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the-travelling-witch · 3 days

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CUTE THINGS WITH HIM

summary: just some cute things they do in a relationship

pairings: atsumu :: osamu :: suna :: kita :: oikawa :: iwaizumi :: matsukawa:: semi :: akaashi :: kenma :: kuroo :: daichi :: suga :: sakusa :: komori :: futakuchi :: keishin x gn! reader (these characters just started adding themselves, i swear)

warnings: only my undying love for these characters

haikyuu masterlist || tokyo revengers version

Letting you stick your cold feet under his legs (with only minimal complaints) x Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is a whiny complainer at heart, so whenever you creep your frigid feet underneath his thighs while watching a movie, he’s doing exactly that: whine and complain. But he never pushes you away or moves his legs. Instead he drapes the blanket higher over you and tugs it in, his warm palms running up and down your calves caringly. He’s also bought you numerous pairs of fuzzy socks and cosy blankets, worrying aloud about your health and blood flow, especially in winter. Then again, it is a good excuse to pull you in closer and bundle you up in his comfy clothes, so who is he to complain, really?

Offering you his food x Miya Osamu

Osamu takes his food very seriously, still, he offers you the first bite without fail. You’re also his most important critic, always getting to taste test his creations, whether it’s for his shop or just for the two of you. He might roll his eyes playfully when you eye his food after saying you’re not hungry but he’ll still share. After all, seeing the content expression on your face as you chew your (or his) food is one of his favourite things.

Sending you stupid memes x Suna Rintarō

The fact that Suna has a near infinite amount of unflattering candids and other blackmail material of his friends on his phone is something you’re well aware of. So it shouldn’t be surprising either that he is digging up the most cursed reaction pics or posts to send them to you with nothing but ‘u’ following it. But, among all the weird stuff, he sends you cute animals cuddling and tags them with ‘us’. Every time you respond with ‘that could be us but you’re at practice’, his teammates come up to ask what he’s smiling about.

Buying flowers without occasion x Kita Shinsuke

Kita doesn’t believe in letting societally accepted commercial holidays dictate when he buys you flowers or chocolates or takes you out on a date. No, he prefers showing his love for you equally all year round. Oftentimes, that means you coming home to a bouquet of flowers or being told to keep your calendar clear for the weekend. To him, grand shows of affection once a year pale in comparison to a steady stream of adoration. After all, your relationship is built on the small acts of love you share each day.

Taking weird photos with his phone x Oikawa Tōru

There’s no room to argue that Oikawa and you trust each other blindly. Considering the circumstances of his career and the vigour of his adoring fans, you kinda have to. But Oikawa has always been very open and honest with you, even going so far as to outright tell you his phone’s passcode. And you use that knowledge wisely. No, not to go through his texts or social media. Instead you open his camera when he’s not around, taking a myriad of selfies or pictures of random objects near you for him to find later. After a night out with his highschool friends, Tōru might wake up to a pretty set of new wallpapers too.

“Helping” him work out x Iwaizumi Hajime

You’re not sure if you’re really all that helpful as you shuffle around your living room, handing Iwa water or a towel as he powers through his at home workout. Maybe ogling his biceps or the way his tank top clings to the defined pecs and abs underneath is what you contribute to this training session. Well, you’re good at that, anyway. But your time to shine comes as Iwa asks you to hold onto his legs as he does sit-ups, giving you an even better view. All your hard work is rewarded with the kiss he presses to your lips each time he leans up.

“Is this guy bothering you” x Matsukawa Issei

Whenever you stub your toe on the edge of a drawer or bump your hip into the edge of a table, hissing at the shock and/or pain, Matsukawa is right beside you in seconds. Then, after assessing you’re not actually hurt, he turns towards the offending object with a glare. With his voice lowered by an octave or two, he’ll ask “Is this guy bothering you” before pretending to get ready for a fight with the big bad. It’s corny but you’d lie if you said it didn’t make you laugh.

Shared headphones and playlists x Semi Eita

Music is Semi’s passion, naturally he wants to share that part of his life with you. Not only does he play his own songs for you, he also shares his headphones with you, adding all the songs you like to your shared playlist. You’ve also started making recommendation playlists or playlists with songs that remind you of the other and swap them regularly. Driving with Semi is also the most fun, especially on late summer nights with the windows down, going nowhere in particular.

Understanding each other without words x Kozume Kenma

To outsiders, conversations between Kenma and you might seem a little court or even incomprehensible. He just happens to be the type that lets his actions speak rather than his words, unless he gets really fired up about something. Still, your communication seems to work perfectly - or maybe both of you just share a brain cell. Questions like “Have you seen my…” can just be left hanging like this as you’re already pointing out that his old Nekoma sweatpants are in the wash. But no conversations are clearer than the ones you can hold through eye contact alone. Sometimes rolling your eyes conveys more than a thousand words… or however that saying goes.

Letting you win x Kuroo Tetsurō

Despite his suit and tie career, Kuroo is still a playful guy at heart and he’s carrying that energy into your relationship. He also grew up around Kenma, so making a game out of ordinary stuff is normal to him. That said, even if he challenges you in a board or video game, he’ll let you win on purpose every now and then. Not enough to give himself away, but often enough to see your beaming grin. However, if it’s a physical contest like an arm wrestling match, he will let you win (or rather he won’t let you lose immediately) just to tease you over it. Aw c’mon, he knows you’re stronger than this, sweetheart.

Good morning/ good night texts x Sawamura Daichi

Daichi is a busy guy, often out of the house before you wake up or back in after you go to sleep. Depending on which shift he has to work and how your schedules line up, you might not see much of each other for some time. But that won’t stop him from being the sweetest partner, instead sending you good morning and good night texts as well as updates on his day/night, if he has the time. It’s something that came with the territory of not living together before, but the practice never really retired. Equally, it puts him in a good mood to see you update him on your day as well.

Bragging about you x Sugawara Kōshi

Suga is your number one fan, no doubt about it. Not only is he vocal about that to you but also everybody else, whether you’re there or not. Daichi and Asahi are kind of used to it already, but there is always some new unfortunate soul who gets to experience just how smitten he is with you. He never makes it uncomfortable but weaves his praise for you naturally into a conversation. And if it flusters you, that’s just all the better. Although, lately, the classes he’s teaching have picked up on it and are trying to stall for time by asking questions about you.

Writing notes x Sakusa Kiyoomi

This probably started out as something entirely practical. After moving in together, Sakusa just started labelling stuff, writing grocery shopping lists and sticking them to the fridge, especially on days where he left early for practice. By the time you pointed out he could just text you at any given time, he’d already gotten used to this little habit of his. But his messages had slowly turned from chore-related to reminding you to take care of yourself or informing you he prepped lunch for you to just telling you he loves you. The first time he wrote that last one, he blinked down at the note for a few moments before sticking it to the mug cabinet.

Midnight snack run x Komori Motoya

Obviously, Komori wishes his job wouldn’t pull him away from you as often as it does. Though that being said, it also makes coming home after an away game all that sweeter and he feels like the constant change of pace makes him cherish the moments you do get to spend together more than he already does. And he appreciates that you can indulge him, both in his lifestyle and whenever he gets a sudden burst of energy. So yeah, now you’re bundled up in one of his hoodies as you go on a late night snack run, your hand in his as you walk along the calm streets.

Remembering little things about you x Futakuchi Kenji

Futakuchi comes pre-installed with an attitude, no matter who you are to him, it’s his factory setting. And while he’s a lot softer on you as his partner, he’ll still give you a sarcastic quip or poke some fun at you when you complain about something to him. But he always listens carefully and commits it to memory. You offhandedly mentioned you’re running out of something? He adds it to his shopping list. You rant to him about a coworker who’s giving you trouble? Oh, he remembers everything you told him about that guy before (and he’s ready to drag him to hell and back if it makes you feel better). Whenever your birthday or an anniversary rolls around, he never has trouble picking out a gift for you; Kenji could list so many things you’re into or that you could have use for in your everyday life, it’s not even a challenge.

Getting into your hobbies x Ukai Keishin

Keishin has got to be one of the most supportive partners ever. Whatever you set your mind to or whichever hobby you dive into, he’s there to root for you. But he doesn’t stop there; he reads up on your interests, so he can actively participate in the conversation when you talk about them. Similarly, he also adapts to your lifestyle and tries to show up for you in all walks of life. You, on the other hand, also get involved in his life too; his parents were keen to meet you, considering they hounded Keishin to get married in his 20s already. He’d also be over the moon if you showed interest in his work as a coach and met the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

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hazbinhazmeinachokehold · 2 months

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Hey! So I really liked your child + overlords, and I’ve been watching too many horror movies lately, so I was thinking; what if a kid like Samhain (Sam from “Trick r Treat”) was the kid.

He’s not even an overlord but how would they be with him when he clearly likes them, he shares candy with them, follows them around, and likes to cozy up with them. (especially since he’s as old as hallow’s eve itself and still kinda acts like a child, but never had a caretaker or someone to consider family) But when someone tries to hurt them, Sam does something super horrific to their attacker that would even creep Alastor out? But then he goes back to the lovable Sam that they know but what’s their reactions?

A/n: I haven’t watched Trick or Treat, so I based off a few clips I watched. Also by attacked them, I assume you mean the overlord? I’m so sorry if not!!! :(

!!!not proofread!!!

Alastor: Very intrigued by you. Which, knowing Alastor is the reason he was nice to you in the first place, which spiraled into friendship. You were unnaturally cuddly. Which Alastor would usually hate, but, for some reason, he didn’t mind with you. Also, you kept giving candy? He wasn't entirely sure where you kept getting it because the hotel didn’t have any, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless. One day both of you were going for an evening stroll. Until some, to put it frankly, idiot, attacked Alastor. Well tried to at least. Most people couldn’t get a scratch on him and this was no exception. What was different this time was that it was him who drew screams out of the sinner. Instead, you, sweet, kind, you, were the one responsible. You ended up disturbing Alastor, which is hard to do, so good job! But after you were done you reverted back into your innocent self. Has a new reason for why he likes you after that day.

Rosie: I mentioned this in my overlord post but, mother figure. She will give you candy as well! (Just don't eat it if you're not a cannibal) She’ll make sure she always has time for you. And even when she is spending time with others she is not opposed to you tagging along. You and she had just bought some candy and were on your way back to cannibal town. You and Rosie were having a lovely conversation before someone tackled Rosie to the ground. She was able to push them off rather fast before you jumped in. Rosie was kinda shell-shocked. But despite how eldritch horror-esque the scene was, she was used to this because of Alastor. She was more surprised that it was you of all sinners. After you were done you turned back into your nice self. Tbh she doesn’t really care, she treats you the same.

Vox: I’m going to be honest with you bestie he doesn’t like you at first. He didn’t hate you or anything, just didn’t particularly care for you. That being said, you do grow on him. He doesn’t eat the candy you give him (weirdly enough he can though. We see him eat popcorn in the final.) I don’t know bro just isn’t going to eat candy some random kid gave him from who knows where. Also, you're always in the ads. it wasn’t on purpose at first but soon he would just casually hold you in the ads, he never mentions it though. One day he’s going to film an ad and you are tagging along as you always do. When somebody tries to attack Vox with a bat, but they were stopped in their tracks by you. Vox just stared at horror and amazement as you made the sinner pay. After the horror wears off the dude is amazed. If you weren’t friends before you are now. Despite the fact that you’re, y’know, a child, he kind of uses you for scary dog privileges.

Velvette: Surprisingly accepting of you. Would probably post pics with your candy and cuddling with you. She does just straight up like you even without social media. Velvette is the youngest overlord which makes her a pretty easy target. So while it wasn't a surprise for her to get attacked how you responded was. Out of instinct, she starts recording not just to post it, I mean yes that too, but also to make sure what she was seeing was real. Which was especially needed after you went back to your cutesy self. Despite how unbelievable it was she was pretty indifferent at the end of the day. Will ask you if you can do that more for photos though.

Carmila: New mother part 2. Though admittedly she isn't one for cuddles or candy. She does take it and cuddle to make you happy. Very protective of you. You are kind and she doesn't want you to get hurt, thankfully she doesn't have to worry about you. Someone attacking the overlord who makes weapons isn't wise, but as you’ve probably learned by now, messing with someone you care about is even more stupid. She wants to stop you but also doesn't want to hurt you or get herself in the crossfire. But hey now she knows you can protect yourself. Maybe even against an exorcist without angelic metal because holy fuck. Anyway, now she trains with you.

(A/n: Bro Tumblr fucking deleted this when I was ¾ done with it.)

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #carmilla x reader #rosie x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #child reader #platonic

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

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drug (two) | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

part one

"We're trending, and not for a good reason." you chuckled nervously, browsing through the thick of social media. Darn Twitter's post viewing limits, there were at least a million posts mentioning you. "Bad publicity is still publicity," Toto responded - closing his eyes in his inability to fight against rest.

"Hm, will you tell my father's publicist that?" you teased him and all color drained out of his face. He reached for his reading glasses on the bedside table, eyes slightly narrowing against the sharp light. "What is it about?" he groaned in an attempt to have a clear view of your phone. "-ever heard of dark mode?" he humored, slightly freezing when he sees the article's title.

"They make it seem like we're a divorced couple," he joked again, but it was clear that he was panicking. He hoped that nothing would come out of Christian. He prayed that his rival would learn to accept the change sooner than the media could get a wind of it - but nay, Toto was always a dreamer anyways. "Well, aren't you?" you giggled.

"I'll have this wiped off the face of earth," he mumbled to himself, reaching for his laptop hidden under the bed. "Gods I hate it when sports magazines push out this non-sports crap," you rolled your eyes - contemplating on whether or not you should message Christian. He was the only person that could fix this.

A sigh escapes your mouth. He wouldn't understand.

"How did you get rid of that article anyways?" George couldn't help but ask while taking the cooler out of the trunk. "I had to convince a close friend to buy the company," Toto sighed.

"I can't believe that we're living in a reality where Wolff-Horner babies are possible." Lewis chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. Gods, there were a million ways that this one could go wrong. "You're thinking way too far into the future," you chuckled - helping George carry the ice creams inside the house.

Christian half-expected his daughter to show up around Toto Wolff's arms, but he was more surprised to see the man show up alone. "Nice seeing you again," Geri smiled, welcoming the Austrian with arms open wide. "I wanted to bring Y/N but she feels under the weather." Toto reasoned for his daughter, but he already knew that it was some half-baked attempt to evade this dinner.

"Rainy seasons always make her sick." Geri sympathized. Christian shook his head in disbelief. No amount of clarity would ever make his wife believe that you were anything less of an angel. "I'm sorry for being late," the man apologized, sitting on the chair parallel them.

A waitress comes towards them with a menu, but Toto ignores the sheet of paper. "I'm not really here to have dinner. I wanted to inform you of something," he started with a tone that told Christian that he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going. "What is it?" he couldn't help but ask - taking a sip of his lemon water.

"She asked me to marry her." Toto began with a sad smile. "No, no fucking way." Christian shook his head. If this was Toto's way of inviting them to the wedding then the wedding wasn't fucking happening. "And I redirected her." he added and Geri let out a sigh of relief. You were too young for marriage.

"Because I knew that you didn't approve the both of us." he breathed, looking to the far horizon. Toto was a traditional man. He dreamt of a house in Beverly Hills or Bel Air - beside some hot shot producer - inside a house that seemed like a cleaning nightmare. He wanted a small family, a white picket fence with fun neighbors.

He'd be willing to let that go - all for you.

All for your family that didn't love him in return.

"Is this your way of trying to convince us? Y/N's had her turn of older billionaires in the past - they're all the same. I'm not letting her make the same mistakes again," he responded with courage.

Toto stood up - fiddling with his Patek Philippe watch.

"I want you to think about it, Christian. I really love your daughter."

@oceandeepthirst2 @h-c-u @perihelioneclipse @fallwinterr @ohkapten @crimeshowjunkie @ironcowboycopnickel @clusidino-27 @luckyladycreator2 @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @champomiel @wavesnotfeelings @soph1644

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff

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sgrplumditz · 3 months

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Orange peel theory w/ Simon Riley

They had all been granted time off work for a couple weeks now. Being left uninterrupted by her typical life of briefings, debriefings, flights across the globe, and long days away from home only added to her restless nature and her seemingly effortless ability to grow bored --like any woman in her 20's would do to kill time she downloaded social media.

"What the fuck is the orange peel theory?" she spoke to herself as she tossed a piece of the mentioned fruit into her mouth. She continued scrolling through what appeared to be an endless supply of videos regarding the topic. Once she had grasped the concept she shut her phone off and only stared at the scraps of orange peel sitting on the table, a small "hm" leaving her lips as she wondered if that mindless social media trend held any real substance.

Can a person truly show how much they care about another by simply peeling an orange for them? Does peeling a fruit display the extent of their affection?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she stood up collecting her trash. "No wonder women today are insane..." she thought to herself as she found herself spiraling into deep thought over a fruit named after its color. The over-scrutinizing coming naturally.

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"Don't request to follow me, killer", said Simon in his typical stoic tone. Simon had always referred to her as “killer”, not because of her career choice, but simply because of the way her eyes sat on her face. When she was on duty she wore a balaclava — similar to Simon’s, but it was more precautionary. She actually had no interest in keeping her identity concealed, but being the only woman on the team meant that she would easily become a target if her identity and gender were to be revealed — hence Simon’s encouragement behind the wearing of a balaclava, which the entire team also agreed would be a good idea. However, when she wore the cloth that hid her features her eyes become even more prominent. The striking color only complimented by the sharp almond shape that seemed to drag at the ends. Because of that Simon then coined the nickname “Killer” for her Killer eyes, which she only accepted as a term of endearment.

“We are not friends, just co-workers". Simon had always been impressively kept to himself in the sense that his private life remained private -- if he truly had one outside of his job. He was good at being a literal ghost. Not many (if any) knew not even the smallest of details — like a hobby, or a favorite color. His name itself was also a privilege to know. She was always curious about him, but she never pushed boundaries on the man. What he revealed to her was what she accepted, a quality that he enjoyed about her, amongst others.

"Aw, c'mon! You let Soap follow you!" she replied with a slight chuckle leaving her mouth. She and Simon were sitting together in the living room of the house that all of Task Force 141 shared. It was convenient, close to the base, and it also meant nobody had to pay rent, but it was empty as of recently. Everyone but her and Simon had taken advantage of the break and decided to travel elsewhere for the remainder of their time off -- leaving only them two in the giant 7-bedroom house.

"He's my friend" he replied still holding the same disinterested tone, yet his body language displayed him to be seemingly intrigued by the conversation. That was one of his best qualities. Simon was not one to initiate an interaction himself unless he felt the need to assert himself, but that did not mean that he was not able to hold a conversation with substance.

"For someone who has social media you're not very social," she muttered as she slumped back on the couch in defeat. Her gaze lazily resting on him.

"Touché" was his only retort. At this point, he had also leaned back in his seat, his hips inching upward as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. How his body reacted to the movement made his abdominal muscles contract -- her eyes resting on the contracting anatomy. He also maintained his gaze on her, and for a second there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes as they softened knowing that he knew exactly how to get under her skin. With him being so quiet meant that he was always observing the others, learning their mannerisms and personalities. She couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear that she was fond of him — especially in the physical category, Simon easily embodies the definition of what it means to be a man. He is tall, muscular, handsome, and his personality was simply the cherry on top of the 6’3” sundae.

"I'm... social..." she reclaimed as she removed herself from her spiraling thoughts of him, her tone slightly defensive. Similarly to Simon, she was a homebody and actively avoided situations that required her to be out of her comfort zone for an extended period of time -- perhaps that is part of the reason why the two got along so well. "I just have.." she attempted to continue, but she was cut off by Simon finishing her predictable answer.

"... a social battery. Yeah, you've mentioned that before, Killer." his eyes narrowing slightly amused at her reply. He chuckled shaking his head and pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his gray sweat pants. He typed into the device’s screen for a few seconds before tossing it to his left side, “Happy?” He chuckled , her phone vibrating as he spoke. She obviously knew the notification was from him, so she didn’t even bother glancing at the device.

“I knew you’d come around. You can never say no to me” she smirked. The pair would often go back a forth with mildly flirtations comments, all of them being light hearted and mostly came from the fact that she was the only woman on the team. The playful banter merely came naturally — at least that is what she assumed. She never took Simon as the type to ever have a genuine interest in a woman due to obvious reasons.

“How could I ever say no to those eyes, Princess?” A teasing tone lingering on his tongue. Princess was the second nickname he had labeled her with. Again, being the only female of the team meant she got some sort of special treatment from everyone else. Soap would help her carry in her groceries — knowing she was more than capable, Price would always brew her some fresh coffee along with his own then place it in the fridge so that by the time she woke up she could easily make an iced coffee without having that watered down taste, and Gaz would often restock her feminine care products for her. Him calling her Princess was the most teasing variation of her nicknames. Although she was well aware of the meaning and the reasoning behind it she could not help but smile whenever he used it. Her full lips parted slightly as a soft grin appeared on them and oddly enough he returned it with a half grin.

He forced himself to stand up before he became completely engulfed in the moment, "I'm gonna make some lunch. Wanna join?" he prompted as he initiated his walk to the kitchen. With a slight nod of her head she also raised herself off the couch and followed closely behind him. God does he always smell good, she thought to herself as they walked.

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She sat on the kitchen island scrolling through her phone as Simon cooked them both lunch. The two had grown to be comfortable around each other, and their kindred personalities only added to their ability to sit in a peaceful silence. The aroma created by the mixing of spices and ingredients only made her stomach growl and rumble. The sound audible to both her and Simon and truthfully she could not wait to eat. She considered having a snack before just to ease her stomach -- before she could even set her phone down Simon had handed her a small bowl of fruit.

Specifically a bowl of oranges — peeled orange slices. She stared at the bowl in awe. Her gaze was unintentionally soft. As she shifted her gaze to him she noticed that he had gone back to cooking their lunch, as if the action itself was natural to him, something he didn’t think twice about doing for her. He had taken notice of her staring which made him quirk an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a piece of orange from the bowl that was sitting on her lap, close to her lower stomach, casually tossing the piece of fruit into his mouth. “I thought you liked oranges” he spoke with the assumption that she was disappointed in the contents of the bowl.

“I do.” she replied softly. He gave her a small wink prior to turning his attention back to their meal. The entire interaction being a sign of pure affection.

_______________________________________________

Pic credit:

instagram/tiktok: takeoffurmaskghost

#soapghost #ghost x reader #ghostsoap #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #john price #cod keegan #soap cod

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honeesucker · 1 year

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Prelude -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 2,263

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not Proofread.

Next Part

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t a fundamentally nervous person. Sure, even as a Pro Hero in the public spotlight under constant scrutiny and dissection by media outlets and fans alike he experienced a normal amount of anxious awareness, but he wasn’t nervous – not like he is now, with his right leg jumping up and down rapidly, rubber-bottom boot creating a soft squeak that filled up the sterile room of the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. It had been just over a month since the incident that gave him nightmares and left him with such severe hearing damage that he was currently unable to perform even basic hero duties for his agency – which is why he is sat where he is now, waiting. Hoping the next steps are what could get him back out into the city on normal duty than having his medical leave extended.

He was losing his mind being left to himself and his thoughts each day, being told by doctors he needed to be still, and take is easy, and he was only losing his patience each subsequent doctor’s appointment that left him no closer to returning to Pro Hero work.

“Tch,” the blonde ground his teeth as the indignant noise stuck in his throat; he swallowed it down with a harsh gulp. His ears were ringing when the two doctors walked in, eyes unfocused as the room and people in front of him blurred in and out of clarity, everything around him sounded like it was underwater, and he hated it.

“Mr. Bakugo,” the doctor continued, Katsuki refocusing his attention on the man’s words, annoyed and thinking that Mr. Bakugo is my old man, not me... “we have some support specialists working with the latest auditory data set we took from you and they are getting closer to having a solution to get your hearing back to where it was before, and keep it there – even possibly making it better if all goes to plan.”

“In the meantime, it is recommended you follow the strict guidelines for allowing your body to heal itself naturally,” the other spoke. “You need to make sure you’re not exceeding the maximum limit for minimal exertion we’ve placed on your physical activity, so you have a better chance of getting back to your pre-incident status.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki sighed out, tired of hearing this same speech each visit. “Don’t overdo it, give my damn body time to heal – I got it.” The two doctors observed Katsuki with cautious eyes, but simply nodded their acceptance of his understanding. It was as good as it was going to get with him.

“Another suggestion,” one of the two added. “We have provided you with an email detailing a program we’d like you to consider – your colleague Red Riot actually participates and could be a good resource for you if you have any questions about it.”

“Please take a look when you have a moment and consider this a strong suggestion for helping you progress further in your treatment,” Katsuki eyed the two, irritated at the vagueness of the conversation, but swallowed down his disagreement and simply nodded.

“Yeah sure,” his chair slid back with a jarring scrape as he stood, moving toward the door to leave, “I’ll read your damn email, but I want progress updates from the support nerds.” He didn’t wait to hear their reply as he pushed through the door and hurried down the hall. He hated hospitals, hated the itch of memory in the back of his mind at the sterilized smell that gave him goosebumps and had him picking up the pace to rush out the side exit before heading to the sidewalk to wait for his friend to come get him after he shot him a text that he was all wrapped up. Another annoying outcome from the accident and the resulting toll on his body – he couldn’t drive himself as it was deemed too unsafe for him.

Bullshit.

“Hey Bakubro!” Katsuki’s eyes snapped toward the boisterous voice, seeing his red-headed friend waving his arm out the passenger window of his car. Katsuki ripped the door open and sunk into the passenger seat, Kirishima avoided asking how this appointment went the second he saw Katsuki’s demeanor. The two men drove in silence on the way to Katsuki’s apartment when the silence was cut.

“Doctors mentioned an email they sent me about this program,” Katsuki tested the water, being unsure what the program his doctors suggested he partake in he wasn’t sure if it was good to bring up with Kirishima at this moment. “They mentioned you’ve taken part in it before... Was curious what it’s all about,” Katsuki wouldn’t add the unspoken because I trust your opinion, but he knew Kirishima knew him and his nuances better than anyone since they’ve been side by side since UA.

“Program...?” Kirishima wracked his brain for a few minutes until it clicked.

The Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program.

A program that matches people with hybrids who have been rescued from inhumane circumstances with a person who needs support in their healing journey, and who is believed will benefit from focusing more on rehabilitating another which has been shown to have equally beneficial results with the healing person themselves. Kirishima had first taken part in the program after he was put on medical leave due to a villain fight that nearly left him dead – his body and his mind took almost a full year to heal, and he nearly gave up entirely. On Pro Hero work, on himself... on life. His doctors had mentioned the program and Kirishima wasn’t sure at first – how would he be able to provide a good home to someone who needed stability and support when he could barely pull himself out of bed? He got matched with a wolf hybrid, TetsuTetsu, who had been rescued from an underground fighting ring, having to kill other hybrids just to be able to get locked in a cage alive for another day. TetsuTetsu was surprisingly positive and open for someone who had gone through what he did, but he still had issues – Kirishima slowly helped break him of his more undesirable reactivity and in return TetsuTetsu gave Kirishima a reason to get up every day, make food, go for walks... talk about things that weighed on him, and before he knew it, he was making strides rebuilding his strength with his new training partner. Kirishima still had TetsuTetsu living with him, and Katsuki had met him several times now, but Kirishima never divulged how their relationship came to be – just alluded to him adopting a hybrid in need.

“Yeah! If it’s the one I’m thinking about it’s a pretty great program,” Kirishima finally spoke. “It’s a rehabilitation program for hybrids who were rescued from bad situations. They place them with a person who they feel would benefit from having something to care for while working on their own journey too.”

“Tch,” Katsuki snorted out, “sounds like a pain in the ass waste of time.”

“It’s how I adopted TetsuTetsu,” Kirishima stated out loud for the first time to his friend. Katsuki noted the stiff body language from his friend, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. “When I was out on leave for that year after...” Kirishima couldn’t finish the thought, the memory still a sore spot. “I was out on leave, and it got bad dude. I really came close to just giving up.” Katsuki had seen his friend in a lot of lights, weak and strong – but Kirishima never revealed what happened after that incident that left him injured when he was on leave for that year. Never thought for a second his life came so close to not having that shitty red hair and sharky smile in it, never thought he’d ever have that brotherhood bond ripped from him. Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat the size of a boulder.

“That bad, huh?” Kirishima just flashed a half-smile, watching his friend shift uncomfortably in the seat.

“Yeah,” Kirishima sighed, “it got pretty bad. I was against the idea at first, not thinking I could take care of someone when I couldn’t do it myself but it’s amazing how your mind overrides itself to keep going for someone else... and having TetsuTetsu around really helped me get back on track to be back where I am now.”

Katsuki had been chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed into a concentrated death stare before he noticed that they were parked in front of his apartment building. “I do like that annoying rockhead,” Katsuki finally said. Kirishima just laughed and gave a gentle punch to his friend’s shoulder.

“Just think about it dude,” Kirishima smiled, seeing the cogs turning in Bakugo’s head. “They provide a link to the rescue sight so you can see some of the hybrids they have in their facility right now – and look into next steps if you end up going that route...” Bakugo had stepped out of the car listening to his friends, and before shutting the door with a quick Later, dude Kirishima added - “it’s worth it Bakugo.”

Slam.

Kirishima just laughed, watching Bakugo enter his building before pulling away to head back home. Intending to text Bakugo later to see where his head is at and see if he wants to talk more in depth about the program.

Bakugo made his way up to his apartment – opening the door and stepping into the genkan to slip out of his boots and into his bright crimson and black Red Riot house slippers – a joke gift from his friend but functional enough that Bakugo didn’t mind replacing his old ones with them. He’d never outwardly admit it but he had a love for sentimentality even when it made him uncomfortable, and Kirishima always had such a shit eating grin on his face when he came over to Bakugo’s house and saw them still being used.

Bakugo’s apartment was wide open, a minimalistic space with deep chocolate colored wood laminate flooring and a traditional shoji style wall, some actual shoji, and some just styled in a more traditional way with wallpaper and wood accents. The whole living room wall facing out toward Musutafu was made up of large windows that lead to a fairly decently sized balcony with a bonfire and patio set, and down a short hallway was the spare room that currently housed his office where he could complete some more of the menial work from home, and a pull-out couch for guests. His bedroom was an equally large, open space but housed a King-sized bed with plush comforters and pillows, a wall dedicated to All Might memorabilia he collected since he was a child and was connected to a luxury bathroom with a deep tub and natural rock wall shower that doubled as a steam room.

Bakugo took his time getting showered, changed into loungewear and set to work through some of his most recent light work assignments, and finally his emails where one caught his eye immediately.

Musutafu Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program, LLC <[email protected]>

To: Bakugo, Katsuki <[email protected]>

Tue, Nov 8 at 10:26 AM

Hello Katsuki Bakugo,

Congratulations! You have been extended a conditional offer of consideration for adoption as a part of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Program per a request from your medical team at the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. Please note that this adoption offer is contingent upon the completion of the necessary online paperwork and tasks, as well as your attendance to the required hybrid informational seminars prior to the adoption process. Additionally, your offer may be contingent on screening results (e.g., background check, reference check), as applicable for the adoption.

In advance of you coming to the facility, please follow the link below to complete required paperwork and tasks as stated above. You will also be redirected to our facilities availability calendar to choose a day to come in and tour the facility, speak with staff and begin the introduction process at your convenience.

Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the facility and ask to speak to the Managing Director.

Best regards,

The M.H.R.F.P. Team

Bakugo stared at his computer screen for the longest time before deciding to click on the hyperlink that led him to the rescue facilities website. He was on autopilot as he filled out all of the personal information, required questions (both information-gathering and personal) and even wrote in his concerns in a concise manner in a provided box for additional comments before hitting submit and staring as the screen buffered with a loading wheel until it finally read ‘Thank you! A member of our staff will be contacting you shortly to confirm your appointment date!’ He didn’t know why he easily accepted this opportunity despite his growing hesitation, again unsure that he could or should be seeking to take care of something else when he could barely manage to care about himself beyond pushing himself into getting back to his normal Hero work... but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him this was something worth checking out.

“Hell, if shitty Broomhead can do this program then so can I,” he finally said, shutting his laptop and heading toward his bedroom to sleep.

Underneath the plush covers, in the darkness of his room, Bakugo drifted off into a dream of what awaited him upon meeting a hybrid.

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ultimateshixiongfuckertournament · 4 months

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Noncanonicals Tournament Round 1, Match 7

Match 7 is between John 'Jack' Seward from Dracula (shizun/mentor: Abraham van Helsing) and Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars (shizun/mentor: Qui-Gon Jinn)

Propaganda under the cut! (Warning: Propaganda may include spoilers about the characters and their media)

John 'Jack' Seward:

Actual quotes from the letter in which John Seward introduce Van Helsing:

"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world. [...]

Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy."

I feel like this speaks for itself tbqh.

Also, here's Van Helsing's answer to Seward's offscreen summons:

"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it is to you that I come.[...]"

The Gangrene Incident is never explained beyond this. Just. Jack sucked Van Helsing canon and real

Rest assured that they are like this from here to the end of the novel

See above; also, let's remember the fact that Jackie can apparently do a bang up Dutch accent to give full bodied performances mimicking his professor. Van H also implies that he and Jack are blood-married.

Even though they are mentor/student, Van Helsing strongly believes Jack is his equal in many ways and confides in him just for emotional stability. Stereotypically the mentor pushes the student outside of his comfort zone, but it is Jack who introduces the professor to everyone else in the story. Van Helsing tells another character that Jack helps alleviate his loneliness. He writes his "in case I die" memos to Jack specifically, because there is no one else who would understand him better.

Oh also Van Helsing has a running theme of barging into Jack's room unannounced, waking him up gently from his sleep, invading his personal space with little protest.

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

None submitted

#john seward #jack seward #obi wan kenobi #dracula #star wars #abraham van helsing #qui gon jinn

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saltsicklover · 8 months

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Part One - STCHT

Here's to a new adventure! Enjoy!!

Title: Someone To Come Home To

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2200+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talk of Secrets, Swearing, Jake's mothering being A LOT, talks of death and trauma.

Best Friends to Lovers Romance! Marriage of Convenience!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jake Seresin, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

The Dagger Squad is good at keeping secrets- they make their living under Top Secret clearance, their fighter jets being a means to an end, really. They fly with a prayer on their lips, they compete their missions, make miracles, and come home. That's the job.

They do it, and they do it well, because that is the job. From the moment the step onto that aircraft carrier, it no longer matters what they are leaving behind. They may fight for what's behind them, who is behind them, but none of that matters the second they step into that jet. All that mattered from that moment on was the mission, the job, the next step or twelve they had to take in order to get back home.

Maybe that's why they have so many secrets.

They tell people it's so information can't be tortured out of them- if they can keep their personal lives a secret, they can damn sure keep professional information from falling into the wrong hands. They say it's because they are just quiet people, they don't like their personal lives out in the open for anyone to see. Sometimes they even say it's so they can focus on the job. If no one is talking about home, there will be nothing to miss on mission, on deployment, or while they are stationed across the country.

Those were never the real reasons. Each Dagger had their own. Nobody ever questioned each other until they became a permeant detachment out of San Diego and things that were once kept secret slowly began working their way out.

The secrets, physical fitness standards, uniform regulations, and bureaucracy were just added bullshit on top of the contracted nine to five job that Jake Seresin accepted when he signed on that dotted line. Again, and again, and again.

The job was good, really good. It brought him all over the world, seeing things that people didn't even think to wish for. From the deepest blue hues of the ocean and their white crested waves that lap themselves up against the sides of aircraft carriers to the clearest sky that surrounded him each time he flew. No matter where he found himself, the world seemed to stretch so far around him and a feeling of absolute awe filled him.

He swore up and down that there was nothing like it, the feeling that the ever expansive Earth was just beyond of his fingertips, and he ached to see it all. Seresin crossed his heart, claiming there was nothing more beautiful than watching the world form the seat of his jet- the sun cresting over the horizon, the blue from both the sky and sea being interrupted by a streak of brilliant sunlight.

He knew the sky was where he belonged from the moment his Father's best friend took him up in his private prop plane. It was just a little two seater Cessna, but Jake sat in the back, fighting the the seatbelt the whole time. He wanted nothing more than to push his face flush up against the glass and take in everything the eye could see. It was that moment, his world broke open, his future crystal clear- he belonged in the sky.

Getting into the Navy was all that mattered, so, he fought like hell to claim his place, to fly with the best pilots, to be a navel aviator. He started young, first with good grades and model planes before moving onto high school, his plucky neighbor in tow.

Seresin had first met his neighbor, who he affectionately refers to as Spurs, when his Mother dragged him over to their home with a Bundt cake to welcome them to the neighborhood. The gesture was meant to be friendly, the Texans with kind hearts and hospitality to boot.

The Jett family was less than impressed with the gesture, but, they took the cake anyway in an attempt to seem nice. It's never the best idea to upset new neighbors on the day you move in, even if the cake that Mrs. Seresin held out to Ms. Jett felt more like an excuse to snoop than it did to actually be kind. The thing the Mrs. Seresin didn't know was that her presence was more of an interruption than a welcome party. That, however, didn't stop the wide eyed girl from pushing around her mother's legs, sticking her hand out towards Jake with gusto and self confidence.

"Good afternoon!" Mrs. Seresin's cheeks bore too much blush and not enough of a smile as Mrs. Jett opened the door about 45 degrees. She stuck her head out onto the porch, her daughter quickly hiding behind the door, a finger laced through her mother's belt loop.

"Hi," The greeting is short and Mrs. Seresin pulls her lips into a tight line, still trying to keep the corners ticked up to allude to a smile in response to her new neighbor.

Mrs. Seresin's blond hair is styled tall and proud, no doubt giving her about four more inches in height, adding to the extra couple she gets from her strappy heals. She wears a beautiful dress, one that wraps her upper body before flowing down into a skirt to hide her tummy and hips. Things that, no doubt wouldn't be considered 'lady-like' to show off. The neckline is modest, but there is enough room to layer a set of dainty pearls around her neck. Her blue eyes sparkle against her thick layer of makeup.

Her son is clad in jeans that are just a hair too long for him, even with the little bit of height he gets from his cowboy boots. A t-shirt is tucked into this jeans, a belt buckle on proud display. His cheeks are rosy with heat, unclear if the cause is from the weather or the embarrassment his mother is subjecting him to.

"My name is Patricia Seresin, and this is my son, Jacob," She runs her well manicured fingers through his hair. "We live just across the way and we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" The cheeriness laced in her voice is fake but well rehearsed; a tone of voice that would sound wonderfully condescending with the right words. Ms. Jett takes note of the tone and the way her new neighbors lacquered nails stand out against her son's hair, the shining red paint against the bright blond of the boy's too long hair. Jacob's hair falls unceremoniously over his forehead, a hat line worn into his bangs, no doubt from the dark brown Stetson he cradles against his chest.

Patricia holds the cake out towards Ms. Jett expectantly, her eyebrows inching up her forehead as she shakes the plastic wrap covered dessert at her new neighbor. Patricia mutters something about it being a "Bundt" and so, with a sigh, Ms. Jett pulls open the door a bit further, trying not to notice the way her new neighbor's eyes rake over her form. Her hair is tied back, bandanna tied tightly around her head, almost obscuring her dirty blonde hair. Her white t-shirt is tucked beneath a pair of cutoff overalls, a pair of high tops adorn her feet.

"I'm Lizzy- Elizabeth Varon Jett" She introduced herself as she took the cake being presented to her. Once she let go of the door, it swung open the rest of the way, her daughter's hand on the knob. Her daughter is still hidden a bit behind her legs. "This is my daughter, Captain," Lizzy introduces her daughter with a little smirk.

"You named your daughter, Captain?" The judgement leaks through Patricia's voice and Lizzy can't help but laugh.

"Heavens, no! But she won't actually respond to anything but Captain, so that's what we go with. My late husband was a Naval Lieutenant, and used to call her Captain because it's a superior rank. It's silly," She dismisses with a wave of her hand, a light wash of tears flooding her eyes. "Captain, this is Mrs. Patricia, and her son, Jacob,"

"Mrs. Seresin,"

"Jake,"

The neighbors speak at the same time. Captain's eyes drifted from Mrs. Seresin to the boy standing next to her. He smiles widely at her, a couple of his front teeth missing. She smiles back, showing off a tooth gap of her own. Lizzy laughs at the exchange, Patricia doesn't.

"Captain starts at the Elementary school just down the road in a couple of weeks," Lizzy says, more to Jake than to his mother, "Fourth grade, a big year! What about you, Jacob?"

"I will be going into fourth grade as well, Ma'am," He informs her, a smile playing on his lips.

"That's very exciting, maybe you two will be in the same class!" Lizzy nudges her daughter a bit with her hip, a smile on both of their faces. The words go unspoken between mother and daughter, a new friend.

Captain looks Jake up and down before making a decision. She moved out fully from behind the safety of her mother's legs, a new confidence taking over. She didn't even bother to give her name, real or the nickname she had been using since she was seven, instead opting to ask a question, one that would stick in the back of Jake's mind for the rest of time, "Where are your spurs? I thought everyone here in Texas wore spurs!"

The laugh that escaped his lips sealed the deal for her. Jake would be her best friend. Jake's mother nudged him between the shoulders, apologizing for his inconsiderate attitude. As their mothers continued their conversation, Spurs stuck out her hand again, this time, he took it in his own, grip firm and assured.

With a few more spoken words between the women, they bid each other a good afternoon, each mother having to pull their own child into the house and off the porch, respectively. Captain knew form that moment on that didn't plan on letting anything get in her way, not the new house, the new school, the new life without her father, nothing. Especially when it came to the green eyed boy who lived across the street, who was in her new fourth grade class. The moment she laid eyes on him life swept them up, tangling them together, whether they like it or not- but little did each other know, they would like it an awful lot.

---

Over the years, Jake and Spurs came to know lots about each other, probably more than they knew about themselves. Jake's family owned a large ranching business but after his father, Richard, got injured, they moved into town leaving the ranch in their employees capable hands.

Jake learned how Spurs' father, David, died. He was in a helicopter that went down, the ocean swept the wreckage under and no one made it out. They shouldn't have been flying with the storm, but the Navy remains adamant that there was appropriate weather when they took off. Spurs doesn't speak about her father, much to her Mom's dismay.

Jake loves math even though he would never admit it, and Sunny was fantastic in history. He could spell, she couldn't. She always slipped him her carton of milk in exchange for his grapes. They balanced each other out, the way best friends should.

Their mothers took photos of them together every year, the first day of school, and the last, posed in front of the large tree outside the Seresin house. They traded birthday gifts and homework. They got caught cheating in the sixth grade as they slipped each other answers for the reading quiz. Neither of them cared for the books they read, so they each read half and swapped answers. It wasn't a fool proof plan, but they didn't find that out until they were sitting outside the principals office, bumping knees and waiting for their furious mothers to get through with the principal.

The years went by quickly, between school work and first time job, first kisses and parties. Not before long, it was graduation and the pair were happy as could be, posing for photos together. They were clad in cap and gown, hanging off of each other, smiles brighter than the Texas sun. Jake was headed for bootcamp a few weeks later, more than ready to begin his Naval career.

Spurs was headed north, school in Minnesota calling her name. She didn't really want to go, but she promised her Mother she would give it a try. When she finally made it to the tiny college town, nestled right up against the Mississippi river, she barely lasted through the first winter. Between the homesick feeling that never left her chest and the fact that Jake was due home for Easter before shipping out to his first duty station for Flight School, she was itching to get home.

She told herself she didn't need the fancy degree anyway- it wasn't what she wanted out of life in the first place. Spurs wanted to travel, to work with her hands, to meet new people and figure out what life was outside of her little corner of it all. She was ready for whatever the world was going to dish her- at least, she thought she was. That was until she walked through the front door of her house, bags in hand, only to find the Seresin's and her mother waiting for her, each wearing a more intense look than the last. Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the words that left Richard's mouth.

#jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #STCHT #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman fic #hangman angst #hangman fluff

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blossom-works · 8 months

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Power Couple

Request (anon): Hiii!! How are you? Can I ask for a kylian request where both the reader and him go on Ridiculousness and it’s just all fluff and jokes, thanks anyway

Thank you for your request! I had to tweak your submission since I don't think Kylian would allow his s/o on a platform like that for privacy's sake. I do hope that I made you proud with this though!

---

About a month ago, you and the board of your hospital agreed that it would be best if you quit your job. Now, why would you quit a job you absolutley loved doing? The reason why both parties agreed to it is because while you were on maternity leave, someone found out you worked at the hospital and told the world. People started coming to (and sneaking in) the hospital just to snap a photo or a short video of you. Some even harrassed you. It got so bad that the safety of the staff, patients, and actual visitors came to the surface.

When you told Kylian about this, he was furious. He took it to his social media and posted a statement saying that he was disappointed with his "fans" behavior. Kylian also said that he would be taking the threats and harassment towards you to court. "I do not take the safety of myself or my family members lightly. All threats and harassment made towards my wife maliciously or jokingly, will be investigated by my legal team."

You cried for days after you left your job. You truly loved it and the kids there. Kylian even asked to take a day off practice to make sure you were okay. Since then, you have been distracting yourself by being a stay-at-home mom. You loved it. You love being able to take care of your child 24/7. In fact, you took pride in it. When Matthew was old enough, you and Kylian enrolled him in daycare. It would be good for him to socialize with babies his age and people who are not you or Kylian. You hated being home alone with no husband or kid to dote on. It was just you and that big ass house.

You brought this to Kylian and you both came up with a solution. Fayza, your mother-in-law, is working on a project for Inspired by KM and she could use your help. You immediately accepted Kylian's proposal and the next week, you were working alongside your mother-in-law. Your first day was pretty easy, just reviewing the project itself and adding your little details. The following days were more hands-on work. You even had to do a small interview with Fayza about the project.

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. You are grateful that Fayze was there to take the lead when you stumbled here and there. While in Bondy, you met the kids there and did so many fun activities with them. From cooking and baking to playing a game of football with them. At that time, the targeted demographic did not know that you were Kylian's wife, but now, people know that Kylian's wife is supporting her husband through his organization.

Now, you are confident when doing your interviews. You added a lot of value to the organization that you ended up being named "director". A position that sits just under Kylian. You even have your own secretary! French news media went wild about how much of a power couple the two of you are. When you were given the position of director, Kylian threw a huge party to celebrate. The more projects you push out in Inspired by KM, the more your face gets recognized. You transferred the knowledge you gathered while working at the hospital and inserted it into Kylian's organization.

You and your family traveled to France a few days ago because you and Kylian have to do an interview there to talk about the latest project of Inspired by KM. Kylian's parents will be at the family home so they can watch their almost one-year-old grandson.

The two of you agreed to stick to a neutral-colored wardrobe. Kylian is wearing a white button-down and black slacks with some loafers and as always, donning a HUBLOT watch. You chose to wear something a little more dressy. A back shirt and blazer with a pair of beige, velvet pants and nude heels. You tied your hair in a low bun and are wearing an Olivia Burton watch Kylian got you for your first anniversary. Quite the power couple look indeed.

(Bold dialect will be in French)

"Mrs. Mbappe, it's well known that you joined your husband's organization because you lost your job at a Spanish hospital. How was that like for you?"

Ah, a question you have heard and answered a dozen times before.

"It was hard. I loved my job but the board and I came to a mutual understanding and agreement. Both parties agreed that it was no longer about whether or not I should keep my job, but it was about the safety of the people who worked and were administered there."

The interviewer nods and writes down a couple of notes. He then asks Kylian how he felt about the situation. Kylian just said that he was angry for you and did what he could to protect you. He calls the incident a blessing in disguise because you have done so much for his organization, and it has made the two of you closer as a couple.

"You gave birth in the fall of last year, correct? Has motherhood clashed with your duties for Inspired by KM?"

"No, it hasn't. I'm thankful for my husband's resources that allow me to work with Inspired by KM. Motherhood has made me a more nurturing woman which helps with my job at KM."

Again, he nods and writes down some notes. The interview so far is a bit redundant. His questions have been questions you have answered before, just worded differently. It does not help that the interview is a live one (with a live audience), so you cannot make any signs that show your disinterest.

"So, the recent project Inspired by KM was actually partnered with UNICEF. Can you tell me how that happened, Mrs. Mbappe?"

Finally! A question about the project that was recently launched.

"Certainly! I have always admired the work that UNICEF does and our missions align. One is just more global than the other. I shared my desire to expand KM's reach to children all over the world with my husband and our board at KM. Everyone came to an agreement and I wrote a proposal partnership to the general director of UNICEF."

"Why did you agree to it Kylian? Other than it being because your wife wanted to."

"When my love first brought the idea up, it was just the two of us. She had already come up with the project's structure and it was all very detailed. It wasn't just something she came up with on a whim. My wife did her research because she truly wished to make the project a reality. She was very passionate. She was still passionate when she proposed the idea during a board meeting. My wife supports me by cheering for me in the stands when I'm playing, and she supports me by working for my organization. I agreed because I want to support her."

The audience watching clap for Kylian's response. They even hollar when you kiss Kylian's cheek in appreciation. You are so glad that you are wearing makeup that hides your blushing face (besides the actual blush used).

"I want to bring attention to this projection screen here." The interviewer motions to the object. The projection turns on and a video pops up. The play button is clicked and when the first frame comes on, you hide your face into Kylian's shoulder in embarrassment. He too hides his face in your hair in embarrassment.

What on earth is being displayed to make you and Kylian want to hide from the world? It is a video of you and Kylian carelessly dancing in the office building. To destress the two of you, Kylian put on some music and coerced you to dance with him. Neither of you realized that Wilfried recorded the moment.

In the video, neither of you cares to observe your surroundings. Heck, one part of the video shows Kylian trying to twerk to the beat of the music. The room fills with laughter and you and Kylian are trying your best to shrink yourselves. Oh God! This entire interview is being broadcast! - Live!

Thankfully, the video stops at one minute and the torture is over. Takes a couple of seconds for the laughter to die down which does not help with your embarrassment. You are pretty sure your blushing face is showing through your makeup, but you can only know when the videos and photos of today come out. You lift your head off of Kylian's shoulder and fan your face. Kylian is busy wiping the tears of laughter and pain away from the corner of his eye.

"Well, it seems like the two of you do a great job at supporting each other." The interviewer coughs out. "In all seriousness, it's great to see two busy people such as yourselves enjoying the small moments in life. It's relatable and I believe it brings a positive message to people that they should have fun when they can."

Your husband speaks up. "I agree. It's like with football. I have to be serious when I'm on the pitch but when I'm off, I can have some fun and enjoy life. Enjoy the life I have with my wife." Kylian reaches over and holds your hand in a tight grip. He brings the back of your hand to his mouth and plants a firm kiss on it. The star athlete is never big on PDA. He always finds a way to hold onto you though. It could be hand holding or putting his hand on your waist or the small of your back. The most PDA Kylian will do is a kiss on your head or a small peck on the lips.

For the remainder of the interview, Kylian never let go of your hand. The two of you had to stay an hour or two after the interview to do some fan service (mainly Kylian). Many of his fans came up to you and asked how Matthew was doing. It warms your heart to know that there are people who you do not know, who care about your small family. You tell them how Matthew is a wiggle worm and how he loves to eat squash. He hates tomatoes and is unsure about cucumbers. Bread and cheese though, Matthew would live off of it if he could (French genes amirte).

A little far from you, you think you hear someone asking Kylian if he can teach them how to twerk. Your husband persistently declines the request that was clearly made to poke fun at him. Gosh, that video is going to haunt him forever, huh? Mentally, Kylian sarcastically thanks his father. The day was eventful for the two of you. Over the course of a few months, you have learned how to see the blessings in the curse. You found a way to help children not just in your community, but to the children spread across the globe.

---

Hope my little newsletter isn't too cringy or pathetic

#x reader #fanfiction #football #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe #mbappe x reader #kylian mabppe x reader #kylian mbappé imagine #football imagine

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coochiequeens · 1 year

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“Why should our girls be made to feel scared and have to move to other parts of the bus on their daily journey to and from school. The police say no crime is committed which is true technically – but by saying no risk – this tells people that police think its okay to alarm and distress young girls in this manner.” Female socialization

A man in Essex county, England is causing concern amongst locals, especially parents, after being spotted loitering near children’s schools while wearing a schoolgirl uniform. In response to complaints, Essex Police is insisting the man “does not pose a risk,” and has warned the public against sharing photos of him on social media.

Throughout the week, the unnamed man has been wearing the uniform of a young schoolgirl while wandering in proximity of two schools, one primary and one secondary. In the United Kingdom, primary school ages range from 5 to 11, while secondary school aged youth can be as young as 11.

It has been noted that the uniforms of the man reflect that of Belfairs Academy, which is in the vicinity of the Highlands Boulevard School and Milton Hall Primary School in Southend-on-Sea. He has been seen near both of the schools this past week, as well as on the public bus when children would be taking it home after classes.

On January 19, official school uniform supplier Paul’s School and Workwear addressed the fiasco in a Facebook post, revealing that the man had been purchasing some uniform items from their shop.

The post explained to the public that “the full Belfairs uniform did not come from us,” but went on to confirm that the man had been in the store this week purchasing “a Grey box pleat skirt that he said was for his granddaughter.” The supplier announced they had banned the man from their store, and encouraged members of the public to call police if they see him.

“This is to be taken seriously as he needs help and no-one would know his mind set. Reports say he dresses in Belfairs & Milton Hall uniform. If you see him – STAY AWAY and call 101 to report where he is.”

Some in the community were appreciative of the uniform supplier’s firm stance on the matter, while others insisted that the man is free to dress as he pleases. One woman responded to the supplier’s post on Facebook, thanking the store for warning members of the public.

“Thank you Paul’s School and Work Wear for taking this seriously. A grown man hanging around multiple schools and staring at young women and girls on a bus used by school children is premeditated for sexual gratification – no matter what the mental health diagnosis is. I agree this man needs help…”

The commenter continued by invoking the memory of Sarah Everard, a 33-year-old woman who was kidnapped, raped, and murdered by a serving London Metropolitan police officer who used his status to handcuff and kidnap her.

Another comment under the post from Paul’s reads: “We keep pushing the boundaries of acceptability. Grown men in children’s clothes hanging around schools is not acceptable and yet again police do nothing.”

Paul’s School and Workwear even addressed those who were defending the man’s behavior and added a comment to their own post.

As reported by Echo, the Essex police have identified “the person dressed in an inappropriate outfit in the vicinity of a school in Leigh,” and “have discussed the incident with the person,” saying they understand the community’s concerns but reiterating “this individual does not pose a risk.”

This was paired with Essex police’s urgent request to stop sharing photos of the man on social media citing that they “could have a detrimental personal impact on those concerned.”

Essex Police did not refer to the man with any gendered language like “man” or “he,” but worded their statement in carefully-chosen neutral terms.

As photos of the individual began to circulate on social media, many began to express disappointment with Essex Police’s seemingly relaxed attitude on the matter, with many taking it as a failure to protect young children and, in particular, young girls.

One mother posting under an alias on motherhood forum Mumsnet said, “He’s been seen around schools – both primary and secondary – dressed as a schoolgirl (in their uniform). I am fucking outraged that the police don’t seem to think that’s an issue. God forbid we offend men or shame their fetishes.”

Popular UK-based Twitter account @ripx4nutmeg has also called attention to the fact that Essex Police are trained by Stonewall, an LGBTQ activist organization which heavily focuses on trans rights.

On their official website, the force states “Essex Police believes in dignity for all and are on a journey of incremental improvements, including how we can better include and enable the aspirations of people who are LGBTQ.”

As noted by some women keeping an eye on the situation, the lack of apparent concern for safeguarding women and girls seems to be a pervasive problem amongst UK police.

As of 2021, there were hundreds of allegations of sex-based violence perpetrated by police officers in the country being recorded every year. Following the Sarah Everard tragedy, the Femicide Census revealed that they did not feel tackling such violence was a “police priority.” Since 2013, there have been at least 16 women in the United Kingdom killed by a serving or retired police officer.

In the past year, there have been multiple cases of police officers in the Metropolitan force serving the Greater London area were convicted of rape.

In the past week alone, a long-serving Met police officer has made international headlines for a campaign of rape he committed against vulnerable women.

David Carrick, who worked with the Metropolitan Police for almost two decades, carried out “a relentless campaign” of violence over 17 years against 12 women. On January 16, Carrick admitted to 49 counts of rape and other sexual offenses. Just weeks prior, Met constable Rupert Edwards was charged with raping two women in two different communities.

By Yuliah Alma Yuliah is a junior researcher and journalist at Reduxx. She is a passionate advocate for women's rights and child safeguarding. Yuliah lives on the American east coast, and is an avid reader and book collector.

#UK #England #Essex #Grown ass men in school girl uniforms #Grown ass men loitering around schools #It’s a man #The police are more concerned with protecting the gender feelz of a man instead of the safety of girls

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imagines--galore · 2 months

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||Mind Over Matter|| Part Eleven

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,

A/N: And on to the Lila Archer episode :)

Takes place during and after Episode 18, Season One

"Joy of all joys. TV business." Evelyn muttered under her breath as she slammed a coffee pot on the counter before picking up a rag to clean up the drops she had spilled from her vigorous placement of the utensil.

"Is there something wrong with being on TV, Evelyn?" JJ asked, standing in the doorway of the little kitchen of the jet.

"Whats right with it?" The red head grumbled, picking up two mugs and filling them with the hot beverage. "All you're doing is putting yourself out there to be judged and ridiculed by people you don't even know." JJ gave a small smile of thanks as she accepted her mug of coffee.

"Sounds to me that you have quite the grudge against the media." The blonde commented. Evelyn sighed, as she pulled off her glasses, wiping the fog from the glass pieces, which had gathered there from the coffee.

"You're the Media Liaison for the Team JJ." She pushed her glasses back in place, gripping the mug between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers through the ceramic.

"Why do people let themselves be ridiculed and criticized when all they are trying is to do what they love doing." She paused taking a sip before continuing.

"Or sometimes they're forced to do something because they have to get the money." She added, knowing how some people would do whatever they could to get the money they needed for food and shelter for their families or themselves. The world had always been a game. Survival of the Fittest. The minor people were always rooted out and destroyed almost unconsciously. No one even realized they were gone because they weren't an important part of their society. And neither did it matter. JJ sighed, moving a finger along the neck of the mug she was drinking from.

"Well sometimes people criticize because it is their job." She began. "And sometimes they do it because it's their nature to be blunt, as they would put it." Evelyn nodded, leaning against the counter as she looked at the older woman.

"I get that. But the journalists are really brutal aren't they?" She asked. JJ nodded, leaning next to her red haired friend.

"True. Some journalists would do anything for the story. Even dig up dirt. Come to think of it, you dig up dirt too, don't you?" The blonde nudged her friend, smiling lightly. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"Its not dirt when you know it will help people." She stated, grinning at her friend, for a second before her smile disappeared and she looked down at the murky color of the coffee.

"But the dirt the Journalists dig up, it hurts a lot of people. And thats the sad part of it."

JJ nodded in understanding, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Its part of their job Evelyn." The red head nodded.

"I know. I just wish they wouldn't hurt people, thats all." JJ frowned at the tone in her friend's voice.

"You sound like you know something about show business. Like something happened to you." JJ watched as Evelyn pursed her lips tightly, as if stopping herself from saying anything. The shoulder atop which her hand rested had suddenly tensed. The technician only took a sip of her coffee, silent for a few brief seconds before she spoke.

"I can only imagine what the person would have to go through." She muttered darkly, before setting her still half full mug of coffee on the counter and exiting the kitchen, leaving a very confused JJ behind.

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Evelyn grunted lightly as she crawled under the table, running her hand along the bottom and edges of the furniture, her fingers feeling for anything out of the ordinary. Most people would prefer using their fancy gadgets to do the job in finding the bug. And though Evelyn used them as well, she preferred to give a place a proper manual search as well. She could hear Gideon, Morgan, Spencer and Detective Owen Kim, the man in charge of the investigation, talking to Lila Archer, or rather about her, about the most recent threat note she had gotten. Deeming the area bug free, the red head pulled out from under the table.

"Place is clean." She stated, pulling herself up, slightly dirty and sweaty from her time on the floor and checking behind the vanity and cupboards.

"Of course its bug free. No one would've gotten past the security at the entrance." The blonde star said, frowning lightly when she was met with silence. "Right?"

Feeling Gideon's eyes on her, the red head stepped forward. "It doesn't matter. The stalker is obsessed at a point where nothing appears difficult for them. And getting past security would be child's play."

The star nodded in understanding. She seemed to be a rather sensible girl. Not like some of the stars she had met before. Shaking her head to get rid of her thoughts, to focus on the matter at hand, Evelyn only heard Gideon telling the three of them to stay put and protect Miss Archer.

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"Stupid machine!" Evelyn muttered under her breath as she fished a screw driver from her pocket, before leaning forward to open the main circuit of the small coffee maker.

"What're you doing?" The red head looked up to see Lila Archer looking at her with a raised eyebrow. The FBI Technician shrugged.

"The machine was glitching so I'm fixing it." She said, her tone stating that it was the most obvious thing to do. As she turned back to her work, the young actress moved forward.

"And you just happen to have a screw driver in your pocket?" She asked. Pursing her lips as she pulled out a couple of frayed wires, Evelyn nodded.

"I also carry around a pair of pliers." She said, taking the tool out of her messenger bag and twisted the ends of the wires pulling apart the frayed part to reveal the non-frayed wires. Placing them inside their allotted slots in the coffee machine, Evelyn smiled in satisfaction as the machine gave a hum.

"I thought you were the FBI's bug sweeper." Lila said, confusion lacing her tone. The red head nodded, turning to the speaker, gripping the styrofoam cup of steaming coffee as she did.

"Bug Sweeper. Hacker. Technician. Red-Head. Pint-Size. Hot-head. I go by many names or rather titles." She stated.

"And trust me. Carrying around these things can be really helpful. Especially if your opponent is bigger than you are. Though," She pulled aside the shrug she was wearing to reveal a gun at her side, grinning as Lila's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "This helps."

Lila glanced up at the red head, seeing her smiling lightly at her. "You must lead an exciting life." She said, making the other woman chuckle.

"I think I should be saying that to you, Miss Archer. You're the super star here." She said, raising the coffee mug to her lips before taking a sip and making a face as the taste of the beverage spread over her tongue.

"I think I'm gonna stick with a coke." She stated, emptying the contents of the cup in a trash can. Spotting her co-worker with said beverage in his hand she called out.

"Reid! Where's the vending machine." Her friend responded by simply pointing in the direction of the appliance. Smiling over at the blonde Evelyn gave a parting wave and smile.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Archer." She called over her shoulder, before walking over to the vending machine, fishing out a dollar as she did.

Morgan frowned at the red head as he stood next to her near the vending machine. "You alright, Short-stuff?" He asked. Evelyn responded by nodding as she inserted her dollar into the machine.

"Course I'm alright. Why do you ask?" She said, choosing the drink she wanted. Morgan glanced over where Reid had taken Evelyn's previously acquired spot and was now talking to Lila, before turning back to the red head.

"I know how you feel about show business Evelyn." He said, his tone serious. Evelyn nodded, silent, as she opened her coke can, and taking a sip.

"I know you do Morgan. But," She looked up at her friend, her blue eyes wide and serious behind her glasses. "No one can do anything about it. Except me." She glanced around at the people, carrying on with their specific jobs.

"I just hope no one recognizes me." She muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her drink. Morgan nodded his head in agreement before grinning.

"I'm sure your height helps you hide and keep out of sight." The red head, punched his shoulder as she passed him, cutting his laughter short.

"And also because you pack a punch." He called as he walked after her, massaging the spot she had hit him. Evelyn merely poked her tongue out at him, before she caught sight of an unattended camera and ran towards it.

As she stood fiddling with the contraption she could clearly hear what Lila and Spencer were talking about. She glanced up just in time to see Lila take Reid's drink from him and take a sip. The red head bit down on her lip as she caught sight of Morgan making faces behind Reid. As Lila walked away, Morgan walked over to the young genius, resting is arms atop the coffee cart.

"You don't mind sharing with me do you?" He asked. This time Evelyn did laugh out loud, as Spencer told Morgan to, 'Shut up!' before walking away.

"Go get 'em Lover." Morgan called after him, laughing.

"Wrong direction, Lover boy." She called as Reid passed by her. The young genius quickly turned on his heel, marching away in the right direction, but not before she caught sight of the blush on his face, eliciting a giggle from her, making her friend turn and scowl at her as he walked away. Evelyn merely responded by waving her fingers at him in goodbye.

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JJ sat in the back of the car, fiddling with her phone as she did. Her mind was replaying the talk she had, had with Evelyn and somehow she suspected Evelyn had been through something that made her hate the show business like she did today. JJ wasn't doing this to be nosy. She just wanted to get to know her friend better. Evelyn was very desecrate and secretive about her past. Though Hotch, Gideon, Penelope and, she wasn't sure whether Morgan knew or not but she knew Spencer and Elle didn't have that much information either. JJ felt out of the loop. She was the recent addition to the Team. The others had known each other for a few years now, they were bound to be close.

JJ considered the Team her family as well, and she wanted to know what Evelyn's story was. Flipping her phone she dialed Garcia hoping the mentor would be able to shine some light on the mysterious red head.

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"Crap!"

The word wasn't even out of her mouth and she was hiding behind her friend's taller frame. Spencer glanced back at the girl crouching behind him.

"What're you doing?" He asked. The two of them were waiting outside Lila's trailer. The shoot had just ended and after a little review and rehearsal, the two of them were to escort her back to her house. Both Agents had opted to wait outside, neither of them wanting to get in the way. Though Spencer was curious and slightly worried at his friend's sudden odd behavior. "Don't move alright." She whispered, trying to stay out of sight as she peeked from behind him. "See that woman over there. The one in the red suit?" Spencer scanned the crowd of people moving about before spotting a woman matching Evelyn's description.

"Yeah?"

"I need to stay out of sight. Make sure she doesn't see me." She muttered. Spencer opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by Lila exiting her trailer and asking if the two of them were ready to go in a loud voice. Evelyn, not anticipating the sudden arrival, jumped out from behind her friend, and as luck would have it was spotted by the last person she wanted to be, well, spotted by.

"This must be my lucky day. Lila Archer and Evelyn Richardson."

The red head winced at the proclamation as the suit wearing woman marched over in their direction, a camera man right after her. Her hair was cut in a sharp bob, her lips and nails painted red to match her suit. The whole outfit would've been good if it didn't clash with the large pink glasses she was wearing. The short haired woman smiled widely at the blonde star.

"Lila! Its been so long since I interviewed you." She said, as a way of greeting. Not giving the woman a chance to answer she turned to the red head.

"And Evelyn! You've changed drastically. The last time I saw you, you looked positively glammed up and beautiful. But then again it was your sister's wedding. Of course you would look radiant." She waved her hand in a careless manner. "Not as radiant as the bride though."

Evelyn bit down on her lip, her cheeks reddening as she looked down at the floor, embarrassed. Spencer stared at the woman in confusion, who turned to look at him, still smiling widely.

"I'm Michelle. Michelle Springfield." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm with The Stardom." Spencer nodded.

"I know who you are. What I don't know is how you know Evelyn or how you were able to get in. This is a closed set." He said, his face showing no emotion. The reporter laughed.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. You won't get into any trouble." She reassured winking his way. Evelyn gently gripped Spencer's arm pulling him away.

"Come on, Spence." She muttered, motioning for Lila to follow them. "Lets not make a scene."

"I think we still have the footage from the last scene your sister created." The reporter proclaimed, as she motioned towards her camera man to start rolling.

"But if there is one you can top off then by all means."

Evelyn gulped as the camera was pointed at her. Lowering her head she pulled on Spencer's arm once again, seemingly snapping him out of the slightly shocked state he had been in given the woman's behavior.

"I am sorry, Miss Springfield, but Agent Richardson and I are on duty right now and have to escort Miss Archer back to her home." He stated, gently pushing Lila to walk in front of them while pulling Evelyn with his other hand, making sure to keep her as close to him and as concealed from the camera as possible.

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"For the love of God! Spencer!" Evelyn hissed, scowling at her friend.

"What?" He asked, frowning in confusion. Checking to make sure Lila wouldn't overhear them she turned to her friend, punching his arm.

"Do you not know a woman trying to make conversation when you see it?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she did. It seemed she was doing her best to distract herself from what had happened earlier by directing her attention towards him instead. Spencer sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he did.

"She's a victim in this situation Evelyn. I'm an FBI Agent. It's against policy." He stated, making Evelyn roll her eyes.

"Who would know?" She asked, gesturing around the empty house.

"You would." He deadpanned.

"Yeah! But I wouldn't tattle on you. What are we seven?" She muttered, scowling at him, before glancing in the direction of the kitchen and turning back to her friend. "Just go with it Spence. I know its not really your thing but," She glanced up at him.

"Try to be her friend. People like her need all the good friends they can get." She continued, patting him on the shoulder, before making her way towards the kitchen. Behind her Reid, frowned in thought, turning back to look at the collage.

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"So you really didn't see anything?"

"Nope."

"Not even a smidge."

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a Scout."

"I'm telling the truth."

Morgan scowled at the red head, who stared back at him with an expression of complete indifference.

"But I can tell you that something did happen." Blue eyes darted to where Reid was sitting on the other side of the plane, staring out of the window. Morgan glanced over his shoulder at the young genius as well. As if he knew they were watching him, Reid looked up from where he had been musing, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner at the two of them. Morgan simply gave him a small wave before turning back to Evelyn, leaving Reid to frown at the back of Morgan's head in confusion.

"Does it have something to do with the fact that Reid was soaking wet when we arrived at Lila Archer's house?" Noting how she pursed her lips, as if she were holding something back, was all the answer Morgan needed. He smirked before chuckling.

"Pretty Boy got it on." He said in a sing-song voice, prompting Evelyn to laugh softly.

"Shame it won't work out though." The red head said after a few minutes of silence. Morgan hummed in agreement as he fiddled with a pair of headphones. He was distracted from his task when JJ appeared at his side, her eyes trained towards the red head.

"Evelyn? Could I talk to you for a minute?" The technician glanced up from the rather thick book she had been reading and nodded, following after the blonde as she led the way to the tiny kitchen at the other end of the plane.

"Is everything alright JJ?" Evelyn asked, a worried look taking over her features as she watched JJ start to fix herself some coffee. The media liaison nodded.

"Oh yes, everything is fine. Its just I wanted to ask you a few questions. About Diana Miles." At the very mention of the name the red head stiffened, her hands curling into fists as an unreadable expression came to her face and her normally expressive blue eyes turned glassy and wooden, and somewhat sad.

"What're you doing JJ?" The red head asked in a low tone. JJ didn't miss any of those changes and she asked herself if this was a good thing. But Evelyn's earlier hostility against the media made her curious. And a little worried about the red head's reaction as well.

"I'm just trying to fit a few pieces together. We've known each other for some time now Evelyn, and I barely know anything about you. You're my friend and I care for you. I just want to know what it is that bothered you so much about this case."

Evelyn continued to stare at the blonde, the sound of her heart loud and fast in her ears as she silently contemplated on whether she should explain everything to JJ or not. She had kept this a secret for so long. Aside from Gideon and Penelope no one knew much about her past. Gideon knew the full story. Penelope knew half of it. Hotch had his suspicions, she knew. And Morgan, Elle and Reid probably had their own little profile of her tucked away in their heads. Despite the unspoken promise to never profile anyone on the Team, it was an unconscious act on everyone's act. But no one ever called anyone out on anything.

JJ held Evelyn's gaze. Determined to get some answers. But only if the red head was comfortable with giving them. Finally, something in the younger agent's expression broke and she sighed, her body relaxing completely.

"This isn't the place to discuss these things JJ. Come over to my place after work tonight." There was a determined gleam in the blue eyes that made JJ know for certain that her friend wouldn't back off.

"I'll explain everything."

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The figure shifted as they hid tried their best to stay concealed behind the thick bush while also keeping their eyes on the woman that had just pulled her car in her driveway and was now getting out of the car. Glancing at the clock and with the best of their ability given the limited light the moon gave the figure quickly scribbled down the time on a small note pad they were holding.

The woman was of course oblivious to the figure watching her every move as she locked her car and started to walk up to her front door. The figure noted how slow her steps were. And how her posture was a little off. As if she were tired. Probably from work.

As she disappeared into the house the figure remained where they were, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever the woman's routine was inside her home.

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Tag List - @lovelyygirl8 @kathaaaaaaa

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #mind over matter #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x oc #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid x reader

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m-y-fandoms · 1 year

Text

COMMISSION: TW - SDR2 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (comfort endings)

Some scenarios take place during the DR3//No Despair era at Hope’s Peak and some during the SDR2 island killing game. SDR2 SPOILERS INCLUDED

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting or saving the reader and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Situations and objects like drowning, pills, guns, knives, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Hajime Hinata

It’d been days without food and you felt like you were officially going crazy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that you’d been forced to see your classmates die in the most painful, cruel ways, betray each other, lie, and scheme, now you had to starve on top of it all? You couldn’t take it anymore: the dryness of your mouth, the grumbling of your stomach. One thing right after another, days turned into weeks of misery, of despair even. But that was Monokuma’s goal all along. You barely ever left your cabin these days, fearing you’d see the worst side of one of your classmates in the form of a swift knife to the back as soon as you stepped out. You barely trusted anyone other than your best friend Hajime anymore. It was so hard to, when you’d trusted Mikan, the meek nurse, Peko, the intelligent and disciplined swordswoman, Nagito, the chill dude putting up an entire act to hide his craziness. Your cabin was always locked with you inside. You hated leaving, and now you were stuck in this damned funhouse, tricked here by that monsterous bear. You felt delirious: mental health declining, hands shaking, mind drifting.

You looked around your room - one of the average rooms in the funhouse’s living quarters - dimly lit like some villain’s secret hidden cave. Scattered around the floor were weapons you’d obtained as a reward for clearing the Final Dead Room, along with scraps of paper lined with scrawled plans and ideas. The ravings of a mad person it would likely seem to anyone else who viewed them.

Your plan seemed simple enough: Kill Nekomaru, make it obvious that it was you, get executed as the blackened and confess and insist, should it not be obvious enough. You wanted people to witness, to be convinced it was you so you could leave this wretched island forever. You felt like you were taking the coward’s way out, but you just couldn’t push yourself to do the job on your own. Maybe you were a coward, but you just wanted out, as soon as possible.

The plan was to make it as painless as as possible for the robot, if he even felt pain. That’s why you chose him as the victim in the first place. Honestly, it was adding to your rapidly plummeting downward mental spiral, the way your peers were treating Nekomaru. It was driving you fucking crazy. They acted as if it was just… normal. None of this was normal. Nekomaru was your friend, flesh and blood, and now he was just this… thing, this metal abomination. It’s not him in there, you’d repeat over and over like a mantra in your head when you saw the bot. It was disrespectful to his memory. Were you the only sane one here, side-eyeing the bot, avoiding him out of discomfort? You found yourself asking: If they uploaded an AI of my personality into a computer, is that me?

No.

It’s not. You all should have just accepted that the real Nekomaru was gone forever. It would be merciful to kill his replacement instead of a real human. It’s wouldn’t even be an actual murder, no guilt on your conscience. Monokuma wouldn’t see it that way though, and that’s all that mattered.

“(Y/N)?” You are shaken out of your mindless planning, sucked out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. Hajime. You recognized his voice and panicked at the state of the room around you. Hajime was a dear, always doing rounds to check on his friends, especially in this particularly stressful situation. As you and he were a closer as friends, he tended to check on you a little more often. You ignored his knocks, sent into an frenzy as you started kicking papers under the bed and hiding as many weapons as you can. You hear the handle jiggle and the door opens quickly behind you. Hajime spared no time when he’d gotten no reply from you. He’d lost too many to take his time anymore. A second too late could mean death for a friend, as he’d learned. You could’ve been dead, passed out from hunger, injured.

He freezes as you turn to face him like a deer in headlights, taking in the insane scene before him. He was definitely looking at the pile of weapons scattered everywhere - definitely noticing how unhinged you looked - and immediately begins questioning you, closing your door behind him for some privacy. It’s when you start stuttering, sputtering out excuses and deflecting that he truly takes in your mental state. You look completely deshelved and unwell, worse than everyone else though you were all starving and on edge.

“Where did you even get all of these?!” He gestures to the murder tools in desperation, just wanting an honest answer from someone he actually trusted. When you reveal the existence of the Octagon beyond the Final Dead Room, he presses you further: “Well what were you planning to do with all of them?” He is apprehensive of your answer. Seeing the genuine look in his eyes that seemed ever-present, you broke down, sighing deeply. You run your hand down your face, defeated,exposed. He sees you visibly sink into yourself as you prepare to finally give it to him straight.

“Look, Hajime, you and I have always been honest with each other. You’re one of the few here I can truly trust so I’m just going to admit what’s going on here… I feel like I owe you that much. I’m not proud of this but…” You hesitate, feeling like finding conviction in your words was an insurmountable task. Your bottom lip began to quiver. You’d held these plans confidently inside your head, but you’d yet to acknowledge them aloud. “... I was going to take a life tonight… I was going to make myself the blackened and then confess, taking someone with me…” Your voice breaks, ashamed of your words.

The room goes quite for a while, as Hajime just stares at you, thinking, not sure what to even say. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, though his assumptions were confirmed. You can see his chest heaving in the silence, hearing only and his loud exhales. You’d seen Hajime carry your class through trial after trial, seen him peice together complex evidence. He wasn’t stupid. He inferred in his mind as he stared that your target would be Nekomaru. You see the gears turning in his head. It made sense, as you loved hanging around the boisterous team manager before his transformation, and after… you seemed to avoid him like an ex at a party. He knows… but he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to have this difficult conversation.

Slowly, so gently, he simply sinks down to your level as you sit there resting on your shins on the ground. He pushes some of the mess aside, looking you in the eyes before wrapping his arms around your starving body. You let him, not moving an inch, taking in his warmth. Maybe this is what was intended for you, maybe you needed only to hear his next words:

“You’re not going to do this, okay?” You feel him nodding, his chin tucked into your shoulder. “I’m going to be here for you, so I need you to be here for me too, right?” Hajime wasn’t always the best at comforting others in his own opinion, but you knew he was trying his best. Rather, others would say he was good at comforting his friends, but he felt awkward while doing so, like he wasn’t built for mushy moments. “We’ll escape this together: you, me, and everybody else. You have to keep trying for them, too. You can’t do that if you’re dead, right?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as the stress rolls down his brow in the form of sweat. He felt like cringing at his own words, wondering if he was helping at all. “If you do this, Monokuma wins, and I sure as hell know that you don’t want that. You’re needed here and wanted here, and I know you’re stronger than this.” He feels his shoulder become soaked as your silent tears roll down your face and through his shirt. “H-hey, can I stay here tonight, with you?” He was asking, but you were going to have to physically remove him if you said no.

Nagito Komaeda

You’d been staring down at the knife in your shaking hands for what felt like an hour. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The blade was long, sharp, gleaming silver. How easy it would be to just… end it. You hesitated, thinking about the pain. How much would it hurt, based on the location of insertion? What was the quickest method to just get it over with?

You sighed. You’d miss playing games all night with Chiaki to avoid thinking about more dismal matters. You’d miss discussing true crime with Sonia, late night snack runs with Akane - whom you always felt safe with. Most of all though, you’d miss Nagito, who you’d developed quite the friendship with. His complex thought process and quirky personality fascinated you, and it was never a boring time when he was around. He seemed to like being a loner, always planning or deep inside his own head, but he didn’t seem to mind when you tagged along. In fact, he sometimes remarked that he didn’t deserve your company, and complimented you skills as an Ultimate student. You’d miss knowing someone as unique as him and having them actually enjoy your friendship.

The room around you made you shiver. The ambiance was so cold and hostile. Now past the Final Dead Room, you’d found yourself rewarded by stepping into the Octogon, a hidden room just beyond. Honestly, if you hadn’t picked up better problem-solving skills through trials and the help of your more intelligent friends like Nagito and Hajime, you may have never completed the Final Dead Room. The Octogon, different from the escape room before it, seemed to be a bunker, a weapons cache filled wall to grey wall with deadly tools of every kind. There was even a fridge that contained lethal poisons. When Monokuma described a reward for passing the Final Dead Room, you’d expected a secret passage out of the funhouse, or maybe some food at least. You should’ve known better.

Tearing your eyes away from the knife, you are startled as the door back to the Final Dead Room behind you bursts open. Nagito Komaeda of all people stumbles into the Octogon, his usual casual lanky form slinking in. His expression was carefree, that standard stoner-adjacent look glazed over his face… as if he didn’t just complete a deadly game of Russian roulette to get here.

“Nagito?! What are you doing here?” You panicked, not expected to be walked in on in this vulnerable state.

“I could ask you the same thing, (Y/N)...” He smiled mischeviously. “I followed you here, of course!” Oh yeah, of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Couldn’t let you have all the fun! To my surprise, when I tried to enter the Final Dead Room behind you, Monokuma stopped me and said I had to finish when you were done. Everyone’s expected to take on the Dead Room on their own, apparently.” He held his hands up and shrugged. “So, after I passed the Final Dead Room, Monomi confirmed that you were through the door at the end.” He sighed. “What a pain to have her in there as a distraction though. I was hoping to catch up with you immediately. Oh well…” You stood stock still, the knife still in hand, so unsure of what to do. How was he always so nonchalant? “So this is what Monokuma’s been hiding back here, huh?” He looked around, taking in the myriad of weapons like they were nothing of note. Then his gaze trailed back to you, scanning you up and down. “By the way, why are you holding that knife like that?”

You suddenly feel extreme embarrassment run up your spine, your skin heating up. Your lack of words tells Nagito everything he needs to know. He was highly astute and intuitive, and you could see him analyzing the emotions laid bare all over you face. Nagito was always a step ahead. You could see it every time you were with him, from playing a simple card game in your cabin, to the seriousness of a class trial. It was near impossible to get one over on him. You feel sweat run down your forehead as you realize he’s figured you out. You’re too kind-hearted to kill someone else, and you’d confided in him at length about your ongoing poor mental state, how you couldn’t take this anymore and felt drained.

Over the many times you’d hung out with him, he’d grown to care about you enough to stop this path you were going down, and sensed the potential for a great wellspring of hope to burst forth from inside of you. He saw you as worth saving, and found himself genuinely caring about your fate, so slowly, he approached you, reaching out for the knife in your hand. When you don’t resist, he coaxes it out of your grip and quickly moves to distract you.

“Huh, that’s weird. Wonder where that window leads…” Gesturing over your shoulder, he leads you over to the very small square window, the only window in the entire room in fact. He hopes silently that the embarrassment of being caught and the knowledge that he’s watching you is is enough to stop you from attempting in the future.

It was now well into the night, and your new plan was in motion. This time you’d move at night while Nagito was sound asleep in his luxury sound-proofed room. Everything was seeming to fall into place.

It was already established and agreed upon that Grape Tower and Strawberry Tower were the same location with Chiaki’s eHandbook test. It was still debated amongst your peers just how they could be the same room or how the elevators worked, but now you and Nagito knew better. The window in the Octogon had revealed to only you two what the true secret of the funhouse was. The two towers were one big column, and the floor shifted up and down like an elevator. Your plan was solidified as soon as you realized this fact. A fall might hurt far less than a slow bleed-out. It could be instant death if you did it right.

You’d made a deal with Kazuichi, the Ultimate Mechanic. He trusted you enough to let you keep it vague, and his hunger exhuastion certainly helped with him not giving a fuck about your reasoning. You all knew that the doors to Grape and Strawberry Tower couldn’t be opened at the same time. Everyone assumed it was so that they appeared to be different places to trick you all, but now, you and Nagito knew it was so the floor of the towers could move up or down, concealing the risk of a fall. You simply asked Kazuichi if he could disable this function in the doors so that both tower doors could be open at any time. He was tiny bit hesitant at frist, but nearly started drooling when you showed him a huge toolbox you’d allow him to keep if he used it to do what you asked. It was so very tempting, but led him to worry about where you obtained this treasure in the first place, and if Monokuma would be upset about him meddling with the doors. You alleviated his fears by assuring him that there were no rules against it in the eHandbook and that you’d take the heat if Monokuma got mad. While he paced, you pushed him, stating that the offer was quickly expiring along with the precious toolbox. In the end, he just couldn’t resist those new toys, especially when trapped in the monotony and starvation in the funhouse.

So now here you stood, looking down at the perilous drop from the high-up door to Strawberry Tower onto the floor of Grape Tower. You felt empty inside, both literally and emotionally as you hadn’t eaten in days. There was a hollow, grim feeling to the neon tower at night, something uncanny. Unlike the knife, once you lept, that was it. It would be freefalling, out of your hands. It might even feel like a relief. There was no pushing a blade in further, this would be much easier. You’d left a note in your room stating it was suicide, and trusted your closer friends to confirm your handwriting. Hopefully they didn’t think it was some trick by a real blackened.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ear. You take a deep inhale, and hold your breath. Closing your eyes, you step a single foot out over the ledge to the fatal fall.

Silently and sudden as a gust of wind, a lithe pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. The movement is desperate, sudden and jarring. You gasp and stumble back, falling on top of your rescuer with a thud. Nagito groans beneath you with the force, knocked over with your weight. You knew it was him, by the voice, the smell, the paleness of the arms clasped in a vice-like grip around your waist.

You both say nothing for a while as the severity of the situation sinks in. Suddenly, like a tsunami, a wave of emotions hit you, and you begin to sob at the reality of what you were about to just do. Your chest hurts and your tears flow freely down your face and onto Nagito below you, spattering onto his skin. You want to yell out, to scream What was I thinking?!, to curse yourself. He squeezes you once, as if to say:

You don’t need to say a thing…

“It’s a good thing I happened to be out for a walk, huh?” He speaks after a long while, letting you calm down. He continues his deflection: “Looked like you were about to slip!” He clears his throat and begins to run one bony hand through your hair to comfort you, allowing you to lay there on his chest for just a little longer.

Nekomaru Nidai

There was a simple beauty to the warm, sunny beach out behind the diner on the second island. The sand was soft and the water always looked serene. Usually, you’d come with friends and swim or have a little picnic, but today you were there alone, and for much less pleasant reasons. The beaming sun and tropical scenery stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds inside your mind.

You were floating out in the middle of the water, pondering. It was all too much. Something was so off: this island, the killing game, even your classmates at times. Nothing about this all felt real to you. You didn’t feel real, lost in your own head, a prisoner in your own body. It was bad enough you’d watched Togami and Teruteru die gruesomely, or that you’d just recently sent Fuyuhiko to the hospital after the deaths of Mahiru and Peko. It was traumatizing, and yet it felt so… unreal. And it would only continue. You were sure of that, despite the naive positivity of some of your classmates.

You wanted out, to just disappear without a trace. You felt hopeless and trapped each and every day on this maddening island. You hated the mocking feeling of being stuck in a killing game in a beautiful paradise like this, the irony. If everything went according to plan today, you’d successfully swim down as far as you possibly could, hold your breath, and when you couldn’t take it any longer, hopefully not have enough air to make it to the surface. Hopefully, you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean with a big gulp of water in your lungs. Maybe if your body was never found, there would be no trial. That was the only selfless part of this plan if you managed to pull it off: no trial, no work put on your classmates to solve it. After all, a body had to be found to start an investigation.

Without hesitation, you began your last journey, swimming straight downwards into the deep water, making sure to take a pathetic inhale beforehand to make this all go faster. Maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up on the other side, feeling real again. Once you reach the bottom, you sink into the sand bed and begin to pass the time by thinking of the few things you would miss about this island hellhole, the friends you’d made even though you seemed to lose another each week.

Your heart started to race as you thought about Chiaki letting you win in that first person shooter. Your lungs began to sting and you think of Ibuki and Sonia forcing you out of your comfort zone with new music, activities and movie genres. The sting turns into a burn, and you try to push back any second thoughts as Akane’s tough love and Nekomaru’s beaming smile come to mind. The tried their best to make you feel better, support you, uplift you. They actively put time into making you stronger, in both body and mind. The valued mental fortitude just as much as a healthy body. They made you feel seen, like your company was never a burden, like a big brother and sister. Their blunt honesty could be so refreshing.

Lost in your thoughts, you begin to feel it in your throat. It’s coming… You begin to gag, choke, drown. Struggling on instinct, you kick your feet and grasp at your chest. You look up to see the sun shine down through the water, and feel… sad. It was the last thing you’d expected to feel. You were sure you wanted this…

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a large shadow swimming in your direction. The muffled sound of movement, an object rushing toward you is all you hear before you let yourself go.

Without warning, you’re conscious again. You have a feeling you’re not on the other side when you feel your back being slammed down onto the sand of the beach. There’s a pressure on your lungs, nearly bursting them and your eyes fly open in shock. Sputtering, you flip onto your side and spit out what feels like a gallon of salt water. You cough up a lung, so dazed that you nearly miss the large shadow completely eclipsing the sun, looming over you.

Nekomaru spoke, and the sheer volume of his deep voice startles you. You turn to face him and find that he looks sad, a rare expression for him. You’d seen him jolly, determined, angry even, but rarely sad. He looked… disappointed, on his knees right before you, so close. You hated that look on his face, even more knowing you caused it. After a long sigh, he began to speak:

“I was in the diner eating lunch… Through the windows I saw you swim out and go under but… after a while, you weren’t coming back up. I’ve seen you swim many times before… you’re an amazing swimmer, I know it. I really hope this was an accident… but-” Before he can finish, you throw yourself up and into his arms before he could see you cry. You hid your face over his shoulder, begging him not to finish his sentence. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, to hear the hurt in his voice. You just wanted someone you cared about to touch you, to make you feel real. He was always on your side, rooting for you, you didn’t mean to hurt him like this. The sand stuck to your soaked bodies as you held him, begged him to hold you back. When you whimper, trying to hold in your cries, he finally does.

“When you’re ready, we can talk about this, and for as long as you need,” he grumbles.

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham, although he was an amazing friend - your best friend in fact - wasn’t the best person to vent to. He had a ton of shit of his own to deal with, you could tell. He came with a lot of emotional baggage locked deep inside. The facade and dramatics, it was all an act, a wall he put up to protect himself from the world that hurt him as a child, the world that made him feel irreparably different. You couldn’t exactly vent about your long-term depression and anxieties to someone who would turn it into a lecture on demonic energies or a pep talk about how you were one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever come across as the Supreme Overlord of Ice. Sure, it would cheer you up sometimes, his theatrics would often make you laugh, but it was always temporary. Besides, he wasn’t a therapist, trauma dumping on him all the time wouldn’t be cool, and he obviously coped by escaping into his realm of fantasy. Why would you want to possibly rehash any old wounds of his by bringing him back down to the realities of Earth? You had too much love for him to do that.

You spent as much time with him as possible, though. It was one of of the few things that brought you joy anymore. You’d lost interest in most if not all of your old hobbies. He sensed it, you knew, but became awkward and nervous, never knowing quite how to both cheer you up and stay on script.

Hope’s Peak provided Gundham with a building of his own on the large campus. It tripled as a sort of animal reserve, rescue, and clinic. Most Hope’s Peak Ultimates had their own space dedicated to honing their talent, and this was his. That was the most important part of their school day after all. The other subjects were second priority. Gundham referred to the Ultimate Breeder’s building as his dark temple, his sanctuary of gloom, always something to that effect. He rarely let anyone who wasn’t in the breeding club enter, and even then he kept a close eye on its members. You joined the club because you cared for him, but you doubted he would ever kick his best friend out regardless. He often made exceptions to his rules for you, using some excuse about how he’d baptized you in shadows to make you worthy, or placed a protection spell first.

The breeding club building was truly impressive. There were medical wings, feeding stations, training rooms, even outdoor yards and runs for the animals to feel free. Everything was so well kempt. The place was split up to accommodate different animals and keep prey and predators apart, and there were some dangerous predators to be found there. You’d even seen Gundham bring a perfectly trained bear to class before. Everyone was in awe that day.

In the clinic area, you sat waiting for Gundham to bring some restock supplies. Sitting there with only your own sadness to keep you company, you began to drift into the dark recesses of your mind yet again. It felt like a daily occurrence lately. You felt insecure, worthless, dangerous. Across the room, you gazed into the cage of a particularly nasty breed of snake. It was deadly venomous, and seemed to be calling out your name. Without thinking, as if in a trance, you raise to a standing position. It feels like you’ve lost all control of your limbs as you hover over toward the testy reptile. Unlocking it’s cage door with a click, you reach in, letting the snake coil around your hand with no reluctance, like a person possessed. Like you had nothing to lose.

Being Gundham’s ward, it’s pretty well behaved already, but still new to the rescue and with a slight feral side not yet trained out completely. With your free hand, you grab its head gently and press its mouth into your wrist. You bump its nose into your skin, not enough to hurt the snake, just irritate. Gudham wouldn’t approve of you hurting any animal. You could never. With a small hiss, it pulls back slightly and strikes forward, latching its fangs down deep into the flesh of your wrist. You cry out, feeling something for the first time that day. The fangs were long and dug in snuggly.

Gundham’s deep voice startles you, booming as he enters with the box of supplies in his hand. He’s boasting, something about how the check-ups would go smoothly with you there to assist today when his words are cut off by the sight before him.

The snake in your hand was just now pulling its fangs out of your skin, and you had a horrified look on your face at his sudden appearance, like you didn’t want him to see. His mind started racing, instantly in fight or flight mode - more like save or let die mode - fitting for a man who spends so much time around creatures that run on survival instinct. You drop to your knees, the venom already beginning its work. Your rapidly numbing hand fell to the ground, the snake safely slithering down and onto the floor. Gundham rushed over to the snake, scooping it up and locking it safely back into its cage to secure the area.

You started feeling woozy, feeling heat creep up your arm and spread through your veins to your shoulder and chest. It both hurt and felt tingly, like a limb that had fallen asleep but was simultaneously on fire. Your head began to pulse like a searing migraine, and you were sure the stress of having Gundham there to watch your downfall was making it worse. Your vision was now swimming, blurry and dimming. Gundham is rushing over to you, grabbing you up into his arms, but his yells are muffled as if there were cotton balls in your ears. And then, with a sudden surge of pain in your lungs, you black out.

When your eyes finally crack open, you find them sensitive to the light above. You look around slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings of Hope’s Peak Academy’s hospital wing. You gasp softly when you try to move your right hand and feel resistance tugging back. You glance down, tearing up when you see a bandaged hand firmly clasped around your own. Gundham is pulled up in a comfy chair next to your hospital bed, his head resting on the bed beside your thigh. He’s sound asleep, probably sleeping off the stress you put him through. The curl at the end of his striped hair lays across your blanket. He looked intense even unconscious, his brow furrowed, scrunched up in worry. You said a quiet thank you to his sleeping form, running a hand through his hair lovingly. You assumed that if it weren’t for Gundham quickly administering one of the antivenoms he kept on hand in his clinic, you would’ve been dead before you could even reach the main building’s hospital across campus. You imagined that the view of him carrying your limp body across the grounds in a sprint would’ve been a sight to see.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You’d been friends with Fuyuhiko for years. You, him, and Peko formed an inseparable trio growing up. Peko felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all times, but you constantly begged her not to, to lay off, as her job was to live to protect Fuyuhiko, and nobody else. You didn’t want to get her in trouble, and his parents already hated you. They saw you as a pest, a bad influence on their son and a distraction from his destiny of being the clan’s leader one day. You had no yakuza ties, you were just a kid from the same side of the city who got mixed in with little Fuyuhiko as kids. Boss Kuzuryu would’ve loved to be rid of you, and it would’ve been easy too, but his stubborn son convinced him years ago that if he wanted his blood in Hope’s Peak Academy one day, he would have to be used to being around “normal” people his age sooner or later.

You, Fuyuhiko and Peko would sneak around Kuzuryu territories and never get caught or scolded. Being in the company of the boss’s son did help of course. With Fuyuhiko’s knowledge of his father’s empire, you learned where not to go and when, patrol schedules, enemy territory lines, meeting spots and so on. It was like some kind of adventure. As kids, it felt like playing pretend: criminals, thugs, crime lords, avoiding police. Except it was all real. Your parents rarely knew where you truly were, as you lied to spare them from heart attacks.

After over a decade together, you truly loved Fuyuhiko, maybe even as more than a friend, though you’d rather die than ever admit it. He was easier to get along with than people gave him credit for. They were intimidated by his family’s reputation, but you knew the real him. He could be a hothead, but he genuinely cared about the people in his life. He was unlike many other yakuza member’s you’d met, often only putting up an uncaring front because he felt like he had to. You’d always been close, but as you began school at Hope’s Peak, a distance began to grow between you. As you got older, you’d begun to feel this odd, uncontrollable sense of sadness deep within. Each year as another birthday passed, it got worse. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. You’d often withdraw from Fuyuhiko and Peko, not wanting to burden them with this depression you couldn’t seem to shake. Fuyuhiko wasn’t good at talking about feelings anyway. Peko was no better. They certainly were no one’s therapists, and you didn’t want to put that on them anyway. How could they fix you when you yourself didn’t know what was wrong? You were starting to feel pushed to the edge by your own mind. You couldn’t go to therapy either. It felt humiliating. Your best friend was the toughest guy in the world. He would never step foot in a therapist’s office.

You’d had thoughts lately, unsafe thoughts about a permanent solution to the problem. You’d try to push them back, but without support, with your own mind betraying you, you felt more and more hopeless each day. You felt like you needed him, to talk to your best friend before you did something stupid. So right after classes were finished for the day, you headed off campus to the Kuzuryu complex. You knew he’d be there right after school on this day of the week. You also knew that weren’t supposed to go there alone, that it was extremely dangerous to be on Kuzuryu property without an escort, but you were desperate. You’d held onto this for far too long.

It wasn’t until you were skirting along the brick wall to the back entrance of the main Kuzuryu mansion that your heart began to race with second thoughts. The inital gut feeling that stopped you from reaching out to Fuyuhiko in the first place months ago was back in full force. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Fuyuhiko had so much on his plate. He didn’t need your cry baby ass dumping your feelings onto him. Maybe he and Peko would be better off without you in their lives at all. Maybe… the initial thoughts you’d woken up with this morning were the right ones.

You peeked around the corner of the wall. This was dangerous territory. Everyone in town knew to avoid this area if they valued their lives. Non-clan members who entered were liable to be shot or shanked on sight. That didn’t happen often though, as the locals had enough common sense. Fuyuhiko had to be inside, and would’ve come out to get you if he knew you were coming.

But you didn’t want him to know anymore. You wanted to just end it, to fade away and never bother anyone ever again, to never feel this way again.

Before you can change your mind yet again, you round the corner into the courtyard preceding the back entrance, and the guards are alerted immediately. Their guns are trained on you with practiced percision. You prepare for your life to be over, for the pain of bullet fire and screw your eyes shut. The yelling and swearing of the guards, prepared to pull the trigger is abruptly halted when you sense a presence in front of you. You open your eyes to see Fuyuhiko standing before you, arms outstretched in a protective stance. He’s swearing like a sailor at his underlings, face red as a tomato with rage.

“Fuyu..hiko?” You sniffle, barely above a whisper. This feels unreal, that a miracle like this would happen to you in what should be your last moment. The petite gangster guarding you was burning with a level of anger too hot to even have your meek voice register in his mind.

“How dare you point that damn gun at (Y/N)!” He was ranting, on a temper-high, and his subordinates were cowering with every word. Upsetting the boss’s son was not a good look for them. Finally satisfied with the amount of fear he’d struck into them, he ordered them to get lost, before things got worse for them. Now alone with you in the empty courtyard, he turned to face you, taking a deep breath to calm himself. That anger should be reserved for the deserving, and he hated when you saw him get like that. He knew he could be a dick, a tempermental jerk at times, but he had a soft spot for you and hated to see you upset. Seeing your forlorn expression finally for himself, he grabbed your shoulder, ushering you off and into the side room he’d entered from when he first saw your foolish ass step into the courtyard alone. Bringing a thumb up, he wiped a tear from the corner of your eye that threatened to fall. “Come on, we have to talk.”

Teruteru Hanamura

Your best friend on campus, Teruteru Hanamura loved cooking for you. Of course he loved cooking, he was the Ultimate Cook after all, but he found it especially rewarding to cook for someone he truly cared about. He was like his mother in that way. You always taste tested his newest culinary creations and were brutally honest about your reviews so he could improve. He spent many lunch periods making you extravagant meals. He refused to let you pack your own, order out, or eat at the cafeteria. It was a win-win: the school saw every minute he spent cooking as him honing his ultimate talent, and you got free food. You guys would chat it up for hours, playfully flirt, and just enjoy each other’s company.

Much to his chagrin, he started to notice you coming to your lunch meet-ups less and less these past few months. When you did show up, you didn't seem as excited as you used to be. He assumed it was normal for most students at one point or another. School work and the pressure to excel at such a prestigious school were probably just stressing you out. He was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy, so the possibility of it being anything more serious than that rolled right off his back. It was out of the question. He didn’t even want to think about such negativity.

It wasn’t until you stopped coming altogether that he realized he might have to.

You’d miss lunch, and plans to hang out after school hours, and stopped texting back as much. It deeply saddened him. Food was his way to show he loved you and cherished your friendship, the way he expressed his creativity and feelings to the world. If he couldn’t share it with his closest friend, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. In his mind, he’d already attributed your behavior to stress, but maybe you also just weren’t interested in being his friend anymore? You sounded more solemn than usual on the phone, and even with your tone through texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like him anymore and just wanted to let him down easy. He was a bit much for most people.

After pacing and getting into his own head for hours in the kitchen, he worked up the courage to go to your dorm room and finally have the talk, to confront you directly and ask if he’d done anything to upset you. Sweating bullets outside your door, his fear of confrontation and hatred of negative energy was creeping up on him. With a big gulp, he swallowed before knocking with false confidence. He knew you were in there, he heard your TV through the door and somewhat knew your schedule. This is were you would most certainly be at this time after classes. He called out to you, and when you didn’t answer, he jiggled the door handle, suddenly fearing that maybe the situation was worse than he might’ve once thought. Finding the door unlocked, he gently pushed the door open and crept in.

He finds the room completely dark save for the light of the TV. In the flashing of the screen, he can see the piles of garbage and clothing all over your floor. He scanned the environment anxiously, shocked at the state of your dorm. Then he finds you, sitting up in your bed, blankets covering your legs, silent as the grave, You’re just staring, as if in a trance, completely emotionless. He can see your phone lighting up on the bedside table, notifications buzzing, but you make no move to react.

“(Y/N)?” He can’t believe he’s seeing you like this. You were like a zombie, an empty shell of the person he knew and loved. When you don’t answer, he moves to sit on the side of the bed, concerned. He tiptoes over cautiously, not wanting to trigger any negative response from you. What he sees now, up close to you in the dimly lit room makes his eyes widen in horror.

On your lap, on top of a plastic plate is the cheapest, most unappetizing plate of budget spaghetti he’d ever seen, likely from some cafeteria or corner store. It looked like something a student would keep as a midnight snack in their mini fridge just in case they were starving when everything was closed, a quick fix. That wasn’t the worst part though.

No, the worst most definitely had to be the entire bottle’s worth of pills you’d seemingly emptied on top of the depressing-looking noodles. A plastic fork sat nestled in between the noodles and the pills, as if you were just about to begin eating before he arrived (perhaps in the nick of time).

It’s in that moment he realized exactly what was going on here. This was all so overwhelming to him, but his first priority was saving his best friend. Again, with the intention not to trigger anything, to not overstimulate or make anything worse in mind, he moves slowly, constantly checking your expression or any change or sign of stress. His shaking hands take the plate in their grasp, and he pulls it back and safely away from you. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again.

“H-hey! (Y/N), y-ya know… food is love… food is…” he struggles for the right words, so unsure of his ability to be what you need right now, “... food is beauty, and a very, very good thing! Food is meant to heal and nourish your body, never hurt it!” He smiles weakly, taking one of your limp hands in his own, and you feel his warmth transfer over, flooding into you. “We don’t have to talk right now, but I’m gonna stay, o-okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi was stressing. He’d never felt this much in a bind in his entire life. When it came to his own negative feelings and problems, he usually felt fine expressing himself, often yelling or crying if he needed to, letting someone know they’d upset him. When it came to comforting others, it always felt so damn awkward, and it was a feeling he’d like to avoid if he could. He was just no good at it. He was torn now, as it was his own best friend who needed his emotional support, and he’d run away like a selfish coward, hidden from the stress of the situation. He was afraid, and now the situation seemed to be boiling over, to the point of no return.

You were obviously going though something, and could tell. He was closer to you than anyone. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a definite decline in your energy, the amount of sleep you were getting, and general happiness lately. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding a direct conversation about it. He didn’t even know what to say, or if his advice would help. He was no professional, and growing up with a dad that abused him verbally and sometimes even physically, he’d learned to cope with trauma and depressive episodes in his own ways. There were times that he’d have to push back his own feelings to move on when his dad was involved, so how could someone like him help others?

Something that always helped him feel a bit better about himself was altering his outward appearance to satisfy his own sense of self expression and aesthetic. He’d once advised that you get a piercing, dye and cut your hair, buy some new clothes when you were in a particularly dismal mood. You didn’t seem to go for it. In fact, he later felt like a dick for even suggesting it, like maybe now you thought he wasn’t taking you seriously. You’d made an excuse to go back to your dorm almost immediately after the conversation.

He’d felt like an asshole for being a little more distant with you the past few days, but he just felt like a colossal loser for not being able to help one of the most important people in his life. It was overwhelming. What if you wanted to be alone right now? What if him trying to help ended up making it worse? Pacing his mess of a room, he ran his hands through his pink hair, clawing over his scalp in stress. He felt overstimulated, mind bouncing dozens of thoughts around at once.

He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and narrow these thoughts down and make an actual, reasonable plan. At the end of the day, the most important thing was the well-being of his friend. The end goal had to be to get you help or help you himself so that your friendship could get back on track to the normal, happy every day routine that you both loved. The end goal was for sure in his mind: to see his friend smile again and see a familiar glow of happiness radiate off of them. To exorcise this depression permanently, or to at least take the first steps in that direction. If he had to put aside his own feelings of embarrassment and anxiety to achieve that… well, he felt like that goal was worth almost any level of uncomfortableness.

He put his foot down, now resigned to just do what he’d wanted to do deep down for days. You would do the same for him if the situation were reversed, and he knew that. From his room on the opposite side of the dormitory wing, he made his way down the long hall until he reached your own dorm room. You were so very close, but felt so far away when he shut you out for the comfort of his own room. Now he was here, ready to finally give his all to help you like he should’ve the whole time. Even if you just needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, he wanted to pull through and be there for you until he could guide you through the next steps.

Silent before your door, he was about to knock when he picked up a sound from the other side. He recognized your voice instantly, and you were crying, weeping quite loudly inside your room. This triggers something in him, like a need to protect you, like hearing you in pain hurts him as well. Without thinking, he grabbed the door handle and threw the door open. It’s unlocked, carelessly as if you were just coming in from class and thought of nothing else but your current goal, one-track mind not even bothering to lock your door for safety or privacy. Your school bag and books are thrown haphazardly on the ground and he looks for you, following the source of the cries to the small side bathroom that every dorm room contained.

He nearly lets out a shrill scream of shock when he sees you standing in front of your bathroom mirror, holding a little silver razor blade up to your wrist. It looked like you were building up the courage, so ensnared by your own miserable thoughts that you didn’t even notice him until he was already leaping forward and yelling out your name. You looked up, wide eyes streaked with tears and puffy with redness.

“Kazuichi?!” Your voice is hoarse from crying and you feel so taken aback by his sudden appearance, so small and vulnerable. You felt foolish, caught in this compromising situation, embarrassed that someone you cared about so deeply would ever see you in this state. He didn’t seem to care about that though, only concerned with getting you back down to a safe mental state in this moment. He eyed you, then the razor blade in your hand.

“Please… please don’t do it. Please,” he begs you, one calloused hand reaching out toward you, palm outstretched. “I can’t let you go there. Please, don’t make me watch you do this because I refuse to leave, so…” His voice shook, and he inched closer, hand still ready for you to make the next move. Exhuasted, humiliated, and ready to submit to his help, you concede. You place the razor safey flat-side down into his palm, and he quickly discards it into the trash bin behind him, itching to get it out of his hands expeditiously. With that out of the way, he grabs you around the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s almost suffocating. He crushes you against his chest, and feels you shaking, breathing slowly evening out in his embrace. You let your eyes fluttered closed, let him help you stabilize.

“I am… so sorry for not taking this as serious as I should’ve. I never thought it would get this bad!” You could hear him crying. Kazuichi was never one to be afraid to shed tears when he was overwhelmed. You liked that sensitive side of him. “I’m sorry from running from your issues. I’m here now… I’m here.”

Byakuya Twogami

You were fascinated by the self-appointed leader of your little group. Ever since the killing game began, people kind of looked to him for guidance because he had a sense of authority and true confidence in his voice. There was a commanding tone and conviction to his words that you assumed was native to one of his status.

You were interested in his family business and the very different world of the elites like him in general, as you’d made it to Hope’s Peak on pure talent alone and not due to any nepotism or financial status. Attending the academy was the first chance you really had to get out of your old neighborhood and see how other people lived. It had been a miracle that you’d been scouted. The Togami family was just so vastly different from yours in every way. You wanted to know how it all worked. You often found yourself following him around and asking him questions that he probably found tedious and trivial. They were questions that he was probably asked in every interview, or with every new friend who tried to cozy up to him for his money and influence, but those were never your intentions. What began as curiosity for his different way of life turned into you simply enjoying getting to know him. He could even have a sense of humor on occasion, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he would start to delegate you to little tasks to help him out, as if you were one of his retainers. In his mind you were competent and he respected you enough to trust you with the work. Overthinking, you took it as him just trying to get you out of his hair. You felt kind of bummed out, like you were probably getting on his nerves and bothering him. His style of communication was so different from your own that you would’ve never guessed that him getting rid of you and spending less time with you could mean he respected you, even if there was a task involved taht required you to move on your own. What made it worse was that you spent so much time with him that you really hadn’t gotten to know any of your other classmates. You weren’t close with any of them so it felt awkward to be walking around without Togami by your side. Interacting with a bunch of people who had already seemed to sort out their friendships might be a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, there were a lot of extroverts in this group that would probably pull you in and make you feel right at home as soon as you reached out even mildly.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Everyone had agreed that the killing game was absolute nonsense, because none of you would ever stoop so low as to actually kill someone for any reason. Yet here you were eavesdropping on a concerning conversation between the seemingly harmless Nagito and the careless Teruteru. Nagito was planning to start up the killing game at the party you all were planning tonight and it didn’t seem like anything would stop him. You could hear the fear in Teruteru’s voice as he tried to speak sense into the much taller, lanky boy. Nagito already had a weapon hidden under a dining table, had sent threatening notes out, left little hints to put his plan into motion. It sounded completely and utterly insane!

You were there in the first place because Togami asked you earlier that day to scope out the party building stealthily and quietly. He wanted someone he trusted to gather any dangerous instruments or note any faults in the architecture that could cause an injury or allow secret entry. Nagito and Teruteru were there cleaning and setting up the food and decorations for the class party later that night, but Byakuya seemed suspicious of the both of them when he spoke on it. It wasn’t hard for you to see why now, when not too long after sneaking into the building, you happened upon this conversation. You had to tell someone, of course, but who would believe you except maybe Togami himself? Nagito and Teruteru could always deny it and it would be your word over theirs. The class might believe you over Teruteru, but Nagito seemed really well liked within the group.

When you relayed Nagito’s plans to Togami later, it felt like he already knew somehow, like you only just confirmed his feelings. You didn’t know how he knew, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. He asked that you share this info with no one else, and told you not to worry as he had it all under control.

How could you not worry about it? Now, at the actual the party you’re unable to relax, on edge even in the presence of amazing food and happy people. You’re nearly shaking with worry, trying to psych yourself into believing that Nagito would change his mind. He was bluffing… he’d chicken out. Everything would be okay. Togami would handle it! Maybe he talked to Nagtio on the side before the party, maybe that natural intimidating aura of his convinced Nagito to let go of his nefarious plans. Teruteru sure seemed to be perky and proud of his food spread tonight, so surely the whole murder plan was off the table. Why would he be so calm otherwise, when he was terrified earlier?

When the lights abruptly went out, everything changed. You panicked, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Your heart rate spiraled out of control, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You followed your instincts to dash over to the back table, the one Nagito was standing next to just before the lights went out. You had to get to that weapon before him, You wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of knowing you could’ve prevented this by warning the entire group if Nagito succeeded in killing someone. You knew this plan was in the works. You trusted Togami to stop it before now and here it was: the moment of truth. You had to act. You weren’t close with any of these people, but they all seemed to already care for each other, if even just a little bit. It was better if you died here over anybody else. It had to be your duty after the information you chose to withhold from them. It wouldn’t have been fair.

As you were about to dive under the table in the dark, you feel a strong grip on your arm. You are lifted and thrusted backwards and away from the table. You yell out, fearing an altercation with Nagito and preparing for a fight, but as you fall back onto your butt with a thud a few feet from the table, all physical contact ceases. There’s a commotion, and you scramble backwards in the dark. There’s confusion and chaos, and then the lights turn back on.

You wouldn’t know until you were gathering evidence for very the first class trial later that night, that Togami had taken your place under that table. The arm that pushed you back had been his. While you couldn’t see him, he used night vision goggles to see you and died in your place. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you trusted him when he said to trust him, let him handle it and didn’t get in the way of the table, he would’ve had a second or two more to think and react… and maybe he wouldn’t be dead. It could’ve been you, and you would be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, even if he didn’t plan for it that night,

You vowed to spend whatever time left you had on this miserable island avenging him by and honoring his memory while you all worked together to stop Monokuma.

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blainesebastian · 1 year

Text

lunch break

words: 1,631 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “what's your take on Aus unexpectedly coming to visit reader at work? :)” notes: masterlist on my sidebar and linked here! warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @rairaielv

You don't consider your job as something very high end or glamorous, it's kinda a step in the direction of what you want your future to be but haven’t yet acquired. Then again, that makes it sound like you aren’t in control of what’s keeping you immobile, behind barriers and walls, but in fact you’re in charge of your own hourglass. When the sand runs out, instead of making decisions, you just turn the thing over and start the process all again.

Wanting to write your own novel is somehow a cycled mixture of self-doubt and self-loathing—every time you think you’ve come up with an idea that would actually prompt you to put words to paper, you get so caught up in your own thoughts that it’s almost paralyzing. One day, you think, you’ll move the needle forward…today’s just not that day.

That isn’t to say that you don’t love your job, you do—you lead an editing team for a publishing company, your hands are constantly touching the pages of books, of someone else’s thoughts and dreams, blood, sweat and tears. There’s no shame in the work…you just feel like you could be doing more. Austin is endlessly supportive, no matter how many times you ride and sink on the waves of ideas. He’s the one constant, the one person in which you can depend on to completely encourage your dream and push you towards it when you feel like running away.

It feels funny to say things like ‘destiny’ or ‘fate’—as a writer, there has to be better words out there to use and yet nothing feels so all encompassing as meeting Austin just in happenstance at a bar near your apartment. You knew who he was, of course, and hadn’t even thought to enter his orbit until he approached you and a few friends playing darts and asked if he could join in. Out of all the other dart boards, in all the bars in New York, Austin found himself at that specific one, with you—and things just bloomed from there.

It's kinda difficult to wrap your head around sometimes, as if these experiences and steps in your relationship don’t always feel real. Austin is someone who lives larger than life in many different aspects…and for some reason, you’re included in that. You’re really working on accepting that you deserve good things like this, despite how many times you may need to remind yourself. There might be plenty of excuses as to why a relationship between you two wouldn’t work…but there are so many reasons about why it does. You lean into that as often as possible.

Among many things that you can say about Austin, you appreciate that he’s pretty private with his personal life. He isn’t very active on social media and he keeps you out of the public eye as much as he can, warmth fluttering in your chest as you think about him being protective, looking out for you. You don’t realize how much you appreciate that with the few events you have gone with him to—it’s not that you don’t want to be supportive, of course you do, but cameras constantly being shoved into your face, the endless questions that sometimes toe the line of appropriate, the pressure to always be on, pleasant, accommodating. It’s a lot to get used to, a lot to be able to adapt to.

In spite of this, in small circles and unfortunately your much larger ones, people know you’re dating Austin. It was a giant ‘watercooler’ topic at work when it first happened, the Elvis film had just come out in theaters and Austin’s name was slingshot into a lot of headlines, a lot of ads, a lot of social media. Most people respected your privacy, but you definitely had moments of being ambushed in the break room with coffee.

For the most part, it’s settled down. There’s the occasional whispering you can hear as you pass cubicles to head to your office, which pretty much only happens when you attend some sort of event with Austin. You’ve never really thought to invite him to anything that’s had to do with your work—not that you wouldn’t enjoy showing him off, because you’re constantly proud of him and the work he’s doing. But honestly? The last thing you want is for it to come across like you have him on your arm like some sort of accessory or cause absolute chaos with anyone you work with who are fans.

Never say never—one of these days you’ll invite him to your office, let him see where you work as you’ve been invited on set. One compared to the other is obviously more exciting, but you want Austin to feel just as included in your world.

Letting out a soft breath, you look down at your phone as it buzzes with a message from Austin. Speaking of—a smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you tap open the message,

Austin: you eat today?

And that’s something you can definitely appreciate him for. You’ve been known to bury yourself in work that you’re always losing track of time. Between edits, meetings, phone calls, a few coffee breaks, it’s easy to get lost in the sauce.

Y/N: not yet—does iced coffee count? 😊

A few moments pass before,

Austin: you definitely know the answer to that

You smirk before setting your phone down, checking the time and rolling your eyes. Alright, he’s right (though you’re not about to message him that). You’ll take a break in ten, you suppose it is two PM already, and get something to eat. You gotta pull a longer night than usual to get this book edit in by six AM tomorrow, so…need fuel for that.

Closing a few tabs on your laptop, you type in a place nearby that has tacos to see if they deliver, when a string of conversations catch your attention from down the hallway. It’s not particularly loud with your door ajar, but something is definitely going on that you’re missing. Maybe someone put an entire order in for food again for the department…that’s only happened once but it was so nice. You don’t think you heard a fire alarm going off or anything…

Letting out a sigh, you pull yourself from your desk to tug your door open, moving to walk out and around the corner when you bump right into—

You blink, “Austin?”

Your boyfriend lets out a soft amused breath, steadying you with his one hand along your arm. You feel like your brain is kinda short circuiting because this…is the last place you expected him to be? Taking him in, the black slacks, typical boots, black leather jacket with a soft blue sweater underneath, you realize he has a lanyard that says VISITOR on his chest.

And then all the blocks start clicking into place—he came up the elevator, stopped at the front desk, actually signed in and asked where your office was and walked…down the hallway, which explains the commotion. Your eyes dart over his shoulder to take in the state of the office and it seems to be a mix of people gawking or minding their own business. Your cheeks kiss pink as your gaze fixes once again on your boyfriend as you realize he’s got a bag in his hand,

“Did you—”

Austin glances down at the bag as you back up in the office and he lingers in the doorway for a moment, “Yeah, you like that taco place on the corner, right?”

You can’t help but grin, your stomach rumbling in pleased excitement as you reach to take the bag, “I do…I didn’t realize you were bringing me lunch.”

“I like to surprise you every now and then,” He teases, moving to brush your hair off your forehead, “Keeps things interestin’ so you don’t dump me.”

You roll your eyes but it’s definitely fond, smiling up at him, “Thank you.” It’s actually really sweet of him to think of you, especially since he knew you were close to skipping lunch anyways…or is it practically dinner? There has to be more important things to do on his schedule and yet he’s here, making sure you’re taking care of yourself.

Austin leans down to press a kiss to your lips and it’s out of instinct that you flinch, tilting your head a little sideways. He raises his eyebrows, a soft laugh leaving his lips, “What’s goin’ on with that?”

God—you hadn’t meant to do that, not exactly anyways. You can feel people’s eyes on you from outside your office, watching your interactions with your boyfriend, like being placed on a slide underneath a microscope. And while you don’t care what people think, it’s more just…wanting to keep things with Austin where they belong, between the two of you, not meant to be shared with anyone else. But the last thing you want is for Austin to somehow think you’re embarrassed to be with him,

“Sorry—” You shake your head, “People talk about me—it’s just,” You roll your eyes, “You know, gossip. It’s just noise.” You wave your hand in nonchalance, giving Austin a small smile. You’re hoping he can stick around a while, maybe share some chips with you.

He hums a little, glancing over his shoulder before rolling back on the balls of his feet. “I see.” He then takes a step forward into your space, forcing you to look up at him as he closes the distance,

“Let’s give them somethin’ to talk about then.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips, your stomach fluttering in heated butterflies as Austin leans down to kiss you and closes your office door.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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thefrontofmymind · 1 year

Text

Might As Well 1; You Look So Cool

matty healy x videographer!reader

wc: 4125

warnings: mentions of divorce

series masterlist

You’d always felt like a bit of an outsider in your family. The middle child–between two boys, no less–you’d always felt like you didn’t really have a place. On one side, you had Chris, the oldest, the protector of you and your mother during your parents’ bitter divorce–you were very young, so you don’t remember the entire ordeal, of course, but you’ve been told many stories of the days wanting to stay at a friend’s and the sleepless nights, listening to your parents yell and argue downstairs while you quietly sobbed in your bed. Then there’s Luke–the baby. Not only is he your mother’s youngest, he’s also your stepdad, Vern’s only child, so there’s pretty much always some kind of attention on him. And that leaves you in the middle, the blind spot in your family tree.

And for the most part, you liked it that way, you kept to yourself and was just waiting for the day you were to go off to university and leave your tiny town behind. You were a whizz at media, videos, your ticket to the big, wide world that was just begging for you to emerge into it. You’d like to think you’d make an Oscar-winning film director one day, but you know your ambitions are incredibly gargantuan. You’d be happy with an average life, a steady job at least somehow connected to your passion–an ad director, some kind of editor, you didn’t mind all that much, you just needed it to be present in your life, it’d gotten you this far as as of yet and you could never have the heart to leave it behind.

But there was always a part of you that dreamed of big things–you figured it was good to have big ambitions, that way you’d have the drive to push yourself to an acceptable degree that would land you in a job that was at least satisfactory.

All you had left was to wait. Wait until you were old enough, experienced enough, to be able to go out on your own and actually do the things you dreamed of. So you filled your time however you could, between school and it’s never ending homework, you’d take up little projects to keep your skills sharp–sometimes it was just things for yourself, like re-editing scenes from your favourite movies, reworking them to create a new feeling to it, or you’d make things for other people, just the year before your media teacher gave you the task of helping to make a new advertisement for your school, or like now–

Your older brother was right into the music scene in your town–how little it was, it wasn’t difficult to keep up with it, and everyone already knew and very likely went to school with each other–and he’d called in a favour for some of his friends that were in a band. He was hoping that when–if–they got signed for a record deal, they’d let him in on the production side of making an album with them, that was his passion. You were tasked with making a music video for them–for a song they’d just finished and their first ever recording–which Chris aided them in–and they wanted a video to go with it, to post on MySpace, you assumed.

You wanted to be on the same page with them–you wanted them to be happy, and you wanted to show your best work, you knew you’d get nowhere without an adequate portfolio. You’d agreed to meet them at the chip shop just down the road from your house, at Chris’ request, he claimed he ‘knew these kind of guys’ and ‘wanted to make sure you’d be safe’, to which you scoffed at, thinking about the fact that you’d heard gossip from the older girls at school about just what kind of guy your brother was, and he shouldn’t cast the first stone there.

It was still a little chilly, spring hadn’t quite sprung yet and the sky was still painted in a shade of dark grey–like it had been for the past four or so months. You wrapped your jacket around you tighter in hopes it’d conserve the last bit of warmth you had in you. You were already running late as it was, you didn’t have time to go all the way back to your room and get a thicker coat, you just had to grin and bear it as you swiftly walked the couple hundred metres to the small chip shop in the middle of your neighbourhood.

As you approached you saw a white panel van outside, the only car in the carpark. You recalled seeing a similar one in the carpark at school, though not for a while, not since the year before. You guessed it belonged to one of the boys in the band, one of the older ones who’d already left school. Four shaggy heads came into view through the glass front as you got closer, and they all quickly turned to face you as you entered and the bell on the door rang, announcing your presence.

You were almost stuck in place, as the four boys stared at you. It wasn’t until Julie, behind the counter, said hello to you and asked how your mum had been–she’d been on a new diet so there’d been no chippy takeaways in your house for a couple weeks by that point.

After a quick chat, you’d grabbed a chair and sat at the booth the boys were sitting at. It was awkward, and you really wished you could’ve been anywhere but there, you decided to push through, get to know them, in hopes of creating something really cool with them.

You’d quickly gotten the lay of the land with them–Matty, the lead singer, was….well, loud is the only way you could put it, he had a lot of ideas and he seemed to be the one you was leading the pack, the front man. You’d recognised the drummer, George, he was in your year, though you had no classes with him, but you’d heard nice things about him. Adam, the guitarist, he was a couple years older than you, he seemed quite standoffish, quiet, he mostly just observed the discussion. And Ross, the bassist, he seemed very protective of the rest of them, and he didn’t really speak. It seemed like Matty was the one in charge–makes sense for a frontman–and George was not far behind him, while the other two kept them in check.

Matty had a whole list of ideas and things he wanted to include in the video. He just seemed so frantic, speaking at a million miles a minute and barely touching the food he’d ordered, while the rest of the group sat back and ate, just listening to all the references he wanted.

Their song was called ‘Robbers’, Matty explained to you that it was a dramatisation of a couple from a movie he watched. He wanted the video to be moody, with a vintage feel, and he said there was a woody field next to his house–near the outside of your small town–that he’d like to film in.

You liked the idea, it sparked your interest and you could already see it coming together in your head. You wrote out a couple dot points in the notebook you brought–which was almost completely full of any and every idea you’d had since you got it about six months before–and made sure you covered all the points that were important. You were thankful they were pretty green, there were definite blank spots in their vision that you were excited to fill.

You sat and chatted for about an hour and a half, eating and getting to know them, while they got to know you. You learned all four of them had left school just before college–they were determined to make it as a band, and they just couldn’t wait to get there fast enough. It soon grew dark and you knew you’d be expected back home soon, all five of you left at the same time–the band piling into the white panel, which you’d learned was Matty’s, ready to go wherever the night took them.

“Are you alright getting home?” Matty asked out the driver’s window as you bid your goodbye, just as he was about to pull out of the small car park.

“Yeah, it’s just a couple minutes down the road, I’ll be fine,” you replied, pointing in the direction of your journey, to a road with street lights few and far between.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t want to be short with him, you just wanted to get home and start working.

“Well we have to go down that way anyway,” he started. “So you may as well get in.”

You thought for a minute. Were you willing to get in a van with a bunch of boys? Well, they did know your brother, so if they kidnapped you for whatever reason, they’d be the prime suspects. There was a look in Matty’s eyes that bordered on…desperation? Worry? That was the nail in the coffin for you.

“Why not?”

“Great. G, open the door!” He called to the back of the van and the side door slid open to show George and Ross crouched in a gutted out interior–no seats, no kind of lining on the floor or walls, you could guess it was to transport equipment but you weren’t a hundred percent sure. You climbed in and the van was quickly on its way to your house.

“I think I remember which one is Chris’–yours–but you might need to show me when we get to it.”

You leaned forward to see out the front windshield, the van was completely silent as you could see your house come into view–bar George’s quiet chuckles that he thought you couldn’t hear, he was wrong.

“This one on the left, number 102,” you said when you saw your house, the house you’d moved into at the age of two–right after your parents split up. It hadn’t changed much in the past fifteen years you’d lived there–still with the hedges out the front, the broken shingle right above your bedroom window from a rogue cricket ball thrown by your younger brother a few years prior, and the blue front door, painted in the colour that you got to choose when you were three. Matty pulled into the drive and Ross slid open the door for you. “Thanks for the ride, and thanks for all this-” you held up your notebook. “I’ll get right onto it.”

“We should be the ones thanking you,” Matty replied. You noticed that he was still the one to take charge in all the conversations. You felt a little dejected at their lack of enthusiasm, you wondered if they brought this energy to everything they did or if it was a special occasion. You quickly bid goodbye, promising you’d message them when you had a proper plan for their video. And they left, back up the road in the direction of the chip shop. You didn’t know what to think.

You went straight to your room, running up the stairs after quickly saying hello to your mum and stepdad, who were sitting in the living room, watching some news program for the evening. You don’t think you’ve ever worked so quickly, your mind was just brimming with ideas and images that you needed to get written down before they were lost in your memory.

You only stopped when your stepdad, Vern, knocked on your door so you could say goodnight to him and your mum at just past midnight, you’d been working for almost six hours straight. Vern was someone you admired dearly. He’d taken on two kids, and treated them as his own–your actual dad relocated to Wales after the divorce, you’d see him maybe once a year if the stars were right, otherwise it was a phone call on Christmas and your birthdays, followed by a card with a tenner in it in the post that’d arrive not long afterwards. Vern was the closest you’d had to an actual dad, and you greatly respected him. You truly didn’t know what your family would be like if he didn’t come into the picture at the perfect time that he did.

By midnight, you’d finished a storyboard, as well as a sort of call sheet; a list of shots you wanted and your plans for it. You really went all out, Matty told you how they wanted a sort of performance set up, so you’d thought of the biggest thing you could do with the little budget they’d given you; fire. You knew it wouldn’t be hard to get some old wooden pallets or something that wouldn’t be missed, and you’d done a quick google search of the nature conservation rules in the area, and there was nothing outlawing bonfires, so you were golden.

You ended the night with a cup of tea–made by your mum–as you quickly emailed Matty the plans you’d come up with, before going to sleep, satisfied with your work.

It was a couple days before you heard from Matty. You tried not to think the worst, that the band hated your ideas and were abandoning the entire project. In fact, you tried not to think of them at all in the agonising weekend with no contact. Though you weren’t all that successful, you received a grilling from your dear older brother, Chris, the morning after your meeting. He claimed it was to just make sure they were all being gentlemen to you, which they were– though it made you worry that there was a chance they wouldn’t have been so respectful given the chance, that they would just be the kind of typical teenage boys that you stayed away from.

When the email popped into your inbox, you’d never been so elated. At least not until you actually read the email from Matty;

heeyyy

talked to the guys, they all love your ideas so what are you doing this friday? we can get some shit to burn like you said and we could sort it out? just lmk :)

- Matty

You quickly typed an answer–YES–and prepared your plans, checking the sunset time for Friday to make sure there’d be enough light for the shoot. You could hardly contain your excitement and you practically ran out of your room and across the landing, then rapidly knocked on Chris’ door.

As much as you did try to keep some distance from him, when it came to your interests, you shared a lot of similarities. You were both very creative people–your mum always said you two got that trait from your dad, though you didn’t know the man well enough to tell–and you both could very easily go into the same kind of field if the wind blew the right way. He was very into music production, engineering, anything technical like that, he loved. That was how he’d met the band; he was the one to help them with the mixing on the track they’d posted on MySpace–which you’d listened to a handful of times while working, and it was how you’d actually found out the name of their band which you assumed they’d forgot to tell you in all the scuffle–Drive Like I Do, it suited them well.

Chris opened the door, all dishevelled–it was quite late at night and the rest of your family didn’t seem to carry your insomniatic streak. You told him all about your plans for the music video, he’d already heard the song–many times–being the person who mixed it. He was excited for you, he was the one to bring you up when the band got onto the conversation of a video for the song. He’d gladly let you ramble to him as much as you wanted when it came to your passion, there weren't many other people you could do that with. You didn’t really have any friends in the traditional sense, you’d always been too focussed on the future to make a lasting connection with anyone, so Chris tried to fit into that mould when he could–when you would let him in.

After you ended your rant to him–which you hoped he understood at least a little, given his sleepy state–he didn’t say anything. You were worried.

“So what do you think?” You asked with baited breath. “Matty said they all liked it but you know them better than I do.”

“It’s good. Really good,” he replied. “Just one thing.”

You nodded, urging him to continue.

“Just be careful, okay? These guys…” He thought for a moment. “They’re pretty typical teenage boys. Don’t want you to get in too deep only for them to hurt you.”

“I won’t.” You smiled. “It’s just a music video. Just want to make it as good as possible.”

“Good.” He hugged you, slightly pushing you to his doorway. You got the idea. “Now, let me sleep.”

“‘Night, dipshit,” you laughed, shuffling back to your room.

His warning confused you. Why did he think you would get in too deep? Did he really have that little faith in you, and the guys? That night you went to bed, your mind swirling with these questions and no possible answers in sight. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what teenage boys were like. And you did feel cautious around them–Adam was a full 3 years older than you, and the other guys weren’t far behind. You were worried you’d put them off just working with you–being so much younger, you were sure they’d already deemed you immature and it irked you to think they wouldn’t take you seriously, so you wanted to work as hard as you could.

You were practically breaking out in hives from excitement the week leading up to the shoot day. It was all you could think about, and you’re sure you’ve never rushed out of school so quickly. You were lucky that your bus seemed to just miss the school traffic and you got to your stop fairly quickly. You got ready, grabbing your notebook of plans and your equipment–your small handheld camera and tripod. Chris was kind enough to drive you to Matty’s house, and you needed an assistant–better to be someone you knew and trusted to follow your orders than someone who you’d never met and the band had chosen.

You couldn’t stop biting your pinky nail on the drive, and Chris had to tell you to stop bouncing your knee multiple times–your nerves only got worse and worse during the short trip. You thought about telling Chris to turn back, and you’d tell them you were sick or something, but you knew you had to push yourself, everything just fell into place too well with the whole situation. And if you believed in a higher power, you’d certainly think it was at work today.

Your nerves barely subsided as you arrived, and Chris and the band helped you unload and set up all the “equipment”–the band’s instruments and Chris’ car, which you were planning on using as your lighting as it got darker.

You had your plan and a schedule and were ready to stick to it. The majority of the video would be a performance of the song–you’d burnt it onto a CD that was sitting in Chris’ car so they could hear it and play along to it–as well as intercuts of more candid footage, the guys had told you there was a small paddock with some animals belonging to Matty’s neighbour, one cow–Betty–was fond of them in particular.

You recorded shots of the band walking around the paddock, as well as your smoke break. You’d never really smoked before but when Ross offered you one, you took it–earning a confused look from Chris, who’d mostly just been standing by, ready for nightfall, when the real fun would begin. There was a nagging in the back of your head, urging you to act as cool as possible in front of them. It was ironic really, you felt so childish for trying to act mature and interesting for them, they may have been the ones in front of the camera, but you were the one putting on an act.

Soon the sun descended below the horizon and it was time to light up–the wooden scraps the band had collected, that is. You only really had one proper chance to get the shots you wanted, the small fire–lit and contained by Chris–would only burn for so long.

You were pretty blown away by seeing them perform, even if they were just miming along to the real thing. You could tell they worked well with each other, they all had a certain charisma that just drew you to them. It helped that you did genuinely like the song, it had a charm that you could only put down to the fact that they were the cool, older boys in a band–everyone in your town knew them, especially Matty. When your mum is on Loose Women, people are bound to take an interest in you.

You were just about to finish filming, the song was drawing to a close as the final chords rang out. While the rest of the band was walking out of shot like planned, Matty–in a heap of adrenaline or something else, you didn’t know–pulled his guitar from the strap and lobbed it directly into the fire behind George’s drum set.

“What the fuck, dude!?” Adam yelled as you stopped recording. The six of you–including Matty–stood frozen in shock.

Matty stuttered through an answer, claiming he didn’t know, it just felt right in the moment. Chris was the first to let out a chuckle, calling Matty an ‘absolute knobhead’, and at that, the dam had broken and in a matter of minutes the entire group was roaring with laughter. George was eventually laying on the ground in a laughter-induced paralysis.

It was well into the evening now, and the air was getting colder and colder. You felt a chill get into your body–deep in you, the kind you knew you’d only be able to get rid of with a warm shower or something of the like, your jaw began to tremor. You tried to clench it to make it stop, there was something in you that desperately wanted the band to see no flaws in you, you couldn’t show a single weakness.

You helped all the guys bring their instruments–sans Matty’s guitar–back to Matty’s house, only a 5 or so minute walk through the paddock. Though you had to admit, with the only light coming from the streetlights in the distance, and the only sound being your footsteps on the slightly dewy grass, you were a little spooked. But you never, for even a moment, felt scared, like you knew the guys wouldn’t do anything to you–at least with your older, taller, much scarier brother with you.

You brought the instruments–well you simply brought a couple microphone stands, the band didn’t quite trust you to handle anything that would be harder to replace–to the shed in Matty’s back garden. It was quite cramped, just enough room for their set up and a sofa. Though that didn’t stop them from decorating, the walls were plastered floor to ceiling with posters, you spied a couple movies you’d seen, but for the most part it was just spreads of models from whatever magazines they could’ve gotten their hands on. Typical boys, you thought, some kind of manifestation.

“Well,” Chris said after a couple minutes of chatting in the shed, just about the video and estimates on when it’d be done. “I have the early shift tomorrow…so we better get going…”

You felt a little disappointed, like when a child is told it’s time to leave the playground. You thought you could see a hint of the same feeling on a certain lead singer’s face, but you weren’t sure.

“She can stay here if she wants,” Matty answered in an air of unbotheredness. “I’ll drive her back when she’s ready.”

Chris didn’t say a word, and you daren’t speak either, for fear you’d jinx this opportunity the world has given you to spend more time with people you deemed totally and undeniably cool–the first in a long while.

“You promise?” Chris asked. You thought it strange that neither of them stopped to actually ask you if you did want to stay, but you tried to be cool about it–no use having a tantrum over wanting to spend time with people who could not see you in that way.

Matty grabbed Chris’ hand in a firm shake. “Promise.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic

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