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a-simple-gaywitch · 1 month ago

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A Healing Light

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner's little sister comes running into the BAU, Spencer doesn't expect her to take up such a large part of his heart

Warnings: referenced/heavily implied domestic violence, referenced child abuse, PTSD, other canon-typical violence

Word Count: 9413

Author's Note: my life has been a total shitshow lately so here’s a fic I made to cope. Disclaimer, all of my knowledge of medical education comes from TV shows and brief Googling. Also I could easily write a part 2 to this I have so many ideas with this concept

“Nothing can dim the light that shines from within.” ~Maya Angelou

When Spencer heard the BAU’s glass doors open, he looked up to see a young woman rushing in. She was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and long pants, unusual for the warm weather the northeast was currently experiencing.

“Ma’am, can I help you?” one of the agents asked, reaching a hand out towards her. Spencer saw her flinch back a bit.

“I-I need to see Aaron Hotchner,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but-”

“(Y/N)?” Hotch said, stepping out of his office.

“Aaron!” The woman ran over and wrapped her arms around Hotch in a tight hug. Aaron hugged her back.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but-” Aaron froze as he took in your face. Makeup was caked on and there were obvious tear tracks cutting through concealer on your cheeks. Your mascara was also severely smudged under your eyes. Aaron brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, revealing a large, dark bruise. “(Y/N), what happened?”

“He showed up at the restaurant, Aaron. He showed up while I was at work. I-I’m just lucky Lucy saw him in the parking lot from the hostess stand. I ran to the back and Joey gave me the keys to his truck, told me to go somewhere safe, so I came here.”

Hotch looked over at the team, who were not-so-sneakily eavesdropping. “Let’s go talk in my office.” He gently led you through the door and pulled his blinds shut.

Meanwhile, the team, minus Gideon, gathered in the bullpen.

“Who was that?”

“His sister,” explained Derek.

“I didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Garcia said.

“Oh, yeah. Sean and (Y/N) are both younger. I only met (Y/N) one other time.”

“She definitely looks more like Sean than Hotch.”

“Wonder where they get their looks from, mom or dad?” Emily chimed in.

Spencer’s eyes drifted to the windows of Hotch’s office, where shadows were moving around. “Guys,” he said, nodding toward the opening office door. The team scattered back to their respective desks, Garcia perching herself on Emily’s.

“Garcia!” Hotch called.

“Sir!” She scrambled off the desk.

“I need you to find everything you can on Nathaniel Walker. Credit card purchases, social media posts, everything. And if he comes even 50 miles from the city, you tell me immediately. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” she said, grabbing one of Emily’s sticky notes and jotting down the name before slipping off to her office.

“Anderson!” He called. The blond man popped his head up from his desk. Hotch held up an envelope. “Take this to the DA. Tell her it’s a rush order from Agent Hotchner.”

“Yes, sir!” Anderson took the envelope and scurried off.

“Reid, take (Y/N) to the cafeteria. Make sure she gets something to eat.” Hotch rested his hand on your shoulder. “I have to go call Haley, let her know what’s going on.”

“Oh. Uh, o-okay,” you said.

“Go with Spencer, get something to eat,” he said, his voice soft in a way the team rarely heard. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go, okay?”

You nodded and walked over to the man indicated as Spencer. You followed him through the glass doors and onto the elevator.

“So,” Spencer said, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled around you, “I heard you work in a restaurant?”

“Oh, yeah. Just to work my way through med school. Sean pulled some strings and got me a waitressing gig in Boston.”

“Medical school? Which one? Emerson? Suffolk?”

“Northeastern, actually,” you said. Spencer saw a hint of a smile on your face. “I have one semester left.”

The elevator doors opened to the cafeteria. Spencer gestured for you to go first. “So, uh, what are you planning to specialize in?”

“I want to go into Pediatric Oncology,” you said.

“Wow, that’s-”

“Ambitious? Crazy? Unattainable? Believe me, I’ve heard it all,” you said with a dry laugh. “Mostly from Nate,” you muttered.

“Actually, I was going to say that’s amazing.” The two of you slipped into the cafeteria line. “So, last semester. You have a residency program picked out?”

You cleared your throat. “So, uh, what’s good to eat here? Aaron’s always complaining about the cafeteria’s food.”

Aaron sat at his desk, rubbing his temples. He’d just gotten off the phone with Haley. He sighed when there was a knock at his door. He looked up to see Gideon standing in the doorway.

“You okay?” he asked.

Aaron shook his head. “I’m about ready to drive up to Boston and give (Y/N)’s no-good piece of shit boyfriend a piece of my mind.”

“Hotch.”

He looked up. “She’s my baby sister, Jason. The bastard beat her to hell and back, and I wasn’t there to stop him.”

Jason sat in the chair across the desk. “Aaron, she’s an adult, she can make her own choices. And she chose to drive hours to come see you for help. The best thing you can do right now is help her through the aftermath. Did you call Sean?”

“Not yet. I just got off the phone with Haley. She agrees, (Y/N) should stay with us until this is all settled. I just sent an emergency protective order to DA Martinez. Garcia’s watching Nate’s movements, making sure he doesn’t track her down.” He sighed. “I don’t know what else to do. I mean, when it’s a case we’re working it all seems so simple, so obvious. But when it’s your own family…”

“I get it,” Jason said. “Look, why don’t you head home. Take a day or two, help (Y/N) get settled. If there’s anything major, I’ll call you.”

“Did you know that in the late 19th century, a surgeon named Robert Liston was responsible for a 300% mortality rate in a single surgery?” Spencer asked as the two of you picked at the food in front of you.

“Oh, that was only one of the crazy things Liston did,” you laughed. “The man was crazy egotistical. To be fair, he was considered the best surgeon in the world at the time.” You took one of the fries in front of you. “I mean, he cut off a man’s balls on accident, but he’s still legendary.”

Spencer couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted from him. When he saw Hotch walking over, he cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“Reid,” Hotch said with a nod. “(Y/N), you ready to go?”

“Sure. It was nice talking to you, Spencer,” you said.

“You, too.” As you walked away, Spencer felt the butterflies in his stomach finally start to settle.

The drive home was mostly silent. You knew Aaron was thinking, and you were coming down from the adrenaline rush. You felt your eyes drooping as you rested your head against the cool window. The radio played softly in the background. Aaron knew any real conversations about what happened would have to wait until you rested.

As the two of you pulled into the driveway, Haley came running out, baby Jack on her hip. You and Aaron climbed out of the car.

“Oh, (Y/N)!” She gave you the best one-armed hug she could. “Aaron told me everything. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

You were steered towards the house when the realization fully hit you like a freight train.

“I only have my purse. I don’t have any of my stuff.” Your breath started coming in heavy puffs.

“(Y/N). (Y/N), look at me,” Aaron said, his hands heavy on your shoulders. “Breathe. Follow me. Deep breath in, count to five, deep breath out.” He coached your breathing back to normal, continuing to model deep breathing. When you were breathing normally again, he said, “I called Sean. He’s driving to Boston to clear out your apartment. He’ll bring your car down with him. And for now, we have plenty. If there’s something you need, we’ll get it, okay?”

You nodded, tears falling again. “Okay.”

You walked into your brother’s house and were immediately met with the warm smell of Haley’s cooking. Even though you didn’t visit often, you always enjoyed Haley’s home cooked meals.

“I made a roast. I hope that’s okay,” Haley said as she set Jack down in his pack-n-play.

“That sounds lovely, Hales.”

After dinner, Haley ushered you upstairs and led you to the spare room.

“This is your room for as long as you need,” Haley said. “I put some fresh towels and some soap in the bathroom for you. Help yourself if you need anything, okay? Our house is your house.”

It didn’t take you long at all to fall asleep. You’d taken a nice, long shower and Haley had given you a pair of extremely comfortable pajamas to sleep in.

You ended up sleeping for nearly 20 hours. When you did wake up, it was to the sounds of Aaron and Haley arguing. You followed their voices toward the home office. As you got closer, you were able to make out their words.

“She’s your sister, Aaron!” Haley hissed. “She needs your help!”

“And the team needs my help, too!” Aaron shot back.

“So they’re more important than family?”

You cleared your throat and they spun around. “Sorry to eavesdrop,” you said, “but I don’t want to be a point of contention. If Aaron needs to leave for work, it’s okay. Really. I need to call the university and handle stuff with them anyway.”

“See? She doesn’t need me,” he said. “And we’re only going to Philadelphia.”

Haley sighed and rubbed her temples. “Fine. Go. We’ll be here. Like always.”

“You’re the best,” Aaron said, giving her a quick kiss and grabbing his bag. “Love you.” He kissed your forehead. “Love you too.” He practically ran out of the house. Haley glared out the window. If looks could kill…

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling in your new temporary bedroom. Your phone was on speaker, playing mildly annoying music from where it rested on your bed.

Haley popped her head in, a basket of laundry in her arms. “That music’s been playing for like half an hour.”

You groaned. “I know. I’ve been on hold with the dean’s office.”

Haley clucked her tongue. “Unacceptable.” She walked over to the house phone sitting on your side table and dialed. When whoever was on the other end picked up, she said, “Julia, hi, it’s Haley. Tell your husband to get off his ass and call me on his work phone. Why? Because my sister-in-law has been on hold with Dean Wilkins for almost an hour. Yes, I know, she’s horrible.” Haley laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so right.” She laughed again. “Okay, thank you Jules. I’ll see you at the next fundraiser. Okay, bye.” She turned to you. “My sorority sister is married to the president of the university. He’ll be calling us soon.”

As if on cue, the phone began to ring.

“I’ll leave you to it. Holler if you need anything.”

The call went better than you were expecting. After explaining the situation, the president practically bent over backwards to find a solution for you.

“Let me put in some calls. You might be able to finish up down there.” Was what he had said.

When that call was finally over, you sat staring at your phone for a while. You knew you needed to call the restaurant, let everyone know you’re okay. But for some reason, that was the call you had been dreading.

With a couple deep breaths, you picked up the phone and dialed.

“Park View Bistro, this is Lucy. Dining in or carry-out?”

“Hey, Luce, it’s me.”

She gasped. “Guys, it’s (Y/N)!”

“Are you okay?”

“Where are you?”

“Are you safe?”

You heard your coworkers chime in. You couldn’t fight the smile crossing your face.

“I’m okay, I’m safe,” you said. “I’m at my brother’s.”

“Which brother?” Tad, one of the busboys, asked. “New York or FBI?”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “FBI.”

The response was a chorus of “that’s good” and “smart choice” and other positive comments.

“Well, we gave you a bit of a head start,” Lucy said. “I called the police. They, um. They found a gun on him.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. Is Jerry there?”

“Right here,” you heard your manager’s voice.

“So, kind of obvious, but yesterday was kinda my last day. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he said. “Just stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to reach out if you need anything, though.”

You were laying on the living room couch, flipping through the flashcards you kept in your purse. Jack was happily playing in his playpen and Haley was grabbing a quick shower.

“Peripheral nervous system,” you muttered to yourself. “the sensory and motor neurons that connect the central nervous system to the rest of the body. Voluntary movement of skeletal-“

Before you could finish your thought, the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” You called up to Haley. “Sean!”

Your brother scooped you up in a hug. When he set you down, he gripped your shoulders and looked over your face. “How are you doing? And don’t bullshit me. I know you’re not fine.”

Your chin started to wobble and your eyes started to sting. You started crying yet again, for what felt like the millionth time in 24 hours. Sean pulled you into another tight hug.

When you finally calmed down, Sean asked, “Where’s Aaron?”

With a sniffle and wiping your eyes, you said, “On a case.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Of course he is.” He walked over to his car and opened the trunk. “I grabbed some essentials. Your landlord was very understanding. He said he’ll send your stuff down, free of charge.”

“What? Why-why would he do that?”

“Because you’re a ray of goddamn sunshine,” he said. “You charm everyone you meet. You have a whole army of people ready to hunt down one man on your behalf. Everyone loves you, (Y/N).”

You were staring at the pile of envelopes on your bed. Sean had brought your mail in the boxes. He was helping you unpack them before heading back to New York.

“What’s up?” Sean asked, noticing your staring. “Did those letters personally offend you or something?”

“They’re internship offers,” you said.

“(Y/N), that’s great! There’s like seven letters here!”

“Mmh.”

Sean’s brows furrowed. “What’s going on?” He gestured for you to sit with him on the bed. “This is all you’ve wanted since you were, what, seven years old? Why aren’t you more excited about this?”

You sat silently for a few moments, chewing on your lip. “Did you know that only 30% of interns make it through their residency?”

“What? (Y/N), what are you talking about?”

“What if I’m part of the 70%?” you whispered. “What if I fail out? What if I can’t do it?”

“Nate really messed you up, didn’t he? (Y/N), when people ask me about my family, you know what I say? Well, firstly, I say that my brother’s a jackass but we love him anyway.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “But then I say that my little sister is a genius. She’s going to be the one to cure cancer. She’s so smart and talented, and works so hard. I couldn’t be prouder of her.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“(Y/N)-“

“I’m not your little sister, I’m your twin, dickhead,” you said with a smile.

“Why did you wait so long to open these?” Haley asked. “There are some really good offers in this pile.

You chewed the skin around your thumb. “Nate. He wanted me to stay in Boston. I didn’t get an offer from Boston. He didn’t understand how internships work so he got mad. That, um, that’s actually what set him off this last time.”

“Oh, honey,” Haley said, pulling you into a hug.

Hours later, Haley said, “So, we’ve narrowed your choices down to Johns Hopkins Medicine-Sibley Memorial Hospital and George Washington University.”

Your leg was bouncing and you were chewing the skin around your thumb. “I don’t know. I mean, the peds department at any Hopkins hospital is world-class. But the research department at George Washington produces some of the most cutting-edge advancements. You rubbed your face with both your hands.

“Hello?” came Aaron’s voice from the kitchen. “I’m home!”

“Living room!” Haley called. She turned to look at you. “Well, you want to help kids with cancer, right? Which place is going to allow you to do that the most?”

“What are we doing in here? Hey, Sean.”

Sean nodded toward Aaron as Haley explained, “Helping (Y/N/N) decide where she’s gonna intern in July. We’re down to two hospitals.”

Aaron looked at the letters on the table. “George Washington University and Johns Hopkins?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I can’t decide.”

He looked over the letters. “George Washington pays more. Go with them.”

Sean scoffed as Haley said, “Aaron!”

“What? It’s practical.”

“It’s not that easy, Aaron,” you said. “I need to think about how they can propel my future. Which one’s gonna offer me the better education.”

“Okay, how about this,” Sean offered. “Close your eyes, no thinking, random questions.”

“Sean, that doesn’t work here,” you said. “Yeah, it’s a fun game for easy choices when we were kids, but-”

“What about a pro-con list?” Aaron suggested. “I’ll get paper, we’ll write it out.”

You scoffed. “You sound like Dad.”

“Hey!” He gently punched your arm with a huffed laugh. “Uncalled for.”

In the end, after hours of debating, you decided on Hopkins. It was a short train away from the house, and it was going to help you get where you wanted to go better than the university hospital. And simply making that decision lifted a huge weight you didn’t even realize was sitting on your chest.

Penelope rushed down the hallway from her office to the bullpen.

“Hey-“ Morgan’s greeting was promptly ignored as she raced up the steps to Hotch’s office, “-babygirl.”

She knocked hurriedly on the door.

“Come in!”

“Sir,” Penelope panted out, clutching her tablet to her chest.

“Garcia? What’s wrong?”

“You told me to tell you if any of Nathaniel Walker’s information changed. Well, his credit cards show he stopped at a gun shop in Maryland and he just got gas in Baltimore.” Hotch’s stomach dropped when she continued, “It looks like he’s heading for here.”

“Thank you, Garcia,” Hotch said, doing his best to hide is panic. “You can go.” He reached for his phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N), where are you? Please tell me you’re at the house.”

“Um, no,” you said. “Haley and I are at the mall. Why?”

“Don’t- don’t worry about it. Just, stay there, okay?”

“Aaron, what’s going on?” you demanded.

He sighed and said, “Might as well tell you. Nathaniel is looking for you.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. I have someone tracking his car. And, you have a protective order which means police have to intervene if he comes within 50 feet of you. Besides, it looks like he’s coming here first.”

“Is he really stupid enough to show up to a federal building?” Haley asked. The two of you had taken a bench in the mall, and you’d put Aaron on speakerphone.

“He’s stupid enough to follow (Y/N). I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“What-what do we do if he finds us here?” you asked.

“He won’t,” Haley assured you.

“He doesn’t know where the house is. Go home, it’s the safest place right now.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Haley said. “Besides, Jack is starting to get cranky.”

When you got back to the house, you sat by the phone, staring, waiting for it to ring. What if he attacked Aaron? What if Aaron attacked him? He may be horrible to you, and you were definitely broken up, but a part of you still loved him. After all, you were together for over three years. You’d even discussed marriage with him.

Finally, after what felt like years, the phone rang. You scrambled to pick it up.

“Aaron?”

“Hey.” He was panting on the other end of the line.

“What happened?

“Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What? Is he-“

“He’s alive,” your brother said. “Probably wishing he was dead, though. He probably has some broken ribs and he definitely has a concussion. He’s also facing up to 20 years in federal prison.”

“What happened?”

“Do you really want to know?” You heard him mutter “thank you” to someone in the office.

You chewed your lip. “I guess not.”

July came much faster than you were expecting. Maybe that was because your spring was so busy - testifying in court about Nate, finishing your last few tests, and

“Okay, what do we think?” You asked Haley, slowly spinning with your arms held out. “Too casual? Or too formal?”

“No, it looks nice,” Haley assured you. “Professional without being too stuffy. And your makeup is lovely.”

“Why are you bothering?” Aaron asked. “Aren’t you just going to change into scrubs anyway?”

You sighed with an eye-roll as Haley said, “Aaron!”

“What?”

“It’s about making a first impression,” you said. “I’m going to be working here for at least 5 years, I need to start on the right foot.” You straightened out the blouse you had chosen. “Besides, they’re making us sit in a bunch of meetings for most of the morning, I won’t get my scrubs until later.” You took a deep breath before slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Today’s the day.”

It didn’t take long for you to make friends at the hospital. You clicked well with a few of the other interns in your class: Austin, Syd, and Ella. By some miracle, you were all scheduled off at the same time, after a long and grueling day. Syd suggested going to the bar down the street, and you all thought it sounded like a good idea.

“What are you guys drinking?” Syd asked, shouldering her way to the bar. “I’m thinking we start with a round of shots.” She started pointing around your small group. “Shots? Shots? Shots?”

You laughed. “Sure. Set me up. Ella?”

“I’m down.”

“Well, if we’re all doing it…” Austin joked.

“Awesome! Four tequilas,” she said when she flagged down the bartender.

Before you knew it, you and your friends were loosened up and laughing around a table.

“No way, you were totally ready to jump over Ness to scrub in,” Austin laughed. “I have never met anyone more competitive.”

“Ah, well, when you grow up with two brothers and a father who uses love and affection as a reward for achievement, you learn to fight for everything.” You took a sip from your run and coke before noticing the table went silent. “What?”

Syd cleared her throat. “Nothing. Did, uh, did any of you sit in the gallery for that transplant?”

“Oh, yeah, so cool,” Ella said. “Kidney transplant on a 5-month-old.”

Austin finished the rest of his drink. “Anyone want to dance?”

“I’ll go,” Syd offered, standing up with him. “There’s some cute guys on the floor. Ella?”

“Sure. How ‘bout you, (Y/N/N)?”

“No thanks,” you said. “I am gonna get a water, though.” After you flagged down the bartender for your drink, you felt someone step up beside you.

“Looks like residency is treating you well.”

Your head whipped around. “Dr. Reid?”

“Spencer. Please, just Spencer.”

You smiled at him as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. “Is the whole team here?”

“Most of them.” He nodded over toward the dance floor where Morgan was clearly flirting with your girls. “Gideon and Hotch chose to go home. JJ and Garcia are over at our table with Emily.” He was about to say something else when his phone started ringing. “Damn.”

You chuckled. “Isn’t that how it always goes?”

He smiled and you felt your stomach flutter in a way it hadn’t in years. Your eyes followed him as he met back up with Derek and the girls.

“I’m telling you, he’s married!”

“Wouldn’t he have a ring if he were married, Syd?”

“No, he would take it off. Besides, what other reason can you think of for a guy suddenly needing to leave after getting a text?”

“You guys talking about Derek?” You asked.

“Wait, how’d you know his name? We didn’t tell you!” Ella said.

“He works with my brother. They just got called for a case.”

“Ha! He’s not married, Syd! Take that!” Ella said. She turned to you. “You think he’ll call?”

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“Wait,” Austin said. “You’ve known this guy for how long, and you’re not showing any interest in Mr. Muscles? What’s wrong with him?”

You scoffed. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s just… not my type.”

Austin crossed his arms over his chest. “Really? Adonis isn’t your type?”

You shrugged in response.

“Okay, so what is your type?” Syd asked.

Your eyes were still tracking Spencer where the team was gathered. “Tall and lanky,” you said. “Kinda nerdy and dorky. Someone with a heart of gold.”

You were at the library, pouring over a stack of books. The intern exam was coming up quicker than you thought, and you were trying to be as prepared as possible. You marked down some notes before shifting back to the book.

“Little light reading?” someone asked.

You looked up, prepared to tell the person off, but the words died on your tongue when a familiar mop of brown hair and hazel eyes came into your line of sight. “Dr. Reid!” Your cheeks flushed and you mentally cursed yourself. “It’s uh, it’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So, is this your idea of a fun night off?”

You laughed and bookmarked the page you were on. “Kind of,” you said. “Intern exams are in 8 weeks so it’s cram time.”

Spencer hummed. “You want a study-buddy?” he offered.

“Dr. Reid-”

“Oh, Spencer, please. Just Spencer.”

You cleared your throat. “I don’t want to take up your night off.”

He scoffed as he slid into the seat across from you. “I didn’t have any plans. I was gonna check out some books and hide myself away in my apartment. This is definitely an upgrade.”

You smiled and ducked your head to hide your ever-flushed cheeks.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked, gesturing toward your notebook.

“Oh! Um, sure.” You slid it across from him. “My resident wrote down some practice questions for me and I’ve been drilling the answers.”

After looking through your notes, he said, “So, just out of curiosity, why pediatric oncology?”

You took in a big breath. “I’ve known a lot of people who’ve suffered from cancer. My dad, my grandmother. But the one that affected me the most was my best friend’s baby sister.” Your eyes started to glaze over as you thought back.

“Sophia lived two streets away from us. We spent just about every day together. When we were four, her mom got pregnant. Lindsey was born severely underweight and had a bunch of health issues from the beginning. She was barely four pounds. Because her parents were practically living in the hospital, my mom let Sophia stay with us. It was actually pretty fun for a bit. It was like we were sisters. And, you know, having two brothers, all you really want is a sister. But then they took us to meet Lindsey. It was rough. She was so small and so pale, hooked up to so many machines. I remember there was this light shining on her. I didn’t know then but it was for her bilirubin level. They didn’t know what was wrong so they were trying everything in the book. But after months of testing and testing and testing, they finally diagnosed her. Leukemia.

You wiped at your eyes. “We didn’t really know what that meant, of course. But we knew our parents were really upset about it.” You took a shuddering breath. “They tried everything. Chemo, surgeries, different radiation treatments. But nothing helped. We lost Lindsey before her second birthday.”

“I’m sure that was really hard for your families. It sounds like you were really close.”

“Yeah. We were. That was really my first real experience with death. And I just remember thinking, this is a brand new person. Why would the universe let her get this horrible, horrible disease? And why does no one know how to stop it? Well, anyway, that was when I decided I wanted to be a doctor and find a cure. For Lindsey and the McDermott’s.”

“So you’ve known what you wanted to do since you were six?” Spencer asked, his admiration for you growing.

You shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“The only other person I’ve known who’s known what they wanted to do since they were that age is well… me.”

“Seems like we have a lot in common then,” you said with a smile.

You had a great time studying with Spencer. He had some great memorizing techniques, and he knew when you needed a break from cramming before you did. He made the time fly by, to the point the librarians had to kick you out so they could close.

You and Spencer were laughing together as you walked to the metro station.

“Wait, so Sean thought zebras were fake until high school? How is that even possible?” Spencer laughed.

“Well, it’s not like our dad ever took us to the zoo,” you said. “His idea of a fun family outing was making us sit in the gallery of a courtroom watching him prance like a peacock.”

“At least yours didn’t leave you to take care of your chronically ill mother before you hit puberty,” Spencer said. He then bit his tongue. He barely knew you, why was he compelled to tell you something so personal?

“Hey, fellow member of the Shitty Dads Club, high five!” You held up your hand and laughed as Spencer tentatively clapped your hand. Spencer felt the knot that formed unfurl. “Tonight was fun,” you said as you got to your platform.

“It was. I, uh, I had a good time.”

“Well. This is my train. See you around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely! Oh, uh, let me know how you do on the exam.”

“Sure. Yeah, I definitely will.”

Aaron was on the plane with the team when his phone started ringing. “Hello?”

“I passed!” you yelled down the line. “Actually, I didn’t just pass, I got it perfect!”

“Hey, that’s awesome!” He turned to the rest of the plane. “(Y/N) passed her intern exam!”

“Hey!”

“Alright!”

“Good for her!”

“Okay, that was it,” you said. “I have to get back to work.” You whooped, “I passed!”

Aaron laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you when we get back.”

“Oh, okay, bye!”

Spencer was distracted. Usually on the plane to a new case, he was pouring over the file. But this time, he was staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Alright, Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, plopping down next to him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?” Spencer snapped away from the window. “Oh, hey, Morgan.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“What? Nothing.” He looked around the plane, briefly making eye contact with Hotch. “No-nothing’s going on.”

Morgan looked at him for a moment. “Fine. Don’t tell me now. But I’m not dropping this, kid. I’ll find out what’s got you all distracted. I’m bringing this up again.”

Unfortunately, Morgan didn’t get a chance to bring it up again until much later. The case went off the rails faster and harder than anyone could have expected, with both Spencer and JJ disappearing. As the case continued to unfold, the team knew Tobias Hankle wasn’t going to come in easy.

The team fought, and fought hard. They stayed awake for over 24 hours trying to rescue Reid. Finally, finally, the team succeeded. After what felt like hours of debating, Hotch convinced Reid to go to the hospital to be examined.

“This is ridiculous,” Spencer said from the ER gurney. “I’m fine.”

“Kid, you’re not fine,” Morgan said. “You were held captive for two days and tortured. Let the damn doctors examine you.”

He sighed and flopped himself back on the bed.

Derek leaned closer to the bed. “So, can we finally talk about this girl you got on your mind?”

Spencer��s head snapped over to him. “You-”

“You really thought I wouldn’t piece it together? C’mon, kid, we’re profilers. So, who is she?”

Spencer glanced around before finally admitting, “(Y/N).”

“Wait, wait, as in-”

“Hotch’s sister. Yeah. We, uh, I ran into her at the library a few nights ago, and we had a good time. Did you know she skipped two grades? Second and tenth. And she was valedictorian at her undergrad.” Spencer smiled up at the ceiling. “And she’s funny. She made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe.” He grew quiet. He whispered, “Thinking of her helped me get through it. Her smile, her laugh. When I thought about just giving up, I thought about how she lights up the room. She gave me hope.”

You were having a terrible day. You’d woken up late, meaning you nearly missed morning rounds. Then, you got stuck doing scut work for being late. Then, while you were working on some papers, you knocked your coffee all over the file and yourself.

“Hate this damn day,” you muttered, grabbing the box of tissues nearby to mop up the papers. “God fuckin-”

“Well,” Ella drawled, sidling up to the counter, “I have something that might cheer you up.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“There’s a very handsome professor guy asking for you,” she said. “Says he wants to talk to you.”

You looked up from the desk, prepared to yell at whoever was interrupting your already terrible day. Whatever vitriol you were about to spill died when you saw who Ella was talking about.

“Spencer!” You jumped up, completely forgetting about the coffee seeping into your scrubs. You ran around the desk. “Aaron told me what happened in Georgia, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I-I’m okay. I, uh, wanted to talk to you, though.”

“Sure. What’s-what’s going on?”

“Actually,” ‘he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “can we talk somewhere private?”

“Oh! Sure.” You led him to a nearby exam room that was empty. “So, what’s up?” He was looking everywhere but at your face. “Spencer?”

He took a deep breath. “Look, I had a really great time with you at the library. I loved getting to know you and-and I would love to get to know you better.”

You started smiling. “Spencer Reid, are you asking me out?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am. Or, well, at least I’m trying. I’ve never really been good at this kind of stuff.”

You were smiling so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. “Well, I’d love to go on a date with you,” you said. “And I promise, I won’t be wearing coffee-soaked scrubs.”

Spencer laughed and said, “Well, I still think you look great. You always do.” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as Spencer gazed at you. “So, uh, I know you have a crazy schedule. Are you free Friday at 7?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I actually get done at 6. Meet here?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer said. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”

Your day went a lot better after that.

It was almost 3 in the morning when you got to the door. Your heels were in one hand, and you tried to quietly unlock the back door with the keys in your other hand. You winced as the door squeaked open and you started tiptoeing across the kitchen floor. You were halfway to the stairs when the light flicked on.

“Shit!” you hissed.

Aaron was sat at the kitchen counter. “So, you want to tell me where you’ve been all night?” he asked.

You cleared your throat. “I plead the fifth.” Aaron looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Look, I’m an adult, I don’t need to tell you where I was or who I was with! I’m not in high school anymore, Aaron. And you’re not Dad.”

“So you were on a date.”

“Maybe.”

“With who?”

“Not telling.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, I get that you’re looking out for me, I do. But I’m not a teenager, and you’re not my legal guardian anymore. You have to let me live my life. Make my own mistakes”

“(Y/N), this is your first date since Nathaniel-”

“That you know of.”

“-are you really so surprised I’m worried about you?”

You sighed and sat down next to him. “No, I’m not surprised. But I really like this guy,” you said. “I don’t want you scaring him off by going all Scary Big Brother on him. If it helps, I know you’ll like him.” Aaron just hummed in response. You leaned your head on his shoulder and the two of you sat in silence for a bit. “For the record,” you said, “I’m glad you’re not Dad. You care more than he ever did.”

Spencer hummed happily as he added sugar to his morning coffee. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling at the message on the screen.

“So, I take it the big date went well,” Morgan said, walking up next to Spencer and pulling his own cup out of the cabinet.

Spencer hid his smile with his mug as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Wait, wait, did I hear the word date in relation to Reid?” Emily asked.

“You sure did. Pretty Boy’s got game. So, is there a second date in your future?”

“Possibly.” Spencer felt his face flushing and he took another sip of coffee to hide it.

“So, what’s the name of this girl that’s got you all starry-eyed?” Emily asked as they walked back to their desks.

“I think I’m gonna keep that to myself for a little longer,” Spencer said, his eyes tracking Hotch as he walked from Gideon’s office to his own.

“Okay, well, if you won’t tell us her name, can you at least tell us where you took her?”

“Well, we started at an escape room, like Morgan suggested, but we beat it way too quickly. They said we set a new record.”

“Wow. How long?”

“Five minutes. Then, since we couldn’t make any reservations, we just walked around the city, seeing what looked interesting. We found a bar hosting a trivia night. And then we just spent the rest of the night… talking. We just sat there, getting to know each other. It was- it was actually really nice.”

“Sounds like all that worrying was for nothing,” Morgan said.

“Well, not for nothing,” he said. “There’s still that big elephant in the room.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Emily asked. “Morgan knows who it is?”

“Well, yeah. He’s the one that convinced me to ask her out.”

“And it’s more like the elephant in the big office,” Morgan quipped. “You’re gonna have to tell him eventually.”

“And we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But for now, she doesn’t want to tell him and I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell him.”

“Reid, please tell me you’re not seeing a married woman.”

“What? No! Emily, no!”

“Let’s just say she has a pretty protective family,” Morgan said. “Someone who’s known to flip his lid if his family is hurt.”

“Wait a second…” Emily took in how Spencer was avoiding eye contact and Morgan’s eyes flicked between him and Hotch’s office with a smirk. She gasped. “No way!”

“So, how’d date night go?” Syd asked the next day at work.

“It was great. Until Aaron caught me sneaking back into the house.”

She barked out a laugh. “What are you, 15?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, Abbot,” you joked as you lined up for your morning rounds.

“So, is he taking you out again?”

“Yeah, next Wednesday. We’re going to see a show at the Kennedy Center.”

“Ooh, which one?”

“Abbot, Hotchner!” your resident snapped. “Something you’d like to share with the group?”

You cleared your throat. “No, ma’am. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not, or you’ll be buried to your eyes in scut. Now, who’d like to present?”

“You sure you’re ready to do this?” Spencer asked you. The two of you had been together for four months, and had decided to make things official by telling your family.

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, besides, I think he already knows and he’s just waiting to hear it from me.” You took a deep breath and unlocked the door. “Aaron? Haley?”

“Kitchen!”

You motioned for Spencer to wait as you walked in the room. “I, uh, I have someone I want you to meet,” you said. “Or, well, you’ll see. Uh, I want to introduce my boyfriend. Spencer.”

You motioned for him to come into the room and you gripped his hand. He gave yours a squeeze in reassurance.

Aaron smiled. “I was wondering when you’d finally admit it.”

Date nights with Spencer were probably your favorite nights. The two of you had decided to have a night in rather than go out. Dinner was simple: just pasta with some frozen garlic bread. Neither of you was a very talented cook.

You were helping clean up, putting dishes back in the cabinets, when a plate slipped from your hand and smashed on the floor.

Suddenly, you were back in Boston with Nate. He was yelling, cursing at you, and you were just standing there.

You jumped when an arm landed on your shoulder. You cried out and scrunched in on yourself, expecting Nate’s harsh slap.

Instead, you were met with Spencer’s concerned eyes and soft, “(Y/N)?”

You snapped yourself out of it. “You know, I-I just remembered, I have an early shift tomorrow. I-I should probably go,” you stuttered out before grabbing your purse off the counter and rushing from the apartment.

“(Y/N)-”

The next day in the office, Spencer went to Hotch’s office. He sat down in the chair across from his desk and said, “(Y/N) made it home last night, right?”

Hotch looked up. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. She, uh, she dropped a plate and it broke. Then she just stood there, staring at it. I wasn’t thinking and touched and she freaked out. She got all defensive, her breath started racing and she rushed out of my apartment. She claimed she had to work but I know she has off today.”

Hotch frowned. “She had a flashback.”

“I think so. I want to fix it but I don’t know how,” he admitted. “I mean, what am I supposed to say? I promise I’m not like your psycho ex, I care more about you and your safety than a piece of porcelain?”

“Well, I would leave out the psycho ex part,” Hotch said, giving Spencer a small smile. “But sincerely, give her a little bit of time.”

“She seemed really distressed, Hotch.”

He sat for a moment before saying, “Okay.” He picked up his phone and dialed. “Hey. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need a favor. It’s for (Y/N).”

You were sitting on the living room couch, bundled in a blanket. You were staring absently at the blank TV, your mind filled with what felt like static. When you heard keys in the door, you jumped. You let out a sigh when you saw Haley’s familiar blonde head peak in the door.

“(Y/N)? Hey.” She walked over and sat on the coffee table in front of you. “You okay?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Do I look okay?”

Haley gave you one of her sympathetic smiles before saying, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You found you did. So you told her everything. “It was like I was right back there,” you said. “I was back in that Boston apartment and Nate was breaking things and throwing things because I wasn’t doing what he wanted.” Tears were running down your face.

“Oh, sweetie,” Haley said, moving to the couch to pull you into a hug. “I’m so sorry. But you know, you weren’t back there. You were with Spencer, one of the most gentle, caring men I know.”

“I know, I know. Logically, I know that. Logically, I know Spencer wouldn’t hurt me. But in that moment, I couldn’t think logically. I was back in fight or flight.”

After a few days, you decided to sit with Spencer and talk it out. You explained where your head was, and Spencer assured you the episode didn’t scare him away; he was in it for the long haul with you.

“You ever notice how we’re always at my place?” Spencer asked, breaking away from where the two of you were making out on his couch.

“What?” You brushed some hair out of your face.

“Not that I mind,” Spencer rushed out. “I mean, I-I get it. You’re still living with Hotch, he’s my boss, it’s awkward.”

“Yeah? Spence, where are you going with this?”

“You spend most of your nights here anyway. I think my closet is more your clothes than mine-”

“Spencer.” You gripped his hand.

“Right, right. I’m rambling.” He cleared his throat. “Um, I was thinking. What if- what if you moved in here? With me?”

Rather than a verbal answer, you tackled him down on the couch, kissing him again.

When you finally broke away, Spencer laughed, “I take it that was a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes! I love you.” You froze. That was the first time either of you had said those words. A knot of panic was starting to form in your chest.

Spencer must have noticed because he gently took your hands. “Hey, hey, breathe. You’re okay.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, too.”

You groaned as you unlocked the door. “You would not believe the day I had,” you said, kicking your shoes off by the door. Your boyfriend looked up from where he was reading a book on the couch.

“First, the coffee machine in the lounge was busted. Then, I was put in the ER which, you know, fine, whatever. But this group of drunk college girls come in because their friend passed out and we had to pump her stomach. Normal Friday night, right? Well, as we’re taking care of this girl, one of her friends vomits all over me. But, before I can go change my scrubs, an emergency trauma comes in. Apparently, this guy collects Civil War memorabilia and he and his buddy thought it would be fun to play with the musket. So this guy has a bayonet stuck in his abdomen and a bullet wound that’s stuffed with a sock that had clearly been worn recently so we have to worry about infection on top of him bleeding out. All over me, by the way. Then, finally, I get a chance to change my scrubs because they need me in L&D. So I’m helping with this geriatric pregnancy, which by the way is a term I hate, and the mom starts coding. So we’re rushing, trying to get a crash cart, prepared to resuscitate, and then we see the DNR order on the chart. At least the baby was healthy. And nearly 9 pounds.”

You huffed and plopped onto the couch. Spencer pulled your legs up into his lap. “I’m sorry, baby. Hey, you know what might cheer you up? Morgan got yelled at by the accountant for kicking down an unlocked door on our last case. And Penelope totally embarrassed herself answering the phone.”

You snorted a laugh. “Course she did.”

“Oh, and she invited us on a double-date with her and Kevin. Movie night. It might help you destress a bit. Take your mind off that chief resident decision I know you’re constantly thinking about. Which, by the way, you’re gonna get. You’re perfect for the job, they’d be crazy to pass you over for this.” He lifted your hand up and kissed the back of it.

Spencer was right, they’d chosen you as chief resident. And you loved it. It was stressful and difficult, but it was what you’d been waiting for. It came with unexpected challenges, like when an emergency trauma came through the ICU.

You were on your way to check on the unconscious man when you noticed a crowd gathered in front of the room.

“What is this?” You asked, pushing your way through the crowd of mostly interns and first-year residents. “Out of the way. Move.” When you finally made your way into the room, you saw a familiar group talking to the intern sent to check vitals. “Agents.”

Your brother was standing next to the bed, and you noticed handcuffs around both the patient’s hands. You pursed your lips before turning to the gathered crowd. “I know you all have somewhere to be. Go!” Finally, you turned back to the team. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

“When will Mr. Holsten be awake?” Aaron asked. “Your intern here didn’t seem to have an answer for us.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “First of all, don’t talk about my intern in that way. Dr. Lester has only been here a few weeks, the new class just started. Secondly, we can’t say for certain. He had significant trauma, so he’s pretty heavily sedated at the moment and-“

“Can you wake him? We have some questions he needs to answer.”

“No, we cannot wake him, Agent Hotchner. Waking him could prove detrimental to his healing. Over the course of his treatment we will start to decrease the medications, but we will not forcibly wake him.”

“You don’t understand, Dr. Hotchner, this man killed-“

You held up your hand. “Right now, at this moment, I don’t care who he killed. He could have slaughtered a convent full of nuns and I would not provide less than adequate care. Within these walls, he is just a patient in need of medical attention. I refuse to violate my Hippocratic oath for your investigation. So, you have two options. One, let us care for him as our team seems fit and you can ask all your questions after he wakes up. Or two, you leave this hospital and wait for him to be discharged. The choice is yours.”

As you stared down with your brother, the team could clearly see the family resemblance. It was in your eyes, in the stubbornness you both exhibited.

Finally, Aaron took a step back. “Fine. Call us the second he wakes up. But the cuffs stay on unless absolutely necessary.”

“Deal.”

It was a rare night when you and Spencer were both home, at a normal time, and at the same time. You’d had a nice dinner together and were laying in bed. Spencer was reading a book while you were working on a report for the research grant team.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“We should go to Vegas,” he said. “To see my mom.”

You froze. “You want me to meet your mom?”

“Well, yeah.” He set his book on the side table and turned to face you. “I’ve already told Mom all about you. She loves you already and she hasn’t even met you. She’s been doing really really well on this medication and I really want the two most important people in my life to meet each other.” He took your hand and squeezed it.

You gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, might as well get the hard part over with, right?” You took a deep breath. “I have to meet her sooner or later, why not make it sooner?”

The next day at work, you were telling your friends about the conversation.

“So it looks like I’ll be cashing in some of my PTO.”

“You’re really going to meet his mom?” Syd asked. “That’s, like, practically a step away from getting married. You sure you’re ready for that?”

“Definitely not,” you said. “From what Spence has told me, she’s, like, Superwoman. She was this awesome English professor for years and raised Spencer on her own after his dad left.”

“So you’re totally intimidated,” Ella said.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Hey look on the bright side,” Austin chimed in. “At least he doesn’t have to meet your parents.”

You laughed. “Yeah, just one of the many reasons I’m glad my father’s under the ground. Think I would have wanted my mom to meet him, though.”

The end of your residency was quickly approaching. Offers for fellowship positions were starting to come in, meaning your class had to finalize their specialties with the head of the program.

“Dr. Hotchner,” the director of the program said, looking over your file, “you’ve shown much interest in pediatric oncology. Are you sure that’s the specialty you want?”

“Absolutely.”

He set the file down. “You do know that specialty’s not easy? Not from a technical perspective, but from the very nature of who your patients are and what they’re facing.”

“I know, sir.”

“You show great promise as a trauma surgeon. Are you sure-”

“Sir, with all due respect,” you said, scooting the chair closer to the desk and straightening up in the chair, “I’ve wanted this job since I was a child. I know what I’m getting into. This is not something I’ve decided on a whim.”

He sighed. “Alright. In that case, I should let you know, I received a call from the chief over at St. Jude’s. They wish to extend a fellowship offer to you, of course with the condition that you pass your board certification.”

That night, Spencer came home to find you pacing and muttering to yourself.

“(Y/N)?”

“Good, you’re home,” you said. “I, uh, I need to talk to you.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in concern. “Okay?” He sat down on the couch with you. “(Y/N), what’s going on?” You were fidgety, looking everywhere but at Spencer. “(Y/N)?”

Finally, you took a deep breath and said, “I got some big news today. I, uh, I got a fellowship offer from St. Jude.”

“What? (Y/N), that’s fantastic! That’s, like, your dream to work there.” He took in how distressed you seem. “What’s wrong?”

“Spencer, fellowships are three years long. I’d be living in Memphis for three years. I don’t know if I want to live that far apart from you for that long.”

“So you’re torn between your professional dream and me.” He turned his body to face you. “(Y/N), I wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back from your goals because of me.” After a few moments of silence, Spencer said, “I could go with you.”

“What?”

“Yeah! There’s an FBI office in Memphis, I could transfer there,” he said. “If you’re turning this down because of me-”

“Spence, it’s not just because of you,” you said. “I love working at this hospital. I love the team I work with, and I feel like I can learn just as much from Hopkins as I can from St. Jude. Plus, Aaron and Jack are here. I can’t leave them after they just lost Haley. And you can’t leave the team here. They’re your family.” You gripped his hand in yours. “I promise, I thought this through. It’s all I’ve done all day.”

After the end of your conversation, Spencer spent some time thinking. He impulsively offered to uproot his life so that you could follow your dream. Never did he think he would be the kind of person to do that. He thought back to six years ago, when you first walked through the doors of the BAU. If only he knew then how absolutely head over heels he was for you, While you were on the phone with your brother, telling him about your decision, he decided he needed to call Penelope.

He needed help picking out a ring.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader

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alloftheimagines · 3 months ago

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joel miller | complications

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words: 2.9k warnings: 18+ | angst, near death experience, blood, reader has a traumatic birth w/complications, PTSD naturally, joel reminded of sarah's death, newbown baby (yes they can be spooky! but this one is cute and safe), (please just somebody take that poor man's pain away) (or not because then what would we write about?) (also he and ellie are a little estranged like in tlou2) prompt: I was thinking maybe Jackson! Joel era and pregnant reader and then she almost dies while giving birth to the baby! Gives room for a lot of drama and angst, and potential comfort right at the end for our favorite old man. tags: (i know it's been a while since I last posted so let me know if you want to be untagged) @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl note: you can read this as pedro's joel if you so wish, but i am in my game!joel feels rn

“I can’t do this, Joel.” Your face creased with pain as another contraction wracked through you. You’d known that labour would hurt, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to come on this quickly, and so strong. You hadn’t yet passed the eight-month mark, and you weren’t prepared. Not even a little. You hadn’t even sorted the nursery yet, or found a crib.

Joel held your hand on the floor of your living room, keeping you supported while you braced against the couch. He brushed the hair from your face, calm and unreadable as ever, but even you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled against your skin. “You got this, baby girl. I know you can.”

“Don’t think you have much of a choice.” Your doctor, one of the few midwives in town, lifted her head. She sat at your feet, peeling off her gloves after your examination. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming right now.”

“There’s no time to get to the infirmary?” you questioned, voice rising in panic. The contractions had barely started an hour ago, and sure, you’d left it a little late before confessing that they were getting painful. Ellie had rushed out not fifteen minutes ago to call for your midwife’s help, and now…

Now, the baby was coming, and all you could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The pregnancy had been a shock to your system. You hadn’t even been sure that Joel would want to go through with it after everything he’d experienced before. But he’d held your hand through each ultrasound, felt your belly for the first kick, and even when you saw fear — dread, even — cross his features, you could easily reassure him that this time was different. This time, it was safe. You’d lived in Jackson for over a year now, and it was the security of the community that had made motherhood feel possible.

The midwife shook her head. “I’m sorry. You need to start pushing on your next contraction.”

“Oh, god,” you whispered, teeth chattering as the weight of the situation hit you.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel tilted your chin gently. “It’s gonna be just fine, darlin’. You just breathe and push, okay? We’ll do the rest.”

“Right, just breathe and push,” you muttered. “Of course, you forgot the part about shoving a small human out of my hoo-ha.”

He smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Oh, right. That little detail.”

“I kinda hate you right now.” Just as you said it, another contraction hit, and your head fell back as you moaned.

“Push now if you feel like you should!” your midwife reminded. Then, to Ellie: “Go get some clean towels, hon. Lots of ‘em.”

In the doorway, Ellie looked grateful to be given a job and scampered off.

You did as instructed, dipping your chin into your chest as you pushed, pushed, pushed. A scream ripped through you at the pain it brought, each moment worse than the last.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good. She’s gonna be here so soon,” Joel whispered, his grip around you the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now.

Dizziness consumed you as your contraction finally eased. “Is she okay?”

“I’m seeing the head.” The midwife beamed. “Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Somehow, you breathed, and you pushed, and you felt your way through the pain as your body broke and mended and then broke again. Joel kept his grip on your hand tight, reassuring, but you saw him bite his lip toward the end and knew that he might have been just as terrified as you.

The final push finally came, and you sunk back as the newborn's cry rang out.

“She’s here. You did it,” Joel murmured, kissing your clammy temple. He laughed into your skin, the sound of joy and disbelief sending a shiver through you. You tried to lift your head, to see your daughter, but everything felt wrong. Heavy. It still hurt, and black spots dotted your vision.

“Le’ me see her.” Your words were slurred, your voice far away.

The last thing you heard was Joel calling your name, his voice raw and broken — terrified.

***

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded.

“She’s bleeding too heavily. I need to get her to the infirmary.” The midwife shook her head, handing him the screaming newborn. His screaming newborn. It had taken months to quell the panic of becoming a father again — not that he had ever truly stopped. Sarah had lived in his heart all these years, and Ellie was his daughter, even if she hated him for what he did.

He made the mistake of looking at you, and the sight of the blood made him sick. So much of it. There was so damn much of it. He’d seen a lot of people bleed out, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this much.

“Shit," he cursed.

He didn’t know when Ellie had returned, but she stood wan and she’ll shocked beside him now.

“Please, take her.” He shoved the baby into her arms before lowering back to his knees to grab your hand. “Don’t you dare do this to me, baby. Not now.”

“Can you carry her to the infirmary?” the midwife asked desperately.

He didn’t think twice, slipping his arms under your limp body.

“Joel! She’s gonna be alright, right?” Ellie stuttered, and he heard the panic in her voice, too, as she swayed the baby from side to side, swaddling her in blankets. You were the closest thing Ellie had to a mother. If either of them lost you…

He couldn’t even try to find an answer, as much as he wanted it to be yes.

He gritted his teeth, hauling you up on shaky legs. Thankfully, the infirmary was only a few blocks away, and nobody was there to slow him down so late at night.

He couldn’t make sense of it. One minute, he’d been settling down for the night after a long patrol shift. The next, you were curled up in pain, claiming the baby was coming.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, fingers curling into your old sweater. His old sweater, if he was being particular, but you’d stolen it from him so long ago that it smelled completely of you now: soap and fresh air. Blood.

He staggered into the infirmary with that smell still in his nostrils, dampness spreading across his hands, and he damn near passed out on the threshold. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave you, even when flashes of him holding Sarah this exact way raced through his mind. Even when a broken sob stuck in his throat, because he was holding on, and you weren’t, and she wasn’t, and why did he always have to be the one to watch the life seep from them? To end the night with nothing but their blood on his hands?

He set you down on the first bed he came to, drawing the alarmed attention of the nurses, who had a moment ago been ready to dose off on their night shift. In such a small community, they weren’t often needed after dark.

Behind him, the midwife called out orders, wheeling you away into the surgery theatre. He watched you disappear into a white-walled room, a tiny thing that never would have sufficed in the old world.

In the old world, you probably wouldn’t have given birth in a living room. In the old world, he wouldn’t be stiff with a fear he couldn’t control, frozen with memories that refused to ever leave him.

He spun around and felt unsettled to see Ellie cradling the baby, mouth agape with the same cluelessness he felt. His baby. His. He had to be a father now, but he didn’t know how when you weren’t here with him. He felt like that thing he was always losing in his dreams was finally gone for good. Ripped from him one last time.

He couldn’t look at the baby’s cherubic face. Couldn’t even look at Ellie.

He couldn’t remember why he’d been so relaxed just yesterday to think of the little life you’d both been impatiently waiting to begin. Couldn’t remember how he’d found the strength to sing a lullaby to your bump, laughing when a foot kicked his palm as though telling him to shut the hell up.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was so tiny and pink and new, wrapped in bloody blankets, and he…

“Go give her to one of the nurses,” he whispered.

“Joel—” Ellie made to protest, but he couldn’t hear it. Wouldn't.

“Ellie,” he snapped. “Go give her to one of the damn nurses. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have a fucking choice, because she’s yours now.” Ellie shoved her into his hands without warning. He tensed with the new weight, bile rising in his stomach. No. No. No. Everything he held, he broke.

But then the baby let out a gurgle, her feet kicking his palm just like the night before when she was still safe in your belly, and he couldn’t keep from looking down at her. Couldn’t keep from seeing you in all her innocent features. Eyes, nose, even the fine tuft of hair on her head.

“I can clean her down and check she’s doing okay,” a nurse offered, and suddenly, he was reluctant to let her go.

And then he remembered you, the blood, your motionless body after so long spent screaming, Ellie’s hatred, Tess, Sarah, and he was glad for somebody else to take care of her. The further away that kid was, the better. He was a fucking curse, and she…

He scraped a hand over his face, pacing over to the surgery room. He didn’t dare march in, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said from behind him gently. “She’s strong, and I’m sure shit like this happens all the time.”

“I told her we’d be okay,” Joel rasped out, face crumpling finally. “I told her that it would turn out alright, that we could be… That we could make something good here.”

“And you will,” Ellie said.

He shook his head. “I might as well have killed her my damn self.” He looked down at his bloodied hands as though they weren’t his. They shook more than they ever had before.

“Stop it! She’s going to make it. She has to!” Ellie’s yell took him aback, piercing in such a quiet, echoey space. She jabbed a finger into Joel’s shoulder. “And you have to hold it together. I know it’s fucking hard, alright, but you don’t get to lose it now! You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in our lives, Joel! That’s not how it works!”

He swallowed down his own self-loathing, head bowed. “I can’t do it without her,” he whispered.

The rawness in his voice must have been visceral, because Ellie paused, her eyes filling with tears.

And then she hugged him, tight enough that he thought maybe she was trying to keep him in one piece. He let out a ragged breath and held her. And then he did what she asked. He tried to hold it together.

***

You woke to whispers and gurgles and wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. Your lids were heavy, body distant, and you couldn’t quite remember where you were or who was supposed to be with you.

Until you prised your eyes open and found IVs plugged into your veins.

“There she is,” a voice said softly.

You blinked, searching for the source, and found it in a bleary version of Joel. He sat in a chair beside your bed, a tiny baby in his arms. His smile was shaky, distorted, and you didn’t know why. Not until he leaned forward and brushed your hair from your face with his free arm.

“Thought you’d left me there for a second.”

“Is she okay?” Your throat was hoarse.

He nodded. “Right as rain. It’s you we were worried about.”

You frowned, trying to remember. One minute, you were pushing as though your life depended on it, and then the next, you were just… gone.

“You had a heavy bleed. Needed a transfusion,” Joel explained finally. “But they reckon you’re gonna be okay, thank god.”

“But she’s okay?” You stared at the baby nestled against his chest, not quite sure how she was here. When had this being growing inside of you become a real, tangible thing? How much of her life had you already missed?

Joel sighed impatiently. “Yes, baby. She’s perfect. Takes after her mom in that department.”

He moved to perch beside you so that you could get a closer look. He was right, of course. She was a little smaller than most newborns, but she was perfect. Pink apple cheeks, wide eyes, tiny fingernails. Looking at her felt like everything had finally fallen into place. You tickled her chin and her lips twitched with something content. Something right.

“How’s it feel, being a daddy again?” you asked gently, looking up at him.

“Right now, it feels like hell. You can’t go scaring me like that.” He wouldn’t look at you, frown set firmly on his daughter. “Thought I was gonna have a heart attack."

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been. After everything, you’d finally thought that danger, terror, was a thing of the past. You’d done a great job of ruining that, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Joel had lost too much before to deal with all this, and you had no idea how you’d cope in his shoes.

He chuckled. “You’re sorry.” Shook his head. “I ain’t trying to make you apologise for almost dying, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“We said we could do this right,” you whispered. “I promised you it’d be different.”

“Yeah, well… feels like things’ll never be different for me.”

You snapped your head up. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothin’.” He sighed, kissing your temple, and yet still, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “How about you get some rest? I’ll keep the little missus company.”

“Joel.” You cupped his jaw, pleading now. Everything felt so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though the proof was right in front of you, it was hard to believe your baby was happy and healthy after all the trauma you’d faced. “We’re not gonna start her life this way. Tell me what you mean.”

He placed the baby down in the crib beside your bed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep having to plan a life where I’m alone again, and honestly, I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to. Not this time.”

“But you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t. For a minute there, I thought…” His voice grew thick, and he shook his head. “Sarah’s gone. Ellie hates me. Why the hell did I think it’d be third time lucky? She’s not even a day old, and she almost lost her mom! And there was nothing I could do. There’s never anything I can do.”

Your heart ached for him. One day, you prayed he wouldn’t hold the responsibility of every single person he loved on his shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d been foolish to go into this thinking it could be better. The world would never be safe, not even here in Jackson, and the pain he must live with every day sure as hell wouldn’t ease now he had another daughter to raise.

You felt hollow at the thought that maybe he’d leave. You wouldn’t blame him, not really. You were scared, too. But you’d only found the strength to do this because you were together, and you’d survived the odds so far. If that stopped feeling true… what then?

Devastation must have been written all over your face, because he pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to me, baby. I shouldn’t be sayin’ all this. You’re barely out of the woods.”

“I don’t think we can keep doing this if you don’t let some of that guilt and blame go, Joel,” you admitted. “I think your daughter is gonna need a man who doesn’t hate himself for every single thing that’s wrong in the world. You’re right. There was nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. It was my body, and things like this happened even before the outbreak. I can’t imagine how scared you were, love, but fuck, you can’t keep making it your fault. It isn’t. It never was, especially not with Sarah. And this baby? She isn't Sarah."

He winced at her name, as he often still did. Collapsing back in his chair, he took your hand. Slowly, his lower lip began to wobble as he finally met your gaze. “I love you too much to lose you. And her… How the hell am I gonna do this?”

“I can’t answer that,” you said. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, he bowed his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Gonna try to be better. I promise. I'll hold it together."

“You don’t need to be better, and you don't need to hold it together. You’re already a good man, and talking about all this is important - for both of us. And for her.” You squeezed his fingers tightly. “I love you so much.” You teared up as you looked at the baby dozing in her crib. “And god, I love her. Can you believe we made her?”

He hummed. “What the hell are we gonna call her?”

“And where the hell are we gonna put her?” you added, worrying at your lip. “We never even found a crib.”

He shrugged, teasing. “I’m sure we’ll find a corner somewhere.” He leaned forward, tracing circles along your arm. “We’ll make do. Between the four of us, we’ll find a way. I’ll cut the damn trees down and build us a place from scratch myself if I have to.”

You smiled, peace finally flooding your exhausted body. You saw Ellie standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, and knew Joel was right. Your family was complete now. It would be a little broken at times, as all things were, but you’d do everything in your power to keep it whole.

Even if it meant reminding Joel every damn day that he had to be gentle with himself.

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q8qwertyuiop8p · 4 days ago

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Something that has really bugged me about season two is Jinx's hallucinations and PTSD. It magically disappears when Silco dies, save for two scenes. I remember when people on reddit were literally making jokes about the writers going this route because it would be so stupid.

One of the things I loved about season one was the realistic depictions of mental illness that you just don't see often in media. I don't know what it is like to experience schizophrenia, but I have experienced PTSD and paranoia, and seeing how it was represented in Arcane was actually one of the things that helped me through it.

And then season 2 comes around and they just completely neglect this side of Jinx.

PTSD isn't a switch that can magically be flipped off. Recovery is a slow and gradual process. In absolutely no world would Jinx killing yet another family member cure her of her conditions, it would make them 10 times worse. Not to mention just before killing him she has an extremely severe psychotic episode, which would only make forgetting her trauma even more difficult since it was just brought up fresh in her mind.

And what even about the end of s1 was it that healed her? I genuinely have no idea, because she finally chooses Jinx only to once again go back and forth between Jinx and Powder in season two, because apparently all that buildup for her final decision was for nothing.

She does experience two hallucinations (I'm not going to count the jail silco thing in act three because what even was that?) when she sees enforcer Vi and when Sevika talks about the attack at Vander's statue, but suddenly that is all that triggers her?

In season one, just seeing Vi, or even someone who looks like Vi triggers her. But now when Vi is literally trying to capture and possibly kill her she is fine, it's only the mask that bothers her? Wasn't that her worst fear, that Silco and Sevika were right, that Vi only wanted to stop her? And she is constantly triggered by Cait in season 1 but not 2?

And then there was the insulting ending, where jail Silco tells Jinx to 'break the cycle' (something he would absolutely never do) and Jinx finally finds redemption by literally killing herself after Isha kills herself in what is framed as an act of heroism (and if Jinx actually didnt, than what even was the point of that scene?) What happened to Ekko trying to stop Jinx from doing that? What happened to Silco having Singed revive her to save her life after she attempts to take it? Or Jayce and Viktor talking each other out of it? Or Silco choosing to keep fighting rather than give into the "peace in water"?

On purpose or not season 2 frames suicide as a glorious, edgy, perhaps even necessary thing and it's disgusting.

#arcane #arcane critical #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #jinx #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx's hallucinations #mental illness #mental illness in media #ptsd #psychosis #paranoia #shizophrenia #silco #vi #caitlyn kiramman #bad depictions of mental illness

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embbarnes · 2 months ago

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Cut Your Hair.

summary: You help Bucky cut his hair.

warnings: Comfort | Mentions PTSD & past trauma | Post!Endgame

a/n: I wanted to write a blurb exploring the emotions around his hair for fun. I imagine this time frame is after Endgame, you are living in his apartment in NY. I used a lot of symbolism because I love to include it in fics. Anywayy unedited, so ignore mistakes. wc: 2.3k

You returned to your apartment after a particularly fruitful grocery shopping trip, managing to get all the necessary items for your planned dinner. New York had been experiencing a notable shortage of certain food products recently, so you felt especially fortunate to have acquired all the ingredients on your list. The scarcity had made simple shopping trips feel like treasure hunts, with each found item a small victory.

As you entered the living space, your arms laden with bags full of your culinary prizes, you called out, "Bucky? I'm back!" Your voice carried a mix of excitement about your successful foraging and the slight strain of carrying multiple heavy bags. With a relieved huff, you practically dropped your burdens onto the kitchen counter, the plastic rustling as it settled. You looked forward to telling him of your success, but you hadn’t heard him reply.

The apartment remained eerily quiet in response to your call. The silence was unusual and slightly unsettling, given that Bucky was typically quick to greet you upon your return. Your brow furrowed in confusion and a hint of concern as you scanned the room, anxiety began to creep its way through your body while an assortment of negative thoughts flooded your mind. "Bucky?" you called out again, your voice tinged with a note of uncertainty.

Still, nothing.

Now you started to worry.

You cautiously maneuvered around the counter, your footsteps deliberately quiet as you navigated through the dimly lit living space. The short hallway stretched before you, leading to the bathroom and one of the bedrooms. Your heart raced with each step, the silence of the apartment amplifying every small sound. As you approached, a sliver of light caught your eye - the bathroom door was slightly ajar, a warm glow spilling out into the darkened corridor. A wave of relief washed over you, causing your tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. You exhaled deeply, your hand instinctively moving to your chest as if to calm your pounding heart.

"Bucky," you called out, your voice a mixture of relief and lingering apprehension, "Shit... you really scared me there." The words hung in the air, met only by an eerie silence. Seconds ticked by, and still, there was no response from behind the partially open door. A creeping sense of unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you stood there, waiting for a reply that didn't come.

"James?" Your voice quivered with concern as you gently rapped your knuckles against the door. Hesitantly, you pushed it open, the hinges creaking softly. The sight that greeted you made your heart ache in your chest. There he stood, hunched over the bathroom sink, his posture a blatant portrait of distress. His hands, knuckles white with tension, gripped the edges of the ceramic basin as if it were a lifeline. You worried his metal hand would break the fragile ceramic but it looked like he had more self control for the moment. Bucky's head hung low, curtained by the long strands of his hair that fell forward, obscuring his face from view. The absence of his shirt revealed the taut muscles of his back, adorned with long scars, each one rigid and fairly faded, but still there.

No matter what he did to try to scrap them away, they were still there.

Your eyes were drawn to his hair, the ends were jagged and uneven, as though hacked at in a moment of impulse or desperation. Littering the bottom of the sink were the casualties of this impromptu haircut: dark locks intermingled with the gleam of small fabric scissors, splayed against the white porcelain. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension, leaving you frozen in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed.

"Bucky...what did you do?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand moved with cautious deliberation, gently alighting on his shoulder. The moment your fingers made contact, you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a reflexive response to the unexpected contact. However, within seconds, the tension melted away as he seemed to recognize you.

Silence hung heavy in the air for what felt like an eternity. Bucky remained motionless, his gaze fixed downward, avoiding eye contact, but eventually he lifted his head ever so slightly. His icy eyes, brimming with an unspoken emotion, met yours in the reflection of the mirror before you. He looked so distressed, his face splotchy and flushed with an angry red, eyes were puffy and swollen from the tears had been running down his face before you came in. His bottom lip protruded slightly in a dejected pout, completing the picture of a man clearly grappling with some internal turmoil.

"What happened?" You prompted again, you kept your voice low and patient. Your words came out as a soothing murmur, not wanting to cause any distress to him, since he was clearly struggling. You felt his body tremble under your hand, your heart broke seeing him like this.

"Don't..." he began, his voice trembling with apprehension. He paused, swallowing hard as if to gather courage before continuing, "Don't be mad..." The words escaped his lips in a barely audible whisper, laden with fear. His entire demeanor spoke volumes, suggesting he was terrified of your potential reaction to something he had done or was about to reveal.

You felt your brow furrow involuntarily as you processed his words, your eyes instinctively seeking out his face once more. The fear etched across his features only deepened your concern.

"Why would I be angry?" you asked, your tone soft and reassuring. "You haven't done anything." Your words were meant to soothe, to dispel the cloud of anxiety that seemed to envelop him. However, your attempt at comfort appeared to have little effect.

He shook his head vigorously in response, the sudden movement causing several stray locks of hair to cascade from his head, pieces he had evidently cut himself - some still clinging stubbornly to his remaining hair.

"Because you cut your hair?" you asked, your voice a mixture of concern and curiosity. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

He nodded weakly, sniffling to clear his nose. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes about his emotional state. You sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room. You reached up and ran your fingers through his still long, but much shorter locks, noting how they now only reached his jaw in some spots, and past his shoulders in others. The texture was different, unfamiliar from the choppy cuts he gave to his hair, clearly indicating his anger towards it.

"You've let it grow out a bit," you observed, your tone careful and neutral. Your fingers continued their soothing motion, offering comfort without words. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke again, your voice soft and reassuring. "I'm not mad, you know. It’s your body, you can do whatever you want with yourself, remember?" You paused, considering your next words carefully. "Do you want some help with it? Maybe we could style it together, find a look you really love, instead of letting you stay like this."

He remained silent for a beat, contemplating your words with a furrowed brow. The weight of his long, unkempt hair seemed to press down on him, both physically and emotionally. An overwhelming desire to rid himself of this burden consumed his thoughts. He yearned to feel the liberating sensation of shorter hair, to shed the heaviness that had settled upon him like a thick, suffocating blanket. In his mind, cutting his hair felt liberating. He had been stripped of all bodily autonomy for so long, this was something he wanted to do. For himself.

His head inclined, giving a sharp nod. "Yes...yes, please..." he replied with a soft rasp, "Cut it all."

You were certainly no professional hairdresser, but with the assistance of a few hastily searched tutorial videos on YouTube, you managed to grasp the basic concepts and techniques. The shorter hairstyle he wanted alleviated a lot of pressure you had to make it perfect, so a quick cut and shave would be easy compared to any sort of specific styling. As he settled into the chair you pulled into the bathroom, you grabbed the scissors and let out a deep breath to calm yourself.

Carefully, you began the process of trimming away at his dark, lustrous locks, cutting the long pieces away with scissors first before you'd clean it with a buzzer. Each calculated snip was made carefully, regularly checking in with him to make sure he was still doing fine. You found yourself completely engrossed in the task, paying close attention to maintain an even trim.

The freshly cut strands danced through the air for a brief moment before gently descending to the cool tile floor of the bathroom. Upon contact with the ground, the severed locks curled and twisted, creating an abstract pattern around his feet. The contrast of the dark hair against the light-colored tiles made your heart throb, the meaning behind cutting his hair away was much deeper than any outside eye could comprehend.

You didn't notice his tears at first, but as more of his hair fell away, the evidence of his emotional turmoil became undeniable. His shoulders quivered beneath the weight of his feelings, the internal struggle becoming more visible to you. You maintained your composure, focusing on the task at hand, your fingers steady as they continued to work through his locks. Dark tear trails etched paths down his cheeks, struggling with handling it all on his own.

When you finally reached for the electric clippers, the soft click as you turned them on echoed in the silence of the bathroom. He closed his eyes then, a gesture of surrender or perhaps trust, allowing you to proceed with this final, most drastic stage of the cut. The gentle vibration of the buzzer filled the air, a constant, reassuring hum that seemed to ground you both in the present moment. Bucky gave the occasional sniffle, the emotional undertones of this act filled both of you.

With a final buzz, you switched off the clippers and gently placed them in the sink. Your fingers glided through his freshly trimmed hair, feeling the soft, short strands beneath your touch. The cut was perfect - a smile played on your lips as you admired your handiwork, you were proud of yourself. "Wow..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, "You look just like that old photograph I have of you. It's like stepping back in time." Your words were soft and full of gentle admiration. Softly, you encouraged him to open his eyes, eager to see his reaction to his new look.

"What do you think, sergeant?" you asked, your voice tinged with anticipation as you waited for him to fully take in his reflection. As he gazed into the mirror, a profound sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. The face staring back was simultaneously familiar and foreign, he didn’t react like you expected but honestly…what did you expect? He looked disoriented and unsettled by his own reflection.

It felt so... strange, almost surreal. The sensation was akin to looking at a photograph of a long-lost relative, recognizing traces of familiarity but ultimately confronting the reality of a stranger. It felt like he were dreaming, seeing a resemblance of the man he once was - a version of himself that now seemed to belong to a distant, unreachable past.

The realization that this former self was now forever out of reach hit him with unexpected force. He knew he’d never be the person he was again, but seeing himself like this just…felt so sudden. Bucky felt the sick twinge of grief, as if he just lost a dear friend or a beloved family member, but the person he was mourning was his former self.

He had once cherished his former self, but that version of Bucky had long since vanished. HYDRA, black tendrils wrapped around him with its insidious grasp, had extinguished his essence, snuffing out his very being like a feeble, flickering ember desperately clinging to life in the face of an unforgiving winter storm.

Bucky found himself irrevocably altered. No longer was he the vibrant, spirited individual of his past, now reduced to nothing more than a charred remnant of his former self - a piece of blackened charcoal, devoid of the warmth and light that had once defined him. The flames of his identity, once burning bright with passion and purpose, had been mercilessly extinguished, leaving behind only the cold, lifeless ashes of who he used to be.

The cold consumed him, trapping him in a relentless, chilling embrace. Cryo never truly left him, the sensation continued to maintain its icy hold on him, refusing to let go. But, you...you were what he needed more than anything else in the world. You taught him what it was like to have a gentle touch, to be loved and cared for no matter what he did in his past.

You were patient.

You were loving.

You were nurturing.

You helped him throughout his long and dreary recovery, standing by his side throughout every visit to the doctor or hospital, the endless nights where he couldn’t sleep, the panic attacks that left his throat raw and eyes burning. When the days seemed darkest for him, you were there to thaw the ice that had frozen him for so long.

Winter slowly began to surrender to the bloom of spring, and you were the greatest force of nature he knew.

Bucky's voice emerged as a soft whisper after several minutes spent silently staring at his reflection in the mirror, the steady stream of tears cascading down his face had been completely unnoticed to him. You gently wiped the tears away, your thumbs tenderly brushing against his cheekbones as you dried them with care and affection.

“It’s perfect..”

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #emwrites🌿

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hollowed-theory-hall · 2 months ago

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Harry Potter and PTSD

I think no one would argue Harry Potter isn't traumatized, but I actually wanted to go through PTSD symptoms and find evidence of them in book quotes. It's mostly as a fun, little exercise (the word fun is debatable here, it made me quite sad, actually) as I'm not a licensed therapist, and I have no qualifications to diagnose anyone with anything. But I wanted to take a look at some of how Harry's trauma manifests especially in the final 3 books as the signs of PTSD are most obvious and glaring after Voldemort's resurrection and get worse after Sirius' death.

(As the title and first paragraphs suggest, this post isn't a happy one, so beware. I will be discussing symptoms of trauma as shown in the HP books)

I will be using adult PTSD symptoms since:

Older children and teens usually show symptoms more like those seen in adults. They also may develop disruptive, disrespectful, or destructive behaviors. Older children and teens may feel guilt over not preventing injury or death, or have thoughts of revenge.

(Source)

All further quotes regarding PTSD and its symptoms and how they might show were taken from the same website linked above.

To be diagnosed with PTSD, an adult must have all of the following for at least 1 month: * At least one re-experiencing symptom * At least one avoidance symptom * At least two arousal and reactivity symptoms * At least two cognition and mood symptoms

So, let's get straight into it and go into the diagnosis categories:

Re-experiencing symptoms

* Flashbacks—reliving the traumatic event, including physical symptoms, such as a racing heart or sweating * Recurring memories or dreams related to the event * Distressing thoughts * Physical signs of stress Thoughts and feelings can trigger these symptoms, as can words, objects, or situations that are reminders of the event.

Harry definitely suffers from nightmares post-Voldemort's-resurrection, and memories coming back about it:

Had they all forgotten what he had done? Hadn’t it been he who had entered that graveyard and watched Cedric being murdered and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed ... ? Don’t think about that, Harry told himself sternly for the hundredth time that summer. It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too.

(OotP)

In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

(OotP)

And it continues even months later, he's still dreaming about the graveyard:

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Professor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him that...

(OotP)

Distressing thoughts are par for the course for Harry, but I'll bring up some examples:

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him.

(HBP)

He feels responsible for all of their deaths even though they are all adults who chose to be there and protect him. Harry still feels guilt and responsibility over them, even when it isn't his fault, and he shouldn't feel responsible for those who stood between him and Voldemort.

While Harry shows physical signs of stress (such as a racing heart or sweating), They are shown in actual moments of stress where any human would be stressed, so I don't count them here since they are not an immediate result of trauma.

Regardless, I'd say he does have relieving symptoms. Recurring dreams, thoughts, and a sense of guilt are all present.

Avoidance symptoms

* Staying away from places, events, or objects that are reminders of the experience * Avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the traumatic event Avoidance symptoms may cause people to change their routines. For example, some people may avoid driving or riding in a car after a serious car accident.

Harry doesn't actually have the luxury to really avoid anything (poor boy) but he does avoid talking about his dreams of the graveyard, as mentioned in the quote in the Re-experiencing section. He doesn't tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione about his nightmares. Neither does he want to talk about Cedric. He doesn't even want to think about the graveyard and Cedric as mentioned in one of the above quotes:

(OotP)

Even though Cho keeps bringing Cedric up to process her own experience, Harry does not want to talk or think about him and what happened at the graveyard.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m — sorry,” she said thickly. “I suppose ... it’s just ... learning all this stuff... It just makes me ... wonder whether ... if he’d known it all ... he’d still be alive...” Harry’s heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric.

(OotP)

“I came in here with Cedric last year,” said Cho. In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry’s insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over their heads.

(OotP)

Zacharias said dismissively, “All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You- Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know — ” “If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith’s aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

(OotP)

And when he mentions some of it, he's emotionally overwhelmed and stumbling over his words. He didn't really process everything that happened in the graveyard and he doesn't know how to talk about it:

Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so angry. “Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!” The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa; Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished. “You don’t know what it’s like You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me — ”

(OotP)

He mentions how it isn't easy for him to talk about it when he does his interview for the Quibbler:

Harry had not found it an easy experience to talk about the night when Voldemort had returned. Rita had pressed him for every little detail, and he had given her everything he could remember, knowing that this was his one big opportunity to tell the world the truth. He wondered how people would react to the story. He guessed that it would confirm a lot of people in the view that he was completely insane, not least because his story would be appearing alongside utter rubbish about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters had given Harry a burning desire to do something, whether it worked or not...

(OotP)

So, I'd say Harry shows avoidance symptoms in abundance as well.

Arousal and reactivity symptoms

* Being easily startled * Feeling tense, on guard, or on edge * Having difficulty concentrating * Having difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep * Feeling irritable and having angry or aggressive outbursts * Engaging in risky, reckless, or destructive behavior Arousal symptoms are often constant. They can lead to feelings of stress and anger and may interfere with parts of daily life, such as sleeping, eating, or concentrating.

"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" anyone?

But more seriously, Harry is extra vigilant and alert in the final 3 books especially. As mentioned in the above quote with Smith, Harry is more angry in the final 3 books:

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again.

(OotP)

His temper, which was always present, got worse after the graveyard. In book 4, Harry holds Ron back from hitting Draco when Draco throws his usual insults:

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy

(GoF)

In book 5, Harry punches Draco himself over similar insults because he's angrier and has less of a handle on his emotions and reactions. He is barely aware of what he's doing:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach —

(OotP)

And in general, Harry is much more on guard:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

(OotP)

He startles easily and is ready for an attack at all moments:

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then heard loud, running footsteps behind him; instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heel to face the newcomer.

(OotP - after the dementor attack)

Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus, and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another —

(HBP)

“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape, after a while. “Here — let me show you — ” He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled, “Protego!” His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

(HBP)

By HBP and OotP, Harry is always ready for an attack and he defends himself on instinct. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, fight or flight instincts take over and he's acting. It's always there, under the surface, ready to spring.

After Sirius dies, we also see a change in what Harry keeps to himself and what he says out loud. All his sassiest quotes towards Snape come from after Sirius dies. Harry becomes more reckless with his words (and actions in general). The pain makes him care less about his own life and future:

“What are you doing, Potter?” said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them. “I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,” said Harry fiercely. Snape stared at him.

(OotP - after Sirius' death)

“Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

(HBP - yes, this famous scene is because Harry is depressed)

This is Harry just speaking his mind with complete and utter disregard for the consequences of what comes out of his mouth. This is something we see with him only after Sirius died, as before that, he made an attempt to not anger his professors, even Snape. In the earlier books, Harry is all for de-escalating situations with Snape:

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?” Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

(PS)

“Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of detentions.” Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.

(GoF)

Harry may be thinking of wanting to say/do something, but he doesn't, because he has some self-preservation. This self-preservation disappears as the books go along. Harry in the early books is much more concerned for his own well-being than in the later books, and I don't think it's due to bravery or childhood trauma, at least, that isn't all there is. I think it's a reaction to some of his more recent trauma as well. A combination of feeling responsible for everything and thinking it's fine he goes through pain and danger because that's what he should do. In HBP and DH, he repeatedly says how willing he is to endanger himself, but not others. It's why he breaks up with Ginny, it's why he initially doesn't want Ron and Hermione to come with him on the Horcrux hunt. He thinks his own life is worth less. That it isn't so bad if he dies.

So he shows 3 arousal and reactivity symptoms at least.

Cognition and mood symptoms

* Trouble remembering key features of the traumatic event * Negative thoughts about oneself or the world * Exaggerated feelings of blame directed toward oneself or others * Ongoing negative emotions, such as fear, anger, guilt, or shame * Loss of interest in previous activities * Feelings of social isolation * Difficulty feeling positive emotions, such as happiness or satisfaction Cognition and mood symptoms can begin or worsen after the traumatic event. They can lead people to feel detached from friends or family members.

I already mentioned Harry's guilt regarding people "who stood between him and Voldemort". And it's true for this section as well. And I mentioned above how Harry considers his own life as worth less than others, which leads him to be incredibly reckless.

Besides the above two points, Harry also shows clear signs of depressive states:

On the fourth night after Hedwig’s departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

(OotP)

Harry mentions that after the graveyard in the summer between 4th and 5th year, he starts having what he calls "apathetic phases", in which he just feels too tired to even think, just staring blankly at the ceiling. Him calling it "phases" as in, plural, suggests this is a common occurrence at the Dursleys.

Even later in Deathly Hallows, we see this is something Harry still does. After Ron leaves Harry and Hermione are at their most depressed:

She [Hermione] threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry. Harry felt dazed. He stooped, picked up the Horcrux, and placed it around his own neck. He dragged blankets off Ron’s bunk and threw them over Hermione. Then he climbed onto his own bed and stared up at the dark canvas roof, listening to the pounding of the rain.

(DH)

Hermione reacts to her emotions by crying and letting them out, she's processing her emotions in some capacity, as hard as it is. Harry, on the other hand, just gets tired. His mind goes blank and he just stares blankly at the ceiling. Another one of these "apathetic phases". Instead of feeling, he goes numb.

We also see in book 6 how he loses some of his interest in Quidditch. The one pastime that reliably brought him joy, wasn't as important to Harry post Sirius' death. Sure, he was still playing, still interested, but there was none of the joy described previously. He doesn't have the same passion and interest even though he's the captain:

Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch.

(HBP)

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ron sharply. “You couldn’t have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you’re the Captain!”

(HBP)

Some of it is to follow Draco who Harry thinks is a Death Eater, sure, but Harry in 4th year would not have acted the same. He wouldn't have let it make him miss a game, he wouldn't have even considered it.

In Deathly Hallows we also see Harry struggling with happiness in many ways. Yes, the situation is bad, but he is so incredibly affected by it, and I do want to mention that:

But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

(DH)

This above quote makes me so sad whenever I read it, and I do want to mention it here. Like, Harry isn't actively suicidal, but he's in a lot of pain that he wants to stop. These negative thoughts are practically a constant in DH even when he isn't wearing the Horcrux.

A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast. ... He saw Ron’s silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; he saw Hermione’s otter twist in midair and fade; and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling. . . .

(DH)

Harry is the character with the most reliable Patronus, but even for him at some point, it's too much and he struggles with it. Struggles to bring up the happiness he needs for a Patronus. The happiness part is what he always struggled with most when it came to this spell, after all:

“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I’ll have one more go! I’m not thinking of happy enough things, that’s what it is. ... Hang on. ...” He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory . . . one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus ...

(PoA)

So, I'd say he shows at least 4 cognitive and mood symptoms.

Conclusions

Someone get this boy a hug and therapy, I really don't have much more to say.

I started writing this post to see if I could find evidence of PTSD symptoms in the books, and I searched and found so many that it just made me sad. So, yes, Harry obviously deals with untreated PTSD he has no idea how to regulate in the final 3 books and I think his readiness to walk towards his own demise is influenced by it.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #harry james potter #tw trauma #tw ptsd #tw sui ideation

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curtsycream · 10 months ago

Note

I apologize if the request makes no sense this is only my second one. You don't have to do this, but I was wondering if you could do a one shot of TF141 x fem!child reader (6 y/o&platonic) where they are on a mission in an abandoned city and they find the reader stuck in one of the buildings with the bodies of her dead parents and no way to escape the building without help. How would they get her out of there? Would Gaz and sope step up to comfort her? How would ghost deal with the child given his past? What would happen after they healed? Would price decide to adopt them as TF141's daughter?

Their Daughter

Platonic!TF141 x Fem!Child Reader

I hope you enjoy this I kind of got carried away, I hope it’s to your liking. Also not proofread I really suck at that sometimes. It makes perfect sense to me don’t worry!

It would be Gaz that finds you first when they’re scoping out the buildings for any signs of life. The second he takes you in he felt sick to his stomach noticing who you were laying between. Gaz would try his best to get you out alone, it isn’t protocol but he tries without thinking. That is until he realizes what he as to do and uses his comms to call over the rest of 141.

I’d like to think that they have a code word for when it involves something as devastating as this. In which Ghost would stick back unless absolutely needed. It’s mostly a precaution just in case seeing the scene triggers his PTSD.

But luckily he doesn’t need to see that unfold as Price and Soap are just as capable of helping. The three men would carefully examine the situation before deciding what to do. It wouldn’t be long before they get you out of there. With Price and Soap raising a few support beams for Gaz to crawl under and pull you free.

When you’re finally free it seems you don’t react to what is happening. Which is normal sometimes there are mental delays when it comes to experiencing something so traumatic.

But even when you’re still in shock Soap speak calmly to you trying to make sure you’re okay. “how’re you, lass?” His gentle voice comforting causing you to lean into it.

When you weren’t in Soap’s arms you would be in Gaz’s both men taking turns. A hint of attachment due to what you seemed to go through. But honestly you weren’t complaining your mind was off of the situation.

At first when Soap explains what happened and why he had to stay back. Ghost would keep his distance from you not because he didn’t like you. But because he didn’t want to break down around you. He didn’t cry often, at least publicly, but he knew he would when looking at someone so young who had already went through so much.

Your injuries from the accident left you in a leg splint with minor bruising on the rest of your body. Luckily they got you out in time as you were close to passing out from a lack of oxygen. The tiny space you were stuck in between your parents was close to falling by the time Gaz found you.

While you healed you would get visited by Gaz and Soap at least two times a day. Price would stop by at night to read you a bedtime story. It was his way of showing he cared about your situation. His care was paternal in nature, he always made sure the doctor was doing his job right. Any time you had the slightest look of discomfort on your face he would address the doctor. “Are you sure you’re doing that right? Can’t you see she’s in pain?” He always meant well of course.

The only person who didn’t visit you was Ghost at least to your knowledge. He would always visit when Price left at times when you would sleep. He never stepped foot in the hospital room only looked through the glass window.

When you were finally released from the hospital you found out quickly that Price meant business. The 6 months you were in the hospital he was working and fighting for custody over you. You had no other living relatives but it was a bit of a struggle since you were from a different country. Though with what seemed like pure luck he was able to adopt you.

While they were deployed you stayed on base in your own room. It was located right beside Price’s which you were okay with.

Ghost didn’t speak to you until one night when he was walking down the hall. He heard the sounds of screams alerting him. He realized they were coming from your bedroom. Something clicked in his mind as he rushed in without hesitation. The sight of you wringing around in bed with tears streaming down your cheeks hurt him emotionally.

Due to his experience with his own nightmares he stepped closer to you. Sitting on your bed he gently woke you up making sure not to startle you. When you were up he allowed you to cling to him as he held you close. The two of you sitting there in the comforting silence. From that night forward Ghost couldn’t see himself straying too far from your aid.

From the second they met you, you were their daughter even if it was only legal on Price’s end. When they were on missions you were in the care of Laswell at times. The station chief didn’t mind she liked spending time with you.

When they weren’t on missions and had time to go back home they made a change. It only made since to be nearby so that you could actively see Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. They may have decided to invest in a house big enough for all five of you. These men are passionate about those they love and you’re like are a daughter to them.

During there time off they don’t waste a second giving you any and everything you want. From movie nights to family game nights.

As you get older and start school they make sure it’s somewhere close to where they can travel between the base and home. You’re a military kid, but don’t worry you don’t change schools often.

You tend to go to Soap for stress relief as he knows how to cheer you up with ease. Ghost is someone you go to when it comes to your nightmares and worries as he makes sure to give you the best advice. Sometimes the best advice is none in his opinion though. Gaz is who you stick to a lot for comfort he gives the best hugs and cuddles. While Price is the one you look to for protection, not that you don’t with all of them, it’s just he’s your central father figure.

You never have much to worry about with them behind you.

#x reader #fluff #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #child!reader #fluffy headcanons #platonic!tf141

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i-cant-sing · 11 months ago

Text

I feel so nauseous that I can't study, but all I can think about is friends with benefits Dabi and reader just sitting on the couch late at midnight, after sleeping together, are just basking in the dim yellow lights of the apartment. Everything is quiet, they're eating some leftovers, a crappy romcom movie is playing in the background.

Dabi swears to himself that youre nothing more than just stress relief for him, but everytime he comes over, he stays a little longer after. He doesn't have to, you don't make him, but... he just can't help being in your presence longer. Something inside him heals bit by bit when you laugh- no, let out an ugly snort before leaning against his shoulder, the warm yellow lights caressing your face, your dishevelled hair becoming an even more untamed mess when you run up to the kitchen to get the last serving.

You must feel it too... the way your hands always manage to find his hands, his cheeks, find him. Your soft skin against his rough one.

"You should use some vaseline."

You said, a cheeky smile on your face as you laid on the couch, your feet resting on his lap as he smoked a cigarette, looking at you with unamused eyes.

"It'll make your skin soft overnight." You added.

Dabi took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. "You should learn how to cook."

"Hm?"

"Your food tastes like crap." He lied, placing the cigarette back to his lips.

"Then whyd you eat half the pan of lasagna?" You asked before using your toes to pull the cigarette away from him, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"To save you from eating your own poisonous food."

"Hmm, well that isn't the meal you come here to devour anyways." You giggle before pulling your feet away. He almost pulled them back- almost.

"Stop with the cringe." He closed his eyes, a small smile played on his lips. "Should've cut your cable off. They're a bad influence on you."

You rolled your eyes before getting up, walking towards the bathroom. "Just let me know when you're coming next time. I'll try to cook something good for his Majesty." You said as you turned on the shower. "Or better yet, bring the groceries in, and I'll cook."

He glanced in your direction, where you were taking off your clothes.

Should he join you? Could he-?

No.

Dabi hadn't called again as he arrived by your place. But it looked like you already anticipated his arrival, from the note you had placed on the fridge for him to find.

"Gone out for groceries for your hungry ass. Be back soon.

Love, Y/n."

Love, Y/n.

Why did 2 words make his heart bloom? For sure, this isn't a panic attack or PTSD he's experiencing... maybe it is... love?

Dabi sat on your couch, closing his eyes as he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. He needed it for what he about to do, as he pulled put the small box from his pocket.

He never bought groceries. But he had bought something else.

A ring.

He's sure about you, sure about his feelings for you, pretty sure your feelings for him are mutual too. He doesn't need to formally date you... you two are different. You don't need the usual courtship stiff with him, although he wouldn't be opposed to the idea after marriage.

Marriage. Was he even husband material? You were certainly wife material, the food you cooked, the maternal side he caught a glimpse of when kids came by your door for Halloween, all the soft touches you give him.

You're ready, he's ready too.

And if you say no, if you don't agree, then that's that. He'll stop coming by, and you'll move on too. Just like he will... right?

It's been hours. You're still not home and you're not picking up either.

Something is wrong.

He left your apartment and went towards the market you'd frequented. There was a lot of commotion outside the store, with people gathering around a particular spot. He pushed past them, heart beating fast as he hoped it wasn't you. It wasn't you-

There was red. Red on the concrete, red on the bag of groceries spilled all over, red on the white coat you owned, red on the leather bag he had gifted you on your birthday.

It can't be you-

"Young Y/n frequented the store so often. She was a beautiful lady, so kind." Someone said from behind him.

Was? No, no you couldn't he dead-

"And to have gone in such a horrible way too. The drunk driver just drove away. She hit her head on the pavement too. I overhead one of the paramedics say she died on impact!" Someone gasped beside him, but his eyes were focused on the sight in front of him.

Everything's red. Red red red red-

Dabi ran towards the nearest hospital, his ring lying in the pile of blood on the concrete.

As he rushed towards the hospital, a voice deep inside him said something that he'll regret forever.

I should've gotten groceries.

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines

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honeesucker · 1 year ago

Text

Part 8 -

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

Word count: 3,259

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

Chapter Content Warnings: Bakugo x reader sex, dirty talk, "just the tip" late-night quickie.

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next (In Progress)

Bakugo had gotten you back to the apartment, the car ride weighed down in silence; Kirishima opting to leave after he walked you both up, knowing this was a moment he shouldn't intrude upon but promising again to come and have a movie night with you soon.

You were sitting on the couch, in the same spot Kirishima had set you down. Your eyes unfocused, vision blurring as you blink slowly, staring at nothing as your body buzzes with... something.

Fear? Disgust? Disappointment?

You couldn't ascertain which one it was, or if it was all of them at once, all you knew is that you didn't hear Bakugo speaking, just a mumbled white noise of sound until he was sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he nosed as your temple and whispered in your ear.

"Talk to me, Pup," he said softly. His deep, low baritone reverberating through your body like a pleasant hum.

"I-I..." you tried to start a thought, but all words failed you. Nothing seemed fitting enough to express exactly what you felt. "I-I... think... I-I'm s-sad." You stuttered through the words softly, your eyes closing as the unfocused blur of your vision became dizzying. Bakugo's arms tightened around you, compressing your arms to your side like what you did to him before - deep compression therapy. He held you like this for the longest time, but a glance at the clock only showed just under an hour had passed.

"I know sad doesn't quite cut what I'm sure you're feeling, but we prepared for this, yeah?" Bakugo said softly. "You'll keep seeing Hana, but let's go every week instead of every other week. I've already got the restraining order filed with Hana’s help, and we should be receiving the official document soon... and we have each other. You're safe. I will never let that scumbag, or any other bastard ever lay a single finger on you, okay?" Bakugo jostled your body gently, coaxing a response from you as your mind wandered.

You just nodded, a soft 'okay' leaving your lips as you melted back into his encompassing hold.

You trusted Bakugo, you knew he meant what he said, and never added in any fluffy extra wording, or beat around the bush... if he said you were safe, that no one would touch you again, he meant it.

Yet you couldn't stop the worry eating at the back of your mind. Bakugo was strong, and powerful and fearsome, but so was he, and if he still had half the contacts he had before he went to prison, he was still just as dangerous... but would he really come after you? You did try to keep him in prison with your appeal at his probationary hearing... and he was one to hold a grudge until he got even - you had seen it countless times with the people who worked for him, entered deals with him, tried to get one over on him.

He always won in the end.

"Hey, stop that." You heard Bakugo's stern, comforting tone. You blinked the frightening visions away from your mind as you looked up at him, a question in your gaze that he answered. "Stop thinking of the worst-case scenarios, get out of your head, Pup... no matter what happens, I have you. Okay?" Bakugo had a strange way of being stern, strict and intimidating but also soft and composed, the surety in his voice a calming center as he stared down at you with harsh, dominating eyes. Determination and confidence oozing from him. "He won't ever lay a finger on you again, Pup," he finished again with a hardened resolve.

You nodded. "S-Sorry, yes... I... I trust you." Bakugo just balked and shook his head.

"No apologies, Pup, you're allowed to feel what you're feeling after that shitshow, but you can't let it take over - right? You can't drown in it..." Bakugo was talking to both him and you, at this point. Reassuring you while comforting himself as you leaned against his chest, your body relaxed in his lap as you nodded. He sought out and found just as much comfort in you being close to him as you did to him, it helped keep the sparking crackle out of his palms, helped keep the white noise and the deafening rings out of his mind.

"Thank you," you finally said softly, looking up to nose gently at his chin, a comforting nuzzle as you kissed his jaw, then his cheek, and then the corner of his lips. "Thank you for choosing me and dealing with all of my problems and loving me still."

"Tch, nothing to thank me for, Pup... I'd choose you a hundred times over again and again, b-but..." he paused for a moment, hesitation mixed in his normally confident gaze. "Thank you for choosing me back, Pup, for loving me too... and being a source of comfort for me. We help each other, yeah?" Bakugo asked softly, jostling you on his knee as you giggled and smiled up at him, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, we do." You said softly, closing your eyes as you took in his strong scent, allowing it to fill your body and calm you down until nothing bad was left in your body, no tightly wound anxiety, no worrying spiral of panicked thoughts... just him.

You fell asleep in his arms, sinking into his warm comfort.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You woke up late into the night. Looking over at the alarm clock on the nightstand it read that it was 11:49 P.M., and suddenly you realize you were tucked into Bakugo's bed, the mix of clean skin musk and caramel notes and the cologned scent of his deodorant floating into your sensitive nose as you pressed your face against the pillow.

His pillow.

You sucked in greedy breaths of air as something in you stirred, a growing need and soon you were slowly reaching down to run your three center fingers along the outside of your clothed pussy as you kept your face in his pillow; a quiet, choked moan leaving your lips as your ears perked up at the sudden squeaking sigh of a floorboard sounded off behind you... close behind you.

"You in heat already again, Pup?" Bakugo uttered softly, curiously, not accusatory or mocking.

You shook your head slowly, a pout on your sweet face as your bottom lip jutted out a bit, eyes teary in frustration looking back up at Bakugo dressed only in low-hung joggers, a clean pair. "N-No... not in heat just... your smell. You smell so good." You said softly as you nosed again at his pillow, and he quirked a brow looking down at you with his muscled arms crossed over his large chest.

“Yeah, Pup? I smell that good huh?" Bakugo teased softly as he came around the bed, the material sinking beneath his weight as he laid on his side, looking down at your pathetic display. "I smell so good to you that even a whiff of my pillow has you desperate to touch yourself?" He teased again, and you could feel the soft blush flush your cheeks and the tips of your ears warm and embarrassed. "You wanna come smell it straight from the source, hm?" Bakugo asked, knowing where this would end up, but he didn't care. He was head over heels for you, he wanted to protect you, he wanted to shower you with love... but he also wanted to fold you in half and press his weight down as he fucked his thick cock into your slick pussy... the idea of it made him groan as he threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut tight as he tried to cap his growing desire.

Your eyes widened, and you nodded. Crawling up onto him as he pulled you on top of him, as he shifted his body to lay on his back. Your legs on either side of his hips as you leaned forward to nose and nuzzle at his throat where his scent was the strongest...something about pulse points were so inviting. You took to the delicate skin of his throat quickly as you alternated between long lapping licks, and nosing nuzzles against his throat and without realizing it you had been grinding your clothed pussy down against the growing bulge beneath you. Bakugo's large hands were gripping the plush of your hips, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts as he gripped your flesh with a bruising force.

"Fuuuuck, Pup," Bakugo moaned out softly when you started nipping at his skin after a long lick up his throat, and as you did you ground down on his lap, the slick of your pussy soaking through your shorts and onto his pants as you started moving faster, guided by Bakugo's hands. "That's it, Pup, take whatever the hell you want from me." He growled out, bucking his hips upwards and bumping back up into your heated core as he felt your teeth clamping down on the soft skin connecting his neck to his shoulder. His hands fully gripping your ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he gripped the soft material of your shorts in the center and pulling. The soft material split down the middle with no resistance as you whimpered at the loss of warmth, but also at the primal display. Bakugo grunted and shifted his legs, and with one hand moved his joggers down and off his legs while keeping you on top of him. He threw the tattered material of your shorts against the wall, the torn material sliding down the wall and to the ground without an audience as Bakugo's focus was now solely on you, and the way your slick pussy was now gliding up and down the length of his painfully hard cock, the head catching against your hole every now and again making you whimper. Each time the veins and ridges of his cock caught your clit you keened, whining as you pressed back down against him, your eyes bright and needy as you glanced up at him, panting softly with your tongue lolled out of your mouth. Bakugo couldn't help the way he reached forward, cupping your cheek as his thumb pressed down against your tongue, groaning as you closed your mouth and swirled your tongue around the intruding digit.

"P-Pl-lease..." you panted out softly around his finger, each word enunciated carefully. "W-Want cock pl-lease..." you whined and pressed down against him, the fat tip of his cock barely pressing into your cunt as you moaned out softly, and then cried as he lowered his hips, angling them away from your pussy as you glared up at him.

He was looking down at you with a pleased look, smug and demanding, an arrogant arch to his brow as he chuckled down at the pathetic sight of you.

"Fuck yourself just on the tip, Pup," Bakugo said softly, a rumble in his words as he bucked his hips back up again, the tip of his cock slippery and coated in a mixture of his precum and your slippery juices. His hands came back on your hips, squeezing the fat there as he urged your body back down. He could hear the squelching airy sound as his cockhead entered your cunt, and the wet pop as it pulled out; your hips barely balancing above his cock as you lowered back down again, repeating the action over and over until you were too weak to keep your body up. Your legs were shaky and weak, and within a moment you were spearing your full weight down as his thick cock spread you apart, his tip pressing painfully against your cervix with an aching pleasure as he groaned out with the feel of your pussy walls warm, wet, enveloping him completely. “Such a greedy Pup...” Bakugo groaned out, gripping your hips tighter as he bucked up causing your body to fall forward as he fucked up into you roughly with a symphony of wet squelching sounds and airy slaps of skin until you both were moaning out together; Bakugo a lower growling groan and you a sweet high moan as you bit down on his shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly. You squirted slick juice around his cock, wetting his lap as he continued to fuck up into you, his hips stuttering and soon he was pressing deep into you as his cock twitched and pulsed with his own release, hot white cum flooding your pussy and dripping out and around his cock with your juices in a lewd mixture.

Your teeth were still digging down in Bakugo’s shoulder as he reached a hand up to pat at the back of your head gently, threading his fingers into your hair to scratch at your scalp gently. “Good Pup,” Bakugo let out breathlessly, his cock still left softening in your pussy as he enjoyed the still-spasming warmth of your cunt. “Let’s go take a quick shower and I’ll clean up the rest of the bed, huh?” Bakugo muttered gently against your temple, kissing you sweetly in the spot as he nuzzled his own face against yours, you just hummed in response, your tail wagging lazily against his leg.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

An easy three months have passed with an almost mundane normalcy. Kirishima and TetsuTetsu have been over multiple times for playdates, movie nights and after-patrol dinners. Bakugo even took you into his office a few days over the last couple of weeks on the days you didn’t go and see Hana at the Hybrid Rehabilitation Facility for your weekly therapy. Everything seemed to be on an upward trajectory as far as both of your healings. Bakugo kept taking you to regular check-ups to ensure your physical health was also healing alongside your mental health, and Bakugo even went to all his rehabs, check-ups and therapy, too, without so much as a grumble. He was happy to heal, if it meant healing alongside you and getting better together for each other... in contrast to nearly a year ago when Bakugo couldn’t imagine this working out, he was surprised even with himself as he made leaps and bounds in his recovery; a bit more of his hearing returned, there was less and less white noise and high-pitched ringing, and the Hero Support specialists were coming up with a high-frequency hearing aid that Bakugo could use that would aid in his hearing while protecting his ears from the loud blasts of his quirk and the outside world crumbling around him nearby in his daily Pro Hero work.

All in all, it was picturesque... but your life wasn’t such a smooth road, and good things have a way of being balanced with the bad, and your bad day came in the form of a shopping trip out with Bakugo.

You and Bakugo needed essentials and some groceries for the house, and before anything perishable was picked up, he offered to take you looking around for anything you’d enjoy having: new clothes, toys, books, anything at all. Bakugo had stayed back to look at some new knives and pans for the kitchen, while you wandered the store slowly looking around to see if anything caught your interest when a scent caught your nose. The burning, acrid scent of cigarettes and cologne, and the underlying musk of a person you long since had forgotten about in your recent peaceful months. “Hey, mutt.” A familiar, deep drawl rang out. You froze in your spot, a soft plush bear in your hands that you had grabbed from the shelf now served as your center of balance and focus, of peace as you strangled the soft toy in your white-knuckled grip.

Sharp, cold grey eyes regarded you with disdain and disgust. The over-gel'd slick back black hair greasy and catching the bright fluorescent light of the store as he stood in front of you with two other men flanking him a few feet back, pretending to look through items on a shelf as he spoke to you.

“You look good, mutt,” he said out in a smooth, sleazy tone. “Fatter even, guess that new guy’s feeding you well huh? Looks good though, nice soft flesh...” He kept talking, but his voice hooked in your head and reverberated throughout, overwhelming you like a nightmarish echo chamber. You wanted to whimper, whine out, scream, cry, growl, bite him... anything to protect yourself and get him away from you. Your head was spiraling when a strong hand clasped around your shoulder from behind and a sharp, angry voice spoke over you. One that was scarier than his, but you weren’t afraid of it.

“I’ll be informing your probation officer of this infringement on the terms of your release, and the restraining order we have on you.” Bakugo’s venomous, harsh tone rang out above you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now, kindly fuck off before I blast that smirk off your face and leave you eating and breathing through tubes.” Your body sunk back against Bakugo as you sought comfort in his familiar scent and the hard contours of his body that always seemed to welcome you, and fit against you perfectly. “Now, you have ten seconds to fuck off,” Bakugo barked out, glaring at the men.

“Now, now, that’s not very generous of you.” He stated coldly, his friendly demeanor dropping.

“This is me being generous, prick, now leave before I utilize my right to arrest you and get detectives out here for you and your sorry entourage.” Bakugo nodded at the men behind him, glaring with equal ire at them as they twin men dropped their items and looked between Bakugo and their boss. Bakugo’s palms were sparking off with the desire to just blast this sorry sack of human to the depths of hell, but he knew a fight and more trauma isn’t what you needed – but you did need to be removed from this situation quickly.

Bakugo kept a hard stare levelled at the sleaze before the sleaze cockroach finally lifted his hands up in defeat, and slowly backed away with his men, and out of the store... as soon as his retreating back was out of sight Bakugo knelt beside you and placed his hands on either side of your face. “Hey my Pup, hey, you okay? Pup?” Bakugo asked in a soft, sweet tone only reserved for you. One of his large hands on your shoulder as his other gentle coaxed the soft bear out of your white-knuckle grip on the poor things neck. “Guess you like this little guy, huh?” Bakugo mused softly, trying to distract you from what just happened with the soft bear now in his hands, he lifted the tiny thing up to pretend kiss your face all over until you were giggling against Bakugo and snuggled up against his chest; your breathing back to normal and your anxiety lessened.

“How about you stick close to me, and we check out what we have and head home, yeah? I’ll cook you up a nice dinner with all my new kitchen gadgets, yeah? Sounds good huh, Pup?” Bakugo mused as he nudged you with his hip, a smile still on your face as you nodded, gripping his hand and walking toward the checkout, back to his shopping basket and you with your newly acquired bear in your hands.

@winnieslut @ryantryan6969 @natsukicookies @littlnika @im-better-than-your-newborn @ssc7514 @romiinlove @theequeenofcurses @xbieditz @hypernovaxx @craxy-person @archer-fb @sadgyaltings @kllrkitty @meiimeiichuu @noxva08 @livyyz @misscaller06 @kiwibao @ewwitsbella @mrsyixingunicorn10 @simplesoup

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bellewintersroe · 2 months ago

Note

Hey, there! I have a BoB headcanons request that is a bit angsty/heavy so if you don’t feel like doing it, I completely understand! I was just wondering how the easy boys would go about trying to comfort a reader with guilt/trauma from either killing a German soldier (like Winters when he shoots that one SS soldier) or not being able to save a fellow soldier if you’d like to go the nurse route. I’d just love some Winters and Eugene comfort!! Thank you!🫶

Heyyy so sorry for the slow reply!! Thank you, this is such a good request!!! I’ve combined both your ideas for the diff guys- I hope you enjoy!

Tw - talks of death, guilt, trauma, ptsd, war, etc.

BoB Headcanons - How they comfort you

Eugene Roe:

As a fellow medic, Gene understands completely what you’re doing when you start shutting yourself away.

After leaving Bastogne you didn’t actually think things could get much worse, but when you lose Jackson in the dingy basement in the middle of Haguenau - let’s just say you don’t take it well.

“It woulda’ happened anyway… it’s not your fault.” Gene would remind.

You’d sigh with a heavy heart and attempt to leave any kind of confrontation.

“Gene you weren’t the one assigned to take care of them. He died under my watch, I didn’t do good enough.”

Not only are you heavily burdened by Jackson’s death, but you’re also exhausted and cold and hungry. Gene at first would watch from afar with a furrow between his brow until enough was enough and he confronted you.

He’d find a way to pull you back in, he’d wrap blankets around your shoulders when you’re just sat staring into space. Or he’d force Hershey bars into your pocket, practically begging you to eat.

“It’s my fault.” You’d tell him.

Gene just takes the honest route, he knows that’s better than blatantly trying to soften the blow with anything else.

“Jackson woulda died anyway. I saw what happened and… you could’ve tried everything n’ he wouldn’t have made it…”

If you need him to go into technical medical talk he would. He’d do anything, he’s the type of guy to sit talking with you for hours.

Huge empathetic so cannot stand the idea of you being troubled by this or taking the blame.

If the two of you aren’t already together then he’s a little more careful to not overstep boundaries, but he 1000% keeps the blanket wrapped over your shoulders in place by holding it there with an arm over you. Even if his hand is freezing.

Dick Winters:

It maybe happens around Bastogne? You happen to fire at the Germans and when you guys go look after, one of them is just a kid.

Let’s say he’s nowhere near older than twenty, still in his teens, and you’re absolutely horrified from the second you find this out.

It makes you freak tf out and the men bundle you back to the line pretty fast, they all know what it feels like, that guilt ravishing them alive. And Winters especially understands the exact thing you’ve been through.

I feel like he’d find out pretty fast, the two of you are in a private relationship that can’t be openly shown out on the field.

He’d take a sensible approach, despite being oh so worried.

Has you come sit in his and Lewis’ tent at CP.

Would offer you a drink, food, another coat, new boots, worries that you need feminine products? Idk the man just wants to take care of u ok.

When it comes to it and you say no to everything he simply sits besides you and just looks over your face.

Then he opens up about Holland and how he shot another soldier, just a kid. It’s relatable and the feelings he talks about are exactly what you’re experiencing.

If you get upset he can’t engulf you into the hug he wants, but he deffo squeezes you with an arm around you, encouraging you to know this isn’t your fault.

Extremely mindful of you for the following days after. If you wanna go off the line then he does that, if you wanna go for a walk then he makes somebody’s with you at all times.

Super super emotionally intelligent and would support you through anything.

Joe Liebgott:

Probs walks into the quiet aid station all loud mouthed and hollering about something irrelevant. He knew you were on shift tonight with one other nurse who’s occupied upstairs in the building. Your arrival in Austria luckily called for a lot less gruesome wounds and gory deaths- but every now and then, someone slipped through your fingers.

Your head snaps up, away from the patient who lay still before you. Your eyes are full of tears and at the sight of Joe, you begin to sob.

“What is it-” immediately goes to run forwards, but then he clicks when he noticed the bloodied man below you. Your hands are covered in crimson, trembling and it’s smeared all over your uniform.

Realises pretty quick what’s happened.

“I couldn’t save him, Joe.” You wept. “Nobody came to help.”

Understandably Joes first reaction is to throw a fit that nobody else was here to help you- but then he takes in your broken expression once more and remembers where they were. Things like this just happened out here.

“Okay, baby.” He’d sooth, approaching you as carefully as possible. He’d take your hands in his and meet your gaze. “Let me help you.”

You can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be the biggest sweetheart ever?

He’d wash your hands for you, rubbing his thumb gently over each patch of skin, then he’d get help from another medic, a little pissed that nobody came to help. After that he’d tell whoever’s in charge you’re done off shift and take you back to your room (screw fraternisation rules, Joe doesn’t follow them, not when it comes to you).

He’d pretty soon find out that the guy on the table had a burst artery, whilst he’s undressing you from your stained uniform, he’d tut to himself gently.

“Somethin’ like that happens n’ they’re gone. There wasn’t anything you coulda’ done.”

“No but- I could’ve tried! If somebody helped then I could’ve done it! We’re not in Bastogne anymore I should’ve been able to help!”

“Y/n, you know you can’t think like that.”

Wouldn’t allow it for a second that you blamed yourself, it physically pains him that you’re sobbing and shaking, Joe holds you close and just lets you get it all out, feeling pretty revengeful for whoever left you alone that night.

“It’s all my fault, Joe…”

“No… no, sweetheart. C’mere, the guy was a dead man the second he got hit..”

The best with comforting you with words, if he needs to be a little harsh to get it through to you that it’s not your fault he will- but he won’t allow it for a second that you take any form of blame for this.

It hurts him to know it’s hurting you.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers headcanons #eugene roe x reader #dick winters x reader

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simp-ly-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Lasting Pictures: Up and Under (pt.2)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Photographer!Reader

Summary: Signing the papers was one thing, actually going back and doing the work was another. Memories come hurling back at you as you try and navigate this new lifestyle while getting to know the members of your new task force- some warm up quicker to you than others but are your trials all for nothing? Or maybe, just maybe this new start has other possibilities for you as well....

Warnings: 4952 words, Slow burn, heavy imagery of anxiety attack and PTSD, descriptions of blood and swearing.

A/N: Hey ya'll thank you all so much for all the love on the first post, weird to see so many people liking my shitty writing. Anyways! todays chapter is dedicated to my fellow stranger @cosychick who made this chapter possible (TYSM again, seriously). On another note... I may have written a lot again... and have an outline for many more chapters... hope you guys enjoy this next part! let me know what you think~

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

The cheers surrounding the room are soon put to an end as the boys soon get ordered to return back to their duties on base as you and Gabby stay behind with Laswell. She opens your file on the table, flipping towards the back as she comments on your years of leave from the military. Your task force had all been promoted within the ranks and some were found less on field and more in strategy. You smiled at this newfound information, as it slightly fell when Laswell said how poorly they took your leave and lack of communication afterwards while tailing off on a few names that have you blinking your eyes quickly.

The room falling quiet once more, Gabby grasps your hand in her own- rubbing small circles into the back of it in an effort to comfort you. You squeeze it twice in response; awaiting Laswell to continue her commentary as a knock can be heard coming from the door, Price enters then closes it behind himself as he takes his seat back beside Laswell with his own paperwork in hand and places it on the table. He motions with a flick of his wrist for you guys to continue as he grabs for a pair of glasses and takes the lid of a pen off; beginning to flip through the sheets, signing every few pages while referencing others. Laswell continues to speak while opening a second file with your polaroid clipped to the front.

“Has your body fully healed from the incident?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Do you still take medication for it or any other symptoms you have experienced as a result?”

“Yes I do”

Laswell hums in response, flickering to the next page as you lightly sigh in relief and Gabby comments, “May I speak freely?”

“You may”

“They have made a full recovery, I made sure of it before contacting them…” Gabby looks over at you, happiness is found in her squished cheeks from smiling so brightly as she drops your hand to reach over the table for your papers, “...I recommend still going through with the fitness regulation test for formal qualities- but they would pass easily nonetheless.”

Price decides to lift his head and joins the conversation once more, “some practice missions with 141 before sending directly to the field would be of value to us all as well. Time is limited- I know-”

You smile slightly at his addition, nodding your head in agreement before finishing his sentence, “but a little team building never hurt nobody” you tease lightly back as John matches your smile before returning back to the work at hand. Gabby leans over, clearing her throat loudly to whisper in your ear, “So what type of team building do you have planned~?”

Swatting her away while covering your cheeks from your blush, John chuckles to himself as you shrink into your sweater, cursing Gabby mentally as Laswell gives you all a tisk with a small smile gracing its way across her features; her tone lightening.

“You will get along great with the team, Dice, from what I read and see here today. 0-700 tomorrow for your assessment and I want you to move on to base with the rest of the team temporarily to redevelop your skills for the imminent future. Deployment is set for two weeks from now. That is all, thank you both” Laswell finishes, collecting her belongings before tapping Price on the shoulder on her way out.

Stacking the papers into a neat pile; he looks between you and Gabby before sliding an unsigned document, tapping his finger to where he wants you to sign and handing you his pen. Glancing down at it, its weight is surprisingly heavy and the small engraving of 141 on the lid has you smiling, you look over the page- reading through each clause before signing your name at the bottom and sliding it back with a sigh.

Gabby slaps your shoulder with yet another cheer as she calls for drinks tonight that has you shaking your head at the idea. “I have my assessment in the morning scales, can’t be going out and doing that just yet.”

“Lame” Gabby states back childishly before asking if you wanted a drive back, you smile thankfully at this as you begin to stand from your seat. Knees a bit weak from staying in the same position for too long. Yet as your hand hovers over the door handle, a small call out from the table has you turning back to face your new captain.

“Welcome to the team Y/N”

“Thank you Captain”

Keys swing around Gabbys finger as you both make your way towards the parking lot at the back of the base. Walking through the halls and across the pavement; viewing all the helicopters and equipment tucked nearly away has memories sending goosebumps across your skin, nerves and excitement mixing together in your anxiety driven cocktail as you follow in Fish’s shadow.

Gabby clicks the small device twice as the car flashes its lights with a small honk. Yet as you begin to enter the vehicle a calling out of your name from another car has you smacking your head against the roof of the car and eliciting a loud groan as you rub the spot gently, turning to face whomever got you into this state.

Gaz smiles apologetically from the rolled-down window as he asks if you want help tomorrow moving your stuff on to base, he mentioned that your new captain already sent a message to the infamous groupchat you had yet to be added to. Smiling at the man's kindness you accept as he asks for your number. Walking up to his car, exchanging phones; you place your name alone in his as Gaz places a petrol symbol for himself that has you giggling when you read it. Tapping the top of his car in a sign of goodbye, he drives through the gates and away.

Turning back you see Gabby leaned against the car with a cheeky grin, “do I need to report anything to the council already, lieutenant?”

“Yet?! Do you honestly think I am getting with any of them, or that they would have any interest in all of this shit?” You reply while flinging your hands up and down your body, emphasising your statement.

“Well.. you and Soap looked to be getting cosy…”

“I needed physical comfort, you know this”

“Mmhmm”

“Gabby! I swear to god-”

“Mmhmm”

“Even with my last team, we almost never did any of that shit”

“Almost?” She teases back.

“Not like that Gabs! ugh!”

Gabby does not bother to listen to anymore of your protests as she hops backs into the vehicle, the engine roaring to life as you sit yourself into the passengers side with a huff, buckling your seatbelt before helping her to check the blindspots and give directions back to your place.

The drive back is peaceful after the hellish day you have had. Gabby flipped you off while driving away as your neighbour complained about hearing your cat moving about your apartment too loudly. Apologising you turned the key in the hole and entered, the space was dark with a small candle coming from the kitchen. Cursing to yourself for leaving it unattended, blowing it out you called for Spoons to make sure he didn’t hurt himself from it.

Checking the cat over in your arms and sighing out in relief, you hunched down slightly so they could move to your shoulders and motioned to get their medication before you started the debate of ordering in or cooking dinner for yourself. Opening the fridge you cursed to find it empty, resting your forehead against its metal door to cool your head, you felt for your phone the jean pocket as Spoons meows loudly in your ear.

Placing him on the counter and closing the door with your foot, you order delivery and feel for your wallet; walking yourself back into the living and falling onto the cushioned seat, feet pressed atop the coffee table as you threw a weighted blanket over yourself and turned the television on. Doctor Who played across the screen as you chucked at their antics and companions' poorly timed jokes, the doorbell ringing and a tip being served before you switched to the VOD for the football game.

Your team was losing severely as you whisper-yelled at the screen, afraid of getting a thorough beating from your elderly neighbour. You flicked it off before it finished and noticed that your plate was empty. Placing the containers in the fridge and washing your dishes in the sink, you see Spoons sleeping on the half-wall separating your kitchen from the dining room. Their belly turned upwards as light snores exited their body. Snapping a quick picture to show Ghost in the morning, you began your nightly routine.

Showering, brushing and flossing your teeth, alongside applying your moisturizers. You shuffled underneath the covers while doing some last minute scrolling through your phone. Rolling your eyes when you saw the endless stream of reels being sent from Gabbys personal account that had you switching your ringer off and placing it on to charge. Setting your alarm clock to sound you closed your eyes as your body jerked throughout the night, awaking in a cold sweat as only a few hours had passed before doing your best at returning back to sleep.

The loud sound of ringing gradually made its way across your ears as you groaned and blindly reached over to turn it off; you ended up swatting it off the nightstand, the loud crash had you sitting upright from the sound of it smacking against the hardwood floors. Being stubborn to get out of bed just yet, you reach across the room to pick it up and shut it up. Falling back into the covers you reach for your phone and smile seeing your parents’ name in the notifications, they wish you a strong return back with a string of emojis that has you shaking your head while replying, slightly regretting for introducing them to that submenu on the keyboard.

Stretching and rolling out your yoga mat, you do our daily exercises before setting the kettle to boil and heading for a quick shower. The mirror clouds over as you draw a small heart across its surface while scrolling for just the right song to start getting ready to.

Coming back out- refreshed you dig through the back of your closet to find parts of your old uniform that you didn’t have the heart to send down to the storage rooms. Placing it across your frame and looking at yourself in the foyer mirror. A tear slides itself down your cheek as you swiftly wipe it away. Spoons soon comes between your legs pawing to be fed as you lightly smile down at them.

Apologizing to your furry friend, you give them their daily medication and head out the door, to your car in the underground parkade. 06:10 reads on the dash as you drive back to the base from memory. While at a light you start a call with Gabby, hoping that she would fess up to what types of testing you will go through today, yet she gave you nothing much to your dismay other than some teasing as usual.

“Did you end up talking to Gaz more last night when you exchanged numbers?”

“No, I talked to my parent though.”

“Oh! I miss them, are they still single?”

“Gabs I swear-”

“Hey! Just an honest question…”

“Sure, sure.”

“Are you here yet?”

“Almost, about a block away”

“Okay good.”

“Everything al’right?”

“Oh yeah, Soap just keeps telling me I'm no fun now that he’s met you, butthurt honestly.”

“Well I have always been the funnier one.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear.”

“You know me- social skills, simply perfection…” you end with a giggle in your voice, “...okay im at the gate now, see you in a few.”

Pulling the car into an empty parking spot, you ended the call while hauling your work bag with your camera inside over your shoulder from the passenger's seat and take your metal water bottle with you. Locking the car with a click you walked towards the main building and picked yourself up a new badge. Wincing at your picture, you hide it in your jacket pocket as you make your way down the hall and towards the locker rooms to put your stuff down.

Taking in a deep breath, you made your way out to the fields and saw everyone standing in a circle, speaking in hushed tones before halting at the sounds of your footsteps nearning. Giving the group a small wave, Gabby came over and wished you luck with a large hug and kiss against your cheek before returning back to her duties. Laswell stood to the side, clipboard in hand as she began to look at her watch, anxious to begin and return to her stack of files as well.

Soap speedily walks his way over to you, clapping a hand on your shoulder and pulling you in to his side, he wishes you good luck and a few other words told in his native tongue that you didn’t quite catch before Ghost is shouting across the field, in what would appear an aggressive tone to any new listener.

“English, Jonny”

“Fuckin’ Britts you lot”

“Hey you! Don't assume my nationality you prick”

Soap looks at you wide-eyed and apologetically as words and curses fall out of his mouth like a waterfall. Gaz can he heard chucking off to the side as you pat Soaps shoulder and tell him that you were just pulling his leg. He nods his head and sighs out in relief while looking up towards the grey skies. Making your way over to greet the Captain and Ghost, they both offer you a firm handshake once more as you provide a wide smile back before heading towards Gaz sitting on a nearby bench beside Laswell.

Sitting beside him, he starts making small talk and eventually asks what you are doing directly after this. Looking towards Laswell she shrugs and reminds you of the team-building you promised to do before calling you to the starting line. Gaz makes a quick note for you to continue your conversation later as he shouts you a good luck as you make your way away. He sits up from the bench and moves to stand beside Simon and the others in line to the side.

Nearing the starting line, you notice a series of vertical obstacles ranging from a rope climb, an outstanding rock wall and a fence hop. Leaning your body to the side, you look further down to see a tire you will need to push alongside a series of pylons lining a large section of the tarmac. A long run, how great after all of that.

Shaking your head of the negativity, you closed your eyes and evened your breathing before sending Laswell a nod of your head, ready to tackle this course to the best of your ability. The sound of a shout coming from the Station Chief has your body moving faster than your mind as you hoist yourself up the rope and jump down to the other side.

Your body wavers slightly upon impact yet as soon as your knees steady once more you are running up the rock wall to boost yourself up, skipping half of it as you hear Gaz praising your technique while waiting running to wait for you on the other side. Using your feet and hands, you slip slightly from the lack of gloves or chalk before running down the ramp on the other side. Next you are sprinting over to hop over three sizes of fences as Soap claps loudly at the end telling you how many obstacles you have left.

Smiling to yourself in a layer of sweat, you side-hop the last small fence before whipping your forehead with the backside of your arm and collapse yourself to the floor in low crawl under the wire frames above. The mud finds its way into your boots and underneath your fingernails as you sigh happily at its cool texture on your skin.

Nearing the end you look ahead of yourself to see the long awaited large tire sitting flush against the ground. Picking yourself up to stand and shaking your hands violently while running over, you heave it up with a large grunt and push it to fall. Completing these repetitive actions tenfold before showing the tire over the designated cones. The long awaited run now awaited you as Price praised you with a large smile, yours matching his own as your feet began to pick up pace once more, now desperately trying to reach the end of the course in time.

The soon becomes in view as you see Laswell standing there, stopwatch in hand as Gabby appears beside her, jumping enthusiastically and pointing at your approaching frame. This momentarily distracts you from the pain you are feeling throughout your body as it takes everything in you to run the last quarter mile.

Yet as you near, the shouting of all your awaiting squad members, the sound of your blood pumping through your ears and your laboured breaths has you faltering slightly as your world spins and the finish line is closer than ever before.

Memories cloud over your senses as you can feel the sweat dripping off your neck and down your back. The feeling of cold metal combing itself against your skin has you shivering in your overheated state as your stomach begins to turn itself outwards.

You don’t notice yourself running across the finish line and slightly pass before a pair of arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you steady as they shake your shoulders in an effort to make you become present.

You can feel a distant hand running circles on to your lower back as they brush the hair out of your eyes and behind your ears before resting their hand against your forehead, checking your temperature while making a hand motion in the other as the sounds of multiple boots rushing over have you swaying in their hold and holding your stomach as you kneel over. Knees falling to the pavement as you collapse on to your side. Eyes blurry as you see the rough contours of faces shaking your legs and holding your chin before they push you into recovery position as you throw up your guts on to someone's boots.

Apologising subconsciously in a gravel filled tone. The sounds of cries over power your being as you shrink into yourself, tears falling. But soon enough you feel laying down beside you as they tug you over and point to the clouds in the sky while you rub your eyes. The multiple pairs of eyes on you have fallen significantly as you take in a large breath and whip your eyes and cheeks with the back of your hand.

Looking over to your left you see Gabby staring at you smiling, remenist to what you would do as kids in your backyard, making stories out of all the clouds above and promises of your futures together. How times have changed as the pavement burned itself against the back of your head that still felt a bit fuzzy and your hands shook slightly against your sides.

As Gabby directs you to copy her breathing and calls for your bag to be brought over while searching for your medication side, she asks softly if you remember to take some yesterday. Eyes going wide you shake your head and groan to yourself while placing the back side of your hand to rest against your forehead, shielding your eyes from the sun beginning to poke its way through the clouds.

Doing your best to hoist yourself to a sitting position, your frame wobbles slightly as Gabby rapidly turns her body around and her face turns into horror. Her hands are filled as she watches you sway and almost crash your head against the tarmac once more yet thankfully an arm had you hoisted up against their side as they joined you on the floor.

Smiling over to Gaz thankfully he rubbed your shoulder and Gabby kneeled down to hand you a cup of water and a few pills. Looking at them in your hand, shuffling them slightly in your palm you threw them into your mouth, tipping your head back consciously as the water made its way down your system.

Gaz then handed you a pack of crackers that were obviously from an MRE. You winched in reaction that had Gaz giggling at your face before it fell when Fish just about punched him to remove it. Shaking your head slightly at the two and telling Gaz you know he meant nothing poor of it, you begin to take small bites out of the cracker while looking around to find where everyone else went.

As you stare down the field, you see Laswell and Price in a heated argument as the boys stand to his side, a few grand hand gestures are made as Soap flings his arms around wildly, almost hitting Ghost in the face that has him holding his limbs still so the Captain can focus.

Looking towards Gaz once more you ask simply, “Hey Gaz…” He hums to you in reply while his focus is on making sure that you continue to eat, “...Shouldn’t you be down there listening to what Laswell and Price have to say?”

“I think something more important came up that held my attention”

As you move to apologise, Gaz holds his other hand up slightly as you pause your next words. His eyes crinkle slightly as he stares eye level into your own, your mouth opens slightly at the sight of his smile so close to your face, yet you shake your head blaming it on all the anxiety still coursing its way through your system.

“Sometimes all we need is to sit down with someone so that the world can figure itself out.”

You humm in reply as clears her throat softly as you both jerk your bodies in reaction, forgetting her presence in front of you. She shakes her head and chuckles lightly at both of your reactions before saying, “what about some words of wisdom for yours truly, Garrick?” While fluttering her eyelashes.

Rolling your eyes you can’t help but chuckle at your best friends seemingly never ending sass as you ask, “Garrick?” While tilting your head to the side, staring at Gaz’s profile as he simply explains that it's his last name and you nod to this newfound information.

“My full name is actually Kyle “Gaz” Garrick”

“Kyle Garrick” You test the name out upon your lips as he gives you once of his famous smiles once more while squeezing your shoulder.

“My name sounds a whole lot better while coming out from between your lips”

Gasping at his comment, you blush widely in response while holding your cheeks with the palms of your hand in an effort to hide your growing embarrassment. Groaning while leaning forward, your head falls into Gabbys lap as she laughs once more at you while combing her fingers through your hair as Gaz slides his hand to rest against your back.

Mumbling in Gabbys secure hold about his touch not helping your state. You hear a loud laugh as he reacts with his hand apologising. The lack of his touch as you question the equally relieved and disappointed emotions flashes across your brain. Yet this bubble of a moment would soon be broken as the rest of the team returned around you.

Everyone eventually sat down on the pavement that had you mentally giggling to yourself, the ghost of a smile makes its way across your features as you notice the formation you all have made is reminiscent of the duck, duck, goose game.

Soap soon leans over to whisper in your ear, “tag, you’re it” while poking your shoulder jokingly. Wincing in an exaggerated manner has Soap quickly asking if you alright as you smile kindly in response, “I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you Soap”

He nods back in response before shifting his focus to Gaz, eyeing how close he is sitting against you now all the more obvious as Gabby moved herself to sit between Laswell and Ghost. Yet making no comments on his observations that has relief spreading across your skin. You did not need anymore teasing.

Looking back around the circle yourself, you notice as the Captain does a quick look over of you before nodding his head in approval and turning his attention towards Laswell who appears to be choosing their next words carefully as you feel Ghosts gaze settling hot against your profile.

Tilting your head slightly, you notice how he plays with his gloves and how soft his eyes appear behind the mask as if asking you a simple question to your state. Offering a small smile and nod in recognition you watch out of the corner of your eye as his fidgeting stops and he too eyes Laswells next words.

Clearing her throat, her eyes make their way around the circle and stop at you, “you have done well today Y/L/N, flying colours for the obstacle course and impressive return I must add. Yet after today…” Her sentence drifts off as she lacks the words necessary to continue, looking over to Price for help.

The Captain holds your eyes softly in his own as he finishes for Laswell, “from discussions earlier and your best interests in mind, Laswell and the team have decided that we won’t be putting you on attack for now.” A large sigh escapes your mouth as you feel conflicted on how to feel about not fully coming back.

Price continues, “until then you come with us on missions to gather intelligence for Fish under our watch.”

“I understand sir” you respond back, doing the best to hide your emotion in your voice as you see Soap shift himself closer to your side in noticing your slight change in tone. Your eyes are still being held by the captains as you see his eyes wince slightly at your response before his face returns to its professional state.

Slapping his hands against his knees with a throat clearing he stands up from the sitting circle and dismisses the meeting, turning around and walking his way back inside the main building. Laswell follows suit, dragging Gabby alongside her while they both compare paper-workloads.

Gabby turns around mouthing an apology for leaving so soon as you look back and see Ghost is now a bit further away with Soap as they appear to be chatting seriously over something together before Ghost locks him into a headlock. Shaking your lead and looking away all you hear are the sounds of them scraping one another in the background as you find Kyle waiting to ask you something.

“Do you want me to come over tonight?” Kyle questions softly while tilting his head, awaiting your response.

“To come over?”

“Oh ah-apologies, I meant to move your things temporarily on base”

“Oh,” You laugh lightly while shaking your head of the drifting thoughts you were having, “...yeah some help would be great Kyle! Thank you so much for the offer once more.”

“It's really nothing Y/N.”

“Still…”

“Well, how about after you treat me to some coffee together the day after?”

“I like the sound of that,” You say while doing your best to hide the ever growing smile spreading its way across your rosy cheeks as you notice Gaz smiling back at your adorable self.

“Why do you get to call Gaz by their first name and not me?! I thought I was your favorite based upon yesterday, what has this British man done to your head beauty?” Soap cries out while quickly walking back over to you as Ghost is nowhere to be seen.

Your head throws back in laughter as your shoulders rise and fall in swift motions. Gaz shakes his head at his squad member, shoving his shoulder lightly from around your frame with the hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. While Soap remains completely serious in the matter, grabbing your shoulders lightly to make sure you are facing him when you respond.

“Okay then Soap…” Your voice deepens teasingly at the mention of his callsign “...so what would you like me to call you?”

You watch as his eyebrows raise and a smirk slides its way across his features that has you already groaning, predicting what he is going to say as you can hear Kyle laughing behind you at the interaction.

“Mhmm, well there are a number of things I would love you to call me…” You roll your eyes at this comment, “...Yet for now let's stick to Johnny.”

“Johnny?”

“You got it, Johnny.”

“Can’t promise I can say it with a scottish accent like you do”

“Humor me”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Just once, c'mon, promise not to record this one…”

“This one!”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, Johnny” You respond in a horrible Scottish accent that has Soap reeling with laughter as he grips your shoulder and pulls you into a hug as Gaz laughs harder in the background. The flash of a camera can be heard as you call pause to face the sound to see Ghost pocketing his phone inside his black hoodie.

╰┈➤ A/N: so... what did you guys think? Have a favorite member so far? Thank you serious for reading all of this lol.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

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wingheadshellhead · 1 year ago

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i'm back on my "mcu steve was in the darkest timeline because he never experienced the canon event of tony stark giving him a home and a family" bullshit. post-ice steve was isolated, grieving, lonely, going through ptsd and survivor's guilt and he was constantly fixated on how he had no home or family or identity beyond cap. post-ice in the mcu, SHIELD stuck him in the costume and sent him back into the field, reinforcing the idea that he was nothing more than the empty shell of captain america.

"All my life I've tried to find a place for Steve Rogers—but still he lives under the more colorful shadow of Captain America… Perhaps it's Steve Rogers who's the legend—and Captain America who is the reality! Perhaps I was born to be a red-white-and-blue Avenger—and nothing more! But there must be more to life than endless combat! Others have found a home—a family—why can't I? Or, is Steve Rogers destined to walk alone forever—until the final battle—until he walks no more?"

— Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 #75 (1959)

"[...] But, even in the center of a crowd, I'm an outsider—a misfit! Only when I'm costumed as Captain America do I seem to come alive—to have a mission—a purpose! But, as Steve Rogers, I'm merely a name—a hollow shell—with no roots—no real life to call my own! Other men have friends—wives—loved ones!"

— Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 #92 (1959)

in the comics, the canon event of tony stark, the first person steve meets in the 21st century, giving him all of those things — a purpose, a home, somewhere to belong as himself and not just cap — changed his entire life.

"The first week after I came out of the ice… It was a dark time. I'd lost everything. My best friend. All my friends. All I had. I didn't know what I could hang on to. And then Tony Stark came in with this little… handheld cinema. Future technology. He showed me a newsreel. Right there, I saw a man walk on the moon. For all mankind. And in that moment, I felt hope again."

— S.W.O.R.D. Vol. 2 #6 (2021)

"Mr. Stark, when I woke up in this era, I had no one. Nothing. You gave me a purpose. Somewhere to belong… You gave me a home."

— Iron Man/Captain America: Casualties of War (2006)

meeting tony and the avengers, creating those friendships and connections, living at the avengers mansion with them, gives steve hope that he can still find happiness and belonging in the present day.

i always found it ironic that in the mcu steve projects this ideal of happiness and domestic life onto tony. this scene in ca:cw is a perfect example of that disconnect between the reality and what steve assumed on the surface was tony achieving what he never could — having a partner, his own family and kids. (the fact that cacw tony is 4 seconds away from a heart attack at all times and too busy running around firefighting PR crises just further drives home the irony.)

and then in a cruel twist of fate, mcu actually gives tony all of these things: home, family, wife and kid. we see steve witnessing tony having these things and knowing it's all possible, but just not for him and not in this era. (and ultimately, tony only gets to have these things for a brief period of time before having to give it all up.)

mcu steve never got to have the experiences that have shaped every other universe's steve rogers. the presence of tony stark, his friendship, his home, his love (whether platonic or romatnic), that formed the foundation of steve's purpose within the avengers, is intrinsic to steve finding hope and happiness in the modern day. the mcu changing such a crucial canon event rewrote not only the core of mcu steve's story but the trajectory of the cinematic universe. and in the end, the writers sent steve back to the past because they believed after 6 movies and 7 years, he had nothing left to live for in the present and i honestly can't think of anything more tragic.

#stevetony #superhusbands #stony #@

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quietlyinlife · 1 year ago

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Platonic Yandere Father Leon Kennedy

•If Leon is possessive and obsessive with his wife, then you are in the same position as your mother but worse the moment you were born and being held in his arms.

•After all the hardships and deaths he experienced when he was a newbie cop and the outbreaks that occurred, he didn’t want you to leave him or your mother. The two people he loves so much that Leon is willing to give up saving the world in order to rescue you and his wife.

•Leon may not have gotten the childhood he wanted after his parents’ death but he didn’t want you to go through the same traumatic experience as he did when he was a kid.

•Also made you another reason why he should continue fighting to stay alive.

•As a father, he would aid your mother to take care of you, help her bathe you, feed you, go out to buy baby supplies, and insist that your mother should stay home and play with you before he comes back.

•When his job doesn’t call for him, he spends all his time and attention on you. Showing you the toys he brought as you lay on your crib and watching him give you many plushies to hold. Would coo at you while he carries you and makes a promise to you that even if you grow up into an adult, he will always protect you and your mom and kill anyone who tries to take the both of you away.

•Definitely watches over you in the middle of the night after waking up from one of his many nightmares. Eyes were glued to you as you slept and sometimes he would doze off on the couch in the nursery room.

•Would play games with you like hide and seek or tag when you learned how to walk and talk.

•As a child, you were naive about the dark past Leon has with your mom, you only noticed how your mom was never allowed to go outside alone with you. Only Leon could accompany you and your mom during outings together. You also noticed how tightly his hand held your mom’s while the three of you went on a walk through the empty road in an isolated forest where the house is located. Leon never allows you to run far.

•When it’s just you and your mom at home, she begins to tell you stories about how she met your father when both of them were young. Your father used to be a police officer and he saved her from being attacked and they went traveling around Raccoon City. She left the outbreak of the t-virus part out, including how she got kidnapped by Leon a few weeks later after six years when he finally reunited with her.

•As you grow up into a teenager, you start to begin to notice how isolating your father is. One time you asked if you could go outside, Leon would look at you, startled before a smile forms on his face, and gives a short speech about how dangerous this world is and how there are dangers at every corner. But he would take you outside the home if you begged enough for a four-minute walk before going back inside. But if you asked one more time to go out he’ll usually ignore you or just say no.

•Leon never lets you go out alone, or out with some friends. Your dad doesn't trust anyone with you or your mom.

•Leon is a spoiling father, buying you anything you want with no limits if you asked. Your mother taught you to be grateful for all the things Leon and her have done for you.

•Leon is a bit too much as a father, he hates when you do something without him, or on your phone and not paying attention to him, and wants you to always text him or say it to him physically goodnight to him before sleeping. But what Leon hates the most is when you watch horror movies and he would sometimes get a bit ptsd from them when he sees a scene quite similar of what he went through. He thinks you're too young for them and bad for your mental health so if he ever catches you watching something scary, he would give you a death stare before turning the tv off.

"I don't want you to ever watch any of this." Leon fumes, a frown casting across his face as his tone is deep and dark. His eyes stares deep into your own. Not once looking away from you, You were nearly quivering on the couch but kept a brave face. And ever since that day, you only watched horror movies inside your room on your laptop.

•Would ask you questions about your day when he comes home. Also expects you to go to him for a hug when he returns from his mission. If you don’t show up then he’s at the door of your room, knocking and engulfing you into a tight hug. You’re not allowed to complain.

“Am I not allowed to hug my only child? I miss you every day even when we live in the same house together.” He tells you as he pulls you back to look at your face with a questioning look.

•You’re not the only victim of his affections, your mom is too as he forces kisses on her face.

•Leon also checks your phone sometimes just to watch out for you, as he claims but you brush it off since he just wants to see if your friends are a bad influence. You kept it from your father when he was away for his job as an agent, you would always delete the messages between you and your friends.

•But what you didn’t know is that Leon hacked into your phone before he even gave it to you as a gift when he first brought it for you when you turned 13 years old; giving him access through your contacts and other stuff. He simply wants to know if you hide things from him. You would never find out the real reason why your friends suddenly leave the school. There’s nothing you can hide from him.

•You started to become a bit scared of your father when you started to read people's horrifying experience on the internet of what they went through of someone stalking them and obsessing over them. One woman told the story of how her boyfriend never allowed her to talk to any guy or friends because he was scared they were going to take her away from him. But when she confronted him about his behaviour, he excused it saying that "This world is dangerous and I am simply protecting you." And you quickly found out that your dad is more than just an agent.

•You noticed how jumpy your mom is around Leon and how in the middle of the night, he would always say how much he loves her and that he is doing this for your and her own good. You even recall hearing your mom crying silently in the kitchen. She never says "I love you" towards Leon.

•Your curiosity brought you to investigate your parent's past.

•You only came to fully realize the toxic behavior of your father because you decided to snoop around your dad’s office after managing to open the door, using the lock-picking technique you learned from the internet.

•You were curious about why your father forbade you from entering his office, but also you figured it would be easier starting with him considering of his actions and it’s not like he would find out immediately of what you did. That’s what you reassured yourself.

•Many documents could be found and a report on your father’s desk, that’s when you came to know about the Kennedy report and see your father’s younger picture. You saw how stoic and stern his face was, so dull with no sign of light.

•You could definitely understand why as you read through the report.

•You also came to know what actually happened in Raccoon City that your mom didn’t tell you about. But what was more shocking is that you opened a file containing your mother’s entire information that was hidden in his drawer and many pictures of her. Including a newspaper talking about the missing woman who is known to be your mother.

•The moment Leon left the house not before giving your mom a goodbye kiss and giving you a kiss on the top of your head as well, you confronted your mother about the file and how she kept the outbreak from you. Even how your dad literally has an entire information and pictures of her. That’s when you saw her face morph into terror as you demanded an explanation of what is going on.

•Tired of her keeping secrets.

• And your mother told you the entire story of what happened in Raccoon City and Leon’s obsession that drove him to abduct her, as a way to protect her. She even mentioned that he cared for another woman named Ada Wong but he still chose your mom. Your mother didn’t leave any single detail out as she told her story of how Leon gaslighted her and how she tried to escape many times but failed. You couldn’t help but see your parents in a different light now.

“Let’s run away together Mom.” You told her with a determined expression as she profusely shook her head, not agreeing with you.

“N-no my love, you don’t know what your father is truly capable of.” Your mother stuttered as she cupped your face.

“What do you mean? Dad’s a secret agent and he knows how to fight, right?”

“There’s more than that.” Mom whispers to you, her frightened eyes never leaving your face.

•What you two didn’t know is that Leon has placed hidden cameras in the house, watching and listening. He heard the entire conversation and was rather heartbroken that you suggested to escape with your mom.

•And even disappointed when he watched you go through his work in the office. Leon is not dumb because he knows there will be a time when you truly find out the truth. He is aware of your growing suspicion.

•If you ever escaped, you wouldn’t go that far since your father would always find you. He placed a tracker on your clothes, phone, and jewelry. If you wear it.

•Leon never treated you and your mother bad! He could never bring himself to even use violence towards the both of you. You didn’t understand but don’t worry. As a father, he’ll make you see through his perspective in his own way.

#yandere works #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #resident evil #platonic yandere #dad leon kennedy #obsession #gender neutral reader #platonic yandere x reader #leon scott kennedy

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b33zlebubz · 11 months ago

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RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER THREE - some faces are friendlier than others.

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Fluorescent lights, you've come to realize, might be the lowest layer of hell. Lower than high school and broken noses and every other unpleasant thing you've experienced thus far in your short life.

The low buzz and flicker of the sterile fixtures above your head seemed to follow you everywhere; almost mocking you. They were there years ago in the hospital as you held bloodied newspapers up to your disfigured nose, watching the nurses talk to your social worker about what to do with you—then again at your first time working a full nightshift at the gas station down the street. They were there at every adoption party growing up as you stood in the corner, awkwardly shuffling your feet as you—begrudgingly—introduced yourself to every adult that approached you. Every school you attended, every clinic, hospital, and residency had them; lights sent from hell to assault your eyes specifically.

Even now, as you shoot upright in the spare dorm-like room Price supplied you with, the fixtures are above your head. The only difference is that this time, they’re off. Your brain swims, your breathing tight and fleeting as you grasp the fabric of your sweater in attempts to calm your raging heart. When that doesn’t work, you throw the covers off and stumble for the door. Cold, bare feet hitting the linoleum as shaky hands fumble through the dark for the bathroom doorknob. When you finally get inside, you retch into the sink.

Everything between arriving at your house two days ago and ending up here is a blur.

You don’t leave your room much after the talk with Price—fully content to just sleep the days and nights away until the nightmares took hold. You only wake up whenever Price knocks on your door and coasts you out to show you around.

You don't know what to think about him---not yet---but you're pretty sure he's safe. He's painfully British; with thick facial hair framing his face and the faint smell of cigar smoke lingering on his fatigues when you open the door. Unlike the others you've seen hanging around, always looking very official in pristine business-casual wear or covered head to toe in gear, he has a worn hat that never leaves his head.

He shows you the basics, introducing you to his colleagues around the building and making conversation as you walk.

The bathroom is down the hall, dining facility is downstairs, medical wing on the first floor, the common areas, Laswell’s office, and Price’s office…you can’t say you were able to pay much attention.

Not when that huge, skull-masked Lieutenant is in the same room as you for some of it.

It's then that you learn his name.

"Ghost?" You question, raising an eyebrow. You watch the man in question—looking utterly out of place as he slides over to sit with a few others at a table nearby. He's dressed casually in a black jacket and dark tactical pants; but the balaclava and mask still remain.

Price places a hand on your shoulder.

"Ghost, Soap…" he nods towards the Scot you recognize from the day before. He looks a bit more approachable than his masked counterpart, at least—poking fun at the Lieutenant next to him. There's a thick bandage around his forearm where you bit him yesterday.

Then, Price gestures to the only one you haven't met yet. "...And Gaz.”

The man is already looking at you when you meet his gaze, but he quickly glances away again, distracted by Soap who claps a hand to his shoulder. Whatever he says must be funny, because Gaz laughs and shakes his head, distracted.

"Weird names," you remark, and that earns a chuckle from the captain.

"Callsigns," he replies. "Nicknames, basically. Stick around long enough you might earn one yourself…but let's hope not."

You nod. Your hand comes up to once again brush at the cold dog tags around your neck. "Right. Yeah, let's hope not."

"You'll be spending a lotta time with 'em for now, probably," Price says, tugging at the brim of his hat as he continues walking, briefly catching your gaze. "So, I suggest you get used to 'em."

A knot of dread forms in your stomach at his statement. You glance behind you as you walk—eyes locked on the skull mask. Again, your head reels with the memory of yesterday. Gunshots. Yelling. Blood on your sneakers.

Blood, blood, blood.

You swallow heavily, "Even Ghost?"

You're sure your unease isn't lost on Price from the way he looks at you. He places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it a couple pats as he guides you along with an affirmative nod.

“Yes,” he says. "Even Ghost."

The thought makes your mind uneasy. You swear your heart hasn’t stopped jackrabbiting in your chest since you left your house. It feels like you should be running, fighting, escaping—something—but instead you find yourself barely leaving your bed. Your hands itch for your phone to distract yourself but, alas, the only thing Price left you with is your blood-splattered sneakers which sit in the corner. For good reason, you suppose.

You spend hours staring at the light fixtures above your head in the spare bunk, thinking about everything in your life that's led you up to this point; your father's lies, endless adoption papers, letters, and bright fluorescent lights. Everything and nothing all at once. When you finally get to sleep, that's when you find yourself jolting awake at night and stumbling to the bathroom.

When the gagging finally calms, you stand there. Clammy hands grip the edges of the sink as you breathe—in and out—and swallow back the bitter bile that sticks to your throat. In your panic, you never even bothered to turn on the lights, and your eyes shine as you make eye contact with your reflection in the dark, dingy mirror. Light spills in from the hallway behind you, casting a halo of light on your frazzled hair.

Ugh. You look awful; your bruised eye swollen and irritated again from tossing and turning. The skin on your arms and face is still rubbed raw from viciously scrubbing the blood off in the shower days ago, and you still didn't feel clean. Dried tears streak your face from crying in your sleep. The thought alone of someone seeing you like this is enough for you to steal yourself. You take a shaky breath in before letting it out, and you switch on the sink to wash your vomit down the drain. While you’re at it, numb hands cup the freezing running water before splashing some onto your face, and you stare at yourself for a little while—acquainting yourself with the reality that yes. This is happening. Your father faked his death before dying again and now there’s people after you; the man with the scar on his face, you assume, and maybe others. No, you don’t know the code that Price mentioned and no—you don’t know what’s going on.

You swallow again.

It is what it is.

The dog tags glint against the low light as you turn the faucet off.

Your breathing settled and your heart rate calmed, you're left with a shakiness that comes with the lack of adrenaline. You lean against the sink for a moment, basking in the silence as the last of your nightmare fades. You're so lost in thought that the sound of shuffling and low voices in the hallway are almost, almost lost on you.

"It was supposed to be a quiet mission for a reason."

Price's voice can be heard, muffled, down the hall—and you freeze slightly.

"Yeah, well…you can thank the Shadows for that one." Another, deeper, British accent replies. One that makes the hairs on your neck prickle. "'Mission was to extract the kid. That's it. If Johnny didn't shoot first, Graves would've. And we both know how that would've ended."

Price sighs tiredly in response, their voices growing closer as they turn the corner. You can almost picture him running a hand down his face as he does, the other on his hip. Then, their footsteps stop a little ways down the hall.

"'Suppose you're right," he says. "Just…try not to scare 'em too bad. You know Sparky would want—"

"Yeah…I know," Ghost grunts back, interrupting. "No promises."

A moment passes.

There's an unspoken goodbye before you hear footsteps fading off again, signaling one of them has left. You take a breath and wipe your face before stepping out into the hallway. You feel his gaze flicker to you as you cross the threshold and pretend not to notice him. Shaky hands fumble with the doorknob.

It feels eerily similar to the first time you both met. When he effortlessly killed two men, splattered the blood on you, and then turned around so nonchalantly and asked—

"You good?"

You freeze up. Finally, you turn to look at him.

He's not wearing the mask. Not the skull one, at least, and it works to ease your nerves a little. The fact that you can see an eyebrow rise at you through a balaclava helps you remember that he is—somehow—human. A human with a plastic water bottle, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in his hand with no gun in sight.

You wipe your face again. Your throat is tight as you speak, as if you've forgotten how to do it altogether, "peachy."

He huffs a breath at your sarcasm, but he doesn't press further.

"Good," he says. "'Cause it looks like you've seen a ghost."

You scoff, "you're not funny."

He shifts and tosses you the water bottle in his hand. You flinch and just barely manage to catch it by the cap. Then, confused by the gesture, you look back up at him.

"Keep your head up, kid," he says, the subtle softness of his tone not lost on you—although it seems completely foreign. "'Cause, with the way things are lookin', it'll get worse before it gets better."

It's strange and cryptic. Your heart lodges in your throat from the strange advice as you lower your brow at him. "What does?"

"The blood."

You let out a shaky breath, looking away. "That's hardly comforting."

A moment passes where he just looks at you. You're unsure what he sees; other than a pathetic, disheveled teenager who just finished dry heaving into a public bathroom sink over a stupid nightmare. You feel uncomfortable—like he's reading your thoughts, or maybe he's just amused that you're scared of him. You’re unsure.

"Maybe not," he shrugs and finally looks away, unlocking his door. "But it's the truth."

You swallow down your unease as you look down at the water bottle.

A part of you knows he’s right. Whatever your father got himself tangled up in—it involved you now. You were being chased and if there was anything you knew about how these stories went; someone was going to end up dead. Sulking wasn’t going to get you answers, and it certainly wasn’t going to help you going forwards. You had no idea how the people in the movies, comics, video games, and TV shows always seemed so put-together. How they—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and your father—managed to sleep at night with what they did. What they saw.

"Does it get easier?" You ask, for some reason. Your voice is quiet. Strained.

Ghost seems caught off guard by the question, because he hesitates in his doorway—a gloved hand resting on the doorknob. He doesn’t look at you, not really, and you don’t look at him. You can hear the rain tapping against the window at the end of the hall and the sound of thunder rumbling across the sky above. You figure he can read minds, because he seems to completely understand what you’re asking without needing to explain much.

“If you’ve seen enough,” he finally speaks. “Yes ... you do get used to it.”

A moment passes before he shifts and looks at you again.

“But try not to," he adds. "Your old man didn’t die just for you to get screwed up like the rest of us.”

And, with that, he steps into his quarters and shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile hallway. Fluorescent lights flicker above your head.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech

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