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celtic-crossbow · 1 month

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Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional.

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost.

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said.

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked.

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that.

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket.

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.”

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake.

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd.

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move.

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared.

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile.

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted.

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied.

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all.

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often.

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.”

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?”

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.”

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined.

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer.

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by.

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

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sabertoothwalrus · 7 months

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hi !! just curious because i was looking at your adventure time episode guide and i love hearing other peoples adventure time takes !! how come you don't like finn's characterisation in together again?

I've talked about it before here and here!

But also I'm gonna say more and share some art I did in 2021 for a rewrite comic that I never got around to doing

So again to reiterate: Adventure Time is usually VERY good at making it feel like time passes, even when you're not watching. It's something about what they don't show that tells you everything you need to know.

Together Again did not do this.

It really really felt like they were avoiding showing Finn as an adult, as if they wanted to leave his post-show life ambiguous. Which, now that Fionna and Cake has shown us literally that, it makes Together Again feel even more wrong?? Like. imagine you have to pick a moment from your life that represents You™ the most. Together Again said that Finn, after living his whole life and dying as an old man, feels most represented by how he was at 17. I do not buy this. I am 25, and I cannot fathom identifying by my 17 year old self. I was a completely different person then, I was still cooking. I can imagine most people feel the same. And ok, so maybe Finn DOES for some reason feel stuck at 17? Explain to me why!! What needed to happen to him that made him feel that way?

And before you just say "it's because Jake died," there's still too much that was left out. How old was Finn when Jake died? What was Finn like, at that point? What else had they accomplished? What was he doing at the time that was on the forefront of his mind? Where/with who did they spend most of their time? Where were they living after the treehouse got destroyed?

It was like,,, it was like the story Together Again actually wanted to tell was about Finn's grief, and how poorly he copes, and how too much of his identity is tied to Having Jake, and how he struggles to move on. But that's not the story we got. I honestly think-- as interesting as it was-- everything with New Death and Tiffany and Lich just did a disservice to the focus, which was Finn trying to get over Jake.

I think Together Again should have gone like this:

Finn and Jake had always planned that whoever died first would wait in the dead world for the other to die so the two of them could reincarnate. Jake dies first. Jake would be able to "watch over" Finn as he lives the rest of his life, so Jake wouldn't miss Finn as much as vice versa, since he'd feel like he's still there with him. Eventually, Finn dies.

Finn's appearance would change with his emotional state. I thought it'd be interesting to show different phases of his life through the stages of grief.

There'd be a room where they could watch Finn's memories. Finn would walk Jake through the events of his life. We SEE exactly how Finn dealt with grief, with heartbreak, with love, with friends, with community. All the good and all the bad.

By the end of it, Finn is quiet. "Jake... when we reincarnate, will we.. lose all of this?" "Well, do you remember anything from any of your other past lives?" "No.. But that's the point. I don't want to forget you." Finn, despite their promise, despite Jake waiting for him all this time, declines reincarnating. He doesn't want to move on, because that would mean forgetting everything. He wants to say with Jake!! He JUST got Jake back!!

“What if— in the future— what if they forget about us? What if they don’t know about all the stuff we did?” We see Ooo in its current state. It’s changed, but it’s clearly been affected by the two of them. Every person they’ve saved, every civilization they helped build, every hero they’ve inspired. They’ve left their touch everywhere. “They’ll know,” Jake says with certainty. “We’ll know.” We see the future, with Shermy and Beth. We see the Finn Sword, and BMO with all their old belongings. Everything stays, but it still changes. Will happen, happening, happened. These have always been the themes of the show. They reincarnate, together.

#adventure time #together again #my art #finn the human #finn mertens #jake the dog #distant lands

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luveline · 8 months

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your spencer writing is so beautiful jadey! i was wondering if we could get some hurt comfort where reader really struggles after a case and he comforts her? <3

thank you ♡

Grief for other people can vary in strength. Ever present, occasionally numbing, tonight's case has left you neck deep in it, and the feeling needs to come out. Tears slink down your face in lazy rivers. You keep thinking you'll stop crying. Then you remember her hand, soft with newness and curled in death, and it starts again.

It hurts to cry. You don't attempt to stop; you don't think about it, or the team, or the heat at your side, you just think about the girl's hand. It's not fair. It's too much.

"It's okay," Spencer says. You know it's him without looking, his voice a familiar gentleness that reaches your ears despite the roaring-quiet nothing and your sniffles.

You turn your face away from him to hide.

He puts his hand on your thigh amicably, his tone encouraging as he continues, "If you don't calm down you'll throw up. What can I do?"

You suck in a shaky breath, an attempt to regulate feelings too big for one body, "Sorry, it's– I'm fine. I'll be fine," you wobble. You can't finish the second fine, a cry crushing it down.

Another hand touches you, fingers on your wrist and weaving down. He covers the back of your hand with his palm. It's not like Spencer, but it's not like you to cry like this.

Spencer doesn't tell you to stop crying or try to shush you. He'd told you once that he tries not to stop people when they're talking, because he knows what it feels like to be shut up. I wish people… I wish people would have more patience, I think. Sometimes I can't get things out the way others want me to, and I get that things are time sensitive, but. I don't know. If I have time to listen, I'll listen.

Listen to you cry, listen to your staggering breaths as you catch them. Patient, Spencer pulls your hand to his lap and draws letters into your wrist. You can't make out what he's writing, but you can feel the bumps and curves of Os and Ks. Maybe he's telling you it's okay, maybe he's writing out a recipe. Whatever it is, it calms you down.

"Do you want some water?" he asks as you still. He sounds pitying, sure, but he understands. His thumb rubs down to the middle of your hand.

"Yeah. Please."

He passes you a plastic bottle of water with the seal already broken. You have the wherewithal, then, to see where you are. The conference room is dark, and your teammates have given you the chance to cry alone, though they'd sent Spencer in to keep you company, it seems. You can see Morgan waiting out by the door like your bodyguard, and you're sure you can hear Hotch shouting. Or, not shouting, he doesn't yell much, but his voice is loud and terse. He cannot be argued with.

"I'm sorry you got the short straw."

Spencer puts an arm behind your back. "Actually, I had to fight Emily to be the one who gets to sit with you. And I can't fight, so it was more like begging."

He rubs your back. You forget that he's a man, sometimes, but you can feel the ridges of his arm, smell the woody scent of his deodorant as it stretches around you in a half hug. His awkwardness with women doesn't extend to his friends at any rate, and he hugs you with surety.

"You're one of my favourite people. I'm sorry you didn't know that. Holding your hand when you cry isn't a short straw," he says.

You lean into his shoulder. He murmurs a quiet, "Come here," as you do, his jaw pressed tight to your forehead.

"I'm so sorry," you say. To him and to someone else.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You can't save everyone." He sounds near choking up with his last sentence. It's a grim and undeniable truth. No matter how hard any of you try, there will be impossible cases with twisting riddles for motivation and terror that fills every corner. There will be young girls who die, because there will always be someone waiting to hurt them.

"I tried–" You bite your cheek until it screams at you to stop.

"I know. There was nothing else we could do."

You turn into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist in a vice. Spencer doesn't baulk, circling your shoulders, his breath tickling your ear where you squish your face against the collar of his sweater. The fabric bites your skin, a wicked heat returning to line your lashes.

Your back shakes under Spencer's hand.

"I know," he repeats, rubbing your back. "It's okay, Y/N, I promise. He can't hurt anyone else, ever again."

It doesn't make the crime any better. It won't bring back the girl you lost. And it can't erase the agony of knowing you failed her.

Spencer starts to talk. Simple facts, explaining grief. When we cry, it releases oxytocin. You feel better afterwards because of the chemical effects.

When you eventually do calm down, head pounding and chest aching, Spencer helps you clean the tear stains from your cheeks with a pocket pack of tissues, and you know it isn't the oxytocin that made you feel better, just a really caring man.

"Thank you for dealing with me. I know this wasn't even the worst thing we've seen, but I–" You clear your throat, determined not to cry anymore tears until you're back home. "I couldn't stop seeing her hand. I can't remember my hand being that small anymore."

Spencer gives you a smile. It's far from happy, a flat line with the slightest curve at the corners. "Some things are hard to forget. And we shouldn't forget them. But we have to keep going so we can balance it out. Or at least that's what I think."

You hug him quickly. "Thanks, Spence."

His hand twitches against the small of your back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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maximumkillshot · 5 months

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"I Can't Lose You" Part 6

Warnings: Aftermath of a miscarriage, descriptions of grief due to losing a baby, Angry Everyone, Death is mentioned, Wanting Death, Shock, Grief, PTSD Flashback, Panic, there is a parallel to a person jumping off a bridge (NOT ACTUALLY)

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Ok if you read the above, you'll notice that anger is in the warnings. This is the first half of a chapter that had me crying as I wrote it. This is something that you all need to take into consideration... I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE ONCE AGAIN. My asks are always open for you guys to vent about this one.

Also remember, this is a fanfic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

He was mad at himself at those thoughts, Chris was so clearly into you so he used Bin’s insecurities against him… and it had worked. He thought about how all of this wouldn’t have happened and you and him would be happy together. That’s all he ever wanted for you. That was why he let you go in the first place. He wanted you to be happy.

After about half an hour of hushed talking, while Bin kept you relaxed, a set of footsteps walked down the hall. Just hearing them, Bin’s ears perked up. They had an authority to them, almost pompous in nature. Commanding… he knows those steps.

Now:

The minute Minho saw who it was entering the room his whole body went rigid, his hands in fists at his side as he got up and used his body to block whoever it was. He motioned for the boys to get closer to the bed. All of them standing, ready to jump.

“Just let me talk to her,” Bin’s vision started getting blurry, on the verge of blacking out with rage. He looked down to you, very unbothered by the sudden voice that assaulted the tranquility of the room. The first tranquil moment you've had in months. Months of your husband hiding and sneaking. And months of you planning and working excitedly making every detail perfect.

Bin made a split-second decision to lightly cover your ear that wasn't to his chest. Trying to prolong the inevitable.

Next up was Han as he said in a hushed tone, “she’s finally asleep. You are not coming in this room, Chris.” His tone was dark and that one sentence rolled off of his tongue like a warning.

“She’s my wife. I am going to see her whether you like it or not.” He sounded annoyed. Like this was an inconvenience. Bin did everything in the book to calm his heart, which was starting to spike at just hearing his voice.

Bin went on an internal tirade, how dare he come here? Killing your child wasn't enough? Making you so stressed out that you almost bled to death wasn't enough? Ripping your heart out and trampling it… not enough for him? NOOO let's show up when it's convenient, when no one expects it, playing the 'husband' card. When Bin knew he CLEARLY gave up that title already.

Especially when you did everything to be available for him. When he started to pull away you came to Bin and Han in tears, not knowing what to do. You love him so much that you actively went to find out what it was. Was it your weight? Did you talk too much or not enough? Did you ask for too much? Did you seem too boring? He has already been enough of a plague on your life already.

Minho giggled darkly, “You really want to die today, huh? Did you not hear Han, she’s resting. Now go away.”

“Not until I see her.” His voice raised slightly. The bite in his voice made Minho want to strangle him, to be honest. He doesn’t have any entitlement to you. Especially after what he’s done. As far as what Minho thinks, Chris was never your husband. No husband neglects their wife. No husband makes their wife lay awake at night, worried about if he had eaten or not, or if she’d even see him when she woke up.

That was enough for you to stir on Bin’s chest. Bin had to think quickly as he said "It's okay, go to sleep, Angel. I'm here," in the most delicate whisper. That was enough to knock you out again, humming against his chest.

Chris pulled back the curtain, even though Han and Minho tried their best to get him away. At that point, I.N, who was the closest to Chan, blocked him from your bedside.

“Get away from her.” He whispered, “She’s too fragile right now.”

Chris just looked at I.N. and said, “No one is keeping me from my wife, you’re lucky I even went along with it for this long. I’m not going to wake her.”

The venom in Chan's voice made the hair on Bin’s neck and arms raise. Not out of fear, no he could snap Chris in half if he was pissed off enough. His hair raised out of anger and knowing he couldn't do anything about it. The fact that Chan had the audacity to come into that room after what he did, knowing that you are fragile. That you barely made it out, and even now, you aren’t completely out. Yet there he was trying to force himself in. Like he had a right to be there, even though he was the one that caused it.

I.N looked at Han and Han signaled him to let it go.

Han knew that he was right, none of them had spousal rights. So technically Chris can kick them out, especially because she is still so weak, she can’t fend for herself or be able to sternly say ‘get out’ to her husband, not without consequences. They had no other choice.

Bin looked at Chan as he took a seat next to the bed, taking in your sleeping form. His heart was breaking at seeing how weak you looked. Your cheeks were slightly sunken in and your face was completely pale. The dark circles dominated your eyes, making your face look more like a mummy as opposed to a living breathing person. He looked at your arm with a blood bag hooked to it. When he looked up at Bin he could see that it took everything in Bin’s body not to kill him.

Bin just mouthed to him, “What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” The more that he looked at Chan the more he wanted to rip him apart. He looked well rested, smelled like he showered, hell he even did his hair. That pissed Changbin off. You’d think that he would at least look more disheveled. Given, he could see that he did look worried and sad. He didn’t look guilty.

Chris just ignored him and kept looking at you. Chris was transfixed on you. He was even more transfixed by your hold on Changbin. You looked like you were cuddling your favorite teddy bear. He remembered the last time you held him like that. Yesterday morning, when he came home to sleep for two hours, the minute the bed dipped you subconsciously reached for him, and he slightly rolled his eyes as he succumbed to his fate, smile on his face. You sighed so happily, you mumbled, ‘Mhmm missed you, love you,’ as you kissed his bare chest, and just like you’re positioned now, you were asleep. Now seeing you holding Bin like that makes jealousy more prominent in his mind.

It makes him sick to think about all of this as he plays with his wedding ring, thinking about not feeling you again, your hugs, your breath on his skin. The moans that’d he pull out of you, soothing his soul. The looks that’d make his heart stop. The giggle that’d be forced out even if you were mad. Not having the feeling of your skin on his, these thoughts make him want to die. He’s trying to actively ignore it. He’s trying to ignore the fact that he did something so disgusting, so unforgivable that he lost you. For him, it’s easier to be angry, angry and convinced that you’ll come back. That’s why he is doing what he is doing. That’s why he walked with bravado into that room.

He went to put some hair behind your ear just to have some contact and I.N’s hand flew out and wrapped his hand around his wrist. His jaw set. Bin wanted to do the exact same but it’d jolt you.

I.N. growled “No.. touching… get out of the room,” his brows furrowed, his usually soft eyes looking more like a piercing gaze.

Being the maknae, he has never challenged Chan before… At all. There’s a good reason as to why he is challenging him right now. Innah has always felt like he was awkward. He didn’t really know where he belonged in the team. Yes, he has a good voice and yes he’s good with choreography but he never really hung out with people other than Seungmin and Felix.

You being the person you are, you figured it out. He was watching one day, just seeing all of the members interacting, some of the older ones trying to bring him into the fold but it seemed ingenuine to him. Like he was the little brother that had to be included or Dad would get mad. You truly found the things that he loved interesting, really talked to him, and made him feel safe and welcomed.

There was one particularly hard night for him. Nothing went right that day and he was tired, frustrated, and needed to feel safe. He didn’t know where to go or who to go to. So he called you without knowing why. You picked up and the minute he heard your voice he started crying. You ran to his dorm. No one else was home, and of course, Chan was nowhere in sight. So you stood with him, talked, and cooked a midnight dinner with him. Got him to laugh, you both passed out on the couch after watching some anime.

After that night that no one knows about except the boys in the Danceracha house, I.N. was just like Hyunjin, except he’d do drive-by hugs, sometimes just falling on you giggling and looking for hugs and head scratches, like the fox he is. There were other times when he would just stand behind you, put his chin on the top of your head and say, “What are we doing here Y/N/N…. I am BORED” as he’d flop on you, “Let’s get Ramyeon.” You’d laugh and say, “How about this… you get through today… and Ramyeon’s on me.” He still smiles at those memories.

So of course, I.N. would fight King Kong if he had to if it meant protecting you.

Now, seeing Jeongin doing this, standing up to Chan, just to protect you, his Noona, made everyone that wasn’t Chan smile.

Chan stood up to his full height and said, “I just want to be here for her,” with a tight lip at the challenge of the maknae of his team. Chan can’t take the disrespect anymore. Even though he knows that he more than deserves to be treated like this and worse, he is still in that limbo of trying to convince himself that this didn’t actually happen or worse, that he can fix it.

Bin felt your grip tighten on him…

You said to yourself that you didn’t just hear that voice. You squeezed your eyes shut as you wiggled up a bit to bury your face into Bin's neck. You didn’t want the boys to see you cry.

The cologne you just smelled when you were on Bin's chest, that was Chan’s cologne. The voice you just heard, that was Chan’s voice. There was a war going on in your head. Do you talk to him? Can you talk to him? What do you say? What does HE have to say?

“Y/N?” Chan said as his body snapped to you. Seeing you now burrowed into Bin’s neck and chest.

It made the jealousy that he had before start to boil. That’s his wife, after all. Chan was your safety. He was the one you run to, not Changbin, of all people. Why does he fit so well next to you? Why does the feeling of you slipping away elicit anger at others, not himself? Why did he see you buried in Bin’s neck and not his own? It felt to him like someone was touching his favorite toy without permission. Why did she go to Bin for comfort and not him?

“Y/N, Baby?” He asked a little louder…

“Stop calling me that,” you responded to him, muffled by Bin’s neck as you cried in your own dark cocoon, that was what you imagined when in Bin’s neck. Surrounded by him, he’d never let anyone near close. He was your safety bubble.

Bin just moved his hand up to pet your hair back as you fought with yourself.

The only one who knew you were crying was Bin, who felt your tears on his neck. They felt like acid on his skin, he could feel the pain through them, the fear, the rejection, the grief. He hated seeing or feeling you cry. The fact that you were comfortable enough to trust him with your fragility was the only solace in this for him. He knew that no one could protect you more than he could. That’s exactly what he’s going to do, protect you.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered as he turned his face into you, trying to hide as much of your face as he could, to give you more shelter to cry in. He hated that you had to go through this. You would think that for even one second his bonehead bandmate would put his own ego aside for just one fucking day to give you the room you desperately needed. It’s not even like he could make the excuse of thinking that you are going through it alone. It’s clear that you aren’t, Bin always took care of you. Sometimes Chan thought that it was the perfect deal for himself. He was married to you, so obviously you wouldn’t betray him, and Bin was so in love with you that he’d move Heaven and Earth for you. So Chan being distracted was never the issue, Bin was always there. In his head Bin was like a Knight protecting the Queen in a chess game. The king doesn’t have to worry about the Queen.

Bin’s tone with you was gentle,“You tell me to get him out and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” His face read danger, eyes never leaving Chris.

You really didn’t know what to do. You are at a loss really. You just got about half an hour in nearly 30+ hours of being awake. One thing you do know is that you are feeling your pain uptick at the thought of leaving Bin’s neck.

“Please, let me talk to you,” Chris pleaded with you. He tried to touch you.

Jeongin stopped him again, gripping his wrist. His grip was bruising in strength this time, “She did not say you could touch her. So you are keeping your hand to yourself. Either that or I rip it off, understand?”

Bin’s jaw was tight, if Chris made one more move, Bin was going to gently switch out with Seungmin, just to murder Chris, then switch out again so you could sleep, very simple.

“At least let me see your face, Baby,” Chris said as he yanked his hand from I.N’s grip.

Then you spoke again… your tone now carrying an authoritative air, “I told you not to call me that fucking name. I heard it enough when you were fucking her in our bed. Take that name and shove it, Chris.”

“As for seeing my face, you don’t deserve to see it after what you did to me. Neither of you deserve to see my face.”

“Give us the room,” Chan ordered. He was doing his best to keep his composure and to try to gauge how much control he lost of the group. He is very much aware of the fact that the power dynamic has changed. Chan knows that they don’t even respect him, let alone trust him. Another thing that he knows is that he would feel the same way.

He’s also embarrassed, not at what he’s done but at the fact that his members found out. The fact that he was caught with his pants down, both literally and figuratively. The fact that his members watched him do something so amoral was something that he was pissed off about. Not as much at the fact that he had no moral compass, but it was the fact that they reacted the way they did. They screamed at him, Chris, Bang Chan, their elder. They challenged his authority left and right. The fact that they’re rebelling only added fuel to the fire. He wanted, needed to get control back.

As far as he was concerned, this was all something that he could come back from. You love him, right? So obviously you’ll come back. You sunk 5 years into him, of course you’ll be back. There was far too many decent memories for you to check out now. You’re hurt, demoralized, angry, yes. However, knowing the peacekeeper you are, you’ll be back, he knows it. Why can’t they see that, why can’t they fight for him just as hard as they are fighting for you. Why can’t they get their noses out of his marriage and watch some K-Drama like they always do instead of driving a wedge further in between himself and his wife.

The frustration alone made him want to lose his composure. Everyone has their role, that is something he is an avid believer in. To you, Chan is the protector, he’s the one to chase all the bad things away, he is your husband. Changbin is your friend, nothing more. So it drove Chan crazy to see you relax in Bin’s arms.

He felt like Bin had no business in a bed with you. It being completely lost on him that he did the same thing, but worse with his wife’s best friend. Bin is not there to sexually gratify you, he is there to hold whatever’s left of you together.

Bin is trying desperately to reassure you, to look at all of your broken pieces and help you, to let you know that he won’t let Chris close enough to hurt you again.

When Chris ordered everyone to give him the room, not one person moved a muscle. All they did was look at you, waiting for an answer.

Bin whispered to you, “Do you want us to leave?” Internally he was praying that you wouldn’t want him to go. He as well as the rest of the boys don’t trust Chris as far as they can throw him.

You shook your head, “Can’t take it.” You knew that there would be no way that you could have this conversation alone, you’d be right back to square one. If you were honest there isn’t a way you can see this going well. You are still really weak. You can’t do much of anything at all yet, even needing help shifting in your own bed. Not to mention the person who did it to you is demanding an audience with you like you didn’t just go through a near-death experience and is barking orders at your boys. You couldn’t even scream at him for that.

Bin looked at the boys and said, “We aren’t going anywhere, Y/N’s orders.”

With that all of the boys had a seat, smiles on their faces as if to say try us, we dare you.

Chan’s face turned hard at that. It was worse than he thought… Not only did he lose control, he handed all of it over to you on a silver platter. Chan is an A personality type. He is very particular, one of those places he’s particular about is that he is the Alpha. He is the leader, the spearhead. So for everyone to do this, made him not only mad, but scared. He isn’t used to not being in control. That made his tone harsh as he barked,“Look, I know that you are in pain and I know that you don’t even want to see me right now, but we need to talk in private.”

Immediately I.N. bristled and took a step to him, Minho getting up and claiming the bottom half of the bed, looming on the post of it, glaring at Chan.

Felix growled, “Watch your tone, you aren’t the one calling the shots, Chris.” as he bore daggers into Chris’ forehead, standing at the ready.

You didn’t respond and Chan said something that made your blood boil,something he knew you couldn’t ignore, “It was mine too.”

It..IT?! Your heart cracked again as you left your cocoon, “IT?!” You raised your voice. You winced at the pain the movement caused. “MY child was not an IT… THEY WERE HERE CHRIS.” You grabbed your stomach, feeling your diaphragm scream at you to be quiet, your abdominals agreeing full-heartedly. “YOU gave up ANY parentage by fucking someone else when we were trying to have a baby for TWO FUCKING YEARS!”

“WHAT?!” Han exclaimed. Han started to see red, yet again… Han thought to himself, They were trying to have a baby for 2 years?!. Han looked briefly at everyone else, their faces set in the same murderous stare that resided on Han.

Meanwhile, Bin didn’t let that sink in, he was too busy noticing you started looking slightly confused and woozy. Whatever little color you had was turning more grey by the second.

“Y/N you need to breathe,” Bin tried to remind you. He tried his best to guide you back down but you weren't having it. Your anger taking control. He had a sinking feeling as his own heartrate picked up.

You thought for a few minutes and said, “I still can’t believe it, you know? It’s like last night was a horrible nightmare but, the pain, the blood… It really happened. My baby is really gone.” A stray tear ran down your face, “I don’t want to believe it. It hurts too much. But my body knows. It feels different. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t… I can’t…”

Bin was watching your heart rate, the last time you tried to revisit this, you had to be sedated and apparently, Han is thinking the same thing. He looked at the monitors and got a bad feeling.

“I just wanted to surprise you, to show you how much I love you! To let you know that I am there for you and you repay me by emotionally cheating on me with my BEST FRIEND for a YEAR and physically cheating for two whole months?! NOW YOU WANT A PRIVATE CONVERSATION?! How is this for a private conversation.” You felt your body starting to fail again. The rage coursing through you is the only thing keeping you aware of your surroundings.

Chan went to look away, he couldn’t see you hurting this much. He couldn’t come to the realization that he did this to you. You screamed with what little energy you had , “LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKING COWARD!” as you held your stomach, trying to control the new waves of pain.

When he looked at you, you said, “Here’s a little private conversation for you. I’m granting your wish. You said to her ‘I can’t wait to leave her’... Guess what?” You gritted out, “I’m leaving you!” you started spiraling back into what happened not even a full 24 hours ago at repeating his sentence back to him. Hearing those same words in your head, seeing the blood, the reality of it once again slamming into you like it did before.

The minute that last sentence left your lips, the world slowed down for Chris. He saw everything, the wedding, the laughs you both had. Even the simple things like how whenever he got up, which was always well before you woke up; he’d stare at you, brushing your cheekbones with his knuckles. Watching your peaceful form and marveling at how effortlessly gorgeous you are. Now as he watches you, seeing the shreds of you that were left, he had a realization. He realized all at once that the person he loves and has always loved is dead. She’s dead, along with his child, because of him.

You started staring off tears freely falling, “I just want my baby… Bin, I want my baby.”

Your heart rate started climbing fast as you stared at your lap, seeing blood that wasn’t there anymore, then blinking and it disappearing, your face began to show distress, as tears started falling, and your mouth opened letting out rapid puffs of air. Bin looked at Han and yelled at him, "Get the nurses, go!" The next second Han ran out the door as the alarms went off on the monitors.

Bin looked at you and said, “Hey look at me, stay here with me, Angel.” Then he looked at Minho and said, “Clear the room. Get Chan out of her NOW!” Minho immediately started getting everyone up and out of the room as fast as possible.

Chris slowly backed up until he hit the wall,everything moving in slow motion. He looked at the monitor, seeing your ungodly fast heart rate. The fact that you could die right now from a heart attack made him want to collapse to his knees and start praying. Chris was watching how Bin handled you, tears were starting to sting in his eyes. He was shaking, feeling the gold of his wedding band as he watched a man who was so much more than he could be. How delicate he was with you. Why did I do this?

He was staring at your face, he could see it, the heartbreak. He wanted to help, to take all of it back. Flashes of memories flickered in his mind. All of the opportunities he had to be with you but chose not to. All of the times that you would try to save him from himself, even if it was as simple as reminding him to eat. He’d yell at you and tell you that he was a grown up. I’m not grown. You’d remind him to get up and stretch, to be present in the now. You always tried to connect to him, always tried to soothe him, always tried to bridge the gap he put in between the both of you. His heart felt like lead, sinking further. His voice, his legs, his body didn’t move. It was Innah who dragged him out of the room by the collar.

Bin looked back at you, “Y/N…” He could see, you were completely dissociated.

You weren’t responding to him at all, eyes glazed over as your heart rate kept climbing, you were glancing around, clearly confused. What he didn’t know is that you felt everything at once. You could hear him like he was underwater. Your vision was blurry, and you really couldn’t feel anything aside from the pain in your chest at the thought of anything, because you felt guilty.

“Angel, look at me, try to breathe for me. Come back to me.”

“They should be here, not me. My baby didn’t deserve that Binnie. I want to hold my baby!” You screamed, “I want to take them a bath, feed them, I want my Baby.”

Bin realized then that it’s the reality that’s so painful. Everything that was around you reminded you of the fact that you were living and your child wasn’t. He could see the pain on your face as he gently held your face, trying to get through to you. “I know you want to hold your baby, I want that too. I want that so badly but I can’t give you your baby, that can’t happen. No one can bring your baby back, Angel.” Tears were rolling down his face at seeing you like this. Your eyes were constantly searching as more tears fell from them, he tried to wipe the tears away as fast as they rolled down your cheeks.

Bin got behind you, caging you with his arms and chest. He pulled you flush to his chest and ran his hands up and down your arms as he slowly rocked you. He was trying to provide enough stimulation to get you back to being able to self-regulate. You were only getting worse as he watched helplessly. He tilted your head back to see you spiraling further down, “Binnie help me. I want my baby please.” You just wanted to let it consume you already.

You quaked as you wished out loud, screaming without even knowing it, “Please, just let me die, let me go, I want my Baby.” You knew it was the pain, but at this point, not having your child was worse than death. You screamed without fighting anymore. Sometimes the seconds would stretch as you screamed till no air was left to make a noise. Those sobs made you feel like your chest was in a car crusher. You couldn’t stop them no matter how hard you tried, but in your mind, there was no point in stopping them.

Changbin’s blood ran cold hearing you say that, feeling as if he got dunked in an ice bath. He choked on his own breath as he did his best to try to get his own voice to work. You may not want to be here right now, but he’s going to make sure that you make it. He looked into your eyes and they were completely dilated, you just lay on Bin’s chest as you made the decision. You were done fighting, the pain was too much. Bin felt it, he could feel the fight leave you as you went limp, crying.

He knows this feeling… this was the same feeling that he felt when you were losing consciousness. His gaze snapped to your eyes, no fight, no struggle. You looked like you were calling out to Death. You wanted it so badly. What was worse was that Death was answering, he could feel it in the room. Cold, dark, and looming.

His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge.

Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge.

“Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.

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ghouljams · 27 days

Text

There is No Pavement, My Love

Professor Love makes an observation, Professor Riley misinterprets it.

"I'd like to add your book to my syllabus." Love says leaning against Ghost's desk. He glances up from his grading, his eyes darting between the way she pushes her tits out and the way she smiles, before returning his attention to his work.

He'd worried about this after the conference. He already had enough requests rotting in his inbox for reprintings of his book. The whole thing was more trouble than it was worth, raised more heartache than he ever wanted it to. It was better left buried with the rest of his past.

"No."

"Why not?" He can hear her pouting, he stuffs down the smile it threatens to raise in him. How is it one woman can be such a balm for his melancholy?

"Never find enough copies," he circles a glaring comma splice and underlines a misquote, "it's out of print."

"Well then it's a good thing someone uploaded all of it to the internet in pdf form." Love wiggles in her seat, attempting to draw his attention again. Ghost gives a quick glance, his eyes fixing on the strained buttons on her shirt. Weak. He is a weak, weak, man. Always has been, that's exactly why he's in this mess in the first place.

"Cheeky little thing aren't you." He looks away, but his voice is thick and labidinous. The soft noise Love lets out make him think it's not an unwelcome tone. Cheeky indeed. She leans a little more heavily against his desk.

"What about just the forward?"

Ghost sets down his pen, taking off his spectacles and laying them neatly beside it. He knits his fingers together and rests his hands heavily on the papers he'd been grading.

"Why do you want to teach my book?" He asks, leaning to match her pose.

"Mostly just the forward," Love amends. Ghost shakes his head with a smile, drags his teeth over the scar splitting his lip before he can look at her again.

"Why do you want to teach my forward?" He asks again.

"Its a love letter."

Ghost freezes, his brain running through every word of his book looking for anything that could be interpreted as something so... romantic.

"Explain," he grunts, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits back in his chair. Love blinks, her expression softening in a way that makes Ghost feel like he's dying. His heart clenches in his chest. He squeezes his bicep, his fingers tight to keep himself from pulling her over the desk. If he could kiss that sad softness out of her smile he would. She laces her fingers together.

"My mum lived through Hell every day of her marriage to my father, I wish I could rest comfortably knowing she's somewhere better, but then I wouldn't be here, and neither would you." Love recites, and some long dormant crack in Ghost's chest aches. Her voice is softer, when she speaks again, and that hurts all the worse, "You spend 250 pages talking about grief and our comfort in the afterlife; talking about your time in the service, and losing people. Just because you wanted to make sense of your mum's death. How is that not a love letter?"

Ghost swallows the lump that threatens to choke him. He fixes his eyes on hers, hard and unyielding even when he can see sincerity shining through her expression. He can't stand it. Tenderness is a privilege, she should never assume such a softness about him.

"It's a book," He tells her firmly, "one that's better off buried."

"It's part of you," She tries, "an important one."

"If you're done teasin' me,"

"I'm not-

"You can get out," Ghost powers through her objection, nods towards the door. Love opens her mouth and her raises a brow, "Go on, be cute for someone else."

There's a hurt in her eyes when she closes her mouth, her lips drawing together tight. It hurts as much as Ghost thought it would, but he can't have her poking around at scars like this. There's too much about her he should have nipped in the bud, too much he's let her get away with, too much he's deluded himself into hoping for, she can't have this too. She can't think he's more than he is.

She stands, and shuts the door tight behind her.

And it's worse somehow.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost mwii #professor!Ghost #professor au #is it really a slow burn if it doesn't hurt a little bit?#oc: love #I'll fix it in the next one #Ghost is tender about his trauma but who isn't?

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primussavethesemechs · 9 months

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I want the human/cybertronian life difference to be talked about more in canon

Cuz I mean. it’s RIGHT THERE.

Just a smidgen of true acknowledgment I BEG YOU HASBRO‼️

i mean come on all it takes is someone mentioning how long the wars been going for one of the humans to go “4 MILLION YEARS???? WHAT THE FUCK HOW OLD ARE YOU???”

And optimus or ratchet to be like “…5/7 million?” And all of the humans to have a break down CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUVE BEEN ALIVE SINCE BEFORE THE HUMAN SPECIES EXISTED??? WE WERE MONKEYS WHEN YOU WERE BORN???

And the (woefully uniformed) cybertronians to be like “??? What do YOU mean your species was still evolving when I onlined, how long do you guys live?? A thousand?? A few hundred??”

And the gobsmacked humans to be like “??? NO WE HARDLY LIVE OVER A HUNDRED ITS CONSIDERED AN ACCOMPLISHMENT?? AVERAGE OLD AGE DEATH IS LIKE MID 80s!! TECHNICALLY THE AVERAGE LIFE SPAN IS 72 OR SOMETHING???”

Cue the autobots being like “😨 72??? THATS A CHILD WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT⁉️”

the more attached/emotional bots looking at their charges and realizing that not only are they sparklings compared to them but they’ll die as sparklings too in just a few decades, causing them to straight up have a mini meltdown.

Yeah they’re in a war and they’ve lost plenty of friends, but never to anything as predictable and inescapable as old age.

It’s the seeing-it-coming part that gets to them, the slow dread of knowing that even if they do everything right and keep them out of danger and they stay healthy there’s nothing they can do to stop them from withering away in a couple of decades.

Most versions of bumblebee looking at their charge/friend and realizing his assumptions about the fact that since they’re both still young that they’ll have plenty of time to just. Live together and have fun- are wrong?? Immediately tears. Even if cybertronians can’t cry tears he’s doing whatever the equivalent is and running away to cry in his room. And then running back to snatch them and take them with him cuz HE CANT WASTE A SECOND IF THEIR LIFESPANS ARE REALLY THAT SHORT HES GONNA JUST HAVE TO SPEND 24/7 WITH THEM

This whole concept ESPECIALLY applies to TFP since all of them got their own little human buddy and there’s only like 5 autobots to begin with (of the main season 1 crew) they’ve lost so many of their own so recently, their numbers are already dwindling down to nothing, they’re losing the war and the kids are what’s given them a major morale boost. To continue fighting they need hope, and the kids have kind of become their hope for the future- to know they’ll die off in under a century despite how young they still are is a shot to the spark.

Look me in the eye and tell me bee wouldnt panic hearing that Raf only has 70-80 years to live. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME HE WOULDNT HAVE SOME KIND OF FIT OVER BEING TOLD THAT HIS LITTLE BUDDY (from a cybertronian perspective) HAS A LIFESPAN EQUIVALENT TO A LATE STAGE TERMINAL ILLNESS DIAGNOSIS. Bee would start treating Raf like a kid with stage 4 cancer 😭

I just KNOW bulkhead would have the worst reaction other than bee, maybe even worse cuz he looks at miko and realizes she’s used up basically a fifth of her entire lifespan already and she’s Still So Little and straight up starts weeping. That’s his DAUGHTER you can’t take her from him so soon it’s not FAIR! He might have to go destroy a canyon wall or something to let some of the anger and grief out

Arcee is Not taking it well either.

She JUST got attached to this one, just got used to a new partner and your telling her that no matter what she does he’s never going to last as long as tailgate of cliff jumper did?? Even if both he and she do everything they’re supposed to do to protect him and extended his life?? Depression time baby

Optimus and ratchet don’t react as much outwardly to the news as the others but inside they’re both 💔💥

These kids have brought optimus a level of contentment he hasn’t felt in vorns, and he sees how bright their spirits shine- Only to now know those precious spirits will burn out in less than a century- it gnaws at him inside, yet another strike from the cruelty of fate

Ratchet is devastated but refuses to acknowledge it, these kids- yes even miko- have become his pseudo grandkids and he’s not ready, nor will he ever be ready, to outlive them. Jacks reminds him too much of a younger optimus, still learning and still hopeful. Miko is… well she has a fire to her that ratchet can appreciate (when she’s not actively annoying him) she’s determined enough to make anything happen which he does begrudgingly respect even if he wishes she wouldn’t just throw herself into any and every situation just for fun.

And Raf…

Raf is his apprentice, the only one of the kids to understand him and listen intently to his stories of cybertron. To show appreciation for his work and his ideas, to Listen and Learn and Improve his inventions. He harbors the most fondness for Raf since he sees so much potential in him, and has taken him under his wing in teaching him cybertronian language and biology.

He feels almost like he’s training a student to take his place- only for the ground to be ripped out from under him to know that Raf will never have the chance to succeed him, will never even outlive him.

A parent should never have to bury their child, and ratchet already feels that he has.

TLDR the autobots find out humans have fruit fly lifespans next to them and become one big soggy mess of tears, optimus and ratchet included although they try to have a stiff upper lip about it (and fail to varying extents)

I swear this was supposed to be about any and all continuities but TFP took over completely😭 idk it just fits the best since they focus so much on how attached the bots get to the kids

Edit: btw this was inspired from the fact I found out that the cybertronian equivalent to a year (yes I know technically they have solar cycles which are roughly a human year but what they consider a year vs their lifespan/time perception is different) is a vorn. A vorn is 80 HUMAN YEARS. I saw that and went “oh wow a vorn is like a whole human lifespan!😃” and then I went “OH A VORN IS A WHOLE HUMAN LIFESPAN 😀“

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starlight-bread-blog · 8 months

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Zuko and Katara Aren't Toxic to Each Other

I keep hearing this take that's biasically just different variations of this:

Zuko and Katara would bring out the worst in each other. They would be fighting constantly, and their similar tendency to anger will escalate these situations. They'd both grow miserable and bitter.

I don't like this argument for a number of reasons, but I'll adress just one: I feel as though these takes miss how Zuko and Katara have been shown to respond to each other's anger in canon.

For most of the story, they're enemies. Prince of the Fire Nation and the Avatar's friend & teacher. They fight because they're on opposite sides of a war. They do have an arc before they reconcile, there are fights from The Crossroads of Destiny to The Southern Raiders. But in my opinion they don't point at toxicity. They show how Zuko actually reacts to Katara's rage. And it simply doesn't escalate even before they become friends. So let's take a look at a few of said arguments:

The Crossroads of Destiny

At this point they are pure enemies. Katara didn't see Zuko's journy in the Earth Kingdom and they don't know anything about each other.

Zuko and Katara are in the crystal catacombs and Katara starts yelling & preaching at Zuko for all he did do them. At first Zuko just takes it all, just listens to her. But he hit his breaking point.

Zuko (calmly): You don't know what you're talking about.

Katara then rightfully gets angry. And opens up about how the Fire Nation hurt her personally – they took away her mother. Instantly, Zuko isn't angry anymore.

Zuko: I'm sorry.

He immediatly understands and offers comfort. And even, connect with his enemy.

Zuko: That's something we have in common.

Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before.

Now the argument is over. They were enemies just a second ago, but Zuko was able to put it aside, realize that Katara was well within her rights to get angry, see her pain and connect with her. So much so, that he tells her about his destiny, about how he feels he's free. And Katara offers to heal his scar to help him too. She too understood his pain, calmed down instantly and helpped.

The Western Air Temple

Zuko has redeemed himself, but not in Katara's eyes. She still suspects him after he betrayed her. She confronts him.

Zuko doesn't get angry if defensive, he knows why she's yelling and lets it happen. He understands her and knows his place.

Then, she threatens him with death. And what did Zuko do?

Nothing. It's not his place. He has gained the emotional maturiny needed to do nothing. To take her rage, knowing it's deserved.

The Southern Raiders

At this point Zuko is completely redeemed, he saved the Gaang just this day and proved he's trust worthy on multiple occasions. But that's still not enough for Katara. She makes a mean spirited comment about him not deserving any credit and leaves. Zuko follows her.

Thus the hostility begins. Zuko asks Katara why can't she trust him? He's proven himself, everyone already trusts him. It's a fair question, and fair frustration. Katara didn't provide substantial reasons to why she still doesn't trusts him yet. She just reminded him she was the first to trust him.

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

He calmed down and tried to help, even when he had every right to be upset. In her next line, it became clear that she was projecting her grief onto him. Zuko realized this, what did he do? What did he do after finding out that Katara's rage at him isn't even about anything he personally did? What did he do after finding out that her rage is unfair and rooted in projection?

Says nothing & goes to her brother to help her solve her trauma. Regardless of it was healthy or not, Zuko was trying to help – not get angry at her.

All of these arguments happen before they even become friends. After they did, they are nothing but wholesome.

This argument that they'd bring out the worst in each other has no basis in canon.

"But it doesn't need to be prominent in canon! They didn't disagree yet, and we don't know what it'd look like".

They did once: Zuko agreed to an Agni Kai with Azula. He invited Katara just so he wouldn't have to do this. Katara finds it unreasonable. But she hears him out and trusts his judgement.

Yes, it does need to be backed up by canon. If it doesn't need to, you can pick any two traits of any two characters and think of how they could be miserable. It doesn't matter that that's not how they are, because it's a hypothetical. It doesn't need to be backed up in canon. Now I'm suggesting that Zukka would be toxic because Sokka's sillyness would clash with Zuko's anger. Sokka would joke around and Zuko would be irrutated & ask him to take it seriously. But it's stupid. I just picked two traits and went wild with it. Same goes for Zutara. They don't act like this, so it's irrelevant.

In conclusion: When Zuko and Katara were "fighting constantly" they were on opposite sides of a war. The first time they talked, it naturally starts as an argument, but turns into a beautiful moment where they both understand each other. When Zuko joins the Gaang, he waits pationetly to Katara's forgiveness, takes all her anger without being at all hostile, does everything he can to prove himself, stays calm even when it's unfair and helps her resolve her trauma. After they reconcile Zuko and Katara don't have a hinch of toxicity. They don't bring out the worst in each other.

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

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Ok but can we have some hcs for Jason and heras daughter if he survived (because he did obvs ToA don’t exist????) because there’s so much cuteness potential we could have

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ I Am My Father's Son

content: jason grace x daughter of hera! reader fic warning: minor thoughts about like impending doom but mainly fluff!! author's note: THIS IS MY FORMAL APOLOGY I WOULD TAKE BACK WHAT I DID BUT IT WAS TOO MUCH FUN AND CAUSED TOO MUCH CHAOS TO SAY I DIDN'T ENJOY IT JUST THE SLIGHEST BIT!!

to say jason wasn't worried about the quest, would be a lie. his darling girlfriend's worry was slowly eating away at his ease, leaving his own mind racing with thoughts of funerals and leaving her alone. late at night, when she was fast asleep and curled up into his side, he couldn't help but picture her hearing the news, ungodly noises of grief falling from his lips and tears screaming down her beautiful face. every time, he'd pull her a little bit closer, wanting to feel her warm skin against his warm skin.

but, he'd never let her see it. she was doing enough stressing for the both of them, she didn't need to know he was stressed too, thinking over the chances of him not coming home to her. so he'd wave off her worries with comforting kisses and tight holds around her waist, pretending he hadn't thought over the same scenario mere moments before.

the day finally came, the two getting dressed in jason's cabin silently, for jason knew if he talked too much she would burst into tears. and maybe he would too. jason tugged on a sweater, the dainty smell of her perfume filled his nose and he couldn't stop the upwards twitched of his lips. once ready, he held his hand out to her and she made quick steps, stretching her hand out to link it with his faster than the speed of light. she scrunched up against jason's side, where he leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple. he lead you outside before halting at the steps that signaled the end of cabin one, your grip on his hand tightening. he could make out the vague shape of nico far away and knew he had to be quick, as that boy waited for no man. even one in love.

"don't go," you tried, one last time, whispering it softly for it to be carried across the small breeze that ran through your bodies, "please."

"i'll be back. i'm always going to come back to you, my precious girl. can't leave you waiting, it'd kill me in worse ways than any god or monster," jason mused, his voice just as soft but a small smile splayed across his lips. you darted your eyes down to the ground, refusing to cry but your resolve was slowly crumbling. jason gently lifted your head back up, forcing you to lock eyes with his shocking blue ones.

"i love you, so so much. i'm coming back, it's happening. i can't die without marrying you," he breathed out and your breath hitched but you shallowly nodded your head. you wanted him to believe he'd won you over, eased your worry into nothingness, in hopes it would ease his own worry.

without another word, jason pressed his lips to yours. he pretended not to notice the salty taste of your tears and you pretended not to feel the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. jason was committing this to memory; if he was going to die, he'd spend every last breath thinking of this kiss, it needed to be a damn good one.

"i love you and nothing will ever change that," you muttered against his lips as you guys parted and you could feel jason smile softly at your words. he took a few steps back, your linked hands stretching like a bridge between the two of you.

"i'll see you later?" jason offered, like he was departing on a life or death question. another step back, the bridge stretched further and raised slightly higher.

"you better, jason grace," you replied, quirking what you hoped to be a lighthearted smile. jason stood still for a moment before, without much desire to do so, taking another step back and the bridge of lover's arms crumbled and collapsed. your hand left his and found a home over your heart, warm fingers spreading to add a layer of protection to the delicate and thudding muscle.

jason thought of you every day on that quest. really, you never seemed to leave his mind. midbattle?? yeah, he's thinking of you. while nico goes over some plans that are probably important?? yup, youre on his mind. in the middle of dinner, everyone talking about their days?? he's thinking about you, undoubtably, and hoping youre having a good day. but, you'd never been more present in his mind then his near run in with death. he nearly got stabbed, nico coming in just in time to save his ass, and instead of thinking of a way out or thanking whatever god just saved his ass, he was thinking of you...and how badly he just wanted to go home. he just wanted to see you again, prove you wrong, prove that he'd always come back to you. the nick on his side proved that one day, that statement wouldn't be true. but today? today it would be.

jason was basically running over half blood hill, his bones settling into the camp and feeling like he can finally breath again. the place reeked of memories of you and it would have smelled like you too, but jason had been gone so long your perfume was fading from his clothes. that all changed today, he wouldn't need the sweaters or shirt because he'd have you, tucked back under his arms, where you belonged. you had seen him and he'd seen you, heaving chests and tear-soaked smiles. on wobbly legs, you slowly made your way from the zeus, struggling to breath in the best way as your pace picked up. jason shrugged his backpack off, sure it would just slow him down, before also running towards you.

the son of jupiter and daughter of hera slammed together, the boy easily lifting his girl off the ground and spinning her around, tightly held to his chest. her sob ridden giggles were enough to have the boy grinning up a storm, her chest pressed to his and her soul reaching out to touch his. he returned her back to the ground, his hands desperately reaching up cupping the back of her head and keeping her close. she wiggled around his hold, her arms looping around his neck before pulling his head down and slamming their lips together. another collision, this one just as sweet - if not more.

"i told you i'd come back," jason muttered against your lips and you couldn't help but laugh, cupping the boys cheek and looking up at him with a surge of love.

"that you did, jason grace, and when have you ever lied to me?"

"never. and i've got forever to prove that to you."

naturally, upon leo's return from the land of the dead (-ish), jason was overjoyed. that was his best friend, after all! but, he also had a minor ulterior motive. whenever you were busy, jason would race off to bunker nine and met with leo, the only topic of conversation being what would be your ring. leo slaved away over it, jason being more than picky with it. finally, when jason deemed it perfect enough to rest on his lovers finger, he took it and shoved it into his pocket.

jason carried that damn ring around for weeks. every moment either felt perfect or not good enough. he was growing frustrated with the fact that he'd yet to it. all he wanted was to marry you, that's it. why was this so hard? one night, with you fast asleep in his bed, jason couldn't take it anymore. he gently ran his hand over your back and combed his fingers through your hair, trying to wake you.

"hmm?" you hummed into jason's pillow, your eyes still shut and sleep within your grasp.

"y/n, honey, wake up," jason whispered, gently, and you huffed out of your nose, pushing against the bed and focing yourself to sit upright, a yawn leaving your lips.

"what's up, jase? couldn't it wait till the morning?" you questioned through your yawn, your eyes still blurry with sleep.

"no, i don't think i can wait any longer. plus, i don't think you'd be very happy with me if we waited till the morning," jason replied, laughing lightly at the inside joke he was making with himself. you frowned at his words, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"jason-" you went to ask more questions as your vision cleared but they all died on your tongue as you took in the sight before you. jason was kneeling at the edge of his bed, his glasses haphazardly set on his nose and his blonde hair spiked up from him passing his hands too many times. oh, and a wedding ring proudly held in his hand and presented to you.

"i- i've had this ring on me for the past two weeks. two weeks and nothing ever felt right. but, i just- you looked so peaceful while you were sleeping and i thought 'i can't believe i get to wake up to this every morning for the rest of my life.' and realized that if i went another moment without you having my ring, i'd go crazy. so, y/n l/n will you-"

"yes. yes. of course, yes. stupid question, get over here," you cut in, instantly, tears forming and a watery smile on your lips as you pulled jason back on to his bed, allowing your lips to slide against his. during this kiss, jason found your hand and slid the ring onto your finger. and it was a perfect fit, because jason just knew you so well. you couldn't help but tangle jason up in your arms and he replied in a similar manner, his hands lost under the back of your sleep shirt.

tucked back under the covers and with jason's breath slowly evening out to fan across your neck, you freed one of your hands from the tangle of limbs. you pulled it up to your chest and pressed your newly bedazzled hand there, right over your ribs which encased your heart. and you breathed out a slow breath, feeling the metal warm between your skin and the skin of your lovers. and you were able to sleep, peaceful and warm, knowing jason grace was yours forever more and you'd be his for equally as long.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader

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chelleztjs18 · 8 months

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Love Language (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!CivilianReader (Avengers AU)

Summary: After Thanos, Wanda retires, along with a long term effect from all the missions she had and then she met you.

Warning: None, just some fluff. Mentions of hearing loss and sign languages.

A/n: Hello! It's me! I have a fluff now after the angsts I have posted. Thanks to my Curious George anon for the inspiring talk and ideas. Y'all can thank her too for motivating me to write and post a fic here today. lol. Welp, happy reading peeps!

Main Masterlist

Years of being Avengers was quite a lot for Wanda, not to mention losing Vision after Pietro. Mission after mission, countless fighting off the enemies felt like she was in an endless war without any possibility to end.

Fortunately, Wanda was wrong. After defeating Thanos, The Avengers are finally able to retire. Wanda is grateful that everybody including her are still alive, though it was hard for her in the beginning to get out the grief from Vision’s death. During all of the fighting she has been through as an Avengers, Wanda can’t escape the explosions or other loud sounds that happened.

It cost her an invisible permanent damage. Wanda has a progressive hearing loss. Her hearing is slowly deteriorating by time causing her to have to learn to read people’s lips in the beginning. With Natasha’s support, Wanda finally accepts her condition and learns sign language to be prepared for the day when she totally loses her hearing.

Then you come into her life.

To Wanda, meeting you at the grocery store near her house was the best thing ever to happen to her life. You brought back the colors in her life that she thought she had lost. You and Wanda have been together for almost a year. She loves you with all her heart. You are the life that she never thought that she would have ever again. Losing people that she loves has made her very skeptical in finding her happiness again but you have saved her.

You, you fell in love with her very hard. Heads over heels. To you, Wanda is perfect. No matter how much she tells you that she is not. You can’t blame her. You understand why she always tells you that she is not perfect because of her condition. Although right now she can still hear certain sounds but most of the time, Wanda can’t hear very well.

Wanda tries to stall as long as she can to not wear hearing aids. She doesn’t feel confident

about how it looks when she puts them on even though some of them don’t look that obvious and are pretty discreet. At this point, Tony has given up in trying to convince her to wear the one that he created special for her. She prefers to read people's lips than wear hearing aids.

Since the first time you both met and then officially dating, the communications have been easy. You always try to talk clearly and slowly and she focuses on reading your lips. Wanda sees how patient you are no matter how many times she asks you to repeat your words or when she doesn’t hear your soft spoken voice.

Wanda knows how hard it is to learn sign language so she always tells you that you don’t have to learn about it. She loves you so much that she told you she would wear hearing aids once she loses all her hearing to save you and your time from learning sign language.

With mutual understanding and how much both of you love each other, life has been very beautiful and happy. Both of you do a lot of things together. Her favorite is movie night together with a lot of snacks and drinks. Either watching new movies at the theater and sometimes at home or watching another rerun of her or your favorite sitcoms.

Wanda always tries to hold herself back not to ask you whenever she probably can’t hear or miss some words because she doesn’t want to bother you. Being the sweetest girlfriend you are, you always quickly pause the movie whenever you see her face looking confused because you know what is actually happening and then help her explain or ask her which part she misses.

Tonight, you just bought an older movie that Wanda has been wanting to watch with you. All snacks are ready on the table and you are waiting for Wanda to bring the drinks.

You have been munching your favorite chips while waiting for her.

“Okay, here’s your drink, my sweet.” Wanda hands you the drink. You take the drink and try to finish the chips in your mouth before you answer. “Yay! Thank you, princess.” You take a sip then put the drink down.

You have some more chips and try to finish the chips. Wanda notices that you chew in a rush.

"Baby?" She calls.

"Hm?" You tap her hands as a sign of your hum while busy chewing and turning your head to her.

"You know if you keep chewing like that you'll finish the chip before the movie even starts, right?" Wanda teases you with a question followed by a giggle.

"Well yeah, that was the point, love." You smile. Wanda squints her eyebrows a little as she tries harder to read your lips while you are chewing and talk at the same time.

"What? Why?" Wanda looks perplexed from your answer.

"Oh, I'm trying to finish them all before the movie starts because I don't want to be noisy with all the crunchy noise during the movie, so you can hear the movie better." You explained as you take more chips.

Wanda feels her heart melt instantly after hearing your reason, bubbles of joy fill her heart. Her smile shows up right away on her face.

Her hand grabs yours to stop you grabbing the chips. "Detka, that's very sweet of you. You don't have to do that, I still can hear it. Thank you very much for thinking that way."

"Are you sure? I thought you don't like crunchy food when you are watching a movie?" Now it's your turn being confused as you look at her.

Wanda laughs a little. "Well it's okay. I can still hear it. It's harder for me to hear it if I was the one that chew the crunchy snacks but thank you, y/n." She smiles once more and leans to you to give you a quick kiss on your cheek.

She snuggles up closer to you, wrapping her arms around you and looks at you with her sparkling green eyes, full of joy and thinking how lucky she is to have the thoughtful you in her life.

“What did I do to deserve you? Gosh, you are so adorable.” she says in a very loving, grateful tone.

You look at her with your blushing cheeks as usual, you don’t know how to react to her compliment for you because all you can do is smile and ask her back “What? What did I do?”

“Just being you, sweet and thoughtful to me.” she replies, followed by her giggle that always makes you want to laugh with her.

“Of course. You deserve everything.” You kiss her forehead and you hear her giggle more.

“Oh, the movie starts. Shall we watch it now?” you ask as soon as you notice the TV screen.

She nods with a smile.

_____

The first thirty minutes of the movie, both of you enjoy it together. The longer the movie passes, the more often you shift your position and it becomes too obvious for Wanda to notice.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You look at her with a nervous smile. “Yes, I am okay, love. Why?”

“Oh nothing. Your thoughts are pretty loud. I meant I don’t really know what you are thinking but I know for sure your mind is spinning right now. Like, you are nervous or worried about something.” Your Sokovian girlfriend explains her own conclusion from what she figures from your thoughts. Despite her power that can hear your thoughts, Wanda promises you that she will never invade the privacy of your mind. Being the overthinker you are, sometimes everything in your head can be pretty loud for her to at least feel them.

You are trying your best to not think too much so it won’t give Wanda a complete gift away on what you really have on plan.

You laugh, hoping that it will cover the truth. “Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” you asked apprehensively while you clear your throat. Bunch of thoughts bounce around in your head, memorizing things while preparing the right answer for any possible questions that Wanda might ask.

Seeing more obvious and a little unusual behaviors of yours, Wanda pauses the movie. Silence is all she wants right now so she can hear you just in case you are going to say something, but you don’t.

A concerned sigh went out of her lips. “Y/n, sweetheart. Look at me, please. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

You turn your body facing her now with your face looking down a little. You mumble a little and your hand slightly moves in a certain way as if you are rehearsing something.

“Babe, I can’t hear you and I can’t read your lips either. What did you say?” A line of confusion appears between her eyebrows. Her eyes try to look at your lips to read them.

You take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “Okay..” you mumble once more under your breath then get on one knee.

You hold her hands and look into her eyes. Comfortable silence fills the room. “Wanda, my love.” The beautiful brunette in front of you looks so surprised with what she sees, not from what she reads on your lips because you didn’t say anything but your hands movements say it all.

You continue doing sign language for everything that you are about to say to her.

“I’m so glad that a year ago you came for my help at work and asked me where the beddings aisle was, because you were the sweetest and cutest woman I’ve ever met. My heart skipped a bit and knew that you were the one for me right then right away. Having a life with you in this past year has been the best privilege I ever have. Loving you is so easy because you are perfect and flawless. I want to keep going, having life and loving you for the rest of my life. So, Wanda, will you marry me?” you slow down your hand movement when you reach the last sentence to show more emotions in it and right after that, you grab the opened little box with a ring in it.

Wanda looks at you in awe and can’t hold back her happy tears. Joy warms her heart. She is touched by your effort and surprise at learning sign language, let alone proposing to her with it.

“Of course! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Due to how speechless she is from the enormous amount of happiness, Wanda’s hand did the sign language for her answer. She then pulls you to hug you and kiss you.

Several quick gentle kisses land on your lips and cheeks. You pull yourself back a little to see her joyful beautiful face. Wanda’s hand gently rubs your cheek and goes to the top of your head, caressing your hair as soon as you two end up snuggling on the couch.. Both of you looked at each other with the look of so much love.

“When did you learn sign language?” She questioned you in a curious tone. “Uh, Tony and Natasha have been helping me with it at the compound, plus he created this app that can help me learn more by myself whenever I can.”

“Wait, so all these overtime at work the last few months? You actually went to the compound to learn your proposal lines?” Wanda giggles and her cheeks blush at the same time.

“Yes, I have been going to the compound and no, I didn’t learn only the proposal lines. I learned everything. I know sign language now, only for you but I’m not a pro yet, so please bear with me.” you answer after you give a few more soft kisses all over her that draws more giggles from her.

“Aww, that’s really sweet. Thank you, y/n. I’m so lucky to have you.” Wanda expresses her genuine feelings.

“I love you, Wanda.”

Those words are the most beautiful words she ever reads on your lips that will always swoon her off her feet, fall for you over and over again.

“I love you too, my sweet.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today from me. I hope you enjoyed this short fluff. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @imdoingsortagay @marvelwoman-sugarbaby @savethefbees @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fluff #avengers au #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen character

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celaenaeiln · 5 months

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i mean this in the most neutral tone, but, im genuinely confused with this eldest daughter syndrome dick thing? as far as i know, he never lives in the manor with other batsiblings and personally take care of them except damian, and just "yeets" from any possible trouble or tension within the siblings or when they have issues with bruce

No worries I totally get it! And I'm here to deliver!

First, to be fair to Dick, no one lives in the manor aside from Damian and sometimes Tim.

Dick lives in Bludhaven, Steph lives in Gotham U? She's been in and out of comics but otherwise her own house. Cass lives in Leslie's clinic, Tim alternates between the Titans and the manor, Jason lives anywhere that doesn't have Bruce, and Duke lives with his uncle.

However that doesn't mean they don't all rely on him.

I think the confusion comes from scenes like this-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Where it seems like Dick just left Tim to deal with Bruce on his own. But-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #10

Dick called him. When Tim when to him for advice, he gave him advice but also knew it couldn't just stop there. So he called Bruce to get it through his thick head that he's allowed to be happy. If there's anyone that can change Bruce's mind on anything it's Dick.

Which brings me to my next instance of Dick acting as the mediator and emotional burden lifter of his family. When each batkid dies (or almost dies in Dick's case), Bruce grieves in a different way. With Jason he took it out on criminals, with Tim he took it out on himself, with Dick he took it out on criminals and heroes, and with Damian, he wanted to undo what happened. He torments Jason about it, goes too hard on the criminals, gets worsened by Barbara, gets helped a little by Selina but also feels a billion times worse about Damian's death so-

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He locks himself in a simulator for days trying to see and fix where he went from when Heretic killed Damian. Nothing gets through to him so Alfred pulls out the Big Guns - he calls in Dick.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

"Richard just came in from Chicago to--"

"Talk some sense into me?"

"Yes, I've implored you to shut this...thing off and join the living, but you have turned a deaf ear for days."

"This calling in the cavalry routine is getting old, Alfred."

Since the dawn of Batman and Robin, Dick has always acted as the mediator for Bruce and the family. Always.

With Dick's help, finally, after days, Damian's saved.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

And Dick finally brings Bruce back to life.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

He took a destructive, dead-man-walking and breathed life and hope back into him to stop him from taking his grief and anger out on his family and criminals.

Also-

LOOK AT THE WAY THEY'RE SEATED. DICK IS LITERALLY BRUCE'S THERAPIST.

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #23

Calling in the cavalry always works.

Of course there's times when Dick doesn't help mediate. But the issue is not that he doesn't want to or he pushes it off, it's that he can't. What the hell are you supposed to do when the mediator who mediates all your problems is themself broken?

Dick really wants to help Tim but he can't. He can't find it in himself to barely live right now because Donna-his platonic soulmate-is dead.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

He really can't.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

She was his sister too. Pretty much blood.

I actually think the fact that Dick doesn't live in the manor makes the fact that he still takes care of all his siblings and their problems with Bruce even more important. To calm and rationalize down Bruce and take care of his siblings, he's constantly flying or driving back and forth between different cities, dropping his cases and work, ignoring his problems, just to be there for them.

For another example, when Dick hears that the newest Batman is causing problems in Gotham and Bruce just abandoned Tim to deal with everything and Tim nearly got hurt, he comes all the way back to Gotham to rail Bruce out for doing that to him.

Robin (1993) Issue #8

When Bruce teams with Damian their relationship so tumultuous but once again Dick steps in.

Batman: The Return

"I need a partner who can stay focused and keep up."

"Bruce, come on! I made a career out of not doing anything I was told when I was Robin. He gave up everything for this. You can't just take it away...you can't cut him out."

He keeps Robin from being fired and continues being Damian's support system.

It's not just mediating though, Dick fully steps in to take care of the batfamily whenever Bruce absconds or there's trouble.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #24

He's like the command center of the family.

This picture just embodies his role.

Batman (2011) Issue #15

And as Bruce once said-

Batman: Urban Legends Issue #22

He's really the eldest daughter and caretaker.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #robin tim drake #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

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sickeninglyshoujo · 2 months

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God you’re gonna hate me for this thought but after reading dad!simon all I kept thinking was

What if the daughter did die? Like id imagine reader being fuckin PISSED and kinda being closed off with Simon cus she didn’t want her daughter being in the army and Simon wasn’t hearing her concerns

oh i do hate you

but i had to write it

teared up twice writing it and said i cant cry tonight about this

part 1 - dad!simon

word count: 750

warnings: death, grief

buy me a ko-fi

They brought your daughter home in a plain pine box.

They wouldn’t let you see her no matter how you wept and tore at the lid that had been nailed tightly shut.

“Just let me see my baby, I need to make sure it’s her…Let me see her just once please…” You cried to her C.O. The man gave a pained look above your shoulder at your husband, ever your shadow, who took his silent plea and wrapped his hands around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

He didn’t know you could scream like that.

The days immediately after the funeral are the worst. You sit in the kitchen chair where you woodenly placed yourself after returning from the graveyard. Your eyes stare into the air in the space in front of you, unfocused and unseeing.

The kitchen hurts the most.

This was where you had so many family dinners, first with your messy baby in her high chair, a headstrong toddler demanding her own utensils, a gap-toothed child rolling her eyes at her parent’s sneaking kisses over lasagna, a moody pre-teen who insisted that she be allowed to go to base with Simon, a teenager too pretty for her own good asking her father about his time spent in the field.

You knew it was a matter of time. She took after her father more than you. When you argued with her, it was like staring into your husband’s face. Quiet determination and a total lack of regard for anything except their motives.

At 18, she enlisted. She laughed at your worried frown as her father clapped her on the back and shook her hand, “Welcome, Recruit.”

Her training with the SAS was supplemented by her father, making her truly a force to be reckoned with when put against her fellow recruits. She began bragging to you on her phone calls home, telling you all about how she planted the men flat on their asses in sparring!

Then she was no longer a recruit, but a fully enlisted member being sent onto missions with real gunfire and real danger.

You had never been one quick to prayer, even when Simon was in the service but that changed when your daughter started getting sent all over the globe in order to serve her country, until she makes one final journey home.

Simon stops eating at the table. He can’t bear to watch you sit there, eyes staring into nothing. Any words his mouth could form wouldn’t fix this. How he groomed your daughter for military duty from the cradle. Which of those trips to base was the one that had lit the spark that destined her for service? Was it one too many war stories told to her in the cradle when he was explaining where he had been? Why he hadn’t heard her first words, but that he was here now and ready to hear her talk his ear off.

You start to slowly leave the kitchen table: Perching yourself on the sofa in the living room, watching the corner she usually sat in.

Simon stops sitting in his recliner, opting instead for his office. He can’t watch you stare at the empty seat even if he had been doing the same.

It comes to a head nearly a month after her burial.

“Why can’t you look at me Simon!”

His head whips around, you hadn’t spoken much for weeks and now you were yelling at him, just this side of hysteria.

“I lost my daughter and now my husband can’t even look at me! I’m hurting Simon! I never wanted her to enlist, but you had to play war hero! You always had to be her hero and now she’s gone Si! She’s gone and I’m losing you at the same time!” Your tears are overflowing now, you’re swiping at your eyes and trying to not let them travel down your cheeks in a losing battle.

Simon’s mouth is agape, “Dove, I-”

“Don’t ‘Dove’ me! You haven’t talked to me Simon! You haven’t held me! You haven’t tried to tell me it’ll be ok and that we’ll get through this! We haven’t even slept in the same fucking bed together Simon!”

He had hoped you wouldn’t notice how he had opted for the uncomfortable loveseat hidden in his office. He had hoped you were too lost in your thoughts and grief to notice.

“Simon I can’t do this with you if you won’t help me. I need a break. I’m living with two ghosts now.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley #grave writes

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They cling to each other for a long time. Gradually, Eddie’s breathing stops catching with sobs, and he becomes aware of other impressions: the water dampening his jeans as he sits on the tiles, the muffled chaos on the other side of the bathroom door—people calling desperately for loved ones, hospital staff shouting orders.

And as Eddie calms, he feels when the hug shifts, when Dustin starts to shake, and it turns more into Eddie holding him than the other way around.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths, only stuttering slightly. Swallows and tries to gather himself. “What happened to your face, man, you okay?”

Dustin nods over his shoulder. “One of the windows blew at Ste—at the house when the… when the gates...”

“Shit.” Eddie pulls back a little, and he can see the evidence of it now, little pieces of glass littering Dustin’s hair. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re fine, they stayed there. It was just one window, the house barely got hit compared to…” Dustin trails off with a shrug that Eddie takes to mean compared to the whole town. “There was an old bike in the garage, so…”

“You biked here? By yourself?” Eddie had half been hoping that he’d somehow hailed a cab or something equally miraculous, can’t fathom just how dangerous it currently is to travel alone, so exposed, if the whole town is anything like the trailer park—

The ground splitting, blood red light, Steve’s blank eyes—

Eddie shakes his head. “Jesus, Henderson. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break something.” Or worse.

“I don’t care.” Dustin lets go and fixes Eddie with a fierce stare, eyes wet. “I—Eddie.” His voice breaks. “I said I hated him.”

They’re both avoiding using Steve’s name, like saying it out loud will mean they have to face the terrible reality of it.

Eddie pushes down another wave of grief. Dustin needs to hear this. “That’s—Dustin. He knew that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah.” A harsh laugh of self-loathing, and Eddie’s heart breaks at the sound. “But I still said it. That—that says—”

“That doesn’t say anything about you,” Eddie says fiercely. “You hear me? Not a fucking thing. You…” He pulls Dustin into another hug, feels the tremors of him crying. Squeezes tight. “You were just scared. No crime in that, all right?”

“Sorry, Eddie, I—I’m just. I’m really fucking scared.”

He has no idea if Dustin is really listening, wonders distantly if this is how Wayne has felt over the years, when faced with him. He just holds onto Dustin, hopes that it’s enough, hopes that it says all that he means. Christ, kid, can’t you see how much he loved you? He’d have done anything for you.

Eddie strokes a hand through Dustin’s hair, carefully removing pieces of glass. Oh, he’d have done anything for you.

And he did.

It’s only when they pull themselves up off the floor that he notices Dustin’s limp.

“You did break something.”

“I don’t think so.” Dustin stands on the foot experimentally, then winces with a quickly stifled cry.

“Hey, don’t! Here, just…”

He gives Dustin his arm to lean on, and they walk in silence. Eddie finds that he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what balance to strike. His usual joking would just ring false, but what he actually wants to do, which is keep double checking that Dustin is okay, feels too close to… to something that Steve would do.

He doesn’t want to be a reminder of all that they’ve lost.

They find Robin waiting for them outside the restrooms. Her face is pale, blotchy, and when she runs to Dustin, wraps her arms around him, Eddie remembers—

Robin’s arms tight around his chest, holding him back. He had caught the ambulance driver glancing at his watch, realised it was to check for the time of death, and now he's making a mournful keening noise he didn’t know he was capable of.

Denial flooding him, painful, overwhelming. He can’t accept it, suddenly, even though another part of him repeats ‘he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone’ like a lament; wants to scream, “You don't understand, he can’t be—he was just talking to me—”

“Why are you just—someone fucking help him!” He's reaching for Steve, but Robin's grip is strong; he just brushes Steve’s fingers, and they’re cold, why are they—

“Eddie,” Robin is whispering brokenly. “Eddie, stop, it's—it's not him anymore.”

Eddie breathes, presses his back against the wall as Robin takes Dustin’s weight with a concerned expression.

“He needs someone to take a look at that,” Eddie says, nodding at Dustin’s leg. His voice sounds normal, if a little flat. Oh. He’s numb, he thinks.

When Robin replies, she sounds similar, looks grateful at being given a task, something to do. “They're taking minor wounds on the floor below.” She gives ‘minor wounds’ a skeptical air quote with one hand.

They start heading towards the elevator, and then Eddie sees it out of the corner of his eye. Denim jacket, a flash of plaid.

He makes sure Robin is still holding Dustin before he starts to run. People jostle against him, unseeing, slamming into his shoulders, and he keeps fighting against the tide, because—

“Wayne!” he calls desperately, feeling suddenly very young.

Up ahead, someone turns. And then there is a familiar warmth around him, ushering him to the side, away from people.

“Eddie,” his uncle says, and he looks exhausted and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

The sight of him triggers a rush of emotion all over again, and the only thing Eddie can say is a choked, “I didn't kill her.”

Wayne’s eyes soften. “C'mon, son. You know me better than that.”

Eddie’s breath hitches again. Wayne holds him, holds him like he did when he was a child and had bad dreams, a hand cupping his head like there, now. We’ll make this right.

And then Wayne pulls back, eyes flickering over Eddie. “Christ, Eddie. You hurt?”

There’s a split second of confusion; Eddie glances down at himself, sees the blood and vomit on his shirt. Sways a little, and Wayne grabs onto him in alarm.

“No, it's not—I'm fine, Wayne. Promise.” He breathes through a lump in his throat and gets out, “A friend died,” which feels so inadequate for the enormity of what had happened.

Wayne stares at him for a long moment. Then he says, very gently, “This is something big, ain't it?” He gestures to the thronging corridor, to the windows. “What you got mixed up in?”

Eddie almost laughs at that. From Wayne’s phrasing, it sounds like he just got mixed up in the wrong crowd at school, when really, just a few days ago, lost in despair, he'd somehow found the strangest, best people in the world.

And now, he's lost one of them.

“Fuck, Wayne, there's—there's so much I want to tell you,” he says. “But I—I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

It hurts to say; Wayne’s always upheld the fact that Eddie can tell him anything and everything. He can see that Wayne is about to reply as much, but then he must spot something on Eddie's face, sense the fear.

“All right, Eddie,” he says calmly. “Not yet.” Then his eyes widen a fraction, and he moves forward, as if to shield him. “Aren't the cops still looking for you?”

“I...” Eddie shakes his head. He recalls having a very distant thought that he might get arrested as they arrived at the hospital, but it had gone as quickly as it came; because he’d seen Steve—seen the body get covered with a sheet, and Nancy's hand had gripped around Eddie’s wrist like she needed an anchor, nails piercing his skin.

“Not sure,” he finishes honestly. “I—I don't think so. I don't know why.”

Wayne studies him, then sighs. “All right,” he repeats. He doesn't sound happy about it, but he can read Eddie, read that there's somehow even bigger things to worry about. “You got people here?”

“Yeah.” Eddie blinks away the image of Steve's glassy stare, thinks of Dustin—Dustin, who still needs him. “Yeah, I...”

Wayne nods. “Go. Some folks got banged up at the plant, one of the nurses said they need volunteers.” He lets go of Eddie with reluctance. “Stay in the building, all right? I'll come find you.”

Eddie nods. It’s one of the hardest things in the world, to walk away from Wayne. He didn’t think he’d ever have this back. “I love you.”

Wayne tsks, brings Eddie in for a brief, fierce embrace. “I love you, too.”

It’s not Dustin that Eddie finds first as he retraces his steps, but Nancy, taking a call. He sees her lips move: “Mike.” Something changes. She goes very still, her grip on the phone tightening. Then, whatever she’s saying is delivered rapidly; she slams the phone down and runs right into Eddie.

“Woah, where's the fire, Wheeler?” Eddie says. His heart is already in his throat at the sight of her; she’s white as a sheet. What fucking now?

She breathes in and out, then grabs his hand. “Come on.”

They run together. Nancy doesn't provide any explanation as they hurtle up the staircase, as she leads him to a very quiet corridor in the ICU.

“Just...” She takes a breath, collects herself. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

And she storms through another set of doors. Eddie stands there, frozen. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life. When she comes back, she’s much slower, and she sits down opposite him, puts her head between her knees.

“What's...? Shit, Wheeler, you're scaring me.”

She looks up. Surprisingly, her eyes are dry. “I'm about to tell you something,” she says, “and... Eddie, I'd only tell you if I was sure.”

Eddie blinks. “Shoot.”

“Okay. They—Steve. He was being taken away. To the...” Nancy's eyes dart to a sign, and Eddie fights back nausea. To the morgue. “But then they... They've found a pulse.”

The words take a while to truly hit Eddie, as if they come from a long tunnel. When they do, he feels his legs buckle, and he slides down to the floor. He's glad Dustin isn’t here; hope, false hope, is cruel.

“Nancy,” he says, through gritted teeth. "That—that’s not possible. I—I felt him—” He can’t even say it. I felt him die.

Nancy leans forward, puts her hand on one of his knees and squeezes. “I know,” she says simply. Then she stands. “Come with me.”

But Eddie doesn't want to move. He wonders if it's all been too much, if this is a trick, if Nancy’s had enough and is finally turning him in. But then he remembers how she had held onto him as they celebrated the communication with Dustin in The Upside Down. And he sees her eyes now, sharp and earnest.

So he lets her guide him onwards.

He comes to a halt outside a room. Feels a weight in the pit of his stomach, like he’s at a turning point; that maybe this is all in his head, and he'll go right back to his bedroom, and Steve will—Steve will—

Nancy’s hand slips into his. She raises her eyebrows, and it’s not quite a smile she gives him, but the expression seems to say, Together?

As one, they walk inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispers.

In a bed lies a body that looks remarkably like Steve Harrington. There’s a cast on one of his legs, but what draws Eddie’s attention is his face, the waxy pallor of it, the mask fitted tightly around his mouth. That awful stare has gone; someone has closed his eyes. Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s holding his breath until he sees the slightest movement of Steve’s chest, the weakest rise and fall... but it's there.

Eddie turns away and retches. Nothing comes up. Nancy rubs at his back.

“I spoke to some... there’s doctors who—they know about. Everything. They told me that they're not really worried about his leg, it just seems like a normal break,” she says. Her voice wavers slightly, like she's fighting tears. “The... the bites on his stomach stopped bleeding, but... it's his lungs, they think.” She nods at the mask. “They're giving him the same stuff they gave Will, after he was in The Upside Down. They say it's the best chance he's got.”

Eddie thinks about Steve throwing up. His gasping breaths. Panicking. Fuck, he can’t breathe. Then—

“He was coughing,” he says. The memory feels hazy, as if it happened years ago. “When we were… on the bikes, to my trailer. I could hear him.”

He feels shaky again. Nancy draws up two chairs, close to Steve’s bed, and they sit.

He is aware, suddenly, of a slow but steady beeping. A heart monitor.

It doesn’t feel real. Eddie pinches the skin on the back of his hand hard, half expects to see a clock instead of…

“Fucking hell, Wheeler,” he sighs. “What are we gonna do?”

“Make sure he’s not alone,” Nancy says.

They keep a silent vigil. At some point, Nancy rises, flits out of the room. Eddie hears hushed conversation just outside, and then Dustin and Robin come in, Dustin hobbling on crutches. Robin makes a wounded noise, reaches forward and holds Steve’s hand so gently.

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him. Something in the back of his mind whispers that he might break the spell, that Steve might crumble away into nothing if he so much as—

“It doesn’t look like him,” Dustin says. He sounds torn between anger and despair. “He looks… gone.”

Eddie sucks in a breath. “I know.” Because Dustin has voiced his precise fear: that this is all that remains. A different death, but a death all the same.

It happens much later, when Dustin has been shepherded back to Steve’s house by Nancy and Robin. “We’ll check on the kids,” Nancy had said, “and then we’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Eddie told her, noting the sunken, fatigued look to all of them.

They’ve been gone for just over an hour when Eddie, fighting sleep, realises that he hasn’t told Wayne about the state of the trailer. He almost wants to search for him, but he doesn’t dare leave the room, even if he can only really look at the hospital sheets, his eyes darting away from Steve’s face. Dustin’s right; he looks gone.

He hears it half in a dream, eyes closing despite himself. A radio, faintly, from another room, a cleaner leaving the door ajar.

Leaving nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town. Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town.

He jolts awake sharply, as if his body is already aware of something before his mind has understood. Still blinking away sleep, this time he does not look away when his eyes land on…

It’s barely there. But Eddie sees it: the faintest of creases on Steve’s forehead.

Eddie stares. Then it clicks.

“Holy shit,” he says, hushed, afraid that if he speaks too loudly, it will all stop. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry—he ends up doing a mixture of both. “Harrington, is this your fucking song?”

The sound of the radio fades away, and with it so does the tiniest of frowns. Desperately, Eddie picks up the chorus himself, stumbling over the words in his haste; and this time, he sees it happen, the change from an unnatural laxness to…

A little pinch in between Steve’s brows, subtle, but there.

“Fuck, it’s really you,” Eddie says. “You’re still in there.” His eyes burn with tears. He reaches for Steve’s hand, holds on despite the lingering coldness to his skin. “Christ, please keep fighting, man. Please.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #robin buckley #wayne munson

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 14 days

Note

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #poppy sweeting #tw death #tw grief #angst

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cursedkeyboard · 4 months

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Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x reader #gender neutral reader #my ode to jason todd because my best friend is obsessed with him

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blood-grove · 1 month

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//body horror, monster! 141 + reader , death, gn!reader

other; c/n = callsign

a/n: idk how the military works neither do igaf much also this story was not planned this was just something i needed to get out of my system do nto expect it to be good

Shapeshifter!Reader whos always since they were a kid felt itch that there skin was ready to shed and peel like a snake, Who always felt like there body wasn't right had to be perfect flaws and all because that was human.

But they weren't human, weren't hybrid either.

The first time they had ever shifted they were eleven there Father in one of his moods again taking it out on there poor mother.

Something inside them itched at that moment hearing her cries there old dog bite injury felt like it was on fire now as they itched and scratched at it till the skin gave way giving the breathing room for transformation.

The next time they open there eyes they were being kicked there Mother sobbing as she screamed.

Father laid dead mauled beyond recognition.

Did you do that?

Why was she screaming at you?

You were kicked into the foster system the next day narrowly avoiding Juvenile detention your mother had given her last bit of gratitude by explaining to the police that you were defending her you thought she'd praise you after the police left.

You were packing your clothes that night.

You got a DNA test when you arrived due to your mothers alibi to the police.

Human.

They figured it too your mother being clearly traumatized and you sudden violent act of self defense could have made her see anything at moment.

Still didnt explain the injuries that only a dog could cause.

You were 15 when you had a good grasp on what you were.

By 18 you were barely you anymore picked pieces from other peoples faces and bodies till you felt like you looked normal.

By 19 your mother had passed the news reached you slow and the grief went slower.

By 21 you've already been in the military for a while now, If that means with a new face and body each time some higher up sticks there nose into your business then so be it.

Shifting from human to human was easy the more you practiced it.

More harder things like non-humans and animals were doable but animals were getting easier and easier.

You've tried been a K9 once didnt work out for long.

You've had a few nice call signs.

Few you quickly forgot.

[c/s]

Thats been nice to be called recently.

Oh.

Right.

You should focus your meeting your new task force.

Right.

We should focus.

Woof.

Heh.

Its been a few days and wow these guys were something.

Did you mention they were monsters?

Not in a negative way of course.

But getting to know them while they were around base was nice.

Gaz you felt was the easier to get to know the harpy felt open, Talked about how they've never had a human on the team before.

Nice.

Threw Gaz you got to know Soap, You felt like the man was holding back the calm energy around him felt forced at times as the days past both of them seemed to get to know you better and you got to know them better as well.

As for the Captain and Lieutenant you were honestly nervous,

Price had a welcoming aura to him his voice gruff and firm you warmed up to him soon enoug.

Ghost?

You tried.

And shuffled away every time he looked at you.

He noticed.

He noticed?.

You eventually did warm up to Ghost!

You realized he wasn't glaring at you for once and tried to talk to him it was..awkward to many silences but it was a conversation.

So you and him were okay.

Were you okay now weeks later slowly making your place into the team?

No.

You were itching beyond belief this wasn't a good sign—

Actually you didn't even know what kind of sign this was.

You had all just gotten back from a particular rough mission a few more injuries than you all would like you got a few stitches in your arm and every since you could just feel them moving.

Being shifted around stubbornly as if they were a dam in a river.

You couldn't do that here.

You were in the confines of your own room but what if one of them walked in?

Would they report you?

Get you kicked for the military?

Maybe if you could just shift slightly enough to easy the unease under your skin.

The sound of cracking bone was sure to grab attention.

But surely you could just pass it off as stretching?

You could not pass it off as stretching and you were currently hiding in the rafters near sobbing.

Gaz had came in to check on you and caught you half shifted you panicked and lunged at him or the door you couldn't remember you were pretty sure one of your bones were jutting out of your skin as it readjusted into place.

You didn't hurt him.

You were just hoping you could calm yourself enough to shift into something smaller and run away shift into a new person new age try again at childhood maybe?

Maybe you panicking too much?

There also monsters they'd understand?

You didn't mean to lie about what you were.

You just.

The fear of the unknown paralyzed you to afraid of what'll happen what people will think.

You know you could be a threat.

Someone able to take face and shape of anyone?

You could understand if you were saw that way.

But you didn't want to be seen that way.

Every since your mother stared you down in fear not admiration not even shock.

Fear.

You knew you could never let someone look at you that way again.

Not someone you cared about.

Maybe if you hid away long enough they'd forget.

Memories fade.

Faces fade from recognition.

But that's all what you wished what have happened.

Now you were in a awkward stare off with Gaz not to subtly watched your arm pop and snap back into place along with your head.

"I see I should have knocked.."

"Yeah you should have."

A voice of not your own replied.

You hated when your body was out of sync.

You were using the wrong voice again, rearranging your own brain and vocal cords was odd.

Odder when one of your new teammates watched.

"Are- Are you okay?-"

"No" Ghost's voice replied.

"Oh..I-..Er..Do you..need a medic I.."

"No" Your own voice replied finally.

"Can you please leave..My ribs are still not in place and I doubt you'd want to see how that works."

He left.

Probably to tell Price rather then not wanting to see you basically play with your own rib cage like tuning a piano.

a/n; idk where this was going i did not plan this out i just wrote it on a whim

#cod #reader #task force 141 #cod 141 #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john price #soap cod #john soap mactavish #cod ghost #gaz garrick #gaz cod #monster 141 #gn reader

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