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masterwords · 8 months

Text

adding it all up

Summary: Hotch follows Reid and Jack into a haunted house. Inside he meets a ghost and stumbles right into some unexpected arms.

Pairing: Hotch/Will

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: nightmares, ptsd, minor injuries, panic attack

Notes: I formally submit to you my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute/Ugly Challenge with the prompt: Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help. To the surprise of no one at this point, I took some creative liberties with the prompt. There isn't much to the plot, it's pretty simple and we mostly just have an excuse for kissing. As with everything I've written so far about this pairing, we live in a universe where Will is a DC Metro Detective but he is not nor has he ever been with JJ because we don't have time for that kind of backstory in these little one-shots. Thanks for reading yo! Let's show this incredibly rare pairing some love. (And now I return to writing about hotchgan...I can only stray for so long.)

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease dad!”

“I’d rather not,” Hotch said, as if it was going to change the mind of his six year old son. And maybe he didn’t really want to because his argument was pretty flimsy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go in, or that he didn’t like Halloween. “I don’t like to be scared.” That was a lie and Reid saw the opening, poking a huge hole in it immediately.

“You get scared for a living,” Reid pointed out from behind him and Hotch groaned. He’d been hoping Reid would take his side. “Come on Jack. If your dad is too chicken I’ll take you in. I’m kind of an expert.”

“You are?!”

Reid crouched beside Jack as best he could, favoring his still sore (always sore) knee and leaned as close as he could to the child. His whisper smelled like kettle corn and candied apples and cotton candy, that’s what Jack thought anyway. Reid smelled like a carnival. “I’ve already been through it three times. I bet you could find some people in there you know. Like playing a really big game of Where’s Waldo…”

“Who’s in there?!”

“You’ll have to come in with me and see.”

“Can I dad?!”

Hotch sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You don’t have to if you’re too scared! You can stay out here! I’ll be tough.”

“I know you will buddy.”

Hotch looked at Reid and then at the doorway. He wasn’t scared, it wasn’t that. He simply didn’t care for jump scares or people being that close to him, close quarters, being vulnerable. Not in control. In the dark. Worse than that, he didn’t want any of that to be witnessed by a man he’d just begun seeing just a couple of weeks prior. Because that would be embarrassing. Big strong FBI Agent can’t handle a clown yelling boo in his face.

He always knew this was a possibility. Jack had never wanted to go into the house of mirrors or the haunted house before, he preferred to stick to roller coasters and prize games when they came to the carnival. He thought he’d be safe, especially this year. They were coming up on one year since Haley died and he thought for sure Jack wouldn’t want a thing to do with fake blood and jump scares but here he was practically dragging Reid through the entrance. Dutifully he followed them in, staying a few steps behind. “See you at the end dad!” At the entrance he was asked to wait. Reid and Jack got shoved in with another group and he was about to be sorted with the next when he asked if he could go through on his own.

“I don’t have a guide for a solo trip,” the young man at the door said. “You good at following directions? There are little green glow in the dark arrows along the ceiling that point you the direction you’re supposed to go. Keep an eye on them and you’ll find your way. Don’t go too fast or too slow. There are little red lights on the walls where there are emergency exits if you get hurt or lost or too scared to finish.” The young man flushed a little as he said the last part, Hotch didn’t look much like the type to get scared of anything but he still had to say it. There was a script and he followed it. He liked his job.

“Got it. Follow the green. Red means emergency exit. Thank you.”

Great. Alone. Jack didn’t even care to walk with him, too enthralled with whatever whispers and promises of adventure Reid was feeding him. He didn’t even turn around to see where Hotch ended up. He moved at a relatively quick clip, barely looking in the direction of the sets or the mini scares. Up ahead he was sure Reid was peeking at all the details, getting the most out of everything and helping Jack do the same. He was barely paying attention to any of it. Occasionally he found himself jumping when a clown popped out with a hatchet. That was natural, his heart thumped a little harder, but he smiled and thanked the volunteer in costume before stepping around the corner into a room that was filled with spider webs and hissing sounds. He’d never been afraid of spiders, in fact as a child he’d found himself collecting them in little mason jars and feeding them for a week or two before releasing them back out into the woods. He batted at a piece of cotton webbing that tickled his ear and frowned, not caring much for that feeling. It was worse than the room full of animated spiders.

The haunted house wasn’t huge but it felt like it lasted forever, twisting and angling and collapsing in on itself until he really did feel dizzy. His senses had been warped by the strange dark shafts and violent twists and hanging bloody sheets behind which shadows lurked.

Was he lost or could it really be this long? He glanced up as if to assure himself that he was going the right direction, and squinting into the dark he was able to make out one small green arrow.

There was only one way to go, really. He could hear Jack’s chirpy little voice up ahead and Reid’s surprise, maybe real or maybe an act, and there were voices not too far behind him but he was otherwise completely alone in the maze. The ceiling ahead dropped until he was hunched over in a sort of soft, undulating tunnel. It was pitch black, with only a foggy red light to guide him from what looked like miles away. Hunching like this hurt his back. Up ahead was a pinprick widening to an opening he had to step through into what looked like a torture chamber with bodies hanging from the walls. He’d seen this in real life, this wasn’t entertainment. This was work. Well researched, too. He recognized bits that had been pulled from crime scene photos, small elements not many would recognize but they made his breath catch in his throat more than once. People’s fascination with serial killers would never cease to worry him.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!” growled a man in a grisly voice from the shadows beside him. Hoarse from saying his line so many times, Hotch knew, but something about it still made him flinch away. There was a strangely familiar quality to it, something ghostly and pale, dry leaves rustling in the chilly October wind. “You should have taken the deal…” the voice whispered in his ear and he froze. His legs wouldn’t move. A flash of muzzle and the smell of gun smoke, steel bright in the dark and then pitch black.

“What?” he asked, ashamed of the fear that welled up in his chest. There was a vague pain where his heart should be noisily thumping but was making not a sound. “What did you say?” (He knew, somewhere deep inside, that the man hadn’t said that. There was some still quiet voice of reason in there, it was just disappearing second by second as fear seeped in.)

No reply. He had to be hearing things. There was no way. (Someone could have read the book. He told Colson what Foyet had said to him. He'd been on pain medication, heavy stuff, when he talked to Roy...he should have said less. He knew it but Roy had been so good to him, he found it hard to hold back.) He squinted into the dark where he stood motionless, breathless and saw a black mask coming toward him, outlined by a sickly white fog. Hovering there, not attached to a body for the longest time, and then around him materialized a hooded sweatshirt. Foyet’s mask. He knew it wasn’t Foyet, he’d seen the autopsy report, Foyet was dead. But the mask still startled him, and when it came closer (the person now muttering their actual lines and not something his frightened mind invented on his behalf) he found that his legs did work. They just didn’t obey his commands. He stepped backward, his heel catching on the curtain separating the two rooms and he managed to pull part of it down on top of himself. The feel of the fabric against his neck sent him into a tailspin and he lunged forward past the man in the Reaper mask (now reaching for him and asking if he was alright) until he stumbled into the next corridor where he narrowly missed stepping on a body on the floor. One of his victims, presumably. Hotch glanced down at her, stabbed repeatedly (do you have any idea how long it takes to stab someone 67 times?, he thought) and felt his blood run cold.

Was this some kind of a sick joke? Did someone know he was coming today? (Someone aside from Will? Will would never…he’d been there that day, that was how they met.) As he stepped around the woman on the ground with her guts strewn all around her, he slipped in the gore and took a header down the small flight of black and white checkered stairs. The sound his body made as it hit the wall was horrifying – he wouldn’t doubt if the people outside waiting in line had heard. He groaned and tried to push up to standing but he knew right away that he was hurt. Or just about ready to pass out. His head swam and he collapsed in a heap. “Dammit,” he mumbled. His chest was tight and there was a pain, a burning and squeezing that ran through his left arm. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“You okay mister?”

He recognized that voice, that molasses drawl he’d been hoping to hear in any way but this. Never this. Slowly he looked up, taking the hand of a werewolf who helped him stand. He was dizzy after hitting his head and his ears were ringing. Most of the time his tinnitus was manageable, background noise, but when he was around loud noises or when he hit his head it made sure he remembered it was with him forever. Now it was screaming so loud he felt like his head might burst.

“Will?”

“Hotch?”

“Yeah,” Hotch replied, slipping back against the wall when the group of people who had been a few turns behind him made their way curiously down the stairs. They looked perplexed, probably wondering at all the commotion a few turns ahead of them. Waiting to see a body on the ground. Will quickly maneuvered them until they were part of the exhibit, pretending to eat Hotch and to his credit, Hotch moaned because...well he really felt like it, his head hurt that bad. Once that group passed, Will lifted his mask and eyed Hotch in the dark. There was only a dim foggy glow from the previous room but even in then he could see that something was wrong.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Hotch swayed where he stood and watched as an ominous gray cloud crept in at the edge of his vision. He felt foggy and wrong, his heart had slowed to a syrupy thump in his chest. He thought he might pass out. There had been such an immediate feeling of panic and now his heart felt like it might give out entirely. “Maybe.”

“What happened?”

Before he could answer, another group came around the corner and they slipped back into their role of werewolf devouring a poor innocent man. It wasn’t exactly what Will’s job was supposed to be, he was supposed to jump out from around the next corner howling and chase the passersby to the next room but it beat not doing it all or having undue attention paid to him.

Hotch swallowed hard. Was he really about to admit he’d been frightened in a haunted house? Really truly scared? And now he probably had a concussion to take home as a souvenir once this panic attack left him alone? “I don’t know,” Hotch said quietly, incapable of finding the right words. He couldn’t admit what he saw. Was it real? Had his mind played tricks on him? “The last room got to me.”

“The torture chamber?” Will asked, his hands gripping Hotch’s waist to steady him. “You seen stuff like that a hundred times…I guess the mad scientist was kinda creepy, I just thought he looked like Doc from Back to the Future.”

“Mad Scientist?” Hotch asked, gripping Will’s forearms. “I didn’t see a Mad Scientist.”

“Huh. I coulda sworn today was Mark’s day. He loves that damn wig. Who was in there?”

Hotch swallowed hard. His throat was dry and clicked painfully, and for a split second he questioned not only his hearing but his eyes...had he just made it all up? Before he could answer another group came around the corner and Will pulled his mask back down and once again set to devouring Hotch’s jugular. Hotch was happy just to stand there pretending to be eaten, it beat the hell out of exploring the caverns of his mind. Of wondering what happened. Did he invent it all? It was possible. He’d been having nightmares again as the anniversary crept closer but he thought he had a pretty good handle on them.

“You want me to get you outta here?” Will asked when they had a brief break. “You’re still shakin’ and you're breathing all funny. My shift is over in fifteen minutes, I can meet you out front when I’m done. We can talk then.”

“Jack is with Reid,” Hotch whispered. “Can I stay?” He didn’t think he could walk. One step and he had the distinct impression he’d be face planting. Maybe if he stayed until this silent panic attack passed – this panic attack he was so far not admitting to – it would be okay.

“Yeah. Sure. But I gotta do my job so you think you can help me out?”

“I’ll try.”

Will smiled from beneath the mask and let it fall back over his face, taking Hotch’s hand and leading carefully, slowly down into the hallway. He kept his arm around Hotch’s waist, walking with purpose. “Right here, lay down.”

“Lay down?” He liked the sound of that. His head was swimming and his legs felt like they’d been poured with concrete.

“Down.”

Hotch eased himself down until he was on the oddly soft fake grass, and Will nudged him until his body was flush with the wall painted with a glowing full moon and pitch black trees. It looked like something painted by children. “When people come, I’m gonna pretend to be eating you. Then I get up and chase ‘em down the hallway and come back. You just lay here. Close your eyes. Play dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hotch had no complaints about closing his eyes, it instantly made the pounding in his head quiet to a dull throb. Will shifted above him, and he heard the distinct sound of a howl. It was low, gutteral, almost sexy. Hotch shifted where he lay when he felt a heat growing in his belly. This was not the time, but it did settle the racing of his heart, and the ache in his chest. There were footsteps beside him and Will was panting, chasing a family who giggled and squealed at him, and then he was dropping to his knees over Hotch.

He expected the fur from the mask against his neck again, but instead in the blind darkness he felt the soft flush of Will’s lips against his own. The mask bobbed against his nose, obscuring both of their faces as Will drew him into a kiss. He was breathless from running, Hotch’s chest was constricting like his heart was going to give out, and suddenly the world around him erupted in kaleidoscope colors behind the black of his eyelids. He sucked in a deep breath, a wanting breath as Will stood and chased a couple past them. And then a group of teenagers, one of whom kicked the bottom of Hotch’s shoe before Will returned.

Another kiss. And another. Hotch had rolled over enough that he could press his thighs together to stop his body from responding in ways that would be wholly inappropriate in a haunted house. Every kiss brought him back to the surface for air, and slowly the panic in him drained to quiet nothing. He forgot, briefly, about Foyet’s mask. He’d been caught up in the moment, that was all. Just his mind taking the haunted house a little too seriously. The nightmares seeping into reality. The handle he thought he had on them was weaker than he thought.

Fifteen minutes later they emerged into the glaring daylight. Hotch had almost forgotten it was just barely afternoon, the sun was still overhead bathing everything in its warm glow. Will held his mask beneath his arm, the sweat on his brow making the strange mix of facepaint he’d had on beneath clump and smear. His eyes were blackened, his lips gray and lifeless. Reid smiled and nudged Hotch, handing him a paisley print silk handkerchief from his pocket.

“You uh...you’ve got something right….there…” he said, indicating his lips. Hotch glanced at Will’s smudged gray mouth and frowned, realizing what he must look like too. “Did you need CPR?”

“Something like that.”

“See ya LaMontagne!” an officer yelled as he exited the haunted house, his black hoodie tied around his waist and a mask dangling from his arm. Will glanced at the mask, and then at Hotch, and then back at the mask. He doubted it was intentional, at least not aimed at Hotch. How could it be? Probably just a practical joke, trying to get the best out of a local legend. Still, he was angry and embarrassed. This was one of his guys. Not a great look.

He didn’t even need to say it and Hotch wouldn't want to hear it. Likely he would argue on behalf of the officer, make an excuse for his poor judgment and lack of taste, and maybe he'd be right too but Will didn't want to listen. Roy Colson's new book about the Reaper's last stand was studded with Hotch's own memories, a gift to his friend for keeping his promise during the initial investigation, and the entire squad was in the process of reading it. They knew, they all knew. He couldn't believe one of them would think this was appropriate. Hotch turned away and wiped the grease paint off of his lips while Reid followed Will’s gaze at the officer and the mask. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Will grunted. “I’ll handle it.” The guy was going to be seeing a lot of paperwork and grunt security jobs in the near future.

“Who wants a funnel cake?” Will asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“I do!” Jack had never turned down an offer of sweets in his life, and even Hotch could hardly say no to an offer of deep fried batter covered in powdered sugar.

“Well lets go find some grub then!”

#aaron hotchner #will lamontagne #hotmontagne #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x will #reid is in the story too but he's not a main character so i'm not actually tagging him

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theblackrivergame · 3 years

Text

Hey everyone! Today is my beloved @nyehilismwriting ‘s birthday! So I fleshed out a snippet request she made very jokingly one day for her, and she said I could share it with everyone! ^_^

(it’s a post-game-content Vanator wedding snippet, in case you’re curious hehe)(also please go and wish her a happy birthday!)

Most of it is under the cut cos it’s a bit long!

--------

The door at the end of the corridor in front of you is not particularly substantial. It is, however, extremely well-guarded. You’re in one of the former Wolven Empire’s fancier hotels, which at least means that dotted along the length of the cream wood-panelled walls are various urns and statues that you can hide behind. That won’t help you get inside, unfortunately, but it’s a start.

There’s a quiet, almost inaudible whistle from behind you as Enarra also sidles into the alcove that’s currently sheltering you.

“I think she’s gone,” he whispers, and you nod gravely.

If you’re going to get in there, you’re going to have to time this perfectly. You meet his gaze for a few moments, tense but ready. He knows the stakes here. You trust him to keep you safe.

“I’ll watch your back,” he says, clasping your hand in one of his firmly for a second. “Go!”

You don’t need any further encouragement. You set off down the hall as fast as you can feasibly go without your armour clanking; it’s annoying that you’re stuck wearing this overly formal outfit, but you suppose it’s better than having no protection in case things go wrong.

No sign of the guard coming back yet. That’s good.

Once you get within ten metres of the door, you give up on the stealthy approach and break into a dash for the last few steps. You can’t wait anymore! It’s already been too long!

The second your hand touches the doorknob, however, you feel yourself lifted off the ground from behind, a powerful arm wrapping around your waist and hoisting you into the air.

“Come on, Luminita!” you whine, legs flailing helplessly as she carries you away from the door and dumps you back some ways into the corridor. “This is ridiculous!”

“I can’t believe you thought you could fool me,” she snorts, ignoring your pleas. “After all this time, you think I don’t know what you smell like?”

You fold your arms across your chest, sulking. “I had to do something!”

She pauses for a second, giving you something that approximates a fond, if toothy, smile, and then leans around you, calling out to Enarra. “I can smell you, too!”

“That’s a weird thing to just say to people, Damaschin!” he calls back, from his alcove. “I hope you know that!”

She just shrugs, her feet firmly planted on the ground, making it clear that she’s not going to let you past.

Suddenly, you hear Vanator clear his throat behind her, though it’s muffled somewhat by the fact that he’s behind the door still. “Is everything all right out there?”

As Luminita is distracted, you slip by her and dart over to try and open the door – but it doesn’t work. It’s locked, presumably from the inside.

“Come on, let me in,” you plead. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? This sucks!”

“It’s bad luck for people to see each other on their wedding day before the ceremony,” he replies through the door, but you can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s a little less convinced by this explanation than he was when he and Luminita first brought it up.

Excellent! That means you can wear him down…

“Please, Vanator?” you entreat him, and then grin as you hear him sighing in response.

Luminita, however, also seems to have noticed him wavering, and appears beside you again, growling. “If you even touch that door handle I will eat you both! Neither of you needs any more bad luck!”

“You Wolven are so weird,” Enarra says from somewhere behind you, clanking his way along the corridor.

Luminita gives him an unamused look, though she doesn’t seem offended – probably she’s just generally disappointed in him for going along with your scheme. “Shouldn’t you two be leaving to head to the church?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you tell her, reluctantly letting go of the door. “I wanted to see him before we left.”

There’s a soft thud sound from inside the room that you think might be Vanator hitting his fist against the inside of the door – or maybe his forehead, it’s hard to tell.

“Do not open that door!” Luminita tells him, firmly, and he sighs again.

“I won’t,” he says eventually, though you’re glad he at least sounds like he’s suffering as much as you are. “I’ll see you at the church… it won’t be too much longer.”

“I just need you to know that I hate this,” you tell him, sullenly, and he laughs.

“So do I.”

With that, you direct one more largely toothless glare in Luminita’s direction and turn to leave, though it still really sucks. You don’t think there’s a single Wolven custom you’ve come across that does anything other than make things harder for you.

--------

There were three separate assassination attempts for you to foil on your way to the church, so despite leaving first, you and Enarra ended up arriving somewhat late. You then had to spend about five minutes outside the church trying to get all of the masonry dust off your armour and fixing your hair, extremely glad that you’d all at least known this would be a possibility beforehand.

By the time you get inside, everyone else is already there; it’s a relatively small crowd (for security reasons), so you can pick out your friends among the group fairly easily. Ia is there in the front row, wearing what looks like about half a suit, and Dassine, who looks as regal as anyone you’ve ever seen in her new High Judicar armour, is one row back alongside Annos and a very confused-seeming Omilitís.

Kebisa, who is officiating, is dressed in a gorgeous purple gown and silver ceremonial cape, while Luminita has changed into a sharply-cut scarlet dress uniform, but your eyes inevitably get drawn towards Vanator and become stuck there.

He’s still dressed mostly in black (of course), but you actually don’t think you’ve seen this particular tailored coat that he’s wearing before. The edges on it are so crisp that you wonder if maybe he had it pressed using magic somehow – it feels very at odds with your “the blood probably isn’t too visible against my dark outfit” armoured visage.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though… in fact that’s mostly why you can’t seem to look away from him. He’s just… staring at you. You think that maybe seeing you walk into the church has made the weight of the whole thing you’re both about to do really hit him, and then while you’re thinking that it seems to hit you as well, and suddenly you’re both just staring at each other, dumbstruck.

Enarra elbows you in the midriff sharply, bringing you back to reality. The look on Ia’s face tells you that neither you nor Vanator will probably ever live this down, so you keep your eyes fixed firmly on the altar and just concentrate on walking.

By the time you’ve reached the altar, he’s still staring at you – he’s making that unbearably soft expression he always makes when he has a thousand things he wants to say but can’t find the words. You take a deep breath, wondering if you’re going to make it any decent amount of time into the ceremony before making a fool of yourself again, and nod at Kebisa, who is standing between the two of you looking like she has to try very hard to maintain a stately demeanour and not just hug you both.

She’s just opened her mouth to speak when suddenly Luminita punches Vanator.

It’s not hard, at least not by Luminita’s standards, but it’s enough to knock him forward and send him stumbling into you. There’s a bunch of titters from the crowd; you exchange a look with him as you help him up wondering whether this is another Wolven wedding tradition, but he seems just as surprised as you, and in some amount of pain as well.

“Oh, are we skipping to the objections part already?” Ia interjects before anyone can ask what’s going on, standing up from their seat and pulling something out of their waistcoat pocket that looks like a list. “Because if that’s the case, I’d like to-”

“Shut up!” you hiss at them, desperately trying to keep the whole thing from getting further off the rails.

Your only reward for your efforts is a dramatic smirk; behind them, Annos bursts out laughing.

“What was that for?” Vanator demands, turning to Luminita, who looks affronted by his question.

“You said to punch you if you looked like you were about to start crying!”

“I didn’t mean in the face!” he counters, still cradling his jaw.

Kebisa covers her face with her hands in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle her giggling.

“Gods,” Enarra groans, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “Can we just get this over with? This dress armour is killing me.”

It’s at this point in the proceedings that the doors into the church are blown off by an explosion.

It doesn’t stop the wedding, of course – your vows are shouted over the cacophony of the ensuing gunfight, and the signing of the marriage register an hour later once everything has calmed down is a suitably dignified moment spoiled only slightly by the fact that Luminita is covered in blood (not hers) and her dress uniform has been shredded into ribbons. All in all, it’s one of the less exciting afternoons that you and Vanator have spent together.

It’s everything you had expected it to be, and yet somehow also more.

#long post #the black river if #RO: vanator #RO: luminita damaschin #RO: ia #RO: annos #RO: kebisa malindile #RO: dassine ult sidi #love them all :chinhands: happy birthday freya!!! <3 #blood mention

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anonymous-human · 7 years

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MTMTE characters of your choosing !! headcanons for their s/o (separately) arranging a little halloween party for the crew after a failed mission to find some knight or something alike? like as in to lift their spirits

(sure, but since you weren’t so specific about it, is it cool if like swerve and the s/o decide to have a little surprise Halloween party to lift the crew’s spirits after a failed mission a few days before? If you’re not okay with that, please go ahead and tell me, I can redo these if you want. maybe. Swerves’s kinda long btw. ha, hey look. i really got into this one ^_^ I love Halloween!)

Rodimus

He hates failing! It’s the worst!

He’ll say a speech to try and help the team look forward, but he’ll blame himself and become depressed about it, and he makes it known to the people he trusts, (Magnus, Megatron, Drift and You. perhaps a few others, but not off the top of my head.)

He’s a bit impatient by the door, But the second you unlock the doors, they open, and the place is decorated from the floor to the ceiling in decoration as fitting music hums through the bar.

“O my Primus!” he exclaims, eyes widening as he looks around the room as mechs fill the bar.

“What is this?” he’d ask you. You’d explain how he started to feel down, and some of the crew was feeling a bit off so you decided to try and try to make at least this spooky Halloween fun for all of you.

“You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Okay, yeah you kinda did.”

Drift

Drift wouldn’t feel too bad, everyone tried, and that’s all that matters! And that's…. That’s kinda a smaller tick.

But when everyone was called down to Swerve’s, he didn’t mind coming to see what was happening.

He had to anyway, he was second in command.

When he saw the decorations and stuff he was confused.

So after he found you and asked what all this was, you explained the loss of the battle, and the sad mechs made you feel and, and then you had to explain this was a Halloween party.

And then you needed to explain what a Halloween party was.

He thought what you were doing was amazing actually! Going out of your way to throw a party to help the crew! That’s so nice of you!

Magnus

He doesn’t really care, as long as no one causes a problem, he doesn’t mind at all.

“Come on megs! Relax a bit, come out of the suit!”

“I will not.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease! I threw a party! I want you in this party too!”

“I am in this party.”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggsssssss!”

He comes out as Minimus Ambus and drinks some really, really laid back energex.

He ends up admitting this was very nice of you, some of the crew, he looks at Rodimus, “-Really needed this.”

“Of course! I’m always up for helping them out.”

Megatron

Like Magnus, he really doesn’t want to participate.

He’ll be there for a little while in the beginning, but will leave quickly to let the crew have their fun without him - they don’t want him there anyway.

So you personally go get him with the bar is mostly empty, or after hours, after you and swerve kick out the last of the partiers for being there at closing time.

Swerve was cool staying for another hour and a half for you. Guessing that you and megs have become close, and seeing how he means to you, he doesn’t mind being there for you.

So as Swerve serves up drinks for you and megs, you tell him about how much fun the crew were at the party, and how Rodimus got so drunk he was practically screaming ‘you got the touch’ on the tables. Yes, tables.

“Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll help you deal with a hungover Rodimus in the morning.” you say, “i promise.”

When you end up explaining the real reason you decided to throw this party, he’s actually very happy you wanted to make the crew happy from the last loss.

How did he end up with such a selfless person, is what he asks himself.

Whirl and Skids

Oh my god, they thought it was a great idea!

But tbh they just got really drunk.

Whirl started fighting the decorations, ended up hurting himself, passing out and getting his ass hauled back to his hab by Magnus.

Skids needed to try every drink on the menu that got it’s name changed for the day.

It was a bet…

He didn’t even make it through before his favorite human song came on, and he stumbled to the dance floor only to pass out.

… He also got his ass hauled back to his hab by Magnus.

For the record, he only had two drinks left to finish. Thats a win for me.

Rung

He thought it was an absolutely adorable idea. It’s really sweet of you, you know that?

He only stayed for a few drinks though.

He knew it was going to get crazy, so he left early to get some work done.

or work on a ship.

Anyway, he was lucky, he left about 5 minutes before it started to get crazy.

Swerve

(Now for the origin story (Kinda? Whatever *cracks knuckles anyway*)get ready, she’s a long one.)

After the loss of the mission, the ship became a bit dull.

The Rodimus speech was great and all, but they still had something to worry about now.

So, you hatched a plan, and here we go to step one; get Swerve’s help!

“Swerve I need your help!” you call to him one day when you catch him locking up.

He was curious to what you needed from him, and upon hearing you brilliant plan to make the crew happy, he was in.

Step two; get the decorations and other special stuff together. Well, you’d be surprised. Rodimus does the weirdest stuff, and you found some black and orange rolls of streamers, and a ton of balloons.

You tested them out in his hab, and they looked really cool! Great for a party! Then you ended up spending an hour on drink names, because that sounded like a really good idea to you both.

And then the next step, you needed to figure out the best time to put the stuff up with it still being a surprise to the crew. What you ended up doing was picking a day, and then kick everyone out an hour earlier the day before, and then get ready for the next day.

And quickly, that day came!

You both went right to work. And after a long night of nothing of shitty jokes from the web & sitcoms to 200 pounds of coffee (and perhaps the cybertronian equivalent), it was all done.

“Wow! This is gonna be a great party!” You said and you admired the finishing look of the room.

“Yeah, we might have to do this next year!” swerve chuckled.

“If this doesn’t completely blow, and your chill with it, i’m in.” you say, followed by awkward silence.

“Did we just do thing in the shows’ where the dude and a chick that like each other bond?”

“Yes! Those are always the best parts!” you smile. “This was fun Swerve. Thanks for letting me do this with you.”

“Yeah, it was! I’d throw a party any time if it turns out like this!”

And then you kiss.

JK, you look at the time, and the bar would open in at least 2 more hours. So you run an announcement over the loudspeaker saying something along the lines of ‘the bar opens with some special stuff, open to all mechs come down!’.

As you may know, unless you read this first, the party went spectacular, and even though half the crew got fucked up drunk, everyone still had a good time! Good job team!

#Rodimus #Magnus #Drift #megatron #Swerve #Rung #Skids #Whirl #mtmte #more than meets the eye #minimus ambus #halloween #SPOOPY SHIT #tf #transformers #i'm-anonymous

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