#a lot of these feel like threats to visit the state and that’s how you know they were not written by an actual Mainer

[patronsaint-prometheus]

[onsomenewsht]

Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

~

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

~

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you’re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

[banamine-bananime]

Growing up I lived in an area with a lot of cattle farming and I was very scared of the cows. Do you have any cool facts that will make me either more or less afraid of cows?

oh hmm let me think on that!

facts related to how to interact with cows so all parties feel and stay safe:

they have a very prey herd animal mentality. they want to move with their herdmates. they want to watch any potential threats like people and move away from them. they don't like loud or unfamiliar noises (they're sensitive souls. sometimes if i visit a dairy wearing waterproof coveralls where the cows are only used to people wearing cotton coveralls, just the whisper of waterproof pants rubbing against each other can spook them) or abrupt movements or going into areas they can't see well (and they have difficulty with depth perception due to their wide-set eyes for 300 degree vision, and with high-contrast, so going from sun into shade or vice versa can look like stepping into a white or black void for them and they don't like it)

based on this, we know the keys to low-stress cattle handling are consistency in how you interact with them, calmness (small movements, quiet words to let them know you're there), moving cows in groups big enough to have friends but small enough you can control the whole group without them milling around or the ones in front stopping and causing a traffic jam, and slowly moving them by just barely getting in their "bubble" of "whoa, you're a little too close for comfort, i'm going to move in the other direction" without ever getting into their "YIKES RUN AWAY FROM THIS THING" bubble

the last point involves understanding pressure and flight zones and point of balance:

from Mississippi State University Extension:

from grandin.com (highly recommend as a source of information about animal behaviour and welfare!!! temple grandin my idol since i was like nine i love her so. and i tear up when i think about how much she's done for millions of animals ;_; she's a genius and no lie revolutionized low-stress handling):

pet cows that get doted on enough to bond with people may not see people as a threat so the normal ways we use pressure zones to iinteract with cows don't necessarily do anything for them. you would lead them more like a horse, using a halter. or lure them with treats.

beef cows typically have little contact with people, often just processing (vaccines, preg checks, quick exam for any health problems) a couple times a year, so they can be very wild. doesn't mean they're aggressive, the overwhelming majority are non-aggressive but they have very large flight zones, so if you don't recognize that and approach too quickly, getting deep in their flight zone, that can get you into a dangerous situation where they get aggressive as a last resort. that said, they do usually still choose flight unless their calf is with them. "never get between mom and baby" applies as it does with any species

dairy cows are in between beef cows and pet cows. they interact with people regularly, several times per day, and it's respectful but not doting. kind of a business relationship with their handlers. they're not terrified of people by any means, but they haven't been, like, hand-fed treats to get over their instinctive wariness of potential-predator-like animals, and they know sometimes handling results in unpleasant experiences like medical treatment or pregnancy checks, so they avoid touch and have a flight zone, though it's small (and sometimes they'll calmly let you walk right up to them unrestrained, or approach you and lick you out of curiosity). very very rare to have an aggressive dairy cow (as in, one that attacks you instead of moving away when you're bothering them a little. really bothering them and ignoring body language when they can't move away is much more likely to get you kicked)

bulls are not docile. not every bull will be aggressive, but you should assume that every bull has the capacity to become aggressive with little provocation, and always keep a respectful distance and know your escape route if you have to be in a pen or field with them

cows love exploring with their tongues. any time you're in a dairy barn there's gonna be at least one friendly girl mlem mlem mlemming who won't leave you alone

adding on to the above, there is a slight caveat that you still have to be a LITTLE wary of friendly cows. 99% of the time they're just friendly but sometimes cows in heat will try to mount people. you don't have to be scared of friendly cows but if they're right next to you just keep them in your line of sight so you can move away if they make like they're going to mount. again, not common, never happened to me, but something to be aware of

signs of a happy, relaxed cow: lying down, chewing cud or eating, tail hanging down relaxed, moving slowly with her herd

signs of a slightly wary cow (you have entered the "pressure zone"): standing still/stopping what she's doing, turning towards you, ears turning towards you (watching the ears is a very good way of knowing what she's paying attention to), tail swishing or raised a bit away from body

signs of a distressed cow: vocalizing (they also moo for other reasons though), tail swishing, fidgeting/pawing/looking like she wants to move but doesn't know where to, freezing up and intermittently making erratic movements (back away a little)

signs of an aggressive cow: head down with attention on you, pawing ground, turning to show you their broad side. (turn sideways and calmly but swiftly walk away diagonally)

[princessbrunette]

when kitty!reader gets arrested for stupidly overstepping with a cop, it’s a no brainer that jj is coming to pick her up from the station. you’re expecting cockiness, maybe some middle fingers, and then some shared banter with you to cheer you up. what you don’t consider, is how hard it might be for jj to step foot back in that place.

your demeanour immediately softens when he steps up to the office to collect you, after being unnecessarily searched by a cop. his eyes are raking over you cautiously as he’s talking to shoupe, a hand rubbing at his chest anxiously which really — should have been the first sign that he just didn’t like it here.

from the way he was lacking mirth — clearly displeased, you assume the night would head in another direction instead. hard core dominance, a punishment — perhaps being forced over his lap or overstimulated until you cry. to think like this, he’d clearly spoiled you in the past.

you start rambling as he walks you out the station gripping your arm, barely getting a breath in.

“since when is it a crime to give ‘attitude’ anyway? they really think i’m a threat to anyone? what a bunch of pussies — seriously jayj, these are the people meant to be protecting us. all i did was state the truth, being that —”

“hey, hey alright—” he’s sudden with the way he addresses you, your words cut off as he pulls you to stand directly infront of him, both of his hands on your shoulders. you brace for the telling off that you probably deserve. instead, his voice is soft and he looks tired. “are you okay? did they touch you? ‘cus if they did i’m heading back inside so you gotta tell me now baby.” his gaze is intense and the little relieved smile you had was completely wiped from your face, blinking up at him like the seriousness had just settled in.

“i… no. they didn’t hurt me they just cuffed me but it was fine.” you’re taken aback and he sighs, tonguing at his bottom lip in thought before stepping back and pulling his cap off to run a hand through his hair.

“you know, like — i had hoped that you’d atleast paid attention and learnt from my mistakes. these cops they’re not — they’re not good people. you get that, right? like — if you piss ‘em off once, they don’t stop picking on you. look what they did to me.” his voice is still uncharacteristically soft with you, totally exasperated. you hug yourself, suddenly a lot more ashamed.

“really?”

“yeah. really.” you feel the irritation he’s holding back. “look i love you babe, and i’m glad you’re okay — but i’m not happy. at all. pretty pissed right now, honestly.”

the ride back to his is silent, and you hope that once you’re home things will simmer down. you just want to forget the day you’ve both had and go to sleep. apparently, so does he — but not with you. he avoids your eyes as he drags a pillow to the couch in the living room, followed by a blanket.

“jayj?” you sound so broken that he wants to give in, but you have to learn. he physically flinches at your voice, resisting.

“no, okay. i’m — i’m not mad. i just… being back in that place, after my dad…” he finally looks at you, and the memory of seeing you in there visits him all over again, springing that bothersome irritation in his chest. “i thought you’d get it. gimme a little time here.”

he sees how shattered you look and presses his lips together, dragging his feet towards you. he softly grips your face and kisses your forehead. “go to bed. it’s fine.”

you cry when you shut the bedroom door. you cry as you change into your pyjamas. you cry as you brush your teeth. you do eventually drift off, but you’re back up at 3:30AM, sniffling once more. you get it, you messed up — but neither of you needed this.

you pad into the living room to find jj staring at the ceiling, eyes floating to you where you paw at your eye, unable to stop the quiet mewls as you cry. he doesn’t say much, just opens his blanket to welcome you in beside him.

the anger at you returns, but you don’t mind when you’re on your back with your legs around his waist — your teary eyed boyfriend pummelling his dick into you repeatedly. he grits his jaw, pulling himself together.

“you think you’re a bad girl now, ain’t that right kitty? wanna do bad girl things n’get arrested jus’ like your boyfriend? you can’t handle that shit, your spoiled ass can’t even handle being scolded a little.” he rants breathlessly before sitting up to get a better angle, the blanket sliding off his back. he pushes your legs up and you whine.

“i’m s— i’m sorry papa won’t do it again!” you cry and he scoffs. it’s mean.

“you’re damn right, mama. clearly i got some bad behaviour to correct. what’s gonna teach you a lesson? me fuckin’ that little ass?”

your eyes glimmer with hope at the premise of this punishment and he gives your cheek a swift little tap before you get any ideas. “yeah, don’t gimme that look kitty. ain’t gonna feel like a reward when i do it, can tell you that for free.”

[pink-key]

How would Toby be with a romantic partner if he ever entered a relationship (like would he be toxic/romantic/etc??)

This will be long, buckle up, as I want to tackle multiple questions.

This is an x y/n headcanons visual thing.

Warning: Terrible writing. Might be slightly dark. Very very long

Firstly, all depends on the closeness you have with Toby.

🍨 Plaything

🍰 Congratulations, you got him interested in you. Maybe it's your overly humorous reaction to him running after you, while he was chaotically swinging his hatchets. Maybe you had a drastically different reaction to his previous victims.

🍰 Either way, he loves tormenting you; his morals are either absent or corrupt. He likes to scare you, looking into your window to your room at night, laughing and rambling nonsense once you notice him (doesn't matter which floor you live on; he can climb). He can inflict some minor or not so pain on you, especially during his episodes, from randomly swinging his weapons in anger or excitement to pushing you around. There is no particular aim in that; he just feels like it, or his mind is fogged by voices and emotions.

🍰 Contrary to popular belief, he isn't shy, he isn't easily embarrassed. He is loud, obnoxious; he will make his opinions known to you; he will comment on anything you do or any of your clothes, personal belongings, even your family. He is here to have fun, not to worry about your feelings. As long as you entertain him, he will keep you alive, driving you to madness.

🍰 He can and will find you anywhere, will make you look like an insane person to other people. He is good at hiding and is skilled at hurting physically and emotionally from a distance (throwing a rock in the head, displacing objects in the room to make one paranoid, etc.). A 2-meter-tall stalker running around with two axes after you? You're hilarious, y/n!

Coincidentally, his boss doesn't order him to kill you; maybe you don't disturb his work much, after all, he doesn't visit you all the time (his life doesn't revolve around you). Just the least when you expect him.

🍰Telling him he is disgusting or commenting his mental issues will result in an instant end, unless he would want to play a chasing game in the forest with you before that.

🍰 If you have an S/O, he will mock you for choosing such a pitiful person as a partner. Just hope he won't involve your S/O in your little games. He doesn't care about your personal life, but he sure knows how dear this relationship is to you.

🍨 "We are buddies, r-right?"

🍰 You somehow managed to survive his attacks, random outbursts, mood swings, threats and, for some reason, decided to befriend him.

Honestly, being his friend is the healthiest you can get and keep bits of your private space at the same time.

🍰 He, despite being insane, brainwashed, and amnesiac, starts to see you more than just an amusement park attraction as a cute little pet, not really an equal. Your relationship is a bit more than him having a blast using physical or mental torture on you. Your presence and personality are also fun, who knew?!

🍰 Maybe, would EVEN feel a slight parody of pity for you. Especially if you tell him your sad stories of your life. He is terrible at comforting, but if the stars align right, he can play his favorite cassettes to you with cheery songs or try to make jokes, but don't expect that to happen every time. Maybe a pat on the head would happen, usually, he would tell you to stop being sad as there are worse things to cry about.

🍰 He teases you and pranks you a lot. Doesn't matter what state you are in.

🍰 His idea of friendship is a bit twisted. You won't mind that he will destroy your belongings if he finds them annoying, right? You are friends! Friends don't hold grudges against each other! Or if he would hurt your family members or friends because they said or did something that triggered his aggression, right? Friends forgive each other! You don't mind sharing everything with him, from food to information, because friends don't keep secrets from each other!

🍰 There is a good part to this relationship. He is kinder to you. Perhaps, would bring you a cute little trinket or object stained in blood. Friends make gifts for each other! He would appreciate it if you would give him something. Be careful what you give him, as he interprets your gifts in his own way. New hoodie? Are you implying his tastes are bad? Are you mocking him?

🍰 This is also where you can shape your friendship into a seemingly normal one. Food is a safe option. Learn what he likes to convey to him that you care about him. The man needs kindness deep inside. It will confuse him; he might get angry at you, at the world without understanding why, but the long-term result is worth the risk.

🍰 If you are in danger, he might save you. Although you will bear the guilt of some hooligans being either deadly hurt or dead.

🍰 He is also more open to you. You can hold small conversations with him, discussing music, for example. However, if he is in one of his episodes or even just mood swings, he can snap, shout at you or just be mad at you for an unknown reason, while rambling something incomprehensible and leave you alone for a week or more. Violence isn't completely off the table either.

🍰 If you have an S/O (or just hangs out with friends), He can get jealous because you don't pay attention to him at that exact moment. He isn't always jealous, just sometimes. If he is in a terrible mood, might even hurt your S/O, he isn't shy at that stage to involve anyone in the mess. He can complain about your S/O. It's not advised to dispute him, as he can get angry at you. You are his friend! Why are you fighting him?

🍨 Obsessive

🍰 After a lot of talking, gifts and, if you were bold enough, light friendly physical touch, he is feeling smitten by you.

🍰 You notice weird signs of attention from him, he makes some sort of romantic gestures, but it comes off as creepy to you. For instance, he thought a fur coat is what you would like, but he didn't realise you need to work on the fur instead of giving it bloody to you.

🍰 He doesn't understand himself, his voices aren't helping him either, he is feeling hate then sickly love from one second to another. If he thinks too much about that, he twitches and tics more than usual, especially in your presence. He is more distant; he doesn't respond to you. He just sits there, shifting his eyes without focusing on anything, occasionally roughly turning to one of his auditory hallucinations.

🍰 You don't understand his ramblings or whispers, and now they are more disjointed than ever. He avoids you for a few months or even more. It worries you more than him being around you, as you're used to his presence by now. Who knows, maybe he got bored with you and just contemplates how brightly he could end your life.

🍰 He can't run from his feelings forever. As a snow during summer, he busts into your house and just dumps all his thoughts on you—just an incomprehensible jumble. You won't understand it right away until he grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into an embrace, then pushes you away, twitching, staring into your soul, waiting for your response. He doesn't say, but he already knows how you feel, even if he lies to himself. He is attentive and sensitive to human emotions, and he reads body language quite well.

🍰 You have a choice. If you deny his love, either one of things will happen. You die because he feels like it. You don't like him, if he kills you, he kills his feelings for you at the same time. Yet, there is a slim chance he can just forcefully make you like him, can lead to kidnapping, but you won't love him that way either, he would realize that, that's not right, and you are also dead in this scenario.

🍰 If you lie and accept his feelings, you won't last long, either. He notices all the slight restless movements around him, your discomfort, the way you look at him. He hates liars, so it's best to be honest and die quickly rather than slowly.

🍰 If you have a strong, twisted friendship and you learn how to talk to him, how to act when he is difficult to interact with, and you just find him with his bouquet of disorders and trauma charming in his own way, then you don't need to say much to him.

🍰 He doesn't know anything about relationships. He can come off as toxic, as his jealousy flies from low to high in a matter of moments. He is still a snappy, angry, insane serial killer, he just now sometimes apologizes if he was too rude to you. More gifts too, woo-hoo!

🍰 He is obsessive, but that also depends on a lot of circumstances. He wants to be around you as much as possible. Just your presence gives him some sort of emotional bliss when his thoughts are a bit less loud than usual. At the same time, his thoughts are chaotic and get under his skin, and he can disappear for some time. Or one of your words can trigger him; he can be violent or distant.

🍰 Dates with him are attempts to replicate what he sees in movies. He watched whatever old VHS he found in abandoned cabins or houses in the woods, so it's pretty vanilla and traditional, dare I say: eating ice cream together, watching movies, slowly dancing to some old music. He uses old pickup lines too if he feels particularly spicy.

🍰 He isn't touchy. He is touchy unless there is a sinister goal in mind or he wants to be annoying. Toby subconsciously associates touch with bullying or violence. You have to teach him to appreciate affection and kindness, and it will take you a lot of time.

🍰 Eventually, with a lot of pain he adjusts to your taction. He likes to sit next to you, shoulder pressed against yours, while resting his head on your shoulder or head, enjoying peace and silence, while you fidget with his fingers, occasionally placing brief kisses on bruises on his hand. He likes small touches. Once he learns what a surprise hug is, he abuses the life out of it. Be prepared to have mini-heart attacks when he screeches into your ear and hugs you from behind while you return from a small grocery trip back home. Other than that, his level of tactility remains the same.

🍰 His mask and goggles are also mental protection for him from the world. You notice that he takes them off when he is around you.

🍰 He is weak for compliments..even if he overthinks, in some instances, becomes angry or sad, whatever mood hits at the moment, but deep down he is squealing. He will hint at that in his own way by trying to compliment you. This is also important as at times he feels paranoid you are plotting something against him, so compliment him when you can.

🍰 Small acts, like maybe washing his bloody clothes or sewing them as they have a lot of holes, makes him intensely love you. He just stares at you, you just think he is probably hallucinating something.

🍰 Movies showed what women truly desire, so he is a gentleman, ..tries to be, so he would bring you flowers that he probably snatched from a nearby garden. Would keep the door for you, all that, his twitching, ticking, can make it unpredictable. If you're slammed by the said door on your side, trust him, he didn't mean it.

🍰 If you see him just lying down and doing nothing for days, don't try to extremely cheer him up or, goodness forbid, say "smile some more." Just be by his side, be patient. He will become cheery again soon.

🍰 He is jealous, he cares about your attention more than ever. So be careful how you act around your friends, family, or strangers if you want them to be at least alive by the morning.

🍰 His mind can be fogged by rage sometimes, so stay out of his way, he isn't in his head when he is like that.

🍰 Oh, if you have an S/O while he is in this state. No more of that S/O, maybe not you either. If anyone dares to flirt with you, no more of that person, either. You can beg Tobs to just end the lesson with a severe beating but good luck with that. He may switch his unstable bloodthirst onto you if you try too hard.

If you reach this, thank you for reading this war and peace, hope this all makes a bit of sense lmao.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 18

part 1, prev part

The seat vinyl creaks when Steve sits down next to him. Having come back after dropping Dustin off. Wayne wasn’t expecting him to but here he was. Sitting and playing with the hem of his sweater.

“The kid home?”

Steve nods. Eyes glassy. “How long has Eddie been doing that? Cursing at you.”

Wayne shifts in his seat. “Twice. That I’ve been here at least. Had to take a break after the first time, heard he swore up and down at the nurses. They had to restrain him, so he didn’t pull the IV out.”

Or worse. Eddie’s not a violent person. But in this state, there’s really no telling what he’ll do. He’s still remembering how to be himself again.

Wayne thought that he’d be angrier at them restraining him. He wasn’t though. They had to put their safety first, and he understood that. It was his own hands that have restrained him twice now. Knowing the unusual strength that he has while fighting. All his energy rushing to do so, exhausting him.

Leaving him just like he is now. Sleeping.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to see that,” Steve says softly. “I know it can’t be easy. I barely knew him and I’m upset, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

Wayne doesn’t even know what he’s feeling half the time. He can’t even start to care about how other’s think he’s feeling.

“How did you and him end up together over spring break anyway?” he asks to skirt the conversation. Offering the olive branch he should have extended the first time he realized that Steve knew the real truth.

Steve lets out a long sigh. “It was Dustin really. When the news broke that morning, Dustin and Max came into the shop and convinced us to find Eddie. We did, he told us what happened, and we knew that it was true. Then we went looking to try and find the person who did it.”

“Did you?” The question has depth beyond those two words. Wayne searching the way Steve responds to see if this is the same person that put his boy here. If that person is still a threat to them all.

“Yeah,” he nods. With lingering uncertainty. “If everything went the way we planned, he won’t be coming back.”

It shouldn’t have to have come down to kids. This fight, this hunt, whatever it was, Wayne’s not so sure why it was highschoolers chasing after them. Not the police, or the government. Not like Wayne trusted them in the slightest. It just seemed like a better option than children.

The conversation pauses, both wondering what to say next. Still bridging that gap from acquaintances to friends. If that’s anything close to what they are going to be. Wayne has found friends in unknowing places these last few weeks. People adding him on a roster he never thought he’d be a part of. Supporting him through all of this.

Helping him through the hardest time he’s ever gone through.

“I talked to Dustin, told him to take a break from visiting Eddie for a few days. Told me you said the same.”

“Yeah, I did. The kid pushes himself to do more than he needs to.”

Steve nods, crossing his arms. “I know. I love him to death, but he doesn’t know when to give up. Especially when the people he loves are hurt.”

Another pause.

“I wanted to thank you for being there for him, it’s been helping him a lot.”

There wasn’t a scenario in Wayne’s mind where he would ever not be there for the kid. It was the easiest decision he’s had to make since all of this started.

“It’s no problem. He’s a good kid and I know Eddie cares for him a lot.”

“I do too. He’s like a brother to me and this has been hard for all of us. And, I haven’t been able to be there for him as much as I want to be, with all of the things I’ve gone through since spring break. Your plate hasn’t exactly been empty either. Thank you for taking the time to look out for him. He might not show it, but he’s really grateful that you’re here.”

Wayne can’t help but smile at that.

next part

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[court-jobi]

Unsee

((Banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5.1k

Rating: T+

Warnings: CH 362 SPOILERS, Pro-Hero! Bakugou x reader, angstttt, HURT/COMFORT, light PTSD, anxious stomach/vomiting, discussions about death, lots of comfort, est.relationship and lots of softness + trauma sharing

Summary:

When you love someone, you love their past, present, and future selves-- even if you were not part of their story for the hills and valleys that have made them who they are. This was the way of heroes: risking it all, even to death. You should know this threat by now, as it's the life you make for yourself as well-- but it's so much harder to keep the mentality when it's your loved ones on the line. You learn the extent of one of the biggest trenches in Katsuki Bakugou's life, and it shakes you to your core.

A/N: since I first envisioned my lil biker! reader, I've had this exact interaction on loop in my head. Making it the internet's problem now. apologies in advance for the feelings I've dumped in this fic. Signed, "Bakugou would hold your hair back" Club President

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Weekday mornings pass by generally uneventfully nowadays, leaving you with not much to do except to wait for calls for hero pickups when the shifts change over. It makes you feel like a bit of a taxi service, but the relaxed vibe makes up for the emergency response times you’re faced with in the dead of night when you get a message from the on-call line. 

After a brief stop by your office space to glance at your inbox, you take a lap around the Service Lab in order to catch up with Hatsume. 

There’s no one better fit to upgrade your helmet models and even take a special interest in how to bulk up your hero costume in order to protect you better. That’s a revolving topic from Bakugou’s lips as well, so your bringing up the idea wasn’t a foreign one– a revelation that touched you, deep under the professional front you keep here in the office. 

Hatsume is highly sought after nowadays. Time in her own lab is where she should be calling home, but given her sporadic interest in all things support tech, she has been prone to taking outsourced Technical Outsource calls for nearby agencies– especially when said agencies employ her dear old schoolmates. 

When you join her today, she’s busy talking shop and ropes you right into the conversation by pulling you right into her personal space. As far as subject matter, it’s hit or miss if you can contribute anything to the conversation, though today you’re pleased to see that she's in full ‘Dynamight’ mode. 

A favorite topic of yours– and of all the tech assistants in the room. Mei, however, holds a far more casual opinion of Bakugou out of familiarity. They’re hardly on a first-name basis as you are, but hearing her peel back details about the larger-than-life sweetheart of yours is both fun and enlightening to hear. 

Through your visits with her over the last year or so, you’re still not one hundred percent sure she actually knows what he means to you, because she barely looks you in the face as you cut your attention over old footage of him across all of her schematics monitors. Had she studied you as much as she studies Bakugou’s shoulder cannons, she’d spot your particular brand of appreciation by the tracing of a finger on your lower lip. 

"Yeah it's kinda nice sometimes to jump back to basics with Blasty,” Hatsume drifts into a relaxed state back at her table, “Simple fixes like this -darn thing- hmmmthere we go!- Yep, some things never change! Always smart to figure out how to store more sweat, defer more exhaust. Lil harder now that it used to be, having to worry about the magnets."

“Magnets,” you throw in a word, catching up to her thought process, “What, on his belt?”

“No, those clip into place! The way he complains about ‘em with his gloves though, I should probably look into making them easily detachable, too.. But no, I mean the ones he used to have across his chest, back when we made the first suit edits at UA: Year Three,”

Hatsume keeps a long, archived track record with Bakugou, if her nearby drive bogged down with version files is indication of how many changes she’s made to his hero costume and support items…

“-- because we were trying to offload weight from his arms, I tried to strap ‘em to his torso. Only we learned pretty quick the strength of magnet grade was affecting the charges where it was hitting along his chest.”

"Charges–” you pay more attention now, inspecting what she’s doing. Hatsume doesn’t look your way, but is listening, “In the grenades?" 

Do they go off at any second?? You assumed Bakugou’s smaller bombs were pulled in traditional fashion with a pin, as you’ve seen him use them in action firsthand. Hatsume has hard work, if she’s having to check each and every one of those, too…

"Oh! Haha no!" she chuckles brightly, "Sorry hun, shop term: ‘electromagnetic charges’! Each baby bombie has them, even when they’re not in use– but they don’t go live unless triggered. But in the rare event of a preemptive ignition, I didn’t want the chain reaction settin’ off his heart! Couldn’t use the strap anymore after that hoo-hah; too close to the loop device in the ‘ole ticker~"

Now that she’s talking organs, you start to get a pang of nerves. 

You know Bakugou’s quirk is biometrically dangerous, but till now, you’ve not worried about the risks it would cause him in that way. Even more, you didn’t know of any internal monitoring device he’d have to check for that sort of activity. Bakugou went to the doc here in this building, when he’s in too rough shape to handle himself. But beyond that, you’re stumped.

"Whyyyy would that matter? What’s inside him, again?"

Hatsume handles the internal wiring of Bakugou's cannons with ease-- now that nothing is connected to an active, explosive vial of sweat. With her outfitted eyes set on the tiny soldering work, Hatsume's got Bakugou’s chart up and briefly  flicks it over to the shared screen. 

"'Dat one, 'hurr," the a teeny tool in her teeth drops at her need to speak, "I pull a read on his heart monitor whenever I come around to keep tabs on things- same as the core staff here does! Works like a charm with the new heart, now that he's had time to build up muscle around it~"

You look for yourself at the screen as she chatters-- and are horrified at what you find there in a continuous crawl across the screen.

Can't move. You can't breathe. 

Can't understand how the hell Mei is still talking with such pep in her voice, when these pictures are taking nearly all of your composure away:

Nothing in your career prepared you to see stills of Katsuki lying stock still and caked with blood. 

You're pale as the ghost you're looking at– as gutted as he is in this photo: frozen in time. The archive thumbnails are mostly drone footage, but this much you can see clearly- and wish with everything in you that you could unsee it.

The reference photos on his hero account don't show the extensive medical layover you see here in his technical file. You run through every tiny detail in the stills above you on the screens. 

He's incredibly young. The soil around him, plants barely peeking out from the battle-torn ground; it's gotta be the big fight he rarely talks about. It's where he's got certain scars across his arms, chest, and the one cutting across his face; that much he's told you. They’re scars you’ve kissed and shown love and care for in his quietest moments, in which he felt the need to tell you why they stand out more than the others. In that much, Katsuki was honest… but not enough about this.

He never once mentioned organ replacement. 

He's never told you his arm was torn to shreds by his own doing. 

He never told you he’s living his second chance at life at the expense of another Pro Hero he’d never mentioned either--well, third if you could the brief blip while he was on the operating table after the battle. Didn't flatline for very long, according to these surgery notes, but still...

Surgery notes. Plural. There's many here. Wires sustain his oxygen and bloodflow, putting color back in his face. There's streaks across his cheeks- marred with tracks of soot and old blood, mixing with what must have been tears of pure exhaustion and rage and resolve. Yours sting at your own lash line. Every nerve ending clams up in your body: worse than the wreck that almost put you out of commission.

In your mind, Dynamight’s professional headshot is a flat, grumpy one. No smile to be found, but at least there's a spark behind the eyes.

He's not dead. 

He literally brought you a can of coffee this morning. 

He stopped you from getting up from the dining table too soon, needing to turn the clasp of your necklace around first because it was 'pissing him off'.

You know he's not dead– but you wish you'd never set foot in this room.

That old coffee's turned to lava in your gut.

"And these boots of his– they make too much noise! Talk about stealth-”

"Scuse- me, Hatsume.."

"--I know he’s not necessarily a known stealth hero, but– hey, when did she leave??”

He may not like how slick they go on when applied, but Bakugou had to admit it, these counterirritant patches were the best dang thing to ever happen to his shoulder blades. Menthol flooding his senses by heat activation, he was feeling better already after his first catch of the day.

After getting the note from Hatsume that his gauntlets were ready to pickup from R&D, he traipsed into her room while texting you. Just a short n’sweet message, hoping that he’d be able to cross paths with you before he’d need to go out again. The messenger app showed you were active within a few minutes ago, but you haven't responded to his messages.

He comes in, half listening to Hatsume’s rant to the staff technicians once again. He catches sight of his file, streaming up at the top of her video wall.

"Ugh, this again?” Bakugou barks out, “What am I, a sideshow to you science freaks?!"

"Hardly when we're the ones you need, Blasty," Hatsume huffed his way, "and besides, I think you better watch who you're talking smack to about this stuff anyway! And it wasn't online for my freaks, anyway. They know your work orders inside and out~ you should be nicer to them!"

You tell him as much, in his more crotchety moments… and you are always right. 

Bored of the medical records, he turns to his completed support items out on the reception table, "Then what're you blasting all this shit for? Haven’t had any arrhythmias for months."

“Just because you haven’t had any doesn't mean it’s not a good idea to circle back and check. We can learn plenty from stable periods, just as much as emergencies, ya know!”

Bakugou simply rolls his eyes, throwing a grumbly word of thanks to the technician who brings over the case for said equipment, and starts packing it into place. 

Hatsume slips her goggles up her face. Trying to read the Pro Hero before her wasn’t a hard task; he usually deflects when his weaknesses are on full display. 

"You want my advice Mr. Murder God?” Hatsume turns more solemn– an attitude she rarely radiates. 

“Sounds like you’re gonna give it anyway.”

“I think your teammates outta know what all's happened to you, cuz it sure isn't obvious to everyone. ‘Specially the ones who hang around you all the time… I think it’d be smart if they kept an eye out any emergencies, too- like your transport queen around here– Joyride, isn’t it?"

Katsuki flinched. He turns back from the table -past Hatsume- and centers back up to the full view of the record up on her computer. 

He’s not so irritated by its presence anymore… but rather worried about how long it’s been up there, in full view of the room.

"...She saw all this?..."

"Mmmmyea, pretty sure?" Hatsume was already engrossed in her current project, "Was in the middle of your pieces when she came by. She normally doesn’t as so many questions, but she sure was today till she-”

Kaminari slides into the lab -winded and nervous as all getout- nearly colliding with the reception table altogether. He almost hit Bakugou square in the face, since the hothead had turned ready to bust out of the room himself.

"Oh geez, (heh) there you are, Bak- (heh) listen-- your girl's barfing her brains out! You know if she's sick or something??"

Bakugou grimaced and seethed at his own negligence-

"fuuuUUUCK," he hissed rounding the table, before he remembered Hatsume- "YOU, DUMBASS-"

"Scuse you???!"

"TURN THAT SHIT OFF, AND WHEN I GET BACK, WE'RE HAVIN' WORDS-- AND YOU-" Bakugou yelled back to Kaminari, carrier of bad news as he was, "WHERE. IS SHE."

"Bathroom by the rec room- but, hey man, it's locked!!"

Bakugou didn’t take time to listen more as he books it down the hall, making a beeline to where you'd be.

Down the hall just a few corridors away, you hadn’t made it far to take your leave. Bakugou approaches where a couple sidekicks hear you coughing behind a door, and are presently failing to be let in. The sound is heart-wrenching, hearing you sick, but he’s in full protective mode and ready to take out the door himself if need be. 

He’s breathing hard, and scares them as he snaps and points harshly for them to move. They do, but not without one of them looking soured that he's getting in their face when they were only trying to help.

Coming to the door, Bakugou tries the handle despite Kaminari’s clear warning that it is indeed locked. He immediately rears up to bang his announcement, but rotates that fist to use just knuckles and taper his knocks down to a reasonable level. He's no less frantic in speech though, calling for you hoarse and breathy -mindful of his audience, only at first-

"Joyride...hon', it's me. Open up."

You're crying on the other side, but gasp when you hear him speak. An urp of a gurgle hits you in the quiet that follows, then another stomach-churning cough.

The rant of expletives that runs through his mind is enough to turn Bakugou’s own stomach... He palms his face for a minute, before letting his forehead drop to the door and speaks again.

"I can't help you if I can't see you, sweet’eart. I… know I got a lot to answer for." 

The chances of him greeting a furyless version of you all gone, Bakugou accepts his fate. 

"-And I figure if you're gonna yell at me, you should do it to my face. Please open the door."

After a sniffle and an incredibly uncomfortable beat of quiet where Bakugou is staring at the doorknob below him -gripping it in wait to open the second he hears the upper safety lock move-... he finally does, the moment you release it.

Bakugou steps in the single stall room -deftly fast- then locks it right up behind him. The girls on the other side fuss again, but he doesn’t give a spare thought to their efforts.

Down on the floor, not even fully sat back yet from your reach to catch the door, you're the most miserable sight. Stuffing a used-up paper towel that’s in reach by your stash, you're folding the unsoiled side to try and clear off your face and blow your nose for good measure.

What's worse, you can't bear to look at him.

With a careful sigh, Bakugou knows he's got a world of explaining to do- but has a greater worry over your slumped self on the tile floor. He’s seen you with the flu, and you weren’t this sick.

"Baby–"

One word and you're crying again, head down into your knees. Bakugou can only imagine what headspace you’re in, and the list of what he thinks he can say to console you is now down to zero. Actions it is, then. 

Bakugou kneels down, swiping your hair back into a rough pony by teething off a hair tie from his wrist to secure it. Just in case you feel sick again, it wouldn’t hurt, he reasons. Once freshened, he takes away your trash bucket next without a word. Collects all the used bits of your attempt at cleanliness into the trash, barely a care for how many there were to clean up. Whatever he’d need to do -whatever you’d allow him to do- that’s how he’s determined to serve.  

Finally, he shifts from a kneel to a sit. The blonde crisscrosses his stance under him, bringing you by both arms to pull you forwards, into his lap. 

At first you're confused at his hands' insistence, but since he's made himself in prime position to hold you, he's glad to see you fall to the open invitation even in a dire time like this. A little shaky, but still you clamber over to his lap on your knees until he can get you settled the rest of the way himself.

Chest to chest, legs astride him, he'd hoped he'd catch a better look of your face as you came over-- but no such luck as you duck your head in. His chance at helping you remains though, as you’re holding him tight around the neck and shoulders and clearly aren’t averse to him. Frightened enough for one day -maybe even a lifetime- Bakugou lets you cling on, and simply holds you tight in return.

All that matters to him is that you're positioned as close as humanly possible. Protected. Safe to cry and ready to just absorb it. He knows it's what he deserves, and considers himself your personal sponge.

To your hiccups making you jump against his chest, he just pets through your hair quietly hushing you to stillness.

"I'm here." He takes a tepid breath. "I’m not there, baby, I'm right here."

You stutter, but simply try to control your own breaths.

"i--... I'm so.. so.. 've never been so upset.."

"I know."

"I feel so'sick.. y’looked–"

The impulse to kick aside that damn puke bucket is raging within him-- but knowing your possible need for it, he brings it close instead. 

"I know, babe.”

He'll get you set before you head out on patrol today. If you ever settle… but for now, he's focused on the one thing he can control, and that’s getting you as comfortable as possible.

From here, you can't look at him, but you can look straight ahead- which shows you Bakugou's full back in the mirrored wall. The movement when he breathes, his neck craning as he lowers his head to sink over your shoulder. How you're being held so tightly it shows in each muscle group.

You can't see it, but feel it: cold breath blown from his lips, to comfort onto your heated neck. Bakugou's lifted up your haphazard ponytail, trying to introduce some cool touch to you in this small space.

You gather it's an apology, done his way-- seeing as he's unintentionally created this catastrophic response in your body.

As you've told him in your most private moments, you've only really felt this raw outlash of emotion in the workplace once before: the day you found out your sweet brother in arms, T’challa, passed away so expectedly. You suppose that's why this is jarring you so strongly now; losing him was the first major loss in your life, years before you met Bakugou.

This is so different, but all the same. A core figure in your support system- your inner circle– here one minute and gone the next. This was the way of heroes. You should know it by now, but it still breaks your tender heart. Even looking at snapshots of Katsuki at his lowest has you heartbroken and shocked.

You're a dichotomy of strength: tough enough to ride headfirst into a mission, but also prone to such intense emotion in your most private moments that you retreat into yourself and deal with an anxious gut all by yourself. Anything to protect the image you keep.

Only today, that exterior means nothing to Katsuki. Not when he alone can try and hold you back together while you try and fix yourself enough to speak coherently.

He's been holding himself together solo for far too long, too; you’ve known this from the first day he out and out confessed ‘I’m bad at this’ when he asked to simply hold your hand in public. You can feel it in your conjoined breaths, cycling back and forth for comfort. He’s unsettled, too– his new heart’s going far too fast.

“Did you actually die out there?” you manage in broken whispers. 

Tell me I just thought the worst.

“... I did,” Bakugou answered calmly, “But I didn’t wan’ you to see how. Not alone.”

“Would you have shown me? Ever?”

“Doesn’t exactly come up at the breakfast table, angel.”

‘But it should have by now.’ 

Bakugou senses the retort and simply pets through your hair again, another apology written by touch. 

“But… I coulda picked any other time, by now. You know everything else. I swear.”

Everything meaning injuries, you hope to God… “No more?”

“No more surprises. I promise.”

Secure enough to take a deep inhale, you try to lift your sights heavenward. 

Such a sobering thought you have to operate in on the daily, knowing hero work is among the deadliest professions. You could lose your best friends at any time, anyone you love. In that vein, you are trying your best not to be selfish with your need for Bakugou’s safety…. Yet you still hold that small hope that as long as you have each others’ backs, you have a shot at staying ahead and staying alive- together. 

Back then, you didn’t know each other. Katsuki Bakugou lived an entire life before he met you, one you were still learning.

"I didn’t know how bad it was for you…” you remember the site of the attack, what surrounded him- or rather, what didn’t. So much of that battlefront had been laid low. That told you as much as the injuries, how bleak everything looked.

Bakugou takes a centering breath himself. His grip on you never lessens. 

"It was the worst day of my life,” he shares, “I fought the world's greatest villain. Almost watched my hero die… Almost lost my best friend, all on the same day. Bad memories all around, for all of us."

Memories that seep into sleep.

"S'that what you dream about? When it gets bad?"

Taking the shot at Shigurake, sent flying back by his own ricocheted blast, giving it all- fruitless as it might have been in the moment when every bone in his body felt like it was bleeding out of every pore. 

You know somewhere in that event, the best friend Katsuki speaks of must have been on the brink of death in an emotional full-circle moment, for he never speaks ill of him in all the ways that matter. He’s a dork, but he’s his dork. You identified their relationship as special from the moment you’d met Izuku Midoriya but… in a deeper way than you’d found the words for yet. They’re twin stars, bound by something stronger than you even think you share with Katsuki some days. Or maybe it’s just different– not one bond that’s better than another. 

You've heard him waking in a panic those nights: how he calls for Izuku, and wakes up in tears. Even in recent months, he doesn't always explain why he’s crying, only that he wants to bury it for the night… and that you help him do that. 

On the subject of those nightmares, today’s discovery of that era of Bakugou’s past becomes painfully clear.

And so, he answers honestly, "...yeah." 

“That’s so scary, Katsuki. You were so young.”

He feels around with one hand between your crammed bodies- for yours. Your head's still hung over his shoulder, but you crane back to watch what he's doing.

 He puts it in place over his heart, forehead knelt to yours.

"Here. This is me, now."

The heartbeat under your palm is strong- a little fast, at the moment.

"They asked me if I’d do it again, if given the chance. N’for the longest time, I woulda said ‘yes’. That’s what I figured heroes say, in the face of the unknown.”

Before you can let that thought gut you again, you feel Katsuki press his thumb in one singular spot: your empty ring finger.

“But I faced the unknown. It was– really light, actually. But all I wanted was more time. I wanted the time to say words. Say more, or- do more. I had to make it right to the ones who mattered. I’m still trying to make it right. And I was given that chance to raise hell, and won. So when I see that shit, I’m grateful. I’m stronger now because of what happened then.”

You look to his face now; the older, stronger, seemingly immovable version of that younger self that still makes its appearance when he’s more pensive. He is still stuck on the look of his thumb where your third knuckle should be…

“Looking at it today though, there is more that war gave me than just making me the hero I am now.”

You press into his heart, “What’s that?”

“If I’d stayed dead,” he treads carefully, “I wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t have someone who– cares for me, like you do. Who would care about that shitty kid who just barged ahead, even with warning signs going off everywhere.”

With a raise to kiss your hand, Bakugou lets his voice go raspy.

“You looked at that idiot and threw up- all because you cared,” he sniffs with a laugh, “Got a second chance at life, and got a complete knockout who gives a shit about me.”

Abrasive but honest; you laugh in full force. The odd thought passes you: why people watch gory, scary movies for ‘entertainment’ makes no sense to you. If they want horror, just take a gander at a pro-hero’s medical file. 

You cradle Katsuki’s head in for good measure and lay an appreciative kiss on his head. 

“Of course I give a shit,” you say hoarsely, “tho I prefer to say things like that with honey than vinegar, Kats.”

“Yeah, I know ya do… I count on it.”

When you hug him now, it’s a gentler connection. Bakugou still rubs his hand up and down your back, but out of affection instead of dire comfort. 

Finally you feel assured enough for now: you reconciled his past enough to have confidence in his present. He’s bold and never short of giving his all, but to know he acknowledges this living on extended time and has a unique appreciation for the cornerstones around him gives you calm again. 

Bakugou truly is your hero– who you know will drop everything to make sure he protects what’s closest to him first and foremost. 

When you sniffle and lick at the corner of your mouth, it still tastes sour and you finally register a pang of self awareness. You have to smell foul talking so close to him right now.

“I shoulda thought about gum or something..-sorry.”

“Would you stop,” Bakugou droned, taking out your insufficient ponytail now that you finally seemed settled, “I’m with you just about every morning the second you wake up, and I don’t give a fuck.”

Sweetly you silently thank his efforts with a sweet nod to how he put the hairtie back on his wrist. “Still, don’t mean to make it your problem.”

The hint of a smirk starting to come back to his face, you couldn’t completely eradicate his worry with one little bat of the eyes. 

“You are my problem. One I’m happy to fix up when I break it. We’ll get you freshened up when you’re ready. And only when you’re ready.”

You notice your position now on the floor of this bathroom and find it endearing how he managed full cuddle mode in such limited space. Surely the locked door was the straw that secured this.

But the knock was sure to halt it–

“Hey man, leave them alone!-”

“Um, hey ‘Joynamight’?~” Kaminari tested from the other side, “Haven’t heard any hurling in a while, are y’all good?”

“We’ll be GOOD when I SAY WE’RE GOOD!” Bakugou fired back, “HOLD YOUR DAMN HORSES, SPARKPLUG!”

Muting all laughter at the old school rivals was a challenge, but you did so while trying to gracefully detach from your loving partner. He let you with a steadying set of hands to yours to help push yourself up. You offer him steadying arms to pull him back up as well before putting your trashcan back to where it belonged. 

A rinse of your mouth later, you fan your face as best you could in a last-ditch effort to look like you haven’t been bawling like a baby. While he awkwardly stood to the side to give you a minute, you caught Bakugou thumbing at his waterline, too, with a stiff upper lip to get himself back in business. 

Once you rejoined him for a last hug, he readily accepts you with a rush of kisses to your forehead– just how you like it. It’s the mushiest he gets with you physically– guaranteed to get you back to your happy-go-lucky self. Once done, he smirks back at you pleased, petting your hair perfectly back into place. 

“You good?”

“I’m good~”

“OKAY, WE’RE GOOD, SHITTY HAIR!”

“Hey I was the one tellin’ him to lay off you guys!!”

“YEAH AND I CAN HEAR YOU SNICKERING FROM HERE.”

“Damn, for a guy with hearing loss, he sure can pick you out pretty well-”

Bakugou finally swings the door open, pissy as usual, “I HEARD THAT!!”

While Kirishima and Kaminari jog on, Bakugou pockets his hands and holds back for you. Once you exit, you figure you better brave a trip to the kitchen and make a round 2 of breakfast. 

“Something easy, ok?” he warns gently.

“I will. Won’t go fainting on ya~”

Knowing you’ll be on the roads later, Bakugou will impress a stable diet on you more than most.

“And no coffee.”

“Well, tie my hands completely, why doncha, Dynamight?” you sigh dramatically in the doorway.

He takes your chin in a bossy move, “Hey- m’lookin’ out for you, dummy.”

He sounds gruff and looks like he means it in the coolest of ways… but you hear everything in between the fussy brows and piercing eyes:

I care about you-

I’m sorry-

I know you’re this way because of me-

Never again-

Find me if you need me-

I love you- I love you- I love you-

“I know you are, Blasty~”

“UGH, she’s still calling me that shit too?!” Bakugou recoils further, shooting daggers down to the Tech Room, where he knows Hatsume is the one who fed you that old nickname.

You giggle as he stomps away, but he still throws back a last threat that you need to drink a fucking water before you go the fuck anywhere.

[twistedbloodstain]

could you please write a marquis fanfic where the reader is Akira’s sister and Vincent kidnaps her in hopes to lure John wick but he ends up just falling in love with her 😭

vincent de gramont x reader: i’d live and die for moments that we stole | words and wind.

plot: the one where you entered his estate in chains but left his home with his heart.

warning: lots of threats from mr. gramont here, one sided love, unrequited love, forced proximity but the force is him, akira’s sister!reader, dutiful reader, vincent winning the idgaf war a little too much here

masterlist

part two

a stroke of pain slowly goes through your temples, you wince. remembering how you accidentally hit your head on the floor when one of the guards had scampered on you when you tried to flee him, that’s when you realized that the marquis had no intention of negotiating with you.

it’s not often that you end up with situations like these, especially with how generous and thoughtful your terms had been with the marquis. you’ve gone through worse terms and even worser odds of successful negotiations, you just hadn’t realized what a fucking animal he was. for this to happen is surely a jab on your pride.

a metal clink rings through the room, a heavy and thick chain bound to your ankle. it was starting to cramp your leg with how large the chain was, you had half a mind to saw it out of your body because you feared that it might’ve lost function with how numb it was starting to feel.

the door opens and you look up. you don’t see anything or anyone right away with how dark it was. you had little to no source of light due to the current state of the night. it was pitch black and the only source of light you had was through the small window so far up the wall during the day.

but you don’t need to see to know who came through the door. it was the marquis, ever since your capture he had visited you in random times of the night to “negotiate.” which fueled your hatred for him due to him disturbing your sleep.

luckily, you’ve been expecting him.

a light bulb suddenly turns on which weakly illuminates the room, the luminescence was patchy but it was a welcoming sight to you. finally, you could see your prison.

you look up to him, still sat on the floor. it takes all your strength to not to lurch at him in anger even with the fact that his guards could easily deflect your attack and lead you somewhere worse.

the room you found yourself in was thankfully, clean. it was the size of a prison cell though, they did give you sufficient enough food but sometimes you had refused them out of lividness.

the small room seemed even smaller with the current person occupying it, the marquis’ height was staggering to behold and you had to admit it was intimidating at first.

all his aggressive and intimidation seemed nothing to your fury and determination as of now. it had all melted the moment he locked you in a cell which you assumed meant to drive you to compliance or insanity. he had another thing coming if he thought that one of shimazu’s children would bend to his fucking will.

“this is unacceptable and cruel, mademoiselle. i have recently received this unfavorable news from the tokyo continental. i found it important to share this with you immediately.” he speaks up then pauses. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this as you look into his eyes in disbelief.

he’s playing a new game with you again. a futile attempt for compliance but you’re not sure he knows it. did he think you were stupid and naive?

“after the recent assumptions of your capture, i had informed him of the new terms we agreed to…for a certain excommunicated individual, yet my informants say he has refused to comply even with the threat of his beloved daughter..being killed.” he continues when he notices that you had rolled your eyes at that. “he claims that you would’ve never agreed to it, we disagree with that don’t we, mademoiselle?” he mockingly asks.

you hadn’t agreed, which is precisely why you’re locked up in a cemented cage in the middle of nowhere. you had expected him to be courteous and polite as a representative of the table but you should’ve also expected that he wouldn’t be lenient with you.

“what kind of father abandons his daughter to die? not a good one, i suppose.” he taunts, “i have no idea how you must feel, anger probably. even under that facade you have-“

“lies have always come easy to you. does it?” you interrupt him.

this makes a corner of his lips tug, a smirk almost forming in the process.

“i have something for you.” he announces, you see a small box in his hand as he makes his way to you. you carefully eye him in hesitation as he kneels in front of you.

“anger too, you don’t seem the type to forgive and forget, everyone but me seems to know that.” you continue.

“in this world we live in, forgiveness should have no place in our hearts and forgetting is simply ignorance with different letters.” he replies as he sets the box down next to you.

“but concern, care and innocence…you’re not very good at that are you?” you finish in false pondering.

he chuckles at your words before replying to your statement, “you don’t seem to be alright. perhaps we can speak again when you are feeling much better?”

“we both know you did this, you are at fault for this and it amuses you to play with the lie that my father has forsaken me but i bet that he doesn’t even know about these terms you’ve offered, tell me what exactly were you trying to achieve?”

“i know that question is rhetorical but i will answer that for your enlightenment. accept the terms and you can finally go home. invite him to the continental under the guise of safe conduct and kill him, your father is acquainted with him, he will have his guard down.” he states matter of factly, you scoff at this.

“yes, i would finally go home. only to lead my family to fucking die, we both know what you’re asking from us. even if my father’s sentiments were put aside, we cannot kill him.” you urge him, “the moment he realizes our folly, my family is as good as buried.”

“my men will be present the moment he enters the establishment, you have nothing to fear. get your father to comply so we may finally get rid of him.”

“and how many men are you willing to offer?”

“sixty, but ten should be able to suffice. they’re quite proficient in their craft.”

“ten men or sixty, it matters little. they’ll be dead.” you scoff.

“your father won’t be the only old friend he’ll be seeing. i assume, you know caine?”

you quiet as you take that information in, you realized how desperate the high table must be to have john wick dead and how your family will be the one to pay the price for his death, which will surely be another insignificant number of dead people for them.

“having second thoughts, mademoiselle?” he eagerly inquires.

“with all due respect, i have to refuse you. accepting your terms puts a target on my family, i cannot risk that.” you disclose.

the marquis frowns, his eyes full of disappointment and displeasure from your answer. you presume that he must be on his way to leave you again, only to return in the middle of the night with another set of flowery words and false pretenses of remorse.

he suddenly yanks the chain strapped on your ankle and you yelp in pain, the skin wrapped around your bones is definitely sore and bruising. you’re pulled closer to him, you feel fear and fury fighting for control with the situation you’re facing.

“i have been too kind to you, mademoiselle. i hoped that my kindness to you would help you find common cause with me, it has failed and it will never work i finally see. i have a new proposal to make.” he grits out as he keeps his eyes on you, “get your father to follow the high table’s orders or they die. your father and sister, both. if you refuse to, rest assured i will send their heads to you.” he threatens.

he gets back up on his feet as he watches you take the information in while he slips his hand into his pocket, you hold back the cry that was boiling under your throat and your tears that were trying to escape the corner of your eyes. you look away from him, knowing that he noticed your current state of emotions but you can’t afford to feel weak and see his reaction out of it at the same time.

you wince inside with how pathetic you feel right now.

“perhaps that will give you a new answer to offer to me.” he taunts again, you promise to yourself that once you got out of here, he was fucking dead. one way or another he would be lifeless on the ground and it would be because of you.

“get out.” you whisper.

“finally, have you found your voice?”

“i said get out, you hateful bitch!” you scream at him, hurling the wooden box at him.

pieces of paper and stationery explode on the floor and you clench your jaw in anger at his statement.

“call out when you finally have an answer. hopefully, it is a letter to your father about your acquiescence.” he mutters as he makes his way to the door.

you lean back and sigh, finally letting a stray tear fall down your cheek.

you carefully watch the doctor inspect your ankle, you’re currently reclined on a soft loveseat placed in the middle of the elegantly furnished room. the marquis has taste you had to admit, though his home looked more like a palace than somewhere you’d relax.

you sigh to yourself, still annoyed that you were still in your prison. a lovelier one compared to the previous room but still a prison. you had given in to his demands, sooner or later john wick was entering the territory of the tokyo continental as expected. you had reluctantly written to your father about your agreement to the marquis’ orders, you desperately wanted to write the truth. in your days of isolation, it had only been you and your anger, leaving you to doubt certain aspects of your family.

you expected that your father might’ve been wary about your lengthy absence in france that he might at least send some of his men to come and fetch you yet you had heard nothing of the sort. this led you to doubt your family’s love for you but all these speculations turned to dust the moment the marquis entered the room.

it’s all his doing, you tell yourself.

he must be making it look like the negotiation was going smoothly and that you definitely weren’t locked up in a prison cell somewhere.

all your uncertainties were replaced with plans of malice the moment you had yourself free from the marquis. your long days spending time with yourself helped you formulate a plan to take him down simply because he had detained you.

and threatened to murder your family. it’s not really that petty.

he said it himself, forgiving and forgetting doesn’t exist in this world you both live in. it’s only fair.

of course, he wouldn’t die directly by your hand.

but you know someone that could.

you smile to yourself at the thought of him dead on the floor.

the doors fling open and the devil himself walks in.

you look back to see him, once again dressed impeccably and sophisticated. the marquis gestures his hand and you look back to the doctor who nods when he sees the movement of his hand then leaves.

he really has everyone with the flick of his hand.

he makes his way on the couch across you, embellished with silk and golden patterns dancing around the fabric. the couch creases as he sets himself down on the comfy material.

“i hope everything is to your liking, mademoiselle?” he starts as he leans back into the couch.

“it is, thank you.” you hesitantly thank him.

“no need, the high table rewards obedience and loyalty. sure, you have lost yourself in the earlier stages but it matters little. you have made the right choice.” he smirks at you, you fake a smile at him at his words.

“right.”

“how is your ankle?” he gestures at your limb propped on a footstool.

“better i think.” you speculate.

“that’s lovely to hear, you will need your strength soon. the earlier it heals the better.” he states.

you don’t make a reply out to him, choosing to stay silent. you knew his courtesies were empty as you learned the hard way plus what was there to say to him? you had questions for him but you weren’t sure he was eager to answer them or he reveled in leaving you in the dark, literally or figuratively.

not to mention, you still carried a heavy baggage of anger for him. there was no space for any sort of genuine amenity between the both of you, he had threatened to murder your father and sister, although you knew it was an effort to coerce you to follow his demands but you couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t empty threats.

you knew caine, he was an old friend of john’s and you also knew that the marquis was free to command him where to go and who to kill under the threat of murdering his daughter. you wince at this, as much as you knew that bloodshed often led to messier circumstances, you knew that as long as the marquis lived he could pull that card on you to make you obey.

who knows how much more you would have to sacrifice just to obey his whim? his words left a heavy impact on you, it had plagued you day and night which you anticipate was what the marquis wanted. you had written the letter to your father out of fear for their lives. your fear and fury was balanced, the more fear you felt the more fuel for your fury towards him.

that’s good, you’ll need all of that to get rid of him.

“does that mean i’ll stop being your prisoner?” you raise your eyebrow at him.

“prisoner? you speak of delusions, you are sitting on one of my chairs and staying in my home. you are no prisoner.” he scoffs.

you roll your eyes at him, the first lie always wins but the truth can easily cleanse that out, he can tell people whatever he likes but as long as they know of his nature your story is much more persuasive than his.

“then that means i can go home?” you ponder even if you already know the answer.

“what kind of host lets his guest leave their house injured and alone? certainly not someone like me, i insist you heal and rest.”

“the sooner i go home the sooner we can prepare for john wick’s arrival.” you firmly state.

he always liked to start conversations like this, pleasant courtesies and empty greetings, basically playing dumb.

“your father can prepare on his own, he has another daughter to help him. i wouldn’t worry too much.”

that can’t happen. you planned on seeking john wick yourself as soon as you left, you presumed that your letter might’ve brought you to the good graces of the marquis but you were clearly mistaken. you groan to yourself, your days of captivity had left you out of touch with reality and more opportunistic than before.

“are you serious?”

“i’m afraid i am.”

you want to scream at him again, you know that he’s not keeping you because of how much a gracious host he was. he was keeping you here so your father remains obedient and loyal to the high table. you were leverage, to make your father comply so that he doesn’t turn against them at the last second.

“are you so uncertain of your control that you need to make everyone bend at your will? you have forced me to my knees, what else do you want?” you ridicule him, the marquis frowns at this and rebuts.

“it is merely a precaution, mademoiselle. we must be careful with how we deal with situations like these, as you have learned.”

“my father will need me.” you state.

“you are an emissary, it is not befitting your station.”

“earlier you had this envoy shackled by chains and locked in a cell, you’ll have to be more specific to what is befitting my station.”

“the answer is no.”

you can feel anger bubbling under your skin again, although you did plan to enact your plan of revenge on him. you can’t help but feel rage at his stubbornness. once you finally sought john wick, you planned to help him challenge the marquis in a duel. something the marquis surely can’t refuse, his pride will definitely make him think that he has the upper hand on this but with the history of the excommunicated assassin there is little to no chance he’d be making it out alive.

he’ll probably pull a few unexpected obstacles and tricks to deter john wick but it should be a little nuisance for him, he already came this far. he wouldn’t lose by now.

“you will need all the help you can get when taking him down. it’s specifically why you have enlisted our help.” you convince him. hopefully, that should make him listen. he doesn’t like helping anyone other than himself.

“you sound too eager don’t you?” the marquis questions in suspicion.

“the earlier this is finished the sooner we can get back with our lives.” you smile.

you can shorten your time, all you would need was a few minutes with john to tell him what to do. you could make your way to winston to also help john in taking the marquis down out of vengeance for his recently departed friend and demolished hotel.

all you need to do is leave the marquis’ estate.

he quiets from your statement and sighs in resolve, “fine. i will let you go, i see no reason to refuse your request but you will arrive there with caine the moment john wick is sighted within the tokyo continental, is that understood?”

you grin in victory.

the first piece of his downfall begins.

“but rest assured mademoiselle, if i hear a whisper that you’ve turned against me the tokyo continental will be turned to ashes like the new york’s, with you and your family inside it.” he warns, with mockery and amusement on his lips.

your stomach churns in dread.

taglist: @blsmbr

author’s note: this is supposed to be a one part fic only but tumblr won’t let me copy and paste the entire thing soo…here is part 1 will post again tomorrow. :) i’m currently working on other requests so this should be quick, like and reblog also feel free to request!

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Home Sweet Home

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Sometimes going home isn’t always a good thing. Especially when your hometown is obsessed with marriage and you have a secret boyfriend.

Warnings: Canon level violence, not beta’d, small town implications, mentions of mutilation, angst, offensive language, misogyny, 

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist

“Two couples have been found dead in their homes in H/T, H/S (home town, home state),” Garcia reported.

Everyone looked at Y/N. That was her home town, the place she grew up. She was horrified to see the face of her babysitter mangled alongside her husband. “You okay?” Hotch asked, catching everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, just… that was my babysitter,” she sighed.

“You can sit this one out, stay here with Garcia,” he empathized. Inside, Aaron was genuinely concerned for his girlfriend’s well being. Going home was always kind of rough for her.

“No, no I’m fine. I want to go. Besides, no one in that town likes cops, much less feds. They won’t talk to any of you but they may talk to me.”

Aaron looked hesitant. “Okay, thank you. Continue,” he told Garcia.

“Yes, so two couples, the Jamison’s and the Thompson’s were found in their homes murdered. COD for the women is strangulation and husbands were shot execution style. All the mutilation you see on the screen was done postmortem. H/T is, as you know, home to our very own Y/N L/N with a population of 500 residents, almost all of whom have refused to cooperate with police.”

“Could it be bad blood within the town or within families?” Derek asked.

“To my knowledge it wouldn’t be but it has been 12 years since I lived there, 5 since I last visited. Police force consists of 5 officers and a sheriff and unless you’re directly related to one, everyone pretty much shuns them. They think any government job is a pipeline to socialism.”

“I see why you left,” Rossi joked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “No one was happy that I went to college out of state but I’m your best bet for getting the locals to talk to you.”

“Okay, well wheels up in 30, we’ll talk more on the plane.”

~

“Okay, the strangulation is personal, he wants to feel control over the wives and torture the husbands but the masochism of the bodies indicates rage, like he’s devolving as the murders go on.”

“Well how is he controlling both of them? Are we looking at a team?”

“Not likely,” Aaron answered. “The strangulation is more likely to be a single unsub.”

“He’s probably using the wife to control the husband. You know, like ‘run and I’ll kill her.’”

“So what? Did these couples do something to him? Or maybe he perceives the couples as a threat.”

“Garcia,” Aaron called over to the screen, “see if either of the wives had ex-boyfriends with violent pasts.”

“Will do, catch you when you land,” she logged off.

“So we’ve got a guy obsessed with control and a lot of rage. And two dead couples murdered in their homes. Any connections between the vics?”

“Everyone’s connected,” Y/N answered. “It’ll be like finding a piece of hay in a haystack.”

“Alright, well we won’t really know anything until we’re able to talk to some locals. L/N, can I speak to you?” Aaron requested, heading to the back of the plane. I stood up, following as the others settled into their seats. “Are you okay? I know going home isn’t easy for you.” She had once told him how suffocating it was to go home. She felt like everyone was waiting to lock her up and never let her leave again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This time I’m going with my hot-shot FBI boyfriend.” Aaron let the smallest smile tug at his lips, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

“Well if you need anything or anyone makes you uncomfortable, talk to me,” he ordered, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

“Yeah, thanks,” she smiled before they headed back to their respective seats.

~

“Good to be home, Y/N?” Derek teased once they walked into the police station.

“Yeah,” she grumbled sarcastically.

“Is that Y/N L/N?” a voice shouted across the precinct.

The entire team turned, finding a tall officer with sandy blond hair approaching them with an ecstatic look. “Hey Stevie, nice to see you,” Y/N greeted. Before she or any of the others could react, he swept her up into a hug, spinning her around. Aaron clenched his jaw at the sight, it was clear that ‘Stevie’ had feelings for his girlfriend.

“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in like five years!” Despite Y/N’s feet being returned to the ground, the man was still clinging onto her shoulders.

“I’m good, been busy. This is my team,” she took the opportunity to back away.

“Ah, so you gonna introduce us?” he asked, stepping closer. Aaron was just looking for a way to intervene without tipping off the team to his relationship and pissing off the locals.

“Um yeah, these are SSAs Hotchner, Jareau, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, and Dr. Reid. This is a friend from high school, Officer Jonathan Stevie,” she introduced reluctantly.

“Oh come on, I’m more than a friend from high school, Y/N and I are exes,” he smirked proudly. “Was gonna marry this girl but then this smarty-pants just had to go to college out of state. Next thing I know she’s in the FBI. We just never got the timing right.” The entire team could see that Y/N was deeply uncomfortable.

“Officer, if you don’t mind, there are four dead victims and we fear two more are coming soon so if you don’t mind, we’d like to get started,” Aaron interrupted, protectively stepping closer to his girlfriend. If if he was any less professional he’d kiss her right there.

“Uh, of course, you can set up in here,” Stevie waved them over to the conference room. “I’ll get you the sheriff.” Aaron didn’t bother to thank him, just brushed past him.

As they entered the room, they began setting up the conference room. “Reid, you start working on the geographic profile. JJ and Rossi, talk to the sheriff, ask him to bring in family, friends, anyone who can give us insight into the victims’ lives and begin interviews. Morgan and Prentiss, head over to the Jamison house, L/N and I will head to the Thompson’s. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”

The entire team agreed, heading to their respective assignments. Hotch led Y/N outside in silence until they got in the car. “So will we be dealing with stuff like that the entire case?”

Y/N groaned. “God I hope not. Stevie and I went out for a month and were never exclusive. He just kind of latched on and started talking about marriage. I told him that I was moving away to college so he would finally stop asking me on dates.”

“Anyone else I should be aware of?” he asked, trying not to let jealously get the better of him.

“I mean, I dated a couple guys in high school. Usually one date means marriage here but it’s been 12 years, they should all be married now.”

“What about their wives? Any jealous new girlfriends we should watch out for?” he teased.

“Well if they are, I have a gun and more training,” she laughed. “Seriously, don’t worry about Stevie. He can be controlling but he’s harmless.”

“I’m not worried,” he brushed off.

“Oh, so just jealous?” she teased.

“No, why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know why because he’s nothing to me. But I saw the way you clenched your jaw, you were also intensely focused on where he was touching me, the way you stepped closer to me, the fact that you were short with him, th-”

“Okay,” Aaron interrupted, “I get it. But I wasn’t jealous, I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

“So… possessive?” Aaron gave her a playful glare, not liking that adjective. Fortunately for him, she took the hint and changed the subject. “You’re in for a real treat, the second my mother catches wind that we’re here, if she hasn’t already, you’ll get to meet her.” Y/N froze in her seat. “N-not like that. I’m not suggesting we like meet her as like a couple, but just meet her. I know you’re not ready for that, I just-”

“It’s okay, I know what you mean. I’d be happy to get to know her a bit before I officially meet her as your boyfriend.”

Y/N visibly relaxed. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I know neither of us are ready to come out to the team. And based on what you’ve told me, if your mother knew, the entire continental US would know.”

“Yep, loved being raised by the town gossip,” Y/N responded dryly as they pulled up to the house. Seeing as there were no police, they just let themselves in.

“This was your babysitter’s house, wasn’t it?” Aaron asked as they walked into the foyer.

“Yeah,” she sighed sadly. “I know literally everyone says this but I can’t believe she’s gone. I find it hard to believe anyone would want to hurt her.”

“I understand,” Aaron sympathized. “Crime scene report says there were no signs of forced entry. So he either snuck in an unlocked door before they locked up for the night or used a ruse to get in.”

“In this town either is possible, especially if the unsub is someone who lives here which is very likely. Out-of-towners stick out like a sore thumb no matter what. Also, I would take the police reports with a grain of salt, hasn’t been a murder here in over 50 years, they have no clue how to handle a murder scene.”

“Yeah, I figured about that.”

We walked into the dining room, finding a set table. “Three place settings, the unsub was probably a guest then. This wasn’t in the crime scene report, right?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Hotch said. “They must’ve figured it was unrelated or maybe they’re covering up?”

“Neither would really surprise me. I’m surprised we were even invited here.”

“The governor had to override the sheriff,” he filled in. “Said that their refusal for help was making him look like a joke amongst the upcoming election.”

“Well  for once politics are useful,” Y/N mused. “I say we give the locals as little information as possible. If we say we’re looking at one of their own, whether it be a cop or a citizen, they’ll hang us up by our shoe laces right where we stand.”

“Well if these people are prone to violence we just limited our suspect pool to all 500 residents.”

Y/N laughed before a ringtone interrupted them. She groaned as she looked at the caller ID, sending a look to Aaron before picking up. “Hi, mom.”

“Y/N! How could you not tell me you were coming back home?” she demanded gently. “I had to hear it from the Stevie boy. He told me that your boss is a real hardass, wouldn’t let him talk to you.”

“Mom,” she interrupted, “please don’t tell everyone I’m home. My team and I are trying to figure out who’s killing people and you know how people here feel about feds.”

“You don’t think it’s one of us do you?” she asked incredulously. “Y/N M/N L/N, you’ve known these people all your life! I can’t believe you’d go pointing your fingers at them just because you think you’re better than them. I knew you shouldn’t have gone to that uppity college in Washington-”

“Mom, no one’s pointing fingers. We’re not even looking at anyone in town, this is the work of an outsider.”

There was a pause. Clearly she was expecting Y/N to blame someone in town and she was eager to reprimand her. “How can you tell?”

“Well in profiling we look at everything. You never see post-mortem mutilation when the murderer knows the victims. It’s too personal.” Aaron laughed at her made up profiling, able to get an idea about what Y/N’s mom was saying just by her replies.

“Oh okay, well that’s good. I’ll tell Officer Stevie.”

“Wait he’s there?”

“Yes, you, him, and I are going to have dinner tonight. And don’t argue with me, you owe this to the both of us.”

“Okay first of all, please don’t tell Officer Stevie that. It’s important we maintain professionalism and if he hears about the profile before the others that can cause issues for us and we won’t be able to help them catch this guy. Second of all, What do you mean I owe you and Stevie dinner?”

That caught Aaron’s attention.

“Well after you broke off your engagement, and his heart. Twice.”

“Excuse me? Engagement? What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on Y/N, there may not have been a ring but you were practically engaged. First in high school when you ran away to college. And then when you visited 5 years ago, you just left again. Y/N, you’re 30 and still not married, it’s time you take responsibility for your actions.”

“Mom, we went on a couple dates in high school 12 years ago, that’s it. This is absolutely ridiculous, I’m not having dinner with the two of you and I’m certainly not sticking around to marry Stevie.” Aaron practically choked on his own saliva at that statement. “I’ll call you tomorrow and I’m happy to visit you but not with Stevie there.”

“Fine, but we’ll discuss your future marriage. I can’t have my only daughter becoming a spinster.”

Y/N just angrily hung up, rolling her eyes. “Everything okay?” Aaron asked.

“No,” she answered, stepping forward to hug him which he welcomed. A rare display of affection at work. “My mother thinks I owe Stevie marriage and said I’m basically embarrassing her by not being married at 30.”

“You don’t have to visit her. You can make me the bad guy and say I’m giving you too much work,” Aaron offered as they headed towards the door. His arm still wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders.

“No it’s fine. I’ll try to go see her tomorrow, assuming she doesn’t piss me off again,” she said, climbing into the car. “I don’t care what anyone says I’m not marrying Jonathan fucking Stevie and I’m not staying here.”

“I expect no less of you,” Aaron smiled, starting the car.

~

“So, Y/N, if you won’t marry the Stevie boy, is there at least someone else in your life,” M/N L/N begged.

Y/N hesitated for a second, unsure is she should tell her mom that she did in fact have a boyfriend. Even if she didn’t name names, her mother would surely blab all over town and it would get back to the rest of her team who would no doubt pester her for a name. “I‘ve seen a few guys, no one serious yet,” she answered with a shrug.

“A few guys?” her mother proclaimed as if her daughter had said she were cheating on her husband. “No, not a few guys. One guy, like Stevie.”

“Mom!”

“Okay fine, not Stevie. But you dated around in high school and you’re still doing it? Y/N, this is why you’re still single.”

“Mom, I like being single, my job kind of requires me to be single.” Unless you’re dating your teammate.

“Y/N, you need to grow up. DC is not the be all, end all. Family is important. I want you to move back home and settle down. I want you to have a good life rather than running around the country with no family.”

“Mom, I left this place for a reason. Can’t you see this place isn’t good for me? It’s suffocating. Everyone knows everyone, there’s no mystery. The only past time here is gossip. I’m going back to the station. I have a job to do.”

~

Y/N stormed into the station, steam practically coming out of her ears. “Woah, Y/N, you okay?” Derek asked, being the first to notice her.

“Yeah,” she brushed off, immediately picking up a file and throwing herself into her work. The rest of the team watched her nervously, knowing something was clearly wrong but wanting to give her space.

“Y/N,” Officer Stevie entered the conference room, brushing past the profilers. All of them already being annoyed by his presence. “Your mom just called me crying, saying you won’t marry me.”

Years of pressure and resentment snapped in that moment. “No, I won’t. Stevie, we went out for a month, twelve years ago for the love of god, let it go. I’m dating someone else now anyways. I know that according to this town we were supposed to get married the second we turned 18 and have lots of kids and never leave but that’s not what I want. And don’t say it’s because you love me, you’re in love with the idea of me and doing what your parents want you to.”

At her words, Stevie snapped too. In his anger, he grabbed Y/N’s upper arm in a vice like grip, glaring down at her. The BAU chief was on them immediately. In his anger, and wave of protectiveness, he wrenched the officer away from his girlfriend, placing himself in between the two. “Keep your hands off my agent or else I will have you charged with assaulting a federal agent and obstructing a federal investigation.”

The cop looked reluctant and angry, but was smart enough to realize there was no winning this. “No use in trying to save a whore,” he spat. Aaron was nearly seeing red at that comment but Y/N’s gentle grasp on his arm kept him from punching the officer. “Why are you even protecting her? She’s a good for nothing bitch who does nothing but whore around with guys.”

“Stev-” Y/N tried to cut him off.

“No!” he shouted. “You say you’ve got a boyfriend, but I know you. You’re up in DC fucking any guy who so much as looks at you.”

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Aaron intervened again, furious. His admission shocked everyone, most of all himself, Aaron “Professionalism” Hotchner.

Fury consumed the cop’s expression. “You-” But before he could do or say anything to make it worse, Derek had him by the back of the collar, dragging him out the door.

Aaron turned back to Y/N. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just an idiot. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“So it’s official? You guys are dating?” Rossi asked, a knowing smile already creeping up on his face.

“Yes, yes,” Y/N dismissed. “And I’m guessing based on your expressions you all already knew or had your suspicions?”

“Yep,” JJ answered. “So how long?”

The couple looked at each other, like any relationship that was a loaded question. “Well we first started getting closer about 6 months ago? He officially asked me out three months ago.”

Emily smiled victoriously. “Pay up!” Everyone except her groaned ad Aaron let out a soft chuckle next to me, slipping an arm around my waist in a rare display of affection in front of the team.

Masterlist

[leftistfeminista]

Trolls Used Her Face to Make Fake Porn. There Was Nothing She Could Do.

Sabrina Javellana was a rising star in local politics — until deepfakes derailed her life.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/31/magazine/sabrina-javellana-florida-politics-ai-porn.html

Most mornings, before walking into City Hall in Hallandale Beach, Fla., a small city north of Miami, Sabrina Javellana would sit in the parking lot and monitor her Twitter and Instagram accounts. After winning a seat on the Hallandale Beach city commission in 2018, at age 21, she became one of the youngest elected officials in Florida’s history. Her progressive political positions had sometimes earned her enemies: After proposing a name change for a state thoroughfare called Dixie Highway in late 2019, she regularly received vitriolic and violent threats on social media; her condemnation of police brutality and calls for criminal-justice reform prompted aggressive rhetoric from members of local law enforcement. Disturbing messages were nothing new to her.

The morning of Feb. 5, 2021, though, she noticed an unusual one. “Hi, just wanted to let you know that somebody is sharing pictures of you online and discussing you in quite a grotesque manner,” it began. “He claims that he’s one of your ‘guy friends.’”

Javellana froze. Who could have sent this message? She asked for evidence, and the sender responded with pixelated screenshots of a forum thread that included photos of her. There were comments that mentioned her political career. Had her work drawn these people’s ire? Eventually, with a friend’s help, she found a set of archived pages from the notorious forum site 4chan. Most of the images were pulled from her social media and annotated with obscene, misogynistic remarks: “not thicc enough”; “I would breed her”; “no sane person would date such a stupid creature.” But one image further down the thread stopped her short. She was standing in front of a full-length mirror with her head tilted to the side, smiling playfully. She had posted an almost identical selfie, in which she wore a brown crew-neck top and matching skirt, to her Instagram account back in 2015. “It was the exact same picture,” Javellana said of the doctored image. “But I wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

There were several more. These were deepfakes: A.I.-generated images that manipulate a person’s likeness, fusing it with others to create a false picture or video, sometimes pornographic, in a way that looks authentic. Although fake explicit material has existed for decades thanks to image-editing software, deepfakes stand out for their striking believability. Even Javellana was shaken by their apparent authenticity.

“I didn’t know that this was something that happened to everyday people,” Javellana told me when I visited her earlier this year in Florida. She wondered if anyone else had seen the photos or the abusive comments online. Several of the threads even implied that people on the forum knew her. “I live in Broward County,” one comment read. “She just graduated from FIU.” Other users threatened sexual violence. In the days that followed, Javellana became increasingly fearful and paranoid. She stopped walking alone at night and started triple-checking that her doors and windows were locked before she slept. In an effort to protect her personal life, she made her Instagram private and removed photographs of herself in a bathing suit.

Discovering the images changed how Javellana operated professionally. Attending press events was part of her job, but now she felt anxious every time someone lifted their camera. She worried that public images of her would be turned into pornography, so she covered as much of her body as she could, favoring high-cut blouses and blazers. She knew she wasn’t acting rationally — people could create new deepfakes regardless of how much skin she showed in the real world — but changing her style made her feel a sense of control. If the deepfakes went viral, no one could look at how she dressed and think that she had invited this harassment.

[squadmuse]

GET TO KNOW THEM ALPHABET

THE AARON HOTCHNER EDITION

Accessories: do they wear them and what kind?

Aaron likes ties, but other than that he doesn’t wear much in the way of accessories other than his briefcase which he carries for work.

Bad habits: do they have any?

Aaron is a workaholic and has really unpredictable work hours that mean he isn’t always around much or available.

Clothing: what's their style and what do they wear at home/out and about?

Aaron usually wears a business suit for work but he wears casual clothes when off duty such as polo shirts, jeans and trainers.

Date: what would their ideal first date look like? Do they enjoy datenights when in a relationship?

Aaron would definitely take you out to dinner, granted he wasn’t called out to a case. He wouldn’t introduce you to Jack right away and after you’re in a serious relationship, having met Jack & maybe even married, Aaron would spoil you to different things for date nights.

Emotional: are they an emotional person?

Aaron has seen a lot with his work and can compartmentalise his emotions but he doesn’t hide them from you or Jack and any other children he has with you. Some might think he’s unemotional but he feels so much.

Fears: what are they afraid of?

Aaron is afraid of losing you and Jack and any other children. He’s already lost Haley, and he’s afraid of driving you off like he did with Haley once upon a time.

Gifts: what makes them happy?

Aaron is a simple man with simple pleasures. He is happy seeing you and Jack and any other children he has with you, happy. He loves handmade gifts from Jack and any other children.

Helpful: do they help others, or are they rather selfish?

Aaron is very humble and thoughtful, he does acts of service and helps as much as he can whoever it is.

Insecure: do they have any insecurities?

Aaron is insecure about his presence at home as he’s away from home a lot due to different cases and working long hours. He’s insecure about himself being a potential threat to you and you being targeted by an unsub.

Jealous: are they of jealous nature?

Aaron isn’t a jealous guy.

Kitchen: can they cook? Do they have a signature dish?

Aaron is a decent cook. He can make a good breakfast, lunch and dinner but he isn’t as good a baker. He gets an easy enough pasta recipe off Dave and it becomes his signature recipe to make for you.

Laugh: what makes them laugh?

Aaron laughs at the happiness of you, Jack and any other children you have. He loves seeing you laugh and being carefree. He also loves classic comedy like Chaplin and he has a great love of different comedy genres.

Morning routine: what are they like in the morning?

Aaron gets up, has a quick shower and then gets dressed before waking Jack up while you shower and dress. He gets Jack washed and ready before meeting you in the kitchen where you’re fixing breakfast for the three of you usually.

Night routine: how do they unwind before going to bed?

Aaron will tuck Jack into bed and do their nightly candle connection chat with Haley while you tidy up the house and get ready for bed yourself. Aaron will then comes to bed where the two of you chat a bit and sometimes watch a movie or read a book together.

Occupy: what does their home look like?

Aaron has a tidy home and it has signs of warmth, family and love with pictures of him, you and Jack and any other children you have together. Children’s toys are sometimes scattered, the odd Lego lying on the ground unseen.

Pet peeve: what are things they absolutely can't stand?

Aaron can’t stand disloyalty or people not accepting their commitments or stepping up. He also can’t stand arrogance and bullying.

Quirky: what's their quirky trait?

Aaron collects fridge magnets from each city or town or state he visits. It helps him remember that there is more to the place than the unsub.

Relax: are they easily stressed out or do they go with the flow?

Aaron has a high stress job but he isn’t stressed out by it or show it. He has learned to deal with it by now.

Spontaneous: are they?

Aaron is quite spontaneous due to his job being unpredictable and whenever he has free time or no cases happening then he will whisk you or you & Jack off to somewhere or something.

Truthful: how much of the truth do they tell others?

Aaron doesn’t talk about his cases and will gloss over them. But he is genuinely a truthful guy and values honesty and transparency and integrity.

Upset: are they upset easily? And what upsets them?

Aaron again has seen a lot of horrific things happen within his career and doesn’t let his emotions show then but he lets his emotions show when around you, Jack and any other children you have together. He gets upset thinking about losing any of you or any of his team.

Vain: how vain are they?

Aaron isn’t the most vain. He works out, likes being fit and healthy and wears nice suits with his hair trimmed neatly.

Work: what kind of job do they have/would they like?

Aaron is a profiler and ex-attorney. But he wishes his job would let him be home more often.

X-factor: do they have a talent for something?

Aaron has a talent for reading people due to his job but he also has a talent for acting to an extent due to his past.

Yield: how easily do they give in to something/someone?

Aaron can be somewhat unyielding.

Zealous: what are they enthusiastic and passionate about?

Aaron is passionate about his family and about his job.

[babyhatesreality]

I'm sick rn :( and just in pain 😭 so maybe thier baby is sick when they are on a Mission while she is by uncle tony and how would he handle it when she just cries for her daddies her daddies come back when she's asleep and comfort her after she wakes up

Oh man. I can FEEL Steve and Bucky's heartbreak just thinking about this...I hope you feel better soon darling!! Lots of water and rest. Sending you comforting hugs and healing vibes <3

They'd been gone a week with Natasha and Clint, working to bring in rogue Hydra agents, when they got a call from Tony.

You all got to Facetime every night, so at first they just thought it was another call.

But when they saw Tony cradling you in his arms and your red and teary eyes pop up on the screen, both of their hearts stopped.

Tony explained that you'd come down with a cold, and were feeling feverish and achy.

They both ached to hold you in their own arms and comfort you when you were so obviously feeling miserable.

Steve, of course, the family hypochondriac, immediately grilled Tony about every possible symptom and the timeline of everything.

Tony had taken you to Dr. Cho, as Bruce was currently in Wakanda with Shuri working on the tech to bring back any other brainwashed Hydra soldiers. He hadn't known at the time about your...caution with Dr. Cho, and it had been an interesting visit to say the least.

You clung to Tony like velcro the entire time. He also was pretty sure you didn't blink once when Dr. Cho was in the room, which just added to your misery of scratchy and tired eyes.

"I don't gotta get a shot, right Unca Tony?" you had asked in a whisper when Dr. Cho left the room to get some medicine for you.

"No shot, shortstack," Tony had confirmed. You immediately relaxed, but buried your face in his chest as you were still feeling lousy.

Tony described the decongestant and cough syrup to Steve in patient detail, when you burst into the conversation.

"Coughy syrup yucky," you grumbled.

"I know baby, but you gotta listen to Uncle Tony and take it. You understand?"

"Don't wanna, Papa."

"I know you don't. But the more you take that syrup, the better you'll feel when we get home. Okay?"

"You come home now, please?" you asked quietly, putting your little hand up on the screen, touching their pictures.

Tony could hear both their hearts shatter from across the globe.

"Soon, baby, we promise," Bucky croaked out, grabbing Steve's hand off camera for support. "We'll be home before you know it."

"That's a promise," Steve said in a husky voice. You just nodded and turned your face back into Tony's chest.

Two important things happened that night after that call.

The first was that Tony didn't put you down all night. He carried you around the complex, rocking you, telling you stories, comforting you, even singing a little ACDC to you to help keep you calm and relaxed.

The second was that World War Hydra was unleashed and won, all in a single night. With their stamina, strength, and the image of you needing them in their heads, Captain America and the Winter Soldier tore through the secret Hydra base and eliminated or captured every single threat. For every one member than Natasha or Clint brought down, they brought down five. The entire battle was over before Hydra even knew they were there.

Natasha flew home as fast as she could, refusing to let Steve fly as he was clearly still in an over-emotional state. But she pushed it to the absolutely max that she safely could.

It was five am when Steve and Bucky made it to the Stark floor of the Tower. JARVIS had alerted Tony of their homecoming, and they went straight to you.

Tony gently put you in Steve's arms while Bucky hovered nervously.

And in your sleep, you sighed and smiled.

Even though you were fast asleep, you still knew they had come home to you. Just like they promised.

[prismuffin]

Hey hey it’s me again lol. Can I request (Comic one where he’s an adult) Peter Parker x M!Reader who is a detective? Maybe he keeps visiting him during work and Reader has to remind him that he’s working. I want to thank you for taking my requests and I love reading your stuff. 🫶

A/n: awww this idea sounded so cute I love it😭 sorta a long one, im sorry?? idk if thats a bad thing

Distraction

Peter B. Parker x male!detective!reader

( summary: when your boyfriend Peter comes to drop off your lunch he decides to bother you for the rest of the day instead of leaving )

Warning?: light swearing, talk of guns, slight violence

!-!more under the cut!-!

After the events of spider-verse Peter had tried to fix his old life, make amends with Mary Jane and become the hero that New York needed once again, only it didn't entirely work out that way. He had tried to go back to MJ only to see that she was in a whole new relationship; he still talked to her though, told her the things he should've said years ago and she consoled him, told him to move on in his life and find someone new. So he did, he moved on and started working out a bit more, started showing up and stopping crime again which led him to meeting you.

You were a successful detective working for and with the NYPD, solving cases before and after they happen, so you hung around Spiderman a lot. You two would have playful banter whenever you crossed paths. You'd have silent competitions over who could stop and catch the most criminals (it was always gonna be him but you actually do give him a run for his money). He liked you more than he admitted. He was so scared of fucking up again that he just put this distance between you two, leaving his sly, flirty, playful remarks as the only sign of affection he could show you. He hit this rock bottom state again where the only thing he could think about was failing and you and failing you. He'd have nightmares about him not being able to save you, texting you at the dead of night with the number you gave him for emergencies to make sure you're ok. Sometimes you'd scold him for wasting your time or waking you up but he didn't mind. He was stuck in this spiral and one night he decided to stop feeling so conflicted and tell you about how he felt, and he did, just not in the way he wanted to.

You'd been tracking some criminals for months and finally were one step ahead of them, or so you thought. You caught them once but they weren't found guilty. The police station you worked at didn't classify them as a threat because of that and the chief made you drop the case since it seemed to have gone cold, but you knew they were the culprits. You watched a bar from your car, waiting for the men you've been looking for to come out. You needed to catch them in the act so you had decided to stake it out. The bar door opened and your hand went to your gun as you spotted the men leaving. You quickly made sure your gun was loaded before grabbing your phone, texting Peter, or as you knew him, Spider-man your location and what you were doing just in case. You told him if you didn't respond in fifteen minutes to come and help since you weren't entirely sure if you could take the men on in a fight.

Your hunch was correct when you'd in fact lost the fight you had no chance of winning, hell telling Spider-Man not to come save your ass until fifteen minutes into the fight was being very generous for the criminals. Although, Peters worry for you had made him come and help 8 minutes earlier than you said, I mean he would've come earlier if he'd seen your text sooner but still. It was that night, when he had in fact saved you, when he decided to just come clean about his feelings towards you, even if you rejected him; and so Peter decided to take that leap of faith and asked you out which lead to moments like this, where you’re sat at your desk, looking out your window to see your boyfriend on the building next to yours, waving with a lunchbox in hand. You sigh and shake your head, getting up and closing the blinds not only to mess with him but also for your own sanity before sitting back down and turning back to your paper work. Of course your silence only lasted a few more minutes before a knock was heard on your office door. "Come in." You didn't need to look up from your paperwork to guess who it was, "Guess who brought you lunch~?" You couldn't help but smile at the sound of your boyfriends voice. "Thank you Peter," You looked up at him and smiled as he placed a lunch box on your desk.

He'd turned to leave and was at the doorway when he looked back and saw you move the lunchbox off to the side. "Are you not gonna eat it?" You heard Peter ask and your eyes snapped to his before glancing at the lunch box. "I will Petey, I'm just very busy right now." You gave him a close mouth smile and he crossed his arms, looking you up and down before shrugging. "Alright," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Peter just moved on, usually he'd bother you or someth-

Your thoughts were cut off by your paperwork being snatched from your desk. Peter, who'd used his web shooters to grab your paper, looked at you, almost disapprovingly. "You're not getting this back until you eat that lunch. Do you know how much effort I put into making that." You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and grabbed the lunch that he'd packed. He sat down across from you and wasted no time getting comfortable, kicking his feet up and leaning back. "Peter, this is a gyro from Frank down the street, you didn't make this." He looked at you, down at the gyro, and back at you before shrugging. "Still took a lot of effort." You shook your head at his antics "Unbelievable.." You mumbled before taking a bite out of the gyro. The tapping of your pens got your attention as you watched Peter play with them like they were action figures.

Even after you finished eating he wouldn't stop bugging you, poking your shoulders as you wrote and calling you overworked, which was true, but there wasn't much you could do about it. He was usually like this on slow crime days where he found there was little conflict on the streets of New York which would lead to him thinking about you and missing you and then showing up at your job either as Spider-man coming in to "address official crime business," or as Peter Parker to drop off his boyfriends lunch or to give his boyfriend a file he left at their apartment. Though times when he distracts you like this are annoying you still find them sweet since he does this when he misses you.

"Alright," You placed your pen down after being prodded by Peter for the 127th time. "If we cuddle on the couch for five minutes will you leave me alone to do my work?" Peter looked up and hummed to seem like he was thinking before smiling and nodding. "Yeah alright that's fair, but, lets make it ten minutes." "Fine." You got up and Peter cheered, practically leaping on the couch in your office. He opened his arms for you with a large smile on his face and you respectfully plopped right into them. You both let out identical sighs as you snuggled up into each other, your stress melting away as Peter rubbed your back. "ugh god, you're such a distraction Pete.." you mumbled with your eyes closed, the feeling of sleep creeping up on you. Peter just hummed, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You both were definitely on that couch for longer than ten minutes but neither of you seemed to mind.

----!----

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Masterlist

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Warnings: fem! Reader, mentions of bullying, weight, blood, being punched and getting punched etc.

Request: Yes.

Words: 1,795

-Riddle Rosehearts-

•You dare to bully his s/o? Off with your head! No but literally. Riddle is hunting down the person who did this to you and giving them hell in every way possible that doesn't break the school rules.

•When he'd first gotten a call telling him you were in trouble due to punching someone in the nose, Riddle was seething. Perhaps a suitable punishment would be having you read and write down 400 out of the 810 rules of the queen of hearts. Hmm, yes that sounds excellent.

•His mood got even more sour when he entered the nurses room to see them bandaging your bloodied knuckles with you crying, blabbering about how they said you were fat and how you'd get in trouble with your boyfriend.

•“Who?” It was a simple demand from him for their names or their looks. How dare they hurt his rose. Riddle had grabbed Trey from his activities to sit with you while he tracked down these students to report them to the headmage.

•This red Bakugo had borderline threatened to have Cater post online how bad Crowley was as a principal if he didn't get these students kicked from the school.

•Lesson learned: Don't mess with Riddle's girlfriend.

•In the aftermath, Riddle will pamper you. He’ll make you some tea, make you some sweets (W/Trey’s help) and take care of your injuries himself. There's a lot of reassurance that leaves your usually hot-headed boyfriend's lips. On how perfect you look, or how cute you look despite his embarrassment of admitting it.

•He’s by your side until he makes sure your mental health is fine and your injuries have healed.

-Leona Kingscholar-

•Literally busts down your door asking if you beat their asses.

•Doesn't matter how you answer. He's sending off some henchmen of his to beat their asses a second time if you've already done so. No one messes with his Herbivor. He’ll make sure to visit them for a third beatdown in his own time.

•Leona doesn't go to the teachers in the school or to Crowley for help. This is between him and the assholes that decided to beat you up and harass you about your looks. He’s giving them hell, regardless of if you wanted him to or not.

•He doesn't pamper you as much as some of the other dorm leaders would. But if you want something he'll send Ruggie out to get it for you.

•Leona cuddles you more than he did before. Fuck school, you can get back onto your studies after your well rested and in a better state of mind. He's not going to let you go anywhere without him for a while.

•Congratulations, you've unlocked grumpy bodyguard Leona. You better make sure people don't look at you for too long at one time.

•If you have any leftover injuries from the fight, Leona is surprisingly good at tending to your wounds and patching you up. Of course, he's not the gentlest person, so don't complain to him if he's holding your tiny wrist a bit too hard while tending to you.

-Azul Ashengrotto-

•Have you ever heard of blackmail? Well, he has, and he knows how to do it at an expert level. Perhaps you should start feeling bad for your bullies.

•It certainly wasn't a fun matter to receive letters stating their name, house address, and their Parents and/or siblings names, including their biggest secret. It was a well written threat: Mess with (Name) and get outed.

•Of course Azul did turn to Idia’s hacking skills to find out where they lived. It was a fun little project for him. Especially for Floyd and Jade when they were sent out by him to deal with some “Funny business.” 

•Azul is also someone who reports these kids to Crowley and gets them kicked out of the school. He understands bullying all too well due to going through it himself and he’d be damned if he sat back and watched it happen.

•He creates a potion that's like a cream to help heal your injuries at an accelerating rate. Of course you need to do nothing in return for him for this cream, think of it as your loving boyfriend helping you get better. 

•If it makes you feel better about your looks or your weight, Azul will go out of his comfort zone and crack open the picture book of him as a child. Once again, he knows how this feels and he wants you to know you are not alone in this struggle.

•Azul definitely pampers you in his own way. He takes care of your homework, makes you food, and hell if you want to see his mer form he's all too happy to let you. For the week you're getting better, if you ask he'll lay off his work for you too for a bit.

-Kalim Al-Asim-

•Why’s his little sunflower crying? 

•Hands down, coddles you. Kalim is up your ass from the moment you walked into the room injured. His little feelings can’t take the fact someone would want to hurt his girl just because of weight or looks. He cries. Immediately.

•Kalim doesn’t hold you, you hold Kalim. It's Jamil that reports the bullies you punched while Kalim Hugs you half to death for the next three days. While he does try his best to wrap up and tend to your injuries it's also clear he doesn't know what the hell he's doing.

•In The end it's Jamil that's correctly tending  to your bloodied knuckles and the bruises and scratches on your body while Kalim grabs you some of the soup Jamil had cooked for dinner. After dinner Kalim presents you with desserts before diving head first into your chest to cuddle you.

•When hearing that Crowley wasn't going to kick out the students that bullied you, that's when things got serious. Kalim, with the help of another dorm head (Azul) Confronted the mage.

•It ended smoothly when they (Mostly Azul), had blackmailed the Headmage to the point where he had no other option but to expel the students. That or be outed on magicam about how horrible of a principal he was.

•Kalim throws a party for you at the end of it all. A “Congratulations on getting rid of your bullies party.” What a kicker.

-Vil Schoenheit-

•Someone hurt his little spuddling??

•Oh, This means war.

•Don't you worry, (Name), Rook will deal and dispose of those poor insignificant worms. Vil busies himself tending to your cuts and bruises, Blowing on the anti-peroxide he’d dripped onto the cuts to disinfect them.

•Ngl, Vil curses those peasants. Every day for the next three weeks they'll be waking up consistently throughout the night unable to get the slightest bit of rest. 

•Vil doesn’t pamper you as much as Kalim or Azul would but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pamper you. Vil gives you gentle massages and checks up on you in between classes, making sure they don’t mess with you again. He gives you lotion and creams, and he does face masks with you. 

•Obviously those bullies didn’t have any style, because to Vil you drip looks just as much as you seem to drip food crumbs everywhere you go. Though, he doesn’t mind the mess in the end, (As much as he seems to.)

•He also has Rook secretly trail after you when he’s not around, just in case something happens again. Vil likes to be in control of the situation.

-Idia Shroud-

•This man has a set of rules. And those rules are to avoid direct confrontation by all means necessary, and to stay cooped up in his room for as long as humanly possible. In none of those rules was Idia prepared to deal with bullies. Much less bullies that are bullying his s/o.

 •When you come into his room with Ortho following you in with bandages and neosporin, he was shocked. “(N-Name) What happened!?” 

•Bullies- Something he was eerily familiar with. Of course, he won’t be addressing them directly, though hacking their devices and uploading a virus is a wonderful option. A wonderful option he follows out with.

•Idia also leaves Crowley a… less than family friendly email, along with a video of the evidence of you being harassed and being hit first. Crowley can’t pin anything on you for punching your bullies- since yours was in self defense.

•Idia games with you sitting in his lap. While making sure you had plenty of snacks and drinks, he also made sure you were getting an adequate amount of sleep and your injuries were tended too before anything else. It would be inconvenient if the cuts were to get infected.

•He forces you to do online schooling in his room with him for the week while Crowley straightens out this issue.

•Idia is happy with the extra time you both get together, all while tending to you during it. Of course, that doesn't mean he’ll stop gaming for you either.

-Malleus Draconia-

•Those bullies dared to speak bad about his s/o? More so they Touched you? Ohhhh this does not fly with Malleus.

•He doesn’t understand how such imbeciles could even dare to look in your direction. They do know you're dating one of the five most powerful mages known in history, correct?  

•Lilia needed to stop him from murdering those scoundrels, so instead, Malleus has them arrested. Yep, you heard that correctly. They were arrested. Malleus simply heals your wounds with the snap of his fingers. 

•He treats you like a princess. You get what you want and exactly what you want the moment you want it. He pampers you like he's the king of pampering. Only him and Lilia get to tend to any wounds you have.

•If you want, he will have Lilia teach you some things about self defense.

•Please lay with him and give him some nice snuggles. He’ll bring out his tail and wrap the appendage around you while you cuddle up to each other. Doesn’t mind if you hold or feel up his horns either. He’s all yours for the taking.

•Malleus will prepare you a fancy bath with petals, wine and lit candles to help relax and soothe you. This man will do anything for you, even if that's running across the world for you.

•Malleus praises you to be brave enough to punch and fight back against your harassers every day. It's something he wants you to feel proud about and know that he’s proud of you for doing so as well.

[multipotentialitepisces]

On Duty

Merlin x f!Reader (Kingsman)

When Merlin and Gawain get sent to share a hotel room by Harry, they are forced to realise their deep-seated feelings for one another.

Only one bed, coworkers, some meddling by the other Kingsmen, comfort, love confession, fluffy domesticity, f!reader (only uses of she/her, no genitalia descriptions) Not canon accurate! (Merlin’s death never happens in TGC, the nightmare is only nightmare!)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of nightmares (losing Merlin).

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic! Hardly any proofreading and very much self indulgent so apologies if it doesn’t truly represent Merlin! x

‘Again?’

The newly appointed Arthur, Harry, had just revealed that Agent Gawain and Merlin were expected to play happy families and share a hotel room once again.

'Yes Merlin, we need you two on surveillance for this mission, and with Gawain training as a second Quartermaster it would do her well to share with you again to be available 24/7, just incase things go awry.'

'Harry you know how I feel about this. I'll do it, but it's not fair on me or Gawain.'

Storming from the room, Merlin headed for his office, searching for something a bit stronger than an English breakfast tea, sick of having to share rooms, and more importantly, beds.

'Gawain, I need you and Merlin to check in as these two.' Harry said, passing you two facsimile passports and a stack of documents, containing information on your aliases.

'You know, Merlin's right. I'm okay with surveillance missions and working from a hotel but I don't understand why we always get shoved together.' Sighing, you plead for Harry to stop putting you with the man you'd developed quite a hefty crush on within your time as a Kingsman. 'Anyway that's besides the point, what actually is this mission?'

Harry explained the mission, nothing special, and you and Merlin were simply there to watch over the building, keeping your agents up to date on any outside threats. That made your most pressing issue the fact that you'd be cooped up inside a hotel room and sharing a bed with the man who'd ran from the room upon finding that out. Not ideal.

'At least make sure you put us in a nice room this time Harry. With a big bed. That motel from a few months ago was basically a cesspit, no wonder Merlin's done a runner.'

At this, Eggsy laughed, remembering the state of the single bed and muddy water you had to live in with Merlin for three nights after visiting the Statesman.

'I assure you, the hotel will be quite suitable, it overlooks the mission's venue. One of the best in London. Now can you go and collect my Quartermaster please, Gawain?' Harry said, getting up from his chair at the head of the table in the meeting room, as you left in search of your boss.

'I bloody well hope this works, Harry. Merlin looked like he wanted to quit on the spot' said Eggsy. 'I know you want them together but I'm not sure Merlin's as close to realising his feelings as Gawain is.'

'It'll work Eggsy,' Roxy, joining the conversation, 'I think he's just less clear with his feelings than Gawain; remember he's been in the business of playing the cold and unemotional agent a lot longer than she has.'

‘I hope you two are right. I’m sick of watching them gaze with heart eyes across the room at each other,’ muttered Eggsy, almost gagging at the memory.

Sat at his desk, nursing a glass of his strongest scotch, Merlin pondered how long he'd be able to cope with having Gawain in a bed that was not his own. She was so close, and yet so far away, and he'd been dealing with his feelings for such a long time, he felt it was almost like Harry was deliberately torturing him.

After Eggsy's wedding, Kingsman agents were almost encouraged to have a romantic partner. Especially now that Harry was at the helm and realised how important it was to have connections after his dealing with Valentine, Merlin knew that his feelings for Gawain were not in the way of his job, but he still felt that he was unable to engage in a relationship with her. Ruining the relationship they'd developed over the past years, growing ever closer, Merlin would rather leave it as it was than destroy something so good.

Harry's meddling made that very difficult, however.

'Merlin? God, there you are. I've been looking for you all over, thought you'd left after your reaction to Harry's mission.' Gawain arrived to his office, out of breath and looking almost nauseous. 'Harry gave me these' the passports of you and your husband, and a love story for the ages to go with it. Merlin could've thrown up there and then, but seeing you walk into his office after looking for him so diligently just made his heart swell with love.

Skimming the documents and then throwing them on his desk, Merlin removed his glasses and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. 'Do you still have our rings from last time?' he asked you, as you produced them from your trouser pocket, passing him the gold band, and showing him your own wedding and engagement rings. 'Yep, same as last time.' you laughed.

'We're here to check in. Mr and Mrs Miller' Merlin spoke, smiling at the man behind the front desk in the lobby of easily the most beautiful (and expensive) hotel you'd ever been in. 'Right this way Sir, Madam' said the bellboy as he walked towards the elevators, with Merlin on his tail, all of your luggage in his grasp.

Harry hadn't lied about the room either. A large room on the corner with floor to ceiling windows, draped in velvet curtains, boasting a gorgeous view of London's skyline. The bed was huge and covered in plush cushions, facing a modern shiny white bathroom. The whole room was decorated like a stately home, with vintage furniture and a clawfoot tub, it was right up your alley, and Merlin in his classic jumper and immaculately tailored trousers and oxfords, he looked at home in the room.

Placing down your bags, Merlin began setting up your respective laptops and tech equipment on the desk facing the window. 'I'll take the first shower' you said, heading for the bathroom with your personal belongings.

Letting the hot water wash over you was so soothing, especially with the thought of sleeping in the same bed with the man you were half in love with for the next few nights depending on how Harry wished to call the shots. It’s not that you and Merlin hadn’t slept in the same bed before, but you’d never felt this way about him, and he had never seemed this mad about it before. You hoped he was alright, and that it was just the stresses of the job, but a little niggle told you it was something to do with it being you he had to share the bed with.

Stepping out of the shower and drying yourself off with a plush towel, you dug through the overnight bag you’d brought for your skincare and pyjamas, as it was already 7pm by the time you’d checked in, and you had things to look over before you went to bed. Though no amount of digging could help when you realised you’d forgotten to bring any pyjamas at all.

‘Shit. Shit!’ you swore, realising you’d have to ask your dear Quartermaster if he had a spare shirt you could borrow to sleep in.

‘Everything alright in there, Gawain?’ you heard Merlin ask from beyond the door.

‘Mhm, just forgot a pyjama top’ you said as you cracked the door open and peered into the room, to find Merlin sat on the edge of the bed playing with his tablet. ‘do you have anything I can borrow? I completely forgot to pack anything.’

Getting up from his perch and making his way across to the dark wood dresser next to the desk he pulls out a large t-shirt, one that is clearly well loved by its faded colour and graphics. Merlin moves to hand it to you through the crack you’d made in the bathroom door, ‘Aye, here y’are, I don’t have any pants you can borrow but this should be big enough for you.’

‘Thank you Merlin. Seriously, you’re a life saver’ you beam through the door, as he turns and retakes his place on the foot of the bed. Retreating back into the bathroom you do your skincare and brush your hair, put on some panties and finally Merlin’s top. He’s not a large man but he’s certainly tall, and the t-shirt falls to below your bum, fitting you nicely as you spin in front of the mirror to see how it looks from the back. ‘Hm. Not too bad.’ you muse.

As you exit the bathroom carrying your overnight bag and trying to blow hair out of your face, you fail to notice Merlin’s eyes glance above his glasses from his tablet and rake up and down your form. He gulps at the sight of you in one of his favourite t-shirts, and how nicely it shows off your long legs, how well the colour compliments your skin, hair and eyes. He swiftly sits up, coughs ‘I’m taking a shower, then we can go over our aliases.’ His Scottish twang becoming more noticeable as he thickly swallows again, struggling to take his eyes off you.

You’re lounging on the bed, flicking through the documents regarding your aliases and looking at the facsimile passports laid out on the soft duvet in front of you, as Merlin exits the bathroom with a puff of steam. Only a towel slung low around his waist and water dripping from his shoulders, he wanders over to the chest of drawers and pulls out his pyjama bottoms, moving back to the bathroom. Seemingly in a world of his own, you get an eyeful of his toned torso, and attempt to dispel the less than holy thoughts that pop into your mind at light speed at the sight of him dripping wet. This was going to be a long night.

Merlin returns from the bathroom looking a lot less wet but no less naked, replacing the low slung hotel towel with a tartan pair of pyjama pants. ‘What happened to being fully dressed when we shared a room, eh, Merlin?’ you question, jokingly mentioning the rules the two of you had come up with years before when you’d first been forced into a hotel room together.

‘Might I remind you that you’re wearing nothing but my t-shirt right now, Gawain.’ Merlin smirked, looking at you sideways from his seated position on the other side of the huge bed, wrestling his socks on.

‘I guess you’re right, Sorry’ you smiled, remembering that he wasn’t in the best of moods. Reverting your attention back to the pile of papers strewn across the bed in front of you, ‘so, Mr Miller, what do you do?’ you asked Merlin as he scooted back to join you sitting against the headboard.

‘I work in finance and you’re my journalist wife. We met 6 years ago at a mutual friend’s wedding in the Bahamas and are staying here for a short weekend holiday to escape the January blues.’ Merlin muttered, clearly having memorised this better than you. ‘You’re Victoria Miller and I’m Archy, we’re filthy rich and very much in love, blah blah blah…’ he trails off after flipping a few of the papers over.

‘Archy.’ you laugh, ‘that’s so not you, Merlin.’

‘I know.’ he smiles ‘Not Scottish enough for me. Victoria is quite fitting for you I think, though.’

‘Huh, why?’

‘It’s classy, timeless.’ His eyes dart from the papers to yours, ‘Fits you well.’

‘Well, thanks; I prefer my real name though.’

‘Anyway, why does Arthur need us to be ‘married?’’ he makes little air quotations on either side of his face, which is scrunched up in confusion, ‘we’re not even in the field, just cooped up in this place. At least there’s a balcony.’

Jumping off the bed and ruffling all the papers in your wake, you run to Merlin’s side of the bed and stare at him quizzically. ‘There’s a balcony?!’ in both elation and confusion you look at him through his glasses, gazing into his light hazel eyes. ‘You kept that one quiet, Merlin. Where is it?’

‘We’ve got a whole ‘nother room, Gawain.’ He manoeuvres himself off the bed, swinging his long legs off and leading you through a set of tall doors into a living room with a kitchenette, and then left through a set of glass doors out into the cold January air of London. ‘Not sure how you missed the massive double doors on my side of the bed’ he questions, looking down at you as you place your forearms on the cool metal fence of the balcony, taking a long, deep breath in.

You begin to shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, as Merlin places himself next to you, leaning on the fence. His shoulder presses into yours and his goosebump riddled skin makes you shiver more. ‘Sorry’ he smiles, apologetic, turning to look at you. You smile back and close your eyes, breathing in deeply again, allowing him to take a good look at your face.

The winter has diminished your tan, but he can see specks of fading freckles. Hair tickles your face and your nose and cheeks are rosy from the cold winter night, and covered in goosebumps. Merlin can’t help but smile at the peaceful look on your face, despite being on duty and knowing that you have a long and stressful few days ahead of you. His eyes trail down to your plush lips and he forces himself to look away before you open your eyes, pushing himself off the fence and standing up to his full height, ‘c’mon it’s warmer in here, besides we need to go to bed,’ coaxing you back inside.

Shaking off the cold as you make your way into the living room you didn’t know you had, wandering into the kitchenette to browse the tea selection. Merlin closes and locks the balcony doors, rubbing his hands up and down his arms and following you over to make himself a cup.

‘Aren’t you freezing, no shirt and all.’ You ask him, flicking on the kettle and picking out a lavender tea blend for sleep, holding it up for Merlin to see when you sense him behind you.

‘Aye.’ A man of few words tonight, it seems. He moves closer to you, almost so that your back is flush with his chest, and places his palms on your cheeks, making you squeal with the cold as he laughs, moving back as you jump away.

‘Merlin! You bastard!’ You leap to the side to get his freezing hands off your cheeks, the flash of anger fading as you turn around and see him heartily laughing, hands in his pockets and torso tensed. The sight of the man’s full laugh and toned stomach tensed, combined with the domestic feel of the moment makes you smile and flood with warmth and emotion, turning back to concentrate on making your tea.

‘Sorry, love. Couldn’t resist.’ Merlin chuckles once more, the clicking of the boiled kettle bringing him back down to earth. Seeing you in his shirt in this beautiful apartment, and being so comfortable around him was not making his feelings any less prominent. He’s feeling not very talkative, and very tired, nervous for what tomorrow holds. He’s not himself when he leans forward and places his chin on the flat of your shoulder, gazing at the spread of teas in front of him and humming in contemplation at which brew he should have. He’s even less himself when he puts one hand on your waist for leverage, and uses the other to grab a herbal tea blend, plopping it unceremoniously in a teacup.

You gulp at the contact, but don’t want to scare him off, and allow him to touch you, savouring the contact. Taking a deep breath as he stands upright, removing his grasp on your waist and chin on your shoulder, you hope your voice doesn’t betray you when you ask ‘milk or sugar?’ despite it coming out a little shaky.

‘No, not for me, love.’ Merlin seems unfazed by the crossing of so many lines that just occurred, deftly pouring the water from the kettle and declaring that they each need three minutes to steep.

Ordering you to go back to bed, that he’ll deliver the tea, and that you should clean the papers off the bed so you can both get some sleep, Merlin allows himself to process what he just did, and the fact you didn’t smack him away. He smiles to himself, his foul mood lifting slightly at the idea that perhaps a relationship with his beloved Agent Gawain might not be so ridiculous a concept.

You fan yourself to dispel your fiery red cheeks, grappling with the papers on the bed and shoving them haphazardly on the desk as Merlin rounds the corner with two teacups with a contented smile on his face.

‘Here you are’ Merlin mutters as he passes you the steaming mug of lavender tea. You take a deep breath in through your nose, smelling the aroma of the soothing tea, as Merlin settles himself on his side of the bed, fighting with the sheets to get his long legs under. You can’t help stare at the way his long fingers grip the dainty cup, and how he effortlessly took care of the tea without a word. It makes you think of what life would be like with him, the night routine of brushing your teeth together and picking a tea out, fluffing the bedsheets and reading before bed, cuddling and falling asleep in his strong arms.

You’re ripped from your reverie as he removes his glasses, steamed up from the condensation, laughing at the sight. ‘How’s your tea? I hope it’s nice. Smells divine, you should be knocked out in no time.’ he jokes, alluding to the lavender.

‘You’re much chirpier than you were earlier, I hope you’re okay with this whole situation. You should stand up to Harry more if it really bothers you.’ you mutter, gazing into the purple tea in your hands, occasionally blowing on it, attempting to diffuse the tension you fear you’ve just caused.

Merlin’s silence draws on, and you take a breath to speak, to apologise before he finally speaks ‘Thanks, Gawain. I’m fine. Just sick of the aliases and hotel stays and Harry’s demanding of us to work remotely.’ He sighs, composing himself ‘I don’t understand why we can’t just work from the shop or the manor, surely we don’t have to be at every single mission site, right?’ He looks at you, almost pleadingly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

‘I don’t know. I sort of like the hotel stays. God knows my apartment isn’t as nice as this place’ you joke, once again hoping to diffuse the tension and try to lighten Merlin’s sullen mood.

‘I gathered. Your reaction to that balcony. Wow. You should’ve seen your face.’ Merlin muses, smiling to himself once again. ‘If you want, we can get up early and make breakfast tomorrow. Maybe eat it on the balcony?’

‘That’s music to my ears, Merlin. The way to a girl’s heart. Breakfast on the balcony.’ you joke, looking at him earnestly. ‘God we’re going to have to get up so early.’

‘Aye, let’s get some sleep,’ he says, draining the dregs of his teacup, as you do the same, ‘lots to do tomorrow.’

As both you and Merlin readjust your cushions and tuck yourselves into bed, you’re both thinking about the way he acted earlier in the kitchenette. He’s never touched you like that before, despite your close friendship. You flick off the bedside lights, both thinking of the person in bed beside you.

‘Goodnight, Merlin’

‘Goodnight, Gawain’

You’re stood in a dense rainforest, facing a highly guarded ancient ruin. Beside you is Eggsy and Merlin, both dressed in immaculate Kingsman suits, armed with their chosen weapons.

Everything is happening so fast: Merlin spraying the freeze on the land mine, shoving Eggsy off of it, the deafening ‘click’ of Merlin’s own shoe on it, his teary wink to you through the ferns as he begins to sing John Denver.

You’re crying now, watching as the man you love sacrifices himself for you and Eggsy to compete this mission.

‘Merlin, no! Please, don’t! Please!’ Your screams are muffled by choking sobs, and before you know it you can hear your name being shouted by him…

‘Gawain! Wake up! Gawain for God’s sake wake up!’ Merlin is almost shouting now, shaking your shoulder as he looks down at you in bed.

Groggily you come to, looking up at Merlin and allowing your eyes to adjust to the soft, warm glow of his bedside lamp. ‘Merlin’ you sob, throwing an arm around his naked torso.

‘It’s alright, Gawain, you’re alright. Tell me what happened. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real’ Merlin coos into your ear as you squeeze yourself into the crook of his neck, finally realising your sodden cheeks from the tears, sniffling into his wet shoulder.

‘It-it-y-you-’ you stutter.

‘It’s okay, just breathe, I’m here, you’re alright, Gawain’ Merlin soothes, rubbing your back as you sit up to pull yourself further into his arms.

After a while, your sobs slow down and your breathing calms, and you release your vice like grip on your Quartermaster. You sit back slightly, still remaining in his arms, but so that you can look at his face.

Seeing Merlin’s furrowed brows in fear and concern allows you to realise the truth that he is here, and that it was only a dream.

You laugh,realising the ridiculousness of the dream, and cough at a caught sob, but your laugh allows Merlin’s face to soften as he realises you’re okay.

‘What was it? Are you okay?’

‘It was you, Merlin. You’d-you’d stood on a land mine and… you know.’ He hums in acknowledgement, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back with his hand, the other managing to hold both of you upright in bed. ‘I just couldn’t believe you’d-d-died. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t told you I loved you.’ The words came tumbling out before the realisation hit you, sobering you.

Eyes shot wide in shock, you stared at Merlin, hoping that somehow he hadn’t heard, or had chosen to ignore you, or that you’d actually said nothing at all.

That didn’t happen though, he just pulled you closer, allowing you to feel his smile causing deep lines in his eyes and mouth against the side of your face. His hand gripped the back of your head and you tightened your grip on his torso, feeling the heat radiating from his bare skin despite the cold January night.

He pulled away, gently, and you saw his eyes searching for meaning in your face. ‘Did you mean that?’ he asked, pleading.

‘Mhm.’ Shyness took over, still worrying about his reaction, and reeling from the emotion of the dream.

His deft thumbs came up to wipe your tears from your face, and, still smiling, he placed two gentle kisses on your cheeks.

‘I think I love you too, Gawain.’ He whispers, finally placing a tender kiss on your lips.

Merlin wipes away your tears, tearing himself away from the kiss, and swipes the sweat-soaked hair from your face, combing it back with his fingers, all the while rubbing soothing circles on your back.

‘Okay, angel. We need to go back to sleep, we’ll talk about this in the morning.’ Merlin whispers gently as he slowly places you back down on the cushion, replacing the duvet over your shoulders.

You never take your hand off his side, and he takes that as a hint, sliding himself flush against your back and draping his arm over your middle, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck. Taking deep breaths of your hair, you both fall asleep.

You wake to the sound of Merlin clattering around in the kitchen, and remember where you are, and more importantly what happened last night when you feel your inflamed eyes and heavy chest from the high emotions.

Merlin hears you padding into the kitchenette, evidently feeling a little awkward about what transpired during the night. He, however, handles it as if you actually are married and that nothing untoward has happened. ‘Good Morning my love,’ he says, glancing behind his shoulder at you from his post at the stove, cooking up breakfast for the two of you, ‘didn’t want to wake you. Thought Harry and his bloody mission can wait.’ He laughed, encouraging some of your nerves to lift.

You take a seat at the desk whilst Merlin finishes up breakfast, flipping open your laptop and seeing if Harry has sent anything in. You see a message from Roxy asking about Merlin, teasing you about your crush so you snap it shut, giggling to yourself about how excited she’ll be when you both get back to the shop, hopefully sooner rather than later.

‘Gawain! Breakfast’s on the balcony, put some pants on it’s freezing!’ you hear Merlin call from the adjoining kitchenette, as you grab his forgotten pyjama pants, the early riser having already gotten dressed.

You join him on the balcony, taking in the sight of him sipping at his tea and gazing up at you, flushed by the chilly London morning. ‘You look good in my clothes.’ You were going to have to get used to this new, affectionate Merlin, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Back in the boardroom of the tailors shop, you and Merlin stood side by side in front of the screen, with Eggsy, Roxy and Arthur sat in front of you at the table.

Champagne had been poured and drank, and Harry’s beaming face at his oldest friend’s newfound love was something you’d never seen before.

Roxy’s reaction to the news that you and Merlin had officially come to the realisation of each other’s feelings was nothing short of spectacular, so much so that Merlin and Eggsy came running into the staff lounge when they heard Roxy’s bloodcurdling screams. Thinking she’d been shot or injured or something of the like, but laughing in relief when they saw you squeezed into a hug, with Merlin having to pry you away so you could breathe.

‘Well, all i have to say is, finally.’ Harry spoke, with the same tone as he would announce a new Kingsman or as one would announce a couple husband and wife, knowing that the other Kingsman felt exactly the same way.

You and Merlin never took off the fake rings you wore on that one fateful mission, and sometimes Merlin would sit and spin his ring around his finger when nobody was looking, wondering how early was too early to exchange it for a real wedding band, and to treat you to a real engagement ring.

Much of life at Kingsman hadn’t changed despite the revelation. You and Merlin were fiercely professional, perhaps even moreso than before your relationship, but the keen eye (Roxy, mainly) could often observe Merlin’s hand on your knee at your adjoined desk, or a swift kiss on the cheek or forehead from Merlin when he was called away to Harry’s office. Eggsy mainly used you as a bargaining chip when he was in trouble for stealing and/or destroying Merlin’s equipment, warning him he’d tell Gawain that Merlin had been shouting at him; unfortunately this never worked for Eggsy, you trusted Merlin deeply and knew how careful he was with his equipment. Eggsy never got away with it.

The new recruits always loved teasing their stoic instructor when they noticed Agent Gawain hanging around or helping Merlin with tasks, noticing the gentle way he spoke to you, and the intimate closeness they could sense. Merlin’s height and intelligence was enough to scare the sense back into most straying recruits, and you adored watching him assert his quiet authority every time the Kingsman needed a new agent.

Mainly though, you loved Merlin. And he loved you. Being close to one another and finally being able to express the feelings you’d both kept so secret and suppressed was liberating. You basically lived at Merlin’s central London flat. After all, it had a balcony, and he had an excellent tea selection which he’d allow you to choose from before bed, cuddling in front of the fireplace in his period bedroom as he fought off sleep, engulfed by his work. Seeing Merlin in a domestic setting was something you’d looked forward to the most, and it had not disappointed, peppering you with kisses before bed and waking you up with breakfast and a hot bath, heading to Savile Row together most mornings.

[whereserpentswalk]

Its been thousands of years since humanity has left earth, and you've ended you've ended up as a human in a part of the galaxy where other species became dominant before humans ever could. The closest human governments are further away then any spaceship could travel to within a lifetime, yet still humanity exists here.

Humans currently live in a diaspora across countless systems. Some live in spaceships and independent space stations, which is what most nonhumans think the normal environment for humans is, some living their entire lives without ever touch a planet. Other humans live within other specie's empires, subject to their laws, forced to conform to what alien governments want for their citizens, or what they want from humans to make sure they're safe.

Humans are just known by the larger society of this part of the galaxy as a diaspora race, the idea that they'd ever be capable of having their own government is laughable to most. They're known as traders, mercenaries sometimes as criminals, but never as a people with their own nations, their own worlds to be proud of.

You've read some of humanity's oldest stories. The station you live on has a city sized population, and is a local hub for human culture, especially when it comes to human creatives and scholars. It's strange reading stories from old earth, to see how the Iliad or the Inferno or the Journey to the West describe humanity, not as something deviant and on the fringes of society, but as something important, something special that needs protecting. To think your ancestors wrote these stories in shining human cities, thinking that humanity was all their was, to thing you wouldn't look out of place to any of these ancient humans if you could visit them.

Anti human sentiment is growing. More and more humans live on ships and stations now for that reason. More and more states see humans as a scavenger race, as something that inherently lives off of other, grander, civilizations. Some planets have started banning humans from moving to them. Others have banned human religions, especially those that allow nonhumans to convert.

Human reproductive cycles are seen as especially subversive, with the fact that humans have strong natural urges to mate, and that they see it as pleasurable, being seen as something that makes them a threat. A lot of the humans who are allowed to stay on some planets are forced to remove their desire to mate, or even the organs pertaining to it. It's hard to explain to nonhumans why that seems like such a violation to you.

More and more humans are fleeing to your station. You don't mind, though they are going to have to build it to be bigger soon. Your roommate for your new apartment is someone who just fled here from a planet where she almost never saw another human. She looks sickly and frail, she was never in an environment made for humans, and she never saw enough humans to realize how unhealthy she is, her bones were stretched from being on a world with lower gravity then humans are evolved for, and her reproductive organs were removed as per her old planet's policy.

She seems so embarrassed of being a human, and especially afraid of the human culture that's so present on the station. Even the more stereotypically human members of the station are something she's afraid of. You want to hug and comfort her. And you want to show her all these old humans books you've found. You want to tell her that her race didn't evolve as a race of scavengers.

You wonder about your station. A planet might be nicer, but it's a planet that wouldn't be fine tuned for humans. This stations gravity and atmosphere mimics a homeworld you'll never see, because it's what human bodies were built for. When you're in parts of the station so heavily urbanized it could pass for a dense skyless part of a planetary city, and the conditions around you perfectly mimic the cool autumns your ancestors once knew, you wonder if part of you can feel earth.