#deep down we all know hes a soft babey

[pan-gya]

What do you mean this didn’t happen in canon? Please Reblog

#magnus chase #samirah al abbas #alex fierro #mcga #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #rick riordan #incorrect quotes #source: unknown #my art #digital art #sketches #ok im really proud of how this turned out #like seriously #anyways #this is totally canon i dont know what youre talking about #magnus is a soft boi okay?? #he can be as cynical as he wants #deep down we all know hes a soft babey #my mom saw this and was like: #oh my god what did alex do to magnus??? #and i was like: #uhhhh i dunno....?

[misterghostfrog]

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #punk martin #fic #art #fanfic #fanart #ghostly doodle #ghostly doodles #Jons a mess! #and Martin has cool fashions #ghostly scribbles

[loth-wolffe]

hello there! um, so. I saw that You'd marry Fox and my first thought was that I'd ABSOLUTELY love to hear Your hc on him 🥺🥺🥺

GENERAL KENOBI sorry I had to

but hi sweets! i would absolutely lOVE to share my hcs on him with u my love<3 🥺

so this goes for u my sweet nonnie.

(also this turned out to be extremely longer than I thought it would be bc apparently I don't have any self control lmao. enjoy ✨)

first of all, fox is tired. VERY.

so this isn't any kind of news right, but I just think that because of this, he doesn't have both time or energy for so many things. He carries Coruscant on his back, literally, so there are two (2) kind of fox in this life. 1. he wants to destroy you bc he's all pent up with all this stress or 2. he's a soft baby.

speaking oF SOFT BABIES

listen. contrary popular belief, I really think fox is a lil softie who just wants to feel loved by you but he does mask it very well tho. (not me making headcanons of everyone being soft) BUT ANWAYS. I mean, there's different levels of Softness™ ofc, foxie can be softer than wolffe but less than cody, I don't know if u got me but uh huh, pretty much.

so now that we have clarified that fox is a lil babey I have these amazing soft hcs for him alright now hear this:

he absolutely loves baths

it's a plus if he's the lil spoon. he loves to just relax, his back touching yours as your fingers shampoo his locks, curling and uncurling in them and scratching his scalp. he sometimes rants about his job and other times he just listens to your soft, quiet voice as you talk him about your day and he feels this peace and so so loved.

in this same train of thought I can assure you that fox loves sleeping above you

MOSTLY if he's had a bad day. he loves cuddling with you and be the small spoon. his favorite times are at night when he comes home from a long shift and collapses onto you after he showers quickly, your fingers on his hair and his head on your chest as he listens to you read whatever book you're currently reading. whenever he thinks of home, he thinks in this exact scenario.

i feel like, during very very though days, maybe when he loses a brother (that doesn't happen thAt usual unless there's something like, a fucking gigantic animal trying to destroy both Coruscant and the chancellor or that kind of stuff) and he would feel this lump in his throat that only tightens when he feels you squeeze him in your arms, and kiss the top of his head but he also feels so relieved because you're there, with him, and when you whisper that you're not going anywhere he just, feels like he was falling only to be catched by you.

he aDORES so much when you visit him at the office

at first he was very apprehensive because he didn't really want to mix his work and his love life, and if thorn or anyone found out he would nEVER hear the end of it. (they eventually did find out and always tease them but I'll talk about this later).

so anyways, fox was kinda nervous and at first he didn't even let you take off his helmet and rushed you to leave asap. ofc you didn't take it personally, and just said a lil hello, told him you'd be staying late at work and that you loved him and that was that. maybe left a kiss just a cm or two down the modulator and said your goodbyes (since I read this post, the thought lives rent free in my mind and if I could I'd make a different scenario for every clone using that post and that post only bc I just love it SO much. thank you murdy for your service, I will always be in ur debt)

anyways, after that you stopped by a little more and he ended up yEARNING for your visits, letting you sit on his desk or lap as he worked and you talked about this new gossip or whatever and he just breathed you in or took a few glimpses of you from time to time, stealing a kiss or two and letting go a few "uh huhs" and "oh yeah?" for you to know he wAS listening.

other times you go for a quickie and yeah

NOW. the troopers that tEASE HIM.

they are aLWAYS joking about when are you coming to see fox again, and make kissing sounds and are always like "your s/o is really hot commander" and sometimes he shuts them up and other times he feels this pRIDE swelling over his chest because he loves you so and you're his.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous. foxie my mans is v insecure sometimes, lemme tell you. he doesn't know why you picked him and the first time you told him he's beautiful he gave you this deadpan expression and went "I literally look like a million others." my baby doesn't know he's one of a kind and that you love him for who he is, so when he sees, idk, thorn making you laugh, he becomes very self conscious.

but like, he sort of suffers in silence and won't EVER let you know he's afraid you might change him for another, but you know bc he always f word you very hard and deep and literally destroy you but he would also be a bit more attentive than usual.

but then again, fox is also a giver.

he always comes home with whatever is missing from your fridge or this one candy you love so much, and he always makes caf for you before heading out, he likes to pass by the medbay or wherever you're working at a minute or so before your shift ends just so you can go home together.

he doesn't like pda and is very Private but like I said before, he will always be ready to help you if you need him.

this one time you fell sick very badly and he stopped by almost every few hours and commed you every hour to make sure you were alright. you got slightly annoyed but you found very endearing how much he cares for you. besides, you were rEALLY ill, so yeah.

and let's not forget that one time he was on patrol close to your apartment and you commed him to ask him if he knew where the flour was or whatever (truth was you just wanted to hear his voice bc you were feeling down and wanted to cheer yourself up.) and he caught on your sad tone and well, the point is that he ended up going all the way to your place just to give you a soft kiss on your lips, shrugging and saying something like "I forgot my comnlink" because clones can't lie for shit but he didn't want to tell you he couldn't focus in his job if you were sad:(

SO ANYWAYS, these are my commander fox hcs, thank you for sending this lovely ask baby. (don't know if you were expecting like, general hcs on him or hcs of him with you or? heh)

lemme know if I agree or don't or if you wanna punch me bc fox is nothing like that, or if you have some amazing hcs u wanna share or wanna ask me or idk idk

u know I love hearing from you guys and talking with u as well 💖

#thank you for asking my sweet nonnie #love u sm #ted talks with ari #commander fox x reader #fox headcanons

[yikesharringrove]

I know it's dark and maybe you don't want to touch the subject and you've not been doing well lately but can I request one of the boys with an eating disorder? I can totally see Steve being restrictive or purging (anorexia or bulimia) or Billy with an obsession on being healthy (orthorexia)

So, I actually have another drabble request coming soon with orthorexic billy, so I’m gonna do one for our sweet boy stevie. Wanna wreck this babey

Trigger Warnings for: disordered eating (anorexia), hospitalization, and an ng feeding tube.

-

Steve’s mother had a drawer full of diet pills.

She would take a few with her wine, and be much too full, no really she couldn’t dream of having another bite whenever dinner rolled around.

She would smile sadly at Steve and pinch at the softness of his belly, tell him darling, our looks are all we have.

And the diet pills were an easy solution.

Steve stole a few bottles. Not that she would even notice, began taking them to replace dinner. Then to replace breakfast and dinner.

Then he just, kinda stopped eating.

He would have something every few days, a few crackers or a spoonful of peanut butter, when the groans of his stomach were unbearable.

But then he learned to ignore it, to file it away and go days without food.

He kept the weight off.

Of course he did, he wasn’t putting anything in his body to balance it out.

And the thinner he got, the thinner he wanted to be.

He stopped working out.

Didn’t have much in the way of energy for it anyway.

And then his muscles were gone, and you could see his ribs through his skin.

Our looks are all we have.

He liked tracing his bones as he lay in bed at night, liked how delicate his collar bones felt, how sharp his hip bones were.

It didn’t matter that he’d wake up the next morning with a migraine and clumps of hair on the pillow.

His softness was gone, his cheeks weren’t pinch able anymore.

His parents came home to an empty fridge, and an empty drawer where diet pills used to be.

His father sneered at him, told him he looked like death warmed over.

His mother fussed with his clothes, tried to get them to fit right.

Nothing fit right.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he had his looks.

It doesn’t matter if his skin was waxy, or his hair was thinning.

Because his elegant bones stood out so beautifully.

“Jesus, Harrington.”

Billy was staring at him, staring at him like he wasn’t elegant. “You’re. Real skinny.” Steve tried to sit back up, tug on his shirt and kick Billy out of his house.

But he didn’t have enough energy to push Billy off him.

He couldn’t help getting angry, snapping at Billy.

“What about it, Hargrove?” Billy furrowed his brows, rolling off of Steve to sit next to him on the bed.

“Are you, like, are you anorexic?”

He watched Steve’s muscles shift under his skin as he sat up.

“You look-”

“I look how I want.”

“There’s no way you want this. Steve, you look like a fucking skeleton.” Steve pulled the blankets up of himself. Billy wouldn’t understand. “Why are you doing this?”

Because of a mother that always said our looks are all we have and Steven, must you eat like such a piglet? and a father that would say if you were a girl I’d tell you to marry well and people respect you if you’ve got money and looks. Don’t be an idiot and lose them.

“It’s what I want.”

“It’s killing you.” Billy’s eyes were wide. “Steve, you’ve gotta, like, go to the hospital or something. I don’t even know what to do.” He looked panicked, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

But then Steve stood up.

His vision always fuzzed at the edges these days, but sometimes it just went black.

He woke up some time later, a dull pain in his head.

He opened bleary eyes, found himself in a hospital bed.

He glared at Billy sitting next to him. Billy glared right back.

“Why am I here?” His voice was raspy, his throat hurt.

Billy rolled his eyes, scoffing at him.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” Steve went to wipe at his nose, found a tube taped to his face, shoved up his nostril. His eyes went wide. “Yeah. Feeding tube.”

“What the fuck?”

“Look, you fucking passed out and I wanted to make sure you weren’t concussed. Basically, you’re fine but severely malnourished, so, feeding tube.”

“Fuck you.” Steve slumped against the bed. He had half a mind to yank the thing right out of him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Billy mirrored him, slumping back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “Just, a lot of shit made sense, I guess. Every time I suggest a dinner date, you get this weird look in your eye. And you never eat the popcorn when we go to the movies.”

Steve looked down at his hands.

“How long?” Billy’s voice was soft again.

“I don’t even know. I’ve always, I don’t think I’ve ever felt good about myself.” He was fidgeting with his fingers.

Since when were they like that? So pale and frigid. They looked like skeleton hands.

“Steve, you do realize you’re hurting yourself, right? Like I mean, you’re just slowly starving to death.”

“Maybe that was the idea. To die in the slowest, most painful way I could on the off chance that someone would actually notice. Would bother to care.”

“I did. I noticed. I care.” Steve gave him a look.

“Not for nothing, but we’ve gone on like, six dates, and were just about to fuck when you got weirded out by my body. Not exactly the best reaction I’ve had.”

“Yeah, but at least I reacted.” Billy’s jaw was tense. He checked his watch. “They called your mom. She consented to have you admitted. You’re keepin’ the feeding tube and doin’ all kindsa therapy and shit. Your mom gave a big ol’ performance. I could hear her screaming through the phone about my precious, beautiful baby!” Billy put on a high voice to imitate her.

“So, they’re institutionalizing me?”

“Nah. You just can’t be trusted right now, so they’re getting you help.”

“So, it’s more like prison.”

“If prison was nicer and you got food shot through your special nose tube and a therapist told you how worthwhile you are every day.” Steve cracked a little smile at that. Just a tiny one.

“Will you visit me?”

“Probably not. I think if I did, they’d lock me up too.” Billy grinned as Steve laughed lightly. “‘Course I’ll visit.”

“Did they say how long?”

“Tops, a month. But your mom was babblin’ about some rehab center in Ottowa that her friend’s sister’s cabana boy’s cousin’s wife’s daughter’s husband went to, or some shit like that.”

“Isn’t rehab like, drugs?”

“Not necessarily.” Billy huffed, his face going serious. “I want you to, like, try. Talk your shit out in therapy and try to work up to eating on your own. I want you to be healthy.”

“But what if, what if my healthy is, like, a little bigger?” Steve had always had a little tummy, some extra meat on his hips and thighs, a round ass.

“Then I’ll fucking welcome it. I don’t care what your healthy looks like. I just want it.”

“You won’t when you realize I’m fat.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Billy had a challenge in his voice, had a sharpness in his eye.

Steve just shook his head.

“Okay, I  seriously, don’t care if your body is big. If you’re happy, and you’re healthy, I don’t fucking care. There’s nothing bad about being fat.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my mother.” Steve scrunched his nose. The tube was uncomfortable, threaded through his nose and down his throat. The tape securing it to his face was itchy, and really, he just wanted to rip the damn thing out. “I don’t wanna hear what she’s gonna say.”

“I’ll stay here the whole time. Tell her to stuff it when she gets goin’.”

Steve smiled at him weakly.

“I just meant, like. If I start getting fat again.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“I think you meant, when you start getting healthy. Because you will. And that will come with weight gain, but that’s not bad. Having fat, being fat isn’t bad, Steve. I know you really don’t believe me right now, but I hope you will. Because it sucks seeing you hurt yourself when I think you’re still absolutely amazing no matter how your body looks.”

Jesus, it was so goddamn sweet. Kinda made Steve melt a little bit inside.

“I, uh, thanks. Thank you, Billy.”

Billy reached forward to take one of Steve’s hands in his. One of his cold, thin, hands. It was shocking, the difference between his hand and Billy’s. It was so much paler, so much thinned despite his hand being overall bigger.

“I’m kinda. I’m kinda scared. Is that stupid?”

“No. Getting better is probably gonna be hard. But, it’s important. You’re, important.” A deep flush was creeping up Billy’s neck, but he was holding eye contact with Steve. “And I’ll be around for you. If you want.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I want you around.”

Billy brought their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand.

“Then I’ll be there.”

#my therapist called me out so hard last week and it gave me the juice to finish this bad boy #the beginning is probably close to a year old at this point i have so many half-finished drafts rip #tw eating disorder #tw anorexia #tw feeding tube #tw ng tube #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

[spacesquidlings]

Happy Father’s Day, Gavin

Gavin had never imagined a world where he would wake up every day to unconditional love and warmth. That he would be wanted and cherished by anyone again. But then he wakes up to his wife and his daughter trying to give him all the love in the entire world.

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Warnings: None

Notes: Thank you to one of my bestest friends @jihyuncompass who lets me ramble about Gavin all day long!!!!! I loves you Anne, thank you for always being the best.

ALSO this fic features my lil fan-kid for Gavin. Her name is Aurora and she is very loved.

ALSO, final note, but I’ve decided to stop using MC in lieu of an actual name just to make the fic flow a lil better

*******************************************************************************

Gavin woke up later than usual. He’d managed to get most of the week off, and he’d grown used to sleeping in, the warm cocoon of the blankets and his wife’s arms lulling him into a deep, heavy sleep. It wasn’t until the sunlight staining the curtains was a deep gold that he would slowly begin to wake, turning onto his side to pull Rowan against his chest and cuddle her for a while until his eyes were no longer crusted with sleep, and her voice lilted through the air, welcoming him into the new day.

But today when he reached for her, his eyes still closed, he was met with nothing.

Gavin frowned, reaching further across the bed, his hands meeting nothing but air and an empty bed.

His eyes snapped open and he winced, the sunlight shining directly into his eyes. The bed was indeed empty other than him, the sheets a rumpled mess, the pillows pushed around haphazardly the way Rowan often shoved them around when she was trying to wiggle against his chest.

He rolled over, wondering if maybe she was just in the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off.

For a moment his heart sank, a bitter feeling of loneliness seeping into his heart and spreading across his tongue as he laid in the empty bed.

Where was Rowan? Where was his wife?

But then he heard the sound of footsteps heading towards the room, and the soft cadence of Rowan’s voice as she murmured something, so low Gavin couldn’t make it out.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he pulled the blankets back up around him, shutting his eyes as the bedroom door opened, his wife making her way through the sun-warmed room.

“Okay little princess,” she said, her voice low as she slowly sank onto the bed. “You can sleep with us for a bit, okay? But don’t bother daddy too much, it’s a special day for him, and he needs his sleep.”

“Okay mommy,” came the quiet response, and it was then that he realized that Rowan had only gotten up to retrieve Aurora, their toddler.

She’d been sleeping with them nearly every morning since she’d been a newborn, sometimes sandwiched between the two of them, sometimes carefully nestled into the bed next to Rowan when he had to leave early for work.

He felt the mattress shift again, and then a small body was curling up against his chest, little hands grasping at his shirt. The blankets lifted higher, and he felt them being tucked around him and Aurora as the toddler squirmed, giggling even as Rowan hushed her.

“Time for sleep, okay?” She whispered, and Gavin felt a hand against his brow, brushing back his bangs, and his heart warmed as he pictured the expression on his wife’s face, the tenderness in her eyes, the way her mouth curled up, her cheeks stained a rosy pink as she looked at him.

Aurora huffed, but curled closer against him, so much like her mother it made his heart ache.

“Happy daddy day,” she said, her voice already sounding tired, and he couldn’t help smiling, his heart aching from all the love that poured into him like the sunlight spilling into the bedroom.

He fell back asleep with the comforting warmth of his daughter against his chest and the brush of his wife’s lips against his cheek as she whispered how much she loved him.

***

He woke a second time to kisses from his wife, the sound of Rowan’s laughter dancing through the room.

He cracked one sleepy eye open to peer at the scene before him. Of Rowan propped up on her elbow, one hand cupping his cheek while she pressed kisses to his face and his neck. Aurora was still curled against his chest, but she was grinning up at him, her small hands now balled in the sheets.

“Good morning,” Rowan said, running a hand through his hair.

He smiled at them, his two favourite people, and his heart felt full. “Good morning.”

“Do you know what today is?” Rowan asked, her eyes shining, her voice teasing as she spoke.

But before Gavin could respond, Aurora chimed in, waving her hands as she beamed up at him. “It’s daddy day!”

Rowan snorted, leaning down to kiss the top of Aurora’s head. “It’s daddy day, you’re right! And do you know what happens on daddy day?”

Aurora hummed for a minute before jabbing a chubby finger at Gavim. “We celebrate my daddy!”

“And how do you think we should do that?”

“Breakfast!” She squealed, rolling onto her back. “With breakfast!”

Gavin couldn’t stop smiling, his heart warm, his world painted in sunshine and glittering starlight, happiness brighter than any star as he basked in these two people that he adored.

“What do you think, babey?” Rowan asked, turning her bright eyes towards him. “Should we start with breakfast?”

He kissed both of Aurora’s cheeks, and then brushed his lips against Rowan’s, unable to contain his smile.

***

The day was warm, with a soft breeze that carried the sound of windchimes and birdsong. He could smell blooming flowers in the air, could hear the quiet buzz of the bees that bounced through the garden in their backyard. Stella barked at a stray squirrel, her tail wagging as she started running circles through the yard, pausing to sniff the grass or the gate before sprinting aimlessly again.

The windows were wide open, and they’d even decided to open the back door so Stella could come and go as she pleased. Normally Gavin and Rowan would have worried about Aurora wandering outside alone, although she couldn’t have gotten far with the fence and with Stella often trailing behind her as she toddled around. But still it wasn’t always ideal to have their toddler wandering around outside unsupervised.

But today Aurora was wholly focused on helping to make breakfast for Gavin. She helped to cut bananas and strawberries, and she put butter on toast, and she stirred pancake batter while Rowan held onto the bowl, doing her best to catch any spills.

And when she was done all of her cooking and she’d supervised the cooking of the pancakes with a serious expression that Rowan teased was exactly how Gavin looked when he was focused, she waddled over to where Gavin sat with a big plate balanced in her hands.

“For you!” She announced, holding the plate up while Rowan stood behind her, trying to make sure it didn’t fall from Aurora’s tiny hands.

But Gavin hadn’t even taken a bite before Aurora was crawling into his lap and taking his fork from him.

“I’m going to help you daddy,” she said, nearly knocking an entire pancake from his plate in an effort to spear one piece of banana. “It’s daddy day after all.”

He couldn’t help snorting as she pointed the fork at him.

“Eat daddy! You need your breakfast!”

Beside him, Rowan laughed. “Aurora, why don’t you let daddy eat his breakfast. You need to eat yours too.”

She pouted, still waving the fork in the air. “But I wanna help daddy!”

Gavin rested his chin on top of Aurora’s head, peering at Rowan imploringly. “I don’t mind, and it means I get to cuddle with my little princess!”

He pressed kisses to Aurora’s cheeks until she squealed with laughter, her eyes screwing closed as she wiggled in his arms.

Rowan held up her hands. “Alright alright, it’s your day after all.”

Gavin hummed, taking a bite of pancake as Aurora jabbed the fork at him again. “Maybe you’re jealous though? Because you’d like some cuddles too?”

Rowan’s brow arched, but her cheeks turned crimson as he teased her. “That’s an awfully bold claim.”

“Aurora,” Gavin said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think mommy wants some cuddles from me too.”

Aurora giggled, covering her mouth. “Daddy, you need all the cuddles today!”

He nodded. “You make a good point, and mommy gives good cuddles.”

Aurora nodded furiously. “The best!”

Rowan smiled, poking at her food. “Well maybe after breakfast I would like some cuddles.”

Gavin grinned, wide and bright. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

***

There wasn’t really any better way for Gavin to spend his day, if he was being honest. Aurora refusing to let him go, wanting to hug him as much as she could, Rowan pressing kisses to his cheeks and wrapping her arms around his waist for quick, tight hugs whenever she passed him in the house.

They all went outside to play with Stella, throwing around a little plastic basketball until Aurora fell back in the grass and whined, saying she felt too hot. But they’d barely been inside for a minute before she was clinging to him again, saying she had to give him more hugs.

She even tried dragging his guitar out, saying she wanted to play a song. But after smacking her hands against the strings a few times, Gavin scooped her into his lap, balancing the guitar on his knees.

“Do you want to play a song with me?” He asked, and Aurora wiggled with excitement as he’d tried his best to take her through the chords of simple, beginner songs.

They snacked on cut up peaches and strawberries and watermelon, all fruits Aurora had insisted on choosing at the grocery store a few days ago, and that she’d insisted on helping to cut, shouting at Gavin when he tried to help.

“No daddy! You can’t help today!” She said, waving her hands at him, her fingers stained with strawberry juice.

Rowan nodded, taking Aurora’s hands and gently wiping the fruit juice away. “We’re taking care of you today, babey, remember?”

He’d pouted at that, wanting to help with even the smallest of things. But any brief melancholy he’d felt was quickly washed away as both Rowan and Aurora had curled up with him, and he’d felt himself enveloped in more warmth and love than he’d ever thought he would experience in his life.

They watched movies until late, past Aurora’s bedtime, plastic bowls of ramen from one of Gavin’s favourite shops spread out before them. And when the food was done and the movies were over, night draped across the sky like a glittering veil, they’d all gone out into the backyard, and Gavin had gotten to lay on the cool grass and stare up into the shining universe, at the shining silver light of the stars, with the brightest lights of his life on either side of him.

The day ended far too soon, with Aurora falling asleep in the crook of his arm as they’d made wishes on shooting stars that had streaked past so quickly they’d almost missed them.

Gavin wrapped her in his sweater, cradling her in his arms as he’d carried her back inside, Rowan’s cheek pressed against his arm as she’d peeked down at their sleeping Aurora, cooing softly and reaching out to squeeze one of Aurora’s hands.

“She loves you so much,” Rowan murmured, kissing Aurora’s cheek as they laid her in her bed, tucking the blankets around her.

“I love her,” Gavin breathed, for a moment unable to take his eyes from the little sleeping form as she rolled onto her side, curling into a little ball, the way Rowan did when she fell asleep.

She was perfect, his perfect, beautiful little daughter.

He looked up then, into Rowan’s eyes, and the love in his heart grew brighter, shining like the shooting stars in the sky. “And I love you.”

Rowan ducked her head, but he could see the flush on her cheeks, the smile playing at her lips. “I love you so much, babey.”

He took her hand and drew her from the room, closing the door softly behind them, not wanting to disturb Aurora’s sleep. And then he swept Rowan into his arms, holding her tight as she gasped, her arms encircling his neck.

“Gavin!” Her tone sounded reproachful, but she was smiling wider now, and after a moment she nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes falling shut.

“It’s late,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We should go to bed too.”

She hummed her agreement, letting him carry her through the house as he shut all the lights off, before carrying her back to their room.

“You know,” he said, setting her down on the bed before going in search of their pajamas. “I do think you owe me one more gift today.”

Rowan cocked her head to the side, bemusement in her gaze as she watched him. “What do you mean? Did you not like the movies and the food?”

He shook his head. “No, I loved those. But I wanted something else, something you promised me earlier.”

Rowan hummed, her brow arched as she turned to change. “And what’s that?”

“I wanted cuddles from my wife.”

Her eyes were warm when they met his again, her features softened by the moonlight that washed across their room. “I can give you all the cuddles you want.”

He crawled back into bed, back into the cocoon he’d awoken in, the blankets soft and warm. Rowan crawled in after him, smiling as she held her arms out to him.

He felt so warm he thought he would melt as he snuggled against her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he rested his head against her chest.

“I love you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine.”

He was smiling as he fell asleep, warm and loved and safe in her arms. It was a tangle of feelings that he’d once thought he would never feel, and yet here he was now, wrapped in her embrace, her heart beating a steady rhythm against his cheek, lulling him to sleep.

And although, as he fell asleep, he knew that tomorrow would not technically be a special day, that there would be no reason to be excited for it, he found himself looking forward to it all the same.

Because tomorrow meant waking up with warm sunlight staining the curtains as it spilled into the room. It meant waking up to kisses from Rowan, from Aurora trying to burrow into their blankets. It meant another day spent with the most important people in his life, the people that he loved, the ones who loved him unconditionally.

So he smiled as he fell asleep, safe in Rowan’s arms as she played with his hair, already looking forward to tomorrow.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #gavin bai #bai qi #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #gavin x mc #gavin x reader #dadvin #I just think he would make an eXCELLENT dad okay #he'd be a real jorts and barbecue tongs type man #calls kids sport #PLEASE he would be very good and he deserves so much love #aurora bai #star kissed winds

[kizzys]

Starkid Rewatch: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals 🎼

Finally we have reached the hatchetfield series

My paulkins brain is ready let's gooo

I'm that one lady in the audience who's genuinely jamming out to the intro

Thinking back to how the intro was just foreshadowing the ending and that Emma gets infected too

🎶what an ass, what a bitch, what a cuuuuuuuuck🎶

I love how every musical with them has lauren and robert having a cute dance number

Paul was clearly set up to be the asshole character but we all chose to love him so they just went along with it

LATTAY HOTTAY ☕

Does she know i would die for her

I have very low blood sugar

Paulkins interaction here we go

Knowing that ted is the homeless man...

I don't know how it changes things here but somehow it just does

Reluctant friendship hcs for paul and green peace girl come through

Once again: props to June saito for understanding the duality of lesbian fashion

Hey it's everyone's favorite murder grandpa

Oh, look a new blouse

Pitch perfect whomst?

I love that for Bill it's never a question of alice being gay..it's never really that big of a deal. He just does not like deb

He even suggests other girls for alice

Its just really comforting for me to watch it be normalised so sweetly

Lah...dee...DAH. DAH. DAY?!

I will 100% believe this is the man behind the paul clones. He is so fucking unhinged look at him

🎶black coffee, I'm your coffee gal- NOOOOO!!!!!

He has to bend to half his height to meet her eye level i love them

Promise me you'll think about the implications!!

Jaime had no business being this hot during cup of poisoned coffee

They're constantly just holding hands or reaching out for each other it's too cute

YOU GRABBED THE WRONG ONE, YOU NOODLE!

The purest friendship

Ted casually jamming out to Robert's dance

[alien/turkey noises]

His brain fell out

Who is it? Professor hidgens! Don't lie to me whoever you are, I'm professor hidgens!

This is paul and...them

I'm going to...kick your...head

Iconic

Get you someone who looks at you the way paul looks at emma

Or even the way emma looks at paul really they're both equally soft

The biggest plot twist would have been if Paul had been the one to crash Jane's car

FUCK CLIVESDALE

So I guess I'm the supervillain? I don't think of you like that at all emma

I'm soft for them

Jaime i love u

Seriously her voice 😯

Jeff just jumping around while jaime sings like a goddess honestly same

Anyways paulkins are being all adorable in the background

I love how they're just screaming out for bill like fuck ted

I shot a charle-ton

Appreciate his jokes please

SING THE BEGINNING OF MOANA

The best starkid song honestly

Can we talk about how paul remembered most of the lines? Like emma and ted were just repeating whatever he said and bill was fucking singing the circle of life

Ted's voice cracking

I just realised he's sitting directly in front of charlotte's body and I know he's 90% an asshole but this fucking scene man

Like he cares just a little and we can all see it how he's trying to keep whats left of his friends from dying too

Honestly joey's acting here gets me

Height difference™

When he said "I respect her choices but..." I honestly initially thought some homophobic crap might follow but bill you absolute angel

He did not dissapoint

Bill Woodward 🤝 Steve harrington

If you get what I mean

(team i have no issue with you being a lesbian but please have better taste in girls)

Fancasting for denise or angela to play grace chastity in NPMD

Corey's expressions in this scene honestly breaks my heart

He just wanted to save his daughter 😔

prove it asshole, we're the army

he boop

WEAR A WATCH ⌚

I'm authorising you to use my firearm

Hidgens and mcnamara are both dramatic gays but with completely opposite energies

[foot sweep]

The way he skip-runs across the stage

Draco would be proud

For a 63 year old he can really work those hips

The audience losing their shit

Should I take this chair? I'll get the piano

The light slowly turning red as infected!mcnamara smiles

The audience slowly realising what the lyrics mean

Honestly iconic

One of my favorite moments in the show

So the last thing paul ever told emma was "byeeeee"?

Nah fuck that they both survived and are living happily in colorado running their pot farm

What ending?

The theatre being Paul's worst nightmare and starlight theatre being the place where he's killed, and starlight also being miss holloway's nightmare time? Methinks he might be her descendent of some sort

Watch out paul, he might kick your head

Mr. Davidson didn't want to be a mindless alien slave! He wanted to be choked by his wife!

Starkid stroking their villain takes a whole another level here huh

Jon slipping between normal talking to singing after every other word is pure talent

All jokes and paulkins related angst aside the ending is actually really amazing for a multitude of reasons

1. Inevitable is an absolute masterpiece of a song and it ties in all the previous songs that were there in the show

2. It provides context to the intro song (its all a fucking loop babey)

3. We get this one final moment of softness

4. Emma's scream perfectly harmonises with the ending of inevitable

5. It spectacularly breaks the 4th wall for the second time and integrates the audience as characters in the show

6. They never once break character through the whole thing

7. It proves once and for all that the hero of the story was never paul, it was emma. paul was just the final villain

That being said I am happily going back deep down in denial-town. You can find me drowning in a bucketload of paulkins fluff fics goodbye

#the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #starkid #starkid rewatch #thoughts #mine #jon matteson #lauren lopez #paulkins #robert manion #joey richter #mariah rose faith #jaime lyn beatty #june saito #corey dorris #jeff blim #nick lang #matt lang #denise donovan #angela giarratana #kim whalen #emma perkins #henry hidgens #paul matthews #ted spankoffski #alice woodward #bill woodward #jane perkins #grace chastity #john mcnamara

[xenia-cenia]

Albedo x Fem!Reader - Love

A/N- HUGE thank you to @yukiilu​ for helping me figure out what to do for this one - check out their blog, it’s super good!

Liyue time babey!!!! Also stan proper lab safety

Trigger/Content Warnings: abusive dad/absent mom, near death experience 

Word Count: 2,483

Request: No

Summary: You learn what love truly means.

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

Love.

You were not cut out for love. That had been drilled into your head since you were a child - you were dangerous. You needed to stay under lock and key. You needed to obey. You needed to stay put.

Your mother danced with electricity between her fingertips and fear in her step. Your father who had fallen in love was quick to run when he found her true identity.

By the age of 4, anyone could see you were different. Lightning always seem to strike around you, yet the shocks had no effect. 

Love.

You could not love, nor could anyone love you. 

You could easily end cities if your frustration flashed, you needed to be hidden. 

It took 15 years for your father to pass and you to be found. The world had changed in your absence, children ran with kites and merry. Sunlight beamed onto your skin and burned your irises. 

Citizens of the place you learned was called Mondstadt expressed their disgust for your father. They all told the same story; that when you were a child you got attacked by a group of hilichurls who stole your life. They mourned with him for years and none could explain the surplus of storms that followed your ‘death’.

 A woman with blonde hair which she wore into a ponytail was the first to greet you to current Mondstadt. She called herself Jean and apologized for your suffering. How, she questioned, were you held in a basement under their noses for all of those years?

Out of pity or fear, you weren’t quite sure, she assigned the Knights resident alchemist to teach you everything you missed. 

The boy never held expression in his teal eyes; nothing more than analysis. He didn’t sigh or apologize for your past like many other citizens of Mondstadt, instead, he asked you a question that you yourself had never considered.

“Why were you locked away?”

After a few moments of careful thought, you responded, “Love.”

He almost looked surprised at your answer, “Interesting.”

For weeks, you shadowed the boy as he completed various experiments. For weeks, you watched as he slowly began to open up to you.

“Come here.” He instructed, holding a vial with his gloved hand. You walked up to him and looked at his experiment, “Careful now, pour this into this.” He pointed at a cylinder.

You opened your mouth to question why, but simply shook your head and poured the vial. A burst of red and pink exploded into the air, the colors swirling and forming a flower.

“Alchemy,” he spoke, looking at the wonder in your eyes, “is magnificent. Isn’t it?” With an unclothed hand, you reached up to touch the symbol but Albedo quickly grabbed your wrist, “You’ll burn yourself.”

“Ah,” you set your hand down. “Can I... can we do more?”

He smiled to himself, “You’ll need gloves.”

The next day, as you sat around his lab in the Knights of Favonius headquarters, he showed up carrying a large box. You quirked an eyebrow up but he ignored it, setting the day and hastily rifling through it. Your curiosity got the better of you, you walked over and peered in.

It was filled with various lab safety precautions. He paused with his hands deep inside the box and pulled out see-through goggles with a thin black strap around the back. 

“Try these on.” He handed them to you. You squeezed the goggles on and were surprised at how clearly you could see everything. “Do they fit?” He asked, not looking up.

“I think so.” You adjusted them, “They don’t hurt or anything.”

“Okay, good.” He sucked the inside of his cheek, “Hmm... try these gloves on.” He pulled out a pair of black gloves with a bright yellow diamond pattern sewn into the cuff. 

You picked them up and slid them on. The warm interior made your chest swell, to conceal the blush that crept onto your face you turned around and covered your cheeks with your hands.

When was the last time someone went out of their way to make your clothes were warm and fit right? Had it ever happened?

“(Y/N)?” Albedo asked, confused at your sudden reaction.

“They’re... they’re really good. Can I keep them?”

“I don’t see why not.” The boy waited for you to turn around before he continued his plans for today's experiment. As you did, he couldn’t help but smile. In one quick step, he was mere inches from your face, his hands adjusting the goggles you had shoddily put on. “This part needs to go on your nose.” He tapped the plastic. “Make sure you don’t get any flyaway hairs stuck in here.”

You nodded blankly, trying to keep yourself from collapsing to the floor with shaking legs. And for the first time in your life, you began to wonder.

Perhaps your father lied about love. Perhaps it was another trick to keep you under his control; to scare you about kindness that existed just outside of the darkness. Perhaps even you could love

But you knew better than to let thoughts like that clear your mind. Your father just wanted to protect you. You were dangerous. It was for the best. You deserved to be locked away.

...right?

Right. You shook the thoughts away and listened as Albedo began to explain the lab he’d be doing today. 

When he was finished, you chatted happily with him the entire time and hoped he wouldn’t notice you shoving the gloves to the bottom of the box and your sadness.

At your home, you couldn’t help but feel fear. The house where you were locked in for years, your world contained to a small basement, now in your possession. You could tear down walls or seal the basement off once and for all.

But you didn’t. Instead, you pretended you grew up normally. His half of each imaginary conversation was filled by creaking and soft footfalls.

“Father!” You called into the empty house, “I had a lovely day today.”

“It was so much fun.” You smiled as you walked into the kitchen, “I- oh! Father. We’ve talked about you leaving dishes in the sink.” You shook your head disapprovingly and laughed softly as you began to wash them.

“I know you’re old, Father! But I’m not your live at home maid.” 

“Fa...” your smile fell as you turned around. In your heart, you could pretend he was standing there with a lopsided grin and wise eyes. But you knew he only ever looked upon you when you began to cry or shriek. You exhaled deeply and gripped your arms, your eyes locked on the floor, “I love you, Father.”

Some things never change.

You still found yourself sleeping in the basement and singing songs you created as a child to soothe the loneliness. On the cold basement floor, you couldn’t get the blond-haired alchemist out of your head.

Love was wrong. You were wrong for Loving anyone. You knew this still... would it be alright to like? Would it be fine to pretend he would spin you on the dancefloor with a large grin and soft blush? Would it be okay to imagine your hands in his hair as he lies on your lap, murmuring of alchemy and his hypothesis as he slips off into sleep?

Maybe that was alright. You smiled to yourself and let sleep overtake you.

“Dragonspine.” Albedo walked into his lab, smiling happily at you, “I’m going to Dragonspine.”

“Dra...” your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to remember what that was, “The... the mountain?”

He nodded and sat on a chair, “I’ll be gone for quite some time but I’ll try to see you every-”

“I want to come with.”

“What?” He looked at you with wide eyes.

“I want to go with you.” You repeated, your resolve burning in your chest.

“Why? It’s dangerous.”

“But it’s real. I want to see as much of this world as I can.”

He inhaled softly, “I... suppose... you can come with me. But you need to stay close to me. Don’t run off or get yourself hurt.”

You beamed at the boy, “Yes! Thank you, Albedo.”

Albedo and you gathered supplies instead of your daily experiment. Warming bottles, blankets, and every spare bit of medical supplies you could get your hands on. After some careful consideration, Albedo bought a basic polearm for you to use.

“Just in case. I don’t think you’ll need it, but if I’m away and something goes wrong... well, it’s better to be prepared, isn’t it?”

5 weeks after you found out about your trip to Dragonspine, you set off. It was a cold and uncomfortable hike to Albedos lab in the mountains. He assured you that he’s had this lab for years, that it should be safe. When you arrived, you collapsed next to a fire and took deep breaths.

Albedo frowned as he began to set up his next experiment, “I won’t be angry if you want to leave.”

“What? We just got here!” 

“I know it’s just...”

“Look, I... if I need to leave, I’ll tell you. So stop worrying about it!” You tried to stifle a yawn as you lied next to the fire.

He sighed, “Fine. Do you want...” he looked over his shoulder and let his voice fizzle out as he saw you sleeping. Albedo went through his supplies, pulled out the blanket, and put it over you. “Oh.” He spoke to himself, a memory coming back. 

One more trip into his supplies, he pulled out a small item and lied it next to your head. He hoped you’d be happy when you saw it. Albedo smiled to himself and continued working.

When you woke up, you were drenched in a mixture of sweat and melted snow. You pulled yourself up, tried to shake some water off of you, and sighed. “Alb...” you turned to the alchemist, but he was fast asleep. You thought over what to do and came to a conclusion.

With soft steps and careful placement, you left the lab and began to explore the depths of Dragonspine. You walked for only a few minutes, growing increasingly more confident in your abilities, but a loose twig decided to ruin your day.

Quickly, you stumbled and rolled down the cliff and into a pillow of snow. You sat for a second in the snow, laughing softly at how stupid that looked. “Well, up and at em.” You stood, looked around for a path, and happily followed it hoping it’d lead you back to Albedos lab.

An hour had passed since you decided to walk away from Albedos lab, why was it that you even left? Did you think a walk would dry you off? Were you simply tired of lying there? You couldn’t remember. The path led you to a dark cavern, with smoke billowing out of the mouth.

Heat. Fire.

The only two thoughts in your head clouded your judgment as you walked deeper into the cavern, hoping to get warm. 

Albedo woke up with a nagging feeling that something was wrong. He sat up, looked around his lab, and immediately felt bile rise in his throat.

You were gone. You had left - he gave you one instruction and now you were gone. Albedo quickly pulled himself up, grabbed the gift he left for you and took off.

It didn’t take long for him to find your footsteps and follow them into Starglow Cavern. Despite his swiftness, he had the feeling that he was too late. Too slow. He drew his sword and charged in, still following your footsteps. Unsurprisingly, they led to a flame nearby. He saw Hilichurls warming themselves with the flame and felt his heart drop.

Albedo rushed towards the flame, quickly knocking out the hilichurls and looking over the edge. There, at the very bottom, he saw you crawling towards the top and leaving a trail of red behind you.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled, your head snapped up. He could almost see the relief on your face as you saw him. He ran through the cavern and when he arrived in front of you, gingerly picked you up. “What... what happened?” He put his hands on the frozen tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You responded with a raspy voice, “I...” 

“Ssh, save your strength. I shouldn’t of asked ju-just stay awake. Can you do that?”

“It’s so cold.”

“I know, I know.” He went up the cavern as quickly as he could, occasionally making comments so you stayed awake.

When he arrived back at his lab, he lied you out on the blanket and thought about the best course of action. Not even a second later, he was tearing through his supplies and forcing Warming Bottles into your arms. 

“Al... Albedo.” You called weakly. He froze, trying to contain his panic. “Come... come over here.”

He shook the fear away and kneeled next to you, grabbing your hands tightly. “What is it?”

“My Father... told me I can’t love. But,” you smiled with tears in your eyes, “I think I love you.”

His fear broke through his walls. Albedos eyes flooded with tears as he held you, “D-Don’t say it like that! Don’t say it like it’s goodbye!”

“Albedo...” you tried to laugh, “You always make me feel so... happy...”

“No... no!” He shook your body, “Wake up! Wake up, dammit!” He pressed his fingers against your palm and felt his entire body jolt as your weak, but still existent, pulse throbbed against his fingers. 

The Alchemist quickly set to work, every healing potion he had was used. It didn’t matter if he could save a million lives with one; he’d use a million potions just to save you. He trekked back down to Mondstadt with you on his back, completely abandoning the lab, and screamed for help until you were taken to safety.

But it wasn’t until your eyes opened again could he relax. It wasn’t until he could wrap his arms around you and feel your arms tighten around his waist that he knew it’d be okay.

Shakily, he grabbed the gift he had so desperately wanted to give to you, and felt his eyes well up with tears as you hugged him tighter.

You slipped the gloves on and tried to contain your happiness, “You saw?”

He nodded, “You weren’t wearing them when you left I...” Albedo cut himself off. He didn’t want to say the truth which was he spent hours tearing the box apart and trying to get the gloves back to you, “I wanted you to have them.”

Love.

Love is what you felt when Albedo grabbed your hands, or when he blushed with a shy smile. 

Love is his drawings of you that filled his every sketchbook. 

To love, you decided, was to be alive.

#albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo genshin impact #albedo genshin #albedo genshin x reader #albedo genshin impact x reader #my writing #fanfiction #x reader #x reader fanficition #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #happy endings #one shot #saved by albedo

[weebshiza]

Babey Narancia

A little bit of headspace Narancia to soothe your souls~

Note: I like to try to keep these as gender neutral as possible, so your honorific is Cici like CG! 

Narancia and you have dated for a year now, you know him backwards and forwards and he knows you the same. Even the most embarrassing-- he calls it-- coping mechanisms. Narancia has a headspace. He doesn’t slip very often but it always makes your heart melt when he does. And today was particularly a hard day. 

You were just sitting in your room reading when he storms in. You can see the tears well up in his eyes as he came and crawled on top of you, laying his head on your chest. 

Mista, Fugo and him were all sent out on a mission for a couple days. And by the looks of it, it didn’t go well. You set your book down and comforted him, petting his hair gently, “What happened pumpkin?” you asked. He just gives a small hum back, showing he’s already slipped into headspace. “I’m sorry you had a rough day, how about a bubble bath with Cici?” you suggested sweetly. He nods still clinging to you showing he wasn’t planning to walk either. So you picked him up and walked him into your bathroom setting him on the toilet before setting up the bath. Luckily you had a couple rubber duckies under your sink from the last bath time. You plopped a couple in there and eventually turned off the water. 

You turned to him, “Can you get undressed or do you want Cici to do it?” He just looks up at you with pitiful eyes. You guess that you’re going to have to do it. You take off his head band first, then unzip his shirt setting it to the side. You then take off his belt and bottoms with no problem along with his underwear before setting him in the bath. He must be in a deep head space since he usually turns a little red and embarrassed when you get to his bottoms. 

After slipping out of your own clothes you get into the bath behind him. You then playfully take one of the rubber duckies and speak in a lower voice, “Hi I’m Mister Ducky! How are you?” This earns a little giggle from him. You then dip the duck head in some bubbles and grab the other rubber duck, “Now I’m Ducky Sr. and this is my son Ducky Jr.” You play, “Hi! I’m Ducky Jr.!” You speak in a higher voice for the ‘Ducky Jr.’. This earns another bright laugh and a couple happy claps from the boy in your lap, which makes your heart almost explode.

He takes the duckies from your hands as you go to wash his hair. You can hear him babbling incoherent words in different voices as he plays with the ducks, making you smile while you wash his hair. 

Soon enough bath time is over and both Narancia and you are wrapped up in towels. “You want binkie and a onesie pumpkin?” you ask while going through your closet. He nods silently and you pull out a plain orange pacifier and a indigo onesie with little light blue owls on it. You of course help him get dressed after you slipped on just a sweatshirt and sweat pants. 

You both go to settle into bed, “How about we watch Miraculous?” you suggest before he gives out a whine and tugs on your sleeve. “What’s wrong baby? Do you need something?” He nods and gives a little whimper, “What do you need sweetie? I cant know unless you tell me.” He hesitates but does manage to get what he needs out “ted..dy” he struggles a little. You give a soft smile and place your hands on his cheeks, “Good job babydoll!!” you praise him.

 “Alrighty, Cici will be right--” you get cut off by the little one gripping your sleeve tighter, “you wanna come with me?” He nods.

 “Are you sure?” he nods again. 

The gang knew Narancia had a headspace. You two have told them before, and of course they were fine with it, but they have yet to see him actually in headspace before. So you picked him up and set him on your hip before walking out your room. You got to his room without running into anyone, you grabbed his favorite teddy bear and handed it to him. But when you turned back around, there was Mista, standing by the door, “Hey Y/n! we were just looking for Nar--” he then stopped and actually processed what he saw. 

“Hi buddy!” he said a little quieter as if to not scare him. Relief blew over you when you saw Mista act so nonchalant about it. You looked over to Narancia, who was being a little shy, “Say hi pumpkin!” He gave a little finger crunch wave to Mista, “He doesn’t talk much in headspace,” you explained to Mista. 

“That’s alright!” Mista smiled at Narancia, who then gave a little smile back at him. “Awww,” you could practically see Mista melt. You then heard some foot steps.

“Mista? Have you found Narancia yet--?” you then see Bruno appear at the doorway, “Oh. Hello Nara,” Bruno gave a small soft smile. Narancia then made grabby hands over to Bruno. So took him into his arms and Narancia just laid his head on his shoulder. Mista looked absolutely bewildered by this. “Bruno was the first to know about his head space,” you explained, “He accidently walked in on us changing Narancia into a onesie.”

“I actually babysit for Y/n once in a while if a caregiver is needed for Narancia and they are on a mission.” The gunman nodded in response. 

The truth was Bruno is also a caregiver-- for Abbachio specifically. So you will babysit for Bruno sometimes also if Abbachio needs it. 

Soon Narancia and you are back in your room and are finally settling down for some Miraculous Ladybug. He has one of your arms in his grasp as he lays his head on your shoulder. He gives little giggles at funny parts and even “talks” to you sometimes while pointing at the screen. But after a couple episodes the little one is fast asleep. 

You shut your laptop down and try to pull him under the covers. He snuggles up to you and wraps his arms around you all while asleep, soon dozing off with him. 

#narancia ghirga #bruno bucciarati #guido mista #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba part 5 #headspace #sfw regression #sfw cglre #sfw agere #age regression #narancia x reader

[goldafterglow]

Desi flower fields babey 🤙🏾

(Is it my favourite place and reminds me heavily of cottagecore Din? The answer will definitely nit surprise you)

A/N: YES YES YES YES Cottagecore Din loves the meadows 🥺 you didn’t ask for this but here I’m sorry hfjdjsks

Pairing: Din Djarin x Ezra x Reader

Word Count: 735

Warnings: Daddy kink?, fluff, this is not nsfw actually

“Now what’s all this?”

Ezra speaks as though he is weary, but his smile is wide and his eyes are twinkling as he looks at Din. He stands at the doorway, shoulders broad and cheeks rosy with embarrassment. In his gloved hands are torn up flowers from the gardens, roots hanging and caked with Earth - he had never been known for his gentle touch, but rather his determination. A few daisies, a wilted buttercup, roses, lavender, and a few weeds he couldn’t distinguish fill his fist. Din doesn’t know much about bouquets, about flowers or colors, but he knows that Ezra loves the meadow. He knows Ezra loves him. And something about acts of service, something about combining the two, seemed poignant when he had decided to roam the meadows searching for his pockets of treasure to present.

“The flowers are in bloom,” Din mumbles, far too flushed to look him in the eyes. Ezra’s lip quirks up as he sets his book down - a loved copy of The Brothers Karamazov - to approach him with a gentle gaze. He always approaches Din like a baby beast, something that could be so ferocious and yet is too sweet, too small and loving to ever muster the darkness needed.

“Yes moonlight,” Ezra says with a nod. “The flowers have blossomed, as spring and her gang of lovers follied in and coaxed them so.”

Din’s bare fingers drip with nervous sweat, the heat of the flaring Sun turned to an antagonizing force. He glances down at the opened petals and he could swear he feels them being to wrap around his chest and close, squeeze and grip onto his will, tight like bent steel that he cannot escape. This vulnerability is not yet a task he has learned to brave on his own, something soft and easily bruised by a harsh switch of words, a rough press of fingertips.

Thick fingers cup his own.

The glimpse of a small black target fills his eyes, glowing on the surface of bronzed skin as a rough palm brushes against his warm knuckles. And suddenly there is no greater comfort than his thorough attention, loving and undivided as Ezra dips his head to catch Din’s dropped gaze.

“Won’t you tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty brain of yours, sweet boy?”

Ezra feels Din flex his fingers, swallow once.

Twice.

“They’re for you, Daddy.”

The hook of Ezra’s nose knocks into Din’s. There is a pause - not pregnant, not tensed or contemplating. Just a white space, like the dot of a star illuminating a night sky or the pause of the heart before it contracts once again. 

And then Ezra’s lips are so tender, press so sweetly to Din’s that he is reminded that there has never been anything to fear. Not even rejection. The way he glides against him is something so personal now, his body made to waltz with his own.

Ezra’s grip like that of daisy petals around a honeybee, he gently lifts the haphazard bouquet and closes his eyes to take a deep inhale. Wisps of the life in the meadows and sweet slivers of clementine breezes float into his lungs, fill and coat them in a warmth that nothing but you could ever parallel. Perhaps he will allow me to accompany him next time, so we can pick something for my starlight. He can already see the tears welling in your eyes looks down at Din on his knees, offering torn up daffodils to you like some soft sacrifice to an altar. But that would be an emotional shock for another time, when Ezra can brace his meek lover for your intense affections.

“Daddy loves them, princess,” Ezra coos against his mouth, his fingers reaching up to find his soft, scruffed cheek. “Daddy loves them.” Din’s brow furrows into itself, eyes wide when Ezra looks into them, and he cups his jaw so his sweet boy might burrow into him. He is not a stranger to Din’s venom laced vulnerability, intimacy a taboo that he’d never had to conquer alone. And he knows that the best thing he could ever do for him is encourage even the smallest waddles into his embrace.

“Thank you, moonlight,” Ezra whispers. “Don’t you know that you are my greatest gift?”

The gentle glimmer in Din’s upturned pout says plenty.

Perhaps one day, with the two of you, I will.

Tags:  @vanthcobbs @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @cryptkeepersoul @antmnwasp @teaofpeach @nopeforyou @frankiemorales @stanfordscrush @thatreclusewriter @thirstworldproblemss @buckstaposition @wickedfrsgrl @eternallyvenus @the-feckless-wonder @cocoatales @the-wishmonger @xjustmenobodyelse @thepjofanqueen @beskar-tano @vulpineblue @xjustmenobodyelse @wanderlustmags @mstgsmy @readsalot73 @xakilicious @thewayofthemandalorian @fangirlingss@oloreaa @starless-eyes-remain @sdrecsfics @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @mrpascals @wanderlust69 @djxrxn @filthybookworm

#I’m sorry #I’ll go home now #din djarin x ezra #din djarin x ezra (prospect 2018) #jfc no one askedddjdks #sorry I couldn’t even get the reader in this what is happening anymore #ew omg I need to stop apologizing #I wrote this for free and you can tell🤡 #cottagecore!au #cottagecore!din #cottagecore!ezra

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

Warnings: Hopper being a c*p 🤢 [ACAB BABEY], mentions of animal death, very brief mentions of anxiety

**Y/H = your height, ex; short, tall etc H/C = hair color**

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that'll be buck twenty five."

Steve places the cone in the girl's hands, smirking to himself when her hands meet his. With a shy yet charming grin he mumbles a soft 'there you go' and suddenly her hand is no longer touching his. The brief physical contact didn't seem to mean quite what it meant to him, as she looked rather eager to get back to her day at the mall. But Steve still saw a fighting chance when he spotted the gold letters displayed across her sweatshirt.

"Ah, Perdue." His eyes light up in recognition, and he sends her a silly smile. "Fancy."

She smiles brightly and Steve's spirits lift. She nods, handing over the money and readjusts her purse. "Yeah. I'm excited."

"Ah, you know I considered it." Steve nods, fingers flying across the register. "Perdue, but then I was like, you know what?"

A light air of resolve falls over him and the across the counter begin to shift as uncomfortable smiles flit across their faces. The second even trying to wipe the amused expression off of her face at Steve's obvious attempts at her friend. A knowing look is then passed on between the pair as Steve continues, seemingly unaffected. 

"I really think I need some real life experience, ya know, before I hit college. See what it feels like to, kinda uh, like, I don't know," He shrugs with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach the girls who now boredly lick at their melting ice cream cones. "See what it's like to earn a working man's wage, you know and uh-"

The register he fiddles with decides his time is up, its circuits shorting out as they did every few weeks and stuck itself into one endless high pitched beep that cuts him off. Flustered, Steve attempts to save the conversation not before subduing the intrusive noise, as he mutters a quick apology.

"-I think that's really important, and uh,"

"Yeah, totally," She responds, choking back a pathetic laugh.

Rolling with the punches, Steve shrugs goofily still wearing his best smile.

"Yeah, anyways, this was like, so fun," he laughs, the nerves now overtaking him. "We should, like, I don't know, maybe hangout? Like this weekend or something-?"

Yet again, he is cut off as the change he intends to give her spill out of his hands and onto the counter.

"Oh, sorry about that," he fumbles as she begins collecting the scattered coins off the counter. "Uh, I don't know, maybe next weekend?"

"Uh, I'm busy." She laughs uncomfortably as she tucks the coins away into her purse.

"Oh, that's cool. And I'm-" Steve nods, scratching his head. "I'm working here next weekend so... the following weekend is probably better for me."

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't."

Her friend begins to laugh into her ice cream and even she is biting back a smile as she hurriedly collects herself to leave and Steve nods.

"Okay," The girls chuckle to themselves as they make their leave for the door. "Thanks."

"I..." Steve stumbles, his voice awkwardly trailing off as they do. "This is my first day here, so..."

But they were already filing back out into the crowds, giggling between each other at his poor attempts. Not that he could blame them.

"And another one bites the dust."

He sighs heavily, head sagging over his shoulders before swiveling around to face the girl carrying a mischievous glint in her eye and that damned scoreboard. Scrawled across the top of the divided two sections; YOU SCORE, which remained completely blank, and YOU SUCK which carried a total of five--

"You are oh for," --now six. "six, Popeye."

Steve nods bitterly with his arms folded over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I can count." He sighs.

"You know that means you suck."

Against all odds - and the bitter taste of annoyance on his tongue - Steve still finds a smile creeping up on his face, however forced.

"Yep, I can read, too."

The spark of mischief in her eyes is fueled like a small flame, and a cocky smile twists her lips. "Since when?"

"It's the stupid hat." Steve groans, ignoring her comment and saunters over to lean against the back counter. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

Robin tucks away the menu-turned-score board back against the wall before folding her arms on the counter, draping herself lazily in the back window.

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." She drawls. "You know, it's a crazy idea but have you considered... telling the truth?"

"Oh, you mean, that I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour and I have no future? That truth?"

Robin's eyes drift past his shoulder and she quickly gestures. "Hey, twelve o'clock."

Steve's head whips over his shoulder to find a small parade of girls striding towards the counter, reigniting the nerves in his gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay... Uh..."

He turns back to Robin, his eyes darting across the counter as his mind races. Robin can practically hear the silent pep talk he's giving himself.

"I'm going in. Okay?" He says, more to himself than her. He nearly whips around to face them had it not been for the sudden hesitation brought on by a burst of confidence. "And you know what?"

He rips the tacky sailor's hat off his head pulling a curl loose that dangled on his forehead as he smirks. "Screw company policy."

Less than impressed, Robin doesn't even attempt to hide her boredom. "Oh, my god, you're a whole new man." She deadpans.

"Right?" He shakes his head around on his shoulders in a goofy manner as he backs away, drawing out a weak chuckle from the girl.

In one step he whirls himself around to face the small posse of girls at a frightening speed, even startling several gasps out of them.

"Ahoy ladies! Didn't see you there," he shouts, propping himself up on the counter with his arms. Several girls in the group watch him wide eyed and still a bit off put. "Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Oh, god." The red head mutters to herself, exasperated as her friends begin to giggle.

"Can I get you guys a little taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?"

Robin watches from the back room as the fire spreads, a wince overtaking her face as she steps back to her board, uncapping her pen as his boisterous voice echoes throughout the ice cream parlor.

"Sharing a booth? Anybody? It's hot out there."

Make that oh-for-seven.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And I know this is a difficult conversation to have..."

Hopper's unsteady voice travels at a slow pace as he digests the words on the scrap of paper in his hands. His face is contorted in an uncomfortable grimace as he hears them leave his mouth but he tries to persist.

"but I hope you know that I care about you very much. And I know that you-"

"Eye contact-" Joyce softly reminds, from where sits opposite, her legs dangling off the empty pharmacy counter.

There's a brief lull in the station between songs before a familiar melody spills from the wire speakers in the corner of the store, Patsy Cline's She’s Got You. It's quiet and hard to hear but the lyrics still seep into Hopper's subconscious, briefly aiding his nerves in throwing his attention off course as he meets Joyce's deep brown eyes.

"And I know that... we both care about each other very much." Immediately he rejects the words coming off his tongue and shakes his head at her choice of words. "This does not sound like me at all."

"Just keep going. Come on." She reassures.

Hopper draws in a deep breath, clutching the makeshift script between his balled fists that were tucked nervously in between his knees. "Which is why I think it's important to establish these boundaries..."

He squints, straining against his anxieties to remember the words she had helped him brainstorm. "moving forward..." 

he sneaks a peak at the crumpled up paper in his hands, earning a soft chiding from Joyce who shakes her head.

"No looking. You know this. Come on."

Another deep inhale brings an uneasy look on Hopper's face as he shakes his head, tucking away the paper back in between his knees.

"so we can build an environment... uh... where we..."

Joyce silently watches with a series of encouraging nods, her hands gently waving like that of an orchestra conductor.

"all feel comfortable and trusted and open..."

Joyce nods once more, a light in her eyes as that silently encourages him. That puts him at ease. "'Share our feelings'..."

"...to sharing our feelings-- This isn't gonna work." He shakes his head, giving into the discomfort building all around him and he rises to his feet. "Um, it's not gonna work. It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it will!" She scolds. "I promise."

He shakes his head as he expels another patch of nerves, and joins her on the counter.

"Oh, come on." She pleads softly.

"Maybe I'll just kill Mike," he grunts sarcastically. "I'm the chief of police, I can cover it up." [👁👄👁]

Joyce gives his knuckles a reassuring pat before she sends him another encouraging smile. Even as he leans against the counter that she is currently hoisted onto, he still manages to tower over her. 

"You got this." She gives another reassuring squeeze, and Hopper feels like a cheesy bastard for noticing the timing of it all. The swelling of the music and the spark she left whenever their hands met in the past few months, but he didn’t mind. "I promise."

The music seems to grow louder around them, and she still hasn't taken her hand from his. He finds himself smiling down at her with that goofy smile he had been wearing a lot lately. It only seemed to make an appearance around her, and he knew this.

"I really don't know what I know,"

Joyce meets his eyes with a genuine look, something familiar brewing in both of their chests. And that scares her. Her mind returns to Bob and the grip of fear tightens around her heart as Hopper looks at her like that.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" He asks, finally breaking more than one kind of silence that lingered between them.

Her heart catches in her throat, and she looks away growing bashful. And uncertain. Joyce can still feel his eyes on her and as he grins down at her flustered expression.

"You can give me some more pointers."

"Oh, I... Um..." Her hand leaves his and settles on her knee, and she returns her gaze to him with an apologetic look swimming in her eyes. "Um, I... I have plans."

"Okay, sure." He smirks, much too enamored with the awkward smile that graced her face to be offended by her answer.

Another comfortable silence befalls them as they sit enjoying one another's company. But even this moment is short lived in the wake of the customer bell announcing a new visitor to the store. Joyce perks, gesturing excitedly to the front as she excuses herself.

"Oh, a customer." Breathlessly, she heaves herself off the counter and eagerly makes her way to the woman up front. "Hey, Carol!"

"Oh, hi, Joyce!" The woman beams as Joyce scurried across the store to meet her. "How are you? So good to see you."

Hopper watches the exchange from where Joyce had left him standing, his eyes locked on the woman who had so quickly and so sneakily became such a vital part of his life. It was only logical to him that this friend of hers, Carol was so happy to see her; Joyce had a way with everyone she met. Not a single person left her company without their day brightened. She knew how to make everyone feel welcomed, heard and loved.

"She's got you,"

Looking at her now, there was no denying it. Not anymore. Hopper wanted that for her, and he hoped more than anything he could be the one to give her that.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The sun beats heavily down on my neck and shoulders the most, and I shiver every once in a while when I feel a bead of sweat fall down my skin. With a groan, I readjust the backpack on my shoulders and put all my energy into just keeping up with Max and Lucas and not on the burning sensation on my skin.

"This isn't fair," I pout. "Heat's my whole thing, I shouldn't be sweating like this."

"Well, good news is we're nearly there," Dustin assures, though I do not feel very comforted.

"Aren't we high enough?" Lucas asks, tugging at the large bag he was lugging over his shoulder.

"Cerebro works best at a hundred meters."

I groan up at the sky as I continue the hike up.

I began to hear spouts of quieted laughter from behind me but it's quickly cut off by Max's flat remark.

"I'm pretty sure people in Utah have telephones."

"Yeah, but Suzie's Mormon." Dustin replies.

"Oh shit." Lucas says surprised. "She doesn't have electricity?"

She's five or six steps ahead of me with her back turned and yet I can still make out Max's eye roll. "Oh, that's the Amish." She corrects tiredly.

"Mormans are super religious white people," Dustin begins. "They have electricity and cars and stuff but since I'm not Mormon, her parents would never approve. It's all a bit... shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?" Max indulges, a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah," Dustin answers, puffing his chest out a little. "Star crossed lovers."

"Right."

"Well, regardless Dustin," I begin, sharing a smile with Will. "I can't wait to be introduced."

I see Dustin perk up even more, and my smile grows. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah!" I answer. "I wanna be a good sister. Can't wait to repay you for being so cool with me and Will, ya know?"

"Guys?"

I bite back a laugh but my smile is still triumphant. Dustin stops in his tracks, the others stopping as well seeming more than relieved. When Dustin turns to look at me, his face is hardened completely in a threatening glare.

"If you do or even say anything, I swear I will-"

"GUYS!"

Me and Dustin break away from our small fight and everyone turns to find Mike and El several feet down the hill. They're standing hand in hand and sending us all weak apologetic smiles and I feel my heart sink.

"This was fun and all, but uh..." Mike trails off, tapping his watch obnoxiously.

"I have to get home." El finished.

All mischief I was previously feeling with Dustin vanished, quickly replaced by guilt as I stole a quick glance at his saddened expression and the duo before us.

"We're almost there!" He says, completely bewildered and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry man," Mike says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Curfew."

He starts to back away down the hill and he takes El's hand and whispers something to her that I don't catch.

El sent us all a warm look, as if nothing was wrong and for the first time I was upset to see her smile.

"Good luck," she says, before following on Mike's heels with an elated giggle.

I stare after them, my eyes burning holes in their backs and my hands no doubt burning holes in my pockets if I wasn't careful enough.

"Curfew at four?" Dustin asks, finally catching on to the majority of our summer without him.

"They're lying." Lucas huffs.

I see Will shrug angrily next to me. "It's been like this all summer."

"It's romantic," Max offers but even she doesn't sound so convinced.

"It's gross."

I shake my head, letting out a short sigh.

"It's... not healthy." Another flicker of anger attacked me suddenly, and I looked at all my friends bewildered before my glare landed back on the retreating couple. "And what the hell happened to 'friends don't lie'?"

"I don't know but it's bullshit." Dustin replies, his voice sad and filled with disappointment. "I just got home."

I look back over my shoulder and give my brother a sympathetic smile but I know it won't fix anything.

"I'm sorry Dustin. I really didn't think they would do it this time. They seemed so excited for you to come home."

He meets my eye and nods. If I look close enough I can see him rebuilding himself.

"Whatever... They're loss, right?" He smiled at us all and gestured to the hilltop behind us. "Onwards and upwards."

He takes off for the hill at unnatural speeds for our condition and cheers excitedly into the air. "Suzie awaits!"

Well shit, more climbing.

I groan, head landing on Will's shoulder in a tired pout. My voice isn't alone for as soon as I do I hear Max and Lucas throw back similar whines at the remaining trek ahead.

By the time I pick my head up off of Will's shoulder, everyone else is already several steps ahead. I sigh, ripping my stiffened and tired legs from where they rooted into the ground and start after them. Readjusting the backpack over my shoulder, my eyes drill into the top of the hill- the finish line - as I push ahead.

"Think they'll carry me if I fake a leg injury?" I chuckle to Will under my breath.

There's a small silence aside from the distant giggling of El and Mike as they descend the hill and the panting of the others as they run out of breath from the climb above us. I look to my right where Will was previously, only to find him several steps behind me. His back was turned to me and he was nervously clutching the bag of wires he had been carrying.

I took a few cautious steps towards him, my heart pounding for reasons I did not understand.

"Will?"

He scrambles back, jumping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals and it looks as if he sees something in the grass.

"What, what is it? Will!"

He snaps out of his trance, turning to me wide eyed and now several steps closer to me. I quickly bridge the gap to stand by his side, searching his eyes carefully. He casts one last lingering glance out onto the grass where he was previously standing before meeting my eyes. There was something he was holding back, something deeply uncertain in the way he held himself and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

A sinking feeling not unlike the night I found him outside the arcade. Anger quickly bubbles to the surface at the thought of something else getting him, and without a second thought I take his hand in mine.

He seems to relax a great deal at my touch, and he looks greatly reassured and instantly so am I.

He was still Will.

There was a silence that hung between us as he put on a smile for me. It was far from genuine, that I knew and the only thing it reassured me of was the fact that something definitely scared him.

Will looks past my shoulders, and gestures. "Come on, we better catch up. We've got some revenge to enact." Another forced laugh is let loose and he starts off after them.

Tries to at least, but he's pulled to a stop when I don't move an inch, my hand still tethered to his. He stops, looking back at me curiously.

"Will, you know you can tell me anything right?" I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. And so are your friends. Well,"

I laugh bitterly.

"you know what I mean."

Will presses his lips into a flat smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly.

"I know," he reassures. "I promise."

One final flicker of fear flashes in his eyes as he seems to purge it from his system, quickly replacing it with a bright and happy expression. He tugs gently on our interlocked hands and gestures up the hill.

"Now... you ready to meet Dustin's first girlfriend?" He asks with a growing smirk.

I shake my head as a small laugh bubbles up despite the anxiety brewing fresh in my stomach. It still lingers in the back of my mind, but slowly boils down to a simmer, melting away as I meet the now genuine smile of Will's and I find myself giving in to the temptation of blissful ignorance. My legs begin carrying me to his side and quickly we start pacing up the hill with matching grins.

He might be able to tempt me with the offer of getting back at Dustin for now, but there's still a thought - a feeling - burning in the back of my mind. Something is definitely up with Will. The problem is, I don't know what and even worse, I don't think he knows either.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The endless parade of rats dart through the overgrown blades of grass, blending perfectly into the summer breeze passing through their surroundings. An undeniable instinct draws them onward to Brimborne Steel Works as sure as it set their skin ablaze in a horrendous flameless fire that ignited their insides just from their path even mingling with the Y/H, H/C girl who lingered nearby. Even a slight change in direction of the breeze had given them, the hosts, a feeling similar to standing atop a fresh layer of cooling magma that sent them scurrying off their path and was even strong enough to send pins and needles in the heels of their masters previous host.

They don't know their master, of course, or what a master is or why they have blended colonies. All they do know is the unceasing pull in their gut to follow orders. Orders to scavenge the unscavengable, feed on the inedible, and flee, flee... Flee.

And now hundreds of them scurry across the dying grass surrounding the abandoned steel works where they soon disappear inside. The wearhouse floor comes alive as hundreds more file in from every nook and cranny that can possibly be found. Their speed is fast enough to create its own gentle breeze that sweeps away several stray leaves that have collected on the concrete over the years as they head for a single steel stairway.

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of rats that create a symphony of pitter patter as their tiny feet scuttle down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the wearhouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Scattered across piles of glistening pink and red jelly were the hundreds of rats that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

The driving force - the pull - had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking their small bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds that crippled them. They twitched and squealed in discomfort as they fell to the floor, their last cries for help before erupting into the very goo that they laid in.

The basement was filled with pop after sickening pop as the rats exploded into nothing, all of them and their remains glistening in the single beam of light just outside of the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. However...

This was not the return of the Shadow Monster.

For the Shadow Monster had never left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · All links are provided in the comments might not be accessible via the app BUT should work on the mobile website and desktop website. Please use them. Possible Warnings to black readers, and any other readers of color who might be triggered I have included several petitions to save POC facing the death penalty. However, first, here is the masterlist of black mental health resources if you need them. I've posted it many times but mental health is so important, and getting treated properly by people who truly understand you and your experiences can make all the difference, im sure. All my love 💓

Black Mental Health Carrd



[picture text id: there are other people on death row who can still be saved, petitions below]

Below is a link to @ SUNSETSAPPHICS twitter thread from the picture up above filled with several links that each take only a couple seconds to sign each, that i strongly urge - that I ask you to sign. You could potentially save a life. Please sign, spread the word anywhere and everywhere, tag people on your message board, tag people here, make a chapter about somewhere, idc just let your voices be heard and make a difference in these people's lives! Save. A life! It has happened before and we can do it again!

[link]

Petition to Abolish the Death Penalty

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa   @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes ​ @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g ​ @lozzybowe @bluechildrenlickmytoes

#stranger things #will byers x reader #stranger things rewrite #cosmic 3 #cosmic series #cosmic #y/n henderson #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #el hopper #eleven #max mayfield #joyce byers #jim hopper #bob newby #shadow monster #reader insert #x reader #the party #the party x reader #stranger things 3 #stranger things x reader #suzie do you copy?

[angeltannis]

Mechrogunner: A Headcanon Masterpost

@fudgeroach and I have been cookin’ this ship up for a bit now, and we’ve come up with a bunch of ideas for it that I’m finally ready to post!

Background for context: We both headcanon Moze as a he/him transmasc, so that’s how Moze will be referred to in this post.

So, Gaige and Moze.

How do they meet?

-Pretty simple – at the Wainlock wedding. Moze hasn’t been out just relaxing and having a good time in so long that he stays later than pretty much everyone else. When he’s finally ready to call it a night, he goes up to Hammerlock to let him know. Hammerlock casts a glance over at the bar, where Gaige is practically passed out on the counter by that point, and asks if Moze would be willing to check on her for him. Moze is like “Uhhh...okay...”, not really getting why Hammerlock himself couldn’t just check on her.

Hammerlock, of course, has an agenda, trying to set Gaige up with a friend her own age. He didn’t plan on it going much, much further than that, lol.

Moze sits awkwardly down beside her and is all business, just asking her bluntly if she’s all right. Gaige, flirty drunk that she is, immediately latches on to him, telling him he’s great and that she loves him. Moze internally is like 😳 but acknowledges it’s because she’s drunk. He stays with her for a while, keeping it light, talking about their respective robot BFFs and telling her a couple funny old army stories to keep her awake and with it until she sobers up a little.

Both of them are so lonely that by the end of the night they are definitely both nursing lil crushes, but Moze has thick walls around his heart after what happened to his squad mates, and he’s too traumatized to let anyone in at the moment. When they finally part ways that night, he assumes he’ll never see Gaige again.

Then he gets a text from an unfamiliar number. Turns out Gaige got his number from Hammerlock, and has ““questions about Iron Bear””. (She actually does have questions about Iron Bear because she’s a fucking nerd, but make no mistake, she is definitely interested in both mech AND pilot)

Moze hasn’t been in this kind of position in, well, ever, really. He’s not sure what to do. He really likes talking to Gaige, though – she's stunningly smart, wild and funny as hell. He’s never met a woman like her before. He may not have a clue what she’s talking about half the time, but he sure does love hearing her say it all.

Gaige, on the other hand, is immediately and blatantly smitten with Moze. She tends to develop crushes on pretty much anyone who pays her attention, but Moze was so sweet and gentle with her while she was embarrassingly drunk that Gaige finds herself thinking about him long after they part ways.

The dating stage:

Moze is terrified of opening back up to anybody, so he keeps Gaige at arm’s length even as their texting goes from occasional, to frequent, to most of the day every day. The other Raiders encourage Moze to ask Gaige on a date, but he’s nowhere near ready for that kind of commitment.

When Gaige asks him to bring Iron Bear to her lab-slash-hideout so she can “check him out”, he tells himself and everyone else that it’s just a friend thing.

It’s totally not a friend thing oh God

He’s hanging out in her garage (I imagine Gaige hides out in some craphole abandoned building somewhere and that her garage is also her lab, kitchen, bedroom, etc.), watching her eyes light up as she examines Iron Bear when he realizes he’s in too deep to get out. She pulls a whole-ass little measuring tape out of her hair at one point and he’s like Oh god, you’re adorable and has to bite his tongue to refrain from saying it out loud.

Deathtrap is just watching them, aware that something is up, but he doesn’t know enough about humans to know exactly what it is

The first time Moze feels comfortable enough to show up in something other than his freaking Ursa Corps uniform, he’s a little shy because he’s been chopping at his own hair and feels like a doofus. To his surprise, Gaige lights up and immediately starts complimenting his “punk” hairstyle. She lets her own hair out of the pigtails with a grin, showing that she hacks at her own hair as well. It’s all split ends and uneven layers, and Moze’s heart flutters just a bit as those bright green eyes are suddenly framed by a mess of bouncy orange hair.

While he’s hanging out with Gaige, Moze eventually comes out of his shell enough to start cracking little jokes and feeling a bit more at ease. He hasn’t felt this way since the last night he spent with his squad before Darzaran Bay. Gaige is just so easy to talk to, and she laughs at his jokes and doesn’t pry about his past. He doesn’t pry about hers, either, though he can glean from her current situation that something has clearly gone horribly wrong in her young life.

Gaige is afraid to let anyone into her life, either, since every person who knows her whereabouts is another potential source of danger to her (and to them). She finds herself wondering why this soldier is all alone without a squadron or a battalion or whatever terms the army uses. The faraway look Moze sometimes gets tells her there’s a long and painful story behind it.

It takes a loooooong time, probably close to a year or more, before either of them are ready to admit they’re not just visiting each other as friends multiple times a week. 

They’re sitting outside one evening watching the sunset when Gaige grows uncharacteristically serious. Moze assumes she’s going to confess to some awful crime or something, and his first reaction is “Okay I don’t know what you did but I forgive you and I’ll help you hide the body”. Gaige is like ??? Ok well I did kill somebody in the past but I was actually going to ask if I could kiss you?

Neither of them have ever really had a proper kiss before. They basically end up bonking their faces together like a couple of clueless dorks. It goes on to become a favorite inside joke between them, with the two of them frequently headbutting each other and then having a good, confusing-to-everyone-else laugh about it.

The relationship:

-Moze is self conscious about his height, but it turns out Gaige actually prefers it because then she doesn’t feel like such a shrimp herself. Short couple rights

-Still though, Moze likes to wear his chunkiest combat boots when they’re together together so they’re at least equal size. Eventually Gaige starts wearing her own old combat boots, though, so poor Moze can’t win lol

-They’re not real sappy out in public, but they’re always either holding hands or Moze has an arm loosely around Gaige’s waist (or vice versa which makes Moze go “NOO I’m supposed to be the one doing that!!” And Gaige is like “Muahaha, Feminism Babey >:D”)

-Gaige found out Moze has a corporate tattoo and since then his life has never known peace (she teases him about it relentlessly)

-Moze sends lovey-dovey memes and texts...exclusively in Russian. Forcing Gaige to put them through a translator helps put a little bit of distance between the words and his feelings, so he doesn’t feel quite so vulnerable...

…But then Gaige struggles to learn some basic Russian in secret, and the next time Moze says something corny she can actually understand it and responds in kind. Moze is floored

-Gaige is a ball of repressed horny nerdiness. Moze was never very sexual to begin with, and his trauma has basically turned him completely asexual. While at first Gaige was (inwardly) a bit disappointed, as time goes on she realizes she cares way more about Moze than she cares about getting laid.

She’s still a slut for cuddles, though – and luckily Moze is willing to provide. At first he insists on being the “big spoon” (more like the backpack), but it’s tough to resist being held by a pretty girl who covers you in kisses and takes the time to change into her non-spiked metal arm after that one time she forgot and almost got you in the eye with a spike

-Gaige sleeps in a bed that’s FULL of pillows and blankets and stuffed animals and anything soft and Moze, who is used to sleeping on a barren military cot if not just on the floor, is like “Oh God, I’m drowning”

All you see is his hand reaching desperately out of a pillow pile before it, too, is absorbed and he disappears completely

-Semi-related to the last bit: Gaige sleeps completely sprawled out in her bed while Moze curls up tight, taking up as little space as possible. Occasionally he gets grabbed like a stuffed animal and smushed up against Gaige’s chest in her sleep. He finds he actually likes being held while he sleeps. It helps keep away some of the nightmares.

-When eventually Gaige finds out what happened to Moze, she starts ranting about the military-industrial complex and corporate corruption and Moze is kinda 😥 because he was basically bottle-fed army propaganda since he was born, but it all makes sense, and the military did fuck him over, and maybe there’s so much more to this than he even realized…

-Finding out Gaige’s backstory, Moze is like “Psh, Marcie Halloway sounds like a cunt. I would’ve killed her ass, too.”

-Moze never allows anyone else to even look inside Iron Bear’s pilot seat because of all his private belongings (ie the photos and mementos he keeps of his old squad mates). Gaige never outright asks because she knows it’s personal, but one day Moze asks if she'd like to have a look inside and see if there’s any cool stuff she would want to build into Bear. Gaige realizes that’s a huge step in their relationship because of how much trust it requires on Moze’s part, and she is like !!! “Yes of COURSE”

-[Gaige voice] So when am I gonna get to be Mrs. Gaige Hayussinian Yan-Lun Al-Amir Andreyevna?

-Both of them will eat anything, so romantic dinners can consist of anything from actual gourmet food to “Want a bite of my fried ratch?” “Um, obviously?? Gimme-“

-Perks of dating someone your own size: You can easily wear each other’s clothes. Cue Moze showing up to Sanctuary in a spiked leather jacket with patches shittily ironed on all over it, and Gaige keeping warm in an Ursa Corps bomber jacket (that she covers with patches and stickers to hide the Vladof advertising)

-Gaige operating Moze’s Dakka Bear turret, wildly spraying bullets and screaming catch phrases while Moze is in the pilot seat like 🥰 You’re wasting all my ammo but god I love you

-Moze jumping into combat: All right, let’s do this shit *puts on his helmet with pink skulls and hearts and PROPERTY OF GAIGE 💜 spray painted all over it*

-Gaige is still worried about being caught by the cops, which can make dates a little difficult, but she’s admittedly a little more at ease now that she travels with a fifteen-ton mech and his dashing pilot.

#borderlands #bl3 #moze the gunner #gaige the mechromancer #mechrogunner #long post

[letsperaltiago]

ok time to break my silence caused by the fact that i spent all day making this lol too many feels 

so.. palm springs thoughts !! and there are manyyyy so buckle up and feeel free to hit me up with either matching or contradicting thoughts or whateveer!! i would LOVE to nerd out about this movie with someone:’)

here comes thoughts and pictures!! 

we basically start off with a mr. samberg sex-scene okAYYYYY the mood is set. we love the view

nyles aka. mr. samberg is the most gorgeous man alive and it was a true pleasure to admire him for 90 minutes straight 

CURLS!!????! THEY ARE UNREAL. i shall dedicate an entire post to them

Cristin Milioti is perfect for her role. her acting? *chef’s kiss* I love that she’s not the stereotypical female rom-com lead.

Her chemistry with Andy? Gosh.. Can’t believe Nyles x Sarah is my new main movie-ship!! They play off of each other SO. WELL. Their characters are equally stone cold and bitter, but then again not really, and they both portray it so well!!

“You don’t ned a leg up.” *moans* “Hold my leg up!” i SCREAMED

“Don’t you kiss me.” “Don’t you tell me what to do.” hoW DARE THEY!

Ok ur basically on love already stop it

The fact that they were just gonna fuck on a blanket on top OF ROCKS?!

but then again in this movie’s already insane universe it’s prob pretty normal:)

The overall dark, existential humor?? This is what I live and breathe for on a daily basis. Basiaclly both main characters are a BIG MOOD

Nyles not giving a shit vs. Sarah severely freaking out in the beginning is an iconic dynamic

“I am the antichrist” and then the rock falling? For a hot sec I literally thought the movie was gonna take a turn with Nyles being some magical/scientific creature that’d created the timeloop or something idkkk ahhha

Nyles in the suit... ridiculous(ly hot)

The torture methods Roy uses on Nyles and the fact that he’s not mentally scarred?? How?? 

On that note I love that Nyles and Sarah keep their memories even if the day starts over. Would’ve been a completely different concept if they had to “meet each other for the first time” every day and it wouldn’t’ve allowed their relationship arc to evolve as it did 

Darla is the fucking shit 

Nyles in the baseball cap, amirite?

THE BARTENDER TALKING ABOUT HITTING A GUY WITH THE CAR SHE’S CURRENTLY GIVING NYLES A HANDJOB IN IS COMEDIC GOLD 

“You fucked Jerry Schlieffen?” “Well he fucked me.” Yes SIR. Andy Samberg’s characters are all bottoms and we’re here for it

Sarah’s tongue click and “nice try” when Nyles asks her about her sex life?? 

IDK WHY BUT SO GOD

Randy is hella annoying. That’s it. That’s the tweet.

THIS ENTIRE SCENE:

the fact that they both start waking up smiling because now at least they have each other 🥺😭🤯

uhm i love a good ship that’s like... best friends to lovers and the montage of them basically becoming besties killed me 

this outfit Y E S: 

sarah falling off the car and nyles laughing it off is relationship goals

the crashing plane I LOL’ED

okay so... big moment... the DANCING AND MATCHING OUTFITS? THEY ARE MY DREAM TEAM. Also how excited they are running away from the bar 🥺

IM POSITIVE THIS IS THE MOMENT NYLES KNOWS! LIKE HE DOESN’T ADMIT IT TO HIMSELF COMPLETELY BUT HE KNOWS 

the bomb in the cake and french pirate-skit? so fucking random but i lovee it because it’s so them

*DRUM ROLL* PERHAPS MY FAVORITE MOMENT IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE: 

STORYLINE WISE AND VISUALLY A++++

the deep talks by the fire were SO well written. they were actually deep and genuine, allowing the characters to grow and opening up to us as viewers but also remained fun and witty

sarah trying to get nyles to admit he cares for her and him joking it off??? the flirtinggg

really wish we’d gotten to know more about what nyles meant with “it drifts away: just like they all do.” because it really seemed to trigger something within him. Like WHO “They”???

the dinosaurs lmao no comment but at least they got a cute cuddly moment

from the very first millisecond inside the tent you can CLEARLY tell Sarah is just dying to do something about them!!!

 the disbelief on nyles’ face when sarah says “lets just get it over with” because she’d clearly stated he didn’t want to and even though he obviously did he’s respected it and not done anything further about it oh babey

we love some good making out:’))) 

NYLES HALTING TO TAKE IN THE MOMENT EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM INTO THE VOID 

i will die for a post-sexy timez cuddle and how sarah is trying to staying awake to be besides him is just *explosion* 

this has to be *the moment* she realises 

and they’re both sooooo fucking happy when they wake up after damn love me like that pls

THE GROOM BOOO FUCK OFF CAN’T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO REMEMBER HIS NAME CHEATING SCUM 

THIS FACE:

Baby is trying so hard and is so cute and nervous about it. SARAH LISTEN TO HIM HE LOVES YOU.

HE FELT GOOD WAKING UP BECAUSE OF YOUUUU, GIRL. DO NOT CALL IT “FUN”, SARAH 

“Going to bed maybe just got a little better” 😭😭😭😭

The entire cop scene is just pure insanity, very Lonely Island and I’m here for it even though I just want Sarah to rEALLY LISTEN TO WHAT NYLES IS TRYING TO SAY 

“Pain is real” oh babey that means SO MANY THINGS 🥺💔

“I followed you into that cave because I liked you!” like jake would say: don’t love how we got here but we’re going where i want

“pretentious sad boy” me

not shocked that they’ve hooked up before because c h e m i s t r y but don’t like how it got out :)))

why is nyles’ one sleeve shirt rolled up? im triggered

drinking pure vodka? oh babey its gonna be okay 

WE LOVE A SMART BOI WHO RECOGNIZES HIS GIRL’S PERFUME 

Sarah’s parents singing:)) i would cry too, nyles

"I love her.” “I see... That’s interesting” lmao savage

I actually really love Roy’s character. It turns out to be very humble actually and he has some insightful and lowkey poetic that lines i love. Besides that he’s hilarious. 

SO the whole time i was wondering how they’d get out of the whole “same day forever”-thing, if they were to. and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that they had such a logical way out of it: science. Not anything cheesy like “a true love’s kiss” or “you learned your lesson”. Pure logic and Sarah’s hard work to get there. Huge fan of this. 

I will never get over how good Nyles looks waking up and Sarah is xtra pretty in that scene:’) 

Nyles just wants to stay in a loop forever because it means for sure that he gets to stay with Sarah forever and I’m lowkey into it but also like lowkey LISTEN TO HER AND GO WITH HER PLAN, NYLES

“I wanna stay with you” *sniffles*

“I love you. How about that?” PRETTY FUCKING GOOD 

I love Nyles’ character development. He started off so nonchalant and cold, closed off and by this point he’s the softest, smiliest in love fool I’ve ever seen and Andy does it so good. SAMBERG HEART EYES!!

“Nothing is real in here” YES SARAH UR LOVE IS

I’m taking Sarah’s asking Nyles to believe in her and leave with her as her first “I love you” because it’s very clear that she wants to leave with him rather than without. 

just- this entire scene i ugh <3 <3 <3 <3

BREAKING. UP. WITH. MISTY ! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

glass of wine filled to the brim? sarah’s my type of gal

the speech was really beautiful and sweet without being too cheesy and kudos to cristin for really delivering it like a pro! especially her “abe, don’t fuck this up” like yes girl kill him, chop him to pieces with your eyes!!! also camila is such really pretty bride

nyles looks like a cockatoo here :

nyles taking the shot and smashing the glass into the ground got me 🤭😵😏🥵

“I’m your son” I SCREAM

GIVE THE MAN A WHITE HORSE DAMNIT

Gotta admit Sarah looks like a bomb (lol nu pun intended) ass super hero in her bridesmaid dress and C4-gettup 

The sentence ending up being total grammatical gibberish but Nyles trying so. damn. hard is the sweetest thing ever and should and will go down in rom-com history. It’s super romantic but also well-balanced by humor and I just.. so good. This is the kind of characters and relationships I love and wanna write myself 

“you’re my favorite person that i’ve ever met” 🥺🥺🥺

“i’d rather die with you than live in this world without you” WHY AM I SO SINGLE SOMEONE LOVEE ME LIKE THIS 

okay so idk but “what if we get sick of each other?” “we’re already sick of each other. it’s the best.” is so so so soft, the way nyles says it like it doesn’t matter and is honestly another key moment for me: they’ve experienced basically everything imaginable during their time in the box/loop. they’ve liked, disliked, loved, hated each other and still: he loves her. the fact that nyles knows no matter what happens it won’t stop that because it’s them?? ouch my heart. 

this chaotic mess of a pairing?MESSY BOMB BRIDESMAID AND CURLY-HAIR HAWAII SHIRT-BOI!! MY OTp

Them dissing Nyles’ mom on their way into potential death? that’s love, baby 

the fUCKING KISSSSSSS MANNNNNNNNNN!!!! SO ICONIC AND THE EXPLOSION IN THE BACKGROUND AND JUST WE DESERVE THIS THEY DESERVE THIS EVERYONE DESERVES THISSSS!!! 

NEVER OVEER THIS EVER FOREVER NEVER

Ok so I was SURE that when it faded to black that it was done and I grew super ficking frustrated because it would leave us with this “the ending is up to whatever you chose”-kinda thing kinda a la Celeste and Jesse where it just feels unresolved and I WASN’T OKAY WITH THAT. So I’m so happy we got to know that it worked and the bebes will live happuilly ever after with Nyles’ shaggy dog:’) 

Their hands on each other’s knee >>>>>

all in all 100000/10 

#palm springs #palm springs spoilers #andy samberg #cristin milioti #camila mendes #sarah x nyles #emilie says things #sarah #nyles #the lonely island #nyrah

[funandfangirlingcollide]

I’m Still Here

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Summary: While in the throes of passion, things get a little darker than you or Will expected. The repercussions are dangerous. 

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), choking but in a dangerous way, reader blacking out, talk of murder, the dark cloud that is Will Graham’s mind, ANGST BABEY! 

A/N: There really is just a lack of Will Graham smut, you know? I promise I will write more that's less ... how do I put this ... Bad. This was just the first idea that came to mind. 😅

The light scruff of Will’s beard rubbed your thighs warmly as his tongue delved in and out of you. Hands laced into his hair, you threw your head back on the pillow. His hands were wrapped up around your thighs as he worked you over relentlessly. Giving in to the feelings which coursed through your system, you began rolling your hips against his mouth. Seeing you take control of your pleasure made him let out a deep groan which vibrated through your body. 

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, filling you up more completely as he moved to suck your clit between his lips. As he gave attention to your swollen bud he curled his fingers upwards to brush against your g-spot. Hitting that perfect spot combined with the relentless movements of his mouth, it didn’t take you much longer before you were cumming against him. Unrelenting, he worked you through your orgasm until you were nothing but a trembling mess. 

Once the shaking subsided he moved his way up your body, lips leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses in their path. As soon as his face was hovering right over yours he brought your mouths together feverishly, tongue brushing against your own. When Will pulled away you could see that his pupils were nearly black, blown wide with lust. There was something there that bordered on dangerous and though you wished you could say it scared you, all it did was make you ache for him that much more. 

After pulling your legs up around his waist he let his hands trail slowly over your thighs, the warmth of his palms igniting a fire all the way up your body. Will leaned back over so that your faces were only inches away now. As he did so he nestled his hips right between yours so that the head of his cock was resting heavily against the front of your folds. As he catches your lips to his own again he presses forward slowly, feeling his cock become engulfed in your tight heat. 

His eyes snapped shut as he stilled inside you, aching with the way you clenched around him. Will rested his forehead against yours as you both became accustomed to the feelings that raged from his body into yours. When he was able to steady his breathing he began thrusting his hips almost painfully slow. The sensation of the friction caused by his length inside you was enough to send you reeling.

Will's thrusts gradually became faster as he began to move with the rhythm of his pleasure. As you rocked your hips to meet his, you let your body encourage him to use you for his own release. Will Graham was not a man to put his needs before those of others but tonight you would make him see how much he needed that control. 

Moving your bodies in unison, he began to feel a familiar coil building in his stomach. As you felt him tense you rocked against him harder to help him chase his orgasm. Lost in the passion of the moment Will brought a hand to your throat, squeezing lightly as he continued to fuck you. It was a welcome gesture as you saw how much he enjoyed having you there, writhing in his grip. The moan that escaped your lips brought a growl from his own as his grip began to tighten.

However, It didn’t take long for his hold on you to become dangerous. By the time you realized how difficult it was getting for you to breathe he was completely lost in himself. Unable to speak, you grabbed at him frantically. The fear that set in made it that much more difficult to pry his hand away as you began to thrash wildly. Black spots dotted the edges of your vision as he continued cutting off your airway. The involuntary way your body squirmed as you fought just made him harder as he pumped into you deeply. The last thing you saw before you blacked out was the pure ecstasy that flooded his features as he shot thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.  

When you came to the bed was empty, blanket thrown haphazardly on the floor. A dull ache pulsed in your head as you tried to sit up. When you were finally able to drag your body upright the room seemed distorted, as if you were looking at it through a glass filled with water. Trying to steady yourself, you closed your eyes and put a hand to your forehead. As you sat there you noticed another pain, in your neck. Bringing a hand up you delicately prodded at the sore flesh of your throat which burned at the touch. After a moment you opened your eyes again and the room had gone back to normal. 

Finally in a clearer headspace, you looked at the clock. Only a few minutes had passed since you had blacked out which seemed nearly impossible. As you stared at the flashing digits a soft sound stole your attention. Looking to the sound, your eyes settled on Will. He was sitting in the corner with his hands over his face, chest heaving.

It took you a moment but you finally felt strong enough to stand. As you moved towards the edge of the bed, you felt a warm seeping feeling between your legs. Suddenly realizing what it was, you grabbed a tissue from your nightstand and brought it down to poorly clean yourself up. Deciding you’d done a decent enough job, you made your way over to kneel in front of Will. When he felt your hand on his knee he perked up so that you were both looking at each other now. His eyes were glassy and red from the tears he had been struggling to stifle. Will Graham had been through a lot of traumatizing things in his life and the idea that this was what had broken him made your heart tremble

You wished that you could take all of the pain away, wished you could kiss every wound that scarred his heart. However, you both knew it wasn’t that simple. Reality was much more challenging and, as had been demonstrated, much darker as well. Without saying anything, you reached over to pull Will’s head against your chest. As you did so he flung his arms around your body, clinging to you tightly. Fingers lacing into his hair, you held him there silently. It didn’t take long before you could feel his tears begin to roll down your skin. 

It felt like an eternity that the two of you sat there, molding your bodies into one as you each soaked up the other’s sadness. However, what Will Graham didn’t realize is that you would have stayed there ten thousand eternities to help him feel whole again. He gradually began to compose himself as he wiped away the rest of his tears and sat upright beside you, clearing his throat to speak.

“I’m sorry isn’t good enough. I wish there was an apology that surpassed sorry, one that would make everything right again.”

“Everything is alright--” 

“No. No. It isn’t,” His voice was firm as he corrected you. “Don’t lie. Pretend. Deny. Whatever it is that you’re doing. What I did is so far from alright. There is no word for what I did.”

“Will, I’m okay. You know that, right? I am alive--” 

“Yeah but what if you weren’t? I could have killed you.” 

“You wouldn’t have killed me.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” This last response killed the words in the back of your throat, bringing you to a stunned silence. After a beat you knew you needed clarity on what he had said.

“Did you want to kill me?” You couldn’t help taking a shaky breath.

“When I had my hand wrapped around your throat, your pulse was jumping underneath my touch. I could feel it get quicker as you became more afraid. In that moment, it wasn’t about killing you. It was about the power I held over you. Of course, I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I lost control. I didn’t want to kill you … but I could have.”

“Anyone could have killed me, Will. Hell, I could have killed you. It’s not about that,” You stopped a moment as you contemplated the question you wanted to ask him. “Did it feel good?” 

“That’s the part that really scared me … it felt incredible. Until it didn’t. At first, though, it was so thrilling. There was something so primal about it. Having you completely under my control. For a second, just a second, I did think about killing you. I thought about the fact that I could have ended your life right then and there. It was brief but the fact that it existed frightens me. It wasn’t a conscience thought, either. Somewhere deep inside my mind I was thinking about strangling you and I didn’t even have a say in it.” 

“Will, I’ve always trusted. That has never been in question for me. Sometimes, though, it’s your mind I can’t trust.” 

“I am my mind, Y/N.” At this you cupped his cheek and pulled him towards you so that he was looking you right in the eyes. 

“You are not your mind. You are going to make it through this because of all the things you’re not. You’re not a murderer. You’re not a psychopath. You’re not a bad person. You’re not beyond repair. And most importantly, you’re not alone. You have me and I am not leaving your side. You may think you are broken past the point of fixing, but I’m still here. And I can promise I am not going anywhere. We are going to be okay, do you understand?” Will clenched his jaw as he bit back the tears that threatened to renew themselves.

Without another word, you opened your arms and Will gladly fell into them. The two of you realized quickly that the vulnerable moment you’d shared had made you both exhausted. Helping each other up, you stumbled to bed where you both happily collapsed. As soon as you hit the mattress you both gravitated towards one another, skin pressed warmly together as you both curled up comfortably. It wasn’t long before the both of you were asleep. Both of you knew that the night wouldn’t be without interruption due to the violent nature of most of Will’s dreams. However, that didn’t matter in the moment. All you knew was the feeling of him connected to you as you drifted off, blissfully pushing aside everything but sleep and Will. 

Tags: @lannister-slings-and-arrows @pedrosdoll @zeldasayer @artoftalent07 @headcanonhasfired @races-erster @yandereaffections @lilbabychilton @talesfromtheguild @gryffindorwriter @astromechovess @gamingaquarius @existingcharactersdiehorribly

#will graham #agent will graham #hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #will graham x reader #will graham x you #will graham x y/n #will graham reader insert #talk of murder #choking #will loses control #will graham needs a hug #smut #will graham smut #ANGST #big time angst #im so sorry #blacked out #dangerous will graham #losing control #will's dark mind is its own warning #very dark #dark fic #first time writing for will #first time writing for hannibal #season 1 will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal season 1

[vercopaanir]

And on that line sort of a lil request thing but I'm babey and I need soft dom!Mando to just take me in his big ol arms and comfort me if I'm upset or crying and trying to make me feel better which might lead to smutty things. Like I can only imagine him saying "Tell me what you need, I'll do it for you." (◡‿◡✿)

Ask and you shall receive! This takes place at an undetermined time in The Lovely Moons universe, but you can read this without reading that. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

The sweet babbles of the child playing at your feet calms your nerves, and sitting in the pilot’s chair of the cockpit on the Razor Crest makes you feel protected. Behind all the steel and glass, locked up in the cool of the early evening, nothing could touch you or the little one here.

Closing your eyes, a few tears dripped off the apples of your cheeks as you lean your head into your hand, sniffling. Every few moments, the child looks up at you, as if to make sure you’re still there, still all in one piece. You manage a small smile for him every time, watery and weak as it is.

When you hear the hatch open down in the hull, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You prepare yourself to have this conversation, knowing the Mandalorian would see your tears, your drawn and ashen face, and the trembling in your hands. He will see you lounging in his chair, curled up defensively and hovering over the child as if you’re waiting for something to strike and take him away. 

The wrestling, grunting, and slamming of fighting with his bounty makes your heart jump. You are still unused to such violence infringing on the small peace you’ve formed with the child and his father. You sometimes forget the man beneath the steel has a temper that would melt the beskar right off of him, because he never shows it to you.

The child whimpers at a particularly loud, metallic slam, and he drops his toy control knob to hurry towards you. You coo, leaning down and lifting him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead when he nuzzles against your neck for comfort. You lay your hand over his back, murmuring wordless, comforting noises to him until his drooped ears flutter back up.

“You’re safe, my little one. You’re safe,” you whisper, resting your cheek against his head. He holds onto your dress with three tiny fingers, and you smile.

The cockpit doors open with a quiet hiss, and you don’t move. After a moment, you hear his boots striking the floor for two steps before the chair you’re in turns. You blink up at him, seeing the shiny dark blood on his leather gloves, and you swallow. The child looks up with dark, owlish eyes, but he doesn’t move away from you.

Immediately, the Mandalorian rips his gloves off, kneeling in front of you as he tosses them to the side. “I got your message over the comlink. What happened?” he asks, voice raspy and exhausted. The bare skin of his hand is hot, resting on your leg. Your hand not cradling the child lays over it. His other reaches up, brushing away the tracks of tears on your face, and you lean into the touch.

“Do we have to talk about it?” you whisper, sniffling and turning your face towards his palm. Your lips feel soft against the smooth skin there.

“Yes,” he sighs, his thumb brushing beneath your eye with the utmost care. You knew he would insist. How else can he help you, take your worries he desires to spear into the dirt, if you don’t hand them over freely?

You lean forward, then, drawn to him like the sun is drawn to the west, and you press your face against the warm fabric of his neck. The child wriggles a bit, and you know it must not be comfortable for him stuck between you, but your tears flow easier when the Mandalorian drapes his arms around you so naturally. He lets you weep into his shoulder, one hand drawing up and down your back and the other tracing your shoulder.

How did one man make you feel so protected after a lifetime of being open, exposed like a raw nerve? How did his touch draw every thread in your body into one poised tapestry? You press your forehead firmly against his collar, leaning back into the chair after a moment when your tears have been wetted on his broad shoulder. His hands slip around the drowsy child, who’s found himself warm and content cradled between his two loving guardians, and you watch faintly as the Mandalorian rises and carries the baby to his cradle. He tucks him in, voice rumbling too low for you to make out the words.

When he returns, he lowers himself to both knees, and he rests his hands on top of your thighs. You stare at each other, and you know what he expects of you, just from the subtle incline of his helmet.

“In the market, there was a man,” you say, your throat raw from holding in your cries so tightly. You wet your lips, slipping your fingers over his own. “I didn’t...I couldn’t see his face, of course. I couldn’t even...I just heard him, back in an alley, and a young boy. He was hurting him.” 

The Mandalorian grew exceptionally still, and you could only hear your own labored breathing, eyes drifting down to your hands. “I haven’t seen that in so long, I just...I don’t know what came over me. I was so angry-so angry, I couldn’t see anything else. I didn’t even think of…”

You swallow, your eyes glancing toward the cradle with the sleeping baby, the same you’d held in the market with you. The same you were meant to protect. The same you would lay your life down for.

“What happened, Cyare?” His voice is dangerous now, bringing chills across your skin, low and predatory.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you whisper, lifting a hand to wipe your cheek and feeling miserable. “I ran and begged him to stop. I grabbed the boy and pulled him behind me, and-”

You choke. You can’t get the rest out, you just can’t.

The Mandalorian grabbed you behind your knees suddenly, pulling you to the edge of the chair until he was caged between your legs, and you yelp at the closeness, finding yourself nearly face to visor with him. “Tell me,” he growls, his grip firm and unyielding.

Your lip trembles, another tear sliding from beneath your lashes. “It...it was a trick,” you breathe, feeling his hands slip beneath the hem of your dress to put his flesh to yours. It was a strange comfort, so foreign to be touched and held without a barrier, but you knew it was an anchor for him as much as it was for you. Because otherwise, you would fall apart, and he would disappear to end a life. “The boy wasn’t hurt. They did it to entrap someone and rob them.”

His grip was nearly bruising, and you drew your lip between your teeth in worry. When he remained silent, looking down at your knees, you whisper, “I feel so ashamed.” 

His helmet jerks up at that, one hand leaving your knee to cup your cheek. Your hand lays over his, shaking your head. He draws you close until you’re nearly pressed against him, hips to shoulders. “Where was he?” His voice is almost purely static, making a shiver fall down your back. “I’ll handle this.”

You knew what that meant. 

Slipping your arms around his neck, you whisper, “Behind the meat seller’s booth in the market. There’s an alleyway.”

The Mandalorian hums, one hand ghosting up the back of your bare calf while the other rubs the soft curve of your waist. You rest your brow against his helmet, breathing in the scent of dry heat, his sweat, and his anger simmering just beneath. It’s heady, and you draw him closer with your legs, pulling him against you.

“Are you leaving right away?” you ask, your voice small and breathless when you feel his fingers dance up the inside of your leg now, choking when it disappears further. 

His arm slips around your waist, pulling you down atop him where he kneels on the floor, and you close your eyes. “Not yet,” he rumbles, baritone echoing behind the beskar like quiet thunder. You suck in a breath, fitting against him better than his armor. “Not until you feel safe again.”

-Tag List:

@lavenderl3mons​ @itzagoodthing​​ @letaliabane​​ @kateb013​ @yodaswrinkles​​ @catsnkooks​, @notawhitegirlblog​​ @ihaveashield​ @sinnamon-bunn @just-a-dreammm @tiffdawgyo​ @lackofhonor @btillys @collectivefandom @kylolover96 @little-ms-fandom @earthtokace @blondecity @gaybroadwayloser​ @forever-rogue​

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #The Lovely Moons #din djarin will kill a man for u i will be taking no questions on this

[1tsnoya]

hii! i know your request are closed but i guess i could consider this an emergency ask. my guinea pig of six years passed yesterday and i was wondering if i could get nishinoya comforting a female reader over the loss of a pet? i love your writing so much🥺 keep doing what you’re doing it’s amazing

a/n: i’m so sorry babey.. i know how upsetting it is to lose a pet. i hope you’re doing well, my inbox or messages are always open if you need someone to talk to<3 ily

“i’m here” oneshot

pairings: nishinoya x fem!reader

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

your hand turned the knob of your apartment door and creaked it open, your face was red and you couldn’t stop sniffling. a few hours prior, a childhood pet had passed. it was devastating, like losing a close friend. many will think that it’s crazy but pets have that effect on people, they show you so much love and can easily cheer you up after a long day.

however, it wasn’t like that today. instead, you felt an empty space in your heart.

“hi baby! how was your-” your boyfriend, yuu, had come rushing to the door to greet and kiss you, however he stopped midway after looking at your swollen eyes and broken expression, “(y/n)..what’s wrong?”

hearing those words for the tenth time that day made you crumble, you couldn’t help but start crying again. and as soon as you did, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. tears were rushing down from your eyes to the sleeves of noya’s shirt.

“i’m here, okay?” one of his hands was rubbing your back while the other was still embracing you.

he was so warm and after such a terrible day, all you wanted was for him to tell you that. you soon opened your eyes and pulled away for a moment. his hand intertwined with yours and started gently pulling you to the couch.

you sat down, still upset, just wanting to be held by your boyfriend, “one second baby” he quickly stepped away to the kitchen. you rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, when you opened them again, he was placing himself next to you while handing you a glass of water, “drink..it’ll help you calm down.”

you took a swig and cold water rushed down your throat, it made your cries calm down a bit, “what happened today?”

you took a shaky breath before your glassy eyes faced noya’s deep, brown ones. words started fumbling out of your mouth about what had just gone down earlier, his worried expression became sad for you, he knew how much you loved your pet, you told him stories about them all of the time and he would laugh at them with you.

yuu scootched a bit closer to you and he observed your upset face, “im so sorry..” a soft kiss was planted on your hand and he just looked at you.

nishinoya wasn’t that good with dealing with these kinds of situations, talking about feelings and comforting others was never his strong suit. he felt terrible because he knew how awful you felt.

after a few seconds of silence, he finally broke it, “when i was younger, i had a dog.” a small laugh escaped from the boy’s mouth, “he was my best friend... i couldn’t believe it when he died, well i mean he was old” his little ramble made you smile the tiniest bit, “but...i know how it feels. it really sucks. but i’m here for you.”

a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at your boyfriend, his gentle hand soon placed itself on your cheek and his thumb wiped it away.

“when we have, you know, our house” he emphasized ‘our’ “we’re gonna get a ton of pets. as many as you want!” his face brightened at the thought of your relationship growing, “i just want to see you happy.”

his soft palm left your face and held one of the hands that you were fidgeting with, “i know it won’t be the same but, it’ll be okay.”

he kissed your forehead, “let’s go do something to help cheer you up. i don’t like seeing you sad.” noya stood up from the couch and your hands were still connected, “i’ll do whatever to make you smile.”

you sniffled one last time and your quiet voice finally spoke out, “really?”

he softly grinned at you, he meant every word that he said, “really really. i promise”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu oneshot #yuu nishinoya #nishinoya #noya #nishinoya yuu #yuu nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya x reader #noya x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya oneshot #nishinoya headcanons #hq nishinoya #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic

[marvels-agents100]

the thing about love

volume I

sure, it could hurt you, baby, but give a little try

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: gore, death, blood, aaron is sad and traumatized, reader is shot, the usual,,, reader attempts to seduce a man at one point

word count: 14,685 (grab a snack, babes)

author’s note: welcome to  s l o w b u r n  central, also, this is currently my pride and joy, my lil babey, please love her

You knew he wasn’t yours to have. His heart had left him long ago, locked in a box in the back corner of his closet, leaving behind a dark void between the cobwebbed bars of his ribs, his burdened breaths a soft echo inside his chest. The only love, the only care he felt he was really capable of was the love he held for Jack. And yet, he laid in bed every night and wished the silk of his sheets would cover him completely, swallowing him into wherever he went when he fell asleep, locking the door behind him and losing the key. The guilt alone was eating him alive- how dare he feel exhausted for loving his son?- and it never left his mind, no matter how focused he was on a case. The lack of compartmentalization was something that would take time to get used to.

You saw it on his face, every time the glass door to the BAU swung open with the push of a heavy arm, every time the lines under his eyes became darker and deeper, every time he sighed like the sorrow and darkness that plagued his mind had leaned upon his shoulders once more. It killed you to see the weight he carried every day; you couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. What completely broke the beat within your chest was how much you wished you could help, yet you knew he would never let you.

That was, until he did.

You had joined the BAU after Elle left, also specializing in sex crimes. The team is your family, your life, and everything in between. You watched them rise and fall, love and lose, laugh and cry. And every time one of you needed help, the others were there to support each other. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing, the BAU. And that beautiful, wonderful thing also included a certain Aaron Hotchner. Most of the team were too intimidated to ever really try prying into Hotch’s psyche, especially since Hailey died. However, one particular day, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your knuckles tapped gently on the door to his office, your ear close to the wood, listening for a response. The blinds had been drawn the entire day, and hours had passed since the rest of the team had departed. If you didn’t know better, you would worry if Aaron was even alive in his office.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled, the words slipping past his lips with a small sigh.

You opened the door cautiously, first looking inside, then fully stepping in. It shut behind you with a soft click, Aaron’s eyes never looking up from the file before him. His left hand lazily dragged out a signature along the bottom of the page. Your arms tightened around the small stack of files you held in your arms- a compilation of yours, Spencer’s, and Emily’s.

You cleared your throat softly, “Hotch,” you greeted, a polite smile on your lips as his gaze finally flickered up to you, “this is all the work from Spence, Emily, and I on the Atlanta case.” 

“You can leave it on the table there,” he gestured towards a small end table with his pen, before returning to his writing, “thank you.”

You nodded, setting the stack of papers down softly, stealing a glance at him before turning and making your way back to the door. Your hand hesitated as it reached for the knob, your heart begging you to turn around and talk to him, comfort him, absolutely anything to just help him.

He noticed your hesitation, your frozen stance by the door catching his attention. He sat up fully, his pen dropping on the desk as his brows knitted together.

“Is there something else, (Y/L/N)?”

Your outstretched and hovering hand slowly closed to a fist, your eyes shutting as you realized there was no way to play this off without him being suspicious. You turned to him, meeting his gaze and trying to keep from caving under his intense stare.

“Actually,” your hands ran down your pant legs, and you found yourself finding a seat across from him, “there… there is.”

He leaned forward on the desk, his expression still studying you, but his voice softening as he recognized how nervous you were, “What’s going on?”

“Sir,” you began, having trouble meeting his eyes, “I don’t want to overstep, and I know you’re a private person, but you’ve been in this office all day with the blinds shut and the door closed and- well, I’m sure I speak for the whole team right now- but we’re worried that you’re not okay, and if you wanted to talk- not that you’d need to, I’m sure you can work through a lot on your own, being knowledgeable in psychology and all-“

“(Y/N).” He cut off your rambling, your eyes finally snapping to his when he said your name. He paused for a beat before continuing, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

You sighed, trying to not be discouraged by his complete avoidance of your question.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” You asked softly. He looked down at his hands, sighing deeply.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke.

“But I do. And I will. I worry, you know that.” You gave him a small smile when his gaze lifted back to you. He returned it for only a moment before it dropped away from his lips.

“It’s just…” he took another breath, “it would’ve… it would’ve been her birthday today.”

As his voice croaked out those words, you felt the beating of your heart stop. The physical ache made you drop your head for a moment, just to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you again, “I know it’s been a while now, and I’ve been able to make peace, for the most part. But, every time today comes around, or Christmas, Thanksgiving- hell, whenever any holiday comes around- he always… Jack always-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence, his hand coming to rest against the bridge of his nose, catching the tears that threatened to spill over. Your head tilted as you watched him, tears of your own beginning to gloss your eyes.

“He asks about her, doesn’t he?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Aaron sniffled, letting a deep breath straighten his back again as he tried to compose himself.

He nodded, “Yeah, he does,” he scoffed and shook his head, “I never know what to say.” The chuckle that fell from his lips was humorless, just a sad acknowledgment of how pathetic he felt.

“God, Aaron, who would?” Your once hesitant hand reached forward and rested upon his, “You are living in a situation with Jack that no one could have prepared you for, one that no one will ever have the answers for.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He joked, a single laugh escaping as he used his free hand to wipe away a tear. You let out a watery chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, because despite the fact that there isn’t a single parenting manual on raising a kid like Jack, everything that you have figured out on your own has made him into the wonderful little boy he is.” You smiled at him, “You are an amazing father. The world deserves more dads that are like you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, a real, genuine smile gracing his lips. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Thank you, (Y/N), I appreciate you checking in on me.”

“We were all worried, sir.” You replied, “And we all know you don’t really talk about the dark, stormy thoughts that bounce around that head of yours,” he chuckled at that, “but, I felt like you needed to know: we’re always here. I’m always here. If you want to talk, if you want me to talk and distract your thoughts, if you just need the presence of someone in the room- no matter what it is- I’m here.”

He nodded once, eyes never leaving yours, “Thank you.” His voice was much quieter now.

You gave his hand a pat and stood, smoothing down your pants with your palms.

“Anytime.”

He stood as well, circling his desk to open the door to the office. You were close behind, stopping short when the door didn’t open. Aaron’s hand was stagnant on the knob, his eyes locked on yours.

“What is it?” You asked, a confused look on your face.

“I-“ he paused, then shook his head and opened the door, “have a good night, (Y/N).”

You nodded politely, choosing to ignore his behavior, knowing he had already made himself vulnerable enough for the night.

“You too, sir.”

***

“(Y/N), Spence, we have a case.” JJ breezed by the two of you, heading for the conference room. You were hovering over Spencer’s shoulder, his hand scribbling on the beaten pages of a legal pad. It was his idea, attempting to solve the Zodiac’s cypher. He could pick out patterns with a single glance, and you were able to add the small, less logical and structured details that his analytical mind always seemed to miss.

Needless to say, neither of you had figured anything out. It was simply a way to pass down time.

Upon entering the conference room, Spencer close behind, you found your seat between Emily and Derek. Penelope began pulling images onto the screen, her brightly colored fingernails tapping softly on her tablet. You leaned back in your chair, toes rocking it ever so lightly back and forth, back and forth. Hotch was the last to arrive only seconds later, his presence alone notifying you of his arrival. He had a way of making himself known before speaking a single word.

“Garcia,” he urged, signaling for her to begin.

“Alright,” she began, the unmistakable sunshine leaking through her words, “giddy up, cow boys and girls, you’re headed to Houston!”

You had to hold back your giggle- it sounded like she was pitching a dream vacation.

“Unfortunately, it’s not to attend the rodeo, but to find who killed these three men in the past month.” Three pictures flashed onto the screen, the bodies of three victims displaying before the BAU. “The bodies of Tyee, Kele, and Dakota were found three weeks, two weeks, and almost one week ago.”

“Why are we just now being called in?” You asked.

Garcia sighed, almost sadly, “Police claim to have not seen a connection, but others living on the reservation say that police didn’t try to.”

A pause fell over the room, the only movement being Derek’s head shaking slightly in disappointment.

“Cause of death?” Hotch asked, breaking the small silence.

"They were all shot once in the chest, then- and this is an image that will never leave my mind- were scalped. If that wasn’t enough gross and icky for you, they were all missing their left thumb.”

“Tyee Begaye, Kele Etcitty, Dakota Nez. All mid 30’s, all Native American, all living in the Alabama-Coushatta reservation. The similarity between them all makes me think they could be surrogates,” Morgan stated, his fingers carding through the file before him.

“What are they wearing?” Emily asked, referring to the burlap and tan clothing that, frankly, looked like a cheap and offensive Halloween costume.

“That, my lovely Emily, would be an attempt at traditional Native clothing.” Garcia replied, “Strong emphasis on attempt.”

“The scalping indicates that the Unsub is probably white, since the textbooks teach that it was purely a Native ritual. In reality, it was a white governor who offered rewards for ‘Indian scalps’.” Your fingers made air quotes around your words, “Maybe we have a white supremacist who is trying to seek some twisted form of revenge.”

“The missing thumb interests me,” Rossi thinks out loud, “is there a ritual or tradition that involves the thumb?”

“Not necessarily,” Spencer spoke, “however, the now disbanded Atakapa tribe lived along the Gulf of Mexico, until an epidemic nearly killed the entirety of the tribe in the late 18th century. They believed in life after death, and anyone who died by a snakebite, or whose corpse was eaten by another human, would be denied that afterlife.” 

“Why would our Unsub be displaying rituals from a tribe that doesn’t exist?” JJ questioned.

“That’s a question we can answer on the plane,” Hotch stood from his chair, “if our Unsub sticks to his timeline, we have two days to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.”

***

Discussion on the plane wasn’t leading very far, mostly because of the lack of information the team had on the murders. It was abundantly clear that local authorities, or at least the particular officers that had investigated the murders, didn’t take much interest in actually finding who had commit them. It was incredibly frustrating, knowing that you and your team could be miles closer to finding a serial killer if prejudice didn’t stand in the way of justice.

You pushed those thoughts away, knowing that thinking too hard about it would just infuriate you. There wasn’t time to be angry, you had to focus.

“Why the outfits?” Rossi asked, “These men are clearly Native American, why feel the need to dress them in stereotypical clothing?”

“It has to be a part of the fantasy,” JJ answers, “they look like they’re characters from a western.”

“What time period was traditional clothing like this worn?” Emily inquired, her eyes never leaving the file in front of her.

“When forced assimilation of the 19th and 20th centuries began, traditional clothing stopped being made in the name of appeasing the powers that be,” Spencer began, fingers wiggling with his words, “Most traditional, Native American fashion designers began making clothing only for certain celebrations and rituals, exclusively for personal use. It wasn’t until 1934 that the passage of the Indian Reorganization Act began to encourage the production of traditional clothing once more. The patterns and weaving we see in modern fashion today all began in 1942, when Native American fashion was featured in a high profile fashion show, and instead of being discouraged, was appreciated. Most designers use their Native roots to assimilate traditional textile with modern trends in order to reach a larger audience.”

“So clothing like this isn’t mass produced?” Morgan asked.

“Unless it’s close to October 31st, no,” Spencer answered.

“It’s August, there’s no way he purchased these almost a year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to control his urges for that long.” Emily shook her head, completely baffled.

“Maybe he’s making them?” You offered, doubt in your voice, “I mean, they don’t exactly look well made.”

“He could be ordering them online,” Hotch countered.

“Alright, alright,” JJ interrupted, “I think the significance lies in what the costumes are supposed to mean. He’s calling back to before the 19th century. What fantasy is exclusive to that time frame and involves Native Americans?”

“If we had more information on the killing itself, I feel like a lot of these questions would be answered,” Dave’s voice was laced with frustration. 

“I agree,” Hotch began, “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to talk to the ME, try to find absolutely anything that wasn’t reported. David, (Y/L/N), go to the newest scene and see if you can add to the reports as well. Reid, JJ, and I will go set up at the station, start interviewing families and the officers that were on the original scenes. We need to get all the information they neglected to share,” Hotch directed, approving nods coming from the rest of the team.

“And if they try to stop us?” Morgan asked, Hotch giving him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Look, when I was with the Chicago PD, I saw this kind of prejudice within my own precinct. Bad cops won’t stop being bad cops just because we’re in their jurisdiction.”

Hotch paused a moment before speaking.

“Our job is to build a profile and catch whoever is doing this,” he began, “and we are going to do that, even if a bad cop- or anyone, for that matter- tries to get in our way. We’ve dealt with worse than this; I have faith that this team can still perform successfully.”

Morgan nodded in agreement, but you knew he still had his doubts, “Yes, sir.”

You all had dispersed through the jet, Emily and Spencer fiddling with a chess board between them, Morgan and Rossi both listening to music and staring dramatically through the window, and JJ flipping through her file in her own space, reading and rereading every word until her eyes ached. It was a habit, she knew, trying to memorize every detail of the case in order to justify her decision to present it to the team. Although choosing cases was no longer her responsibility, she still found herself with the guilt of not being able to help every person whose name was written in manila files on her desk. 

You sat across from Hotch, him close to the window, your feet propped up on his unused armrest. You hummed lowly to yourself while glancing over the file, fingers tapping against the manila to the beat of your voice.

“You know,” Hotch spoke up, “if you ruin this seat with your shoes, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Your humming stopped and your eyes snapped up to him, catching the small smirk on the corner of his mouth, the smirk that he tried in vain to play off as he kept his gaze trained on the open file in his hand. A smirk of your own tugged at your lips, the papers in your grip falling lazily into your lap.

“You mess with my check, Hotchner, and I will consider you an enemy,” You threatened, your finger pointing at him to emphasize your words.

He shrugged casually, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’ll add you to the list.”

Your angry resolve broke, a chuckle leaving your lips. Although his joking caught you off guard slightly, it all was oddly comfortable. His shoulders weren’t tight like they usually were, his eyebrows weren’t tensed, and his frown had disappeared. Usually, his rare humor would throw the whole team for a loop, but when it was just you and Hotch, there was just something so natural about it.

“Yeah, put my name right between ‘going to bed at a decent hour’ and ‘smiling’.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes and giving him nothing less than a shit-eating grin. 

His face dropped from the sly smirk to stone-cold in a split second, causing your smile to grow even wider.

“How did you know that?” He asked quietly. You laughed then, a full, joyful laughter. You didn’t see how his smile had returned, and his softened gaze stayed trained on you.

“I guess you could say I’m good at my job,” You replied, wiping under your eye as you caught your breath.

“Now that,” he pointed at you, “is something I can’t deny.”

You smiled again, but genuinely. It almost made you blush, him inadvertently saying that you were good at your job. He didn’t compliment people too often, but when he did, it was always completely genuine and special.

“But I will still make you pay for this seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggled, waving your hand dismissively at him.

***

The crackle of dirt and gravel under your soles mixed with the bustling of law enforcement around you. Rossi walked close by, both of you stopping as you reached the true crime scene. He sighed deeply as his eyes scanned over the red stain in the terra-cotta colored dirt, trying to not think about how little the uniforms around him cared about the life that stain had once provided.

“It’s pretty desolate out here,” you stated, purposely keeping your eyes up as you scanned the mountains around you, “the Unsub definitely knows this place, he’s familiar with it.”

“That means he’s probably local,” David agreed, eyes never leaving the dried blood on the ground, “(Y/N), look at this and tell me what you see.”

Your eyes finally flickered down to the blood, your hands finding home in your pockets in an attempt to hide your clenching fists.

“It’s…” your voice trailed off, your head tilting slightly as you realized what David was hinting at, “It’s… small. Dakota was shot, this all just looks like blood lost from the scalping and the removal of the thumb.”

“Which means,” Rossi added, “this is just a dumpsite. He’s taking them to a secondary location.”

“How long between the missing person’s reports and the discovery of their bodies?”

“Hours, no more than a day.”

You sighed, stepping closer and lowering yourself towards the ground, elbows resting on your knees. “So, he’s not holding them, but he’s shooting them in a secondary location before bringing them to these mountains, and dumping them.” You stood again, turning to David, “Why?”

His head shook slightly, “Possibly a forensic countermeasure. If he were to shoot them here, he could leave behind casings, splatter patterns… more evidence than what we have now, at least.”

You glanced one last time at the ground before beginning to walk towards the SUV. “I think we should get back and tell them what we’ve found.”

Rossi got into the driver’s side while you settled in next to him, a matching frown on both of your faces. You looked out the window, allowing your mind to drift away from the case. Usually, you stopped straying thoughts before they could begin, but you decided to set them free for the duration of the car ride back to the station. Upon arrival, your mind was to be strictly business.

You first thought of Hotch. You thought of the exchange you had a few weeks prior, where he opened himself up to you, even if it was just a fraction of the feelings he kept bottled up inside. Things had shifted, at least in your perspective, since then. He was more… himself. When there wasn’t a case- those few and far between days of strictly paperwork- you would find him smiling a little more, always directed at you. It was always just a tilt of his lips, just a twitch at best, but you always noticed it. He would find you in the break room, he would make light conversation. It was always professional, always appropriate in his position of Unit Chief, but you knew it was more personal. 

Maybe it was your wishful thinking, maybe it was all made up by your own habit of overanalyzing. But, the physical reaction you had whenever those small moments of warm sunshine burst through the dark curtain of SSA Aaron Hotchner, the way your stomach turned and your cheeks ignited, now that… that was not constructed by your mind. That was a real, true reaction to a man you (apparently) liked a little more than you originally thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” David cut your wondering short, and you were almost thankful for it.

“Hm?” You acknowledged, snapping out of your daze.

“Call me a profiler,” he chuckled, “but I know when you’re thinking too hard. Is something bothering you?”

“No, no,” you denied, a small laugh leaving your lips, “just, trying to stay focused on this case.”

“Hm.” He hummed, obviously not believing you. “Is it about the 16th?”

Your eyes snapped to him, his gaze holding steady on the road in front of him. A breath of pause added to the sudden tension in the air.

“How do you know about that?”

“Anytime Aaron Hotchner cries, you can be sure that I will know about it.”

You sunk back into your chair as another beat of silence filled the SUV. Honestly, you had no clue how to talk about the situation between you and Hotch. And frankly, you didn’t know if there even was a situation, it could all be made up in your head. Telling Rossi that you have the hots for your boss wouldn’t fix any problems you currently faced, it would only create new ones.

“I just want to see him happy,” you whispered, keeping your eyes forward.

“He is happy-“

“I mean, truly happy, Dave,” your head rolled towards him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he understood what you meant. He sighed heavily, readjusting his grip on the wheel.

“I think he lost that when he lost her, (Y/N), I don’t think he will ever go back to who he was before,” he sounded so sad, admitting that the man he considered family would never see a light he once knew.

“Maybe,” you agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell to help him find it again.”

Dave glanced at you, a small smile tilting his lips up, “I think you’re the perfect person for the job.”

***

You had arrived just as Emily and Derek did, Hotch and the Captain of the station coming to meet you at the door.

“Captain McGuire, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and David Rossi.” Aaron introduced. The captain politely shook all of your hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” his words were borderline disingenuous, but you smiled politely and let it go.

“We’ve got some news to share,” Dave said, turning towards Hotch. He responded with a nod before turning and leading the four of you to the Houston PD conference room, where Spencer and JJ were already waiting. Everyone stood around the table, unable to sit down with how uneasy the case felt.

“Everything here is just as you would imagine,” JJ began, clearly irritated, “these officers didn’t care enough to properly investigate these murders.”

“All of the families said that our victims were well respected, got along with other people, nothing too out of the ordinary,” Hotch added, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the evidence board.

“Dave and I think they’re being held in a secondary location,” you stated, everyone’s eyes turning to you. Your gaze met Aaron’s as you continued, “There wasn’t nearly enough blood at the scene for a man to have been shot there.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Hotch inquired.

“That’s our guess.”

“Well,” Emily sighed, “I guess that makes more sense. The ME said the scalping and thumb removal was antemortem. The last step of his fantasy was shooting his victims. This guy would need somewhere to torture his victims without anyone hearing it.”

“I had Garcia do a search for any trespassing or squatting complaints around the mountains where the bodies were found, just to see if any witnesses saw the Unsub while he was disposing of his victims. There wasn’t anything significant,” Spencer chimed in.

“I’m starting to think this guy has more experience than we might think,” Morgan said, “he’s able to abduct, control, and torture grown men, then dispose of their bodies quietly.”

“What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“It means there’s probably more victims,” Hotch was storming out of the room as he spoke. You were close behind him.

“Spence, call Penelope, have her start digging!” you quickly spoke, hurrying to keep up with Hotch. You weren’t sure why, but you knew he was furious. He must have put something together before you.

“Hotch, Hotch!” You hissed, jogging lightly to catch up to him. “Aaron!” You finally stood in front of him, his angry steps halting before he could run you over, but his glare still trained on the door to Captain McGuire’s office.

Your hands hovered in front of you, level with his chest. You scanned his face, seeing nothing but anger in the way he glared over your shoulder.

“What is going on?” You asked quietly, teeth clenched together. It was then that his eyes flickered to you for a fraction of a second, a deep breath leaving his lungs. His shoulders lost some tension and his eyes closed, his attempt at calming himself clearly visible.

“We know this station is riddled with cops who don’t care about justice for anyone of Native descent,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “how many people have died without justice? How many were at the hands of the same Unsub we’re trying to catch?”

“Hotch,” you tread carefully, “believe me when I say I am equally as furious as you. However, you, of all people, know that storming into that office right now will only cause more problems. We are surrounded by people who don’t care if we leave here successful or not, and the Captain may be a part of that group. We need to be smart about this.”

He huffed, but he knew you were right. It was a bit out of character, him getting so upset without being able to control it. He noticed that since Hailey had died, his emotions were a little stronger and a little harder to control, especially when it came to his job. His need for justice made him do things he would have never done when she was alive.

Was it a fault or strength?

“How do you propose we do that?” He asked, his voice more gentle than before.

“Let me go in there, break the news,” you offered, “if that man is anything like who I think he is, I could bat my eyes and get anything I want from him.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted from you, to the office, then to you again. “Okay,” he finally agreed, “in and out. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” you grinned, turning and walking towards the Captain’s office. You glanced back over your shoulder, seeing Hotch in the same exact spot you left him. Sending him a small wink, you reached the door and let yourself inside.

Hotch took another deep breath as you disappeared into the office, once again trying to calm himself. He had faith in you, he knew you could handle yourself, but the thought of that man- any other man, in fact- looking at you in the way he knew that Captain was going to look at you… well, that made him furious all over again. It was completely inappropriate, he knew, but he knew it wasn’t something that was within his control. He had just been feeling a greater sense- a greater need- to protect you, to make sure you were okay. He, himself, had a lot of questions about it. Why was he feeling this way? When did it start? Am I even able to feel this way again? Of course, he didn’t have any answers to his own questions. It always seemed to be that way. So many questions, all unanswered.

Despite his better judgment, he turned towards the conference room, fighting the bubbling anger in his chest.

***

The door clicked closed behind you, Captain McGuire’s eyes shifting from his paperwork to your face, then dragging down your body. You cleared your throat, your heartbeat already picking up slightly. You weren’t nervous, you knew you could take him down in a second if need be, but the way he looked at you like you were an object almost made you see red.

“Agent (Y/L/N), please, have a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I just came to discuss something quickly.”

“Of course, what is it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, a sign that he did, in fact, like you. You already knew that, of course, but the confirmation did make you a bit more confident.

“You see, we seem to think that this particular Unsub didn’t start killing three weeks ago. We think there’s previous cases,” you kept your voice soft, playing up an innocence you found that all men had some form of attraction to. 

“With all due respect, I think I would remember a case like this.” He held his hand up as he talked in a way of dismissing you. You knew you could either snap at him and get kicked out, or play along and possibly get what you want. You had to feed into his ego.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees. It gave him a full view, so to speak, and his eyes shifted exactly here you wanted them to. So predictable. “I would never insult your intelligence like that, sir,” he seemed to perk up at that nickname, “we’re just asking that you do a review with your officers, maybe someone will remember something they didn’t before?”

His eyes met yours again, and he had to clear his throat before he talked.

“Anything you need,” he was trying to flirt back now.

“Thank you, sir,” with a smirk, you stood and walked out, feeling the eyes of Captain McGuire follow you the entire way. As soon as the door was completely shut, you felt a chill run down your spine and you let yourself shiver. 

You really hoped your flirting would get you something.

***

“Garcia, I need you to look for any cases within the Houston area that might be linked to these,” Spencer spoke into the phone.

“I already have, my little Einstein,” Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, “there’s nothing that looks like these.”

“They’re gonna be hidden, babygirl,” Morgan pressed, “details might have been left out in the case files. Send us anything that has even the smallest connection.”

“I’m going to need more time for that, love,” she sighed, nothing but disappointed in Houston authorities.

“Work fast for me, baby.”

“Oh, my beautiful, brown Hercules, do I work at any other speed?” She spoke seductively, earning a few smiles from the intensely frustrated team surrounding the phone.

“You never disappoint,” Morgan cooed, taking the phone and hanging up the call.

Hotch reached the room shortly after the call, everyone’s eyes snapping towards him as he entered. He looked over his team, eyebrows pulled downward, expression stone-cold.

“Are you okay, sir?” JJ asked bravely, her voice soft and understanding.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, “anything from Garcia?”

And just like that, Derek began to update Hotch on what Penelope was searching for, and all was forgotten. Hotch was good at that- making everyone forget about what he was feeling. The question he dreaded most was also the question he heard the most- are you okay? He would hear those three words and immediately have to find an escape, and excuse, as to why he couldn’t quite answer them. His feelings were ones that were felt only by him, shared only to the family picture he kept on his nightstand. It was comfortable, easy, and it kept him away from vulnerability.

He made sure he was facing towards the door of Captain McGuire while he worked, his gaze constantly flickering upwards and out the window of the conference room, hoping to find you there every time. When you finally emerged, he could tell how uncomfortable you were. You let yourself shiver, taking a moment to breathe before moving towards the conference room. Hotch made sure to meet you at the door.

“Anything?” He asked as soon as the door shut behind you. You sighed heavily before answering.

“He said he will reopen some cases and do some debriefing, but I honestly don’t think we will be getting much out of it.”

His eyes closed and he shook his head in disappointment. “Okay,” he finally spoke, “we’re on our own here.”

“Hotch, come look at this,” Derek called, pulling Aaron’s attention away from you. He hurried to Morgan, looking at the photograph held between them.

You moved towards the table and began working, praying to any God, any higher being, that something- anything- would catch a lead in the case.

***

“If I read one more file before I get a cup of coffee, I just might rip it to shreds,” you muttered, shoving your eyes into the heels of your hands. Your elbows rested heavily on the conference table you sat at, the many, many reviewed files scattered between you and the rest of the team. Analyzing them for any connections had been nothing short of tedious and time consuming.

It had been hours now, and nothing new had come to light. The sun had fallen asleep long ago, dipping behind the mountains, leaving a path of stars in its wake. The moon shone fully, the soft white blanketing Houston in a gentle embrace. You wished you could be sitting on the balcony of your apartment, staring at the twinkling of the stars and bathing in the cool air, your only warmth coming from a cup of hot tea gently resting in your hands. Instead, you were staring at pictures of dead men, trying to get ahead of a killer that was many, many steps ahead of you.

“Spence, have you found anything?” JJ asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted as you felt. 

“I’ve read every file at least twice now,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I can’t find any connections.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re doing everything you can,” you scolded softly, pointing a lazy finger towards him.

“Thank you,” he spoke gently, a thankful smile on his lips.

Your eyes returned to the papers before you, scanning over a single sentence before you gave up, “Why are we still looking, anyways? What do you think we’re going to find when- and if- we find any more victims?” Your hands accented your words, your frustration abundantly clear.

“MO,” Morgan answered shortly, “we need to know how this Unsub started- when he was still learning how to kill, when he was discovering what he liked most. That’s when he first made his mistakes.”

“Okay,” Rossi chimed in, “but how do we know that those cases were fully investigated? What if they’re just as neglected as the three we already have?”

Morgan sighed and ran a hand down his face, looking utterly defeated, “I don’t know.”

The ringing of Morgan’s cell phone caught everyone’s attention. He answered quickly, putting it on speaker.

“What’d you find, baby? You’re on speaker,” He asked.

“I’m sorry to report that I haven’t found much of anything,” Garcia said, “I mean, there are lots and lots of middle-aged, Native American men dying- which breaks my heart into very little, tiny pieces- but nothing that fits into our timeline or modus operandi.”

“Try expanding to neighboring states,” Emily recommended.

“I already did, sweet Emily,” Garcia sighed, “nothing.”

“Alright,” Morgan sighed, eyes closing as he exhaled, “keep searching, babygirl. Let us know if anything pops up.”

“Of course,” she sounded just as disappointed, “heads up, loves, we will find something.” Morgan hung up, setting his phone down before dragging a hand down his face.

Hotch’s file flipped shut in his hands, the fluttering catching the team’s attention, “We need to take a step back. Looking over the same words won’t get us any further.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Dave asked.

“Take an hour. Get coffee, food, whatever you need,” Hotch stood from his chair, straightening his suit jacket, “I wish we could stop for the day and return tomorrow, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, “Well,” your arms dropped to your sides, “I’ll take an hour. Hell, I would take 15 minutes. Any time for a mental break would be beneficial, at this point.”

“There’s a 24 hour pizza shop one block east,” JJ pointed out, “want to grab a bite there?”

“I’m in,” Derek stood.

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, rising as well.

“Pizza sounds so good right now,” Emily whined.

“Only if it is authentic,” Dave wagered, “(Y/N)? Hotch?”

“If I get full right now, I will definitely pass out,” you chuckled, “you guys go ahead.”

“Hotch?” Dave repeated.

“I’m okay, thank you,” his lips twitched into a polite smile for only a moment, then it was gone once again.

“Suit yourselves,” Derek teased, sending the two of you a dazzling smile as the rest of the team left the conference room.

You dared to peek over at Hotch, watching as his eyes looked back down at the numerous open files in his workstation. He even picked one up from the table to get a closer look.

“This break includes you, you know,” you said, smirking when his eyes jumped from the page to you. He set down the file again, a sigh falling from his lips.

“I don’t think I could take a break from this one, even if I wanted to,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke, arms crossing over his chest. A small silence filled the room.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’m going to get us some coffee- good coffee, from the store across the street- and maybe some food, then we can sit and look over some of these together. Maybe we can find things together that we can’t find alone.”

He nodded, pulling out his chair and settling into it, “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

You smiled, nodding once in his direction. His eyes were already back on the files before you had even turned to leave. Something about this case bothered him, deeply, and you were almost certain you knew what it was. 

Ever since Foyet came and destroyed nearly everything Aaron loved, particular cases weighed on his mind a bit heavier. It all came down to justice. Hotch couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything come in the way of true justice. You weren’t completely sure as to how Hailey’s death or George Foyet could have sparked this, you only knew of how angry Aaron would get now if anyone stood in his way.

You entered the corner store, heading straight to the hot coffee by the drink station. The fluorescent lighting only irritated the headache you had been fighting for the past hour, but you just ignored the pain as you came to a stop in front of the industrial sized coffee maker. You pulled two large, styrofoam cups from the dispenser, filling one to the very top with rich, black coffee, for Hotch. The steam billowing from the cup made your lips twitch up into a smile, the thought of caffeine beginning to change your mood for the better. Quickly making your own cup of self motivation, you moved towards the check out counter, the employee behind it looking just as tired as you felt.

“Just those?” She asked, finger already tapping away on the screen before her. You pulled a PayDay (Aaron’s favorite candy bar), from the small display on the counter and placed it next to the coffees.

“And that,” you answered politely, “thank you.” Your eyes wandered over the small keychains and magnets displayed on the counter. Most read ‘HOUSTON’ in large, colorful lettering, while others were decorated with horses and huge, green fields. Your head tilted as you looked, and a particular keychain caught your eye.

It was silver, sparkling subtly in the harsh lighting. You reached out and pulled it from behind the ‘HOUSTON’ keychains, the small cowboy hat resting on the ends of your fingers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought, becoming completely entranced by the small trinket.

“That one’s real popular,” the employee drawled, her southern accent pulling at her words, “everyone wants to be a cowboy, these days.”

“I see,” you replied quietly, still staring at the keychain. 

“It’ll be $2.38 for those coffees and candy, ma’am.”

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, “Yes, of course, sorry.” A nervous laugh left your lips as you reached for your wallet, the silver hat falling away from your hand. Quickly handing her a five dollar bill, you grabbed the coffee cups and candy bar before she even managed to open the register. “Keep the change, thank you!”

You almost ran out the door, needing to get to Hotch immediately.

***

“Hotch!” You all but burst into the conference room, kicking the door shut behind you, “I think I might have something!”

He looked up at you, slightly startled by your sudden entrance (but he would never admit it), “What is it?” 

You almost laughed at how calm he sounded in comparison to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Promptly setting his coffee and PayDay in front of him, you yanked a chair over until the armrest clinked against Hotch’s chair, then sat and set your own coffee down.

“Remember what JJ said about the costumes, on the plane?” You asked excitedly.

“Something about looking like an old Western-“

“Exactly!” You interrupted, “I might be jumping to conclusions, but the gun, the scalping, the race of our targets,” you counted your list on your fingers as you spoke, “I think our Unsub’s fantasy includes him being a cowboy. Like, a heroic, wild west cowboy.”

He nodded, eyebrows dipping as he thought it over, “That would explain the extreme sadism,” he added, “the narrative of most of those shows are cowboys versus Indians.”

“So,” you took a quick sip of your coffee, “maybe we should be looking for other murders that included any type of rope, gun- hell, even something like a horse.”

“That will help narrow it down,” he agreed.

“And! I almost forgot!” You couldn’t contain yourself, “Ranches, farms- they’re huge pieces of land that would be a very smart location to torture someone quietly.”

“We need to call Garcia,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket quickly, “and (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Good work, really,” his hand rested on your shoulder, “but I’ve never expected any less.”

Before you even had a chance to respond, his phone was to his ear, and he was asking Garcia to narrow her search to the new parameters you had discovered. He rose and walked toward the board, looking over the crime scene photos, hand resting on his hip, as he talked. You just sat still, shoulder burning where his hand had laid, heart pounding in your ears. The warmth of his compliment surrounded you, making your cheeks hot and your mind fuzzy. A smile slowly edged it’s way onto your face, your shoulders rising as you held your coffee a bit closer, trying desperately to keep that warm feeling inside. You knew how ridiculous it was, to be sent into a full blush over a small compliment- and quite frankly, it was a compliment you heard a lot- but the mere fact that it came from SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man you found yourself think about way too often, made it all that more special.

“Thank you, Garcia,” he hung up the phone, turning to you again, “you should take a break. I can handle this by myself for a while.”

You relaxed back into your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee, “You first, Hotch.” A smirk found its way to your lips.

“I’m fine.”

“No one ever says that when they’re actually fine.”

He just stared at you for a long moment, gaze narrowing slightly.

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” He asked.

“Not an inch,” the smirk never left your face. A smile of his own played on his lips.

“Fine,” he conceded, “but, as soon as Garcia calls back, it’s back to work.”

“Deal,” you nodded, “now, come sit and enjoy your coffee and candy I got you.”

He followed your orders, settling into the chair beside you (which was very close to you), and finally taking a drink of his coffee. A content sigh made his shoulders relax, eyes closing as he set down his cup.

“I never knew coffee from a gas station could taste so good,” he sighed, eyes meeting yours as a content smile settled on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” you teased, nudging his arm with your elbow.

“And this,” he held up the PayDay, “is my favorite. How did you figure that out?”

“Every old man likes PayDays,” you said cheekily, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling. His eyes narrowed at you, but his smile only grew.

“I could put in an insubordination complaint right now,” he threatened.

You relaxed in your chair, letting out a noncommittal sigh, “Just show me where to sign, Hotchner.”

He laughed, putting the candy back on the table and shaking his head, “You’re lucky I understand your humor.”

“And it’s one of the reasons why we get along so well, Hotch,” your nudged his shoulder. 

He chuckled a bit, his smile settling on his lips. He looked deep in thought, a certain tenseness tightening his shoulders and making a muscle leap in his jaw. You looked over at his hand, noticing how it fiddled with the corner of the candy’s packaging.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked, not really expecting much of an answer. He had opened up to you before, but it had been extremely late at the time, and he was, in that moment, probably more sleep deprived than rational.

He locked eyes with you, staring for a moment before speaking, “I’m sorry you had to talk to Captain McGuire,” he looked away, “and that nothing really came of it.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, slightly confused as to why he looked so guilty about it, “I did it because he potentially had information that would be useful to us. I’d flirt with every dirtbag in this station if I thought it could help us.”

“I know, and that is what makes you so valuable to this team,” he avoided your eyes, reaching for his cup again, “you’re able to control your own emotions in order to do your job.” He took a sip.

Oh. You thought, that’s it.

“Hotch, you had every right to be angry.”

His eyes snapped to you, unmistakably surprised that you saw through him. Well, maybe he was aware that it wouldn’t be too hard to see what was bothering him, but he wasn’t used to someone just… calling him out completely.

“I was irrational,” he spoke, “unprofessional.”

“If I was in your shoes, I would have acted the same way.” Your hand hesitantly found his arm, palm resting on his bicep and fingers landing on his shoulder. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then met your eyes once again.

“You’re allowed to be human,” you said, softly, “and sometimes, humans have emotions. That’s kind of the whole reason why we have a job.” You giggled a bit as you spoke, trying to show him how ridiculous it was to feel guilty for a perfectly natural and normal reaction.

“Did he bother you too much?” He asked, nodding towards the office of Captain McGuire. You chose to ignore how he had changed to subject.

“No, not really,” your hand fell away from his arm, feeling noticeably colder when contact was lost, “I’ve heard worse from the men I meet at bars.” You chuckled a bit, shaking your head, “You know, you should hear some of the things I say to drunk men that bother me. I think you would find it amusing.”

Of course he would, he would love to hear you put a man in his place. The feisty attitude you saved for those who bothered you was one of his favorite things about you. It never failed to make him smile, wether it was directed at someone else or- on occasion- him. Your demeanor was nothing short of soft and caring, but once someone crossed you, well… hell hath no fury quite like yours. 

“I would have to agree with you on that,” he chuckled, finally beginning to loosen up, “but, please, if any of these officers seriously bother you, tell me.”

“Alright,” you held your hands up in mock defense, “but I can’t guarantee that I will hold off on putting my two cents in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of that.”

“Good.” You smiled brightly. He returned it, having to look away before his face began to flush red. He wanted to just reach out and touch you- hold your hand, hug you, anything- but the thought of trying made his hands start to shake. You made him nervous, a feeling that he didn’t feel often, that he didn’t enjoy at all. But, he knew what it meant. He knew that he was far past the point of no return; the future would consist of his complete and utter falling for you. It terrified him, honestly, but it also thrilled him. He knew what love was, he knew how it felt. The ‘great love’ every one always fantasizes over, was a love he had already experienced. And God, was he determined to feel that again. Not always- he wasn’t always in the pursuit of love- but ever since he met you, that perspective changed.

But it still was frightening, the thought of loving you. He had experienced love, but he also had experienced loss. He knew that letting you take full control of his heart would be putting himself at risk of extreme, unimaginable pain. Pain that he never wished to feel again. Pain that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. It was a dangerous, terrible gamble, the game of love. On one hand, he would be sacrificing himself in the constant war he fought with vulnerability, but on the other hand, he could mend the still broken pieces of his heart and be whole again.

The shrill ringing of your phone pulled him away from his internal battles, his brown eyes finding your (Y/E/C) ones.

“Garcia,” you breathed out, promptly answering and putting the phone on speaker. “You’re with me and Hotch, Pen, what’d you find?”

“Hello my lovely lady and sir, I have two potential victims for you,” she answered, the indistinct clicking of a keyboard in the background. “I narrowed the search with everything you gave me, then again to any murders that took place Thursday through Saturday.”

“The same time frame he’s using now,” Hotch added.

“Exactly. That search left me with two names,” she paused a moment, probably pulling up the case files on her screens, “Kenneth Thompson, 35, died six weeks ago by a single gunshot wound to the chest, and his body was found in his apartment, with his limbs hogtied, like a cow… or a little piggy.”

“His race?” You asked.

“White, which doesn’t match our latest victims, but I have more,” the clicking was heard again, 

“Carlos Dominguez, a 32 year old hispanic man, found four weeks ago, dead, by a single gunshot would. But, there are also reports of deep lacerations to his hairline area.”

“So, he tried to carry out his fantasy, but it quickly died when he couldn’t ignore that Carlos was hispanic.” You suggested.

“He always favored the shooting,” Hotch said, “but didn’t develop the hatred towards the Native Americans until his third victim.”

“Or rather, he just realized that he couldn’t use surrogates for them. He needs the real thing.”

“That explains the development of the thumb removal- if he kills Natives with the belief of an afterlife, then he can’t let them go to their version of heaven. It wasn’t necessary for the first two victims.”

“He makes them suffer, even in death,” you shook your head, completely disgusted, “thank you, Garcia.” You hung up the phone, placing it back on the table and leaning back into your chair. Your eyes eventually found Hotch, whose elbow sat on the tabletop, his jaw cupped in his hand.

“I think we need to call the team back in here,” you said quietly. He checked the watch on his wrist briefly, then returned his hand to his chin.

“They have fifteen minutes, let them have it.” He muttered.

***

Briefing the team when they returned was anything but nice. They stood around the conference table once more, as Hotch told them about the new victims and the Unsub’s MO. Revealing and analyzing the true sadism of this Unsub was something that even Emily struggled with. The more the team learned, the more motivated they were to stop him.You could see them all getting visibly more distraught the more you told them.

“So, this guy is just playing cowboy?” Derek asked, anger evident in his voice.

“‘Playing cowboy’ is a very tame way to put it,” Emily scoffed.

“How do we even go about trying to find this guy?” JJ asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“We can start with farmland,” Dave suggested, “single out any that are secluded, or on very large pieces of land.”

“Let’s call Garcia,” you said, taking your phone out of your pocket.

“How big would a farm have to be in order to be secluded enough for this Unsub to operate?” Emily wondered.

“If we take into the fact that the Unsub is probably firing a gun on his property,” Spencer began, fingers intertwining together as he thought, “and, a football field- without the end zones- are roughly 1.38 acres, or 60,112.8 square feet, I would say you would need at least four or five acres to conceal that type of noise.”

“What can I do for you, Holmes?” Garcia chirped through the phone.

“We need you to pull land deeds- look for any farms with at least four acres of land, within the comfort zone,” you said, holding the phone near your voice.

“Got it,” she began typing away, “oh, my- well, you have 143 matches, my dear.”

“You said he hogtied his first victim,” Dave pointed towards you, “Garcia, narrow it down to farms that have cow and/or pigs on them. He had to learn how to tie a knot like that somewhere.”

“You have a brilliant mind, my Italian Stallion,” Garcia praised, “we’re down to 87.”

“How many of those also have horses?” Emily asked, “Can’t be a cowboy without a horse.”

“22.”

“That’s still too many,” you sighed. Hotch laid his palms flat on the conference table, head bowing in defeat.

“We’re missing something,” Spencer mumbled, walking towards the evidence board with narrowed eyes. His head tilted as he stared at it, mouthing words to himself silently.

“What do you see, kid?” Derek asked, taking a step towards Spencer.

“The gun,” he responded, finally.

“The gun?” Morgan questioned. Before getting an answer, Reid had whipped around towards the phone.

“Garcia, the first two victims, what did they conclude about the gun used?” He spoke quickly.

“Um,” she typed just as fast, “it was registered, but reported stolen two weeks prior by 62 year old Harvey Pooler… oh no, Pooler died four days before Kenneth was killed. Heart attack.”

“Did Pooler own a farm?” Spencer asked.

“Let me… see,” a small gasp came through the phone, “He did.”

“Take a 50 mile radius from the Pooler farm and cross that with our 22 potentials.”

There was a couple seconds of typing before she spoke again, “We have a hit. Five acres owned by a Timothy Locke.”

“What do you have on him?” Emily pressed.

“He lived there his whole life,” Garcia spoke quickly, “mother died when he was young, father was… well, not the best father. Multiple trips to the ER when Timothy was still little Timmy.”

“Where’s the father now?” Hotch asked.

“Dead,” she answered shortly, “Month and a half ago, natural causes.”

“That’s right when the killings began,” Rossi observed.

“There’s our stressor,” JJ added.

“What about hobbies? Places he frequented? Anything to tie him to the cowboy fantasy,” You asked.

“Besides his ownership of horses,” Garcia clicked away on her keypad, “he was a frequent flyer of the local rodeo, even participated in it… oh no.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Morgan asked worriedly.

“This particular rodeo, well, it was more of a reenactment type of show,” she explained, “most of their ‘historical retellings’ were that of the wild, wild west. The racist, kill the Natives, wild, wild, west.”

“Garcia-“ Hotch began.

“Oh, honey, I know. Addresses are sent… now.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, everyone starting to hurry out of the room.

“Be safe, my loves!” Garcia called.

“Love you, Penny, great work,” you told her, before hanging up and following your team towards the SUVs.

***

The kevlar vest reading ‘FBI’ hung on your shoulders, the slight weight grounding you completely in the events that were about to occur. You glanced over to Hotch- who was staring straight at the dirt road with both hands on the wheel- then looked over your shoulder at Reid and Emily in the backseat, nodding at them slightly before facing forward once again. Your heart was already racing with adrenaline, the rhythmic beat loud in your ears.

Emily glanced out the window, eyes scanning over the seemingly endless fields surrounding the many farms in the area. It all looked so peaceful, the way the green blades stretched towards a crystal blue sky, it was almost heartbreaking that such awful, heinous deaths had occurred on the very same land.

Spencer was leaned over slightly to see out of the front windshield, eyebrows pulled downwards and lips set in a serious frown. He was scanning for a farmhouse, a shed, anywhere that someone could keep another person hostage. The three of you were already driving on the property, just looking for the specific spot where the Unsub operated.

“Over there,” Spencer pointed to the right, a small, white, wooden house coming into view. Hotch turned sharply down a dirt road that shot off the main one, hoping it would lead up to the farmhouse Spencer had spotted.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle stopped, the four of you swiftly jumping from your seats, meeting Dave, JJ, and Morgan as they also left their SUV. You looked up at the farmhouse, eyes squinting slightly from the now rising sun. It was large enough to be comfortable for two, maybe three, people, with a front porch that lead to the entrance. It was two stories, a small, round window sitting on the front and center of the house. The white of the painted wood seemed to illuminate in the orange of an awakening sun, and you could’ve called it beautiful, if you weren’t aware of the horrors that took place inside.

“What’s our plan?” Emily asked, facing Hotch.

“We’re going to do a soft entry,” he began, “Morgan, Reid, and JJ will lead in the front, Dave and I will go around the back. Prentiss, (Y/L/N), there’s a cellar to the right, take some SWAT officers with you, but I want you to clear below.”

“You got it, boss,” you nodded, turning and calling over two SWAT members.

“Alright,” Hotch drew his gun, “Let’s go.”

You and Emily moved alongside Derek, Spencer, and JJ, breaking off as they closed in on the front door. You reached the doors of the cellar, looking over at Emily. She looked back at you, smiling slightly and offering a reassuring nod before grabbing ahold of the handle on the left door. You took a deep breath and grabbed the other one, looking back to Emily once more.

“One,” she counted softly, “two… three.”

You both simultaneously lifted the doors, the two-man SWAT team moving forward, descending the stairs before you and Emily. You were close behind, guns raised. Your flashlight moved around the room, finding it to be mostly empty, save for a few cardboard boxes in the corner. You turned to your right, finding a door tucked away by the staircase.

“Emily,” you alerted, “we have a door.”

She moved over to stand beside you, “Boys, over here,” she beckoned the SWAT officers, nodding toward the door with her head.

They approached slowly and quietly, taking position on each side of the doorframe. One reached out and placed a soft hand on the doorknob, waiting three seconds before turning it and pushing it open, immediately drawing their weapons in from of them as they cleared the small room. You and Emily followed them in once again, your eyes going straight to the unconscious man in the very middle of the floor. His head hung, arms bound behind him and legs bound to the chair he was sat in. His shoulders slumped, his hair stringy, and a small trail of blood trickled down his forehead.

You rushed towards him, the light flickering on as you knelt down beside him. Emily’s hand left the light switch and moved to the restraints on the man’s hands, working quickly at the knots. With gentle pressure, you pushed your fingers on his neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse beneath them.

“We need a medic in the cellar,” you spoke into your radio, keeping your fingertips against the man’s pulse and taking a silent count of how many beats passed every minute.

“Sir?” Emily asked, finally untying his hands, “Sir? Can you hear me?” She had to hold onto his shoulders to keep him from slumping completely forward.

“We found the hostage, Hotch,” you said into your comm device, “currently unresponsive, we have medics en route.”

There was no answer.

“Hotch?”

Silence. You looked up at Emily, whose worried expression matched yours.

“Hotch,” she tried, “can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Hotch, Reid, Morgan,” you spoke quickly, “JJ, Rossi, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“Stay with him,” you said, quickly rising to your feet.

“(Y/N), what are you-“

“You,” you pointed at one of the SWAT members, “come with me.”

“You can’t just go up there- (Y/N)!”

You ignored Emily’s protests, jogging up the stairs of the cellar, the SWAT officer right behind you. Holding your gun in front of you, you turned left, heading towards the back of the house. Reaching the back door, you slowly crept up the stairs, clearing right as the SWAT member cleared left. The first room was the kitchen, small and vintage, then you passed into a living room, with purple couches sitting in front of an ancient TV. Cowboy themed decor hung on every square inch of the walls, ranging from horseshoes to framed photographs of Western icons, such as John Wayne. You moved through the room, turning left through a doorway, which led to the entrance of the house. Pink and yellow sunlight leaked through the glass detailing at the top of the door, illuminating the staircase that sat almost directly in front of it. The SWAT officer appeared on the other side of the entryway, nodding towards you in a silent was of saying ‘all clear’. You nodded back, allowing him to ascend the stairs before you, his boots creaking slightly against the steps. 

As you neared the top of the stairs, you could hear the low voice that plagued your every thought, the voice that talked to you in your best dreams and worst nightmares, always speaking of comfort and serenity.

“Timothy, we just want to talk-“

A sickening, teasing laugh cut Aaron off, the unmistakable sound of heeled boots tapping against the floor echoing through the house.

“We both know that’s not why you’re here, officer,” a southern accent laced through his words, his voice dark and deep.

You crept towards the voices, which were carrying down the hall. One door was open, down near the end and to the right. With quiet steps, you made your way towards it. You held your hand out toward the SWAT member, having him stop a few feet behind you. Placing yourself at the edge of the doorframe, back passed firmly against the wall, you dared to peek your head into the room. 

That’s when the smell started to hit you. It was rotten, pungent, and… familiar. Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to understand why you recognized something so awful. Then, you realized.

The smell of death.

Your eyes scanned over the walls, stopping at a far corner. Hanging from the ceiling were the three scalps that were taken from your victims, a silver bullet casing tied up with each one of them. You took in a shaky breath, trying to stop yourself from hearing their screams, or picturing the way they looked as they were tortured. 

Shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you turned your attention back to your team.

The Unsub’s back was to you, JJ held firmly in a chokehold with his left arm, his right hand holding a revolver with the barrel pressed to her temple. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid stood in a semi-circle in front of him, guns all drawn and aimed.

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Morgan bargained.

“Of course I do,” Timothy Locke, the Unsub, laughed again, “if I have her,” he shook JJ slightly, “then I have a chance of leaving here alive.”

You moved your head out a little more, catching Hotch’s eye. Looking between you and Timothy, he nodded, ever so slightly. You knew what he meant, you didn’t need his words to know what you had to do.

Quickly, you switched to the left side of the doorframe, positioning yourself to enter the room without Locke seeing you.

“Putting the gun down and surrendering will get you out of here alive,” Spencer urged, clearly distraught that the Unsub was holding a gun to his best friend’s head.

“And you would love it if I did just that, wouldn’t ya?” Locke sneered, readjusting his grip on his gun slightly.

You slipped into the room silently, gun raised and steps slow. Hotch’s eyes flicked to you every few seconds, his expression- hardened and serious, but what else is new- unchanging. 

“We know what your dad used to do to you,” Hotch said lowly, catching the attention of Timothy.

“You don’t know shit.”

“We know of the hospital visits, the broken bones. We know that you were left alone with him after your mother died,” Aaron’s voice was unfaltering, purposely trying to irritate Locke.

It was working.

“I said,” he hissed, “you don’t know shit.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Timothy took a deep breath in before speaking, “Do you know what happened in this house? Between these walls? How every time I wasn’t good enough or smart en-“ his hands swung out to the side as he talked, his anger getting the best of him. In one swift movement, his right arm had extended away from JJ, and you were holstering your own gun and lunging for Locke’s weapon.

You pushed his arm backwards, his hand tightening from the surprise. A single gunshot rang out, and a searing pain ripped through your left arm, causing you to cry out. JJ moved out of his grasp, which had loosened significantly, turning towards him and kicking his left knee inward, making him sink to the floor. You pressed your right hand to the hole in your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, using the last bit of adrenaline in your body to swing your leg up and connect your foot to the face of Timothy Locke, making contact with a sickening crack, rendering him unconscious. He was down before Derek, Spencer, and Aaron had even moved forward- it had to be less than ten seconds.

Spencer reached you first, pressing his palm over your hand, applying more pressure as your grip started to loosen and your fingers slipped from beneath his.

“Look at me, (Y/N), look at me,” he ordered. You tried to, but your head was dizzying and you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

“You’re going to go into shock,” he spoke quickly, “just keep your eyes open, okay?”

After cuffing Locke and checking in with JJ, Hotch rushed towards you, reaching you just as your knees buckled and gave out from below you. His arms held you steady, his knees bending as he slowly sank down to the floor with you.

“I- I don’t think the artery was hit, but there’s a lot of bleeding, so I’m not su-“

“Reid.” Hotch interrupted. Spencer’s eyes shifted from you to Hotch, eyebrows turned upwards, nothing but worry in his features.

“Call for medics again,” he instructed Spencer, whose hand was still on your arm, “don’t stop calling until they get here.”

Hotch’s hand replaced Reid’s, his free arm holding you against his chest. Your eyelids still drooped up and down, your battle with sleep being anything but victorious. It was almost like a dream, blurry and vague, with a feeling of unfamiliarity. You weren’t completely aware of what was happening. Hell, you still were not feeling the pain of a bullet passing through your arm. That’s how you knew something was very, very wrong.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hotch spoke, his soft words landing delicately on your ears, “keep looking at me, (Y/N).”

The corner of your mouth tilted slightly, “I got,” you let out a small giggle, high on adrenaline, “I got shot, Hotchie.”

“Yes, I know, honey,” his voice was still soft but by God, was he using all his strength to keep it that way. He fought against the way his heart threatened to leap from his chest, the way his mind became frantic at the sight of your blood painting his fingers crimson, the way he could feel his breaths losing rhythm. 

It was through and through, he thought, it will be okay, they will be okay. 

And yet, despite his logical thoughts, he felt like he could cry as he held you close.

“Did you get him?” You asked, your words weary and strained.

“We did,” Aaron could only whisper to keep his voice from breaking, “you saved them, (Y/N). Now, just do me one favor and keep your eyes open.”

Your hand shakily covered his, your fingertips delicate they brushed lazily over his knuckles. The small touch brought a small, content smile to your face- and that mad tears reach Aaron’s eyes.

He looked up as the EMTs burst through the door, kits jostling in their hands. Seeing them felt like taking a breath out of water, like he could finally get oxygen in his lungs again. He looked back to your drooping eyes as they pulled you out of his arms, working quickly to stop your bleeding.

He stood and backed away, stumbling over his own feet slightly, his gaze never leaving you. You were moved to a plastic cot, straps securing your head, chest, and legs, as you were lifted from the ground and ushered through the door. Hotch stayed where he was, focus trained on the pool of blood that began to seep into the wooden floor, turning it a dark burgundy. His mind attempted to understand that the stain was, in fact, from your blood. Suddenly, the weight of what he saw everyday piled on his shoulders, from the gruesome photos to the actual victims. He was always aware of their humanity, of their worth, but his jaded mind could look past that and move along. Now, it seemed he couldn’t hide behind compartmentalization and insensitivity. 

Sirens chirped outside, the sound floating in through the window, and his head snapped up at the sound.

Flashes began to obscure his vision. He saw the home he shared with Hailey, he saw the smiling and devilish face of George Foyet, he saw the lifeless eyes of the mother of his child, the blood that stained the carpet, the way his fist smashed in Foyet’s cheek, the way Hailey looked when she was gone, the way Jack looked when he asked where she was.

Then he saw you. He saw your smile, the light step of your walk, how delicate your hands looked as you wrote, how you bit your lip if you focused enough, the way your hair caught the light. He saw the sunshine that brought light into his dark, dark life.

The siren chirping once more brought him back to reality.

With his trance broken, he rushed out of the room, steps pounding against the creaky floor and echoing throughout the house. He ran down the stairs, the echos creating a drum roll in his wake as he finally stepped onto the front porch. The ambulance door clicked shut, the EMTs finding their seats before the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring.

He watched you leave until the sun engulfed the ambulance in orange light. His chest was heaving, in and out, mouth hanging open slightly. Suddenly, the kevlar around his torso felt much too tight, his hands finding the velcro and tearing at it. His breathing quickened, the kevlar falling to the ground, but the pressure in his chest still present. Frantically, his finger fumbled with the top button of his shirt, nearly ripping it off in his urgency.

“Aaron?” Dave asked, ascending the porch stairs towards his friend, “Aaron, are you okay?”

“I can’t,” Aaron wheezed, hands pulling down on the collar of his now exposed undershirt, “I can’t breathe-“

“Sit down, sit down,” Dave ushered him to the floor, Aaron practically crumpling into himself, “now, exhale completely.”

Hotch did as he said, shoulders hunching as he let out his breath.

“Now 4 seconds, in through the nose,” Dave followed Aaron’s movements, his hand accentuating his breathing, “hold for 7 seconds,” there was a pause as the two men held their breath, “and now, out for eight.”

Aaron closed his eyes as he exhaled, the tightness of his chest beginning to loosen.

“Keep doing that until you’re ready to talk,” Dave said gently, settling into the floor of the porch while he waited. Hotch completed three more cycles before he opened his eyes. He looked at Dave, eyebrows flicked upward in worry.

“Now,” treading lightly, Dave asked, “what was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answered quickly, avoiding Dave’s gaze.

“Aaron, the rest of the team may be fooled, but I am not,” Dave began, pointing over his shoulder at the team, “I’ve seen the way you look at them, and the way they look at you.”

That made Hotch’s heart flutter, the thought of you looking at him the same way he looked at you.

“I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to,” Dave defended, “but you already have so many things you keep to yourself, you might have to let this one out.”

Aaron sighed, jaw clenching slightly, “I know.”

“Good,” Dave smiled, patting Hotch on the shoulder before getting up and walking away, preparing to fend off the rest of the team and their questions. Hotch was on his feet just as quickly, rebuttoning his shirt and retrieving his kevlar. His face had returned to the stoic expression everyone was used to, but his pulse was still racing.

***

“The doctor says they will be okay,” Derek told the team, taking a seat beside Spencer, “they’ve been moved to recovery; we can visit once they’re awake.”

Everyone nodded, a gloom hanging densely in the air. The team knew you would be okay, in all reality. Spencer had been sure to spout off a multitude of statistics to prove that a shot in the arm, avoiding the brachial artery, was survivable. But, despite the logical comfort, Hotch could only remember the way you looked, bleeding and incoherent in his arms. The bright, lively red of your blood on his hands was an image that would stain his mind as permanently as the very same blood stained the wooden floor of that house. He figured he could add it to his endless collection of gruesome images that lived in his brain, but he also knew he was a fool if he thought he could compartmentalize that away.

His elbows leaned against his knees, hands coming to a steeple upon his lips. The lines beneath his eyes grew deeper with every passing hour, but he remained in the same position, just as quiet. When it came to his thoughts- in particular, the dark, intrusive thoughts that came to him when the sun went down- he was fairly good at navigating through them, keeping them from degrading his worth as a human and protector. However, as he sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair of the hospital you were a patient of, he could only think of how many people had been hurt (or worse), because of him. He could only see the way Reid cried as Tobias Hankel tortured him, the way JJ broke when he told her he couldn’t protect her job, the betrayal in Morgan’s eyes when he realized he had buried an empty casket, the beaten and bruised face of Emily after Benjamin Cyrus found out she was FBI.

But then, he saw Hailey. He saw her lying, dead, on the ground of the bedroom they had once shared, the room in which they had decided what to name their child, the room they laughed and cried in, the room they had loved in. She gave him everything he had to live for- his son.

Then he saw you. Dipping in and out of consciousness, calling him nicknames and smiling as you bled onto the floor. The way you giggled and called him ‘Hotchie’ was a happy image spliced into a bigger picture that made bile raise into his throat.

Lastly, he saw George Foyet. At least, what had been left of him. He remembered how he didn’t even feel his knuckles split open as they collided with Foyet’s face. It scared him, truly, how he didn’t stop, even after George was gone. It scared him how he would’ve stayed there, killing a man that was already dead, if Derek hadn’t pulled him away. The broken, mangled face of The Reaper haunted him the most.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts, his eyes reaching upwards to see who it belonged to.

“You in there, boss?” Emily chuckled, a dazzling smile on her face. 

“Uh, yes,” he nodded once, clearing his throat as he stood. He smoothed down his shirt, suit jacket having been abandoned long ago. In vain, he tried to look like he hadn’t been caught off guard.

“They’re not awake yet, but the nurse said we can go see them, if you’d like.”

He nodded, blinking twice as her words processed in his overworked mind, “Lead the way.”

His strong facade was held together by bubblegum and paperclips when he entered your hospital room. The way you looked so serene- with your eyelashes resting upon your cheeks and your shoulders completely relaxed- it was almost overwhelming. It was only hours earlier that he watched that same face contract in pain, those same eyelashes flutter in an attempt to stay awake.

He stayed by the door as the team found their place around your bed, his hands finding themselves in his pockets and his eyebrows pulling downwards, like they always do. His heart physically ached beneath his chest, its beat no longer the allegro of anxiety, but the slow waltz of failure. He had failed you- failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. Imagining where that bullet could have landed made it all the worse.

It was bittersweet, really, the way you made him feel. There was a sunshine, a happiness that you infected those around you with. Your warmth was a gift you gave to everyone you met, regardless of who the were or what they’ve done. You would pull the hurt and forgotten from the earth without questioning their origin, your delicate hands caressing them gently with the comfort they’ve never known. You spoke words that covered the listener like summer rain, moved in a way that mimicked the lithe movement of dandelions in the breath of spring. He would surrender himself to you in the way the tides surrender to the moon, and a small part of him knew he already had.

He would give what little of himself remained, if you’d asked. The thunderstorms and lightening he had journeyed through had washed away pieces of him, leaving an otherness that felt all too unfamiliar, that stared right back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. But, regardless of how much he lost of himself, no matter how withered he became, all of it would be yours, if you’d asked. Because, despite the darkness that engulfed his waking moments and controlled the rest, you were always beside him, with a candle to light the way. And for that, he would promise to love you with everything inside him, despite the raindrops that dance on his feet.

If you’d asked.

But, you wouldn’t, he knew, so he wouldn’t fall in love with you. He couldn’t. His heart was tired, weary, and weak. The thought of loving you- in the jumping-from-a-cliff-but-laughing-as-you-fall kind of way, because allowing himself to love you would open a floodgate- and potentially losing you; that was a trauma he couldn’t see himself recovering from. He didn’t have the strength to. So, he would reside in the outskirts of your life, keeping himself close enough to feel the warmth you radiated, but far enough to feel a chill trace his spine.

And that’s exactly what he did. He stayed near the doors of your hospital room, looking silently as the team conversed lightly with your sleeping ears, hoping you would hear their words despite your lack of consciousness. He could hear their gentle whispers, the way they teased each other, the gentle laughs they exchanged. He stood in a room of people that loved and were loved, each of their hearts clean of the bruises that riddled his.

He doesn’t remember when he left, or how he ended up in the George Bush Intercontinental Airport, but he was seated in an airplane seat, staring out to the wisps of clouds and star-spotted sky, mind empty and full all at once.

***

Your eyes slowly pried themselves open, the bright, white light overwhelming your senses momentarily. A groan left your mouth, eyelids dropping once again, your head tilting towards your pillow.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the voice of Derek Morgan teased, a small smile coming to your lips.

“Am I in heaven?” You croaked out, “I think I hear the voice of an angel.”

“You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” he laughed, his hands gently patting yours. You opened your eyes again with a sigh, looking around the room at your team.

“You had us worried there, kiddo,” JJ chuckled.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “I didn’t mean to get shot, I swear.”

“Well,” Spencer spoke up from his chair beside the hospital bed, “don’t ever do it again.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Yeah, leave the dying to me,” Emily joked, earning a weak laugh from you.

You looked around at your family, the people you loved most in the life you had, and you hid the disappointment you felt because one was missing.

***

Aaron entered his apartment, shoulders heavy as he set his briefcase by the door. He turned to find Jessica asleep on the couch, hands tucked beside her head. He walked towards her, pulling a blanket from the back of the cushions and draping it over her. She stirred slightly, but settled quickly. 

He moved numbly, putting his gun away securely and removing the belt around his waist. Walking towards the bedroom down the hall, his shoes were kicked off and his dress shirt was discarded, leaving him in slacks, socks, and his white undershirt. 

With a low creak, his eyes peeked through Jack’s barely open door to find him sleeping soundly in his bed, the dark blue comforter pulled up to his chin. Aaron stepped into the room fully, closing the door softly behind him. Carefully, he climbed into the bed beside his son, settling into the pillows. Jack reacted immediately, curling under his dad’s arm. With a small kiss to the little boy’s forehead, Aaron allowed himself to fall asleep, willing away the darkness of the day. Pushing the twisted thoughts away, his mind concentrated on the boy in his arms, and the incredible love he held for him.

#aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds #angst #this is so long im so sorry #I hope y'all are ready to READ