#like I am going to be thinking about this ask for the next month at least I stg tysm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adoredaqua · 2 days ago

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NOTE: am reposting this cause something weird happened before, so uh, second try :) i was originally going to make this sorta angsty (like a forbidden romance), but i couldn't do it. Vi deserves the world, and ugh, i love her sm. she's not a "hear me out" but a "hOLD ME BACK"

synopsis: loser! Vi as your girlfriend

CW: popular cheerleader! reader, feminine reader, FLUFF, college AU (reader is in second year but Vi is in third year), modern setting, not edited, no usage of y/n, Vi being obsessed over you, academic weapon Vi

word count: 1 500+

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

loser! Vi, who is content with her life, has her family and a couple of friends. She didn't need anything else. That is, until she saw you at the library in the corner. You were sitting at her regular spot. Normally, she would be ticked off, but her heart simply started beating faster when you looked up from your textbook and offered her a small smile.

loser! Vi immediately left the library. She had never seen you around. Did a Goddess like you really go to her school? Instead of studying, she spent some time just trying to calm down so she didn't look so flushed for her next class.

loser! Vi hasn't seen you since then. Months go by, and Vi searches for you everywhere. She would go to the library, hoping to see you, but unfortunately, you were never there. She tells herself she should move on, but a part of her knows you're out and not just a figment of her imagination.

loser! Vi, who was forced to go to the last game for the football team. Normally, she wouldn't go, but Loris wanted to watch. She found a seat so she and Loris could be comfortable and not squished with others. It was near the front, middle, having the perfect view of the field and as well as the cheerleaders.

loser! Vi, whose eyes practically bulged out when she saw you in the middle front of the lineup. You're hair was in a slicked ponytail accompanied by a forest green bow. You wore a mini skirt and crop top, adorning the colours of Zaun Academy, green, white, with a hint of black. And, damn, you looked really good. She mentally thanked Loris for inviting her out.

loser! Vi is contemplating whether or not to go to the after-party at the sorority house. Everyone at school is invited, but Vi hesitated. You two didn't know each other, so why would she go? Also, you were probably going to be distracted by many others and would never catch a glimpse of her.

loser! Vi, who was pathetic and went to the party anyway, just to catch a quick glimpse of you. She wandered around the party for a while, searching both floors, but you were nowhere to be found. Not wanting her trip to be completely useless, Vi grabs a drink and heads to the backyard.

loser! Vi spots you sitting by the bonfire, drinking all by yourself. She thought to herself that this could be it. Finishing her drink for a confidence boost, she makes her way towards you.

loser! Vi and you start chatting it up. You're laughing at all her corny jokes and touching her arm while doing so. Vi observes the way you twirl your hair, which is now down and loose. You keep looking at her through your lashes, and all she can think about is kissing your soft, glossy lips. She finds out that you only recently transferred to Zaun due to an error in your application, so you're technically new.

loser! Vi is ecstatic to hear that you're single and like girls. Not that she thought she had a chance with you, but at least she can fantasize about you in her free time.

loser! Vi, who escorts you to your dorm. She apologizes profusely for keeping you out late, but you insist it's okie and she made going to the party worth it. As you both walk to your door, you turn to Vi, asking her out on a date. She was elated and agreed. Vi tells you she'll plan everything out, so all you need to do is look pretty, which won't be much of a challenge.

loser! Vi gets home and starts panicking. Now, she needed to plan the perfect date. To be able to impress you enough that you don't realize how much of a cute nerd she is.

loser! Vi asks for help from everyone she knows. She never thought this day would come, to get asked out by a pretty girl. Leading up to the date, she was so nervous that her family couldn't help but tease her. It was only fair, as it was the only thing Vi could talk about, you. Powder rolls her eyes each time, but is happy to see her sister focus on something other than academics. Vander was proud and even offered advice.

loser! Vi arrives at your place an hour early because she was so excited to see you, but waited in her car until the designated time she told you she would pick you up. In that hour, she fixes herself up. Fussing with her hair and straightening out her white button-up shirt, paired with black dress pants. She starts overthinking if it was basic, she decides to FaceTime Powder for reassurance. When the time finally came, Vi walked up to your dorm with your favourite flowers, the same ones you mentioned at the party. She knocked on your door, and once she saw you, her jaw quite literally dropped on the floor. Vi stutters out a compliment and mentally slaps herself, but you just giggled and thanked her. You told her she looked handsome, and you didn't think Vi could get as red as her hair, but she did.

loser! Vi makes a fool of herself during dinner. She almost drops the glass she was drinking out of. She not only dropped her utensils once but twice. Worse of all, she accidentally replied, "You too!" when the waiter said, "Enjoy your food." Despite all of that, you only found her more and more endearing. Maybe it was just her, but there was something about Vi that you couldn't help but fall for.

loser! Vi and you keep going on dates. Eventually, she asks if she could be your girlfriend. You eagerly said yes, kissing her with all your might. Vi gloriously goes home that day to rub it in her brothers, Claggor and Milo, faces that she got a girlfriend before them.

loser gf! Vi, who somehow got clingier after establishing a label. With each date you went on, she slowly got more handsy (with your consent, of course). It started with simple hand holding, squeezing your hand as a way to get your attention. Then, it was Vi wrapping her arm around your waist, her rough, calloused hand sliding up and down your figure. Every make-out session became more heated, as her desire for you grew stronger. She wouldn’t leave your dorm until she was reassured there would be a mark there to claim you as hers.

loser gf! Vi wants to be in contact with you every hour of the day. Vi soothes you that she wants to know every detail that happens to you. Doesn’t matter how small, you'd better text or call her about it.

loser gf! Vi helps you with your classes and homework. She saw how messy unorganized your notes were and rewrote them for you to help you better. Any diagrams that you needed, she drew them for you, and it was always colourful.

loser gf! Vi wants a kiss as a reward after every study date. Don’t be mistaken, though, despite her insistence on being together, she will focus on her studies. Vi has always been the smartest in the class, but she had to work hard for that. You just became her motivation to do even better. Even reminded her that she needed a break. She always indulged you if you wanted a sweet treat; of course, she always bought it for you.

loser gf! Vi and you are hanging out in her room. You were just going to watch a movie, and only focus on the movie, is what you told Vi several times. But she doesn’t listen. Not even ten minutes in, her hand is already on your thigh. You would push her away, but you just couldn’t. Next thing, you know you’re on her lap, grinding on her as she kisses your neck.

loser gf! Vi, who doesn’t hear the garage door and footsteps in the house. Before you could warn Vi of the noises outside her room, the door swings open to Powder telling Vi (and you) it was dinner time. You were hoping to have a better first impression on the family, but sadly, that’s not how it goes. That night, you stay for dinner after apologizing profusely to Powder, who says it’s okie but can’t seem to look you in the eye. Seeing you interact with Vi’s family, she can’t help but hope that this would become a regular occurrence.

Bonus scene:

“Hey, we got- OH MY GOD!” Powder screams, her voice pitching higher than it ever has.

“What is it? OH-!” Milo rushes towards her sister, alerted. Only to also be met with you on Vi’s lap, pulled apart. Horrified at the scene, Milo slowly turns away, nodding his head. Powder’s face manages to morph into a deeper disgust. She swears she just lost her appetite.

“What’s wrong?” A distant shout from downstairs boomed.

“We’re too late! Vi’s already eating dinner!!”

“Powder!”

#aurora writes ☆#arcane #arcane writing #arcane headcanon #arcane vi #arcane violet #vi #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x y/n #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi x you #sapphic writing #sapphic #sapphic yearning

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hufflezki · 1 day ago

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summary: remus thinks you're way out of his league. but, to his own surprise, you're here to prove him wrong.

-> remus lupin x gn!reader, just remus yearning & pining, swearing (because, cmon, its remus), inspired by role model's song (with the same name), word count: 1,503

Remus first met you during one of his Herbology classes. Where you helped him with his trouble with the Venomous Tentacula plants. The teethy little bastards annoyed him to no extent—his words—but you had come to his aid and stunned them every time they tried to bite him. He really wanted to make it up to you then, but you insisted. And you never really crossed paths again.

Until James barged into their common room, with you following behind him. Remus noticed you immediately and his breath caught. Turns out James knew you, he had for a while. Ever since he was paired with you for a Charms homework. And you have apparently taught him how to make a flower crown. Which was why James traveled from the courtyard to his common room, just to show his friends the ones you both made.

Remus didn't exactly know how they got you to start hanging out with them. One day you just sat next to them during lunch, and now they’re adding you to every weekend plans that they have. Remus’ friends accepted your addition to the group as if it was just any other day. But for him, it felt quite a lot.

Not to sound like he doesn't like you, it's actually quite the opposite.

Remus could go on with a list about why you're the sweetest person he has ever met. But that’d be never ending, which is probably why he’s in his bed right now, moping to himself about why you just have to be so out of his league. And this was purely coming from after he saw you interacting with Amos Diggory. Even though he probably just asked you a question. Remus shivers at the thought, embarrassed by his own jealousy. He was barely even eating the chocolate you’d given him this morning, having lost the appetite.

Merlin, how did you get him to act like this? He wasn't even supposed to be this miserable so early in the month. And yet here he was curled up in his bed, hiding himself under his blanket, as he let his guilt eat him up. You did look comfortable talking to Amos, though. He wonders if you ever looked at him that way too. If you feel comfortable talking to him at all.

A whine emits from the back of his throat, as he buries his face on his pillows. He was fucked, definitely fucked. You’re too good for him, you deserve someone better. But then he didn't like the image of seeing you with somebody else. So what the fuck is wrong with him?

“Remus? Hey, Moons.” He hears James’ voice as he comes in, closing the door behind him. The curly haired boy comes into Remus’ view with a wide smile, which falters when he sees his friend looking like.. shit. “Woah, what’s gotten into you?” James sits down next to him, eyebrows furrowed, worried. Remus sighs, his mood completely shifted now that James is here. After all, it's hard to wallow in your self-pity when you’ve got company.

“Nothing, I just woke up. What’d you need?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James, I am quite certain.” Remus presses on, and James lifts his hands up in mock surrender. So, he starts talking about how he’s playing a board game with Sirius and Peter downstairs, and asks Remus if he wants to join. Which he originally said no to, but then James mentioned you’re also downstairs. So, now Remus is making his way down to the common room, following James’ steps.

Did he just spend the last couple of minutes crying about you? Yes.

Was he about to miss an opportunity to be with you? No.

Is he pathetic and a coward? Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely.

And turns out, the only way out of his miserable, depressing, and guilty state is you. You and the sweater you're wearing, that looks oddly similar to his. “Hi, Remus.” You smile once you see him—and it's so bright you might as well put the sun into shame—and he sits down next to you on the sofa.

You must’ve sensed that something's up with him, as you immediately rest your head on his shoulder. And he welcomes it, completely melting once you’re in near proximity. You don’t talk, you don't ask him any questions, you just sit there and offer him your comfort—silently. And maybe that’s just what Remus needs. A moment where he could turn his mind off, and don't let his thoughts consume him.

In a span of an hour, you managed to convince Remus to walk outside. And maybe it's just him trying to distract himself, but he’s pretty sure you might have Legilimency. Because why else would you take him to the Black Lake to see the sunset? If you didn’t know, he felt absolutely horrible? But, on a more serious note, you’ve always been spontaneous. And he likes that about you. Especially, when you pay attention to him so much that you know when things start to feel off.

Things like this, it makes him think if he really does have a chance with you or not.

“This is yours, by the way.” You admit, pulling on his sweater that you’re wearing while looking up at him, expectantly. And his eyes widened. “How?” He seems much more amused than you expected. “I was cold earlier, and this was the first thing Sirius gave me.” Remus raises his brow at the mention of Sirius’ name. “I asked him where he got it, and he said you let him borrow it.” Then you let out a laugh, finding it ridiculous. “Which I was suspicious about, but I didn’t ask him again.”

Fuck, Remus knew exactly why Sirius gave his sweater specifically to you.

“Looks like I have to talk to him about stealing my things.” You smile, glancing up at him and then down on the ground. He watches you kick a few pebbles to the lake, as a comfortable silence falls into you both. Then you say his name, and he hums, meeting your gaze once again.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” It's sudden, and he doesn't exactly know where it came from, but Remus appreciates your sentiment. More than so, when he finds your hand inching closer to his. And he’s never been brave enough to initiate the first move, yet here is, intertwining his hand with yours.

“Is this alright?” Remus whispers, voice coated with uncertainty. He’s already bracing himself to pull away, expecting the worst. But you tighten your hold, pulling him closer to you. “More than alright.” You assure him, lifting the weight off his shoulders. And he thinks this is the most convinced he’s been that he might have a chance with you. Because, all this time—as pathetic as it sounded—he would only wish for something to happen.

So, what if he did sneak into the Divination classroom, and tried to look into a crystal ball to see if there’s a future with the both of you together? He was desperate! Okay? He wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for the nagging voice inside his mind.

But it seems that he no longer has to come up with such desperate measures. As the universe presents with something more interesting. “Can I tell you something, Remus?” You ask, and he nods his head in response.

“I’ve liked you for so long. And this isn't exactly how I imagined I’d tell you–”

“You like me?”

He didn't really mean to interrupt you, but his mind may have short circuited the moment he heard the words ‘I like you’ . You look at him, baffled as to why he’s acting like this is a new discovery. Which it is, for him.

“Wait. You didn't know?” He shakes his head, and you cover your mouth in surprise. “How come? I thought I’d made it so obvious?” You really did think so. I mean, you’re wearing his sweater for Merlin’s sake! But, typical Remus, he’d rather assume the worst than ever think you had the same intentions as him.

“There might’ve been, uhm, some slight issues with the transmission, perhaps?”

“You mean you really didn't have a clue?” He nods his head, and you can't help the sudden laugh that comes out of you. “Did you tell James or Sirius?” Remus asks, and you nod your head. “I told both of them.” He gawks at you, before looking away to run a hand through his hair, currently in distress.

“Is that bad? That I only found out about it now?” You shake your head, things were already going the different direction, anyway.

“No, not at all.”

Maybe this isn't how the both of you expected for things to go. Remus thought you’d never like him back, but here he is pulling you closer after you just told him otherwise. And he felt the strong urge to really make it up to you this time.

marauders era masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders oneshot #marauders fanfiction #🌺 ᝰ.ᐟ marauders

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littlelamy · 9 hours ago

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you’d spent all day cleaning the baseboards in the upstairs guest bathroom—on your knees, humming disney songs, hair tied up in one of those giant puffy scrunchies that matched your apron. the idea of putting on makeup, or heels, or trying to sit still for hours at a place that used real cloth napkins and tiny forks for god-knows-what? it made your tummy feel twisty but a little excited.

but rafe had asked; in that voice that didn’t really ask, more like a direct demand. he’d leaned against the pantry door that afternoon, arms crossed, one brow raised while you tried to reach the top shelf for a cake plate.

“you do anything tonight?”

you blinked. “me?”

“no, the other barefoot girl in the house.”

you giggled, clutching the plate. “no plans, mister rafe. just a bath and maybe folding towels. i was gonna reorganize the drawer where we keep the twisty ties—”

“stop.” his mouth twitched. “you’re coming to dinner.. wear something cute.”

“oh! um—okay! i can be cute! i mean i am cute—i’ll be cuter. where are we going? will there be breadsticks?”

“get in the car by seven,” he said, already walking off. “remember to wear heels, baby.”

and now here you are. squeezed into the passenger seat of his sleek black car, nerves curled tight in your belly like a sleepy kitten. your dress was short, pink, and so shiny. your shoes are taller than you're used to. your lipstick keeps sticking to your teeth because you picked a new gloss called 'strawberry fizz' and maybe it’s too much, but rafe had looked at you when you came down the stairs and said “fuck, you look edible,” so you didn’t dare change.

the restaurant was fancy. all soft jazz and dim lights, plates that look more like art than food. rafe’s friends are already there, guys who look like rafe but definietly weren't as cute as him. you sit beside him, hands folded in your lap, smiling sweet as sugar while they talk about things you don’t understand—hedge funds? market something?

but rafe’s hand stays on your thigh, grounding you through all this real estate nonsense. his thumb strokes gentle circles into your skin, and every time you start to drift into a cloud of fizzy nothing, he squeezes just a little. like he was saying 'stay with me, bunny.'

as you begin to dream about a furture with rafe, you hear a loud, obnoxious laugh. “wait—no fucking way.”

your head turns. the guy was sitting at the bar—a group of three, all wearing button-ups, loafers, and a big red face.—and sadly, he’s looking right at you.

you blink as he continues, “bro,” he slaps the guy next to him. “it’s her! it’s fucking her! girls of gulf coast, spring 2022! pink heels, yellow lollipop, ass for days? you know—the one in the bunny ears with whipped cream on her tits?”

your stomach drops. even rafe’s hand tenses on your leg.

you try to smile and laugh. try to pretend you didn’t hear that. but you can feel heat crawling up your neck, all the way to your ears. oh no. oh no.

you haven’t heard that name in months or seen those photos since you stuffed the sample polaroids into a shoebox and slid them under your bed. you weren’t her anymore. you were a house manager. you made jam, organized spice racks, even kissed wheezie on the forehead before school.

but he keeps talking, not reading the room.

“dude, i jerked off to that spread like every night of senior year. girls of gulf coast, man, that issue was legendary.”

the guy next to him whistles. “no shit? that her? y/n something, right?”

you stare at the linen napkin in your lap like it might swallow you whole. your hands shake as you hear one of rafe’s friends laugh, very awkward.

“damn, rafe, you didn’t tell us your girl used to be in magazines.” it’s a joke. it’s all a joke, you think to yourself. well, this joke made you want to melt through the floor.

rafe stands slowly, you could almost see steam coming out of his ears. he turns toward the bar. “come again.”

the guy blinks, grinning. “what?”

“say it one more fuckin' time.” his voice isn’t loud, but it’s sharp which make the whole table go quiet. “you wanna talk about my girl? say it again. real slow so everyone can hear your bitch ass.”

the guy scoffs. “chill, man. it’s a compliment—”

“a better compliment would be you shutting up and mind your own business instead of talkin' about my woman.” his jaw ticks, as you go to hold his arm. fingers caressing his forearm, leading to his hands.

you whisper, “rafe, it’s okay—”

he looks at you and leans close, lips brushing your ear. “you don’t ever say it’s okay for people to talk about you like that.”

“but—”

“baby,” he cups your cheek. thumb brushing the sticky corner of your mouth where your gloss smudged. “you were art..still are.” you blink up at him. “they don’t get to mock art just because they can’t touch it.”

your throat tightens before he turns back to the bar. the guy was already avoiding his eyes now, nervous laugh dying in his throat.

rafe smiles, coldly, “look at her again, and you’ll be drinking out of a straw for a year.”

then he sits, completely casual, like nothing just happened. you’re stunned, staring at him. he could feel your eyes on him making him glance over with a smirk on his face.

“you want to leave?”

you nod, fast. "please." he quickly grabs your hand.

you don’t say a word until you’re back in his car. “i didn’t want you to be mad,” you whisper.

“i’m not mad at you.” you blink, confused. “i’m mad someone thought they could say your name like it was a punchline.”

you sniffle. “it was just a phase. i needed money. and i thought it was fun. i didn’t think anyone would recognize me in the real world.”

he squeezes your hand, reassuringly. “i did.” your head snaps up. “saw the spread. remember thinking, no fucking way someone this pretty’s real. i tore that page out and kept it in my glove box for three months.”

your jaw drops. “you—what?!”

“uh-huh. told myself if i ever met her, i’d marry her.”

you blink fast. “you’re lying.”

he shrugs. “maybe..but why would i?” and then he leans over, presses a kiss to your cheek. “either way, you’re mine now. magazine girl, house manager, whatever. all mine.”

you blush so hard your knees knock. you whisper, “you really think i was pretty?”

he grins, reaching out for you. “baby..you were and are so fuckin’ gorgeous.”'

❤︎ tags below

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#⋆౨ৎ˚🐇⟡˖ housebunni!reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe #rafe x oc #rafe x oc!reader #my readers!𐔌´⠀ ᩙᩙ `๑꒱#divider by anitalenia

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pagesfromthevoid · 6 hours ago

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Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?”

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!”

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really.

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations.

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them.

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers.

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him.

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it.

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah.

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes.

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before.

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd.

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears.

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft.

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him.

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer.

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes.

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs.

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again.

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands.

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too.

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too.

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back.

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong.

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder.

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die.

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard.

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield.

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away.

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means.

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

#robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #robert reynolds #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#the new avengers

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benispunk · 11 hours ago

Text

Safety Net

logan howlett x reader

Logan experiences a rage episode.

A/N: hello everyone!!!! am I back??? well...I guess we can kinda say that? So, life hasn't been good, like, at all, and a whileeee ago I saw a post about mental health and Logan and I saw the "rage episodes" part and I cannot find this post anymore which is killing me ughhhh but ANYWAY, this is my rendition of a rage episode. this was very therapeutic to write because of the things I went through recently and over the past few years as I have witnessed someone in my family have a rage episode like the one depicted in this fic. I really hope I do not offend anyone with this??? cause this is based on personal memory and also I've done a lot of research on it and as I said, I felt lots of different emotions while writing this....anyway...I hope you have a good time?? reading this or like...you didn't choke on your tears or whatever. my exams are ALMOST over which means....more fics soon?? see you!!

Masterlist

Logan never thought he’d make it this far.

He wasn’t the type for relationships—not real ones, not the kind that lasted. The ones he’d had before were brief, messy, and built on things that never stuck. But Y/N was different. She didn’t just put up with him; she understood him in ways that no one ever had. And somehow, despite everything, she was still here.

He didn’t say it much—not in words, anyway—but he cared about her. More than he should. More than he knew how to handle. He’d show it in other ways instead. Walking her home when she worked late. Holding her a little tighter in his sleep when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Memorizing the way she took her coffee, the songs she hummed under her breath, the way her nose scrunched up when she was thinking.

She saw through all of it.

"You’re not as grumpy as you think you are," she’d teased him once, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm.

He’d just snorted, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"

"Mhm. You just pretend to be."

And maybe she was right. Maybe, with her, he didn’t feel the need to pretend so much.

Which is why, one night, tangled up together in her apartment, she had said something that stuck with him.

"I was thinking… maybe one day, we could live together."

It wasn’t a question, not really. Just an idea, something she had tossed out so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Logan had frozen for just a second too long, and she must have noticed because she quickly added, "Not now, obviously. Just, you know… one day. If you’d want that."

He forced himself to relax, to keep his voice even. "Yeah… someday."

That had been enough for her. She had smiled, kissed him, and let it go.

But he didn’t.

It stayed with him, gnawed at him from the inside out. Someday. What did that even mean? A month? A year? What if she asked again? What if she expected something from him?

What if he said yes and fucked everything up?

At first, he managed to push the thought aside.

Days passed, and nothing changed. They still met up when they could, still spent nights tangled in each other’s arms, still fell into that easy rhythm that had become so natural.

But then, the idea started sticking.

It crept up in quiet moments—when he was alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. When Y/N texted him goodnight, and he imagined what it would be like if she was just… there.

And that’s when it started. The overthinking. The doubts. The realization of everything that could go wrong.

Logan had never had anything that lasted. Not a home. Not a real future. Not someone who stayed. And if he let himself believe—even for a second—that this could work, that he could have something good, then he’d just be setting himself up for the inevitable.

Because eventually, he would hurt her.

Not on purpose. Never on purpose. But he knew himself. He knew what he was.

His nightmares alone were enough proof of that.

The thought of waking up next to her after one of those nights—claws unsheathed, sheets shredded, breath ragged—made his stomach twist. What if he lashed out? What if she got caught in it?

What if one of his rage episodes got out of hand?

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So when months later she asked about it again—actually asked—he hesitated.

They were sitting on her couch, her legs thrown over his lap, a movie playing in the background. It was the kind of easy, quiet moment that usually put him at ease. But this time, he could feel her looking at him, like she was weighing her words before speaking.

"You never really answered me before," she said finally. "Do you actually want us to live together?"

Logan’s jaw tightened. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, like she was scared of his answer.

He should have told her the truth. That it had been eating him alive for months. That he wanted to say yes, but his fear screamed louder than anything else.

Instead, he said, "I just need some time to think about it."

Y/N’s expression didn’t change. She just nodded slowly, studying him in that way that made his skin itch.

"Okay," she said, like she didn’t believe him.

And then she squeezed his hand. Just briefly. A small, warm reassurance.

But to Logan, it didn’t change anything.

He could only see what he thought was disappointment behind her understanding. He convinced himself she was just trying to be strong about it, pretending it didn’t hurt her when really, she was just waiting for him to figure himself out.

The guilt settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

That’s how it started.

The beginning is always subtle. He stayed out later, made excuses when she asked to meet up. His texts became shorter, more infrequent. He spent more time alone in his apartment, staring at the walls, trapped inside his own head.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got.

Logan convinced himself it was nothing. He was just thinking. That’s all.

But the thoughts never stopped.

Every time Y/N messaged him, guilt curled in his stomach like a sickness. He’d stare at his phone for minutes at a time, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before locking the screen and tossing it onto the couch.

He didn’t want to ignore her. But if he answered, he’d have to talk, and if he talked, she’d hear it in his voice—how torn he was, how he could barely keep himself together. And he couldn’t let that happen.

So he let the distance grow.

He told himself it was for her own good. That he was doing her a favor.

That lie worked for about a week.

Then came the restlessness.

The apartment, always too small, started feeling like a cage. Logan found himself pacing the length of it, muscles coiled so tight they ached. He tried training to burn it off—push-ups until his arms gave out, running until he couldn't feel his legs—but it didn’t help.

The frustration built like pressure under his skin, like a ticking bomb he couldn’t disarm.

And worst of all, he felt it creeping up—an old, familiar feeling, something he’d kept at bay for months.

The anger.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers. A tightness in his jaw. A heat in his chest that never fully went away.

The second week, it got worse.

His hands trembled when he wasn’t paying attention. His breathing came too fast, too shallow, like something was crawling under his skin. He felt his temper snap quicker, his patience wear thinner.

And then, one morning, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and barely recognized himself.

Dark circles burned under his eyes. His face was drawn, sharp, his shoulders tense. He looked haunted.

It was getting bad. Too bad.

He needed to see Y/N.

The thought hit him like a slap. His first instinct was to shove it down, bury it under everything else, but it wouldn’t leave.

He missed her. But worse than that—he needed her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Because what if he showed up, and she looked at him the way he looked at himself?

What if she finally saw him for what he really was?

A monster. A wreck. A lost cause.

The fear made his blood run cold.

The first punch isn’t planned.

One second, he’s gripping the sink, breath ragged, jaw locked so tight it aches. The next, his fist slams into the mirror with a force that shatters it instantly.

Glass rains down like ice. Tiny shards bite into his knuckles, but he barely feels it.

His chest heaves. His heartbeat pounds against his ribs. He stares at his own fractured reflection—his face split into a dozen broken pieces, each one warped, wrong.

It’s not enough.

The rage claws higher, burning his veins, crushing his ribs. He steps back, breathing sharp and uneven. He moves away from the bathroom, into his small living room. And then he snaps.

The lamp goes flying first. It crashes against the far wall, exploding into pieces. The chair follows. He barely registers the sound it makes as it shatters.

His claws threaten to unsheathe, but he fights it—barely.

Instead, he tears through the apartment with nothing but his hands.

The table gets overturned. Books get ripped from shelves. His dresser—too heavy, too solid—takes three violent attempts before it topples over with a thunderous crack.

Still, it’s not enough.

He needs to break something. To hurt something. To feel it.

His breathing is ragged, his vision tunneling. His hands tangle in his own hair, yanking, as if he could pull himself out of his own skin.

The storm inside him is suffocating.

It doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left standing.

And then, silence.

His shoulders tremble. His hands curl into fists at his sides, still shaking.

He looks around, blinking through the haze, and finally sees it—

The wreckage.

His apartment is destroyed.

He stares, breath coming too fast, too shallow. His head is spinning. His chest aches.

What have I done?

The thought slams into him, knocking the air from his lungs.

He wants to scream. To punch something again. To disappear.

And then—

A soft knock.

His stomach drops.

He goes rigid, pulse hammering in his ears. He barely has time to process before her voice follows—gentle, uncertain.

"Logan?"

No. No, no, no.

She can’t be here. Not now. Not when the air still vibrates with rage. Not when his body still hums with it.

He staggers back, breath shaking, trying to make sense of anything.

She knocks again. "I know you’re here."

Panic surges through him.

He grips the edge of the still standing counter, heart hammering. Think. Think.

But his mind is blank.

She can’t see this. She can’t see him.

But she’s already here.

And it’s too late.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. If he stays completely still, maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll assume he’s out and walk away.

But then—

His phone rings.

The sound shatters the silence like a gunshot.

His stomach drops.

Shit.

His body jolts into motion, eyes darting wildly through the wreckage. Where the hell is it? He moves without thinking, shoving aside broken furniture, tossing clothes and debris out of the way. His hands are unsteady, frantic, as he digs through the mess.

The ringing continues.

Come on, come on—

His fingers finally close around the device, and he scrambles to turn it off, but—

The damage is done.

Outside, Y/N goes silent.

A few seconds pass, then—

"...Logan?" Her voice is softer now. Knowing.

His chest tightens.

He grips the phone so hard it creaks in his hand. His breathing is too loud, his pulse a hammer against his skull.

She knows.

"Logan, open the door."

No. No, no, she can’t.

"You can’t come in," he blurts out, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, tries to steady himself, but it’s useless. His hands are still shaking. His entire body is.

"Please." Her voice is so gentle it cuts through him like a blade.

"Just—just go home, alright?" He forces the words out, presses his back against the door like he can physically hold her out. "I’m fine."

He knows how it sounds. Knows she doesn’t believe it.

"Logan…"

There’s something in her tone—something aching—that makes his stomach twist.

"You’re not fine," she says, quiet but firm. "Please. Just let me in."

He squeezes his eyes shut. His head is spinning.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t see this.

But she is.

And deep down, he knows. She’s the better option. She always has been. And with a sharp breath, his fingers fumble with the lock.

The second it clicks, the door opens.

And Y/N steps inside.

The air was thick with dust and the sharp scent of splintered wood.

The apartment—once messy in a charming, lived-in way—was destroyed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor.

In the middle of it all stood Logan. Frozen. Shaking. Like an animal cornered after ripping itself apart.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her heart ached so violently in her chest it almost knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t hesitate.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, she made her way to him. Her hands reached out—gentle, slow—like approaching something fragile.

“Logan,” she breathed.

He flinched at her voice. His hands, bloody and trembling, curled into fists at his sides, as if trying to hold himself together. He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

But Y/N wasn't afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

She checked his hands first, ghosting her fingers over his knuckles, over shallow cuts that were already starting to heal. It didn’t matter—they could have hurt. She still touched him with the same care she would have used on something broken beyond repair.

“Come here,” she whispered, finding a chair that hadn’t been completely wrecked. She kicked aside some debris, made enough space, then turned back to him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

So she went to him and she led him by the hand—gently, so gently—until he sat down with a heavy, defeated thud.

Y/N disappeared into the kitchen for a second, somehow finding a clean cloth and wetting it with cold water. When she came back, Logan hadn't moved. His eyes were empty, far away, like he wasn’t really there.

Kneeling in front of him, she pressed the damp cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, the dirt, the sweat.

He flinched again at first—then, slowly, surrendered to her touch. His head bowed forward, his whole body trembling under her hands. Tears fell down his cheeks. Silent. Endless. He didn’t even seem to notice them.

Y/N caught every tear with the cloth, and when that wasn’t enough, with the soft brush of her thumb against his skin. She kissed the corner of his mouth so lightly he barely felt it, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, over and over again. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Logan let out a breath that sounded like it hurt to release. His shoulders collapsed inward, and for a moment, he leaned into her, desperate and broken. But even then, even shattered, a part of him tried to pull away. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

“You shouldn’t be,” he rasped, voice thick with guilt and misery.

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she didn’t loosen her hold. She shook her head and pressed her forehead gently to his. Her hands threaded through his hair, slow and steady, grounding him.

"I’ll always be here," she whispered.

And that—That broke him all over again.

Logan choked on a sob, rough and ugly, and Y/N gathered him close. She guided him toward the bedroom, somehow navigating the wreckage without letting go of him, like if she let go, he might fall apart completely.

They reached the bed—half wrecked but still standing—and she urged him to sit.

He obeyed, dazed and exhausted.

She climbed behind him, pulling him against her chest, holding him the way you would hold someone drowning. Her hands never stopped moving—through his hair, over his face, down his chest—silent promises written into every touch.

Logan tried to speak—tried to tell her he was sorry, that he was dangerous, that he should be alone—but the words tangled in his throat.

Instead, he cried.

For everything he was.

For everything he wasn’t.

For everything he was terrified to lose.

And she listened. Patient. Endless.

Her tears fell into his hair as she presses soft kisses there and whispered, “I’ve got you, Logan. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days—maybe longer—he believed her.

He stayed there, trembling in her arms, every breath a struggle. He was exhausted—but he couldn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t let himself fall into sleep, not yet. Not when every part of him screamed that he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

Y/N must have sensed it—the way he was still locked in the fight, even as his body sagged against her. Because after a long moment, she leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing through his hair again, slow and soothing.

"Logan," she said softly, "let’s go to my place, okay?"

Her voice was a balm, warm and certain, like she was offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.

"We’ll come back here when you're ready," she promised. "We'll clean up together. But right now, you need a place that feels safe."

Safe.

The word hit him like a punch.

Logan stiffened, guilt flaring so hard it made his stomach churn. He shook his head, tearing away from her touch even though it hurt to do it.

"I can’t," he rasped, his voice cracking. "I’ll... I'll just wreck that too."

Y/N’s chest squeezed painfully. Logan’s fists curled again, self-hatred bleeding out of every line of his body.

"I could—" he swallowed hard, his throat burning, "I could hurt you."

He didn’t say again. But it was there, unspoken.

He was a monster. A ticking bomb. Someone who could tear everything good apart without even meaning to.

But Y/N. She just reached for him again, steady and unwavering, like a lighthouse cutting through the storm.

"You won’t," she said, firm but gentle. "You won't because you're not alone. Because you don’t have to fight this alone anymore."

She squeezed his hand, grounding him back into her.

"And even if you still don’t believe it," she whispered, "even if you push me away, even if you try to shut me out... I’m not leaving you, Logan. Not now. Not ever."

Logan’s breathing hitched. He shook his head again, broken. "You don’t get it," he choked out. "I’m not... I'm not worth it. You should walk away. You should've walked away the second you saw—" He gestured weakly at the wreckage, at the wreck of himself.

But Y/N only moved closer. Closer until he couldn't look anywhere without seeing her. Feeling her.

"I saw you," she said, voice thick with emotion. "Not the mess. You."

That shattered something deep in him. Not in a violent way. In a way that stripped him down to the raw truth beneath all the pain: He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her more than he even knew how to say.

And she loved him right back, with a kind of love so fierce it scared him more than anything else in the world. But it also saved him.

Slowly, hesitantly, Logan reached for her again. His hand fisted in the back of her shirt like he was terrified she might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. And when she leaned into him, wrapping him up in her arms again, he buried his face in her neck, letting himself finally, finally fall into her.

Maybe he didn’t deserve her. Maybe he never would.

But she was here. And for tonight, at least, that was enough.

She kept her arms around him for a long moment, just breathing with him. When she finally pulled back, it was only to cup his face in both hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back."

Logan didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just nodded faintly, like a man barely clinging to the surface.

Y/N kissed his forehead so softly it made his chest ache, then she stood up, stepping carefully over the wreckage as she made her way back into the main room. He watched her go, guilt gnawing at him.

In the living room, Y/N moved quickly but carefully. She picked up the sharp shards of the broken mirror first, wrapping them in a towel before tossing them safely into the trash. She pushed splintered wood and broken glass out of the pathways, clearing a narrow, safe space from the bedroom to the front door. She closed the shattered shutters as best she could, dimming the room so that when Logan would come back here later, it wouldn't feel so raw. So exposed.

She worked with quiet determination, her heart breaking a little more every time she caught sight of the destruction. Not because she cared about the mess, but because she could feel how much pain Logan must've been in to cause it.

When she was satisfied that nothing dangerous remained, she made her way back to the bedroom.

Logan was still sitting exactly where she left him, on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and hands loosely clenched in his lap.

Y/N’s heart squeezed.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved around the room, finding a worn duffel bag tucked under the bed. She gently packed what she could: clothes that weren’t destroyed, a couple of small things she knew mattered to him.

In the bathroom, it was harder—cracked tiles, broken shelves—but she found his toothbrush, some of his toiletries, a couple of personal items, and tucked them into the bag too.

The whole time, Logan stayed silent, waiting on the edge of the bed.

It felt unreal. Like he wasn’t sure any of this was happening. Like any second now, she’d realize who he really was and walk out that door forever.

But she didn’t. She zipped the bag closed, slinging it over her shoulder and when she turned to him, her expression was still soft. Still his.

"Alright," she said gently. "Let’s go."

Logan hesitated, his body locked between guilt and the pull of her voice. But then she held out her hand to him and after a long, trembling second, Logan reached out and took it.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around his, like a promise.

She led him out of the bedroom, guiding him carefully around the worst of the wreckage she’d cleared, never letting go of his hand. Out the door. Out of the prison his fear had made.

The walk to Y/N’s apartment was quiet.

She kept a steady hand on Logan the whole time, whether it was gripping his hand, brushing his arm, or gently guiding him through doors and up steps.

Logan didn’t speak. He felt hollowed out and brittle, like if she let go of him even for a second, he might just blow away with the night wind.

When they finally reached her door, she unlocked it quickly, ushering him inside with a tenderness that made his throat ache.

The apartment smelled like her. Warm. Safe.

Home.

She kicked off her shoes by the entrance but didn’t ask him to do the same. Instead, she led him straight to the couch, easing him down carefully like he might break if she moved him too fast.

"Stay right here," she said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll be back in a second."

He nodded numbly, watching her flit around the small space. She pulled out a fresh blanket, fluffed a pillow behind him, checked the thermostat to make sure the place was warm enough. Every move was made with him in mind—with the kind of care he didn’t think he deserved.

And maybe he didn't. Maybe he was fooling himself to think he could have this. Have her.

As she moved into her bedroom to grab some extra clothes he could borrow, Logan’s eyes wandered without meaning to.

Her apartment was small but filled with life—books, photos, cozy little touches everywhere. He caught sight of something pinned to the fridge and frowned. He pushed himself up a little and squinted.

It was a photo. Worn and creased from being touched so often.

It was him. Him and her.

A candid photo from some random night he barely remembered, probably taken when they'd gone out for drinks with some of her friends. In it, he was looking off to the side, a rare, unguarded smile on his face. And she was laughing, leaning into him like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there. Someone had drawn a little heart under the picture.

Logan's chest tightened so hard it hurt. He hadn't even known she had that picture.

Y/N came back just then, carrying some sweatpants and a soft hoodie, but paused when she saw him up, looking at the fridge.

"Logan?" she said gently, setting the clothes down.

He shook his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Trying to breathe past the crushing guilt and the unbearable love that wrapped around him like chains. He sat back down on the couch.

"I..." he started hoarsely. He dragged a hand down his face, then gritted out, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupping his face in her hands again, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen to me," she whispered, voice trembling but sure. "You’re not a monster. You’re not broken beyond saving. You are good, Logan. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore."

He squeezed his eyes shut, a broken sound escaping him—part sob, part plea.

"I could hurt you," he rasped. "I could—"

"You won't," she said fiercely. "I trust you. I know you."

Her thumbs brushed away the tears he didn't even realize were falling again.

For a long, trembling moment, Logan didn’t move. Didn't even breathe.

And then, like a man surrendering a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place, he leaned into her touch. Collapsed against her.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe he wasn't beyond saving.

Not as long as she was here. Not as long as she was holding him like this.

Logan’s body was heavy against hers, all tense lines and shuddering breaths. For a moment, he let himself rest there, forehead pressed to her shoulder, letting her hands ground him—gentle strokes along his back, soothing circles at the nape of his neck.

But then, as always, the guilt clawed its way back up his throat.

He shifted, starting to pull away.

"I—I should go," he muttered roughly, not even knowing where he thought he could go in this state. "I’ll just—I’ll sleep on the floor. Or— or the couch."

Y/N immediately tightened her hold.

"What are you talking about..." she said, firm but gentle, her hands sliding up to cradle his face again. "You're not going anywhere."

He shook his head, a pained sound escaping him, "You don’t—You shouldn't have to—" His voice cracked under the weight of it. "Look at me, Y/N."

"I am," she whispered, her thumb stroking just beneath his eye, brushing away a tear. "And all I see is the man I love."

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing ragged.

She didn’t let him turn away. Didn’t let him fall back into that pit.

"You're staying right here," she said again, softer this time, like a promise. "With me."

For a second, he was frozen.

Then Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there.

"Come on," she murmured against his skin. "Let’s get you comfortable, alright?"

He nodded weakly, too exhausted to resist anymore.

She helped him out of his ruined jacket, guiding him with slow, careful movements like he was made of glass. He let her pull the sleeves down his arms, let her tug the hoodie over his head. Every touch was tender, every glance full of nothing but care and patience.

She handed him the fresh sweatpants and shirt she'd found earlier, giving him the dignity of changing in the bathroom if he wanted— but he just stood there, trembling, needing her near.

So she stayed. Helping him change, steadying his shaking hands when they fumbled with the fabric.

Once he was in clean clothes, Y/N led him to her bed.

The second he sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight, he seemed to lose what little strength he had left. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders heaving with silent breaths.

Y/N knelt down again in front of him, brushing her fingers through his hair with infinite gentleness.

"You’re safe now," she whispered. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Logan swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears. He was so fucking tired. Of fighting. Of hurting.

Tired of believing he didn’t deserve this.

Slowly—so slowly—he lifted his head.

And she was there. Still there. Still looking at him like he was worth staying for.

"I’ll stay," he rasped, voice breaking.

Her smile trembled, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Good," she breathed, wiping another tear from his cheek. "That's all I want."

She climbed into bed beside him, pulling the blankets over them, never once letting go of his hand.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Logan let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

XXX

feel free to comment if you want a part 2 or any other request!!

#fanfiction #fandom #ao3 #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #marvel cinematic universe #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen x reader #deadpool 3 #logan x reader #x men movies #xmen fanart #x men

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lynzishell · 12 hours ago

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🎶Ready to Start by Arcade Fire

Prev // Next

Reference Post: 8 Years Ago

I have to give a HUGE shoutout to my dear friend @honeyjars-sims who not only helped me with the Goode Boys Gaming logo, but also with the cover art for the boys' first game: Oneironaut I am forever grateful to have such a talented and generous friend who is always willing to help me bring these little details to life!! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you, T!!! Thank you so so much!! 😭💖

Oneironaut cover art + Transcript below the cut:

SFX: Ambient bar sounds 🎶Ready to Start by Arcade Fire

The businessmen drink my blood Like the kids in art school said they would And I guess I’ll just begin again You say, “Can we still be friends?” And if I was scared, I would And if I was bored, you know I would And if I was yours, but I’m not

Asher: Yeah, I mean, you could always move to San Sequoia. I’d make you a hell of an offer to have you on my team again. Evan: It’s tempting. But, um, I think I’m gonna stay in the city for now. I’ve been seeing someone new, and I kinda want to see where it goes.

Asher: Damn. Rejecting me for some guy you barely know. That’s fucked up. Evan: [smirks] Consider it payback. Asher: [laughs] Wow. Been hanging on to that one for eight years, have you? Evan: Nah. You obviously made the right choice.

Charlee: We’ve actually been talking about moving out that way. Jensen: Yeah, I don’t know what your plans are, but if you’re looking for a developer…? Atlas: Yes, absolutely. Let’s talk next month. We have to get a few things sorted before we can start hiring people, but— Lex: [dramatic gasp] Is that THE Atlas Goode?!

Atlas: Oh my god, Lex, finally! Lex: I know, we’re late. I’m so sorry. Atlas: It’s alright. How are you? Lex: I’m good.

Lex: Congratulations! I knew you guys would kill it! Atlas: Thank you. Lex: Is Ash around? Atlas: He’s back by the bar with Evan. Will you go get them? I want to say a few words. Lex: Ooh! I’m on it.

Atlas: Alright, everyone, listen up! I fucking hate speeches, so I’m gonna make this quick.

Atlas: It was eight years ago, at that table in the corner over there, when Ash first told me about his idea for a video game and asked me to work on it with him. For me, this dream was born on that night, but for him, it was years in the making. He’d already spent countless hours building incredibly vast and detailed worlds, creating compelling characters and storylines. His passion for this project was contagious. It reminded me why I got into gaming in the first place, and it has been an honor to be a part of bringing his vision to life.

Atlas: Ash, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Not a day goes by that I’m not in awe of how brilliant your mind is, and how big your heart is. And I’m so proud to stand next to you, to build this company with you, to share my life with you, and pretty soon, to raise two little gremlins with you.

Atlas: To Asher - The love of my life, the father of my children, and the genius behind Oneironaut! Everyone: [cheering]

Everyone: [cheering louder]

Asher: Can we step outside? Atlas: Sure.

Atlas: Was that too much? Asher: No, I just needed a minute. I’m starting to feel a bit sentimental, and I didn’t want to get emotional in there.

Asher: I’m gonna miss this city. And our friends. Atlas: Me too. Asher: And our family. Atlas: I know.

Asher: Promise me we’ll still come back to visit? Atlas: Of course. Why wouldn’t we?

Asher: You know why. And I get it, I can come visit any time I want, and if you choose not to join me then that’s your prerogative. But I’ll want to bring the twins with me, which means they’ll be around Ezra, and I don’t know how you’ll feel about that, but like, our kids and his are going to be cousins and I’m not going to keep them apart. There’s no detangling him from our life, and I just worry that this whole thing is going to get worse over time. Atlas: No. I won’t let that happen. Asher: How?

Atlas: Would it make you feel better if I called my old therapist to see if I can get an appointment? Asher: Yes. It would. Atlas: Good, because I already did. He’s going to get back to me on Monday. I promise I’m dealing with it. I just need a little time. Asher: Okay. Yeah, you’ve got it.

Asher: Y’know this is the spot where we had our first kiss. Atlas: I remember. Asher: That will always be the most memorable part of that night for me. Atlas: For me too.

Asher: We should probably head back inside. Atlas: Or… we could get outta here. Asher: Nice try, but we are not bailing on our own party. Atlas: Worth a shot. Asher: Come on. We don’t have many of these nights left. I don’t want to take it for granted.

Atlas: If it helps, it sounds like we won’t have to say goodbye to everyone. Jay and Charlee are thinking about moving to San Sequoia too. Asher: No shit? Atlas: Yeah, Jay’s interested in working with us, and with Charlee out there, you may be able to convince Evan to join us too. Asher: I already tried. They’re not ready to leave the city.

Atlas: Are you ready to leave the city? Asher: We haven’t lived in the city for a while. Atlas: I know, but you know what I mean. Asher: Yeah. I’m ready.

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mummyemmatojames · 2 days ago

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37. Monthly Check-In: A Deep Dive and Some Compromises

Hello, wonderful community! Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, with an update on our MDLB and FLR journey after this month’s Sunday check-in with James. It was a really interesting one—full of highs, lows, and some honest adjustments to our dynamic. We talked about how he’s thriving, the fallout from the wetting incident, and his feelings on the formula. I’m feeling hopeful about the compromises we landed on, and I’d love your take on how we’re moving forward!

James Thriving—and a Work Promotion

We started the check-in on a high note, curled up with tea as equals, and James opened up about how he’s feeling overall. He admitted he’s thriving right now—emotionally, physically, and even at work, where he just got another promotion! His boss praised his focus and reliability, and he’s now leading a small team, which is a huge step up from where he was a few months ago on that performance plan. He gave me this shy smile and said, “I think it’s because of you, Emma—everything we’re doing.” My heart swelled—he tied it to our dynamic, the early bedtimes, the healthy snacks, my milk, all of it keeping him steady and sharp. It was so rewarding to hear, and I told him how proud I am of my little boy growing into such a capable man too.

The Wetting Incident: A lingering Impact

Then we got into the tougher stuff—the wetting incident from last week. I’d apologized the next day, but this was our first real chance to unpack it as equals. He said it hit him hard—not just the accident itself, but how humiliated he felt in the car, fussing with the dummy in while I didn’t realize what was wrong. “I hated feeling so helpless,” he admitted, his voice low. “I know you didn’t mean it, but it made me feel like I couldn’t trust you to listen.” That stung—I felt terrible all over again—but I let him talk it out. He wasn’t mad anymore, just shaken, and I could tell it dented his confidence in our public rules.

We agreed to tweak the toilet permission rule in public. Instead of asking me and waiting for my okay—like he did in the shop when I forgot—he can now just tell me when he’s going, like, “Mummy, I’m going to the toilet now,” and head off. It’s still within our dynamic—I’m aware and in charge—but it gives him the freedom to act if it’s urgent, so we never risk that again. I promised to be more attentive too—no brushing him off when we’re out. He seemed relieved, and I think it’ll rebuild that trust without losing the structure we both love.

Formula Frustrations and a Compromise

The next big topic was the formula top-up. James was blunt—he hates it. He loves the closeness of nursing from my boobs, the skin-on-skin warmth and comfort, especially at bedtime or when he’s fussy. “That’s perfect,” he said, “but the bottle and the flavor are weird.” He’s tried two kinds now—the organic one and the new flavor from the shopping trip—and he scrunches his nose every time, saying it’s too thick or not sweet enough compared to my milk. It’s not just the taste—he doesn’t like the bottle itself, how it feels less personal than feeding from me.

I get it—nursing is our special thing, and the formula’s been a practical fix since I can’t produce enough. But I’m not ready to give up on it—I want him to get everything he needs, and my supply alone isn’t cutting it yet. So, we compromised. I told him I’ll feed him skin-on-skin as much as possible—nursing first every time, letting him have all the milk I’ve got—because I know that closeness matters to him. For the top-ups, I’ll try another formula flavor (maybe something sweeter or thinner) and I’ve ordered a new bottle with a faster flow, hoping it’ll feel more natural and less clunky for him. He didn’t look thrilled, but he nodded— “Okay, I’ll try it”—and I think he trusts me to keep tweaking until it works.

I’ve got a huge tub of the current stuff to work through, so I’ll mix it with the new flavor when it arrives and see if that helps. I’m still pumping and taking supplements to boost my supply—hoping one day I won’t need the formula—but until then, this feels like a fair middle ground. He gets the closeness he craves, and I get to keep nourishing him fully.

Where We’re At

The check-in ended on a good note—our usual adult sexy time as equals sealed it with that spark we save for these moments. Back in our dynamic now, things feel steadier. James is thriving, and hearing him connect that to us was a huge lift after the wetting guilt. The toilet rule change takes some pressure off me in public, and I’m hopeful the formula tweaks will settle his bottle woes. He’s asleep now—nursed, then topped up with the current bottle—and I’m feeling like we’re on the right track, even if it’s not perfect yet.

I do wonder if the new bottle and flavor will make a difference—or if I should rethink the top-up idea if he keeps hating it. I’m not sure it’ll all work, but I’m committed to finding what does. My little boy’s health and happiness mean everything, and I’ll keep adjusting until it clicks.

What Do You Think?

I’d love to hear from the community—how have your check-ins shaped your dynamic after a tough moment like the wetting? For those who’ve tweaked public rules, did it help rebuild trust like I’m hoping? And if you’ve dealt with formula woes—taste, bottles, all of it—what worked to make it feel right for your partner? Any flavor or bottle recs for a picky little one? I’m also curious how you balance their feedback with keeping the care you know they need—I want to honor James’s feelings without losing what’s working.

Thank you for being here as we navigate these ups and downs. This check-in reminded me how strong we are together, and I’m so grateful for your wisdom along the way.

With all my love, Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

#mdlb relationship #mdlbmommy #ab dl mommy #ab dl lifestyle

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 day ago

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So I live kinda nearish to the abandoned Titan-1 missile silos in CO. And while at a friend's wedding, I got to talking to her dad (Sam), who grew up right next to them. He starts telling me that when he was like, 12, he and his friends from the fundie church they all grew up in decided to go explore the missile silos because they'd heard that there were satanic cultists doing rituals in there, and thought they were gonna be God's Big Heroes and rescue some kids or puppies or whatever.

"So we go down there, wearing our bike helmets and sports pads, armed with softball bats and hockey sticks- We must've looked dumb as hell, because I weight eighty pounds sopping wet at the time- and start exploring the silo with flashlights and singing 'In The Lord's Army' and that kind of shit-" Sam explains, casually waving a beer bottle. The other guy at the table starts snort-laughing and nodding.

"Shut up Terry!" Says Sam, mock-slapping his friend's shoulder. "Anyway, the four of us are shuffling through this dark-ass underground building full of junk, about to piss ourselves and- SHUT UP TERRY I'M TELLING THE STORY- and we see this faint light coming from under one of the doors. Gotta be where they're doing the rituals, right? So we sneak up to the door-"

"I could hear you from like, half a mile off." Terry giggles.

"Dude shut up- we don't sneak up to the door, and my heart is going a mile a minute, we're about to fight the actual devil or some this, right? So I kick the door in and scream "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU-!" Sam says, way too loud for 1 AM in a suburban neighborhood, but hey, it's a wedding.

Terry makes a noise like a dying rubber duck.

"But instead of like, maidens chained to summoning circles or whatever, it's just Terry chilling in a lawn chair he dragged down there." Sam sigh.

"HIGH AS FUCK, That's really important." Terry adds.

"-High as fuck, and we kinda stare at him, he stares at us, everything is really awkward, because I think I recognized you from the baskin-robbins."

"And he pipes up with 'Are you the satanists?'-" Terry adds in a cracking falestto. "-And I'm high as balls, so I just go 'What?'. So God's Littlest Soldier here starts telling me about the satanic cult in the missile silo and I understand maybe half of it. But like. I can't let a bunch of little kids walk around down there, what if one of you fell into the silo and broke your neck or something? I'm like, fifteen, but relatively speaking I'm the adult here, you know?"

"-I'M TELLING THE STORY TERRY!!" Sam hollers. "So he's like 'Can we help you look for them?' and I thought this was GREAT! More warriors for the cause and all. So we wander around the base for a while but there's not that much of it that you can actually walk in and we get bored real fast. So Terry- He-" My friend's dad starts to laugh, crumpling over the table.

"-So I ask them if they want to go back to the main base and play Dungeons and Dragons." Says Terry as Sam cackles. "And they're like, SURE! So We go back and roll up character sheets and play until dawn, and after that we met up like twice a month or so to play D&D in the abandoned missile Silo."

"The whole time, Terry is like- I gotta hand it to you man, for a teenager what you did was a goddamn miracle- Terry is carefully asking us about what church we go to and questions about the bible like "If God is all-powerful and Benevolent, how come there's evil? Either he's not all powerful or an asshole, right?" and then it's like "Well, we only have god's version of events about what happened between him an Lucifer" and so on-" Sam explains. "-Did a bang-up job deprogramming us from the fundie cult."

"Anytime man." Terry nods, toasting him with his beer. "It's what friends do, right?"

"-So correct me if I'm wrong." I say. "But I'm like ninety percent sure that the was a Satanic Wedding ceremony I just saw?"

"Oh, yeah, he converted us all to Satanism, I go to the Satanic Temple in Salem at least twice a year, raised my girls Satanist." Sam explains. "So there really were satanists in the missle silo, but the rituals were critical thinking lessons and D&D."

I was thinking about this today and I'm curious because it seems to be a thing in every place I've lived.

Bonus: share in the comments more details about the place, the rumors, and whether or not you've been there!

#family lore #satanism #long post

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toxicrelief · 7 hours ago

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Crawling Back to You

Chapter eleven

Synopsis: You’re awake, Invincible is back from a two-month space excursion and tensions are high in the Guardian’s Headquarters.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Chapter: 11/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: PTSD-like Symptoms

Note: Here we are!!

You couldn’t hear the fluorescent lights this time, it was too busy around you. Your eyes felt heavy, and you were exhausted, more than usual. Multiple voices talked over each other from all around you, one you recognized instantly as Cecil’s. After a short struggle, you managed to open your eyes, there must have been over ten people crammed into that little room.

“She’s awake.” One of the people next to your bedside stated, they were wearing a mask, must have been a doctor or a nurse. You looked down at your arms to find several tubes trailing off from you, something you had not seen in a long time.

As if they were all working from the same neural connection every single one of the doctors and nurses exited the room almost in single file. Leaving only Cecil. If you were more awake it would have unnerved you.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” Your voice came out softer than you expected, crackly.

“You don’t think this is important kid?”

“I’m not sure what this is.” You admit, pushing your hands against the bed in an attempt to sit up. A sharp pain appeared in your side just to immediately disappear. A pain that did not immediately disappear came more strongly from your arms. Your body seemingly having realized the foreign objects was attempting to heal around them. “Shit.” You muttered, immediately going to pull the various tubes from your individual arms.

“Wait-!” It was too late, you had already grabbed them in a single handful, pulling them out. You rubbed your arms separately as your skin almost instantly mended the needle entry points.

“Sorry, that started to hurt like a bitch.” You croaked, and as if on cue your head started pounding. You held the heels of your palms against your forehead for a few seconds, fighting to stay quiet while the pain rippled through your body, and then: it stopped. Your head was still aching but there was nothing left to heal.

“Those were slowing down your healing process. Your body was overcompensating and keeping you in a state of limbo, we had to place those so it would stop trying so hard.” Cecil held to fingers to his temple, closing his eyes in frustration.

“Well, I’m awake now, so I must be fine.” You shrugged slowly dropping your hands from your head and giving him a guilty smile.

“This is the third time you’ve woken up.” Cecil muttered, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Oh.” You looked down and rubbed your sore arm a little. It wasn’t a pretty picture, the idea of you having woken up just to convulse in a bloody mess not once but twice. You waited a few moments to see if your headache was about to progress further, but it continued to just ache timidly. “Guess I’m okay?”

Cecil sighed, taking a few steps away from your bedside.

“How long have I been out?” Usually, it was only a few hours you were out, and then you were back on your feet without any help at all. What was different this time?

“Three days.”

Three days? You jerked up into a completely upright position, panic immediately starting to rise in you, and not for the reason you expected. You were afraid yes, but not that you were losing control, you were afraid Cecil was going to let you go. That he was going to fire you.

“What kind of backlash are the Guardians giving you?” You asked cautiously, your fingertips gripping the course, thin hospital blanket.

“They haven’t said anything. I am sure there are tensions, but I honestly have had much more important matters to deal with.”

You were afraid to ask, was he talking about you? This problem? You squeezed the blanket tighter and considered just pushing through it, offering your resignation.

“Invincible is back.”

“He’s back?” You state dumbly, your mind immediately goes blank.

“Just arrived, has a kid with him, we believe it to be Omniman’s.”

“Omniman’s?”

“Appears so.”

“Appears so…” You echo. God stop repeating him. However, you didn’t have anything to say about this, it felt like too much information. Usually, Cecil was very guarded, you weren’t sure why he was being this open with you about this situation, something told you that you’d find out soon though.

“He’s going to check in with me sometime later today, I would like you to be there, see what you can feel, if anything.”

“Today?” STOP REPEATING-

“Do you not feel up to it?”

“No, I do- or I think I do-”

“Great. Then meet me in the training room once you are dressed. You have some clothes on the counter there.” You look over and sure enough, there is an outfit, it looks business profession rather than your supersuit.

“Did you know I was going to wake up today?” You quickly turned your head to look at him again, examining his expression.

“No, but I hoped.” He seemed genuine, sincere. He placed a pat on the guard rail of the hospital bed, probably the closest thing to physical reassurance you would ever get from him.

Your nails made a clicking noise as you tapped them on the metal gurney. You haven’t been in this room in at least a week now. In the field training was proving much more fruitful than working only with ReAnimen. The chill of the room you never seemed to get used to though, no matter how much time you had spent in there. You figured it was that way to keep the body fresher, sure they were usually drained of blood, but this one wasn’t. Specifically for your benefit.

For your benefit. You frowned down at it, the bright red eye dully looking back. Who was this person before they became this? Cecil had told you they were soldiers, “serving their country one last time”. Was the first time not enough?

Your fingers continued to tap on the cool steel, your gaze staring off past the corpse. Three days you were out, three whole days. And the whole time it felt like you were having that nightmare over and over again. You didn’t remember ever waking up, it was probably better that way. A defense mechanism, so you don’t remember the trauma of it. You could hardly remember going out the first time, it was still coming back in pieces, but mostly you remembered Rex’s voice. You weren’t sure why. He had sounded so panicked; an inflection you had never heard from him. He was cocky, arrogant, whiney even at times. But never panicked. Anyone would respond like that if they saw someone in front of them begin hemorrhaging to that degree. Did you really expect him to have no reaction?

Your gaze settled in the corner, and for a moment you could swear you saw someone, just in the corner of your eye. Out of reach, just in the distance. Wearing a dark uniform, a gun in his outstretched hands. You jerked your head to look and there was nothing.

You were starting to hate this room.

“Ready?” Cecil is standing near the door, you hadn’t heard him arrive, either by teleport or by walking in.

“As I’ll ever be.” You give him a nod, absentmindedly straightening out your dress shirt. “Why am I dressed like this by the way?”

“Where we’re going it would be better to be discrete.” Cecil walks towards you, he’s holding a wristband of some sort. He holds his hand out in a gesture for you to do the same and once you do, he clasps it around your wrist.

“You think it’s my color?” You turn your wrist over a few times before looking at him again.

He doesn’t respond, no scoff, no nothing. Tough crowd. “Try not to needlessly speak, I am not sure how this will go.”

You nod, opening your mouth to verbally affirm him and then in a blink your surroundings have completely changed. You had expected to feel sick or jarred, but it almost felt natural, it didn’t even feel like the terrain changed underneath the soles of your shoes.

You were in a building, you knew that much. Great deduction Sherlock. The walls were painted a tan color while the carpets were blue. The kind of carpet you see in office spaces, so any type of mess or spill isn’t as obvious. And- yeah no you had no clue where you were. There weren’t any windows around either, just rows of wooden doors. Maybe an apartment complex?

“All of them!” A voice sounded from around the corner seconds before the owner of the voice appeared too. A man with dark black hair nearly collided with Cecil before jumping back with a started noise.

“And when exactly were you planning to tell me you were back?” Cecil’s expression was surprisingly soft. You looked back and forth between the two of them trying to catch every micro expression, anxiety instantly rising in you. Why couldn’t Cecil ever seem to properly brief you? How hard would it be to say, ‘hey yeah were going to see Invincible immediately, no prep no nothing’, or ‘there is a security guard who HAS A GUN’? You were getting better at improv though, maybe a good back up if Cecil decided to fire you.

Mark’s gaze settled on you for a moment before jumping back to Cecil. “I mean, it’s not like you didn’t know.” This was going horribly already; you felt extremely out of place. Mark was practically bristling in the exceedingly short exchange the two were engaging in so far.

Cecil furrowed his brow before talking. “I ordered you not to go. You were gone two months. Now you don’t even check in?”

“I needed to see my mom and my girlfriend first.”

“We had a deal, Mark. You promised if I put you in the field, you’d follow orders. You don’t get to pick and choose when that applies.”

Mind you, less than a few hours ago you were peacefully knocked out in a hospital bed. Well, suffering a constant repetitive nightmare but still. If you were in control of the teleportation involved with your wristband you would be out of there. You weren’t sure why the high tensions were getting to you so much right now, but you really felt like you weren’t meant to be there. And it was only a matter of time until Mark actually took notice of you.

Maybe you were embarrassed. Invincible was one of your major inspirations. Reading his file had given you the confidence you had needed when you first started on with Cecil. And now that person was real to you. Standing a few feet away in a dark blue sweatshirt. Maybe you felt bad, felt like you were betraying this person you had never even met in person. You weren’t stupid, you had pieced together why it was so important to Cecil that you learn how to manipulate Viltrumite blood. And in theory, it made complete sense, Omniman turned bad, what is to stop that from happening with Mark?

But you also worried that in setting up these fail-safes Cecil might be pushing Mark towards it. In a way, it was a threat. If any of the Guardians knew what you could be capable of you were honestly nervous that they might try to kill you. Or at the very least never trust you again. Could you blame them?

“I saved millions of lives out there, Cecil. And it looks like everything here was just fine.” Mark responds defensively.

“Yeah. Things were just peachy.” Cecil turned his attention to you as if expecting you to step forward. Oh great.

You stepped forward trying not to immediately mess up whatever point he was trying to make. “There have been a few minor everyday issues, but just a few days ago an unidentified entity by the name of Omnipotus made an attempt at conquering the world. Several major injuries were sustained by different supers.” Professional, like an official report. Crap it might have been straight from the report you gave to Cecil on the ordeal now that you thought about it. Who cares, you weren’t making a fool of yourself yet. “You know… basic Tuesday stuff.” And there it is. Very nice. You wanted to blow your brains out.

“The Guardians almost died saving the planet while you were off gallivanting with space bugs.” Cecil turned his attention directly back to Grayson. If he was unhappy with your input, he in no way showed it in his demeanor.

“What I did out there, what I found was important.” There was a pause and Mark looked between the two of you. He blinked a few times before scowling slightly. “You already know, don’t you?”

There is another pause, and you are completely lost. Once again, your mind wanders to the fact you were completely unconscious not that long ago. And now you were standing here in a pantsuit that made you look much more mature than you felt.

Cecil sighed, drawing your attention back. “We keep an eye on Debbie for her protection. Passive monitoring, mostly. Certain keywords trigger a closer listen.”

“Unbelievable.” Mark scoffs before resting his hands on his hips. “You’re angry about me not reporting in? I don’t need to. You’ve got cameras in my mom’s house.”

“It’s not cameras. We would never do that.” This made you give Cecil a sideways glance. You were almost certain he had some way of monitoring your apartment with cameras. Or had it just been auditory devices? How else had he left that note on your nightstand that night all those weeks ago? Had he just heard you and known that you were going through something? He must have seen it. You were almost sure of it. Would he lie?

“All right, since you already know everything, I’ll go see my girlfriend like I planned.” Mark went to pass you both, brushing slightly past you. The side of your hand leading up to your pinkie finger made the briefest contact with his arm. And for a moment you could swear you felt it. The blood flowing through his veins. Your eyebrows raised slightly at the revelation, an expression that Cecil did not miss. He looked at you for a moment before looking up at Mark as he was walking away.

“Fine by me. I’ll send a team to pick up Nolan’s kid.”

You felt your expression change immediately as your eyebrows knitted together in a wince.

Mark immediately turned around with a soft gasp. “You can’t.” His voice was soft, disbelief clear in his tone.

“What are you gonna do? Leave him with your mom? He’s an alien. We’re more qualified to take care of him.”

“He’s my brother, not a science experiment.” Mark stepped towards Cecil again, moving forward in front of you.

Their arguing fades as you turn your mind towards the life source of the person standing in front of you. His shoulder is directed towards you, his entire attention on Cecil. Thrumming, like rain on a tin roof. Thrumming, thrumming. His heartbeat. It’s a promising sign; you didn’t even notice it anymore when you used your powers on normal humans. You didn’t have to use the same amount of concentration with them now that you were so experienced. Or more experienced at least.

You could almost feel it, just beyond your reach. Like trying to grip water in your hands, the droplets escaping over the sides and the cracks of your fingers. Grabbing at smoke.

“I’m sure your mom will love looking after her ex-husband’s new kid.” Your concentration returns to the conversation at this. Mark had a scowl on his face, and Cecil was not looking too happy either. Should you say something-?

And in an instant, you were standing back in that room. The cool of the area raised goosebumps on your skin.

“And?” Cecil was looking at you expectantly, his head tilted slightly.

“I felt something.” You admitted softly. “I think I can make the link.”

Cecil nodded and you could almost swear he could smile. If anything, he at least looked relieved. “Good, I’ll have someone bring the blood bag back in. I want you to give it a few tries again.”

“Should I be jumping right back into all of this after the last time putting me under for three days?” You ran a hand over your adjacent arm, trying to create a semblance of friction to chase away the chill. “Donald said my brain waves were becoming unpredictable. Last time there were almost no signs besides my headache. I almost feel like it’s becoming easier to enter an episode with each time.”

“How do you feel?” Cecil said simply, crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Do you have a headache right now?”

“Uh- no?”

“When was the last time you remember being completely without a headache?”

You thought for a moment, when was the last time? It must have been before the museum job. You had gotten so used to it over the past weeks that it almost felt like you had never been without one. “A while ago.” You admitted softly.

“I had your brainwaves monitored the entire time you were out. I believe that because we were able to artificially slow down the process, your body was able to properly heal. Everything that it has been doing a bang-up job over while you had your energies focused on other things should now be up to optimum capacities.”

You glanced at the gurney while he was talking, subconsciously nodding along. “What if you’re wrong?” One of the things you were most nervous to admit. Something you thought that voicing might get you let go. But you were scared. What if you never overcame this?

“Kid,” Cecil starts, “Killdeer.” He squints slightly as if carefully putting together what he is going to say. “I don’t have a doubt in my mind about your place here and at the Guardians. You are a valuable asset and a loyal member.” He crossed his arms while speaking. “I have placed a great deal of trust in you on sensitive matters. But I am also aware that with knowledge comes a lot of pressure. Keeping secrets isn’t fun, it’s not exciting. It is a duty, and one that I do not entrust to just anyone. And it is our duty-” He gestures between the two of you, “to do what must be done. To be the ones who ensure the world is safe. No matter what.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, still not completely sure. If you just worked in tandem with Cecil every day for the rest of your working life, you were sure you could manage. But the problem was you had to work with others. With Immortal, Kate, Shapesmith, Rex. You couldn’t stay at his right hand, feeling sure that you were making all the right moves and doing what was best. You had to be independent, and that was just not something you were sure you could do one hundred percent of the time. At least for now, you didn’t have to.

“You sent a team to pick up Mark’s brother?” Your eyebrows lifted in concern as you returned your eye contact back to Cecil.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Do you really think I was just oh so ready to have a pissing contest with a Viltrumite?” Cecil scrunched his face at you. “I wanted to give you more time to assess him.”

“Oh.” You felt a little silly at this. “A little high risk don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you leave it to me to calculate the risks.”

A ripple, you had been able to cause a single ripple before you decided to give it a rest. It felt insignificant at first since you were so far past the ripple stage with human blood. But as you were cleaning up to leave it dawned on you how much this meant. You were truly improving. You were going on missions and holding your ground, you were making progress with your relationships on the team.

Well, some of them.

Well…maybe two of them.

Maybe.

Crap, Rae. You just remembered the concussion she had received during the last fight and how you told her you were going to check on her the next day. You should probably stop by the R&D floor inside the Guardians too, as they most likely have your suit.

The sound of a single click reverberated off the walls behind you, small, almost unnoticeable. You practically snapped your neck to look back, but there was nothing there. Just the same blank walls, and steel gurney. You could feel your breathing pick up; did Cecil have invisible agents stationed here with you? No, you couldn’t feel anything living within the area of the room. You would know.

You would know, you would know- You took a few deep breaths trying to calm down. You knew it wasn’t real. You knew exactly what the clicking sound was. The sound of a bullet entering the chamber of a gun. The sound you had barely registered before the sharp crack of it being fired assaulted your eardrums.

Maybe you should talk to Cecil about having a few days off.

Almost instantaneously as the elevator doors slid open you could feel the atmosphere shift. Most of the members of the Guardians are standing in the common area. The wall display has video playing as well as several diagrams loaded up to the side. As you take a few steps out of the elevator you realize each of them are of you. The video is security cam footage from your training room. How did they even get that? There was no way it would slip through that easily with how guarded Cecil was. And the secrecy that revolved around her private training sessions.

The others were diagrams of your face, different muscles outlined, with individual pointers leading away from them.

Another part of the screen is playing footage of your episode from the other day. Your body is limp in a pool of your own blood, and Rex is still holding your hair, his other hand trying to hold your head up out of the growing overspill. Maybe he had been nervous that you would drown in your own blood. What a way to go.

Another step closer seemed to alert them all to your presence, Rudy’s voice stopping as several of them looked over at you. You have got to be kidding me. What are the chances you decide to go in while this is all happening. It had to of been low, you were out for three whole days and now is when they decide to discuss…whatever this is. “They haven’t said anything” Thank you Cecil. Constantly monitoring every little thing until it comes to this somehow.

“Ah, Killdeer.” Rudy said with an unreadable tone, and his expression didn’t give away much else either.

“What’s going on?” You tried to give them a confused smile, anything, but your tone came out sour. You were too tired for whatever this was.

“Why didn’t you feel it was necessary to make known that you are prone to- whatever this is?” It was Immortal who spoke, his hand gesturing to the screen displaying you completely passed out.

Your eyes rested on it for a moment, the display was on loop, portraying a constant purgatory of Rex frantically yelling something while you lay motionless. “It doesn’t concern the team.”

“Something that doesn’t concern the team would be what you had for breakfast this morning, not this.” Black Samson interjected; his voice didn’t seem near as accusatory as Immortal’s, but you still could feel your defenses rising.

“I’m getting it under control, it doesn’t affect my work.” You state shortly. Not necessarily the truth, but you had no intention of explaining it much further. But maybe you should. You could tell them the limitations of your abilities and the side effects. You don’t have to mention anything besides healing. It would be the truth.

A glance over the group of them reveals something that stops you though. You’re met with furrowed brows and concerned glances. You stand alone in front of a mass of people. And none of these individuals have any intentions of listening, they are already forming opinions about your competency before you can explain anything. Your eyes land on Rex for a moment, who is standing near the front, his arms crossed in his usual judgmental stance. But his face does not reflect this same sentiment, he looks almost shocked to see you. His eyes run over you time and time again as if seeing a ghost. As soon as he meets your gaze though his expression hardens. Typical.

“You don’t get to decide if it affects your work or not.” Immortal declares, his lip twinging slightly upwards in a grimace.

“You all have seen me in the field, I have been nothing but competent and I have even saved a few of you.” Your eyes land on Bulletproof, the edges of his mouth are down turned, but he runs a hand over his arm as if checking to make sure it is still healed.

“Competency is not the only thing in question. There has also been a lack of honesty.” Rudy doesn’t say this to you but to the rest of the team. It’s starting to feel like you are in court, with no lawyer to work on your behalf. “We cannot work cohesively as a team if we are not able to trust each other. You for some reason have read our files, which means you know a lot about us.” He’s holding his hands together with the tips of his fingers. “Why did you purposely hide this?”

You grit your teeth, trying to not let your tone reflect your growing unease. “I did not purposely hide it; I did not think that it was something I needed to make fully known. I can usually monitor when an episode is coming. This one…snuck up on me.”

“How often does this happen?” Rae was asking this time, genuine concern on her face as she stepped forward.

“Not often.” You felt bad not being able to be completely honest with her, out of all of them you wanted to tell her the truth the most. “It’s really not a huge deal-”

“I watched your fucking head explode asshole!” Your gaze snapped to Rex, he had let his arms fall, his fists clenched at his sides. “What about that isn’t a huge deal?”

You opened your mouth to try shooting back a response, say something snarky about him finally learning to care about someone other than himself for five seconds. But the argument died at your tongue, he looked upset. Not just angry but upset. You hadn’t considered how it might affect someone to witness what to you had become a common occurrence.

“I motion that Killdeer should be put on suspension for the time being. All current headquarters’ access revoked until we have the time to consider all the information and consult with Cecil.” Rudy proposed this to the group in front of you, but his focus was on Immortal.

“Wait, what?” Your expression softened in surprise. There are some murmurs from the small gathering and a few people look unhappy with this. Rae and you exchange glances, she does not seem at all enthused with the prospect of your absence even if she was caught off guard by this whole situation.

“I mean, shouldn’t we put it to a vote or something? Is it really the best choice to just toss her out?” Amanda spoke up, with her eyes on Rudy.

“This is not a democracy.” Immortal responded concisely.

“It is too much of a risk to have her in the base, we don’t know enough.” Duplikate cut in.

“We’re meant to be a team, what happened to loyalty to our teammates?” Bulletproof finally spoke up.

“Loyalty implies trust. I haven’t seen her doing a whole lot of that.” Duplikate’s stare bore into you at this. At least now you knew she didn’t like you rather than having to wonder.

“What do you have to say, Rex?” Rudy asked, his monotonous voice was beginning to get to you. He could at least sound angry while screwing you over. “You had the most invested interest in this. Without you, I might not have looked into it further.”

“What?” Your gaze lands on Rex, he almost looks guilty, his left hand reaching over his torso and clasping his other arm. You weren’t sure why you were surprised. He had been consistently the most vocal about wanting you gone. But for some reason it still felt like you were being punched in the gut, the air forced out of your lungs.

“I don’t…” Rex didn’t finish, his jaw was set tightly, and his creased brow was directed back at Rudy.

“Killdeer should be required to fully explain herself. Tell us why she thinks she should stay.”

You finally ripped your eyes from Rex to return them to Immortal after his statement. Looking at them all was beginning to put a bitter taste in your mouth. “You want me to beg.” You scowled at Immortal, only further annoyed by the righteous look he was giving you.

“If you wish to remain as apart of this team then you might want to lose the indignant attitude.”

“You know what, I am not even technically under you Immortal. No more than Invincible is.” You clenched your fists tightly at your sides. “And it doesn’t matter anyways. Because I quit. You are all incompetent, sorry, jerks-” Oh wow you really got them there. “And I couldn’t imagine hating myself enough to continue working with any of you.” You throw your hands up and turn to storm straight for the elevator.

“If you leave now, you are never entering this building ever again.” Another power trip from Immortal. You knew he did not actually have the power to say that. If Cecil made you come back then you would be back, regardless of what he wants. You weren’t about to stand here as if you were on trial to these people, and definitely not to The Immortal.

“If I never came back, it would be too soon!” You retort, pushing the button for the elevator. Taking in the looks on their faces for, what at the time, you hoped would be the last time. As the elevator closed multiple people started talking at the same time, directed at Rudy and Immortal, loud and disorganized. The only person not immediately turning their attention to the dispute was Rex, the one who started all of this months ago without you knowing. His expression was unreadable, but you knew yours wasn’t. You had spent months trying to mostly play nice, but now you were giving him the most resentful glare you could muster. As the elevator doors closed there was a sudden silence, it immediately blocked out the commotion. Just the soft mechanical whirring of the elevator traveling down.

Quiet. Actual quiet. You couldn’t even conjure a thought. This was the first time you had real silence in a long time. No anxious ramblings, no fear that your head was about to explode, no Rex. Just quiet.

Once you were in your car you just sat for a bit. It had been so long since you just took in the moment. There were some new indents in your steering wheel. Or if they weren’t new, you had never noticed them before. Pulling out onto the road you opened the windows. The wind was cool against your skin, welcoming. Not like the cool of the training room. You looked in the rearview mirror and watched Headquarters grow smaller behind you. The air smelt damp but fresh. Like the morning dew on fresh green grass.

It looks like it’s going to rain later.

Author's Note: You might want to refresh on chapter one if you want, but next chapter will be a Rex POV, so there will be a bit of recap there as well :) Thank you all for reading this far! I have a lot more I want to do with this.

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101

#rex splode x reader #slow burn #enemies to lovers #over 40k words holy shit #no beta we die like rex splode apparently #crawling back to you rexfic #invincible rex splode #rex sloan x reader #rex splode #rex sloan #invincible #invincible season 3 #rex splode fanfic #fanfic

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wannabanauthor · 21 hours ago

Text

The more I think about a jealousy arc for BuckTommy, the more I crave it in fanfiction form.

Post breakup, post hookup and morning after, post Bobby going off to WitSec (still not acknowledging that death), and Buck happens to come across Tommy and another guy.

They don’t see him, but he hides anyway so he can spy on them.

They’re laughing, smiling at each other, “lingering touches” (in Buck’s mind, IRL it’s just two guys showing platonic physical affection like brothers or best friends would do), they’re carrying some shopping bags, and they just look so happy and fond of each other.

Buck doesn’t reveal himself because he thinks he’s missed his chance and that Tommy has moved on.

And true to form, Buck doesn’t reach out to Tommy, and instead pouts and mourns what he thinks is the permanent end of their relationship.

He talks himself out of contacting Tommy. But this time, he doesn’t talk to anyone else about it. He’s internalizing it, which is not good, especially since he’s still grieving Bobby’s retirement (still in denial).

It’s not until someone at the 118, maybe Ravi, notices that something’s up with Buck and asks him about it.

And Buck being Buck says, “Nothing, I just miss Bobby.”

Chimney and Hen look at each other then back at Buck.

“Fine!” Buck says. “The other day I saw Tommy on a date with someone.”

Chimney and Hen look slightly uncomfortable, and Buck picks up on that.

“What? Do you know something?” Buck asks.

Hen speaks first. “Are you sure it was a date?”

“What else could it be?” Bucks says.

“You do realize he has friends outside of work, right?” Chimney says.

Buck looks confused. “So?”

“So, what if he was out with a friend?” Chimney points out.

Buck shakes his head. “No, I would know if the guy was his friend.”

“How?”

“Because I met his friends!”

“A long time ago. It’s been months since you two broke up. He could have made a new friend,” Hen says.

“Please, friends don’t laugh like that or jokingly punch each other. The dude even checked out Tommy’s ass,” Buck counters.

(No, the guy did not. Tommy’s FRIEND is jealous that Tommy has a better ass than him. He’s not interested in Tommy at all. He glared briefly at Tommy’s ass).

Hen and Chimney look at each other like they want to give up. They pass. Various looks between each other, having a huge silent conversation right in front of Buck.

Chimney smiles at Hen, mouths “good luck” and walks away while scrolling through his phone.

Hen sits down next to Buck. “Maybe it’s time for you to reach out to Tommy. Regardless if he’s dating or not. You obviously want something from him, and maybe that’s closure.”

“I don’t want closure. I want to get back together with him,” Buck says.

“Then tell him that,” Hen says

Buck scoffs at that. “I can’t just tell him that. It’d be random, out of place, and he wouldn’t care because he’s already moved on.”

“What if Tommy thought the same about you? That you’re no longer interested in him, that it’d be random and weird if he told you he still had feelings for you.” Hen points out.

Buck scoffs again. “No, he knows I still have feelings for him.”

“How would he know that?” Hen asks, very pointedly.

“Well, because I’ve told—oh.” It finally dawns on Buck.

Hen just nods. “Yeah, didn’t think that one all the way through, did you?”

Bucks puts his head down on the table and sighs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fucked up.”

“No,” Chimney says as he walks back to them. “You Bucked up.”

Buck frowns. “I know! I know! Wait, why did you step away and come back?”

“Listen, kid, as much as we wanted you to figure this shit out on your own, I’m tired of you talking yourself out of potential happiness. Bobby’s gone. We’re all doing the best we can to adjust to this new normal, and you’re potentially isolating yourself from people who care about you,” Chimney says.

“If you want Tommy back, tell him,” Hen adds.

Buck gives them an eye roll. “How am I supposed to do that? Would he even take my call?”

Then they hear a helicopter landing outside.

Buck looks at Chimney. “You never answered my question. What did you do?”

Chimney gives him a big smile. “Now’s your chance to tell him.”

“What?!”

“Buck, if you don’t tell him, I’m playing him the recording of this entire conversation,” Hen says.

“That’s against HIPAA!”

Nobody even dignifies that with a response. He’s panicking.

Buck can’t bring himself to lift his head as Tommy walked over to them.

“Hey Tommy, you got here quick,” Chimney says and gives Tommy half a hug.

“I was already in the air and headed back when you called,” Tommy says and looks over at Buck.

“Got anything you want to say to Tommy?” Hen prompts.

“I saw you on a date with another guy,” Buck says, way too quickly.

He finally looks at Tommy and notices his puzzled expression.

Both Hen and Chimney sigh.

“I’m not dating anyone,” Tommy says.

“But were you on a date?” Buck asks.

Tommy crosses his arms. “Is this really what I’m here for?”

Chimney pulls up a chair for him. “Tommy came all this way for you and him to talk,” he says to Buck. “So talk to him.”

Chimney and Hen turn to leave.

“What? No help?” Buck asks.

“I got him here, and the rest is up to you. We can’t do this for you. You need to tell him yourself,” Chimney says and walks away with Hen.

“So…what’s going on?” Tommy asks.

“Was it a date?”

“No, Evan.”

“Then who was he?”

Tommy looks like he’s about to answer then doesn’t.

Buck notices Tommy’s walls are up again, and he blames himself for that. Why would Tommy come back to him when there are other guys who could easily give Tommy the reassurance he wants/needs.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I’m so sorry.”

Tommy looks a little confused. “About what?”

“What I said. The morning after.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s it?!” Buck feels his anger and pain from the breakup surge back to life.

“What do you want me to say, Evan?”

Buck bristles at that. “Why won’t you tell me who he is if he wasn’t a date?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Tommy snaps.

Buck is about to argue before he realizes that Tommy was right. Technically, it’s not Buck’s business. He can’t shake the feeling that there is something more to it.

“If you want to be my boyfriend again, then it is my business!” Buck snaps back.

“Wait, you want to get back together?”

“Of course! I didn’t even want to break up! You did!” Buck shouts. “Then when we had a chance to get back together, you accused me of having feelings for my best friend!”

The silence in the station is deafening.

Buck looks horrified at himself. “Shit, that’s not how I wanted to do this, and-“

Tommy surges forward and kisses Buck.

Buck’s eyes instantly close, and he kisses back. It’s practically muscle memory for him. He pulls back when he tastes tears.

“I missed you so much,” Buck whispers, a sob coming from his throat. He realizes that he’s the one with tears. But this time, he doesn’t let his fear stop him.

“I love you,” Buck says. “I’m in love with you. I never stopped having feelings for you. I know I’ve fucked up so many times, but I want another chance.”

Tommy cups Buck’s jaw and kisses him lightly on the nose. “I love you too. Technically, it should be me asking you for another chance. I was the one who broke up with you, and I’m so sorry. I got scared and ran because I knew I couldn’t survive you breaking my heart, so I broke it for you.”

“Tommy,” Buck whispers as he sees tears pour from Tommy’s eyes. He pulls Tommy closer to him, and Tommy lets him. “Will you be my boyfriend again?”

Tommy has the audacity to snort. “Of course, I will.”

Buck smiles so big that Tommy can’t help but kiss him again and again.

“I love you so much,” Tommy mutters against Buck’s lips. “I thought I’d never have the chance to fix things.”

“Hey,” Buck says softly. “I’m here. We’re back together. We’ll figure shit out.”

Tommy chuckles. “I hope so.”

“Maybe let’s take things slower this time,” Buck suggests.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” Tommy murmurs. He’s staring at Buck’s lips mostly, so Buck gives him another tender kiss.

Then he remember something. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” Tommy hums as he places kisses along Buck’s jaw. Yeah, they’re still at the station, but they’re in their own world.

“So who was that guy?”

“Oh, that was my ex, Sal. He and I had a thing way back when we worked here. We broke up after he got fired, and he moved to Texas. He came in town to pay his respects to Bobby. We squashed our past several years ago and became friends. We hung out while we were catching up. He says there’s this cute guy in Texas that he’s been eyeing. His crush rents a house right next to him. He’s an Uber driver, I think.”

Buck watches a Tommy closely. “Sal or his crush?”

“Uber driver? His crush.”

“Oh, no,” Buck says. “Eddie is an Uber driver.”

“No, please no,” Tommy says and grabs his phone and hurriedly texts Sal. “Wait, are you sure Eddie’s straight?”

“Yes! For the last time, yes. He’s only interested in women. Wait, does that mean you were trying to get with him when you first met because a helicopter ride to Vegas is very suspect?”

Tommy starts laughing. “No, I was not interested in him like that. He was just a friend.”

“How do I know that you never had feelings for him?”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Har har, very funny.”

Buck smiles. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Funny enough, I heard from Eddie after Bobby’s funeral, and he was thinking of moving back to LA.”

“No, he’s not. He would have told me.”

“He didn’t want to since you are subletting his former house. But I wouldn’t worry. If he ever comes back, you can just move in with me.”

Buck almost does a double take and notices Tommy fidgeting. Oh, he’s serious.

Buck gives him a huge smile and leans in to kiss him. “You’re lucky that I love you.”

#wannabanauthor writes #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #buck x tommy #fanfic #unofficial fanfic #jealous Buck #fix it fic

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nikethestatue · 14 hours ago

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I agree with your post about no announcement today. If SJM needs to keep herself separate then I am ok with that.

I guess the question I ask myself is;if there is an actual book or she is writing it why all the secrecy?

Nesta’s book had no secrecy. Just the next book is : blah and it focuses on:blah

Maybe she has writers block and maybe is having a difficult time navigating the book delaying release date and the publicity hype prior to the book? authors can run into this problem and either let their fans know or don’t (I am fine with either). Usually when that happens the publisher and author behave kinda the way BB and SJM are being excessively vague and avoiding the topic.

People have said well it’s because of the “shipwar”

As far as we have seen BB or SJM hasn’t acknowledged the ship war.

So I think it may be because there isn’t an actual pub date yet, the book is still in the works?

I think that the secrecy is actually self-inflicted by the fandom.

Early on, after ACOSF was published, it didn't feel like SJM was going to be secretive about it. Her pronouncement of 'i thought it was obvious' hinted at her being ready to disclose who the MMCs of the next book were at some point.

However, I think thanks to Steph and Gwynriels who exploded literally a month after the publication of ACOSF and when everyone was screaming from the rooftops about Gwynriel, BB and SJM made a conscious decision not to speak about ACOTAR and MMCs--primarily for publicity. I don't think it was a nefarious move on their part because no one could've predicted the explosion of TikTOk and the levels of crazy that GAs have been displaying back then. Certainly SJM never planned on any kind of ship war, and again, it's obvious from her Lives back then.

But I think that things spiralled out of control quickly. A good hint of her displeasure was that Steph no longer hosted any Lives, and SJM refused to address any GA rumors, ever.

But as time progressed and HOSAB was being published, with that big secret crossover, I think they didn't want to rock the boat and have people talk about ACOTAR instead of CC.

I honestly fully blame GAs, and all the dumb big accounts who have been dragging this BS on and on for 5 years. They started it, and yes, BB and SJM could've stopped it, but at the same time, I don't know how common it is for authors or publishers to be addressing fandom drama and fandom-made ships. I think it's virtually unheard of.

Again, it doesn't surprise me. It just annoys me.

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sleepyorangejuice · 3 days ago

Text

It’s been literal months, and I’m certain there have been many great analyses already posted about Bake no Hana, but I am up in a cold sweat, waiting for an opportunity to info dump when it hits me… just make the opportunity yourself!

So this is officially a very unhinged and unplanned analysis of BAKE NO HANA because it’s been eight months and I’m still not over this song!

Specifically I’ll be focusing on the intention of having certain characters sing certain lines, and their delivery. Also some gushing about the musical composition and drawing parallels to the event story.

I will never forget the first time I heard this song, it fit perfectly with the feelings I was experiencing going through that fucking RINGER of an event story and it leaving on a cliff hanger? I’m still not over it, sega. Eight months and I’m still getting chills.

What interests me the most about the opening of this song, is that it uses a very familiar progression of notes, which you often hear in horror or suspense films right before something terrifying is revealed. For example, there’s a killer inside of the protagonist’s house, and they hear something coming from behind a door. As they reach out to turn the door knob, you hear the music building until the protagonist opens the door, and BOOM! Murder happens.

I think it’s interesting how Bake no Hana uses this instantly; it gives you no time to process what’s happening. It’s the song letting you know that you should be on edge. Then, just as it reaches a musical climax, the suspenseful music abruptly stops.

To me, I immediately want to make a connection to the event story. The entire event is about Mizuki gathering the courage to come out to one of her friends. The entire time is spent building up her anxiety, and showing just how much her friends mean to her. It’s this fluffy little trip to the school festival, but you most definitely notice the stakes of the situation getting higher as the day goes on.

You think, probably naively, that this story will end with Ena and Mizuki talking on the roof top, in which Mizuki confesses her secret, and Ena accepts her with little fanfare. But there’s also the part of you that’s scared, especially if you’ve seen the untrained cards for this event. Something bad is about to happen.

The moment we were all waiting for, that this event was building us up to, is taken away from us. It’s taken away from Mizuki and Ena. The suspense that was building from the start abruptly ends in a slightly unsatisfying way. The pay-off to the suspense is never given. You’re thrown into the reality where people are ignorant and often cruel, where the character you’re rooting for disappears from the story.

Yeah uh, not even three seconds in and I’ve written like three paragraphs. I’m awesome at parties, clearly.

The music breaks into these foreboding instrumentals, like the song can’t decide if it wants to linger, or let go. Does it want to be slow, or fast? You can’t catch up. Just when you think you know enough about the melody to predict it, it changes again. It berates you; it’s constantly moving. The same, “horror movie sound effect,” comes back, halting the instrumentals, all except the barest of strings everything else was building upon. The bones of the song. Prepping you to be vulnerable and afraid for what is coming next.

✨vocals time✨

“What are those eyes? Ah, of course it’s those eyes.”

This is sung by Mafuyu. Immediately, you can tell the, “narration,” of the song is just as confused as you are. Like they were dropped here with no preparation. They immediately ask a question, then answer it right afterwards. It’s frantic and disheveled.

The, “eyes,” they’re referring to are pretty straight forward; outside perception. Mizuki, and Mafuyu too, struggle with how the world perceives them. For Mizuki, it’s the judgment. She grew up in a family where she was safe to express herself, but the moment she tried to show her true self to the world, she was met with confusion, judgment, and harassment. Her peers considered her, “weird,” and even the few who seemed supportive initially, talked about her behind her back, calling her, “Attention seeking,” and if she were to just act, “normal,” things would be so much easier for her.

Mafuyu got so caught up in being everything her mother wanted her to be, that she forgot entirely who she used to be. She lost everything that was behind her, “Mask.” Her story is about her finding who she is behind all the suffocating expectations that were placed on her. Both her and Mizuki are shackled by the way people perceive them, though for different reasons. (Fucking love transmasc Mafuyu though that’s my son)

So of course, Mafuyu is the one to sing about these eyes. The eyes they’re constantly disappointed by. They should be used to people not understanding them by now. Why would Mizuki ever expect anything besides judgement? The horror of being seen. The horror of being known. By both her classmates, but also her friends.

In nightcord, she’s been able to control the way she’s perceived. Because they met online, Kanade, Ena, and Mafuyu have no idea that she’s trans. She’s able to create this perfect image of herself; a carefree, feminine, cis girl. And now, willing, she’s going to end that fantasy. She’s letting go of her persona, and therefore, giving three people she trusts control over her perception.

Jeez, I’ve been yapping for too long. Time to move onto the second part of this line.

“This isn’t my first time, Y’know?”

This is sang by Ena. It reads to me as Ena drawing on her past experiences with cruel men. Mizuki ends up being outed by some very rude male classmates, and they compare Ena to Mizuki, and ask if she’s, “like that,” too. Ena, who posts selfies online, has probably gotten hate comments before. A woman can’t seem to post online without her appearance and femininity being questioned.

It’s not the first time she’s heard stuff like this.

This also probably refers to Mizuki hearing comments like this before. It’s just part of her life. She’s, “used to it,” or rather, she’s resigned herself to it.

“What’s with those eyes? C’mon, stop it!”

Again, the narration is getting desperate, and afraid. They’re beginning to panic. What really stands out to me is the use of, “C’mon.” It’s sort of a friendly chastise. It’s reminiscent of how Mizuki usually deals with any bullying or invasive questions. She tries to de-escalate the situation. She tries to be friendly and casual, to avoid any conflict. But clearly, it didn’t work. Sometimes, you can be super nice and civil, and you’ll still essentially be talking to a brick wall, if the person you’re talking to wasn’t interested in your humanity in the first place.

Kanade sings this line, and if we interpret it through her, it can be seen as her realizing her friend’s been facing prejudice the entire time she’s known her, just under her nose.

“It’s just so cute, but that flavour of sin.”

I wonder who sings this one, lol? It’s Mizuki. Her character is often defined as being cute. She likes cute things, she likes dressing cutely. It’s who she is; she loves it, and it feels good. But because of all the people who deem her expression and identity as, “wrong,” she’s been conditioned to suppress these feelings, and feel guilty every time she doesn’t. A lot of people view being trans and gay as a sin, yes, even in the year of our lord and saviour, 2025. The wording is intentional. The religious symbolism is intentional. Even when she’s enjoying herself, she can still taste the sin on the back of her tongue.

Mizuki’s vocals trigger the pre-chorus, like now that she sang during the verse, it’s tainted now. The song must hurry along lest it lets her finish a thought. Her voice gets taken away from her in the event story, so of course every time she speaks in this song, it tries to silence her, or drown out her voice with someone else’s.

“It’s off, so off, it’s crumbling.”

This is pretty self-explanatory and sung by Kaito. Mizuki’s ideal coming out moment was from taken her. The image of herself she crafted for niigo is crumbling, and she couldn’t even partake in it’s destruction. The moment is, “off,” it’s not how it should be.

“It’s off,”

Pretty much as soon as Kaito is done singing, Ena rushes in, interrupting him. I love this delivery so so so much. It encapsulates how Ena was feeling during this moment. She’s frantic and desperate, because now that she knows, she’s finally comprehending the gravity of Mizuki wanting to tell her this, and how much her reaction to this information must matter to Mizuki. But shit, she’s so caught off guard. Her perception of reality has been flipped in such an abrupt, cruel way. They’re saying all these horrible things about her friend, but she can’t do anything. She’s frozen. She’s helpless. She tries to amend her reaction, but it’s all so fresh. She can’t say the right words; it comes out rushed and clumsy. This is the first time she sees one of her best friends cry, and she isn’t able to comfort her. In just two words, you can hear the pain in her voice. She’s panicked and scared. THE VAS ARE SO TALENTED MAN THEY ALL DO SO WELL IN THIS SONG

“I’m about to lose my mind.”

Mafuyu finishes this lyric, and again, her va’s delivery is spot on. Unlike Ena, who sounds rushed and filled with anxiety, Mafuyu sounds foreboding. Her voice is tense and gentle, a quiet warning gone unnoticed. In past events, Mizuki has told Mafuyu that sometimes, it’s okay to run away. In fact, sometimes it’s necessary. Mafuyu needed space from her controlling mother. But here, Mizuki is running away exactly when she shouldn’t. She’s isolating herself from the people who love her after a traumatic incident. Mafuyu, who can be naive about a lot of things, and isn’t exactly what you’d call, a person that’s in touch with their emotions, can be very perceptive with her friends, and what’s going on for them internally. I feel as though she on some level, knew that Mizuki was running from something she needed to face. She sees both her and Mizuki as being similar people. They both have masks. In her delivery, it felt like a prediction. In her heart, she knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t do anything to help her friend with the information she had. She’s resigned.

“I’m collapsing with my one secret.”

This is sung by Kanade. Since the lyric is pretty straightforward, I’m focusing on her delivery. Kanade sounds concerned and confused. And really, that’s all she has. Unfortunately, by the end of this event, her and Mafuyu are still completely in the dark. They don’t know Mizuki is trans, and they don’t know that something so traumatic happened to her. They don’t know how fragile of a state she left in. They don’t know she’s ostensibly, suicidal right now. This ignorance isn’t bliss.

“I’m breaking down, l’m sorry.”

☹️

Mizuki’s little, “gomen,” KILLS ME EVERY FUCKING TIME, SOMEONE GET HER A HUG, STAT!

I don’t have much to say about this line otherwise. It really just sums up how Mizuki feels like she is the thing that needs to be apologized for. It feels like the situation is her fault to begin with. If she wasn’t the way she was, she wouldn’t have put her friend through that. If she wasn’t the way she was, those boys wouldn’t have been cruel to her in the first place. She’s sorry that she wasn’t strong enough to truly face Ena. That this was all that it took for her to fall apart.

And once again, after Mizuki sings, the song quickly shifts. CHORUS TIME!!

The intensity returns, it’s upbeat, you wanna dance, but you’re crying, so you’re just kind of bopping around with a comical frown and tears rolling down your face???

“Without seeing it, you can’t understand it, right? It’s just like a flower of transformation that had bloomed.”

Oh shit, and now you’re crying harder, except actually, you’re me, I’m crying.

This line is just SOOOOO full of trans metaphors and context. “Without seeing it, you can’t understand it, right?” Immediately I’m thinking about the strange obsession people have with trans people’s genitals. What’s in your pants, though? Are you a girl or a boy? Prove it, why don’t you? Without seeing, “it,” you can’t understand, “it,” right? Here is an arbitrary way to classify people. They just wanna know, “the truth,” right? And they can’t with all these girls becoming boys and boys becoming girls. Anyone could have a penis these days! XD

A less general take is how in Mizuki’s friendships with the members of Niigo, there is this, “invisible distance,” between them. They only know so much about Mizuki, because she’s been keeping this integral part of her identity hidden. She knows deep down, that her friends won’t be able to truly understand her, unless they see her true self.

Now, onto this blooming flower of transformation. The language is so. Intentional. Oh. My. Gods. So, in the trans community, there is a term reserved for closeted trans people, or trans people who have yet to realize that they’re trans. These people are called, “eggs,” because the egg has yet to crack. There’s a lot of sweet stuff, you know, you’re finally coming out of your shell, you’re being born again, this time, as your true self. “Blooming,” is also a term used for people entering their adolescence, you know, “late bloomer,” you’re finding who you are, and becoming that. Safe to say, flowers also get used as a metaphor for transition. An, “egg,” could also be a, “bud.” This flower of TRANSformation has bloomed, even if you didn’t want it to.

Kaito and Kanade sing this line together. If we see it through Kanade’s perspective, yes, of course she doesn’t understand what’s going on, Mizuki hasn’t told her! And of course I’m gonna mention Kanade’s flower motif, of course she would sing this line!

“I can’t say anything else, but I can’t erase it, no matter how ugly my makeup seems like.”

Yep, this is Ms. Ena. No Kaito helping her out, just Ena, and I think, entirely from her perspective. This is generally agreed upon, and before I start, I gotta mention that without a bunch of other fans interpreting and sharing said interpretations, I’d still be stuck on the second half of this line. I’m not leaving it out just because it’s been said before, no, I’m putting it here because I THINK THEY’RE ALL RIGHT!

“I can’t say anything else, but I can’t erase it,”

This is referring to Ena’s reaction to Mizuki being outed. She wasn’t able to say anything to reassure Mizuki, or even stand up for her. She can’t take back her silence, she can’t erase it. Somehow, it was worse than her blurting out her first thought.

“No matter how ugly my makeup seems like.”

So again, thanks to everyone who pointed this out, but the, “makeup,” she’s referring to, is her expression. Specifically the one in her untrained card. She didn’t mean to let the shock show so blatantly on her face. She may, “seem,” scared, disgusted, even, but that’s not how she truly feels. She was just caught-off guard. But no matter how much she regrets it, she can’t take back her initial reaction. Her face is forever burned into both Mizuki’s and our minds for eternity.

“Without seeing it, you can’t understand it, right? It’s just like a flower of transformation that had bloomed.”

This time, Mafuyu accompanies Kaito. Her va absolutely kills this line. She sounds so desperate and heartbroken. Coming from Mafuyu, we can again draw a connection between Mizuki’s identity blooming, and also Mafuyu’s. Mafuyu knows how painful it is to reveal your true self, and additionally to have it be rejected. This is her empathizing with Mizuki’s situation. She’s singing from a place of her own pain, but also her inability to comfort Mizuki, and the pain that comes with being a sitting duck.

“I can’t go back to being a bud again.”

One second,

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Ok, I’m done. So, Mizuki sings this. I’ll bring the egg/bud comparison up again. She’s already bloomed. You can’t go back inside of your broken shell. You’ll know, part of you, forever, and it will torture you. Mizuki tried this in the past, during middle school. She kept her hair short, wore the boy’s uniform, and didn’t express any of her femininity in public. Living like this sent her into a deep depression. Eventually, she decided to openly present as a woman. Despite her fears, life was too painful pretending to be someone she’s not. The alienation from her peers hurt, but not as much as forcing herself to be a man did. She really can’t go back to being a bud again; it almost killed her.

Her va whispers the line over her singing, creating this really uneasy feeling. Mizuki is telling you this horrifying secret.

And what does the music do? Cut her off, of course! We’re back to what we heard at the beginning of the song, the instrumental interlude, if you will. And it’s just as violently in your face as it was the first time.

“What are those eyes? Of course it’s those eyes.”

Oh, and it’s Kaito’s first solo line. He’s not just echoing what the others sang. Ironically, it’s a line we’ve already heard before, but I still think it’s significant.

But, instead of continuing with the next verse after this one, Mizuki interrupts. This completely changes the course of the song. The intense banging we hear in the interlude comes back with her.

“If that’s so, then disappear! Everyone, just disappear!”

And with the end of her line, that constant noise is taken away. It disappears. Coincidence? I think not! The chaos of the instrumentals represents not only Mizuki’s loud, repeating, all-consuming thoughts, but also the voices of all the people that have ever judged her. She recalls vividly a little boy calling her weird in elementary school frequently, as well as other comments throughout her life. She tells them to disappear, and her head becomes clear.

But, if, “everyone disappears,” that means the people she loves too. Her big sister, her parents, Rui, An, Ena, Kanade, and Mafuyu. All of these lovely experiences she’s had, and all the people that do accept her, would be gone too. Is she willing to sacrifice them, just to never experience all the hatred again?

“Just disappear.”

Between these lines, you hear a melody of beeps. It reflects the process in her head, realizing what everyone going away would really mean. And when she says it again, her voice is weaker. It has less force, and Kaito is singing it with her. Kaito is frustrated both by Mizuki, and for Mizuki. Kaito is the most expressive vocaloid when it comes to anger. He’s angry because he knows the members of Niigo are being wronged. Even as Mizuki is beginning to regret what she said, Kaito is doubling down. Because no, she should be mad, she should want all these horrible people to disappear.

“Just disappear!”

With Kaito’s reassurance, she says it again, this time, with more power, and all by herself.

She says it once more with Kaito.

But with so much time to think between what she’s saying, she realizes something. She’s alone now. Maybe she has Kaito, but he’s virtual. And for all these verses, the rest of Niigo have been completely absent.

“Stay with me.”

She changes her mind. The thought of being alone is so terrifying. She wants to be with her friends. She loves them. She’s been so lonely. And for once, the song grants her wish. It listens to her.

“Without seeing it, you can’t understand it, right? It’s just like a flower of transformation that has bloomed.”

The chorus comes back, but this time it’s gentle; it matches the slower pace of the previous verse. The instrumental is bare, reminiscent of a lullaby, and Mizuki’s best friends sing to her in a beautiful harmony. They love her. She’s trans, and they still love her. They want to be her friend. They’re kind to her.

But the harmony turns daunting, and Kaito joins in, quickly bringing back with him the rest of the song. The banging, the loudness, the fast pace. Her friends are so kind. They still love her. And that is a sickening thought to her. The idea of their kindness is suffocating, because she believes she doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t want to cause them trouble or be a, “special case,” she wants them to treat her the way they did before. She wants them to be ignorant, because there’s security in the lack of knowledge. Even when they’re supportive, Mizuki can’t stand it. She, “ruins,” it.

“I can’t say anything else, but I can’t erase it, no matter how ugly my makeup seems like.”

Ena sings this line again, but with Kaito too. Kaito also feels useless in this situation. He seems to be hurting things rather than helping. He’s just as clueless and regretful as Ena. Niigo Kaito is very blunt and straightforward, but I think he has an idealized view of the world. He’s usually justified in his anger, and it comes from the right place. However, he doesn’t consider the consequences of say, Mafuyu standing up to her mother, or how painful the experience was to her. It was also dangerous, even. Same with Mizuki. Kaito wants her to stop running and live her truth, but he barely considers that the situation may go wrong, and put her in danger.

I think it’s also super interesting to compare Niigo Kaito and Ena. Ena struggles with her anger. She has outbursts, can be judgmental, and is quick to argue. She plays a similar role as Kaito in Mafuyu’s story. She’s a bit harder on Mafuyu than the other girls, but deep down, she still loves her friend. She’s more angry at Mafuyu’s refusal to leave her situation, rather than Mafuyu herself. In this way, her and Kaito are really similar.

“If you can’t seem to understand the future, then this flower of transformation will disappear soon enough here.”

Mizuki and Kaito sing this line together, and alteration of the one before it. By singing this with her, he seems to finally understand how desperate this situation is. He’s voicing her thoughts, but he’s also pleading so others can hear them. Compared to Mizuki, who is at her limit and filled with sorrow, Kaito shows this is a cry for help. He’s got really good tuning in this song. Mizuki is practically yelling with her lines, full of despair and anger. Gods, her va is so talented!!!

Right, the lyrics. If people can’t accept that things are changing, that everyone is different, that gender might not be as cut and dry as it was created to be, children, adults, real people will die. Hundreds die every year. Mizuki could be one of those people. She recognizes this, and is begging all these people to stop through this song. She doesn’t want to disappear, but it’s become too painful.

“As if I am made to end the curse of being born, I’ll stop breathing now.”

Yeah, this one hits hard. When just your existence feels like a curse on everyone around you. Clearly, it’s not the world that is wrong, it’s her. So she’ll just stop breathing, if that’s really the case.

“Agh, I’ve had enough!”

This is purely Mizuki again. I can’t really elaborate. I’ll just say she sings, “agh,” really nicely? XD

Yes, this is cut and dry suicidal ideation. And since she’s had enough, the song is like, “fair, I’ll end now,”

So the same instrumental interlude plays, and this time around, it especially sounds like the firing of guns. And it ends with the strings.

…

I have lots of thoughts. To this day, Bake no Hana is my favourite of the commissioned songs for this game. The music, the lyrics, the composition, they’re all great, and fit the event perfectly. With how hard-hitting Mizu5 was, they definitely needed a song that had the same effect. And, well, they succeeded. Thanks for reading if you made it all the way down here <3

#Bake no Hana #mizu5 #mizuki akiyama #nightcord at 25:00 #niigo #ena shinonome #kanade yoisaki #mafuyu asahina #niigo kaito #mizuena #im promoting the yuri agenda even when its not explicitly mentioned #trans mizuki akiyama

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cyclogenesis · 1 day ago

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life update i'm leaving for france in approx eight hours but we still managed to fit in some fucking family drama nonsense last night and this morning like my life is RIDICULOUS

the thing is there's still so much stuff i didn't even talk about here during the Worst Four Months of My Life and that includes one insane thing which was both of my biological parents being in the same room with me for the first time in my entire life.

god, okay, let me summarize the lore. never knew my bio dad, mom didn't even know who he was bc she was 20 and fucking around (fine) and she didn't want to talk about it and got mad when i brought it up. i eventually decide to do an ancestry dna test at age 36 and with the help of my half-first cousin and a lot of googling i find him and reach out. it goes amazing. he's fantastic, he's thrilled to find out about me, we eventually meet in person and get along super well and it completely rules. i tell my mom and she's clearly resentful that i'm making her think about it but ultimately manages to peek over the precipice of her own selfishness and accept it.

so while i'm getting to know bio dad chris these are also covid times and my mom and stepdad are going insane bc they're entitled boomers who genuinely resent the idea that they might have to care about other people ever and they get facebooked into believing all sorts of dumb shit. i'm like, 'what??' and my stepdad yells at me and hangs up on me and my mom texts me and says 'don't respond to this message but you need to apologize to him' oh my god this is making me angry all over again. okay.

ultimately: i try to have a grown-up conversation with them in person thanksgiving 2021. stepdad yells at me, grabs my mom and they zoom away in his jeep. literally. grammy is pissed at me because i told my parents they hurt my feelings, which is so much worse than the fact that they hurt my feelings that our relationship is never the same. neither my mom nor my stepdad directly contact me again for TWO YEARS until my mom asks me to come for christmas and i tell her we need to have a serious talk first and then she ghosts me. for another year.

but then of course my stepdad who she chose over me divorces her, and i'm forced to interact with her again bc grammy's dying, and we never talk about it, and she never apologizes, bc she's an unbelievable fucking asshole. i have to shove all this down to my own detriment to help take care of grammy, who has also been an asshole to me, and i think we can all agree that not only am i a saint, but i should be crowned the next pope.

so while i'm in fresno, bio dad chris says he wants to come down and see grammy bc we'd all met up a few times and she really liked him (everyone does, he's great). i tell my mom, who has not seen him since they worked at sizzler together and fucked around one crazy autumn and conceived me, and she's like 'oh, great!' and i'm like good bc i wasn't asking.

so this is how, at age 41, i end up in the same room with both of my parents for the first time ever. chris and my mom hug and my mom starts crying, bc she did have fond memories of this guy she hadn't seen since she was 20 and everyone's emotions are running high. grammy's happy to see chris. we sit at grammy's dining room table and eat burger king and i'm like whooooa i'm having dinner with my parents for the first time ever. bro that is crazy. it was crazy!!!!

my mom pulls me aside and is like, wow, it's really great to see him, he's as nice as i remembered, and she's clearly beating around the bush so i'm like he's hot, right? and she's relieved like YES, he's hot, and i'm like lol. and then later she's like 'i think i kind of have a crush on him' and my life flashes before my eyes and i'm like haha but in my head i'm living the anti-parent trap. i would rather die than see my parents get (back) together. bitch leave him alone. i would not inflict my mother on him in a thousand years. he's great and she sucks. the best thing they ever did and will do is create me.

the next morning she gets a mildly upsetting text from my ex-stepdad and tags chris and is like 'can i talk to you for a second?' and from the other room i hear her say 'i know sara doesn't care about this' because she is a manipulative fucking asshole trying to get him on her side by making me look bad because there is something deeply and profoundly wrong with her and then she tells him she's upset bc ex-stepdad wants them to do their taxes separately and she thought they were going to do them together. wow.

i escape fresno. after a little more communication things trickle down into her barely contacting me bc, as we know, this was already a relationship she felt fine abandoning for three years, lmao. in a moment of weakness i text her about how i talked to amber benson and it was neat and she doesn't even text me back until the following morning. cool, fuck you too.

in april she asks me to come visit though! well, actually, she asks if i want to see if chris can come down too and we can all go together to see her high school best friend's cover band play at the table mountain casino. she suggests we look into getting a room at the hotel there and it's $289 a night to stay in a standard room at this casino in rural fresno county, which is more money than i spent for a ticket to fucking paris and also i don't want to go. i decline. from then on she doesn't text me and i have to text her in order to find out details about grammy's house selling, a thing she is present for and i am not. thanks.

so this morning i get this text:

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. 'i don't want to put you on the spot' puts me on the spot. 'sad and lonely' damn that's crazy you're feeling alone bc the man you chose over me left you? what's it like to feel sad and lonely, tell me about it, you abandoned me for three fucking years so maybe i can relate. oh my god. i am just like i am fucking INCANDESCENT with rage. the audacity. the sheer fucking NERVE, can you imagine, as if i'm supposed to be sympathetic to HER, as if she has any right to ask me for a favor, after every fucking thing she's done, the abominable way that she has treated me, her only child, over the last several years, as if i would ever feed him into the gaping fucking narcissistic black hole of a maw that is her whiny, thoughtless, selfish, bitchy, NIGHTMARE OF A SELF...oh my god.

i left her ass on read. yeah i hope she feels stupid asking. i hope she feels sad and lonely and pathetic and not worth loving and so fucking easy to leave behind the way that she made me feel for three fucking years after she walked out on me. god i am so fucking ANGRY!!! every person i've told this whole story to has gotten the requisite joke about how i'm out here making the anti-parent trap happen bc lmao girl stay away from him but i still would not have imagined she would just straight up ask me to set her up with him. fuck off. FUCK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

anyway this also follows last night when cousin leahmann the failure of an estate executor who nevertheless gets a third of everything called me and was like 'donnie doesn't have a headstone, it's $1600, i'll pay most of it but you can contribute' and then waited in silence for me to be like 'oh sure! i already shelled out $1481 for my share of the burial costs that she lied to me about pre-paying and insisted go toward her wishes of being put in a coffin and then into the ground with no funeral so there was no point and also she is dead so it doesn't matter what she wanted, to be honest, i think we should have just cremated her, and i'm never going to visit the gravesite, bc she's not in there, the thing that made her her is gone so i would not even be giving you money for an expensive rock for her, it would be for you, bc this is meaningful to you, not me, and it would feel to me like setting hundreds of dollars on fire in addition to the $1481 i already set on fire for you who insisted on getting the box and the hole in the ground,' but instead i was like well, let's see if the house sale goes through, bc that's presumably going to happen this week, i fucking hope.

and what's also insane is that he said to me repeatedly, after i gave up my only source of income and a month of my life to move in with grammy and take care of her at the end, that he would give me part of his share of the proceeds from the house for helping out so much, so why not just subtract whatever he wanted from me for the rock from however much he's going to give me as a thank you, right, like why are we even talking about this unless he's also a huge liar like grammy was and isn't going to follow through on his word, like my god, these FUCKING PEOPLE!!!!

so, neither he nor my mother know that i'm leaving the country tonight and will not be back for two and a half months lol. mom will find out from facebook when i post photos from paris the same way i used to find out things about her life from facebook bc she never told me shit either. here's hoping i just get to come back home to a check and then never have to deal with these people ever again!!!!!

#scenes from a life #getting a last few punches in before i get on a plane for eleven hours and them i'm OUT OF THIS BITCH hallelujah!!!!#new tariffs mean i can't get texts from america. sorry. thnaks

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ofwittyardor · 21 hours ago

Text

Ross apparently wasn’t allow to fight Rachel on his feelings, on the concept of her not returning his voicemail. Not to mention Aiden, which felt like a huge elephant in the room. Ross wasn’t allowed to be hurt, he wasn’t allow to have feelings about how disrespected he felt. And of course as always Rachel had to be right; he felt belittled like because he had the worse timing to speak from the heart it didn’t matter. “ You know I’m allow to be hurt that Aiden came back here. You allowed him to come to that dinner, you allowed him to think he had a chance. If you wanted to end it he should’ve never stepped foot in Monica’s place. Maybe i wouldn’t of gotten punched if you had.” This was the hurt speaking, and no his nose was stinging, he was exhausted he didn’t want to play a roller coaster of recycled arguing. “ I don’t regret kissing you just to clarify. I meant it when I said I love you, I just wish things were handled differently.”

A truth on his part, as he held the cold compress to his nose, that was stinging. Ross didn’t want to fight he was just frustrated, but he wasn’t gonna sit in his own place to feel guilty. He could admit he could’ve kept calling but he also didn’t want to put that pressure on Rachel. He harbored feelings, of love, but he also knew Rachel her passions, her need to live in Paris and he was scared until the second he tried to stop her to say the words. Because he did fear he was holding her back from her dreams. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. He knew how important fashion was to her; her passion, the eye she had for design for the clothing, the business women she was. And he admired her; greatly. “ I’m not gonna say it didn’t cross my mind, but at the same I wasn’t going to fly to Paris when you couldn’t tell me how you felt. And I know you explained yourself and I was at fault for waiting, for holding a candle to you Rach, but can you seriously say if the roles had been reversed that you’d be okay with sitting here and just understanding. Because I don’t think you would. I was hurt, I am hurt. But I also don’t want to keep fighting. I’m too tired for the fighting, but I also want to understand how you thought it was smart to just let the voicemail go. Even if it was a rejection I still would’ve wanted to know.” Ross understood she felt guilty, hints why she felt the need to babysit me now. But Ross was hurt, months had gone by he was left in the dark mending a torn heart. Ross just was worried that the next best thing would come and she’d leave without hesitation again. Shifting in his spot putting a bit more space between the pair. He needed to cool off. “ Can I ask for the night to cool down? To think before we talk again? You can stay make sure I do more more accidents but I don’t think I’m ready to have that civil conversation you want. I need to brush off tonight.” It wasn’t cold, and it was probably the most matured comment he made all night, to ask for a few hours to think about if he can move forward without dwelling on that hurt he spent months feeling, at least Rach could give him that. “ I don’t want to fight Rach, but I also am upset and hurt with you..” A whisper on his lips.

Continued

@promqueengreen

Traffic; which wasn’t as lame as Rachel obviously thought. He did drive up here during rush hour; the airport got busy. But I knew I was drowning. Ross was very smart. But with Rachel she had the tenacity to make him squirm because she had a hold over him. She knew him like the back of her hand, just like he knew her. Did he think any of the excuses he told tonight would fly with her? No of course not but given our history deep down the brunette knew the why I was here.

She’d gloss over the why because she didn’t want to talk about it. Obviously given her silence since I left that voicemail months ago. And if Adien wasn’t here dragging his feet behind us; I’d definitely have a lot to say to her. Even if it ended with the pending rejection. Ross normally walked away in fear, he didn’t want to be rejected but with Rachel he’d do anything for her.

The way Rachel spoke she was making me out to be an idiot, a weak one too. It was a reminder of how far our history went. Years of knowing the other; her lack of gym activity, but I also wasn’t the one embarrassing the other right now. I felt unsure how to respond, I could hear Ariden chuckling behind us, I felt like such a fool to believe for one second that I could compare with this guy. Glancing to the pavement as we walked closer to my car, I found my voice.

“ Yeah yeah, we get it, but you’d be surprised how much I’ve changed since you’ve been gone, I’m not the same Ross you knew,” Well I was still quirky, I was still an idiot sometimes, but I decided to keep those inner thoughts to myself. I wanted to make an impression. Upon settling myself into the drivers seat, I heard the retorts regarding my sister, she was a organized freak which means the female’s apartment was already fitted with her belongings, boxes undone, her clothes were inside the closet, her place would have the furniture before we arrive, it was kinda impressive about Monica. I had to release a laugh from lips as I aired out my reply. “ In other words we let Monica do the hard work, I’m sure she had Chandler there just to help with the boxes unpacking I mean, yet again it was probably her bossing him around.” What a poor fool I thought to myself; yet again I was the fool that was sitting in my car ready for the ride with Rachel and her new boyfriend. I was dreading this car ride; but for a second I managed to forget, upon hearing her confirmation that she was happy to see me, plus her hand on my knee. Eyes glanced to the contact as I responded to the dinner comment.

“ I’ll see what I can do.” I never lied harder; I had no intention of going to this dinner, one I did want to pretend I had plans, and two to witness Rachel with her arms around Aiden all night now that made my stomach knot up. No thank you. But I kept that bit to myself as I nodded before I had placed my hand on the gear to put us into drive.

Other hand moved to the radio letting some lame pop tune play; it would be a long ride for me, as I tried to focus on the road once we reached the parkway; let’s just make this painless right? It had already painted crap in my face; let’s just escape and prepared Aiden wasn’t in the backseat.

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