands, gently caressing his cheeks before pressing a kiss to his frowning lips.

jay pulls away, tilting his head to bear his scent gland to heeseung. "go ahead, but make it quick. you're in big fucking trouble for acting like a brat."

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Sun X Dark Sun] Ask

TW: It kinda toxic, and have some manipulated theme under but Dark Sun still a very nice person though.

The cold feeling woke Sun up. There should have been someone beside him, but now it was just an empty cushion. The wind blew against the curtain, flickering white in the night with the faint light of the tiny stars of the sea and water, of the rolling waves and the dawn.

A shadow of sunlight flashed beside the window, looking too close yet so far away. The person's shoulders trembled slightly, as if they wanted to do something crazy, as if their body was here but their soul had already wandered somewhere.

As if they were about to disappear.

"Can't sleep again, Sun?"

He didn't even get out of bed, too familiar with himself to know that even his sleepy, tired voice was enough to wake them from their daydreams.

There was a brief screech, and the buttercup-colored animatronic with pearly eyes turned, totally startled, looking back at him with a vague, almost averted gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

Sun tilted his head. The darkness had made Sun’s eyes still not adjusted, but he could still see clearly the way they hadn’t answered yet, with their hands clasped roughly together, with the timid and anxious look as if what they were about to say would anger Sun.

“I want to go home.”

Their voices echoed in the quiet space, full of trembling fear and determination. The darkness fell on their faces, making those silver eyes glow, avoiding Sun’s gaze.

Only the steady ticking of the clock filled the room.

It was really a surprise, ah, actually no… Technically, Sun had known this would come sooner or later.

Looking at them, as alert as a newborn deer, it made Sun’s sadistic side rise, making him wonder what would happen if he just said no.

Would that little heart break in two?

Or would they persist in trying to escape?

But Sun had played this game long enough to know that sometimes a soft touch was much worse than being tortured day after day.

“Okay, you can go.”

Sun yawned. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling with a dull gaze, nothing but endless clouds.

He had specially designed this room, so that every time he woke up, the sensor would automatically change this space to a sunny place.

Technically, they both have rooms, but Sun was too scared, and the sight of them screaming and crawling to his door night after night was very pathetic and sad. 

So, about three days a week, he would voluntarily bring his pillow to sleep with them.

They always turned away, stiff and alert like a lamb about to be slaughtered, but when they slept they moved closer to him, clinging to him with a feeling almost as desperate as ghosts wanting to feel a little warmth on the metal skin of the living.

It was pathetic, Sun thought one night as he played with their rays, seeing their tears soaking his fingers, dripping onto the pillow, like pearls forming on Sun's face.

They no longer talk in their sleep… but sometimes...

"I'm sorry Moon! I'm sorry Moon!! Please forgive me…"

The person crying in the dark looked too familiar to Sun's taste, with a worried despair, and a loneliness so painful it was suffocating, it could be felt in the air.

... They cried so silently, dreadfully, always huddled together in a fetal position, and yet, remembering nothing in the morning.

"What?--- Really??!"

"You want to go, then go. I don’t want to force you to stay here forever. You can go back to your old home, if you want. Though…”

Sun stood lazily, pulled the sheet over himself, and stepped out. The fine silk brushed his arms, hugging Sun’s calves like a butterfly kiss. The wind blew past Sun’s heels, the scent of the sea penetrating his senses as he drew closer to Sun.

They were hesitant, nervous, frozen like newborn fawns, as if unsure of what he intended to do next.

He could strangle them or push them into the sea, and they would still let him, too freeze to be able to do anything.

This confused compliance, he would call it cute if it weren’t the leftovers of Moon and Nexus.

Sun didn’t like other people putting their hands on his things, even if they were in the past.

And Sun didn’t want those reminders to be washed away, floating like mud, dirtying what he had cleaned up. To remember this was the way he used to be.

They stood side by side, too close, too close. Red like a storm, like the destruction of dawn swirling into cold, lost white, like nothingness and the crack of an empty vase.

There was the clanging of bells, the ruffles touching. Sun’s forehead pressed against theirs, pinning them against the window frame, blocking any escape they could think of.

“Tell me, is it still your home? Is someone waiting for you there? That would be the question… don’t you think?” Sun smiled, he touched their fingertips, humming to the knuckles and the crimson ribbon that lay neatly in Sun’s hand.

“…”

“Maybe Lunar… Or Earth… They might be so desperate to forgive you, to want you back, to make things right again.”

“But Sun, do you think you can do that?”

“With the Moon’s blood still so fresh on your hands?”

There was no response. As always, they wished for something in return but were too cowardly, too pitiful to dare to do it themselves.

Even now, when they were uncomfortable with the way he played with the sunbeams above their heads, they did nothing, even leaned closer, too hungry for the continuity that only he could provide.

Pulling their hands up, Sun pressed his lips gently to their wrists, both comforting and commanding, another chain around Sun’s neck.

“It’s okay, if that’s what you want,” Sun whispered. “Just know, you’ll always have a place here, with me when they leave you again.”

“I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

His shawl was draped over Sun’s shoulders. The wind blew, carrying the scent of sunlight, and the waves surged. A melody hummed along the corridor as he walked…

“Dont make me disappointed.”

[theoceanoasis]

Hi ^_^

Can we get a part two of Rodimus being deaf with Drift and Ratchet finding out?

Maybe Rodimus tells them he laid down for just a klik and ended up falling asleep missing their calls and knocks?

They believe him.

Some months later and they live together.

They come home early to Rodimus cooking and call his name but he doesn’t answer. They try a few more times and Rodimus doesn’t answer. Drift yells his name wondering whats going on, he’s about to walk up to him when Ratchet stops him.

He yells Rodimus name too and makes a very loud clap and still no reaction.

“What is he—”

“By Primus..he’s deaf.”

“What?”

“He can’t hear us…he can’t..”

Ratchet takes a moment to think and his optics cycle, “That day we banged on his door..he wasn’t ignoring us…he couldn’t hear us!”

They both look at each other and then at Rodimus who still didn’t know they were in the room.

“Why would he hide this from us?”

“Mechs that couldn’t be fixed were considered mechs that shouldn’t exist..”

Ratchet looked somber, anguish washing over at the memories of so many smelted or left for offlining for not being “functional.”

He lifted his pede and let it hit the floor hard making Rodimus look up. The sudden vibration caught his attention and he looked around confused before turning and his spark froze.

“I..drift..ratchet..”

“Don’t lie kid, we know,” his signing was rusty but Ratchet still got his message across.

They noticed his words were a little lagging without being able to hear them and following his optics glance across the room, they saw his audial implants.

“So thats how you hear.”

It was..painful. Drift sat Rodimus down and held his shoulder struts from behind while Ratchet took a look at his audials and implants.

His implants are fine and Ratchet discovers what Rodimus already knows, that it can’t be fixed.

Drift tightens his grip on Rodimus to keep him from running away and Ratchet holds onto his face plates.

“This doesn’t change a thing kid,” he mouths.

Drift can’t sign but he can transfer thoughts and feelings and he says the same.

—

Just an idea i wanted to splurge.

Do whatever you please

The next day Ratchet and Drift were acting weird and part of him panicked wondering if they somehow knew.

Realistically he knew it wasn't possible but he was still nervous as he watched the two of them. Ratchet seemed particularly cold with him and even snapped at him.

He'd given him a hurt look not understanding what he'd done wrong until Drift told him.

He quickly came up with an excuse feeling embarrassed and silently angry at himself for forgetting their movie night. He should have been more careful and he was lucky they didn't find out.

"I'm sorry. I'd been so tired that night I ended up falling asleep."

"We heard the TV."

"I accidentally rolled onto the remote in my sleep but I was deep asleep and didn't hear it."

He gave him an embarrassed look and was relieved when both Drift and Ratchet bought it.

He promised to schedule another movie night with them and Ratchet made him promise that he'd get better sleep so that didn't happen again.

A few months later and he was now mostly living with them. If he needed to charge his audials he'd usually tell them he needed space and would sleep there for the night.

He'd been so busy recently he didn't have time to charge his audials and they were running out of battery.

Since Drift and Ratchet would be gone all day he decided to risk it by charging his audials while they was gone.

He would have gone back to his room. But that night was date night and he promised to cook for them. He had a lot of work to do and all his cooking supplies were in their kitchen. He also didn't want to be so far away from his audials in case he needed to quickly put them on.

Ratchet and Drift had gotten off work early to surprise Rodimus. They walked inside their apartment and could smell Rodimus cooking them dinner.

Drift called for Rodimus and frowned when he got no response. The two of them called him multiple times and assumed he was listening to music or distracted by something.

They walked into the kitchen and Drift loudly called Rodimus who didn't respond. They don't see him dancing like he'd usually do when he's listening to music and his back was facing the two of them.

Drift went to tap on Rodimus shoulder when Ratchet stopped him.

He yelled Rodimus name and loudly clapped his hands.

They both stood there watching as Rodimus still didn't react and Drift gave his future Conjunx a worried look, wondering if something was wrong with Rodimus. Ratchet however was staring at him in shock.

"...He's deaf."

"What?"

"He can't hear us... He can't..."

Ratchet trailed off as he realized something.

"That day we were banging on his door. The reason he didn't answer is because he couldn't hear us."

They both looked back at Rodimus and Drift gave him a sad look.

"Why would he hide this from us?"

"Mechs who couldn't be fixed were seen as useless and people thought they shouldn't exist."

Drift growled looking angry and Ratchet just looked sad remembering all those he couldn't fix who were then left to die.

Unable to take it anymore Drift rushed over and hugged Rodimus from behind. Wanting to protect him from the cruel world they live in that had tried to destroy his beautiful future Conjunx.

Rodimus jumped in surprise nearly dropping what he'd been holding when Drift caught it. He looked over at them in surprise and confusion as Drift kept holding onto him nuzzling his cheek.

"Drift.... Ratchet.... You're home early..."

He gave them both a nervous look wondering if he could excuse himself to the bathroom and grab his audials along the way.

"Don't lie kid, we know."

He froze as Ratchet attempted to sign. He was rusty and it took him a moment to translate, but he eventually figured out what he was trying to say.

Rodimus felt tears in his optics which he forced away unwilling to cry at the moment as he looked between the two mechs he loved and his implants that were charging.

"So that's how you hear."

Ratchet went to touch them and he flinched ignoring the worried look Drift gave him he walked over and put them on. The entire time his frame was vibrating so hard you could hear it.

Both Drift and Ratchet gave him worried looks as he stood there shaking and trying not to cry now that his secret had been revealed. He was expecting a rejection and was surprised when none came. Instead they pulled him into their arms and told him how much they loved him and that this didn't change anything.

He cried in their arms and the three of them sat on the couch cuddled together. Drift held him while Ratchet looked at his audials and the implants he was wearing silently wondering how he never noticed something so important about the mech he loved.

He looked down feeling ashamed knowing they couldn't be repaired and that he'd been selfish. They didn't deserve a damaged Conjunx and should leave him and find someone better.

Both Drift and Ratchet must have realized what he was thinking because they held him close. Ratchet signed that it didn't change anything and that they loved him while Drift pushed his love and adoration through his field.

He cried some more letting Drift and Ratchet hold him and reassure him in a way he never thought possible.

[cybernetic-side-eye]

Hi Commander Wolffe (I remind myself you said that was okay.)

I'm sorry to bother you, and I know you probably won't even see this before my self-made mini-crisis is over, so don't worry about that. But I just wanted to try to distract myself a little bit. And I'm sorry, but you're the one I go to when I'm worried about my vision. (That'll teach you to be nice to me!)

And I'll say right off the bat I know you're not a doctor, and you don't know anything about eye/vision problems, especially in my universe, I'm just using you as a distraction (again, sorry.)

A few years ago I had surgeries to remove the floaters (the gray squiggly worm type) from both eyes. But after that I still had a black dot or two that would float through my vision sometimes. The kind that would make me think a gnat was flying around me or something like that. Not enough to bother my vision, just a little annoying.

I mentioned it to my doctors, and they all say there is nothing in my eye. They see no black dots anywhere. So they don't know what it is. I've asked 2 retinal specialists, a glaucoma specialist, an optometrist who monitors my pressures, and my optometrist who prescribes my glasses. They all say there is nothing there. The optometrist did say, "I've had other people tell me they have that, but we don't know what it is."

So I've just learned to live with it. I'd say it's half the time I see them, and they're easily ignored.

But today when I woke up there was a different one. Different shaped (more of a splotch than an actual dot) and a little bigger. And it seems to stay in the far right of my vision. It's big enough I thought it was a bug crawling on me at one point. But it's not BIG, just bigger than the others. And I see them today too.

I've been debating if I should go to the ER (since it's the weekend, no one is in any of my doctors' offices.) But I don't know if ERs even have ophthalmologists around or on call. And I don't know if a regular MD would know what to look for.

I'm probably not going to go. I haven't seen it for the last 5 minutes. Maybe it's fine. I'm sure it's fine. I just worry a lot.

So as a distraction, I wanted to ask if you had a story of a time with your brothers that brought you joy. You have the whole "grumpy" persona on display a lot, but I'm sure you have fun and enjoy stuff too. Especially with your brothers. And it could be when you were younger or now or anything.

Or if you don't have any stories you want to share, maybe just what some of your favorites are? Like color, weather, pastime, beverage?

Or maybe just what you're up to right now (at the time you see this, that is.)

As I said, I'm writing this to distract myself more than anything. Sorry to bother you, but thank you for making me feel comfortable enough that I was able to distract myself with writing this.

Take care,

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

You don't have to apologize for anything. I don't interact out of obligation and wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. I know firsthand how scary it is when your eyes don't work correctly. To me, it sounds like you're taking some time to think through your options.

I know I can be a grump or come across as overly serious, but that's only because it takes me time to get comfortable in certain situations. I think it's a good time for a story, though. I think @capt-traitor would be fine with me sharing this.

Gregor and I were headed back to triple zero. A bunch of commandos ended up working with the 104th and it was a difficult campaign. While the battle was won, the damage to this one village was particularly awful and even though we got everyone to safety, we were all tired on the flight back. We were what you might call "tired drunk" and for whatever reason, Gregor decided to start talking about how we should get out more. The conversation essentially went like this:

Gregor: When was the last time you went dancing? Me: Never. Gregor: There's your problem! You need to get out more. Swing that kama around. Show the people what you're working with. Let off some steam! Me: I don't swing for just anyone. Gregor: I think you mean something else besides what that sounds like, but that's not important right now. Get up. Me: What? Gregor: Stand up.

Cue Gregor grabbing my hands, pulling me up, and holding me like we're about to waltz. I was too tired to argue, but that man can dance. First he led and hummed while teaching me some steps. Then he had me lead. I don't know where he learned it, but there was just something ridiculous and fun about learning to dance after a series of such long days. We turned on some music and - as Comet would say - we were vibing. Let lose, danced like we were at a club instead of attempting to be fancy, and certain that no one could hear us. At some point we waddled down to the mess in a sleepy daze, broke in without waking anyone up, and grabbed some barely edible ration bars.

Only, @commander-stabby had overheard everything because he was trying to sleep next door. He found us sitting on the floor of the mess kitchen, half-asleep, trying to find the energy to make caf. Gregor looked up at him and asked "You dance, commander?"

[sreidlvewrites]

“Your feelings are valid, Aaron Hotchner

Aaron hotchner x BAUfem!reader

A/n I suffer from insomnia so it’s only fitting . If you suffer I'm sorry I Empathy’s with you . Hugs to you my sweet angels . This was in my drafts that I was working on when I fell in love with Hotch so here we are .

I’m nervous … I know this may not get the love I hope for I’m accepting that right now so I don’t get my heart broken 💔.

I’m still learning as I go along. Please be kind please.

I love writing about Hotch Comforts reader as she has insomnia I thought it was a cute idea. He feels empathy for the reader which I find sweet with Hotch .

Warring: Reader suffers from insomnia, anxiety blurb

Short but sweet ..

Word count 768

>comfort Aaron Hotchner

It’s 12 am. You're having trouble falling asleep, your insomnia has kicked in, you're feeling restless , you're trying to distract yourself to help you fall asleep, you haven’t slept well in the last 72 hours. You're finding it hard to stay consistent at work , you are now in tears all you want is sleep .

You call Reid , Hey Reid sorry did I wake you , he has his sleepy voice what time is it he says . It’s 12:35 am you say sorry Reid go back to sleep, No what you need , I was gonna reschear how to find ways to help me sleep better but I thought why not call you it was dumb of me to call you , go back to sleep I’ll talk to you tomorrow, — you hang up , You don’t realize Reid had called Hotch , hey Y/n called me about having trouble sleeping again , can you do something about it he asks Aaron , I’ll go see her he says , please go see her now Reid said , This is the second

when she called me late in the hours , Ok Reid go back to sleep. I'm on my way to see her .

Meanwhile you try everything you can to help you sleep, you start to throw books because nothing is working. I can't keep doing this, you say I need sleep , you scream into your pillow . It’s 1am

Knock at the door, Oh Reid I’m sorry you didn’t need to come over you open the door it’s not Reid , Aaron you say softly I’m sorry sir you start to cry , Hey hey he shuts the door , it’s okay .

He called you didn’t he , I’m sorry you replied. Look at me Hotch says , please stop apologizing it’s okay he holds you ,

What can I help with? He says , I can’t sleep you say , I understand Hotch says. Where's your room you take Hotch to your room please ignore the books on the floor sir , it’s okay Hotch says .

Hotch sits you on your bed , I’m gonna run you a shower ok he says , you look up at him okay you say , your eyes are so tired but you can’t seem to go to sleep I’m gonna stay over till you get some rest Hotch says to you .

Hotch runs your shower , I want you to get into the shower Hotch says softly , you go to the shower the hot warm water is beating down on you , Hotch steps in to the shower behind you , he washes your hair , an body , Sir you say you didn’t need to do that you look up at him he’s dripping wet in your shower ,

It’s ok, he rinses you off , he reaches around you to turn the shower off, gets you a towel that’s hung up , you dry off . He gets a towel to dry off , he puts on his boxers . You both are dressed

He takes you to the bed , he sets behind you , he says he wants to massage you, he starts to massage you , you feel relaxed he leans in to kiss your neck, Hotch you say , I’m sorry you had to come over you say , it’s ok he says it gave me a reason to see you he says , you should’ve of called me Hotch said instead of Reid , I didn’t even mean to call Reid you said , I know I’m sure he’s mad at me , he’s just tired Hotch looks at you with your sleepy eyes which I know you are too , it’s about 3am now let’s see if we can try get some rest , Hotch Lays down on on side of the bed in makes room for you , he pulls the covers on you ,

An pulls you in his arms, let's try to get some rest, he says ,

You end up falling asleep in his arms ..

Sincerely K ❤︎︎