#and he's dead and he's gone and he's never coming back.
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tw: grief, death, illness, and angst - i wrote this in like half an hour and i was really in my feels, so pls excuse me if it's bad
uncle sukuna, who's been in and out of jail, is always seemingly in trouble with the law and couldn't give two shits about it. ever since leaving home and his twin brother behind, he's only lived for himself and himself only. he'd be damned if he lets anyone change that.
he receives a voicemail from his brother one day, telling him he's had a little baby boy called yuuji. jin wants to put everything in the past behind them and would love for his brother to meet his precious son. sukuna only scoffs and deletes the voicemail almost immediately.
it's only when jin texts him a video of yuuji (who he's surprised to see almost looks exactly like him, minus all the tattoos) 8 months later babbling what could be interpreted as "papa", does he falter. the kid's adorable, but sukuna isn't ready to face his brother just yet.
many more months go by, and jin seems to have taken the hint. except he gets sent another video, this time on his birthday. he clicks on the video, unable to resist and its yuuji, wobbling on two legs, clapping his hands, and singing his own version of happy birthday (??). he's gotten so much bigger and looks so much like his father.
the only word sukuna recognises from yuujis incoherent nonsense is 'kuna', and his heart softens. he messages back a "cute." and leaves it at that. jin sees the message and doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.
jin messages him again a week later, only this time sukuna's heart drops. kaori's dead, and her funeral's next week. he's only met her twice, but she was good for his brother, and she was always good to him too.
he sees his brother for the first time in years at the funeral. jin's hair is a mess, his face unshaven and sunken in; grief seemed to have aged him 10 more years. sukuna's many things, a bad brother included, but something in him breaks when he sees yuuji screaming in his father's arms, not understanding where his mum's gone.
he doesn't know why, but he walks up to jin and offers to take yuuji instead. the toddler immediately calms down in his hold, now more confused as to why there's a man that looks exactly like his dad but with sharpie all over him. jin breaks down, stammering out a thank you, and excuses himself, leaving sukuna alone with his nephew. he'll hunt down his brother later, but for now, he'll keep the brat occupied so his dad can grieve.
sukuna hears from his dad that jin's fallen ill months later. he's speaks to his brother more often now and has even met up with both him and yuuji a couple of times. but jin's never mentioned being sick. he's been looking worse, for sure, but he just put it down to being a single father to an energetic toddler.
he moves in with them the next week. jin keeps getting worse and even little yuuji's noticed.
sukuna tries his best. he really does. he's not been there for jin previously, but he makes sure he's there now when it matters. it's all new to him, caring for people. he tries to cook the most nutritious meals for jin, making sure they're yuuji friendly too. he makes sure the house is always clean, even though yuuji's making a mess every 10 minutes. he changes diapers (both yuuji's and jin's), bathes them both, and tucks them both into bed. he even reads yuuji a bedtime story just to maintain normacly even though he hasnt read since he was a child.
he checks up on jin, constantly seeing if he's feeling okay and gives him his medicine. he holds onto jin with the utmost care (almost carrying him) when they go to visit kaori's grave or when yuuji insists on both of them coming to the park with him. when jin can't sleep at night due to being in excruciating pain, he's there. by his side and holding him. he's never been this affectionate, but he's also never had a dying brother before.
it's still not enough, though. the last couple of days were the hardest, and even yuuji knew enough to be on his best behaviour.
sukuna silently sobs into his pillow at night, when the whole world's asleep. he's filled with regret and hatred for himself, but he knows it's too late now. he tells his brother he loves him and that he promises to take care of yuuji no matter what. jin only smiles, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and tries to kiss his cheek as a thank you, and i love you too.
jin died with one arm holding yuuji, the other holding sukuna's, and his wife's name on his tongue.
sukuna was left all alone, once again. except this time, he had no brother to give yuuji back to. as he promised jin, the stars as his witness, he'd do anything for yuuji and to keep him safe.
his life was no longer his own. he had his nephew to think about.
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
#🌻.sunspell#why did i cry writing this 😭😭#jjk#jjk writing#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#yuuji itadori#itadori yuuji#jin itadori#itadori jin#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#🌻.uncle sukuna au#uncle sukuna
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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 9
Summary: You think you're too late to get back to Cooper in time, but the ghoul shows you that he's stronger than either of you think.
Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader
Warnings: Feral behavior, Angst. Sad thoughs but a happy ending
Masterlist
You've never run so fast in your entire life to get back to the set of buildings that you'd left Cooper at. It's been four days, a two-day trip to the nearest town where you had been lucky enough to find a couple of vials, enough to at least get your ghoul back on his feet, and then the two-day trip back. It was evening by the time you made it back, and you heaved in deep, steadying lungfuls as you skidded to a halt.
"Coop!?" She said loudly, not willing to be any louder in case any nasties had moved in while you were gone. Fear grips your heart when you make it to the back room you'd left him in and find the place empty. You lick your lips and zero in on the indents left behind in the sand.
You follow them out of the house and out into the wastes. You can see a figure stumbling around in the distance, their movements jerky and the occasional terrifying snarl echoing in the night. You lope forward and slow to a stop a good ten feet away from the familiar ghoul in a cowboy hat.
"Cooper."
The ghoul whips around, and you shove down the horror that threatens to rise up and consume you when he looks at you. His eyes, usually beautiful and golden, are bloodshot, his pupils so blown tray you can't see the color of his iris. Cooper snarls at you, baring his teeth before his head jerks to the side.
"Darlin', wha-," He cuts himself off with a low growl, and you take a step forward when he slaps his hands over his cheeks and shakes his head like a wet dog.
"I told you I'd come back, Cooper," you say and reach for your bag, keeping your movements transparent, "Come back to the house. Lemme help you."
Cooper can't believe that you're back. It's been a day after you left that he'd started to lose time, his mind fuzzy as he struggled to keep his senses. Even now, everything has a film over it, and he's got to squint to see you properly. He takes a deep breath and stops himself from stumbling to your side when the scent of your flesh hits his ruined nose. You smell delicious.
"Cooper, please. Let's get out of the open," you beg and take another step forward. The wind shifts, and Cooper snarls again, his mouth filling with saliva.
"You gotta go, baby," Cooper manages to bite out and spits to the side, sneering and wiping at his mouth. He twitches and the urge to lunge, to bite, and to tear you apart.
You screw your face up, upset at his dismissal, and square up. Cooper was a lot stronger than you, but this was just a chance you'd have to take. You back away from him, deft fingers, finding his inhaler and loading a vial inside of it.
"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you again," you hiss to yourself and then take off in a run, launching yourself at Cooper and tackling him to the ground. After that, it's a bad wrestle, the ghoul fighting you with all he had. You finally get the upper hand and pin him down with your knees on his shoulders, hands fumbling with the inhaler until you can press the mouthpiece to his lips.
"Breathe it in, dammit," you order, and Cooper regains enough sense to do as you say, sucking down the chem and dropping like dead weight to the sand. You keep him pinned and loaded in another vial, not trusting one to be enough.
Clarity comes slowly, and you can't help but sag forward in relief when the hands that grip your legs loosen their grip and slide up to caress your hips. You look down, and overjoyed tears come to your eyes when you see his familiar golden ones staring back up at you.
"I ain't used to bein' the damsel in distress," Cooper quips softly, and you let out a wet chuckle, sliding down so that you are sitting on his lap, "I think my savior deserves a reward."
You nod and let out a wet chuckle, then lean down and seal your lips to his, headless of the taste of chems that lingers on his lips. You didn't give a shit. Cooper was alive, and that's all that mattered to you.
#cooper howard#fallout#fallout prime#fallout tv series#cooper howard x reader#x reader#the ghoul x reader#dear hears and gentle people
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Your Orc tried to fool himself. You’d be back in a few weeks, there’s no point in dwelling on you. You’re not a stupid human woman by any means. And you’d been living with Orcs for the past few years, there’s no way you’re going down easily.
But that didn’t stop him from worrying. Your Orc would have gone with you, but due to it being a winter season, Orc hunts would have increased… And being caught travelling with a human woman would have put an even bigger target on his back than usual.
There was safety in numbers, so he had to stay with his camp.
He resolved to sit and wait by the entrance of his tent every morning and evening, watching Orcs leave and re-enter the camp with game and food. Your Orc hoped that you’d be in toe, following and chatting animatedly with other Orcs.
And every time, he was disappointed.
He neglected his duties in the camp, even after some encouragement from other Orcs around him… But when your Orc Boyfriend showed no intent to move, they started to worry for him.
The whole camp never realised how much of a detriment your separation would be to the Orc.
To distract your Orc Boyfriend, some of his closer Orcs cajoled him, “come on, let’s go hunting. The longer you sit there, the worse you’re going to feel. She’ll come back quicker if you busy yourself.” Said Kass – a hunting Orc.
“Yeah,” Crux agreed – another hunting Orc, Kass and him were never parted, even for a moment – “time always go by slowly if you’re waiting on it, c’mon!”
“I have to be here for when she gets back.” Your Orc huffed, crossing his arms.
The two rolled their eyes, “you haven’t done anything but sit there for weeks. Leaving the camp will be good for you, come on.”
After being poked and prodded by his two friends, your Orc begrudgingly agreed to go on a hunt with them.
Hunting was always harder in the winter. All the animals worth eating went into hibernation or hid simply because of how cold it was.
Luckily, your Orc and his others found prey rather easily. It felt good to blow off that anxious energy. Kass and Crux thought that your Orc Boyfriend had set a new record for catching wild animals in these icy conditions.
After a long day of trudging through snow, tying up the animals they had caught, your Orc and his friends returned back to the camp.
As they neared the camp, a familiar laugh pricked at your Orc Boyfriend’s ears. He stopped in his tracks, Kass and Crux stopping too.
“Is that…” Crux asked.
The laugh came again, louder this time.
And that was when your Orc knew. Dropping the dead carcasses, he took off into a run to the camp.
His friends shouted curses at him, but he didn’t care. His heart in his ears, blood thrumming through his veins, he charged through the camp and found you.
You stood in front of the clan Elders, handing them huge dried bundles of herbs, red nosed from the cold, but smiling. Alive and safe.
As much as your Orc wanted to sweep you into his arms, he couldn’t ignore the slight irritation that you had returned in his absence.
So, as quietly as he could, he crept up behind you. The Elders tried their best to ignore him as he got closer and closer. “The one time I leave camp,” he growled, bending down to the side of your head, “and you dare to come back so I can’t greet you!?”
Before you could turn to face your Orc Boyfriend, you were swept off your feet and pulled into a rib-cracking hug. Your Orc grinned as you let out a shout of surprise.
Throwing your arms around him, you squeezed him back. “I missed you so much!” You told him.
“He was miserable without you.” Your boyfriends company had come back into the camp, looking disgruntled. “I’ve never seen him looking like such a sad sap.” Kass snorted.
You rolled your eyes at them and kissed your Orc’s forehead, “aww, did you really miss me that much?”
Your Orc shot Crux and Kass a glare as they smirked, happy in their vengeance. But he grumbled, burying his head in your neck, “yeah.”
“Well I’m not going anywhere like that again.” You reassured. “That trip was a nightmare. And I’m sure the Elders have got enough of that herb to last a few years.”
Looking at the Elders, they nodded before turning back to return to their own tent. “C’mon, let’s catch up.” You said as your Orc put you down. “I want to tell you about the dragon who nearly ate me.”
“A dragon nearly did what?”
“Just kidding, I wanted to see your reaction.”
Your Orc rolled his eyes as you laughed and went off to your shared tent. Smiling, your Orc Boyfriend followed behind you, happy that you had returned, safe and sound.
#monster lover#orc fiction#monster romance#orc boyfriend#monster x human#monster x reader#monster x you#monster x female#orc x reader#orc romance#orc x human reader#orc x human#orc x#orc x female!reader#orc x reader fluff
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When Jason died, he’d still been a runt. A black dog that could barely reach Bruce’s knees, more fur than shadows, eyes that had not yet started turning red. He easily fit into the lap of whoever was holding him, wriggled into nooks in the Manor that Batman would never be able to follow, had an unerring ability to stumble upon dead bodies.
Jason had felt his own death before he ever laid eyes on the bomb. It was a horrible thing, knowing you were going to die but not knowing how or when. Knowing that Batman would be too late. Knowing that this was the end.
A Grim’s power was always stronger closer to death. To someone else’s death. To their own.
The Joker left, not because he was done playing games, but because something in those blue eyes had begun turning red and there was a flicker of fear amidst that carefully calculated crazy. The Joker left before Jason Todd started leaking shadows.
The bomb went off. A baby Grim died.
But you couldn’t kill something that belonged to Death.
Jason woke up. Jason came back. Jason opened eyes of liquid green fire, and fully transformed, he stood higher than most men, a terrifying amalgam of shadows and fear. A giant canine, solid black and reeking of Death.
Because that was the thing about Grims. Their full powers only kicked in after death.
~#~
Tim shuddered as he walked towards the control room, fighting the subconscious chill. The thermostats all registered the temperature as a balmy seventy-four degrees, but he’d been shivering for the last ten minutes and he was determined to find the source of the problem.
It was dark, the sky outside so cloudy it looked like night, and even the lights seemed dimmer than they usually were. Just perception, Tim tried to convince himself, darting glances over his shoulder at an empty hallway, but it didn’t quite stick.
The darkness closed over him like molasses, sticky, slow and inextricable.
~#~
Tim woke in a rush, like someone had jolted him, and struggled blindly up in the instinctive reaction to an alarm, before his mind woke all the way up and helpfully pointed out that he was restrained.
Before Tim could register anything more than an increased heartbeat, the binds tightened, and a low voice said smoothly into his ear, “Calm down. Deep breaths.”
Calm down? Calm down? Tim felt like he’d gone five rounds with Crane, and he was being restrained, and the room was too dark to make out any significant details, and—
Something slid through his hair, pressure on the right side of a massage. “Shh,” the voice instructed. “Your heart rate is too high. Robin, slow down.”
Tim instantly untensed, the reaction ingrained after years of hearing the same words in Batman’s growl. The voice was on the edge of familiar, and it was enough to bypass his climbing anxiety and drop him into a lull.
Had he been hit with fear toxin? He didn’t remember—and then Tim went very, very still when his mind pulled up what he did remember.
“Robin?” the low voice asked.
Tim started, voice scratchy, “There was a—” A dog? A wolf? What could he even use to describe such a monster? “A creature.” Tim swallowed, and opened his mouth again, to try and detail specifics, but they were nowhere to be found.
Red eyes. Tall, taller than him, filling the entire corridor, black and shadowy and Tim had been unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think—
“Robin, calm down!” the voice cursed right into his ear and Tim felt himself being pulled up. The restraints across his chest was a pair of arms, one hand pressed flat above his heart, the other stroking through his hair. His legs were pinned by a boot-clad leg clamped around his knees, and Tim became aware that he was half-reclined in someone’s lap.
“The creature’s gone,” the voice said. “He’s gone and not coming back, stop panicking.” The voice sounded on the verge of panic itself. “Just—just breathe, goddammit.”
Tim obediently breathed. In and out, slipping into the breathing pattern Bruce had taught him—a breathing pattern mirrored by the man holding him, and things gradually began to break through Tim’s spiral.
Details. Facts. Conjecture.
Detail—the voice sounded very, very familiar. Hoarser than he remembered, but familiar.
Fact—Tim was still in Titans Tower, still in one of the most fortified bases on the planet. There was no one else visible. They appeared to be alone.
Conjecture—Tim let out a slow breath and kept his limbs relaxed, waiting for his captor to release his breath before Tim twisted as fast he could. He wasn’t aiming to break their grip, just to see—
Green eyes in a surprised expression. A random white lock of hair. A familiar, set, stubborn jaw.
“Jason?” Tim felt like he was drowning again.
#my snippets#tt au#jason is a grim#he's very good at being scary#unfortunately this has consequences
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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 5.8K
Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.
Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
********************************************
Previously:
"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.
"Who's asking?"
He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."
You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"
"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.
"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."
“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.
You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.
“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.
“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.
“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.
*******************************************
Present Day
*Soldier Boy POV*
The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.
When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.
Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.
He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.
"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"
Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.
It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.
When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.
You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.
The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.
And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.
Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.
Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.
And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.
Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.
When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.
But the thought of you loving him scared him.
As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.
You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.
So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.
The psychotic bitch that sold me out.
It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.
"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.
He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.
"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"
"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"
"Her daughter." Hughie answers.
Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.
Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?
"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."
"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.
But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.
His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.
"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.
"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.
"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.
Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"
"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"
"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.
Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.
"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.
"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.
Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.
Of course she was upset.
He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.
Because you were his.
He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.
Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.
Could she still be alive?
Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.
The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.
He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.
Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.
Purposeless.
He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.
She was just so damn stubborn all the time.
"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."
Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."
"But-" Hughie interjects.
"Oi Hughie. Calm down."
"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."
"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.
***************************************************
"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.
Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.
Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.
A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.
"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.
"What floor?"
"8th." Butcher says.
When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?
The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.
If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.
The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.
"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.
As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.
And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.
Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.
He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.
That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.
He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.
The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.
Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.
The apartment felt like you.
And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.
You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.
He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.
"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.
Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.
Where was she going?
Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.
He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.
She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-
The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.
But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.
He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.
He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.
Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.
The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.
The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."
When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.
"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.
"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.
But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.
"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again
"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.
"What?" Hughie asks.
"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“
Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.
Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.
Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.
Maybe she should have.
He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.
He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.
Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.
He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.
But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.
He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.
Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.
He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.
I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-
“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.
Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?
Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?
Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-
Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.
He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.
You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-
Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-
He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.
He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.
Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.
He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.
The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.
He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.
Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-
His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.
But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.
I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-
Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.
Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.
***************************************
A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂
Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)
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Growing Pains | Spencer Reid
pairing: s2!spencer reid x gn! reader
description: after spending what felt like an eternity pining over Spencer Reid, the two of you finally began moving towards becoming something... until his run-in with Tobias Hankel seemed to put a stop to every aspect of Spencer's life, even his relationship with you.
details: Spencer's post-revelations related trauma, angst! and fluff (hurt with comfort), sporadic flashbacks
word count: 2,321
i hate that i can't love you, but I'm just in the way / but you say i won't be here forever, and you'll take as long as it takes
Your cold hands ached as they struggled to make a fist, raising that balled-up hand to the dark, wooded door.
Every day for the last week and a half you'd come to this very door, that of your friend, Spencer Reid. And every day for the last week and a half you would knock on the door and hope with anxious breaths for an answer. Only to receive no response.
Part of you would worry he was dead if it wasn't for the fact that at the very least he had managed to at least call out of work each and every day. It was so typical of Spencer ,it almost made you smile. Even after all of the trauma he had just gone through, he still made sure to call out of work. No one expected to see him back at the BAU for a while. Not after Tobias Hankel.
Despite all too much of it having been live-streamed directly to you and the rest of the BAU, you knew very little of what had actually happened to Spencer in the time he had been taken by Tobias Hankel, nobody did. And the truth is, you barely knew of what was live-streamed. Maybe it made you "weak" in comparison to the rest of the team, but you just couldn't bear to look at Spencer in that state. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not Spencer was going to live was already too much to handle- even now, knowing he was safe, you still had trouble sleeping, the scenario of having not made it in time playing through your mind over and over again.
Knock, knock, knock
You held your breath in anticipation as your hands hit the door, you bit your lip in a painful desperation. Please, Spencer. You beg, your voice cracking as you whisper to yourself.
No response.
It wasn't like Spencer to not talk to you, especially not for days on end. The two of you had been friends since the academy. You were instantly drawn to him, maybe it was his impressive memory, or how passionate he was about his work, maybe it was his awkward boyish charm, or his sweet smile, or how his eyes lit up when he won a game of chess or cards, and the way he scrunched his nose whenever he laughed, maybe it was the way his sweaters never fit just right, and his socks never matched, or-
It was more than sufficient to say that you had fallen head over heels for Spencer, more than you had for anyone else in your life, you were in love. He was kind, and inviting, and you could never understand why everyone else seemed to make fun of him. And finally after what felt like an eternity of pining, and planning for the perfect moment- a french film marathon at Spencer's apartment and a few too many glasses of cheap wine was what let your feelings slip. You could still feel the way your stomach dropped as the words left your tongue,
"You know I love you, Spence"
"Yeah- like- as a friend." He stuttered, obviously caught off guard
You could have saved yourself then, played it cool, and said yes, but before you could stop yourself your head was shaking no.
Spencer's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish smile, "Really?" He looks down at his lap, his fingers rapidly tapping against his knee, "I- wow- I-" He shakes his head and looks back at you, "I love you too."
With a few blinks you find yourself back in reality. You could only live in memories for so long. You sighed, as tears welled up in your eyes. Part of you wondered if you were being selfish, crying about how you missed him when he was going through so much worse.
You wiped your stinging eyes, fuck it. You needed to know how he was doing. You reach into the pocket of your coat, feeling around before gripping the cool metal of your key ring. You pull it out of your pocket before gripping the keys that hung from it tightly in your hands. The dull metal pressed into the skin of your hands, and your cold, stiff fingers gripped harder to the point where it hurt. You closed your eyes, wincing as you tightened your fist around the metal even harder, trying to convince yourself to go through with your plan. At some point of you and Spencer "going steady" you had exchanged keys to each other's apartments.
You released the key ring from your grip, a red indent left in the palm of your aching hand. You sift through the various keys and with a loud jingling sound, the other keys fell to the bottom of the ring as you gripped the key to Spencer's apartment between your thumb and index finger. You sigh once more, telling yourself the worst that could happen is if he really doesn't want to see you he will tell you to leave and you will listen.
You push the key into the lock and twist it until you can turn the door handle. The door opens with a creak, and you step into the dark apartment, careful to close the door softly behind you. You can barely see two feet in front of you, all the lights are off and the blinds are drawn. Your hand slides up a wall as you fumble around for a light switch, flicking on the soft, warm wall light next to the door. You blink a few times, getting used to the light before your gaze darts over to the kitchen table. The apartment was almost unrecognizable. It was cluttered to a degree that you had never seen from Spencer before. He was usually so well organized. But now, papers, takeout containers, and half-drunken cups of coffee were scattered around the dark wooden surface.
It broke your heart to see Spencer's living spaces in such disarray, if this is what his apartment looked like, you couldn't even bear to think about what you might find if you were to peek inside his mind. Even with the lights now on, the dark green walls of the apartment never felt this dark to you.
You tread softly toward his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise against the creaky wood of his apartment floor. Part of you was aware of how creepy this seemed- and you worried maybe you'd scare Spencer by entering his room. Still- maybe it was selfish, but you missed him too much to allow another day go by without seeing him. Allowing Spencer to just stay holed up in his apartment for days on end was not going to do anything for anyone.
You press your hand against Spencer's bedroom door, it's opened just a crack and you're able to push the door open with a small creak. The room isn't as dark as the rest of his apartment, a few small beams of light from the setting sun peek into the small room from blinds that haven't been fully closed, drenching it with a warm orange color.
Spener's clothes are scattered throughout the room, and his brown leather bag had been thrown on the ground near the door, papers and books spilling out of it. You could almost guarantee it had been in that spot from the moment he got home from that dreaded case.
Your eyes flick up to the bed in the middle of the room where Spencer lay, his face down, stuffed into the pillows. His comforter had been kicked to the side, and the fitted sheet had come off one of the corners of the mattress.
You wondered just how much Spencer had actually left his bed since he had gotten home, the takeout containers and coffee cups in the dining room signified to you at least he did at some point leave his bedroom. Still, the sorry state of everything made you want to cry. How could anyone do this to him?
You slip off your shoes, and inch across the soft carpet closer to the bed, careful not to step on any of the clothes that were strewn about the floor.
"Spencer," You say, just above a whisper, attempting to let him know of your presence. He barely even stirs in response to the noise, turning onto his side deep in sleep.
As you got closer to the bed you could see him more clearly. His hair was a mess, long curly strands stuck to his cheeks with sweat, his eyes shut tight and his mouth almost turned down into a frown. Even in sleep, he looked so upset, so tortured. It made you sick to your stomach to even think about what he could have been dreaming about.
"Spencer?" You say again, weaker this time- your voice trembling with nerves.
No response.
You sigh, pulling off your jacket and allowing it to collect on the floor with the rest of the scattered clothes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and think carefully about your next move. You don't want to frighten him, but it may be impossible not to not after you basically broke in.
You reach a delicate hand outward and move a couple pieces of Spencer's hair from his cheek. His head moves slightly in response, but you continue to smooth your hand down the rest of the length of his hair. You can tell it's tangled, even without combing your fingers through it. You let your hand fall further, down his neck, resting on his bare back. He's warm to the touch as you rub soft circles on the exposed skin.
"Spencer?" You say again, louder this time leaning your body towards him.
His eyes flick open and he's jolted awake, swatting your arm away as a gasp leaves his mouth.
"H-hey," You grab his arm to prevent him from swinging any further, "It's just me Spence."
He stares at you wide-eyed, pupils dilated with a mix of confusion and fear. His throat rises with a thick swallow and his lip trembles. You begin speaking frantically,
"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fright-"
"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice is weak but there's a pointedness to his question.
"I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay- I haven't heard from you in a while and I was so worried about you I just-" Your brain was going a mile a minute before all of a sudden... your train of thought disappears as you look into Spencer's obviously pained eyes. His eyes blink rapidly as he attempts to hold back tears. The sheets have fallen off of him and his bare chest is shiny with sweat as it rises and falls rapidly. You let go of his arm, letting it drop down beside him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, too saddened at the state of him to continue.
Spencer stares at you for another moment before looking down, a single tear dripping down his pale cheek. Even now, like this he was still beautiful to you. And despite everything you couldn't help but for your heart to fill with love. But as your heart felt with love, the rest of your body overflowed with anxiety as you contemplated what to even do or say next. You stutter,
"D-do you want me to leave-"
"No." Spencer cuts you off. "Stay." He looks back up at you, "Please." His eyes are wet with tears that threaten to escape down his face.
"Of course," You nod, "of course," softer this time.
"Can we lay down?" Spencer asks, twisting his face. You nod fervently, swinging your legs onto the bed. You pat the pillow next to you, beckoning Spencer to lie back down. He does so, slowly, and you follow, your faces inches from each other, heads on the same pillow.
You inch yourself closer to Spencer, heat radiating off of his trembling body. You place a hand upon his cheek, stroking your thumb slowly back and forth.
"Am I ever going to be okay?" Spencer sniffles. The question feels like a knife had been stabbed right through your heart.
"Of course you will, Spence, " You assure, soft yet firm.
"It doesn't feel like it," He shakes his head, forcing your hand to fall from its spot on his cheek.
"These things take time, lots and lots of time."
"Yeah but-" He starts, getting choked up again, "What if you don't want to wait for me?"
"Wait for you?" You ask, confused as to what he meant.
"If I'm like this for too long." He answers, "You won't want to be around anymore."
"Oh Spencer," you shake your head, "No, no" You put your hand back onto his cheek.
"I feel like such a burden- that's why I haven't called," His voice breaks as he starts crying, really crying this time, "I mean- I'm an FBI agent, I should be able to get through this. Everyone else on the team would be back to work in an instant. And I can't even get out of bed."
"Spencer." You cut off his ramblings, "You are not a burden- you could have died, Spencer, no one is expecting you to be alright."
"I feel like I should be." He pauses, "I just don't want everyone to sit around worrying about me, I don't want you to sit around worrying about me. It's not fair."
"I worry because I care." You relay a small smile, "Because I love you."
"And that's what I'm afraid of, one day you'll realize you've spent so much effort worrying about me that you won't want to love me anymore."
"Never." You wipe the tears from Spencer's eyes, trying to give him gentle reassurance. "I'd wait forever for you to be okay."
a/n: woah long time no post? I haven't posted a fic on here in almost two years! sorry I'm a little rusty, I've been deeeep in a creative rut. I'm accepting requests now however, Ive missed you guys!
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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can you please write Y/N and Wanda also Natasha is not dead here (up to you thooooo) , and Y/N pretty much replaced Vision. But before these events Natasha has always been there for Wanda, (after Endgame) so she didn’t make a hex but still griefed about Y/N and Wanda making a big move for Y/N’s reincarnation but in a good way. After Y/N being back from the dead. She learns that her soon to be wife has already fallen for Natasha and her reincarnation just meant nothing and Y/N didn’t go on with her life and ended it just there.
Wands regretted everything until she lost herself and made a big mess with the universe (pretty much MoM) and overall Wanda regretting everything, and when she gets us back (it can be Wanda taking another one of us in an another universe) or her just making us alive from the dead *this all can be up to you author*
I love your stories 🖤
I'm Sorry
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 3590
Warnings: Cheating (Allusions to it but really it is there), Angst, Major character death, Mentions of Murdering innocent people, Angry Wanda, Suicide by others, Not really a happy ending, tiny bit of fluff like very little.
A/n: This one was fun. I hope I did it justice. I may have changed a little bit of it but I hope you still like it.
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN
Everything hurts. You have a splitting headache and it feels like you got run over by a MACK truck. Your face scrunches up in pain, the lights too bright even with your eyes closed. Sensory overload has you curling in on yourself. Hands come up to clamp on your ears when you hear a voice, but it’s so loud and muffled that you don’t even know who is talking to you. All you want is for all of it to stop. You had been an experiment but that experience doesn’t compare to what you are feeling right now.
“Nat turn the lights off.” Wanda orders the older woman in the room. Nat flicks the light off as she watches Wanda brush some hairs back. You let out a whimper at the contact. It breaks her heart seeing you like this. When her hand brushes against your skin she can feel you. She feels your pain. Red whisps leave her fingers slowly seeping into your skin. Soon enough the pain starts to dissipate.
Wanda crawls in the bed behind you wrapping herself around your frame. You feel a body pressed against yours and you immediately know who it is. “Wanda.” You whisper. You turn around in her hold and nuzzle into her neck. “I’m here sweetheart.” Wanda combs her fingers through your hair. You're so tired and she feels like home. You fight to stay awake but her ministrations have your eyes closing. “It’s ok detka get some rest.” Wanda whispers and kisses the top of your head. You finally let yourself drift off to sleep.
A little over 5 years ago the team was fighting Thanos. Your powers let you see brief points into the future. You saw that if you died that Wanda would be safe. Thanos needed you gone to get what he wants but you also saw that in the end the Avengers would win. The event that sets that in motion was your death. So as much as it pained you you let it happen. To save Wanda, to save the world. Wanda could move on but the fate of the universe was in your hands.
“Wanda.” Nat says softly from the corner of the room. She looks at you curled into Wanda’s arms. A sight she had hoped to never see again. “Natty, she needs this.” Wanda says softly, still stroking your hair as you sleep. Nat just nods. It hurts but she knows it is something that Wanda had to do.
Your mind races. Your dreams are of your last memories. The fight with Thanos and how you let him kill you just in order to save everyone else. Your body shoots straight up as your chest heaves from the memories. You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back but you haven’t quite gained control. You mind questioning how you are here. Why are you alive? You should be dead. That was all your mind could see and you had accepted that fact but here you are. Tears stream down your face. “Why?” You're not sure what you are asking, who you are asking the question of. You feel so small. “Why what detka?” Wanda asks you with concern on her face. “Why am I here? I should be dead.” Your voice breaks and Wanda’s heart hurts seeing you like this.
Wanda starts explaining everything that had happened while you were gone. Excluding some details. They had worked tirelessly to bring back those that were snapped away. Wanda and Nat become the de facto leaders of the Avengers. It took 5 years but they finally did. Once that was done they set out to bring you back. It took some time but somehow when Bruce had snapped his fingers he was able to bring you back. But somehow you ended up in a pocket universe in a deep sleep. They were finally able to get you back safely. All the information flooding into your mind is a lot to handle but eventually you understand. Somehow the universe had different plans for you.
It’s been a few months since you came back. Most things are the same but something seems off. Wanda hasn’t been as loving towards you. Before she was always so touchy and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets cuddling while watching some sitcoms. But now she barely even gives you a hug. Sleeping in the same bed has you feeling like she isn’t even there. She is a million miles away even if she is only right beside you. Your heart hurts not understanding, is she still mad at you for letting Thanos kill you. Anytime you try to talk to her she just brushes you off and says nothing is wrong. So you're left alone to your thoughts and worries.
Nat had moved into your shared home while you were away. The two women grew closer at the loss of so many others. You want to be angry and jealous that Nat gets more attention than you but you still trust Wanda hoping that she will come around eventually.
You’re walking towards the kitchen when you can hear a hushed discussion between Wanda and Nat. You stop just shy of the door frame listening in when you hear your name mentioned. “Wanda you need to tell Y/n.” Nat says her body leaning on the counter and arms crossed against her chest. “Tell her what Nat?” Wanda counters. She sits at the table with a sad look adorning her face. “You know what Wands.” Wanda lets out a sigh. “I can’t do that to her Nat.” Wanda’s voice is low. “You can’t keep lying to her. You can’t keep lying to me. I love you Wanda.” There is a pause in the conversation before Wanda speaks up. “I love you too.” Your heart drops the moment the words spill from Wanda’s mouth.
You’re quick to turn on your heels as the tears start to stream down your face. Holding in a sob as it all makes sense now. In your absence the two had fallen in love. You’ve somehow become the other woman in Wanda’s life. You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. Your powers should have felt this but they hadn’t and now you’re left heartbroken. You push into your shared room focusing on pulling yourself back together. You can’t let them know that you know until you figure out what to do.
The buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your despair for the moment. You see Fury’s name flash on the screen. You quickly wipe your tears and answer the phone. “Sir.” You say masking the waver in your voice. “Y/l/n I have a mission for you. Since you have been cleared for duty I would like you to head out tonight with Barton and Barnes. I have sent over the reports for you to go over. Good luck out there and glad to have you back.” The phone line goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. You open the report sent to your phone. You now see the flashes in your mind of how the mission will go. And that is where you see it. What you’re going to do.
That night you enter the Quinjet greeted by the two men. Hugs and joy at your return. Your powers are always a significant help to missions. You three go over the plans for the mission. You lay out what you had seen in your vision, excluding one crucial part that the men don’t need to know. You know if they did they would try and stop you. But your heart aches and you put on a fake smile so that no one would expect a thing.
Everything was set to go. A long message meant to play for Wanda after it was already too late. This would be your last mission. Wanda and Nat would have all that they could ever want. You wouldn’t be the burden that you know you are. They should have just left you dead if they were going to do this to you. So you made that decision for them. You weren’t going to come back from this mission alive.
The mission was going perfectly. Playing out exactly as you had seen it. Bucky and Clint were together and far away from you. You snuck into the building off the side. It held some hostages that had been taken by Hydra. You snuck in taking out every agent that you passed. It didn’t take long for you to make it to the hostages. You were able to release them from their binds and get them out of the building safely. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. Bucky and Clint were waiting exactly where you told them too. Having each hostage run towards them for safety while you stood with your back towards the open area.
You waited knowing what was to come soon. You could change the outcome but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be in a world where Wanda loved someone else. You waited with bated breath as the last hostage ran towards your teammates. You exhale the air in your lungs before a sharp pain in your stomach is felt. You grit your teeth turning around firing off a few rounds, but you're hit with another round to the shoulder. You can hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Clint calling out for you but you push through. Another shot to the leg sends you kneeling on the ground. You push through the pain as you stand. A few steps forward as you unload your mag into the man. Another man appears with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You watch as an arrow sores through the air and hits the man directly in the chest. His finger squeezes the trigger as he falls. You’re hit with the array of bullets. Your body sways before falling to your knees then falling to the ground. The ground below you stains red as your body goes cold.
Wanda felt a change in the universe. She cries out causing Nat to panic next to her. Wanda clutches her chest in pain. She felt this twice before. Once when Pietro died, the second when you died fighting Thanos. She had never wanted to feel that pain again but here she is feeling it. The world stops turning at that moment. Not again she thinks tears streaming down her face.
The doorbell rings but Wanda doesn’t hear it. Nat tries to console the younger woman pleading for her to tell her what is going on. It continues to ring when no one answers until Nat gets up and finds out what is going on. Wanda sits sobbing on the couch. Nat walks back in with a folded paper with your hand writing on it. Wanda scribbled on the top.
Wanda sees this snatching the paper from her hands and quickly opening it before reading the words delicately written across the page.
My dearest Wanda,
You’re reading this because I’m gone. I’m sorry to do this to you
but I can’t live life like this. I know that you no longer love me.
I see the way you look at Natasha and I know she is now
the love of your life. I want you to be happy. I saw this coming
and I could have changed it but who am I to keep you from the
one you love. Don’t mourn for me, just live your life. You don’t
have to worry about me anymore and you can be happy, that
is all I have ever wanted for you. But my love I can’t live in
a world where you love someone else. So this is goodbye.
Love,
Y/N
Tears hit the paper blurring the words in front of her. Wanda’s heart shatters into a million pieces. How could this have happened? How could she have thrown away all that you two have? She is absolutely disgusted with herself and with Nat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go but she was blinded and now her eyes are finally open but now it could be too late.
Through the tears Wanda gets up making her way out the door and immediately taking off towards the compound. Her magic lifts her into the sky as she flies as fast as she possibly can to the one place she knows you would be. Praying that maybe it was all wrong, maybe you can be saved. Nat calls out for her as she leaves her alone standing in the yard.
The ground cracks below Wanda’s feet as she lands hard on the ground. Anger and guilt pumping through her veins as she walks towards the building. Her magic slamming doors open as she makes her way to the med bay. Your body is already lying there. Bucky and Clint talking outside the room. Windows lining the wall as they keep looking back at your body. Wondering what they would tell the angry redhead but they didn’t have to wait too long. They spot Wanda fear and sorrow on their faces. “Wanda we can -” Clint is cut off. “Save it.”
Wanda makes her way into the room. The boys walked away looking like kicked puppies. Wanda’s breath picks up as she sees your still body encased in a black bag. The top half of it unzipped revealing your pale skin and blood staining your suit. You look so peaceful like you could be sleeping. Wanda cups your cheek, a light jerk of her hand when she feels how cold you are. She lets her magic slip out the ends of her fingers going into your head. Fresh tears streaming down her face. “I can’t feel you.” A sob wracking her body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry love you never deserved any of this.”
Wanda silently sobs as she sits next to you. Your hand in hers as she just stares blankly at your body. The door clicks open a while later. Wanda doesn’t turn to look. “Go away.” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying but she doesn’t care. “Wands.” Nat whispers. “I said leave.” Wanda’s voice raises as her head snaps towards the door red swirling in her eyes. Nat knows she is just upset so she doesn’t back down. “Detka.” She whispers. “Don’t you dare detka me.” Wanda stands letting your hand drop off the side of the bed. “This is all your fault. She is fucking dead because of you.” Wanda seethes. “Don’t put that blame on me Wanda. You're just as much the problem.” Wanda stalks towards Nat red surrounding her body and slamming her into the window, a crack forming behind her body. “Don’t you fucking dare blame me. It should have been you. You should have died back then. I would still have her. She is more of a woman than you will ever be. I let myself be blinded by you. Blinded by the love you gave but I didn’t love you. I don’t fucking love you.” As hard as Nat can be, Wanda's words cut deep. Tears shine in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Wanda sends Nat’s body flying through walls until she lands outside. Wanda follows as she does so. Releasing Nat’s body which is now battered and bruised. She then flies off into the night.
It’s been months since anyone has seen Wanda, held up in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains. Some have tried but they always get blasted out so they stopped trying. She has been lost to the Avengers and they aren’t sure they could ever get her back. The day they lost you they also lost her.
Wanda’s black tipped fingers comb through a book. A very dangerous book. The more she searches the darkness in her soul grows and the blacked tips grow. She has tried everything in the book to bring you back to life but none of it works. She had another attempt today, something new, something hopeful but it ends with a magical outburst throwing everything in the cabin. She continues to comb through the pages ignoring the disarray around her. She closes her eyes and lets her magic do the work. It’s not long before she finds something new. She thought she had seen all that this book had to offer. All that the Darkhold had to offer to the Scarlet Witch.
You are sitting in your living room, two small boys cuddled into each of your sides as you watch a movie. Empty bowls of ice cream sitting on the coffee table that you have your feet propped up on. You laugh as your son Tommy tries to mimic you. You other son Billy giggling along. Tommy huffs and crosses his arms. “Not funny.” He mumbles. You can’t help but ruffle his hair which makes him swat at your hand causing you to chuckle. “One day buddy you will reach it.” You kiss the top of his head. All of you falling back into the silence, the only sound is the movie playing.
Your mind flashes to a vision of Wanda but not your Wanda standing in the middle of your living room. Her face twisted into something you can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams from the woman you loved. The pain that she has caused to get to this point. As your world comes back to you you are met with a star shaped portal in the middle of your living room. What was once an image in your head now in front of you.
Wanda’s hand wraps around the young girl's throat in front of you. “What did you do?” She seethes. The two boys next to you are terrified. You quickly stand and tell them to run but Wanda’s head snaps towards you. The couch you were once on is now thrown at the stairs blocking the way. You push your boys behind you in a protective manner. Wanda’s eyes trailing the boys curiously, a small warm spot forming in her heart seeing your protective nature. She didn’t expect to find you with kids but she always wanted a family with you so it can’t hurt.
“Wanda!” You yell at her. Wanda is startled by the anger in your voice. You have never yelled at her like that. “Let the girl go.” You demand of her. Her hand slips from the girl's neck as she coughs on the ground holding her throat. Wanda starts stalking towards you but you back up with your boys behind you.
Billy tugs on your shirt a little trying to get your attention and you quickly look back at him. “Is that Mama?” His voice sounds so small. Your attention quickly turns back to the woman in front of you who has stopped. You can see tears in her eyes at Billy’s words. “That is not your Mama.” You shake your head. You can see the hurt on Wanda’s face as she gets closer to you. “I can be.” She says a crack in her voice.
You start to walk towards the woman but your boys try to stop you. You motion that you will be ok as you stand in front of Wanda. “You could never be my Wanda.” She falls to her knees, her hand on her chest as she looks up at you. “I can see your hurt and your pain but you have caused so much more and for what.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I did it for you.” She whispers. “I would never want you to do this for me. Wanda you murdered people. Good people.” Wanda stands back up and moves towards you, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You back up away from her touch. “I wanted you back.” You scoff and shake your head. “After seeing what you did I could never want you. I miss my Wanda but you are not her and could never be.”
Wanda’s face twists in anger. You try to back up again but she is quicker this time. She grabs your wrist in her hands. “Wanda that hurts.” You whimper as she digs her nails in. “Too bad. I’ll make you love me just you see. Now that I have you back I will never let you go again.” There is a panic that rises in you. “We will have the perfect little family.” She looks behind you. “Won’t we boys?” They are too scared to say or do anything just holding onto each other for comfort.
Wanda keeps one hand on you as she turns around. Her wrist flicking as America is thrown back through the portal. It dissipates from the middle of the room before she turns back to you. You struggle to get free but she is stronger than you remember. She clicks her tongue and looks at you, her hand finally reaching to cup your cheek. Red whisps leave her fingers as they sink into your mind. “All mine now.” She replaces every memory and thought of your Wanda with her. Changes the fear to love. You’re hers now and no one will change that. Her magic soon flowed into the boys having the perfect little family. She would tear the world in two to keep you and the boys forever.
#syd answers#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda fanfic#wanda marvel#wanda#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff fic#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff angst#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader angst
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"A Kiss?"
Sirius Black x Reader
"It's not that you don't like Sirius, you do, that's the problem.
that's why being chest to chest with him in a cramped storage closet is not the most ideal situation for you right now"
Masterlist
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It's not that you don't like Sirius, you do, that's the problem.
that's why being chest to chest with him in a cramped storage closet is not the most ideal situation for you right now. Especially when you can smell his woody cologne, the leather of his jacket, and the lingering scent of the cigarette he smoked earlier.
How I got in this situation? A Marauders prank gone wrong. You never really cared about the pranks they loved to pull because they never concerned you. This one went wrong, very wrong, Hence your current situation.
There were only supposed to be a few fireworks outside apparently, of course you didn't know that when loud popping noises disrupted you in the middle of your walk to charms. Professors all came running out of their classrooms, students were shrieking and ducking down, you were just plain confused because, what the fuck? No really, what the fuck?
You were even more confused when Sirius Black, of all people, came hurdling towards you and virtually flung himself onto of you hurdling you both towards the ground. Narrowly avoiding an off track flaming firework that went off into a dazzling explosion resulting in colorful sparks just mere feet away from you. Covering the hallway in a thick fog that made your eyes water.
The shock of it all made you not fight when two strong hands plucked you up off the floor and pushed you into the nearest storage closet.
When you finally come back to your senses and realize, really realize, that you're practically glued to a guilty looking Sirius's chest, lets Just say you flip out to put it lightly.
"What the fuck was that!"
"Those were fireworks."
"No fucking shit Black, why were they inside?"
You don't hear him sigh as much as you feel the breath softly brush against your neck
"Because Remus messed up the spell that he's been working on for months and gave James the wrong instructions causing the prank we have been planning for months to fall apart. I honestly can't believe them, I for one would have never-"
"Sirius! I Don't care about your stupid prank! I care about the fact that I just got tackled to the ground like I was in a quidditch match, burst both my eardrums from the noise, and went blind for at least 2 minutes out their, and you're complaining about how your prank didn't work? Are you serious right now?"
He smirks, and well you pretty much walked yourself right into the next thing he's going to say. It doesn't make it any less annoying.
"I'm always Sirius" he says with the goofiest, boyish grin on his face, and if it weren't for your situation right now, you probably would have smiled back considering Sirius Blacks smile is as close to a beam of sunlight as humanly possible.
you internally scream and give him a deadpan look. He goes back to looking sheepish.
Now that you are calming down, or at least not absolutely fuming anymore, you get a chance to really look at Sirius. You notice the freckle on his cheek, the slight crease in his eyebrow, the scar on his upper lip. He's very pretty, though you'd never say it to his face. Not willing to inflate is already massive ego.
You find yourself slowing your breathing slowing down to match the breaths you feel him taking against your chest. And god his chest, its firm against your body and now you are picturing all the times you saw him by the lake in the warmer months in nothing but his swim trunks and- god is it hot in here? when did it get so hot?
there really isn't much room in here.
Sirius must sense the sudden shift in the room because he opens his mouth to say something, then immediately shuts it.
"Have you seem Sirius, James, Remus, or Peter? I know they had something to do with this. Once I find them they are dead meat. All of them. Detentions, perhaps for the whole year. Find me immediately if you see them. That goes for all student, If you see something say something! I will get to the bottom of this!"
You feel siariuss chest start to shack against yours and muffled giggles Strat coming out of his mouth until he can't hold back anymore and starts cackling
What are you doing? its like you want to get caught! Sirius be quiet I'm not kidding they are going to hear you!" You quickly give up your antics when you realize they are no use to sirius's implacable case of the giggles
So you take your hand and promptly slap it over his mouth.
His eyes widen, but then go back to their normal devious state of unmistakable mischief and he licks your hand. He. Licks. Your. Hand.
"ugh" You snatch your hand away immediately and wipe it down on his shirt without thinking. The problem with not thinking? You're rubbing your hand that was over his mouth on his chest. You are rubbing Sirius Black's Chest.
When you look back up you expect to see his teasing gaze ready to poke fun at you for touching his "Magnificently toned pecs" but his face is, pun not intended, serious. His cheeks are even tinted a little pink, and that just can't be right because Sirius doesn't blush. He gets flirted with by the hottest girl and boys at school and doesn't even bat an eye. There is just no possible way you could have made Sirius black blush, but yet here you are.
Looking up into his eyes you find him staring right back at you.
"You know your eyes are really pretty up close, its kinda hard to see them from across the classroom in potions" Sirius says quietly, voice almost a whisper
and you practically melt on the spot because that was such a nice thing to say. And he said it to you. Perfectly average you.
"Thank you" you breathed out "your eyes are very beautiful too."
"Are they now?" he smiled and quirked his eyebrow
you roll your eyes, "In that case I take it back-"
"No! You can't just take it back, I'm sorry! How can I make it up to you?"
"Make up what?"
"My awful teasing, and me being part of the reason you had to miss charms class and be stuck in a closet with me for twenty minutes"
"being in a closet with you wasn't that bad but I can think of a way you can make it up to me"
"Anything."
"A kiss?" you whisper
He smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that" and he leans down to softly attach his lips to yours.
#sirius black fluff#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black#marauders era
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What would your headcanons be for the 141 in nursing homes? As in old ass man.
Maybe some extra characters as well? 👀
I'm splitting this up into 3 categories: Physical appearance, personality/behaviour, and overall shenanigans.
John Price
Went bald but still has a killer mustache and a ridiculous amount of body hair and yet all the hair he has left has gone grey. Is SOOO wrinkly. His eyes are hooded/droopy beyond fucking belief.
He's 100% a "Back in my day..." old man. Has def gone half-deaf. Is both a flight risk AND a fall risk but refuses to use his walker/zimmer frame. Is the first one up in the morning, before the staff even changed shifts (consequence of early rising all his life in the military)
Insists on being called 'Captain' by the staff, gives everyone the stink eye if he gets called 'John' or 'Mr.Price'. Sometimes still wakes up dreaming of Makarov and/or Shepherd and spends all day grumpy. Staff hates him.
Simon Riley
Does not go wrinkly. Instead, his skin gets taut and he loses weight and muscle, and becomes skinny/frail. Is VERY hunched over.
Has def lost most of his hearing as well. Is impossible to talk to. A conversation between him and Price spirals from a topic to the next because they misinterpret each other's words. Blasts his fave TV shows (The Price is Right) at top volume all hours of the day.
Has dementia or some other brain degenerative disease, which means he's often lost/confused... So it's not uncommon to see him walking around carrying a cane or umbrella like it's a rifle because he thinks he's still a soldier. Has scared the shit out of night staff by sneaking up behind them with a mask on (where did he get the bloody mask?) and nearly stabbing them with a syringe-like it was one of his knives.
Johnny MacTavish
Does not make it to a nursing home, he's already dead.
Kyle Garrick
Has gone grey but not that wrinkly. Still looks surprisingly good for his age. Is very charming. Wears colourful shirts (Hawaiian and not), and has a nice style... but still wears that stupid bloody hat of his. Has VERY bad hip pain from falling out of helicopters so much.
Is SOOO sweet and polite, and charms all the old ladies AND the nursing staff, every kid that comes visit other grandparents LOVES him. Is the least annoying senior at the nursing home. Also has terrible hearing. Spends his time shouting at Price and Simon to have a conversation.
Still gets taken to veteran/war remembrance days by his family and watches the parades and such... only to look at helicopters with disdain in his eyes and curses them out with a fist.
Alejandro Vargas
Has not gone grey but is a healthy salt-and-pepper. Still keeps his little stubble OR an anchor goatee. Wears glasses now, but they're those types that transition into sunglasses.
His hearing is ALSO shot. Has very shaky hands so he keeps dropping things, especially his pills. Talks crap about everyone with Rodolfo (they gossip in Spanish so no one can hear him.) Is never grumpy. Loves playing cornhole and pétanque.
Is 100% a cougar hunter. Has a silver-tongue and is still so attractive that he just seduces ALL the old ladies. Some of them were still married to their husbands (who were ALSO in the nursing home) and he STILL flirted with them.
Rodolfo Parra
Rudy has gone chubby, wears glasses, and still stays clean-shaven. Wears cardigans and corduroy trousers. Is on a wheelchair.
Is very polite. Spends his time reading in the garden, and likes tending to flowers. Loves a good gossip with Alejandro. Loves playing cards because it's the one game Alejandro cannot play, is very smug about it.
Falls asleep suddenly after meals. Hates Philip Graves with a fucking passion. Hates him so much he still wakes up dreaming about the betrayal in 2022 and gets MAD about it. Wheels himself to Alejandro's room every time and complains. "Pendejo de mierda, Graves."
#asks#moots#cod headcanons#crack headcanons#I promise it's crack#do not take this seriously#I will fill this out with the rest of them tomorrow
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Not That Easy | Mandalorian x Reader Imagine
Summary: When Din realised he was starting to have feelings for you, he got scared. Snuck away before sunrise and left you stranded on Nevarro. When you catch up to him on Tatooine, you have a few choice words for him.
Length: Short
Warnings: angst!
A/N: just a quick before bed drabble so I can have a nice fantasy to go to bed to. also I never write for Mando like I should and desperately needed an angst outlet. enjoy!
He had been gone for an hour, two tops. Just a quick stop in to the only person he trusted to work on the Razor Crest in these parts. Or so he had thought.
“Hey Peli?” He asked as he stepped back down from the ship towards her office, “How come my hyperspace drive-“ He didn’t get a chance to finish his question. It wasn’t Peli sitting behind the console in the office- it was you. Legs up on the console, the missing part needed to fix his hyperspace drive being used to play catch in your fingertips, as you pretended to ignore him.
“Shit.” You heard him mutter through the modulator in his helmet. You turned to see his gaze drop, head shaking, knowing he’d fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have left you. He knew that you’d be pissed. But he didn’t realise you would be so pissed that you’d come all the way to Tatooine to wait him out and have it out with him.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” you huffed angrily as you stood, pushing past him and out of the door.
“Y/N- please, just hear me out.” He tried to say as he followed on your heels, but you were having none of it.
At first when you laid eyes on his shiny coat of beskar you had become angry, remembering the hurt of waking up to find him, the kid and the Rasor Crest gone. Not even a note left but a relayed message from Greef Karga of all people. ‘Something came up. He had to run. Wanted you to be safe and take a break.’ What utter Bantha crap.
If you were angry then, you were enraged now. Fed up of his excuses and hiding, you whirled on him, stopping him dead in his tracks. “NO! No more excuses. You- left- me!” You enunciated. “I trusted you- and you left me!” You screamed in his face. “Uhhhgggg!!! If you didn’t have that-stupid- helmet on, I’d really smack you across the face right now.” You settled for shoving him backwards. He rocked slightly, but barely moved. So you pushed at his chest again. And again. And again. Until you were just drumming your fists on his shiny metal chest, getting all of your frustration out, as you huffed and grunted and groaned in frustration.
When you finally ran out of steam, your palms hesitating, resting flat against his breast plate, unable to meet his visor, body heaving with both emotional and physical exhaustion, he tried to wrap his arms around you. To pull you into an embrace. Comfort you the way he had done all those times before he left. Shit, he knew he shouldn’t have left.
As you felt his arms began to tighten around you, your body growing tight. You may be exhausted, but you were still angry. “No.” You said, pushing him away.
When he looked into your eyes, he saw just how much damage he had done. If only you could see his, you would know how much damage you had done to him too.
It was only supposed to be the kid. He made a vow. It had been the only other living thing to really get under his skin. To make him feel… Make him care. But then there came you. The kid was so attached and you were fantastic with him. The way your giggles travelled around the Razor Crest. How could you not melt what was left of his carbonite frozen heart. Soon he found himself offloading things to you he hadn’t told anyone. He would return with wounds and you would patch them up without batting an eyelid. You looked at every place you travelled to together with wonder, and made him see those worlds in completely new ways too. How would that not scare him. Especially when his job was so dangerous. He couldn’t risk it anymore. Couldn’t risk you.
There was a faint coo from the doorway of the Razor Crest, the kid having stirred at the sound of your voice. You both turned your head to look at the kid, who tilted his head with a smile and babble in your direction; and it eased your heart.
Turning back to Mando, you said, “You didn’t think getting rid of me was going to be that easy? Did you?” You asked, as you heard the kid begin to climb down and begin to make his way to you.
“I’m sorry-“ he tried to say, before you cut him off.
“You will be.” You threatened, before turning away from him and back to your little green friend, picking him up from the ground and pulling him into your arms with the biggest smile, “Hello, little one.” You cooed loudly and sweetly- and just from the tone of your voice- Mando knew he wouldn’t be living this one down for a while.
“Hey-“ you quickly said, turning with the kid in your arms, back in his direction- his fingers rubbing at his brow over his helmet. You silently tossed him the part you had dismantled from his ship to stop him from trying to get away again. He quickly caught it, before it could reach the ground. “Put that thing back where it belongs and let’s get out of here.” You commanded. “I’m thinking somewhere nice,” you began to babble to the kid, carrying him back inside, “somewhere with sand- and crystal clear waters,” you say enthusiastically, laying it on thick so Mando can hear, just how you wanted him to make things up to you. You won’t catch-him- trying to run out on you in a hurry again.
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian imagine l#mando x reader#mandalorian x reader angst#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin angst#mandalorian imagine
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3 months and counting
[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk
The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.
Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.
The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.
Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.
How long has it been? He wonders.
Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.
Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.
He misses you.
On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.
For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.
It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.
The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.
The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.
“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.
What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.
Gone… all gone, far too soon.
“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.
Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”
You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”
“Hey,” he whined.
You beamed up at him. “I love you.”
How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.
“I love you too.”
God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?
It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.
He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.
Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.
The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.
3 months.
It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.
Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.
Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”
“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”
He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.
Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”
Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.
The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”
There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.
“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”
Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.
He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.
“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.
Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.
Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.
His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.
“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.
There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.
He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.
Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.
He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.
The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.
Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.
The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.
Then it all went dark.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— this was fun to write
© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate
#[💫] acaaai-t#astronetwrk#genshin impact#genshin#genshin angst#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin scaramouche x reader#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche
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THE GREENS NIGHTMARE
IN WHICH AERA TARGARYEN IN THE KARMA OF TEAM GREEN
Daemon Targaryen x Aera Targaryen
Aera Targaryen was a woman to fear. She was Visenya and Maegor come again. When the war between Rhaenyra and Aegon began, the realm divided into two. The Blacks for Rhaenyra and the Greens for Aegon. Aera Targaryen was a distant relative yet she had been close to Rhaenyra growing up. Once, long ago Aera had been Daemon'a love and once the love of his life. Some would even argue that she was still the love of his life, even when the two were still married.
Aera Targaryen gave Daemon Targaryen four children in their first few years of marriage. Maegor, Baelon, Aemon, and Rhaegar Targaryen. Otto Hightower deemed them bastards because Aera was daughter of Saera Targaryen and Maegor Targaryen, son of Maegor and Rhaena Targaryen. Aera didn't want to return to King's Landing where she was not welcomed. Viserys always allowed Otto to fill his head with lies about her and what she was capable of. Daemon, whilst being married to Rhaenyra, which was a favor that Area had granted her. Daemon did not see her as more than another family member. Daemon and Aera still had their own late night adventures when she would come visit, seeing as she spent most of her time in Pentos with her mother's family.
But, from time to time she visited Rhaenyra and Daemon in Dragonstone. Daemon's sons were men grown. Some in their twenties. Not married but with bastard children of their own. Daemon and Aera shared three other children together who were born over the years. He had taken not only Aera as his wife but Rhaenyra too. Area who he had been married to since she was ten and five and he twenty and five. Daemon Targaryen loved his wife, despite what many believed. Aera much to anyone's dismay was a free spirit, bringing not only men into her bed but women too. Alexander Rivers was a bastard son she had with Harwin Strong alongside him, his twin, Alys Rivers who many believed was the daughter of Lyonel but everyone at court knew who were the parents. Alys Rivers would be a important peace for Rhaenyra during the dance.
The Hightowers thought them gone, thinking they would never step a foot in Westeros. But, as soon as Rhaenyra sent a raven to inform her cousin of the news, Aera flew on dragon back to support her girl. The news of Lucerys' death reached her before she made it to Dragonstone, and soon after, the news of Aegon's celebration for his death reached her as well and that was truly what started the fire.
Instead of keeping route to Dragonstone like she promised, Aera flew to Old Town and set the Hightower's home ablaze for Lucerys's death and celebration of his death. She then, rode to King's Landing where the usurper thought he was coming to bend the knee. Otto nor his spies knew she knew, until from the skies she dropped the heads of every Hightower she killed, Gwayne Hightower being one of the dead. It was said that Alicent Hightower cried, screams were heard all over the Keep as the doweger queen wept over her dead family. They knew then that Aera Targaryen was the blood of the dragon. She was coming for Rhaenyra*s stolen throne.
'she loves Rhaenyra. Did you truly think she was coming to bend the knew?' Alicent asked Aegon. Otto sat in silence saying nothing. Daeron Targaryen had return to King's Landing the same day he received the letter of his father's death. Daeron was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He knew, Aera was the real threat, not Rhaenyra, not Daemon but Aera Targaryen was a wild dragon. He knew she was not scared to be known as a kinslayer, specially when it came to him and his siblings. But, he didn't know how far she was willing to go.
Her arrival at Dragonstone was expected, her children had arrived the day before expecting to see their mother back with their father. Aera Targaryen arrived and everyone gathered out to greet her. She was covered in blood, they thought she had been attack or something of that mattered. "Mother!" her eldest son ran to her. "I am fine" she told. "I did something bad" she began. Rhaenyra cared very little for what she had to say at that moment. They retuned back inside the castle, everyone who sided with Rhaenyra was there, well, most of them.
"I burned those Hightower's to the ground" she said loud enough for everyone to hear. The room went quiet right after that. The war had just begun. Which side will prevail?
#daemon targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#Rhaenyra targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#house targaryen#team black#rhaenys targaryen#baela targaryen#corlys velaryon#rhaena targaryen#daemon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#harwin strong x reader#house of the dragon x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#game of thrones x reader#alicent hightower x reader
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The thing about comparing Kipperlilly's grudge to hating DEI and affirmative action is that those things are exactly what she's advocating for. The Bad Kids are not receiving accommodation for anything - and in fact Aguefort seems like the type to despise things like accommodations and would tell disabled people to pick themselves up by their bootstraps, but I digress -rather, they have direct connections to massive save-the-world plots three years in a row now that puts them way ahead of everyone else. Though they put in hard work, that doesn't change the fact that no one else working as hard as they can will ever equal being told to go stop a god from coming back and coincidentally your dad (a) worked directly with that dead god's primary agent in the past and (b) is now a super cool angel secret agent who will directly assist you in the task. Oh, and also, your teammate's parents are the dead god's primary mortal agents. And also they kidnapped your other teammate's dad because he's a powerful demon lord so now she's involved too. And you all happen to end up on Leviathan, where Fabian is an instant celebrity who immediately gets a cult worshiping the planks he walks on because they all work for his rich undead infernal dad.
The issue is that people keep mapping it to the real world and seeing "tragic backstory" like it would be IRL, which is a mistake. It's not a disability. They don't go to normal school to become accountants or NASA engineers, they are there to be doing exactly that shit that their backstories rope them into. Like, this isn't Buffy, they aren't saving the world incidentally, this is school for saving the world to pursue a career in saving the world. Spyre functions so differently from IRL that everyone is dramatically failing to comprehend the actual situation everyone is in.
And the thing about hating affirmative action is that it presumes someone only got into whatever not because they have skill, but because of their race or something like that. That's manifestly different from what's going on here. Kipperlilly has no doubt the Bad Kids are incredibly powerful and skilled - but their backstories gave them opportunities to use that power and skill that no one else will ever have regardless of effort or even luck. The Bad Kids can't go five seconds without tripping over the revelation that the BBEG for the year is one of their second cousins. That just doesn't happen to other people, period. The world revolves around the BK's in ways it will never revolve around anyone else so the Bad Kids will always get the massive adventures to save the world and be the top of their class because they're personally connected to the narrative.
Remember, Brennan has confirmed that other AA students do not do shit like that. They do exactly the sort of missions you'd expect them to - go in dungeon, fight monsters, come back. It's not "uh, the Rat Grinders should have just gone out and saved the world too", that's not how it works. AA students are not usually expected to, their rat grinding is just a more tedious and efficient version of what they would be doing otherwise. The BK's don't get involved with these plots simply because they're the most heroic heroes ever who seek wrongs to right, they do it because every single time everyone but Gorgug (who is for the most part absent major narrative stakes) was born someone that would get those in's, feats reproducible by no one else.
"Ah, but the Seven-"
The Seven prove the tragedy of it. Because Kipperlilly is right, but she's also wrong. The brilliance of BLeeM this season is that he's crafted a narrative inseparable from the meta of how the game works. In a very real way this is like the Dungeons & Dragons versions of Tron. The fact that it's a series of fictional TTRPG sessions is essential to the universe and it's story, in a Twin Peaks-ian way.
Because, see, it's not actually, technically magical trauma that gives out those narrative advantages. Magical trauma is just the most obviously visible side-effect. What the issue actually is is that, as everyone has noted over and over again, the Rat Grinders are NPCs, and it is therefore impossible for the world to ever bend itself around them the way it does for the PCs. Except, most are just saying that as a funny haha joke.
No, like, literally, that's the issue. They will always be in the shadow of the handful of people that the people constructing their world, their timeline, their very existence, has decided matter. They are doomed by narrative causality to be "boring". And I'm going to take a moment to say here, isn't it crazy no one is talking about this when we just got done with Neverafter which was all about this exact thing????? Like, literally the BBEG was the Authors. That is the situation here, more or less.
Anyway, there will never be a demon attacking that due to a curse is only vulnerable to hot licks from Ruben's guitar passed down from the first gnomish rocker. Mary Ann will never be the prophesized liberator of kobolds enslaved in dragon dens. Ivy will never find out her father was secretly a super-soldier for the Council of Chosen who before he was assassinated left her notes detailing a sinister plot within the government of Solace.
People keep having a hard time with this because it intuitively doesn't feel right to ever classify something like losing a father in any context to have some kind of bright side. But if you take nothing else away from this post, let it be this: Adventuring as it's done in Spyre is not something done in the real world. Adventuring is something everyone chose to go to AA to learn and put into practice as their long-term career. And in that, absolutely these things give the PCs a completely one hundred percent insurmountable leg-up on the thing they're all in competition for.
And it being completely insurmountable in that way further goes to show the difference between hating that situation and hating affirmative action. Even AA is not a guarantee that a specific member of the majority will lose out on something and a specific member of the minority will get it instead. As soon as the character sheets were rolled everyone else at Aguefort may as well have just gone home and started studying to be accountants because the main characters had been chosen. Or they could keep going and hope they get a spin-off, I guess.
But Kipperlilly does keep trying, for she doesn't really comprehend the true eldritch horror beyond her existence shackled to the bits of a bunch of comedians, and her solution is to adjust for those unfair advantages.
Which is affirmative action.
How is that not obvious.
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Hi sorry, I'm ill about the soul vulture arc again. Because q!Bad made choices in his grief, in his rage, thinking he will never feel an ounce of happiness again because he thought his kids were dead. Q!Bad's Acceptance was never of accepting that grief and learning to live after it, but rather, it was the silent admission that his children were dead and there was nothing he could do. No rage, no monster, no demon, no power in heaven or hell could bring them back. It was Acceptance. But the cruel twist of fate was the fact that he was wrong. Pomme, Dapper, and the other eggs were alive, actually. By the time he found out, however, it was already too late. He was long gone, and every choice has a consequence, and he suffered the consequences of his choices like hell.
Q!Bad was dead long before he fell in the lavender field one hundred feet away from the house his children built. One hundred steps away from his sleeping children he fought so hard to keep safe, under all costs. He died the night they were taken away, because they were his soul, his happiness. Everything that mattered in the millenia he's existed, nothing could compare to his children. He died that night; and all those months where it seemed like he was alive, where he was "healing" was the grim reaper bargaining with himself to hold on a little longer for his children.
Q!Bad loved Dapper and Pomme, and Richas, and all the eggs- he loved them so much it hurt. He loved them so much that love became his hell- his purgatory. Q!Bad loved them until the moment he finally stepped in his grave and couldn't bargain any more.
He deteriorated for months. He was literally melting from the inside. The vultures pecked at his body and fractured his soul. The radiation melted the skin off his limbs, and the brain inside his skull. It hurt like no other death, but if it meant seeing his kids for one more day, then that hell was more than worth it. And the physical pain wasn't the worst of it- no, eventually, he forgot his children's names, their faces, he forgot his own name, and he forgot himself. Memories slipping away like lost fragments of time. Until his death, when he was barely himself anymore.
People noticed, but never really did anything to stop it did they? I mean, who are we kidding, even if anyone spoke up, nothing they could have done would have prevented the inevitable. Dapper knew the fate his father subjected himself to. She knew what scars from soul vultures looked like, and she tried to find a cure. He tried, when he still had his lab, but there was never enough time. No science or magic could ever remedy what was already destined to happen.
And Pomme, sweet Pomme, stayed with her father until the end. She gave him health potions- "medicine"- to help his ailments. And she had so much hope she lived in denial- she thought he was getting better. But the truth is that the memory lapses and the illness never ceased because no medicine could ever resurrect a fractured soul clinging on to his deceased body.
Then Q!Bad finally relinquished himself to the sweet mercy of death. And when he arrived, he found the promise of paradise- the promise of Home, where he would never have had to suffer a painful hell again. But he chose to come back to live and to suffer once more because this time, his children were waiting on the other side. For the first time, the scales were balanced, and his happiness was halved because he had a home that was worth living in, and a life that was worth living. For the first time in the millennia q!bad had been alone, he had love. And that was enough.
The story has always been about love and loss, and the beauty of love and life, despite that loss. That's why the soul vultures arc is my favorite, and also why I nearly cried halfway through writing this. Because love thrives in spite of the loss, and the grief, and the personal hell. When death comes, and it always does, and time has eroded every portrait, or photograph, or memory- all that is left is love. And that love is hope, as well as grief. It is joy and sadness. It is heaven and hell. It is simply love.
#qsmp#qsmp badboyhalo#badboyhalo#qsmp dapper#qsmp pomme#qsmp analysis#character analysis#i had a shit day and i actually did start crying after writing this man ansndnfnfnend#anyways...soul vulture arc my beloved#it was death and love and hope and horror all tied up in a beatifully devastating tragedy#tw death#tw gore#<-slightly mentioned#sorry its been 2 fucking months and im still not over it#long post#qsmp richarlyson#qsmp eggs
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Back on my Peril ramblings again guys
Peril is a character with a lot of polarizing opinions. You've got some people who love her to death, while others who, well, don't. The people who dislike her will go about how she's obsessive. Too clingy and relies far too much on Clay. That or go on about how she's just rude, mean, dangerous, and overall kind of a bad person. I...couldn't disagree more if I'll be blunt.
For starters, Peril is in a difficult situation. She was molded and shaped by her childhood. What she is now is a product of being raised as a living weapon. She was seen as being dangerous and a blight on dragon society. A hazard that, at any moment, could kill somebody. She is danger. She is peril.
Scarlet took hold of that. Scarlet manipulated this tiny dragonet that she stole away from her mother and raised her, feeding her lies in order to keep her docile and dependent. She was never alone. Never to act on her own accord. Anything she did was first of all approved by Scarlet, somebody she trusted and loved in a way. All Peril ever knew was hate and fear, so a dragon showing her any other emotions felt like love.
Peril is...unstable to say the very least. Like I just said, she's got a warped sense of relationships due to her upbringing. She has literally nobody outside the walls of the SkyWing palace. She clings to those she deems as friends and loved ones as she knows nothing else. She craves that feeling of love and especially touch. She has never known the love of a mother's hug. She has never felt the wings of a friend comforting her in a time of crisis. She only wants to be held and loved, but she cannot. She was born wrong. She is unlovable in her eyes. That's what everyone tells her at least.
It's when Clay comes along that things change. For once, she's seeing a dragon who, while still kinda scared of her...is respectful. He holds conversations with her. He's nice, friendly, and when she hears that he tried killing his troop, she immediately relates. It's one of those things that I feel Sick about, where in Clay and Peril both are deemed to be monsters since the moment they hatched when in reality they weren't at fault for anything. Clay and Peril are so good when you actually treat them like characters.
The point is that Peril sees herself in Clay. For the first time ever, she finds a dragon like her. A dragon that at the very least tolerates her. After years of abuse and being shunned and seen as nothing more than a monster, it's basically like Clay is giving her a boquete of roses and confessing his undying love.
She becomes obsessed, even more so when she's eventually free from Scarlet, but that comes later. She holds him to such high regards and views him as a dragon she wants to be around. She's easily jealous when other dragons talk to him. She's protective and constantly wants to be near him. She adores him.
Yada yada, the whole fight scene happens between her and Clay. Scarlet notices that Peril is rather fond of Clay and is using her emotions to manipulate her further. Again, Scarlet is extremely manipulative of Peril. She's the one who molded her into this. She's the one who was responsible for this. She's the one who made Peril feel as though all she could ever be in life was a murder machine, and that Scarlet was doing her a favour by letting that be her existence as opposed to killing her. Scarlet made Peril dependent on her.
So when she's gone...Peril feels lost. She feels like she's the blame for one of the very, very few dragons in her life that at least cared about her being gone. Now she's alone and seen once again as a creep. A weirdo. She doesn't belong here, not in the Sky Kingdom. Osprey is dead (another example of Scarlet toying with Peril's emotions cause the one time she acts out she has to suffer for it) and she's just tossed into the world without warning.
She in turn seeks out Scarlet, eventually finding her. Despite all of the abuse and suffering that Scarlet has put her through, she has nobody else. Scarlet's twisted and distorted love is the only thing she knows. She feels guilty for everything that happened to her.
I think it's easy for people to not really understand Peril if they don't really get her situation. What I lay it out, it sounds pretty easy to understand. Peril is a deeply traumatized and abused character who is shaped by her trauma and struggles to exist in this world as she only knows to kill. She's trying to unlearn all of this. She wants to be better. She's trying to be better.
That's what Escaping Peril is all about: Peril's recovery.
Escaping Peril is the conclusion to Peril's arc, with her coming to grips and terms with her trauma and by the end realizing that she is her own person. Over the course of the book, she struggles a lot. She goes back and forth on her feelings with Scarlet, conflicted on whether she loves her or wants to kill her. Perhaps both at the same time. It's messy and she feels lost and hopeless.
The only real thing that seems to be a beacon of light in her life is Clay, whom is basically not even in this book. Clay is her moral compass here. Anything she does has to be something she believes Clay would approve of. She's doing the exact same thing that she's done for years with Scarlet because, yet again, it's literally the only thing she knows. She is a deeply hurt character who struggles with the whole morality thing because ever since she was a dragonet she's been a child solider. She's trying to unlearn it all.
Which is helped significantly with her friends, namely Turtle. She isn't alone. She has a group of dragons who care for her and like her the way she is. Again, the themes of friendship and togetherness is a very strong one in this arc. The Jade Winglet learn how to be themselves and how they don't need to pretend to be somebody they aren't with a group of dragons who love them for who they are.
Peril...learns. She learns. She grows. I cannot emphasize this enough since some of you guys still don't get that part. Her character shifts and changes and develops over the course of this book. She learns that she doesn't need to depend on somebody for her own actions. Hell, by the end of the book, she burns the scroll of her own volition, knowing fully well that Clay would've hated that. She's acting of her own accord. She learns that she's not a monster and doesn't need to have her flamescales be repressed to be liked.
She's a deeply traumatized character who is trying to get better. She has been getting better, and she will only get better with time. She's happy now. She's happy with her friends and loved ones. Everything will be okay.
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“You’re not Ra’s al Ghul,” the figure noted.
“I know.”
“How about,” his throat was dry and his words raspy, “I promise not to scream if you toss me the keys.”
~#~
“Why didn’t you try and kill the bastard, instead of getting your fool head cracked open on the stones?”
Dick turns to shoot the assassin a quicksilver, insincere smile. “How'd you think I got chained to the bed?”
~#~
“You know,” Dick said, exhaustion tugging at him, “There’s nothing stopping me from warning Ra’s the moment he walks through the door.”
“I could kill you as soon as I heard footsteps,” the assassin remarks, unconcerned, “Snap that pretty little neck. By the time he can tell the difference, he’ll be too close to escape.”
Fuck.
“Or, you can promise to keep that mouth shut, and I’ll unlock you when I’m done.” Dick shifts to stare at the assassin. “Don’t tell me you have any love lost for Ra’s al Ghul.”
~#~
“The Light sends their regards,” the assassin says quietly, and Dick goes very, very still.
“Everything alright?” the assassin asks as he does what he promised and unchains Dick. Dick warily sidles off the bed, away from the dead body. “You seem a little tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” the assassin looks up at him, pinning him in place with that one mercilessly blue eye, “Prince Richard?”
~#~
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Slade shrugs, “I’m a hunter, little bird. I enjoy the thrill of the chase, stalking my prey as they stumble and falter and finally collapse, mired in the despair of their inevitable capture.”
That smile looks almost wolf-like.
~#~
The weight of hips flush with his own is what makes him freeze, heart rate spiking, his mouth going dry as he braces himself for pain, as panic and dread swirl together in his stomach, no please no having long since gone soundless, there was no point begging if it was never heeded—
The weight disappears.
“I’m not going to rape you, kid.”
It takes Dick a long, fumbling moment to brace his hands against the ground and push himself up. Slade is back on the other side of the fire, sharpening his knife and glancing idly at Dick.
“And—” his voice sounds like he gargled seawater, “And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
“I haven’t lied to you so far.”
“You said you’d let me go.”
“No, I said I’d unlock your chains, and I did. I said I’d kill Ra’s al Ghul, and I did. I said I’d catch you if you ran, and I did.”
~#~
“So how did the Crown Prince of Gotham end up a prisoner of Ra’s al Ghul?”
“Talia al Ghul,” Dick says quietly, “She broke from her father and fled to Gotham and my father married her. And Ra’s decided that if Bruce stole his daughter and heir, he would do the same.” Dick remembers that first spike of panic, past fear, past snarling rage, when Ra’s forced him down and fingers fumbled at his belt. “And if Bruce took his daughter to bed, then he’d do the same to me.”
“I highly doubt that Lady Wayne is locked up in a tower and chained to a bed.”
“Lady Wayne didn’t try to kill Bruce at least three times.” Dick pauses, and considers what he knows of his stepmother. “Probably.”
~#~
Dick stares up at the furious assassin looming over him, and knows that this isn’t a fight he can win. He’s still breathing through the injuries he got from the gang, and all he can do is curl up and try to survive Slade’s rage.
The cocoon of blankness is waiting like an old friend, and Dick sinks gratefully into it, withdrawing from his body, from the existing pains and what will soon be done to it, and hoping that he still has one to come back to. For now, he drifts in the fog, untethered and alone.
There are fingers on his jaw, moving his head, a narrowed blue eye filling his vision. “This a trick you learned with Ra’s?” the voice asks.
“What?” Dick says. Slurs. It’s all the same.
“Going away.”
Dick hums an affirmative. He wouldn’t have survived Ra’s if he couldn’t...disconnect when he had to. Ra’s didn’t care.
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