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reidrum · 26 days ago

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how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face.

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit.

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.”

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection.

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks. He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact.

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain.

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?”

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other.

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.”

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side.

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it.

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds

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andvys · 10 months ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

And my, my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden.

Warnings: 18+, mdni! there will be smut in the future chapters. enemies to lovers, 'she fell first, he fell harder' kind of trope, allusions to unrequited love, mentions of death, injuries, allusions to self hatred, mentions of bullying, this story is set post s4, Vecna and the upside down are gone. slow burn. ‘hate’ sex. fwb kinda thing but they’re ‘enemies’. mean!reader, mean!Steve, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

♡

Prologue ⭐︎

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I’m not around

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Chapter five ⭐︎'Cause you know it could never be

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Chapter nine ⭐︎ And I'll show you if you let me, girl

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Chapter eleven ⭐︎ Yeah, I know it seems surprising when there’s lipstick still on the glass

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Chapter thirteen ⭐︎ For a moment, I was heaven struck

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around?

Chapter sixteen ⭐︎ Hold me, love me, touch me, honey

Chapter seventeen ⭐︎ What am I supposed to do? If there's no you.

Chapter eighteen ⭐︎ Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Chapter nineteen ⭐︎ For you, I would ruin myself, a million little times

Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Chapter twenty one ⭐︎ Please, I've been on my knees, change the prophecy

Chapter twenty two ⭐︎ Let the world around us just fall apart

Chapter twenty three ⭐︎ And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me

Chapter twenty four ⭐︎ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

The Epilogue ⭐︎

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington enemies to lovers

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afterglowsainz · 3 months ago

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bye | charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader x alexandra saint mleux, reader x ex!max verstappen

summary: when max breaks up with you, you find solace in his childhood rival and his stunning girlfriend

fc: taylor swift

request: here

a/n: guys i’m not even a charles girlie but he looked so happy in that podium i wanted to cry

—

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yourusername always the biggest pleasure, paris🤎

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username she’s unreal

username forever obsessed with this tour

username watching the video i record of vigilante shit over and over

username max verstappen can you fight??? 🤨

username the most magical night fr

alexandrasaintmleux 💗

charles_leclerc ☺️

username max not even liking this but charles and alex …

username they’re hilarious 😭

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maxverstappen1 free practice was okay, now we can focus on quali and the race

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username no but max being furious and still finding a way to post charles 😭

username no power on earth can separate those two

username can’t believe we’re watching the fall of red bull in real time

username FREE MY MAN FROM THAT TRACTOR

username time for me to suggest y/n going to the grand prix and bring max good luck 😁

username frfr she hasn’t been in forever

username lestappen is alive and breathing i see

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f1wags y/n y/l/n on saturday and sunday at the paddock for quali and the grand prix

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username glad to see she’s still alive 😭

username omg i thought she wasn’t gonna go with the tour and everything

username the best wag everrr

username so iconic

username OMG SHE SAW THE COMMENTS

username y/n in the paddock means a good race for max i know it 🧿

username the way i had completely forgot she was dating max 😭

username those two don’t interact with each other anymore i swear 😩

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f1gossip max verstappen and girlfriend y/n y/l/n were seen fighting outside their hotel after the grand prix, y/n later walked away and left max alone

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username damn

username right after we thought everything was okay 😔

username no because the first gp my girl goes to after forever and they fight?

username idc what happened i’m blaming max

username lol agree

username guys be honest do you think they’re breaking up???

username my heart says no but my head says they haven’t been seen together for a while and when they do they always fight so…

username yes

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yourusername fresh out the slammer … into the studio

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username HUH?

username miss girl ??? explain

username new music yay!

username is the caption a lyric or something ??? WDYM FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

alexandrasaintmleux sooo excited! 💕

yourusername 💞💞💞

username alex what do you know

username is this like a happy song or is it going to make me hate men?

username no because i need to know too 😩

liked by yourusername, flavy.barla and others

alexandrasaintmleux with a full heart ❤️

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username i love their friendship

username guys charles made it to the feed!

yourusername pretty gorgeous beautiful everything

alexandrasaintmleux 🤭

username no but y/n in the last slide took me out 😭

username SAME i thought this was a charles post

charles_leclerc favorite girls❤️

alexandrasaintmleux 💘

username “girls” ????

username explain !!?

username is this a safe space to say what i’m thinking? …

alexandrasaintmleux’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🍝] [caption 2: 💘]

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ynupdates charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux, kika gomes and pierre gasly at tonight’s show of y/n’s tour in milan

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username i love their friendship they’re so supportive of her🥰

username now THAT is an outfit

username alexandra the fashion icon that you are

username this is such a green flag for all of them

username friends who support y/n >>>>

username notice how max has been quiet since y/n won charles in the divorce

username i know that man is FUMING

username no but seriously i’m glad she still has supportive friends after the break up 😔

username was i the only one who noticed that she kept looking at the vip tent while singing the love/crushing songs? 🤭

username which could mean nothing!

username WHAT WERE THE SURPRISE SONGS

username invisible string and sweet nothing!

username :0

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f1wags alexandra saint mleux and y/n y/l/n today at the paddock, y/n used to date max verstappen but recently broke up and was seen today at the ferrari hospitality with alexandra and charles, with whom she stayed friends

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username 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

username they both look so hot

username and if i say power couple then what 🤨

username i’d say alexandra has a boyfriend and you’re delusional 😭

username messyyyy

username the amount of money i would pay to know what’s going through max’s brain

username imagine losing THE y/n y/l/n and not only that but your rival since you’re four years old stayed friends with her

username he lost the break up

username we got y/n at the ferrari garage before gta 6

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: alexandrasaintmleux 🫶🏽🫶🏽] [caption 2: 🍸]

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charles_leclerc mes trois coeurs❤️

tagged yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

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username DAMN

username what do you mean your three hearts? wydm!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

username honestly it makes so much more sense that they’re all dating 😭

username CONFIRMATION AT LAST

username the most drop dead gorgeous woman you’ll find and the cutest puppy on earth 🥰

username charles really won in life 😩

username and they called me crazy for even suggesting this 🙄

username POWER THROUPLE

scuderiaferrari the family as god intended🫶🏽

username ferrari 😭

yourusername gotta learn french asap!

alexandrasaintmleux we’ll teach you love💗

charles_leclerc de cette façon nous pouvons te dire que nous t'aimons dans toutes les langues chérie ❤️ (this way we can tell you we love you in every language dear)

yourusername ily both too much💘

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yourusername monaco! you are one of the best crowds ever ❤️ i had too much fun singing from the top of my lungs with all of you and performing for the first time ever my two new singles, “fresh out the slammer” and “bye” 😽 i have the feeling we’ll see each other wayyy more often

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username STOP she’s so cute 😭

username i’m afraid “bye” is one of the best songs ever made and “fresh out the slammer” changed the trajectory of my life

username “boy bye it’s over its over oh yeah” GIRL-

username she had too much fun writing that one

username “didn’t think you’d lose me now it’s just too late to choose me” UHM

username if that song is not for max-

username RED DRESS FOR FERRARI IKTS

username “now pretty baby i’m running back home to you” the fact that she calls them home i- 🥺

username “another summer taking cover, he don’t understand me” i gasped

username y/n calling her relationship with max literal prision was not in my bingo card

charles_leclerc you’re incredibly mesmerizing love 😍 best concert ever!

alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest and most talented there is! 💗

yourusername je vous aime tous les deux❤️ (i love you both)

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sexlapis · 1 year ago

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[◉°] … TOJI FUSHIGURO TAKES A LIE DETECTOR TEST… 9.6M VIEWS

꩜ actor!toji (& implied actor toji x actress/actor reader)

⤷ synopsis: toji thought this lie detector test was going to be a breeze. he was a little mistaken.

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, toji & reader are secretly together, toji lying!

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

⪩　　 ₊　 🍪 　　✧ 　　⁺

“i ain’t nervous,” toji claims, cracking his neck and smirking as the crew members attach the needed equipment to his body, “i ain’t no liar either. so i got nothing to worry about here.”

“i sure hope that’s true, mr.fushiguro.” the polygraph examiner replies slyly.

“are you ready, toji fushiguro?” the interviewer asks.

“yeah, i am,” toji claps, “hurry up and get started.”

“is your name toji fushiguro?”

“yes my name is toji fushiguro.” he looks to the polygraph examiner. “it is, right?”

the woman simply stares at him.

“..alright then…”

the interviews asks another question. “are you about to take a polygraph exam?”

“yes, yes and yes, now give me the real questions!”

TOJI FUSHIGURO TELLS THE TRUTH

YOUR CAREER

“we’re going to start with the category of your career.”

toji nods and looks to the examiner. “how ‘m i doing?”

“you’re very calm, nothing unusual yet.”

“hm.”

the interview begins to speak. “one of your most popular roles as an actor was when you played Frank Castle in the Netflix series, “The Punisher”. some would say this is when you became a heartthrob. do you think is this true?”

toji sighs and shakes his head. “nah-”

“LIE.” the polygraph examiner calls out.

toji raises his hand. “…because, i was already a heartthrob before alla that.” he smiles, looking proud of himself. his answer is met with silence.

“ok.” says the interviewer and goes onto the next question. “do you face a lot of pressure being a heartthrob?”

“nope.” toji answers easily. “i’m just that kinda guy. i ain’t gotta try too hard for much, especially not ‘being hot’.”

he looks at the examiner.

“he’s telling the truth.” she states. she almost seems disappointed by the fact.

“see?” toji says, folding his arms, “as i said, ‘got nothin’ to lie about.”

“in the punisher,” the interviewer starts, ignoring toji’s cocky replies, “do you wear a muscle suit to look bigger than you actually are?”

toji throws his back, cackles echoing around the small room. “fuck no!” he gestures to…his whole body, “‘it look like i need a muscle suit? ‘didn’t even know that shit was a thing… i’m big enough without any of that stuff.” he shrugs, looking into the camera. “i think we can all see that.”

the examiner nods curtly. “..he is telling the truth.”

“do you workout often?” asks the interviewer.

toji scoffs. “i thought i’d get good questions..but yeah, yeah i do workout.”

“would you consider yourself fit?”

“yep. ‘hundred percent.”

“would you consider yourself fitter than,” the interviewer slides a photo of the actor gojo satoru towards toji, “this man?”

“pfft-” toji chortles. “oh, ohh yeah. easily. he’s like..” he looks for the correct words, “a little boy. are we kidding?”

he looks to the examiner and then to the interviewer.

“he is being truthful..again.”

toji smirks at the camera, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “toji never lies.”

POP CULTURE

“this year, you were named “The Most Sexiest Man Alive” by People Magazine. do you believe you’re sexier than this man, 2022’s sexiest man, nanami kento?” the interviewer slides another photo, this time of the actor nanami kento.

toji looks at the photo for a second, before scoffing a little. “oh yeah. definitely. ‘guy just has a permanent frown on his face. he ain’t ugly but he could smile a little, y’know?”

“what about this ‘guy’, 2021’s most sexiest man alive, ryomen sukuna?” the interviewer also slides a picture of him to toji.

toji strokes his chin. “heh..yeah..yeah i would say so..this guy..he ain’t ugly either but..theres this energy about him..”

“what energy would that be, toji fushiguro?”

“the energy of a fuckin’ mass murderer that’s what!” he laughs at his own joke, looking at the picture of this ‘ryomen sukuna’, who is glaring into his soul through the image. “yeahh, i’d say i’m more attractive than him. just.. just a little.” he holds two fingers close together emphasis. “jesus christ, that’s one scary looking fuck.”

the examiner inspects the polygraph and looks towards toji and the interviewer. “he has been telling the truth.”

“yeah.” toji nods, exhaling through his mouth and sliding the pictures away from himself. “‘course i am.”

LOVE LIFE

toji had been doing well so far, but the category of ‘love life’ would be his downfall.

“do you want to get married in the future?”

“yeah, yeah i do.”

the examiner nods.

“have you ever been in love?”

“..yes.” toji responds, thinking about his past for a second.

the examiner nods again.

“are you in love right now?”

toji pauses for the first time in the whole test. he takes a deep breath. “no. yeah, no. ‘m not.”

the examiner raises an eyebrow at the results. “questionable.”

“oh, c’mon.” toji groans, rolling his eyes.

“is there someone you’re in love with?”

“nope. nobody at all.” he interlinks his fingers, tapping them against each other. “..nobody at all..”

“questionable. again.” the examiner states, pointedly looking at toji.

toji sighs. “oh, brother…”

“did you happen to meet this person..on set?”

“no, ‘cause there is no person?” toji says firmly.

“again.” the examiner says. “questionable.”

“christ…”

the interviewer asks another question. “do you believe in love at first sight?”

toji huffs. “no, that’s just two people who wanna fuck.”

“i see. then,” the interviewer takes out three pictures, all of them being people who he has worked with on set, including you.

“are you in love with any of these people?”

toji gulps, hesitating for a split second, his eyes focused on your picture. “nope. not oneeee bit.”

“LIE.” the examiner shouts excitedly, happy to have finally caught toji out on lying. she rings the negative buzzer repeatedly. “lie!”

“‘you serious?” he asks incredulously, looking between the interviewer and the examiner. “listen, maybe it was just my heart murmur or somethin’ like that,” he looks to side, cheeks rosy and shifts in his seat a little, “i-i don’t-”

“those are the last of our questions.” the interviewer says to toji, smiling knowingly. “thank you for taking part in our lie detector test.”

toji grumbles.

౨ৎ

a/n: this was longer than i planned 🤥

#I’m so sorry i always forget the taglist i’m not used to one i’m so sorry😭#actor!toji #toji x reader #toji x gn!reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji fluff #toji x gender neutral reader #toji x gender neutral!reader

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ihrthoney · 6 days ago

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typing this laying in bed forcing myself to sleep but my brain wants to write so headcanon format it is.

thinking about ak!jason who has no idea that after his ‘death’ that you went insane looking for him. but you were no detective, you weren’t in the police field, you were just jason todd’s girlfriend.

but you damn well did everything you could, from begging bruce, to sneaking into offices, looking for nightwing, anything.

you taught yourself to use a gun to search places alone. jason would scold you for doing such a thing for him but you didn’t care, not when you knew he was alive.

you didn’t know.. but your gut feeling told you he was. a body was never found, nothing. you refused to believe it.

“you didn’t find anything? no pieces of his suit? no blood? nothing!?” you screamed and cried at batman, desperate, grieving.

“i’ve looked-“

“no! you didn’t! because if you did look everywhere you would’ve found something! all this technology and you still couldn’t track the location?”

“it’s not that simple.”

“right, because you aren’t the greatest detective in the world”

you tried to distract yourself with work but it was no use, not when you came home opening the spare bedroom door to your mess of a room. papers everywhere, maps, pictures, you would’ve seemed insane to any normal person.

you were exhausted, too many dreams of him in front of you but that’s all it was. dreams.

one night, you felt someone push your hair behind your ear. instantly, like jason taught you, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and went to slash at the intruder but the knife made a thud as it hit the floor.

a hand, gently, wraps around your wrist.

you blink your eyes awake, taking in the person in your home.

jason.

no. it’s another dream.

“you’ve gotta be quicker than that, sweetheart.”

you don’t speak, still taking in what’s going on. the light from the moon just barley shows his face.

“hey don’t cry baby, it’s okay.”

you back away, unable to take another hallucination.

“no.. this isn’t real. you can’t be here. i haven’t found you yet.”

“i’m right here, baby.”

shaking your head, you back into the corner of your bed, making yourself as small as you can.

“no, i have to find him. i have to find jason!”

“look at me, sweet girl.”

you can’t tear your face from your arms, so he softly pulls your face up with both hands, wiping your tears,

“i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

the closer he is, the more you notice the difference in his features.

the j on his face, the scars, but his eyes,

his sweet beautiful eyes still look at you with love.

“i’m so sorry.” you give in, real or not, you hug him.

he hates it, after everything he’s been through he can’t take the affection. but for you? for you he’d do anything.

so he lets you cry into him, squeezing him tight, even if he can’t be the jason you loved, he holds you all the same.

sobbing into his chest, “i tried so hard to find you”

“i know you did sweetheart, i saw the room. but it wasn’t your job to find me.”

“don’t say that, you’re the love of my life. i would rather die than stop looking.”

“you did good.”

“i didn’t. you still had to find me.”

“i’d climb out of my grave and crawl back home to you, i’ll always find you.”

“please don’t let this be a dream.”

“i’m right here.”

he holds you until the sun rises, rocking back and forth slightly. he’ll tell you about it all later, for now, he just wants you close.

edit: i will be making this into a fic later ;p

#ᝰ honeywrites #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

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hii, are your requests open? if not you can just ignore this (and sorry to bother!!) but if they are could you do something w the batboys where they have a dream that the reader has died or something? please, and TYSM

Jason would awake immediately from the dream with tears streaking his cheeks and his throat sore from what he could only assume was screaming.

It happened again, that hyper realistic dream that made him felt as though he was seeing through his future self’s eyes, or into an alternate universe where he was bound to lose you despite doing everything in his power to protect you.

It felt real, uncomfortably real for Jason’s liking that it felt a sense of unease and anxiety to flood through him but before they could get worse, he heard your voice.

‘Jason, you were screaming are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?’

He felt as though he could properly breath now that he knew you were okay but his heart was telling him that hearing you wasn’t enough; He needed to feel you against him to ease his racing mind. With that Jason was quick to grab you by the waist, pull you into his chest and held onto you as though he was a kid clinging onto his favourite plush toy, his face buried into your neck as his arms held you as tightly as they could without causing you discomfort.

‘Jason?’

‘I lost you sweetheart.’ He told you without hesitation. ‘I couldn’t do anything, I was frozen with fear and that cost me you in the end.’ He adds, wanting nothing more then to get through image out of his head for good.

‘I’m right here jay birdie.’ You whispered softly, pressing sweet, gentle kisses into his neck and shoulders in hopes of easing the evident tenseness there. ‘You’re my best friend, my soul mate and my partner but most importantly you’re my protector and I have never felt safer than I ever have then with you.’ You reassure him as you let him silently sob into your nightshirt while rubbing your hand up and down his back. ‘I’m alive. you know it, I know it, we both know it to be true. So don’t believe the tricks that your mind pulls on you Jason because they’re always never true.’

Jason pulls his head from your shoulder. ‘What if I loose you one day?’ He asks, staring at you with teary eyes.

‘You won’t.’ You said with certainty.

‘How do you know?’

‘I know because I won’t let it happen, someone has to take care of your heart and kiss your wounds well into the early hours of morning, and I want that person to be me.’ You replied as you pressed a kiss to his forehead before resting your forehead there. ‘You’re stuck with me Jay Birdie because it’s going to take everything this cursed towns got to take me from you.’

Jason, finding reassurance in your words, let out a deep sigh as he fell back into bed, taking you with him as he draped the covers over the both of you once more, kissing the top of your head as he gave your waist a quick squeeze. ‘Gotham will have to go through me first sweetheart, and for you? I’d start a fucking war if it meant keeping you by my side and safe from all harm this town could bring. I don’t care if I got hurt but all it takes is one scratch on you and I’m burning this town down.’ He murmurs before finally falling back asleep, holding you protective against his chest, more then ready to prove his promise to be true in more than one way.

Damian

Would reach out for you for comfort but when he couldn’t feel you his eyes would shoot open and he was getting out of bed to search for you.

Only for you to be stood in the doorway with a glass of water in your hand, looking at him with worry.

‘Damian are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost-‘ you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Damian rushed to hold your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks slightly from the iron clad grip he had on them.

‘Is this real?’ He asks in a weak whisper. ‘Are you really here darling?’

He had a nightmare and your heart broke seeing him this affected by it and placed your water down safely before holding his hands over his, squeezing.

‘I’m right here my treasure.’ You replied. ‘I’m not going anywhere, not without you.’

Damian’s hands loosened their grip on your cheeks and fell to your shoulders as he presses his head against your chest to feel your heartbeat against his ear, proving to him that you were alive and well within his care.

‘I lost you my heart, I felt hollow without you, almost as though someone reached into my chest and took out everything good in me.’ Damian admits as he burrows his head into your chest. ‘You are the good in me.’ He adds, voice muffled but his message was loud and clear.

‘And you are everything good in me my love.’ You replied as you ran your hand through his hair in hopes of bringing him some comfort. ‘Do you want to talk about the rest of it?’

Damian’s grip on your tightened. ‘No. It pains me too much to talk about it right now, I fear that if I do it’ll come my reality.’

‘Do you wish to go back to bed?’ You asked, more than willing to do anything to calm his mind. ‘You can hold me for as long as you want and I won’t complain about needing to pee.’ You joked lightly and could envision the small smile that would appear upon Damian’s lips whenever you said something remotely silly.

‘Please.’ Damian said and without another word you allowed him to drag you back to bed with him and under the covers where he was quick to hold onto you as though you were his personal teddy bear for the rest of the night.

Tim clings onto you like a koala bear after having a nightmare that you died, he was too afraid that if he were to let go then it would become reality somehow.

The nightmare messed with him so badly that he couldn’t get the idea that if he were to stray from your side for too long, tragedy would only naturally befall you. He hates it but he hated the idea of loosing you forever even more and so he would cuddle closely to you, all the while finding it increasingly more and more difficult to return to sleep.

‘Tim?’ You said softly. ‘You need sleep, you know how much I worry about you collapsing one day and I’m not nearby to help.’

Tim laughs humourlessly as he held onto you a little tighter. ‘How can I go back to sleep when nothing good waits for me there hmm?’

You tried to move and look at him but Tim made that impossible. ‘What do you mean by that?’

Tim doesn’t answer.

‘Tim…did you have a nightmare.’ You asked.

‘The worse kind.’ He said weakly as he held you closer to him in hopes of merging you with him so that he didn’t have to watch you die in real life.

‘What would make it better?’ You inquired, wanting nothing more than to help him no matter what.

Tim shrugs. ‘Just…just keep talking to me…please.’ He pleads as his hands toyed with the bottom of your nightshirt anxiously. You smiled softly as you placed your hands over his own, caressing the backs of them as you heard his soft gaps at the sudden contact. ‘What would you like for me to talk about?’

‘Anything.’ Tim said. ‘Anything just, please talk.’

And talk you did for most of the night until you felt Tim fall asleep against your back as soft snores filled the room and you, having felt accomplished in your task, soon followed suit to keep him company in dream land also and make sure his dreams went undisturbed.

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phemiec · 8 days ago

Text

A Mouthwashing (and How Fish is Made) fansong, unfortunately from Jimmy’s POV mostly, sorry. 🐴 Music and lyrics by me, PhemieC

NOTE: this is my first fansong in five years, and sad to say but my voice has been decimated by illness in the last few years, so please don’t go into this expecting it to sound the same as my old stuff.

That being said, I have released an instrumental version, and I would LOVE to hear covers from other vocalists! Feel free to post and sell if you make a cover as well. <3

LYRICS UNDER CUT

[verse 1] Momma bird sleeping and her nest is empty Pretty and clean I feel the crease of envy Cutting a line right through the sky above me Healthy and green just like a good tree should be Momma bird leaving now her eggs are lonely Out from the underbrush I creep so slowly I’ll lay my own, her home is sound and safe, he’s Grey like a stone among her round blue babies She’ll never tell if she’s a few shells lighter Quick cracking clever comes my little fighter Babes that feel safer they hatch so much slower Thrown down below then by my own fast grower Momma returns to feed her only child he Smells like a stranger and he cries so loudly Drinks of his fill while I look up on proudly Picking away at the discarded bounty

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite

[verse 2] Thing crawling thirsty, shared flesh, a blessing Drink of my stagnancy, the taste refreshing Carry a part of me and keep on climbing Top of the ladder’s just a place for dying Dread in your gullet, ignore it, buddy Lead in the bullet, it’s harmless, mostly Let me consume you, let you defend me Curling protector, my friendly fresh meat Im in control now and I like the feeling I’ll play the role of every wound you’re healing Follow the leader was always my thing Swallow your pills and lay still, unwrithing Master of puppets is my one objective Real apex predators can be selective Relay your message, it won’t stop the spread if I replace your tongue when I open your head up

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite keeps you alive To feed their growing appetite

[verse 3] My stress relief, she keeps asking questions I can’t believe she thinks I’ll learn her lesson Nothing outside of me will ever get in No mocking birdie with an unblinking grin Four beating hooves, I hate to hear them thunder Trample the metal tomb I’m buried under braying beast, neighing in the womb inside her Breaking its legs to glue you back together

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite…

#Mouthwashing #music #phemiec #Fansong #I’m proud of the instrumentation and lyrics #but the vocals are…….#well #it is what it is #Bandcamp

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avocado-writing · 3 months ago

Note

being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him.

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone.

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though.

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust.

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails.

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him.

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him.

And then he hears your voice for real.

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band.

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name.

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit.

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air.

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor.

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward.

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again.

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion.

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing.

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you.

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb.

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room.

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs.

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes.

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames.

“I never stopped looking,” he manages.

You blink.

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again.

For the first time you soften.

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart.

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it.

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had.

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again.

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom

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reignpage · 7 days ago

Text

The Other Man

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes.

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking.

Is it from adrenaline or from fear?

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong.

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says.

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger.

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches.

They both do.

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad.

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears.

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia.

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed.

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits.

They did this.

You try to smile.

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary.

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be.

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met.

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive.

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key.

You have to.

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.”

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself.

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times.

Except he’s going it through for the first time.

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress.

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks.

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later.

That’s how loved your husband is.

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair.

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you.

A stranger.

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did.

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on.

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does.

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

#jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #Gojo Satoru #Gojo angst #Gojo x reader #Gojo oneshot

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