#i think i disassociated during that actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krirebr · 2 months ago

Text

All Things Go 1

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Summary: It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine!

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), panic attack, disassociation flashback, Steve actually having to deal with the PTSD and depression and anxiety he would so clearly have if he'd been through everything in the MCU, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, possible slow burn - we'll see All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh boy. Here I am. Back on my angsty bullshit. This story was kickstarted by this ask. It's an inverse of the program at the center of Still Life, but not in the same universe.

This idea was helped along a ton by @stellar-solar-flare who helped me overcome my fear of writing a mostly canon compliant Steve and dipping my toes into an Avengers AU.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Steve checked his watch for a third time as he paced around his apartment. It was bad enough that he had to indulge this ridiculous idea, but she was late on top of it. Four minutes, now. He’d been pacing for the last fifteen. He’d tried to sit down while he waited, but the buzz of the adrenaline just under his skin had been too strong.

It was the disrespect, that’s what it was, that really bothered him in her tardiness. That was going around lately. A whole team that refused to listen to him. And then had the gall to go to Fury behind his back after what happened during the last mission. And yes, of course, it was all couched in concern. But he saw it for what it was: a mutiny. And he’d been benched because of it. From all missions for the foreseeable future. So what was he supposed to do now? Thawed out 70 years in the future just to be stranded without a purpose.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part was now six minutes late. A support omega. He’d scoffed right in Fury’s face when he’d “suggested” it. Of all the stupid, 21st-century things he’d encountered, this took the cake. Like there could possibly be some base alpha part of him that was so broken it could only be soothed by an omega with a degree in psychology. Ridiculous. He was fine!

But it’d been the kind of suggestion that didn’t come with the option to say no. Not if he ever wanted to get back on the team. So fine. He’d play nice, show her there was nothing wrong, and get her to sign off on him going back into the field. He’d be back in action in just a few days. And then he might be able to breathe again.

As he was about to start another lap of his living room, the doorbell finally chimed. He took a moment, so as not to seem like he’d been standing right next to it. Then he took a deep breath, pasted on that Captain America smile, and opened the door. “Hi,” he said, immediately stepping aside to give you room. “Come on in.”

“Captain Rogers,” you said with your own big smile as you introduced yourself, then picked up your valise from the ground beside you and stepped into his apartment. You were sharply dressed, professional. In how you held yourself, too. But your eyes were warm. And you were beautiful. It reminded him of some of the nicer omegas Buck used to go out with. There was a sharp pang in his chest. Like always, he ignored it.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” you continued. As if he’d had any sort of choice. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The security checks took longer than I’d expected.”

“No problem at all,” he said. Ten whole minutes. “I hadn’t even noticed. Here, let me put your bag in the room I set aside for you.”

“Oh, a guest room?” you asked. He stopped at your question, a little confused. Where else would you sleep? “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll definitely appreciate having my own space. But, sleeping arrangements are something we can discuss and customize to fit our goals. Sharing a bed can be really helpful if sleep is something you’re struggling with.”

Absolutely not. No. Definitely not. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he demurred. “With the serum, I really don’t require much sleep,” he called down to you as he quickly took your bag to the small guest room he’d finally furnished because he had to have somewhere to put you. It’d never occurred to him you’d want to share his bed. Did people really do that?

When he came back into the living room, you were still hovering by the door, your messenger bag slung over your shoulder and your hands clasped in front of you. You were looking around, taking in the blank walls, spartan furniture. Judging him probably. Well, it’s not like he’d had much time to decorate in between saving the world. What did any of that matter? “Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you said, with a benign smile that seemed aggressively professional. “If you don’t mind, I’d love if we could sit and chat for a few minutes before we move on to anything else.”

“Of course,” he said, with his own benign smile, as he gestured to the two couches that had come with the apartment. He waited for you to sit in one and then took a seat in the other, a mass-produced coffee table covering the chasm between you.

“First,” you said, your hands resting neatly in your lap, “I just wanted to make sure that my scent is one you’re comfortable having in your home on a long-term basis. I know that the real thing can sometimes be a little different than the sample you based your choice off of.”

Steve had just randomly grabbed one from the box he’d been presented with. He’d thrown it at Fury with a grumbled, “That one’s fine,” as he left the small room they’d given him to make his choice. He’d never even opened it.

He only got a vague hint of it now, sitting across the room from you. Floral maybe. He didn’t bother to take a deep breath, to catalogue it. You’d only be here for a few days max. Not enough time for your scent to permeate. So, it didn’t really matter what he thought about it.

“Yes, it’s fine,” he nodded at you.

“Good,” you said, your smile becoming slightly more genuine. “Well, first I can take a few minutes to talk through what it is we’re going to be doing here. I'm sure you've already gotten the whole spiel, but it might be helpful to hear it from my perspective. Get a feel for how I do things.”

You paused like you were waiting for a response so he nodded along. “Sure, sounds great.” He already knew what the program was. He already knew he didn’t need it. This was a waste of time.

“Mostly, I’m just here to help you as an alpha get back to feeling like your most grounded, best self. Stability and comfort are mainly what I’m here to provide. Listening and guidance too, if that’s what you want. This is fully customizable, very collaborative. I’m not a therapist, but I do have my masters in behavioral psychology. And I’ve been doing this for a while now. So whatever you throw at me, I can handle it. Basically, this arrangement can look like whatever the two of us want it to look like. The biggest requirement, on both sides, is honesty.”

He leaned forward. This was the in he’d been waiting for. “I really appreciate that. And I do want to be completely honest with you. I don’t want to waste your time. The truth is, this is unnecessary. I think people expect me not to adjust well, so they’re treating me like I’m not. But really, I’m fine. I’m doing fine. And I just don’t think I’m going to get much from this.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, just looked at him curiously with your lips pursed. At one point, your eyes flicked down to where his hand was resting on his knee. Could you see the way it shook? His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d come out of the ice. He straightened it out so it laid flat on the denim of his jeans, willing it to be still. That didn’t mean anything.

Finally, your eyes left him as you turned to your messenger bag, pulling out a thin file. “Do you mind,” you asked, “if we talk about some of the concerns your team has for you?”

Steve’s jaw ticked. Not for. About. Fury had already done this. “I know their concerns. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You shrugged casually, like it didn’t much matter to you either way. “I think it could be instructive to what we’re trying to do here.”

“Fine,” he ground out, but you didn’t react to his tone. You just opened the file. Before you had a chance to say anything, he leaned forward and spat out, “Listen, I know what’s in there. They think I don’t listen to anyone. That I’m a bad leader. That my plans are too risky. That I can’t keep anyone safe. Did I get everything?”

You bobbed your head a little, your expression impassive, your voice soft. “Not exactly. They did say that you refuse to listen to people. But they never said anything about you being a bad leader. Or not keeping them safe. They said the thing you’re most likely to risk on these missions is yourself. They’re worried about you.” He couldn’t hold in his scoff and you paused to look him in the eye. “Do you really jump out of planes without a parachute?”

He felt his eyes go a little wide like he’d been caught, doing what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. He shook his head. “No, that’s not– You know what’s in my veins. If I were a normal man, sure, that’d be suicidal. But I have more strength, better reflexes, I heal faster. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned forward too. “But, you still get injured, don’t you? Even if it doesn’t last as long. You still feel all that pain. Steve,” and the way you said his name, for the first time, different somehow than the way any omega had ever said it before, he felt it like a knife to the heart, “why would you want to put yourself through feeling all that if you didn’t have to?”

He was up off the couch before he even realized it. The room was suddenly smaller than it’d been a minute ago. His mind was racing and he didn’t know why or how to make it stop.

“Captain Rogers.” You were standing right in front of him, holding your hands up at your chest, your palms out. “I’m sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to push. Are you alright?” All he could do for the moment was blink at you. “Hey, how ‘bout you take a deep breath with me, ok? A slow breath in through your nose.”

He followed your lead and took a deep breath in. And, oh. He was struck by the scent of you. Lilacs and oranges. You smelled like spring.

“And out through your mouth,” you said quietly and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and you smiled. “Do you want to take a break?” you asked softly. “I have a few more questions, but I don’t need to ask them right now.”

He shook himself out of whatever daze he’d been in. “No,” he said, standing up straighter. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

He sat back down on the couch, but you hadn’t moved yet. “Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. I’m fine. Let’s go.” It was only at the look on your face, that he realized how short he’d been. He took a breath. “Sorry,” he said, forcing some calm into his tone. “I’d like to keep going.”

“Okay,” you nodded and finally sat back down across from him. You opened your folder again. “You were a little… vague in your intake questionnaire. So, if you're able, I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me a little about what you’ve been going through, how you’ve been feeling.”

He fidgeted a little in his seat and he saw you clock it. He stilled himself, then said, with as casual an air as he could muster, “If I was vague, it’s only because there really isn’t much to report. I’ve been fine.” He was using that word too much. He knew it. But he didn’t know how else to say it.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s just, on paper? You’ve been through a lot in what must feel like a very short amount of time. And that’s just the widely reported stuff. What’s in the history books and on the news. It would be understandable if you were struggling. Anyone would be.”

“Well, I’m not anyone, am I?” he snapped.

“No, you’re not,” you said slowly, calmly, and he hated how unflappable you were. “You’re a hero.” He just barely stopped his lip from curling up into a snarl at that. He’d had enough. “But–”

“Listen, I just need to get back in the field, okay? I just need another mission. That’s all I need. We don’t have to– None of this will be necessary if I can just get back out there. I understand that you’re a professional and you’ll want to seem thorough, so we can wait a few days. But I’m fine and that’s what I need you to tell Fury. If the team doesn’t want to work with me right now, that’s– that’s okay. I’ll do solo missions. Whatever they want. I just need to get back out there.” He was pleading by the end of it. He could hear it in his voice. But this was important. He needed you to understand.

You just sat there for a moment, staring at him, your brow furrowed. “I–” you started. “I think there may have been a misunderstanding, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve,” he corrected, “please.”

“Steve, I–” you paused, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry, whether or not you eventually get back on the team, that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t work for SHIELD. I can’t make that decision.”

“What? No. Yes, you do. You can tell Fury that I’m fit for duty.”

“Steve. I work for a support omega agency. I’ve helped a few agents before, but I don’t know Commander Fury. I’m not here to report back to anyone. I’m just here to help you.”

All he could do was shake his head. No, this wasn’t right. There had to be a way to get back to work. You had to be the key.

“I’ve been contracted for a three month period, with the option to extend as needed. I thought this had all been explained to you. I–” You looked at him, pained, like you were willing him to understand

‘Three months to start’ had been said to him at some point in this whole process, but he hadn’t thought that’d been serious. He’d been sure there was a way around it. Sure that you were the way.

He wouldn’t be able to survive three months. That he was sure of. Not without something to do. Not without a purpose. Not without something to fight. The room was getting smaller again. Closing in on him. All of that time stretching out ahead of him, without any purpose, without any point to him. It was all closing in on him.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t do any good. It didn’t do anything. Didn’t get him any air. There wasn’t any air. He was pinned down. Under all the water. Under all that ice. He was so cold and he couldn’t breathe.

“Steve!”

He was distantly aware of someone calling his name, but no one would be able to get to him. He was too far under. There was too much ice. He’d done too much.

“Steve. Hey, Steve! I’m here with you. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.”

No, that couldn’t be right. He was alone. All alone and–

Lilacs. How was he smelling lilacs? And oranges. Fresh and bright. Spring.

He blinked his eyes open. He didn’t know when he’d shut them. He was huddled on the floor in front of the couch. In the living room. You were kneeling in front of him, your hands held out in front of you, not making contact, but one of your wrists was extended. Right under his nose.

When he made eye contact with you, you exhaled, like maybe you’d been holding your breath. “Hi,” you said, relieved. “You back with me?”

All he could do was blink at you, at first. Then he looked around. The blank walls. The prefab furniture. The apartment. He hated this place. He looked back at you. “Yeah.” It came out in a croak. “I– Yeah.”

“Is it alright if I touch you?” you asked, inching closer. “You can say no.”

He shook his head without even thinking. “Please.”

As you reached out to touch him, hug him, maybe, he collapsed into you. You let out a little “oof” but didn’t pull away. You just wrapped your arms around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched, really touched, like this. Not just in passing. Not in battle. Before the ice. Decades. Everything had been decades.

His eyes were wet and he was so so tired. He felt wrenched open. Emptied out like there was nothing left. He exhaled in your arms and with it came a whisper, completely out of his control. “I just want to go home.”

You didn't say anything, but your grip on him tightened.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @alexakeyloveloki @kmc1989 @awkwardgiraffe726 @watermelontidewater

#all things go #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #alpha steve rogers #omega reader #omegaverse #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #kris wrote something

516 notes · View notes

justnother-user · 2 months ago

Text

It’s every time I say shit like this that I have a weird dream afterwards. Like tell me why I had a dream I got into a relationship with someone I haven’t seen since high school and I like genuinely fell in love with him? Like I fully went into our current dms irl and was expecting to see a bunch of sappy stuff because of how real it felt

Alright guys I’ve come to the conclusion that I am still indeed bi. I just have a very very heavy preference towards women which made me think I was a lesbian. I also hate men which also made me think I was a lesbian. It’s like I could fall in love with and sleep with a woman yes, but I could not fall in love with a man, I would sleep with a man yeah but loving one? Sorry that’s a no for me.

And thus the question that’s been on Risa’s mind for the past 8(?) months finally has an answer :3

#another weird thing in my dream was that we had sex like a lot lot and dream me why was like why can’t I remember it happened #and dream me was like “oh I probably disassociated during it because of me previously being SAd and I just didn’t want to remember what sex #is like or actually be there mentally for the experience in case I have a panic attack and scare him off”#like okay glad to know that I can still think in my dreams #risa speaks

7 notes · View notes

dearestzaychik · 18 days ago

Text

Missing Posters.

Rehabilitation AU

Silly little AU I thought of with my friend, Meos!

TW : Maybe a bit ooc, Cussing, Violence, Blood, and an attempt that was made to harm reader.

WORD COUNT : 5k+ words!

NOT PROOFREAD

(Once again I can't be bothered.. Please do point out any mistakes you can spot once more!)

READERS POV.

Each day was the same as always. wake up, get ready, go to work, come back home, eat, sleep.. Although you were grateful to be able to actually work at Roblox World HQ, the work that was assigned to you was starting to burn you out a bit. Looking at your own desk of piled and messy papers, you couldn't help but feel even more exhausted.

It all started on the sudden disappearance of the Administrators of Roblox, and it wasn't just an easy task either. After that, there has been a chain of disappearances that began a few months back, starting with some admins like Builderman and Shedletsky, then a top employee of the Builder Brother's Company disappeared. More over a big problem considering a big portion of the works at a Pizza Place suddenly slowed and that said employee was actually the son of one of the builder brother's, then right after was another Administrator, Dusekkar.. Then it just kept going, ranging from either Administrators or Normal Robloxians that were just trying to live a normal life and It was just a lot to take in. Who ever was causing these disappearances didn't seem to only go after Big Models for the community or Normal Robloxians too, as even robloxians that were banished to the Banlands suddenly disappeared as well. Such as 1x1x1x1, John Doe, 007n7.. you name it.

This was a genuine problem for the state of Robloxia, it dug itself deep to the point where your own superior, Roblox themselves doesn't know anything about the situation nor can they even get anything to start as an investigation. You could only glance at the Missing Posters that were at the center of your desk, seeing the familiar faces too much every day you go to work. Like this casino owner named Chance, or this sleeveless shirt with a spawnpoint symbol wearing civillian, named Two Time.. Okay, now that you think about it their names sound pretty weird, but that wasn't the point nor was it uncommon, especially knowing Robloxia's very odd law when it comes to names.. You weren't even supposed to be here at this time. It was already late at night, and usually your shift ends during the afternoon or so. You were practically the only person in the office of your batch, and it gave a empty feeling that setted in you once more. Although you practically did have a great work and future ahead of you, it was hard to interact with other co-workers in the office or to just other people in general knowing how the social hierarchy works. Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk. Especially knowing you had a bigger problem at your hands, but that sounds like a problem for future you as you decided then and there that enough work was done for today. You were definitely not staying in this office for any longer, stretching your body as you cracked a few joints.. Feeling your body finally relax after a while. Genuinely, whichever deity was looking upon you right now.. You hoped that every single one of these missing people will come back soon. Technically, its not for the selfish reason of finally being able to lay off work after a while but it's to also ease the tension and fright within the Town of Robloxia itself.

Getting up from your office chair, you didn't bother cleaning up your messy desk. You'll be in the same situation all over again anyways, so not being able to clean up after yourself was the least of your worries. Getting the keys that were left to you by the Janitor as you closed the office for the night, practically disassociating with reality through out the entire process as you snapped out the moment when you were finally outside the building. It looked so peaceful, seeing how there was no people that can be seen outside since nobody was usually up at this hour. Exhaustion crept up to you once more, burnt out from your core as you begrudgingly had to drag and force your body to move through the empty streets.

Although the journey was peaceful, it was definitely quiet.. Almost too quiet. Its been a long while since you've actually took the time to take care of yourself now that you've realized it. Looking at a window of a random, already closed building as you took in how disheveled you looked. You definitely need to schedule some sort of spa day for yourself. Although, looking at the reflection of the window.. You could've sworn something moved in the background of the reflection you were looking at. Looking behind, seeing the deep forest as you observed the landscape. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it, until there was a rustle from the bush. A hand came out, clutching onto a tree as the figure revealed themselves to be injured. It didn't take a genius, especially one in your situation where you'd have to look at missing posters 24/7 to know who this was. Having a burger on top of his head and on top of that said burger was a little noob head..- This was 007n7, one of the Missing People. Locking eyes with him as he looked to be relieved upon seeing you, as if he hasn't seen someone else in a long time. (More on so of a face he specifically hasn't seen.)

"..P-please!- We need help!-"

He stated, stumbling upon his words yet he rushed and pushed his body to run up to you. He was practically battered with wounds and was on the verge of passing out. Before you can even reply to him in any way, you noticed how much he trembled as he held your arms in desperation, practically holding onto you as if the world was ending any minute. You were sure he was in no shape or form to respond right now, so you had no choice as you pulled up your phone and called your boss. The moment you mentioned that you found one of the missing person, There was sudden crash and movement on the other side as Roblox hung up on you. Seems like he'll be disturbing some other workers schedule, and soon enough there were a lot of other employees and even whole entire helicopters and other machinery that you didn't recognize off arrived as they pulled you away from 007n7, taking you both away for questioning. But of course, your interrogation was short compared to 007n7's and you were let go. It was a mess, but at this point seeing the amount of cameras and deconstruction going on.. Yeah you slipped away from everything, you couldn't be bothered to stay any longer.

It turns out, every single missing person was found that night. The others were found deep in the woods, as the forest was practically taken down to find every single one of them. They even started checking out every robloxian that was on the missing person list and making sure that nobody was left behind or forgotten. The case was solved, but not without problems. Some of them like 007n7 were greatly injured. then some of them gave weird behaviors that isn't usually like them back before they went missing like John Doe. The News rung loud on the Small TV that you owned before you turned it off, closing the door of your bedroom as you crashed down immediately onto your bed, not even bothering to take any of your work clothes off as you were too exhausted to care.. But none the less, whatever deity was listening to you heard your wishes, so that means you'll finally be able to rest, right?.. Maybe you should actually schedule a self-care day for yourself tomorrow. After all, you definitely deserved it.

As you stood infront of the facility that Roblox themselves quickly made for these 'survivors', you couldn't help but internally die a bit as you couldn't have been more wrong than ever. Turns out, being the person that found them will bring you to be the head lead on this new project, and now you'll need to figure out what the hell happened, especially considering how all of them to be in a terrible state after being found. If they weren't physically harmed, they were mentally fucked up thats for sure.

None the less, keeping your head high as you tapped the Identification Card at the scanner. It gave the green light, as the doors opened upon your entry. The moment you entered it seemed to be just a small room first, yet before you knew it your own face was blown by white mist, practically 'sanitizing' you before you actually come in the facility. They might as well purify your entire being with the amount of things that were being sprayed and blown onto you. It was an annoying surprise, yes. But when were you to decide and complain about the facilities made by Roblox themselves? You would practically loose your job if you ever spoke the words that you thought about in your head.

After being sanitized, you finally got into the actual facility. There were many faces that you didn't recognize, the other workers probably coming from other departments in the company. But then again, who were you to bother recognizing your co-workers faces when you don't even interact with them outside of work? Someone came up to you, bowing as they handed you a few folders before they took their leave. Wow, people here really didn't like talking. Oh well, that wasn't a problem you'll need to worry about. Looking through the folders, you realized that these contained the files of each missing person that you once experienced headache's on. One folder seemingly being the main folder as it told you the Instructions for the job and your objectives.

FILE 01 :

OBJECTIVES.

Find out what happened during the span of the 10 months of them being missing.

Check on their behaviors and health daily. Make sure their sanity and health is improving, not deteriorating.

Don't make bonds or relationships with the Robloxians while in confinement. Wait upon further instructions for interactions or when your presence is requested by them.

STATISTICS

Observe, Learn, and Investigate on the survivor's..

• SANITY

• BEHAVIOR

• HEALTH

• KNOWLEDGE ABOUT THE SITUATION

• ANY EVENTS THAT MAY HAPPEN DURING INTERACTION.

Made by Roblox™.

Well, even though it was explained in a simple and easy-to-understand way, you couldn't help but be uneasy about it. There were definitely some strict regulations when it comes to interacting with the missing robloxians, but it even applies to the Administrators that went missing along with them? You definitely needed to be careful, if your life isn't in the line then certainly your job is. Looking through the other folders, your eyes landed on a familiar name once more. 007n7, perhaps you can start with him considering you already met him last night.

Walking to the confinement rooms, you can notice from the window of the doors that each room was designed for the comfort of each person. You didn't bother looking yet though, as you made your way through the set of doors before your eyes landed on one. The Name Plate on top of the door stating 007n7. Putting out your ID as it was scanned, you were granted permission inside.

Walking inside, your greeted with a room that's seemingly the control room. In front was a bunch of buttons and switches you definitely shouldn't press and a Glass Panel on the wall. It seemed to be a one-way glass panel, seeing how 007n7 didn't react upon your entry. He was just staring at a wall, with that wall having frames of Him and a little red child. None the less, you went up to the control panel and sat on the chair, placing the rest of the folders you had on a place where it was far away from the buttons and switches. You didn't want to mess anything up when you haven't even started, that would be embarrassing and so not your style. Anyways, you should really stop with this inner monologue you have in your head, it makes you look AND sound crazy. you focused on 007n7's file folder, as there were many things to fill up on that's for sure. The only thing that was really filled up here was the Basic Information, such as 'Name', 'Height', 'Last Seen before Missing', type things like that. You adjusted the microphone to your liking first before you pressed the Mic button, enabling the microphone for 007n7 to hear.

"Hello, Can you hear me?"

Your voice rung out through the room, snapping 007n7 from his thoughts as he looked at the one-way glass panel. He recognized that voice from the night before, remembering how he saw a robloxian when he finally found a way out of the woods. Although he didn't heard much, when he was asking for help he could vaguely remember hear whispers of voice from that person as they called someone up, and then rescue finally arrived after that. It was no doubt that the person talking to him right now was the same person he met during that night.

"It's.. you-"

He stated, looking at the glass panel as he looked to be recalling the events that happened last night. You could only let out a sigh, scanning through his files as you thought about what to reply. It was only rational for you to interact with 007n7 first, considering you already met the guy. He was the safest individual to start off this whole entire fiasco with.

"Yes, it's me. How have you been feeling since last night?"

You said, Looking at him as you inspected his wounds. His wounds seemed to be patched up, but it was obvious it was still healing. After a moment of pause, the silence lingering in the air as 007n7 seemed to be thinking about his response before he finally replies..

"It's.. been fine. I-if I can ask, How long will we stay here?.."

007n7 stated, looking at the glass panel as he awaited your response. Although he couldn't actually see you, the way he stared at you felt like he could. As much as you like to answer his question, you didn't even know what to say yourself. And either way, it was forbidden to have any bonds during their confinement. You shouldn't get too comfortable with any of them.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that, nor can I give you the answer your hoping to look for if I did have an answer. I'd like your full cooperation at most for this meeting, consider it as compensation that you can give me for last night."

You stated, dying a bit with how formal you seemed to be right now. You really couldn't stand professionalism, even more so when you had to keep up an act like one. He seemingly contemplated what you said, a deal he can't really refuse considering his current circumstances. After all, if it weren't for you he wouldn't have been found along with the others, and he actually did something to help them after all this time.

"..It sounds reasonable enough."

007n7 said, seemingly finding the statement you said quite reasonable. You could've sworn you can give yourself a pat on the shoulder, but none the less you looked through the file that gave the instructions. There was a part of the file itself that had multiple sets of questions laid upon you. These were probably the questions you can only give, considering the earlier instructions before this. But the thing was you were only allowed to ask 3 questions of each survivor every day, and you weren't even sure why. What was even more interesting is the fact that there were a set of instructions that was telling you to record the interaction. As you yourself were provided with a record log to keep track of the events that will happen. This job is definitely asking a lot from you, and you weren't even sure what they saw in you. You would prefer to be in your bed more than anything at this point.

Either way, you didn't have a choice as you finally turned on the recording. After all, you couldn't proceed with the interrogation if you didn't do so. You might as well get over it so that you could leave early.

- Start for log record of 007n7. -

2025 / 10 / 18, 12:31:07

"What happened during the months you and the other survivors went missing?"

"We were transported to some otherworldly realm. We decided to name the times each survivor got transported in the realm as being Forsakened in the realm. We came at different times and some in different locations, but it was still all in the same realm. Some were.. unfortunate enough to get forsakened as something else entirely."

Although his voice was quiet and calm, there was a hint of turmoil inside his eyes. Yet he looked like he was used to it long ago, and it was frightening to think about to say the least. Noting down his response, you moved onto the next question.

"What did you do inside the realm itself?"

"..We were forced to play rounds of games that required us to turn on 3 to 5 generators in order to survive. There was someone.. no, something always after us everytime. And if we were unfortunate enough to get caught, we will be killed."

That last sentence made you freeze for a minute. What did he mean by killed? Was he trying to pull something? But his expression didn't give off any hints that he would be lying right now. Just what did they really experience in that realm?

"..Elaborate on that.-"

WARNING :

The question the interviewee provided wasn't in the list of questions, This will take up one question attempt. Please try again.

Thank you for your Cooperation.

The voice of an intercom stated out loud, both to you and 007n7. It hasn't even passed a minute yet, you didn't know why they would restrict the only way to gain access to information.

- End for log record of 007n7. -

To be damned with these strict regulations. The information you were given was a whole entire different situation, and these strict regulations were simply just holding you back from doing your job properly. You could only let out a frustrated sigh as you finished up your observation, looking at 007n7 as he looked confused. It seems like any questions that wasn't allowed to be asked wasn't detected on the mic. Especially noticing how the Microphone was suddenly disabled the moment you even muttered the first letter. You couldn't turn it back on either since you already used up three questions.. You could only grumble to yourself, seeing 007n7 in the other window as he stopped looking at the panel itself, looking back to the frames on the wall once more. He probably thought you left already considering the intercom stated the interrogation was done, and for some reason you can't help but feel bad for the poor lad. But what's done is done, you'll make sure to interact with him tomorrow to both check out how he's been doing and get more answers considering he's pretty compliant.

Picking up your files, you stood up and left quietly. After all, there wasn't really a use staying in that room if you couldn't talk to the man anymore. You weren't the one to complain about Roblox's set of rules, but sometimes these regulations suck ass. Going through your files, you landed on a familiar face. Guest 1337. If you were right this was the very Guest that fought during The Last Guest... Wasn't he supposed to be dead? At least presumed dead, since during the ultimate sacrifice his body was never found, so it was never confirmed if he actually perished during it. He looked sane enough to interact with, you'll probably be alright when you talk to him. You needed more information on what really happened after everything, because what 007n7 gave you wasn't enough for your undying curiousity.

As you exited the confinement room, you walked along the hallway as you were searching for Guest 1337's confinement. Along your way, you saw something move in your peripheral vision. What was that? your gaze looked at another door, looking at the nameplate on top of it. 'Two Time'. You remember their name that's for sure, as while you were dreading on your work last night you could recall looking at their missing poster that was on the entire mess you would call your office table. Something was moving inside that door, and you didn't know any other employees that could have access to this part of the facility either. None the less, you went near the door as you looked through the small window that was given at the upperhalf of the door. Nothing seemed to be inside though, was your mind fooling you? There was a part of you that wanted to explore further, but another part of you wanted to leave and move on. Curiosity kills the cat, but you only live once, don't you? Driven by your curiosity, you pressed your identification card on the scanner as you gained access through the door, stepping inside as you were greeted with the similar control panel like the ones in 007n7's confinement room. Although, the only difference was the room at the other side of the panel. The Room was pretty plain besides for the fact that some of the furniture or decor had the.. Checkpoint Symbol? No, they were called something else for sure but you didn't bother thinking about it. All you knew about that symbol was the times you participated in many Obstacle Course events during your youth, it always appeared when there was a dangerous and deadly obstacle coming up.

The more you examined the room, the more it looked like a shrine for it at this point. but you did recall about seeing some information about this said Two Time person being in a Cult or whatever during your work with the missing posters, so it somewhat made sense if that information were to be true. Wait... Speaking of the occupant of the said room, Nobody was in the room of the other panel. Before you can even react and call authorities about the sudden disappearance, a hand covered your mouth as you felt a sharp pain behind you. Someone had the audacity to fucking stab you. Before this said person made any more moves, you held a tight grip on the stack of files that you carried as you turned around and swung them at the one responsible for this, making sure you hit them right on the head. You grunted, feeling the pain in your back as the dagger was still and most definitely lodged behind you. Looking at the person, you could only stumble backwards as you tightened your grip on the files even further. Two Time can be seen on the floor, as they seemed to have stumbled upon the hit you just gave them. Although they didn't seem to look hurt though, they were smiling through out all of this as they seemed to actually be enjoying this...

"..The Spawn seemed to have blessed me with encountering such an Individual that's just... Like Him."

Two Time muttered out, looking at you with a wide smile. This person was definitely insane. Hell, even the way they look at you with such... Enthusiasm scared you. They recovered from your blow, standing up as they continued to look at you with such glee. They were unarmed right now, but that definitely doesn't mean they aren't dangerous anymore just yet.

"You almost have the same presence as him. It's almost nostalgic, really."

Two Time mentioned, still looking at you as their smile faltered. Leaving behind a blank expression as for a moment before they smiled again. Just what were they talking about? Who's Him?

"The Spawn has blessed us both to meet on this very day, and I, for one will be forever grateful about their mercy... Shall we thank them with a dance?"

Two Time stated, and before you could even react they took advantage of the opening laid upon them, as they shoved your files away from your hands, the said files scattering everywhere. They grabbed the Dagger that was lodged into your back, seemingly twisting it before pulling it off from you. You could only wince in pain, especially when this little shit decided to twist the dagger. Blood was on the very dagger as they took a moment to inspect it. You could've sworn their sick smile grew wider from it. Stumbling onto your feet, you grabbed your ID as you ditched the files, slamming your ID onto the scanner as the door opened before you as you ran out of the room. The door was about to close before a hand stopped it from closing, activating the sensor system as the doors opened again. You already knew who that individual was, so you shouldn't bother to look behind you. Although... The more you ran, the more you realized of the fact that you went the wrong way, as this was the way to the security room, not the exit to go to the main facility. Cursing yourself, you could only move forward as your own blood was dripping onto the floor. There were footsteps behind you, following you and with eyes that stalked your every move.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you slammed your ID on the scanner once more, opening the door to the security room as you made sure to shut the door. Relief washed over you for a minute, stumbling onto the ground as your wounded back leaned onto the control panel right behind you. Although the door to the Security Room didn't have a window, There was a camera outside of the door. You could only look at the screen as Two Time stood there menacingly outside the door... They couldn't possibly get in, right? After all, they needed access. An ID, which you had and they didn't. You'll be safe for the time being... Looking around the security room, you scanned for any items that can be used to defend yourself. Your eyes locked onto a gun, but the problem was it was locked behind a glass case, and you didn't have anything to break it. Nor did you know the code to the glass case itself, and you were too weak to break it with your bare hands. Cursing yourself, you stumbled back on our feet once more, glancing at the monitors that displayed different things. Each screen displayed each of the rooms that were in this very hallway, this was probably a seperate security room to the actual security room of the Facility, specifically made to monitor their behaviors. But one monitor caught your attention, the very screen that was monitoring the place outside of the room.

You could see Two Time seemingly kneeling, as they managed to pry out the scanner and looked to be connecting the wires of what's left with the scanner. Hell, how do they even learn how to do all of this? It even looked like this wasn't their first rodeo either. This place definitely wasn't safe anymore, and you needed to find a way to get out, fast. Looking at the control panel at your disposal, none of them looked like it can help you. Well, except for the big red button at the very top that even had a case on it. Without much thought, you opened the case and absolutely slammed your hand onto the button. There was nothing to loose, its either you die at this maniac's hands or your own stupidity. Who knows, maybe this said button was a self-destruct button.. or more reasonable, an alarm button. But you hoped for the first thought was right.

Alarms went off as the entrance to the confinement rooms opened up, it wasn't long before a set of guards raided into the area. Muffled Shouting can be heard outside, but you couldn't care much longer about it. Slumping back down onto your knees, your vision was starting to black out, your forehead pressed onto the control panel's side. You definitely lost too much blood, as you can feel the large wound that was inflicted upon you. Yes, it was only a stab at first but that damned Two Time twisted the dagger, making the damage even more impactful and painful to deal with. Hell, you could've sworn your own spine almost got crushed as well. As chaos ensued, you blocked all the noises away as you felt your body relax further and further. The last moments you can remember were that of something wrapping around your legs and arms, with black tentacles coming into your vision and wrapped itself around your eyes... As if ushering you to take the rest you deserved already. Although it was unfamiliar, it didn't feel threatening and soon enough, you found yourself going unconscious. Before you completely blacked out, you know one thing for sure... You were definitely gonna complain about this to the community board of the workplace after this.

???'s POV.

He could only scoff at the pathetic sight that was infront of him. But none the less, they were impressed on this individual's quick thinking skills during the whole entire mess that was made despite the overbearing irrationality that came along with it. But he knew whatever this individual pulled off will definitely rat out is disappearance for to his own room as well.

Looking up at this person as he raised their now unconscious body up. Seems like that freak managed to wound their back pretty badly. None the less, he looked back at the security feed before right back at this individual. As much as he hated individuals that were gullible and naive... Nobody deserved to have a similar fate like his. Much to his own dismay, they made use of the medicinal plants that was provided in his room that they took with them for safe measures, and started treating the wound this individual had on them. Making sure that he didn't cause the wound to get even worse as they took their time during the process. After all, there was no more reason to rush considering they'll be caught red handed anyways.

This individual definitely owes him big time after this, and he could only think about the possibilities that he can make with this oh so kind favor he's giving. Considering the fact that they could've used this time to escape and avoid the mess they have made. They'll find a way to escape this damned place another time. For now, he'll have to make do with the choices he made and plan this escape plan another time.

After a while, he finished up on the treatment. Right as soon as he finished, the doors to the Security Room was opened. Guns were pointed right at him yet the gazes that befell upon him were ones of fright. He doesn't blame them, after all, Who would love or appreciate a monster like him? Although he could easily wipe this whole entire team away, he knew the consequences of the action. Especially with how much information he found just by staying around this security room, he raised his hands as he was apprehended as well and lead back to his room for further questioning.

NOTES

Thank you all for waiting! This is a different fic from the Our Forsakened Destiny series because I wanted to experiment a bit on a different setting! Considering most fics take place in the realm and the reader seems to know about the fact everything is a game, etc, etc.. How about we make the reader actually be apart of the Robloxia as one of the employees of Roblox HQ working under Roblox type thing!! ( that was alot of roblox mentioned. )

I've seen all of your decisions, and I was definitely surprised on how close of a battle the other two choices had.. Hell, while i was even observing through out the time of the poll there were times were Truth was in the lead. But in the end, Silent won!

Its great to finally start writing again after a bit of a lengthy hiatus, so to celebrate this I will be opening my requests as well! If you have any ideas or things you guys want written feel free to send either an ask or request! Once again, Thank you for your everlasting patience and thank you for reading!

( could you tell I'm going through a desperate azure phase )

P.S... I'm not sure if this is a series I will continue though! I'll have to wait and decide for myself if I will actually make this another series compared to the one im working on rn

#forsaken #forsaken roblox x reader #forsaken x reader #roblox forsaken x reader #★ 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓼

213 notes · View notes

themsource · 1 month ago

Text

Stan's Mind and Stress

Thinking about Stan and how seemingly skilled he is with the mindscape business, and how Ford doesn't appear to be what with a reliance on a metal plate and project mentem to encrypt and hide thoughts from Bill, when Stan easily did that just by focusing on a paddleball during the final episode

What if Stan has such great control and awareness in his mindscape because of all the studying he did on theoretical physics every single night for thirty years, barely getting any sleep with how driven he was and became a lucid dreamer because of it to help accomplish his goal? What if he grasped learning so much because he used his mindscape to practice?

Maybe this is why he’s probably grumpy so much, other than the bitter loneliness, dude hasn’t had a good deep dreamless sleep in literal years. He’s all wrinkly and worn out because he put his body through so much stress and never gave it time to actually relax and recover. He’s been working on that portal nonstop since the night of the incident, so much so he became a mind wizard. And he never even got to relax from the stressful life he was living in the ten years before that too.

Ford may have gotten 12 PHDS and a homicidal muse plus 30 years of survival training, but Stanley got mind powers that even shocked Bill Cipher, given how Cipher reacts to Dipper’s knowledge of how the mindscape works during their fight when he can’t fathom anyone besides himself having told the kid in the first place. A legit ‘who have you been talking to?! only I should know that!’

Poor Stan was under so much duress for so long, his mind—rather than breaking, chose to evolve, I swear. He disassociated right into X-men territory. Because what do a lot of people do when faced with things they can’t handle? Daydream and escape. I bet he spent the first few weeks cat napping a lot before the food ran out what with all the frustration and struggle to understand Ford’s science jargon he was going through. Perfect mind training and escapism time to practice how physics does and doesn’t work and the science behind it when looked through a comparative lens of the real world vs dreams.

Think it just goes to show how rough Stan’s had it oof... and how powerful his ability to adapt and cope is.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #I keep thinking about what alex hirsch said #about how ford's a winner at life in all the ways that stan isn't #and I can't help thinking about the ways in which stan is #being a conman seemingly has it's perks #and they're called resourcefulness and cunning #...not to say that ford doesn't have those but yeah #m rambles

253 notes · View notes

azurefanfics · 6 days ago

Text

Collapse

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings/tags: Established relationship, explosions, graphic description of injuries/gore, slight disassociation, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: During an Arkham breakout, you’re tasked with evacuating a building that the Riddler has planted a bomb in. What happens when it all goes wrong?

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve written for the Batfam (and the first fic I’ve written in a LONG time). It’s basically just a non proofread, tropey, long self-indulgent mess that I chucked together because I’m a fiend for angst and love to make my man suffer. I have used a lot of creative license with the medical stuff and have just ignored the concept of realistic physics so please forgive me if it's not accurate at all!

—-

The night started out as a relatively peaceful one in Gotham. Although the two of you were normally Bludhaven birds - Nightwing and Nightingale - you had decided to spend some time in the manor following a mission gone wrong. Your husband had managed to make it out unscathed but you weren’t so lucky. He had managed to wriggle free from his bonds just too late to prevent you from receiving a nasty leg injury, which had left you benched for the last few weeks.

Dick had managed to get a couple of blows in - enough that the villain wouldn’t be a threat to the citizens of Bludhaven for a while - before the villain slipped from his grasp. But with the threat still out there, neither of you were happy with the prospect of Dick patrolling without backup whilst you were in your shared apartment injured, vulnerable and alone. The two of you had chosen to head to Gotham instead, where your beloved father-in-law welcomed you both with open arms, always happy to have more of his family under his roof.

Your husband was happy to be back in Gotham too - being in the same city made it much easier to bother his siblings. Although he visited very often, extended stays like this one were few and far between so he wanted to make the most of the opportunity to be an irritant in his sibling’s lives. Case in point - Dick was currently suspended upside down on the trapeze in the Batcave, swinging mindlessly back and forth whilst heckling his little brother below him.

“Jason. Jaybird. Jaaaaaaaay!”

Jason, to his credit, had been doing his utmost to ignore Dick’s existence since he’d stomped into the cave a few minutes prior, muttering something about ‘needing to borrow B’s shit to upgrade his gun’. He’d taken one glance at the mischievous gleam in Dick’s eyes and rolled his eyes, focusing on dismantling his gun instead of his older brother’s valiant attempts at getting on his nerves. That didn’t deter your husband though.

“Y/nnnnn” he whined, changing tactics.

“Yes, Dickie?” you respond, bemused. You love watching your husband like this - carefree and childish, doing what he loves surrounded by people that he loves - so you’d never hesitate to humour him.

“Jason’s so mean! I’m just gonna cry myself to sleep! He’s just ignoring me, its like he doesn’t even lo-”

“Am I gonna have to shoot you to get you to actually shut up?” Jason interrupted with no real heat behind his words, trying to disguise the touch of fondness in his voice with fake anger. Dick grinned in victory.

“Oh yeah? With what gun? What are you gonna do, throw a little spring at me?” he taunts, gesturing at the gun pieces scattered on the table. Jason snorts in response.

“You think I’ve only got one? I’ve got plenty to choose from, Dickface. I’d be happy to give you a demonstration."

Just as Jason started to reach for his duffel bag, the brothers’ bickering was interrupted by an alert from Oracle. The message was simple and to the point: ‘Arkham break out. All hands on deck.’

Jason cursed and turned to gather up his gear, meanwhile your husband scrambled to get down and suit up. Whilst you longed to do the same, Alfred still hadn’t cleared you to be back in the field as your leg wasn’t fully healed yet. Instead, you sighed and headed towards the Batcomputer, intending to join Alfred there and lend a hand. As your husband sped by, you quickly reached out to him.

“Be careful out there, love. Stay safe.”

“Always am, honey!” he responded with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” he said, more sincere this time. And with one last peck on the lips, he headed towards the locker room to suit up and join the fray.

You sit down at the secondary Batcomputer - a contingency for this exact situation - and place your comms in your in, switching it on. You’re greeted by Oracle’s familiar voice, sounding harried.

“Gale you’re online, good. There’s 3 major players out tonight - we’ve got the Joker in Amusement Mile, Scarecrow in the Bowery and the Riddler down in the Kubrick District. B and Robin ran into the Joker on patrol so they’ve engaged, but B has requested extraction for R. It's too dangerous for him. Scarecrow has released his toxin in a dangerous location - high population density, lots of weapons in the area, minimal gas masks available. Spoiler and Red Hood are en route. I’ve got N and Red Robin coming in from opposite ends of the city to get to the Riddler as well.”

“Ok. I assume Agent A is supporting B?” you asked. As you turned to see him nod, you spotted a lithe figure in black, followed by a bleary-eyed, sleep-ruffled Duke. The poor guy always seemed to get his sleep interrupted, especially when there was an all-hands call. “Signal and Black Bat are incoming. Black Bat can support B and Signal can head to the Bowery, but we need more hands there.”

“Agreed. Black Bat can lighten the pressure on B and allow Robin to slip away. Can you get him to the Bowery?”

“Yes. Can you get GCPD support as well? I can coordinate over there so you can focus on the Riddler.”

“On it.” Oracle responded.

For the next half hour you focused in on your job: getting Damian out of the clown’s line of fire, tracking down Scarecrow and sending Duke and Jason over to deal with him, coordinating Damian, Steph and the GCPD to get civilians to safety and passing on information to minimise the impact of the fear gas as much as you could. Everything was going well, with Jason and Duke in active combat with Scarecrow and Steph and Damian taking over coordination of the GCPD on the ground. It seemed like there wasn’t much left for you to do.

You had just switched over to open comms, ready to see if anyone else needed your support, when you heard a curse from Oracle.

“What happened?” you asked with urgency. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It seems like the Riddler’s been out for longer than we thought. He’s got bombs planted across the city.”

“Shit. They planned this.” you whisper, realisation sinking in. “How many are there?”

“4 - in Burnley, Coventry, the Fashion District and Chinatown.” Oracle lets out a huff of annoyance as she continues. “I’ve got the general areas down but there’s some kind of interference in the areas so I can’t pinpoint the locations. I need eyes on the ground.”

“The GCPD?”

“They’re stretched too thin. They won’t be able to cover all 4 locations and assist in the Bowery.”

You hummed in consideration. Although things were going relatively smoothly in the Bowery, that was heavily reliant on the manpower lent by the GCPD. Damian and Steph were great vigilantes, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once. While there were other officers in the city, a majority of the forces had been directed towards the Bowery, and those that weren’t were mostly around the GCPD headquarters.

“Tell them to focus on downtown. I’ll pull a couple officers from the Bowery and send them over to Burnley. As for Coventry, I’ll handle it.” you said, sending a quick message to Steph before you stood up to get changed.

“Miss Y/N!” Alfred said sharply in protest. “What about your leg?”

“Don’t worry Alfie.” You shot your pseudo grandfather figure a comforting smile. “I might not be ready for combat yet, but there won’t be any of that. People’s lives are at stake. I can still walk and run, I’ll be fine.” You appreciated his concern but you couldn’t stand idly by while civilians were in danger - that was why you became a vigilante in the first place. You were determined to go out there. Alfred must’ve seen it too, as he met your eyes and simply sighed.

“Be careful, Miss Y/N.”

“Always am, Alfie!” you respond, echoing your husband’s earlier words before heading to suit up.

Once you got to Coventry, it was relatively easy to locate the bomb. Although the interference was frustrating for Oracle, it acted almost a honing beacon for you, leading you straight there. By the time you had found the right building, your comms were useless, unable to get signal from the outside world.

The bomb was located in the basement of a large apartment complex, clearly having been placed there to maximise the number of civilian lives at risk. Although you would’ve preferred to deal with it right away, you knew your priority had to be evacuating and getting everyone in the building to safety. Without Oracle in your ear to warn you, you had no way of knowing when the building was about to come down and you couldn’t put lives at risk like that.

Instead, you ran back up to the building lobby and yanked down the nearest fire alarm you could find. A shrill piercing noise filled your ears and, although the sound was headache-inducing, you breathed a sigh of relief - people would start evacuating.

You watched as residents began to trickle out - slower than you would have liked, but this was Gotham so it was probably the third fire alarm they’d had that week. Even so, when they spotted you in the lobby, they began to move with more urgency. Although you were a Bludhaven vigilante, you started out in Gotham and still helped out there often enough that your costume and status as a Bat was well-known. If a Bat was here, it was serious.

You began directing them further away from the building, making sure that they were safely outside of any potential blast radius. You asked a couple of them to try and get in touch with the GCPD as soon as they were out of range of the interference. Although they wouldn’t be able to provide any assistance, they would at least be able to let Babs know that the evacuation was underway.

Eventually the flow of people slowed to a stop, but you knew your job was far from over. There was no telling how many people were still in the building, unwilling or unable to respond to the alarm. You had to go door to door to make sure that every last person was out.

Your suspicions were quickly proven to be correct as you wound your way up the building, coming across a number of individuals and families who were shocked to see you. Whether it was shock at the fire alarm being real or shock at having a Bat on their doorstep, you weren’t sure. Either way, they all quickly understood the gravity of the situation and made their way out of the building as fast as they could.

Since the fire alarm had automatically deactivated the elevator, there were a couple of residents with mobility issues whom you had to help get down the stairs as well. Usually this would be a simple task for any Bat-trained vigilante, but the combination of the extra weight and the stairs caused your leg to scream in protest. Even so, you were able to deliver them to a safe area outside where other residents were able to assist them, before turning back to continue the evacuation.

Eventually you made it to the top floor, escorting the last family struggling with their young children out with a request that they inform the GCPD that the building was clear. However, even having checked the building meticulously to make sure that every last person was out, you decided to do one last sweep of the building just in case. While it might not have been necessary, you would never forgive yourself if you left anyone behind.

Your leg was beginning to bother you more than you would have liked, so you ended up limping more than running through the hallways, shouting to alert any possible stragglers. Nevertheless, you were still hopeful that you could get the final sweep done quickly. Perhaps when you were done, you could go out and check on the civilians, try to get in touch with Oracle, and then head back in to finally disarm the bomb.

While you were limping your way down the hallway, making your way out as your check was complete, you were abruptly overcome with a sense of dread. Something was wrong. Something was-

A deafening, thunderous crash echoed out as vibrations shook through the entire building, sending you reeling. The whole world appeared to shake around you as your ears began to ring. Panic seized your chest as you lost your orientation, being thrown around like nothing more than a ragdoll. You were rendered completely powerless as the forces pushed through your body, tossing you in the air before gravity brought you right back down again.

Your body hit the cold concrete for a split second, before you felt the floor crumble beneath you. You watched as the ceiling above you began to cave in as well, raining down thick chunks of concrete and debris all around you.

Instinctually you reached out, scrabbling to find purchase anywhere as you hurtled through the air. Your fingers met cold metal and you quickly wrapped your fingers around it, closing your eyes and praying that it would be enough. You cried out as your arm was wrenched out of its socket, pain lacing through your body. But even still, you endured, desperately holding on to the piece of rebar that had become your salvation.

Unfortunately, your relief was short-lived. You shifted, attempting to pull yourself up to a more stable position, when a crack rang out above you. With a low groan and screech of metal scraping metal, the piece of concrete above you gave way, taking the piece of rebar with it. Within the blink of an eye, you found yourself falling once again. Your head collided with something mid-air, causing you to see stars as blood trickled down your temple. You almost wished it hit you harder so you would at least be unconscious for what was to come, but the universe was rarely so merciful.

Instead you felt it moment by agonising moment as something pierced through your abdomen, ripping through muscle and sinew, uncaring of the organs in its path as it tore through your body. For a second, there was nothing but your own heartbeat ringing in your ears as you reeled from the impact. You just hung there for a moment, held up by the piece of metal impaled through you, dimly aware of the thick, sticky liquid beginning to drip onto the floor.

You released a shaky exhale as reality began to sink in, and that’s when it hit you. A searing, white-hot pain erupted from your stomach as a scream tore from your throat. Fire crawled up every nerve ending in your body, eating you alive from the inside out. You writhed in agony, only worsening your injury, sobbing as your ears filled with static and black dots invaded your vision.

Eventually, you managed to battle back the black from your vision as you forced yourself to recall your training from Bruce - training you and your husband had gone over a thousand times. First - remain calm. You could feel your chest heaving as you drew in panting breaths, shaking hands pressed to your abdomen. Calm. You had to remain calm.

You closed your eyes and thought of your husband holding you tight, gently rocking you back and forth as he softly whispered in your ear, remaining steadfast in his support even on the worst nights of your life. You thought of your father-in-law Bruce, with his blunt words but oh-so-comforting hugs. Of Alfred and his cookies. Of Babs and her knowing smiles. Of Cass and her kind eyes. Of Jason and Tim and Steph and Duke and Damian - of every single member of the crazy vigilante family that had welcomed you and loved you as one of their own.

Unbidden, a tear slipped down your face. Unable to summon the strength to lift your hand and wipe it, you felt it drip down off your jaw, trailing across your body and onto the cold concrete below. You watched it mingle with the blood pooled below you with a detached sense of calm. On the bright side, at least your breathing was under control.

Oh. That’s right. Remaining calm - that was the first step. What was it that was next?

Observation - that was it. You had to take stock of the situation around you. Although you felt seconds away from floating away, from checking out of your brain completely and just leaving your body to deal with the pain, you wrestled back control of your limbs and forced yourself to focus on the next step. What could you see around you?

Looking at your surroundings, you could tell that you were largely encompassed by rubble on all sides. The space you were in was fairly big - about the size of a room in the manor - but was largely shrouded in darkness, making the details hard to see. However, cracks and gaps in the rubble above you did allow small streams of light to flow in, thankfully saving you from being in pitch darkness.

For a second, you were tempted to shout - to scream as loudly as your aching vocal chords would allow. Gaps meant sound could escape, that someone could hear you. But then you realised, nobody knew you were in here. Nobody was looking for you, searching to hear a voice calling out. Nobody was stupid enough to enter an empty, collapsing building on the off chance someone hadn’t got out. You were on your own. You were better off saving what little energy you had left to deal with the situation you were in.

Speaking of the ‘situation’, the first thing you saw when you looked down was the object that had punched straight through your body - it was a piece of rebar. How ironic. What you thought would be your saving grace had turned out to be your doom. Still, in a way you were lucky. The piece of rebar had arrested some of the momentum of falling, simply causing you to sink down further on the blood-slicked steel rather than become a smear on the floor. That hadn’t saved you from the falling debris though, as you could see that you were pinned down by a chunk of concrete over your left leg.

Looking at the metal again, you could tell that it wasn’t pointed straight up from the ground, pointing at a 50 or 60 degree angle instead. Rather than a simple puncture wound, the piece of steel had created a messy tear, leaving a gaping hole in your stomach. Ah. So that’s why you were bleeding so much.

Your mind started reeling as you began to comprehend the full extent of the situation you were in. You gave yourself a second to panic - to despair as you recognised how low your odds of survival were, before forcing yourself to set your emotions aside and think logically. How could you even begin to get out of this? That was the next thing you needed to do: make a plan.

Since nobody knew to look for you, you had to make yourself visible to someone who could help you. You had to get out of there.

The first thing you had to do was pull yourself off the piece of metal that was skewered through you. With the angle of the steel leaving no clean entry or exit wound, there was no point in keeping the object in the wound anyway. You were going to bleed out either way, especially with no guarantee of help on the way. To be honest, at the rate you were losing blood, you weren’t sure if you were even going to make it that far, but you didn’t allow yourself to think about that. You could only allow yourself to focus on the next step, the task right in front of you.

What you needed to focus on was freeing your leg from the piece of concrete that was pinning you down, trapping you in place. You gave the chunk a rough kick with your good leg, causing sparks of pain to shoot from your leg and your stomach in unison. Bile rose up in your throat as stars danced in your vision.

You steeled yourself for what was to come. You needed to do this, it was the only way out. You closed your eyes tightly and kicked out again, putting as much power behind it as you could muster. This time when the kick connected, you felt the chunk shift, allowing you to pull your leg free despite the excruciating feeling of the rebar being driven further into your body. You breathed and breathed and breathed, praying for the pain to pass.

Eventually, you had recovered enough to realise that you could barely feel your leg at all. That should have been alarming, but honestly it was a welcome change since fiery hot pain was emanating from every other part of your body. Your head felt heavy and dizziness set in as you shifted in an attempt to get a better look at it. It was purpling and swollen, bleeding from a deep gash, with numerous smaller cuts littered across it. At your ankle there was a large lump, and where the skin had split you could see a hint of silvery white underneath. Your whole leg looked like a mess, and honestly you doubted that you would be able to stand on it at all.

Even still, you gritted your teeth and forced it to bear your weight for even just a second. It was just enough for you to wrap your hands around the sticky, crimson-dyed steel and haul yourself forwards, pulling yourself off the piece of metal that had pierced through you. You stood upright for just an instant before you felt yourself listing, tipping forward to meet the ground. Black filled your vision as you crumpled into a heap, concrete and dust pressed against your face as your blood dripped between the fingers of your hand that was tightly pressed against your abdomen.

You didn’t know how long it had been - long enough for blood to have begun pooling on the floor - before your vision returned and you finally found the strength to lift your head.

Amongst the darkness, you were able to see a bright spot of light in front of you - a way out! It wasn’t far - maybe about 10 metres - but in your state it may as well have been 10 miles. You attempted to push yourself up onto your feet, but your leg gave way beneath you almost instantly. You had no hope of getting out of there like that. Finding yourself on the floor once again, you resigned yourself to crawling over instead.

You moved slowly on your stomach, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the concrete, nails of the hand on your good arm scraping across the floor with a primal desperation to drive yourself forwards. Your body was singing in agony as you felt each movement scrape dust and debris into the open wound of your stomach and grind your arm bone against its empty socket. Despite the pain tormenting your body, you were still able to continue on, moving inch by torturous inch, ever closer to your escape.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, you were able to reach the gap in the rubble. You had just started to pull yourself through when the ringing in your skull got more insistent, black invading the edges of your vision. Despite your best efforts to push on, you found that your body refused to listen, refused to move another inch. It had finally become all too much and your body had begun to shut down, just close enough to salvation for the adrenaline to wear off.

You prayed that your efforts would be enough as you finally surrendered to the darkness.

—-

Dick was frustrated.

It was a mistake - a calculated risk that hadn’t worked out in their favour, that had allowed the Riddler to slip out of their grasp just long enough to detonate the bombs he had planted. Although they had got him back under their custody quickly, it was just a moment too late, so he and Tim were left waiting with bated breath to hear what their mistake had cost Gotham. Last they’d heard, the bombs had been located and evacuation efforts were underway. That had been a while ago, so they were cautiously optimistic, but you never know in Gotham.

“N. RR. We’ve heard back from the GCPD about the extent of the damage”. Babs’ voice rung out through their comms, putting them out of their misery. “3 of the 4 bombs were successfully disarmed. The 4th was located in an apartment complex that was confirmed to be clear of civilians.”

While it was upsetting that so many people lost their homes because of him, it was great to hear that the evacuation was complete. Dick wanted so badly to breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but something in the way she spoke made him hesitate. It was cold and toneless, focused on delivering facts only. It was the voice she used when she was forced to compartmentalise.

“O?” he asked, prompting her to go on.

“Nightingale was the one evacuating the building” she started, as distress began to leak into her voice. “We don’t know if she was clear of the explosion. She hasn’t checked in yet. There was-”

Dick stopped listening at this point, sucking in a sharp breath to try and clear the buzzing in his ears, to try and focus on anything but the dread that filled his body from head to toe. Why were you even there? You should have been resting in the manor with Alfred instead of bearing the consequences of his own stupidity. His mind spiralled with worst case scenarios and what ifs, as a pit settled in his stomach.

No! Catastrophising wouldn’t help the situation. You were a vigilante, you were a Bat - you’d faced worse odds than this before. He had to pull himself together and focus on the next step in front of him.

He took a restrained Riddler and shoved him towards Red Robin, trusting his little brother to deal with the villain while he took quick strides towards his motorcycle. He had to get to the bomb site. If he were lucky, you’d greet him with a smile and he could help lighten your load in dealing with the aftermath. If not, then he had to find you.

When he finally pulled up to the site, having broken multiple traffic laws to get there as soon as possible, he began searching the crowd for you. He looked around desperately for the flash of blue of your costume, but couldn’t spot it in the packed crowd. Damn the whole family for prioritising stealth. He was about to continue weaving his way through the crowd when he was stopped by a young woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. It was times like this that he regretted his reputation as the friendly, approachable Bat, but he knew that you’d want him to stop and help.

He did his best to hide his desperation to get back to his search and plastered on a fake smile, greeting the woman.

“How can I help?”

“Nightwing!” the woman responded. “I think Nightingale might still be in the building! She helped us all get out but I haven’t seen her since and I think she might have headed back inside. I wanted to tell someone but there was no one to talk to and I left my phone inside but now you’re here and you can find her. Thank god!” the woman started rambling, panic lacing her voice.

Nightwing, for his part, had closed his eyes, fighting to regulate his breathing. There it was. The worst case scenario he had been steadfastly ignoring, all spelled out in front of him. Terror filled his body, sunk into his bones and left his knees weak. He wished he didn’t have to be strong right now. He wished he could fall apart like he so desperately wanted to, that you would be there to hold him close and help him pick up the pieces like you always did.

But he couldn’t afford to do that, not with your life on the line. Instead, he offers the woman a curt nod of thanks - too preoccupied to be more polite - before spinning on his heel and breaking into a run in the direction of the destroyed building. His eyes scanned the wreckage from afar, looking for any sign of you. He braced himself for the worst, but focused on the flicker of hope in his chest that was the only thing still driving him onwards in that moment. Either way, he promised himself that he would bring you home.

With no sign of you visible as he came to a stop in front of the pile of rubble, he began wading in to search more thoroughly, careful not to shift the piles of rubble too much just in case.

Eventually, after what felt like hours (but was probably more like a couple of minutes) of being alone with nothing but piles of concrete and his own anxious thoughts, he saw it. Peeking out through a gap in the rubble, there was a gloved hand with a stripe of blue running up the fingers. An homage to one of his worst looks, you had joked when you first revealed your new suit to him. Although he had acted offended at the time, he was now astonishingly grateful for the pop of colour allowing you to be visible amongst the wreckage.

He raced over and dropped down to his knees in front of you, forcing himself to compartmentalise his own anguish and assess the situation. You were laid out on your front, arm outstretched into the light while your body remained bathed in darkness from the rubble. From where he stood, he couldn’t see much but he did manage to make out enough to tell that you were breathing. Laboured, shallow breathing, but breathing nonetheless.

The relief was dizzying. His eyes drank in your beautiful features, thankful beyond measure to just be seeing you once again. Although some of your face was covered by your domino, he could see that it was twisted in pain. Right. He had to focus on the task at hand.

His first priority was to get you out of there. Despite beginning to crawl through the gap in the rubble, almost all of your body was still under concrete. If anything shifted or gave way above you then you would be in serious danger. Luckily, it seemed like there was enough space to pull you through without any trouble. Dick managed to hook his hands underneath your armpits and began pulling you out.

To his horror, the drag of your body left behind a wet, red smear on the ground. As you were pulled further into the light, the true extent of your injuries became clear. He paled as he observed the mess of your abdomen, cursing as he flipped you over to reveal the exit wound. He was able to spot a number of other injuries as well - a gash on the leg with signs of a crush injury, as well as a dislocated shoulder that his pulling had probably aggravated - but the most pressing issue was the gaping hole in your abdomen.

He began to apply pressure on the wound, desperate to keep as much of your precious lifeblood inside your body as he possibly could, while propping your legs up on a piece of concrete to elevate them. He tried desperately to control the jackrabbit of his heart as he reached his trembling fingers into his pouch, with one hand still applying pressure on the wound.

He quickly found the supplies he needed and pulled out his emergency trauma dressings, ripping the packet open with his teeth before pressing them to your abdomen. He applied heavy pressure, only distantly registering concern that you were completely unresponsive, despite the fact that it must’ve been extremely painful for you.

After a few minutes of applying pressure and more dressings, he was finally able to get the bleeding under control enough to be able to bring out the trauma compression bandages. He wrapped them around you briskly, pulling them tight to ensure that they were applying enough pressure on the injury.

With your wound finally somewhat stabilised, he was able to pull back and assess your other injuries. Something felt off to him as he mentally triaged your injuries. Your shoulder and leg needed treatment, but that could wait until you were back in the Batcave. He mentally winced in sympathy, remembering how you were sick of being benched and couldn’t wait to get back in the field - that certainly wouldn’t be happening any time soon after this.

It was only then as his eyes raked over your body methodically, cataloguing every detail in his mind, that he realised what was wrong. Your chest was no longer rising and falling. His blood ran cold as he rushed to press two fingers to your neck. Nothing. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! He cursed his own stupidity and lack of observation - how long had you been like this? What if he was too late? Why was he always too late….

In that moment, he felt like he was moving through molasses, each second stretching out to an agonising eternity as he struggled to move, to act. He crashed to his knees at your side, placing the heel of his clasped hands at your breastbone and pressing down firmly with his body weight. He had to get your heart pumping, had to do something to resuscitate you. Desperation filled his body - he was so close to getting you out of there. So close to wrapping you up in his arms and whisking you back to the manor. But instead here he was on a cold Gotham night, hands covered in your blood as he prayed to whatever deities that would listen for the chance to see your beautiful eyes open once again.

As he continued on with his chest compressions at a steady pace, he felt the sickening crack of something giving way beneath him. Fuck. He had never hated himself more than in that moment. This was all his fault. He wished beyond anything that he could swap places with you right now - that he could take all of your pain and suffering on himself and save you from it. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything. And now he can’t even do the one thing he needed to do to keep you alive without hurting you!

He pushed down the wave of nausea that threatened to swallow him whole and instead tilted your head back, pinched your nose and blew firmly into your mouth. He had to focus and keep going. He can’t allow himself to fail. He won’t. It will destroy him utterly if he does.

“-t’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 3 minutes out. You’re doing so well. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 2 minutes-”

Just as he was beginning to falter, as doubt began to creep into his mind, he tuned in to a voice over his comms, low, steady and soothing. He didn’t know how long he’d been blocking out the voices for, but from the rasp of the voice it was clear that Batman had been repeating the same words for a while now, trying his best to provide meagre comfort as his son's life fell apart on the other end of the line.

Clearly, whatever had been blocking Oracle’s signal earlier had been destroyed in the blast, and she had been providing updates to the other Bats, even as Nightwing failed to respond to her words. The idea of her being witness to all of his failures tonight - failures that could cost you your life - made bile rise up in his throat. Maybe if he had actually been listening, he could have got to you sooner.

He shook his head and refocused on his chest compressions, even as his strength faltered. He couldn’t afford to be distracted or tired. He had to hold out a little bit longer - just 2 minutes, Batman had said. He could do that. With your life on the line, he would do it a thousand times over if he had to.

Even still, when the lights of the Batmobile pulled up beside him, he almost broke down in relief. Holding back a sob, he called out for Batman and when the black cloaked figure made it to your side, he finally allowed himself to collapse and shatter completely. His dad was here. His dad would save the day.

—-

You rose to awareness slowly, reaching through the fuzzy haze to pull yourself to consciousness. The first thing you registered was a faint monotonous beep followed by the woosh of pumping air. Feeling the weight of an oxygen mask on your face, you heaved in a deep breath - what felt like the first one you’d been able to take since the explosion - and finally eased your eyes open.

You stared up at cold, damp rock which stretched far above your head. You were in the Batcave then - in the medical area, presumably. Glancing down, you saw the extent of it all.

Tubes came out of your hands, your arms, your thighs, seemingly everywhere. Down on your leg you saw a row of neat stitches, caged in by metal pins which snaked around your entire lower leg. You were covered in more bandages than you thought were possible - stark white criss-crossed across your entire centre and yet more white was wrapped around your arm, while a sling held your shoulder securely in place. You reached your good arm up to feel the stitches on the side of your head, wincing as they felt tender under your touch.

At the first sign of movement, Dick bolted upright from where he was sat, hunched over at your bedside. He drank in your presence greedily, as if trying to convince himself that you were real, and not simply a cruel trick of his mind.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling, love?”

You paused to take stock of your body for a moment. By all means, you felt better than you had any right to feel. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing like the chorus of agony that you expected to be met with. It was probably because Bruce kept the Batcave stocked with the good stuff - that would explain the faint floaty feeling that you couldn’t shake off.

You unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth, wetting your lips before responding.

“Feelin’ great! How’re you doin’ tho?” You asked, offering him a smile as best you could behind the oxygen mask. Although your words slurred, the sentiment behind them was sincere.

Dick looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days - perhaps he hadn’t. Even when he knew he would be in the way, he found it difficult to tear himself from your bedside from the moment you had got back to the Batcave, he couldn’t bear it. Thank god for the Batcave being just as stocked as Gotham General - there would be no way to ensure your identity was safe in the hospital so he was thankful you could be treated at home. That also had the added bonus of him being able to stay by your side the whole time, rather than being constrained to visiting hours. However, that naturally meant that he hadn’t got much sleep over the last few days, aside from a couple naps in the chair he was currently sat in.

Instead, he watched on anxiously as Alfred, Leslie and Bruce had worked tirelessly to save you. They had burned through their entire stock of blood in the Batcave trying to get your heart pumping again, and even then it wasn’t enough. Luckily, Dick was a compatible blood type and, desperate to help in some way, he had jumped at the opportunity to give up his blood for you.

Whilst the two of you were hooked up together through an iv, the eldest three continued their work to get your stabilised. At one point, you had even needed intubation as your lungs failed you. The three of them worked hard to examine and stitch and mend until they were finally able to pull you back together in one piece.

Dick let out a shaky exhale as he finally received irrefutable proof that you were alive, that you were going to recover.

The tension that had him wound up like a spring the last few days, had him replaying every last moment in his head, had finally released and he collapsed back into his chair like a puppet with its strings cut. Your blood had haunted him these past few days. It clung to his skin even as he scrubbed himself clean over and over. But finally, seeing you whole and on the road to recovery, he felt his sins wash away in the wake of your smile

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” he said quickly, before wincing at how short he was being with you. He never wanted to take his turmoil out on you. “Careful-”

At his tone, you began to ease yourself upright in bed to get a better look at him, suppressing a gasp of pain as your abdomen tugged in protest.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your eyes searching his for any hint of how he’s feeling.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” he started, a note of hysteria creeping into his tone as he fought without success to reign his emotions back in. “You’re here, stuck in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault! You’ve been out for days - we weren’t sure if you would ever wake up. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bury another loved one - couldn’t bury you. I just- I almost lost you, and it’s all because of me! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he sobbed.

“Shh Dickie, love, it’s ok. I’m alive.” you cooed comfortingly. “Why on earth would you think that it’s your fault?”

“I was in charge of dealing with the Riddler - it was my responsibility. I was the one who took the risk that let him escape and detonate the bombs. And when I came to find you, I was almost too late - your heart stopped and you could’ve died all because of me. I screwed up, and you got hurt because of it.” he muttered miserably.

Instead of responding, you shifted over to the side and patted the space next to you, knowing that your husband needed more than just words to snap out of his spiral.

“C’mere.” You invited your husband up on the bed, and watched as yearning and concern warred over his features. Your husband had always been a tactile person, and you knew that it was exactly what he was in desperate need of in that moment.

“I can’t! You’re hurt! I don’t want-”

“It’ll hurt me more if I can’t hold you right now. Just get over here.” You cut him off, knowing that it was something he so desperately wanted and needed, despite his protests.

At your insistence he sighed, recognising a losing battle when he saw it, and carefully clambered up onto the bed. You wasted no time in wrapping your arm around him cautiously, making sure that none of the tubes or wires were tugged. You wished you could lay his head on your chest, but with your other arm in the way you simply settled for making sure that the pulse point at your wrist was free for him if he needed reassurance. You did your best to one-handedly wipe his tears as he sobbed into you.

“Shhh, listen to me for a second, ok honey?

The Riddler did this to me, not you. He is responsible for his own actions and the consequences of them. You don’t need to martyr yourself - and I know you were doing that - over this. Let the blame sit with the person who is responsible, no-one else. You did your best with the information available to you.

More importantly, you saved my life. You came when no-one else knew to. You looked after me and got me back here and kept me alive. That is worth so much more than whatever mistake you blame yourself for. None of us blame you for that mistake, but I am so incredibly thankful for everything that you’ve done to save me. I just need you to know that.”

You desperately hoped that he would take your words to heart - that he would stop taking on the weight of the world on his own two shoulders. At his wet sniffle you continued:

“The last few days must’ve been so hard for you, right? Thank you for saving me, for pushing through even though it must’ve been horrible for you. You don’t have to be strong anymore, you can let it all out. I’m here.”

You knew your husband’s tendency to set aside his emotional needs in the face of any mission or duty, and you needed him to know that it was ok to fall apart - that you would be there to catch him. Something anxious in your chest loosened just a fraction when you felt him lean into your shoulder, tears dampening your neck as shudders wracked his body. The thought of him bearing that burden all on his own for so long made your heart ache. You wished you could wrap yourself around him and rock him back and forth, but you settled on nuzzling your head into his and whispering soft reassurances whenever you could.

Dick, for his part, was clinging onto you like you were his lifeline. Even when facing the storm of his emotions, you were his anchor - the lighthouse to guide him home. He was so immensely grateful that you were here, whole and in one piece. But he was also so, so tired - filled with a bone-deep weariness from trying desperately to hold himself together for so long, for his family’s sake, your sake and his own sake. Finally given the chance for catharsis, he felt himself fully fall apart under your watchful protection.

As his tears slowed to a stop, he was filled with a rush of affection and gratefulness. He would never stop being in awe of you. Even though you were the one in the hospital bed, the one with your life clinging to your lips just days before, still hopped up on all manner of painkillers, you still found the strength to be there for him and comfort him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you but he was immeasurably thankful to have you in his life.

He shifted to wrap his own arms around you - careful not to disturb your injuries - and kissed the side of your head, whispering into your ear.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for being alive. Thank you for always being there for me and looking after me, even though you must be hurting as well. I love you so so much.”

“I love you too.” you replied, heart feeling so full that it could burst, before snuggling down deeper into his arms.

Even as your in-laws trickled into the room, bringing with them well-wishes, laughter and joy, Dick simply stayed by your side, holding you close and silently vowing that he would always be there to look after you and protect you from ever being hurt like this again.

150 notes · View notes

jazzyblusnowflake · 5 months ago

Note

(If this was asked before, I swear to god.) FullCompany (NUziVJ) Headcannons?

aaaaaaaaa time to write once more- i missed being able to type away like the lil shit i am-

anyhow- okay lets see- gonna add some things here- tbh my ideas was mostly for Jenvy ideas mainly- but i guess ill fit Uzi in there lol

Some JeNVUzi HCs:

[once again- Drone au only, and maybe minor suggestive content but not nsfw]

The polycule is essentially formed around Uzi pulling them back together-

J's original reason for siding with Cyn which was rooted in fear- was on the basis that she still had her team on her side so she could keep them safe and so theyd have eachother to rely on even after Cyn destroys everything. she did not however, account for Uzi coming along and messing everything up and ruining her team's alignment while she was "dead".

the entire reason J tried to kill N or V at any time was cuz she knew a clone of them would be sent back anyway- she has basically become desensitized towards death in general given she had also died around 12 times herself [canon]- V and N try to help her through this- during which they also deal with Vs behavior and Ns trauma too.

to communicate with J they often had to spar with her- seeing as she hated talking about feelings- but this became their own thing they all did afterwards to unwind and communicate- as J opened up a lot easier after feeling like she was reached out to.

Uzi and J bond over anime and gaming- the latter being somewhere J could actually use her anger on more effectively XD

they all like reading books every now and then where one would read and the others snuggle or cuddle- they take turns. [this is from their manor days]

J is... unable to emote or show emotion easily and it eats her alive. she can't show the appropriate needed emotion to the mood of the room and it makes her have breakdowns- occasionally throw up- as though you are desperately trying to cry but the tears wont come so you try heaving it out- make yourself fit in and look normal by trying to FEEL something- but she cant. J is a dated business model drone- custom made for office work- she was made to be this way- Cyn didn't change her- and she grows to hate herself for it. so when a situation happens that she doesn't know how to react, she leaves or hides- until N,V or Uzi find her- usually disassociating or somewhat catatonic.

Uzi occasionally feels out of place with the group, as though she's just being a literal 4th wheel, since they have history together. the others try to show her that she is important to them each in their own ways-

addressing the elephant in the room- yes, it took a long time for N and J to come to terms with eachother- J eventually accepting that her original reason for hating N [him being better than her or preferred over her esp by Tessa] wasn't important anymore- and tries to appreciate him and V and Uzi more in whatever is left of her life.

make no mistake V and J are still very much bitchy on a surface level- just cuz they are all growing close does not mean they are all now lovey dovey with eachother or sweet and character-redemption-ed with everyone around them. therefore: "playful catfights" >:3 !

V and Uzi tease J alot- this is one of the reasons why J found more comfort with N- not gonna tell him to his face tho lol.

J teaches N to draw better and they bond over that alot-

Uzi and J like attention alot- and they wanna get it by being as wordless as possible- very cat coded.

Uzi, V and N like to drag J into doing more normal things that have less to do with work. so far J has mostly shown some interest in writing and maybe poetry but she WILL shoot your head off if you try to read her stuff-

J's first kiss was with Uzi- N and V having kissed once back at the manor being eachothers first kiss. J thinks V kisses the best tho lol.

N and V like to cuddle a lot- J and Uzi are usually dependent on mood-

V likes to bite- J likes to be bitten, N and Uzi like both- :3

J likes playing with N and Uzi's fluffy hair. V only lets N touch her hair.

during intimate cuddles- J has passed out the most lol. Uzi following a close second lol-

Uzi and J yap alot about tech work-

hmm this is all i can think about for NOW-

:"3

#snowballflo #snow rambles #murder drones #fullcompany #nuzivj #jenvuzi #can i tag them all here?#idk #nuzi #vuzi #juzi #envy #yeah i dont feel like doing the rest #uzi doorman #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j

200 notes · View notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 26 days ago

Note

"Where do you think Harry would live after the war? I personally think he would stay at the Burrow for a while, but I can also see him coming back to Grimmauld Place. I know Harry sees the Weasleys as family, but I doubt he'd want to live there long-term. Harry's an introvert, and the Burrow isn’t the best place for someone who needs time alone. But yeah, it’s my headcanon, so I’m curious about your opinion on this."

I really like the idea of Harry returning to Grimmauld Place, though, I don't think it'll be immediately.

The first night after Voldemort is dead, he sleeps in his bed in Gryffindor Tower:

he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the fourposter bead lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there

(DH)

He might stay in Hogwarts for a bit to help out McGonagall and the others. While they're going through the bodies, preparing burials, until Mrs. Weasley insists it's bad for him, and he should come stay at the Burrow with them.

I actually think Harry would decline because I'm not sure how comfortable he'd feel there right after Fred died. How he could sit there, having died and came back, but Fred just died. He didn't come back. And, I don't think most of the Weasleys would really think it's Harry's fault, but, there will be some tension there. Like, I think Harry would feel really awkward about the whole thing and like when he's upset early in DH and in OotP, he'd want to be alone.

Harry tends to go quite and isolate himself when upset, so I see him finding himself back at Grimmauld with Kreacher, secluding himself from everyone for a bit and disassociating like early in OotP:

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)

Or after Ron left in DH:

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)

Hary, when upset and depressed, tends to just, shut down. So I can see him going into this state in Grimmauld Place for a bit early after the war. (Except for a few visits to Andromeda and Teddy, since I think he'd take his godfather role very seriously).

That is until Ron and Hermione drop by to drag him to dinner at the Burrow.

During this first time at the Burrow is when Ginny probably corners him about their relationship, how that goes depends on what AU/ship you're writing. But even in canon (with the epilogue), I'm not sure how quickly they get back together. I mean, Ginny still goes back to Hogwarts and Harry would try to find his footing in his life, so, it's up to the writer.

Anyway, I think Harry is more likely to stay most of the time at Grimmauld Place but stop by the Burrow often enough in the year after the end of the war (after that first lunch/dinner Ron and Hermione drag him to).

This guy is going to use Sirius' bedroom again (like in DH) like the traumatized mess that he is.

Now, the question is, where is Teddy in this time?

We know during the battle he's with Andromeda, and I think Harry is going to take his godfather responsibility super seriously, as I mentioned. Harry doesn't trust adults in general, so I think, initially, he wouldn't really know what to think of Andromeda, so I think he'd be more inclined to visit her and Teddy before going to the Burrow — he feels responsible for Teddy and guilty over Fred. And Andromeda I think would feel familiar to him. I think she has the same arrogance as Sirius, she carrys a similar pain to Harry — she, too, lost everyone. They both only have Teddy.

(Yes, Harry has the Weasleys, and as much as he loves them and appreciates how Molly tries to make him feel included, I don't think he really feels like he belongs, yk?

The aftermath of Fred's death shows this well:

The Great Hall seemed to fly away, become smaller, shrink, as Harry reeled backward from the doorway. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Fred might never have died. . .

(DH)

And after the war, he skips Ginny and Molly to get to Ron and Hermione:

He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. [...] Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved most.

(DH)

Ron and Hermione are the closest to family for Harry, not all the Weasleys. When he wants to reunite with family, it's Ron and Hermione, not Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. (And Luna earlier, but that's because she is comforting to him in general, but he doesn't see her the way he does Ron and Hermione))

Eventually, though, he'd probably move out of Grimmauld and to a different place of his own. With who and when is more up to personal headcanon and whether you consider the epilogue canon or not.

#harry potter #hp #hollowedtheory #asks #anonymous #harry james potter #post dh #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon #hollowedheadcanon #harry potter epilogue

75 notes · View notes

avifaunaa · 2 months ago

Text

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ pt.4 ]

Authors Note: my head hurts and it is not because rio is holding a gun to it. i was not entirely happy with how this turned out so pleaaaase be gentle. did i forget anyone in the taglist? i hope not.

MORE useless facts? More likely than you think:

Elvis Presley had his first song released on the radio in July of 1954 but he himself wouldn't reach popularity and fame until 1956

Adding to this -- he was considered a bad influence to the teenage youth of the time because his genre of music was Rock'N'Roll which most of white society believed to be "devil's music" and had extreme racist connotations to it.

The fifties was full of wackie things but some of my favorites include their slang. It actually wasn’t too entirely far off from modern day slang and we still use some of it [ example 1: a popular girl / woman in the fifties could have been called a queen in slang — we use this term today to describe anyone in general who we hold in high regard or who has a certain aspect of note ] [ examples 2: ankle-biter was used to describe small children, and dreamboats were used to describe cute guys, and “what’s the big deal?” was asked in place of, “who cares, man?” lol ]

Reader is notably pointed out to be somewhat terrified at being caught with Rio and it’s mentioned that their reputations and lives could be ruined. This was entirely too true, but it was also very unfortunately illegal to be homosexual in the United States during their flashbacks and was extremely tricky in theCivil Rights world. The Lavender Scare prevented [ suspected ] homosexuals from working for the federal government when it was enacted in 1953. It took years to unravel this mess and it wasn’t until 2003 when Lawerence v. Texas ruled that the “homosexual conduct” law was unconstitutional and therefore decriminalizes homosexuality in general and helps create a new stepping stone into legalizing gay marriages. The LGBTQIA+ laws have always been finicky in the U.S.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE | PART SIX

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Life becomes something you know longer had control over in your small enclosure in which Rio kept you. She seems to be hovering more and leaving you alone less, adding to your lowered temper and a heightened protectiveness she can't reign in. Her lack of watchfulness catches the eye of someone who seeks out Death for themselves . . .

Content Warnings: Still dark, that will not be changing soon -- flashbacks that contain period-typical homophobia and views on gender-norms, threats of violence [ rio receiving, as always ], misuse of magic [ rio ], manipulation, disassociation [ reader ], PREGNANCY and symptoms associated w/ it: morning sickness, cravings , fatigue, etc. [ r ], forced housewifeism[?] [ reader ], possessive behavior, more intense Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con bordering on non-con [ r!receiving ], fingering [ r!receving ], first time lesbian sex, rio using sex and r's naivety to avoid being called out lmao, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES

Word Count: ~6.3k

1954

The kiss was everything you've ever wanted and nothing you should ever have thought about in the first place. Rio had promised nobody could have seen it, the way she held you so gently with softer hands than any man could ever have.

But even when you both exited the Ferris Wheel ride at a proper distance, you could not help but glance around with paranoia buzzing around your brain. What if even one person saw? Westview was large enough to not know everyone but small enough to know enough people that gossip and news would cause a deep rift.

Nobody was looking at either of you -- or acting as though there had been a whisper of what you had just done in that car where the stars were your only judges.

Your lips still had a tingle to them and there was a taste that remained in your mouth -- one you knew would be remembered for the rest of your life. It was wild and free and so Rio and that is why it was so wrong.

The bustling of the fair soon became background noise as the two of you and many other patrons were making your way out of the fairgrounds toward the fields where Rio's car was. You held your duck prize in your arms -- the only other witness to your damning kiss.

You could feel her eyes on you during the trek to the car, a weight you would not address until you were inside and away from overhearing ears and busybodies that had nothing but snooping to fill their time.

Rio opened your door for you and waited stubbornly until you got inside. She smiled sweetly as you bent low to get into the passengers seat and shut the door before rounding to the other side to the driver's seat.

The car started up and the radio followed -- in the middle of a brand new artist that your mother warned you to not take to.

Elvis Presley had a nice voice and his music was fresh -- even if many of the older generation feared it would lead their children down the wrong path. You quite liked his song even if your neighbors mumbled about wondering where the world was going.

Rio didn't start to drive off after the car started, instead letting it run as she held her hands flat on the steering wheel and clearing her throat. "Are you okay?"

“You shouldn’t have . . . “ you started, stuttering out like a bad engine as your throat felt dryer than it had been when you were thinking of what to say, “. . . Why did you . . . You shouldn’t have,” you repeated, deciding the question was not worth trying to seek an answer for.

Rio, however, didn’t appear to agree. When you mustered up the courage to look — actually look — at her, she had some sort of expression on her face. An expression that puzzled and scared you.

“Why not?” she only asked eventually.

Two simple words that formed an entirely too difficult question. Why not? she asked, as if you had told her no, no going out for dinner tonight.

Rio had kissed you. Publicly and without hesitation or an ounce of concern for what consequences could have followed should you have been seen.

“It isn’t right, Rio,” you told her.

“Whose word claim that it is not right for me to kiss you?” she pushed. A hand was covering yours, cooler on contact but comforting all the same. “You kissed me back.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away, ignoring the way she pointed out the facts and tried to reveal your true self.

“You can’t even look at me in the eye when you tell me it isn’t right, Angel,” Rio continued softly — so softly that you trembled in place. “That tells me that more than anything, it was exactly right and you’re too scared to embrace it.”

“I am scared,” you whispered, “and perhaps that is what you should be as well. They are warning people about . . . About homosexuals, Rio. They’re teaching society how to spot them and . . . I simply cannot fall into this affair with you. I could lose everything.”

A soft pressure applied to your hand, forcing you to turn your head to her. You didn’t mind if she saw your tears — she’s seen them countless times after the death of your husband.

“The world cannot tell us how to feel, Angel,” she stated firmly, eyes hardened as she reached over with her empty hand. You flinched — and she only paused briefly — before she continued to reach out and brush your tears away. “They fear what they do not understand and they only understand what they think they know. What they know is very little, and thus rebirths a cycle of the same thing.”

You sniffed, lowering your face into her swiping thumb as her fingers made light strokes that captured any wayward tears.

“I don’t have anymore room for pain, Rio,” you rasped finally. “I am at my threshold.”

“Then trust me one more time,” the woman murmured, not quite begging but coaxing and sweet as she moved the hand on top of yours to play with your hair, “I would never hurt you.”

A million things could go wrong — you were thinking of so many right now alone. What if your neighbors happened by and peeked into the window? Your parents inquired too deeply and you couldn’t keep a secret? The gossip mill began to burst into flames because too many eyes caught you and Rio too many times in different ways?

Soft lips to your forehead ripped you away from spiraling, and that kiss alone made you feel like everything could be okay . . . Even for a moment.

“Okay,” you whispered as you tipped over the edge of caution and into dangerous waters, “I trust you, Rio.”

2024

There was sweat collecting on your forehead and sticking to the back of your shirt as Rio held your hair back for the fifth time this morning. It started around three A.M. — startling awake and bumping your shoulder roughly into the wall to get into the bathroom.

“How do you have anything left in your stomach?” Rio wondered as you spit the remnants of bile into the bowl.

Your fingernails bite into the rivets of the tile, keeping yourself curled over the opening. Another shudder rippled over you, the nausea painful this time around.

But Rio brushed fingers against your temple and then the nausea was gone.

“No magic,” you rasped. Your nausea was gone but the you throat burned and you had an awful aftertaste remaining on your tongue.

Snot was collecting on the ends of your nostrils and you reached up to wipe it but Rio was already there, toilet paper dabbing away the mucus.

“Don’t . . . Don’t touch me,” you hissed meekly.

Rio snorted softly, hand returning to the back of your neck and massaging gently. “Want to get in the shower? Or do you want a bath with some lavender salts?”

I just want you to leave me alone, your hindbrain murmured, but you moved your gaze toward those dark eyes. They were concerned and her nose had a wrinkle to it like she did when in thought.

“The bath, please.”

Gentle fingers sweeping your hair back, tucking behind ears. Warm lips on your damp temple. “A bath it is, sweetheart. Think you can stand?”

“No.”

Rio helped you to lean against the back of the wall while she started the jacuzzi style bath, adding the bath salts and some dried flower petals for good measure. You watched her exit the bedroom, too tired to suspiciously ask her what the hell she was doing. She returned with a few items — a plate of chocolate covered strawberries drizzled with chocolate icing, your water bottle that magically had fresh ice and water, a book you were currently reading through, and a box that you couldn’t read the label of.

You closed your eyes and wrapped an arm around your stomach in an attempt to prevent the room from spinning. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you relax.”

You didn’t respond until you heard her approach you again and balance something light on your knee. You opened your eyes and moved them to what she was trying to give you.

A store-bought pregnancy test.

Your brain-fog cleared very quickly — replaced by a rush of frustration and an unexplainable emotion.

“I don’t need the fucking test and we both know it, Rio,” you started, hating how unlike yourself you sounded. You quickly bit the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood. Why must she rub in the humiliation and helplessness further?

"You told me no magic," Rio reminded you dutifully, but with a sprinkle of some sort of warning that the animal in you couldn't seem to ignore. "This is how we get the confirmation without the use of magic."

Your lip curled in reaction to her words as she balanced the box on your knee precariously, palm keeping it steady while her fingers became weights against the skin of your knees.

"You used magic when you . . ." You could not bring yourself to speak your thoughts out loud, afraid of what it might mean to have it in the open. "You know I don't need it," you spat.

"This isn't a punishment, Angel," she replied, tone softening the blow of her words as her other hand made home on your ankle. "This is a way to understand that my magic only did so much and your body did the rest. If nothing else -- would it not settle your mind better having the physical proof instead of feeling like you're going crazy?"

White-hot anger replaced whatever numbness had taken root in your heart -- a common experience in the time Rio had recaptured you. "I didn't get the choice, Rio. You took that away from me, remember?"

Something in her eyes muted -- like a flame being extinguished or headlights being turned off suddenly. It was swift, and she did not dwell on it as she removed her hand from your knee until the box dangled until falling into your lap.

"Just take it," the witch told you, reaching forward to stick some hair behind your shoulder. "It will answer many questions you've been unable to stop repeating in to yourself over and over. It will also put an end to the cycle of anxiety and what-ifs in your head. We will deal with the aftermath later."

She says that so fucking confidently, like she just . . . knows you.

She does.

Then you reel back on the last sentence of what she said and stared blankly in her direction.

The aftermath . . . the fucking aftermath. Rio knew the results already and still insisted on you taking it as though she fucking cared that it would ease some of your worries. The relief of getting a confirmation of the sickness you felt would be replaced by the endless gaping hole of realization you'd be trapped.

You took the box in hand and clutched it like a lifeline, nearly crushing it as you stared daggers at the woman face to face with you.

“Get out.”

Rio eyes you momentarily, debating on whether or not to listen to your demand. Eventually she does, and shuts the door behind you. You remain in place for five minutes longer and then slowly get to your feet and peel open the box.

You take the test and set it in the sink before undressing for your bath. Rio did make it look so inviting and you didn’t miss the chance to sink deep into the bath water, a breath escaping deep from your nostrils.

Your hand drifted down to your abdomen where so much of your turmoil currently lies and yet . . .

The way Rio had looked at you was both emotionally taxing and empowering and perhaps that was the most significant aspect of it all. She was clever in her ways — her slow, slow, invasion into your life the first time and how quickly she adapted the second go around.

You do not read your book even though you desire to. The bath overtook your senses and your mind not long after sinking into the tub. Your hair was pulled up and your thoughts were slowly beginning to drift from the worry and frustration into contentment that you chose to embrace while it lasted.

You fell asleep — at least, you were sure you did — because Rio opened the door and startled you. You blinked and rose upward against the slope of the tub and watched the witch move toward you with bleary eyes until she was on her knees, arm resting on the edge of the tub.

“Feeling any better, Angel?” she asked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was concern in that question.

You were too tired to fight, too tired to put up a front. Your anger and dismay were a coiled, rigid ball inside of your soul and it was exhausting trying to unwind it and make it a weapon against Rio.

Your fist rose to your chest and you let out a shallow breath, rubbing the spot where those emotions remain dormant until you reached inside deep, deep, deep . . .

“Angel?”

You flutter your attention back to her. She’s frowning and the lines along her lips give you the impression of a woman with the daily stressors — a mortal that knows her time is limited.

You hated that she gave herself those details, that she made herself look so fucking human.

You breathed out again and let your hand fall back into the lavender scented water. “I’m fine, just tired,” you told her truthfully. “I think I dozed off.”

Rio let out a half-laugh, quiet and cut off as she softened her smile with adoration that gave you this twisted feeling of affection you remember once freely giving.

You wished you could hate her more than you were growing to love her again — but Rio knew exactly what she was doing and you had no defenses to prevent it.

And now your exhaustion and anxiety were tearing apart the last vestiges of your resolve. She reached her hand over and stroked your bare shoulder tenderly, and goddamnit you cracked under the touch. The gentleness and how your body became relaxed.

“Let’s empty the tub and get you showered,” Rio murmured, offering the kindness of suggestion rather than ordering you, “and then we can go downstairs and watch a movie.”

Piece by piece she removed your carefully crafted exterior, hardened by years and yet easily broken by her intricate mindset alone.

“Okay,” you agreed, watching as she shifted down the large tub and dipping her hand inside to search for the stopper. You stood up and crossed your arms over the front of your body, head swimming.

Rio held out her slender hand to you, palm upward and locking eyes with you. It was an offer to help you step out of the tub as if she knew you what you were feeling -- because of course she did.

You took her hand and she was so gentle as she curled her fingers through yours and guided you out of the tub and toward the large shower.

"You look green," Rio murmured as she slid open the door and guides you to sit on the tiled seat inside of the shower. "Wait right here, okay, Angel? I'm going to get undressed and I'll help you."

"Rio . . ." You crossed your ankles and watched her back out and begin to remove her layers. "Rio I can shower on my own. The dizziness is wearing off."

"I'd rather not take that chance, sweetheart," the black-haired beauty countered as she finished undressing and stepped back inside and began fiddling with the handles of the shower. You tried not to stare at her as her pale form moved passed you like a ghost.

You were sure your skin was turning red from the sheer embarrassment of her being naked and so close . . . the last time that happened it wasn't in your favor and it tainted the memories that were once good.

Fighting was tiring, and being trapped here was difficult. You were scared and traumatized but something Rio never did was harm you -- not like she couldn’t if she truly desired to do so. You have seen the damage she and other witches can do.

Perhaps it was time to just . . . Find a middle ground. Somewhere where you don’t have to rip each other open whenever you crossed paths.

Would that end better? For both of you?

She must have felt your eyes on her because the water turned on and she turned around. Droplets soaked into her skin and she leaned back against the wall, watching you while you watched her.

“You’re very quiet which means you’re thinking heavy,” Rio regarded, not a question but rather an observation from the woman who has known you far longer than people usually know one another. “Wanna share?”

You blink at her through the rain shower-head and slowly lifted one of your hands and extended your arm. It crossed into the falling water just as Rio’s eyebrows shot up into her damp hairline.

“Help me up?” you said to her. Not a defeat, no shame. You ensured to bury your hatchet behind a certain line and she would need to tread it close.

She pushed off the wall and slid her fingers into yours, leaning down to pull you up until you were pressed together under the heat of the showerhead, breasts touching, noses brushing.

“Are you okay?” she inquired, seeking out something that she wouldn’t be getting. You were burying apart of yourself so deeply that not even you would likely find it again — but that was fine. She didn’t need that part of you and nor did you.

You allowed a smile to cross your features, timid and true as you felt in that moment. “I think so. Just tired and scared.”

Rio breathed out a heavy sigh and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug that surprised even you. Rio wasn’t much of a hugger even if she was touchy. But you rest your chin on her shoulder and close your eyes as bullets of piercing water seep into your skin, washing away the ruins and remains of who you used to be.

1955

You and Rio had your own New Years Eve celebration with some of her colleagues from the drugstore. You were initially hesitant to agree to the party due to the suspicion and questions it would raise, but Rio was on the opposite end of the scale from you.

“Do you think you could make those creamed peas and onions that you seem to get perfect everytime, Angel?” your . . . Partner? was asking you as she adjusted her work outfit for the day in the bathroom mirror.

“I wouldn’t see why not, but Rio —“

“Chicken pot pie would be the main dish to go well, I think,” she continued over your attempt to question her as she came out of the bathroom, makeup applied.

“Rio.”

“Lemon pie for desert,” she was saying, and you clenched your fists in your lap.

“Rio!” you shouted, overwhelmed and frustrated at being ignored.

She dropped altogether and eyes you, pausing whatever it was she had started doing. “I do not,” you said, in a shaky but lowered tone, “believe it is in our best interests to host any sort of party. Have you flipped your lid?”

Rio huffed at your verbiage. She wasn’t fond of using slang that seemed to be growing popular as the years progressed, but some of it was getting its hooks into you — and no amount of her kissing you could stop you from saying them to her between fits of giggles.

But you weren’t joking right now, and she could see how tightly wound you were physically. Your hands curled into your nightgown and your eyes darting nervously around the room like you were afraid something would leap from the shadows.

Rio had to remember that her ideas of what seemed okay were too far along compared to yours — she had thousands of years on you and that put things in perspective for her that you had yet to see.

Such as giving a shit what society thinks about you and her in the privacy of your own home.

She decided her best course of option was to deescalate and comfort before you reverted back into that part of you she still hadn’t been able to penetrate.

“Aw, Angel,” she said as she glided over to you and sat down next to you on the bed, sweeping up one of your hands in hers. “Is that’s what got you all busted up?”

Your lips pursed, but you notably did not jerk your hand from hers or move away. Good, you wanted her comfort.

“I meant what I said when we first started . . . Doing this,” you told her, adding a hint of firmness for good measure. “We have to be careful, Rio, we could be arrested.”

“I will not let that happen,” your partner said in a tone that had an edge to it, one you’ve not heard from her before.

“You won’t be able to stop it if we get caught and reported!” you shouted again, too strung up to sit still. You got to your feet and tucked your hands in your underarms as you shuffled to the windows to peer out into the leaking sunrise. “We don’t have the privilege of being like the Cassidy’s or the Cook’s, we have to remember what happens to people like us.”

Rio stayed where she was and rubbed her face. “I know you’re concerned — and I can see how it might create the fear of being caught, but I don’t think we’re under suspicion.”

“You don’t think?” you asked, turning on your heel. “You — you have to be sure. If you doubt . . . If you falter in whatever this is for one second, we could never find jobs, never live a normal life. . .”

“I’m not the only one who needs to remember that,” she retorted, not unkindly but pointedly, eyes sharp like a lioness.

Anything else you wanted to say died in your throat. The two of you stared at one another like you always did, the silent communication that held more words than most of your actual conversation.

Your eyes dropped bashfully and you understood she was right. Everything you felt was new and scary and wrong. But if you were experiencing those things, it should have occurred to you that perhaps Rio was too.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her after a brief, pregnant silence. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

You heard the bed groan as Rio’s weight shifted off of it, the soft barefoot steps across the carpet. Then a hand cupping your cheek as she guided your face to peer at hers. She was so beautiful and she was everything that made what you knew your soul to be content.

The turmoil you fell into about this affair — was it an affair? — was so brushed away when she touched you like this. It burned you like a hot pan and healed your deepest wounds that no surgery would ever manage to fix.

In that alone — you knew she was who your being was drawn to. What the instinctual, animal side of your brain desired even though gospel and presidents warned of the dangers of these desires.

“When you shout it means you’re showing me something that you don’t normally reveal,” Rio admitted as she held you in the rising light of morning, “You lower that perfectly trained woman of etiquette and though she’s just as beautiful, I can’t help but want to see more beneath just her.”

It was a surprise — not because Rio had said it, it’s Rio — mostly due to the fact that you were never to give into the ugliest of your emotions.

“Shouting isn’t . . . Well, I shouldn’t do it. It’s not becoming and you didn’t deserve my anger," you deflected, averting your eyes as best you could. You did not keep your gaze away for long -- you felt drawn to peer at her again.

Rio was smiling once again, this time more mischievous and probing. “Oh, Angel. I don’t need you to pretend to not feel around me. I want it all — down to the very last drop of anger and resentment you hold.”

“I have no resentment, don’t be silly.”

A lie so terribly spoken that she grasped your chin and dragged you close, lips brushing. “Oh, yes you do. You have so much of it built up and it’s mixing with those other painful ones, too. Anger. Despair. Oh, it makes for the loveliest cocktails.”

You swallowed at the look in her eye, how she peered right through your skin and all the barriers you managed to keep solid for so long. Your heart rushed so quickly that you swore you heard it in your ears.

“It is ugly,” you insisted in a quiet breath, grasping her upper arm for balance as she wrapped her other around your lower back. “I am ugly under everything, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for how I feel when I’m happier with you than I ever was married to that husband I had. I hate myself for needing to seek out the acceptance of our neighbors when you don’t seem to give a penny how they feel. Mostly, I hate that there is so much about you that seems hidden and I haven’t been damned to uncover it.”

Rio kisses you them, a rough one compared to your first and the ones that had followed many times since. She pushes you against the window, her arm cushioning your bounce against the surface.

She pulls back for air briefly and pries your hand off her arm so she can run her fingers up the crevice of your neck.

“Nothing I have seen is ugly, and for that reason I dig for more until there is nothing left of you that I cannot know,” she whispered as her lips began making ghost brushes under your ear.

“I know you’re lying to be about so many things,” you stutter out between her kisses and feather-light touches to your burning skin, “and maybe I should have listened to my mother when she told me to run.”

“But you didn’t,” Rio purred, sending vibrations through your jaw and neck. You shivered from the ministrations as her fingers started to go lower, lower, “You’re ignoring every part of your primal instinct that orders you to run, to get away from me.”

“I feel safe with you. I want you. I need you. And I don’t know why,” you got out, blinking tears away until they left tracks on your flushed cheeks. “You saved me and doomed me the second you appeared at my door and I love you for it.”

“My Angel,” Rio murmured as she found your heat, tracing just outside and finding you disgustingly wet there. You turned your head away in shame and she nipped your skin. “Don’t you dare look away from me. Your pleasure is mine and it means you adore me so.”

“It is wrong.”

“You can say it as many times as you need to make you feel better,” the woman promised as she sank her index finger into you and brushed her thumb so gently over the bundle of nerves above your pussy.

You knew how to find pleasure and the way it made you feel -- but it had been so long since you had experienced it. Your marriage failing first, the death of your husband second . . . and what was self-pleasure good for? It was unbecoming.

Your husband -- before he was ever that, when he was good and charming and who you thought you could live that happy existence with -- had been somewhat of a clumsy boy during your youths. You fooled around and looked for places on one another that were just simply taboo but it wouldn't matter later, you had planned to spend your lives intertwined and so what harm would getting to know the body of each other do?

Two years into the marriage fresh out of school, him working long hours and you figuring out how to care for a home . . . it broke you both and turned him into something inhuman.

“It won’t make your feelings any less powerful, nor will it turn me away," your lover continued, breath hot against you.

You felt as though cotton was being stuffed violently into your ears until your brain was no longer functional the more she spoke and touched, and aggravated your lust.

"Who was your husband, Rio?" you whispered out so quietly that for a second, you did not think she would hear it. Your throat was dry from the heavy gasps and moans she'd drawn from you, adding to the difficulty in speaking.

She pressed her front against you, getting better leverage as she started to move inside of you in the same sweet way in which she held you and kissed you. Your head leaned back when her thumb started making circles in a way that you’ve never managed to do properly to yourself. Is this what feeling good was?

It felt . . . this was better than everything you've ever had done before. One man you'd known since teenagers and things had gone to shit, but Rio wasn't inside of you to seek out her own release. She had no cock and only used her fingers expertly as though she did this perhaps to herself often.

"Rio," you whined as your forehead fell forward onto her shoulder, unable to keep your eyes open and on her as she'd requested. Touching yourself was never this fast and never yielded such quick results, but Rio was --

"You're so pretty like this," she told you in a cracked tone as the thumb on your clit started to speed up in movement as your demeanor started to become weaker. "Unable to hold yourself in that strong, perfect way you do to protect yourself."

There was a nagging prod in the back of your lower head and it was an instinctual knowing of importance. But your senses were overwhelmed and you felt so good right now -- how could anything else matter until you let such things pass?

“Rio Vidal has a completely blank canvas, sweetheart, and I’m afraid that means that no records indicate she was ever married, much less to a man in the service.”

Your eyes flew open suddenly just as the rush of your orgasm crashed against you. Your mouth had dropped open to question Rio again but only broken mewls and moans came out as she eased you through the devastating pleasure. You heard how her finger mixed with your fluids as she cooed in your ears and kissed down your neck.

She pulled out of you gently and held her finger up her mouth. You watched as she licked her finger clean of your shame and closed your eyes again, unable to watch your failure to once again confront her about these uneasy doubts that she was narrowly avoiding.

She presses a kiss to your forehead and sealed your fate into your skin.

2024

Rio settles you downstairs in the living room and patters around like a fussy nursemaid. She dims the lights and draws the blinds shut, followed by the airy curtains [ "Rio, the curtains are fine and won't make a difference if the blinds are closed," you told her from your spot. She ignored you, of course ].

She brought you some hot chocolate foamed with strawberry soft top, remembering one of your favorite ways to have the drink. One by one, little by little, she was tearing apart your defenses and you had no resources to rebuild them and fight her off.

Not in your state.

Tommy lay next to you in the crook of your curled legs, head resting on your thigh and intelligent eyes following every move Rio made with unnerving focus.

"I don't want him on the furniture," the witch told you as she sat down a plate of assorted snacks -- meats, cheeses, sweets, and crackers. Only a few nights ago you were both violently fighting one another and now she was doting on you.

You lifted a hand and stroked the dogs' ears. They were warm and velvety under your hand and provided an anchor when you were at risk to float away from reality again. "He stays," you replied without adding a bite. You didn't want an argument with her and in the past you would have even agreed with her if you'd have pets together.

Circumstances had changed and thus your views on even this. Tommy gave you back some of your lost defenses and you think Rio knew that -- because she decided dropping the topic was better than fighting you as she shook her head and took the spot on the other side of the couch with you.

"You're cleaning up his shed," Rio murmured as she wrapped an arm around you and picked up the remote to the television on the armrest.

Your only response was running your fingers through Tommy's sleek coat, dragging up loose fur onto the cushions as you did. Billy was laying under the coffee table batting at Rio's socked feet while she entertained his little game.

It was so fucking domestic.

You hated it.

You loved it.

"What do you feel like watching?" she asked, as she tugged her socked foot back to no avail. Billy had one of his claws hooked into the fabric and he seemed to be ready to tackle her ankle if she wasn't quick enough.

You took the remote from her and browsed her list of streaming services. "I have pretty much any streaming app, available at your leisure," she said as Billy tugged her sock off and kicked it with his hind leg. "You little shit."

Billy went after her other sock next as you flicked through until you found the service that had the reality TV show you'd been watching before you were taken.

She drew her foot up to rest against the edge of the couch as Billy pounced to capture it, his fluffy tail flicking back and forth and pupils thinned to slits. Rio looked mildly irritated.

Your lips quirked upward in a smile and you rest your head on her shoulder as you find the season and episode you had last left off on. "I don't remember you being into reality TV," she commented, palming Billy's face until his paws wrapped around her hand and he dug his teeth in.

"You get bored and branch out after centuries of having the same taste," you merely said as the intro to the show started playing. You brought the mug of hot chocolate to your lips and made to focus on the TV, trying to keep yourself settled for as long as you can until the panic returned.

"I will turn you into a fucking duster," Rio hissed at your cat as she shook him off. The cuts and marks from his rough play had healed instantly, not even drawing blood.

"Leave him alone, Rio."

"Are you kidding--" she started, but glanced over and stopped. You were content -- more than she'd ever seen you in a long time. Considering she had not seen you in a long time . . .

She pulled off her other sock and threw it for the tabby feline. He left Rio to chase it and the witch returned her attention to you, pressing a soft kiss on your head and listening to the murmur of the show you were watching.

Two episodes and some snacking later, it was disrupted. A ring at the door was startling and had Tommy's head shooting up, gaze staring hard at the archway that led to the entry room.

He was stiff even when you ran a hand across his back to soothe him as Rio got to her feet and spread the blanket she had magicked in across you. "I'll get it," she told you. "It's probably just a girl scout."

"Thin mints," you said easily, still stroking Tommy even if he was not responsive to your attempt at comfort.

Rio made her way to the door cautiously and prepared herself. She believed you were almost ready to entertain your high-end neighbors but she had not completely let up on the magic that had them forgetting to come greet the new neighbors yet.

She opened the door and plastered a confused but friendly expression on her face and stopped in her tracks at who she saw.

"Hi," the woman greeted politely, her own smile rising a little sheepishly on her face, though her eyes had a darker sparkle in them. "I'm your new neighbor, a few doors down, and heard you recently moved in too. I thought I'd say hello. My name is Wanda."

rio and reader will return in part five

PART FIVE

my often forgetful taglist: @dandelions4us , @flow33didontsmoke , @girlsgotissues

#rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #agatha all along #marvel #marvel fanfiction #dark fic

89 notes · View notes