#but for now I’m getting my week of sadness out of the way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twoplayergaymers · 19 hours ago

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A Sign Of Affection—

Part One// Part Two// Part Three

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ a note before you begin: wow finally the last part! Thank you so much for all the love I’ve received! Same thing applies to dialogue as the last part, angst..sorry, barely proofread

Hours later, you’ve paced your living room so much there’s practically a permanent path in the carpet. You’re replaying today’s events over and over and as much as you want to pretend it’s nothing, Talia’s words are still in your head.

“That man doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t do shit to be nice”

You’re biting your nails as the knock on the door pulls your from your thoughts

The door swings open and reveals Talia, paper bags in arms. “I’m here!” She says. “Your text was so vague ‘please come over it’s important!’ I didn’t know what the vibe was so I think I got everything? Wine.. ice cream.. bunch of junk I dunno” she giggles out the last part but the serious expression on your face brings her back to reality “oh shit..”

You step aside wordlessly to let her in, closing and locking the door behind her and she’s already putting the ice cream into the freezer and grabbing two glasses and the wine opener as you’re throwing yourself onto the couch.

She places the glasses on your coffee table while she makes work of the bottle. “So.” she says casually, the cork popping loose, “start talking”

You groan into your throw pillows. “I like him.”

“come again?” she asks, tone teasing and you can hear the smirk in her voice without even looking up at her. “Please don’t be a bitch right now I know you heard me”

Talia laughs as she pours the wine, shaking her head. “Oh, I definitely heard you. I just wanted to make sure you heard you.” You sit up, grabbing one of the glasses she sets down. “Talia, I’m serious. This isn’t funny.”

“That’s why it’s funny,” she replies, taking a seat beside you and giving you a knowing look. “You’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Weeks. And now you’re finally admitting it.” She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “So? What happened?”

You take a long sip of wine, debating how much to share. “It’s just… he’s so frustrating, and he drives me insane, and yet somehow he still manages to—ugh!” You groan again, gesturing wildly. “He signed that I was pretty to me today during a press conference, Talia. And I cannot stop thinking about it.”

Talia’s eyes go wide, and her jaw drops. “No way. During the press conference?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, slumping back into the couch. “I was a mess this morning, late to work, and he still… he said I was pretty. And then had the nerve to smirk about it like he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Because he does know,” Talia says simply, swirling her glass. “He’s not stupid, you know. He’s Bakugo. Dynamight. he doesn’t do anything by accident.”

You groan again, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s the problem, Talia! He’s… him! And I’m… me! This shouldn’t even be a thing, but here I am losing sleep over it.”

Talia grins and nudges you with her elbow. “You’re losing sleep because you like him. Admit it. Fully. Out loud.”

You glare at her but know there’s no escaping it. “Fine,” you mutter. “I like him. Happy?”

Talia clinks her glass against yours. “Ecstatic. Now, let’s figure out what you’re gonna do about it.”

You stare at her. “What am I gonna do about it? Nothing! I’m going to do nothing!”

She takes a long sip of wine and raises her eyebrow at you “so what? You’re going to sit there everyday and pine? Please, y/n, you’re much too pretty for that sad shit.”

You shoot her a look. “I’m not pining. I’m just… processing.” She snorts. “Processing? Sure. Totally healthy to pace holes into your carpet over someone who called you pretty.”

“It’s not just that,” you snap, running a hand through your hair. “It’s everything. He’s complicated and stubborn and way too good at getting under my skin. And then he does something sweet, like making a little girl’s entire life just by talking to her, and I—” Talia leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you melt. Admit it.”

You groan, pressing the glass of wine to your forehead. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t. You hate that I’m right,” she teases. “So what’s stopping you? He clearly likes you too.”

You sit up straighter at that, shaking your head. “He does not.” “Oh, please,” Talia scoffs. Talia snorts, setting her glass down as she fixes you with a knowing look. “This man signed that you were pretty during a press conference, in front of millions of people. If that’s not bold, I don’t know what is.”

You shake your head, desperate to downplay the moment before your face bursts into flames. “He knows nobody else there knew sign, and he wasn’t even on camera at the time. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Talia gasps, mock-offended, clutching her chest. “Not that big of a deal? Are you kidding me? That makes it more of a deal! It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was just for you.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you blink at her, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find a rebuttal. “I—no, it—it wasn’t like that. He’s just…” “Just into you,” Talia finishes, her tone smug as she leans back on the couch, wine glass in hand.

Your cheeks burn, and you down the rest of your wine, hoping the flush on your face can be blamed on the alcohol. “Even if he is—which he isn’t—it doesn’t matter. We work together. It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated is just an excuse people use when they’re scared,” Talia says bluntly, pouring you another glass. “So what’s the real reason?”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass as you try to put the knot of emotions in your chest into words. “I just… I don’t think I’m what someone like him wants. Or needs.”

Talia’s expression softens, and she places a hand on your knee. “Hey. Stop that. You’re amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you. If Bakugo can’t see that, though I’m pretty sure he does, then that’s his problem, not yours.”

You glance at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “When did you get so wise?”

She grins, holding up her glass. “Hey I’ve always been wise! You’re just finally listening!”

You clink your glass against hers, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thanks, Talia.”

“Anytime,” she replies, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied smirk. “Now, let’s strategize. Step one: stop denying your feelings. Step two: figure out how to get Bakugo to admit his. Step three—”

You groan loudly, cutting her off. “Talia, I swear—”

She laughs, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. No step three. Yet. But I’m telling you, this is gonna work out. Just wait and see.”

You roll your eyes, but a small part of you—a hopeful, stubborn part—wonders if maybe she’s right. You push the thought aside for now; overthinking won’t solve anything tonight. Right now, you just want to enjoy the time with Talia.

Scooting closer, you grab the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and spread it across both your laps. “Alright, no more of this. Let’s focus on something less complicated,” you say, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the movie options.

Talia grins, leaning into you as she sips her wine. “Fine by me. Something cheesy and predictable? Bonus points if someone has a dramatic airport chase scene.”

You snort and select a romcom that promises exactly that. The opening credits roll as you settle back against the couch, the tension in your shoulders finally easing.

The rest of the night passes in laughter and shared commentary about the movie’s ridiculous plot twists. The bottle of wine empties quickly, and by the time the credits roll, both of you are drowsy under the weight of the blanket.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself relax. Whatever’s going on with Katsuki, it can wait. Tonight is for you and your best friend, and that’s more than enough.

You walk into the office the next morning with a strange, uneasy feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not like you expect anything to change—admitting you like Bakugo to Talia doesn’t magically alter the dynamic between you two. But now that you’ve acknowledged your feelings, every glance, every moment with him feels heavier, like you’re hyper-aware of his presence.

And you are.

Maybe you’d admit the way you feel, but every single voice of reason is screaming at you not to. Don’t do it. It’s a mistake. It’s just a crush and it’ll pass.

When you get to your desk, you glance toward his office out of habit, finding the door slightly ajar. You can just make out the blonde spikes of his hair behind his chair, his broad shoulders hunched over paperwork. He doesn’t look up when you walk in, and for some reason, that stings a little. Usually, he at least gives you a curt nod or some kind of acknowledgement, but today… nothing.

Shaking it off, you settle into your seat and get to work. Maybe he’s just focused.

But as the hours tick by, that feeling doesn’t go away. He’s quiet—too quiet. No sarcastic comments when he passes your desk, no requests for coffee or updates, no snarky remarks during meetings. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that he’s just having an off day.

It’s not until the next day, when lunch rolls around, that your suspicions start to feel like reality.

“Hey, you still good for lunch today?” you ask, poking your head into his office. You try to sound casual, like you haven’t been overthinking every interaction since you walked in yesterday.

He doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Can’t. Busy.”

The response is so abrupt it almost feels rehearsed.

“Oh,” you say, blinking. “Uh, okay. Another time then?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

His tone is clipped, dismissive, and he’s still not looking at you. You linger in the doorway for a moment, waiting for… something. A glance, an apology, anything. But it never comes.

You nod to yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat, and step back. “Alright. Let me know.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and the uneasiness from yesterday flares into something sharper.

By the third day of his weird behavior, the uneasiness has settled into a constant weight in your chest. Every time you try to reach out—whether it’s a quick message, a casual question, or even just passing by his office—he’s distant, vague, and uninterested. You text him that evening, hoping to clear the air.

You: “Hey, everything okay? You’ve been kinda off lately.”

The reply comes almost an hour later, short and unhelpful.

Katsuki: “Fine. Just busy.”

You frown at the screen, debating whether to push further, but something stops you. Maybe it’s the flatness of his response, or the way he’s been acting, but you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

And then, just as you’re about to respond, you notice something.

The text thread is gone.

You stare at your phone, disbelief flooding your veins as you realize what just happened.

He blocked you.

Your mind scrambles for an explanation. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe his phone glitched. Maybe—no, you stop yourself. There’s no justifying this. He’s been pulling away, piece by piece, for days now, and this feels like the final nail in the coffin.

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone still clutched in your hand as you try to make sense of it. What the hell just happened?

Was it something you did? Something you said? You replay every interaction in your head, searching for where things went wrong. But no matter how much you analyze it, you keep coming back to the same conclusion: you didn’t do anything. This is him.

And it hurts.

The next morning, you’re determined to act like everything’s fine. It’s not, obviously, but you refuse to let anyone in the office see you crack. Especially not him.

When you walk in, you don’t even glance toward his office. You focus on your desk, your work, anything to keep yourself occupied. But ignoring him is easier said than done when his presence looms so large, even when he’s not in the room.

The tension builds all day, and by the time you clock out, you’re emotionally drained. You make it home, kick off your shoes, and collapse onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You’re trying not to think about him—trying so hard—but every quiet moment drags your mind back to the same place. To the way he called you pretty, the way he made you feel seen, the way he’s been acting like you don’t exist.

And that’s when you decide.

You need a distraction.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts until you find the number you haven’t used since you’d seen it on that note. The guy with the easy smile and the bad pick-up lines. The guy you barely even remember

You: “Hey, are you free tonight?”

When he texts back almost immediately, you hesitate for half a second before replying. You set up the date—nothing fancy, just drinks at a casual spot downtown, maybe an appetizer if you’re feeling adventurous and then toss your phone aside, already second-guessing yourself.

You don’t like him. You know that. But maybe you could. Maybe spending time with someone who isn’t Katsuki Bakugo will remind you that the world doesn’t revolve around him.

Hours later, you’re at the bar, sitting across from the guy who’s trying way too hard to make you laugh. You’re smiling, you’re nodding, you’re even sipping your drink like you’re having a good time, but your mind is elsewhere.

It’s not working.

You’re halfway through the date when you feel it—that prickle on the back of your neck, like someone’s watching you. You glance around the room, and your stomach drops when your eyes land on him.

Katsuki.

He’s sitting in a booth on the other side of the bar, surrounded by a few pro heroes you recognize. He’s not looking at them, though. His gaze is locked on you, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Your date says something, but you don’t hear it. The noise of the bar fades as the two of you stare at each other from across the room.

You look away first, heart pounding in your chest. What the hell is he doing here?

The bar is too loud. The kind of loud that drowns out every coherent thought if you let it. Katsuki doesn’t let it.

He’s leaned back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, but his eyes are locked on you. He doesn’t even realize how hard his jaw is clenched until Kirishima nudges him with an elbow.

“Yo, you good?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer. He can’t. His mind is a tangled mess, and it all leads back to you. Sitting there with that guy. Laughing, even though Katsuki knows damn well it’s not real. He can read it all over your face.

And yet, he can’t look away.

His drink sits untouched on the table, condensation pooling beneath the glass, but he doesn’t notice. His thoughts are too loud.

Why does it bother me so much?

It’s not like you’re his. You never were. And yet the thought of you smiling at someone else, laughing at someone else’s stupid jokes—it makes something inside him twist in a way he can’t name.

And then, there’s that other thought. The one that’s been festering since the moment you walked into his life.

She has too much power over me.

He grips his thigh under the table, grounding himself. It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve taken up space in his head he never meant to give you. It’s not just the way you make him feel—it’s what you represent.

He used to think his Deafness was just another part of him. Like his quirk, like his temper. Something he’d learned to live with.

And then you came along.

You, with your easy understanding and your patience and your damn compassion. You didn’t just see him. You knew him, in a way that made him feel vulnerable, and he hates it. He hates the way you make him feel exposed, like you can see right through him.

That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Power.

You have it, and he doesn’t. Not over himself, not over his own damn identity.

His grip on the glass tightens. He doesn’t need this. Doesn’t need you.

Kirishima’s voice cuts through his thoughts, though it’s muffled and distant, and he knows Eijirou knows he can’t hear him. Katsuki doesn’t bother trying to piece the words together. He just stands, shoving his hands into his pockets and muttering something about needing air.

You’d excused yourself to bathroom, feeling your hands go clammy and your heart race and you needed the relief of cool water. You don’t know how long you stand there, trying to pull yourself together, but when you finally leave the bathroom, he’s gone.

And somehow, that’s worse.

The rest of the night is a blur. You go through the motions, nodding along to your date’s stories and laughing in the right places, but your heart isn’t in it. Your thoughts are with Bakugo—his expression, the way he looked at you, and the fact that he just… left.

By the time you get home, you’re emotionally spent. You collapse onto your couch, replaying the night in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Why was he there? Why was he watching you?

You don’t have any answers, but one thing is clear.

Ignoring this was not going to be as easy as you thought.

The next morning you go through the motions, deciding fine, he wants to be that way and he can. You’re here to do a job and you will even if you hate the way there’s an ache in your chest.

You arrive at the agency, scanning you badge like usual only to be met with an unfamiliar red light and accompanied beeping. “Weird” you whisper to yourself, banging on the door a few times. You can see Talia at her desk and she walks over and opens up the door for you

“Sorry, my badge wasn’t working” you furrow your browns and shake your head in frustration. “No problem, girl,” she says with a small shrug, holding the door open for you as you walk inside. “It’s probably just a glitch. Happens sometimes.”

You nod, but you feel the weight of something off in the air as you head into the building. As you walk through the familiar halls, the quiet feels a little too heavy. You’re not sure why, but you can’t shake the feeling that something’s different.

You make your way upstairs, the thought of Bakugo weighing on your mind. You can’t help but wonder what’s going on. His behavior has been so strange lately—so distant. But you don’t have time to dwell on it. You sit down at your desk, hoping the distraction of work will ease your mind, but it doesn’t. Not when you keep thinking about him.

You glance around the office, everything still the same on the surface. But something about it feels off.

And then, you see him and it’s like a slap to the face.

Bakugo. Dynamight. Standing there, right across the room, and the moment your eyes lock, your breath hitches. There’s something different in his gaze—a cold, calculated look that doesn’t soften when it meets yours. The same gaze he gave you the first morning you’d arrived, when you were so sure you were about to help him in ways that mattered..and you see them. His hearing aids, it makes your heart drop

It’s like the whole world shifts with the realization.

He doesn’t need you anymore. He doesn’t need an interpreter.

Your feet move beneath you before your brain even catches up and you’re grabbing him, pulling him into his office and shutting..no slamming the door. You huff and your eyes search him for something, anything but you see nothing but his cold, crimson eyes.

You swallow hard, finally finding your voice again. “You… you got your hearing aids fixed?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The silence says everything.

“I’m not… your interpreter anymore, am I?” He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No.”

It feels like the room falls silent, even though it isn’t. The words and hands are heavy in the air. Your mind races, your chest tightening with each passing second. You can feel your heart breaking

You hold your dominant hand up beside your head, making a motion as if your flicking up into the air as you shake your head

DON’T UNDERSTAND.

“W-what about all your progress?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes and your voice is cracking almost pathetically. You can’t cry. You can’t cry because you don’t have a reason to, interpreters who get fired don’t cry.

Except… you’re not just an interpreter.

You’re something more. And you’re so damn tired of pretending you’re not.

He says nothing in return, but his eyes linger on you for a moment longer. You wish you could read him, but it’s impossible now. You can’t help but feel like you’ve lost something important, even though you don’t know what it is.

“Can we.. still have lunch together?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you can’t help the way your chest tightens in that small flicker of hope. Maybe… maybe this isn’t all over. Maybe this rejection of his learning isn’t a rejection of you.

He looks down hesitating, taking a breath and opens his mouth to speak. His eyes flicker to you, and that’s when you see it—the flicker of recognition, the briefest trace of something almost human. He shuts his mouth with another shake of the head.

You notice the flicker in his eyes but It’s not enough to stop the ache inside you from spreading further, tearing at something you didn’t even realize would hurt you this much until now.

So he just didn’t want you. That harsh truth weighs on you like nothing else. It’s not just the physical presence of the hearing aids—it’s everything that they represent. The end of something you thought was real. Something you thought mattered to him.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Instead, you just stand there, feeling the weight of what he’s done. Feeling the weight of what he’s taken from you without a single word, without a single explanation he leaves the room.

He doesn’t need you. And in that moment, you realize, you never really mattered to him.

You hold yourself together—barely. Your nails dig into your palms as you fight to stay composed, forcing the tears to wait. But the second the elevator doors close behind you, it’s like a dam breaks. Hot tears streak down your face, silent but unrelenting, as you descend. You can’t stop them, can’t stop the way your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

By the time you reach the lobby, your sobs are quiet but persistent, the ache in your throat growing unbearable. Talia’s voice calls out to you from the front desk, a mixture of concern and confusion. “Hey! Hey, what happened? Wait—”

You don’t stop. You can’t. You push through the front doors, ignoring her voice, knowing she can’t leave her station to follow you. The cold air outside hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ground you. You’re too far gone, your mind replaying the scene over and over like some cruel, inescapable loop.

He doesn’t need you anymore. He doesn’t care.

You don’t even remember how you get home. The walk is a blur of noise and tears and a weight pressing down on your chest so heavy you’re sure it’ll crush you. When you finally make it back, the silence of your apartment is deafening. It surrounds you, suffocates you, fills every corner like it’s mocking your emptiness.

Your bag hits the floor, and you follow it, sinking to your knees as another sob tears its way out of you. You clutch your chest, trying to hold yourself together, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely. But it’s no use.

It hurts.

It hurts in a way you can’t explain, in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s not just the loss of a job or the suddenness of it all—it’s him. It’s the way he looked at you, like you were nothing. Like everything you’d worked on, everything you’d shared, meant nothing to him. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe you were foolish to think it ever did.

You sit there for what feels like hours, your tears eventually slowing, replaced by a numbness that leaves you hollow. You’re not sure when your phone starts buzzing, but you glance at it long enough to see Talia’s name lighting up the screen. You don’t answer. You can’t. Not right now. Not when the sound of her voice will break you all over again.

You toss the phone onto the couch, curling up against the cushions and pulling a blanket over you like it might shield you from the world outside. But even as you close your eyes, the ache in your chest lingers, reminding you of what you’ve lost.

And for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure how to move forward.

It’s dark out when the front door opening makes you jump and there you see Talia, still fully adorned in her work clothes and a panicked expression kicking off her shoes in your front entry way. She closes the door behind her and crushes to your slumped form on the couch.

“You don’t think I know you keep the key under the mat? I’ve been calling you for hours!” She says, her tone sharp with worry but she softens when her eyes meet your puffy, red ones.

“It’s fine,” you mumble, barely lifting your head from the couch cushion. Your voice is hoarse, raw from hours of crying. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Stop it. Clearly, I did,” Talia shoots back, dropping her bag on the floor before sitting beside you. She sighs as she takes you in, her brows furrowed in concern. “What happened, babe? I’ve never seen you like this.”

You shake your head, willing the tears not to start again. “It’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.”

“Stop that,” she says firmly, reaching out to grab your hand. “You’re not stupid. Something happened. Talk to me.”

You don’t respond right away. Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you think about brushing her off entirely. But the way she’s looking at you, like she won’t let you get away with it, makes you cave.

“It’s Bakugo,” you finally admit, your voice breaking on his name. The tears you were holding back spill over again, and you quickly wipe at them, frustrated with yourself. “He… he doesn’t need me anymore, Talia. He got his hearing aids fixed, and he fired me.”

Her face shifts from worry to disbelief, her mouth falling open. “He what?”

You nod, pulling your knees to your chest. “He didn’t say it outright, but my badge didn’t work this morning, and he… he told me I’m not his interpreter anymore. I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Are you kidding me?” Talia’s voice rises in outrage, and she looks ready to storm out of your apartment and march back to his office. “That’s insane. You’ve been there for him every step of the way. You’ve helped him. And now he just—what? Tosses you aside?”

You shrug helplessly, your fingers twisting in the hem of your sweater. “I should’ve known better. I thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe it meant something. But it didn’t.”

“Oh, hell no.” Talia stands up, pacing the room as her anger radiates off of her. “This isn’t about you. This is his problem. You’ve done everything you could for him, and if he can’t see that, then that’s on him—not you.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t really make it hurt any less.”

Talia stops pacing and sits back down, pulling you into a tight hug. “I know it doesn’t. But you’re not gonna sit here and blame yourself for this. You’re amazing at what you do, and if he can’t appreciate that, then he’s the one who’s losing out.”

Her words offer a small comfort, but the ache in your chest remains. You lean into her, closing your eyes and letting the silence stretch between you. For now, you’re grateful she’s here, even if nothing else makes sense.

She rubs your back for a few short moments before getting up and leaving the room, reappearing minutes later and helping your weak form to your feet, guiding you to the bathroom where she’s drawn you a warm bath. Steam rises, and the faint scent of lavender fills the air.

“Relax, love” she smiles. “Breathe, okay? Take your time in here. Call me if you need”

Tears prick your eyes at her thoughtfulness, and you manage a small nod, unable to speak. She squeezes your hand before leaving, and you lower yourself into the bath, the warmth wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. For the first time all day, you feel a sliver of peace creeping in, though it doesn’t quite reach your chest. You let the water carry you for a while, letting yourself simply exist.

When you finally rinse off and step out, you make your way to your bedroom to find fresh sheets neatly made on your bed and your softest pajamas laid out. The sight makes your throat tighten, but in a different way—there’s comfort in knowing someone cares this much.

there’s a faint smell wafting through your small apartment and you, now dressed search for her to find her in the kitchen. humming softly to herself. She glances up the moment she notices you, her face lighting up.

“There she is! Feeling a little better, love?” she asks, setting down a spatula.

You give a small nod, though the heaviness in your chest hasn’t fully lifted. “A little,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

She smiles, turning back to the stove to plate the food. “So… I’m not the greatest cook. You know I’m no Bakugo, but—” She cuts herself off when she sees you wince at his name, muttering a quiet apology. After a beat, she places a plate in front of you and gestures toward the couch. “Come on. Let’s sit and eat.”

You feel bad, the meal looks delicious and you know she worked hard on it but you can’t bring yourself to eat it, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness but it’s not hunger. Talia watches as you push the food around your plate. Her smile fades, replaced by concern. “You need to eat,” she says gently but firmly. “I know you. You skipped breakfast this morning. Don’t try to deny it—I can tell.”

You shrug, your fork barely scraping the surface of your food. “I’m just… not hungry.”

“Babe, you have to take care of yourself,” she insists, her voice softening but still insistent. “I know today was awful, but you can’t keep running on empty.”

You don’t respond, your eyes fixed on the plate in front of you. The emptiness in your chest feels too big, too consuming to let anything else in. Talia places a hand on your knee, grounding you. “I know it hurts,” she whispers. “But you can’t let this break you. You’re stronger than this. Stronger than him.”

Her words stir something deep inside you, but the ache remains. You take a small bite, more for her than for yourself, and she offers a small, encouraging smile. “That’s my girl,” she says quietly.

The two of you sit in silence after that, the only sound the faint clink of her fork against her plate. Even though the pain doesn’t go away, having her there makes it feel just a little more bearable.

When you finish eating, Talia wordlessly takes your plate and hers, rinsing them off and placing them in the sink. She hums softly to herself, the sound grounding in its normalcy, as she washes the dishes. Afterward, she disappears into the bathroom to take a shower, calling out a quick, “I’m stealing your sweats!” before you hear the water turn on.

You crawl into bed, exhaustion weighing down your every move. The fresh sheets feel cool against your skin, the faint scent of lavender fabric softener lingering from earlier. By the time Talia returns, her damp curls are tied up, and she’s wearing your oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. She’s carrying a pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other.

Wordlessly, she slides into bed beside you, popping the lid off the ice cream and offering you a spoon. You take it, and for the next hour, you cuddle together, legs tangled beneath the blankets as you watch a lineup of terrible romcoms on your laptop. The kind of movies with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top plots that you usually roll your eyes at but now somehow find comfort in.

Every so often, Talia sneaks a glance at you. She doesn’t say anything when the tears start to fall again, silently wiping your cheeks with her sleeve and giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. “But you’re not alone, okay? You’ll never be alone.”

You nod, leaning into her warmth. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe her. Even if the ache in your chest still lingers, you let yourself be held. Let yourself cry. Let yourself exist, just as you are, in that moment.

As the night drags on, the ice cream long forgotten and the romcoms playing in the background, you feel yourself start to relax in her arms. And though the pain hasn’t gone away, the weight of it feels a little less unbearable with her there by your side.

Bakugo sighs, staring at the ceiling above his bed His jaw clenched as the memory of her face flashed in his mind. The way you eyes had widened in confusion, then crumpled into something raw and broken when you realized what he was telling you. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way your hands moved, shaky and uncertain, as you signed don’t understand.

You didn’t understand. Of course you didn’t. He’d made sure of that.

“You’re a fucking coward,” he muttered to himself, fisting the comforter around him

The truth was simple, but it was too ugly to say out loud. He couldn’t handle you anymore. Couldn’t handle the way you made him feel seen in ways that scared the shit out of him.

He’d spent his whole damn life being the best. Strong. In control. And yet, somehow, you had this hold over him. This power.

It wasn’t just you. It was everything you represented.

Being around you made him feel exposed, like you could see all the cracks he worked so hard to hide. And when you signed, when you looked at him like he was worth the effort, it was like you were holding up a mirror to all the things he didn’t want to face about himself.

You made him weak. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He stood abruptly, pacing the length of his bedroom.

He had his hearing aids now. He didn’t need to rely on anyone anymore. No interpreters. He could go back to being the Dynamight the world expected him to be. So why did it feel like he’d just thrown away something he couldn’t replace?

Bakugo stopped in front of the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection stared back at him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t recognize the man in the glass.

“This is for the best,” he muttered, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

But the ache in his chest didn’t go away.

You feel a bit hollow as time goes on, your heart still tethered to the past despite the passing months. Every morning you wake up, you get dressed, and you go through the motions of your day. You’ve found yourself in a routine, one that doesn’t require too much emotional investment. But still, that ache—the one that first blossomed the day you left Bakugo’s office—hasn’t faded. It may have softened a little, but it’s still there and you find it pathetic

Talia is there, Her comforting presence fills the empty spaces in your life, and though you don’t deserve the kind of loyalty she gives you, she doesn’t care. She’s your friend, your rock, and for all the hurt you’ve experienced, her kindness is a balm for your soul. Even though this job broke your heart it brought you to her and for that you couldn’t be more grateful.

It’s been three months since you left the office that day. You get a new interpreting job at Red Riots agency, the same work, interpreting press conferences and such while working for the VRS. It gets you by.

Red Riot is calmer, and has this softness about him that comforts you. You like this job, everyone is kind and you have staff lunches together. It’s a far cry from the tension that always seemed to hang in the air at Bakugo’s agency, and you’ve started to find comfort in the mundane, in the simplicity of working with good people who care about each other.

But still, there are days when you find yourself staring off into space, the memories of Bakugo haunting you. It’s strange—how someone you once thought was nothing but a client could leave such an impression on your life. You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering thoughts. You’ve moved on, right? You’ve found someone else.

Mason.

The relationship is casual—something that started with an easygoing vibe, no expectations. He’s a good guy, in his own way. But there’s something missing. You don’t feel the spark, the connection you once thought would be there when you found someone else. He’s just filling the void left by someone else’s absence. And when he eventually leaves, when he decides he wants something more than you’re willing to offer, you don’t blame him.

He deserves more, just like you do.

You can’t love Mason—not in the way he needs you to. But you can’t love anyone the way you loved him either. That part of you is broken, fragile, and still stuck in the past. And when Mason walks out of your life, it stings, but it’s not the gut-wrenching pain you once felt. Instead, it’s a quiet acceptance that you can’t force something to be what it isn’t.

You’ll heal. You have to.

Days go by, and you settle into the rhythm of your new life. You’re getting used to being on your own, to not having that constant pull of someone you can’t reach, someone who made you feel like you were worth something and then yanked that validation away. The job, the quiet comfort of Red Riot’s agency, even the stillness in your apartment—it’s all a small, healing process.

Talia notices the change. You’re not as sad as you were, but there’s a quiet in your eyes, a space where something used to be. She’s not the type to press you about it, but you know she’s there, always. And sometimes, in the stillness of your shared moments, she asks about your day, about the people you’re meeting. It’s gentle, but the concern is there, too.

One afternoon, as the sunlight filters through your apartment, Talia shows up with her usual enthusiasm.

“I was thinking,” she says, her voice light, “that we should take a weekend trip. Just to get away, y’know?”

You look up from the book you’ve been skimming, surprised by the suggestion. “Where would we even go?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “but I thought it might be nice to shake things up. A change of scenery. You’re kind of… in this zone lately. I mean, I get it, but maybe it’s time for something new.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, but you don’t resist. You nod slowly. “Yeah… maybe.”

So you do, you book a little weekend get away to somewhere that might me warmer at the end of March. Somewhere remote and peaceful, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself get excited about something. It’s the promise of something different, something that doesn’t carry the weight of your past.

The day of the trip comes, and you pack with an ease that surprises you. You’ve never really been the type to just leave, but the idea of doing something just for you, for the sake of your peace, feels right. The car ride is full of chatter and laughter, the way it used to be before everything changed.

You spend the next few days enjoying the quiet. Talia insists on cooking meals, and you both take walks in the crisp air. Evenings are spent curled up by the fire, watching movies or talking about anything and everything. It’s healing, in its own way. You still think of Bakugo sometimes, but not with the same desperation. It’s more of a quiet recognition of what once was.

On the last day, just as you’re packing up to head home, you find yourself alone outside, staring at the horizon, the sunlight filtering through the trees. There’s a soft breeze that cools your skin, and for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel a bit of peace. You breathe in deeply, letting go of the tension that’s built up in your shoulders.

“You okay?” Talia’s voice breaks the silence, and you turn to find her standing there, leaning against the porch rail.

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. I think I am.” She grins. “Good. You deserve that, you know? To feel… okay.”

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve been able to say that, and the fact that she’s right makes you feel something you haven’t in a while

Bakugo stands in the crowd, a frown etched on his face as he tries to power through yet another community event. He’s here because he has to be. This is part of the hero work—the appearances, the press, the smiles for the public. But none of it feels real. His mind keeps drifting back to that day, three months ago, when he’d decided to sever ties with you, with the very thing that had helped him feel whole again. If you were here maybe he wouldn’t feel nearly as uneasy.

“Dynamight!” He blinks and turns. there she is. Emma. The small Deaf girl he’d encountered months ago.

She’s bouncing up and down with excitement as he strides over to her, hands up to sign with her. Something he said he would do but never stopped doing. Because even though he’d told himself he was done, part of him knows it’s a lie. Not completely. Not for Emma.

For her. He tells himself, pushing the thought away. Deaf kids should get to talk to their favorite hero too.

“Hey, kid” he greets her with a rare, softened tone. He crouches slightly, offering her a small smile as she holds something up excitedly.

“I wanted to show you something!” Emma exclaims, her hands moving rapidly in excitement. She opens a small notebook in her hands and flips it to the first page.

On it is a crayon drawing of the two of them, him dressed in his hero suit and her dressed in her own, future hero suit

“It’s us together as heroes!” She beams. “Yeah…” he murmurs, his hand hovering above the drawing but not quite touching it. There’s an unexpected warmth in his chest. “It’s… great, Emma.”

“This is you,” she signs, pointing to the crayon version of him in his hero costume, “and this is me, when I grow up! I’m gonna be just like you!” Her hands move quickly, her enthusiasm clear, but Bakugo can see the spark in her eyes—a trust, an admiration, something that feels different than what he’s used to.

For a moment, Bakugo doesn’t know how to respond. He hasn’t been sure of himself in so long, especially in moments like this—when people, when kids, look at him like he’s a hero they want to emulate. He stands, not quite sure how to bridge the silence that lingers.

“You’re gonna be a great hero,” he says, the words feeling like something he’s wanted to say to someone for a while, but could never quite get out. “You’re strong.”

She beams again, her smile lighting up her face. “Really? You think so?” She signs the question with wide eyes.

“I know so,” Bakugo replies, and this time, it feels like he’s speaking the truth. His gaze softens as he looks down at the drawing again, and for a second, he can almost see it—the future she imagines, the one where they both stand side by side. The idea lingers in his chest, but then Emma pulls him from his thoughts again.

“You’re a good kid,” he tells her, then signs, “Be careful. Heroes gotta be smart.”

She nods vigorously, her small face serious, but only for a moment before she’s grinning again. “I will! I promise!”

Then for a second, her brows lift with her widening eyes, she reaches up to lightly brush her small fingers at his ears.

ME, YOU, SAME?

His breath hitches and he releases a shaky breath, looking down at this little girl, so innocent and full of hope.

YES

And in that moment, something shifts inside him. Something he’d tried to bury, something you had stirred, but he’d resisted. For the first time in a while, Bakugo doesn’t feel like he’s convincing himself of something. He’s simply… doing. Simply being.

Maybe he doesn’t have all the answers, but for Emma, for the hope she carries, he’ll show up. He’ll be the hero she sees in him.

Later that night, alone in his apartment, Bakugo stands in front of the mirror, his hands hanging at his sides. His mind runs back to Emma’s simple words, her unguarded, honest look at him.

Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.

Maybe it’s time to stop hiding.

He’s been living in the shadows of his own self-doubt, letting fear drive him to keep his identity a secret, to avoid confronting the truth of who he really is. But Emma… she’s not afraid. And if she can embrace who she is, maybe he can too.

The decision comes suddenly, but he knows it’s right. He reaches for his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he types out a message he’s been avoiding for months.

It’s time to tell the world.

you wake up on your day off to the buzz of your phone going off relentlessly. You groggily reach over, blinking the sleep from your eyes, to see an array of notifications lighting up your screen. The headline of every major news source, from social media to the morning news, reads something like:

“Dynamight Comes Out as Deaf: A Hero’s Journey to Self-Acceptance.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You stare at the words, barely able to process them. He—Bakugo—has finally done it. The world now knows. You scroll through the articles in a daze, seeing snippets of his speech at a press conference. Your eyes narrow as your heart aches. The weight of the moment is suffocating, but you can’t look away.

The conference has already aired live, but you pull it up on your tv and your eyes widen as Bakugo steps up to the podium. His usual arrogance and gruffness are there, of course, but there’s a noticeable change in his posture. A shift. The man who once shielded himself behind his bluster is standing there, claiming something that you knew all along. His truth.

His voice is as brash as ever, but there’s a vulnerability to it that you’ve never heard before.

“I know you all love to make a spectacle out of things,” Bakugo growls into the mic, his usual arrogance never wavering. “But let me make one thing clear: I was always Deaf.” He pauses, a brief, almost imperceptible shift in his eyes.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to go on. Then, he says it. He finally does.

“And, uh,” he starts again, his tone softening just a little. “There was someone who helped me get to this point. They taught me a lot. Gave me the space to be me. They didn’t coddle me, didn’t make me feel weak—just helped me find my strength. You know who you are.”

Your chest tightens as your mind races. You can hear the unspoken words. The gratitude he hasn’t voiced directly to you, but you know it’s for you. You can see it in his eyes, even through the stubbornness he wears like armor.

The rest of the press conference carries on with Bakugo making his usual gruff remarks about being the same hero, just with a little more transparency. “I’m not any less of a hero. I’m the same as I was yesterday. Only now, maybe you all can stop treating me like some damn novelty. I’m a person, this is who I’ve always been”

But in between his words, you can feel something—a small shift in the way he’s holding himself. Maybe he’s not just talking about his Deafness anymore. Maybe he’s talking about everything. About being seen for who he truly is. You’re not sure if he’ll ever admit it, but the way his words hit, the way he doesn’t shield the vulnerability behind his usual tough exterior—it feels like progress.

And though his words are blunt, as expected, there’s something softer there, something you thought you might never see.

Bakugo clears his throat, voice slightly rougher now, but the words are still sharp.

“There’s been a lot of talk lately, a lot of assumptions about who I am and what I’ve done. And yeah, I’ve made mistakes. I pushed people away. People who were trying to help, who saw something in me that I couldn’t see for myself. And… I regret that. Maybe more than anything.”

His gaze falters for just a moment, a fleeting vulnerability before he steels himself again.

“I’ll finally admit it, I’m not perfect. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be perfect. But I’ve learned. I’ve learned that the people who matter—the ones who care about you—they don’t just disappear. You make the mistake of thinking you can push them away and that they’ll just stay gone, but deep down… you hope they’ll come back.”

He pauses, a flicker of something deeper crossing his face, before he looks out at the crowd again, the familiar fire returning to his words.

“I’m the same hero I was before, but I’m not the same person. And I hope that someone out there can see that.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest as you try to process it all. You know what this means for him. You know how hard this must have been to say, and asu much as you want to hate him, you can’t help but feel proud of him, you can’t help the way your heart leaps in your chest

Talia starts blowing up your phone, repeatedly asking if you’re ok but there’s one message staring back at you, from Bakugo

“I’m sorry”

Your hands tremble as you stare at your phone, the words glaring back at you like a challenge, like a wound you thought had finally started to heal.

“I’m sorry.”

Two simple words, but they’re heavier than you can handle. You don’t even know why he’d send it. What’s he sorry for? Pushing you out of his life? Acting like you never mattered? Or is this just another layer to his guilt, something he’s doing for himself and not for you?

Your phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with a string of messages from Talia.

Talia: “Hey, are you watching this? Are you okay?”

Talia: “Please tell me you’re not ignoring this. You need to see it.”

Talia: “HELLO? BITCH, ANSWER ME!”

But you can’t bring yourself to type a response. Your thumb hovers over the screen, frozen, before your gaze drops back to his message.

“I’m sorry.”

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Sorry doesn’t fix the nights you cried yourself to sleep. It doesn’t fix the emptiness he left behind. It doesn’t make up for the way he made you feel so small, so disposable.

The TV is still on, now muted, but you glance at the screen, the image of Bakugo standing at a podium plastered across every news station. His face is unreadable—hard, almost—but there’s something in his eyes, something you know too well.

Regret.

You pick up the remote, unmuting the TV just in time to catch the end of his speech.

“…And yeah, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people. People I wish I hadn’t. But I’m not here to dwell on the past. I’m here because it’s time I stopped pretending to be someone I’m not. This is who I am. I’m still Dynamight. I’m still the same damn hero I’ve always been. I was always Deaf—you idiots just never noticed.”

He steps back from the podium, and the reporters erupt with questions. He doesn’t answer any of them, simply turning and walking offstage with his usual sharp determination.

Your phone buzzes again, snapping you out of the daze.

Talia: “Please tell me you’re okay. Do you want me to come over?”

But you can’t think, can’t process, can’t breathe past the knot in your chest. The words on your phone screen blur as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the last thing you wanted to hear from him, but maybe it’s also the one thing you needed.

You sit there for what feels like forever, the world moving around you while you stay frozen. His voice from the conference echoes in your mind,

Sorry for what? For firing you? For shutting you out? For breaking your heart? Your chest feels tight, and you take a shaky breath. You tell yourself not to overthink it, not to let him back into your head, but it’s impossible. That press conference wasn’t just an apology to the world; it felt like an apology to you.

Your phone buzzes again, and this time you force yourself to look

Talia: “Okay, I’m coming over if you don’t answer me in the next five minutes. I’m not kidding.” You type back quickly, fingers shaking.

You: “I’m fine. Don’t come over.”

Her reply is instant.

Talia: “You’re lying. Be there in 10.”

You groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table. You’re not ready to talk about it yet, not even with her, but you know she won’t let you avoid it.

The knock on your door comes exactly ten minutes later. You don’t even bother pretending you’re not home. You open the door to find Talia standing there, arms crossed and a bag of snacks in her hand.

“I knew you were lying,” she says, pushing past you into the apartment. She drops the bag on the counter and turns to face you, her eyes scanning your face. “You’ve been crying.”

“No I haven’t, I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth, brushing past her to sink down on the couch. You know she’d know if you’re lying but you do it anyway. Who are you really lying to? Her or yourself?

“Seriously? You just watched your ex-boss—and let’s be real, the guy who broke your heart—go public about being Deaf and basically admit he screwed up with you. You’re fine?” She sits next to you, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “Talk to me, y/n. You know I’m here”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Did you see the part where he said he hopes someone comes back? Because if you didn’t, I’m pulling it up right now.”

Your stomach twists. “I saw it.” “And?”

“And nothing,” you snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “What do you want me to say, Talia? That I forgive him? That I’m ready to go running back to him? Because I’m not. He doesn’t fucking deserve that. I want to say that, because I’m not, but there’s still a part of my heart that’s aching right now.”

Her expression softens. “I don’t want you to say anything you’re not ready to say. But I think you need to figure out what you do want, because from where I’m sitting, it seems like he’s trying to make things right.”

“Are you seriously defending him right now? Like he can just say “I’m sorry” and that’s it? And I’ll come running back? Do you think I’m that pathetic?” you spit back

“Hey!” She snaps, with a tone you’ve never heard her use. “Do not put words in my mouth, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to like that right now, but let me remind you—I’ve been here with you for months. I’ve held you while you cried over that asshole. Of course I’m not on his fucking side. I’m just stating the facts.”

Her words hit you like a slap, the room falling silent as her glare softens ever so slightly. She crosses her arms, her brows furrowing in that way that shows she’s more hurt than angry. “Don’t take your anger at him out on me.”

You bury your face in your hands, her words sinking in. You don’t know what you want. Part of you wants to scream at him, to tell him he doesn’t get to just say he’s sorry and expect everything to go back to normal. But another part of you… another part of you misses him so much it physically hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You’re right.” You lift your head, meeting Talia’s gaze with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. Reaching out, you grip her hand tightly, as if grounding yourself in her presence. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, the apology carrying the weight of your frustration and pain.

“I don’t know, Talia,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. She wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently. “Then don’t decide right now. Just… sit with it. And maybe, when you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

You lean into her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But as you sit there, one thought keeps replaying in your mind.

He hopes they’ll come back.

And for the first time in three months, you wonder if you might.

The next few days are a blur and as much as you want to ignore the situation bakugo’s face is still plastered on every news outlet, every social media platform, he’s even in conversations you overhear. He’s haunting you. Everyone’s talking about him—about his “coming out” as Deaf, about his gruff yet surprisingly heartfelt press conference, about how he’s still the same Dynamight.

And, of course, there are people who don’t feel the same, suddenly questioning his capabilities—despite thinking he was more than capable just a month ago when they had no idea he was Deaf. It makes you understand, at least in part, why he kept it a secret for so long. Ignorance is frustrating, and it’s easy to imagine how much he worried about his rankings taking a hit. Though, ironically, you suspect his popularity is about to skyrocket. You’re caught in the middle of it, carrying a secret that no one else knows.

He’s apologized to you. Privately. While the world cheers him on for his public bravery, you’re left staring at that two-word message on your phone every night, as if it’s some kind of puzzle you’re supposed to solve.

Talia’s been supportive, always checking in and trying to distract you, but she doesn’t push. You’ve thrown yourself into work at Red Riot’s agency, hoping that the busy schedule will drown out the thoughts of Bakugo that seem to creep in every time you let your guard down.

But it doesn’t work.

On your lunch break one afternoon, you find yourself scrolling through videos of the press conference again. You’ve watched it so many times that you practically have it memorized. The way he stood there, shoulders tense but head held high. The way his hands moved as he simultaneously signed, bold and unapologetic.

The way he said he made mistakes.

The way he said he hopes “they” come back.

Your chest tightens as you pause on the frame where he glances at the camera, his eyes full of something raw and unguarded. Regret? Hope? You don’t know, but it’s enough to stir something in you.

You don’t know why you do it, but your fingers move to open the message thread with him. His “I’m sorry” stares back at you like it’s mocking you.

You start typing a reply. Then delete it. Then type again.

Finally, you send something simple. Something neutral.

You: “I saw the press conference.”

The three little dots are almost immediate and your practically chuck your phone across the room when you see them.

Bakugo: “I figured.”

You stare at his response, waiting for him to say more, but nothing comes. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. What are you supposed to say to that?

You: “It was brave of you to do that.”

You say the truth, because as much as you’re torn in a battle of wanting to run back to him, to tell him how you felt and how you felt or punch him square in the jaw. You still are proud. You know what that took for him.

Bakugo: “It was overdue.”

He’s right. It was overdue. But the fact that he’s admitting it so openly feels… different. The Bakugo you knew never admitted he was wrong, never apologized, never showed vulnerability.

You don’t know what to say next, so you leave the conversation there. But for the rest of the day, you can’t stop thinking about him. About what it would mean to go back. About whether you even could.

That night, as you’re lying in bed, your phone buzzes again.

Bakugo: “I meant what I said. I’m sorry. For everything.”

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. You know he’s not just apologizing for firing you. He’s apologizing for shutting you out, for breaking you, for making you feel like you didn’t matter.

You don’t reply. Not yet.

Instead, you set your phone down, staring blankly at the wall as the weight of everything crashes over you. The apology sits in your chest, heavy and unresolved. It’s not enough, not after months of silence, but it’s also everything you’ve been longing to hear. You let it linger in your mind for the rest of the next day, mindlessly going about your routine until you lie awake in bed the following night

The city hums faintly outside your window, but your thoughts are louder. You think of Bakugo—of his press conference, of his apology, of everything you’ve been through.

And finally, as the clock ticks past midnight, you pick up your phone.

Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. You could ignore him. You could let him feel the same silence he left you with. But a small, stubborn part of you wants answers. Wants closure. Wants him.

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response, your hands trembling slightly.

You: “I don’t know if sorry is enough. But if you want to talk, really talk, you know where to find me.”

You stare at the message for what feels like an eternity before hitting send. The moment it delivers, you toss your phone onto the nightstand and bury your face in your pillow.

Now, all you can do is wait.

The days after the message are unbearable. He doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know if you even want him to, and he’s terrified of screwing things up more. Every time he picks up his phone to reply, he freezes, his mind racing with things he wants to say but can’t bring himself to. He leaves the conversation on read, knowing it’s making things worse but unable to stop himself.

Then there’s the interview. His PR team insists on it, saying it’ll help smooth over the public’s reaction to his “big reveal.” He doesn’t care about the opinions of people who didn’t matter a month ago, but he knows he can’t avoid it forever.

During the interview, the topic shifts to his Deafness and how it’s impacted his relationships—both professional and personal. He hesitates, his jaw tightening, but then, without meaning to, he brings you up.

“There was… someone who taught me a lot,” he admits gruffly, his hand clenching into a fist on his knee. “I pushed them away. I was a fuckin’ idiot. They deserved better.”

It’s the most anyone’s ever heard him talk about feelings, and when the clip circulates online later that day, everyone’s talking about it, people are guessing it’s you.

You don’t see the interview live, but Talia sends you a link with like ten exclamation points in the message. Reluctantly, you open it, and there he is on your screen—Bakugo, looking uncomfortable but honest. Hearing him admit he was an idiot feels… surreal. He’s not one for public displays, so for him to acknowledge you in an interview like this? It’s huge.

But still, it’s not enough. A few days pass. The tension lingers. And then, late one night, your phone buzzes. A voicemail. When you check it, your heart stops at the sound of his voice.

“Shit…” His words are slurred, and you can hear the clink of a bottle in the background. “I… I don’t even fuckin’ drink, but I needed… I don’t know, somethin’ to stop me from thinkin’ about you. But it didn’t work, and now I’m here, drunk as hell, leaving this dumbass voicemail because… because I’m a goddamn coward, and I can’t stop fuckin’ missing you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time. “I’m sorry for everything. For bein’ an idiot, for not tellin’ you what you fuckin’ mean to me before I ruined it all.” There’s a long pause, and you can hear him breathing unevenly. “I don’t deserve you. I know that. But… I can’t stop hopin’ you’ll come back anyway.”

The voicemail ends, and you’re left staring at your phone, your heart pounding. The familiar sting of hurt and anger still sharp, but something deeper lingers: an aching sense of loss. The person who had once made you feel seen, understood, is now the one who’s broken that bond beyond recognition.

You want to ignore him. You want to erase him from your life completely, but you know you can’t and deep deep down you know you want him in your life again.

The next afternoon you’d been needed at red riots agency agency, the familiar chime of your phone breaks the stillness. It’s a message from the front desk, telling you a delivery has arrived for you.

You stand up, confused but curious, as you walk to the lobby. The package is large, wrapped in simple brown paper, with a handwritten note affixed to the top in elegant script. You turn the note over, your eyes scanning the words.

“I’m not good with this shit. I don’t expect this to fix everything, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t keep pretending. I fucked up, and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You mean more to me than I’ve ever been able to say.”

The signature at the bottom, written with shaky confidence, is unmistakable.

Bakugo.

Your heart skips. But it’s not the excitement you once felt when you’d get a text from him. It’s something else, something heavier. The flowers, fresh and vibrant, are beautiful—a sharp contrast to the flowers the guy from the bar had sent you. It’s clear this wasn’t a rushed thought or just a generic gesture. Bakugo took the time to choose something meaningful, something you’d actually like. It’s a reminder of who he can be when he tries, of the man who’s not only a hero but someone who truly knows you.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over your phone screen for a moment before you type out a simple but sincere message:

You “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful. And the note… I appreciate it.”

You hit send, your stomach twisting in anticipation. The dots appear almost immediately, and then his reply comes through.

Bakugo: “I meant what I said. I’ve been running from this for too long, like a fucking coward and I’m sorry for that. I’m ready to talk. I should’ve done it sooner, but I’m asking now. Can we meet?”

Your heart races. The words hit you harder than you expected, like a punch to the gut, but it’s also the closest thing to an apology you’ve gotten. You close your eyes for a second, letting the feeling settle before you type out your response.

You “We can meet. But I need you to understand, I’m not going to make this easy for you. It’s not just going to go back to how it was. I have to think about this too.”

You hesitate before hitting send, but then, your finger presses the button. The message is out there now.

A few seconds pass, and then his reply comes through.

Bakugo: “I get it. I’m not asking for it to go back to how it was. I just need to talk.”

You meet him late afternoon in a dimly lit cafe, he’d requested the private back room for the two of you. You see him his back straight, posture tense, but there’s a softness in his eyes that you didn’t expect. The sight of him makes your chest tighten, and for a split second, all the hurt floods back, threatening to break through. But you swallow it down, pushing the emotions back where they belong, at least for now.

Your usual coffee order was sitting in front of the chair when you arrived, he’d remembered.

When he sees you, his jaw clenches, and he stands up. His gaze is apologetic, but guarded. He says nothing as you sit down across from him. There’s an unspoken distance between you, both of you unsure of how to start.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Awkward. You glance at him, not knowing whether to wait for him to speak first or if you should just get it over with. It’s him who breaks the silence first.

“I… I don’t know how to start this,” he admits, his voice low and rough.

You give him a pointed look, your arms crossed, but you don’t say anything. You want him to go first.

“Look, I know I fucked up,” Bakugo continues, his words rushed, his voice catching slightly as he forces them out. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back.” His eyes shift down for a moment, but when they return to you, there’s something raw there, something he’s been holding back for too long. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was scared. I thought… I thought if I shut myself off, I wouldn’t drag you down with me. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

His hands are clenched into fists on the table, like he’s trying to hold himself together, but the vulnerability is leaking through.

“I was an idiot, and I know it,” he continues,

“I don’t know how to fix this,” his hands gripping the table tightly. “I don’t know how to make it right. But I… I’m willing to try. I’m ready to try.”

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, but his eyes are so desperate now. Not just for your forgiveness, but for something else. Something deeper.

“I don’t know if I can just forgive you, Bakugo,” you say softly, but firmly. “You hurt me. You made me feel like I didn’t matter. And it’s not something that just goes away with a couple of words.”

He flinches, the sting of your words landing harder than he expected, but he nods slowly. “I get it,” he mutters. “I don’t expect you to just forget. I don’t deserve that. But I… I’ve spent the last few months regretting the way I treated you. I’ve been a fucking mess.”

The silence stretches out, thick and uncomfortable, before he adds, almost like an afterthought, “I’m not saying this because I think it’ll fix anything… But I care about you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know if I’m ready to say all the words… but you should know, I—” His voice hitches, and he grits his teeth, frustration flashing across his face. “I fucking need you. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, pushing you away. I can’t keep running from it.”

There it is. He’s not saying it outright, not yet, but it’s clear. It’s written in the tension in his voice, in the way he’s looking at you. He needs you. But that’s as far as he can admit right now. He’s too scared to say the words, but it’s all there in the way he’s speaking.

You exhale, looking down at your hands. The silence stretches between you like a heavy weight, but it’s different this time. It’s not suffocating, just… thick with everything unsaid. You want to push him further, but you’re not sure how much more he can take.

“Did you know?” you ask, voice trembling a little, though you try to keep it steady. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Did you know about my feelings for you?” you push, meeting his gaze, watching his expression shift as if something inside him clicks.

He hesitates, then lets out a frustrated breath, looking away for a moment. “I had a feeling,” he admits, voice low, almost reluctant. “But I told myself I was wrong. I let my own doubts cloud my mind… I was trying to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.”

You swallow, the words hitting deeper than you expected. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything? You just pushed me away, Bakugo.”

He stares at you, his expression torn, jaw clenched tightly. “I didn’t want to feel weak,” he says, barely above a whisper. “And I sure as hell didn’t want you to have power over me.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean by that?”

He lets out a breath before continuing. “I don’t… like feeling like I’m not in control,” he admits, voice rough. “Everything about me has to be under my control. My strength, my image—everything. And then you… you came into my life, and everything just got… confusing. You made me think about everything differently and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You remain silent, taking in his words. The rawness in his admission shakes you, but there’s still a part of you that wants him to go further, to say the things you need to hear. But he’s still holding back.

“You make me weak, you know?” he finally adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, giving a small awkward laugh with the shake of his head. “And I hate it.”

The vulnerability in his voice hits you harder than you expect. It’s the same Bakugo, the one who once seemed invincible, but now, you see the cracks beneath it.

For a moment, you let the silence linger between you, trying to digest everything. “But you were never weak,” you say quietly, your voice softer now. “You just… didn’t want to let anyone in.”

His gaze softens, but he doesn’t say anything. The weight of the moment settles in, and you know that you’re both standing on the precipice of something—neither of you fully ready, but maybe, just maybe, willing to step forward.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’m not saying yes, Bakugo. I can’t just forget everything and run back into your arms.” You hold his gaze, steady. “But… I’m not saying no either.” You smile slightly, your hand reaching for his.

Bakugo grabs your hand. His grip is firm, but it’s not forceful—just a silent plea for you to understand. A glimmer of relief flashes in his eyes, though there’s still a heavy weight of uncertainty. He exhales sharply, relief mixed with a heavy dose of uncertainty in his eyes. “I get it. I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

The words hang between you, heavy but hopeful. There’s a long road ahead, and neither of you knows what’s at the end of it. But there’s a crack in the door now, a glimmer of possibility that you can’t ignore.

For the first time, Bakugo isn’t just pushing forward on instinct. He’s waiting for you. And for the first time, you’re not running away from him either.

And just like that, the lunches start again.

The first lunch is simple, a quiet little café tucked away in a corner of the city, far enough from prying eyes but close enough for comfort. Neither of you wants to make a big deal of it. No cameras, no expectations. Just two people sitting down, eating a meal, and talking like they used to.

Bakugo fidgets with his napkin, clearly not used to this kind of calm, but he’s trying. There’s a sense of hesitation between you, like neither of you wants to be the first to break the quiet. But then, unexpectedly, he asks you about your new job. The question is casual enough, but you both know it’s more than just small talk.

You smile, feeling the weight of his words in a way that feels like a first step, and you respond with a little more than you normally would. And for the first time in months, you both get lost in the conversation—just two people sharing a meal, no pretenses.

The next lunch is a bit easier. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where silence feels heavy, but the air between you has softened. Slowly, but surely, you’re both learning how to be around each other again without the need for words to fill every moment.

Another month passes, slow but steady. Every lunch feels like another brick being removed from the wall between you and Bakugo, but there’s still something unspoken between you. He’s still Bakugo—gruff, proud, and a little closed off when it comes to talking about what he feels.

But in his own way, he’s been complimenting you more than he ever has before. He praises your work, your passion, the way you handle yourself when you talk about your dreams. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat each time.

Then, one evening, you invite him over to your place for dinner. He doesn’t know what to expect, and honestly neither do you, but he agrees. The silence between you isn’t heavy this time—it’s comfortable. You’re both so used to the quiet now, to the small moments that don’t need to be filled with words.

You made one of his recipes—the one he’d hastily shoved into your arms with the muttered excuse of “making too much” all those weeks ago. You’re eating casually, and he’s telling you a story from his latest mission, grumbling about his hero friend Chargebolt and his antics. You can’t stifle your laughter

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, gasping to catch your breath but when you look back up his eyes are on yours, watching you and his hands move again

BEAUTIFUL.

You feel your face flush and you try to hold back the smile that wants to plaster itself on your face, but you know he sees it. You quickly change the subject. “I need to meet him one day. Chargebolt”

After dinner he helps you wash dishes and it’s all.. oddly domestic in a way that gives you butterflies, and you have no idea how he feels, only the way sparks ignite when your fingertips brush as you hand him dishes to dry. The tension is thick, and you can’t take it anymore. Before you know it, you flick the water from your hands onto him. He shoots daggers at you with his gaze, but then, unexpectedly, he smiles. you’re laughing and you do it again but he grabs your hands

And.. you stand there, frozen for a minute with his hands holding yours, his crimson gaze meeting yours and it’s softer now, nothing like the harsh intensity you saw back in the conference room all that time ago.

His hands and eyes fall from your and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, he goes to open his mouth but hesitates, shaking his head and raising his hands instead

He brings his two closed hands together, fingertips touching and bouncing off each other lightly.

KISS.

Can I kiss you?

Your eyes immediately shoot to his and you nod and that’s it. The tension that’s been building over the past month snaps. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re in each other’s arms. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender, all the words neither of you has been able to say spilling out in that single moment.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands trembling slightly as he cups your face. “Please… I can’t keep pretending I don’t need you,” he admits, his voice raw, the weight of everything he’s been holding back finally pouring out.

Bakugo’s hands hover near your sides, as if unsure whether to pull you closer or give you space, like he’s waiting for you to tell him what comes next. You both stand there for a moment, the silence enveloping you again, but this time it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels like the calm after a storm, like the tension has dissipated, but there’s still more to work through.

You smile softly, reaching for his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, squeezing his fingers gently.

He nods, like he’s trying to process the weight of that assurance. “Good,” he mutters, and for once, the sharpness in his tone is gone, replaced by something softer. Something a little uncertain, but real.

Without thinking, you pull him down to sit with you on the couch, your bodies close but not quite touching. You both need time. Time to catch up with each other, time to figure out how to navigate this new phase of whatever this is between you two.

“So… what now?” you ask, voice small, but hopeful.

He leans back into the cushions, staring at the ceiling for a moment as if he’s thinking. When he finally speaks, his voice is gruff again, but there’s a flicker of something else there. “Now, we take it slow,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “I’m not asking for a lot. I don’t know how to do all the shit I should’ve said before, but I’m here now. For real. And I’m not running away from this.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s said in weeks, maybe months, and it means everything to you. It’s not perfect, and it’s not a fairytale, but you can see the cracks in his armor, the rawness that’s finally coming through. He’s not pretending anymore, and that’s the first step.

You nod, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m not asking for perfect either. Just… just us, okay?” “Yeah,” he replies, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “Just us.”

And with that, it feels like the tension between you has finally broken. You’re not all the way there yet, and you know it’ll take time. But for the first time in a long while, you feel like there’s hope. Not a perfect solution, but something real, something worth fighting for.

As you sit there, quietly, his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. Neither of you speaks for a while, just feeling the comfort of each other’s presence. There’s still a long road ahead, but for now, you’re okay. And that’s all you need.

You’re both in this together.

You move closer, and he instinctively moves to hold you in his arms. Everything feels right, and you relax into him, letting his presence comfort you until your soft breaths even out, and you drift to sleep.

He glances down at your sleeping figure, careful not to wake you as he shifts slightly. He takes a picture, knowing you’ll probably kill him for it later, but he can’t resist. With a soft smile, he posts it on his Instagram story.

“🤟@ y/nsigns”

I LOVE YOU.

—-

A/n: its my birthdayyy!! This is my present to yall tho

bakugo saying ily first?? Idk if the ily is too soon but at the same time they’ve known they each had feelings the whole time idc lmao. I really hope yall enjoyed the series! This is the first thing I wrote on tumblr!! I’m so appreciative of all the nice comments and everything love u guys <3

Tags: @poemeater @mimzyu @beebunsx x @v3n7s

@cielito--lindo @starrmage @unabletonotlovesatoru @beabamboo

#shut up haley!#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #katsuki bakugou #deaf bakugo #bakugou x reader

48 notes · View notes

cautotelic · 16 hours ago

Text

Chapter 5: Been Like This

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

CW: SMUT (what we've all been waiting for), kinda fluff, Ambessa being downright downbad, yes the title is from that Doja Cat song 🤨

A/N: enough with the sadness, let the tension end. please leave more replies/comments I LOVE reading them and knowing y’all enjoy the story:))

The next few days go by painstakingly slow. I help the physicians with tending to the injured warriors. I’m back to avoiding Ambessa, still somewhat upset with her. Whenever I think about her I’m drawn between being so frustratingly angry at her and just wanting to thank the fact she’s, in her words, alive and well.

Whenever I get the chance during the day I’ll go into my room and try to get a bit of sleep before leaving for the night, knowing that Ambessa has been residing in my room. Maybe she’s hoping that I’ll come back at the same time she's there, but I doubt that.

Currently I’m outside of the estate collecting snow in a bucket to take inside for the physicians. Being in my own thoughts I don’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots coming from behind me.

“You should really wear a coat out here, little lady.”

I smile. “You want to give me a hand or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?”

The crunch of snow grows closer before Rictus’s big, burly form comes into view. He settles himself behind me and pulls something out of his cape, a blanket.

I hold my hand up. He continues to unfold it. “The General would have my head if I let you get frostbite out here.”

“Why does she bother?” I mumble as I feel the weight of the blanket being placed around my shoulders. I will admit that I am thankful for the blanket.

Rictus hums as he takes the bucket out of my hands and begins shoveling in the snow with his own gloved hands. “She has a weird way of showing it, but she really does care about you. It’s the reason she brought you here,” he admits.

My brows furrowed in confusion but Rictus continued. “She and your father had a meeting negotiating trade deals and land disputes, the regular diplomatic conversations,” he says and I nod. “I remember you standing in the corner of your fathers office, just a tiny little thing, barely noticed you were there. But when we got back on the airship, you were all she could talk about.”

“She sent your father a letter asking if he would trade you for extra trading goods. He refused and she threatened him with war.” The bucket of snow is full so Rictus stands, I copy his movements as we start to make our way back to the estate. “Of course she knew of your power and wanted you to train her soldiers, but she also saw how miserable you looked, like a bird trapped in a cage. Her stronger feelings for you only transpired after you arrived.”

We step back into the estate and hand the bucket of snow to the physician standing there. I watch her leave before turning to Rictus. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you understand why I have to do what I’m about to do next,” he utters, a hint of guilt showing in his expression.

“What-“

In an instant I’m scooped up and thrown over his shoulder as he begins walking down the hallway. A small gasp comes out as I am disoriented. “Rictus put me down. Where are you taking me?” I protest.

My struggling does nothing to sway him into putting me down. “The General hasn’t slept for a week because of you and personally, I don’t enjoy being yelled at,” he grunts as he readjusts me on my shoulder.

The realization hits me. He’s taking me to Ambessa. I start hitting his back. “Rictus, put me down now. I don’t want to see her,” I declare.

I protest the whole way until we walk into a room lined with bookshelves. He sets me down on my feet and I turn around to face Ambessa who is sitting at her desk. The surprise on her face tells me that all this was all by Rictus’s own doing.

“General,” Rictus nods towards Ambessa before walking out of the room, leaving us together.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I stand awkwardly in the center of her study as I shift from foot to foot. Her study is just as warm and inviting as her bedroom. Throw blankets adorn the couch sat in front of the fireplace and soft rugs cover the floors.

I look up at Ambessa and she isn’t looking at me but I can tell she’s tired.

“I don’t know why he brought you here, I told him, and everyone else for that fact, not to bother you,” she states coldly as she writes something down in the ledger on the desk.

Just hearing her talk and being in her general vicinity has all my anger resurfacing. I let out a chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work, you know?” I accuse as I stalk towards her desk.

She stops writing, folds her arms, and leans back in her seat, an amused expression playing on her face. “Oh you're in no position to talk about being a piece of work, but please, do tell.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, growing irritated. “You are so incredibly maddening. I cannot fathom how anyone gets anything done around here with you.” When I get close enough I trail my hand along the edge of her desk. “For the past month I spent the whole time believing you were dead, hoping you weren’t so I could do it myself. But now…” I sigh as I look at her, looking for answers to the ache I feel deep in my bones. “I can’t even find the strength to stay mad at you.”

Our eyes lock and I wonder if there is just as much emotion in my eyes as there are in hers. I draw closer to her slowly, unsure and uncertain. Reaching out I touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers softly.

She leans into the small touch before grabbing my hand and pressing kisses to my palm. “Forgive me… please.”

My body leans towards her hesitantly, eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. I gently press my lips to hers, my own silent apology and many words unspoken. I feel her smile into the kiss as she lets me lead. My own repressed desires surface as I move to press myself closer to her. Ambessa stands from her desk chair, breaking our kiss as her hands come under my thighs and lift me onto the cool wood of her desk. My hands move on their own accord touching any part of her that I can. She chuckles at my eagerness before lifting her shirt off, her bindings going with it. I stare at her for a good second admiring her as her hands go to the bottom hem of my shirt. She looks at me, waiting for me to push her away, to close myself off again.

I don’t.

I mutter a soft ‘yes’ and she takes my shirt off. Unlike our kiss in the library, her fingers find my skin, going over the scars on my chest and torso. Under her observant gaze I feel self conscious and I curl in on myself.

Ambessa notices this and makes a noice of displeasure. Her head dips back down and her lips brush against the shell on my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Do you know how turned on you make me, sweetheart? Hm.” She hums as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of my neck. I shake my head and she groans. “Too much. I get all hot and bothered when you're fully dressed, so don’t worry about this,” she says, her hands trailing up my sides. “You're perfect.”

Her lips find mine again as she lifts me off the desk and walks us over to the big couch in her study. Laying me down on the couch she makes quick work of my pants as well as her own. She leans down and sucks on the skin of my neck, leaving dark marks that will stay. Her hand travels down, down until it touches my waiting core. She teases, circling her fingers around my clit. I let out a frustrated whine and she chuckles.

“So impatient,” she hums, kissing my ear.

She’s merciful and slowly enters her fingers. Her pace starts out slow and deliberate, sinking them in before, dragging them almost all the way out, before doing it over again. I sigh, pleased that she’s finally touching me but wanting her to speed up.

My hands come around to her back, grabbing as much of her as I can before pushing her into me. I turn my head to it’s right by her ear. “I know you love me, but I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” I nearly demand.

She chuckles into my skin. “I would be careful what you ask for, little one,” she purrs as she bites down onto the space between my neck and shoulder. She speeds up the thrusts of her hand as she curls her fingers up and brushes that spot inside me. I gasp. She mimics my face and sound. “There,” she says breathily. “Is that what you wanted? Hm. To be treated like this, like a toy for me to use?”

I let out a strangled moan into her ear. My noises only egg her on as she fucks me. My nails dig into her back.

“So fucking wet, your basically swallowing my fingers. You dirty, dirty girl,” she says as she leans away from me looking down at my sopping cunt.

She uses the thumb of the same hand to gently circle my clit, light and slow motions. She watches her own fingers disappear inside me, she damn near moans at the sight. I quickly shut my legs closed at the sensation, feeling overwhelmed. She roughly pushes them back open as I feel her go deeper.

“Fuck…” I sigh. It’s all too much, her, my body. I reach my hand down to grab at her wrist. For what exactly, I’m not sure, but the coil in my stomach is winding tighter and tighter, I feel like I might burst.

Ambessa looks down at me with a dark expression on her face as she grabs both my wrists in her free hand and holds them against my stomach, leaving me helpless as she tortures my body.

“Mm that’s much better, don’t you think, little one?” She chuckles as she bullies her fingers into me at an unforgiving pace.

The sounds leaving my mouth are absolutely, downright shameful. But I can’t find it in me to care right now. Moans and whines leave my lips but Ambessa swallows them in a kiss.

“Please please ple-ah,” I jolt as she hits that spot. She takes notice and focuses on repeatedly hitting that spot as her circles on my clit fasten.

The coil begins to fray, the pressure too much. “A-ambessa stop I-“ I’m cut off by my own moan.

She looks down at me and hums. “Are you close? Going to make a mess for me, pretty girl?” She coos.

I struggle against her hold trying to get away from her and the feeling in my stomach as my breathing grows ragged. I cry out as my orgasm washes over me, my back arched, Ambessa smiles as she fucks me through it.

When it’s finished I close my eyes and regain my breathing. I stay like that for a while, my hands coming to cover my face.

Before I can even open my eyes again I’m being flipped onto my stomach, my chest being pushed into the couch, ass up. I yelp as I crane my head to look behind me. Ambessa leans over my body so that her head is right beside mine, her bigger frame covering mine. I feel something prod at my backside. I go to look and she turns my head to look at her. She trails kisses along my shoulder blade.

“That first one was for your pleasure,” she says, almost proudly. “These ones are for mine.”

“What are you- oh my god,” I moan as I feel her strap enter me. When the fuck did she put that on?

My mouth forms an ‘O’ as she sinks deeper into me, inch by inch. I dig my fingers into the couch to keep me grounded. Ambessa leans over and kisses my cheek, laughing softly.

“I won’t be as kind.”

“Sadist much?” I spit out, my voice coming off weaker than I expected.

A loud smack sounds through the room and I jolt forward, gasping at the sting. Ambessa’s hand rubs over the spot. “I do hate disobedience, and you're far overdue for a lesson,” she leans down to my ear. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Her weight lifts off me. “If it’s too much, let me know.” As soon as I nod her hips snap forward. A short scream leaves my throat at the action.

Her pace is so deliberately slow it makes me want to cry. I groan into the couch. I move my hips in sync with her, fucking myself back on her. Her hand comes and grip my hips, halting my movements and I whine.

“You want me to go faster?” She asks, and I nod desperately. “Well who am I to deny you that?” There’s a hint of something in her voice but I couldn’t care less as she does indeed pick up the pace.

I’m a moaning mess as she does. I’m muttering curses and small ‘thank you’s under my breath as I approach my climax faster this time.

This time when I finish, Ambessa doesn’t stop. I whimper, overstimulated. “T-too much- Ambessa.”

She chuckles behind me as she grunts, speeding up her pace. “This is your lesson for being so damn mouthy. I told you that this wasn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine. So fucking take it or do you want me to stop?” She slows to a complete stop before pulling out. She waits a solid few minutes waiting for my growing orgasm to subside.

I cry out at the loss of stimulation. “You're such an asshole,” I seethe.

She shrugs before pressing back into me at a brutal pace. “So damn stubborn,” she says.

Ambessa has me a moaning mess in less than a few minutes. She kisses down my back, over my scars. “So fucking pretty. You like this huh? You like me being mean to you.” All I can do is nod and mumble incoherently at her words.

“What happened to that attitude that you had earlier? Am I fucking you too good for you to act out now?” She teases.

Although she is acting unaffected, her small moans and sighs are telling me she is getting off from this, from me.

I’m getting closer to my 3rd orgasm and her thrusts are growing erratic and inconsistent. “Fuck…” she groans from behind me and I can tell she’s close too. She speeds up and a guttural moan leaves my lips as my body shakes.

She keeps thrusting her hips forward, chasing her own release. I tap her hand on my hip. “Stop Ambessa.”

She quickly pulls out of me and flips me around, concern written on her face. Her hand comes to cradle my cheek. “What’s the matter? Did I-“

I flip her over so she’s on her back before climbing on top of her, sinking down onto her strap. I moan at the feeling, feeling it go deeper than in the other position. Ambessa looks up at me from her spot below me. “Darling you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” I sigh as I begin to move. She moans at the sight and the friction on her own cunt. I bounce up and down on her strap, moans leaving my lips as I look down at Ambessa watching her face contorted in pleasure.

I fold over and suck marks into her neck as soft sighs and moans leave her lips. Her body is growing restless and I know she’s close.

She leans into me, worry etched into her brows. “You need to finish first. I can’t-“

“You can and you will. You better fucking finish, Ambessa I swear to god,” I chuckle as a breathy moan leaves my lips.

I pick up my pace, my breast moving in time with my bounces. I reach down and roll her nipple between my fingers earning a small sigh from her.

Her face should be casted in a painting for my eyes only. Her eyes watch the strap as it goes in and out of me. Her moans growing more and more desperate.

“Are you going to come for me, General? Gonna get off to me using you to pleasure myself?”

At my words her arms reach up to me as she pulls me to her chest. She props her feet up, heels digging into the couch as she thrusts up into me.

“Oh my god- fuck fuck fuck.” I say into her skin. She’s shuddering at this point. “I’m gonna come- fuck.”

My orgasm wracks through my body, our combined moans filling the room. My body goes limp and we stay like this, me on top of her, as we both catch our breath. I raise my head and peck a kiss on her lips.

She moves under me, sliding her strap out of me, I hiss. She chuckles as she lifts me and sets me down to stand. I wobble a little on my feet but her arm is there to steady me. She wraps one of the blankets on the couch around me before wrapping one around herself and then scooping me up.

We walk out of her study and into the hallway and I’m met with Rictus standing on the other end of the dead end hallway. My face reddens as we approach where he is standing against the wall.

“Why is he down here, Ambessa?” I ask, embarrassed.

She shrugs. “Making sure no one bothered us,” she says nonchalantly.

Someone needs to give him a pay raise.

We pass by him and he gives a curt nod to Ambessa before looking down at me wrapped in the blanket.

“Good talk?” He questions with a mischievous, barely there smile.

“Good talk,” I affirm as Ambessa keeps walking.

She takes me to her room and we shower to wash the sex off of our bodies. I dote on her, washing her hair and body even though she insists she can do it herself. She dresses me in her clothes before laying us down in her bed. I lay my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her hand lazily runs up and down my back, I no longer flinch at her touch as it lulls me to sleep.

For the first time in years I get a full night's sleep.

#ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader #slow burn #ambessa league of legends #angst #arcane ambessa

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 21 hours ago

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s6 episode 6 thoughts

a christmas episode!! and i shall be watching it exactly one month after christmas. this does make me a little sad; i wish i could travel back in time with what i know now and watch it then. and then maybe i’d feel all festive. but! what can you do? i shall embrace it even though there stands between me and christmas 11 months.

i haven’t watched an episode in a week-ish, so i’m excited to get back into the swing of things. let’s gooo!!

post-episode thoughts: oh my god, this episode was incredible. what if we (platonically) went to the house where two lovers famously kill other lovers each christmas? and then those ghosts tormented us with our deepest insecurities? and when they tried to trick us into killing each other, our love was simply too strong and we wouldn't fall for it? would that be festive? would you hold my hand when we walked across the rickety floorboards and found our own bodies beneath them?

love... it's alive, and well. or, in some cases, dead and well <3

PLEASE tell me what you thought of this episode. i want to go into depth on each line and do intense character analysis.

but back to past me:

well, why are they in a haunted house in maryland on christmas eve?? is kersh punishing them with a christmas assignment?

(the answer is no. it was all mulder. honestly, i should have expected that by now)

let us open with some spoooooky organ music. while mulder has christmas songs on in the car!

scully pulls in late!! she was in the checkout line, buying gifts!! “if i heard silent night one more time, i was going to start taking hostages” <- lmaoooo, i love her!!!!! she is so real for that. she truly has endured so much.

he brought her here for a stakeout?! “on christmas eve.” “it’s an important date” “no kidding” <- BAHAHA, i love when she’s a smartass. now, why are they doing this!!!

she has wrapping to do!!! he looks in her car and sees she has gifts. and he sadly says "oh...." but she acquiesces and gets in his car to hear this spooky story

SHE’S GOT HOLIDAY CHEER TO SPREAD, DAMNIT!!

(this line KILLED me. seems she does NOT play when it comes to the holiday season!)

she has FAMILY ROLL CALL at 6 am?!?! oh. god bless her poor soul.

he locks the car before she can get out and says he’ll make it fast, bahaha (loud scully sigh)

he starts talking about christmas 1917, and did he mention it was a time of “dark, dark despair?” well, it was.

oh, now she’s hooked on this story of star-crossed lovers. i heard the interest in that “go on”.

maurice was “brooding” and “heroic”, and he loved lyda, who had a “light that seemed to follow her wherever she went”; they ended their lives together so they would never be apart. and now, each christmas eve, they come back to haunt this spooky house in maryland.

AWWW, she compliments how he told the story, and says it’s a good one, but she does not believe it.

“you don’t believe in ghosts?!” “that surprises you?” <- STOP, SHE IS SO FUNNY, LMAOOOO

“well, yeah! i thought everybody believed in ghosts” ohhhh… okay. yeah, he would think that.

she has to go now, and he starts to enter the spooky house. she asks “don’t you have somewhere to be?” and to that i ask, oh, my poor, sweet scully, where would he go? to the vineyard? last time we saw his mom, he was tripping on K, accused her of having an affair, and then she slapped him and he left scully at her house. i hope they made up for that. but i haven’t seen or heard any indication either way.

she does not want to follow his ass in: “i’m not gonna do it. my new year’s resolution” <- bahaha, but where are her keys???

oooo, spooky thunder!! clocks chiming eerily!!! she just wants her keys, and he claims that he does not have them!! do we believe him?? hmm… jury’s still out on that one.

scully knows the weather said there is an 80% chance of rain!! maybe even a white christmas!! oh, but instead of letting her enjoy such a thing, the doors crash and lock them both inside!!!

(something about her wanting a white christmas made me emotional in a way i cannot quite articulate. she's kind of a romantic. and i love that for her <3)

(intro time) ooooo, sooo spOoOOoky!

oh, so just when i think we’ll never see it again, they DO hit us with the full intro!!!! chris carter, i am onto your tricks. but i much prefer the full intro. it feels so right.

back to this spooky mansion.

LET HER OUT!! he is not helping her escape and is instead telling her there is nothing to be afraid of because “ghosts are benevolent entities…. mostly”

hey man. that's not super reassuring.

she tries to check the time- and the clock strangely matches her watch, which is super weird for an abandoned old house- and then declares that she REALLY HAS TO GET HOME, when some sort of figure in white appears in a crack of thunder!!!

LMAOOOO, SHE IS JUST MONOLOGUING ABOUT HOW RIDICULOUS SOCIETY IS FOR EXPECTING GHOSTS TO BE REAL. i would have copied it down, but it just KEPT going and i kept laughing.

she admits to being afraid. and i love that. i love that her method for dealing with fear is to infodump. yeah. you tell ‘em, girl! tell them about the essence of humanity and the unconscious yearnings to live forever!!

but it’s an IRRATIONAL fear, she points out! i would be afraid, too! of spooky ghosts AND rabid bats, rotting wood, lead paint, and other dangers of creepy abandoned buildings!

she goes ahead to investigate this other room, and he says “i’ve got your back” bahaha

she asks if maybe someone lives here, because look!! the light is on in the library!! they have a LIBRARY?? woah, i don’t even know what this room is- it's got bookshelves on the walls, but almost looks like a ballroom on the floor- but it sure is cool!!

so the clock downstairs is somehow still keeping time which is super weird for an abandoned old building, and something is… smoking, it looks like? yeah, maybe it isn’t abandoned. hmm…

it’s the fireplace- it was just put out! “why would anyone want to live in a cursed house?” “mulder, it’s not enough for it to be haunted? it has to be cursed?” LMAOOO

oh, he just now CASUALLY drops that there have been 3 double murders (all of couples) in the last 80 years, and all of them were on christmas eve. GET TF OUT OF THERE!!! this seems like RELEVANT INFORMATION THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTIONED BEFORE YOU BROUGHT YOUR PARTNER INTO THIS DEATH TRAP!!

and then the lights go out!! and a door slams!!! and there is some weird sound and creaking floorboards…. they’re locked in!!

he’s trying to listen to the floor….

AWWW, HE SCARED HER!!!! he held the flashlight under his face and she yelled “that’s NOT funny!” <- you tell him!!

he wants to free someone from beneath the floor boards? how did he hear someone beneath the floor? but it’s just a dead body. so i guess he was half right, as he declares. looks super dead. as in dead for a very long time. oh, and there’s another!!

a man and a woman!! shot to death. and she has bright red hair. coincidence….?

well, must be not, because scully points out that the dead woman is WEARING HER OUTFIT.

(he laughs) “how embarrassing” <- LMAOOO, NOW YOU STFUUUU!!!!!

(i'm so used to his dumbass one liners, but this one really killed me for some reason)

and at first i didn’t notice, because the dead guy had a winter coat on and mulder just had a leather jacket, but he is wearing his outfit!! they put together that it is somehow them, and they RUN!!

at first i thought it was the original couple that died, but how would they get under the floor? so maybe it actually is mulder and scully in some cosmic way. don’t question it too hard.

they ran into the same room!!! well, maybe if you have one stylish room, you just make it again. and again.

nooo!! the rooms are looping!! and they get separated somehow!!

i wish the lighting was better; i want to stare at these paintings on the walls. they look so pretty. i wonder if they built this creepy house just for this episode and decorated it all spooky, or if there’s a stock studio haunted mansion set that gets used for lots of shows and movies. the frames are so pretty!

but back to the problem at hand. where is scully?? he’s yelling, but she’s not responding!!

he shoots th,e handle of the door and opens it to a brick wall???

A MAN APPEARS!! “who are you?” “that’s a question i should be asking you, being this is my house you’re standing in” <- GET HIS ASS!!

perhaps they shall finally face consequences for breaking and entering.

mysterious man flicks on the lights.

mysterious man seems to be unable to tell that the door leads straight to a brick wall, or perhaps mulder is somehow seeing that. mulder says “we”, tipping off the man that there is someone else here. but mulder goes straight to accusing him of being a ghost! a bold move…

mystery guy laughs and asks mulder if he’s a ghost hunter, saying a lot of strange folks come around. he tries to deflect with a “strange folks? like those under the floor-“ but when he turns around, there is nothing there apart from some furniture!!

you know shit is going down when the mystery old man says “why don’t you have a seat, son”

oh plot twist, mystery man reveals he is in the field of mental health and specializes in “disorders and manias related to pathological behavior as it pertains to the paranormal”. okay, yeah, now i definitely believe that this dude is a real ghost and he is just doing all this to personally torture mulder.

the type of ghost hunter this mystery man encounters, and therefore he also he believes mulder to be, is as follows: a “narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac”; “you kindly think of yourself as single-minded, but you’re prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism- fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown” BAHAHAHA

well. yes!

while i do support generally roasting mulder for his various qualities, i also need to know where scully is.

“you know why you think you’ve seen the things you do?” “because… i have seen them?” okay, sassy!

“‘cause you’re a lonely man” <- OH DAMN. that shut him up.

mystery man is really being mean now… OH SHIT, did mulder steal scully's car keys to get her to stick around with him??? i hope that isn't true, but knowing him, it probably is, and that behavior seems to match some of those adjectives that were tossed about moments before

“you know why you do it- listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘cause you’re afraid. afraid of the loneliness” <- oh man. now you’ve got him sad and pondering. he looks like he’s gonna cry, but he’s gonna try and be tough about it and smile. and say politely that he would like to find his partner.

(and i would like to contemplate these lines- do we think they are true? or do we think mystery man just wanted to hit him where it hurts? "droning rationalizations" is pretty harsh; seeing scully as nothing more than a beacon against being alone doesn't seem to capture their dynamic accurately, unless you interpret it in the most selfish light possible, which is probably what that mean inner voice of mulder's head does. hmm...)

and now the brick wall behind the door is gone and mystery man can just walk through…. but mulder cannot!!! it is just a real brick wall!! and he slams his beautiful nose!!!

so... did he imagine all of that???

scully is still yelling for him!!

NOOOOO, SCULLY GETS SO SCARED AND SCREAMS AND PULLS OUT HER GUN WHEN THIS LADY APPEARS LMAOOOOO she’s absolutely SHAKING “please, i’m a little on edge” <- yeah queen, we can tell 💜

ohhh, poor sweet scully, apologizing for scaring this lady; it’s just that they found bodies! and when she tries to show her where the bodies are… there is only furniture!!

she very rarely gets scared. must have been the combo of spookiness on a night she associated with being cozy and warm. and also seeing what she does not believe in. AND being separated from mulder. truly multiple things factoring into her fear here.

scully has her gun aimed at this mystery woman, and her hands are shaking as she asks “where’s my partner?” - and when she goes to open the door, there is also! just! a! brick! wall!

how can this keep happening?!

she circling the mystery woman, holding her gun, and i guess we’re getting some psychoanalysis on both ends of this brick wall:

“oh, you poor child. you must have an awful small life. spending your christmas eve with him, running around chasing things you don’t even believe in” oh, wow... that is so mean.........

LMAO, mystery woman is going on about the “subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another” and “intimacy through co-dependency” (which. okay. yeah, that one is accurate) and scully's dirty little secret that “your only joy in life is proving him wrong”.

but unlike mulder, who was taking this analysis sitting down, she seems scared, but still spits out “you don’t know me!" i LOVE that about her!! truly!!!

“and this isn’t your house” “you wouldn’t think so, the way i’m being treated” DAMN! these ghosts are gagging them 💀💀💀

“well, then, why is all of the furniture covered?” “we’re having the house painted” “well, then where’s your christmas tree?” “we’re jewish” LMAOOO

enter mystery man!!!! scully is telling him to NOT MOVE or she WILL SHOOT HIM!!!! she needs to know WHERE MULDER IS!! and these ghosts better MOVE OVER THERE!!!!!!!

“this violates our civil rights!! i have friends at the ACLU!!” LMAOOOO

well, she makes them put their hands up, and mystery woman has a hole blown completely through her belly. so. not great. and his hat is hiding the bullet hole through his head!!!

i mean, it was pretty obvious that these here ghosts were lyda and maurice, but i wanted to go along with the mystery bit until the big reveal. and now i shall use their government names.

SCULLY!!! SHE PASSED OUT!!!! OHHHHH, POOR BABY

the ghosts are lamenting that they used to get years to drive the visitors mad, but now they get just ONE NIGHT!!! i would be pissed, too!!!

BAHAHA, WHAT? “look, if we let our reputations slip, they’re going to take us off the tourist literature” <- BAHAHAHA OH MY GOD. wait, hold on, that’s so fucking funny.

she picked christmas as their one night a year because that is when people have no HOPE LMAOOOO and maurice looks down and says “these two do seem pretty miserable”

they smooch over poor scully’s fainted body as they declare they must show them how lonely christmas can be!!

mulder is climbing up the bookshelves, trying to get tf out of this trap room, when lyda arrives!! she calls him a “masher” (i don’t know what this means, so i hope it is not offensive) and he fires back with “frump”, only to be met by ANOTHER brick wall

(dictionary.com says that a masher is "a man who makes advances, especially to women he does not know, with a view to physical intimacy". so now we know! she accused him of hitting on her!)

“what happened to the star crossed lovers?” “oh, let me tell you, the romance is the first thing to go” <- that is a CRAZY thing to say about the guy you ended your life with 💀💀

he realizes that she is lyda, and the man is maurice!!

she summons books from the shelves!! and says she was young and beautiful once, just like your partner. she hands him a book telling their story. so i guess you can still age in the afterlife. who knew?

she’s sitting down and he’s standing in front of her, but the focus gets all fuzzy and weird when the camera turns to him. i can’t tell if this came from reshoots or what, but lyda is crisp and clear and he is not 💀

she assumes they came here “to be together for eternity”, which gets him giggling

“you knew this house was haunted, maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came out here” OHH! SHE IS GOING THERE!!

taunt him. he just confessed his love a few episodes ago!!! do not think i forgot!!

and lyda shows him the hole in her CHEST??? i swear it was just in her belly with scully. “i don’t show my hole to just anyone” is INSANE, LMAOOO

“oh, you’re trying to tell me that scully’s going to shoot me. scully is NOT going to shoot me” AWWW, i love the certainty with which he said that

“maybe she shoots herself” “i wouldn’t let her” ohhhh…. he is so confident… but trickery is afoot, so who knows??

(also, i think lyda's line, “if you shoot first, for her, the rest is an act of faith” is a very fascinating one. one i want to unpack for years to come. but i do not have the capacity to do it now, so i am simply noting it)

OH MY GOD??? she’s trying to tell him to end their lives together???

(he sighs) “we’re not lovers”

“and this isn’t a pure science. but you’re both so attractive, and there will be a lot of time to work that out.” (she hands him the gun) “think of it as the last christmas you’ll spend alone”

she drops the gun and disappears

so, do lyda and maurice need people (couples, specifically) to either kill themselves or be killed in order to maintain their spooky reputation? and maybe their spooky power? maybe since they haven’t had a couple’s death in a long time, that is why they can only haunt people on christmas? like, they only have enough spectral energy from the blood sacrifices to show up one day a year? i’m trying to flesh this out here.

scully wakes up!!! she’s alone with her gun and flashlight, and she still can’t get the door open!! when maurice reappears!!

“i am quite capable of pulling this trigger”, she warns him, and we know that to be very true!!

OH NO!!! i see where this is going… maurice is going to try and convince her that mulder wants to kill her… so she will shoot him first, and then they can be together forever or something…

she says that it is all just a bad dream, and it’s in her head, but. well. here she is. interesting rationalization on her part. i would have expected her to pull the folie a deux card.

maurice hands her the car keys, saying that mulder is acting out "an unconscious yearning from the deep-seated terror of being alone” <- so would that make him a threat? does he genuinely want to convince her that mulder is going to kill her so they can always be together?

mulder’s pounding on the door and yelling for her. she takes the keys and tells maurice to open the door. she has her gun trained on him….

she doesn’t believe him that mulder wants to kill her!!!!

mulder opens the door… and asks where scully is… AND HE SHOOTS???????

WHAT!!!!

okay, but he’s not shooting HER!!! he's shooting nearby though, so please be careful. she’s scared!!!

why is he being crazy!!! look at that physical acting!! he's deranged!! he says all that is out there is loneliness!!! AND THEN HE SHOOTS HER FOR REAL????

she falls over as she bleeds into her white blouse…. he stands over her, saying “merry christmas, scully”

but!!! it was really lyda that took his shape to shoot her!!!!

so he didn’t REALLY do any of that???? but scully thinks he did!

he runs in, finds her bleeding out on the floor!!! “i didn’t believe that you’d do it”

OHHHH, but then it must not really be scully either, because as she is bleeding out, she shoots HIM!!!

but it was really just lyda and maurice playing around???

SO IS SCULLY HURT OR NOT????? JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!

scully is crawling away dying as "have yourself a merry little christmas" plays, and mulder is also crawling with a gaping stomach wound- or are they really the ghosts taking their forms? i don’t KNOW!!

they’re crawling toward each other, their blood and gore all over the floor, and here i ask: what the fuck is happening? mulder’s yelling after her, and they both have their guns pointed at each other.

she asks if he’s afraid, and she says she is, and he admits he is too; “i didn’t shoot you, you shot me!” so their stories diverge...

they’re rolling around in their blood and dying. hey guys. merry christmas.

but then he gets up, and says she’s not been shot, and neither has he!!! it was all a trick!!!!

they run outside, and there is no blood on them at all!!! they get into their cars and drive away!!!!

so, were they in pain like they WERE shot? did they feel like they were dying? or did mulder realize that it was weird he was in no pain despite being shot and then got up and defeated their ghostly tricks?

lyda and maurice lament how they almost had those two, and how christmas is another joyless day of the year- but not for them. “no, we haven’t forgotten the meaning of christmas”; they hold hands and then fade away

STOP! they’re making me sad!!!!

mulder’s at home, watching a christmas carol alone. and it seems to be his usual couch he has back, so i wonder if he managed to restore all of his things after the morris redecorating incident!!! he looks so sad, though!!!

there’s a knocking at his door…. he is suspicious…. it’s scully!!! she couldn’t sleep!!! oh, she asks to come in- she must be so nervous!! she never asks to come in!!! he grabs her by the shoulder

he poses a great question: “aren’t you supposed to be opening christmas gifts with your family?” (she did mention it around a billion times)

“mulder… none of that really happened out there tonight. that was all in our heads, right?” <- ohhh… what do you say to this… a proposed collective hallucination??

he waits a second. “it-it must have been”

(this, too, is FASCINATING. he never agrees with her rationalizations! why does he do it now? does he want her to have some peace for the holidays? i suppose a collective hallucination is less concerning than upending your entire belief system, but not by much!)

they’re both sleep deprived and mumbling about the ghosts poking at their biggest insecurities:

“not that, uh, my only joy in life is proving you wrong”

“when have you proved me wrong?”

“well, why else would you want me out there with you?”

“you didn’t want to be there? oh, that’s um, that’s self-righteous and… narcissistic of me to say, isn’t it?”

“no… maybe i did want to be out there with you”

AWWW, they have no idea wtf is going on, but look at the way he is LOOKING at her as she nearly falls asleep standing up, OH!!! i could cry!!!

they said they wouldn’t exchange gifts, but he has something for her!!! when did they say they wouldn’t do that?!! and he broke that promise anyway!!! look at his big stupid smile!!! look at her face when she sees it!!!!

and she has something for him too!!! and they run to the couch and open each other's gifts! but we don’t get to see what they are!!!

and as the camera pulls away, we see snow falling out of the window!!!

OHHH, MY HEART!!!!

man…

lyda and maurice might actually be the ideal relationship. because i want to haunt people romantically forever. that is so beautiful.

oh, how did we manage to get such excellent character analysis AND silly fluff in one episode??? i feel like i’m going crazy!!!

okay, my biggest question: did he really take her keys??? no one says it outright or not!! it’s implied, but not confirmed either way!! if he did take her keys, that is not a point in his favor. but it would speak to the character flaws maurice accused him of having, in a drastically oversimplified sense. did he steal her keys and make her come out there so he wouldn't be alone on christmas? how can someone be so selfless and selfish?

hold on, i need to watch them open the gifts again… he’s shaking it around, trying to figure out what it is!!! and she’s laughing as she tries to pop it open!!!

ohhh my GOD. i need to go take a nap…….

they’re not lonely!!! they have each other!!! and even the ghosts tease them about having feelings they aren't admitting!!!

scully was completely ready to just die on that floor, LMAO

oh, she was so scared!! but she still meant business! she was going to have those ghosts stand against the wall and lift their hands, even if that meant she was going to faint!!

(when faced with people with holes in their body, usually she would not faint, but alas. she is used to this on dead people and dead people alone)

there are definitely some thing in this episode i am still trying to work out logic-wise (was lyda shot in her stomach or her chest? did she change where she was shot to mess with each of them? was lyda pretending to be scully for like, the whole thing after they first met? so how much did they actually experience in their own bodies? and therefore, it was the ghosts that were shooting them, not scully and mulder shooting at each other- but they both ended up fake shot in the end, and then the ghosts hoped that if they have them real guns, they would finish the job- right? how can we analyze the different strategies the ghosts used on each of them to convince them to shoot the other- telling scully that mulder is a danger to her, and telling mulder that if he does this, he will never be alone? is that a foreplay thing for lyda and maurice?)

but overall, i got the gist of it and enjoyed it very much. i think there will be plenty to turn around in my head and analyze for many moons to come.

and i might sound like a rabid MSR truther, but i would very much like to think that they fell asleep on his stupid little couch after exchanging presents and felt each other breathe for a bit to make up for their exhausting evening before scully left to go deal with her family.

she needed to talk to him first before she did all of that family stuff… she was so bothered by it… and the way he just agreed with her that it was probably all in their heads… is he doing that to try and reassure her everything is okay, or is he agreeing because he doesn’t want to think there is any meaning to it???

GOD! i need to turn this one around in my brain for a bit.

the set was also super cool. i wanted to pause and look at stuff!!!

i am very pleased. i would have been likely even more so pleased had i watched this a month ago, but now i can go back and watch it every christmas as i desire! definitely a nice change of pace from the previous christmas episodes that shall not be spoken of in this post.

but it was a very good episode, even if i am trying to crack the specific character implications (which will continue at length in the tags). some of y'all have had 25 years to do a deep dive into every line, reflect on how the characters see themselves vs who they truly are, and so on, but given that i have had 1 day, i have a lot of catching up to do!

(i would be interested in reading an analysis on this episode, or many other episodes, but those analysis posts tend to always have spoilers in them for things that happen down the road. so i shan't)

oh, scared, shaking scully, starting out apologizing for spooking lyda, then waving her gun around until they did what she said so she could find her mulder…. lifting up maurice’s hat and then passing tf out… rambling all about human nature and irrational fears as she was spooked by the scary old house… refusing to believe mulder would hurt her, and then having to confront the vision of him doing so... UGH!!!!! i just cannot TAKE IT!!! i hope they had the merriest christmas ever after this!!

it looked like she got him a video tape?? maybe a book? but it looked more like a tape to me. and what did he get her in that tube!! a poster of some sort, maybe?? i can’t think of many things that come in tubes. maybe he got her a nice print for her apartment walls. she loves her prints.

tonight, i shall dream beautiful dreams of being a ghost with the one you love forever and making sure that you keep your scary reputation, lest the tourists stop visiting you.

#still turning things over in my mind regarding the character analysis provided by the ghosts who torture them #i mean you could see their takes as accurate if you were committed to interpreting their characters as negatively as possible #which makes sense if you consider the ghosts saying out loud what their deepest fears tell them they are #but still they don't make entire sense #like scully's only joy in life being proving him wrong just seems blatantly false even if it is a funny idea #lyda got her ass though with the whole intimacy through codependency thing. no lies were told there.#interesting that mulder seems incredibly aware that the things he does and the way he acts make him seem like a self-righteous egomaniac #and we know that scully also sees him as such thanks to the conversation on the rock #but it's like he cannot stop doing it because it's just the way he is. what does that say about a person?#much to consider. and consider it i shall.#juni's x files liveblog #6x06 #the x files #txf

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elyxir1zz · 16 hours ago

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★ — Between the lines - part 9

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle, lesbians, quickies

A/N : sad chapter i guess?

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through your curtains, casting golden streaks across your room. You and Sevika lay tangled together on your bed, the silence between you peaceful and warm. The quiet rhythm of her breathing was almost enough to lull you back to sleep until you glanced at the clock.

“Oh shit—” you sat up suddenly, eyes darting to the glowing numbers on your alarm clock. “10:13 AM,” you muttered in disbelief, groaning as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

Before you could fully stand, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back down with a playful ease. You yelped as you landed, now straddling Sevika’s hips, her smirk evident even in the soft morning light.

“Do you have to leave?” she murmured, her deep voice low and teasing. Her hands found their place on your waist, her touch warm against your skin.

“I have to get ready,” you said, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your chest. Your hands instinctively pressed against her chest, steadying yourself as you tried to fight the grin threatening to take over your face.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, as one of her hands slid up to your back, keeping you close. “You could call in sick,” she suggested, her tone light but laced with mischief. “Say you’ve got something... better to do.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed under her gaze. “I don’t think my manager would buy ‘cuddling with Sevika’ as a valid excuse,” you teased, trying to shift away.

Her grip tightened just enough to keep you where you were, her smirk growing wider. “Doesn’t sound like a bad excuse to me,” she quipped, her voice dipping slightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You sighed dramatically, though the smile on your lips gave you away. “I really do have to go,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Sevika tilted her head, her expression softening as she looked up at you. “Alright, but I’m holding you to making it up to me later,” she said, her thumb brushing small circles on your hip.

You nodded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips before finally pulling away. “Deal,” you said with a grin, slipping off her lap and heading to get ready, though the warmth of her touch lingered long after.

Sevika let out a heavy sigh as she lay back against your bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. One arm rested beneath her head while the other hung loosely at her side. She watched you flit around the room, getting ready for work with your usual energy, but her mind was elsewhere.

Violet's words from weeks ago echoed in her mind, sharper now than ever: "You’re gonna ruin everything for her. She’s got a future, and you’re not part of it."

Sevika clenched her jaw, trying to shake off the thought. But no matter how much she wanted to ignore it, Vi had a point. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t deny the truth. You had your whole life ahead of you, and college was just around the corner. Sevika wasn’t stupid—she knew how hard long-distance could be. She didn’t want to see you stuck in a relationship with someone who couldn’t be there for you the way you deserved.

Her heart twisted painfully at the thought of breaking things off, but she couldn’t ignore the creeping reality. The closer you two became, the harder it would be when she eventually had to leave. She didn’t want to be the one to hold you back from experiencing everything you had coming—college, new people, new opportunities.

As she watched you pull on your leather jacket—the one she’d given you—her chest tightened. She’d gotten too attached, hadn’t she? You turned around, flashing her a bright smile, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind her calm expression.

“You okay?” you asked, noticing the far-off look in her eyes.

Sevika forced a small smile, sitting up and rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Just thinking about some stuff.”

You tilted your head, concern flickering across your face. But before you could ask more, she stood up, walking over to where you were standing.

“Don’t forget about our deal later,” she said with a faint smirk, leaning down to kiss your forehead. It was her way of brushing things off, and you didn’t push.

“I won’t,” you promised, laughing softly as you grabbed your bag.

As you left, Sevika stayed behind for a moment, her smirk fading as soon as the door clicked shut. She let out another sigh, her shoulders slumping.

She knew what she had to do, but the thought of losing you already felt like tearing herself apart.

You stood behind the counter, absentmindedly poking at the register screen, more out of boredom than necessity. Jinx leaned lazily against the counter beside you, picking apart a scone she’d pilfered from the pastries display. Her expression was distant, her usual sharp energy dulled.

You sighed, tying your hair back with a frustrated little huff. “Hey, have you figured out where you’re applying to college yet?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

There was no answer.

“Jinx?” you repeated, tilting your head to glance at her. She was still zoned out, her eyes fixed on something far away. “Earth to Jinx?”

She blinked as though shaking herself awake. “Huh? Sorry, what?”

“College,” you asked again. “Do you know where you’re planning to apply?”

“Oh… no. I don’t know yet,” she muttered, her voice barely above a mumble as she looked back down at the scone in her hands, crumbling it absentmindedly.

You squinted at her, watching her fidget. It wasn’t like Jinx to be so out of it—usually, she had some snarky comment ready to fire back. Then, it hit you. Her red eyes, the sluggish way she moved, the distant stare.

“Wait…” you started, your lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Are you… stoned?”

Jinx’s head snapped toward you, her wide blue eyes desperately trying to look innocent. “No,” she said quickly, but her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

“Oh my god, you are!” you giggled, leaning closer to her.

“Shh!” she hissed, glancing around nervously. “Keep it down!”

You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Jinx! You came to work high?”

“I forgot I had a shift, okay?” she groaned, throwing her hands up. “By the time I remembered, it was too late.” She crossed her arms, pouting like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

“Relax,” you said, waving her off. “I’m not gonna say anything.” You leaned on the counter, resting your chin in your hand, a teasing smile still tugging at your lips. “But you owe me a scone now.”

Jinx rolled her eyes but smirked a little, finally starting to loosen up. “Yeah, yeah. Add it to my tab.”

You were about to tease her more when she suddenly asked, “Are you going to the fair tonight?”

The abrupt change of subject caught you off guard, but you rolled with it. “Uh… maybe. I think Sevika’s going.”

At the mention of Sevika, Jinx’s eyebrows raised. “Speaking of Sevika, how are you two?”

You hesitated, your fingers absentmindedly tapping against the counter. “She’s been… acting kind of off lately,” you admitted softly.

Jinx tilted her head, leaning closer as if to study your face. “Off how?”

You sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know. She’s still sweet, still Sevika, but sometimes it feels like she’s somewhere else, like she’s got something on her mind she’s not telling me about.”

Jinx gave a thoughtful hum, chewing on a piece of her scone. “You think it’s the whole college thing? Maybe she’s stressed about it?”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you didn’t sound convinced. “But Sevika’s not the type to stress in silence. If something’s bothering her, she usually just says it.”

Jinx smirked knowingly, brushing crumbs off her hands. “Yeah, unless it’s about you. Then she probably just overthinks the crap out of it instead of actually talking.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, unimpressed. “Thanks, that’s super helpful.”

“I’m just saying!” Jinx laughed, holding up her hands in mock defense. “Sevika’s tough, but she’s got a soft spot when it comes to you. Maybe she’s just scared of messing things up.”

The idea made your chest tighten. “Scared of messing things up how?”

Jinx shrugged, her casual demeanor a stark contrast to the knot forming in your stomach. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s thinking about the future, like, what happens after her graduation.”

You stared at her for a moment, her words settling in your mind. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you before, but now it was all you could think about.

Sensing your worry, Jinx reached over and nudged your arm playfully. “Hey, don’t spiral on me. Sevika likes you, a lot. She’s probably just overthinking something stupid. You know how she gets.”

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Before either of you could say more, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. Jinx pushed herself off the counter with a sigh, muttering under her breath, “Ugh, back to pretending to work.”

You laughed softly, watching her saunter off to take the customer’s order, but her words lingered in your mind long after she left your side.

Sevika leaned against her motorcycle, the faint glow of her cigarette illuminating her face in the dim light of the empty parking lot. She exhaled a plume of smoke, letting it curl upward into the still night air. It was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic, and for once, she didn’t mind the solitude.

“Funny seeing you here,” a familiar voice cut through the quiet, and Sevika squeezed her eyes shut, already recognizing who it was. She didn’t turn immediately, her jaw tightening.

“Vi,” she muttered, finally glancing over her shoulder. There she was, hands in her pockets, her expression unreadable. Sevika scoffed, shaking her head. “How’d you find me?”

Vi took a step closer, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I was shopping downtown, saw your bike parked here, and thought I’d stop by. Say hi,” she said casually, though there was a softness in her tone that felt off.

“Bullshit.” Sevika’s voice was cold, and she turned back toward her bike, taking another drag from her cigarette. “What do you really want, Vi?”

Vi hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other before leaning against the motorcycle next to Sevika. “I wanted to apologize,” she said after a long moment, her voice quieter now.

Sevika’s brows furrowed as she exhaled sharply. “Apologize? For what?”

“For everything,” Vi said, her tone unusually earnest. “I came down on you too hard before. About... her. About everything. I thought I was looking out for her, but I was just being a jerk. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

Sevika flicked the ash from her cigarette, staring at it as if it held all the answers. “You were right, though,” she muttered. “You just said what I’ve been thinking this whole time.”

Vi frowned, leaning a little closer. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m holding her back, Vi,” Sevika admitted, her voice low, almost like she didn’t want to say it out loud. “She’s got all these dreams, all this potential, and I’m just... here. Stuck. I don’t want her to give up on everything just to stay with me.”

Vi studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “So, what are you saying?”

Sevika sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve been thinking about breaking up with her. Letting her go before it gets harder. I don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t get everything she deserves.”

There was a long pause as Vi let Sevika’s words hang in the air. Finally, she nodded, pushing off the bike to face her directly. “If you really care about her, Sevika, you’ll do what’s best for her. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts.”

Sevika clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around the cigarette before she dropped it to the ground, crushing it under her boot. “I don’t want to hurt her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

“I know,” Vi said gently. “But sometimes doing the right thing means hurting the people you love. She’ll hate it at first, sure. But eventually, she’ll understand. You don’t want to be the reason she holds herself back, and you don’t want to be resented for it either.”

Sevika looked away, her chest tightening as she processed Vi’s words. She hated that they made sense. She hated that she was right.

“You’re not a bad person for this, Sevika,” Vi added, stepping back. “It’s just... life. Do what’s right for her. And for you.”

Sevika nodded stiffly, unable to meet Vi’s gaze. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Vi gave her a small, sad smile before turning to leave. “Take care of yourself, Sevika,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away, leaving Sevika alone once again in the empty parking lot.

Sevika leaned against her bike, staring down at the crushed cigarette. Her chest felt heavy, but in that moment, she knew what she had to do—even if it would break her own heart in the process.

The carnival music blared in a chaotic symphony that made your head spin. You stood next to Jinx as she giggled and flirted with Ekko, completely absorbed in their conversation. Meanwhile, you scrolled through your phone, boredom settling in like a heavy weight. You had come here thinking Sevika would be around, but she was nowhere to be found. With a frustrated sigh, you decided to step away. Jinx wasn’t paying attention to you anyway.

Pushing past the crowd, the bright lights and loud laughter seemed to fade into the background. As you weaved your way through, you nearly collided with Violet. She was standing with a girl who had striking dark blue hair and was holding a stuffed animal Violet must have won for her. For a moment, you hesitated, taking in the sight. Violet looked happy, her arm casually draped around the girl’s shoulders, her usual guarded demeanor softened. You smiled faintly, genuinely glad she had found someone for herself.

It seemed Violet noticed you staring because she waved you over with a warm grin. You walked up to them, coming to a stop in front of the pair. “Hey, Vi,” you greeted, crossing your arms as you smiled.

“Hey, you,” Violet said, tilting her head slightly as her arm tightened protectively around the blue-haired girl. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you replied with a small nod before glancing around. “Hey, have you seen Sevika anywhere?”

At the mention of her name, Violet’s expression shifted. A flicker of concern crossed her face, and the change immediately set you on edge. “I saw her about an hour ago,” she said softly, almost cautiously.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, noticing the sadness in her voice. “Vi... is everything okay?”

Violet hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she forced a small smile. “I’m sorry—for everything,” she said, her voice sincere.

You offered her a reassuring smile, though the unease in your chest didn’t fade. “Don’t worry about it,” you said gently before turning to walk away.

As you disappeared into the crowd, Violet watched you go with a look of quiet sadness. She knew what Sevika was planning, and it weighed heavily on her.

“She’s so pretty,” the blue-haired girl beside her said softly, breaking the silence.

Violet glanced at her and smiled faintly, though her mind was elsewhere. “Yeah... she is.”

You sighed, stepping away from the bustling fairgrounds and into the quieter area where the trailers were parked. Though the noise of the carnival still lingered faintly in the background, it felt distant here, as if muted by the stillness of the space. Your eyes scanned the area, catching sight of Sevika's motorcycle parked nearby. Relief briefly washed over you—finally, you had found her. But as you looked around, Sevika herself was nowhere to be seen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you walked closer, glancing around the shadows cast by the trailers. A voice called your name, startling you, and you quickly turned around. There she was, standing a few steps away. There was something unsettling about the way she stood—rigid, distant, and almost... ominous.

You smiled instinctively, but the expression faltered as soon as you noticed the sadness etched on her face. "Hey! I've been looking for you—what’s wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your tone as you narrowed your brows at her.

Sevika took a slow step closer, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Her voice was low, hesitant. "We need to talk," she said, and immediately, your stomach dropped. The phrase echoed ominously in your mind.

"Talk about what?" you asked, your voice softer now, already sensing where this was going.

Sevika stopped just a few feet away, her broad shoulders slumping slightly as she sighed. Her usual confidence seemed to crumble as she met your gaze. "I love you," she started, her voice cracking slightly. For a moment, your heart fluttered at the words—at the warmth they carried—but it immediately plummeted when she continued, "I really do."

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively took a step back, your chest tightening as realization dawned. "Sevika... don’t," you said, your voice trembling.

She reached out, as though to stop you from retreating, but her hand fell back to her side. "I didn’t want to do this," she admitted, her tone heavy with guilt. "But... I can’t hold you back anymore."

"Hold me back?" you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. "What are you even talking about? Sevika, you're not—"

"I am," she cut you off, her tone firm despite the pain in her eyes. "You have so much ahead of you—college, your future... everything. And me? I’m just... here. Stuck."

"That’s not true," you argued, stepping closer now, desperate to close the emotional distance between you. "You’re everything to me. You’re not holding me back. Sevika, please—"

She shook her head, looking away as her jaw clenched. "You deserve more than this. More than... me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to process her words. "This isn’t your decision to make. I want to be with you, Sevika. That’s my choice."

Her gaze snapped back to yours, pained and conflicted. "And what happens when I’m not enough? When you realize you’ve sacrificed too much for someone who can’t give you what you deserve?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Sevika took your silence as confirmation, her expression hardening with resolve.

"I love you enough to let you go," she said quietly, the finality in her voice cutting through you like a blade.

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as you stood there staring at her. Finally, she turned, walking back toward her motorcycle. Each step felt like a chasm opening wider between you.

"Sevika, wait—" you called out, your voice breaking, but she didn’t turn around. She climbed onto her bike, pausing for a moment before starting the engine.

As she drove away, the roar of her motorcycle faded into the distance, leaving you standing alone in the quiet, your heart shattered and the carnival's distant noise mocking the emptiness that settled over you.

You stood there for a moment, frozen in place as the weight of Sevika’s words sank in. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and a lump formed in your throat. It wasn’t long before the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, accompanied by uncontrollable hiccups. You pressed your palms to your face, trying to steady yourself, but the reality of the breakup crashed over you like a wave.

Biting your bottom lip to stifle the sobs, you turned on your heel and ran—away from the trailers, away from the silence, away from the pain that seemed to echo louder than anything else.

The fairgrounds came into view, bright and loud and suffocating. You pushed past laughing families and groups of friends, desperate to get back to your car, desperate for some kind of escape. Everything around you felt warped, like the colors and sounds of the carnival were muted and distorted, swirling together in a way that made your head spin.

You vaguely registered voices calling your name, but you ignored them, your legs growing heavy and your chest tightening with every step. The overwhelming crowd pressed in from all sides, and you finally came to a stop, your knees buckling slightly as the world around you blurred.

“Hey!” A familiar voice broke through the haze, and you turned your head to see Jinx pushing through the crowd toward you. Her expression shifted instantly when she saw the tears streaking your face, the way your shoulders trembled with every sob.

“What’s wrong?” she asked urgently, stepping closer.

“Sevika broke up with me,” you choked out, your voice cracking as fresh tears spilled over. Jinx didn’t hesitate, pulling you into a tight hug as you buried your face into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she whispered, one hand gently rubbing your back as you clung to her, squeezing her as though she were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. She glanced over at Ekko, who had been following close behind, and the two of them exchanged a look. No words were needed—they silently agreed on what to do next.

“Hey, let’s go home, okay?” Jinx said softly, her voice soothing as she leaned back just enough to look at you. Her arm stayed firmly around your shoulders, anchoring you. “This place is lame anyway. We don’t need to stay.”

You nodded against her shoulder, unable to muster any words, your body still trembling as she guided you through the crowd. Ekko moved ahead of you both, clearing a path with gentle but firm nudges, his sharp gaze ensuring no one got in your way.

As the noise of the fairgrounds began to fade behind you, Jinx’s comforting presence and Ekko’s steady leadership gave you a sense of stability, however fragile. The pain in your chest didn’t lessen, but at least you weren’t alone in it anymore.

You pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind you as you threw your keys onto the mantle. The soft clink barely registered over the whirlwind of emotions drowning you. Your mom was seated on the couch, a half-full glass of wine in her hand, her favorite romance movie playing quietly in the background.

“You’re home early,” she said casually, turning her head to look at you. Her expression quickly shifted to concern when she noticed your streaked mascara and tear-stained cheeks.

She set her glass down on the coffee table and stood up, her movements swift and purposeful. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, closing the distance between you and pulling you into a comforting hug.

“Sevika broke up with me,” you mumbled against her chest, your voice cracking under the weight of your words.

Her eyes widened slightly at the confession, not because of the breakup, but because she hadn’t even known about the relationship. Still, she didn’t miss a beat, one hand resting gently on your head as the other rubbed soothing circles on your back. “Oh, baby,” she murmured, her voice tender and warm.

She guided you to the couch, sitting you down before taking a seat beside you. You leaned into her without hesitation, your head resting against her shoulder as fresh tears spilled down your face. She wrapped her arm around you protectively, holding you close like she had when you were little.

“It’s okay... You’ll be okay,” she whispered, her voice soft and steady as she gently rocked you back and forth.

“I’ll never be okay,” you sobbed, your voice trembling with despair.

“Yes, you will,” she said firmly, kissing the top of your head. “I know it feels like the end of the world right now, but I promise, it’s not. You’re stronger than you think.”

Her words didn’t stop the ache in your chest, but the comfort of her presence gave you a small reprieve, even if just for a moment. She continued to hold you, rocking you gently as the minutes stretched on, letting you cry until there were no tears left.

@vyvvycg @drinkdawudda @jiungmcvv @half-of-a-gay @savedforlaterr @armyswag93

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #lesbian #wlw #vi x reader #vi arcane #sissormetimbers #wuh luh wuh

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