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the-little-ewok · 8 months

Text

Collateral Damage

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 6800 (ish)

Warnings : Friends to lovers, sort of slow burn I suppose, angst, fluff, reader has a fear of flying, arguing, vague illusions to Poe's torture by the FO, vague mention of parental death (Poe's mom), mentions of panic attacks.

Summary : Poe finds out you are scared to fly, and makes it a personal challenge to fix that. Only spending so much time together, causes some complications.

A/N : there's a few bits here that mention Poe's past as a child which is from Freefall however there are no direct Freefall spoilers contained, and it isn't necessary to have read it to enjoy this.

To the anon that requested an angst to fluff Poe fic...I hope you enjoy!

"Poe, please don't look at me like that!" You beg.

"Like what?" Poe gives you a genuinely confused look, as though he hasn't been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you're a particularly complex puzzle he needs to work out.

"Like there's something wrong with me," you sigh, twisting the mug of tea nervously in your hands.

"I never said that! But seriously? You're scared? Of flying? This is a joke right?"

"I just think if we were made to fly we'd have wings is all." You shrug, trying to be nonchalant as you sip your drink, your fingers pressing hard into the china as you try to ignore his shock. You don't look up but you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"How did I not know this? How have you hidden it from me of all people! I'm equally impressed and offended." You suspect by his tone he's more offended than impressed, but it was never truly your intention to hide it from him. The secret just sort of… happened.

When you were children you barely knew Poe, not until after he returned to Yavin, his eyes a little darker than they had been before, his steps a little more calculated, though no less bold. When you started helping Kes out around the little farm he bought, you had gotten to know Poe a lot better. Barely tolerating him at first, before you fell into an close friendship. It had been easy enough to deny his requests to go flying with him in the early days, especially given the amount of trouble he got into.

Then when you were older Poe seemed to flit in and out of your life. Between the academy, the navy, and now the resistance, sometimes it seemed like he was never around.

But he always reappeared eventually. He came back to Yavin sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He used your back garden like his personal shipping yard, but you never had the heart to tell him off about it, despite the fact you had smashed more than your fair share of crockery in shock at the sudden noise of a roaring engine coming down on your house.

Everytime he asked if you wanted to go flying you found some excuse not to, sometimes elaborate ones you aren't even sure Poe believed. You assume perhaps he thought you were avoiding spending time alone with him, which was in part true some of the time.

You could have told him the truth, but the way he lit up when he talked about flying — the freedom of it, the adventure of it — had always made the words dry in your mouth. He couldn't possibly understand, and you knew he would react, well, exactly as he had.

"I didn't! You never asked, and it never came up in conversation. It shouldn't have tonight. It's irrelevant. I don't need to fly," you shrug stubbornly, wanting to get away from the topic if only to stop the quizzical gaze he's fixed you with since it came up.

"But-but there's a whole galaxy you're missing out on!" He splutters, still wide eyed with shock. "You can't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life on Yavin."

"I like Yavin!"

Poe gives a huff of disbelief at you, folding his arms.

"Liar."

"You know Poe, not all of us have the need to fly out into the night and get blown to pieces like you," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes, frustrated at his reaction. "Anyways it's late. I should go."

Getting up you put your mug in the sink and grab your jacket, intent on leaving and finding some way to avoid this topic for the next however many years, probably forever.

"Hey, hey, don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" Poe begs getting up and taking a gentle grip of your arm to prevent you moving. You ignore the fire that ignites your skin where his fingers are wrapped loosely around your arm.

"Tell me what scares you? About flying I mean? Let me try and understand," he pleads.

Taking a breath you sigh. How could you explain it to someone who spent their whole life up there? How could you explain it to someone who lived and breathed the freedom of the flight?

"Pilots die, all the time. Things go wrong, fights, pirates, technical failures…" you trail off with a wave of your hand, freeing your arm from his gentle grip, not used to his touch. "I just…can't stand the thought of dying alone out there in the cold. It's hard enough worrying about that happening to you."

"You sound like my dad," Poe sighs quietly. "He didn't want me flying either. Not after my mom."

Reaching back out you squeeze his hand briefly, knowing that while the relationship between Poe and Kes had somewhat mended over the years, some cracks ran too deep to ever be fully healed.

"You know, Kes never shuts up about you flying. Always talking about what a good pilot you are and how your mom would be so proud of you, how you fly just like her. I swear it's all I heard for weeks the last time you were here."

Poe falls quiet for a long moment, deep in thought, a frown etched deep into his brow.

"He's proud of you, Poe. I know he struggles to say it sometimes, but he is," you offer gently.

Poe waves a hand nonchalantly, as though it doesn't bother him, but you know it does.

"Well you know my dad likes to keep things to himself, but apparently not from you," he eyes you somewhat suspiciously. "He likes you, you know. He told me once I should marry you. Imagine that, us, married."

He lets out a snort of a laugh as he shakes his head at the thought. You want to make a joke about it, you want to laugh it off and tell him you'd never agree to it even if he asked, but the spark of feelings you've so carefully navigated all these years flared to life suddenly and in full force at his words.

There's always been something between you, something a little more than friendship, something you both know can't be. Something both of you have avoided talking about for a long time now.

Perhaps when you were younger maybe you could have figured something out, but Poe was hardly ever around and now, well now your worlds were too far apart. Yours here on the ground, his far off in the stars. It was better not to prod too hard at open wounds, but Poe's laughter at the thought of you together, still cuts deeply.

Something must flicker across your expression because his amusement dies and Poe gives you a half smile.

"It's just, you know, you're seeing someone. Aren't you?"

"It didn't work out." You shrug as though you don't care. The truth was it never worked out, because you would always be in love with someone else. How were you supposed to give your heart away when at any given moment the one that makes it beat could drop from the sky without warning?

"Oh," he sounds genuinely sad which only drives the knife further in. You drop your eyes from his, pulling at a loose thread on your jacket as he continues. "I'm sorry. You'll meet someone else though! Although maybe…. Off this planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. Really you shouldn't be surprised that he found a way to spin the topic right back to your issues with flying, which you suppose was better than your love life so at least there was that.

"Oh come on. You can't be scared if you haven't tried it! Lemmie take you!" Poe sounds like an excited child on life day. Clearly the thought of conquering your fear appealed to him.

"Absolutely not! I've seen the way you fly!"

"Did you not just say even my dad thinks I'm good at flying? And besides," he leans on the counter, a shit eating grin plastering his face, "didn't you hear I'm the best pilot in the resistance?"

You roll your eyes at his cocky statement.

"Poe, I've heard a great deal of things about you over the years, not all of them I can believe and most of them I've had to defend your good name against!"

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like a curious loth cat.

"Like what?"

You quickly go through the ment rollerdex of things you've heard, deciding to pick out your favourite.

"Like… the time you apparently almost married a Hutt."

Poe opens his mouth and then closes it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a tin of tea on the side. He picks it up, rolling it between his palms, purposely not looking at you.

"Well, really that wasn't even my fault," he mumbles eventually, realising you aren't going to fill the expectant silence.

He can't seriously have done that? The ridiculous story can't possibly be the truth?

"You have to be kidding me! I got into the biggest argument that you wouldn't be so stupid to get into something with them. Do I even want to know the real story?"

You had vehemently defended your friend, arguing well into the night that while yes, Poe was reckless, and yes sometimes he spoke without thinking, and yes sometimes trouble found him, you were still absolutely sure the story was completely untrue. You suppose you have a few apologies to make now.

"It's not like I intended to agree to the marriage! It just sort of… happened."

You stare at him, open mouthed waiting for the rest of the story, knowing he won't be able to resist defending himself. But instead of launching into a lengthy explanation he grins, setting the tea down slowly and fixing you with an expression you are all too familiar with. The one he uses when he knows he's about to get something he wants.

"Trade. I'll fly you somewhere. Then I'll tell you."

And there it was. He knew you wanted to know the truth, unable to resist a good story about the far off places he visited and troubles he got into. You should have predicted the bastard would use that against you.

You fold your arms.

"No."

"I'll just fly you to the other side of Yavin? Short trip, in and out."

"No!"

Poe sighs dramatically, pushing himself up off the counter.

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you the whole story if you let me show you around my ship and tell you how unscary it is to fly. Strictly no piloting."

"Please agree so you can both shut up. It's after midnight, and the noise you two make will bring the first order down on our heads without them even looking!" Kes Dameron booms from the hallway, making both of you jump.

"Sorry dad!" Poe yells while he gives you a grin of victory.

"Sorry Kes! I'm leaving now." With a sigh of resignation you slip on your jacket. "Fine. No flying."

"No flying," Poe agrees with a nod, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers invitingly. You hesitate to take it, but he slides his hand into yours anyway, squeezing your fingers. "I'll walk you home."

You try not to think about how right it feels to have your hand in his.

"Poe, Poe," you repeat a little louder as he continues rambling away, pointing to the different parts of his X-Wing, a misty look in his eyes. You're sure you lost him a good while ago, and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for you to explain you have no idea what he's talking about.

"You have to put your hand up to ask a question when I'm teaching," he chides you teasingly. Rolling your eyes you put your hand up, glaring at him when he grins silently at you for a long drawn out moment. Just as your patience breaks, opening your mouth to ask anyway, he cuts in first.

"You have a question?"

"Several," you respond dryly. "Firstly, can you please slow down? I've no idea what you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you've told me about everything that can go wrong and now I want to be near this thing even less. Thirdly -"

"This thing? This thing?" He interupts, his eyes going wide with shock. "This thing is a T-70 X-wing. I've done a lot of work on this thing!"

"I apologise I insulted your ship," you laugh, watching his brows pull together in an annoyed frown. Maker, Flyboys! As cute as he was you couldn't really expect any other reaction.

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to her!" He points at his ship before he folds his arms stubbornly, as though he's actually serious. You pause for a moment, realising he is serious.

"Thirdly, I don't think this is helping and I'm sure you have better things to be doing," You continue, ignoring his sulk. Poe drops his arms, his expression softening.

"It is helping," he insists. "If you know what can go wrong then you know how to fix it, or how to account for it at the least. Then that part isn't so scary anymore. I promise."

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your chest, the low hum of anxiety vibrating under your ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm not being ungrateful. It's very nice of you to do this."

"You don't think I can do it," he grins and you roll your eyes at him for what feels like the thousandth time since he's been back.

"I'm not a challenge," you remind him with a glare.

"You kinda are though," he grins. Trust Poe to see this as some sort of game he can win. "Come on. You can trust me. I know about these things. How'd you think I survived this long?"

"Sheer dumb luck?"

Poe laughs, a deep elated noise that brings a smile to your lips and makes your heart ache with affection. It seems so rare these days that he truly laughs like that, and when he does, here with you, it only makes his inevitable absence harder to swallow.

"Probably a bit of that too," he admits with a shrug. "Okay, new plan."

He plonks himself down on the ground, patting the space in front of him for you. When you're settled opposite him he takes both your hands in his. When you try to pull away, the touch giving a jolt in your chest, he grips your fingers tighter, forcing you to stay with him. It's an all too familiar dance now. You push him away, and he only proceeds to try and hold you closer. When he's here you wish he wouldn't, but when he's gone, you ache for his easy familiarity.

He gives you a genuine open look, and your heart aches a little that he's truly trying to help when you feel so beyond helping.

"What do you think about when you get scared? When you think about being up there. What is it that worries you so much?"

"I guess dying alone?" You suppress a shudder at the thought of floating out there in the darkness, no one to hear you scream for help.

The pilot doesn't even miss a beat before he answers quickly.

"Okay, I'd be with you so that's not a problem. We would die together."

You glare at him, unamused. Ignoring your vehement stare he gestures for you to continue.

"Fine. Being shot out of the sky. Lot of time to think about dying while you're plummeting to the ground."

He gives you a grin, "We both know that's not an issue because I'm a great pilot, so no matter where we are I promise you I'll land safely, all parts intact, especially all the bits I like," he winks and you desperately try to ignore the flare of heat on your skin. "I've done it so many times I could do it in my sleep! Next problem."

"Kidnapped by pirates." You shoot quickly.

"They'll give you back after half an hour." Poe snorts with laughter when you reach out and slap his arm hard.

"Asshole," you grumble, fighting back a smile.

He grins at you, clearly enjoying himself at your expense and while you should mind his teasing, you find it hard to care, not when his eyes are lit up with genuine joy.

"You are really not helping," you laugh eventually, shaking your head. "I'm a lost cause."

"Not entirely, just mostly. I mean none of these are good reasons to be scared," Poe smiles and you have to admit it chafes you a little that he still doesn't seem to understand.

"I never said my fear was rational."

"It's not entirely irrational either," Poe acknowledges with a shrug, finally allowing you to pull your hands out of his while he taps his chin in thought. You curl your fingers into your palms, willing away the memory of his touch.

"What you need is a distraction!" Poe proclaims brightly. For a shocked moment you think he's talking about a distraction from him, which is entirely exactly what you need. But he keeps talking and you realise it's nothing like that, although he inadvertently makes you distracted anyway, from flying at least.

"Yeah, something to take your mind off getting up there."

You shake your head, knowing it won't work. Suddenly this whole thing seems like a bad idea. Poe wasn't one to give up, and yet over the years you've tried just about everything to get over your fear. A weariness starts to creep in, encouraging you to make your excuses and leave.

"I doubt anything would distract me that much. Anyway, I think we should do something else. Flying isn't that important." You try, knowing it's hopeless now you've encouraged him this much.

"What if I flew naked?" He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. His constant blatant flirting is starting to take a toll, and you can't muster even a smile this time. He knows, yet he does it anyway. It's infuriating sometimes, purposely poking and prodding when you're just trying to get by without spilling your heart all over the grass.

"Coming from the person who laughed at the notion of us being married, I don't see how you think I'd care about that." You don't quite mean to bite it out the way you do, but Poe ignores your attitude and leans back on his arms, gazing at you.

"Yeah, because we'd argue all day long about everything. I'd be messy, and you'd want a tidy house, we would fight over what to have for dinner, because you won't believe I'm the better cook, I'd want to paint the walls blue, but you'd want green. You'd want to live here and I wouldn't." He waves his hand, indicating that there would be a longer list of issues if he continued. "The thought of us being married is funny because it would be chaotic, not because I don't love you."

The words hit you like a shot, and judging by the look of fear on the pilot's face he probably hadn't thought them through before they left his mouth.

"Guess the cats out of the bag now. Well, suppose it was never really fully in the bag anyway," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy curls, before he stares up at the sky. "I mean, I know we've never….I know we've never gone down that road, but you know I've always had a soft spot for you."

You knew. Of course you knew. You both held an affection for each other, but you also know it wasn't meant to be. Maker knows you've spent your life trying to get over him, and Poe… well he never breathed a word about his feelings in the matter. You assumed he had moved on some time ago. If his list of conquests was anywhere half true, he moved on quite well.

You avoid his gaze, looking down at the dirt. "Love is a lot different than a soft spot. Seems funny you never mentioned that before."

Poe swallows, sitting back up properly and reaching to take your hands, you snatch them back before he has a chance, a swell of anger starting in your chest. There is no need for him to tell you this. You don't want him to tell you this. It won't make any difference to say it out loud.

"I knew I couldn't stay so what was the point? You've said yourself how much you love Yavin. Who was I to ask you to give it all up? You deserve someone who could be there for you, where you wanted to be. You still deserve someone like that."

"So why bring it up when you know it isn't you?" You snap angrily, getting to your feet, panic pulsing through your veins. While you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, in reality you have no idea how to react. Suddenly the open wound becomes a sinkhole, and every wall you've placed around your feelings starts to crumble in. Your chest constricts with panic. He can't do this now. Not after all this time. You won't be able to rebuild what he's torn down. This will burn your friendship to the ground.

"Because I'm selfish," the pilot admits, jumping up and following you as you storm across the garden towards the house, the flaring pain in your chest getting worse with each word that leaves his mouth. You won't talk about this. You can't talk about this.

"Yes, you are! You blaze in and out of my life and everytime I think I might have a chance to mend myself, you come tearing down from the sky. Maybe it is about time to actually have this conversation so we can both move on!" You spin on your heel to face him, stepping back when he reaches for you again.

If he touches you now you won't ever be able to let him go, he'll find a way to calm you down and you don't want to be calm. You want to be angry. You want to yell, scream, and let out every feeling you've kept locked inside. You want him to feel even a small spark of what he's done to you for years. You need to be angry.

"Why can't we just be together now?" He interrupts your rant.

"What's the point, Poe? You know I won't leave, I can't leave. And you can't stay. It won't work and we both know it."

"We don't know that because we haven't tried!" He implores passionately. "You can come with me! The resistance would be lucky to have you. If you just try! If you just let me show you. I promise it's not so scary, and then we can go anywhere we like!"

"I can't do it, Poe. I just can't and there's no point trying to make you of all people understand that."

You turn to leave but this time he's quicker than you, reaching out and catching hold of your wrist.

"So this is how it ends is it? We dance around this for years and then we just do what? Give up?" The pain lacing his voice is enough to make your lip tremble as you bite back the tears.

"You're right. We've danced around this for years because we both know it isn't going to work! Why now? Why after all this time decide to drag all this up now?"

"Because we are in the middle of a war. Because I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Because I might not be here to tell you this, and for some reason it kills me that I might be gone and you would never know that I loved you. I've waited years for you to find someone who makes you happy, someone who gives you everything I can't, but everytime I come here I know it hurts you because it hasn't happened. And I need you to know that someone, that I, love you. I don't think I can just walk away this time." He sounds resigned and it crumbles away every last brick you had to protect yourself. Poe doesn't think he's going to survive this war. In the end, he knows he's going to leave you anyway.

It makes you angry to hear him talk that way. Poe was the upbeat one. Poe was the one who always figured a way out. He doesn’t just accept the inevitable. And you don't need him concerned about you either.

"Well you should just walk away, because I don't need your pity!" You yell, feeling the hot tears escaping your eyes.

"That's not what it is!" Poe takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself and de-escalate the situation. "I'm just trying to be honest with you for once. I can't just leave and say nothing this time."

"You mean like you have every time you disappear into the sky for months on end?" You laugh bitterly.

The pilot swallows, his eyes searching yours, pleadingly, begging you to understand why now, but the anger still swells in your chest.

"I've always come back to you. Every time I can. For Makers sake do you think I'd be here so often if you weren't?"

When you say nothing Poe frowns, reading your expression all too clearly.

"You won't even consider coming with me? You won't even try?"

You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you shake your head.

"I can't. We can't and you know it. I…can't leave. I can't leave," you repeat in a whisper, shaking your head, the tears flowing fast down your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Poe apologies softly, reaching out to take your arms, drawing you close to him. You try to fight it, pulling your body away, but Poe ignores you, holding you tight against him until you stop fighting, allowing him to hug you tightly.

"I know you can't leave," he admits, letting you go to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your cooled skin, his thumb sweeping away tears. "You don't have to, okay? Just say the word. Say the word and I'll be here, with you. I'll stay right here so we can try. Tell me that's what you want. Tell me you feel the same and I'll do it."

You know what he's offering, and you know he can't fulfil it. He's speaking without thinking it through, in desperation, trying to fix things, to fix the damage his words have done.

You wish you could accept it, but the thought of Poe grounded, here, a place he fought so hard to escape, causes an ache in your chest. You know it can't be that way.

Maybe he would give it all up for you, but it would never be enough. Not for him. Eventually the cracks would form, and he'd be gone, and leave you so much more broken than you already were.

"Tell me you feel the same," he whispers, leaning into you.

"Don't do this," you beg softly, bring your hands up to rest on his arms to push him away. You can't seem to make your body follow through with the action.

"Then stop me," Poe challenges, his hand sliding around the back of your neck. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

Maker, he was going to break your heart. He won't stay, he can't stay. You won't make him do that, not for you. But you're sick of fighting it, sick of trying to pretend. He's here, with you, wanting you. Just this once, once can't hurt.

The screeching beep of his comms stops you both, the sudden insistent noise cutting through the tension and your own clouded thoughts, making you step away from him quickly. Poe lets you go, his expression pained, though he doesn't move to answer the incoming call.

Swallowing hard you gesture to his pocket, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful of what you might find there.

"You should get that."

"Yeah," he nods distractedly, taking a breath and fishing the comm out. He holds it in his hands, glaring at it before his gaze flickers back to you. "Can we talk later?"

You hesitate initially but then nod. Later gave you time to think, to process everything, to try to explain to him why this can't be. Maybe you can salvage your friendship after some time apart.

A tiny voice in your head whispers the vicious truth. It was too late for that.

It's less than an hour before he leaves again, back on urgent business for the resistance. You hadn't opened the door when he came to say goodbye. You hadn't answered when he asked if you wanted him to stay, and you hadn't the strength to smile and see him off this time. He left you with the memory of his muffled voice, promising he will come back, promising he'll figure out a way to make this work, begging you to think, to try.

For once you're grateful he's gone. At least he isn't around to see the damage.

The tea Kes Dameron had pressed into your hands has long since gone cold as you stare out at the grass, little shoots growing where previously a star fighter engine had burnt them away, one that so far hadn't returned, and perhaps never would.

There's a sigh behind you, a creak of the porch steps as Kes sits down next to you. The older man had come to help you fix the flickering light in the kitchen, something you'd have once asked Poe how to fix, allowing him to instruct you via comlink, teasing and laughing at your questions and frustrations. But you hadn't spoken to Poe, not in months now, too ashamed and regretful of your behaviour, and too fearful of what speaking with him may bring up.

"He was asking about you again earlier. You can't keep avoiding his comms."

You can feel Kes's eyes on you but you refuse to look up from the dent in the grass. You don't need to ask who he means.

"I'm not. Poe calls at bad times."

Kes makes a disbelieving noise, taking the now cold mug out of your hands and setting it down to the side, making you finally look up.

"It's been a bad time for the past two months. What happened between you?" He frowns at you.

"Nothing." It was the truth. In the end nothing had happened, not really. But the almost of it, the almost hurt worse.

You don't want to talk about Poe. You don't want to think about it. But the next question slips out without you being able to stop it.

"How is he?"

Kes lets out a long breath.

"You know Poe, all smiles and reassurances but he hasn't been the same. Not since…" Kes trails off and your stomach gives a now familiar lurch at the memory of Kes turning up at your door, pale and scared, stuttering out that the First Order had captured his son. As far as you know Poe never told Kes what happened in those days he was gone, but if the stories you heard were even half true, you're surprised he made it out alive.

"He needs someone there," Kes continues eventually.

"He has his squadron." You ignore what Kes is implying. It's a conversation you've had a hundred times over now. It makes your chest ache in a now all too familiar way.

"He needs you, and for all your denial you need him. You can't spend your whole life moping around here. I can make the arrangements to get you there. You just have to say the word."

You had tried in the weeks following his departure to do as he asked, to fly. You had walked to the shipping yard every day, listened to the roar of the engines, talked to the pilots, tried with every fibre to set foot on a ship, any ship, but you couldn't do it.

You had come to accept that you were right to distance yourself. There was no way for you to be together.

"Kes, I can't do that. I… me and Poe… we just aren't… our lives don't fit together." The shame burns in your chest that you couldn't be there for him when he needed someone the most, after his escape from the First Order.

Kes scoffs in an all too familiar way. You wonder if Poe knows where he got that reaction from, if he knows how much like his father he can be.

"Don't fit together? You kids," Kes rolls his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever easy. If you want something enough you'll find a way through it. Poe's mother," he hesitates, the words catching in his throat. It's rare for Kes to mention Shara, but when he does, it always seems it causes him physical pain. The older man swallows hard before he continues, looking up at the sky.

"She was a free spirit like Poe. But she loved with her whole heart, and so does he. He'd give up the world for you. Don't let your fear hold you back. Don't make the same mistake with him that I did. If you do, you may lose him forever."

Kes was right in a way, your fear was holding you back, it always had. You'd always known Poe's heart was in the stars, and your fear would never let you leave the ground. But Poe had offered to give his world up for you — his stars, his resistance, his freedom. Even if he couldn't stick to it, he was willing to try.

Maybe you could try again. For him.

Poe is still in his flight suit, his hair damp and messy, helmet clutched in one hand, talking animatedly with another pilot who you vaguely recognise, who apparently knows you straight away. The pilot nudges Poe — who continues to chatter away obviously— before forcefully spinning him around to point at you.

You can tell you are probably the very last person he's expecting. His eyes go wide and he blinks a few times, as though he's imagining you here. He opens and closes his mouth but whatever words he wanted to get out, don't seem to come, or at least you can't hear them across the yard.

You hadn't told him you were coming. In fact, you still hadn't answered a single one of his comms. It's not that you hadn't wanted to talk to him, but more that you hadn't wanted to disappoint him if, in the end, you couldn't go through with it. Getting here had taken weeks, the trip was rearranged three times after you found yourself unable to get on the ship, and in the end Kes had dragged you in himself and tied you into your seat, reasoning that you needed a push. He was probably right, but you would still be having words when you saw him again.

Raising a hand to Poe you give him a small wave, glad that you landed a good few hours before he returned from whatever mission run he was on this time. It had given you time to clean up and compose yourself, for the shaking to finally stop.

You hesitate in the landing bay, unsure if you should go over or stay put. Poe decides for you because the moment you move a foot forward, he runs to you, skidding to a stop almost toe to toe with you.

"Here-you-h-how?" He stutters out looking you over, as though you might have been kidnapped and dragged here against your will. "Is everything okay? What's happened? My dad-"

"Is fine," you cut him off, recognising his rising panic. "Everything's okay at home. I just thought it was about time I came to see you for once." You give him a nonchalant wave of your hand and a shrug, although your stomach feels full of stones as you take in the new scar across his cheek.

"But… you wouldn't even fly with me!" He sputters out, as though that's the most important point.

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Your dad made me realise I needed to be here," you confess, "We heard about what happened. Your dad was worried about you and how…" you were coping after being tortured.

You don't finish the sentence, swallowing hard.

"I was worried about you." You drop your eyes, instead gazing down at his scuffed boots, still feeling ashamed you hadn't been here sooner.

The pilot sighs, "I'd have come to you if you'd just answered my calls. I just thought you didn't want to see me, and then things here got… a bit crazy."

"I know, but the way we left things. I didn't know…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I tried to come, I really did. I couldn't and… I couldn't tell you…I panicked and everything that happened, and what we said, and what I did, and I wanted to be here for you when you were… but I couldn't. I tried but i couldn't do it, and then -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Poe shushes you, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him tightly, while you try to ramble out an explanation, an apology, and confession all in one, the words tumbling together, desperate to escape.

"Shhh stop," he repeats softly, squeezing you against his chest.

It's more than just a friendly hug, it's more than just a greeting. He holds you tighter than he ever has, one hand curled into the back of your shirt while the other grips his helmet, his face buried in your neck, as though he could hide from the world. Your heart aches for him and everything he's been through as you hold him.

You wait for him to ask you questions, to call you out on how you acted, even to tease you for the whole situation.

Instead, "I'm so proud of you," is all he says.

You bite your lip hard to hold back a flow of tears, gripping his flight suit as he squeezes you breathless.

"I can't believe I wasn't your first," he huffs suddenly against your skin.

"What?" You squeak, heat flushing over your skin at the sudden change in conversation.

"Pilot! I wanted to take you on your first flight," He sighs, pulling away to pout at you in the most adorable of ways. It makes you want to laugh at the look of actual disappointment on his face. You hadn't realised it had meant so much to him, then you remember that he had seen you as a challenge and can't help but wonder if it's purely that someone else won, where he lost. You can tease him about it later and find out.

For now you'll sooth his jealousy just a little.

"Does it help if I tell you your dad had to basically restrain me. I cried, had I don't know how many panic attacks, shut my eyes the whole way, and I absolutely never want to do it again?"

Poe considers this for a minute before he grins, "Kinda does… but not the crying or panic bit. Or the fact you don't want to do it again" he clarifies quickly, before you have a chance to tease him about enjoying your misery. "We can work on changing that last part. And I'm still sad you didn't trust me to take you first."

"Well maybe if you didn't fly that barely legal piece of junk X-Wing I'd have-"

He suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting off any further insults you could throw at his ship, and while his kiss takes you by surprise, it's not unwelcome, and you immediately find yourself sinking into it.

The kiss tastes of desperation, of impatience, of longing buried for too long.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sweat damp curls in the way you've wanted to for so long.

His helmet thumps noisily to the ground when he drops it to wrap both his arms around you this time, pulling your body hard against his. He slides one hand up your back to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as he kisses you passionately.

This time it isn't his comms that interrupt you, but the hollering cheer of his squadron.

You pull apart suddenly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Poe gives you an abashed smile, throwing a rude hand gesture to his still cheering comrades, mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry, I just decided it might be better to skip the talking part this time, since it didn't really work out so well last time."

You can't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling dizzyingly elated at the lingering feel of his lips on yours.

"No, it did not."

Poe grins, drawing you close once more, "now what were you saying about my beautiful custom X-Wing that you are absolutely going to be flying one day?"

You roll your eyes. Flyboys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please consider hitting the reblog button and letting me know your thoughts!!

Remember reblogs and interactions keep writers writing.

Special thanks to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron

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victimsofyaoipoll · 10 months

Text

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Alana Bloom

she kissed will graham in s1 and dated hannibal in s2 so you can imagine how bad the fandom is to her. fun fact she's in a canon lesbian relationship now tho <3

The show literally does the yaoi treatment of victimisation for the benefit of the male leads to her. And then the fandom mistreats her

I'm not sure if this even counts but...Literally a victim of Yaoi along with several other characters in-series, but she got it almost the worst. The entire show is just people dying because the two male leads are OBSESSED with each other and can't be normal about anything. Alana Bloom, actual PhD of psychology and consultant to the FBI, got kissed by one guy, fucked and fed people-meant by the other, and pushed out a window by the murder husbands' forced-surrogate daughter. Like. Actual victim of several crimes caused by yaoi. She's probably one of the few examples of a Yaoi Victim overcoming and evolving past her yaoi-related trauma into a stronger person/character, though: She gets an entire character overhaul and a hot, millionairess for a wife. She kills a man with an eel. She becomes head of the BSHCI, effectively putting her in complete power over her jackass cannibal ex-bf. She does quite well. Unfortunately, the rest of her screen time is spent trying not to get killed in the ongoing fallout of Hannibal and Will's fucked up courtship, but hey. Can't have everything. I don't even know if I'm saying anything valid here: the fandom loves her, but I supposed her position outside of the Hannigram relationship relegates her to a non-subject in a lot of Hannigram-focused fanwork. She's an 'obstacle' to their relationship only in the sense that Will had a crush on her once that went nowhere and Hannibal started an actual relationship with her SPECIFICALLY to piss off Will. I guess she's also a more literal obstacle as Hannibal's jailer and Will's friend who's constantly pointing out to him that Morals exist and he should try having some of those, maybe.

Gwen

She stands in the way of Merthur, by far the most popular ship in the fandom. I haven’t seen it as much in recent years, but back in the days of fanfiction.net she got slut shamed so badly for having been romantically interested in three of the male characters over the course of the show, which is just... normal straight woman behavior, meanwhile Merlin crushed on pretty much every woman who even looked at him in the early seasons of the show and got no hate for that whatsoever. I barely even read Merthur fics (not because it’s m/m, just because certain aspects of their relationship don’t appeal to me) but the “Gwen is a slut” attitude was so pervasive across the fandom, even fics that weren’t explicitly anti-Gwen would “jokingly” call her a slut. I even saw a few fics demonizing her for having an affair with Lancelot despite the fact that SHE WAS ENCHANTED when that happened, and surprise surprise, Lancelot (who was also under the influence of magic) got none of that hate, and neither did Arthur, who got enchanted to fall in love with multiple women over the course of the show.

Canonically Arthur Pendragon's love interest and an important and interesting character in the show who's completely shoved aside and ignored in favour of the medieval bbc yaoi ship. At best they put her and Morgana in Lesbian Timeout (ie make them get together and then reduce them to wingwomen at best because god forbid we focus on the medieval bbc yuri). Justice for Gwen right now!

She is prince Arthur's love interest (eventually wife). Arthur is MADLY in love with her. He tells his tyrannical father he would give up his crown to be with her (she's a servant in the series). He forgives her cheating on him with Lancelot (!), which in the show is caused by an evil enchantment, but the characters never find out about it. He chooses her time and time again. His love for Gwen is literally never put into question. Many fans insist to this day that there was no chemistry between Gwen and Arthur compared to Arthur and Merlin. Arthur isn’t even particularly nice to Merlin most of the time! The funny thing is that Merlin himself ships these two so hard and does everything he can to help them get together!! Gwen & Arthur are adorable and too many fans were drunk on the yaoi fumes to see it. ARTHUR WAS A SIMP FOR GWEN.

#poll #round 1 #alana bloom #hannibal #bbc gwen #bbc merlin #merlin

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silverwhittlingknife · 2 years

Note

In issue # 110 of Nightwing (1996), why did Dick look irritated (and clench his fist) when Tim told him that Bruce considered adoption (which Tim rejected obvs), especially since Tim's dad was killed (and Dick knows that)?

ANON YOU HAVE ASKED ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE ISSUES OF NIGHTWING OF ALL TIME <333

Very short answer: it's the trauma

So the thing is, this is a heartbreaking issue that requires a lot of footnoting, because the emotional undercurrents are BIG and POWERFUL but the dialogue is deliberately understated?? and Dick and Tim are often not saying what they mean?? or just straight-up lying to each other?? and they're TALKING PAST EACH OTHER because

they both suck at communication

they are not even TRYING to communicate their actual problems - like, if Tim straight-up said, "A bunch of people I love are dead and I keep having nightmares about how it's my fault and I'm guilty and miserable and lonely and avoiding Bruce and I came to your city because I was reeling and I missed you and I didn't know what else to do and now I'm scared you're mad at me," that would crack through Dick's determination to keep his distance because Dick's whole thing here is based on the conviction that Tim is fine, but of course Tim doesn't say any of that, and Dick can't read his mind. And Dick's not quite as determined a liar as Tim so Tim is able to figure out a little more of what's going on with Dick vis-a-vis insecurities, but Tim's still completely missing what a colossal mess Dick is right now, and again: this is because he's not a mind-reader and Dick doesn't tell him! And doesn't want to tell him! And doesn't want him to know! So Tim thinks that Dick's maybe acting this way because he's mad at Tim, and he tries to solve the problem from that angle, even though that's not at all what's going on and actually Dick's miserable and traumatized and mad at himself

I love it so much

So the short-ish answer to your question is, Tim's correctly guessed at some of Dick's insecurities here. Dick's not mad that Tim's in the city, but Tim's right that the adoption was a big deal to Dick, and he's right that Dick's a little threatened by the idea of Tim getting adopted too. (This wouldn't normally be the case! But Dick was kinda uneasy about Tim in the early days when his own relationship to Bruce felt very shaky, and right now Dick's feeling like he's lost Bruce again, and when he's insecure about himself he tends to slide into seeing Tim as a rival - both in vigilante terms and in terms of a connection to Bruce.)

And probably the main reason Dick's so stunned - and a bit angry - here is because Bruce didn't tell him, and although this is very different from Bruce not telling him about adopting Jason... it's still jabbing at those old wounds.

BUT THE LONGER ANSWER is important! Dick loves Tim, a lot!! SO MUCH. He watches Tim sadly from a distance and thinks about how much he loves him in this very comic! So why isn't Dick more enthusiastic about the potential adoption? Why is he skulking around in alleys being miserable and self-destructive and avoiding Tim so determinedly that Tim's convinced he's offended Dick somehow? What's going on???

Well, Dick's life has been imploding.

So to really answer your question, we have to back up a bit and get the context of what's going on with Dick and Tim prior to this comic.

I started writing about this and it got way out of hand, so below please find a guide to my four-part manifesto about Nightwing 110 and what's going on and why I think it's great:

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Background: War Games Aftermath

Nightwing 110

Fix-It Fic Ideas

rambling manifesto is below the cut

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Images: a reporter is shot and killed in front of Dick in N 93; a few days later, Darla is shot and killed in front of Tim in R 129; a blood-covered Dick turns from Blockbuster's body in N 93; a blood-covered Tim stares at his father's body in IC 6

Timeline-wise, we're in The Bad Year for Dick and Tim. Dick's life has been FALLING APART. Blockbuster figured out his secret identity and started murdering his entire supporting cast: Blockbuster hired someone to attack Haly's Circus, blew up Dick's entire apartment building, and shot a reporter in front of Dick. In the climactic confrontation, Catalina Flores killed Blockbuster and raped Dick.

More or less simultaneously in War Games, Tim's life has ALSO been falling apart and his supporting cast has been getting gruesomely murdered. In quick succession, Jack figured out Tim's secret and Tim had to quit, Steph got hired and fired as Robin; Steph accidentally started a gang war; Darla got shot and killed in front of Tim during the gang war; Steph got killed by Black Mask; and Jack Drake got killed by Captain Boomerang.

It's a grimdark time in DC comics.

Background: War Games Aftermath

Dick's slowly recovering in the Manor as Bruce recaps recent events to him (Batman 634)

Now, Dick's actually part of War Games - very briefly. A day or two after Blockbuster's death, Bruce calls Dick for help, and Dick comes to Gotham. Dick and Tim briefly interact but Gotham is in flames, they're both freaking out, and they don't really help each other - Tim tries to tell Dick about Darla, and Dick shuts him down (not realizing Darla is actually Tim's friend); Dick has a panic attack in front of Tim and Tim drags him out of danger but gets snappish instead of worried.

AND THEN, midway through the gang war, Dick gets shot in the leg and ends up in a coma for a while. By the time he's recovered enough to wake up and walk around, Steph's dead, Jack's dead, the funerals are over, and Tim - who's avoiding Bruce - has moved to Blüdhaven.

Here's Dick trying to get answers out of Alfred in Nightwing 99 (Alfred and Bruce aren't telling him anything, either because they can't stand to talk about it or because they're worried about impeding his recovery):

Somewhere around here - presumably whenever he first learns about Jack's death? - Dick calls Tim, who doesn't pick up, in IC 7:

In Nightwing 99, it's implied that Dick leaves the Manor almost as soon as he wakes up, after confronting Bruce:

Dick can't bring himself to confess Blockbuster's death, but obliquely admits his own distress: "…Bruce, I'm lost." Bruce wants to solve things by throwing themselves into The Mission in Gotham: "It's just you and me again, Dick. But there's plenty of work to do." As he talks, Dick grabs his crutches and leaves. He confronts Catalina, arrests her, and tries to turn himself in... but Amy doesn't let him. As he's walking out, angry at Amy and at himself, a prisoner offers him a card.

Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Alfred's stunned to discover that Dick's abandoned his costume:

In Nightwing 107, we learn that Dick has ditched everything and apparently joined the mob - or is he undercover? Dick ultimately comes up with justifications for what he's doing, but a lot of what he's doing is punishing himself and hiding from his life. He's in Detroit for a while, but then has to go back to Blüdhaven, where he sees Tim...

...and now we're caught up with Nightwing 110.

Nightwing 110

I haven't had a chance to see Robin in action since the beginning of the gang wars in Gotham. It seems like just yesterday he was an earnest little computer geek too smart for his own good. He's still too smart for his own good and he can still kick butt with a search engine, but now he's a full-fledged superhero, to boot. Wonder if he knows how good he is? Not just at the fighting, but at keeping the whole thing on his terms. That's really hard to do, and Tim - he's been through so much, and weathered it so well.

Dick's been staying mostly in Detroit rather than Blüdhaven for various reasons, but one very important one is that he's been avoiding Tim.

Dick and Tim's relationship always suffers when Dick's self-worth issues get in the way, and this is probably the most dramatic moment AND IT'S SO SAAAAAD *wails*

From very early on, Dick has had a very high opinion of Tim, and - like Bruce's conviction that "you're better than me, Dick" - this is

very heartwarming and an expression of Dick's faith in Tim

very important to Tim, who tries really hard to impress Dick and (like Dick) hangs a lot of his self-worth on being needed and useful

a source of many sweet moments

but also

a source of problems in their relationship, because Dick's high opinion of Tim and low opinion of himself means he consistently underestimates how important he is to Tim, wonders if Tim would be better off without him, and sometimes thinks that keeping his distance is good for Tim so that Dick doesn't bring him down... and meanwhile Tim interprets Dick's distance as disapproval or hostility

When Dick's down on himself, he'll continually compare himself unfavorably to Tim - Tim questions more, Tim's better with Bruce, Tim's got better computer skills, etc. etc.

And that's what's happening here, when Dick watches Tim fight from a distance:

Dick: Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops, kept any civilians from being shot... God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this.

This isn't a neutral assessment of Tim's skills. This is Dick castigating himself. The implication is: Tim plays it nice and clean, Tim kept civilians from getting shot... unlike me. Elsewhere in this arc, Dick's been convinced that he's "poison."

He can't bear to see Tim because he's certain he'll only bring Tim down.

... There's a problem with his plan, though. Tim's spotted him.

Narrator voice: they were not okay

I LOVE THIS PANEL SO MUCH

Tim spots Dick before he can sneak away, and chases after him. At first he tries to tease light-heartedly - "Look at you! Back on your feet!" - but when Dick looks away grim-faced, Tim sobers and we get a bit more of his actual worries. (Tim will sometimes fake cheerfulness when under stress - both Babs and his friends comment on this in War Games and in Teen Titans.)

Now they catch up. Tim asks Dick if he's okay. (Dick says he is. He's not.) Where he's staying. ("Some people" are the mobster family.) Dick asks Tim how his step-mom is. (Tim says she's okay. She's not. She's had a breakdown.) How school's going. (Tim says school's okay too. Actually, he's dropped out.)

And now at last we've looped back to the panels at the top! Dick tries to retreat, and Tim - convinced that Dick is mad at him, which is really not the case - tries to figure out if Dick is mad at him for coming to Blüdhaven without permission, or about Bruce's offer of adoption. (Tim's self-worth issues mean that Tim's convinced that Dick is mad at him about something, as opposed to the truth, which is that Dick is spiraling and it has nothing to do with Tim.)

Dick (turning away): We - we shouldn't be talking like this. Tim (fake-cheer, acting as if Dick means "we shouldn't be talking with you in costume and me out-of-costume"): Well, go get your gear! Dick: I can't do that. Tim (more serious now): You're not mad I'm, like, in your city or anything? Dick (shocked): NO! No. I'm honored. You have more of a right to be here than I do. Tim: Is it the adoption thing? Dick: The what? Tim: 'Cause I was a little worried about that. That's kinda part of why I said no. I mean, that and the uncle thing. I was just thinking it wasn't really all that long since he officially adopted you, which was kind of a big deal, emotionally or whatever, and to me you're like totally his son and I don't wanna step on that or anything.

Dick (whirling): What are you talking about, Tim? Bruce is going to adopt you? Tim (hands up): No! I mean, he was. But he's not now. I've got this uncle… So I don't need, you know, anything really… from Bruce, or… You, uh. You didn't know. I'm sorry, I figured he would've talked to you about it or something. Dick (turning away, jumping off the balcony): Yeah, right. Fat chance. Tim: Well anyway, it's not gonna happen, so you don't have to worry about it... right?

Dick's unnerved by the adoption offer mostly because it drives home his distance from Bruce - he didn't know Bruce was offering this, and since Dick's been thinking of himself as Estranged from Everyone Forever, it feels like Tim joining Bruce's family - replacing Dick - instead of Tim joining Dick's family. So he reacts badly - EVEN THOUGH!!! AGAIN!!! DICK LOVES TIM A LOT!!!

So Dick emphasizes the distance he's trying to create: tells Tim that whatever he does is up to him and Bruce, not Dick, because Dick's withdrawing from everything. Actually, Tim should forget that he ever knew Dick:

Dick (pulls his hood up, turns away): Look, Timmy, I'm sorry. I don't care what he does. If he can be of help to you, you should take him up on it. I wish I could offer to help you myself, but I can't. I'm not part of this anymore. This whole thing… I'm out. Tim: Yeah, right… Dick: From now on, it'd be better if you forgot you ever knew me. Tim (echoing what Dick said): ...Fat chance.

Tim's hurt by this, and he's been pretty oblivious about what's going on with Dick, but he's not an idiot, and after a moment of hesitation he correctly figures out from this ramble what Dick's not saying, which is that Dick's feeling like he's worthless to Bruce, that Bruce doesn't value him, that he's lost that relationship. So Tim impulsively tries to reassure him that Bruce does need him... but Dick's in a lousy headspace and it doesn't work:

Dick's walking away. Tim chases after him again. Tim: Hey, uh-! Remember how I once told you that Batman needed a Robin? Well, that's still true, but even more than that, he…he needs you. You know, not like every second or whatever, but at the end of the day, he needs to know you're still on his side. It's…important. Dick kicks over a newspaper stand. Dick (glaring): YOU- ! - you have no idea how much of my life I've wasted believing that was true. Dick pulls up his hood again and walks away.

(Side-note: forever wonderful to me that both Dick and Tim use "need" as a synonym for "love." Issues: they have them.)

Fix-It Fic Ideas

I have spent a lot of time thinking about potential fix-it fics for this comic (TRAGICALLY AFAIK NO ONE HAS WRITTEN ANY, FEEL FREE TO BE THE FIRST). An idea that I offer free to a good home:

A bit after Dick leaves, Tim winds up in trouble and gets injured and Dick has to rescue him (how does Dick find out about it? I dunno)

Tim's injured so naturally Dick's gonna take him back to his home with his stepmom and/or uncle

. . . except the uncle is an actor and not a very convincing one; Tim's entire edifice of lies collapses

Dick realizes that Tim is not actually weathering things well

Dick still thinks that he's poison and terrible and awful and (insert self-hating monologue here) BUT Tim living on his own after his dad is murdered is so bad as far as Dick's concerned that clearly SOME kind of intervention is necessary

Tim insists he does not need an intervention

Dick's sense of responsibility and worry over Tim now force him to carve out time from his major project of hate-myself-and-feel-bad to try to look out for Tim

Dick insists that Tim stay with him until his stepmom is better

They share an apartment for a while

They are both still super-super-super traumatized

???

eventual hugs and healing on both sides

profit

Alternate fix-it:

Tim follows Dick back to the Tevis' house like the little stalker he is, and then introduces himself in disguise as Alvin Draper

Dick's furious and frustrated but can't do much about this without screwing up his own disguise

Tim's determined to figure out what's going on with Dick partly for altruistic reasons and partly because he's also running from his own life, but Dick doesn't figure out the second part until way later

Dick's so frustrated with Tim being here when Dick told him to go - plus wrapped up in wondering what Tim knows, and being paranoid about what he might figure out, and hating being observed - that it takes him a while to start wondering questions like, "wait, shouldn't Tim be in school"

Dick and Tim are pretending not to know each other - or pretending to have a hostile relationship, or something - so any real conversations have to be in snatches in secret

Dick tries to bluff/threaten Tim into leaving (for his own good!!) but it doesn't work

Slow crawl toward mutual awareness of trauma which they're both super-self-conscious about - Dick hears Tim crying at night; Tim hears Dick's nightmares or sees another panic attack

At some point it becomes increasingly obvious that they know each other / that their story about their relationship is fake, and when the mobsters confront them, Dick says yeah, he lied, actually Tim's his little brother, and he gives some kind of stylized version of the truth which doubles as an emotional speech to Tim who gets all choked up and hugs him

and it's very touching and emotional because remember Tim HASN'T been adopted so they're NOT brothers and Tim was worried maybe Dick didn't WANT to be brothers but Dick CONSIDERS him a brother so ;_;

??? i don't know what happens next. do they quit the mob? does Dick now explain his mob-infiltration plan to Tim?

meanwhile off-panel Bruce stops Deathstroke from blowing up Blüdhaven, well done Bruce

oh wait or maybe Cass does??

anyway Dick and Tim have hugged so then there's a happy ending

In Conclusion

IN CONCLUSION Dick and Tim should hug more and this comic proves it. Look at them! They both need hugs! They're standing so close to each other! THEY ARE MIRROR IMAGES OF TRAUMA AND BAD COPING MECHANISMS they need each other and they don't know how to say it - they want to help each other and they also don't know how to say it - they don't know how to talk to each other or to anyone else - Dick lashes out and Tim lies and they both isolate themselves and withdraw into depression loneliness even though they could help each other! and would want to help each other! but they won't ask for what they need because they don't think they deserve it and they don't realize how important they are to each other

i just think they're neat. i want to study them like bugs and rattle them around in a jar until all the masks come off and they can actually see each other clearly

#dick grayson #tim drake #dick & tim #long post #i LOVE this comic SO MUCH #the way they echo each other's phrases??#the miscommunication??#the tragedy??#the fact that underneath it all they both still love each other and they're TRYING??#ask tag #i know a lot of this wasn't really about your question anon but thank you for letting me ramble <33

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

Oh! Okay good so I was thinking about an enemies to lovers blurb where Spencer despises reader and she despises him but they have been hooking up and she’s been avoiding him because she ended up getting 🤰 pregnant

He eventually finds out and then they like talk it out and all that mushy stuff? 💘

this could be a whole series or full length fic

"What's wrong with her?" Spencer finally breaks and asks JJ, looking across the jet at you. You hadn't even glared at him for a few days and he's... well, he'd be worried if he cared about you, but that's something he doesn't feel.

Anyway, it's strange for you to just be sitting there. You're being strange and it's making him feel strange.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe someone she has to spend a lot of time with hates her for no reason," JJ replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him.

He scoffs. "It's not like she doesn't feel the same."

"Well, someone felt it first." She says, and Spencer can't tell if he's being scolded.

"And someone initiated the hate sex." Emily jumps into the conversation, taking the seat next to JJ.

His eyes widen at that in shock. "Who told you?"

It's a dumb question, and Emily makes that known. "The only other person in the room when it happened, or so I'm guessing."

He doesn't say anything about how you were begging for it that night, and every night after because he's not a total dick, especially if it's not directly to you.

"She's still being weird." He repeats. "Not that I care. It's offputting weird, not quirky weird." He quickly clarifies.

JJ and Emily share a look, making sure he catches it so he knows how absurd his lie sounds.

"Talk to her then," JJ suggests.

Her words replay in his head the whole way back to Quantico, as he tries to profile you while pretending to be reading.

He can't help but corner you back at the BAU floor, dragging you to the supply closet you've fucked in numerous times.

You don't want to be there, so close to him. "We're not doing this now." You tell him. "I don't want to do this ever again actually."

"That's why you're being weird?" He asks, frowning as he, again, tries to profile you. He has no luck. Damn you for hiding your emotions so well.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Yes, Spencer. Sleeping with you has been so amazing that I'm acting weird because I can't do it again." You answer sarcastically.

It presses his buttons. "Tell me." He demands.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up to try and stop the tears spilling out of your eyes. "No." With that, you push past him, walking out of the closet and leaving him to his confusion and spiraling thoughts.

What he doesn't expect is Penelope pulling him into her Batcave on his walk back to the bullpen. "What's wrong?" He asks, even more alarmed, and hoping she doesn't know as well.

"What do you mean what's wrong?" She asks. It's a tone that wouldn't sound mad to most people, but it's the most frantic Spencer has heard her voice, aside from on the phone during takedowns. "What Y/n just told you is big news. You don't leave someone alone after they tell you they're pregnant unless you're a terrible person. And I don't want to believe that about you."

"She's what?" The sentence is so lightly spoken Penelope wouldn't have caught it has she not needed to stop to take a breath during her ramble.

His whole world stops, and hers does when she realizes the look painted on Spencer's face is pure shock. He doesn't know. And she told him. And he can't keep a single thought in his head for long enough to develop it into words.

"I'll go get her." Penelope decides, feeling awkward and terrible all at once. "Sit down, you look like you're going to faint."

He does what she wants, sitting there in silence until you walk in, cheeks redder than before with clear signs you've been crying.

"Hey." You say, sitting down on the other chair in Penelope's office.

"Is it true?" He asks, needing confirmation, even though he's already convinced.

You sigh. "I mean, you said I was being weird."

He doesn't know what to say, but all he can think about is you. "I didn't-"

"It's fine." You assure him. "I don't expect you to be nice to me."

"I should be." He confesses before he can stop it. "I should have been because you're...great." Just a tiny half-compliment knocks you off guard. "And I wish you didn't look so shocked when I say something nice."

"Sorry." You apologize, biting your bottom lip.

He shakes his head. "I don't want that."

"What do you want?" You ask, seriously confused about what he's wanting. It feels like a mind game, but you're too emotional to be competing with him.

"You." He blurts out. "Not sexually. I- I think you're wonderful, and I've been the absolute worst person so I understand if you don't want anything to do with me."

Despite your state of shock, which might now be permanent, you shake your head. "I do. That wasn't who I was, you have to know that." He nods in assurance. "And this is so unconventional, but there's something between us, right?"

"Absolutely." He agrees, reaching out to touch your hand. "And I think maybe this could work."

You smile for the first time in a week. "Me too."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds

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tackytigerfic · 2 months

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im soo hyped for that wartime fic :O do you have any entire how long in terms of chapters it will be?

Hello Anon, thank you so much for being excited about this. It really is such a kind thing to tell me, esp after I've been writing this fic for so long and having absolutely zero perspective on it anymore.

I am hoping to post it in chapters, as I have never had a fic long enough to do that with before! And it might be my only chance. It's currently nearly 220k with a bit more to write (but not much more!) though I am going to try to cut it back as close to about 150k as I can get it. And then I'm going to try to divide it into about 15 chapters or so, and post a chapter every 2 days for a month. They will be big chunky boys, those chapters! I know a lot of people don't read WIPs and I don't mind if people don't follow along, but I have read along with a handful of WIPs myself and it was such fun that I thought I'd like to try it from the other side. I do also have a smut epilogue planned which I might have to post a bit later, depending on how quickly I get through the editing process.

Here's a little snip from the fic too, just while I'm here, and since it's still WIP Snip Sunday! In this scene, Harry and Draco are no longer friends, after Draco ran off to France. They have just been humiliated to learn (through drinking a charmed drink) that they share the same happiest memory, and it involves a day out they had in London together many years before.

"It’s obviously some sort of error in the charm, like you said.”

“Exactly.” Draco had the steel of conviction in his voice. “But even if it wasn’t… if that really was your happiest memory, I mean. Well, you know I’m not judging you.”

“Well, you’re not exactly in any position to judge me, are you?” Harry said nastily, hating himself a bit for it. “After all, it was your happiest memory too.”

They were quiet then, Harry weighing up Draco’s silence, judging it for what he knew it was; a confession.

“Well,” Draco said, and cleared his throat. “It really was excellent ice-cream.”

“Hermione says we all have some sort of trauma reaction from being at war for so long, and she thinks I’m latching onto anything that isn’t completely terrible in my past.”

“Oh, cheers,” Draco broke in. “Though I suppose not-completely-terrible is a fair assessment.”

Harry wanted to tell him that there was a time when he was pretty much the exact opposite of terrible—the counterpoint to all the shitty things Harry had to worry about, the thing that undercut all the misery and drudgery of the war Harry was locked into. But Harry couldn’t remember feeling the purity of those feelings anymore, not since they’d been all muddied up by Draco leaving, the awful gasping pain of the surprise abandonment, the sick relentless ache of the realisation that Draco really wasn’t coming back.

“I miss London,” he said instead. “Sometimes I even miss Grimmauld Place.”

“That’s another thing he’s ruined,” Draco said, shoving his sweating plastic bags of takeaway onto the small table. “London always felt so safe. It was so big, so anonymous. I could be anyone I wanted there. And now he’s everywhere, like a virus. How often do you get back there?”

“Hardly ever,” Harry said. “When I went to meet you, that was the first time in months. The Council thinks it’s too much of a risk, me going into his territory. His warding system isn’t as sophisticated as ours yet, of course, but he’s working with a lot of innate power there, and it’s concentrated stuff. If I fall into his hands, it would be all over for us.”

“Lots of magic per square foot in London,” Draco agreed. “I do worry about that. If he gets back to his full strength at any point, with all that magical energy behind him…”

“I know,” Harry said. “It’s one of the things that keeps me up at night, to be honest.”

“There are probably quite a few of those,” Draco said, lip curling not unkindly. “Do you— I mean, I always order too much…” He waved his hand at the bags of takeaway. Harry could see a curling bag of brown paper with the corner of a herb-dappled naan poking out, and he felt ravenous again, all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

#tacky's fth #wip snip #drarry #drarry fic #six sentence sunday #six paragraph sunday more like #asked and answered #rowing and chatting #thank you anon most sincerely #i hope you like it when it does post

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allmoshnobrain · 1 month

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 4,7k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, pov change

✦ a/n: New chapter's here! First of all, I might not be able to update the next part on Monday. I'm halfway through writing it, but my days have been crazy busy, so it might take me a bit longer to wrap it up. But I swear, as soon as it's ready, I'll get it posted! This chapter is really special to me because we're diving into Dave's POV; I put a lot of heart into capturing his feelings just right, so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is welcome, thanks for reading! 🖤

✧ In terms of love, sunflowers symbolize pure and steadfast love, like Clytie who constantly gazed at Apollo. Therefore, giving someone a sunflower means telling them: “my love for you will be constant, and unchanged, like how the sunflower always faces the sun”. ✧

February 20, 1992

I sighed nervously, wringing my hands as I paced back and forth in my home's living room. After getting back in touch with Dave, we’d decided to meet up and have a chat about everything — the past, the present, and maybe the future. I didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance in my life, unsure how it might shake up all the delicate balance I'd been trying to maintain lately. I’d left a message on James' voicemail the day before, filling him in on our reunion and our plans to catch up. Figured James should hear it straight from me, especially since he was the one who helped me hunt down Dave back in the day, spending months on end trying to track him down.

Now, though, it wasn't James occupying my thoughts, but Dave. I studied myself in the mirror; decked out in a cute dress, my cheeks flushed, my eyes gleaming with anticipation like they hadn't in ages. I'd even indulged in a touch of red lipstick, which now seemed a bit too much as I battled my nerves. Did I really care that much about whether he found me pretty?

I felt kind of silly, to be honest. But deep down, I knew I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice again. Our call the day before had been brief, just a few hesitant words passing between us before I realized that talking on the phone wasn't cutting it. I needed to see him face-to-face, even if it was just to put a final chapter on our story once and for all.

I couldn't help but gasp with surprise when the doorbell chimed, my heart leaping into overdrive as a blush crept up my cheeks. Rushing to the door, I swung it open, my smile widening as I met Dave's gaze, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He didn't even seem real, a vision straight out of a dream, his ginger hair catching the sunlight, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. It was everything I’d ever wanted, seeing him again like this, as if all my dreams were being handed to me on a silver platter.

"You’re here," I murmured dumbly, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

"Hey. Of course I am," he said, handing me the bouquet of sunflowers. I blushed as I accepted them, a delighted grin stubbornly forming on my lips. "These are for you."

"Oh, thanks, Dave," I replied, trying to contain the urge to throw myself into his arms right then and there. It seemed Dave was grappling with a similar hesitation; he reached out, lifting my chin, his thumb tracing my cheek. I sighed, feeling my heart kick up a notch. "So... you wanna come in?"

We stepped into my place; Dave plopped down on one of the couches in the living room while I scurried off to find a vase for the flowers. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found one, filling it with water in a hurry. Carrying it back to the living room, I set it on a small table near the window. Turning back to Dave, I caught his calm smile, feeling the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air between us.

"I... Yeah," I murmured, then sighed, trying to calm myself. "Dave... Last time we were together... The day you ended things with me..." I hesitated, seeing a storm of sadness and hurt stirring in his eyes, but he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, urging me to continue. "That day... it was a mess. Most of it was my fault, but... I swear, Dave, I didn't cheat on you with James. I..." I struggled to keep going, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening, tears threatening to spill over and choking my voice. "Please," I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, believe me. I can explain everything, I..."

I couldn’t keep talking; suddenly, the doorbell rang. I jumped, glancing nervously at Dave as the sound repeated.

"You should get that," Dave said, offering me a faint smile, though tension still lingered in the air. I nodded anxiously, making my way to the door.

I swung the door open, and there stood James.

"James?" I blinked, tension gripping my body. "What are you..."

"I got your voicemail. Where is he?" he growled, seizing me by the shoulders and shoving me aside before I could answer. Oh no, I thought, trailing after him into the house. He marched in with long, heavy strides, heading straight for the living room where he found Dave, who rose to his feet at the sight of him, a tempest brewing in his hazel eyes. "You!" James bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"James, chill!" I clutched his arm, meeting his eyes with a mix of exasperation and pleading. "We're just having a conversation. I told you we agreed to talk!"

"So now you have to report every move to him?" Dave shot back, his brow furrowing at me.

"Take a look in the mirror, man. Like you weren't a control freak when you two were together. You think I don't know you guys fought every time Nore wanted to see us?" James snapped, and Dave's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I ain't here to chat with you, Hetfield. It's best if you bounce," he growled, his tone carrying a hint of threat. I glanced between James and Dave, my pulse quickening. Oh no, not this again.

James chuckled, dripping with sarcasm.

"Ain't here to chat with you either, Mustaine. But you've got some serious nerve rolling up here after all the crap you pulled. You don't get to waltz back into her life like nothing happened. Like you didn't hurt her."

I gawked at James, my eyes widening in surprise. So, that's why he'd shown up? To defend me? All along, I figured if I crossed paths with Dave again, he'd be stoked for me, b ut clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Funny," Dave shot back, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Real funny, coming from you. Like you and Lars didn't pull the shit you did on me. Like you weren't trying to steal her from me from the start. You reckon I didn't catch the way you looked at her?"

"Well, in the end, I came out on top, didn't I?" James edged closer, his tone dripping with venomous irony. "I got the band, and I got the girl. What about you?"

"James, knock it off!" I interjected, and both of them swung their gazes towards me, as if just remembering I was there. "Did you forget Dave's here 'cause I invited him? I wanted to sort things out with him, alright? Lay off him!"

James arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback and a bit peeved by my response. I held his gaze, my cheeks flushing under Dave's watchful eyes, but I refused to break eye contact with James, a silent exchange playing out between us. He eventually rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

"Ugh," I grumbled, frustrated, trailing after him. "James, come on!"

"What the fuck, Nore!" he exclaimed, wheeling around, and I instinctively took a step back. "What the fuck were you thinking, inviting this guy over?"

"I already told you I needed to talk to him! James, he deserves to know the truth. It's not right for him to keep believing I did him dirty like that..."

"That was ages ago. Why's it such a big deal now?"

"Of course it's a big deal! And what you and the guys did, booting him out of the band, matters too. You should at least say you're sorry..."

"Here you go again, sticking up for him like he didn't fuck up," James growled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me! All these years, I've done nothing but love and protect you. He fucking left you! He left you high and dry, then went around bad-mouthing you to everyone without even considering your feelings, without even giving you a chance to explain. Did you ever think that you could've set things straight ages ago if he'd stopped to listen? You shouldn't even give him the time of day, Nore."

"James, we were kids ," I said, my voice quieter now , trying to bring some calm to the heated moment, trying to make him understand. "I messed up plenty too. You cheated on your girlfriend to be with me. We're no saints here, okay?"

"Well, if you think this guy is here to just patch things up and be buddies afterwards, you're dead wrong, alright? Dead wrong, and you know it. Bet he's still sore about losing you, because if he's not over getting booted from the band, would he really be over that?"

"And why does that even matter? This isn't about him moving on from me or not, it's about us making things right..."

"Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about making things right with him."

"And that's the fucking problem!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "There was a time when you'd get why this means so much to me. There was a time when you'd want me to do what makes me happy! So either you were bullshitting me or you've changed so much that you just don't give a damn anymore. Honestly, I don't know which is worse."

James stared at me for a moment, hurt and shock in his gaze, the same old hurt that always resurfaced between us — the hurt of not being able to understand each other anymore. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as he closed his eyes.

"What happened between us and him is in the past," he growled. "I don't need to keep going over that, and I sure as hell don't owe him an apology. If you feel like you do... Don't come crying to me when he screws you over again."

"James..." I started, reaching out to grab his hand, but it was too late. He shook his head, pulling away, and stormed off, hopping into his car and slamming the door shut before speeding off. I watched him leave, my heart pounding as tears welled up in my eyes, wondering if I'd ever find a way to make things right with both Dave and James without causing even more hurt along the way.

☆

I've never been one to let things slide easily.

Holding onto grudges was kind of my thing. In a world that had kicked me and spat on my face since day one, anger had been my go-to move, sword and shield rolled into one, keeping me safe from the emptiness that always lurked.

Sometimes I'd been pretty good at channeling that anger into something productive, but other times? Well, let's just say it was a rocky ride. It was like walking a tightrope, flirting with self-destruction, and usually, things didn't end well — not for me, and definitely not for the people around me.

Grudges kept me on my toes. They kept me sharp. Couldn't forget, couldn't let myself get fooled again by someone who'd already done me wrong. And I was cool with that, like a ticking time bomb kind of cool, until I thought I found someone who got me. Someone who could put out the flames, show me the softer side of life, the morning sun's warmth instead of the heat of a fire.

She had always been my Achilles' heel.

We were lost children, lost in the haze of our youth, drowning our sorrows in booze, trying to escape everything that hurt us. I started falling for her then, in a simple way, because she was like me, yet she was good. Kind in a way that baffled me, that I couldn't wrap my head around. How could she see so much good in me when I couldn't even see it myself? How could she trust me so completely, with a trust that scared the hell out of me because I wasn't used to that kind of tenderness, that kind of affection?

Before I knew it, my love had turned into devotion. A devotion so deep it mingled with the marrow of my bones, making me stronger and weaker in equal measure. ‘Cause when I lost everything but her, the fear that she might be next only drove us apart.

Eleanore. Eleanore. Nore.

It wasn't a walk in the park to forget her after it all went south. For the longest time, I wanted to forget her, to despise her just like I did with Lars and James for booting me out of Metallica. After some time, it became a piece of cake to act like I didn't give a shit, that I was better off without her, that I was over her and ready to move on, diving into other kisses, other lovers. Drowning myself in whatever substance I could find, anything to drown out the hollow feeling inside.

But without her shining light, I was adrift.

As weeks turned into months and months into years, my fury toward her slowly simmered down enough for me to see that what I felt wasn't anger, but love. A love wounded and raw, twisting my heart in an endless pit. I longed for her, but it was too late; it wasn't rocket science to figure out that she and James were living the dream of a perfect relationship while folks seemed to get a kick out of keeping me posted on every move Metallica made without me. And I tried to sell myself the story that it was for the best; that if she’d left me, it was better for her to be with someone who truly lit up her world. That I wasn't, and had never been, good enough, worthy enough of her love.

And to add insult to injury, it's not like I didn't have my own demons to wrestle with. As the years rolled on, my reliance on any and all substances that could numb me from reality grew worse by the day, until it reached a breaking point. My first go-round in rehab fell short; I found myself making repeat visits to those gloomy facilities more times than I could tally up. And all along, I was just searching for something, anything, to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction. Something that could pull me back from the brink, something that could save me.

And then I found her.

As fleeting as our reunion had been, it was enough to shatter any facade of normalcy I had managed to cobble together. Because deep down, I knew that after laying eyes on her again, I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity to reconnect slip through my fingers. It was like her presence had wiped away all the pent-up anger I harbored inside. But beneath that anger lurked pain and fear. After all, hadn't she chosen James over me in the end? How could her reappearance not feel like a mirage, especially when she had once shown me the purest, most sincere form of love, only to snatch it away and make me believe I didn't deserve any of it?

That I didn't deserve her. And that she was worthy of something better.

When she asked to meet up to discuss the past, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. How could I deny her anything? And there I was, the Dave Mustaine, known for my sarcasm, anger, and aggression, completely bending to the whims of a woman. But not just any woman.

Her.

I found myself buying her flowers and eagerly anticipating our meeting like some lovesick teenager. Not because I was after a quick fuck or a girl dazzled by my wealth and fame, but simply because it was her. And God knows how when she was around, it was like everything else faded into the background. I dared to hope that her sudden reappearance in my life, after so much pain, emptiness, and longing, was a sign that good things were on the horizon.

But life's never that simple, is it?

Then James showed up, with his anger, arrogance, and disdain. My heart sank as I watched the intimate exchange between them, even in the midst of a fight. The silent communication in their glances held the weight of years of companionship, two souls deeply entwined on the same journey. And I couldn't help but envy James because he knew a side of her that I no longer did. He had stolen it from me, something I’d lost when I was deceived and betrayed by those I once considered my family.

But as I listened to their argument, and her desperate pleas for him to understand that all she wanted was to make things right and explain herself, I couldn't help but remember one of the things that had made me fall head over heels in love with her in the first place: her unwavering loyalty, always ready to defend those she cared about, the same loyalty that had her standing by my side without a second thought when my world came crashing down. Loyalty. I swear I never cheated on you with James. That's what she’d said, right? And I realized I believed her, but that didn't make things any easier. Because if that was true, then had I truly shut her out of my life, without even giving her a chance to explain herself, all over some stupid misunderstanding?

It wasn't surprising that James was furious with her for still holding onto any hope of patching things up with me. Fuck . I mean, it wasn't like this was anything new, but had I really been that big of an idiot?

I didn't even deserve her to look at me. I should just leave, spare her from my anger, my bitterness, and my mistakes. But how could I when she was right there, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she tried to choke back, so close and so real?

"I'm sorry, Dave," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't know James was gonna barge in here and stir up such a mess, I..." She sighed, seeming lost for words, wrapping her arms around herself, looking so confused and alone that I couldn't resist. Striding over to her, I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against my chest, hoping against hope that this would be enough for her to grasp everything I was feeling but couldn't put into words. She smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and this unique sweetness that was just her, and it made me ravenous. I buried my face in her hair, one hand gripping the back of her head while the other pulled her closer, and she hugged me back, like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were telling the truth, huh?" I murmured, my heart aching. "You and James... You weren't really together that day?"

"No," she sobbed, her voice heavy with sorrow, and I held her even tighter. "No, we weren't..."

"It's alright. It’s okay, sweetheart," I whispered, the pet name slipping out without me even realizing it, the weight of my mistakes threatening to crush me with regret. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t, not now. I had to stay strong for her. "I'm here. Let it out, I'm here."

I held her until her sobs subsided, her breathing slowing down. She pulled back a bit, looking up at me, her face tantalizingly close to mine, and I had to use all my strength not to kiss her right there .

"You don't wanna chase after James?" I questioned, trying to hide the distress in my voice. She shook her head, looking like she might burst into tears again any second.

"No, not right now. It'd just make everything worse. We'd end up arguing more,” she whispered, her cheeks damp from her tears. “He's angry, Dave. And he's been holding onto that anger for ages, and I don't know how to help him..."

"Hey, it's alright. You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"We weren't together. I mean, that day," she started, breaking away from my embrace and heading to the couch, where she took a seat. I took a seat too, unable to stand even a moment apart from her. "I knew James had feelings for me. I knew because he'd kissed me once, out of the blue, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring the way he felt."

She paused, and I nodded, pushing down the surge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside me.

"I… I liked him too. But I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. And I’d chosen you . I would always, always, always have chosen you. That day, running into him was just a total coincidence. I didn’t even know he was gonna be there. I mean, I get it now, I should've told you everything back then. But honestly, I was scared stiff. Didn't wanna risk pushing you even further away. It was all my fault..."

"No," I cut in, squeezing her hand, small, soft, and warm, in mine. "No. I should've let you explain. You were my girlfriend, after all. I owed you that much, Nore."

"I tried to track you down afterward, you know, to explain myself," she confessed, her voice choked, those pleading blue eyes of hers practically begging for understanding. "But it never quite panned out. And then..."

"And then?" I prodded gently. She glanced away, nibbling on her lower lip, like she was wrestling with the right words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her on.

"And then... There was that song."

I let out a rough breath. Mustaine, you fucking idiot. She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly which song she meant, a tune born from my anger and bitterness, a misguided attempt at bravado fueled by some foolish hope that she'd hear it and come chasing after me, even if it was just for a fight. But in the end, it only drove Nore farther from me. If there was a prize for boneheaded moves, I'd have been on that podium in a heartbeat.

"And you never bothered to find me," she murmured, her voice laced with hurt, her gaze dropping to her hands, her lower lip trembling just enough to betray her pain. It was like watching a wounded bird, helpless and vulnerable after falling off its nest.

God, how I longed for her to forgive me, even for the sins I had not sinned.

"I tried," I admitted, and she glanced up at me quick, cheeks flushing the sweetest shade of pink, those blue eyes of hers sparkling like they could stop my heart. Why was she happy to hear that? Why was she messing with my head like this? Didn't she love James now? Tears threatened to well up again, the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't stand this. "I did try. But you were gone. Off touring in Europe with him. And then a year later or so, Cliff pops up at one of my gigs. I asked about you, wanted to see you. But he shut me down," I revealed bitterly. "Told me to get over it. Said you and James were together. That you were in love. So I threw in the towel."

She looked utterly surprised, like it was news to her. After all these years, I'd figured she didn't give a damn. So why the sudden interest? Why act like she didn't know? It felt like she was ripping my heart out all over again. Because, painful as it was to admit, I still loved her. I had never, ever, ever stopped loving her. And now she was back in my life, with those piercing blue eyes and that gentle heart, thinking she could save me, thinking she could fix things. Innocent. Pure. Wasting her heart on the wreck that I was.

And I couldn't even muster the guts to lay it bare — that I was a screw-up. That I was useless, that she oughta go off and be happy with James 'cause she'd never fix what was broken in me. I didn't deserve that. But I wanted it — I wanted to be near her. I was too damn selfish. I wanted her goodness. Her innocence. I needed it to belong to me, and only me, and no one else.

I didn't deserve her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping my hands tight. "I just... I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I didn't know, Dave," she sniffled. Was she crying? She shouldn't be. She hadn't done anything, anything wrong. Maybe I should've pushed harder. Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should've gone after her, fought for her. But now, it felt too late.

"I should go," I muttered, even though it tore me up inside. "I don't want... You and James, Nore, you two are together..."

"But we're not, " she blurted out. I went still, locked into her blue gaze. Please, don't toy with me like this. "Things with James, Dave... They're complicated. But we're not together. Not like that. We..." Her voice hitched, and all I wanted was to hold her, to never let her go, to never let her cry again. "We're both broken. Cliff's death... It tore us apart."

And there it was. That vulnerability. I'd noticed it, how she seemed fragile now compared to the lively girl I once knew. This was new, and it broke my heart that she’d changed to feel ruined. It crushed me that the happy, determined, kind girl I once knew had become a wounded woman. A woman still grieving, even years after losing the one who'd shaped her world.

And it stung even more that I was such a worthless piece of shit that I felt selfishly relieved to hear she and James were no longer together.

"Please, don't string me along like this," I managed to whisper. She chuckled, her voice trembling, then met my gaze.

"Dave. Would I lie to you about something like this?" she asked, almost sweetly. Oh, this devil of a woman. If only she knew how she had me in the palm of her hand right then. "Please... I don't want you to leave."

"What should I do?" I practically pleaded. Just tell me what to do because I can't take this anymore. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to—

"Stay with me," she breathed, her fingers weaving through mine. My heart raced, disbelief flooding me. I didn't deserve it, this happiness. I didn't deserve her.

Yet there she was.

Yet she wanted me.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch her face gently. I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb, watching as she blushed, her lips parting ever so slightly, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. I pulled her close, my mind racing as much as my heart, and kissed her, our lips moving together, my tongue exploring her mouth eagerly, tasting her like it would be the last time. Because maybe it would. Maybe this was all just a dream, and I would wake up in my cold bed, miserable and stupid and alone without her.

Because this was too good to be true. That a woman this small could hold this much power over me, over my heart, felt almost like a joke. But there she was. She was beautiful. She was kind.

And she wanted me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet

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balanceoflightanddark · 6 months

Note

I would be curious to hear your full thoughts on Azula in the Spirit Temple

...oh boy...my full thoughts on Azula in the Spirit Temple...

Needless to say, there has been a LOT of discourse on the release of the Azula one-shot these past few days. I know cause...well, I made a post saying my fic was on hiatus till I got my head straight. So needless to say, I've been in the middle of it myself.

The thing about the one-shot though is that it's not just the comic itself but all the baggage and expectations that comes with something that we've been waiting 15 years for. This is the first time Azula has EVER gotten the focus for once. For many of us, this has sort of been a make-or-break situation. I'll get to why in a moment but needless to say, it's been a stressful week.

But having read the comic, I'm ready to give my opinions on it. Spoilers. Obviously.

By now you should know the synopsis: after a raid on a granary, Azula's Fire Warriors make a rescue attempt for one of their comrades, leaving Azula behind. After trying to track them down for their "betrayal", Azula stumbles across a temple deep within the wood home to a monk. Of course, not all is as it seems, as it becomes apparent that something dark resides within, pitting the Princess against her very own psyche.

As I mentioned before, this is Azula's first time in the spotlight. The whole comic is written from her point of view, and she is effectively the protagonist. Going in, I was both excited...and terrified. See, this is her first appearance since the Yang comics and...

...yeah. Needless to say, there's a LOT of bad blood for me going into this comic. So much so that I nearly lost it when I heard some of the spoilers going in.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

To begin, this comic does the most critical thing right: Azula is NOT portrayed as being an irredeemable monster. While she's still a villain and makes a lot of questionable choices (her treatment of the Fire Warriors is reminiscent of how she treated Mai and Ty Lee after all), she's also given a great deal of sympathy. Probably the most we've seen out of the franchise so far.

If Azula was some kind of monster, there's no way panels like this should even exist. What's more, I actually think it does something that I think wasn't handled well in the series and treated little!Azula as...well, a kid. Not a monster or "sick" as Zuko called her in "Zuko Alone". Just a talented kid who unfortunately caught the eye of Ozai for being good at firebending. Hell, that teaser image of her burning the turtleduck was actually a toy and not the real deal.

It's stuff like this that got me excited for the comic initially. This was what we've been waiting for years now. Writers actually acknowledging that Azula was a victim and not some monster.

...which is why I blew up when the previews turned out to be misleading.

See, Azula doesn't get her redemption here. She's offered one (we'll get to that in a minute), but she rejects it and ends the story as a bad guy. Granted there are hints that she's starting to change, but she's still going after the throne and is still opposed to Zuko. Which...kind of got me upset. Mainly cause I thought it was another bait-and-switch like with Yang hinting at Azula changing at the end of The Search, then going around with her crappy portrayal in Smoke and Shadows.

Course there's only so much you can do within a single one-shot, so admittedly...my hopes were too high. Like, there was a lot I wanted. I wanted the heroes to finally get called out on their bull crap. I wanted Azula to get a break. I wanted...I guess I wanted to feel validated that somebody was listening to us.

And granted there is a little bit here and there. The asylum is NOT looked on kindly by Azula or any of the Fire Warriors, with her even trying to reassure herself she's not being held there anymore.

She even calls out Ursa on abandoning her, saying that Ozai effectively conditioned her into being a weapon when she didn't have any choice in the matter. Hell, there's a heavy implication she's genuinely hurt by what Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee pulled in the past (which considering what they did in the comics, is a lot) and wants some kind of apology from them.

Again, while she's not entirely a saint here, I don't think they'd have this panels if she was entirely in the wrong.

Which then we get to the redemption offer. Basically, the Spirit offers to give her a chance to change...which she rejects.

The problem is, said chance involves her apologizing to THEM first. And I don't think that's portrayed as a good thing since the hallucination of Zuko looks eerily reminiscent of Ozai and downright monstrous. As others have pointed out, it's clear that the Spirit doesn't know Azula and the "redemption" sounds more like groveling for forgiveness. So of COURSE it's not going to work for somebody like Azula since that won't solve anything for her.

So...we come to the ending.

The Spirit calls Azula a monster, says she's squandered a chance for redemption, and she looks upon the Fire Warriors having fun together and...she leaves...

...alone...

...look. I understand that @prying-pandora666 said this was essentially a reset. Getting Azula to a post-Sozin's Comet state with a fresh start. And I get that. Particularly if the animated stuff is gonna feature her.

...but she's alone...again...

I'm okay with her not getting a redemption since I don't think she was mentally ready for one. But...

sighs

Listen, remember how I said I wanted a lot from this comic? Too much in fact? Yeah. I was so focused on what I needed as opposed to what Azula needed. A fresh slate might be what she needs. And in a vacuum, I think this comic is pretty solid.

It's just everything else is where I have problems.

15 years waiting. 15 years of Bryke/Yang's comics, ableism, and lack of empathy. 15 years of stress, of being seen as an outcast by the fandom. It's...it's a lot to hold. And there's no way a single good comic is gonna be able to rebuild those burned-down bridges. I understand that there's talk of a potential follow-up and stuff for her from Avatar Studios.

It's just...you know. You're always afraid of this being the end. Which...doesn't sit well with me. I'm just afraid they're gonna use Azula as a marketing tool to sell future comics. That they're gonna drag this out. That they're gonna keep playing this centrist field instead of committing (it's fine here, and I do think Faith does lean in towards Azula being sympathetic after all), it's just...

I'm sorry. I want to love this comic and be excited for more stuff with Azula but...15 years is a long time. And it's going to take more than a single good comic to get me back on board fully.

#azula #princess azula #azula meta #azula in the spirit temple #atla comics #atla #azula comic #long post #sorry i can't be more enthusiastic

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slut4thebroken · 11 months

Text

Exposure Therapy Prologue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You find a new therapist who is more than willing to help you overcome your fears.

Warnings | 18+, talks about fear of being raped, talks about fear of being pregnant and giving birth, pretty much just a content warning for their conversation, the real bad stuff is in pt. 1

Words | 700

Notes | You don’t technically have to read this chapter, it just provides some more background for part 1.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You anxiously sat down on the small couch, picking at your cuticles as you waited.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, giving you a calming smile.

“A little. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s completely normal to be nervous during the first session, especially if you’ve never done anything like this before.” That calmed your nerves a little. “Let’s start simple. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”

“Um… The fears that I have are getting a little out of control and affecting my everyday life, so I was hoping you could help me get over them. At least a little bit.”

“Knowing you need help and taking the initiative to seek that help is already a really good start.” You gave him a shy smile at the praise, not sure how to respond. “Since this is a consultation, I’d like to know what fears you need help overcoming so I can figure out the best treatment for you. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course. There are two main ones. Um… being- being raped and being pregnant or giving birth.” He scribbled quickly as you spoke and you waited anxiously for him to respond.

“I want to better understand you. Is it alright if I ask some questions?” He asked, crossing his hands and resting them on the notebook in his lap.

“Yes.”

“Is there any past trauma that might’ve caused these fears?” You shook your head. “Let’s just focus on the first one for now. What do you think might be the cause?”

“I guess just knowing how common it is? I feel like I’m living every single day just waiting to become part of the statistic.”

“That must be pretty debilitating feeling that way. Is that stopping you from doing a lot of the things your peers do?” You just nodded in response. “And what about the other one? How is that affecting your everyday life?”

“Um…” You bit your lip as your cheeks grew warm, realizing what you would have to explain to answer his question. “It’s- I don’t…” Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m here to help you, but you have to help me understand before I can do that.” You nodded in agreement, trying to force yourself to just say it.

“I'm on birth control, but I still don’t feel like I can rely on that completely. And when boyfriends or whatever find out, they usually want to- to…”

“Not use a condom?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t feel safe doing that?” You shook your head as you bit your bottom lip. “So it’s affecting your relationships. Is it affecting you individually as well?”

“Well I mean, I… want to do that with them too.”

“You have a breeding kink?” You stared at him with wide eyes, floundering for a response. He was unfazed by the inappropriate question though.

“I wasn’t going to say it like that, but yeah.”

“Kinks can often be coping mechanisms. Do you have any other that could be related?”

“…Cnc?”

“Is it easier to partake in that one because there’s no real risk?”

“Yeah I guess so.” This time when he started writing, he took a little longer than the past few times. When he finally looked back up, he gave you a small smile.

“I think I’m going to be able to help you, I already have a few treatments in mind. Thank you for being so open with me, I know it’s not easy talking about something so personal.” You nodded, not sure what to say. “We can start regular therapy but in the meantime I can prescribe you some medication for the anxiety.”

“Oh I don’t- I don’t know if I want to take medication.” He passed the pen over the paper in one stroke, striking something out.

“The old fashion way then.” He smiled and you chuckled awkwardly, wondering if you messed up by saying that. It didn’t seem like you did? Maybe you should just agree since he thinks it’ll help? He cut off your over thinking before you had the chance to say you changed your mind. “Do you think once a week will be a good start?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Part 1

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #dr crane #scarecrow #tokophobia #fear of being pregnant and giving birth #therapy #exposure therapy

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highpri3stess · 1 month

Text

"Why are we hating on JJK writers and fans."

Okay, as a JJK fan, let's list everything that has happened for the past three months. Take a seat and drink water. You're gonna need it. And since you people always think I'm angry, imagine me saying this with the most deadpan tone in the world. I am not angry posting this. I am jaded.

Majority of you are racist. Don't boo me you know it's the truth. Just look at how you guys wanted me to deactivate or tried to gaslight me because I said your fave is supporting a pedo. In FACT. It was a JJK writer who sent my post to that lady who opened me up to a lot of racial abuse from JJK fans. Edit; oh and she didn't apologize for doing that to me btw. I won't expose her though.

And doubling down on the racism, you people do not respect black women in your fandom. Like it is VERY bad. My jjk moots since 2021 up until now still get racial slurs hurled at them because they exist in a space that does not care or defend them. And you see your black moots get racist comments but you want to go "no discourse". I get it. You are a pussy. But to that extent? If you're above 20 and you're still scared of talking about racism in your community or standing up for black writers I am ashamed for you and I am shaming you.

I didn't even see any of you talk about noury on here. Especially ms "I will use the palestinian genocide to hide from criticism." I genuinely hope you at least donated something to her or spoke about her on your other platforms.

The way you guys excuse anything as long as the person is your friend. Because tell me why you people were jumping on Ezra's and Tee's dick, especially after what they both did. Or trying to discredit his racism. Be for real.

The way some of you come for other fandoms. JJK girls, especially that one that deactivated came around to drag aot writers because they said they are "niggerfying" the characters. You go to tr writers and start sending hate, chasing them out. Hell, there are cliques of JJK writers and fans alike on this site. You guys are fucking elitist. You don't like any other person apart from yourselves and it shows. The way you come for how people write x reader "why is she so ghetto". It is ALWAYS you people. Always.

SatoSugu fans are slowly becoming extremely misogynistic. I'd expect that behaviour from dudebros but the moment a girl says they like either of them, they come out of the woodworks. Also, let people ship crack ships in peace. I've been a satosugu girlie long before the season 2 came out and I miss when we were a lot quieter. NanaGo girlies were chill. Can't you copy them at least?

Now moving on to less pending reasons:

I've said this before and I'll say this again, stop tagging "he spat in your mouth and came" or nsfw links with x reader and about 30 plus characters. I get it, we're all burnt out. But even in my busiest of days in university I have NEVER posted that kind of shit. I take my time because writing is a skill and an art. This is not fast fashion.

And stop rewarding anyone who does that. Why are they having 1k notes in 6 hours? What the fuck is up with that?

Do better writing Gojo and hell the entire cast. I get it. Every character has a stereotype attached to them. But come on, 800 words and STILL it is a copy and paste of every other fic? I have to check twice if it is the same author and it's not. It's like every naruto oc fic written in 2016. Same face syndrome but in fic writing.

Writers are getting burned out cause you guys want the same thing over and over again. I hope salt is not the only spice you use because sending hate anons to JJK writers who write outside daddy doms and playboy Gojo is giving that energy. Be for real. These people are giving quality fics, stop chasing them away.

These are my few gripes with you all, because one day is not enough to list every issue I have. If the shoe fits and you rant in my inbox, that's on you. I did tell you to take a seat, drink water and read this in the calmest voice as possible.

#monica.speaks ♡#jujutsu kaisen discourse #as a jjk fan i'm going to point it out #you guys should change the way you behave for real or don't [as]

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starsinmylatte · 6 months

Note

Hiiii I just recently discovered your blog and omg your writing is so good?? Damn I’m impressed

Idk if you’re taking requests, if not just take this as a general ask, but I’m obsessed with the idea of Silco and a reader who is like a mother to Jinx after I read that “soft” (i think that was the name?) fic… and I was wondering, how do you think it would get to that point? Surely it must’ve been hard for Silco to accept that this woman would just come into the last drop demanding to see his little devil of a daughter and taking care of her… enemies to lovers much? Anyway… just wanted to hear what are your thoughts in how they would come around to become a couple

Ooooh, thank you so much for reaching out, my darling anon!! I appreciate your sweet compliment so much. It made me smile so much during my crappy week 💜

I’d love to write a longer piece about this (and I absolutely will), so I’ll just leave you with a few thoughts for now!

Here's a link to the Soft fic mentioned in the ask! (it is absolutely NSFW, be warned) If you'd like to be added to my taglist for when I post the full thing, click here

Pairing: Silco x fem!reader

Warnings: None, really. This is SFW with the barest hint of suggestive content at the end

At some point, Silco realizes that he either needs to eliminate everyone from Jinx's past life or he needs to use them to connect with her. This strange, incredibly vexing woman is the strongest link to Jinx's past that she still has.

I'm sure that Jinx has a very hard time in the first few weeks after Silco's takeover. It's a struggle to get her to eat, bathe, and just generally take care of herself. She opens up to Silco some, but to his immense frustration that damned woman just keeps showing up and Jinx instantly calms for her.

Silco still has that choice to make. He can forbid the woman from returning (which she's very unlikely to agree to without force), outright get rid of her, or he can just accept her help and try to manage her involvement in Jinx's life.

I think Silco mulls it over quite a bit, especially when Jinx inevitably shuts him out, and he can't connect with her in any way. Killing the woman would be relatively simple, and maybe Jinx could move past the devastating loss, but he can't stop thinking about how his new daughter curls up in her arms.

Silco tells himself he's just being practical, and maybe he is, but the softness with which the woman holds Jinx is the first small chip in his armor towards her.

She does annoy the hell out of him, though, as the only person who can seemingly defy the most feared kingpin in the undercity. He also finds this more attractive than he'd care to admit, which makes him even more sour about the whole thing.

Meanwhile, the woman continues to just show up unannounced to The Last Drop. In an attempt to gain some form of control, Silco finally just snaps and tells her to come on two specific days of the week. Jinx cheers, the woman smiles at him, and Silco instantly realizes that was probably her plan all along. Damnit.

Continuing on with the soup idea from the fic, I think she and Jinx bake together a lot. Silco may have a hard time getting Jinx to eat at every other time, but the little girl absolutely devours anything the woman makes her.

She always leaves out a plate for Silco, which he doesn't eat after that first night. The first reason is because he's petty and still doesn't want to like the woman, and the second is because Jinx will eat the leftovers.

Sevika absolutely loves her, and so do the rest of Silco's staff because the woman has bribed gifted them all with homemade food. They all know her as a woman with a heart of gold who is fiercely protective of Jinx. She's not a threat Silco couldn't handle if he had to, but Sevika does derive some secret pleasure from how badly the incredibly lovely woman vexes her boss.

The first time Silco loses his temper at her in front of Jinx, the little girl cries, and the woman immediately brandishes a rolling pin at him. The sight makes Jinx break out into a small fit of giggles, and Silco just freezes and walks away, muttering under his breath.

Silco can't stop thinking about her, which frustrates him to no end. She's kind but will stand up to a drug kingpin with a fucking rolling pin, she loves his daughter like her own, and she's annoyingly good at cooking. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she stayed.....

I absolutely do think the more Silco realizes he actually likes the woman, the nastier he behaves towards her. He finds some way to rationalize it, but the truth is that he's trying to manufacture a reason to hate her.

I think it all comes to a breaking point one night after the woman puts Jinx to bed. Maybe the woman tries to make some gesture of goodwill towards Silco before she leaves, but he lashes out at her. It starts a yelling match between the two, and they start getting closer together as the argument grows more heated.......

And this is where I'll leave you ;)

#lyria responds #arcane silco #lol silco #silco arcane #silco imagine #silco #lyria rambles #arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #silco fanfic #arcane jinx #arcane netflix #zaun #arcane fic #arcane fanfic

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jo-harrington · 2 months

Text

Announcement - Boundaries

I’d written this towards the end of 2023 along with my personal resolutions but figured no one would want to see this especially considering no one wants dirty laundry aired on the dash but I’ve been unfollowing and blocking enough people now that I’m making this boundary known to all.

I identify as someone on the asexual spectrum, I’m not sex-averse but it takes a lot of emotional work and build up for me to get into right headspace.

For the past few months, i have worried more about being supportive of others/friends as much as I can when they write smut blurbs than I have about my own well-being. I try to superimpose the Eddies/characters who I've already built connections with in my head when a blurb is simply smut with no plot. And honestly this has been the first fandom l've been a part of that the fan creations are so skewed towards smut and not stories first. I could be wrong about previous experiences or might have be that good at curating my experience previously.

At the end of the day, this is the boundary I’m drawing NOW.

Because now I feel like I've pulled a muscle. What I come across most often are people (friends, mutuals, etc. doesn't matter) who write an Eddie that is incongruous to the one that exists in my head and my heart (WHICH IS THEIR RIGHT AS FIC WRITERS) and it's getting harder for me to stretch just a little further to connect the two. Which leads to me reading things I can't enjoy. Not because they aren't well-written, but because I simply can't.

And it’s not just smut.

This goes the same for Steve fics, just…broadly. I'm never gonna be a Steve girl; just gonna say it. I know I've been a little contradictory in previous reblogs, but that really speaks to the talent of the authors (they know who they are) who are creating stories that allow me to develop a connection with him.

In both instances though, you can't fit a square peg into a round hole. I can try....it just might not work.

So I’m going to be a lot more picky with my experience. I can’t do it anymore. I used to tag things “I don’t always read smut but when I do…” and I’m gonna be going back to that. Even for my own writing, which I’ve always written for the target audience—myself—I will be a lot more purposeful.

If someone’s been blocked or unfollowed, it’s always been my philosophy that my blog is my home. And I need to only let people in who won’t make a mess of it. And at this point the wallpaper is in pieces, the furniture is upside down, my windows are broken, and there is no knob on the door. I need to rebuild. And I’m starting today.

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heliads · 2 years

Note

I love love love your stories with Newt, thank you so much for writing them, i was thinking if I can request one? Just a simple thing with hurt/comfort and some angst. My idea is that reader does something that threatens her life, maybe she's the one that runs to help Minho in the maze at night (whatever, you decide really). But after that, when she comes back, Newt is furious, because he was SO worried that that was it, that he would lose her; so when she comes back he starts scolding her, but in the middle of the argument his eyes start to get all teary, and he just realizes he's crying after the first tear falls. Then despite him being stubborn and trying to avoid it, the reader just hugs him and holds him tightly until he calms down, this makes him break and cling to her, and he just sobs on her shoulder because he thought he would never see her again. Then just some cute moments and maybe his feelings getting spilled. Thank you, I'm excited to read it, you're awesome 💖

no you're awesome, anon! also i'm glad you like the newt fics bc like five requests for him came in during the last week, so you get a lot of newt content lmao

masterlist

You could spend your whole life wondering if you would never know what it feels like to be alive. Really, properly alive, that is, not this dreary day to day surviving that makes up most of your days in the Glade. You have a pulse, your blood is still good enough to force your heart through yet another set of paces, but it’s not enough. You don’t know that it will ever be enough.

Perhaps it’s the lack of freedom that keeps making you feel this way. You certainly have enough exertion in your life to give you probable cause to feel something a little stronger. After all, you and your fellow Gladers are the only things keeping you from certain death. Despite your best efforts, though, you cannot shake the obvious truth that you are in a prison, and that prison will keep you tied down until the day you die. In the life you lead, that may come sooner than you think.

Death is common enough in the Glade, as evident by the small graveyard in the back of the Deadheads. It should be enough to convince you of the merit of your own life, to let you seize the day because you know quite well that it may be your last. Still, your hours peter off into drudgery, and you cannot make yourself believe that any one of your days are worth the effort you put into them.

Shouting voices echo around you like the calls of birds, and you dimly realize that this must mark the end of the work day. Everyone has been released from their shifts at last. Most of the boys head over to their friends, slinging arms around shoulders and sharing what happened to them during the past few hours, all the jokes that have been quietly stewing in their heads now begging to be spoken aloud for greatest comedic effect.

Not all of the Gladers seem so happy to be off work, though. It’s not like they’re begging to be let back into their daily jobs, they’re just more like you, more apathetic. You wrap up the task you were doing before break was called and head out, rambling aimlessly through the Glade in search of something to fill your hours.

You used to be more like the more exuberant Gladers once, but you’ve been here for what’s coming up on three years. Despite all the work it takes to maintain the place, the Glade is small, and you can feel the walls of the Maze bearing down on you, forcing you to stay in place. You made your jokes a long time ago, their fountains of cheer have now run dry. There are no hilarious anecdotes left in you, just a deep, shifting weight of too much time on your hands.

You’re still not alone, though, despite your best assumptions. Soon enough, you’re greeted by your own name shouted aloud, your own friend coming up to grin at you. Newt’s been here almost as long as you have, yet he still finds a way to make his days worth something. There was a time, once, when he couldn’t. Neither of you dare to bring it up, but your eyes still flicker over to his bad leg every now and then when you’re sure he can’t see it.

Newt, in his tenure, has learned to read you just as well as the grounds of the Glade. He taps a hand lightly against your shoulder blade to get your attention.

“What’s up with you?” He asks, frowning slightly. “You seem more tired than normal. Sleep alright?”

You lift a shoulder. “Sleep was fine. It’s just– I’m sick of this place, you know? Nothing ever changes.”

“Repetition keeps us safe,” Newt reminds you, “I’m more worried about what happens when things start changing.”

You sigh. “I know. I’m glad to be alive, obviously, but how long are we supposed to be here, doing all this? The Creators had to have put us in here for a reason, but I just don’t get it.”

Newt nods slowly. “I’ve been thinking a lot of the same things. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, though. When the time comes and our situation starts shifting, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

He says his last bit with a sort of smile, and once again you’re amazed by how he’s able to stay positive so easily. If there is a pessimistic bone in his body, Newt is able to cover it up with the grace of a master illusionist.

Unable to hold your tongue, you ask him about it. “How are you able to do that? Stay so happy about everything, I mean. Why is your patience still intact?”

Newt chuckles. “I have a fairly good reason to make my days matter.”

He doesn’t clarify on what that means, but his eyes linger on you a second longer than normal. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, but force yourself to glance away lest you think too much into it.

Newt’s not wrong about the changes, though. The next Greenie Day is as normal as they come, even if the latest arrival tries to hurl himself into the Maze the second he appears. Thomas seems like he’ll be a fine addition to the Glade, all up until another Greenie arrives the next day. She’s unconscious, although between the fact that she knows Thomas’ name and comes bearing a note that says she’ll be the last one, ever, you’re not liking your odds that this will be quickly forgotten.

You and Newt spend your hours talking this latest development over with Alby. The three of you have been here the longest, or at least the longest of the surviving Gladers, but even your shared experience can’t come up with much explanation of what to do next. All that remains is to stay calm and hope that an avenue of escape presents itself as soon as possible.

Maybe that’s why Alby was so eager to go into the Maze the second Minho showed up one afternoon, out of breath and talking about having found a dead Griever. It’s another change, and everyone’s already on edge from the new girl’s arrival. A dead Griever could mean many things, but if it even hints at a way out, Alby feels that he has to see it for himself.

In the end, you’re not sure if he was right or wrong to visit the corpse of the Griever. Alby and Minho stay in the Maze longer and longer, to the point where a small group of Gladers starts clustering around the Doors to see if they’re coming or not. Although the gathering starts small, enough people head there after work that almost the entire population of the Glade, minus Teresa and a few others, finds themselves camped outside the gap in the stone walls.

Newt exchanges glances with you, both of you piercingly aware of the fact that Alby and Minho may not make it out. In that case, responsibility for leading the Glade will fall to Newt, but neither of you are remotely concerned with a sudden promotion, more what the loss of two of your closest friends will feel like. Although you hoped for change, this is too much.

Eventually, you see them, two straggling figures appearing around the corner of the far wall of the Maze. The Gladers erupt in shouts and cheers, begging them to have the strength to return home through volume and spirit alone. Even with the added motivation, though, you can tell that it’s no use. The time has come for the Doors to close, there’s no way your friends can make it back in time. Minho is almost carrying an unconscious Alby, he won’t be able to get both of them through the Doors.

It takes the Doors themselves starting to close to convince you of what you have to do. You won’t let your friends die here, not if there’s something you can do about it, no matter how small. You haven’t lived in a long time, too caught up in the monotony of having to survive, so at least now you can die for a purpose.

You look at Newt one last time before you go. He knows what you’re going to do, you think, you can see the flare of panic starting to rise in his eyes. Even Newt’s split second reaction is too slow, though, and you’re running through the Doors before he can pull you back.

The Doors slam shut behind you with a sickening thud. Minho looks horrified that you’d risk your life to try and save him and Alby, but you think that some selfish part of him is secretly glad that he won’t have to die alone. You help him hide Alby in some broken off hole in one of the Maze walls, but after that, the two of you have nothing to do except try not to die.

A few hours into the whole mess, you realize that you were wrong, terribly wrong. Dying will not make you feel alive, even in the midst of a glorious self sacrifice to save one of the few boys you’ve known the longest, it just makes you finally understand how much you’ll be losing.

For once, you want nothing more than to delve back into that safe, sheltered monotony. Let the sun shine on your face once more, let you walk to dinner complaining with Newt about how the Builders can’t seem to stop themselves from causing fights. Even something so simple as waking up in your own hammock seems like a miracle right now.

It’s there in that moment, running as fast as you can away from terrifying Grievers, that you fundamentally change your perspective on life as you know it. Your world does not have to be exciting or dangerous for you to feel like you’re truly living, it just has to be good, and what you had before was indeed good.

You use that bright spark of a realization to power you through the night. You’re getting out alive, damn it, no matter what it takes. You and Minho will survive, even if the odds are stacked against you.

Despite your best words of encouragement, you’re still stunned to see the light of dawn filter across the sky. Making it through a night in the Maze is impossible, it always has been. Yet tonight, you and Minho set a new record. It feels amazing.

The two of you take up your positions near the Doors when the time comes. The stone slabs slide away, revealing a frazzled cluster of Gladers waiting for your arrival. The cheers and sighs of relief when your friends realize that you and Minho are alright is like nothing you’ve ever heard before, and you silently beat it into your mind that this is something worth remembering. This celebration is what living truly feels like.

You only allow yourself to relax once Alby is taken away by the Med-Jacks, and slump into your hammock for some much needed rest. For once, the dreamless sleep is all you’ve ever wanted, and you wake several hours later feeling peaceful, although not fully recovered.

As you pass Gladers and friends throughout the day, you’re met with proud smiles and fascinated whispers. Most of them are amazed that you survived, or simply in awe, although you think some are unnerved by it all. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for change, although more than a few Gladers are wary of it.

The one reaction you didn't expect, though, comes later. You’ve been looking for Newt all morning, ever since you saw him in that group waiting for you outside the Doors, but you’ve never gotten a chance to actually speak to him. Every time you try, he melts back into the crowds.

Your time comes later in the morning. You spot him walking through the Deadheads to grab more wood, and eagerly chase him down. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him, even in the few hours since you saw him last, but you’re still overcome with a wave of emotions upon coming face to face with him.

Newt, however, doesn’t seem as enthralled as you are. In fact, he looks almost angry. When he sees you, he throws down his load of lumber with far more irritation than you were expecting, making your steps slow in surprise.

Newt folds his now empty arms across his chest. “So, you made it out.”

You nod hesitantly. “Yes. Some might consider that a cause for celebration, but you look like–”

Unable to control his temper, Newt cuts you off. “What, like you broke a rule? You did, by the way. Non-Runners aren’t allowed in the Maze.”

You laugh incredulously, a sharp sound. “I was saving Minho and Alby. I did what I had to do to protect them.”

Newt scoffs. “And what about me? What about the rest of us, for that matter? You were supposed to die in there, all for nothing. I thought that was it for you. I thought I was going to lose you, all because you made the terrible decision to be a martyr. I can’t– I won’t–”

His words start freezing up in his throat, and you realize a moment before the first tear falls that he’s crying. Newt drags a frustrated hand over his eyes, but it’s too late, you’ve seen the damage. You’ve seen what you did to him by leaving.

Newt is starting to turn away, but you refuse to let this be the way the conversation ends, so you rush over to him and throw your arms around him. He tries to push you off by impulse, but you don’t budge and eventually he just sighs and pulls you closer to him. He smells the same way he always has, bright sunshine and freshly cut grass, although this time it’s tainted by salt from both his tears and yours.

You’re crying too, you realize, both of you choking on sobs because that is the worst punishment in the end, to have to lose the other. You discovered that when you were running for your life in the Maze, but Newt knew from the moment the Doors closed between the two of you.

You manage to gasp out words in between your tears. “I’m not going anywhere, Newt. Not anymore.”

He laughs, the sound muted against your shoulder. “Could have convinced me otherwise earlier. Just swear you won’t do it again, alright? I need you too much for that.”

You smile, pulling away briefly so he can see the sincerity on your face. “I swear. I don’t have to leave anymore, I’ve got you and that’s all that matters.”

It’s true, you realize halfway through saying it. You’ve got your new reason to live, and it begins and ends with the blond boy in front of you. He is all that you will ever need, and that’s just fine with you.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes

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fallingintolife · 1 year

Text

Mother Knows Best

Request: hi, i'm the anon that requested the sam winchester shopping fic ft dean! i hope you don't mind me requesting another sam one lol ( i don't see a lot of sam ones tbh so when i saw that you write for sam too i got excited :'D ) could the reader be a hunter that ran away from home because they have a narcissistic / manipulative mother ( kind of like mother gothel from tangled ) and started traveling with sam and dean because they felt safe with them , as well as dating sam ? one day while being out it turns out the reader's mother was in the same town , looking for them to try and bring them back home , and reader gets all scared because they don't want to go back which sam and dean notice just some good old fashion angst and hurt / comfort :)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Abusive mother, panic attack description

Summary: Dean said it best, "Monsters I get. People are crazy!"

Word Count: 1,875

A/N: Let me start off by saying I am so so so so so sorry this took as long as it did for me to post! I really have enjoyed writing on this prompt unfortunately life just got in the way but I hope that you do end up seeing this and reading it. I do hope that it was worth the wait...

Sending love 💕, hugs 🥰, and positive vibes ✨

When it came to being a hunter, there were a few unspoken rules. One of them being that no one asked anyone about their past; such as: how they got into hunting or any personal questions period. So when Sam met you while doing research in a public library for a hunt, which you helped solve, none of those questions were asked. Of course they made sure to test you to make sure you weren't a werewolf or demon or any other monster but after all the tests were negative you came along with them on hunts. At first you stayed in the motel room next door, but after a couple months you stayed with the boys in their room.

You'd been with the boys for eight months now, dating Sam for four of them. Even though Sam and Dean didn't ask you about your past they both had noticed different little habits that you did that showed them that your life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. Sam noticed that you hated giving your opinion or making any decisions. Dean noticed that any time he would yell or even just raise his voice in the slightest you would go into a complete panic. Noises in general seemed to send you into high alert. You were also very timid, not just in public but even still with them to an extent. And touching. You didn't like to be touched. Dean had gone to ruffle your hair once but after he saw you flinch and even braced for, what he assumed was for him to hit you…they avoided touching you. After that Sam let you initiate any kind of touch or affection that you wanted. He had gathered that you must have been in an abusive relationship at some point in your life and that maybe you were running away from them when they found you.

You were starting to open up some though. Sam was really happy to see you for you. He got to see what movies you liked and what kind of books you liked to read, and also just hear you talk about anything and everything.

You loved being with the boys. Even though the hunting itself was scary, living the hunter lifestyle was somehow better than your life before. You didn't remember a lot from when you were young growing up. (probably because your mind thought it was too much and too traumatic…) It had always just been you and your mom. She always hated you. You didn't know why, she simply just did. That was how it had always been. She knew how to cut you down in a second, how to quickly make you doubt yourself, and shit was she a master at guilting you! She knew you; all of your weaknesses and she used them against you anyway and any time she wanted.

The day you had run away was when you realized she had taken all the money you had hidden away and she had found it and spent it; all of it. She has ransacked your room looking for money and when you confronted her about it she didn't apologize, (which part of you knew she wouldn't, she never had before) she actually turned the tables on you, gaslighting you up, and playing the victim. For whatever reason that was when you had clarity: she was a narcissist and no matter what you did it would never be enough. So you ran. Now, eight months later you were traveling with the Winchester's helping on hunts.

You hadn't even been hunting, or rather researching, for long but when they saw you as an asset they let you come along with them. (After some begging and pleading and then the promise of taking them to the best diner in the city…) Sam intimidated you at first but then you realize that he was just a sweet/awkward/loveable goofball. Dean was also very caring towards you. They both made you feel safe, but Sam was your safe place.

Sam had always been so patient and understanding since you both had first met. Sam didn't ask questions or say that you were overreacting or being a drama queen when you would start to panic about something, he would just calmly apologize (which in itself was always quite startling since your mom had never done that once in her life…) and help you calm down. Sam never made you feel like you were a burden or too much, he and Dean on many occasions, would remind you that you were none of those things and they were happy that you decided to travel with them.

You and the boys were on your way back to Bobby's after a hunt when Dean stopped at a diner for lunch.

"Dean, you realize every diner is going to advertise they have the best pie." Sam stated as he rolled his eyes. You tried to hide your laughter, as you hid your face in his jacket.

"Yes and as a pie expert Sammy it's my job to find the best one." Grinning back at Sam, Dean went to the hostess so they could be seated. Just as you were about to joke with Sam was when you saw her. You froze. How did she know you were here? Had she been following you? No no no. This couldn't be happening…

Sam immediately felt you tense. He looked down at you puzzled, when he saw the look in your eyes. Terror and fear. Was there a monster in here? Or…was the person that caused you so much trauma here?

"Y/N?" He felt you tremble against him when you spoke his name but your eyes remained locked on whatever was the cause of your current state. "It's okay baby I've got you. I'm right here. You're safe." Speaking softly to you, he gently wrapped his arms around your back hugging you to him. Your entire body was quaking underneath him. He needed to get you out of here; now.

"Hey love birds, come on table's re-" Dean stopped sentence when he saw you both. His hunter instincts kicked in immediately. He followed your locked gaze to see a woman staring back at you. Dean walked back over to the two of you while looking at Sam.

"I don't know, I just want to get her back to the car." Dean nodded as they all got back in the Impala, this time Sam with you in the backseat.

You knew the boys were talking about you, about wherever had just happened and what to do next but it sounded like they were underwater. Your chest felt like it was being crushed by an anvil and your vision was really fuzzy…

"Y/N!" You tried to focus as you looked up at Sam. He was talking to you, or at least you thought he was because you could see his lips moving. You squinted trying to read his lips, "Breathe. I need you to breathe baby." Oh. You were having a panic attack. You put your head against his chest as you tried to breathe in sync with him. After what felt like hours you began to crash from your adrenaline rush wearing off.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Sammy. I don't- I don't know how she found me. My fault…it's my fault." You mumbled, eyes closing before you could hear Sam ask what you were talking about.

Sam had just gotten you into the motel room that Dean had found just two minutes down the road. You had been in a full panic in the car, having one of the worst panic attacks he had seen you have in a long time. When Sam noticed you were about to pass out was when Dean made the decision to drive to the motel. Just as Sam tucked you in was when Dean walked in.

"She okay?" Shaking his head as he recklessly ran his fingers through his hair, Sam began to pace.

"I don't know. I've never seen her react like that Dean, never. And she, she was apologizing about someone finding her?" Dean walked over and led Sam back to the bed.

"We'll figure this out, okay? She's gonna be okay Sammy." Sam nodded, laying down next to you and hoping Dean was right.

After a couple hours you woke up with a start, sitting straight up.

"Whoa, whoa! It's just me Y/N! It's Sammy." When you heard Sam's voice you immediately leaned into him for comfort as you took in your surroundings. "We're at a motel." You nodded, relaxing a bit. Dean was sitting on the bed watching a western, after twenty minutes went by when you finally spoke.

"My mom. My mom was who…who I saw in the diner." You admitted quietly, playing with your fingers you were more starting down at. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Your mom was who scared you?" You nodded, still staring at your fingers. Sam gently rubbed circles on your back as he softly whispered, "It's okay. You're safe. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." A few minutes of silence went by when you gathered up the courage to speak.

"When I met Sam in the library, I was doing research about demons. Not because I was a hunter but because I thought, well…kind of…God this sounds awful." A bitter laugh left your lips as you shook your head, tears steadily fell down your cheeks. "I had run into hunters before, heard my share of stories about demons and so I was hoping there was something I missed, something that I didn't test on her right because there was no way she wasn't a demon. I mean who could just treat their child so, so awful unless they were a demon?"

Shit. Sam and Dean had both had it all wrong. You weren't running from an abusive boyfriend. You were running from your abusive mom. Sam pulled you into his chest holding you tightly against him as he tried to calm you.

"I'm so sorry Y/N. I'm so sorry." He whispered.

Dean just shook his head in disgust.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again: demons, hell even monsters I get! But people," He shook his head as he laughed bitterly. "People are crazy."

An hour went by before everyone seemed to settle when you sat up and began to speak.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys from the beginning about what was going on…"

"Hey, there is nothing to apologize for. You didn't have to tell us anything." Shushing you, Sam pulled you back into his lap, gently placing your hair behind your ear.

"Sam's right. Look, whatever happened is in the past. You've got us now." You looked from Dean to Sam confused.

"You mean…you want me to stay?" Sam looked at you befuddled before his face softened.

"Of course, but only if you want to." A smile slowly grew on your face.

"Yes. I most definitely want to." You wrapped your arms around him. Like Bobby had always said, "Family don't end in blood." And these boys, they were your family.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #spn fic #supernatural fic #spn fic request #supernatural request #anon request #i am so so sorry for the delay #i really hope you do like it though...#♥️

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artsyunderstudy · 9 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday

Hey friends. Happy Sunday! So obviously, I posted the last chapter of Someone Wicked this Thursday. And it's bittersweet because writing this one and sharing it with you all has been like, the calm spot in the middle of the storm that was the past few months. I love hearing from some people that the story was comforting and healing because that's how it felt writing it.

Anyway, I'm being self-indulgent today and posting an excerpt from the final chapter. There are no huge spoilers for those who haven't got to read it yet, but this is a smaller moment that meant a lot to me.

When you have a disability, whether it be physical or psychological, it can be such a huge thing to admit that you need help. Or to admit to yourself that while you are indeed surviving, maybe you could be doing more than that. Maybe it doesn't have to be a daily struggle. But figuring out the line for yourself, where you feel comfortable reaching out to a friend, or getting on medication, or finally getting a mobility aid, whatever it is. It's really hard. And I just wanted to explore that with Baz in this fic. Because I've maintained that while this is very much a love story, it's also just as importantly about self-love. And so bringing this around, getting him to a place where he is consciously deciding to take better care of himself, was really monumental. A lot of his decisions in the last chapter were. I'm very proud of him.

This isn't the last mention of this in the fic, but it's one of my faves.

My gaze slowly slips toward the cane propped up in the corner of my room. I bought it a few weeks ago, polished dark wood with a brass Fritz handle catching my eye in a corner shop. I told myself it was just in case of hard days. Just in case I needed it. I haven’t touched it since.

Perhaps there hasn’t been a hard enough day. I don’t know how to tell. I’ve been living like this for years, putting up with it, working around it. I can survive.

But isn’t that just it? Haven’t I been trying to do more than just survive?

I look at it, the embossed handle gleaming in the low light. It’s a reminder, and not a bad one. (Though, it’s funny how easily hurt can turn lovely memories sour.) It reminds me that Simon didn’t want me to be in pain when there was a way around it.

Thank you again so much to everyone who was reading along, or who is just now picking it up, or simply enjoying the excerpts or the art shared to Tumblr. It's been a good experience. As someone who personally really struggles with knowing how and when to reach out for help, it's been particularly good.

Tags under the cut ♡♡

@imagineacoolusername @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @martsonmars @valeffelees @cutestkilla @bazzybelle @ileadacharmedlife @aristocratic-otter @urban-sith @basiltonbutliketheherb @letraspal @palimpsessed @whatevertheweather @nightimedreamersworld @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @raenestee @erzbethluna @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @yeonjunenby @shrekgogurt @thewholelemon @whogaveyoupermission @creepyspice @onepintobean @ebbpettier @orange-peony @theearlgreymage @ic3-que3n @captain-aralias @fatalfangirl @prettygoododds @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @mysterioussheep @rimeswithpurple @c0nsumemy5oul @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @larkral @j-nipper-95 @alexalexinii @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs

#artsyfic #six sentence sunday #someone wicked #snowbaz fic

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farfromstrange · 11 months

Note

Hello ,

Can you do Matt x reader who had ed

(No pressure it just that need some support those time )

Tyyy

Hi, lovely! This was a very personal request for me to write because I, too, have struggled with an ED in the past (and it still flares up from time to time when my body changes). I'm so sorry you're going through this and I hope I could give you some comfort with this piece. I've tried my best to encapsulate how it feels to go through a bad episode, but obviously, it's different for everyone. Take care of yourself, darling, and don't be afraid to ask for help!

Smaller Than This | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're going through a rough patch with your eating disorder and Matt notices it's getting bad again.

Warnings: TW: Eating Disorder, angst, self-loathing, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: If this topic triggers you, please read with caution! I will start tagging people for all of my fics now, except for fics with trigger warnings just like this one. The form for my tag list is to be found on my profile!

The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger. Empty, that’s how you feel. It’s exhausting to see yourself like this all the time, worthless, imperfect, useless – it’s a pain that can’t be put into words because it runs deeper than just not being satisfied with how you look.

You’ve been fighting the monster in your head for years, and it got easier over time to tune it out, but now that you find yourself naked in front of the mirror in your bedroom, the voices start overlapping and every inch of your body turns into a wasteland.

Food is your worst enemy. What started with just a few calories soon turned into several meals that you would skip. But no matter how much weight you lose, you still find parts of yourself that could be smaller, that should be smaller. You want this endless cycle to end, but you are your own worst critic; you feel like everyone who looks at you is judging you. You can’t be loved when you look like this, you think, and so you try to change everything about yourself to fit in. You pretend to love yourself, but as soon as you’re alone, the downward spiral continues.

It’s rather easy to find excuses for why you’re not eating, and people keep telling you how nice it is that you’ve lost weight, which only makes you want to lose more because it’s working. You feel like it’s working. That you’re slowly killing yourself doesn’t mean anything anymore, you just want to be perfect like everyone else around you. You want to be like the girls he loved before – you want to be his type. You feel like you’re not, so you have to change, and you eat even less now that he’s seen you naked. You want to please him and it feels like you can’t. You just want to be smaller than this so you can move on, but it’s exhausting to pretend that you’re okay, and you struggle to keep your head above water. You’re drowning. The world is about to cave in on you, and you’re not strong enough to carry it all.

Matt isn’t stupid. When he realizes you’re skipping out on dinner with him and avoid his attempts to wrap his arms around your waist, he starts wondering if there’s something he did wrong. Did he take it too far? He’s not sure and he doesn’t quite understand, but when your cheeks start hollowing out and you get a lot more dizzy, unable to accomplish even the easiest tasks, he pays more attention, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize what’s happening.

His ears are sensitive to the changes in your body, your blood pressure dropping and your pulse growing more erratic every day. At first, he doesn’t want to admit it to himself because he cares so much, it hurts, and you sure would have told him if it was getting bad again – because you’ve told him before that there was a time when you were a teenager where you’ve struggled with food and your general self-image, but that you’re better now. A few months into your relationship though, he’s starting to realize that you might have lied to him, or that things have just taken a drastic turn for the worse. He’s not sure what it is, but he’d be damned to let you slip away. He doesn’t want to lose you.

That night, he comes home from work and asks you, “Have you eaten yet today?”

“Yes,” you say.

It’s a lie.

He gently guides you to sit down. “Are you sure?” He’s trying not to push you, but it doesn’t take much to break you in your current state.

“I’m not hungry,” you try again, but fighting with a human lie detector about whether or not you’re telling the truth is futile.

Matt tilts his head, listening to your heartbeat. Your body is screaming for help, but the voices in your head are forcing it to be quiet until you’ve run yourself into the ground.

“How long?” he asks.

The silence hangs heavy over you. Your breath hitches, your nails digging into your palms, and you try not to meet his eyes. You’re tired, and he’s caught you in your most vulnerable moment.

“Sweetheart, please. I can tell you’re not alright. I just want to know… no, I need to know how long you’ve been doing this to yourself.”

You whimper.

“You’re not alone.”

You explode, and the pain eats you alive. He holds you as you cry into his arms, your body so fragile in his arms. He strokes your back, and it takes him all of his strength not to cry with you.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers. “Why?”

That’s not something so easily explained. Why do you starve yourself? Why do you hate yourself? Why do you want to look like the models in the magazines? Why do you feel like you’re not enough for a man as beautiful as him? You want to say it’s because people have told you so as a child, and while that’s true, there is so much more to it that can’t be so easily explained. It’s like something is wrong inside of you and you have no control over it anymore. That something is holding the reins. You’re helpless. And that little demon has evolved. It has grown into the size of something much bigger than you, and it makes you wish you weren’t who you are, that you didn’t have to feel like this, and it makes you wish you were smaller than this so the demon could be smaller too. But you know that this is not how it works, your distorted view of the world just likes to think that it is. It’s a defense mechanism.

You shrug. “I just wish I was someone else,” you say.

Because you don’t feel good enough; because it would be so much easier not to be yourself.

Matt holds you close again, his lips close to your ear when he says, “But you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Don–” you swallow thickly. “Don’t say that.”

Because you can’t believe it’s true. You want to, but your mind is telling you not to believe him because he’s wired to lie to you.

“It’s true.”

“No.”

“You’re perfect to me.”

But that’s not enough. It should be enough.

He sniffles. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers. “You’re the most beautiful person to me, inside and out.”

“How would you know?” Your voice is higher now because now you don’t understand.

“Because I can feel you, and what I feel is enough to tell me how beautiful you are.”

“That’s not enough, I–” you get choked up by a sob.

He nods slowly. “I know.”That he understands, and he’s starting to understand your situation now too. Your mind is fragile and the views that you have internalized aren’t easy to get rid of.

“You’re sick,” he says softly, “and that’s okay. So many people are. The thing with illness is that there’s a way to deal with it, to make sure you don’t have to suffer anymore. You’re not alone, not anymore. I just want to help you. Will you let me help you?”

He would do whatever you ask of him.

You wipe your cheeks. “I can’t–”

“Please?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to know. I’ll help you figure it out.”

It’s a promise he would do anything in his power to keep.

You fall back into his arms, your chest heaving with heavy sobs, and he holds you through it because Matt is the kind of person that would never leave you, not even when things get hard.

And perhaps he is right. Perhaps you are truly perfect to him, and with a proper support system, you can manage to save yourself again. You’re not alone. As long as you have Matt, you will never be alone. Not ever, not again.

And it allows you to finally let your guard down and take the first step toward healing.

#tw: eating disorder #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #no y/n #reader insert #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #daredevil angst #daredevil fic #lizzi writes #request #matt murdock imagines #hurt/comfort

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