#and having a panic attack for the first time probably so that's cool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urfavlarry · 2 months

Note

Can I request a Tyler ( or Aiden but please Tyler) x reader fic? Reader has lived in the phantom realm for almost her entire life and because of that she is always sleepy and hungry since she doesn't get transported back like the others. But she is a great fighter. Fem or gn reader please and could you please write a scenario too? Thanks you and a you can ignore this if you like ❤

warnings: bad grammar, swearing, mentions of reader not eating, reader has some form of insomnia(??) gender neutral reader

A/N: I tried to make sure that this is gender neutral but if I made any mistakes then please correct me! Also I’m new to the fandom so if I got anything incorrect then again, don’t be afraid to correct me.

I hope I wrote everything the way you wanted and that you will request again some time<3

Tyler & Aiden (seperate) x gn!reader

——————————————

You’ve been stuck in this place for a while, ever since you were about 13. One day you were playing outisde in the yard, when you saw this strange creature. You being a naive child went towards it and tried talking to it. You weren’t really the type of child to be scared of everything and you thought it was just your imagination. When you when to confront it, you collapsed. After that you woke up in this strange place, an exact copy of the real world yet the sky was red and strange creatures started to appear everywhere. Your big brother would get into fights often, so he taught you some self defense so you managed to survive, quickly seeking shelter. At your age many kids would panic and probably wouldn’t survive, but you pulled through. Ever since then you kinda were afraid to sleep, scared that the creatures would somehow manage to get to you and hurt you. Same with food, you rarely went out to get food, only living off what people left in their houses, well at least the houses that weren’t infested with phantoms.

You and your parents would go out into the wilderness often, so you had necessary survival skills and had enough supplies for the first few weeks of being there. You learned to survive the phantom attacks and you have a pretty well built shelter. In the present time you met a group of people your age. You almost collapsed from how happy you were to finally have human interaction after so many dreadful years of being in this horrific place. They accepted you into the group, some being a bit skeptical at first but changed their mind once you told them your story.

You were a more skilled person in the group, taking the role as leader with a girl named Ashlyn. You moved your things from your shelter that wasn’t that far from the “graveyard” as they liked to call it. After a few hours you were done taking your things there and saw they weren’t there anymore. Your eyes widen and you start to panic; “Did they leave me?” “Was I just imagining it?” “Did they get hurt by the phantoms?” You run into one of the buses and see a note on one of the seats. It explained that they have a different experience in this realm. They go to this realm at midnight for 7 hours, then wake up in the human realm. You couldn’t help but envy them but you were glad nothing happened to them and that you weren’t imagining it.

——————————————

Tyler Hernández

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

To say that Tyler would literally turn into your second mother that would be an understatement.

He would constantly bring you food when he could and when he was in the living world he would make you some food before he went to school so you don’t starve while they are away. (things that are moved to a certian place in the living world appear in the “phantom realm”

You two would definitely start dating after some time but you would be the one making the first move lol

He would have some trust issues but once he warms up to you he’s cool

Taylor would definitely be happy that her twin brother is finally happy with someone (even if he can’t see them whenever he wants)

He would cuddle you in the bus and protect you with his life fr

He would be super caring and would scold you if you wouldn’t eat for a long period of time, the same with sleeping.

When you eat and get a normal amount of sleep you have a LOT of energy. Like it’s as if you drank 10 cups of coffee in on go!

definitely praises you!!

He would be jealous if you taught anyone other than him so give him some love right after!!

Admires you for sure like he’s looking at you with heart eyes and is the most love sick guy you will ever meet lmao even if he doesn’t look like it

Overall I believe he isn’t the MOST caring in the group but definitely one of the most caring :3

Everyone quickly started noticing your sluggish movements and the constant rumbling of your stomach. You always had dark eye bags under your eyes and you were exhausted all of the time. Tyler was the first one to notice and comment on it. You tried saying you were fine but he just didn’t buy it. “Come on I can tell you’re exhausted and clearly hungry, come we should have at least an apple for you to eat.” He says and drags you to the bus where they would keep these types of necessities. He mumbled some swears you couldn’t quite understand since it was in Spanish. He handed you the apple and rolled his eyes, acting like he doesn’t care. “After you eat that go and rest, I don’t want you to collapse tomorrow..” He says, looking away from you and sits down on one of the seats in the bus.

You nod and raise a brow at his strange behavior. He never really acted kind or caring towards anyone except his sister, but you didn’t mind the special treatment. You lay down on the seat, curling into a ball and close your eyes, falling asleep in almost an instant. It was a while since you’ve slept for a healthy amount of time. You usually wouldn’t sleep or only had a few minutes of sleep since the phantom noises kept you awake constantly.

You slept for quite a long time, even past the time the group would appear and wake up in the real world. The moment it hit midnight Tyler quickly checked up on you, hoping you wouldn’t be mad that he wasn’t there when you woke up, but when he went to look towards the seat you slept on you were still there, asleep. He was taken aback by this since you slept for literally the whole day! He shook you awake, wanting to make sure you didn’t die or something in your sleep. You woke up, grumbling as you glared at the person who woke you only to see Tyler with a concerned expression. “What?” “What do you mean what!? You slept for like 30 hours!” He says and looks at you as if you were some kind of psycho. “Oh I did?” You ask, stretching your aching body and sit up. “Jeez Y/N when was the last time you’ve slept? And I mean properly.” You chuckle at his reaction and explain how you’ve had trouble sleeping, since you heard the phantoms like Ashlyn, just not so intensely. You explain your situation a bit more to him, not wanting to just leave him without an explanation on why you were the way you were.

You explain and Tyler looks at you with a sympathetic but quickly rolls his eyes and flicks your forehead; “Whatever nerd, come it’s time for you to teach us fighting or whatever..” He rolls his eyes and exits the bus. You usually teach the group how to fight when they can’t practice with Ashlyns parents since.. her parents can’t go into the realm with them. Tyler was sitting on the side while you were teaching Aiden and he yelled “Yea babe beat his ass!” He whistles and claps, having a proud look on his face. He definitely admires your skill but is like “pfft of course she’s strong she’s MY girlfriend” but in private he praises the living hell put of you. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you away from the group who is now resting and catching their breath. He pulls you closer to him and cups your cheek; “You did great princesa I’m so proud of you.” He says and kisses you on the forehead. “Oh well what kind of teacher would I be if I wasn’t any good?” You tease and wrap your arms around his neck. “Stop flirting I can hear you both!” Ashly yells and you both pull away quickly and look at each other, bursting into fits of laughter.

Aiden Clark

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He is a TEASE but like tbh he oblivious asf like bro doesn’t even notice for a good few months even after you start dating

He is really concerned once he finds out tho but still he doesn’t take it THAT seriously but still cares!!

He fr is terrified of you when you have energy tho cuz likeee your really strong

Aiden had seen you fr collapse somewhere from exhaustion and get back up like a few seconds later, beating the phantoms like it was nothing

He is super sad that he can’t see you in the normal world and tries to spend as much time with you as possible

Teases you if your stomach grumbles lmfao he finds that shit hilarious (runs away 2 seconds after he teases you)

Definitely brings you food, even if it’s not the most healthy but if you have a particular food you like expect to get it like at least twice a week

Overall is pretty chill but still caring<3

Aiden didn’t really notice at first, his mind wandering else where like usual or would tease and flirt with you. He only started noticing when you started dozing off in the most inconvenient places like when you were on a mission with the group and they just found you collapsed on the floor, only waking when you heard a phantom and kicked its ass! He was amazed but a little bit concerned but didn’t really show it, teasing you without an end. Once you got back to the graveyard he pulled you away from the rest of the group, finding Ashlyns rambling anout the next plan boring. He leads you to one of the buses and sits down, his back against the window and lays you down on top of him, your head resting on his chest. “What are you—” He silences you with a quick kiss on the lips and smiles, his usual manic like smile no where to be seen, only a genuine soft smile. “Rest, you need it. I can’t promise I will be here when you wake up but just rest, ‘kay? You’re safe.” He hugs you closer and your heart skips a beat. You smile and make yourself comfortable, falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

Aiden layed there with you, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. He grew bored after a while, typical Aiden but he let his mind wander, keeping himself occupied by thinking of random things and unconsciously braiding pieces of your hair. He only snapped out of it when he heard a quite loud rumbling. He lifted his arms off you and looked down at you with wide eyes, his manic like smile reappearing. He chuckled, he would definitely tease you about that later.

After a while he awoke in the real world, he texted the rest of the group in the group chat and smiled mischievously. Once midnight hit, you were awoken by noises coming from outside the bus. You quickly sat up, but calm down once you see a smiling Aiden looking down at you. You sigh, relieved it wasn’t phantoms when the door to the bus suddenly opened. You stood up and saw the group holding different kids of food you haven’t eaten in years! You look at the food like a kid seeing a toy they want and look at Aiden who smiled at you. “Surprise.” He says and the rest of the group places the food down on the floor, everyone sitting down and dig in. You sit down and eat a good amount of food yourself, eating to your hearts content. Everyone watches in awe at how much you ate but they were happy, especially Aiden that they could do this for you.

After everyone finished eating you helped cleaning up, Aiden approaching you and hugging you from behind; “Enjoyed the food, love?” He says and kisses your jaw, then cheek. “Yeah, a lot. How did you come up with this?” He smirks and rests his chin on your shouler; “Oh, I heard a little noise~” He puts one arm on your stomach and chuckles; “And I thought you would be thrilled with this surprise!” Your face turns red and you turn around and smack his head, grumbling and storming away.

#aiden sbg x reader #tyler sbg x reader #aiden sbg #tyler sbg #tyler hernandez #aiden clark #aiden clark x reader #tyler hernandez x reader #sbg x reader #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard #sbg webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#sbg #sbg tyler

603 notes · View notes

alexias-putellas · 18 days

Text

are you sure? // barça femení x teen!reader

barça femení x teen!reader

this request came in not long after that game and i still have a lot of feelings about it. here is me working through them.

warning: mentions of a panic attack but that’s all

are you sure?

you were so sure when alexia asked. when jona asked. when ingrid asked. when lucy asked. when marta asked. when mapi asked. even when sweet vicky asked.

you might’ve only been seventeen like her but you were so sure that you wanted to take the last penalty. it wasn’t your first and your track record for pentalties was impressive. so yeah, you were absolutely sure that you wanted to take the last one.

you grabbed the ball from cata and placed it on the floor, walking backwards a few steps to get a good run up. the whistle blew and you only took a few seconds before kicking it as hard as you could and really it felt like everything was happening in slow motion.

the reaction from hannah hampton, the roar of the chelsea fans as she swatted the ball away like it was a measly fly, the noise of the chelsea players as they ran over to their goalkeeper to celebrate making it into a champions league final.

you hadn’t moved, frozen to the spot as what just happened swirled and registered in your head. tears burned in your eyes but you blinked them away. arms wrapped around you and you could faintly hear the murmurs of vicky and esmee but you didn’t know what they were saying. you didn’t look at them. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the more senior members of the team.

it was alexia and mapi’s first champions league since returning properly from injury and deep down you knew that it was probably the last champions league for some of the others and you’d gone and thrown it away.

time seemed to move very slowly and you must’ve been running on autopilot because the next time you blinked, you were curled up in a seat on an unusually quiet bus. you were acutely aware of ingrid sitting next to you and the fact that mapi was somewhere close by. but you didn’t remember coming off the pitch or getting changed or even getting on the bus.

when the bus came to a stop outside the hotel, you were quick to grab your bag and shoot off it, hanging back a little bit to wait for jana who was supposed to be your roommate for the night.

but your arm was tapped and you turned to see mapi, a small smile on her face. “you are with us tonight, nena.”

you nodded, feeling a little bit relieved. you loved jana but you knew that she’d probably make you talk about what happened whereas mapi and ingrid would give you space to process it.

so you trailed behind the couple as the three of you made your way through the hotel. you immediately sat on the bed that looked untouched, automatically assuming that the two were already sharing the other bed.

ingrid didn’t have the heart to tell you that as per the rules, they hadn’t been sharing a bed but she was certain that bending the rules for you wouldn’t be an issue.

you didn’t get any sleep that night, tossing and turning before ultimately staring at the ceiling. the penalty played over and over in your head like a movie. a never ending movie.

after a few more minutes of growing irritability, you sat up and threw the covers off you. quietly, you creeped over to the window and leaned your forehead against the cool glass, staring into the lightening sky.

the light of your phone reflected but you didn’t move to look at it. why would you? it wasn’t going to be anything good. a tear dropped onto your arm before you even noticed you were crying. you harshly wiped at your eyes. you had no right to cry or be upset. the others did but not you.

it was your fault after all.

your mind wandered. what would’ve happened if someone else had taken the last penalty? what if you’d taken an earlier penalty? what if you didn’t take one at all? should you have taken one at all?

suddenly you weren’t so sure.

ᡣ𐭩

you sobbed softly into bagheera’s fur, the thought of going into training making you sick to your stomach.

as soon as you’d stepped foot back in barcelona, you’d retreated into your room at mapi and ingrid’s place and never came out. you didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t post anything on your social media’s. you didn’t do anything. the only people you’d interacted with being the couple who had opened their home to you but even that was rare.

if you had a choice, you’d have chosen to slowly integrate yourself back with the girls. but you didn’t have a choice. you had to go back to training, being thrown straight into the deep end with people who probably hated you and in your eyes, they had every right to do so.

you could hear mapi and ingrid moving around and chattering quietly and when footsteps got a little too close, you held your breath, swallowing your sob. there was a soft knock at the door then.

“nena?” mapi’s soft voice sounded through the door and you sat up slightly. she wasn’t going to come in, you knew that. “we are leaving in five minutes.”

those simple words had you burying your face further into the cat’s soft fur. you took deep breaths, willing yourself not to cry again. with a sense of hesitation, you let bagheera go and slipped off your bed. once you were sure the spaniard had left, you snuck into the bathroom.

your reflection made you wince. you weren’t going to be able to cover up those bags. and the splotchiness on your face didn’t seem to budge when you splashed yourself with water.

with a heaved sigh, you grabbed your stuff from your room and granted bagheera his freedom, following behind him as he darted straight to mapi.

truthfully neither mapi or ingrid thought you’d actually attend training so they’d already pre-warned jona and alexia of your potential absence.

but then you walked into the living room, training bag on your shoulder and a tired look on your face.

“ready elskling?” ingrid asked softly and you nodded.

the short drive to the training centre left you filled with more dread. and when mapi pulled up, you muttered something about needing to use the bathroom before running faster than you ever had.

your bag fell to the floor as soon as you’d reached your destination. your hands gripped the edge of a sink as you willed yourself to breathe. but nothing seemed to work.

you sunk to your knees, head pressed against the cool ceramic as your breathing worsened.

tears spilled down your cheeks, a feeling of dread growing worse with each passing second, and you wanted—needed to calm down. ingrid or mapi would soon raise the alarm that you still weren’t there and someone would come looking for you.

the thought of being late and potentially making the others late made you feel even worse. and you somehow sobbed between your staggered breaths.

the reasons to hate you kept piling up and you wondered how long it would be until you did something truly unforgivable. well you supposed you already had.

the door opened and again, time seemed to slow down for you. you were extremely aware of the arms wrapped around you, the hand rubbing your back soothingly, and the voice quietly encouraging you to breathe.

and then you were all on the floor, sitting in silence. a terrible, deafening silence. alexia, ingrid, and frido had never seen you look so small and childlike, a harsh reminder for them that that’s exactly what you were. a child. who appeared to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“it is okay, nena,” alexia said softly. your jaw clenched a little but you said nothing. “you are young. we all made mistakes when we were young.”

you held back the urge to laugh in her face. whilst that may have been true, you seriously doubted that any of them had single-handedly threw away a chamipions league semi-final.

“we win as a team and we lose as a team,” frido added on. “we are a family.”

“and without you we wouldn’t have even made it to penalties. you got us there elskling.”

you nodded but made no move to speak or even look at them, having kept your eyes trained on your linked hands.

it quickly became very obvious that you were still not in the mood for social interactions but the three held a little hope in their hearts as you scampered behind them to get ready for training.

the session wasn’t too bad. you did what you were supposed to do with minimum fuss and you kept to yourself. maybe giving vicky and esmee a small smile every now and then.

to them, it was progress. to you, it was nothing. merely a gesture of goodwill to show them that they were in your good books. you still didn’t speak though and ingrid’s words circled your mind. she was right, you were the reason barcelona had even made it to penalties but you were also the reason barcelona lost out and you knew which one was being spoken about all the time.

when you returned home with mapi and ingrid, you went straight to your room, placing yourself into the bay window and staring down at the busy street below. soft knocks sounded and the door opened, bagheera’s quiet meow drawing your attention. you glanced over your shoulder to see mapi stood there, two cups of coffee in her hands.

she motioned to the space next to you and you barely nodded, eyes on the soft cat as he jumped onto your lap. the spaniard carefully placed the cup into your hand. you brought it up to your lips, sipping it slowly. “good?”

“yes, thank you.” you whispered.

it silent again, something you’d actually grown quite fond of. mapi’s presence was comforting in a way but you knew she was still mad at you so when she spoke up again, you told her what she wanted to hear.

“you are okay nena, right?” she asked but the concern in her eyes wasn’t noticed by you and you nodded, desperate for her to leave so you could cry in peace. “estas segura?”

“i’m sure.”

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #barça femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #ona batlle #keira walsh #lucy bronze #mapi leon #ingrid engen #esmee brugts #jana fernandez

434 notes · View notes

popponn · 4 months

Text

so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.

but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.

of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.

and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.

(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)

"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.

rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.

from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.

in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.

"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.

you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.

but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.

rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.

it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.

so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"

rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."

"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.

you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.

"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."

notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.

#bllk imagines #drabbles #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blurbs #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #bllk fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk scenarios #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin fluff #ARGH but yeah this published earlier than i thought have this #maybe one day soon #im fixing tags later skdhdh

574 notes · View notes

crownofgildedlilies · 15 days

Text

knowin' that it probably isn't true -> cool about it [4]

in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: cursing, angst, slight panic attack?

word count: 5.3k

a/n: how can this possibly be the final part. like what? also, it's been forever since I've read the ending go heroes of Olympus so I cannot for the life of me remember how canon accurate this is.

one two three [four]

There was one rule Jason was always willing to break.

For you, he had murmured into the side of your head, just above your ear, as he pulled you close the first night it had happened. You hadn't been able to help the roll of your watery, red-rimmed eyes. Or the skip of your heart.

Big declaration, Jase, you had fired back, pretending your voice wasn't shaking, that you hadn't made a much bigger declaration by seeking him out after curfew.

Leave it to the daughter of thieves to break and enter into the praetor's private room.

The first night it happened, you had gotten a rather stiff and formal letter from your mother, explaining why it was simply the better choice for you to stay at camp over the holidays. In front of everyone, you had kept it together.

Alone in your bunk, you broke down.

It was an easy decision, then, to go find Jason. A natural instinct, practically, was leading you through the bunkhouse on silent, swift feet despite the tears staining your face. When you had slipped into Jason's room, he had bolted awake.

You were prepared for a lecture. Instead, he just opened his arms.

So there was one rule that Jason Grace was willing to break.

Curfew.

You were careful not abuse your privilege, only searching him out when needed.

And right now, he was needed.

Your feet carried you soundlessly through the corridors, your heart hammering in your chest and bottom lip caught between your teeth, almost bloody with worry. The dream had been fast, uncontrollable, terrifying.

Not once had you ever bothered knocking on his door, and you didn't start now, twisting the knob and careful to only open it as much as you needed to slip through, because if you went any wider the hinges would squeak and Reyna could only overlook so much.

The sight of him, asleep in bed, hair tousled and face almost peaceful, was nearly enough to settle you. But then flashes of your dream came back, and you knew you needed more.

Easing the door shut, you made sure the latch clicked in place as silently as you could manage. The absolute last thing you needed was some nosy Lar floating by seeing you breaking the rules alongside Jason.

The teasing would never end.

Despite praetor's getting the privilege of having their own rooms, they remained in standard issue sized bunks. Which meant that you couldn't help but press against him as you climbed under the covers, body already half-hanging over the far edge. The movement of the mattress jostled him awake, like always, and he slowly blinked his tired eyes open.

You remained silent as he got his bearings, bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep from spilling out the gory details of your desperation to see him before he even realized what was happening.

He twisted, copying your position of laying on his side, one arm curled underneath his head to prop it up just slightly.

"Hey, you," Jason mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He stretched slightly, using the movement to reach out and brush his thumb across your cheek, as if he was checking for tears he couldn't see in the dim room. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Sleeping was the problem," You shook your head, kicking your leg forwards under the blanket to knock against his, just the barest excuse to touch him and confirm he was real and alive and laying before you.

"Nightmare?" Like he ever needed to ask. So few things got you worked up enough to risk getting caught sneaking into his room.

"Mhm," You hummed, anyway, eyes tracing the barest outline of his face visible to you in the dark of the room. The moon provide some light through the window, but you had Jason's features memorized from the time you were fourteen.

"What was it about, this time?" He asked, and you wished you could hate him for the way he sounded genuinely concerned and like he wanted to know. The pounding in your heart as he knocked his leg forwards against yours, a mimic of your own actions seconds earlier, would be easier to deal with.

"You." Without cracking, you managed to force the word out at a volume barely audible in the otherwise silent room. Your stare was focused on his chin, because you couldn't meet his eyes as you confessed, and his nose was too close to his eyes, and looking at his lips made you want to do something incredibly stupid.

His chin was neutral territory, even if you wanted to kiss there, too.

"Me?" He sounded like he didn't understand, which you gave him grace for. Yes, your nightmare was about him, but not because of anything he did, so much as what happened to him. Not the first of its kind, but after the fight with Krios, it stung a little deeper.

"You went on a quest, without me, again." Your murmured, gaze still fixed on his chin. He stayed silent, knowing you better than you knew yourself, knowing that you needed him to wait for you to find the right words. "And... and you didn't come back to me, Jase, you had promised, but you didn't—"

Your shudder took you by surprise, eyes squeezed shut tight to try and fight the stinging quickly growing there, your lungs burning with the effort to contain your sobs. You tried all your usual tricks to keep from crying. Counting silently, deep breaths through your nose, hands squeezing into fists so tight your nails cut crescent shaped marks into the heel of your palms leaking the slightest bit of blood.

It didn't work. The image of a broken, ruined Jason returned to you at the edge of camp burned into your memory. You knew it had been a dream, that he hadn't actually died, but the thought—

"This is stupid." You huffed, voice watery and tight and so incredibly pathetic you half expected Jason to strip you of your title of centurion. It was all so very un-Roman of you. "I'm too old to be crying over bad dreams."

"Hey," Jason murmured, voice gentle, and it worked in combination with his warm hands wrapping over yours to calm the tempest that was raging in your mind enough for you to open your eyes. His handsome face was twisted in concern, in understanding, and the tears welled up in your eyes all the bit faster. "I'd be a wreck, too, if I dreamt that I lost you."

Why can't he just say the words, you lamented bitterly in your mind. Why can't I say them, either?

"I hate crying." You managed to force out after a few beats of silence, broken only by your pitiful sniffles trying to keep the tears from finally falling down your cheeks and staining the pillow you shared with Jason.

"I know," His voice was soothing, gentle, and you let him manipulate your hand until he had your open palm splayed, pressed against his chest, his own covering the back of yours to keep you from pulling away. Not that you ever did anything but crawl impossibly closer to him each day.

You were Jason's and Jason was yours, but never in so many words.

"Feel that?" His quiet question startled you from your mind, the terrible sleep-created images replaying on a loop. Reyna apologizing for not protecting him, the weight of his golden coin pressing heavily into the center of your palm.

You're the only one he would have wanted to have that, Reyna had said in your dream when she handed off the magic weapon. And if something ever really did happen to him, you couldn't help but morbidly think that he really would want you to have it—

"Don't leave me here, now." Jason, real Jason, the one living and breathing and holding your hand against his chest—right over his heart, you realized with the sudden jolt. The beat was steady under the tips of your fingers, and you closed your eyes to focus on the rhythm, to try and match your shallow breaths to his deep and even ones. "There. Welcome back, solider."

"We can't be soldiers right now." You shook your head, eyes still shut but voice almost back to normal. And though you knew Jason didn't understand it, he didn't question.

You couldn't be solders. You couldn't be only little heroes destined to fight and bleed and die at the whim of others, of gods with self-imposed rules keeping them from helping their own children. Being soldiers had been what had ruined your dream, that had sent you racing through the dark to find him. Soldiers weren't lovers. Soldiers didn't hold each other.

Jason was trained to be a soldier. But maybe, with you, he could learn to be other things.

"Thank you," You murmured, voice almost silent as you peaked open your eyes. You had known Jason had moved closer to you, had heard his cheek brushing against the pillow you shared and felt the heat from his skin warm yours, but you hadn't anticipated the blow to your chest you received when you opened your eyes and found him close enough to taste, if you had been born into a braver body.

"After my little stunt on the War Games field with Damien last week? I figured I owed you." He teased, and the absurdity of Jason Grace finding it in himself to make such a casual joke after you had climbed into his bed mid-panic attack had a lopsided grin work its way onto your face.

"Shut up." You wanted to lean forward and press your lips against his skin, but you held back. You always held back, but only when it came to Jason. Most of your bunkmates had vocalized that they wished you had the capacity to control yourself more. "How many times have you kept me out of the brig?"

"Fair point," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and reminding you that your palm was still pressed against the cotton of his sleep shirt.

As much as it pained you, you slipped your hand out of his, but something took control of you and changed direction. Originally, you had planned on tucking your fist underneath your own chin, cocooning yourself in your own arms and trying to justify staying a little bit longer.

What ended up happening was your hand falling to rest on Jason's cheek, thumb brushing over the pearly white line of his scar. The tips of your fingers tingled, might have even shook, as they touched his lips.

All the humor was sucked from the room with your gentle declaration of such intimacy. Sure, you and Jason had long since passed through each other's barriers of personal space. Neither one of you exactly had nurturing childhoods and found relentless comfort in the other.

Touch starved, someone had once explained it as. Two people making up for lost time and a need to feel loved and held. Jason was the only one you let into your space, and as far as you knew you were the only one Jason wrapped himself around. The thought of him locking pinkies with someone besides you made you queasy and tossed you back into the moment, your palm on his cheek and his eyes on yours.

It was almost too much. You hoped he couldn't hear your heart hammering in your chest, feeling as if it was about to burst with how much you loved him.

You loved everything about him. From his smiles to his dedication and his innocent charm. To the way he fought like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, because it did, and how he let you break the rules in his bed because he knew you better than you could ever hope to know yourself, sometimes.

"I bet it was a wolf bite." You murmured into the quiet, words tumbling past your lips before you could even think of what you were saying.

"Hm?" He must not have expected your words, because he hummed questioningly, sounding half-distracted but your touch lingering on his skin. The idea of distracting Jason Grace made you smile. It felt like an achievement.

"Your scar," You clarified, still tracing it with the pad of your thumb. his skin was warm and soft and it helped ease your remaining nerves to hold him so gently after the gruesome horror show of your nightmare. "I bet it was a wolf bite."

Jason grinned, then. Wide and bright and if you hadn't seen him call down lightning personally, you would have thought Phoebus Apollo was his father from how much blinding sunshine radiated from him, even in the middle of the night, half-asleep.

"If Lupa bit me, I don't think the scar would be so small." He teased, knocking his forehead into yours gently. You snorted, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him, trying to remain casual as his nose brushed against yours.

"Still, it's a good story." You hummed, shrugged slightly. Jason huffed a laugh, and you felt his breath on your skin, on your lips.

"Yeah, it's a good story." He agreed quietly, his own hand reaching up to hold your face, mimicking your position with a gentleness that made you question if you should ruin the only gentle thing to ever embrace you by slotting your mouth over his, over every inch of his face.

Instead, you moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, holding him as close as you could without being greedy.

You knew you'd have to leave soon, or else risk getting caught, and you couldn't do that to Jason.

But you let yourself have a few minutes. You never knew how many you'd ever have with him.

It was peaceful, if only for a moment.

It had only been war, for hours.

Your voice was shredded raw from shouting orders, rallying troops, keeping Romans from turning on Greeks like Octavian had wanted.

It was the final battle, you knew. The air tasted of it, of that heavy weight that came with saving the world. You had felt it when you had gone into battle against Krios to keep the Titans from rising, and you were sick with it, now.

This time, you didn't have Jason by your side, covering your weaknesses while you watched his. You didn't even have Reyna, anymore.

I need you to stay here, Reyna had ordered you when you had argued your case for joining her on her quest to the Ancient Lands after Jason and the others. Your desperation to accompany her went beyond a bone-deep ache to see Jason again; you were going absolutely crazy sitting around at the Roman encampments surrounding the Greek demigod camp, waiting for a battle you were certain shouldn't be taking place.

If I stay here, I'm going to kill Octavian. Or he'll get someone to kill me, you countered, and two weeks earlier you could have played it off as a joke. But Octavian had become drunk on power, had appointed himself to a rank higher than praetor, and was absolutely gunning for a reason to get rid of you, one way or another.

Don't let him, Reyna had said, as if it was ever that simple. I need someone here that I can trust. Jason needs you here, too.

Your frown had deepened, no matter how impossible it had seemed.

That was a low blow, you mumbled, pissed off and exhausted, only getting more pissed off and exhausted by your own shitty attitude.

Reyna had grimaced, but did you the favor of not pointing out that it had worked. You had stayed behind, had remained with your soldiers and dodged Octavian as much as you could, knowing how very weak the leash you held your anger on was. He was looking for any excuse to put you on trial. You couldn't give him one.

But that didn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to undermine Octavian's control.

The fighting that soon followed was inevitable.

You had known from the start that it was either going to be against the Greeks or the monsters, depending on how successful Jason and his new group of friends were. If they got back in time to unify the camps like Annabeth had promised Reyna they would, then the monsters would be feasible to take on.

But Octavian started the war early. Started against the Greeks, then was forced to split forces when the monsters began their assault, too.

The groundwork you had laid against Octavian was almost unnecessary as he doomed the Romans to fight an exhausting and expensive battle they could never win. It had been almost too easy for you to take control, to knock Octavian out with a single punch and order Roman troops to fight alongside the Greeks, to use them as another weapon against the monsters.

Defend their camp as if it is our own!, you had shouted through the roar of battle, perched on the highest point you could find—an upturned chariot. The fighting had paused at your words, Greeks and Romans alike trying to see which way the attacking army would sway.

One girl on the Greek side of the fight gave orders to her soldiers not to attack your Romans, just as the daughter of Ares had promised on the few nights you had snuck into her camp to discuss that very moment.

Clarisse La Rue had been all too willing to talk war with you, double agent against Octavian, you were.

Reyna and Nico arriving with the Athena Parthenos had only sealed the deal, but even with Greek and Roman forces combined the never-ending monster army was a force to be reckoned with. Gaea herself was even pulling you in, feet sucked into the earth to tire you out faster with each step.

By the time the flying trireme arrived, your exhaustion was bone deep and felt like the only substantial thing in your life.

It was a blur, from then on. Fighting still raged. Screams still tore through the air. Battle continued and stole and ached.

Then came the explosion.

One minute you were fighting for your life, prepared to enter into the next one, and then suddenly the world had stilled around you. Whatever monsters weren't falling under the swords and arrows of demigod heroes had turned and ran, and it was almost jarring how silent the battlefield got.

Or maybe you were just too tired to process any sound. You thought you could see Reyna's mouth moving, a few dozen feet in front of you, but all you heard was a low buzzing, the thrumming of your heart, as you searched the carnage.

You weren't sure if the Romans stopped to gawk at you because you were stumbling through the mess or because you were, against all odds, still standing. You had been on the front lines from the start, had led wave after wave of assault.

By all accounts, you should have been lost to the fight. But you never gave up all that easily.

You knew there still were a million and six things that remained to do before darkness fell. First and most important to you was organizing your legion, taking count of who had survived the battle. Mourning walked hand in hand with victory, and you were well acquainted with the pair.

Except, you only made it ten steps before you saw him.

Jason Grace had completely forgotten you. Despite his promises, his sweet words and even sweeter touches, he had forgotten you and all that you meant to him. He didn't know how he used to pinch your arm to keep you awake in your more boring classes. He didn't know that he used to swap plates with you at least once a week because you regretted what the Mess Hall sprites had brought you.

He didn't know how he brushed his hands through your hair when you got worked up, and he didn't remember what the touch of your skin on his felt like.

But he was heading straight towards you, as if the destruction around him could wait and all that mattered was you.

It was enough to root you to your spot. With shaking, brutalized fingers you took off your helmet. You meant to hold it under your arm against your hip, but suddenly Jason was within five feet of you with the most determined stare, and you barely registered it dropping to the ground.

You had counted the days since you had last seen him in Charleston. It had been too long and not long enough, because no matter how much you loved Jason with every inch of your being, it also hurt too great to have him in front of you and know he didn't remember how gently he had once used his thumbs to smooth the worry lines from between your knitted brows.

"Soldier—" You started, desperate to take control of the conversation, but he was speaking over you before you even finished the second syllable.

"It's not a wolf bite." His words were firm, almost pleading. But they were also so unexpected, so out of place, you jolted back half a step. He quickly made up for the space you tried putting between you both, halting only a few scant inches from the exhausted lines of your body.

"What?" You managed to gape, chin tilted to look up at him, face twisted in grief and confusion and hope so dangerous you contemplated the blow to your reputation if you turned and ran.

"The scar. Not a wolf bite." He clarified, and it took nearly everything in you to tear your stare from his to drag down his face and find the beloved mark on the corner of his lips, right where it had been since the moment you had met him. You had felt that bit of raised skin underneath the pad of your thumb more times than what could have been considered as just friendly, had made up stories for its existence just to distract yourself. "When I was two, I tried to eat a stapler."

"Jason," The sound that left your lips could almost have been mistaken for a laugh, if someone only plugged their ears and closed their eyes. It was a haunted, aching, desperate sound, mixed with a short exhale that had Jason leaning even closer to you, somehow.

"I just thought you'd want to know." He murmured, and you weren't sure if the warmth burning your skin was from the exertion of battle, the rays of sun beating against your cheek, or the intensity of Jason's stare on you.

Familiar. He looked... familiar. Maybe a little Greek, but he was still Roman. Still an unwavering force, one that had defeated a Titan and still had enough power to tear down his seat of power in search for your battered body, almost lost to the rubble.

He looked like he knew you.

"You… you remember?" Fingers curled into fists at your side, almost buzzing with emotions you could barely even begin to decipher. Everything was a knot inside of you; thoughts, feelings, strength. You'd given everything on the battlefield, but you had been running on fumes from the moment Jason had been stolen from you. It was nothing short of a miracle that you were still standing.

"I do, now." His nod sent a shuddering gasp through you, but still you couldn't get yourself to lift a hand out and reach him. You had already had this dream—this nightmare—so many times. What happened next would likely be his dismissing you. Or worse—you would wake up.

But Jason moved first, one hand you knew like your own raising to wipe a spot of grime off you cheek before cradling your head gently. It was all the permission you needed before your own hands notched under the sides of his armor, a familiar movement always used to tug him closer to you. Metal clanged together as his chest plate hit against yours, and though you suddenly loathed the equipment that had saved your life more times than you felt you deserved, you couldn't let go of Jason long enough to free yourself from it. That part would have to wait.

"Got hit on the head a few times, talked to a couple of gods. It all helped the pieces fall back together." He explained, and you pressed your knuckles into his sides as a silent reprimand for making fun of himself getting hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision of Jason, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. A reprimand for yourself, too. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Jase." You would have shaken your head, but you didn't want to move out of his hold for a second, and instead pressed your cheek tighter against his palm still holding the side of your jaw.

He looked ready to argue, but you flashed him a glare so fierce he thought better of it. You had been living in anger and fear for months. Having Jason back already helped, but it would take more than a few minutes for you to right yourself.

And you still stood on the battlefield.

"I remember that last argument we had." He knocked you back to reality in the gentle way only he ever knew how to do with you. Out of shame, you ducked your gaze to the ground, but he didn't let you hide. With the hand that wasn't on your jaw, thumb brushing reassuring strokes over your cheek, he held your nearly quivering chin between his index and his thumb. The way he tilted your head up to meet his stare was tender, but that had never been a question when it came to him. "Where I said there was nothing for us to do but be soldiers."

"Yeah," You were pretty sure you were speaking, but you couldn't focus on anything over the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears or the beautiful burn of his skin against yours.

"I was wrong." He admitted, but you knew what those words meant just the same as he knew that you would understand. "I remembered fragments of you. The sound of your laugh. How your hair shone in the summer sun."

"Sounds like you might be in love, or something." You tried for teasing but sounded like you had just been hit by a bus. Jason had only been back for a few scarce minutes and already was bulldozing you with his sweet words. If he hadn't just disappeared on you for upwards of seven months and came back to save the world, you would have threatened to kick his ass for disorientating you so much so quickly.

"Oh, I am." He grinned a little nervously, a little lopsided, and you couldn't wait any longer.

You moved first, hands darting from the sides of his armor to the sides of his face, palms flat against his skin as you tugged his head down you meet you while you pushed yourself up on your tip-toes to meet him halfway.

Kissing Jason was as inevitable as it was all-consuming. You had played dumb with Dakota whenever he brought it up, but deep down you had always belonged to Jason Grace, and he to you, from the moment he broke the rules to sit with you in that small, restricted stretch of grass when you were ten years old.

Your fingers knotted into the hair on the back of his head, grown out just enough during his time with the Greeks. You thought it suited him, and it was soft under your touch, and you mentally made a note to plead with him later to leave it alone. From the way he was kissing you like he would starve if he didn't, you had a feeling he'd agree easily.

He was warm and sweet and tasted like mint. He was everything you had imagined, everything you had never once dared to hope for. Strong hands and gentle touches, unyielding intelligence and unwavering kindness.

He was everything. Your everything.

Despite the weight of Jason's mouth on yours, you still were dimly aware of where you stood. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and no matter how close you pressed against Jason, you couldn't hide from the fact that you were a centurion and your legion needed you.

You had been left by almost everyone in your life, but never had letting someone go been as painful as it was to step back from Jason long enough to catch your breath and clear the fog from your mind that was a direct reaction to his touch.

"I've got to—" You shuddered, voice catching, but Jason nodded, knowing what you meant. Knowing you, knowing your mind, always. You almost shivered again at the reminder that he remembered. He knew what you were going to say, but you forced yourself to finish your thought so you could convince yourself it was real. "I've got to find my legion. Count survivors. Take stock of injuries. We've been—we've been fighting for hours."

You didn't want to leave him. You never had wanted to before, but after he had been stolen from you for so long? Now that he had confessed his love and kissed you like his life depended on it?

Now you were worried that the next time he left your side, he'd disappear again, no matter how unwillingly he went.

"Okay," Jason smoothed his thumbs across your cheeks, face ducked low towards yours as your hands fell to wrap loosely around his wrists, desperate to hold him in anyway you could. "Okay. We can do that."

"We?" You questioned, then immediately felt stupid for doing so. Of course, he meant we. It had always been the two of you against the world, and he had just gotten his memories of you back. There was no way he would let you out of his sight so soon.

"You told me the day we met that there was no getting rid of you." Jason reminded you, as if you could ever forget meeting him, as if the gods themselves had been able to keep him from remembering you. "I'm holding you to that promise."

Words failed you, but the way you surged forward to press your mouth to his in a quick, urgent kiss that you had dreamed about sharing with him for years, didn't.

"Just for the record, I love you too." You offered an exhausted imitation of a smile as you pulled away, finally dropping your touch from him. Because maybe you had Jason back, but you still weren't sure how many of your soldiers had been lost. Mourning and victory, always a solemn pair.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but someone called out your name, and the edge of desperation and worry in their voice cut through you like a knife. And Jason remembered you, knew you, and saw everything written on your face.

"We'll figure out this mess together." He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip before nudging your shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. "Lead the way, Centurion."

Your stomach was still in knots, so you pressed your lips into a firm line. But Jason was a warm strength at your back, and he kept his promise of together, and followed you dutifully.

War took and took, but sometimes it gave.

Jason, your Jason, was back. And maybe there were still a million questions to answer, boundaries to fix and homes to rebuild, but you knew Jason would be by your side through it all.

An unwavering force behind your relentless dedication.

War took and took, but things would be okay.

Things would be okay.

a/n: im allergic to sad endings (jk I just can't write them they always feel unfinished when I try) also this took me forever bc I was so incredibly worried that the finale would flop but I kinda love this so im just gonna full send

tag, you're it! @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester @bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake @maybxlle @p-rspective @lauptimist @dontstopxx @apollosfavkiddo @ebony-reine-vibes @poppysrin @valromanoff @jesuschrist2006 @pariahsparadise @killaari @marshmummy @sofiacblair

#jason grace #jason grace fanfiction #jason grace fanfic #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #rays of sun #cool about it

197 notes · View notes

mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| Hostage - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word count - 1.9K

Summary - When y/n is taken hostage because she is their combat analyst and knows a significant amount of information in regards to the 141, Ghost goes ballistic. Driven by fear and anger he locates you and is able to rescue you but the fear lingers and he struggles to wrestle his feelings back down.

Warnings/Tags - Violence and blood, allusions to a brief panic attack

A/N - I’m thinking of doing an epilogue to this but I’m really on the fence

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

Ghost feared very little. Knew that very little could actually kill him, and even fewer people could do the same. He knew he wasn’t invincible, and someday his luck would run out. Someday his heart would stop, and his blood would run cold. He couldn’t run from the inevitable; thus, he welcomed death with open arms like one would an old friend. He didn’t have a death wish though. He was merely passive towards it. Sometimes he liked the thrill a brush with death gave him. It reminded him he was alive, that his heart did indeed beat like everyone else’s.

When it came to you, it was an entirely different story. The very idea of you being hurt, and dying, scared the shit out of him. The thought of you leaving him behind plagued him. Even in his sleep, nightmares of you taking your last breaths in his arms would force him from sleep. He’d spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. He feared for the day he wasn’t able to protect you.

A day like today.

“Ghost,” Price spoke slowly and low like he was talking to a wide animal. Which wasn’t that far off, “We’ll get them back, we just need more information. We can’t run in there blind and deaf.”

Price might as well have been talking to a brick wall because all Ghost could hear was ringing. An incessant, grating sound that shrouded him from all sense and reason. He remained utterly silent, seeth in his own wrath. The wrath he was sure to bring down on everyone and anyone who stood in his way. The 141 was well aware of this and stood aside as Ghost stalked to the door, his shoulders rolled and taut ready for a fight. He had turned so wholly maniacal that even Soap was disturbed by the look in his eye and backed down. Ghost went AWOL, but the 141 provided as much support as they could. They were able to give him updates and new information over the radio, but they were never able to catch up with his unrelenting pace. Instead, they only stumbled over his messes. Their own anxiety and unease about the meaning behind it all grew. It was as if humanity abandoned him as he tracked—No. As he hunted down the men who took you, smelling their blood in the air and following the scent. Ghost spared no one. If someone wasn't giving him the information he’d slay them and move to the next. If the next person wasn’t giving him information fast enough they were executed.

When he finally located you, you were in a warehouse, he communicated back into the radio for the first time to tell the rest of the 141.

The captors had yet to start drawing blood, but only because they were trying a psychological approach. It had already been three hours. Three very long hours. You were a combat analyst, you weren’t a trained soldier like the 141. And you sure as hell wasn’t prepared for something like this. He didn’t let himself think too hard about the possibilities. He didn’t let himself think about the probability of finding you dead inside the warehouse. You had crucial information on the 141 that they wanted, and he could only hope that information was keeping you alive.

He slaughtered his way into the building, leaving nothing but carnage behind him. When he got visuals on you, alive, he nearly collapsed. Not completely unharmed though.

You were soaked from waterboarding. They had used ice-cold water, and somehow it was colder still. The big industrial fans hanging from the roof blew cool air, but it was only amplified tenfold for you. He could hear your shivering, see how your lips had turned a scary shade of blue. Your hair stuck to your face in wet clumps. Your hands were bound to a chair, your fingers curling into your palms in search of any warmth. Your eyes burned holes into whoever stood in front of you.

“Where. Are. The 141. Hiding?” Your captor asked again, the same question he’s been asking from the very beginning. He forced your head back, getting ready to place the towel. He hadn’t gotten anything out of you yet, but he could tell you were breaking.

You bit out a smile, although it was more of an act of you baring your teeth at him, “Go to hell,” Your teeth chattered, despite your best efforts. Before the captor could place to sopping towel back over your face he emerges.

It’s almost as if Ghost was made from the shadows themselves with the way he seems to materialize out of them. The way they clung to him. He couldn’t remember losing his handgun, but at some point, he’d resorted to knives.

You knew he wasn’t here for your blood but alarms and warnings went off in your very bones. They screamed, Danger! Danger!

Ghost was every bit his reputation at this moment. His eyes were wide and unseeing. His movements were swift and snappy like elastics were snapping in his limbs. He’d taken his time when he dragged the blade across the man's throat, wanting to keep him alive to feel every ounce of agony at his life quite literally drained from him.

The speed at which he moved in front of you almost made you think him inhuman. He uncuffed you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard enough that you thought he was going to break bones. He was panting, almost unable to catch his breath. You could almost smell his fear; that and the blood that was surely hiding among the black dye of his clothes.

You repeatedly murmured, “I’m okay. I’m okay,” into his shoulder. Not sure if you were comforting him, or yourself. Both, you very quickly realized. As whatever came over him in those few hours of your life in danger, ebbed from his veins, he finally, finally returned to his body. Before it had felt like he was watching himself from outside his body, watching himself from someone else perceptive. Someone may have thought he wasn’t a mundane soldier, but a vessel for whatever god wished to experience true unchecked rage.

But he was human.

He felt true terror today, and his body was starting to feel the effects of it. He kept repeating, “I’m sorry,” like they were the only words he could remember. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and his skin felt too tight and itchy. You let him hold you, let him feel your heartbeat against his.

The 141 arrived with a medic. Simon immediately stepped aside, allowing the professional to assess you. She’d immediately announced hypothermia and called for a medevac. She’d wrapped a reflective blanket around your shoulders and removed her own jacket and put it on top.

Once Simon was completely and utterly sure you were in good hands, he’d stumbled to the wall, choosing a spot where he was obscured from your view. Everyone’s view. He’d fallen to his knees then, his strength leaving him. They cracked against the concrete, but he welcomed the sharp pain. He’d lifted his mask and thrown up.

It had been a long, long while since he’d had a reaction like this. Where panic and hysteria claimed him. Guilt and self-loathing suffocated him. Filled his chest, and bubbled up into his throat.

He let this happen. He wasn’t careful enough. He got too comfortable.

And this was the result.

It was his fault.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

He clenched his jaw, fighting back hot tears. He leaned his back against the wall, rested his arms on his knees, and let his head hang between his legs. If circumstances were different he would have crawled into the safety of your arms and begged you to make this feeling stop. To make it go away. It was a selfish thought, he knew that. Knew that you were one who needed comfort and reassurance right now. Knew that you needed him just as much, but he didn’t want you to see this. For if you looked into his eyes, you’d be faced with the reality that he truly had had no idea what to do. He came looking with no plan and hardly any direction. He’d once again gotten lucky by following breadcrumbs and whispers to find you.

He almost lost you.

You were alive, yes, but what if he’d come an hour later? A minute?

The 141 knew where he was. Had watched him as he melted back into the shadows, but respected Simon’s silent request for solitary. They understood that he needed to wade through these emotions on his own and that no matter what they said or did wasn’t going to fix it.

When he heard the familiar sound of a chopper overhead he forced himself to collect himself. Allowing himself 10 more seconds before remasking, and finding you. The medic and Price were escorting you to the front doors.

“Simon,” Soap appeared at his side, Ghost jerked his attention to him, “There is nothing you could have done differently.”

He didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough for Soap to understand that he disagreed. With that, he made his way over to you taking Price’s place at your side.

You were still shaking but you held your head high with your shoulders squared. Simon could have cried at the sight. To see you were defiant in the face of it all was enough to ease the tiniest bit of worry from his shoulders. He knew you weren’t totally unaffected and it was going to take you years to repair the damages, but here you were walking out of this building on your own two feet.

The medic tried to tell him he couldn’t come with but he downright refused to leave you, “Try and tell me no.”, and she must have known immediately she wasn’t going to win because she let him in anyway.

He held your hand in his the entire flight to the nearest hospital, eyes darting about. He stayed at your side the entire time you were in the hospital too. He slept in the chair beside your bed, or at least pretended to until you drifted off into sleep, but was wide awake and alert for the rest of the night. Only leaving when Soap came for a visit the next day with clothes for him, telling him he’d take the next shift. Simon changed and came right back to the room. Only this time when he sat in the chair with the hood of his sweater pulled over his head, did he sleep. Finding some solace in knowing Soap was here too.

Tomorrow he was going to have a meeting with Price about his insubordination. And about the ramage he went on. Tomorrow he was going to have to tell Price about how he’d completely lost himself, didn’t even remember half of it.

Epilogue

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - Price isn’t mad, he’s worried

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley angst #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod x y/n #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #mw2 #MistyGhosties

2K notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 5 months

Text

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in.

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.)

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.)

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.)

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air.

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?)

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears.

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again?

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate.

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already.

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are?

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.)

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire.

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again.

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape.

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks.

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized.

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay.

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about?

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny.

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”)

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself?

He’ll never know, he supposes.

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back.

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it.

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better.

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.”

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!”

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff.

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up.

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.”

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?”

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh.

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing.

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas.

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were.

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused.

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning.

He didn’t think. He did. He did.

What did he see?

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.”

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off.

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there.

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to.

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves.

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops.

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream.

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts.

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is.

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves.

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe.

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up.

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies?

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.)

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face.

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.)

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way.

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.”

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.”

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it.

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time.

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.”

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse.

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny.

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight?

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.”

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh.

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents.

He probably had nightmares about that.

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.”

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.”

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.”

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.”

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.”

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.)

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.)

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.)

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast.

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?)

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.)

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor.

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room.

“Yes, Danny?”

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks.

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.”

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind.

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes.

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned.

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go.

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again.

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.”

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?”

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious.

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit.

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs.

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him.

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?”

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.”

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.”

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library.

His appetite’s been ruined.

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded.

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare.

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently.

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?)

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him.

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t.

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out.

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.)

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious.

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare.

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle.

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.”

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.”

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do.

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood.

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly.

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed.

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows.

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce.

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpxdc au #dpdc #dpdc crossover #Danny is Jason Todd au #i didn't think of anything beyond the ending point howEVER #this post is totally open for additions if anyone is interested #i love seeing add-ons to posts #anyways EVIL LAUGHTER #THIS IS THE PART I WANTED TO GET TO. PYSCHOLOGICAL HORROR #ANGST #if this was a fic i would have ramped up the horror more #alas tis a ficlet #starry terrorizes the waynes with the fact that jason is going to die in his world and there's nothing they can do about it.#he doesnt know he's going to die. but they do :)#fun fact jazz was going to be here and she was going to be the one to see the ghost #if this was a fic that ending scene would've occurred after more build up of dick and bruce and co seeing the figure following danny around #in the original variant au the waynes dont meet danny until he's already died and is a ghost #and i was gonna have one more jason appearance but couldnt fit one in #merry belated christmas folks #have some angst after two consecutive clone^2 posts of fluff #i tried to picture what danny's body would have looked like before being ghosted and #extremely burned was the first thing that came to mind. his suit is also almost entirely melted. something to kinda resemble his ghost half #but also i couldn't stomach making him completely unrecognizable because he WOULD have been #genuinely think danny's body would have been like. half melted at least

298 notes · View notes

d4yl1ghts · 1 month

Text

i’ve got you

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: you go with finnick to help katniss and the mockingjay squad but you begin to regret it as you realise you could lose the one thing keeping you grounded

warnings: mention of death, panic attack

You placed your backpack down before you sat down as you felt the cool metal through your hands. The rigid material was not comfortable but it would have to do. You supposed this was what one could expect if they were to aid the rebellion. Rustling through your bag, you heard sos,one plop down beside you. You turned around and saw your boyfriend, Finnick, who smiled at you cutely. His dimples were creased and his eyes were glistening in the low-lighting of the underground and you couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t called the ‘Capitol darling’ for no reason.

You waved at him like a child who didn’t know they were in a war. He let out a low chuckle. “How are you feeling, baby?”, he gently asked you. “Tired.”, you muttered quietly as you rested your head against his shoulder which was conveniently padded with his uniform. “Me too.”, he yawned to emphasise his point. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”, he questioned as he looked down at you, careful not to move his shoulder. “Not really.”, you mumbled into his shoulder. “Will I have to give you a piggyback around?”, he joked teasingly. “Yeah, I’d love that actually. Can we just do that every day from now on?”, you said playfully. “No. I need to keep my muscles fresh. Sorry!”, he stated confidently. “What muscles?”, you asked as you squeezed his massive bicep. He laughed. “I’m joking, they’re huge.”, you stated.

He smirked down at you in victory. You loved his biceps and he knew that.

You glanced up at him before asking, in a softer tone: “What if I lose you?”

“Hmm?”, he mumbled, not hearing you. “What if I lose you or you lose me?”, you questioned cautiously. “I won’t lose you, I’ll protect you. Darling, you’re my number one priority.”, he said, not elaborating on the first part. “What if I lose you?”, you repeated, more clearly this time. “You won’t lose me. Why would you?”, he reciprocated. “Finn, I can’t lose you. I couldn’t live with out you. You’re the only reason I’m still here, Finnick.”, your breathing picked up as you imagined a life with out him.

“You won’t lose me.”, he repeated with certainty in his tone. “You’ll probably pull out some stupid hero move. Finnick, you can’t risk it because that’s just selfish, okay?!”, you questioned in one breath. Your vision had started to get blurry and your heart rate had picked up. He looked down at you and noticed your state. He moved in front of you. “Baby.”, he cupped your cheeks. “You won’t lose me, okay? I won’t leave you. I would never do that to you.”, he replied to your worries. “Okay.”, you answered, trying to focus on your laboured breathing.

“Follow my breathing, baby.”, he guided you, telling you to “breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

“I’ve got you, baby girl.”, he added as he took your hands into his. You gazed into his sea-green eyes as you kissed his slightly chapped lips. He’d usually have chapped lips, it was one of the side effects of living by the beach. You took in his scent: a mixture of freeing sand and captivating cologne. He instantly kissed you back, loving the feeling of your lips against each others. Your lips were moulded for each other. You were now out of breath for a completely different reason to before.

Finnick had his hands placed softly around your waist whilst yours laid happily in his hair. You sighed contentedly into the kiss as you gently ruffled his fluffy hair. You felt his lips curl upwards against yours, causing yours to do the same. After a long minute, you had to pull away to take in some oxygen but it was a lasting kiss.

Finnick pecked your forehead as he hoisted you onto his lap. “We need to get some sleep, baby girl.”, he mumbled into your hair as you made yourself comfortable on his legs. “I love you to the bottom of the ocean and from the depth of my heart.”, he stated charmingly. “I love you, Finn, so much.”, you pulled him as close to yourself as you could.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick oneshot #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x you #fem!reader

168 notes · View notes

divijohm · 2 months

Note

Headcanons for Toby, Jeff, Nina and slendy with a reader that lovesss animals? (and is good with them) :D like every time they return from a mission, reader has brought back a puppy or kitty? (bonus points if once she accidentally brought a wolf in the house mistaking it for a dog)

Pastas with a s/o that's good with animals!

Toby, Jeff, Nina and Slenderman

A/n: I LOVE ANIMALS! ALL ARE SUPER CUTE but sadly I'm not very good with them lolol I have a cat and a dog though they're my babyss hope you enjoy!

Slenderman

🐾 He does not get along well with animals, at all. He scares most them away just by standing there, problems of being a eldritch horror but once one warms up to him he actually is very gentle with them.

🐾 finds it cute and fascinating how well you can interact with the lil fellas, might even find a way to you to use them in missions. Not a fan of you bringing them to the mansion though, most pastas aren't a fan and may be allergic, and he does not enjoy when animals/wildlife are being mistreated so for everyone's sake, he'll ask you not to.

🐾 If you manage to convince him to have a pet, other than smile dog that is, he would like a cat, probably a black or tuxedo one, because it would be easier to hide the fur that will be all over his clothes

🐾 He's a tidy man, animals that make much mess are not his type, he also don't like the high maintenance ones (i.e hamsters) heck he barely takes care of his proxies, leaving most of them to survive on their own only giving the best ones a somewhat stable life. A high maintenance thing that's not even useful?? Hell no

🐾 Overall, he likes animals but he does not like to take care of them nor have them in his house, he doesn't need more little, bratty, short life-span beings to take care of, he already has the proxys

Toby

🐾 Adores animals as long as they're far away from him, he's scared of most of them at first but find them cute

🐾 Have a strong cat allergy poor thing can't be near one without a mask and he's sneezing

🐾 Will help you take care of them despite his fear and allergies, mostly by being on your side handing you stuff but he'll hold the animal still if you need to apply a vaccine or something

🐾 Sometimes his tics will be saying an animal name, because he's spending so much time listening to you talk about them, you find it cute

🐾 He's besties with the mansion permanent pets and will let them stay in his room if needed

Nina

🐾 BIG ANIMAL FAN, especially big ones

🐾 WILL pamper all the pets you bring home, to a point where you have to hide the treats from her otherwise she'll give them nonstop

🐾 Begs Slenderman to let you make a zoo with all the pets, he refuses of course but lets her keep a parrot

🐾 She named the parrot Willy, is a blue one and he's very talkative (much like his owner) surprisingly he can roam free and don't run away/get lost.

🐾Willy will attack on command, Nina did not teach him how to do that but one day she said to another proxy "I'll make willy take your eyes out!" And the birb was near and he just attacked going for the eyes. A moment of laughter and panic later, Willy was safe and the poor victim just had his eyelids slightly clawed, nothing major but Slenderman made Nina promise that she would never command willy to attack a proxy to a degree that can compromise their performance. So now she just makes him poop on people's foods and/or in them

Jeff

🐾 He only likes dogs, not much of a fan of any other species, he will tolerate birds and most of the wild life thought

🐾 He's afraid of cats, whenever you bring one to the house he'll try to act cool but the slightest movement towards him will make him flinch

🐾 Will act uninterested when you bring a dog but the moment you turn your back he WILL gush over them specially if they get along with Smiley

🐾 Fights everyone who criticizes your actions, because "at least animals are better than humans" bedsides you do all the work to care for them and keep the mansion permanent pets safe if they don't get along with the strays

🐾 will complain if you spend more time with the pets than with him, and will throw a tantrum if you tell him to wait because you have to take care of the lil ones before giving him attention

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #slenderverse #slenderman headcanons #slender mansion #slenderman x reader #nina the killer headcanons #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticcy toby #ticci toby headcanons #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer

169 notes · View notes

jojikawa · 1 year

Text

VALORANT SHIP DYNAMICS 2 💟

Ships: Sova, Fade, Sage, Cypher, Kayo, Omen (again)

This is completely for fun and not to be taken to seriously! 🌟

SOVA

Thinks you are a goddess

Sends you selfies of him and his grandmother. He talks to her about you as well. Brings you her cooking.

Is awkward but you can’t tell bc he’s so cool. You find him very charming.

Mildly protective bc he doesn’t want to be overbearing.

Is the type to want to have alone time in the private quarters of the protocol to drink hot cocoa!

Forehead kisses

Wants to teach you Russian

FADE

Your goth gf

Protects you from nightmares

Tsundere! Acts like you smother her but she really craves the affection. She is very touch starved.

Is always your rock when you need comfort from anxiety/panic attacks.

Forehead touching ❤️

Thinks you’re too good for her. Too innocent for valorant too.

Refuses to let Chamber talk to you. He’s too flirty. Pheonix too

Kissing is her favorite thing to do.

CYPHER

Literally so depressed and exhausted with everyone but you always seem to cheer him up.

Doesn’t really get why you give him time when he believes your precious time could be spent on anyone else

Gets flushed when you ask about his tech or when you express concern when it’s broken.

Respects your privacy and doesn’t spy on you.

Let’s you see his face…once.

Gets super flushed when you go on about how cute he is!

Calls you pets in Arabic like كيتي (kitty/kitten)

SAGE

You are the reason she makes difficult decisions and wants to get stronger

Mommy gf ofc. Makes your bed and does your laundry.

Cooks for you. Packs lunches.

Eskimo kisses + hand holding (falls asleep holding your hand) 🥹

Heals you first no matter what

Takes the time to learn how to do your hair

Random gift giving. Her love language is LITERALLY DOING EVERYTHING.

KAYO

Forgets that he’s a machine when he’s with you. You make him feel things that do beyond the shackles of his AI.

Let’s you hold and even throw his knife.

Regularly threatens the other agents over you. Especially Reyna.

Wonders what if you’d like him as a flesh person.

Urges to teach you self defense. He’s lost so many and he doesn’t want to lose you too 😭

Replays cute past events in his memory files while you’re sleeping. And is always storing new ones.

Can’t lie to him bc he documents everything. He can always detect when something is wrong.

More OMEN

Is a private guy so he will only ever agree to hold you when no agents are around. If you’re really needy he’ll smoke you two for privacy. Probably finds more comfort on it than you do!

Has a hard time with his whole shadows situation and not being able to remember himself before “omen” but believes that if he has you then he’s okay how it is.

Tries to be funny…fails. His voice makes the punchline go over your head.

Sends you emails to your protocol device when your away too long.

Doesn’t allow you to go on any missions alone or he is a nervous wreck.

I’ll add more soon! These are fun to write before bed.☺️ I gotta find more of these cute pictures! I get them all from Pinterest so I can’t exactly credit the original artists. Hopefully they don’t mind! - Maron!

1K notes · View notes

celenawrites · 3 months

Text

₊˚ෆ soulmate au, wherein you get to see the world through your soulmate's eyes and experience what they're feeling at that moment

awful editing(no beta), a lot of pov shifts, loads of grammar mistakes, description of violence, smut below the cut.

just an idea i have been marinating in my drafts this month.

MDNI.

the first time Simon Riley realizes he has a soulmate, he's 24 and well on his way to becoming a lieutenant. it's an early winter morning, filled with white fog and chilly breeze that seeps through the balaclava he wears while off duty. he's in the cold, congested room that has been assigned as his office and he's trying to catch up on the stack of paperwork that had accumulated while he was risking his lives on the front-line just to feel something.

the scene shifts with a few gradual blinks and he realizes he's not in his office anymore.

he's she's standing in the kitchen, brewing up a cup of tea while humming an old melody. he's awfully out of place here, and he almost thinks his mind is tricking him with a sudden daydream and then she pours out the tea into a green mug, and exits the kitchen - finally sitting down in what he assumes to be a living room.

she turns on the tv to watch some melodrama he doesn't know, as she carefully blows onto the mug to cool down the steaming liquid before carefully taking a sip. he feels the green tea trickle down his throat, warming him from inside. he can feel the cushion behind her back and the glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose. he can feel the tag on her shirt scratch the nape of his nick uncomfortably so.

the scene is serene and unfamiliar and he feels out of place - it is homely and clean and pure, not tainted with blood, violence and avarice. it is uncomfortable for him to watch her be good and domestic and kind, almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it after the life he’s led. and yet, with time, seeing the world through her eyes is warmly welcomed after a dud of a day doing what he's best known for - being a ghost.

and he almost feels sorry for her, whoever she is. he’s sorry for the man he is, for the soldier he is. he’s sorry that she gets a one-way front ticket to seeing him kill people without remorse.

most of all, he’s sorry she had to end up with him.

for you, seeing the world through your soulmate's eyes has been nothing short of a grim nightmare. every time you'd shift, you'd almost pray to God and cross your fingers to avoid seeing any of the gruesome scenes that he encountered almost on the daily. you cannot see his face, but you can feel how heavy the protective gear is against his body, how taut his shoulders are and you can feel the synthetic fabric of the gun strap dig into his shoulders and chest. you feel his hands touch the steel barrel of the weapon and your blood runs cold. it’s not long before he’s aiming the said gun at a man before shooting him dead without hesitating. the first time you witnessed him doing something this abhorrent, you ended up having a panic attack - still able to feel the weight of the gun in your hands, convinced that you’re the culprit who shot someone in cold blood.

it’s not long before the scenes you witness through your soulmate’s eyes follow you even in your sleep. you’re taking melatonin, chamomile tea, antidepressants - anything to help you cope with the fact that having a soulmate like him means being haunted by gruesome visions for the rest of your life. it’s not long before your co-workers comment on your baggy eyes and frail health - even uniting together to urge you that taking a break would probably do you some good, but you turn them all down with a gentle shake of your head.

and then, you meet Soap through him. scottish, demolition expert, part of the military. wild mohawk, likes to draw, always the victim of your soulmate’s dry jokes. Gaz - british, a sergeant, youngest of the lot, always willing to help, but has enough snark to keep up with Soap about the most ridiculous of things. and Price - captain of his team, with impressive mutton chops and loud sneezes.

you see them relax around each other, see them drink tea, see Soap and Gaz banter and compete with each other at the training grounds - and this change of pace is far more welcomed than seeing people die on the battlefield.

and then there’s him, a pariah. everyone he comes across calls him ‘Ghost’, which just sounds ridiculous. no one knows anything about him, but there are moments when you are where he is and you see Price’s eyes twinkle with something - but your lack of physical presence always hinders your curiosity about the subject. no one has really seen his face, and you fear that you’d never get to know the man who’s destined to compliment you in all aspects of life.

there are moments though, when sharing vision and emotions with you, gets awfully overwhelming for him. it takes a lot to get a man of his stature to waver in his step, but you do that job perfectly. he sees you one day, in your bed with soft satin sheets failing to cover your body. he sees your hands trail down your body and his breath hitched when he feels you play with your cotton panties - before sliding them to the side and rubbing soft circles on your clit. he swears under his breath, trying to hold onto his sanity as it slowly slips away from him when you use your other hand to tease your nipples with skittish touches. it’s not long before Simon has locked himself up in the bathroom stall, using his hands to relieve the tension he has all because of you - matching his rhythm so that he comes at the same time as you.

he wonders if your hands would feel softer. if you’d kiss him before begging him with those doe eyes to make you feel good. if you’d tell him that you love him. if you’d love him enough so that he can be anew - without his past dragging him through the mud.

if you’d lose yourself to him and let him piece you back together with the adoration he carries for you. you’re practically a stranger, and yet you’re the only person who can get to him.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty smut #soulmate au #char.simon ghost riley #celena.writes

305 notes · View notes

nqmonarch · 3 months

Text

Valentines Day w/ HSR Characters!

Doing Calc homework and am very stressed, i can feel it everywhere in my body. the math is just not mathing mentally today (i looked at trigonometric identities today so maybe thats why)

Just writing out some messy ideas to take a break

Btw if u sent in a request and I haven't answered it yet I am working on it thank you for your uh question ask thingy i appreciate it, i like to know what people like to read bcus tbh i like to write anything altho jingyuan gets like +10 points cus he fluffy

Valentines Day With Some HSR Characters (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Stelle)

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is old school romantic. You cannot tell me he wouldn't arrive home with a big bouquet of roses (does HSR even have roses?) and 20 other gifts, including but not limiting to boxes of chocolate, teddy bears, and at least one gag gift. There's gotta be at least one, he'd make a dad joke out of it too.

Then he'd reserve one of the best restaurants on the Luofu and bring you there. He'd probably have booked a private room, thank goodness because no one wants to hear the general continuously compliment you until you're a puddle on the floor. What he is best at is attacks. But if he gets a compliment in return he'll freeze up for a moment before playfully returning it.

Jing Yuan doesn't put on his normal coy facade today, instead he just embraces how much he loves you because he's happy to still have you in his life.

Blade

Blade does not know it's Valentine's Day. It's not his fault, cut him some slack. Anyway Kafka probably reminds him that it's Valentine's Day about half way through the day to which he goes into a silent panic. You can't tell he's panicking he's just staring at the wall with a blank face, he actually looks like he wants to murder someone.

The two of you end up celebrating though! He... pulls something together, it really is something. Sure he smells like blood and the waiters are scared, and taking over this restaurant for a Valentine's Day dinner was definitely not in the script but... It could be worse. He's trying his best, really.

Afterwards you and Blade share lots of cuddles! Something he's pretty good at! Holding you just tight enough, and keeping you close to his side-- you just won't be able to get up if you want to get water or anything. He doesn't say too much but you can feel the love in each caress.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng doesn't really like going out, why would he when all he needs is right by his side? So the two of you stay on the express in the archives. What matters isn't where you are but the company. He'd probably get you a few trinkets from different places he's collected over the years, a necklace, a sick looking compass, whatever fits your vibe.

Dan Heng would probably also write you a love poem, and make you read it or awkwardly recite it in front of you. If you read it out loud though he will get unbelievably embarrassed and snatch it away from you. He'd give it back but he'd take some coaxing, be nice okay? His face is already red.

Then when the night draws to a close the two of you would curl up together on that sorry excuse of what he calls a bed. The majority of your body would be on Dan Heng's using him as a pillow, and his arms would be wrapped around your body keeping you still and warm.

Dan Heng's bed is not it man. Personally, I'd get back problems.

Stelle

"You are the one who deserves the golden trash the most," Truly romantic words from Stelle as she hands you a golden trashbag. That is just the first of the gifts she gives you tonight, and the one that's most valuable to her. It's the thought that counts right? You still have no idea what she's talking about when she mentions fighting Sampo as a trashcan...

The two of you spend a romantic night together, walking down the quiet streets of Belobog, and-- did Stelle just investigate a trashcan again? You should be used to this. On the bright side, every time she gets something cool she comes up to you with the biggest smile on her face, it's beyond adorable. Sometimes the trashcans even have good stuff, like a scarf Stelle lets you wear that thankfully doesn't smell like trash.

It's just good to spend time with the person you love. She spends her time catching you up on everything new from her adventures, and when it's too cold to stay out any longer the two of you head to the Astral Express. Where you shower together and then doze off on one of the Express' couch cushions while playing games. Your head rests against Stelle's reminding you, you're never alone.

Okay I need to get back to homework, fun break thanks guys. Imagine being alone on Valentines Day couldn't be me, I have my Calc Homework. It told me I was integral to it <3 legit peak partner material.

#hsr #reader insert #hsr x reader #gn reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #stelle x reader #valentines day #me x calculus homework

192 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 10 months

Text

IOU.

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x f!reader

genre: angsty angst with happy ending

warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of hospitals, mentions of panic attacks, and also bills. they're scary.

requested: nope

word count: ~4.5k

summary: y/n thinks she owes the ruthless, unforgiving mafia man money. no she does not.

author's note: hiya peeps! till i can muster enough courage to post that part 2... thought i'd post this in the meanwhile. enjoy!

masterlist

"New place?"

"Yeah. Really, really, really fucking good coffee. Lady knows what she's doing, for real." Bucky scratched his chin, regarding his friend with his usual cold gaze. "Hm. Fine, I'll try it. For now, go do what I told you to." Bucky sent him off, grabbing his sunglasses off the table. Then he left the room as well and walked out of the mansion, heading to his car. Getting in, he put in the address of the coffee place in his GPS and started the drive there.

But upon reaching, he was immediately greeted by a long line that took up nearly half of the sidewalk. He raised an eyebrow and approached the front of the line. The moment the people in the front saw him, they gasped and moved back, terrified. A loud chatter had already broken out in the crowd as everyone talked about his presence there. Ignoring them all, Bucky opened the door to the coffee place but just as he did, someone grabbed his arm from inside the shop, startling him. It was a woman.

"Sir, the place isn't open yet! You need to wait outside!" she told him sweetly, giving him a smile so precious the mafia boss froze on his spot. "Hey, don't talk to him like that," someone from behind him warned her, "And let go of his arm! Before you get hurt!" Did they really think he would hurt her? Assholes. He watched how her brows furrowed. She let go of his arm, gulping. "Uh, sorry, if you… if I may have overstepped… but we're not open yet! Uh… do you want… to wait inside… maybe?" the lady stammered, glancing at the crowd behind him.

Bucky coolly adjusted his sunglasses. "I don't mind waiting outside. I'll be the first customer." Just as he said it, someone yelled from inside the shop, "Y/N, you can open the door, we're ready!" Bucky unconsciously laughed. Y/N gave him an awkward smile and opened the door, allowing him to follow her to the counter. "So, which coffee would you like to have today?"

"Black coffee."

"Sugar?"

"No."

"Okay… your name, sir?"

"James."

"James… uh, that will be $7."

Bucky took out a 10 dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. She returned his change and gave him another sweet smile. "You may sit, sir, I'll be right with you with your order!" He put the $3 in the tip jar on the counter, making Y/N smile wider. More people walked into the shop as Bucky went to sit. He purposely chose a table that allowed him a clear view of Y/N; instead of looking down at his phone like he always did at places, this time his phone was placed screen-down on the table, his electric blue eyes trained on her. She was taking a couple’s order.

All of a sudden, a different employee called out his name. “Black coffee for James?” the man bellowed, keeping a cup on the counter. When his name was called Y/N and Bucky’s eyes met. She looked away almost immediately, a shy smile on her face as she turned to the next customer. Bucky smiled to himself as well and went to get his coffee. “Uh, man, can I… tell you something?” The mafia boss looked at the guy. “What?” The employee looked at Y/N and chewed his lip. “She’s, uh… she’s—”

“Married? Engaged? Has a boyfriend?”

“No, no, she’s… too naive. Listen, I’m just saying it to warn you, and maybe even her… she’s ridiculously innocent, seriously. I don’t think she has ever had a boyfriend, or even a fling or something. Probably still a, you know, maiden. So… I wouldn’t think you’d want to go for her.” Had he been that obvious? Bucky listened to the man’s nonsense patiently, a cool smile on his face.

“And what, suddenly you know every thought that has ever occurred in my mind? You think you know me enough to tell me about my likes and dislikes?”

“I’m just saying, bro, me personally—”

“I don’t wanna know.”

With that, he turned around to walk out of the coffee shop. On his way out, he glanced at Y/N again, but she was too busy talking to customers to notice him. He sighed loudly and left. But his sigh caught her attention; she turned to the door but was too late— he was already gone. Her lips pursed. Would he ever visit again? James, he’d said his name was. She had no idea about him, about the fact that he was someone she should steer clear of. Y/N made up her mind; the next time he came to the shop, she was going to talk to him.

“You sure you’ll clean up?”

“Yeah. Go.”

“Okay.”

The manager left and Y/N sighed in the empty place, picking up the rag cloth that was hanging on the oven door. But in the quiet store, as she cleaned the counter top, she suddenly heard what sounded like a gunshot. She stood up straight, alert. Her hands were frozen in their place, her ears demanding confirmation. Was it actually a gunshot? When she heard another one, her hair stood on end. Was she going to die?!

Shaking, she rushed to the door and locked it, pulling on it to make sure. Through the glass doors, she looked outside; there was no one there, but she was 100% sure she’d heard gunshots. Her lower lip wobbled. Y/N walked back to the counter and began working at twice the speed; she still had to sweep the floor, and only then could she go home. “Come on, Y/N,” she muttered as she hurriedly finished wiping the countertop. But just as she was about to run to fetch the broom, three consecutive gunshots happened.

Y/N fell to her knees, terrified. This time, she could clearly hear shouting, as well as the screeching of car tyres along with the gunshots. What was going on?! Gang violence?! Scrambling upright, Y/N watched, horrified, as the headlights of a car shone on the glass doors. Oh shit, they’re right outside! Scared beyond words, she rushed towards the backdoors and threw them open. But then they closed with a loud bang, which scared her even more. What if they came inside now?

Her eyes darted around the place and she noticed the broom closet. My only chance. Y/N ran to the broom closet and opened the door, somehow managing to fit inside. Then she closed the door. Pitch black. Y/N took out her phone and dimmed the brightness, her hands clammy. Opening her chat with her manager, she texted him about what was going on. Her heart was pounding in her chest; what if she actually died that night?!

Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, she heard the front door breaking. The sound of glass breaking rang in her ears, and she clutched her head when she got a splitting headache. Y/N was fully panicking by then. More gunshots echoed around the place, this time much closer and much louder than before and Y/N realized that the coffee shop was being used as a place to fight.

She dared not to make a sound, even going so far as to hold her breath with short intervals in between. 15 minutes would pass before everything went silent; Y/N was very close to passing out now, but she held herself up, waiting until help arrived. After that, she told herself, she could sleep for as long as she wanted. One hand holding her phone, one hand clamped over her mouth, sweat dripping down her whole body, she waited.

When it all went quiet she thought of getting out of the broom closet. But it was as if her legs were rooted on spot, frozen in cement. She couldn’t move an inch of herself. Her eyesight had become poor because of the darkness in the closet, and her headache was steadily bringing her on the verge of fainting. Her ears were buzzing; in the end, she couldn’t even hear the police sirens outside. Slowly, she sank down on her knees and rested her head against the wall behind her, closing her eyes.

“There’s someone else here,” Steve spoke, poking his cheek with his tongue. Bucky looked up from where he was getting a bandage tied on his forearm. “An employee?” Y/N? “Yeah. I mean, the lights were on, and look at this cloth. It’s still wet, and looks like someone was using it. Did they flee the scene or are they still here?” Bucky bit his lip. If it turned out to be Y/N… he was going to burn down the entire world.

“Go check.”

Steve nodded and opened the doors to the backroom, looking around. There was no one there, but Steve did see another door— the broom closet. Just to be sure, he curiously walked up to the door and opened it. “Fuck!” he involuntarily screamed when Y/N’s unconscious body slumped out of the closet, falling on the floor. “Barnes! The employee is still here!” Steve knelt next to the woman, taking note of the way her phone was clasped in her hand.

A couple seconds later, Bucky and Sam ran into the room and Bucky froze when he saw Y/N’s body on the floor. And then, every curse word he knew from every language he spoke fell from his lips, rather loudly. Pushing Steve away, Bucky tearfully sat her up, hissing. “Look at her, she’s sweating so much, probably so scared… My poor darling…” He turned to Steve. “Pick her up. I’m taking her home.” Steve and Sam glanced at each other. Even still, Steve did as he was told, picking Y/N up bridal style.

“Sam, call a doctor, pronto.”

Once near their car, Steve opened the door to the backseat and put her in. Sam sat in the passenger seat, talking to a doctor. Bucky sat next to Y/N, allowing her body to rest against his good arm. Steve then got into the driver’s seat and swiftly drove to Bucky’s mansion.

Bang. Bang. Bang!

Startled, Y/N gasped in her sleep and jerked. But as she sank down on the mattress, her headache returned and a faint moan escaped past her lips, her brows furrowing. What was going on? There was a mattress underneath her, very soft might she add— was she laying down on a bed? Wait. Was it a hospital bed?! The previous night’s memories replayed in her mind, its load weighing heavier on Y/N’s already feeble mind.

All of a sudden, the bed dipped on her left, as if someone had just taken a seat. “Y/N?” That was her name. “Mm?” she hummed tiredly, without opening her eyes. “Are you feeling better?” She teared up. “No, I’m scared, I don’t know what’s going on,” she cried, the tears leaking out of her closed eyes as she sobbed, covering her face. Someone’s large hand then went under her head, their other arm around her waist. She was pulled up by the guy and was placed against something; a chest, that man’s chest.

He was holding her. Y/N slumped into him, still crying. Bucky, meanwhile, smiled sadly and held her close, rubbing her back. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. You’re unharmed, I guarantee you— hiding in that closet was a good idea. I’m so proud of you. Come on now, baby…” Y/N’s sobs died down, and she finally opened her eyes. She tried pulling away from him but he wouldn’t let go. “I wanna lay down.” He lowered her immediately, and when he sat back up, Y/N gasped, finally seeing his face.

“James?!” Bucky chuckled, caressing her face under the excuse of wiping off her tears. “It’s me. You scared me shitless, Y/N, do you know how long it has been since you passed out?! 48 hours! I mean, please don’t give an old man a heart attack like that again!” Y/N smiled weakly. “Old? How old are you?”

“3 days old.”

This time, she laughed. “How are you only 3 days old?” Bucky smiled, besotted with her. “Because I met you 3 days ago.” Y/N cutely knitted her brows in confusion, until realization dawned on her. Then she blushed furiously, covering her face. “You are so cheesy!” she accused him, pouting. Bucky couldn’t believe she’d made him fall for her in less than a week. “Just for you,” he winked and she groaned.

In the end, she took a deep breath and pushed the blanket off of herself, seeing that she was still dressed in her 3-day-old clothes. “I stink, don’t I?” she wrinkled her nose, sending a sorry smile towards the brunet man. “I mean, kinda,” he played along, snorting when she, very frailly, smacked his arm. He stood up, taking her hand. He helped her stand up. “You can take a bath over there.”

Bucky pointed to the bathroom door. “I’ll leave some clothes outside for you. Once you’re dressed, just open the bedroom door, and I’ll be waiting right outside, okay?” Y/N nodded obediently. Bucky took her to the bathroom, explained all the functions of the bathtub and kept the towel where she could easily access it. “I’ll go now.” He left the room. Y/N discarded her clothes and sat down in the tub, moaning in pleasure. The water was of the perfect temperature.

She took a lengthy bath, and only stepped out half an hour later, a towel wrapped around her. Y/N put on her own undergarments and then the clothes Bucky had provided for her; a black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats. Once she made sure she was presentable, she moved towards the door but paused when she heard Bucky outside. Her jaw dropped and her hand gripped the doorknob. He was talking to someone outside. “The bill? Ah, yeah, from the hospital. How much was it?” Hospital bill?

Surely that was for… her. She was the one who had been unconscious for 3 days, that meant that a doctor and medicines were required for her. Y/N dreaded the amount— she almost did not want to hear it but she also knew that it would be wrong. How could she let him bear all the expenses for something that was her liability? “$5k? Hm.” Y/N almost fainted for a second time.

“5000 dollars?” she whispered to herself, terrified. But she shook her head, standing up straight. It was her duty to pay him back. Definitely. Taking a deep breath, Y/N opened the door and sent Bucky a smile. He smiled back at her. “Come, have breakfast and then I’ll have someone drop you home.” She wordlessly nodded and followed him downstairs to the dining room. On their way there, Y/N looked around his mansion. It was a piece of art; Bucky was rich? So that meant…

No, no, absolutely not! You have to take responsibility!

They sat at the dining table, breakfast was served and 30 minutes passed. There were a few of his friends eating with them, but Y/N could very quickly make out that they weren’t his friends, more like, they were his subordinates. Working under him. He didn’t say one word to her until the 45 minute mark; then, once all his friends left, he finally looked at her, smiling.

She almost expected him to talk about the hospital bill. “Is it good?” he instead asked, nodding his head towards her plate. Y/N hummed, giving him a small smile. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice.” Breakfast ended. Y/N watched with anticipation as their plates were taken away and Bucky stood up. She followed suit. “I cleared my schedule enough to drop you home, should we leave?” Y/N looked down at her clothes. “Uh, let me just change—” He stopped her. “No, please, don’t wear those stinky clothes again. Carry them with you.” Just then, one of his housekeeping staff entered the dining room holding a bag.

Bucky took the bag and handed it to Y/N. “Here. All your stuff is in here, including your phone.” Y/N peeked into the bag. “I, uh, send me your address so, um, I can return your clothes… I’ll have them washed…” Bucky scoffed, walking around the table to stand in front of her. “Baby, please, stop saying stuff like that. Keep them, it will mean a lot to me. Promise.” Sighing a little, Y/N chuckled. “Fine, I’ll keep them. They are comfortable, you know.” He laughed along.

The two of them walked out of the house. As Bucky drove to her house, Y/N glanced at him. “Um, James, about the… uh…” He glanced at her as well. “Yes, sweetheart? Is something bothering you?” She felt weird asking him about it herself. I’ll just send him the money directly, why have this uncomfortable conversation at all? “Nothing, it’s fine.” Bucky figured something was off but he didn’t push. Soon, they reached Y/N’s apartment building, she bid him farewell and they each went their own ways.

“Good morning, sir— James! Hi, you…” Y/N gasped when she saw the man in front of her. He smiled at her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “3 weeks. How are you, sweetheart? All better?” Y/N nodded, blinking. 5000 dollars was a huge amount of money; so far, she had only garnered around $1500. Immediately, she began feeling a little… guilty. His smile didn’t waiver at all, though, so that meant he wasn’t mad at her. Right? What if he was here right now to talk about the money? Y/N gulped, lowering her gaze. “What would you like, sir?” Sir? Bucky’s face dropped. Why was she calling him sir all of a sudden? “Um, are you okay—”

“You’re holding up the line, sir.”

“Black coffee and a blueberry muffin.”

$12.”

He handed her $15 and like he had the previous time, put the extra 3 dollars in the tip jar. When Y/N still avoided his gaze, Bucky was completely sure there was something off. “Can you deliver it to my table instead of calling out my name?” Y/N hummed. “I’ll do that.”

He went to sit in the furthest corner. 10 minutes later, Y/N approached his table and placed his order on the table, turning to leave. But before she could, he grabbed her hand and tugged on it, making her turn towards him. “Mr—” “Absolutely not. James. What’s wrong? What happened? What did I do?” You’re still silent. “I— I need some more time,” she blurted out, “Please, give me, like, another month or so, I beg.” Bucky’s brows furrowed in utter confusion. “Time for what? Honey, time for what?” Y/N angrily glared at him, tears stringing her eyes.

She was never the one to lose her temper so quickly, but to repay Bucky, she had been taking up extra shifts at the coffee shop, which was making her tired and frustrated, and by extension, temperamental. “Just because you’re not asking doesn’t mean— I know you want it back, so don’t play stupid. I’m telling you, another month. Please let go of my hand.” Without even waiting for him, she yanked her arm away and wiped her tears off, storming towards the front of the shop. Bucky was too perplexed to even notice.

Want it back? Want what back? His clothes? Didn’t he already tell her that she could keep them? But then… Why would she require a month to give back a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants? She could have easily done that the next day… It wasn’t his clothes she was talking about. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything else that she owed him. Money was absolutely the last thing on his mind. Sighing despondently, he finished his coffee and muffin and left the shop, without so much as a glance at her.

But Y/N was staring at him as he left. Unconsciously, tears pricked her eyes but she sniffed them away, looking at the customer in front of her. “What would you like?” Her voice was a little watery, which the customer picked up on. “Wasn’t that James Barnes that just left the shop? Don’t tell me he comes after innocent people such as yourself! What did he do to you?!” the customer demanded protectively, which made Y/N confused. If he was excluded from the innocent people category…

“Wh-What do you mean… who is he?”

“Girl, you don’t know James Barnes?! He has been in the news so many times! He’s a mafia man, a mobster boss! Most ruthless, most feared leader of the underworld! How come you don’t know?” What?! “A mafia don?! Are you serious?!” The customer scoffed. “For sure I am! Even the police are scared of him, that’s why he roams the streets freely. To be honest, he only ever goes after the other bad guys, I have never heard him go after, you know, ordinary citizens. But you? What did you do to him?”

“I… I need to pay him back, $5000.” The customer covered his mouth, shocked. “That much?! Girl, do it as fast as you can— is that why he visits the shop frequently? I have seen him a couple times before… wow…” Y/N’s blood ran cold. She owed a mafia leader money. A mafia leader who was known to be ruthless and unforgiving. What if she couldn’t collect enough money? What if he sent one of his friends after her to kill her? After her shift ended, Y/N was once again alone at the shop, cleaning up. But as she sweeped behind the counter, the bell above the door rang, signaling someone’s arrival.

She looked up and froze when she saw Bucky. “16 hours. For 16 hours I have been thinking about what you owe me, and I haven’t got one clue. Baby, you need to tell me yourself what you think you owe me. Come on. Help me out here.” But as he continued taking steps towards her, she backed herself up against the wall, heart pounding in her chest, fear visible in her eyes. “Please, please don’t— you know— you’re playing dumb!” Bucky froze as well at her look of pure terror.

“Are you scared of me?”

Tears began flowing down her cheeks. “I told you, give me another month, I’ll pay you back, I promise! I have $1500 ready if you’re willing to take installments— but by the end of 30 days I will have the remaining $3500 ready, trust me!” Bucky closed the distance between them. His eyes… showed betrayal. “So… $5k? You’re saying you owe me 5000 fucking dollars?” he whispered. His hands reached up to wipe her tears off, his own starting to fall down his face. “Why do you think that? Have I, even once, asked you about the money myself?”

Slowly, Y/N shook her head. “Then why do you break my heart like this?!” he screamed in her face, startling her. She cried harder. “Because I know now who you are! Surely you want the money back?” He snarled, banging his fist on the wall next to her head. “But why would I want something back from you that you don’t even owe me?! What $5000 are you talking about?!” Y/N sniffled, lowering her gaze. “The hospital bill.” Bucky paused. “Hospital bill? Honey, that wasn’t for you.”

She looked up, confused. “You don’t know what happened that night, do you?” Y/N shook her head again. Bucky sighed, taking a step away from her. “Come with me. Let’s sit.” He took her hand and led them to a table, sitting down. “I… I always assumed you were just passing by and were kind enough to… you know… take care of me.” He wiped his tears off, chuckling.

Usually, Bucky had a firm handle on his emotions but hearing the woman he loved accuse him of such a heinous thing was enough to make him break down. “No. Now that you know who I really am… that night, the gunfire and the violence that happened involved me, my men, and a rival leader and his men. You were already passed out when the fight ended— I was injured. Look at this.” He shrugged off the right side of his jacket, revealing his forearm that had a faint scar on it.

Y/N gasped softly upon seeing it, her mind filling with worry for his well-being. “Are you okay, now?” He took her hand. “Yes, I’m completely healed. Some of my men got injured as well, and it’s my duty to look after their medical bills as they got injured on my command. It was our hospital bill, sweetheart, not yours. We didn’t call a doctor for you— all you needed was to lay down and wake up comfortably.” Y/N suddenly felt extremely hollow. “I took up extra shifts.”

Bucky came to sit next to her and hugged her close. “You didn’t even think about confirming it with me, first? Angel, when someone owes me money, I make it very clear to them, okay? The fact that I didn’t ask you for a single penny means you don’t owe me shit.” Y/N burrowed closer to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his chest. “I just felt… weird bringing it up. I thought I could just directly send the money over once I had enough.” Bucky hummed. “And even if we had reached that stage, I would have just sent the money back. Thank goodness we nipped it in the bud.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N pulled away from him, rubbing her eyes. Then she looked at Bucky, who was looking at her with a fond expression on his face. “What?” she chuckled. But she was completely caught off-guard when Bucky gently held her chin and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. “Even if we had called the doctors for you,” he whispered, “Even if the hospital bill was yours, you wouldn’t have owed me anything. Why? Because the love of my life will never owe me even a single dollar.” Y/N blinked dumbfoundedly. And then, a deep blush graced her face and she squealed, burying herself back in Bucky’s arms.

“James, don’t say that!”

“Bucky, my dear, call me Bucky. And was what I said wrong in any way? Wasn’t it completely true?”

“Yeah but you don’t have to say it out loud!”

“And forgo seeing this cute little blush on your cheeks? Never.”

“Stop it…”

“Nope. My cute little angel can get into as many accidents as she wants and she still wouldn’t owe—”

“I’m gonna go clean up!”

a/n: eeeeee screaming!! thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky barnes #mob au #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

616 notes · View notes

steddiecameraroll · 5 months

Text

I started this draft before Flight was released so suspend disbelief people. CW dry humping until it’s no longer dry 😏

“Wait,” Steve pushes himself to sit up more on the broken-in couch of Eddie’s new place. “You almost died and have never kissed anyone? Like no one? Not even when you were a little kid? And, I don’t know, a girl named Sarah pulled you behind the drinking fountain and kissed you so fast you weren’t even sure it happened?”

“You’re asking as if it’s from experience, Harrington.” Eddie keeps his head back on the cushion holding the joint loosely between his lips.

“It is, answer the question, Munson.” Steve smacks the back of his hand against Eddie’s thigh.

“This is true, my good sir. These lips have never touched another.” He puckers his mouth making an over exaggerated kissing motion.

Steve’s eyes drag down Eddie’s face landing on the pursed lips. For some reason, they look softer than ever.

“I could,” Steve says before he can think about it.

Eddie tilts his head. “You could what?”

“Kiss you,” he says nonchalantly.

Eddie stares for a moment before chuckling. “You offering up your services? Sure, uh huh.”

Eddie takes another pull from the joint, before offering it back to Steve.

“I’m serious,” Steve takes the offering and places it between his lips. “I would do it, y’know, if you wanted, of course. I’m not gonna make you, or whatever.”

“Sure, why not? Let’s see what all the Harrington hubbub is about. Bring it on big boy.” Eddie opens his arms but keeps his head casually relaxed on the back of the couch acting like he knows Steve isn’t serious.

Steve’s heart rate picks up slightly and now he’s suddenly nervous. What if he doesn’t do a good job? He was offering to help out but now it feels like something he needs to prove to Eddie.

He can do this.

He leans forward to set the joint on the top of an empty Coke can. Then takes a slow deep breath, before pointing his attention to the curly haired man at his side.

Eddie’s smiling wide and wiggling his fingers trying to encourage Steve’s ridiculous notion.

“We doing this or what, Harrington? I’m not getting any younger.”

“Chill out, this is supposed to be special. Your first kiss is something you’ll remember. Not a race to get it over with.” His brows are furrowed in seriousness.

Suddenly his own words smack him in the brain just as he scooches closer to Eddie.

Should this be special? Is it special? Well, it’s… something just because it’s Steve and Eddie but does that make it inherently special? Will Eddie remember this kiss for the rest of his life? Steve’s stomach lurches when he realizes he wants him to.

This probably isn’t the moment to have a panic attack. Steve’s attempting to keep his nervousness at bay but failing by a mile.

Concentrate.

This is about Eddie.

“Ok,” Eddie replies a little quieter while shifting his weight on the couch. “Um, do I need to-um, do anything?”

“No,” Steve says as he slides his right hand under Eddie’s hair and around the man’s neck.

Steve isn’t sure but he thinks he feels a shiver pass through Eddie under his fingertips.

Eddie suddenly pulls back and shoots to his feet, surprising Steve.

“Um, you don’t-we don’t… thanks though. Uh, very cool. I appreciate you…offering.” He shifts uncomfortably on his feet making Steve uneasy.

“Uh, sorry, you weren’t serious. That’s my bad.” He chuckles trying to break the tension. “I guess I was more fucked up than I thought.”

Eddie is still standing and now wringing his hands together.

God, Steve royally fucked this up.

“It’s ok, strong batch this time, I guess. Um,” Eddie’s eyes are darting around the room. “I uh, I think I’m gonna crash. You can…” he awkwardly motions toward the couch. “If you’re too fucked up, um, you can stay here. It’s-it’s fine.”

This has gone terribly wrong and Steve’s afraid their friendship won’t recover. He usually stays on nights like this but it suddenly feels like he’s not welcome.

“No,” Steve stands up and Eddie instinctively steps back. “I’ll go.”

He bites his lip and tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. Eddie nods and lowers his gaze, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry, again, that was stupid. I’m stupid.” He moves around Eddie, leaving a wide amount of space between them, as he heads to the exit.

He stops in front of the door, on the other side of the room, and tries to think of what he could say to fix this. He doesn’t want to leave with this hanging over them.

“I just…” when he turns around to speak Eddie rushes at him, pushing him back against the door, and plants his lips on him firmly.

Steve’s eyes shoot open in shock while Eddie’s fingers curls tight into the front of Steve’s shirt. Eddie’s lips are smashed against Steve’s, moving desperately and awkwardly while Steve stands in still surprise.

Eddie pulls back almost as if his brain realized he’d been kissing Steve. His mouth drops open, and he stares in fear.

Steve can’t help himself and rushes forward meeting Eddie in a desperate clashing of lips. The two men smash their bodies into each other, flinging their arms around one another, while pulling at their clothing like they can’t get close enough.

The rush of realizing Steve’s been wanting to do this for ages causes him to cling to Eddie’s back. They move their lips together on instinct. They’re both breathing hard through their nostrils and making quiet noises like they can’t control themselves.

Eddie suddenly rolls his hips and Steve’s mouth drops open when he feels the hard line of Eddie’s erection rub against him. As Steve’s brain shortens out Eddie dips his tongue into Steve’s mouth and licks around getting his first taste of the man.

Steve needs to touch more, needs to feel Eddie’s skin against his fingertips. He tugs hard at the metal head’s shirt, whining when he can’t get it untucked quickly. He’s absentmindedly grinding his hips against Eddie not realizing how close he’s getting to cumming in his pants.

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie drags his lips along Steve’s jaw, clinging to his body as they hump each other silly.

Steve drops his head back and gasps when Eddie digs his teeth into the soft expanse of skin behind his ear.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.”

“Shiiit,” Eddie whines and Steve feels the rhythmic motion of Eddie’s hips falter.

He knows Eddie is careening toward his own orgasm and that thought alone throws him over the edge. He pushes his hips forward and pulls Eddie in closer. His body tensing up as he spurts over and over into his jeans.

“AH, AH, fuck!”

“Oh god, are you cumming?” Eddie asks just before he thrusts forward and digs his fingers into Steve’s back, meeting Steve with a matching orgasm.

“Uh huh,” Steve’s mouth is open and he can’t think. The pleasure hit him so quickly he thinks he traveled through the space time continuum.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Eddie hunches his back a little and Steve enjoys watching how the pleasure spreads across Eddie’s face.

“God damn it.” Steve sighs as he finally stalls his hips from moving. The fabric of his underwear now sticking to him.

“Oh my god,” Eddie murmurs. “That was… crazy?Stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Steve’s body is tingling as it comes back online.

“Did we? Holy shit.” Eddie sounds flabbergasted. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”

“We can do it again in 30 minutes. Hopefully with less clothing on.” Steve loosens his grip and hugs Eddie in close.

“Mmmm, naked Steve.” Eddie grunts pleasantly. “Yes, please.”

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #my writing

241 notes · View notes

skatingbi · 6 months

Text

Yo we out here with some more Ace lives AU but i'll make them little bullet points so I dont have to write a whole essay. Enjoy my little headcanons!

Warning: Theres. So many. Im not sorry tho lmao

Ace joins the strawhats after the time skip, nobody really minds and theyre happy to spend time with luffy's older brother. He quickly becomes best friends with Nami. I just feel it in my soul that they would gossip together.

Both Ace and Luffy suffer from awful PTSD symptoms after Marineford. With Luffy, his crew eventually learn how to help him. With Ace, though, he only has Luffy to lean on for support until the crew get aquanted with him.

Actually, to add onto that bc im a sucker for acesan, Sanji is the first after Luffy to reach out during one of his bad days when even really small triggers can make Ace spiral into a panic attack.

More acesan sorry lmao. Ace is usually either out on the figure head of the sunny looking at the ocean when Luffy isnt occupying that spot, in the gallery when Sanji is working, or just out on the deck laying on the grass. He especially likes being around sanji in the gallery.

Pre timeskip Ace is extremely different than this AU's Ace because yes he's silly and carries an air of confidence with him still, but he's never shirtless around others anymore. For a long while, Ace doesnt leave the ship or pick fights. His confidence is a facade for a long time.

Depression hits ace like a truck in this AU and its only eased with the help of Luffy and Sanji. Chopper also helps the best he can with what he's got. Ace is grateful for this, and eventually his old self starts to emerge more and more. Luffy is there with him the entire time.

Ace has insomnia, but so does Sanji and Zoro. He'll hang out with them during late night hours either on watch with zoro sharing stories or with Sanji talking to him while he's doing prep work or inventory. He'll probably also fend off luffy when his little brother tries to break into the locked fridge lmao

But more funny headcanons!! Im getting depressing here sorry!! Ace will mess around with Luffy and entertain him before meal times by play fighting. Their asses will be duking it out on the deck and Chopper will be all concerned and Zoro and Nami will be like "Siblings." Like thats the most obvious answer in the world.

Tbh, the crew members with any type of sibling or sibling bond will get it. Luffy will deadass try to steal Ace's food and Ace will smack his hand lightly with haki and Luffy will dramatically exclaim how mean his big brother is.

"Ace is so mean! I'll starve to death!" "Yeah, sure, you little menace"

Ace regaining strength over his devil fruit powers by making little shapes out of fire for chopper, luffy, and usopp. Franky and brook join the group to give ace prompts. It becomes a nightly occurance at this point.

The first time he decides to go shirtless in front of the crew, they realize his old tattoo is replaced by scar tissue that covers nearly his entire back. Nobody says anything, but I think Franky and Nami would be really understanding. Also luffy. Luffy would be like "We match! Ace has a cool scar like I do!" and it reassures him but also breaks his heart simultaneously.

Ace eating nearly as much as luffy and Sanji being like "Are you sure youre not blood related? Because youre both gonna run my kitchen dry"

Ace not really having a defined role in the crew and them not really minding it. Ace floats around basically. It kind of fits him more that way since he knows a bit of everything. He'll look at maps with nami to chart a course to the next island, He'll fight alongside zoro and sanji, he'll tell usopp about different ways to use combustion and heat in weapons or ammo, etc.

Ace and nami using the power of their good looks to scam people lmao and ace being able to swindle men and women. Nami is impressed and also jealous.

Luffy growing his hair out so him and Ace match, but luffy apparently has curlier hair than Ace so its just a fluffy mess until usopp caves and teaches them how to actually take care of their hair (luffy does not absorb a single thing and ace now has to help luffy with his hair when it gets as long as his)

Ace noticing one day how zoro looks at luffy and being like "yikes...you got it bad, man" and zoro just being like "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP-" but ace is fucking cackling and now zoro cant be too mad about that. He's still embaressed as fuck about it though.

Expanding on that actually: Ace actually being supportive because he knows how loyal zoro is. He isnt worried. Plus, Luffy is extremely strong and it takes a lot to actually hurt him. So he's like "dude you gotta just tell him straight up he is dense as hell"

Ace the ultimate wingman for zoro. Not luffy, though. That's what Nami is there for. Him an nami are definitely working together and placing bets on when and who asks who out with robin, usopp, sanji, and franky. I wont say what they chose for their bet but robin definitely wins.

BUT luffy, nami, zoro, robin, usopp and franky place bets on Ace and Sanji. Ace is never subtle. He flirts openly and is proud of it. Sanji is very subtle with ace, though. The crew immediately see past his bullshit of trying to be straight. Its painful to watch. Poor sanji is trying so hard to remain closeted but the closet is literally glass. I wont say who betted what as per my last bullet point, but surprisingly zoro won. Everyone (nami) is outraged by this incident. Luffy is here for a good time.

The crew playing card games except they learn sometimes ace cannot handle flammable objects because he will burn them accidentally. Competitive card games are now banned if ace is playing.

Ace is also banned from using his devil fruit powers while sparring on the deck. The poor grass on there has been burned so many times. Nami has kicked his ass over it.

Ace and zoro get really competitive. Not like zoro and sanji, but they'll spar without weapons and at least one of them will leave with a busted lip or eyebrow and a lecture from chopper. Theyre chill though they just forget to hold back on their punches. Ace one time used haki and had to help franky fix the deck afterwards.

#Bro...let ace heal and be happy #i have the power to write and i will use it to make ace heal and be happy #acesan #zolu #theyre mentioned but its still important to tag imo #one piece #portgas d ace #luffy d monkey #op spolier warning #ig lmao #my entire account is a spoiler warning on its own lets be honest #ace lives au #blackleg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami

197 notes · View notes

sirfrogsworth · 7 months

Text

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

#long post #i see dead frogpeople

217 notes · View notes