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#radioactive anon back at it again
niceminipotato · 3 months
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What are some of your favorite Lady D fics? I just saw your post and it's a fic I've never read before! Do you have any other (perhaps ones that aren't as popular or that are older) that you recommend?
Anon!! Hi 👋🏻
I shall absolutely share some of my faves. I only say some because I know I’ll forget some. Have a new phone so my open tabs were sent to the ether. My tablet has them but I don’t have it on me right now.
I will separate by Completed vs In Progress. Make sure to read the content warnings just in case. Gotta always take care of yourself. Also these include Lady D x Reader and Lady D x OC. Oh and these are all in AO3 😉
Ok here we go…
Completed:
Bewitched by Soft_astral
I'm Begging for Mercy on my Mind by AYeti (remember to read the warnings/tags)
Found by WitchyLove14
Safety by DemonOfPuns (I know it’s better known but still a fave so I gotta ya know)
Has Anyone Ever Held You? by theacerbicace (short and sweet)
Different Blood by Miss_V_257 (I remember finding this one and being like, where the hell have you been? lol)
The Photographer by ZeroInvador
In progress:
Some Monsters Are Born by Wolfsbane14
Queen of the Damned by Wolfsbane14
Shield Me also by Wolfsbane14
Maiden of Thorns, Countess of Blood by Radioactive Paws
The Lord’s Cook by Spurs_That_Jingle
The Devil’s Den by littlelesbinonny
I’ll Make You Sing by tabtab317
Alcina’s New Maid by WillaLove75
The crystal is not for display by LadyOrlando (I read this whole thing last night lol and yes it has made it to faves)
The Fake Maid by decapitatedlegume
Untamable by Miss_V_257
Always Faithful by BlueFalcon (I know this one is the one that prompted you to ask but I shall say it again)
A Villainess' Perfect Partner by thesilverawooooo (this may have been discontinued but what is up is pretty good so I don’t mind it I can make up my imaginary endings until the author comes back 😉)
Failing Grace by me 😉😉😉 nah just kidding. Wow I gave you 20 lol guess that’s a lot lol. I hope you find things you haven’t read before. Let me know if there’s any you think should also be on my list. I’m always down for more Lady D amazingness.
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nina-renmen · 7 months
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So um.... hi!
I was wondering if I could request some hurt/comfort with Miguel o'hara?
Maybe he gets hit with a spell from a sorcerer anomaly and he collapses? Or maybe he's struggling on a mission and is bleeding out and just can't keep his eyes open? It doesn't really matter which one you choose, but I really would like a happy ending, if that's ok!
Thank you so much for your time, have a wonderful day/night!
Ps. You can call me Slinky anon!
Of course Slinky Anon! Thank you for requesting! I hope I wrote this like how you imagined.
Warnings: angst but ends in fluff, mentions of blood/bleeding out, Fem reader, reader has to cut herself. I used a translator so I apologize if my Spanish is completely off.
Summary: Miguel always hid his feelings from you. That is until he’s knocking on deaths door and the chance arises.
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Miguel waited impatiently, as y/n followed him. It was raining and even though Miguel’s suit protected him from the rain, Y/n’s suit wasn’t as durable.
Miguel hopped up on the building, Y/n following him with ease, but unfortunately she wasn’t as fast as he had liked. “Y/n, would you just hurry up-“
A whizzing sound could be heard, y/n’s spidey senses tingled and she dodged what looked like green smoke. Unfortunately, Miguel wasn’t as lucky. The green smoke turned out to be acid, practically tearing a hole in him. Y/n and Miguel seemed frozen in place as Miguel touched his stomach. Blood…Why was there so much damn blood?
Miguel felt dizzy, collapsing already. He was loosing blood as the acid ate away at his flesh. Y/n Looked over at the anomaly and quickly used her webs, pulling it over to her and reeling her fist back. The anomaly wasn’t strong at all, in fact it was a sorcerer. It’s downfall was it relying on long distance combat, never once thinking that someone would be able to get their hands on it.
As Y/n struggled holding it down, Miguel kept attempting to stop the bleeding. But putting pressure on it only seemed to singe his hand. Maybe this was supposed to happen…Was he really going to die like this?
A bone crushing noise erupted throughout the muggy air. The sorcerer Anomaly laid limp on the ground, its head slightly split open from Y/n’s abuse. Standing up with Bloody knuckles y/n sprinted over to Miguel, sliding over to him and gently pulling his hands away to look at the damage.
She winced slightly hearing his skin make a slight cream sound as she pulled his hands away. It already ate through the first three layers. Even if y/n brought him back he wasn’t going to make it in time. The only thing she could do is what Miguel forbid her from doing.
“No y/n…Don’t do it.” Miguel whispered as his mask slowly came off. Y/n pulled out a knife, ever since she was bit by that radioactive spider her blood could reverse anything that was internal.
“What else do you expect me to do?” Y/n asked taking off her mask. “I won’t let you die-“
Miguel grabbed y/n’s wrist, stopping her from cutting herself. “I can’t have you dying from blood loss-“
“And if I don’t do this you’ll die.” Y/n shook off his hand. Miguel was too weak to struggle back. The acid would reach his stomach soon, and if that happened there would be nothing she could do. He’s burn alive from the inside, and she’d have to do a mercy kill.
Lifting up her hand, Y/n made a deep cut as the red, crimson liquid seeped out of the back of her hand. Her blood mixing with his. Now she has to wait, and hope that their blood would be compatible. Miguel’s vision seemed to go in and out. “Hey…Hey! Don’t go to sleep Miguel!” Y/n exclaimed, lightly tapping his face to get him to wake back up.
A few seconds later Miguel’s burnt flesh seemed to be building back up again makings Y/n sigh in relief. Using her watch, she presses a few buttons before they were back in HQ.
“What the hell happened?!” Peter exclaimed, seeing Y/n, and Miguel. “We ran into a Sorcerer Anomaly, they had some sort of acid…He’s healing up but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Peter nodded, his face full of panic. “O-Okay. Um W-we need [blood type] blood bags! Clean towels A-and an IV. I need everybody to get those things and bring it to the infirmary.” He exclaimed, giving everyone a job before turning to Miguel and picking him up, throwing the large man over his shoulder.
“Thank you y/n….For saving his life.”
Miguel groggily woke up. The bright light irritated his eyes. Miguel slowly sat up, his abdomen felt sore. But other than that he was fine.
“Good…You’re up.” Y/n spoke up from the chair in the corner of the room. Her hand was stitched up and bandaged.
“You-You did exactly what I told you not to do!” Miguel exclaimed, his expression Angry.
“Whoa, Whoah, Whoah! I saved your ass, and this is the thanks I get?!” Y/n stood up, matching his tone. She felt hurt, did he still think that she was incapable?
“That’s not the point! You could have bled out! You could have died!” He yelled back, now standing up.
“And why do you care huh?! I’m just some annoying girl that you brought here to fight!!-“
“I care because I love you!” Miguel heaved.
The room had gone silent. Y/n’s eyes widening as Miguel ran a hand through his hair and sat back on the bed. “I love you alright? That’s why I don’t let you go on missions by yourself…I’m scared you’ll die.” He said softly.
“Miguel I-“
“No…I already know that you don’t return my feelings…If you want to leave then you can. I won’t make you stay here…” Miguel trailed off as Y/n sat next to him, Cupping his face making the larger male look at her.
“I love you too.” Y/n said warmly. “I guess I just hide it well.”
Miguel looked at her, searching for any lies, any deception. But he found none. “But if I’m being honest—Hmph-“
Miguel cut her off, pressing his lips against hers. Practically stealing her breath away. “Promise me…” Miguel Mumbled against her lips before fully pulling away. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in harms way like that again.” He said, in an almost pleasing tone. “Promise me Mi cariño.”
Y/n pressed her forehead against his. “I promise.”
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sadbearsplayroom · 2 months
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little jentha cg dismas headcannons (picture added when art finished soon)
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• Jentha just can't handle being alone while regressd, her regression is rarely pretty and is often sobbing, dismas comes over 80% of the time she's small just to care for her, help her feel better and make sure she's alright
• Dismas also regresses but he rarely drops under five unless he's very tired
• Jentha calls dizzy bubba
• They play Webkinz together. They both have far far to many webkinz
• Jenny loves naps, mainly to suppress feeling of dread fear and sadness that very often come with her regression (because they had a so so so normal childhood, obviously) it also forces dizzy to rest to because Jenny loves being hugged and cuddled. pressure stuff for hat 'tism
• the bane of dismas's existence is the fact jentha often sucks on her thumb- or just bites on any of her fingers instead of the like three pacifiers she owns, he's always reminding them to take the fingers out of their mouth because they're full of germs- especially due to her love for old toys. No matter how many times you wash them they're still gonna be at least a bit dirty.
• Jentha loves drawing furbys. She draws furby time lines of there evolution, her furbys playing, she's even made FURB-sonas of her and dizzy
• Dismas always makes sure to help her hang them up on the wall and say how proud he is and how much he loves her art!
• dismas likes calling her furbling and jentha loves it, cuz she's just a lil baby furby <3
• A least once every few winces murrit albion and Dismas all come to jenthas hive to play and just relax & regress together, the four of them are happy to finally get the childhood they deserved
• Jentha is usually really sweet while regressd unlike how she can be quite snappy while big, she does get like that when she gets grumpy and needs a nap though
• dismas also calls them sunflower (sunflowers can actually suck up radioactivity from soil!!!) Or jitterbug (she's called this by her goofy goober dragon thingy, I just think it's neat.)
• Jenthas actually been banned from going online and bidding on old toys while small because she tries to get everything and gets to emotional at the idea they'd go somewhere just to be resold for a higher price for 'profit'
She's lost to much money. Way to much money.
• Dismas is 'forced' (he loves it) into playing Evrey game jentha can think of with her furbys on better days
They've played furby doctor, furby daycare, furby family, and anything else they can think of
• Lots and lots of cartoon watching, it's often some canceled show or a show lost to time with lost media and missing episodes- or she'll watch the same deep dive videos about old toys on repeat because she's literally seen them all. All of them. They've all been consumed.
• dismas has to help with so many regressed panic attacks, it absolutely shatters him that he can't do much more than assure jenny that he's here and won't leave, try and gently rock her back and forth and tell her it'll all be okay. There's nothing else he can really do as she sobs herself to sleep but he still feels like it's not enough because he can't fully stop her hurt
• you wouldn't be able to torture this information out of murrit, but if she sees jenny obviously regressed an not having a good time on their lil screens theyll tell Dismas and will refuse to acknowledge it if brought up, often deflected with some middle school boy humor or somthin
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1/2 for anon!! This was lotsa fun
Still workin on that stimboard, suprise- when your mainly talented in traditional art it takes a hot second to figure out. It's going fine tho!!
I don't take art request, they make me very anxious it's just I couldn't find a cute picture to put in the middle so I said screw it. I can do digital art and make a peice of art myself even though Evrey peice I've made digitally gets worked on for a hour than never again because I can't do it for long periods of time due to myyy disability
But I'm on session two of that peice, and I'm on coloring!!
I kinda had fun color coding the stuff
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tropylium · 1 month
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An approximate tierlist of types of people on tumblr
Real-life friend
Online friend (multiplatform)
Dear mutual
Senpai (pls notice)
Formerly dear mutual (I don't mind their current business though)
Pseudomutual (good posts but I do mind something about it (possibly just posting volume) and so I only check back at their blog occasionally)
Content Creator (good posts but I have no expectations of personal engagement)
Fan (thanks for liking my posts, alas I'm not into yours too much)
Cool mutual-in-law (but also seems clear neither of us would like following the other)
Dashboard mystery (why am I following this person again do we even interact, I guess there must've been a reason once)
Ghost follower (AWOL on their own blog since 2016, last seen leaving one comment in 2022)
Median quality barely familiar name
Dark matter follower (apparently posts daily but never interacts with me (do I smell bad or something?))
Rando who once liked a reblog from me
Median quality random reply guy
Demispam follower (indie musician etc. who followed me after I posted one thing in a tag they track and probably has never looked at their dash)
Person at respectful distance (occasional shit takes haver but the ones I end up seeing naturally are fine. Most likely type of person for me to openly post snark at in reply)
Ex-mutual (probably mostly fine, just keeping my distance since the Incident)
Spambot (blocked, even if amusing)
Median quality askbox anon
Annoying neighbor (mostly shit takes haver but apparently a mutual-in-law multiple times over so guess I'll have to bear it since we don't have muting on here. Most likely type of person to vagueblog about)
Person at disrespectful distance (will unfollow people for putting their shit on my dash)
Shitstarter (blocked)
Radioactive clown (pre-emptively blocked)
Cancer (will block people for interacting with them, probably banned by now)
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bunnicherie · 2 days
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This is the spider man AU anon! Wrote a lil something
Being bitten by a radioactive spider and living a double life was certainly NOT on Dominik’s bucket list.
At first he had found the entire thing absurd. Spider-Man was always considered to be fictional. From comic books, videos games, cartoons, movies, and many other content, people loved the franchise and content that came out of it. To Dom, he didn’t either liked or hated it. It was one of his favorite things when he was a kid, but that was way back then. He didn’t expect to rekindle with his own childhood and enjoying any Spider-Man content ever again, but what he certainly did not expect was to basically become THE Spider-Man.
It’s already been six months since he got bit. Now it’s March 2024. While he had to continue to live on to the name of Dirty Dom, especially as he paved his way through Wrestlemania 40, he also had to go out during the daylight or nighttime when he didn’t had to work and make sure that everything was okay. Lately people caught sightings of this “Modern and Real Spider-Man” on camera, all of the pictures immediately going viral as well as with the inclusion of people making many theories and speculations. While some people believe and hope that the whole radioactive spider thing is real, others attempt to be realists and try to explain that it was all fake; that whoever was being that “real” Spider-Man was probably only pretending to be him just for views and clicks.
If only they knew.
Out of everyone, only Finn knew. He didn’t knew how to break the news to Priest, JD, or even to Rhea. He gulped at the thought of their reactions. The stuff he was involved in as Spider-Man wasn’t safe to be the least. The last thing that he wanted was for anyone that he cared about to be involved in his mess. He would want to keep them as far away as possible.
Every Monday at midnight, after everyone returned to the hotel from Raw, and after making sure Rhea was asleep, he would go out and patrol whatever city they were currently staying at. Whether he wrestled or not beforehand, he didn’t felt the exhaustion at the moment. But when he came back from patrolling at 6 AM, that’s where his exhaustion would hit as he would immediately hide his suit, take a quick and quiet shower, and then doze off on the bed until Rhea would wake up.
LAJSSLSKSL I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I NEED THIS TO BECOME A FIC
Bonus points if there's angst between Dom and Rhea.
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sheetsonfire · 2 years
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Dead and Waiting | Part 5
Fandom: Chicago PD
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Genre: Drama, angst, romance, thriller
Warnings: smut, violence, harassment, swearing, gun mentions, fire, injuries
Word Count: 3014
Requested By Anon: hi! can i request a jay halstead x reader where you work in intelligence with him and for some reason (maybe undercover work) you have to fake your death and no one knows, not even jay… but you end up returning once it’s safe again and he’s mad but also relieved?
thanks and totally understand if you pass over this request &lt;3
This is Part 5, click for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (FINAL PART), EPILOGUE |
-
Jay doesn’t know how long he sits on the uncomfortable patches of gravel and grass, his entire body is stiff from staying upright for nearly 24 hours. There seems to be a permanent shake in his frame, from the adrenaline comedown and the fact that he hasn't eaten.
Various people in your unit come and go from Jay’s side, none of them even daring to suggest that he leave or go wait in the truck. Hank had long since left to head right on down to ATF’s Chicago office, demanding answers from the brass. Jay remained resolute, he wouldn’t move until CFD carried you out dead or alive, and if they couldn’t find you at all…well, he’d probably fight Severide to put the diving gear on and go look for you himself.
Kelly eventually reappears from the water with Capp, Tony and Cruz, each of them looking as remorseful and grief-stricken as the next. Severide approaches, the cold sludge of the Chicago River drips off of him and his wetsuit, and the fact that he approaches Jay with such stilted body language only makes Jay want to recoil from him - as if he were poisonous or radioactive.
“Jay, man. I… We did an extensive search around the back area, and in the basement concealed under the building. We didn’t find anyone. I’m sorry.” Kelly steels himself, he knows how people can react to this kind of news, and he knew exactly what kind of temperament Jay could have in the throes of grief. He’d already seen it when his dad had passed. 
Jay’s eyes are vacant, his voice is not even a tenth of how it usually sounds, no longer cocksure or in control. “What does that mean, Kelly?” 
Kelly licks his lips, eyeing Stella who watches from afar, trying to convey that he had a handle on it. 
“Casey and Herrman’s search teams will complete the building search, if that comes up negative then after that CPD divers will go back into the river to conduct a, uh, recovery search.”
Jay didn’t need to ask what that meant, in fact, he really didn’t need to question Kelly at all, he knew exactly how all of this went. CPD divers would be looking for your body, your corpse. 
“Thanks, Kelly.” The words leave Jay’s lips, but he doesn't feel thankful in the least. He feels a chasm opening up in his heart, he can't make eye contact with the firefighter anymore, looking off into the distance at the river, like he would spot you at any moment trying to crawl up onto the banks. 
Kelly’s about to step forward, feeling like he couldn’t leave Jay alone, but Kim steps up to rest a hand on Jay’s shoulder, nodding at Kelly in thanks. She stays there with Jay for as long as he’s frozen to the spot, simply letting him process it all for as long as he needed. 
-
Upon waking up you're acutely aware of the cold, your body feels iced to the touch and you immediately begin to blame Jay for leaving the aircon on in the apartment again. He ran much colder than you, and he would usually turn it off before he went to work, as you would no longer have him in bed to cuddle you. Though, it was unusual that the two of you ever had days off separate from each other, given that you worked in the same unit. The seconds pass and you're desperately trying to remember why Jay would have gone to work without you, as your eyes remain closed and the mind fog swirls, the truth hooks its insidious claws back around your mind.
The gunfight, the fire, the water, the sense of fading, the sound of a boat, the blackness. It’s enough to make you gag, to feel like you couldn’t hold the emotions that surged through you. Present now is a deep ache in every bone and muscle of your body, as though a CFD truck had smacked you for six.
You encourage your eyes to actually open and check your surroundings. Blinking into the glaring bright white lights, your vision reveals a room filled with the sound of beeping machines and a hospital's clinical setup. It’s then that the awful dread diffuses into your blood, adrenaline begins pumping, and memories of the hours before come flooding to your senses.
Everything had come apart, you had no idea what the result of this operation had been, was it all for nothing? Had Jeremy Sr been caught, or had he scattered himself to the wind? Did your team know you were here? Did Jay know you were here?
You try and settle yourself, taking measured breaths to quell nausea, you try and shift in the bed, but you’re heavy with medication, and your shoulder is strapped up along with your arm, there’s a pressure of wrapped gauze where they’d worked on the wound in your shoulder. With the only free hand you have, you shakily reach for the cup of water that sits on the tray next to you, now also aware of the nebuliser attached to your nose. Another breath. Swallowing graciously the tepid liquid that somehow seems warm compared to your insides. 
The door opens, snapping your head to attention with a wince. Sharp throbbing sits at the sides of your head, pulsing into your eye sockets. There, in front of you, stands Agent Stensing and someone you don’t recognise, somebody in a doctor’s uniform - of sorts - the uniform has a federal seal on it. 
"So I'm not at Med." You muse, a little perplexed as you knew the city almost off by heart. No Chicago hospital had this kind of uniform.
The doctor is the first to speak, an older gentleman with very blue eyes. Intense like Jay's green ones, but with none of the warmth or sincerity. Your stomach sinks, everything was starting to feel unfamiliar, and you had so many questions racing through your mind. Yet, no helpful energy or words to verbalise them.
"Ah, Detective Y/L/N, you're awake. That's good, very good." He steps forward, motioning for you to let him check your heart and lungs, you silently let him do so, eyes trained on Agent Stensing with a wave of gnawing anger. You couldn't help but feel that the ATF's lackadaisical approach throughout this whole process had got you in trouble.
"How are you feeling, Detective?" Stensing queries.
You swallow hard, throat raw from smoke inhalation and swallowing river water.
Your voice comes out gravelly and strained, chapped lips cracking with each word formed. "Like shit, agent. Where's my unit? Which hospital did you take me to? What happened?"
Stensing huffs out a condescending laugh like you were some curious toddler asking questions, it only served to make you tense up even more.
"So many questions. That's fair. Well, Detective, I'll answer those questions in due course. But for now, just let the good doctor complete his examination, you have dressings that need changing, and scans that need completing. I'll see you in a few hours."
You scoff, "A few hours? What the fuc-" You try and sit up in bed, whether you were intending to try and get up you weren't sure, but it soon became apparent that it currently wasn't possible, letting out a grunt of pain as your body protests.
"I'll be back, please try to relax." The agent waves you off as he turns to leave, your monitor relaying your increased agitation to your doctor. For the first time since he entered you think you see genuine concern and attentiveness on the doctor's face, he encourages you to take slow, deep, breaths. Assuring you that the time would pass before you knew it.
-
It’s another hour before Herrmann, Casey and the others emerge from the ruins of the building with a silent defeated shake of their heads to Chief Boden, who subsequently turns to approach Jay who has been watching everything with burning eyes. As Wallace walks towards him Jay wants to scramble backward, to cover his ears, to disappear into the river himself.
“Jay-”
“No, no. Please don’t. Please. Chief…” Jay shakes his head furiously, angry tears fall over his tired, gaunt, face. The plead of his title makes Wallace want to crumble there and then. He’s never seen Jay in such distress. 
“We couldn’t find her, Jay. I’m so very sorry. The divers at CPD will be notified and they should carry out the search within the hour.”
Jay’s ears ring, his skin prickles like hot pins and needles being pressed into his skin, his face falls into his hands as distraught sobs overcome him. Not paying attention to the people watching with crestfallen expressions, not paying attention to Adam and Kim who pull him with his shaking legs and put him in the back of Adam’s car. Somebody would drop Jay’s truck off later.
He doesn’t question Adam as they pull away from the river and drive back into the city, he doesn’t think about the silent, curious, stares from other residents as Adam helps him into the elevator to his apartment floor. He doesn’t even really pay attention to Adam rifling through his jacket for his keys, opening the apartment door and gently guiding him to sit on the couch. Not even paying attention as his friend leaves him there, letting Adam go into the next room to call Will. 
Adam’s heart thunders anxiously as he waits for the other Halstead brother to pick up, looking around the room he sees photos of you and Jay are neatly arranged in a small collection of frames on one wall, surrounded by various bits of weird and wonderful paraphernalia the both of you had collected from holidays, date nights, road trips and stakeouts.
This room, in particular, screams your personality, the fun trinkets, cosy cushions and matching blanket hoodies for you and Jay, a joke at the time that had ended up being a favourite way to unwind after a long day, especially in winter. Then there was the scattering of plants that made Adam smile, you were always on his case about brightening up his spaces at work and at home. Confident that despite his declaration to the contrary he could, in fact, take care of a few plants.
So much of you had filled up their lives, filled up Jay’s life, and as Will answers with a confused “Ruze, you there?” He doesn’t know how to tell your almost brother-in-law that your future in his family had been ripped away from his brother and from him. 
Will had just got back from his shift at Med, the tiredness and the shock have him grabbing for the back of the couch as Adam gets the words out. “Undercover operation went wrong, they couldn’t find her in the wreckage or the river. She’s gone.” 
The redhead’s stomach drops, only imagining the state Jay must be in. Will had seen you as a sister-in-law from the second he’d clapped eyes on you and Jay together, he’d never been so sure of anything when it came to his brother’s love life. And now, to think that was gone in an instant, he feels the lump form in his throat. Letting out a frantic mumble, “Oh Jesus Christ, oh my god. Adam, can you stay, till I get there?” 
“Of course, man. That was never a question, please drive safe. Will, I’m so sorry.”
Will’s voice conveys the shock he’s in, immediately swooping up his car keys again. “Thanks…Thanks, Ruze. And I'm sorry too, I know she was a friend.” 
Adam exhales, eyes closing, "Yeah, thanks. Appreciate it."
-
When Adam steps back into the living room he finds Jay staring blankly ahead, still in his jacket, only the occasional blink convinces Adam that his friend hadn’t suddenly become a statue. 
“Uh, Jay? You want a drink? Something hot, cold…”
“Scotch.” Jay answers blankly, swiping mechanically at another tear that falls from his eye.
Adam hesitates, and common sense says that he probably shouldn’t encourage drinking at a time like this, especially on an empty stomach, but he knows damn well it’s what he’d want if it was Kim that was gone. 
“Of course, man. I’ll sort that for you.” He could work on getting Jay to eat once Will was here too.
Fifteen minutes go by and Jay is breaking into his second glass of scotch, Adam sits across from him in an armchair, sipping on a beer from the fridge. Trying to not constantly watch Jay for his next move, but he couldn’t help worrying about the helter-skelter Jay was rapidly sliding down, he knew this wouldn’t be pretty. 
Keys in the door startle Jay and for a brief moment Adam feels stupid for not taking Jay’s weapon away from him given the condition he was in. The detective stands in swift motion, gun pointed at the door. 
“Jay! Jay, it’s Will. I asked Will to come over, it’s alright.” 
The mention of his brother does the trick, Jay instantly puts the gun down and to the side, looking like a deer in headlights at the idea of shooting Will. The retreat allows Adam to quickly gather it up and put it in the lockbox that Jay had under the kitchen counter, 
Will eyes the commotion, exhaling when he watches Adam put the gun away, shivering at what that situation could have just been. He puts his own distress aside as he catches sight of his brother’s state. Dishevelled, covered in soot and mud, skin paler than usual, cuts and abrasions all over his hands, eyes glassy and red from crying and drinking. 
“Jay…” Will murmurs softly, turning to quickly close the door and hang up his coat. Taking a step toward him, a comforting hand comes to rest on Jay’s arm, Jay looks at the hand and then into Will’s empathetic eyes. His voice cracks, “Will...she…she’s…” It’s barely a whisper, Jay’s exhausted frame falls into Will’s embrace, shuddering sobs wrack his body, pitiful wails muffled by Will’s shoulder.
-
You try your best to not rip your doctor's head off, he was only doing his job and as far as you could tell he didn't seem privy to any of the answers to your questions. So you kept still and let them do the scans they needed to. The scans revealed you were still at risk of developing severe pneumonia from your smoke inhalation and water inhalation in the river, they had already started you on antibiotics but it was something to be monitored. You had a plethora of injuries, gashes, bruises, contusions, lacerations, and most notably your gunshot wound.
When all was said and done you were exhausted, but still determined to have an answer before you inevitably passed out again into a deep sleep.
Stensing does appear again after a few hours, this time with a silently watching agent Huffman in tow. You put forward your best "I'm fucked off" face, which you're sure doesn't amount to much with all the medication in your body, but you bite out "Explain. Now." and keep your stare trained on the agents.
"It's regrettable that it turned out as it did. Jeremy Burden Jr was found dead at the scene, and the driver and Mr Lutz were arrested. We believe Jeremy Sr has since fled Indiana, our regional teams are doing national and international surveillance, and he will try and make a move again at some point. To try and make back the money lost. As for you, you are to stay here and recover, this is a federal hospital facility, at a location we cannot disclose at this time."
You clench your good fist, you had so many things you wanted to pull these assholes up on, but you couldn't in your state. But you did have questions about their last sentences.
"Why can't you disclose where I am? Why isn't my team here?"
Stensing pauses, Huffman decides to answer.
"You are in witness protection, Detective. As such, you cannot know your own location, nor can you contact your team or personal associates. At this time they are unfortunately forced to believe you are deceased, until such a time where Mr Burden is in custody and you are no longer at risk, which also means not putting your team ad personal associates at risk."
You pinch the bridge of your nose, head spinning at the words you've just heard. Believe you are deceased.
Your hurt, worry and anxiousness boil over into anger.
"You can't, you can't do that. I can't, I have a life, I have a team that needs me, I have a husband for fuck's sake! Somebody needs to know! I can take care of myself, I don't need to fucking hide like I don't exist."
You're breathing harshly, the monitor protests against your distress.
"I'm sorry, Detective, but this is protocol and you will have to follow the orders set forth by the joint collaboration with ATF. We don't expect it to take long to capture Burden Sr, perhaps a few months, but you will remain under our watch until that time. Now, you must rest, being worked up like this will do you no good."
"Months? I'm worked up? You're damn, right...ugh, I am worked up, ...you're asking me to let my colleagues, friends, family... Jay, believe I'm dead. How the fuck could I not be worked up?" You push at your chest, trying to catch your breath that never quite settles, headache intrusive as ever.
The monitor continues to alert a nurse that you were in respiratory distress, she comes hurrying in and commands that the two agents leave, placing a full rebreather mask over your face, encouraging you to focus on breathing alone. Tears slip down your cheeks as you breathe shakily under the mask, the faint voice of your doctor comes into the room. Then, you're feeling the IV push of light sedation send you into a dreamless sleep.
-
End of Part 5
tags: briannareneea985 - mrspeacem1nusone - elius-learns-to-write - burgstead - @resanoona - @crazyaboutplantsandcpd - @wanniiieeee
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marypsue · 1 year
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Hello!! At the risk of sounding quite whiny I’ve got the rona and am quarantine and I was wondering you any sneak peek Sunday/Tuesday itd bits you could share?
Not whiny at all, anon! I'm sorry to hear it and I hope for a speedy and complete recovery for you! Have a dash of Max and El friendship from former heroes.
...
“You’re sure he’s not coming back here?”
El nods her head. Her bangs are sticking up over the top of the borrowed bandana she’s wearing as a blindfold. Even with her eyes covered, Max gets the eerie feeling that El’s looking right through her. Like Max isn’t even there. Or maybe like El isn’t. “He’s…stopped driving. There’s a sign. No…” She frowns, and the drop of blood under her nose threatens to drip onto Max’s carpet. Max hands her a tissue, and El presses it to her nose. “No Tree- Tress…”
“No Trespassing?” Max asks, and El nods. “Great. Then he’s out getting baked in the woods behind the lab with that loser Tommy. He won’t be back for a couple hours.” She grins, and leans over to turn off her boom box, which has been blaring static noise at them for the last five minutes. “Perfect.”
“What are we looking for?” El asks, pushing Max’s bandana up onto her forehead. It makes the ends of her bangs stand straight up.
Max shrugs. “Anything that looks Russian, I guess. Come on.”
She puts out an arm to stop El before pushing open the door to Billy’s room, ignoring the KEEP OUT sign on it just as surely as Billy’s ignoring the No Trespassing – Government Property sign at the lab right now. “Careful what you touch. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Billy’s garbage is actually radioactive.”
El frowns the frown that Max has come to know as ‘storing a new word to look up later’.
“Radioactive,” Max repeats. “Hazardous to human health. Like nuclear waste. Or the contents of Billy’s trash can.” She thinks about that for a second, and adds, “Oh, and if you see a tissue or a sock crumpled up somewhere? Do not touch it.” She shudders. “Trust me.”
El looks at her with solemn horror in her eyes, and nods.
Unfortunately, there are no convenient letters written entirely in Cyrillic or mysterious envelopes full of cash or anything lying around. Billy’s room is a veritable buffet of nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Also, it reeks of cheap cologne, smoke, and teenage boy sweat.
“Ugh,” Max says, slamming the drawer of Billy’s bedside table on the stack of dirty magazines inside. She’d leafed through all of them, just in case Billy’d tucked secret Russian correspondence in between the pages thinking nobody’d look there. But all she’d gotten for her trouble was an eyeful of a whole bunch of tan, lean, half-dressed women who all seem to be contortionists, and (disgusting!) sticky fingers. And the information that Billy’s got a Playgirl stuffed way in the back of the drawer, hidden behind the Maxims and Penthouses. Max is storing that ammunition for future use, if necessary. Billy will probably kill her for snooping in his room if she ever has to use it, but. Mutually assured destruction. “This is getting us nowhere.”
She leans back against the bedside table, crossing her arms as she thinks. “If I thought Lucas could get anywhere near Billy without Billy trying to murder him, I’d say the best way to find out would be to just ask Billy and see if he lies, but…”
El looks up from the heavy metal cassette she’s been studying with all the apparent focus and concentration of an archaeologist examining a mystery object pulled from a grave site. “Billy tries to kill Lucas?”
Max huffs in the back of her throat. She almost chokes on it. “Has tried. When you left to close the Gate, last fall?” She hugs herself, and then remembers what must be on her fingers and winces, holding out both hands at arm’s length. “He’s a homicidal nutcase. You really won the stepsibling lottery.” She looks around the room again, at the total lack of incriminating evidence, and makes up her mind. “And I have to go wash my hands.”
El puts the tape down and follows Max into the bathroom in thoughtful silence. Max is just drying her hands off on a towel when El asks, apparently out of the blue, “How do you deal with Billy? When he…” She seems to struggle for the right words for a moment, before saying, “When he’s trouble?”
“It’s been a lot easier since I offered to nail his nuts to the floor,” Max says, and El’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry. That probably doesn’t help you. Sara’s probably fluent in languages other than violence.” She pushes open the bathroom door, leading El back out into the hall. “Why? Is something going on with her?”
It takes El until they’re all the way back in Max’s room to answer that.
“No,” she says, just when Max is starting to think she’s not going to answer at all. “I don’t know.”
El spins the silver bangle on her wrist around once, twice, three times, before she says, “It’s not – with Will and Jonathan. It wasn’t…” She waves a hand through the air, frowning in frustration, like she’s trying to brush away the cobwebs between her and the words she wants. “Like this.”
“Like it is with Sara?” Max asks, and El nods. “Okay, but that wasn’t the same situation, either, was it? I mean, yeah, you kind of live with Will sometimes, and his mom looks after you…but he and his brother don’t come stay with you.”
“Will stays over, sometimes,” El says. “When you all do.”
“Not the same. And Hopper hasn’t been looking after them, not the way Mrs. B does for you. Right?”
El frowns a little more, putting her head a bit to one side as she chews that over. “Right.”
“But Sara’s living with you. She came out of nowhere, you barely know her, but suddenly there she is, sharing your house. Sharing your dad. Sharing your life.” Max gives her head a shake, flopping onto the bed. “Of course it feels weird. It’d be weird if it didn’t feel weird.”
El lowers herself onto the end of Max’s bed, carefully folding first one leg, then the other, so her ankles are crossed and her knees stick out to either side. She grips her ankles with both hands and leans back a little, still frowning thoughtfully at nothing much in particular.
“But I do know Sara,” she says, after what looks like the most careful consideration she’s maybe ever given anything in her life.
“Yeah, now. And living with somebody’s always different from just knowing them. Trust me.” Max rolls her eyes. “You don’t really know anybody until you’ve run into them coming out of the bathroom in their underwear in the middle of the night.”
El gives that a dose of consideration, too, and then a solemn nod.
“Joyce helped me make Hop a robe. For Christmas,” she says, a slow smile blooming over her face as she leans toward Max like she’s going to share a secret. Max leans toward her, too, listening carefully. “He needed it.”
Max tries, and fails, not to conjure the mental image. She gives an exaggerated wince and a shudder, and El laughs.
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commaclear · 10 months
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comma clear you sneaky little shit you foreshadowed everything SO DAMN WELL *takes out notepad and radioactive microphone* anything you cøuld share that most didnt catch onto?
-mud anon
Okay, so there's a few things abt chapter 29 that I'm not sure if anyone noticed bc everyone was too distressed by the very ending.
Tubbo's bluff at the beginning when they're playing poker is foreshadowing for how he saves them later
They're taken to West Side Highway to be executed, an allusion to West Side Story i.e. a retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in New York
Go back and read the scene where Wilbur and Quackity are talking, the umbrella is symbolizing a lot...
Also tons of stuff is going on in the subtext when Team Iceberg is trying to have a lighthearted conversation as they're about to be killed
Compare and contrast Quackity being driven to his death with Wilbur: Quackity fought tooth and claw to see Wilbur again but all Wilbur really cares about is getting the chance to apologize before he goes. Why is that?
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hrokkall · 1 year
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-🥊
Hi 🥊 Anon. Long time no see (I don’t actually think it’s been that long, but hey.)
Favorite thing about them: I wouldn’t say this is my favorite thing about it, but genuinely one of the funniest scenes in the Hex is when it’s inexplicably in video game jail. The answer to that is “Irving is an asshole” obviously, but the juxtaposition of Training Dummy next to an alligator, a giant dragon, a giant radioactive snake-worm, and Sado was a punch to the face. Free training dummy it did nothing wrong.
Least favorite thing about them: There’s nothing to dislike here. If you’re not a Training Dummy fan I don’t want you on this blog (I’m joking, but Training Dummy is… weirdly relevant here.)
Favorite line:
“…”
brOTP: Okay it started as a joke at first but the wizard pupils being inexplicably attached to the training dummy they’ve been using to practice spells on is hilarious to me. “Sorry I cast fireball on you yesterday. I was really excited to see that it worked but then when I thought about it I felt kind of bad… can I… um… sew that back together?” it’s like the wizard school equivalent of a stuffed animal that sits on top of the whiteboard that the entire classroom full of 19-26 year olds immediately deems the class mascot.
OTP: ???????
nOTP: See above.
Random headcanon: I know for a fact this is stolen from you but the concept of every game made using the Gameworks Engine having the Training Dummy somewhere in-game is hilarious to me. It’s like the video game equivalent of the Wilhelm scream. Every game designer HATES seeing it in the final game because it RUINS immersion most of the time but that just makes programmers even more tempted to sneak it in somewhere as a sort of game development inside joke. Having said that, from an in-character point of view this either means multiple training dummies or multiple reassignments so good luck to this guy either way.
Unpopular opinion: I was going to jokingly say Training Dummy should have been a talking card but I quickly realized that probably wouldn’t work. I don’t even know if the Training Dummy would have the required level of sentience to be inscrybed as anything other than a terrain card. As funny as it would be if it was secretly a person I’m pretty sure it’s Literally Just A Mannequin (maybe not? It does have custom inner dialogue when you challenge it with an invalid deck but it’s really unclear whether that’s meant to imply the Training Dummy is a person or if it was just for the bit). Sorry buddy </3
Song I associate with them: I was going to delete this section but you know what, I’ll add one for the bit. We’ll go with Tubthumping by Chumbawamba. I get knocked down but I get up again. You know the one.
Favorite picture of them: I like its Inscryption sprite best personally; the Hex gives it more detail but the Inscryption sprite just has a certain charm to it (plus, it gets a sword. Hell yeah)
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mattzerella-sticks · 2 years
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Hi! I'm "Season 3 redeemed The Boys" anon. I'm back.
They keep emphasizing how highly radioactive Soldier Boy is via the geiger counter. What do you think they're building up to with that?
Hello again!
I don't know if it's anything more than giving them a) a way to track him and b) a way to see when he's about to go into an episode.
Like maybe after he has his first smoke session they'll wave the Geiger around him to see he's down at like 22% radiation?
We already know his powers are tied to his trauma and represent his toxic masculinity. The only other thing I could see is them going "well his power strips supes of their powers. What if we figure out a way to develop a cure for Vought's drug?" Maybe like a sort of radiation therapy. It gives X3 potential.
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mikadollie · 4 months
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OH!! that ask that got ate was only about toxic doomed destructive nuclear waste homoerotic mentally deranged radioactive codependent stockholm syndrome boy yuri & girl yaoi with rinne. the contents in that ask were hmmmmm non-con -> dubcon, a little bit of violence, rinne‘s death -> hallucinations and obsessions -> necrophilia, cannibalism, self-harm and most importantly!!!! rinne pussy. rinneussy? rinnussy? (^▽^)
— 🍮 anon :3 if i ever have motivation again to write it back i’ll do it!! <- never going to happen
NOOOOOO BOY YURI GIRL YAOI COME BAAAAACK TUMBLR WHYYY....... rinne pussy... slides hand down window dramatically....
In my head i am completing the ask i am envisioning each letterand word you wrote........hbhggh....
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80s4life · 2 years
Text
Old Habits Die Hard
Word Count: 2,678
Status: Suggested!
Ask: Hiii i hope you are doing well ! I wanted to request a lil oneshot/imagine with eric coulter x reader . Where its like a old flame type deal , the reader is amity born and when they were teens they met and fell in love , but they grew apart since they were in different factions , butttt they both chose dauntless on their ceremony day and met again
@: a lovely anon!
A/N: I absolutely love the amity x dauntless dynamic! It’s so night and day but so full of passion and protection that the opposites crave!
Side-Note: Somehow, I read this differently and made them both come from Amity (I know Eric was a transfer from Eurodite) and I apologize if it wasn’t what you were looking for!
Fandom: Divergent
Relationship: Eric Coulter x Reader
Summary: You thought you knew him, maybe in another life. You thought there was nothing that could tear you apart. But, as years go by and growing ensues, time takes a toll on not only him, but you as well. You thought this was what you wanted, yet now that you’ve come to see him after all this time, the spark just isn’t the same.
Warnings: language, a little angst, sexual thoughts (briefly), FLUFF
Masterlist  Divergent Masterlist
Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands​
{I do not own this gif, credits go to -> @radioactive-creative-bug​}
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Silence. Stone cold, stifling, intense silence is what you’re met with after looking up from across the training gym. There he was; you almost wanted to scream. After all this time, he was hidden in the depths of an underground hole. After all the heartbreak and the lies, he stood proud and confident. It left a bad taste in your mouth and an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. He wasn’t like this. This wasn’t your Eric...
“Whatever happens...” he starts, eyes glazing over the rainbow flow of the ever running lake.
“Whatever happens would be of your volition and what’s right for you,” you state as calmly and empathetic as you could muster, more so trying to soothe yourself.
“Yeah,” he still doesn’t meet your eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts.
“Eric,” you finally look at him, unraveling your arms to delicately place your hands on his cheeks, “If the future has us in our cards, we will be together again. If we aren’t, time will heal us and show us a new way. For now, I want you to know that I love you,” you start to bubble up, the tears, pressure, and fear threatening to break through and wrack your body in sobs.
“I love you, too,” Eric cries, unable to look you in the eyes at all, falling to his knees and placing his head into your gut, tears staining your shirt.
Your facade breaks the moment he hit his knees, urging you to pull him into you further, hands sprawled across his head and hair. You pull him up, wrapping your arms around his armpit and resting your hand on the base of his neck, other hand coming to stay on the back of his head.
He buries his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in your scent that he’s promise to remember for eternity. He locks his arms firmly around your waist, even with the height difference. “I just don’t want this to hurt what we have.”
You knew either way that him leaving would affect everything. He was your brother, the boy next door. The cheeky kid with a side that could brighten your day, and a sensitive side that would keep you calm and give you someone to talk to. No...He was more than that. He was your lover, your best friend, your everything. “Everything that is broken can be fixed,” you look up, a teary smile on your face.
Your positivity doesn’t last long, however, as the last bits of the sunset disappear and darken, you start to feel just as hollow, cold, and dark as the sheets of stars cascade along the sky. Looking down at your hands, you tug at the tiny scrap of metal you’d found years ago in the junkyard. Almost guiltily, you pull it off, and outstretch your hand, palm up with the ring in your hand.
“No. No, please, Y/N/N. Keep it as a memory. A token. Something. Just. Keep. It,” Eric begs, his ring still wrapped coolly around his finger. “I-I just want you to have something to get by, or, to just- I don’t know.”
You simply nod, placing the ring back in its rightful place, nodding to him with a forced smile. As your emotions start to get the best of you, the sudden need to flee hit you hard, not wanting your last memory to be a sad goodbye or a full-faced lie. It already was. Every time he opened his mouth, more and more empty promises were being thrown with no one to catch them and make them a reality. Only he could do that.
A single stray tear falls from your left eye as you look at the 16-year-old-boy. “Goodbye Eric,” you whisper, taking off along the dirt path in which you came, eventually leading through the secret trail within the wheat fields, coming up to the pebbled walkway that leads to the nice cabins, quickly finding yours and running upstairs to your room. 
That night, you’d cried until your eyes burned red and no more tears were even able to be forced. It was dark and lonely, finally sharing the room with only yourself; your late-night visitor had no longer snuck his way up the stairs with the secret knock that made your heart race and the inevitable way your body shook with excited jitters.
That morning, as the shy sun peeked through the covers of the tall trees, you awoke with crusty, swollen eyes that just served as a reminder of what was to come today. And, only once you turned your head to check your clock, did the sentiment that couldn’t fit around your fingers sparkle in the orange haze. You wanted to curse at everything that existed, but this was life.
Your mother and sister turned up around the time you’d finally forced yourself to sit up and go through with what you needed to to make the pain swing by faster. Sadly, they helped you up, got you changed, fixed up your eyes the best they could, and sent you on your way with them holding either one of your hands. They knew what you had, they knew what you saw, they knew everything.
Sitting up in the back was the biggest regret, having the best view in the room. Just a little ways down, you could spot his unmistakably blonde locks, his long hair being a nice contrast to the rest of the young and old Amity residents. He never looked at you, never smiled, never fully explained. 
All he had done was sit and stare, and the time passed with ease. Due to the hierarchy of the alphabet, he was called rather quickly, still not taking the chance to look up. Not once. Even as he carves a wound into both his hand and your heart, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a look, quickly dropping his blood onto the Dauntless coals, bandaging the cut, and walking away to join his new faction...
That was 2 years ago, and as far as you were concerned, you were a woman of free choice and no longer the child Eric Coulter allowed to be swayed whatever direction he preferred, when he preferred it. You knew where you wanted to go, who you wanted to be - you knew everything there was to yourself. You were Dauntless, but not only that, you were going to stay Dauntless for the rest of your life, no matter the price. No matter whether Eric was there or not, if he still loved you or not.
On Choosing Day, you kissed your family goodbye, their wishes dear and supportive of your obvious choice. When your name was called, they smiled. When you finally cut your hand and bid your ado for the rest of your life, you gave them air kisses with an excited giggle. You would see them on Visiting Day.
...
Now, standing over the ledge of a Dauntless building, you want to curse the far different but still very recognizable face that tries to mask his guilt and acknowledgment of your daring presence.
Eric was no longer a lean, skinny-bodied boy with spaghetti arms...No, he was a built mountain of a man that had piercings on his eyebrows and ears that made you question where else he had them hiding. Not to mention the tattoos that decorated almost all of his skin besides his face, which was chiseled to perfection with ice cold, striking blue eyes. He wasn’t cute anymore...He was hot.
It makes you almost self conscious of your very plain appearance, still clad in your loose-fitting orange dress that was topped off with a yellow sweater and comfortable yellow slip-ons. But, as you find you are unable to look away from him and with him doing the same, you don’t feel so plain. 
His eyes have been traveling your figure, sizing you up whilst the initiates hop off the ledge blindly. Cool eyes observe your hair, loosely tied with flowers adorning the curls of the braids, a light flower crown topping the peaceful look off. Even if there were plenty of insults that would come with how you appeared in such a ruthless and scary place as Dauntless, Eric couldn’t help but still see the beauty that resided in such simple attire. He couldn’t wait to see you stride so confidently in stark black, a color he knew would match your complexion.
Snapping out of your haze, you avert your gaze from Eric’s, taking a step up onto the ledge, turning around and smirking, your feet lifting off of the smooth concrete. 
Dropping down below, you succumb to the feeling of emptiness, your goal now set and unable to be avoided or forgotten. You’re gonna make it. No one will or can stop you. You are free!
///
“You have guts, I’ll give you that,” prides Four, leading you up to the towers after your gracious victory of Capture the Flag, patting you on the back. “You get stronger everyday,” he whispers soothingly, which causes a smile as you take the sling in hand.
“I intend to,” you nod determined, breaking into a grin just as you prepare to zip-line through the compound. “Thank you, Four.”
“No need, I only guide, you do the rest. Now go, you deserve this!”
Giggling, you salute him with a wink, taking off through an endless ride fueled by adrenaline and your mission completing shortly coming to the neat future. Pulling the hand brake as hard as possible, you pull out of the sling, dangle a bit as you pull your weight off, and then drop down, meeting a common frown head on.
“No need to be all pouty-faced, you get to play the game every year,” you joke, walking up the Eric cautiously, and rather clumsily as you tred on thin ice and undiscovered land.
“I’m not angry, just tired,” he grunts.
“Then let me walk you to your room?”
“No, I got this on my own.”
“Please, I insist. I haven’t seen you in years Coulter, and you haven’t spoken to me either. All I ask is to walk you to your room, then you can continue hating me or whatever it is you have against me. Can I just have this, please?”
Sucking in a huge breath, he exhales, “Fine, let’s go before anyone sees me disappearing with an initiate.”
The label makes you wince. You’d think you’d mean just a little bit more to him, at least the history could, right? “Yay!” you smile, swiftly exiting through the double doors behind all of the waiting initiates still watching as the others wing down.
Walking side by side through the dark hallways, the itch to talk to Eric becomes very prominent. Yet, as you peek at him every so often, his closed-offness almost scares you. What happened to him?
Blushing, you don’t realize the words actually leave your mouth when Eric chuckles under his breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything.”
“It’s fine,” he gives you a lopsided grin.
Smiling back at him, you look forward again, fiddling with your hands as the question ultimately still remains unanswered.
“I remember that tick, something’s bothering you,” Eric points out, still not looking at you. “What is it?”
“Why did you lie to me?” the question comes out more as a demand, the pain laced in with it’s harsh truth.
“I never lied to you.”
“Yes, Eric, you did. Why would you tell me to hold onto that stupid ring if you were just gonna hand me yours? Why would you treat me as if I was insignificant even with all the history we had? I just don’t know where we shifted so badly,” you start to tear up, hugging yourself as the pain resurfaces, the undeniable love for him still pumping in your bones.
He sighs, a hand combing through his hair, “I didn’t want to do something I’d regret, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
“I’m sorry Eric, but I’m going to need more than simple, cryptic sentences,” you sniff, hiding your face from him.
“I told you to hold onto your ring because I didn’t want you to think about that night - our last night together - and think about the way you would’ve broken our relationship so badly.”
“But, you gave me your ring?”
“I didn’t sleep that night,” he sighs again, looking down at you with worry and care, “And, after I thought about it, I didn’t want to uphold a promise I could’ve broken at any moment, especially when we were apart for so long. I knew you’d seen the ring the morning after, too, and I couldn’t face the broken look I knew would be on your face. I couldn’t look at the puppy dog eyes I’d easily drop everything for. I wanted this, Y/N, but I didn’t want to lose us.”
Shaking lightly, you cry and hide underneath the layer of hair, “Are you happy now?”
“God no!” he yells, stopping in his tracks and grabbing both of your shoulders, forcing you to meet his demanding eyes. Brushing your hair aside, his blue orbs bore into your tear-stained Y/E/C ones, stern look softening. “You don’t get it, do you, Y/N/N?”
“Get what?” you croak, feeling hopeless even as your heart flutters with the acknowledgment of your old nickname.
“I may have wanted to be here, but I’m still miserable...” he smiles, “Nothing is better than being with you,” Eric admits.
Eyes widening, you look up at him, “Wh-What?”
“I still love you, dammit, and I can’t just watch you walk around the rest of your life here without knowing your all mine.”
Crashing his lips on yours, you eagerly return the gesture, placing your hands on his cheeks as he pushes you into the wall shrouded in darkness.You missed this. You missed him. Nothing shines as brightly as he does and life without him is just bland. Tears circling your mouthes, a salty taste adds to your hunger for each other; 2 years was a long time. 
Pulling away with a hearty giggle, more tears fall, but they weren’t the bad kind. Reaching into your front pocket, you pull out little metal scraps, looking back up at Eric. “I still have them,” you show him your promise rings.
Eric laughs too, picking up the bigger one, putting it on his finger halfway, “The sizes definitely changed a bit.”
Gasping, “Wait! I have an idea!” you drop on your knees, tugging at your shoe laces on your sneakers. Pulling them out of the loopholes, Eric holds the rings for you to grab, taking each individually to weave the laces through, knotting the two ends to create necklaces.
Eric smiles at your childlike perk, admiring you as you hand him his new charm.
“You don’t have to wear it, we could make it less noticeable or something. Give it a real chain or just leave it in your room. It’s up to you,” you smile, putting your around your neck.
“Nah, this is important, one-of-a-kind-jewelry right here, gotta hold it close,” he jokes, placing his around his neck as well.
Tugging you with an arm around your shoulders, Eric pulls you with him on the continued walk to his room.
“So, does this make us a thing again?” you poke him in the side, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Of course. I’m not making the same mistake again,” he squeezes you, “You’re mine and I’m never letting you slip away from me again.”
“Sounds like a deal to me.”
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mediocre-writerr · 2 years
Text
it’ll be okay [natasha romanoff]
natasha romanoff x fem!reader
requested by anon: i love your fics! especially your mcu ones, if it’s okay can i request a natasha fic please? i don’t really have a story line or premise, but i trust you’ll figure it out! thank you : )
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*not my gif*
Purple was your favorite color ever since you were a little girl. It filled your heart in unspeakable ways. Just the mere sight of the color brought warmth in your body, even on your darkest days. It was a constant reminder of your childhood before everything in your life turned serious and dangerous. 
The inner child in you would be freaking out at the purple planet you were sitting on. But with the gravity of the situation, it made it hard to celebrate anything. 
“A soul for a soul,” The words were being repeated in your mind over and over again. 
They echoed and overcame all your thoughts. It was like a silent alarm that could only be heard by you. Screaming. Yelling. Begging for there to be any other way. 
Your thoughts came to a halt as you looked up at the woman in front of you. Her elbows rested on her knees as she just stared out into the distance. And just like you were the very first day you met her, you were mesmerized. 
The beauty that was Natasha Romanoff. 
A small smile sketched across your face as you took in her presence. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she thought deeply and you knew that you weren’t alone with your thoughts. You continued to take her in, feeling tears start to sting your eyes knowing that there was no other way. 
You started to imagine a world where you two never met. Maybe that would be the only way? To just go back in time and erase ever building a relationship with her. To erase ever falling in love with her. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to face this decision. 
A queazy feeling started settling over your body. So, you quickly shook off that thought. There was no way you would want to imagine a life without loving Natasha Romanoff. 
You still remember it like it was yesterday. When all your hard work paid off, the day you finally broke down her walls. The day you asked her out and she finally said yes.
“C’mon Y/N, you’re this super cool superhero who got bit by a radioactive spider. Natasha’s a Black Widow so she’s kinda like getting bit by a spider. So if she rejects you, it’ll just feel like getting bit by that spider! Right? Right,” You mumbled to yourself as you paced in front of her door way. 
You were about to knock, but your anxiety crept up on you once more and you put your hand back down to your side. Then the pacing started once more as you were about to give yourself a pep talk for the seventeenth time. 
Unbeknownst to you, the red head was standing there at the end of the hallway. She’s been watching you for the last thirty minutes, smiling softly at the anxiousness that was overcoming your every being. So anxious that you didn’t even realize that she wasn’t in the room to begin with.
Wanda curiously followed Natasha’s gaze, wondering why her best friend was just standing at the end of the hallway. She let out a low chuckle when she saw you, “You’re going to be the death of that girl,” Wanda stated. 
The ex-assassin side eyed her friend before a small smile appeared on her face, “Yeah, I know,” She shot back with a small shrug.
“Just say ‘yes’ to her already before you kill her.” The Sokovian teased before walking towards the kitchen. 
You kept giving yourself the same pep talk over and over again. Until your spidey senses started tingling. You looked at the sound of footsteps walking towards you and your face turned redder than the suit that you wore. 
Natasha leaned against the wall with her arms crossed just staring at you. The tense, teasing gaze on her face made you stand up taller. 
It’s just like a spider bite. It’s just like a spider bite. You thought to yourself over and over and over again. 
“So are you planning on pacing in front of my door for another thirty minutes or do you think I could finally get inside and shower off?” The Black Widow quipped, causing your head to fall.
Your gaze settling in on your feet, before mumbling, “I’m sorry. I was just having a quick existential crisis.” 
“And did that existential crisis have to deal with knocking on my door?” She questioned. 
“I-I mean, no, but it’s just the nervous tick thing I do. Like, like this-” You raised your fist up to the door, but quickly put it back down, “See.” 
The red head chuckled softly, “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to shower,” She stated and you nodded quickly, moving out of the way. Natasha entered her room and just as she closed the door you let out a defeated sigh.
Just as you were about to walk away, she opened the door once more, “You could join me if you want.” That alone made you sputter with wide eyes.
“What?” You finally got, your eyes still wide as an owl.
“You’re right. Take me out to dinner first. Tonight at 7 sharp.” She moved towards you with a sultry look in her eyes. Her lips hovered over yours and with every word she mutter, you could practically feel her soft lips on yours, “Don’t be late.” 
Your mind continued to wander. Your fiance still lost in her own thoughts to even acknowledge your staring. You knew that one of you...something bad would happen to one of you today. And if neither or you do it, well, half the universe would still be gone. Half of your friends and family would still be gone. All because you were both too selfish. 
The future the two of you dreamed of was slowly fading to black. Talks of having kids and all the wedding planning you’ve already done seemed like a distant memory at this point. Even though that’s all you could really think these last few years. 
You were supposed to have your wedding before the snap, but once Thanos came, you both decided to wait. Some of the people you loved and cared about most were now gone. There was no way you’d get married without them. 
“Do you want kids?” Nat whispered to you.
Both of you were lying on your sides. Her hand instinctively resting on your waist, already drawing small patterns on your bare hip. You thought about it for a couple seconds before nodding, “Before all of this, before becoming superhuman, I always wanted a normal life. You know, the whole white picket fence, a couple kids, and a dog with the person I vowed to spend the rest of my life with.” 
“And now?” She asked. 
You let out a sigh, “I still want all of that. I mean Clint can do it, so I don’t see why I can’t. Will it be hard? Yeah, but I’ve always wanted that. I still want that.” You trailed off for a second, reaching for her hand underneath the sheets. Your voice coming to a whisper, “I want all of that with you...if you’d let me.” 
You’ve made Nat smile before, but you don’t think you’ve seen it this wide or bright. The redhead lunged forward, pressing her lips onto yours, and you couldn’t help, but giggle softly.
“Of course I’d let you.” 
That’s when it all started. The vow you made to yourself. The vow that you were going to propose to her one day. You weren’t as nervous about the whole proposing part, but asking for permission to propose from her family. That was the scariest part. 
Maybe even scarier than this.
“Wait, so you’re trying to get our permission to propose to Natasha?” Yelena asked.
You nodded, swallowing back your heart that was currently beating in your throat, “I’d be honored if you’d let me marry her. She means-” 
“Why would you want to marry Natasha? She slouches at the dinner table all the time.” Melina pointed out and you laughed nervously about to speak again.
“If you get married, will Captain America be at the wedding? Because I think that might be a problem, considering the time I beat him up last time. Did I ever tell you that story? He was so scared of me when we first fought,” Alexei cut you off, “When I was the Red Guardian, I went up against-” 
“No one cares!” Yelena screamed, causing him to shut his mouth. 
You blinked back a couple times, still fidgeting with the ring that lied on your finger. The three started arguing and you started to consider why you would want to marry into this family in the first place. 
After a few awkward minutes they finally turned to you, “We’d love to have you as our daughter-” 
“And sister.” Yelena added.
“In-law. We all have faith you’ll take care of Natasha. Teach her a thing or two about posture. She needs it.” Melina finished and you smiled widely at all of them.
“Thank you!” 
Before you could leave their quaint house, Yelena called after you. You started walking towards your car with her by your side in a comfortable silence. Until she finally spoke up, “I’m going to get all mushy for a second, so if you repeat this to anyone I will kill you. But I’m happy for you and Natasha. I remember being so skeptical about the two of you. I thought you were going to just leave her in the dust, but you proved me wrong. I need you to promise me something though.”
“Anything.”
“If you’re going to be my sister in-law, I need you to vow to me that you will always protect her. No matter what. Put yourself before her, always. No matter the situation, emotional or physical. You will always protect her.” She stared at you with serious eyes.
You placed your hand on her shoulder and squeezed it softly, “You have my word.” 
Just like the simple phrase Red Skull, Yelena’s voice echoed through your mind. The vow you kept to her. Yelena.
You remember when you and Nat found out she was blipped. How heartbroken she was. How heartbroken Lena would be if she came back and her sister was gone. And it was all clear then. 
You weren’t worth it. If anyone had to die to save the universe, it should be you. Not her. You didn’t have anyone waiting for you. She had her family. Two of them, actually. Not just one. 
She had Yelena, Melina, and Alexei. And then she had the family she made along the way. You had Natasha. She was the only person you had and if you had to live in a world without her...that’s not something you would want to do.
Tears started pooling at your eyelids. It was like a dam cracking with every second that passed by. Then boom...you were met with those beautiful green eyes that you dreamed of every day and every night. The ones you wished you’d wake up to right now. So, that you could wake up and realize that this was just some fucked up dream. 
But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. And you knew that you weren’t going to make it. 
The dam broke. Tears falling onto your cheeks, “Detka.” Natasha breathed out. She rushed to your side and wiped away the tears that were falling. 
“It has to be me.” You whispered.
She pulled away from you quickly, looking you up and down. The red head shook her head, “No, no you can’t.” 
“I have to,” You told her, “You have a family, Nat. Not just one, two.”
“You have people too Y/N! You have a family! Who’s going to look after Peter? He’s your protege, sure Tony found him, but you always trained him. You taught him right from wrong, how is he going to react to you being gone?” She asked and you just shook your head.
“You have Alexei and Melina to think about. You have Yelena,” And with her name Natasha’s eyes softened, “ Yelena is waiting for you. She’s waiting for her older sister to come and protect her, just like you’ve always had. I made a vow to her-”
“No! You made a vow to me! You vowed that you would spend the rest of your life with me! If you sacrifice yourself for me, you break that vow!” She argued.
“If you sacrifice yourself, you break that vow.” You contradicted her point, “This is a losing battle, darling. We can’t stop this. One of us has to die and it can’t be you. I can’t live without you.” 
She shook her head, “I can’t live without you either.” 
“Nat, there’s a whole world-” 
“You’re my whole world!” She screamed, her voice echoing on this lonely little planet, “I’m not going to just let you sacrifice yourself for me. Not without a fight.” 
You knew she wasn’t going to let you down without a fight. You didn’t want to fight her, but there was no other way. Letting out a long sigh, you nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist. 
Nat let out a soft cry, pressing her forehead onto yours. The two of you relished in the feeling for a few moments. And you just wished that this moment would last forever. You took her cheek in your hand, causing her red eyes to flutter open. 
And with one last look down to her lips, you kissed her softly, yet so full of love. The vows you were going to say at the wedding, the kids you dreamed of having, your white picket fenced house....all of it, was going into this one kiss. 
The future you dreamed of was darker now. There was no hopeful light at the end of the tunnel now. It was pitch black. 
“I love you so much.” You whispered after you pulled away. 
She let out a sad smile, “I love you more than life itself.” 
With those meaningful words, she swept your feet from under you, causing you to fall onto the ground with a hard thump. You let out a groan in pain and surprise as she started sprinting towards the edge. 
Quickly, getting up, you shot your web towards her. The force of your web causing her to fling back towards you. The momentum from your webs causing you to go faster towards the edge of the large cliff. Just as you were about to fall, an electric shock coursed through your body, as you landed on the edge of the cliff. 
You watched with wide eyes as Natasha jumped off the cliff, falling. The Black Widow bite she had, had no effect on you as you tore it off with the speed of light. You dove off the cliff head first as you saw her letting gravity pull her down. 
But with your speed, gravity was no match. You shot your web towards her body, pulling her up. It allowed enough time for you to wrap your arms around her body and stop the two of you from falling with one shot of your web. The two of you were still high enough the one fall would still end your life.
Your back was against the rocky cliff as Natasha was dangling over the edge, the only thing keeping her from falling was your grasp. Your gaze fell from the beautiful girl in front of you to the deep dark fall that was now your worst nightmare. 
The web you created, holding the two of you up was slowly tearing. “I won, Y/N. Fair and square, now let me go.” She whispered. You felt her start to slip from your grasp, but you held on as tightly as you could, “I love you.” 
You placed your feet on the cliff as you pushed forward. The small momentum of your push, causing the web to swing from side to side. And you kept pushing, every single time you got close to the cliff, you pushed. 
“What are you doing?” She asked incredulously, hearing the web tear little by little. The power of your swings almost causing the two of you to hang upside down.
Just one more push.
And with one last push, Natasha was closer to platform of the cliff. You shot your web at her for one last time. The web spending her flying onto the platform of the cliff with a thud as she fell on her back. It wrapped itself around her, making it a lot more difficult to escape from. 
You looked at her with sad eyes before nodding, “It’ll be okay.” 
With that, your web that once held the two of snapped as you started falling faster and faster to your demise. You looked up at the beautiful purple sky in front of you as it transported you to a time where everything was simpler.
The small lake by Avengers Compound was turned purple. A beautiful purple sunset matched the sky and you couldn’t think of the most perfect time to ask her. 
“Hold on a sec, love. I have to tie my shoe.” You called after Nat who was a little ways ahead of you.
She rolled her eyes playfully, “Detka, are you serious? Your shoe has been untied like seventeen times already. Do we need to get you velcro shoes? I think Tony could get some custom-”
Her teasing came to a halt as she saw you on one knee with a velvet box in her hand, “I know I’ve been trying to gather myself the courage to do it this entire hike. It was like that weird knocking thing all over again.” You joked, trying to calm your nerves. 
“I love you, Natasha Romanoff. And I know I talk a lot and ramble, but there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, if you’d let me, I’d love to spend the rest of my life trying to find enough words to show you how much.” You told her with shaky hands and teary eyes. 
A small tear fell onto her cheek, before she fell onto her knees in front of you and scooped you up into her arms, “Yes.” She whispered over and over and over again. 
You smiled at the fond memory and your spidey tingle was going off even more now. You knew it was coming. 
It’s just like a spider bite. It’ll be just like a spider bite.
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doublel27 · 2 years
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i will come home (to your arms) - - T - 2.2K
TK/Carlos  - Coda for 3x06 The ATX Files, the fandom said more Carlos and my brain said he made pasta, established relationship, domestic fluff, canon induced nausea, very fluffy  Read on AO3
Twenty-four hour shifts remain exhausting. Twenty-four hour shifts with a host of gross calls and his father alien hunting and stumbling into radioactive materials is worse. But letting himself into the loft he and Carlos share (own, the fuck) makes everything better. 
TK toes his shoes off at the door, and doesn’t have a bag with his uniform because everything is going through an extra wash for decontamination. Carlos is in the kitchen, hips swaying along to an old Selena album playing on low as he putters around. A study guide for the detective exam is open next to the cook book, and TK says another little thank you to the universe that he gets to come home to this every day. 
When he pulls the door closed behind him, Carlos looks up. The glasses and the smile do TK in every time. “How was your shift? Do I have to worry about you glowing in the night?”
“Ha! No,” TK insists, shuddering at the way two calls ended up intersecting. He waves his hands to dismiss the whole thing. “I have been decontaminated twice and wore the proper gear the whole time. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to talk about your shift?”
TK pulls a face, padding across the apartment floor. “It was gross.”
“The radiation poisoning?” Carlos asks, his voice sympathetic as he sprays down the countertops. 
“No, Dad and Judd inserted themselves right into that one. They were out alien hunting with Wyatt.” TK opens the fridge, takes out a large bottle of mineral water and drinks straight from the bottle. He’s not even sure when Judd told his dad. TK only knew half of what was going on because Grace talked to Carlos. “I mean I should be glad that Judd has a son that likes this stuff so that my dad has someone else to foist his conspiracy theories on.”
Carlos blinks twice, freezing in his path of cleaning the kitchen. “Wait, I’m sorry. Your dad is an alien conspiracy theorist?” 
“Carlos,” TK explains, patiently, because his dad fools many people into thinking he’s halfway normal. “My dad has fallen into every last internet health fad that has existed in the last two decades. I’m just glad he hasn’t gone full blown Q-Anon yet.”
“When you put it that way.”
TK makes his way across the kitchen and buries himself in Carlos. Home is a person and his smells like cream and oregano and wood. He could sleep for a week, but he’s got thirty-six hours and he’s going to spend them all inside this apartment. Maybe go for a run. 
TK draws little shapes in Carlos’s shirt as he lays his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Anyways, no, Nancy and I mostly hung out with Wyatt. The kid is kinda cool, for a kid. There was a very intense conversation about Magic: The Gathering I couldn’t follow. In the end, there was a grosser call in between the barbed wire guy and the radiation poisoning.”
Carlos reciprocates by pressing a kiss to TK’s neck, just over his carotid artery. His chuckle curls in TK’s ear like wood smoke. 
When Carlos responds, his mouth is still on TK’s neck, sending vibrations down TK’s spine and spreading heat through his whole body. “Considering you and Nancy affectionately joke about a patient who was practically Nearly Headless Nick, I don’t think I want to know.”
“You really don’t.” TK can’t stop the shudder as the vision of seeing the woman after walking through the beaded curtain rears back up, effectively killing whatever desire was starting to rise. 
Carlos pulls back and presses his lips to TK’s with easy affection. It chases away the worst memories and TK melts into the sensation. When Carlos pulls away, TK chases him back for two more. 
Carlos is laughing again when he rubs his hands down TK’s arms. “Alright, well, dinner is ready.”
TK shudders again at the mention of food, unable to clear the unease riding in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t know if I can eat.”
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Hello, fantastic fanfiction-finding fairy godmother! *hugs*
Could you perhaps recommend a fic like radioactive trees in a red forest but maribor_petrichor, a long (not necessarily) john-centric post-s4 slowburn? With extra pain, please. Like, I'll take a whole bottle of that pain. Just- just dollop that stuff on, it'll be fine, trust me.
Yours, anon :)
Hey Lovely!
First the fic:
Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.
------
Secondly, I haven't read this one, so I can't personally suggest any similar fics, but here are some of my fave angsty post S4 John fics:
Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.
The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth
In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.
The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia
The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...
White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.
The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.
The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence / Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, John’s Sexuality, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, Gay John) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.
-----
If anyone has one they'd like to suggest, please do!
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izukulus · 3 years
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I love your writing dude could you do izuku and worst fear quirk with the reader on the end of the quirk? kinda hurt/comfort, established relationship maybe? Congrats on 800 followers btw, Thanks!
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IZUKU MIDORIYA + ‘WORST FEAR’ QUIRK
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pairing: izuku midoriya / gn!reader
word count: 3.1k
content: ANGST, crying, insecurity, cursing, food mention, abhorrent amt of space imagery, izuku is very in love but very insecure, panic attack, hurt / comfort.
notes: anon im sorry i rlly tried to write it from the readers pov but it rlly wasn’t working for me so. i hope u enjoy this angst fest :)
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before he met you, izuku did not consider himself lucky.
he actively believes, in fact, that he is the complete opposite. what other explanation would there be, to land unceremoniously in the 20% of the population without a quirk? why else is he pushed around his whole life, unable to stand up for himself, arguments sticking in his throat like shards of glass and tears brimming in his eyes when he tries? why does he spend his life trying to chase after the people he looks up to, choking on their dust as they race ahead?
why, young izuku thinks dejectedly, is he never quite enough?
it's just - it all changes so quickly. he meets all might, and he gets a quirk and it's the most incredible thing even when it rips through him and destroys his bones and muscle till he's screaming for respite. he gets into his dream school and - he has friends! ones that he doesn't have to attach himself to, ones he doesn't have to try to persuade to like him.
he meets you, and you're -
you're so utterly not of this world, izuku wonders how you can even see the rest of them from where you must surely recline in the comforts of the stratosphere, in your bed of stars, your every laugh a solar flare, your every smile a glittering comet that he sees only from a distance, only glimpsing your light. you're bright like the people he is always drawn to, and yet - he doesn't have to admire you from afar, because you come straight up to him and shake his hand and tell him in no uncertain terms that you think his quirk is "seriously impressive, man."
and how quickly it had spun into this - interlocking pinky fingers when you sat with the others because he blushed like a fool if you so much as held his hand, you meeting his mother and her utterly adoring you, you making him his favourite foods when he comes back from training. it's turned into planning dates weeks in advance so nothing can get in the way, and studying together even when neither of you needs it just to spend time together. he can't quite believe it, sometimes - you in all your universal glory, deigning to shine your neverending light on someone like him.
izuku is not a fool. he knows his position in your life is precarious, that he must hang onto it with both scarred hands tightly lest it fall to the wayside. how could it not? everyone else must see the sunlight in your smile, the pulsing supernovas in your eyes, the force of a collapsing star in every one of your brushing kisses on his cheek and forehead and lips.
something knocks, hard, into his side as he walks, a tub of katsudon in his hands, toward your dorm. it's still a good hour till curfew and you'd planned to get some last-minute revision in for literature tomorrow. the collision sends his bag full of textbooks thumping to the floor and his grip of the food to stumble precariously.
"crap, sorry!" the voice, the face it belongs to, is unfamiliar to him. the student glances nervously at him, and then around him at the otherwise deserted corridor. "sorry, man."
"oh - it's okay!" izuku assures, not at all put at ease by the student's obvious discomfort and the way he's already backing off like the collision had physically burned him. the boy takes off with one last concerned glance at izuku, who stoops down with a sigh to pick up his bag.
as soon as he right himself, his head thumps.
it's as though a migraine has hit him in the face with a sledge-hammer; this time he does drop the food, and the bag too as his hands fly up to clutch at his head. his eyes squeeze shut against the suddenly oppressively-bright lights, searing crude white into his vision, pulsating and buzzing with how loud they are. the air feels radioactive, the shadows darker, and noise seems to fly past him as though from underwater, groggy and slow, whining and shrill and muted, and his heart -
his heart jerks in his chest. he can feel it beating in his ears so fast it feels like humming, and his throat clenches as sudden, all-consuming terror absolutely fills him. the shadows in the hallway elongate, the lights sear and shriek in their brightness, and -
"izuku."
gasping sharply, his head snaps up. you - when did you get here, he didn't even hear your door open - stand over him, peering down. he glances around wildly, throat stuck - but the corridor appears normal again. he must look like an idiot, standing in the middle of the hallway clutching his head with one hand and chest with the other, his bag at his feet and katsudon thoroughly upended in it's little plastic container. he swallows, panic retreating, and reaches out with shaking hands to pick them both up.
"s - 'm sorry," he breathes, pain ebbing as he straightens up. you don't assist, standing placidly with your arms by your sides - and though your face is relaxed, your eyes have an odd sharpness, catching on his every twitch and swallow. when he dredges a reassuring smile onto his face, you only stare at him blankly.
it makes him falter - the detached look of your face, the disinterest in your body language.
you ... you always help him pick stuff up when he drops it, because he drops stuff a lot, especially when you're around. sometimes you both lean down for it simultaneously and smack your heads together, and he'll spend ten minutes apologising frantically as he presses an icepack to your forehead as a purple bruise forms on his own.
"is - everything okay?" he dares to ask, although - he finds he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to hear anything but 'yes', doesn't want to hear the answer he dreads.
finally, you move; your arms fold over your chest in one calculated, fluid motion. "no, izuku. we need to talk."
his heart jumps in his chest again - does his anxiousness show in his eyes. "o - oh, okay. what, um, what about?"
you motion your head toward your open door. "in here. come on already."
he trips over his laces in his haste to follow you, heart banging in his throat, but you don't pause to pull him upright like you usually do, only leading the way down the corridor and pushing open the door to your dorm room. izuku follows with a mounting feeling of dread.
(please don't. please please please don't).
for a good minute, all you do is ... look at him as he shuts the door behind him quietly and places his things delicately on your desk, which - what is he doing? it's like he's trying not to take up space or attention, but - this is you. you like when he's here, when he puts his things in your space, you told him so.
didn't you?
izuku stares at you, too uneasy to speak. the air crackles, radioactive, on the precipice. and then -
"is this a fucking joke?" you explode, and he recoils physically from you, stomach dropping. you're so - dark; the dark glint in your eye, the dark curve of your snarl, the dark space between your teeth stretching to an endless black sunken place.
"wh - i don't - what?" he squeaks, eyes darting from your face to the finger you've jabbed hard into his chest; it burns through his clothes like a cigarette, singing the skin in a burning circlet, all the way down to his heart. your face twists.
"you forgot," you spit, eyes wide, incredulous. "you actually forgot. again!"
"forgot - forgot what?" izuku gasps, gripped by a terrible fear. his hands fly up, anchor themselves to yours desperately. "y/n - please - just tell me what i -"
"god! what does it matter?" your voice draws into a yell; you're furious with every trembling inch of your body, every locked muscle, your eyes angry slits as you glare down at him. he shrinks in his clothes at the cold in your expression, and the look in your eye that seems an awful lot like disgust. "it's just another one on the pile, right? how many dates and birthdays and anniversaries have you missed, out chasing your stupid little dream? how many before you finally wake up?"
izuku's throat tightens; he wills the tears that brim in his eyes away, but every word you spit is like being shot in the stomach. he's backed up against the wall but you keep advancing, pressing too close, nowhere to cringe away from the sharp, ugly words; they curl over him, around his neck like a choker, sliding under his skin and pumping poison through his veins.
"oh, great, and now you're crying," you scoff. "i'm the one who sits here for hours waiting for you, i'm the one who patches you up every time you think you can actually do something useful and break every bone in your body, i'm the one who has to listen to you ramble on for god knows how long and pretend i give a shit about anything you're saying, but sure, izuku, you start crying why don't you?"
izuku sobs. it's not - it doesn't feel right, it feels like some nightmare, like his head's stuffed full of cotton and he's sinking in an endless pool and he can't swim or breathe, heart beating feverishly - but it's not a dream, can't be, not when you're so close he can smell you and you smell exactly like you always do, not when he can see the way your hair glints in the light and your lip curls in that exact way he knows it does when you're angry.
not when the hatred in your eyes is so very heartwrenchingly real.
no, no, no. his hands come up to clutch at his head, lungs constricting as he gasps for air. tears pour thick and hot and fast down his face, but you don't move to comfort him, don't mop at his face with a tissue. you rock back on your heels and watch with cool detachment.
dimly, he registers that none of this is right. the air is heavy and thick with unease, and something about you is off, the sharpness of your features and the impossible darkness that lurks between them, the way your tongue flicks out to wet your lips like a predator readying for a meal. the way your eyes follow his anguish in a way that's almost primal, like you want to swallow him whole and gargle on his terror.
but he can't think clearly, not when you're saying everything he's been thinking the whole time you've been together. he doesn't know what he's forgotten, but what does it matter? he's absolutely useless, you've been waiting for him here and he's just been off training and - and how many nights had you sat here, alone, waiting for him to get back? how long has this been coming? he thinks, blearily, of yesterday when you tossed him a canned tea, kissed his cheek and told him to take care of himself when he went out for a jog. were you planning this then?
his knees, at some point, give way. it's before he can string a sentence together, so badly is he choking on his sobs, and still you loom over him, impassive and blandly curious, sharp eyes watching his every move.
finally, you speak. "i won't do it anymore, izuku. i'm not doing this, do you understand?"
"w - w - wait!" he cries, feeling his stomach empty. this can't be happening, please, god, let it be a dream. your wrist that he clutches feels heartlessly real, though. "please, just - i - i'm sorry, i know, i've been an awful boyfriend but - i'll be better, i'll - please, please don't leave me!"
"izuku?"
he's lost to the world, clamps his hands over his ears, just trying to breathe enough to not pass out but it's hard, it's so painful and raw he feels like he's been scraped out from the inside.
"izuku - shit - look at me?"
he can't. this hurts so badly - why can't you leave him alone?
a shudder runs through him when your hands clamp down on his wrists and pry his fingers from his head, and the shock of your touch after so long makes him blink up at you through his tears. as soon as he does, he realises - the odd shadows have scattered, bringing the room to the rosy glow your lamps and stringlights provide - and your face, swimming in front of him, is pinched in concern and shock and there's nothing scary or sharp about you, not your eyes creased in worry, not your lip caught between your teeth, not your soft hands cupping his arms, rubbing circles onto his skin.
"izuku - baby, breathe for me, please?" you coax, holding both his hands together. through the haze of dread that surrounds him, he can feel you run your fingers over the jagged cicatrixes raised on the skin of his fingers and wrists, a motion beautifully familiar to him. it reminds him of rainy night sleeping in the same bed, a movement that sent him sound to sleep, and absent study dates where you claimed to like having his hand in yours.
he feels it and he realises - whoever said those things before, that cruel, shadowy creature that stood impassively before him as he heaved - it couldn't have been you.
and so he tries to breathe, in and out through a throat that's vice-tight. you pull him forward gently till his chin knocks into your shoulder, one of your arms around his middle and one cupping the back of his head, pressing him close, letting him feel your pulse tapping into the side of your neck. he focuses on that, the steady, if a little fast, rhythm of it, drumming dully into him.
it feels like hours before he even gathers the strength to peel himself from you and flop back against the wall. his breathing is still shaky and he's swiping at the remnants of tears and sweat on his face and he can't quite look at you, not after all of that. from his peripheral vision he sees you get up and walk away and for a moment his heart jumps again - but you return a moment later, nudging a cup to his lips; he drinks quickly, mouth parched and throat quite raw, and finally he glances up at you through wet lashes.
your own hands, holding the cup to his face, are shaking; you look quite shellshocked, biting your lip so hard between your teeth you're drawing blood and your eyes dart nervously over him. guilt sinks his stomach like a stone.
how could he ever have thought that cruel creature was you?
(he knows how.)
when he drains the cup, you speak, tentatively. "what happened?"
izuku fiddles with the empty mug. "there was this student i bumped into outside. i - i think he must've had some kind of quirk. it - it made me see ..."
"see what?"
he lifts his eyes to yours, words hesitating on his tongue. "s - saw ... you."
you blink at him, lip quivering. "and - what did i -"
he shrugs helplessly. "just - said stuff. about me. like i forgot something important, and then - about me crying, which, i know, 'm trying to stop doing it so much. and then about - the way i always ramble about stuff and that i'm a terrible boyfriend -"
"izuku."
he blinks; your eyes shine with unshed tears, but you pay them no mind, reaching over to clamp both your hands firmly on his shoulders and bring your face close to his. he never knows how to function when you're this close, just sitting clutching an empty cup, eyes wide.
"i - i would never," you choke out. "i love all those things about you, you have to know that. i tell you so often, don't i? i think you're incredible, everything about you."
some overwhelming emotion swells in the back of izuku's throat, hot and sweet and painful. he swallows hard. "it's just - you're so much, and i n - never feel like i'm ..."
"i love you."
oh.
oh.
he's kind of ... vaguely aware of all his senses separately losing their shit as those words wash over him; his eyesight blurring, his skin tingling, his heart thudding wildly. that something in his throat wells until it encompasses his chest and stomach, filling him with something heavy and sweet, and when you draw a wan smile on your face and reach out tenderly to swipe the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs and kiss the tracks they leave behind, his breath stutters in his throat.
you love him.
you and all your suns and stars and moons and nebulas, you with sunlight in your smile and moonlight in your tender gazes, you with a whole galaxy, glimmering with stars, lighting up any room you step into - you love him.
"i," he whispers, quite brokenly. his throat is sandpaper when he swallows, dry and burning, and he can feel colour flood his face. you thread your fingers together and nod, encouraging him to take his time.
every star in the sky seems to light up a little brighter when he says, "i love you too."
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