#anyway friends are asleep time to apply to as many jobs as possible

[sillimancer]

had a giggle, applying to a temp agency, they ask which of their offices is closest, I look over the list

the closest one is in toronto

[i-need-air]

Oh-- I really really -really- liked your wolf hybrid Bakugou and-- if you don't mind, can you do one on Kirishima? Just the general headcanons, if this is too bothersome then you can ignore this once again- thank you

Just general headcanons you say? Okay, I had this written 2k words in before I got this ask and now it's at... ehem, let me take a deep breath for this;

Word count: 3.5k 💀 [of HCs 💀💀💀]

Why do I keep doing this to myself aksdjkd I love Kiri so much, my god! Thanks for the ask!! 💗

[ Masterlist ]

Hybrid!AU Kirishima Eijirou HCs

× i mentioned him as a dog hybrid and we're sticking with it because it just feels right, yano? anyway!

× you found out about how the new hybrid shelter in your city helped bust a fighting ring

× which was horrifying to think about

× one of your friends explained the process to you and you were definitely interested in helping someone out

× shelters were still underfunded and didn't provide much to help the hybrids adapt to society

× so you found yourself in front of the shelter without a plan

× just a dream and a spare couch that could thankfully convert into a bed

× before you could chicken out you stormed through the doors like a mad person, catching the attention of the guards and the front desk man

× it surprised you how disinterested they were though; were they seriously the people that dismantled a whole illegal fighting ring?

× they called a sweet old lady to accompany you

× when you explained your situation her eyes sparkled, looking you up and down and nodding her head

× she took you through some hallways, showing you around the precinct, questioning you about what type of hybrid you'd want

× to which you honestly didn't know how to respond, like anyone you could help????

× it kinda pissed you off how she spoke about the hybrids like they were pets, suggesting you'd get a kitty or a bunny, since [her words] they were low maintenance

× is this really a good shelter?

× you looked around, finding prison like cells left and right, some with people that looked at you curiously, some covering from your glance

× they were locked in...

× some growling could be heard far away but the woman shook her head at you, disapproving gaze turned to the side as she took you further into the building

× another room, this time cells were bigger, a few occupied, yet covered from you, indiferent and uninterested

× a man was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair

× "Kirishima, boy, get up to greet someone"

× his red eyes snapped up, whatever he was thinking about slowly forgotten

× he blinked curiously as you hugged your frame, feeling uncomfortable, even ashamed to be there

× but a sweet smile took over his features

× "Hey! I'm Kirishima Eijirou!"

× it's really all it took for you to grow fond of him; he got up and came closer to the entrance of the cell and introduced himself in such easy-going manner you forgot about everything and anything

× he calmed you with his presence, even if it was very disheveled, with old ripped clothes and hair messy, painted red with obvious dark roots showing

× he had a black fluffy tail waving slowly behind him too

× you introduce yourself with his encouragement and mumbled how you wanted to help someone out today

× he just smiled at you, taking you in

× let me tell you something about dog hybrids: they can sense emotions and intentions so Kiri would be a very good judge of character and he really, genuinely took a liking on you

× the problem is how the fuck do you say out loud that you wanted to help him out

× because you sure as hell weren't going to say you'd adopt him; he's not a child? we're talking about a grown ass man here? literally looked like 6'4ft/1.95m?????

× it was so shameful, your gut turned as you cursed society and he sensed it, expression changing, falling a little as he saw you look very out of place

× "Hey, hey, everything's gonna be fine!" he said

× he told YOU that

× instead of YOU telling HIM those words;;; you almost burst into ugly crying, forgetting about everything else, your minuscule problems or shame or whatever and just nodded at him

× "Would you like to come home with me, Kirishima?" you said, ignoring the happy clapping the old lady was doing, watching carefully how his expression, clear as water, switched from easy-going and reassuring to shocked then hopeful

× "I'd like that" he breathed out "—a lot."

× as you went out the lady was telling him it was a shame they separated his group of friends, something about being sent to different shelters, how he had to be a good boy, to behave, yada-yada and seriously;;; he was taking it so lightheartedly, as if he was so used to this behavior or even was thankful for it?

× it was starting to get annoying, specially when they gave you a collar for him, like no fucking thanks, but you'd take care of it later

× since it was very random and unplanned, you were making mental gymnastics to figure out what to get and what to do first, like clothes, food—

× journey home was pleasant as he walked close to you, asking you questions about yourself with a gentle smile on his features

× meanwhile people got out of both your ways because he was intimidating and big and large but his smile screamed sunshine

× all while he never really mentioned anything about himself

× you made a point to ask him if he was hungry, to grab a quick bite at any restaurant you could get at then go buy some clothes and necessities

× you were so casual and this guy was so shocked

× i swear, looks at you blinking stupidly then ✨beams✨

× spoiler alert; big boy was hungry

× it didn't matter honestly, just seeing him eat without a worry [even if everyone at the restaurant was wary of him but got a stink eye from you] was a relief

× since you answered his questions about you, you decided to ask some about him; you were going to be roomies soon so might as well get to know each other

× shocked again

× stops mid-bite when you ask him something and stares wide-eyed

× doesn't answer but you can see he wants to and you're confused??

× "did I—... did I say something wrong?" you'd press, scared you'd spook him away or something

× he just gulps down and looks ashamed

× casually tells you they've been told at the shelter owners don't care about them

× 🙃 say what now bby?

× he kinda starts apologizing because he understands why you wouldn't wanna know and you put your hand on his; kinda mutes him for a second

× "Kirishima, we're gonna live together and hopefully be friends in the process, right? I'd like to know about you, as much as you're willing to tell me"

× [ falls in love right then and there ]

× he's met humans before, many actually—

× even in the short weeks he's been at the shelter he's seen people come and go and none talked to him like you did

× stares with stars in his eyes and chuckles awkwardly, blush on his face

× "You're really nice, [Y/N]" he said before eagerly answering your questions; course, it leaves you confused lmfao but you brush past it

× okay! shopping next, long story short it was very hard to find hybrid clothes for his size so you pick to change human clothes and adjust them for him

× as you again mention this stuff casually he's just awestruck

× when you got home, bags in hand, you were explaining to him how you really didn't have much; you were working to get a promotion soon but for now you had a couch that could open up into a very comfy bed, which he assured you it was enough

× you were lowkey unsure if he fit it because like i mentioned, big boi is big

× he does! so that's a relief but you started considering giving him your bed; you mostly fell asleep on the couch anyway and to be fair, it was really comfortable and you mention it as he looks around

× his head snaps at you, wide eyed, yet does not talk

× so you ramble bc that's something fun to do! "I mean I went to the shelter without a plan and uh, I want you to feel as comfortable as possible and maybe the bed is a better fit and—"

× Kirishima Eijirou sees: 💕💞💕💞💕💞💕

× has never been treated like this, like he's an... equal... something he'll take months to share with you, but we're getting ahead of ourselves

× the thing is this boy will fall pretty hard pretty fast, but will definitely take time to make a move

× bc he is respectful

× so he thanks you for the offer and tells you it's probably the best place he slept in all his life

× can your heart stop breaking for him? i mean it's a good couch but it's no luxury hotel bed???

× [ we need to pause, OP made herself sad ]

× ok, so he's really helpful around the house, and he knows how to cook!

× takes no time to talk about his friends, special his best friend that cooked for everyone at the fighting ring and forced them all to help and that's how he was pretty decent at cooking himself

× wasn't the best though, but followed instructions like a boss

× he lives for your compliments

× literally his tail wiggles with no shame

× seriously;; tell him he did a good job even at the dumbest thing and—

× puffs chest

× wiggle-wiggle

× "Thanks!"

× 🥺💕💞 make him stop, he's so cute

× did i mention he has like floppy black ears? Omg his earsssssssssshnnngggggggggg

× because they move whenever he walks and they're mesmerizing

× and one day that you're observing them for science [not because your heart was like 💘pom-pom💘] you noticed his roots

× remember when your heart broke for him? hah, have some more because as you asked him, he started telling you that he was pushed into dying his hair red for the spectacle, diversity and what-not

× reassured you he grew to love it now, being part of who he is

× also gets a little bit shy when adding he wouldn't want to change the color in hopes of finding his friends someday and for him to be easily recognizable

× you bought him hair dye that same day

× WHICH! apart from gaining extra 🥺💕💞 from him, it created a nice routine between you two!!

× you offered to dye his hair and it was such a great time; he made you laugh, conversation going just as easy whenever you talked, you got to know each other a little bit more and—

× heh

× at the end, after applying all the red hair dye, you massaged his scalp gently

× guess who melts in your hands? yes, giant ass dog-man melts into a puddle under your hands and it's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen

× I'm serious, he sighs and leans into your gloved hands with zero [0] shame, eyes closed and peaceful expression on his features apart from a small smile

× you tease him and he laughs it off, but promise him you'd give him head scratches when he was finished with the dye, washed off and hair dry

× and you better deliver

× "Don't think I forgot!" he'd say as he'd hop on his make-shift bed in the living room by your side, tail moving from side to side

× as you start playing with his locks, he falls into your lap and starts snoring

× move an inch and he opens his eyes to look at you confused

× puppy eyes questioning you if you're leaving 🥺

× yep, you fall asleep together

× you point out to yourself that those puppy eyes will be the death of you

× he's a touchy guy, okay? since he's been touchy with you from the very start you never questioned it, even read on the internet that many hybrids descended from house pets need physical affection, like hugs, pats, scratches, all the bag, so it wasn't a big deal for you

× except it was a big deal because he's been around for a month and you're already catching feelings and that's bad because you did not bring him there to fall for him but to help him start a new life and—

× oh my god, what if he thought you were one of those people from the horror stories about hybrid adoption that only wanted them for one thing—

× no, no, no, nO, NO.

× anxiety was getting to you as the guilt of catching feelings for him, plus the fact that he was financially dependant on you for the time which would've made it even worse if he found out, PLUS he comes from such a rough life, he definitely needs a break and doesn't need his first human friend in forever to be a piece of;;;

× Kiri catches on this really constant and increasing feeling of anxiety; he starts to send you worried glances but doesn't know how to proceed

× in such a soft voice he asks if you're okay, if something is on your mind

× and since you weren't sharing anything but acted as if everything was alright even when he felt you lied, Kiri started to get worried too

× why were you anxious? why weren't you talking to him about it?

× oh, god, was he a burden? because he felt like one;;; did you want him out? he felt like an extra weight for you and wanted to do something about it but maybe you got sick of him? he felt unmanly...

× the fact that he knew he cared about you as more than just a friend made him even more anxious and it didn't help that whenever he touched you he heard your breath hitch or your heart beating louder; he got his hopes up then down because

× you smelled like people; people he didn't know, people he wanted to know because he needed to know why did you smell like them? were they a treat? were they potential partners? he really did not want to ask bc Kirishima felt like it wasn't his place to know

× as tension grew in the house you decided to gift him a new phone, ready to give him some news that reached your ears

× it seems Kiri himself liked to do sports and mainly jog to keep himself active and he's started to pass by the local dog-park to play with the dogs

× imagine your surprise when a few neighbors asked you if he'd be willing to train their dogs bc he's been teaching them stuff like once a week and the dogs listened

× big time dog whisperer; he says "Sit" to one dog and all dogs in the neighborhood sit too, you get me?

× so you said it would be nice for him to have his own money; not like you didn't help him without care, but you saw his face every time you bought something for him and really felt like he needed some real independence

× he's in ✨awe✨ because you came up with clients already that were very eager for dog training sessions, which he loved??? and suggested hours, wages??????

× and you gave him this new phone to help him with it if he's interested too?

× "Well, the normal price on the internet around the area is—"

× "[Y/N]."

× "Hmm?"

× "You're really amazing, you know that, right?" he'd have his lips curled into a sweet smile

× which makes your heart go crazy and this man notices how you get flustered

× loves it

× get ready for compliments; a lot of compliments just expecting your sweet flustered reactions

× he's slow at realizing your feelings for him because he beats himself down and seems himself as less of a man but tests the waters nonetheless and a d o r e s every time you struggle to thank him for said compliments and don't know how to continue functioning

× catches on and gets his hopes up

× and so you do

× listen, this is hilarious because you're both dumb idiots and want to be respectful towards the other meanwhile he hugs you tighter and for a little bit too long, loving how you melt into him, kisses you on the cheek and sees you get all flustered, looks at you like you're the only one to ever matter until you stop talking, turning everything into a giant mess of silence until you both grin at each other???? I'm getting second-hand embarrassment, just kiss???????

× and it happened with an accidental kiss

× you greeted him as he walked through the door, excited to tell him about your promotion, rambling about the take-out you ordered while he smiled at you

× and it started to be usual for you to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, right? just what normal roomies do, you know [mhmm~]

× he's taking his shoes off and knows the kiss is coming, but just before you press it on his cheek you whisper/squeal "I got the promotion!" to which he turns his head in surprise at you making your lips press together by accident [mhhhmmmmm~~~]

× cue both of you apologizing, looking like a mess

× he's blushing

× you both loved it

× why are you standing so close to each other?

× why did he lick his lips in daze while staring at yours?

× which one of you was leaning in for another kiss?

× it didn't really matter because he's kissing you slowly, taking you into his arms like you were made of porcelain

× glues his body to yours and breathes you in, lips locked, neither believing it was real

× lifts you up in his arms with no difficulty and smiles, both inches separated from another; "Congratulations..." his breath would fan over your face;;;;

× yeah, okay, he takes no time to confess, resulting in a mess of manly words skdjekldj you guys talked that whole night while cuddling and stealing kisses, you on his lap

× [ his nose brushing your neck; he loves your scent omg ]

× it becomes official pretty much instantly and then all your worries wash away

× all the anxiety, all the stress and overthinking, they've all been sorted out in one night and trust me, afterwards this man is pure honesty and loyalty

× he won't hesitate to talk to you about anything and will be such a patient sweetheart with you, listening to every word you say without judgment

× loves cheesy stuff? as in the most cliché stuff seen in movies? that's his shit right there; whenever you two see each other after some time apart [sometimes 5 minutes apart] he'd pick you in his arms and spin you around, then expect you to kiss him

× if you don't, i will skfjdkfk step aside 👀

× skin contact; please, touch him

× if you're not he sends you those famous puppy eyes and we all know they're killer

× sighs, happy to hold you tight against him, engulfing you into his big frame; yeah, you're where you belong, in his arms.

× everyone in the neighborhood loves him; it's ridiculous, seriously, because you find out he helped around all the time when you were at work and gained everyone's love

× makes an instagram account to teach people how to train their dog and becomes an internet sensation, a small celebrity

× also bc he's hot and sometimes posts working out pics

× skdksjs imagine this: makes dinner for both of you, lits up some candles, goes all in, then fucking posts it on ig saying "waiting for my baby to come home #surprise" forgetting you can see it lmfao

× you see the story on your way home and 🥺💞 "ye i love his oblivious ass"

× soft gasps when you tell him after dinner

× has the audacity to be surprised, like babe????

× Kaminari finds him through social media and this baby cries in relief for a good half an hour

× both team up to find all the gang

× guess who talks praises about you all the time? mhm, this guy right here is proud to have you

× and Denki has to deal with it;

× anywho! want to break him for good? tell him you love him for the first time

× GETS. SO. EXCITED. AND. EMOTIONAL.

× but forgets how to speak

× finds his words to say it back after staring at you entranced, grinning like an idiot, taking you in his arms and giving you a bone crushing hug while shaking in place

× he's never felt this loved and adores every second of it

× you're like a drug and he's deep gone, man

× tells you he loves you every single day

[heylookafanfic]

Title: What Could Go Wrong?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!Reader, 

brief summary: With your dad, Aaron Hotchner, being the BAU unit chief, he did whatever he could to protect you. When you get invited to a party for the first time, sneaking out doesn’t sound so bad. What could go wrong?

word count: 3,706 words

requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!) 

warnings: cursing, getting roofied, getting yelled at, predatory men

Your dad, Aaron Hotchner, was extremely protective over you not only because his job can put you and your brother, Jack, in danger but he already lost a family member and refused to lose another. Having an overprotective father meant you had a list of rules.

The door was to remain completely open when your significant other came over and no sitting/laying on the bed

No leaving the house after sundown

You can’t sleep over at anyone's house, they had to sleep over at your house

You have to ask to go somewhere

If your dad wasn’t home and the doorbell rang, you couldn’t answer it

And that is just the surface. You understood why your dad was so strict but you never got to have a life. To make things worse, your friends always post pictures from parties on Instagram and all you could do is sigh and keep scrolling knowing you’ll never get to go to one.

One day, you were in communications class listening to the professor lecturing about the upcoming semester project. Luckily, you got to pick your group for it and when they dismissed the class to find partners, you quickly turned to your best friend,Vanessa.

“I guess we’re partners, huh?” you chuckled

“Of course!” she said

“So, what do you want to make our project about?”

“I have no idea. I barely paid attention this chapter”

“Try to think out of the box a bit. What’s gonna make ours stand out?”

“Since the class is about communications, how about human interaction?”

“What about it?”

“Like how you haven't had any human interaction lately” she said with a smirk

“You know my dads strict. I can’t even breathe without him being on edge” you said

“You need to live a little Y/N. You’re in college and you’re still being treated like a kid.”

“I know, I know but I don’t know how to convince him to let up a bit”

“Here’s the thing, I’m going to a friend's kickback tomorrow night. This is your chance to finally hang out with someone who isn’t me, Jack or your dad ”

“He’s gonna say no regardless even if I tell him that you’re going with me.” you said

“I’m not saying to sneak out but...” she said with a shrug

“You know he has cameras around the entire perimeter of the house, right?”

“Just say you’re sleeping over at my house”

“Can’t do that either, remember? All sleepovers have to happen at my house”

“I understand having to be cautious because your dads in the FBI but doesn’t he realize that you’re in college?”

You thought about it for a second.

“That’s it! How about you sleep over but I’ll say that you forgot your meds. That’ll give us an excuse to leave”

“Won’t he be suspicious though?”

“Probably not. He trusts you out of all of my friends”

“You’ve got a point. What time am I coming over?”

“What time does the kickback start?”

“9 pm”

“Come over at 7. We’ll be finishing up dinner and it’ll give us time to get ready”

“Awesome”

The both of you packed your backpacks and went home. This would be the first time you’d be sneaking out and you were pretty nervous because so many things could go wrong but you’re with your best friend so, what could possibly go wrong?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Hotchner Household- The next day*

You were in your room finishing up your psychology homework when your dad called you and Jack down for dinner

“Y/N and Jack, come down for dinner” he yelled from the kitchen

“I’m almost done! Give me two more minutes!” you shouted

“Come down now before it gets cold”

You sighed and closed your laptop. As you were walking out of your room, you saw Jack coming down the hall.

“I’ll race you to the dinner table. Loser has to wash dishes tonight” you challenged

“You’re gonna lose like you did last time” he said

“That’s only because you pushed me, short stuff” you chuckled

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?”

“Anyway…ready, set, go!”

The both of you raced down the hallway and downstairs. Your dad heard all the stomping and already knew what was up. You lightly pushed Jack and he tumbled towards the couch by the living room. Your dad had his hands out by his sides, waiting to see who would finish 1st. You ran and tagged in, winning.

“You pushed me!” Jack complained

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?” you chuckled

“Dad, Y/N cheated and they said that I’d have to wash dishes after dinner”

“Karmas a bit-” you were cut off

“Enough you two. Go wash your hands and make your plate” your dad said

*During dinner*

“So, how was everybody’s day?” he asked

“I found out that we’re dissecting a frog in class next week” Jack said

“They still do that?” he asked

“Yeah, everyone in my class thinks it’s cool but I’m not looking forward to it”

“Why is that?”

“Because, it’s gross. I asked if I could do an extra credit project instead but my teacher said no”

“Sorry bud. How about you Y/N? How was your day?”

“It was okay. We were assigned a group project yesterday so Vanessas coming over later to study. Is that cool?”

“Which Vanessa?”

“Dad. You’re kidding, right? The same Vanessa I’ve been best friends with since kindergarten?”

“Oh, her. Yeah, she can come over. What’s your project about?”

“It’s a research slideshow about human interaction”

“If you have time, you should drop by the office and ask your aunts and uncles for help. Especially your uncle Spencer. He’ll tell you everything you need to know; easy A” he said

Suddenly, his phone chimed.

“Work?” you and Jack ask

Your dad shook his head and took one last sip of his drink before getting up from the table. He was running around the house grabbing his go bag and work essentials.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back but if I’m not back later tonight, Y/N you know the drill” he said

“Close and lock all doors and windows, don’t answer the door, Jack is to be in bed by 9:30 and lights out at 11” you recited

“And Jack?”

“No video games or TV until homework is done and Y/N is in charge” he groaned

“Good. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Vanessa is the only one permitted in the house. Understood?”

“Yes sir”

“Alright, bye! I love you two!” he said

Your dad rushed out the door, hopped in the car and sped off to work. Your dad pretty much being on call can be annoying sometimes because he’s usually away for a few days and misses out on family time. Usually, it’s a bummer but tonight, it was working in your favor.

“Now what?” Jack asked

“How about we finish up dinner and I’ll help you with your homework so you can have the rest of the night to yourself?”

“Sweet!” he responded

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Later that night*

Vanessa had already been at your house for 2 hours and while Jack was getting ready for bed, you were about to leave for the kickback.

“What time did you say your little brother goes to bed?” Vanessa asked

“9:30”

She sighed

“We’re going to be late by then. Can’t we leave earlier?”

“We can’t. If I’m not here to make sure he’s asleep, he’ll be up all night”

“Jacks like what, 10? He’ll be fine. Plus, it’s a Friday night. It’s not like he has school tomorrow.”

You gave it a second thought. Jack is old enough to put himself to bed and the party wasn’t going to be worth going to if you were late.

“Fine. Give me a second and then we can go” you said

You walked down the hall to Jack’s room and knocked.

“Come in” he answered

“Hey bud, are you almost ready for bed?” you asked

“Yeah, I gotta brush my teeth though.”

“Listen, Vanessa and I are going out for a bit tonight. Would you be okay if you were by yourself for a few hours?”

“You can’t leave! Remember what Dad said? ‘No leaving the house after sundown’ ?”

“I know, I know but it’s only for tonight and since Dad’s out at work, I’ll let you stay up and play video games until I get back”

“Won’t we get in trouble? If he finds out, we’re gonna be grounded”

“He won’t find out unless we tell him….which we won’t. Right?”

Jack thought the situation through for a second.

“Right” he said

“Cool. Vanessa and I are leaving in about 5 minutes. Rules still apply to you though. I don’t care who rings the doorbell. If it’s not me or Dad, don’t answer it. Understood?”

“Yeah”

“Alright, all the doors and windows are locked so you’re safe here as long as they stay closed. I’ll be back in a few hours. Love you!” you said

“Love you too!” Jack responded

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*At the kickback*

This was your first time sneaking out of the house and honestly, you didn’t think your plan would work. You thought that by now you’d be at home getting an earful from your dad because you got caught but, what perfect timing?! Your dad getting called into work the same night?! It’s actually kind of funny how things work out. What could go wrong?

You and Vanessa pulled up to the party and parked in the driveway

“You ready Y/N?” she asked

“Yeah. I just can't believe our plan actually worked”

“I know right? You’re old man needs to let you live a little. You deserve to enjoy your youth. Now c’mon”

As you two walk in, loud music blares from the speaker and there’s people everywhere. Beer cans on the floor and furniture, red solo cups spewed about the floor, the smell of weed in the air and you can tell every guy is wearing cheap cologne because of how musky it is. You thought parties like this only existed in movies.

You knew a few people but due to not being the biggest social butterfly, you decided to cling to Vanessa all night.

“Y/N, this is my old theatre buddy, Vaughn. Vaughn, this is my best friend Y/N!”

“Hey, nice to meet you!” he welcomed

“Nice to meet you too!”

“Vanessas told me all about you”

“She has?”

“Yeah! Best friends since kindergarten?! You two go way back”

“Definitely!”

“This is actually Y/N’s first kickback!” Vanessa chimed in

“Your first? You’ve never been to a party?”

“Not really, my dad’s very overprotective so I never get the chance to really hang out”

“What changed his mind?”

“Actually, he’s out of town at the moment so, he doesn’t even know”

“Ahhh, sneaky you!” he chuckled

“Hey, I’m gonna go get a drink really quick. You guys want anything?” Vanessa asked

“I’m good but thanks” you said

“I’ll go with you” Vaughn said

“Y/N, I’ll be right back but in the meanwhile, go get out of your comfort zone a bit” she said

“Nice meeting you….”

“Y/N” you said

“Y/N! Right. I’ll see you later” Vaughn said

Vanessa and Vaughn made off into the kitchen and that left you to your own devices. You still weren’t comfortable enough to go and be social so you made your way to the couch. Luckily, you spotted the host’s dog and whistled at it. It trotted over to you and jumped up into your lap. This would be your comfort zone for the rest of the night.

*An hour later*

The host's dog had surprisingly fallen asleep while you scrolled through your phone. You weren’t gonna lie. You were sort of envious that it could sleep through all the noise. As you continued scrolling you noticed someone heading your way.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a voice asked

You looked up to see a tall figure with broad shoulders.

“Uh, no. You’re good to sit”

“Thanks” he said

You resumed scrolling on your phone

“Nice dog” he said making small talk

“I’d say thanks but it’s not mine. It just curled up next to me and fell asleep” you spoke

“With all this noise?”

“Exactly what I’m saying!” you chuckled

“I’d kill to be a heavy sleeper” he said

“If only, right?!”

You two sat in silence for a second

“I’m Brady”

“Y/N”

“Nice to meet you. So, how’d you find out about the kickback?”

“My friend is friends with the host so she invited me”

“That’s a good friend!”

“Yeah, this is my first party actually”

“Really? How?”

“Overprotective parent”

“Ah, I know your struggle. Well, if you don’t mind, how ‘bout we drink to that?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks!”

“What’s your poison?” he asked

“I’ll take a beer please”

“A beer? Ooh, so you like to play it safe huh? I’ll be right back”

Brady got up and walked into the kitchen. You were actually excited because not only is this your first party but someone came up to you instead of the other way around.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” a voice said

You turned your head and it was Vanessa

“What took you so long?”

“I was getting a drink, remember?”

“It took you a whole hour, 60 MINUTES, to get a drink and find me?!” you joked

“This place is huge”

“It’s a condo ‘Nessa”

“Anyway, you’ve been sitting by yourself this whole time? I thought I told you to go and socialize!”

“I did! I met this guy, Brady, and he’s getting us drinks”

“Oooo! I know you had a little game in that beautiful brain somewhere. Well, let me go before I ruin your moment. I’ll be in the living room if you need me” she said

Vanessa ran off again. Just as she left, Brady came back with drinks.

“Una cerveza for the party virgin” he said

“What?” you chuckled

“One beer like you asked” he chuckled

“Oh, thank you!”

“To your first party and to many more” he toasted

You two clanked your cups together and took a swig

“For someone who seems to be so sheltered, you sure downed it with no problem” he said

“Well, my Uncle Dave is italian so everytime we go to his house, he cohearses my dad into letting me have a little wine. He says the drinking age in Italy is 16 so, why not?” you chuckled

“Lemme guess, he’s the crazy relative in the family?”

“No, that’d be my aunt Penelope but he’s a close second”

The two of you talked about family, your dream career and your taste in music for about an hour. You were starting to think that maybe it was a good idea to sneak out. You would have never met Brady and the more you found out about him, the more you started catching feelings for him. Or maybe that was the beer talking. Speaking of beer, you were starting to think that that beer didn’t sit right with you. You started feeling dizzy and sick to your stomach.

“Hey Brady, I gotta go talk to my friend really quick but I promise I’ll be right back”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not feeling the best”

“Do you want some water?” he asked

“I’m fine. I need to find Vanessa though”

You stood up and immediately sat back down

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to lay down?” he asked

“I’m fine” you said

You didn’t notice but you started slurring your words. Things were going downhill and fast. Brady didn’t….no, he couldn’t have. Things were going so well with him and you thought you could trust him. He couldn’t have possibly done that to you. You couldn’t yell for Vanessa over the loud music let alone stand up without falling over. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Come on. I’ll take you to one of the bedrooms and you can lay down there until you feel better” Brady said

Fuck. You knew what you wanted to say but you couldn’t speak without slurring your words. Everything you said came out as incoherent. Brady stood up and helped you stand up, using him as a support. He started walking you towards the back until you felt a hand yank your hand

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” a voice yelled

Vanessa. Wait.. the voice was masculine.

Vaughn.

“I’m just helping them lay down. They’re tired” Brady said

“Leave them the fuck alone” Vaughn said sternly

“Mind your business dude” Brady retorted

“I know them so it is my business. I’m not going to tell you again. Leave them the fuck alone”

Brady dropped you but Vaughn quickly caught the rest of your body.

“Have fun with them, douchebag” Brady stormed off

Vaughn fireman carried you into the living room and sat you down

“Hey Y/N. It’s Vaughn. Are you okay?” he asked caringly

“Mmmrrmgh” you slurred

Shit.

“I’m gonna get Vanessa. I promise I’ll be right back, okay?” he said

Your head lulled around and you couldn’t move your limbs. All your energy was draining. This made him panic. As he tried to get you to squeeze his hand to get a response out of you, everything faded to black.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*45 minutes later*

You woke up but everything was blurry and everything sounded muffled. You were laying down but your sickness was worse because you were being jostled around.

“There they are. Hey sweetheart. Sir-” a voice said

You looked up and saw a dark figure. Your head was on someone's lap.

“Y/N? Come on sweetheart, keep your eyes open for me” the voice said

You took a few shallow breaths before attempting to sit up

“No no, stay still, okay?”

That voice was way too familiar and it made you feel at ease. There was only one person that could clear the clouds out on a rainy day with just their voice

“Aunt Penelope?” you softly spoke

“At your service!” she said

“Y/N?” another voice said

“Dad” you cried

“How’re they doing?”

“They opened their eyes a bit and heart rate is still pretty high but they’re stable” Penelope sighed with relief

“Dad? What’s happening?”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You nodded your head.

“That’s an affirmative” Penelope relayed

”Listen, we’re heading to the hospital right now. You were drugged and you stopped breathing. We’re almost there so just hold on for me, okay?” he said

His voice was borderline quivering. He was scared but wanted to stay strong for you and the team. He already lost Hailey and lord forbid he was going to lose you too

Penelope rolled the window down a bit  so you could get some air but right before she could touch the button, your eyes closed again.

“Sir-”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*At the hospital*

You opened your eyes and saw a handful of blobs that got clearer as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“There they are!” said Rossi

“It’s about time” said JJ

“You were scared us for a second there, kid” said Morgan

Your whole family was there, excited for you to finally pull through

“Y/N!” Jack said excited

He hugged you and you had no choice but to hug him tighter. On any other day you’d be wrestling him for the remote but considering what happened to you tonight, you needed a hug from him

“For the record, I didn’t tell dad” he stated

Everyone laughed

“I got you lavender and chamomile tea, your favorite” Reid said popping his head in

“Uncle Spence!” you said

As you grabbed your tea, you saw your dad out the corner of your eye. Uh oh.

“Can we have a moment, please?” your dad asked

Everyone filed out and the door closed. He walked over to the blinds to close them.

“How’d you find out?” you softly asked

“Vanessa called me practically screaming that you were dead! You’re lucky that the case we’re working is local! What were you thinking?! You lied to me, waited until I left the house to sneak out to a party and thought ‘what could go wrong?’ ?!” he raised his voice

“Dad, I’m-”

“What? You’re sorry?! Y/N, before we got there, you died in Vanessa’s arms! How do you think I felt? I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I had to push my way through a bunch of teens just to find my kid dead”

“What do you want me to say dad? I’m sorry that you’re still dealing with trauma from mom dying, so much so that you’ve become a helicopter parent over Jack and I? If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not my fault that she’s dead. ”

The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know”

Your dad started tearing up

“When I saw your body laying there, all I could see is your mom all over again. I was afraid that I’d have to tell Jack that his only sibling is gone, plan another funeral, and spend a lifetime beating myself up for not being there quick enough.”

“Dad, it wasn’t your fault though. It’s Foyet’s. He’s long gone now and you did what you could. This? This was my fault. I never should have snuck out. I never should have lied to you. Had I listened, none of this would have happened”

“None of this is your fault. It’s whoever did this to you’s fault.  The sneaking out part, I would have found out eventually and you would’ve been grounded until eternity but to find out this way? I could care less about punishment right now, all I care about is that the Hotchner kids are safe. The BAU might be my job but being a dad comes before anything”

He hugged you and squeezed you tightly.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know Y/N. Don’t you ever scare me like that again”

“Yes sir and I love you too”

A knock came from the door before being slightly opened

“Garcia wanted me to let you know that Quantico PD has the perp in custody and he’s being processed at the station” Prentiss softly said

“You hear that?” your dad said

You smiled

“I get to have a field day with him tomorrow. He has no idea what he has coming to him”

[nogreatillusion]

Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before Giving Birth

-- Zippers are preferable to snaps and both are certainly better than buttons, but don't let people make you feel bad if you want to buy a couple of impractical, beautiful baby things that they'll only wear once. -- A friend (a doctor!) DID tell me that most people hate their baby for the first two weeks, a thoroughly un-researched fact which shocked my grandmother but gave me an enormous sense of relief before my baby was born as I was finally able to unburden myself from the fear that I might fail to live up to the overwhelmingly prevalent idea that all mothers will immediately fall madly in love from the moment their child is born and stay that way. -- Don't waste your money on expensive diapers. They will all leak sometimes and that's life. Buy the cheap ones. Same goes for wipes. They're all the same. -- If you are planning to breastfeed, buy lots of very comfortable bras and then buy at least two more than you think you need. You will be unshowered, covered in milk, and behind on laundry for at least a couple of months. Clean, comfortable bras are a gift. -- If you get a clogged milk duct, it will feel like a little lump in your breast and you can massage it out using a vibrator. Do this ASAP to prevent mastitis. -- I think bottle warmers might be a scam. -- You can breastfeed lying down. It might work better, and it will certainly be easier on your back. -- Babies can just wear pajamas or onesies all the time for their first year of life. You don't need "outfits," or separates, unless you want them. No one will notice or care. -- Don't forget to brush your teeth and go to bed like a normal person sometimes. It took me 3 days to remember this. It feels insane to "go to bed" when you're getting up every two to three hours. Do it anyway. -- You're going to hallucinate due to lack of sleep and intense anxiety about falling asleep with the baby. You will imagine that the baby is lost in the sheets until your husband insists for the third time that the baby is in the bassinet. This will go on for months and it will always feel terrible. -- Pick a few good TV shows with a lot of seasons to watch the first month. You're going to be spending a lot of time on the couch. Like a lot. -- Formula smells incredibly bad and it is shockingly expensive. It can also be a lifesaver. -- You can keep track of feedings and diaper changes and baby sleep on a little handwritten spreadsheet to report to your pediatrician like a good parent, but this might also drive you slowly insane until your child's doctor has to remind you that you're raising a child, not running a hospital and really, you can stop. Please don't do this to yourself. -- Socks are for suckers. If it's cold out, buy footie everything for as long as you can possibly get away with it. -- None of the expensive eczema lotions or body washes will make any difference for your baby’s sensitive skin, but you can buy them anyway if it makes you feel better to do something. It will probably get better on its own when they get older and you've long since given up on the fancy creams. -- Buy the adult diapers for postpartum bleeding. -- You can use your baby's desitin on your own butt if things are beginning to chafe down there. -- Be prepared that breastfeeding might be a two person job for at least the first few weeks. It's complicated and difficult for many women, and having a partner there to help juggle and keep the baby (and you!) awake might be necessary! -- You don't really have to master swaddling. It's fine. I'm convinced that birthing classes devote time to this technique solely because it makes you feel like you're in control of something. You're not and you can buy sleep sacks that do the same thing, but better. -- Plain old spaghetti strap tank tops that you can slip an arm/boob out of work just as well as expensive, ugly nursing tops. — You don’t need the $900 stroller. I promise you. Spend your money on the nicest rocking chair you can find, if you have the space. You will be spending a lot of time there. -- Read the sleep books before the baby is born. Take notes. Make a plan. You will not have the energy for this later. -- Stop googling things about SIDS after 10 PM. Turn off your phone. Stop it!! -- If your partner has time off work for a while, a really good time to nap is when people come over to see the baby. You don't have to "host," you don't have to be "on," you can ask them to leave whenever you want. Let your partner handle it. The rules of politeness no longer apply. -- Don't expect to feel like you have it together for at least 2 months. The first 2 months are a blur. By 4 months, you'll finally be hitting your stride. Be patient with yourself. -- You do not have to let people visit you in the hospital before you've taken a shower and put on the cute pajamas you brought. You are going to feel like you were hit by a car and that no one seems to notice or care. You don't have to let people visit you in the hospital at all, actually. It's entirely up to you, as much as your parents may disagree. -- Crying is normal. For both of you. -- It can be really hard to get a newborn baby into a carseat for the first time. Make sure your partner helps handle this before going to get the car or you may find yourself in tears, squatting painfully in front of the car seat on the hospital floor, trying desperately to maneuver a tiny little person who is still curled up like a snail. -- Bring so many snacks to the hospital. Bring an entire duffle bag of snacks. No one else has to know what's in there. -- Buy the big burp cloths. Buy a lot of them. Keep them handy in every room of your house. — Do not buy that goddamn Snoo. -- It's ok and necessary to put your baby down. You will want places to set the baby down in each room of your home. Swings, snuggle pillows, playmats, bouncers, baskets, bassinets, whatever. It's up to you, but try to keep one spot to put them down in each room that you spend a lot of time in. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy. A blanket on the floor works in a pinch! -- When it comes to feeding, buy the bibs that can go in the dishwasher and a highchair that can be entirely wiped clean. -- You're going to clip the baby's finger with the tiny nail clippers. It will be awful. You will all survive. -- Get the breast shields with the silicone edges for pumping. Pumping sucks and anything you can do to make it slightly more comfortable is worth it. — A certain percentage of baby crying is unrelated to needing milk, sleep, or a diaper change. Sometimes babies just cry! They’re like people and they have moods! Remind yourself of this when you’re losing your mind trying to figure out what you’ve forgotten to try. You can just pretend they are a very small friend who needs to cry for a bit, and be a soothing presence while they work through it. -- Reusable nursing breast pads are more comfortable and absorbent than the disposable kind, and will keep you from feeling nervous about leaking every time you leave the house. -- It's ok to leave the baby in a safe place to go to the bathroom. The first time you have to do this, it will be terrifying. -- Don't expect the suction bowls to stay put. Your baby is strong and not an idiot. -- You might need more changing pad covers than you think you do. -- The baby milestone books exist to make you feel either superior or terrified. It's ok not to read them. Your baby will roll over when they roll over. Please stop worrying. -- The first few times you watch the youtube video of someone masterfully wrapping their baby in a fabric sling, you will decide it is impossible. It's not, and you'll get better at it with practice, though you may always feel like you're not *quite* doing it right. This is a metaphor for all of motherhood.

[aperrywilliams]

New blurbs-series: 10 days to my birthday!! (Day 4)

(Not my gif)

Author Masterlist - Series Masterlist

My birthday will be in 4 days from now. So I’m going to celebrate myself with 10 Spencer Reid’s blurbs. Enjoy! (This one is longer too)

Day 10 | Day 09 | Day 08 | Day 07 | Day 06 | Day 05 | Day 04 | Day 03 | Day 02 | Day 01

Day 04: Spencer Reid kiss you for the first time.

Tiredness washed over your body after recently finishing a grueling case. Apparently the serial killers were having a feast across the country, and it had the team working overtime for several weeks now.

You accepted the fact job was like this sometimes. The whole team knew and accepted it too. But at this point, all of you just wanted was to get home and sleep until next year.

You were getting on the elevator when you saw Spencer jog to catch up with you.

“(Y/N)! Wait !,” the young doctor told you before the door closed. You managed to stop it and he managed to get on.

“Sorry Spencer, I didn't see you coming,” you apologized.

“Don't worry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he muttered.

“It’s okay. I guess sleepiness has us all drained.” Spencer nodded.

With Spencer things were going well, although it was a strange thing. Until that day you had two ‘pseudo dates’. The term ‘pseudo’ applies because none of the two could reach term as you both had been originally planned.

The first date was dinner at a fancy restaurant that Spencer insisted on taking you. Despite the fancy of the place, you guys managed to relax and have a good time. That, combined with the adoring looks you both exchanged from time to time. Everything was going smoothly until your phones began to ring. A new case forced you guys to finish the lovely evening and rush to the BAU.

The second date was a week and a half after the first. You suggested something more relaxed to Spencer: go see a movie and then eat something at a nearby restaurant. Everything was going well during the movie, you both even held hands at times. As you guys were leaving the theater, Spencer's phone began to ring insistently. It was a call from the sanitarium where his mother was in Vegas, where they required him to contact her as soon as possible. It wasn't anything serious, but it was important, which is why Spencer apologized to you for ending the date early. You understood and tried not to make him feel bad about it.

The elevator reached the floor where the parking lots were. The doors opened and you both got out of the elevator.

“(Y/N)... I was thinking. I know we're both very tired now, but... maybe tonight we could have our third date... and... maybe now we can finish it?”. You smirked at the statement. Clearly Spencer looked as frustrated as you that you both couldn't have had a proper date so far. Although it was strange to think of it that way: what was an appropriate date after all?

“Sure we can. Tonight is okay for me. What do you want to do?”. You asked Spencer. He blushed a little and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Ehm, I thought it might be a surprise?... if that's okay with you”. You could feel your heart race after hearing his words.

“Oh. Ehm, that's fine. If you want it to be a surprise, that's fine with me,” you replied.

“Great! Can I pick you up at 8 pm?”. He asked happily.

“Yeah. Perfect. At 8 pm I'll be ready,” you replied with a big grin.

It was around 2 pm when you arrived at your place. That left you plenty of time for a little nap and getting ready for your date with Spencer. Almost out of inertia you dropped into bed and quickly fell asleep. You woke up around 6 in the afternoon. You took a shower and started getting ready. You didn't know if you should go for very fancy clothes, since you didn't even know where Spencer would take you, so you chose something that could fit different scenarios.

When you were ready, you looked in the mirror and were satisfied with the result. You went to the kitchen for a soda when your phone started ringing. You looked at the time and it was 7:30 pm. You frowned when you saw that the caller was Hotch.

“Hotch?,” you answered.

“(Y/L/N), sorry to call at this time, but we have an urgent case in Tucson, Arizona. See you on the tarmac in 30 minutes”.

More than one expletive came out of your mouth in record time once you finished the call with Hotch. The minute you got a message from Spencer. ‘I guess Hotch already called you. I'm sorry. SR’.

Defeated you went to your room and changed into your work clothes. You took your bag and left the apartment.

You just exchanged a few glances with Spencer on the jet. You didn't even want to sit next to him this time. You knew you were being unfair to him, after all it wasn't his fault. But you didn't know how to channel your frustration, so you preferred to isolate yourself from the rest during the entire flight.

Spencer knew you were upset and didn't know what to do to make amends for the situation. It wasn't his or your fault, but he felt responsible anyway. While studying the case file, Spencer couldn't help but look where you were sitting and see how your gaze was lost in the clouds the jet caressed with its wings.

The case had you all four days in the search for an elusive unsub. But finally, you managed to locate his hiding place and make the arrest with no more victims to regret.

It was around 7 pm when you finished the paperwork at the police station. According to your estimate, that would allow you all to be on the jet at 8 pm and travel at night. You could at least sleep a few hours during the flight. But if things had not turned out the way you wanted for weeks, this was no exception: Hotch approached to the team in the meeting room and announced that the jet had a malfunction, so you would have to stay one more day in Tucson and fly the next day. You couldn't help a weary sigh and grab your things by quickly leaving the room. The whole team stared at you curiously, but you no longer cared. You just wanted to go home and sink into your mattress, cover yourself up to your head and disappear the world for at least a week.

Spencer came out looking for you and found you before you got into one of the SUVs to go to the hotel.

“Wait!”. He said to make you stop. “I'm going with you. And... let me drive, I don't think it's a good idea for you to drive while being so upset”. You thought about it for two seconds and yes, he was right. You handed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat.

“I'm sorry Spencer, maybe I made a scene in there, but I'm just tired. I just want to get out of here...,” you trailed off.

“I know. And I'm sorry our third date was ruined too”. He tried to apologize. Your eyes softened.

“Don't apologize Spencer, things just haven't worked out, but it's not your fault. Maybe it's a sign?...”. You tried to joke. Spencer frowned.

“Don't say that. I'm not going to stop insisting until it works!”. You both started laughing.

When you saw that Spencer turned right instead of left on one of the avenues on the way to the hotel, you thought he was confused.

“Spencer... the hotel is on the other side, you turned right instead of left...,” you corrected him.

“Oh...,” was all he said, but he made no move to change the route. What's more, you were surprised to see that he took Highway 86 to the west.

“We're not going to the hotel, are we?”. You asked. You could see a small smirk on Spencer's face.

“Nope. Maybe I might have a surprise for you?,” he said making a brief eye contact with you before turning his gaze back to the road.

“Oh”. It was the only thing you said. Your heart began to pound in anticipation. What was going on in Spencer's head at the time? You asked yourself.

After almost an hour of travel, with the sun already disappearing and many curves in the road, you saw a sign that said "Kitt Peak National Observatory". Spencer began to speak.

“Well, I may have had to change some of the original plans I had for our third date, I hope you don't mind,” he said simply, as he parked the SUV.

Once out of the car, Spencer took your hand and led you towards one of the buildings where there was a guard at the entrance.

“Good evening, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I spoke with Dr. Hammond this afternoon for a visit...”. The guard looked at his tablet and nodded, smiling, opening the door letting you and Spencer in, and leading them up the stairs to a terrace.

“Dr. Hammond apologizes for not being able to be with you tonight, but is certain that you can have a good evening here. Whatever you need I will be at the entrance.”

You were stunned, the terrace was an open space that allowed you to see the sky in all its splendor. In the center was a small folding table with two chairs, a makeshift tablecloth, two glasses, a jug of fresh water, a small bottle of wine, and two sandwiches. Looking at Spencer he smiled at you.

“I guess this area is not open to the public at night and less with the possibility of an improvised dinner...,” you told him.

“Well, my friend Dr. Hammond may have made a slight exception. But say ‘dinner’, however, I think would be an exaggeration,” Spencer said, pointing to the two sandwiches.

“This is better than what I expected to eat at the hotel, so it does qualify as dinner for me,” you said taking his hand and squeezing it gently. He looked at you with adoring eyes without letting go of your hand.

“I'm sorry that our previous dates were ruined (Y/N), I've wished they were perfect so much and seeing you as frustrated as I am makes me sad”.

“Don't say that. In the end the idea is to spend time together and although our previous dates have not gone as planned, every minute that I can be with you counts for me”. You could see how his eyes shone in the light of the stars that seemed so close. Spencer never stopped looking at you and with his free hand began to caress one of your cheeks.

“I like you so much (Y/N), I don't know how I could go so long without being able to tell you, just like I don't know how I could last so long without doing this...,” he whispered to you.

“'This' what?”. You asked without even wanting to blink.

“This...,” Spencer repeated in a whisper barely audible to you, as he leaned in slowly until his lips brushed yours. You could feel how your whole body was electrified by the sensation. Spencer's soft, warm lips barely parted from yours. He expected to see your reaction, begging you not to reject him or feel uncomfortable. To prove otherwise, you let go of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck to draw him closer to you. 

That was the invitation Spencer needed to now kiss you properly. You both got lost in that moment you waited for so long. It was perfect. You realized that this kiss could have been anywhere and it would have been just as perfect. The stars above your heads only made it more magical than it already was. But it was not the important thing. The important thing was that Spencer kissed you for the first time and you kissed him back. And that fortunately this time nothing would break the moment because on that terrace, the cell phones signals weren’t working.

——

Permanent Taglist: @dreatine​​ @andiebeaword​​ @paulaern​

[the-witty-pen-name]

Rest Pt. 1

Mando x F!Morellian! Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 3rd person; When the Mandolorian is searching for parts on Arvala-7, he encounters someone who may be able to help him on his journey. 

Warnings: none/mentions of injury and brief mention of character death; 18+ in later chapters

A/N: This was meant to be a one shot but this probably going to be 3 parts. I also ignored canon for this one. I tried my best to research Morellians for this fic to make sure its accurate, but it may not be perfectly accurate to canon. I just wrote this up cause I wanted to write today, but take a break from Deadbeat, even though you can expect Part 7 very soon!

If I miss something that I should include as a warning, please let me know!

This is also unedited! 

Tags and Requests are OPEN

He was so tired, all the time. It was such a constant feeling that he had forgotten what it felt like getting a good night’s rest. He’d allow himself to sleep a few hours here and there, but his normal was pushing his body constantly until he was exhausted and then some.

It was caused by many things- the nature of his job, his own paranoia, and even just the sheer uncomfortableness of his small bunk on the Crest. Now, there was the Child. The little green creature taking his free moments of rest more and more. In his mind, it was never a debate- the kid always came first. He didn’t give a second thought to how he was sacrificing his own wellness, and frankly if he did ever think about it, he’d come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t care.

His ability to sleep had gotten worse, with his inability to stop worrying about the Child. He would now force himself to stay awake for several days on end, too worried about if something would happen while he was asleep and his guard was down. The Child would sleep through the night, and Mando would sit up on his bunk, just watching the little creature’s breaths rise and fall, and he would have his eyes glued to the closed door of his bunk prepared for a threat that never came.

When the pair reached Arvala-7, he was in a zombie like state from lack of sleep. His body was on autopilot as his feet dragged across the planet’s surface, the Child securely following behind in his floating pram. The Mandolorian was very hyperaware of the heaviness of his armor, and the way the helmet irritated his skin more than normal. From his outward appearance, no one would know just how close he was to falling over from exhaustion. For the sake of the Child, he kept pushing himself forward, always making false promises of rest if he could just make it to the next location.

“You need rest,” Kuiil declared as he observed the Mandolorian walk towards him.

“I’m fine,” Mando deflected, a little annoyed at how well the Ugnaught could read him, even hidden under his armor.

“I have spoken.” Mando sighed, the exhale of air distorted by the modulator of his helmet. He walks past his friend and walks into his small domicile, with the baby not far behind him.

“I shall watch the Child,” Kuiil states affirmatively before Mando can object. Mando nods, defeated, finally realizing he will rest whether he wants to or not. “I will feed him and wake you when it is time,” he continues.

Mando doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He didn’t dream and he wakes up with a terrible crick in his neck. He doesn’t feel rested, just stressed and his body is still tense. He stirs from his spot and walks back out. He’s panicked because Kuiil and the Child are no where in sight. He only relaxes when he sees the two of them outside, Kuiil tinkering on a project and the Child playing with some parts Kuiil had discarded on the ground.

“You must rest,” Kuiil reiterated. Mando shook his head. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for but he imagined it was long enough. “It hasn’t been even twenty minutes.”

“I just needed a power nap,” Mando says, not letting his friend talk him into another nap. He was fine. He just needed to work on the ship and he’d rest when they were back on course. “I need to work on the ship, I need to go get some parts,” he states. “Please watch him, I will be back tonight.”

Kuiil doesn’t say anything, just nods, knowing that no matter what he says the Mandolorian was too stubborn for his own good. He borrows Kuiil’s land speeder, and heads to the very small almost abandoned town that’s a decent trek away from Kuiil’s moisture farm. The air is very heavy, and the heat was weighing heavy on his eyelids. He felt like there was a pressure around him that was pushing him to sleep, but he was successful in avoiding it.

He looks over and sees there’s one establishment that looks like its open. He decides to wander in and see if anyone knows where he can buy the parts he needs. As the door to the establishment slides open, he realizes that it is some sort of cantina, with low lights and low music playing from a live band in the corner of the room.

There’s a circular bar in the center of the space, and he approaches the bartender. His mind his hazy, and he almost forgets why he’s there in the first place. Fortunately, his outer appearance makes him look more menacing than he feels in this moment. Customers at the bar speak in hushed tones as he approaches. He doesn’t even notice, the fogginess caused by his lack of sleep is affecting his power of observation.

“Where can I go to get ship parts?” he asks.

“Jawas,” the man chuckles sarcastically, like the question itself was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“There’s no where else?” He asks, frustrated.

“Not anywhere you can travel to in a day,” the man replies. Mando sighs, realizing he’d have to return to the ship empty handed. He can’t let it go another day. He needed to get off this planet.

“Give me directions.”

“There’s no where besides here that can offer you lodging, you can’t make it there on a speeder without stopping.”

“Directions.”

The man sighs and reluctantly gives the Mandolorian the coordinates he needs. With a gruff thank you, the Mandolorian leaves the bar, and gets back to the speeder. Kuiil would understand. Kuiil probably already knew the journey ahead of him and Mando was too stubborn to take his friend’s advice before leaving.

If he didn’t stop to rest, Mando figured he could get to the location by the next day if he drove fast. It seemed like a good idea to him at the time. It was the most time effective option he had. It was entirely different in practice, driving alone in the dark and his eyes becoming more and more heavy. He also never anticipated the wear it would cause the speeder, and he cursed as the thing was gradually slowing down until it came to a complete stop.

It was too dark to try to work on fixing it, even though he tried anyways. Even with his visor aiding his vision in the darkness, it was fruitless. He’d have to wait it out. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep. What if he was found by Jawas and they’d strip the speeder, or maybe they would steal his armor. It wasn’t something that he was willing to risk. So, he stupidly decided to work on the speeder without being able to see properly and assess his surroundings.

His thoughts were only on the Child and returning to him as quickly as possible. It made his actions irrational and careless. Which is why he scraps his arm on the metal of the speeder as he tinkered. The cut is deep, and it stings. He curses at his own stupidity and desperately tries to just apply pressure to his arm with his other hand. The material was old, dirty and rusted and it caused a deep wound.

He sits down on the ground, trying to make himself a tourniquet by ripping at his underclothes. He’s breathing heavy, and he knows that he is losing blood and he had no way to clean out the wound. He’s stranded and he can only think about the Child. Needing to just stay conscious long enough to think himself a plan out of this situation, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

He thrashes when he awakes, taking in his new unknown surroundings. It was a similar abode to Kuiil’s but it was obviously not the farm he was familiar with. He looks down at his arm, seeing the wound has been bandaged and treated, and his glove, and other pieces of his armor that needed to be removed to treat the injury sat on the floor waiting for him. He felt lighter, and more aware. Hell, he felt awake for the first time in a while. He felt rested. If it weren’t for the worry of waking up in a strange place, he’d feel good.

Before he was able to decide if he wanted to venture out of this bedroom, his thoughts were interrupted when another figure walked in. They were moving quietly, and Mando knew they were moving so that they wouldn’t disturb him. He sat up, letting them know he was awake and then he turned to look at them.

The young woman was standing holding a tray of food. She was nervous, but not scared of him, Mando was able to observe. It had also been a long time since he was in the presence of someone so easy on the eyes, and it made him nervous as well. She was very pretty, and easily one of the best things he’s got to see in a long time. He wasn’t sure what to say, not wanting to scare her off, so he waited for her to speak first.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said apologizing. “But I wanted to bring you this.” She leaves the tray on a small table next to the bed.

“T-thanks,” he stuttered, not sure what questions he could think to ask first.

“You were passed out next to your speeder,” she explained. “I found you early this morning. Your speeder is outside. You’ve been asleep here for about twelve hours… I don’t know how long you were outside before that.”

He nods, trying to still wrap his head around the situation.

“I’m sorry for taking off the armor,” she continues, “I didn’t take off your helmet! I know Mandolorians keep those on, I wasn’t sure if it was okay that I took off the pieces I needed to get to your cut.”

“That’s fine,” he said softly, “Thank you. It is really just the helmet that I can’t take off.”

“All of your stuff is there,” she points to where his bag and pieces of armor sit on the floor in a neat pile. He nods.

“Um, that’s pretty much it,” she says awkwardly trying to remember if there was something else that she needed to tell him. “You’re wound is fine, once it was cleaned up it wasn’t as bad as I thought. You really were just exhausted over anything else; I think. I’ll let you eat, I promise I won’t come back in until you tell me, so you can take off your helmet… There’s no one else here but me so you’re safe- you can even lock yourself in if you want. I don’t mind.”

“You’re being really accommodating,” he says suspiciously, not use to the hospitality. It worried him.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, his words reminding her of what she forgot, “I had contacted by Kuiil- told me to look out for you, that a friend of his- a Mandolorian would be coming my way in need of lodging. When you never came, that’s when I went looking for you.”

“You know Kuiil?” he asks, relieved he wasn’t completely with a stranger. He was, obviously, but he was at ease knowing he was with someone Kuiil trusted.

She nodded. “You can stay as long as you need. He said your son can stay with him as long as you need. I’ll let you eat,” she said, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

He was taken aback at how kind she was towards him. She was so trusting and just let him into her home and helped him. Granted, it was because he was vouched for by Kuiil, but still. He also was flushed at how attractive she was. It made him nervous, he was so used to being along that he didn’t know how to handle himself around a woman- especially one that he thought was just so- so nice to look at. He felt foolish, and he was so confused at how easily that girl flustered him. It was just that she was kind, he tries to reason with himself. He’s just not use to the hospitality. He wasn’t flustered cause she was pretty, no absolutely not.

He took a moment and then resolved it was safe to take off his helmet so he could eat. He usually rushed through meals, just so he could get the helmet secured back on his head. But he felt comfortable here, and he allowed himself the luxury of taking his time, enjoying the unfiltered air. He looked around the room, and it was mostly bare, which isn’t surprising. The bed was comfortable, much better than his bunk on the Crest and better than the little spot in Kuiil’s dwelling.

He just felt guilty. He shouldn’t be resting when the Child is waiting for his return, and he still hasn’t retrieved parts for the ship. And here he was getting comfortable like was on some vacation. He quickly finished his food and put on his armor, ignoring the sting putting it on affected the cut under the bandages. He placed his helmet on and then left the bedroom.

“They’ll be here soon,” she announces when he emerges from the room. It stops him dead in his tracks. He didn’t know what you meant.

“Who?”

“Kuiil and your son,” she explains, “I just reached out to Kuiil, letting you know you were awake. He insisted he’d bring the kid to you. He thought you’d leave and strain yourself trying to get back too early. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

He chuckles, and is astonished at how well his friend seems to be able to anticipate his every move. “He’s right,” he sighed, sitting down across from her at the small dining table.

“He’s very wise,” she agrees. There are a few minutes of silence that cause an awkward tension to arise between the two of them.

“I’m (y/n),” she says. “Just realized I never introduced myself,” she says sheepishly.

“You can call me Mando,” he replies. She nods. There’s a mutual understanding between the two that says there’s no need for small talk.

“Is your child also a Mandolorian?” she asks curiously.

“No, he’s not,” he responds. He’s used to people pestering him with questions but he usually gets annoyed. He actually this time was happy that she wanted to know about him, and he was asking about the kid. For some reason, it felt different. There was no judgement or fear, just her genuine curiosity. She doesn’t press him to elaborate, which puts his mind at ease, and he’s relaxed.

“Are you married?” she asks next.

“No- no,” he says hurriedly. He feels foolish for how the question flusters him. It’s a perfectly reasonable question. It was just the natural assumption when she knows he has a kid, but not the context of how he’s a father. He also feels embarrassed at the desire to let her know he’s single. It’s stupid, he chastises himself. He was being ridiculous.

“He’s a foundling,” he explains simply. “He’s not actually mine. I’m not married.”

“Can Mandolorians get married?” she follows up.

“Yes, of course,” he says. She nods, and gets up from her seat.

“I have to check on the vaporators,” she announces. “I suggest you try to get more rest, but if you want to follow, you’re more than welcome to.”

When she moves, he notices the odd, cylindrical weapon fixed on the side of her hip. He trusts her, so it doesn’t worry him, but it is something he wants to ask her about.

“What is that?” he asks, following her out of her house and out into the dry air. She looks to where the gaze of his visor is fixated.

“It’s my light saber,” she says simply, not expanding on her answer much like how he did.

“Are- are you a Jedi?” he asks, his head tilting.

“I’m a moisture farmer,” she chuckles.  

“I thought all the Jedi were gone,” he says, his eyes following her.

“They are,” you explained simply, “I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“Did you fight in the war?” he asks. She looked young, and he was incredibly puzzled. Maybe her species was humanoid, but she aged slowly, like the Child.

“Clone Wars,” she states, confirming his suspicion. She was older than him, but she looked younger. “I’m Morellian. We don’t age the same as humans.”

“How old are you?”

“Forties? I don’t know. I haven’t really done the math in a while,” she shrugs. He chuckles, he felt the same way about his own age. He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but he was fairly certain that they were roughly the same age, even though his signs of aging showed on his skin more than her.

“How long have you been here?” He asks.

“How long has it been since the end of the Clone Wars?”

“That long?”

“All the Jedi needed to go into hiding,” she states.

“Are you the only one?”

“I don’t know. The only man I knew I heard died, killed by Vadar,” she says solemnly. “Supposedly, he took on a new apprentice, but I don’t know where I could find him if I wanted to.”

“Can you use the Force?” he asks, thinking now about his own task that lays before him with the Child.

“Yes,” she replies simply, holding back a smile and a sarcastic comment.

“The Child- my son,” he says, a little overwhelmed how easily he stumbled upon you. “I’m supposed to bring him to a Jedi- bring him back to his people.”

“You need to bring him to a Jedi?” she asks skeptically. He nods.

“He has- these, um, powers,” he tries to explain, “Moving things that are physically impossible, healing- it’s nothing I have ever seen.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You said you aren’t a Jedi.”

“But I’m probably the closest you’ll find.”

Part Two

[25centsoda]

An Unintended Side Effect, Part 2/?

This time when Luke woke up his mind was clear and the Force came readily when he called. He breathed deeply, savoring the clear connection to the energy of the universe for a moment before drawing shields tight around himself, ensuring Vader couldn’t reach him. He sat up, scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, and sighed, looking out over the room.

He really was stuck on the Executor with his father, wasn’t he?

Well. Nothing for it. He would have to find a way to escape, as soon as possible. He had friends and a Rebellion to get back to, after all, and he would not turn to the dark side.

Luke stood and stretched, again noting the lush carpet and wondering just how out of it he’d been the previous day to not have noticed where he was immediately. Now able to actually process things, he took in the room properly. Deep red carpet, grey durasteel walls, no closet that he could see but three doors broke up the monotony of the walls, along with...was that…

Luke crossed the room in wonder, staring open-mouthed at the view of the stars outside his viewport. A viewport, in starship quarters!

After admiring the view for an indeterminate amount of time, Luke mentally shook himself and went to explore the rest of the room. On a small nightstand by the bed he hadn’t noticed before was a chrono, brightly declaring the time and date on its face. Luke grimaced. Two days since he’d seen his friends, what they must be thinking about his disappearance… Had they seen Vader take him? Or did they think something else happened to him?

One of the doors led to ‘fresher, fully stocked with anything he could need, plus water settings in the shower. He looked critically at the long handle on the shower door; could he rip that off and use it as a weapon? Something to come back to later. Maybe the mirror shards would make good improvised weapons as well, if it came to that.

The second door led to the closet he’d been looking for yesterday, but of course instead of Rebel fatigues it was filled with black outfits, both with and without the Imperial cog stitched to a sleeve or breast pocket. From here Luke took a pair of boots - new ones were hard to come by, in the Rebellion, best to take them whenever you can - and a belt with weapons holsters.

The third led into a hallway, which ended in another door. Luke looked back to the door he came from; looked like it could be locked from the outside. Lovely. He tucked that piece of information away, resolving to escape the ship before it became something he had to work around.

The door at the end of the hallway opened as he approached, into a larger room containing a couch and desk, lots of open floor space, and another door with a large keypad next to it, the small light on top glowing firmly red. He couldn’t quite get that open on his own, it was too complex a mechanism to tease open with the Force without knowing anything about how it was supposed to work - likely Vader had deeply considered the place he was going to stash his son - but he could sense the energy of two Stormtroopers just outside it.

Banging on the door, using the Force to make each blow as loud as possible, Luke shouted, “Hey! Please, I need help!”

“Quiet in there,” came the reply.

“Please!”

Luke could only hope Vader had given them instructions to keep him not just alive but well, otherwise this wouldn’t work and he’d have to try something else.

His suspicions were confirmed moments later when the door slid open to show two Stormtroopers as expected. He smiled.

Perfect.

---------

Vader kneeled before a hologram of the Emperor in his private chambers.

“And the boy is cooperative?” the Emperor asked.

“Yes, master. At the very least, he has not yet opposed me.”

“Hmm. Ensure that he does not. Remember that you have already failed to bring him to heel once; I will not be so forgiving of another failure. Next time, the boy will come straight to me, and I will put him to rights.”

Vader strengthened his shields and held himself still, even as Palpatine’s words brought a most unwelcome image to his mind. His anger blazed, and he fed the flames behind his shields, vowing to never let Luke near Palpatine if he could help it. In this the son would not follow the father; he wouldn’t allow it.

“I understand, my master.”

“Good. I’ve allowed you to keep the boy, but you must not neglect your duty to wipe out the rest of that pathetic rebellion.”

“They shall not be a plague on our galaxy for much longer, master.”

“See that they aren’t, Lord Vader. Dismissed.”

The hologram winked out and Vader stood, wincing at the strain holding such a position for long periods of time caused his prosthetics. He ached for the day he could give the empire he’d built to his son, but they were in no position to attack Palpatine yet. That day would have to wait until he could find a way to train his son without the Emperor finding out, for he had no doubt that as soon as they began Palpatine would find an excuse to spirit Luke away from him, preventing them from joining together to defeat him.

Stalking out of his rooms into the hallways of the Executor proper, Vader found Piett and said, “Admiral, report.”

Admiral Piett snapped a salute and fell into step with his commander. “My lord, we will be arriving at Tarra soon to refuel. All aspects of the ship are running smoothly, and after refueling we should be en-route to Coruscant within the cycle.”

“And what of my...guest?”

“The last report I saw some fifteen minutes ago said all was quiet on that front, my lord. He’s not been an issue.”

As soon as Piett finished speaking, the hum of stun shots echoed down the corridor along with aborted screams. Vader threw his awareness out in the Force, seeking his son’s bright energy, but it was like looking at the surface of a lake in the sunlight; the image shimmered and flickered away from him, impossible to make out. He cursed and began moving quickly - not running, Sith Lords did not run - towards the quarters his son was housed in. The boy could hardly have been awake much longer than an hour, how could he already be causing trouble?

By the time Vader arrived at the door outside his son’s quarters, the boy was already gone, leaving both troopers who had been posted outside collapsed on the floor in his wake, presumably the recipients of the stun shots he’d heard. He growled low, the vocoder in his suit picking it up as crackling static, and tried to reach for his son again. This time, he was able to pick up a sense of the boy in the vague direction of the hangars. Of course he would immediately try to reach the ships.

Suddenly Vader remembered the ship was about to dock at a planet, and his heart seized in fear. If Luke was still loose when that happened, he would actually stand a chance of getting off the ship.

“Lock down all hangars, no one will leave this ship until I give the order,” Vader said into his comlink, moving to follow the faint light of his son’s Force signature.

There is no escape, my son, he sent along their fledgling bond. He felt Luke flinch in response, and smiled in satisfaction under his mask. The boy’s shields had slipped just enough in that flinch to give him a better location.

“Send a detachment of troops to Hangar Bay Three, and have them set their weapons to stun. A prisoner is loose; he cannot be allowed to escape.”

Vader strolled into the aforementioned hangar bay, casting his awareness out, scanning the room for his wayward son. The boy’s shields deflected his senses, but it was that refraction of light that gave him away, a distortion in the Force in a corner of the hangar.

“It is no use hiding, young one,” he boomed. “Come out before I am forced to stun you.”

The spot of refracted light in the weave of the Force shifted, drawing tighter about itself, but it was no use. Vader had already located it.

He motioned to a small group of troopers, directing them to surround the crate that Luke was hidden behind, and they took up positions in a loose semi-circle, guns aimed at the crate.

After a moment, Luke emerged, scowling, his hands behind his head. Without a word, two troopers surged forward and none too gently dragged his hands down behind his back, clasping his wrists in binders. He purposefully avoided his father’s gaze as he was marched back to his quarters. Vader watched him go.

----

Luke broke out of his quarters twice more, managing to disable the lock on his door, and after the sickening way the boy’s head hit the durasteel floor collapsing from a stun shot the second time, Vader decided he couldn’t take any more risks.

His son was a lot quieter and easy to contain with a drug tailor-designed for Jedi coursing through his veins, living in Vader’s quarters.

-------

Luke was falling asleep again, leaning against his father on the couch as various Imperial servants flitted about the room taking his measurements, proposing outfit and fabric ideas. He tuned them out. Vader was just going to choose what he felt was best anyway, and Palpatine got final say. Luke had picked out several of the main fabrics. That was enough.

Without realizing it, he had fallen completely asleep. When he woke, it was to Vader gently pulling him into a sitting position and beginning to apply a thick white powder to his face. Luke blearily looked down at the table filled with cosmetics, then tried to lean his head on one hand, but he was prevented from doing so by Vader pushing him back up.

“You’ll smear the Nubian makeup, Luke,” he chided.

Luke made a face at him. “I wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t keep drugging me, father. Either let me sleep or let me think clearly.”

“It’s this or giving you to Palpatine for training, my son, and neither of us want that for you. Especially in light of your many failed escape attempts.”

Luke made another face, then an effort to sit up straight and stay awake. At least being paraded around as the Imperial Prince sounded like a cushy job…

“Why am I being styled after the Naboo, anyway?” he asked, hoping a conversation would help him stay awake. Vader paused, frozen, and Luke could just pick up the edge of a maelstrom of emotion from his father before the Force slipped from his grasp again and he sighed quietly.

“It was your...mother’s home planet.” Vader said carefully. “As well as Palpatine’s. He believes using the style will serve to endear him to the galaxy, and use you to evoke his own image.”

Luke hummed, closing his eyes for a minute. Vader prodded him gently with a tendril of the Force and as he opened his eyes again Luke thought longingly of being able to do more than passively sense it, himself. He would throw all this finery about the room and steal a ship, return to Han and Leia and Chewie, R2 and 3PO.

Deciding he definitely needed something to focus on to keep himself awake, Luke tried to reach out to the Force himself, clumsily brushing against his father’s signature. He felt the edge of his father’s amusement and Vader reaching back to him in response, like holding their hands up to opposite sides of glass.

“My Lord, you are needed in a meeting about introducing the Imperial Prince,” Piett said, shattering Luke’s meager focus. He sighed and gave up, leaning his head on a hand while Vader too distracted to tell him not to.

“Why?” Vader demanded, standing. “He is to be announced in a few hours, what more is there to discuss?”

“There are some last minute security concerns they want to go over, my Lord.”

Vader scoffed, then looked down at his son for a long moment, thinking. Looking back at Piett, he said, “I leave you in charge of the boy, Admiral. Stay here with him and ensure he does not attempt another escape.” Piett seemed like he very much doubted that would be a concern, but nodded anyway. To Luke, Vader said “I will return as soon as I can and help you finish getting ready, my son.”

“Whatever,” Luke said.

With a sigh, Vader swept out of the room.

[bittersweetlikecoffee]

Like shout-out to my forever partner. He's the best and real, real, real one. Get you a man who won't judge you for admitting to having nightly panic attacks and night terrors but instead supports you without any judgment whatsoever. And, bonus, no matter what refuses to leave your side no matter how much you insist you're too damaged.

Y'all this year has been a lot on me--mentally, emotionally and physically. Hell, spiritually. Losing my grandmother...moving...job hunting...trying additional options in the meantime while job hunting...grappling with the reemergence of my mental health issues...on and on...trying to look for apartments...stressing over money issues. It's been a lot and tiring and I'm so fucking tired I want to cry. I'm so tired. I'm so angry at everything symptom wise crippling me. This feels like it's honestly too much. I wish I could like tear this out of myself at times, but... I know I can't give up. So I won't.

But y'all I'm just so thankful for my fiance. He's held me down. Seriously. This is like recompense for me holding him down when he mentally and emotionally needed it. This is what a strong and healthy relationship is all about. I'm so incredibly thankful that he keeps me calm and can hold me and soothe me. I'm thankful that he allows me to vent and doesn't pressure me on my really, really bad days. I'm thankful that he's understood me when I told him I needed help. It's hard to admit that because for awhile I was stabilizing and things were looking up. I want to cry, seriously. Just...support systems are so, so, so important when it comes to mental health. I want to thank my friend too because she's been super sweet and loving and just there for me. She's been very kind and never turns me away or anything. She's almost always willing to listen and these past months have been loaded.

The ability to have someone in your corner when you're regressing and you can recognize it is imperative. I know I won't be hospitalized. I just believe that I won't regress that badly ever again. I cannot. I cannot do it again. It's too much to hit a reset button again at this interval of my life. To be truthful, I'm fucking terrified of that possibility so I'm avoiding getting to that stage. But I also know that I need help. I need to find a therapist and I need to journal again, and I know I cannot manage this on my own anymore. There's too many variables that I won't go into for personal reasons that have brought me to this place.

I'm rambling. I don't even know wtf the purpose of this is anymore, tbh. I guess that chronic anxiety and depression can suck a lot sometimes. Not being able to get out of bed or struggling to, not being able to fall asleep and stay asleep for days and weeks on end, and not being able to leave the house...can be debilitating. So...idk...I won't post about this for a while.

Why?

My blog isn't centered on my mental health. I didn't create it with any centrally focused topic in mind. It's literally supposed to be as the description entails: reblogs and the very occasional personal post or life update. That's it. I already felt like I've divulged too much. I'm not looking for advice. I appreciate it all the same but I'm really not looking for it. I'm just tired...mentally and emotionally. I might need to go back on meds and that's fine. I'm at a time in my 10+ years of having mental illnesses in my life that I can wholly accept that. It's liberating to be at a point where I can admit that trying to go med-free worked for a bit and now... I've realized it's not anymore and that's okay. It doesn't make me weak. It doesn't make anyone weak.

And I just want to say that this applies to literally anyone else that's in the mental health community. If you need to go back on medications or decide to then it's YOUR decision. The same applies if you decide to stop, it is YOUR decision. There's nothing wrong with regression or relapse or whatever you want to label it as or term it. It's part of the process. Therapy has armed me with that and it's keeping my head above water right now. Years ago, I would have been in a way worse headspace at this junction than I am now, had it not been for group and individual counseling. But yes, for a while now I've realized I need medication again to help balance me out.

As for anyone wanting to quit medication? All I would say is to make sure you stop with the consent of your psychiatrist/doctor and to do it in steps. Titrate down. Don't stop cold turkey. Don't ever stop cold turkey. Psych meds can have lasting side effects that are both unpleasant and can be harmful and dangerous if you do.

Anyway, I'll lurk here and there. I will continue to post however infrequently. I will pop in every now and then. I'll reblog content I like or find interesting. I just don't think anything else needs to be said really. 2020 was shitty. The pandemic was horrid. 2021 was emotionally draining, at one time cathartic, angering, saddening, lonely, and incredibly difficult most days for a lot of personal reasons. But I'll get through this because I'm strong. And you will too. It will get better. 🥺🙏🏾

Xoxo

[xncasi]

EDIT: jdkdjfkdkd I DIDNT WRITE A TITLE & also cuz someone requested i will deliver: a pt 2 will follow!

just a short snippet of writing i felt like doing, based off the song “Butterfly’s Repose” by Zabawa :) i edited as i went along so it might be a bit messy, i’m sorry >>>

Dr. Spencer Reid x shy!reader

length: 11.2K

warnings: a LOTTA angst, small fluff, emotional abuse, death

—————————————————

Dr. Reid is one of many things, as y/n has noticed, but she’d never say that he was overtly emotional. From the time that she started working for the BAU until now, which has been about five years, she’s come to know this enigmatic man. 

Not only has she gotten to know him though, but she’s begun to care about him. Sure, she cares deeply about the well-being of the team; which of its members wouldn’t? But this strong surge of emotions came early on and have since remained. 

She can vividly recall the first case she’d worked on with her new coworkers, back when she was fresh to the BAU. The unsub’s signature had been riddles that apparently would reveal the location or subject of his next attacks. They’d spent night after night poring over those puzzles, and she can practically taste the bitter, old coffee that the station had offered them. But more fondly she can recall Dr. Reid’s furrowed brows, the way he’d sat for hours in front of papers, trying to write down new ideas that came to mind. Y/n can remember the way his eyes lit up when he finally pieced it all together, the quickness of his words and the way she struggled to understand. 

Morgan had tried to jokingly explain Dr. Reid’s genius prior to her first case, but it wasn’t until she saw it in action that she truly understood. And, to be honest, she was intimidated.

Sure, she’d done well in her classes throughout her school career, but she’d fought so hard to reach her dream job. The endless late nights of studying and bitter tasting coffee had pushed her through all the required class credits she’d needed; y/n had never stopped working, never wanting to possibly even entertain the idea that she couldn’t make it. And to finally be able to say she’d succeeded, and then to walk through the doors of the FBI and BAU after a few years of working in the field; it was a dream come true!

And yet...she couldn’t ever quite understand how the genius was just so smart without even seeming to try. He could read full books in ten minutes, recite statistics he’d only read about once, and was able to piece together puzzles that saved countless lives. She wasn’t jealous, per-say, but she yearned to know how he did it and who he was. 

And so, the quiet and reserved y/f/n watched. She wasn’t a woman of many words, and yet she’d still been able to contribute to a variety of cases. Hotch knew that despite her lack of words she was still a valuable asset, and that’s really all that mattered to her. 

But that’s besides the point. 

Around the year mark of her joining the BAU, something happened. Dr. Reid and her had been assigned by Hotch to interview the supposed unsub’s father one last time; they’d arrived thinking it’d be another simple interview, but the father ended up pulling a gun on them both and managed to shoot him in the leg. Something about “protecting his son” she believes, but one way or another it didn’t matter. 

Dr. Reid had been bleeding so heavily that y/n had thought his femoral artery had been pierced. She’d shot down the father and then fallen beside her partner, doing her best to apply pressure to the oozing wound. Those few minutes they spent together had been filled with talking, something which she hadn’t been very good at. Who is she kidding, she STILL isn’t good at it!

But anyways, getting back to the point--

To keep Dr. Reid alert, y/n had made small conversation with him. She’d asked about his favorite books, and then his favorite lines from those books. She questioned his music taste and took mental notes on all of it. So was it a surprise to him when he’d woken up to her asleep next to his hospital bed, one of his favorite books laying haphazardly in her lap?

She isn’t sure. 

After that, their friendship blossomed. Dr. Reid would talk about his favorite books, music, or movies and y/n would listen. They’d often meet up for coffee and walk to work together, and they often were paired up during cases because of their efficiency together. Y/n favored the quieter, library-like settings of a cafe and Dr. Reid would follow suit; bars were never exactly his thing anyways. They shared coffee and tea recommendations, they’d converse about classical literature, and sometimes he would accidentally spoil books for her because of how fast he read. 

(She’d never forgive him for spoiling the ending of “A Farewell to Arms.”)

The friendship between the two of them was strong, and it grew to a point where y/n might’ve even considered him to be her best friend. 

In her third year at the BAU, though, y/n had started dating a guy outside of work. At first it started okay; they’d go on romantic dates to fancy Italian restaurants, the ones where Frank Sinatra played in the background of a dimly lit, large room. He’d brought her her favorite flowers, and he even tried to drink the tea she liked. And Dr. Reid had put up with it all, only crossly wondering to himself WHY he felt so agitated whenever y/n would bring her new beau to their bar nights. Why wouldn’t he be happy for her? Y/n was his best friend after all, and she deserved to have a man who loved her. 

Around the third month of their relationship though, he began to notice how much more exhausted y/n had become. She often was late or didn’t show up to get coffee with him in the mornings, and she was unusually silent towards everyone when working cases. Whenever she had to take phone calls she’d step outside, and Dr. Reid had to simply pretend like he didn’t see her strained expressions when she entered the room again. This continued on for a good two months before he finally stepped up and asked y/n what was going on. 

It was their first fight.

He’d simply asked if she’d been doing okay, and y/n snapped. The dark bags under her eyes and the frazzled appearance she had screamed that no, contrary to whatever she was saying she wasn’t alright. There wasn’t anything he could do though, not when she raised her voice at him for asking about her well-being. So he dropped it.

He hadn’t expected her to reach back out so soon again though, especially not the exact same night of their squabble. Dr. Reid had been flipping through the pages of an old book he was rereading when his phone began to ring. Surprised at the thought that anyone would want to talk to him at this hour, he’d picked up his phone only to hear her sniffling on the line. She’d quietly apologized many times over, but no matter what he said he couldn’t get her to tell him why she’d called. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice yelling in the background and a yelp of fear that he understood. 

Promising to be over soon, Dr. Reid threw his heavy jacket over his shoulders and headed out into the cold and rainy night. The whole way there he’d been touching his phone, wondering if he should’ve call again. What if something happened while he was making his way there? Should he have called the police before leaving? At least he would’ve known then that she would’ve been okay. As he pulled up to the front of y/n’s apartment complex, he spots y/n shivering miserably on the front steps.

It’s less than twenty minutes before she’s back in his warm apartment, in a dry, borrowed pair of pajama pants and one of his old t-shirts. He hadn’t asked her specifically what had happened, not wanting to dredge up any of their earlier fight, but she’d still managed to find herself talking. Dr. Reid had only just given y/n a steaming cup of tea when she’d broken down, salty tears running down her red cheeks and staining the borrowed shirt. He’d settled beside her on his couch, highly aware of the warmth emanating from her body and the way her tearful gaze avoided his. With some gentle coaxing he managed to get an explanation out of y/n. 

Her boyfriend had been cheating for upwards of two months, but she hadn’t been able to leave because of his threats. They’d always changed from one night to the next, but most of them held the same message: if you leave me, I’ll kill myself or hurt you. 

Now Dr. Reid had never considered himself to be an angry person; competition was something he avoided for the most part, and he was incredibly slow to anger. This, though, this made his blood boil. 

And so the young man had gathered y/n in his arms, comforting his best friend as he remained fully aware of how close they physically were. He told himself that this is what friends did, and her? Well, she was too far gone in her own mind to possibly even consider what could’ve been passing between them. 

Now, though, she’s fully aware of how close he is to her. Much like on that night, when Dr. Reid, no -- Spencer -- held her, she’d felt safe. Wrapped in the doctor’s arms she’d known nothing could’ve reached her, not if he didn’t want it to. 

Pressed up against his chest, y/n can feel the past two years of uncertain flirting and the dancing around each other dissipate. The months of awkward glances and longing stares has finally reached a head, finally manifested into real touches and love-filled gazes. 

She only wished it had happened sooner. 

She wished it had happened long before this case, long before they’d flown out here to take on the serial shooter that’d been terrorizing this city. Because now, with her blood pouring out of her chest and abdomen, she knows she has no time left. There’s no more time for first kisses or late night talks, no more shared coffee breaks or reading to each other while curled up together under a blanket. 

Spencer, her best friend who’d she’d loved for so long, has no time either. 

He’s holding onto his best friend’s body, pressing her to his chest with tears welling in his eyes. Sirens sound in the distance, possibly growing closer, but they’re too muted for him to be able to tell. He’d heard the shots and had come running, but it’d been too late. Y/n had been shot four times, three times in the chest and once in the abdomen. She’d toppled over, shock written all over her face as her gun had clattered to the ground beside her.

And now, she can barely remember any of it. She can still feel the ringing in her ears, but now she’s beginning to realize how hard it is to breath. She can taste the metallic tang of blood, and as she coughs and splutters she can feel it running over her lips. It’s warm, too warm. 

Fear begins to overpower her, and she finds herself uncontrollably shaking. “S-Spencer, I d-don’t wanna die,” she rasps, her y/e/c, tear-filled eyes turning to look up into his chocolate brown ones. 

He has to swallow back his own tears, fighting to hold on as he looks down at the person he’s cared about for so long. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he shakes his head. “Honey, hold on for me, okay?” he asks gently, his voice cracking. 

“I promise I won’t leave you,” he murmurs, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. Y/n whimpers as she begins to feel a tingling numbness move up her legs. “Spencer, I-I...I love y-you,” she whispers, her hand shakily reaching up for his face.

 Leaning down into the body in his lap, Spencer Reid presses his forehead against his best friend’s. 

Softly pressing his chapped lips to her bloodstained ones, he gently pulls away and rasps, “I know.” 

As y/n’s eyes begin to flutter closed, she grasps onto her best friend’s hand for dear life and lets out one last, heart-wrenching sob. 

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 3.16k

Summary: Everyone in your life knows how much of a hopeless romantic you are. You’re constantly diving into things headfirst, and expecting a fairy tale ending. You tend to laugh off any remarks your friends make, take them in stride, as it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. But this time it feels different.

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, mention of shitty past relationships, allusion to PTSD 

A/N: Again, it’s kind of based on some personal stuff. Getting back into writing is easiest when its based on self experience for me. I have the rest of this mostly written out, so let me know if you like it!

part one || part two || part three

New York winter has brought with it snow, accompanied by a brisk wind that harasses anyone caught outside. Lucky for you, you’re inside and warm in the shelter of your favorite cafè with a good friend and hot coffee.

“He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me since first semester,” you gush, “he said whenever he sees the film I did my midterm on in class, he thinks about me.” 

You’re practically swooning, your vanilla latte in one hand, and an earl grey tea in the other. Zendaya, reaches for the cinnamon among the array of wooden sticks and sweeteners as you continue your story.

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy has watched Love Jones so much the past four months,” she comments, smile on her face as she takes a taste-sip of her coffee. Satisfied, she begins walking with you to the usual table. It’s tucked in the corner with a view of both the wooden-framed windows and the small stage where a guitarist plays softly. 

You continue speaking as though you didn’t hear her smart remark, “I mean he’s got an accent, and he’s really cute too, Z. I didn't even present the analysis that well, you know I had work and that huge paper for music theory class due,” you babble, and she just sips her coffee and listens.

The bell atop the cafe door chimes and the cold breeze from outside manages to reach you in the corner. Your eyes flicker up to Tom as he begins walking over, shaking the snow out of his hair, his curls slightly damp and his cheeks pink.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket and sliding into the seat beside you.

He smiles at you as he grabs the tea you’ve ordered for him, a silent thank you despite the fact that you do it for him every time you arrive before him. 

“I was just telling Daya about the guy from our film history class last semester,” you grin, “you remember him?”

How could he forget? You gushed over him then too, and the bastard was bold enough to make advances towards you during class discussions. Not to mention the times when he would stop the two of you on your way out of class to flirt, while Tom would have to wait for you and watch it all unfold.

You and Tom have known each other since day one of university, when you complimented him on the Spider-Man pin on his backpack. It was the pin his baby brother Paddy had given to him before Tom left to attend university in the states, and your complimenting of it instantly made him warm towards you. He’s been friends with you since he held the elevator for you, the same day you both realized you’re neighbors at the same apartment complex. He’s been your best friend since the day you stayed up all night with him after having only known him a month. He was stupid enough to put off writing an important paper for his literature class until last minute and you still stayed up with him all the same. You brewed coffee and kept him company, making him laugh all night long all while encouraging and motivating him. 

And he didn’t realize at the time but he’s been in love with you since he called you at 11 PM, heartbroken, and despite the fact that you went to sleep hours ago and had work early the next morning, you didn’t let him wait past the second ring before answering. You were up and knocking at his door moments later, still in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, half awake. You met his bloodshot eyes and hugged him tightly, there to be whatever he needed at that moment. You let him ramble and cry into your shoulder while you stroked his hair. You watched over him while he drank to numb the pain, and you were there to rub his back the next morning for the aftermath. He knows he isn’t exactly special, you’d do this for anyone you care for and somehow it makes him love you more.

When he did realize his feelings, he didn’t make a move, as you were in a toxic on-again, off-again relationship, and you didn’t need anything else on top of what you were going through. The love from the way you valued him as your closest friend was enough for him. It’s possible he would have outgrown the crush, but after one night, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

Tom is pulled out of his thoughts and reminiscing when Zendaya asks, “When’s the date with prince charming then?”

“It’s this weekend,” you mumble, looking past her to avoid her eyes.

“This weekend? Y/N, you said you’d come to Laura’s party with us,” her tone is criticizing because she’s fine listening to your interactions turned romantic narratives, but abandoning plans you’ve already made with your friends is where she draws the line. 

You avoid her eyes, looking down at your cup and then out the window at passersby on the street. You don’t want to be a bad friend, really, but it’s one night and you’ve been looking forward to the date since he asked you last week. And you really don’t like parties anyways. You don’t make a habit out of canceling plans, you truly try to be as reliable as possible, there whenever your friends need you. Your only fault is that finding love is almost as high on your list of priorities as your friends.

“I know but I’ll come to the next one. She’s always throwing parties and what difference does it make to miss one? I don’t even like parties either, I wouldn’t really be fun to have around anyways,” you try to reason your way out of the guilt.

“Yeah. Sure. Let's just talk about something else, okay?” She huffs, not wanting to argue and knowing you won’t cancel on prince charming. 

“Okay… Tom when are you going to ask out Perrie from downstairs? I think the whole complex is getting second-hand embarrassment from the poor girl’s obvious and multiple advances,” you grin, because anything to do with romance is welcomed by you. It doesn’t just have to be your love life.

He already feels sick because while Perrie is a lovely girl, she’s not you and no one else is either. Answering the question why he won’t ask out the pretty, single, and clearly interested girl is something he barely admits to himself. But lucky for him Zendaya is who she is in that she always seems to know what to do. Though she’s never had it officially confirmed, she knows on some level about you two. She’s your roommate and the three of you are all close and in the same friend group, and honestly, how could anyone miss the way you look at each other? More often than not, she gets back from work and finds you two asleep on the couch, scrunched up together under one blanket. If she comes home, and you’re not in your room all she has to do is walk across the hall and you’ll likely be at Tom’s. But again, Zendaya is who she is, and so she allows you two to define what you have the way you want. But she sees the color drained from Tom’s face, and for his sake, she changes the subject.

“Or... we could talk about the fact that I got offered my first modeling job!” she exclaims, effectively taking the heat off of Tom.

Your supportive friend nature kicks into overdrive, Perrie from downstairs long forgotten, as you gush over how much your friend and roommate deserves this and so much more. Tom gives Zendaya a half-hearted smile, which she returns before chatting with you about the details.

—

“I really do think he could be the one,” you smile back in the mirror, while Tom searches through your display of Spider-Man comics. 

You’ve been best friends for so long and you live across the hall so it’s only natural that Tom comes to keep you company when you get ready for your dates. No matter how often he's there, or what feelings he has, he wouldn’t ever turn down an opportunity to spend time with you. 

He grabs your favorite issue, the front page worn as a result of how often you read it. You could cover them in slips and store them on a dusty shelf, preserving their value. But you’re a firm believer of loving what you have, not shielding it away to protect it, and maybe that applies to more than just comics. He drops onto your bed unceremoniously, looking up to meet your eyes in the mirror. You finish curling the last section of hair that frames your face, unplugging the iron afterwards.

“I don’t think you can really call him the one, if he’s the tenth you’ve called that so far this year,” he replies light and jokingly, despite the insensitive words he’s spoken. He’s the only one who’s never poked fun at your dating habits, but maybe it’s just the mention of the prince charming from film history.

Although he may be joking, he’s right. You glance down at your vanity, a mess of makeup and hair products showing just how much effort you’ve put in the last forty-five minutes. No matter how many first dates you go on you’re always saying things like this. Most everyone in your life makes remarks like this and usually you would let it slide and laugh or brush it off. But it’s Tom, who knows better than anyone the heartache you’ve experienced and how even though you refuse to admit it, it’s a coping mechanism. You’d like to think your past doesn’t define you and so you tell yourself you’re in love and hopeful, but the trust issues and self sabotaging comes shortly after. Tom should know that, having seen the relationship that was responsible for the cycle and the beginning, quick middle and eventual end of every relationship since. 

So you’re immediately defensive at the fact that your best friend would make some comment like this. He lifts his head up at you, as you spin around to face him.

“And why can’t I?” You ask and Tom opens his mouth to reply but you’re continuing and challenge him further, “What’s so wrong with being a hopeless romantic, with feeling things deeply?” You question, not waiting for a response as you continue.

“There’s not one person in my life who hasn’t said shit like this to me! Out of all people I thought you would understand,” you raise your voice, hurt evident in your tone. 

“You know how hard it was for me. I’m just doing my best to hold myself together, and I’m an adult, if this is how I decide to cope, I’m allowed to!” You’re shouting now, standing and pacing around your room in frustration.

“I’m just hoping there’s someone out there who is willing to love me kindly and fully, and I think I’m perfectly justified holding out for that,” your voice softens, your back is facing him, posture slumped as you huff, overwhelmed with emotion. 

Your frustration is tangible in the air and Tom blinks, placing down the comic book before scooting to the edge of the bed towards you. You tend to laugh off remarks, take them in stride, and it’s kind of commonplace in your friend group to joke about your romantic escapades. 

He feels unbelievably guilty, he never would’ve said something if he was aware you felt even one one-thousandth as upset as you’d just displayed. He had been there for the awful relationship that had you sick with heartache. He’d been the one Zendaya would come to when you’d refuse to leave your room for anything but classes, if even that. He just feels idiotic for not connecting the dots, he just thought you were strong for having such an open heart after everything. You’re always compassionate and supportive others and you’ve definitely helped him through his fair share of heartbreak, and wow he feels like a dick. Whether it’s orchestrated by heartache or not, he admires that you’re willing to keep trying despite everything. He only wishes he was brave enough to bare his like you always have.

“Hey,” Tom speaks softly, reaching for your hand and slowly turning you around to face him, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I never realized this is how you felt,” He mutters, tone gentle, coaxing you to turn to him.

Tears have managed to well up in your eyes and if he didn’t feel like a huge jerk before, he absolutely does now. But it’s really not about him, it’s about his best friend who he’s unintentionally made feel invalid in her feelings. You’ve never once asked him to justify how he’s feeling, or poked fun at him for his emotions. Well, except... maybe when he broke his pinky finger in a fit of anger, after having punched the face wall when his team lost the European championship (though you did apologize for it and you grabbed him ice right after). 

“It’s, erm, it’s fine, it’s stupid anyways,” you mumble back, voice unsteady as you try to blot your tears away with your sleeve in an attempt to prevent your makeup smearing. You’re just overwhelmed and it all bubbled over. Tom has never said anything like that before and it was dramatic to blow up at him like that, you think. 

“It’s not, N/N, and you know that. You’re crying and I know you hate crying and so I can tell you’re upset. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I’m still sorry,” He apologizes, rising to stand with your hand still in his. He pulls you into a hug, resting his cheek atop your head. 

“Thanks,” you murmur into his shoulder. It’s not completely his fault, because you really hadn’t voiced any sort of animosity for the jokes made about it. You never really talk about how hurt you are by the past either, not anymore than in passing at least. 

You just stand there for a minute, his hand stroking your hair absentmindedly, and he’s messing up your curls but it’s comforting because it’s Tom. Thinking to ask him to stop isn’t even on your mind. 

He’s thought about it before, but now more than ever he just selfishly wishes he was there before your ex, to see you unguarded and truly hopeful. Not as a coping mechanism, not as an extreme reaction to hurt, but to love because it’s all you know. Because maybe then things would have played out differently for the two of you.

He’s lost in his thoughts, stroking your hair and his other hand rubbing your back, your ‘getting ready’ playlist ends. Somehow the algorithm has decided to play One by Ed Sheeran, soft, melodic and completely dissimilar from the upbeat tracks playing a moment ago. But Tom couldn’t be more grateful, because if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend you’re at the before, and he had the guts to ask you out on the first day of class. If that was true, when you’re in your room with him now. You’d be aware of how he feels about you, and you’d feel loved in that kind and gentle way you’ve been hoping for, because you’ve never known anything else.

The soft ballad ends and when you glance up at him, the façade he’s formed fades away before his heart has the chance to beg it to stay.

“I don’t really want to go on this date anymore, I probably look a mess and I’m just...not in the mood for not finding ‘the one’ tonight. I’ve got you, and that’s enough for now,” you confess, smiling up at him. 

You say that, because as cheesy as it sounds, friends are a kind of soulmate too, and you’ve already found them. You can always look for ‘the one’ some other time. This revelation would feel sweet to any other friend, but to Tom, it hurts just a bit that to you he’s just a placeholder. 

He manages to crack a half smile at your heartfelt statement, because no matter how he feels, he’s lucky to have you. Even if only as a friend.

“So how about we order a pizza and watch New Girl for the fiftieth time?” You question, oblivious and smiling up at him before pulling away from the hug and wiping at your wet eyes.

Any other time he would stay in with you, happy to watch you laugh to the point where he’s grinning at just your reactions. But he’s gotta be a good friend too, because well, he’s in the same boat as you. Except he’s found the one, and he doesn’t want to leave. Yet he knows the right thing to do is to go to the party he promised Zendaya and Jacob (and previously you) that he would attend. Though he still isn’t happy to admit it to you.

“I was going to go to Laura’s party tonight…” Tom grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, because he knows you don’t like parties and you’re likely emotionally exhausted on top of that. He’s only going because he’s made a promise, and really— trust him— there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his favorite person.

“Could I maybe go with you?” You ask, because being with friends, even if you don’t like parties is better than sulking at home alone. 

Tom cracks a smile, and it’s easy to fall back into friend-mode with you. Because that’s what comes when it comes to you, before anything else.

“Well, I mean if you clean up I suppose I can just take you with me,” he teases you, “because I cannot show up with you like that.” He jokes and laughs as you shove him. 

This kind of banter is normal and makes your heart feel just a little less heavy in your chest, because Tom always manages to make you feel better.

“Okay, just let me text him and let him know I won’t make it, and then I’ll try and look better for you,” you reply, laughing all while rolling your eyes. 

You’ve got your phone in one hand texting, while your other wipes away at the makeup on your face. You’ve got a focused look on your face, squinting a bit because you don’t have the best eyesight and refuse to wear your glasses on first dates. But you look lovely to Tom, despite the crease between your eyebrows, your slightly opened mouth, and still smeared mascara. 

part two

[punkpoemprose]

Naked Soul: Chapter 16- High Hopes [December 8th]

Universe: Modern AU (Stripper AU) Rating: T (Teen & Up) Length:  3972 Words

A/N: This dear readers, is the first multichapter fic I’ve finished in years. Thanks @epbaker​ who reminded me multiple times recently that I said this advent was going to be all about getting things done instead of starting new projects, haha.

The unofficial title of the whole series, given the panic at the disco chapter titles, is now “Hey Look Ma I Made It”. I can’t believe that I’ve been writing this fic since 2015! Wild! For those unfamiliar this fic can be a little bit of a trainwreck because I started writing it when I was (18? 19?) and took some major liberties on the timeline, amount of research done, etc. Someday, now that it’s done, I’ll come back to it and do some editing and rewrites to make it more cohesive and a little less 2015-y. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this fic through its many long hiatuses! 

Catch up here: [Naked Soul Masterpost]

Monday morning came and went in almost exhaustingly normal fashion. Anna woke up as early as she physically could for class and was, of course, still running behind. Kristoff had made her eggs and toast for breakfast and she’d only managed to get out the door in time to drive to class because he’d had the good sense to make her pack her school bag the night before.

She stretched as she walked back to her car after her last class of the day got out. She still had two hours of work to put in at the studio, preparing her ballet class for their upcoming recital, but she was thinking past that and to the evening. Elsa was back home again and while Anna knew that her sister wasn’t going to kiss and tell, she was looking forward to pestering her into telling her how her date with Della went. They were going to make dinner together while Kristoff was out of the house doing some paperwork with Sven and Anna couldn’t deny the fact that she was glad to have the distraction from her thoughts.

Things had been going well, perhaps maybe even too well. Anna hadn’t felt so good in a very long time. She wasn’t, as far as anyone could tell, being stalked anymore, and while the Westergaard brothers were still doing their best to destroy any claim she and her sister had to the business their parents built, Anna was being reasonably left out of it. She hadn’t heard anything from the PI they hired let alone any of the red headed bastards. Work and school were going well, and her relationship with her sister and with Kristoff were both positive in more ways than she could ever imagine any relationship could be. It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that things were going to be alright no matter what happened that was out of her control. She was, however, despite all the good, uncomfortable in her moments alone. There was always fear clawing on the edge of her mind, a part of her waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When she sat in her car and her phone rang, she jumped about a foot. No one really called her.

Kristoff and Elsa did from time to time, but they were more likely to text, so as she riffled through her bag searching for it, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was about to learn something about self-fulfilling prophecies.

When she managed to pull the phone from her bag, she picked up without looking at the number. If it was important, she didn’t want it to go to voicemail, and if it wasn’t, she figured it was easy enough to hit the end call button.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Arendelle?” An unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line addressed her formally, instantly making her think that she’d picked up a spam call.

“Speaking,” she said anyway.

If a spam call was what the universe was throwing at her today, she could take it. She always did feel a little bad for the college kids they hired for call centers. She had been paying her way through school by getting naked and she still thought she had a better job than telemarketing.

“Hello, this is Marta calling from Williamson and Associates. I’m calling today to inform you that there’s been some recent progress in your… situation that requires your attention. Would you be able to come into the office in the next half hour to discuss?”

She froze on the spot. Lawyers. So much for hoping for a spam call.

“I think you might be calling the wrong sister. Elsa handles all the legal and business matters. I could give you her number if you need, but you should have it on file?”

“We’ve already called the other Ms. Arendelle. She is on her way in now, however she has no control over your trust and the associated control you have in Arendelle Enterprises, and for that reason we’ll really need you here to sign some paperwork and make your decisions.”

Anna sighed and fell back into the driver’s seat. Making decisions seemed like the last thing she wanted to do, and yet, if they were at the decision making process it meant that there was something like an end in sight, and she’d take it no matter what it was. She was ready to close the chapter of her life that required police and lawyers and dealing with the Westergaards if she could help it.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

When the woman on the other end was satisfied, Anna hung up the phone and tossed it into her bag before starting her car and doing her best to focus on the road instead of the million different scenarios playing out in her head about what she’d find at that office.

The other shoe had, in fact dropped, but she wasn’t sure if it was about to land sole up or down. She took comfort in the fact that no matter what she was about to learn, she knew that everything would be okay. Elsa was feeling better than she had in years, they were safe, and she had Kristoff. She’d never dreamed of being loved the way he loved her.

***

Kristoff smiled when he scooped Anna up into his arms. She’d passed out on the couch at some point after dinner and while he wasn’t certain of all the details, he knew that she’d had a long day. Elsa had already gone off to bed by the time he’d gotten home, so he hadn’t been able to ask either of them how their meeting with their lawyers had gone. He had a rough idea, Anna had sent him a text promising to fill him in when he got home, but he wasn’t about to wake her up to ask, not when she looked so peaceful.

He’d had a long day too, but it hadn’t been any surprise to him. He and Sven had been working on business paperwork, officially naming it, applying for the bank loans they needed to get started, doing all the sort of work that they had to do when they started their ice business, but somehow twice as tiresome. They’d be able to start looking for jobs soon, to start hiring, to start picking up equipment. They were starting small, working on repairs and additions more than new construction, but he was happy to have the possibility of really and truly being his own boss.

It meant good things would come, that he could make things even more stable for himself financially and make his own hours, and hopefully, find himself in a better position to ask Anna to spend the rest of her life with him. He could already imagine a bigger house, closer to his family, and little feet running across the floor, if of course, Anna wanted that too.

Her head lolled against his chest a bit as they walked. She was out, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at her. They’d been on quite a journey together since meeting. He still couldn’t believe that he had Sven to thank for that, but he was glad that he’d dragged him out to a strip club so many months ago, and the he now, like everyone else in Kristoff’s life, had been won over by Anna’s charm. His best friend, and well as his parents, were already asking when exactly he was planning to pop the question, as if he and Anna had been together for years instead of months.

He was already thinking the same thing though. He loved her. He loved her for her humor and her smiles and her resilience. He’d never met anyone stronger than her, and while she’d made it seem like he’d been helping her since they’d met, she’d really been the one holding him up, helping him to believe that good things could happen and that the world wasn’t as dark as it sometimes seemed.

He felt her stir when he bumped the bedroom door open, and he knew it was from the squealing creak it made whenever it was opened or shut. He wanted to tackle some home repair, and he thought, with a chuckle, that he may need to be his own first customer.

Sven would demand double pay.

“Did I fall asleep?” she mumbled, and even in the dim light of the hall, he could see her bleary eyes, half open, staring up at him.

He felt bad for interrupting her peaceful sleep, but took the opportunity, now that she was at least a little bit awake, to duck down and press a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah baby, you did. I was just bringing you to bed.”

She smiled softly and then reached up a hand, squeezing his arm lightly.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Not possible,” he replied, “Nothing would be too good for you. If I could give you the world it still wouldn’t be enough.”

She shook her head, but her smile was bright as she woke a bit more and he crossed the room, knocking the door back closed with its telltale squeak, and plunging them into darkness for only a moment until he bumped the rocker switch on the wall, knowing that now that she was up, they probably wouldn’t be sleeping.

“You’re a goof,” she said, “And I’d tell the whole world that it could hit the bricks, because all I need is you.”

He couldn’t help but give her a light squeeze before setting her onto the bed, but when he went to step away, she was still gripping his arm.

“Stay?”

She was giving him her best puppy dog eyes, and he knew that he was done with work for the evening. Once Anna had him in bed, there would be no getting out of it until he bargained with her to let him go brush his teeth.

He gestured for her to scoot over a bit then followed her onto the bed, not fighting it when she immediately wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. She was forever trying to cover him with her, and despite the size difference between them, she did a pretty good job.

“Do you want to hear about my day?” she asked, the trepidation in her voice evident despite the confident way she was holding onto him, “Or you could tell me about yours?”

He wrapped his arms around her in return, pulling her up onto him a bit more until her head was rested atop his chest.

“I’m not going to make you tell me about it if you don’t want to,” he replied.

He knew, of course, that she would tell him whenever she was ready. He trusted her to know her boundaries with him, to listen and to ask and to take what she gave him when she gave it. He tried not to pry or push unless he needed to, and even then, he always left it up to her discretion.

“My day was terribly dry and boring. Paperwork is horrible. I’d rather be back in high school history class than look at another bank document, and unless you were luckier than I was, high school history is the most boring and dry thing I think anyone can ever experience in their lives.”

“Oof,” she replied, with a sort of half laugh that made him feel more comfortable, “I’m glad my meetings weren’t as boring as yours were then. I got a call to go to the lawyers office after classes today, and after I met Elsa there, we discussed our settlement from the company and how we’d be receiving our trusts and so on and so forth. It wasn’t exactly riveting stuff, but I think everything…”

She trailed off and then looked up at him, turning her head and pushing  off him so that she could make eye contact as she said it.

“I think it’s finally over Kris. I think… I think everything is going to be okay.”

He saw the tears welling in her eyes and swept his thumb across her cheek as they fell. He wanted to tell her that everything would have been alright either way, because he was going to make sure they were, but right now that didn’t matter. She was tired, and happy, and he was going to hold her through it as the weight lifted from her shoulders.

She told him about how apparently their PI “friend” had come through, how he’d produced evidence of blackmail and worse to her and Elsa’s lawyers that they’d been able to use as leverage. The rest of the board wasn’t fully aware of what was going on, but there was anarchy in the company structure nevertheless. They had grounds to sue the Westergaard family for a host of legal jargon terms Kristoff didn’t know well enough to comment on, but amongst them were defamation and embezzlement, which he had a fair enough understanding of to know that Anna and Elsa had indeed won the war.

“So they’re being forced to step down from the board, the company has to restructure and Elsa and I have the option to have the company buy us out. We even get to keep the Arendelle Industries name, so it’s going to be known as AI now and whatever happens after this, we get the cash value of our parents stake in the company, plus our trusts, and if the business faces any repercussions from what happened, our family name won’t be attached anymore. I honestly still can’t believe it.”

She started talking numbers, and he felt like he had all the wind knocked out of him. He prided himself on being at least decent at math, after all his work required it, but he wasn’t sure if he could count that high.

“It’s not about the money though,” she said quietly, ducking back down to cuddle closer to his side, “It’s nice to know it’s there and that I can pay for college and everything. But mostly I’m just glad it’s over now. I’m never going to have to see a Westergaard again for the rest of my life, Elsa won’t have to worry about the business anymore, and I can work at the studio, and…”

The pause was a nervous one, as if she was worried about what she had to say next.

“And I have you, and that’s all I think I need.”

He shifted, pulled her atop him more fully, and kissed her.

***

He was thoroughly exhausted, his back ached, he was pretty sure he was missing skin on his thigh, and when he glanced to his right, his girlfriend was, rather elegantly, leaning back and spinning five feet off the floor.

“How do you even do that?”

He could hear Della, and his mother laughing up a storm. He couldn’t even look over at them because he knew that they must be rolling on the floor.

“You’ve watched me enough,” she said, with a giggle as the music continued to play and she spun around on beat, “I thought you’d have it no problem.”

“She’s really an excellent teacher,” Elsa said from behind them, doubtlessly staring right at Della when she said it.

She was getting better and better at the teasing the longer she spent around his family. He couldn’t necessarily say he enjoyed it being directed at him, but he also was pleased by the fact that she was at least opening up more and more overtime.

“Yes,” Della replied, “It’s really just my brother. No fault of hers that he can’t follow directions.”

He thought for a moment about walking away from the pole to slug his sister, but his mom was there and she may still, very well, pull them apart with one hand each and make them do chores for the rest of the evening. It didn’t matter that they were adults. The woman was strong enough, and serious enough to have them both quivering in their boots in no time flat.

“Pay her no mind Kristoff, you’re doing great baby.”

He felt his whole face go red. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to any of this.

Since Anna had started teaching “aerial dance” at the studio, Della and even more terrifyingly, his mother, had been attending. While they both had told him that it was “a good work out” he had not wanted to know what they were learning.

It had been more of a joke than a real Birthday gift when he’d open the card from his sister that included a three-session gift certificate to work with Anna. His options had been, of course, ballet, fan dance, or aerial dance, and while he wasn’t particularly against any of the options, he thought doing anything with Anna would be fun, he did think that as a guy who did a lot of heavy lifting, climbing up a pole wouldn’t be particularly difficult.

He’d been very wrong.

Anna slid back down the pole, showing more technique than seduction in her motions. She crossed the floor to turn off the music and to shoot him a somewhat apologetic smile. He might be in pain, but he smiled back because even with his failures and his mother, sister, and Elsa giggling at him, he was enjoying himself.

If there was one thing that he appreciated, more than anything else about her teaching classes, it was that she was dancing because she loved it. She wasn’t dancing to please anyone when she was at the studio, she was showing others how to do something that made her feel good. Sometimes she would still dance for him, alone in the comfort of their bedroom and that too was, in a way, for her.

He knew that while the way they met may not have been the way she would have chosen, she sometimes had days and nights where she got a little nostalgic for his eyes on her like that. He always gave it to her, because as soon as she started moving like that, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, even if he wanted to. He didn’t think even with a thousand lessons from her, he could ever reciprocate quite as well. He did appreciate her laughs though when he’d give her a little shimmy.

“Okay peanut gallery,” Anna commanded in the sweet way that only she could, “I do believe that certificate was for three private lessons. You’ve had your fun, now I’d like some alone time with my student.”

Amongst various grumblings and jokes, between Anna and his mother’s chiding, the room was emptied of everyone but the two of them. While they were walking out he walked over to where he’d left his workout bag, and slipped something from within it to the pocket of his shorts.

“Sorry sweetheart,” she said, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around his waist, pillowing her head against him, “I had to let them have their fun with you.”

He chuckled. They certainly had had their fun.

“I wanted them here,” he replied, “they deserved a little laugh at my expense, I guess. Plus, I wanted at least Elsa around…”

He reached back into his pocket and retrieved the little box he’d put there, feeling the velvetiness of it under his fingers and pulling it out. Months had passed since everything was straightened out with her family business, and his own new construction business, and with it having been over a year since they met, the timing just felt right.

He had to lean away from her to kneel and her confusion, turned surprise was a look that he hoped he would never forget.

“Are you?”

He hadn’t even opened the box yet, but there was a huge smile on her face, her voice full of shock like she couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, I mean, we don’t have to right away,” he said flipping open the box, “You’ve still got school and work and… I just thought even if we didn’t have the wedding for a year or more I just want to be able to call you my fiancé. If that’s what you want.”

He flipped the box open. He’d taken Elsa and Sven with him shopping, and while it had been a hilariously strange day, they’d all agreed on a ring they felt was both something that made them think of Anna, and something they thought she’d love.

The stone was small, but the band was intricate, little leaves and vines settling around an inset diamond. He hadn’t wanted a ring that had much of a profile because he wanted her to be able to wear it when she was dancing without it catching on anything. It was a good choice, he thought, looking from it to her face and letting his nerves be comforted by her grin.

“Yes, of course!”

She stooped down to his level, “Of course I want to marry you Kristoff. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more!”

He moved to kiss her, but she was already surging forward to kiss him, her fingers tangling into his hair, sweaty as it was, and her lips opening to his almost immediately. The kiss was deep and lingering and as it broke, she was smiling brighter than the sun.

He slid the ring onto her finger and as they stood, he gave her an apologetic look and turned towards the door.

“You can come back in now.”

He knew that his sister at least, if not all three must have had an ear to the door and a hand on the handle.

“My baby is going to get married! I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Anna laughed as they were overtaken by the love of the three women they called family. The rest of Kristoff’s siblings and his father would hear the news soon enough, having already known his plan. He could only imagine the chaos Anna would find when she walked through the door to see them.

The hug she gave him and the kiss on his cheek though, told him that she was ready for it.

“I don’t think I could have ever imagined being this happy,” she said, looking between him and the assemblage, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

He shook his head, “That’s my line.”

***

They were allowed only an hour alone when they got back home. There would be a family dinner at his parents place to get to, and they both needed to shower, but neither of them were much interested in getting ready.

“Would it be rude to be late for dinner?” Anna asked, tugging his shirt off when the front door closed behind them.

“What was rude was the assumption we wouldn’t have other things to do,” he offered with a laugh, his hands busying themselves with unbuttoning her jeans, “They’ll deal.”

Once her pants and his shirt were off, she jumped up onto him, his hands catching her rear and holding her up on him as her mouth went to his.

“Good, because I’m going to need at least a full hour with you. Maybe two. We never did get that private lesson in.”

He groaned as her hands wandered his back and her mouth traveled from his lips to his neck and licked and nipped.

“I’m eager to learn.”

She laughed, “You’re already a professional, but we’ll see if I can show you something new.”

His eyes grew wide at that, and he nearly tripped, with her warm laugh in his ears and her hands and mouth on his skin, rushing to their bedroom.

[skelligiri]

Obligatory lockdown fic

“Good night, angel.”

Click.

Aziraphale hung up the phone, and, with a hum and a spring in his step, went right back to baking. He had come across a carrot cake recipe in one of the oldest cookbooks in his collection earlier that day and busied himself with weighing Ingredients (the carrots miraculously fell out of the bag finely grated). But no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind focused and to not think of the phone conversation, he couldn’t suppress the desire to pick up the phone again as the night progressed. The print date of the book, which indicated that it had been printed shortly after the Reign of Terror, didn’t help, jolting memories of being locked up in the Bastille and being saved from a violent discorporation by an unlikely friend.

2 days. After that, he wouldn’t hear Crowley’s voice again until July. The angel wasn’t sure why he was even giving it any thought - Crowley had a habit of sleeping for months, years, even decades at a time, and had done so countless times over the millennia.

He just hadn’t spent prolonged periods of time asleep since the aborted Armageddon a year prior, Aziraphale mused. Crowley had mentioned how he couldn’t get himself to cause any havoc because everybody was miserable enough already, which was not surprising – the angel knew that, at heart, Crowley was a decent person. However, when reaching for the cake tin, a thought stopped him in his tracks – Could it be that Crowley was not only bored, but that the misery of the situation had gotten him down? His friend certainly hadn’t sounded happy.

---

Somewhere in central London, a demon swatted aimlessly at his bedside table until he found his ringing phone, sending his designer sunglasses tumbling to the floor in the process. It didn’t concern Crowley; his glasses knew better than to invoke their already cross owner’s wrath by breaking.

“What?” he snapped. “It’s me again. I just wanted to know how you are feeling today.” “Same as yesterday. Same as every day since the lockdown started. Bored. Didn’t forget, did you?” the demon drawled. “No… no, and it does make sense I suppose, there are certainly things I am looking forward to after this whole lockdown business. I wonder how the birds at St. James’ park are doing. If the little cafe on Belgrave Street is still going to be there - it used to be a book shop, you know. Anyway, now that I have a better understanding of the baking process, I do wonder if I will have a newfound appreciation for cake. Not that I ever did not appreciate cake, as I’m sure you are well aware, but the cakes at this particular establishment have always been home baked by the owners, wonderful people. Their children worked some odd jobs there to help pay for their education –“, Aziraphale babbled, unable to contain the flood of words until it was cut off by his friend’s exasperated groan. “Aziraphale. You do know that depriving someone of sleep is a method of torture, right?” Aziraphale blinked in response. “You were asleep already? I thought you were going to wait two days?” “Yeah, but I had a very productive day yesterday. Scared a seedling into growing 2 inches, sat around doing nothing. Started a few arguments on Twitter, although that really wasn’t much of a challenge. Sat around some more. Decided to treat myself to an early nap.” “Ah. Right, um. I really just wanted to know how you were doing. And…”

The angel found himself considering his words for a moment. Even in his head, they sounded a bit silly. Still, the question burned on his tongue.

“Out of curiosity… ever since the events of Armageddon and the… fallout thereof. Have you ever felt a little lonely?” As expected, the question was followed by a cackle on the other end of the line. ‘”Yah, I really miss Hastur. Real hard, not having to put up with the threats and the stench.” He paused. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to miss the ponces up in heaven. Missing Gabriel, are you? Michael?” Aziraphale’s face contorted, and he outright shuddered when Crowley added “Sandalphon?” “Oh heavens no!” he blurted out, ignoring Crowley’s snort. “I don’t miss heaven. The bookshop feels more like home to me than heaven ever did, you know that.” “Well then, let me go on the record saying that I don’t miss Hell either, big shocker I know. Was there anything else?” There was a short silence between them, which Aziraphale found himself unable to fill. “… Angel, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me to come over or not?” Crowley asked. “I… I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” “Right. Well in that case, I’m going back to sleep.”

Aziraphale fidgeted. There was one more question that needed answering. “W-well, before you go! You… You definitely shouldn’t come here. But, in theory, if I were to find a way to come over to your place…” “…You. Come over here?” “Yes.” “Wha, you gonna get on a bus during a pandemic? I thought setting a bad example and getting too close to people is something you consider demonic activity. Angel, I’m almost impressed.” “Without breaking any rules, of course!” “And how would you go about that, then?” Aziraphale could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smirk in Crowley’s voice. “… Not sure. It’s just hypothetical, really. Anyway, would you mind if I did?” “’Course not, why in the heavens would I mind, not like I haven’t had you over before.” “… Right, right. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Good night, my dear.”

Click.

----

Not even Aziraphale’s gramophone seemed to be able to drown out the silence of the following days. The angel often found his gaze locked on the black feather he kept next to his recipe books. A keepsake from Crowley. He had passed it off as a meaningless gesture. Aziraphale knew better.

Being honest with himself had never been the angel’s strong suit. But he had gotten better at deciphering what his gut was trying to tell him in the months since the war had been averted. Rather than decades, centuries or even millennia, it now took him a mere fortnight to realize that he couldn’t drown out what he wanted more than anything.

He wanted to be near Crowley. To keep his friend company. They had always had each other to rely on whenever one or more of the horsemen had raised their heads.

But Pestilence posed a very unique challenge, turning the very need for people to reach out to each other during hard times into a potentially deadly risk. He couldn’t just walk out of the bookshop and set a bad example for humans. Maybe he should wait until July, he thought to himself. Sit here, on the couch, where the demon had slept so many times over the years there undoubtedly was a Crowley-shaped indent in the foam, drink tea and eat cake while catching up on his vast collection of books… but after hearing his dearest friend’s voice, this thought suddenly felt so much less appealing. He found himself picking up the phone again, aching to speak to Crowley, but what was he going to say? There was nothing else to say. The time for talking had passed, he realized. Now was the time to act – which was a harrowing thought.

But he should definitely follow the rules of the lockdown, Aziraphale decided, which meant no leaving the house. Not being able to get sick or transmit the disease was beside the point. Laws were there for a reason, after all. But while the laws surrounding the lockdown were not to be broken even by him, not all laws that applied to humanity applied to a celestial being. For one thing, angels weren’t bound by the laws of physics. And just like that, an idea hit Aziraphale as his gaze locked on the phone in his hand.

Crowley had done it before, he had (repeatedly and proudly) bragged to Aziraphale all about how he had outwitted Hastur back before Armageddon’t by travelling through the phone line and trapping the duke of hell on his ansafone. It was one of his favourite stories to relay after a bottle of wine and usually culminated in him thanking the angel for being the sole reason he even kept the ancient eyesore in his flat. If Crowley could do it, Aziraphale reasoned, why couldn’t he? “It might just work…” he mumbled to himself. Hesitating, Aziraphale considered the phone line separating him from his demon. The rules of the lockdown were one thing, but there were other rules to consider. 6000 years of careful consideration, of boundaries, of careful movements so to not spook or even endanger the other. But those times were over now, weren’t they? They were on their own side now, they didn’t need excuses. They were meant to be free. They deserved to be free.

And nothing was stopping them. Not really.

Aziraphale took a long look around his bookshop. He closed his eyes. A thought, a silent prayer, a faint smell of ozone, and just like that, he knew that it would be safe until he returned, whenever that may be. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and without further ado, willed himself to dissolve into particles straight into cyberspace.

Inaudible to anyone but Aziraphale, the phone line for the next fragment of a second was filled with panicked, garbled noises of distress, as a defragmented angel was trying to herd the atoms making up his corporation through a telephone line. He had to admit: Pulling this off without any atoms escaping was brag-worthy. He found himself wondering if bouncing around weightlessly like this was what a rollercoaster felt like. He didn’t much care for it. And he didn’t much care for re-emerging, either, all his atoms snapping back in place like magnets, sending him stumbling aimlessly. All he could do was brace himself for the unavoidable impact.

But luckily for the angel, Crowley’s phone had rolled out of his hand when he’d fallen asleep after their last conversation, on a bed that had to have been touched by a demonic miracle or a dozen to reach such an unnatural level of softness. The yelp that followed Aziraphale’s body hitting Crowley full-force would have usually caused the angel a great deal of concern, but Aziraphale was too occupied with his own spinning vision and trying to figure out where he was and which way was up, limbs flailing, helplessly entangled in black, velvet bedsheets.

“What the FLYING FUCK-“ Crowley yelled, followed by a string of expletives, and Aziraphale realized that the sounds were coming from the floor next to the bed. “Ah – I didn’t mean to - Apologies, my dear.” he offered breathlessly. “Aziraphale?!”

The demon’s upper body emerged from beside the bed, golden eyes wide. “What the heavens - How did - wh-?!”, he stammered, ever so eloquently. Aziraphale scrambled to sit up, tried to brace himself on the wall, missed, and found himself face-first on the bed with a groan. He realized that Crowley must have rushed to his side when he felt himself being propped up by a steadying hold under his arm. That thought was confirmed when he heard Crowley hiss under his breath. The angel held on to his arm for dear life. “I… I’m so sorry to wake you like this. Are you hurt?” “No, just got better acquainted with the floor, thank you very much.” Aziraphale barely managed to lean against the headboard to wait for his vision to stop spinning. “I just. Thought this might be a way of coming over without breaking any rules. I must admit, you made this whole traveling through the telephone line business sound rather a lot easier than it is.”

His vision slowly focused on the demon, who was sitting beside him on the bed, more frazzled looking than the angel had ever seen him. Unkempt, bleary-eyed, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. With a start, Aziraphale noticed that the plants on the balcony had shifted into unnatural positions. As though they were leaning in to see what all the commotion was about. Crowley took notice and turned around to glare at the plants, which immediately went back to their original positions.

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “It’s good to see you, my dear.” “Yeah it’s… yeah. Same.” the demon stammered. “I was a little worried about you. You must really be concerned about the humans, to so adamantly refuse to break the rules. Commendable as it is.” Crowley made a face at that last remark. “Rub it in, why don’t you.” “I’m not trying to be flippant, dear. What I’m trying to say is… I’m a little surprised you didn’t come over.” Aziraphale admitted. “I didn’t come over ‘cause you told me not to.” the demon retorted. “That’s never stopped you before. You know as well as I do that I was tempting you.” Crowley blinked at the angel’s blatant honesty. “Angel,” Crowley began, “This is different. I just…” Crowley threw back his head and let out a frustrated groan, “I couldn’t just go on a limb and invite myself to stay over for however many weeks or months it’ll take for Pestilence to get tired of mucking up everyone’s day and to bugger off again, could I? Taking up your space and drinking all your wine. ‘sides, we’re not just talking catching up, but. You know. More than that.” When it became apparent that Aziraphale wanted more, Crowley ran a hand over his face. “Living together for fuck knows how long. Didn’t want to overstep.”

Oh.

“W- well,”, Aziraphale started, a familiar warmth rising up in his face, “I certainly didn’t mean to overstep-“ “You’re not.” “Oh. Good.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The heat in his face remained. “Still… I can make myself scarce, if you like. Go back to the bookshop, if one of us needs space, I’m sure I’ll get used to traveling through the telephone line. But, truth be told, I have missed your company.” He swallowed again, followed by a deep breath. “Rather terribly, actually. In fact, I don’t know how I ever managed to spend as much time apart from you as I used to. Things have been different since the events of last summer, haven’t they? Speaking of, the anniversary of what could have been Armageddon is coming up in three months, hopefully things will be better by then. Maybe the Ritz will have re-opened and we will get a chance to celebrate the world not coming to an end, like we did last year.” When Aziraphale’s eyes met the demon’s, there was no trace of white to be found in them. “Until then, I’d very much like to stay here with you. If you’ll have me.”, he added.

The silence hung over them thickly, every second stretching out endlessly. “… Crowley?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, but the demon appeared to be frozen in place, still holding on to the angel’s arm. By the time Crowley finally opened his mouth, Aziraphale wondered if he had said too much.

“I need a nap.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Beg your pardon? Did you hear what I just said?” “Y- Yeah, and, if you don’t mind, I really need a nap.” “You may feel free to nap all you want, but-“ Aziraphale started, but before he could say anything else, he felt himself gently being pushed back against the headrest, and before he had realized what was happening, Crowley’s face was buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around the angel’s torso like his life depended on it. Aziraphale quickly snapped out of his bafflement and gave his friend a concerned look. “Are you alright, dear boy?” he asked, and Crowley nodded into his shoulder wordlessly. “… Well, are you still planning on napping until July? I will have to miracle myself some books over if you do.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale returned the embrace, one hand gently stroking the demons back, resulting in a small, full-body shudder. Crowley chose not to comment when, emboldened by this reaction, the angel pressed a kiss on the top of his head, but he did make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of contentment. They had touched more frequently since the events of the year prior, more precisely since the night of the body swap, but it never failed to make their hearts flutter. “Well then, let’s get comfortable, shall we? If we’re in this for the long haul.” He grabbed the cover and draped it over Crowley. And as the arms around his torso squeezed him just a little tighter, he added “We have all the time in the world. The cakes in the kitchen know better than to go stale.”

---

Well, seeing as it’s technically the 30th anniversary of Good Omens  today, I thought I’d try my hand at writing. This is actually my first fanfiction, and I plan to write a bit more often in the future. Hope you like it!

[weightlessau]

stars fading but I linger on, dear [ateez; san]

Summary: Don't give up hope.

(gender neutral reader)

1.3k words

Dandelions, fallen lashes, lost pennies, stars, birthday candles, wells, fountains.

All reasons to wish for something that may or may not come true.

You never really believed in things like that, but always hoped there was some kind of truth in those stories. Hope was needed all the time in your life. Whenever you came across an opportunity to make a wish, you took it and wished for the same things over and over and over again. That day was no different. When you went out that morning, a dandelion greeted you on your way to the station. As usual, you picked it up, closed your eyes tightly and blew with all your might. Next was a lash that fell onto your desk while you were working. Like a routine, you picked it up, closed your eyes tightly and blew with all your might. On your way home, tired and sluggish your dragging foot caught a penny laying on the sidewalk. Grabbing the chance, you picked it up, closed your eyes tightly and made that wish with all your might.

At night, you felt a little different. Coming home to an empty appartement with no one to greet you or just hug you, never failed to make you feel your loneliness immensely. How long had it been since the last time you hugged someone? Not those half-assed, one-armed hugs; a real hug that lingers on for more than a second, that makes you feel warm inside, makes you feel like you belong somewhere even after a soul sucking day, like you had had that day. The only things you were feeling were sadness and longing; longing for warmth, belonging, just a hug (maybe even a good cuddle, if you were allowed to be greedy for a second).

You were just about to close your curtains, ready to end the monotonous day, without any joy or genuine laughter, ready to end your thoughts, if only for a few hours of sleep, when a bright star caught your eye. Now, normally, you would have looked at the star, closed your eyes tightly and wished with all your might, maybe even clutching your hands together, but suddenly you had had enough of your routine. The star was possibly the brightest star you had ever seen, even brighter that Sirius. It was like the star was calling for you, giving you this indescripable urge. Maybe the suddenness wasn't as sudden as you believed. Many times you had come home to this feeling of loneliness and that day was the last day you would allow yourself to be monotonous. That was the last straw.

And for the first time in a long time you didn't wish for a better job, a chance to get more successful in your workplace, or anything mundane like that, you wished for a hug from someone who wouldn't want to let go, who would be there you wrap you into their arms after a long day and drag their fingers through your hair or over back, massaging as they go, loosening tight muscles. You wished for someone to love you and for you to love them back just as much.

That wish was the night before you met San.

It wasn't love at first sight. No, not at all. Those never really last anyway. No, San was one of many. One of those who come in and out of your office. Your cube neighbour had left the job, worked hard enough for a better one and now your office was in need of a new person, who could do the job.

That's where San comes in. Young, wild and unemployed. He was always more of a free spirit, who went with the flow, but after Seonghwa had scolded him for the hundreth time for not taking his life more seriously, with no real direction to go into, San decided that maybe his elder was a little bit right and applied for an office job. He already liked waking up early and then also being able to leave early? Sign him up. He didn't want to loose any of the freedom he had had before, so a job that allows him to have a hobby after work was perfect to him.

Just as luck would have it, he was accepted right that morning. And the two of you became friends. Some would even say best friends at work. Every morning, when you arrive, San is already sitting at his own cubicle, but has a cup of your favourite warm beverage waiting. In return, you always get him his mid-day coffee. After a while it became a routine and you were always seen together in the office. This relationship spread to after-work hours, without you even realizing it. Suddenly you were grabbing dinner after long hours of tiring work, then you were ordering in at either his or your appartement and then you spent the night over.

San is a very affectionate person, who loves cuddling, holding hands or anything similar, so it's to no surprise that your relationship developed to one with lots of friendly loving.

Just as usual you are lying on the couch with him, arms wrapped around his waist, head on his chest and his hand caressing your hair. Slowly you're feeling sleepy and you don't pay attention to the movie playing in the background.

Before you can completely fall asleep though, San mumbles something under his breath. You start up from your semi-sleep.

"What?" you ask disoriented and sit up with lots of difficulty.

"Nothing," San waves you off quickly, a blush spreading on his cheeks. His hands are now frozen and glued to his side.

"No, no, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. If you want to talk, we can totally talk." You rub your eyes and fully sit next to him, your body angled towards him, "I'm awake now, anyway."

San takes a deep, stuttering breath, "You just remind me of a star that I saw the night before I met you. Eventhough I never saw the star again, I got you." The blush not only intensifies on his face, but also yours.

You don't know what to say so a dumb "what?" leaves you. Is this the same star, you had wished upon months again? Now that you think about it, you did see the star the night before meeting San, someone who never hesitates to wrap his arms around you and never lets you have lonely thoughts.

"I really like you, (Y/N). Have been for quite a while."

The only thing you can do is stare at him. Because San, the hottest, nicest, cutest, friendliest person you have met, likes you, (Y/N). San? Likes you?

Your silence makes San panic. Tears appear in his eyes. "Shit. Sorry, let's forget that. I- I shouldn't have- shouldn't have said that." A pout takes over his lips. Seeing him on the verge of tears makes you finally snap out of your stupor.

"NO!" A deep breath in and out. "No, San. I like you, too. I was just shocked that you like me back."

"Oh," San breathes out. You can visibly see the relief wash over him. A smile breaks out onto his face, accenting his dimples, then a laugh leaves him. "That's good. Great! Amazing!"

You don't know how long you sit there together, just smiling at each other before San pulls you into him, into a tight hug, just like you wanted.

"You know," you start, "I saw that star, too, the night before I met you." Tilting your head up, you meet his soft eyes already looking at you. "I even wished for something." This makes one eyebrow shoot up.

"Really? What did you wish for?" he asks with curiousity showing in his sharp eyes.

"Someone to make me feel less lonely."

"I hope your wish has been fullfilled." He gazes at you lovingly.

"Well, I met you, didn't I?"

Bonus:

The next time you see the star, it is the night before you meet your child for the first time.

to celebrate the pretty date today (20.02.2020 (or for the others 02/20/2020))

feedback and requests are as always welcome!

[suncityblues]

Little Miracles//  2k words destiel, mentions of saileen 

AO3 link 

In the morning Castiel likes to turn his bedside radio on and listen to the news. He’s especially fond of the science segments. Listening to people try and understand the little mysteries of their world in real time makes Cas feel grounded, and less like he’s making a mess of being human, since it seems like no one really knows what’s going on anyway.

But they’re trying, and he likes that they’re trying because he’s trying too.

Sometimes Dean sticks around, because he drank too much the night before or just fell asleep without remembering to go back to his own room, and he’ll grumble something along the lines of: “How can you listen to these nerds talk out of their asses? You know all this stuff better than they ever could.”

Castiel just shrugs and ignores him, preferring to concentrate on how these people think fractals work, or black holes, or the glands on a dog’s nose. Sometimes they’re right and sometimes they’re wrong. Dean’s always cranky in the morning so Cas knows it’s best not to take him seriously. And besides, Dean always stays for the whole segment, sometimes asking Castiel to elaborate on the topic and sometimes just dozing off until the end before getting up to feed the dog, so he can’t hate it that much.

These are Cas’ favorite kind of mornings, and they’ve been happening more and more since he got back but he doesn’t know exactly what to make of it. He does not allow himself the luxury of optimism.

Things feel strange and different now that the world isn’t ending. Too real maybe. For angels everything always had a purpose, a plan, and all things fell into place accordingly. But now, it’s like he’s writing a new story with no outline, one that can be kind of meandering and boring in places, but peaceful too. There’s a kind of power in winging it and just hoping for the best. Maybe life is like poetry or jazz now, though admittedly Cas doesn’t have much experience with either of those things to really know.

He’ll have time to find out though. A whole hopefully long lifetime to read or listen to anything he pleases. Jack brought him back as a human at his request, with the understanding that he could return to angel-hood anytime, with just a little prayer. Cas doesn’t think he’ll take Jack up on it but he’s aware of how lucky he is, and how loved. He can still do miracles, but only small ones. Making flowers bloom. Healing paper cuts. Boiling water. Cas is grateful for it, like a taste of home without all the family drama.

Jack had popped him back into existence at a pie festival Sam and Dean stopped at on their way to a hunt. Dean had kissed him in public for the first time that day, after years and years of motel bathrooms and dark corners. It seems significant to Castiel, but Dean’s cultural hang ups always felt dumb to him in the first place so he chooses not to read into it too much. When Dean pulls back he says, “I, uh… I…” but doesn’t manage to finish the thought because Cas is pressing kisses to Dean’s cheeks, the sides of his mouth, his forehead. Dean gets pie on Cas’ nose, but Cas didn’t mind. After that, Sam pulls him into a bear hug. He whispers, “I’m happy for you, man” and Cas doesn’t know if he should to reply to that or not.

They get so distracted by his reappearance that they lose the trail of the vampires they were looking for. When Cas mentions it to Jack the next time they talk, he replies that it was all for the best. Cas gets the message and doesn’t need to ask for any more details.

++

The adjustment is hard on Sam and Dean, he can tell. It’s like suddenly their lives are starting in the middle, and it’s not fair they had to wait until their knees were shot and half their friends were dead to have a chance at a real life.

Sam, at least, still has Eileen. She doesn’t stay with them full time but she swings by the bunker often. Privately one night Sam had asked Cas if he thought Dean would be okay if he joined Eileen on a hunt. Just the two of them. Cas hardly thinks he’s an expert on Dean Winchester’s psyche, but recognizes that Sam is talking to him rhetorically, looking for reassurance. So Castiel tilts his head. “I think Dean will be happy as long as you’re happy, Sam,” he replies cautiously and hopes this is the answer Sam is looking for. It’s not a lie by any stretch but not the whole truth, either. Castiel thinks Dean will worry himself sick, and obsessively check in on his brother, and repress his anxiety so deeply that no one will be able to talk to him about it for days without it turning into a fight about something completely unrelated. Then Sam will come home and Dean will pretend nothing was bothering him in the first place. But he’ll get used to it, eventually. Dean is nothing if not resilient.

Sam runs his hands through his hair, a little exasperated. “Yeah,” he says, “You’ll be here so… he’ll be okay. I think this is good. Right? A good change? You guys are, ah, good? Together?”

Truth be told, Cas has no idea what Sam’s getting at or why he’s suddenly so nervous and uncomfortable but he just says, “Of course, Sam.” And Sam looks relieved, so Cas knows he said the right thing.

“Dean can be… well anyway. I’m glad he has you,” Sam continues. Then, with the look on his face Castiel recognizes as the one he wears when he teases his older brother, “But he really doesn’t deserve you.”

That makes Castiel smile, though he knows they do, in fact, deserve each other.

++

His days start to form a kind of unintentional pattern. He wakes up, listens to the radio, showers, and gets coffee from the kitchen. If Sam isn’t off on a hunt with Eileen that day there’s usually a pot of coffee already brewed, and if he is Castiel makes it himself. He takes his coffee with a bit of almond milk and some cinnamon. Sometimes when he knows Dean’s particularly hungover he’ll make a cup for him too, whole milk, one sugar, and leave it on Dean’s bedside table, careful not to wake him or the dog up. He uses one of his small miracles to keep it warm.

Then he goes on a walk in the woods. Sometimes he talks to Jack, sometimes he just listens to the trees shift in the wind. By the time he gets home Dean’s usually made breakfast or lunch, depending on what time he rolls out of bed. They eat together, sometimes with Sam and Eileen, or other hunters who roll through town, but usually just the two of them. They talk about movies, or possible new hunts, or Dean’s job search.

After a while Dean will leave to do his own thing, and Cas will read or watch TV, and then they’ll have dinner. After that maybe a movie or a game of cards, always accompanied by a few beers. They wait until Sam and Eileen go to bed if they’re home and then Dean will put a hand on his knee or his hip or his back and lean in close until they’re kissing. Cas always lets Dean make the first move, he doesn’t want to seem needy, or like he’s asking too much, he’s been human before but all the functions that come along with it still take some time to get used to, and there are boundaries, and so many other complex things to navigate. At some point Cas will pull Dean into his room. They have sex and Cas will fall asleep, and Dean will get up and go back to his room, or he’ll stay and they get up together and listen to the radio and start all over.

They’ve been having sex on and off for years but it’s been different since the empty took him and Jack returned him. It’s not some kind of desperate end of the world adrenaline thing anymore, or an open secret that everyone dances around, it’s deliberate now, and sometimes gentle. They get to take their time, if they want to. And it’s not like Dean doesn’t know how Castiel feels. But they don’t talk about it, Dean hasn’t said it back, and Cas doesn’t want him to if he doesn’t mean it. It makes him a little, something, though. Something between being irritated and sad, he’s not sure exactly what.

Castiel thinks that, maybe, for the first time in his long, long life he’s bored with what he has, and he wants more.

++

So, he decides to get a job as a distraction, and because that’s what people do. He works from home as a research assistant with a carefully crafted and entirely fake resume Sam helped him come up with. It’s easy work for someone like Cas, but it passes the time and gives him new things to think about, and new people to talk to. He has work friends, and he likes them. Sometimes they see Dean walking around behind Cas when he’s in a meeting and they ask him if that’s his partner. Cas decides to reply with “yes” because it’s easier and more work appropriate than explaining it in full. Besides, mostly they just want to see the dog.

Still, the word feels nice to say, like a relief. He mentions it to Dean offhandedly, and Dean just shrugs nonchalantly, but gets red at the ears and gently tugs Cas into his room for a nooner.

Dean hasn’t had any luck with his job search and Castiel pretends not to know that it’s because Dean is stalling for time, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and not really applying to anything with any follow through. Sam’s noticed it too, but doesn’t push the subject, though sometimes he’ll suggest a hunt if Dean’s looking particularly cagey. All three of them are aware that Dean doesn’t have much first hand experience with peace, and the one time Cas tries to help by showing him a construction supervisor ad on his phone, it results in a two day long fight. In the end Dean apologizes and buys Cas a lumpy cactus with a little white flower on it. Cas names it Earl and Dean applies for the job. He gets it.

Sam spends more and more time away from the bunker with Eileen, and then one day announces that he’s moving in with her. Not far from them, just a few miles into town because Sam misses having a window in his bedroom, and waking up to the sun on his face. Wants to have a bathroom he doesn’t have to share. Wants to buy crappy Ikea furniture he gets to pick out himself. Castiel understands. He wants a window too, because he wants plants in his room, but doesn’t know how to ask Dean about it. He’s afraid Dean will take it the wrong way, and think Castiel wants to leave again.

Sam gives them each a key to his new apartment, and tells them to come over any time they like. He gets drunk alone with Dean the night before he moves out and long after Cas has gone to bed Dean comes into his room stinking of whiskey and sweat and tears. He lays down next to Cas in bed, puts his arm over him and leans heavily into the crook of Cas’ neck.

“You’re my best friend,” Dean mumbles, “You’re my best friend and I…” Cas cuts him off with a tame kiss on the forehead, and the miracle sends Dean into a deep dreamless sleep. For whatever reason, now didn’t seem like the right time. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his chest and wonders if this is normal or if he’s dying. He ends up staring at the ceiling until his alarm goes off. Then, he turns the news on.

Dean is miserable for an entire week without Sam but brushes it off with a joke whenever Cas asks him how he’s doing, or Sam calls to check in. He starts sleeping through the night in Cas’ bed so often the dog comes too, and then shortly after Dean’s clothes get mixed in with Cas’. Then comes Dean’s shoes, the dog food bowls, and Earl, with a grow light.

Cas decides to buy a bigger bed because two adult men and a fifty pound dog in a full sized bed is a lot. Besides, he has money now after all, he has a job.

++

Then, one morning they’re laying together listening to the woman on the radio talk about DNA and Dean leans over and places a gentle kiss on Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t have to say it out loud because by now Cas knows it clear as day, but Dean chooses to say “I love you,” anyway.

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 6 - Waiting Game

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Skywarp, Starscream, Unnamed Characters Relationships: Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Referenced Rape, Referenced Orgy, Coercion, Angst Words: 9428

No I’m not late with this or anything, what are you talking about.

I’m really excited for chapter 7, ngl. But this first.

He would have never guessed that it was possible to fall asleep after something like that. How could the mind calm down enough to allow for rest?

But it wasn’t about the mind. It was about the body, pushed to its limit by an overload after overload—energy reserves used to depletion, all charge drained from one’s batteries.

Exhaustion.

It didn’t matter how the mind suffered and reeled, at that point. The frame took over, demanding things. Demanding rest. A chance to recharge.

And that was what it had decreed in the end. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure how long it had taken, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Those memories were best blurry and out of focus.

Like how many unwanted overloads it had taken to finally knock him out. Sideswipe, too. How much distress it had taken for their minds to shut down, only now beginning to return to him as he climbed out from the grasp of pitch black sleep.

He wished he could’ve fallen straight back into it when reality began to creep in, but his processors’ march to consciousness was unrelenting. Memories began to flood in too, fuzzy as they were, and long before he wanted to, he became aware of where he was.

Of where he still was. 

The only upside in the whole situation was that he couldn’t feel his field or scan his spark signature. Before his optics opened, Sunstreaker was already mostly confident that Megatron was not in the vicinity, and once his optics did open, a glance around confirmed that the tyrant was nowhere to be seen.

Figures. He probably had more important things to go, being the leader of the whole goddamned city and whatnot. Have his fun, fuck and rape, then go on his merry way without a backwards glance!

He couldn’t confirm that last one, but it wouldn’t have surprised him.

There were plenty other spark signatures around him, other fields—Sideswipe was passed out next to him, warm to the touch and–

And covered in all manner of fluids.

Sunstreaker averted his gaze quickly, scanning the rest of the room. They were still on the large berth, and although there were a couple of other mates on it as well, most were recharging in their own cots. Some were already awake, talking in hushed tones to avoid disturbing those that were still resting, but even that didn’t account for everyone.

It appeared quite a few of the mates had recovered faster than him and Sideswipe had. But considering they had gotten most of Megatron—and Soundwave’s—attention, Sunstreaker thought that was fair enough. They hadn’t been allowed to choose their pace, or whether or not they’d like to have breaks, or—Primus, if they even wanted to interface in the first place.

He was shaking, his plating rattling just so. Were his ventilations a little faster than what they were supposed to be? Those were probably just the aftereffects of everything that had happened during the course of the night.

Everything else he shoved down deep, twice as resolutely when Sideswipe began to stir next to him. A small, wounded moan was the first sign of life his brother made, and it was nearly enough to break Sunstreaker’s spark all over again.

As if it had ever recovered from the first time.

Sideswipe returned to awareness much faster, panic seeping in before conscious thought. His optics snapped open to a wild look around, an uncoordinated jerk in his limbs. 

“Hey, hey,” Sunstreaker said at once, battling his own frame to roll onto his knees and land a servo on Sideswipe’s shoulder—and wincing from the stab of pain from his lower body. 

Megatron hadn’t gone out of his way to damage them this time around (and Soundwave hadn’t seemed interested in that either), but his valve was still throbbing angrily and his hip joints protested how much time they’d spent spread around someone’s hips.

He wanted to purge, but pushed that down with the rest of it to focus on Sideswipe instead. His twin’s optics locked on him after a pass around the room, and slowly the look of prey faded from them as his mind caught up.

Megatron wasn’t here, relief. Sunstreaker was here, relief.

Sideswipe’s mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. What was there to say anyway? What could they say? Something to make things better?

There was nothing that would make things better.

That thought snapped between them like a whiplash, and Sideswipe caught his lower lip between his denta before he dropped his gaze. Sunstreaker’s servo on his shoulder tightened.

He hated to see his brother like this. Sideswipe was supposed to be larger than life, the light in the room, centerpiece of any party—everyone’s friend, always cheerful, refusing to let anything bring him down.

Here and now? What Sideswipe was meant to be and what he was were… Miles apart.

But was that any wonder? There was the whole of a planet between where they were and where they were supposed to be. 

Their life had been torn from them. They had been given no chances to let that sink in. All there had been was a relentless input of new things intermittent with abuse, abuse, and more abuse. Change after change after change… And more trauma than he had wanted to believe was possible.

And he feared this was only just the beginning.

That thought he didn’t want to reach Sideswipe, though, so instead he gave his brother a gentle shake to earn those optics back on him.

Sunstreaker smiled. Just a small smile, but even that felt so… Fake. And like it hurt to even produce the expression.

There was no reason to smile, but for Sideswipe he’d try to do so anyway.

“How-” he started, before thinking better of it and cutting his vocalizer. There was no point in asking how Sideswipe felt. Useless words, when he could feel and see all too well how Sideswipe was feeling.

Not well.

To put it mildly.

What to say instead? Or should he let there be silence?

“We- We should probably visit the washracks. Would you like to?”

Sideswipe took a moment to register his words before he nodded carefully, and swallowed, hard.

They both cringed at the taste of transfluid on his glossa and at the back of his throat, but Sideswipe nodded again, more firmly this time around, and began to push himself up. “Yeah, that… That sounds like a good idea,” he said quietly, flinching when he caught a sight of his frame.

Paint transfers and fluids were splattered liberally all over him. Sunstreaker knew he didn’t look any better. 

They really needed those washracks.

As one they scooted over to the edge of the berth and dropped down onto the dais it was on, and from there to the level of the rest of the berthroom. Some of the other mates glanced their way, but they didn’t stick around to see if anyone would’ve liked to say something to them.

They had been a part of it. All of them. Mecha in the same situation as they were… There was no way all of them were here any more willingly than them, and yet.

The fragging shit they’d done. To them. To each other. Just…

He didn’t even want to think about it. He could feel his anger rising, but it had no target in the present, and he didn’t want to take it out on Sideswipe. Sideswipe stumbled along next to him as they crossed the short distance through the hallway into the washracks, that weren’t empty—of course they weren’t, that would’ve been far too much to ask—but that still held the promise of washing away at least some of the signs of the… Orgy.

They scurried over to the far end of the room, to the last showerheads, and then under their hot sprays. Solvent pattered down their frames, and slowly it began to loosen the dried fluids, a process made much faster by the smooth coat Knock Out had applied onto their paint jobs, compared to the rough texture of…

Of before. 

How many times did it need to be said he’d rather have that life than this? It might’ve been a life of poverty, of scraping by, of going hungry, of uncertainty—but was there any more certainty in this?

Beyond the certainty of more ways to hurt them, physically and emotionally.

They had fuel, they had access to high quality paints and polishes, to washracks… A roof over their helms.

But the price wasn’t worth it.

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics, letting the solvent fall over him and soothe aching cables as it trailed into his internals through the gaps in his armor. Beside him Sideswipe did the same, and blissfully the other occupants didn’t break the silence of the washracks either. Maybe it was just because of the two of them, but the mood felt so somber. Like it wouldn’t have been right to speak.

So they didn’t. Without a word, but together, they grabbed scrubs and began to clean their plating to the best of their ability, helping each other where appropriate. The sealant Knock Out had used to protect their new paint was surprisingly good at its job. The paint transfers littering them came off in a way Sunstreaker hadn’t experienced before. Usually that amount of scuffs would’ve required touching up the underlying paint afterwards, but now… That didn’t seem necessary.

He wasn’t sure how grateful he was about that. It was one less thing to worry about, but also another consequence of their situation—a separation from before, when they evidently hadn’t sealed their paint properly, or hadn’t had the ability to seal their paint properly. Whichever it was.

Same result.

It always came back to it: he’d rather have the before, even with all of the supposed downsides it had come with. 

They hardly even seemed like downsides anymore, compared to the downsides of being held captive in Kaon like this.

But as easily as the paint transfers came off, and no matter how well the solvent and the scrub dislodged the fluids that had dried on him, they did little to remove the ghost sensations that were left behind—and they did nothing to the way lubricant and transfluid streamed from his valve when he opened his cover against his better judgement. The moment he did, Sideswipe wished he hadn’t, but… He just wanted it out. Was that too much to ask? Too much to hope that he could make it feel like nothing had happened?

It was, wasn’t it? Gravity pulled out quite a bit of it, but he knew, he just knew there was still so much left inside that he had no way to remove. 

And he didn’t want to touch it. Primus, he just…

His helm hung. He knew Sunstreaker was worried about him, and Sideswipe knew he was… Acting out of character in a lot of ways.

But could he be blamed for it? Look at what had happened to them. What did they have but each other, anymore?

What had they ever had besides that?

Freedom, that’s what. A right to self-dictate.

His paint was gleaming already, but that was only because of the repaint Knock Out had given them. He looked good.

He didn’t feel good. He didn’t want to look good. He wished he looked the part of the guttermech he was, even if he’d spent his life fighting that very appearance. But it was better than this—being a pretty, polished doll for one tyrant and his lackeys to use. And if he’d ever thought… If he’d ever thought that the other mates could be allies in this situation, those hopes had been crushed last night.

They were complicit. They did what Megatron told, even if… Even when that involved what it had.

It was so wrong. Didn’t they see how wrong it was? How could they just…

How could they?

Sunstreaker’s servo closed around his wrist and Sideswipe was snapped back to the present enough to realize he had washed the same spot for a needlessly long amount of time already. There was nothing left to clean in that area. There was nothing coming out of his valve anymore, his crotch and inner thighs washed clean by the running solvent, and he let his cover close back up. 

So why didn’t he feel clean?

Why couldn’t he forget how many servos had grabbed him by the hips to–

His claws, sharp like they hadn’t been since they were first activated, had dug furrows into the soft scrub. Sunstreaker’s hold on his wrist tightened. “I’m fine,” Sideswipe whispered on reflex, knowing full well his brother’s concern.

He was lying. They both knew he was. He couldn’t lift his helm. Couldn’t… Couldn’t just put on an act and pretend that was the truth. He’d always been able to before, no matter what had happened.

But never before had this happened. Evidently there were limits to what even he could fake his way through. 

Sunstreaker didn’t say anything, but let go of his arm to go back to cleaning himself up. They were both clean already though, at least visually. There was nothing more to wash away. No paint transfers, no lubricant, no transfluid. 

Nothing but the feel of it all, and Sideswipe wasn’t sure if that could be washed away. Maybe in a million years they could’ve.

But not so quickly. 

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind them and Sideswipe jolted from his thoughts. Both him and Sunstreaker spun on their heels to face Skywarp, Sideswipe with wide optics, Sunstreaker with a growl.

Skywarp shrunk back a little bit from the aggression aimed at him, but wasn’t wholly discouraged. “Um, I came to see if you needed help washing up, but it looks like you got it already,” the Seeker said. He was clean too, but that wasn’t a surprise considering he hadn’t been in the berthroom anymore when they’d woken up.

Under different circumstances, the offer would’ve been a nice gesture.

Under these circumstances?

“You have some fucking gall,” Sunstreaker hissed. Sideswipe’s ventilations hitched, and he didn’t, couldn’t look at Skywarp, letting his gaze drop again. Sunstreaker stepped up in front of him, between him and the Seeker, and he was angry. He was so angry it was like a physical wall between him and the rest of the world.

Skywarp wasn’t completely blind to the danger and took a step back from Sunstreaker’s righteous fury. And it was righteous. 

Look at what Skywarp had done. Right along with the rest of them.

And now he was here, acting like none of it had happened.

This place was so upside down. If it wasn’t for Sunstreaker, Sideswipe thought he might’ve started doubting the whole fabric of reality at this rate. 

‘Yeah, I participated in your gang rape, but would you like me to help you wash up?’

Not even an apology. “You and the whole rest in this Primus forsaken place!” Sunstreaker continued, his voice rising until it was nothing short of a bellow. Skywarp took another step back.

Sunstreaker didn’t pursue, but Sideswipe knew the only reason for that was that he didn’t want to leave Sideswipe alone. If it wasn’t him inadvertently holding Sunstreaker back, there would’ve been nothing to save the Seeker from his brother’s wrath.

Justified wrath, if you asked Sideswipe.

“I just thought-” Skywarp tried to say, but Sunstreaker didn’t let him finish.

“Get. Out,” the golden twin snarled instead, pointing at the door. He probably had no rights to order anyone around, yet in the face of the anger directed at him, Skywarp took yet another step back.

“If-” he tried to speak again, and again Sunstreaker cut him off.

“OUT!”

Sideswipe was pretty sure that could be heard all throughout the harem wing, but at least Skywarp finally believed there was nothing he could achieve here, and hurried to the door with just one backwards glance.

He looked… Sad? Hurt?

He had no right.

The few other mates that had been in washracks cleared out quickly after their winged compatriot, sending more glances their way.

And then they were alone.

Sunstreaker’s engine revved, but Sideswipe slumped back against the wall under the still running shower. Numbly he reached for the controls and turned it off—to conserve the amount of solvent used, but what did it matter how much of it was used? Whose solvent was it?

Megatron’s. Everything here was Megatron’s.

Including them.

His vents hitched again at that thought, at the reminder—why Sunstreaker was angry at Skywarp.

The whole fucking mess of it.

Skywarp had been a part of it. And– He hadn’t come to apologize, had he? Unless offering help was his way of apologizing.

But he could’ve said something too. Some acknowledgment that what had happened was so, so wrong. They too had to think it wasn’t right, didn’t they? How could anyone think it was okay? He was pretty sure Megatron knew it was messed up too, but Megatron just enjoyed that fact.

What about the rest of them, though? If Megatron’s behavior could be explained away with just sadism and cruelty, what was the excuse for the others?

Was it going to happen again? Were they, all of them, going to do it again? Turn their audials off to any protests they had, because… What, just because Megatron told them to?

He knew all too well what Megatron was like, already, and they’d barely known him for any amount of time. In that he really… He really couldn’t blame the others for not disobeying him.

But he still didn’t understand it. There was no resistance whatsoever, not even any visible reluctance.

They just did it.

They’d said no, and they just did it.

They might act nice towards them, be helpful, or try to be… Skywarp, Runabout. Aside from Starscream’s weird attitude, no one had been mean towards them.

Aside from last night.

They were just as messed up as the rest of this. How was he even supposed to look at any of them anymore, after what they’d done to them? How was he supposed to look at Starscream and not think of the Seeker’s face or valve right next to him as he serviced Megatron right in front of his optics? Without any signs of hesitation?

Or Skywarp. How he had just… How everyone had just…

How much more of this was there going to be?

When was it going to end?

“What are we going to do?” Sideswipe blurted, prompting Sunstreaker to break his angry staring contest with the door. “We need to get the frag away from here.”

Desperate.

Get out.

But how?

When?

“We’ll find a way,” Sunstreaker said, promised, turning back to him and wrapping him into a warm and familiar embrace. And Sideswipe wanted to believe. He buried his face in the crook of his twin’s neck, and he wanted so badly to believe that they would find a way out before… Primus, he wasn’t sure. Before what?

How much more of this could he take? What would happen when he couldn’t take it anymore? “We just need to hold out until we do,” Sunstreaker whispered to him, and Sideswipe could feel the shiver in him. Neither of them was unaffected by this. But they were holding it together pretty well, weren’t they? Despite everything.

They’d beat the odds before. They would this time too. Like Sunstreaker said, they’d just need to survive until then. They could do that. 

That thought and the pulse of his brother’s half-spark against his chassis steeled his resolve. It was just them, but that was fine, because it had always been just them. And that was all they’d ever needed.

It would be all they needed here too. They would find a way out, and they would do so before it was too late. No, no. It would never be too late. They would just need to be patient and wily, outsmart the cage they were in, undo all of its locks, and steal back their life.

“Yeah,” he responded to Sunstreaker with no more volume than what Sunstreaker had used, and wrapped his arms around his twin in turn. And he meant it. Maybe… Maybe all they’d need were little moments like these to keep a hold of their sanity until they could break free.

The washrack door opened with the quiet swoosh of a well oiled mechanism and they glanced up in alarm. One of the mates was standing in the doorway, looking a little awkward. Like he didn’t want to be there. “Hey. Sorry about the interruption, but,” and Sideswipe tensed all over, because how could any news borne by their assailants be good ones?

His gut was proven right a second later. “Megatron’s summoned you, Sideswipe.

“Alone.”

“What the pit…” Sideswipe whispered, and Sunstreaker growled, his arms tightening around him.

“No,” his brother said. “You can go tell him to frag off.”

Sideswipe burrowed into Sunstreaker’s embrace, his spark beginning to flutter faster and faster with the implications.

Alone with Megatron.

It was bad enough with Sunstreaker there, when he could draw strength from his brother and share the experience and the attention. Sure, they were used against each other too, but it was still better to be together. Bearable to be together.

It was never bearable.

How was he supposed to go without his brother?

His plating was clattering against Sunstreaker’s, but that only made his twin tighten his hold enough that Sideswipe worried their armors would buckle.

And as much as he trusted his brother, as much as he knew Sunstreaker’s desire to protect him from everything and anything… He feared there was nothing Sunstreaker could do to protect him from this. Not from Megatron.

That was a terrible, terrible thought. He keened at the inevitability of it all, of the– Of the–

“Please please please no,” he pleaded, looking up at the other mate still standing in the doorway. “Please I can’t– I can’t go through that, not again, not with him– Please.”

Tears welled, then fell at the thought of what Megatron could do to him, and oh Primus but there was so much, and he was sure his imagination still couldn’t conjure anything even halfway as awful as what Megatron would think to do. Even with everything that had happened already, no matter how many times and in how many ways they’d already been raped, he was sure Megatron would find new ways to torture and humiliate them.

Him. Just him, if he went alone. “I can’t,” was what it all boiled down to, and he couldn’t even hate how badly his voice cracked when he said that, trying so hard to beg with the newsbringer. Make them understand. 

Their look was sad, pitying. Maybe they did understand.

Maybe they’d been through the same thing.

Maybe they didn’t have a twin to share it all with in the first place.

But they were a part of it. Had been, last night. They’d carry out Megatron’s orders.

And even if they didn’t want to do that, what could they do? Could they really just carry the message back to him, ‘hey, they don’t want to, so I guess this isn’t happening’?

Inevitable. Megatron was inevitable. This was his kingdom and all in it lived to serve.

Strength left him, and only Sunstreaker’s hold of him kept him up. “Sunny,” he whined, pathetic, but he was beyond caring about his own dignity. As if he even had any left at this point. “I can’t do it, please.”

Sunstreaker understood, if no one else did, and a protective growl rumbled in his brother’s engine. “He won’t get you,” Sunstreaker promised quietly but resolutely—and despite that, Sideswipe could feel Sunstreaker’s uncertainty.

The want to protect was real, so very real, and there wasn’t a single fiber in his twin’s being that wanted to hand him over to their tormentor.

But neither of them knew how to avoid it. What could they do? They were so powerless against the tyrant.

The mate had disappeared from the doorway, but Sideswipe didn’t feel even a moment’s relief at that fact. And he was right. A moment later two guards and Starscream entered, the Seeker following behind the black clad mechs. “Our Master doesn’t make requests,” he said, sounding annoyed, like this all was just an inconvenience to him. The guards came for them, but Sunstreaker positioned himself between them and him, and Sideswipe cringed further against his chassis.

Inevitable.

“Resistance is futile.” Starscream’s words sounded like they came from a mile away with the way panic began to pound in his audials, but there the Seeker was, echoing thoughts they’d already had.

Turning them into hard truths.

He was frozen in place when the guards took a hold of Sunstreaker and forcibly pulled him away despite his cursing, but without his brother there, fight or flight took over.

He chose flight.

Sideswipe bolted for the doorway the Seeker blissfully wasn’t blocking, through it and into the hallway, and–

And then he didn’t know where to go. Where could he go that would get him away from his fate?

There was further ruckus coming from the washracks behind him, and some other mates either hanging out in the hallway or on their way to here or there looked at him, but Sideswipe didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t know what to do.

Until the sounds behind him got closer, the fields of the guards, and he took his legs under him again and dashed to the main doors leading in and out of the wing.

What did he do that for?

They were locked, as they had been before. The guards on this side having left them hadn’t changed that fact. Of course it hadn’t. 

And he had nowhere else to go.

“Leave him alone!” Sunstreaker yelled behind him, his voice registering dimly but enough that Sideswipe cast one panicked look over his shoulder.

There were mecha peeking through the doorways, curious over what all the fuss was about. There was Sunstreaker, struggling against Starscream’s hold, but unable to break it. Held back. “Sideswipe! You fragging dronebrains, leave him alone!”

And there were the guards, headed straight for Sideswipe. 

Give up?

No. That wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t just willingly subject himself to this.

He deserved better.

He had value, he had rights. This was wrong.

Megatron was wrong. 

“Get away from me!” His voice was still shrill when he cornered himself against the grand doors. As ever, the guards offered no reaction, too intent on following their orders to the letter no matter what. What Sideswipe wanted was of no consequence when pitted against what Megatron wanted. 

It wasn’t right!

The hallway was big, but it wasn’t big enough. When he made one last desperate attempt to get past the guards—and to where? The rest of the harem wing, only to be cornered again?—they only had to reach to get a hold of him, and the grip was like a vice. 

“No!” He struggled all the same, but they merely caught him arm apiece, and push-dragged him towards the doors. “Let go of me! You- Don’t!”

He didn’t want to go through those doors. Not like this. He fought, he fought so hard, and he could hear Sunstreaker’s angry and fearful yells, and feel the way Starscream’s claws sank into his armor to keep him in place.

Just until they were through the doors and they closed behind him and the two guards with a decisive slam.

His ventilations came fast and hard and there was no willing them into a calmer pace, not when his spark was a whirlwind of fright and desperation. He offered none of his cooperation, but the guards were big and burly and didn’t give a damn about his struggles. He was marched through the halls and past the other doors until they came to those ones.

The ones he was going to have nightmares about for the rest of his life, most likely.

They opened to admit them to the bleak interior of Megatron’s wing, but where Sideswipe had expected to be merely shoved in to find a place to hide and postpone what couldn’t be avoided, the guards instead pulled him further into the wing.

And further, and further, all the way to the lounge at the end of the hallway.

Megatron was waiting, big and imposing despite the fact he was presently sitting on one of the couches with a cube of energon in one servo, a lit datapad in the other. He glanced up when they entered, his optics brightening with… Pleasure? Glee? Anticipation? Greed? 

No matter what it was, Sideswipe wanted nothing to do with it.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” the tyrant said as he set the cube down on the table in front of him and subspaced his datapad. It was so conversational, the way he said it, like there was any damn way Sideswipe would’ve come here voluntarily.

Like there were any faint traces of cordiality or rapport between them.

As if they could have normal conversations.

A flick of Megatron’s servo as he rose to his pedes, and the guards let go of Sideswipe, turned around, and left. The door closed behind them, and Sideswipe doubted it would open again anytime soon.

And once again he was the target of Megatron’s focus, except this time there was nothing and no one to function as a buffer between them. Or as a distraction. Or… Anything.

Now there was nothing but the weight of those red optics staring down at him and making him feel so small and vulnerable.

Which he was, when compared to Megatron.

“Where’s your brother?” Megatron asked, but with the way he grinned when he said that, Sideswipe knew Megatron knew exactly where Sunstreaker was.

He was just toying with him.

Sideswipe responded anyway. “You only wanted me,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice strong and steady.

Sunstreaker might’ve managed that feat.

He wasn’t Sunstreaker.

He was scared out of his wits without his brother. His voice betrayed him completely on that front, wavering and shaking, but he still hoped even some of his resolve remained and shone through—even one remnant of his belief that Megatron wasn’t within his rights to do this, no matter what the mech seemed to think. 

But no one had the rights to do any of this to another living being. Not even the unquestioned ruler of Kaon.

“That I did,” Megatron said, sounding decidedly pleased. “Come. We have much to do.” Again there was a flick of his digits and the expectation that that was all the order Sideswipe would need, as it was all the order everyone else seemed to need.

“No,” was what he said instead, planting his pedes, raising his chin, and keeping his voice steady.

Just for the duration of that single word, but it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

“No?” the tyrant asked, his amusement palpable. “I see. What would you like to do instead?”

Games. The damn megalomaniac was playing games with him, and Sideswipe’s spark spun wildly, but every moment spent pretending Megatron was in any way interested in what he wanted was one less moment spent doing what Megatron wanted.

“I would like to go home,” Sideswipe said, and his voice was shivering again.

“...Please,” he tacked on after a beat.

You know, just to be polite. Couldn’t hurt.

“Home?” Megatron mused, bending to pick his cube back up and… Sipping from it. As they talked.

So casual.

Sideswipe didn’t feel so casual. He swallowed, hard, but the dreadful anxiety didn’t lessen or go anywhere. Of course it didn’t.

“I hear you were guttermechs, you and your brother,” the grey mech continued while Sideswipe just stood there, with nowhere to go and nothing to say that would change the course of this. And no matter what Megatron said now, Sideswipe was sure it wouldn’t change anything. He was just toying with him.

And having fun while at it, by all appearances. “Do you even have anything to go back to?”

“Yes,” Sideswipe answered, and it was true.

There wasn’t a whole lot, he could admit that much. They hadn’t had a lot.

But they’d had enough.

“Really? Did you have everything you do now?” Games, games, games! Megatron knew what he was doing, and he was enjoying himself. There was that gleam in his optic, the caress of a smile on his lips.

Sideswipe didn’t want to play this game.

“You should thank me.”

For a moment he couldn’t believe what he heard. How had he– Why had he expected Megatron wouldn’t go there? Was there anything the tyrant wouldn’t do, any trick in the book he wouldn’t use?

But did he mean it? Sideswipe didn’t know. Maybe his view of reality was so warped that he did mean it, that he was functioning under the delusion that this was somehow an improvement.

It wasn’t, and damn him if he was ever going to be thankful for the abduction and the rape that Megatron seemed to be the base cause of.

Megatron’s orders, Megatron’s desires. “Never,” Sideswipe hiss-growled in a way that was more at home on Sunstreaker’s vocalizer. He could grasp anger now, his servos balling into fists.

That was the only answer there was to stupid suggestions like that.

“Hmh.” Megatron, so noncommittal, but with one more gulp he emptied his cube and dispersed it.

And Sideswipe’s anger deflated, burst by the spike of fear that thought it knew their little chat was over and they were about to get down to business. 

That fear was joined by the fear that the other fear was correct when Megatron began to approach him, and how much fear was that?

A lot, Sideswipe concluded, because his knees nearly buckled from it and he barely managed to stumble away from the tyrant’s approach. His spark was spinning faster than it ever might’ve before. He hadn’t feared a great many things before. Maybe he should’ve, but he hadn’t.

And he’d never feared anything like he feared Megatron.

Megatron didn’t take offense in his escape this time either, and pits but Sideswipe wished he would’ve. It might’ve broken the aura of smug superiority and full control that surrounded the larger mech—compare that to Sideswipe, barely staying upright on weak legs, tripping over himself in his hurry to keep distance between them.

It was a doomed effort, like it had been all the times before. Slowly but surely—like he was drawing things out just for the sake of it—Megatron cornered him and snatched him by the arm before unceremoniously dragging him to the berthroom. That door closed too, once they were through it, and then he was once again tossed onto a massive berth. Megatron followed him onto it, but slowly enough that Sideswipe had the time to scoot to its furthest corner.

Out of reach.

Not that Megatron cared. Oh no, the tyrant had entirely different plans that apparently didn’t involve chasing Sideswipe around any more at all. Because Megatron merely settled himself onto the other end of the berth and spread his legs in invitation, that damn amusement in his optics when Sideswipe’s gaze passed between them and the dark crotch. “Coax it out.”

Sideswipe balked. “What?”

“Coax it out,” Megatron repeated patiently like the benevolent leader he wasn’t.

Did he really expect it? He was there and Sideswipe was here, and he wasn’t in range to force him. 

Did he think Sideswipe would do it willingly?

He almost felt offended. “No!” he said, drawing his knees up and glaring at their captor. The whole situation was absurd enough that some of the anxiety melted away from sheer disbelief–

But it was quickly replaced by the fearful expectation of what Megatron’s plan here was. He had to have one beyond just expecting Sideswipe to do as he was told like a good little mech.  

Everyone else might’ve done it, followed Megatron’s every word and gesture, but he fragging well wouldn’t.

That fear gained more fuel when Megatron still didn’t take the bait and merely said an even, “You will.”

And… Did or said no more than that. Sideswipe waited, a tense ball of nerves, but nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing.

Well, beyond Megatron shifting his attention away from him entirely. He pulled a datapad from his subspace and focused on it instead, leaving Sideswipe to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

-----------------------------------------------

Hours passed. At some point Megatron got off the berth and moved to his desk, and by all appearances set to work on… What did tyrants even do for a living, besides ordering others around and creatively tormenting them? Sideswipe had no idea.

And Sideswipe… He was left to wait, there, at one end and one corner of the berth, with his knees drawn so tight to his chest and a pit of ever deepening confusion in his tanks. 

You will. That sounded like a threat and a promise rolled into one, but as much as he already knew Megatron to be capable of, he had no idea how he planned to achieve this one thing when he didn’t look like he was planning to use his own frame to get it, this time. What did he expect to happen? For Sideswipe to suddenly change his mind? Out of boredom maybe?

Because he was bored. Anxious, but bored. He was prone to that to begin with and had always had bigger thrills than Sunstreaker just to keep himself satisfied.

And now he was left with nothing more to do than sit and stare at another mech’s back.

It didn’t sit too well with him, but it was far from making him desperate enough for something to do that he would’ve magically begun to want to service Megatron of all mecha. Or really anyone, at this point in time.

Everything was still too fresh for him to want anything to do with interfacing anytime soon.

And although he wasn’t forced to interface right then, Sideswipe only felt a modicum of relief. Sure, the present could’ve been worse, but he feared the future would be even worse than what the present could’ve been if things had at all gone like he’d expected them to. Megatron had a plan and an intent, there was no doubt about that even if Sideswipe had no idea what it was.

But the end goal at least had been made clear already: for Sideswipe to interface with him, presumably without too much force being involved.

If that was it, it was under his control, and it was an easy promise to make to himself and the world that he wouldn’t do it.

No matter what it came down to.

As long as Sunstreaker remained unharmed, but Sunstreaker wasn’t even here.

Why didn’t he feel so certain despite his desire to stand strong? Why did he trust Megatron to have too many trump cards that he wouldn’t be able to counter?

He could’ve taken it as a moment’s respite, but it didn’t feel like respite at all. Just a truckload of uncertainty over what the future would bring. 

He stayed right where he was for what felt like an eternity while Megatron tapped away on his datapads. And then…

Then Megatron got up and left.  

Sideswipe stilled in utter confusion when the door closed behind the tyrant and he was left alone in the damn mech’s berthroom.

He didn’t want to be alone there, even without Megatron present. 

Yet he was, without exactly any say in the matter.

What the pit was going on?

And if he’d thought he’d been bored before, without even the stimulation of watching someone working—and that wasn’t exactly good entertainment either—he thought he was quickly driven towards insanity. He didn’t dare move though, just in case that would’ve summoned his harrower. Somehow. He sort of doubted there were cameras in Megatron’s personal quarters, but what did he know. Maybe the mech just really liked leaving his mates alone here, only to watch them squirm through some hidden cameras.

But Sideswipe wasn’t squirming. Sideswipe wasn’t really doing anything, in fact. Well, besides just… Waiting. Waiting for Megatron’s return, waiting for what would happen next, waiting for what kind of torture the future would bring. 

He waited for a very long time. It was closer to a half an orn before he could hear pedesteps on the other side of the door and tensed all over from the light doze he had entered just to pass the time. Conflicted emotions followed right after, boredom warring with fear over whether it was better there was another living being to look at to have something to do, or if he’d rather not have Megatron anywhere near him.

The latter was winning by the time the door opened to admit the big mech. He strode in like he owned the place—which he did—and landed his optics on Sideswipe. The door closed behind him, and Sideswipe felt as trapped as he ever had.

Was this it? Had Megatron’s patience ran out and now he would just pin him down and rape him? At this point that might’ve even been relief, something familiar in the place of whatever this was.

But instead of coming for him directly, Megatron again climbed onto the berth and stayed well out of reach. He spread his legs, and then he gave the order again. “Coax it out.”

Sideswipe shook his helm. No. He still wasn’t about to do that. What had Megatron expected to achieve by leaving him alone for a time? Cooperation?

No fucking way. 

Megatron waited for a time, gave him a chance to reconsider… And then moved. Sideswipe expected the worst the moment the tyrant came towards him and he bolted off the berth, but instead of pursuing him, Megatron merely…

Reclined. The fragger reclined on his berth like he was about to go to recharge.

And when his systems began to cycle down, Sideswipe realized that was exactly what he was doing.

What the pit?

It was like he didn’t even care Sideswipe was there, standing on the floor of his berthroom, watching him go to sleep. Did he think it was safe, that Sideswipe wouldn’t do anything to him while he was out of it and vulnerable?

Except… Was he vulnerable? Was a mech like Megatron ever vulnerable? Was he dumb enough to shut down all of his systems for recharge, or did he leave enough on to royally mess Sideswipe up if he got too close or tried anything?

Greater mecha than him had probably tried to off the tyrant, but here Megatron was still. What chances did Sideswipe have against him? And there were two ways that could go. Either Megatron would just be amused, or he would take offense and… Kill him in retaliation? That wouldn’t surprise him.

He didn’t want to die here. Not in Megatron’s berthroom, not in this tower, not in Kaon.

He didn’t want to die at all.

It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take and not a price he was willing to pay for the slim chance he could end Megatron. And… Even if he did manage that, what did he expect to happen? He doubted Megatron’s lackeys would be too pleased.

No, there was no way that could’ve ended well for Sideswipe. It wouldn’t end well for him if he didn’t do anything, but at least by not doing anything he had the chances to get out of Megatron’s wing, return to Sunstreaker, and return to their escape plots. 

He wouldn’t be able to escape if he was dead.

He still didn’t understand what Megatron was doing, though, but he feared he would learn the answer sooner or later, and that he wouldn’t like it. While Megatron was recharging though… Sideswipe didn’t think he would be catching any recharge himself, not with Megatron there. He didn’t want to let his guard down, even for a moment.

There was no way that would’ve led to anything good. 

Sideswipe glanced around him at the spartan room. Megatron had made sure not to leave any datapads behind when he left, and there was nothing more to explore now either. If he even would’ve dared to snoop around while Megatron was recharging a couple of steps away.

So… Now what? He’d escaped interfacing for the time being, but he still didn’t know what the game they were playing was, and he still had absolutely nothing to do.

With a quiet huff Sideswipe backed up until his back hit one of the bleak walls, then carefully slid down it to sit on the floor, pulling his knees back to his chassis. 

More waiting. A lot more waiting, listening to the peaceful whirr and rumble of Megatron’s systems. The sounds would’ve been soothing if they’d belonged to someone else, but coming from Megatron they only put Sideswipe on edge and made it impossible to forget where he was. He didn’t want to familiarize himself with the sounds of the tyrant’s recharging frame.

But here he was.

He didn’t full on recharge himself, not for the whole of Megatron’s recharge cycle, but he did enter a light doze like before. Not because he was particularly tired, but just to have something to pass the time with.

They were long, long hours that he anxiously waited for Megatron to awaken, and see what that brought with it. It gave his mind far too much time to work over all the unpleasant things that might await him in his unfortunate future, concoct all sorts of possibilities, each one more terrible than the one before.

And he feared Megatron would live up to all of it, somehow.

How had one mech become the biggest boogeyman he’d ever known?

Megatron woke up no sooner and no later than what suited him. Sideswipe snapped out of his thoughts the moment the sounds of the tyrant’s systems changed and started to ramp up again, signaling his return to full awareness. It was a short process with no time wasted, just the steady climb from recharge to everyday functioning. Soon Megatron was already sitting up and stretching like Sideswipe would’ve expected from any mech.

But it looked so wrong coming from the sadistic dictator that had no right to remind him of the common folk that didn’t go around kidnapping and raping others.

It didn’t take longer than that for Megatron to take notice of him, though, and Sideswipe pressed tighter against the wall at his back when the tyrant’s red gaze zeroed in on him. “Sleep well?” Megatron asked.

Sideswipe’s lips drew back in a snarl.

Megatron didn’t laugh, but it looked like it was a close thing. “Come here and coax it out,” he gave the order once again, patting the berth in invitation.

“Slag you!” Sideswipe growled back at him and decidedly didn’t go over to fragging coax it out.  

“Suit yourself,” the tyrant said genteelly before getting up from the berth and leaving the whole room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Sideswipe was alone all over again.

This didn’t make any damn sense. “Why doesn’t he just…” he murmured to himself, trying to make sense of the mix of emotions his spark was pulsing with. On one hand, relief that he wasn’t getting raped like he’d gotten a lot recently.

But on the other he just… Wanted it over with. It would hurt, and he’d hate it, but afterwards he could return to the harem wing, to Sunstreaker, and hug his brother, and listen to him hear say they’d get out yet.

He didn’t want this waiting. Waiting for Megatron to unleash his cruelty, waiting for the suffering, the pain, the humiliation. 

Get it over with.

It’d only hurt for a while. And on the other side… There might just be a moment to gather himself back together before the next time he’d need to survive Megatron’s attentions.

But this?

“Fuck this,” Sideswipe whispered, his servos finding their way to his helmet and cradling it.

---------------------------------------------

Again he sat, and he waited, and again it was such a long, long time before Megatron deemed to return. Sideswipe didn’t even want to count the hours.

“Coax it out.”

He refused.

Megatron didn’t force him.

Megatron sat at his desk, drank his energon, and worked, and Sideswipe sat on the chilly floor, against the wall, and watched him because he had nothing better to do. 

Another recharge cycle Megatron slept peacefully on his berth. Sideswipe remained on the floor, tense and anxious, but not as tense and anxious as before.

He hated that. He didn’t want to get used to Megatron’s presence, but his emotions were tiring him to the point of dulling when nothing bad happened.

Another morning, another order, another time he didn’t do as he was told.

Another time Megatron left him alone while he went off to who knew where.

This time Sideswipe got up and went to the door, experimentally testing if it was locked or if he could maybe even get to the lounge on the other side.

But it was locked. He was not only held prisoner in Kaon and the palace, but now in Megatron’s berthroom too. 

What did he want? For him to just… Was it all he wanted that Sideswipe would go to him and do as he was told? Was that all?

“Frag off with that,” he muttered as he turned from the door and crawled under the berth, all the way to the center where he could be sure Megatron wouldn’t be able to reach him. He curled up there and tried to get some real recharge in the spell of peace and quiet when Megatron wasn’t present.

And tried to ignore his slowly depleting fuel levels.

------------------------------------------------------

When Megatron returned that night, he halted right at the door, probably because he couldn’t see Sideswipe right away. Sideswipe tensed, but it wasn’t like his spark or energy signatures had gone anywhere. In short order Megatron had fully stepped into the room, walked over to the berth, and crouched down to see under it.

Sideswipe met his optics.

Megatron smiled at him.

Sideswipe growled.

But Megatorn said nothing, and did nothing else, only stood back up and went to his desk. He had energon with him again. Sideswipe could hear the cube hit the desk every so often after Megatron took a drink from it before setting it back down.

And although Sideswipe wasn’t exactly exerting himself, his frame was still using his energon reserves for simple functioning. The decline was slow, but steady.

He wondered if Megatron had any plans to give him fuel.

Probably not.

---------------------------------------------------------

Orns. Straight up orns. 

He stayed under the berth stubbornly, ignoring the cold wafting from the floor, barely warmed by the heat of his frame. In fact, putting those two against each other, it was his frame that was cooling rather than the floor warming.

He didn’t move much either, and his cables were getting stiff, but he didn’t dare do anything that would’ve earned Megatron’s attentions. As it was the tyrant only crouched to take a look at him and smile at him right after he returned from spending the day who knew where doing who knew what dictator things. He didn’t say anything and wouldn’t try to get him to come out from under the berth, but Sideswipe knew what was hanging in the air between them despite their silence.

Coax it out.

That was what he was supposed to do. What would happen if he did? Yeah, no doubt there’d be interfacing he wanted absolutely nothing to do with, but… What about after?

Would he get to go back to Sunstreaker?

Primus, but he missed his brother. He was bored out of his mind, but more importantly than that... He just wanted his twin’s embrace and the comfort of a frame near identical to his own, of a spark that was a half of his own.

He could really use a hug right about now, honestly.

Because he didn’t know what to do. Time passed, but Megatron showed no signs of planning to let him leave, or of offering some fuel to him. And his fuel meter, it was lowering to uncomfortable readings. He’d already used up a large portion of his reserves during the orgy, and hadn’t had the time to replenish them.

How far would Megatron let things go? Until he went to stasis?

Would he leave him to rust under his berth? His reward for his determination?

Was it worth it? He wanted to see Sunstreaker again. He wanted to have the chance to leave this hellhole for good. A chance to reclaim his life.

He wouldn’t get that if he became forgotten under a tyrant’s berth.

But what he would need to do to get out of here… Pits. There was no winning. He got to choose between two kinds of damned, that was all. 

He wanted Sunstreaker here, so, so badly. He didn’t want to do this alone, be here alone.

Sideswipe curled up tighter as Megatron settled down for another recharge cycle above him. His HUD was blinking a fitful warning at him, beseeching him to fuel soon before he became too weak to do so. Hunger was gnawing at his tanks, near empty by now. He had little more than the energon in his lines, and that was losing charge steadily. It wouldn’t be too long before there wasn’t enough of it there to power his engines.

And if he couldn’t power his engines, he wouldn’t be able to move. Then what?

Best case scenario was that Megatron would have him pulled out from under the berth and refueled, but that would only land him back to square one. This wasn’t even a game of wills anymore, if it ever had been. It didn’t matter how much willpower he had. Even if he had enough, he’d just lose another way.

Inevitable.

His fate was coming for him whether he liked it or not. There was no way out that didn’t involve doing Megatron’s bidding.

When would he give in?

Was it just a matter of time?

He tried to quiet his sob and drew his field in even tighter than it had already been. Megatron didn’t need to know how he was feeling.

He didn’t need to know he was winning.

-----------------------------------------------

Two more orns. He held on for two more orns, cold, lonely, bored out of his fucking mind, but still preferring that to the future he feared.

Despair. The warning on his HUD had gotten upgraded in priority and was nearing critical. Stasis or pleasing Megatron, those were his two options. He couldn’t see any others.

When Megatron came back that night, he crouched at the end of the berth as was usual by now, and Sideswipe met his optics, knowing his own were dimming.

“Are you hungry?” Megatron asked and brought a cube to his view. Sideswipe’s throat constricted at the promise of much needed fuel. His frame demanded him to take it, to avoid being forced into stasis.

Into being completely helpless.

As if he wasn’t that even when his tanks were full.

“You must be,” the tyrant continued with a tone of fake kindness, like he actually gave a damn about Sideswipe’s wellbeing.

He just cared about how he could get Sideswipe to do what he wanted. How to make him like everyone else in that regard.

And it was working. Sideswipe closed his optics and entertained defeat. He wouldn’t last another orn. It was now or never if he didn’t want to choose stasis over Megatron’s clutches.

He just wanted back to Sunstreaker. What was he doing except drawing things out at this point? He couldn’t win. There was no reality where he would get his way and get out of here without going through Megatron first. 

Without doing what Megatron wanted of him, first. 

He would… He would just have to keep that in mind. He was doing this for Sunstreaker, for their reunion. Not for himself, and definitely not for Megatron.

For Sunstreaker.

He closed his optics tighter. The words hurt when they came out– “What do you want from me?” 

–But the approving pulse in Megatron’s field hurt even more.

“Come out and see.”

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( Previous / Next )

[quirklove]

I beg of you- some soft Tomura, Compress, and Setsuno headcanons, please. I’m on my simp shit rn

aw, you don’t have to beg!! I’m constantly on simp mode for these babes

soft soft soft soft!!!!

ATSUHIRO

Is always humming something or other when he’s around his S/O. It might be an old nursery rhyme that’s stuck in his head, it might be some catchy pop tune that he keeps hearing on the radio, it might even be their favorite song. He’s nearly always an outgoing personality, but his S/O makes him so happy it puts that extra little spring in his step.

He’s a man of culture, (Name)! Somewhere he has a small stash of money from his past that he can draw on, so every once in a while, he likes to treat his friends and his S/O. (Most of the time, that cash goes to making sure they all actually have enough to eat or emergency supplies, and it’s obviously not too much money, so he doesn’t do this horribly often.) If anyone else will join him in disguise, he might be inclined to go with his S/O to a play or musical… perhaps even a ballet if the tickets are affordable enough. If no one else comes, ah, that’s alright; he’ll go with (Name) anyway, then bring back a slightly nicer dinner than normal for everyone else so that they aren’t left out. Maybe once or twice a year he does this, so everyone better enjoy it!

Noooo, he doesn’t wear the balaclava when he goes to bed, nor is it the first thing he puts on in the morning. He loves those times ― lying down to sleep and waking up. He gets to feel so vulnerable and exposed with his S/O, having them stare at him with his entire face uncovered, feeling their hands run through his hair like only ever allows in private. Plus, the fact that their gorgeous face is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes in the morning? God. He’s gone soft. At least that softness is only for them, otherwise he might have a problem.

He likes to play cards with his friends and S/O if they’re not busy. No missions means he’s at the bar playing poker with Kurogiri, or war with Dabi, or… well, all Tomura ever plays is let me turn the cards to dust because fuck your games, Compress. What a brat!! One can practically see his face light up behind whatever mask he has on when (Name) asks him to teach them a game.

No matter what, he makes the extremely conscious effort to always give his S/O some gesture of affection before he goes off on a mission. Whether it’s tipping his mask to lovingly kiss their cheek, giving their fingers a passionate squeeze, or pulling them close for a gentle hug, he won’t leave without doing it. It’s a subtle way of saying goodbye, just in case things might go sideways. He acknowledges that the League’s affairs are incredibly dangerous and illegal; they could all die on any mission. He wants his beloved’s potential last memory of him to be something good. If he ends up dead, he doesn’t want them left with any doubt as to the fact that whatever else is true, he adores them very, very much and wants them to be happy.

TOMURA

Nightmares are a frequent thing with him, unfortunately. Sometimes it takes the form of memories, remembering the night his Quirk activated, leaving him with the image of crying in the middle of a circle made of his family’s corpses. Sometimes it’s a horrifying scenario in which Decay works on him, where he wraps his arms around himself and feels himself disintegrate piece by piece. Sometimes it’s his literal worst nightmare, a scene where he touches his friends or his S/O and they turn to dust in his fingers. Sometimes he wakes up screaming, his hands balled into fists so hard his nails are digging crescents into his palms and drawing blood, just so he can’t hurt anyone he cares about. Having his S/O take him in their arms and hold him close, kissing his face, whispering that he’s safe, reminding him that they’re here for him… he might not get back to sleep, but he finds comfort enough to stop crying within an hour.

There is one lone, solitary, singular way (Name) can get him to wear lip balm. That would be… to apply a surplus of it to their own lips, and proceed to give him as many kisses as he’ll allow them to in one go. Sure, the chapped lips aren’t unattractive ― but they’ve gotta hurt like hell. Just let your loving S/O lessen your pain a little, Tomura, you gigantic baby!! Also, they should pick a novelty flavor when they do this. It increases the number of kisses he’ll accept when their lips taste like vanilla frosting or Dr. Pepper.

Is like… the worst at any kind of self-care. He forgets to wash/comb his hair, he definitely doesn’t shower quite enough, he’s had at least one infection from not taking care of the wounds on his neck. The only reason he isn’t dead is Kurogiri, and later gains another reason; his S/O, obviously. Whenever he’s not working on his and All For One’s plans, he’s playing video games, and trying to get him away from that is like pulling teeth. However, his S/O has turned out to be very good at doing that. They can easily entice him with a warm shower together, and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt something as amazing as their fingers massaging his scalp as they wash his hair. Even though the ointment they want to put on his neck smells like medicine, he tolerates it simply because it feels nice when they rub it on. They’re always so gentle with him, and it just about breaks the poor man.

When encouraged and left in a non-stressful environment, Tomura is actually not terrible with children. He’s awkward, sure, he’s grumpy, sure, he doesn’t suffer brats, sure, but all things being equal, he does alright. Most of the time he’s not too scary around kids, or at least doesn’t act scary. (His appearance freaking some of them out, ah… that’s another story.) Though he’d have to do a lot of preparation, he might actually put an incredible amount of effort into learning if he found out he was going to be a father. How the man can’t manage to muster up the motivation needed to wash his clothes before wearing them a second time, yet can summon the will to read a ton of different parenting books, the world will never know. The point stands ― having a child combined with his love for his S/O would be a huge catalyst for his realizing that he doesn’t hate everything and everyone, and the world isn’t all bad.

Whenever he wants to touch his S/O in a sweet, intimate way but doesn’t feel comfortable or safe using most of his hand, he’ll use one finger. He might curl his fingers in to run his thumb gingerly over their cheek, or trace his knuckle down the side of their arm, or use the tip of his index finger to draw down their spine so he can see them arch their back. Tomura has never, ever had this before. Despite knowing he has to be careful, that he wants to be careful with them, there’s something endlessly fascinating to him about seeing how they react pleasantly to his touch when all his touch has ever done before is destroy. This also works in reverse; he wants to experience every possible touch of theirs that they’re willing to afford him.

TOYA

When he sleeps with his S/O, he really, really loves to be the little spoon. (He’s pretty well convinced that anyone who says they don’t, at least from time to time, is a liar!) It makes him feel safe and secure, like everything’s okay, like his S/O cares about him and wants to protect him. If he’s not being the little spoon, and sometimes when he’s the little spoon but facing them, he tends to cling in his sleep. His arms wrap tightly around their waist, his head buried in their chest or their neck or their back. It’s a product of his depressingly possessive nature; he loves them so much, they’re the best thing in his life, and he just… doesn’t want to lose them. Even while he’s asleep, he never wants to let go.

There are times Toya thinks about letting his hair grow out a little longer, to his shoulders maybe. The biggest thing that stops him is that he doesn’t know how he’d look with long hair. He isn’t sure he’d look that great or that he has the face for it! He’s a little afraid that with his more delicate features, having hair longer than it is now would lead to him being mistaken for a woman. If he mentions it to (Name), he might be a little startled by their enthusiastic, “Oh, that would look so charming on you!” coupled with a reassurance that they love his appearance no matter what he decides to do with his look. As far as they’re concerned, even if he ends up not doing it, they’re still going to think he’s the most handsome man ever. Knowing they’d support it, though, makes him think about actually doing it.

He rambles a lot, particularly when he’s feeling anxious. He rambles a lot. That goes along with his hands fidgeting and sometimes his leg bouncing a bit if he’s sitting down. For some reason he finds it hard to sit still or be quiet. He feels the need to fill the silence with something. So he talks, about anything and everything and occasionally about nothing at all. Most of the time only his S/O (or sometimes a friend) placing a hand over his, threading their fingers together, can calm him slightly. Often a gentle kiss when he’s doing the motormouth thing will get his mind to slow down and focus… at least to the point where he kisses back, and happily drowns in them for a while.

While not ‘on the job’, Toya… is usually kind of unsure what to do with his time. He reads, he watches TV a lot, he… sleeps. God, he sleeps. He seems to spend his life in a weird state of either being asleep or seeming wired as hell. There’s not really an in-between for him, at least not for a long time. He has trouble finding balance, especially since he’s so depressed. It seems to other people that he’s got too much energy and doesn’t fit the profile of what many people think a depressed person looks like. In truth, this is probably more accurate than people would like to think ― he hides the fact that he feels numb or sad by masking it with upbeat, happy, sometimes crazed behavior. Thankfully, he can sometimes find real happiness with his S/O, and it’s because of them that he might seek any kind of treatment so that he can feel better more often. Good thing, too, because not only will he be chasing a healthy life… his smile, genuine, painless, unaltered by any kind of forced joy? His true smile is the most beautiful thing.

Okay, but the man… has a serious sweet tooth. Most of the Hassaikai have their own room, and they can fill it however they choose. Toya’s cabinets are filled with nothing but sugary snacks. Even though he does eat regular meals, or at least tries to, he has to have something with sugar nearby to eat between. Chocolate is his favorite; he’ll eat almost any kind of candy, pastry, or even fruit snacks. If his S/O is very lucky, he will share! Pro tip: playing the pocky game with him is guaranteed to end in a cute, maybe steamy makeout session. And kissing any leftover chocolate that gets stuck to his lips? Oh, he’ll blush so hard.