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kiribaku-queen · 2 days ago

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Our Final Goodbye Pt.2

Feel good/comforting, little angst

Bakugou x reader, Midoriya x reader

Word count: 14k

Summary: Who knew disappearing from someone’s life was going to be so miserable. Were you going to get your life back on track? Or were you going to mull over your relationship for the rest of your life?

A/N: Hello? I’m back? Kind of? A lot has happened these couple of years I’ve been gone. I moved AGAIN to another country; so I am now living in South Korea. I experienced my first family death and first long term relationship breakup. I know you guys have been DMing me and commenting about how much you needed a second part… (sorry for the long delay) this is for you guys and more than anything a little something for me as well. Enjoy! Hopefully I can get into writing again :) Happy 5 year anniversary to me!

Sequel to part 1, you can read here

Fuck your life.

Why did this have to happen to you? Why do all the bad things happen to you? What could you have possibly done to be treated this way? Were you a horrible person in your past life? Does karma just hate you? Or were you actually a horrible human being and just didn’t know it?

Life after the break up was… difficult to say the least. Everyone talks about how much you can grow as a person after a break up, how a break up can actually be a positive thing. But no one warns you about how actually insane you can get; driven by sadness and depression.

At first, you tried to deny it. Deny that you weren’t okay. You tried to convince yourself that the break up didn’t actually hurt you as much as it did. After moving yourself all the way across the globe, you decided that you wouldn’t let this break up with Bakugou get to you. You put a smile on your face, at least tried to. No one could see how much you were hurting inside if you just kept a smile on your face. But everyone who knew you, which wasn’t many, could see right through you.

“(y/n)?” Deku had called out your name, but you continued to stare out into the distance. Water was overfilling the cup in your hands. You couldn’t feel it but then again, you couldn’t really feel anything nowadays. Deku stopped unboxing your books and rested his arms on his knees, properly turning to you.

“(y/n)… (y/n)!” he finally snapped you out of your trance. You slowly turned your head towards the male’s voice, still not grasping what was going on around you.

“I think that’s enough water…” he pointed out. You quickly looked at your hands and indeed there was enough water in the cup. You mentally sighed and stopped the faucet. With a cheeky smile, you dumped a little bit of water back into the sink and offered it to Deku.

“Sorry. And thanks again for helping me move in. I know you’re busy and all…” you trailed off at the end. Deku couldn’t help but accept the cup with saddened and pitiful eyes. And that’s what you hated. You didn’t want the pity. You didn't want people to feel bad about your situation. What for? This was your relationship, your problem to deal with. That’s why you decided that you were going to wear a smile on your face no matter what; to show people that you were in fact okay. After all, you were the one to technically break up with him. You did this to yourself; you knew the outcome. So, there’s no reason for you to be sad since you were the one who initiated it.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” Deku blurted out after taking a sip of water. The ‘smile’ on your face faltered but you quickly put it back up.

“What are you-”

“I think it’s worse that you’re hiding it. It won’t make you feel any better. It’s okay to mourn. Actually, to properly process your emotions, you should-”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to ‘properly process my emotions’” you suddenly got angry, causing Deku to freeze in place. “If I say I’m okay, then I’m okay. Don’t try to tell me how to feel or what I should be feeling. You’re not the one in this situation so you have no say in anything. If you just want to run your mouth, then I don’t need your help. You can leave.” You pointed to the door, gesturing him to get out. Deku put both hands up in defense, carefully trying not to cause you anymore distress.

“I spoke out of place, I’m sorry. I just… I’m worried about you,” he started. It was too late. The tears were already filling your eyes and the anger inside you kept bubbling up. If he didn’t leave this instant, there’s no telling what the demon inside you would say or do. You took a deep breath in and slowly released, hoping that would calm you down.

“I understand. But it’s probably best you leave,” you tried to tell him in the nicest way you could possibly say, given how you were containing all your anger.

“(y/n), let me help you. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself,” the hero turned comforter tried saying.

“I’m not asking for your help. I’m asking you to leave,” you once again gestured toward the door. Knowing that he lost this one, he made his way towards the door but couldn’t fully allow himself to leave. He gripped the door handle but only rested it there.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be by your side every step of the way,” was Deku’s last goodbye before leaving your apartment.

You waited until the door had completely shut to let out a small sigh of relief. But in doing that, something uncomfortable rested in your chest and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away. You tried to beat your chest to get rid of it. You tried taking deep breaths, pacing around the room, drinking water. Nothing was working. Everything you were doing was probably making it worse. The feeling in your chest was so tight and uncomfortable that you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You felt yourself caving in. The sensation was physically pushing you back until you were on the edge of your bed. You collapsed back on your bed, hand clenching your chest as you curled into yourself.

And then you sobbed.

Once you started crying, you couldn’t stop. You had thought that you cried it all out before, that there were no more tears left to cry. How wrong you were. The reality of the break up was starting to hit you. And the reality was, he was no longer in your life. The man of your dreams. The man who you talked about starting a future with. The man who you could be yourself around. The man who knew your deepest darkest secrets. The man who would comfort you and never judge you for even the smallest things. He was so perfect in your eyes and you were convinced that you would be together till the end of time. How could it all have ended in such short notice? You thought you had given yourself enough preparation by distancing yourself, by slowly accepting the fact, but the true fact is, you weren’t going to be over him for a long time.

You questioned yourself a lot. Were you allowed to feel this way? Were you allowed to be upset when you were the one who broke it off? Why was it always you that bad things happened? He was a good guy. Such a good guy. You wanted him and you’ve always chosen him. So why was it that you always ended up with the short end of the stick?

Some moments of the day were okay… okay, as in there were no tears. But just because there were no tears didn’t mean that you were feeling better. If you weren’t crying your eyes raw, then you would stare up at the ceiling. Sometimes you were thinking about him, sometimes your head was empty as you watched your day pass away. You couldn’t find an appetite so there wasn’t a need for food. You also weren’t thirsty so no need for water either. No food and no water going into your body just means that nothing can come out. Great, you didn’t have any motivation to get up from your bed anyway.

From sunrise until sunset, you watched as the grossly, warm sunset fade into darkness. And there you were again, alone in the dark with your thoughts. What a dangerous place to be… alone with your thoughts. And what better place to be alone with your thoughts than the pure darkness. During the daytime, your thoughts were at surface level: how you were just sad in general and how you don’t think you can escape from your sadness. When night came, your sadness reached a new level of concerning. You started reevaluating your entire life existence. Started thinking about every bad core memory that’s ever happened to you. Each memory hurt a different part of you and then you think… all those memories, all those horrible times framed who you are now. God… that’s why you act the way you act, the way you think, the way you treat life? And then you continue to think about those memories, almost as if you were purposely making yourself sad.

Little surprise, you weren’t basking in your sadness alone. Despite kicking him out of your apartment that day, Deku kept coming back. And you let him back in. But he never talked about what happened. He never acted strange or out of character. He acted as if it never happened. But you couldn’t act that way. You treated him horribly, even though at the time, you were trying so hard not to turn back into that horrible monster that hurts everybody. But you just figured out that you could never change.

“Do you want to get up and do something?” he asks you gently from the side of the bed. He’s kneeling on the ground, elbows resting on the bed so that he could be leveled with you. Meanwhile, you were curled up in your forever ball, the only comfort you could find. You stared into the abyss without answer but Deku got all the answers he needed.

“Maybe we should get some fresh air,” he suggested. Again, no answer.

“Can I at least open a window?” that only earned him a frown. Right, so that’s a no.

“Fine. If you only do one thing today, then that’s take a shower,” he said with a sterner tone. All the other things he said were suggestions but it doesn’t seem like he was asking with this request. It was more demanding if anything.

“I bet you feel real gross right now.” He teased, but he wasn’t wrong about that. Straight on the nose, actually. Speaking of nose, your nose and your whole face was feeling dry and oily at the same time. The tangles in your hair, you know are going to be a pain in the ass to take out. And honestly, you didn’t want your hair to get matted. That would be impossible to take out. Maybe a shower didn’t sound so bad afterall…

“If you do one thing today, let that be a shower. Come, let me help you,” Deku reached out his hand. You stared at it. Should you, or should you not? Deku’s hands were laid out gently, only waiting for acceptance. But looked like it would be okay if it was rejected once more. His small gesture was more than just trying to help you take a shower. If you took his hand, you would be accepting the next steps of moving on. If you took his hand, that means you were ready to venture on your healing journey. And he was right. You felt gross, you needed to get out of bed. You knew this. You know you have to move on. You know you have to start living your life. But why were the first baby steps so hard? Help was staring at you in the face, literally reaching their hand out for you, so why were you finding it so difficult to accept help?

Frustration was clawing inside of you. Just fucking do it! You want to forget about him. You want to get better. You want to take that shower. Your hand felt heavy as you reached for Deku’s out stretched hand. He gently helped you up, supporting you from behind. Because as soon as you got up, regardless if you were going slow and taking your time, you felt dizziness hitting you straight in the face. God, you literally felt like the room was spinning. Was the room spinning or were you physically spinning? The only reason why you didn’t topple over was because of Deku.

“Woah, I got you,” he was surprised but held a strong grip around your waist. This is what happens when you are in bed for too long and decide to all of a sudden get up. You couldn’t help but clutch your head in agony. The pounding against your head felt like your brain was working on overtime. It was unbearable. Maybe a shower and some food would help…

With much success, you found yourself under the scolding hot water of your shower. Deku insisted he help, even more than he should really. But you declined his offer and undressed yourself. For a minute, you just stood under the running water. Too many thoughts were running in your mind again. Bakugou. Uraraka. The party. Them kissing. Bakugou. Your memories together. The vacation. Deku. Bakugou again. How could one mind be occupied with only one person? It’s not like you absolutely fell for this person and thought he was the man of your dreams…

The hot steam filled the bathroom, eventually leaking out into the rest of your apartment. You had to snap out of it eventually. Taking a step out of the fresh shower, you wrapped your hair up in one towel and draped another one over your body. Thankfully, the shower and closet area were closed off from the rest of your apartment. So even if you were naked, no one could see you getting out of the shower and getting dressed. You changed into fresh, clean, comfortable clothes. Clothes that will eventually stick to your body again once you get situated back in your bed.

The door to your combined bathroom and closet opened and you finally reappeared in front of Deku, who was surprisingly waiting for you on the couch with a table full of Chinese takeaway. You paused in your tracks at the sight. The shower was refreshing, you’ll give it that. But now with the smell of Chinese takeaway filling your apartment and your senses, the realization of how hungry you were was now smacking you in the face. It didn’t help that your stomach couldn’t stop grumbling, especially after the lack of food you’ve had lately. Then you took the moment to look around to find that your apartment was spotless. Your bed was freshly made and fluffed up, ready to be snug in again. Nothing was on the floor. No dishes in the sink. Did Deku do all of this? When did he have time to do this? And when did he have time to order takeout?

“When did you…?” you started to ask. Deku rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

“As soon as you hopped in the shower. I hope it’s not too much. But I know you haven’t really eaten that much and Chinese is your favorite. Plus, I was kind of craving it too so I just ordered. Sorry if I was going overboard with the cleaning. Thought you would feel better if a fresh you came out to a fresh apartment and-” he rambled on. He only paused when you came up to him silently and rested your head against his chest. Your hands remained on your side but laid your weight against him, guilt washing over you.

“Sorry.” You muttered. Deku’s expression softened. He pat your head and engulfed you in a hug. A hug you desperately needed. Deku has been by your side and taking care of you this entire time. How do you repay him? You yelled at him. Kicked him out of your apartment. Wouldn’t answer him when he was only trying to do his best. Why were you such a mess?

“Hey, hey,” he gently whispered, pulling you in tighter when he heard the small whimpers coming out of your mouth. “What are we crying for?”

“You’ve been too good to me,” you confessed. “I don’t understand how you’re still here. All I’ve been is mean to you.”

“I’d want someone there with me if I was going through something like this too.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have acted as cruelly as me,” your voice trailed and cracked off at the end. The truth of how you acted was hitting you even harder saying it out loud. You have been cruel to him. If you were in his shoes, you probably would have walked out and left him alone to bask in his own feelings. But he didn’t. Why?

“Because I know this is not who you truly are,” he answered as if he could read your thoughts. “And I know that you’re going through a period of grief. Why would I leave when you need a friend the most?”

“You still want to be my friend after all this?” you asked. You felt a hard knuckle hit the top of your head. “Enough of that. Of course I do. Now, if you want me to accept your apology, you have to eat with me.”

And just like that, you found yourself on the couch, slurping up your favorite lo mein noodles while Deku occupied the other side of the couch, immersed in the random TV show that was playing. The flavors of the noodles hit you with full force and you wanted to cry again, but because of how good it was. How long has it been since you had a proper meal? Even if you were putting something into your body, it was either water or bits and pieces of Deku’s food. But never enough to keep you full or even deem as a proper meal. It took some willpower to stop yourself from scarfing down the entire box. And he got orange chicken? This guy must really have wanted you to eat.

After eating something a little more nutritious, you could feel yourself gain more energy. With more energy, came with more food for thought. As if Bakugou wasn’t constantly going through your head, you felt like you could think more clearly about the situation. And what he did… was fucked up. What HE did was cruel and unforgiving. What HE did made him the villain. He made you act like this horrible, fucked up person who doesn’t appreciate their friends.

Deku glanced up from his noodles and show to see your eyebrows bunched up and your lips permanently turned into a frown.

“(y/n)?” he called out your name. The words coming out of his mouth were going in one ear and then out the other. They were floating in the air around you without truly getting through to you. Finally, you had enough. You slammed down the box of lo mein noodles on the table and announced,

“I. am. so. angry!”

Deku blinked at your sudden actions. You huffed and puffed beside him. So much negative emotion took over your body that you started to shake with anger and eventually, those angry tears came down. As if you weren’t crying enough already, but you couldn’t stop.

“I’m so fucking angry,” you poured your heart out, wiping the hot, angry tears away.

“Alright, you’re angry. Let’s talk about it,” Deku tread carefully, in case that you were angry at him. Or even if the anger wasn’t directly aimed at him, he wanted to navigate the situation where you weren’t exploding up on him. He positioned himself to face you but didn’t make any sudden movements to touch you or anything.

“I just… I hate feeling this way. And it’s all because of him. If I never tried to help him, if only I just minded my own business, if I didn’t fall for him the way I did, this would have never happened. I hate him. God, but I hate her even more. She just had to come back into his life. And did you see the way she treated me? Or even talked to me? Pushed me aside as if I had no impact on his life. It’s so bullshit! And why the fuck couldn’t I have fought for him? I should have told her to fuck off and find some other guy. As if she could just take him back after he’s moved on with another person! I couldn’t fight her though… you saw the way Bakugou looked at her. It would have been useless to say all that only to be wrong. Then I’d look like a fool. I gave up so easily. But he didn’t fight for me either, which is the most fucked up part. It’s like he never even liked me in the first place. How could he? He was only using me as a placeholder for his grieving feelings. Of fucking course this would happen to me. Everything bad has to happen to me. It’s like fate doesn’t want me to be happy or something.” You blabbed on and on and on, letting every single emotion, every single running thought, whether it be true or not, come out. And Deku just listened. Not once did he try to interrupt. Not once did he try to interfere, tell you that you were wrong or that you were overthinking it. He waited patiently until you were done. But even when you had said everything that was weighing heavy on your chest, he stayed quiet for another beat more.

“I’d feel the same exact way if I was in your shoes,” he commented. All you could do was roll your eyes.

“You can call me crazy if you want to. I know I am.” You didn’t need him to validate your feelings. If it was anyone else, of course they would feel comforted in his words. Isn’t that the whole reason why you vent to someone? So that you could have someone on your side? At this point, you didn’t need that. What did you need…?

“You’re not crazy. I’m serious. Your partner’s dead girlfriend comes back from the dead and tries to get him back while you’re still together… sounds like a movie. Your life is a movie.”

“If my life were a movie, where’s my happy ending?” you laid your head on the side of the couch while stretching out your legs so that they were resting on top of Deku’s lap. Not that he cared anyway. Actually, he gladly accepted the weight as if it was natural that your legs be there.

“You’ll get one,” he tried to reassure you, but you weren’t so sure about that.

“How do you know? I heard some people are destined to be alone for the rest of their lives. I’m probably one of them,” you muttered the last comment to yourself. Not so subtly as you thought.

“No, you’re not,” he negated you. You gave him those ‘are-you-kidding-me’ kind of eyes.

“How can you be so sure?” you questioned him.

“I know you’re feeling like it’s the end of the world. And I may not know what its like to be in your exact shoes, but I know it gets better.” Cue the eye roll.

“Such a typical thing to say.”

“Typical, but is it not the truth?” Deku challenged you back. All you could do was poke at your noodles and pout. “Look, I know you really liked him…”

“I loved him…” you corrected. Deku was a little taken aback. The air became uncomfortable for a split second until he cleared his throat to correct himself.

“…loved him. But, at the end of the day, he didn’t treat you right. And more importantly, he didn’t choose you. Why would you waste your tears on a guy like him? Because he gave you good memories? Because he made you feel good? You think there’s not another guy out there that can do those same things?” Deku was making very good points. But you couldn’t believe a single word he was saying.

“What if I can’t find another guy?” you ask softly. Do you really believe you could find a better guy than Bakugou.

“I’ve known Bakugou for a long time. Trust me when I say you can find so many guys that are better than Bakugou.” He tried to reassure you, once again. But once again, doubt filled your mind.

“I can find them, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll like me or even want to be with me.”

“(y/n)… are you kidding me? Any guy would be lucky to be in a relationship with you.”

“Izuku, I’m serious…” you wanted to play it off, because everything he was saying about you wasn’t true. Any guy would be lucky to be with you? You? There was nothing that made you special.

“I am serious.” Deku’s tone changed. It was a matter of fact. Glancing up at him, his brows were slightly furrowed, lips frowning in seriousness, eyes piercing right at you. You had to look back down at your uneaten food to avoid the intense expression. “Do you not know what a catch you are? You’re kind, funny, intelligent, and so pr-… so pretty…” The green-haired hero didn’t mean for that last comment to get out, but since he already let it slip, he had to follow through. But not before a rush of red made it to the middle of his cheeks.

“You can say that about literally anybody. Being kind and smart and decent looking doesn’t mean that people are going to like me.” You counterargued.

“Okay. You want me to be more specific? Every time you walk into a room, the room lights up with how bright you are. You are humble and carry yourself with confidence, but not enough that it’s arrogant or cocky. You are always kind to others and welcome everyone that comes into the group. You listen to others with next level enthusiasm, I don’t even know how you do it. I’ve seen you encourage others when they are down. You’re a good person, (y/n). You make me want to be like you. If that doesn’t get to you, I don’t know what will.” Deku shyly laughs, looking away so you don’t see the blush on his face getting deeper and deeper.

You listened. And it made you think. You couldn’t really deny that those facts are true. However true they may be, you couldn’t help but think… is that enough? But the fact that Deku was able to read you like that, means he was really paying attention to you. Guess that wasn’t a surprise given how attentive he was to others during his school days. You didn’t know what to say. The only response you were able to muster up was scooting closer to him, head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping instinctively around you.

“Thanks…” you muttered into his chest. Deku couldn’t help but sigh and pat your hair, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” He whispered back. He was right. God, was he right. You’ve been so hard on yourself, being so negative, swallowed by your emotions. Having a friend here was definitely a blessing in disguise. After being convinced that you deserve everything that came to you, maybe listening to Deku wasn’t such a bad idea now. And now you think, having a friend by your side wasn’t so bad after all.

Getting back on track was not a walk in the park. You couldn’t just magically get back into your routine with a snap of a finger. There were still days when you didn’t want to get up from your bed. There were days where all you wanted to do was cry. Thankfully, there was a gentle giant there to cradle you in his arms, brushing his hands through your hair while silent tears streak down your cheek. He would let you fall in and out of sleep in his arms. It didn’t matter if his arm would fall asleep. That static feeling he would feel when you finally got off of him? Didn’t stop him from doing it over and over again. And he didn’t dare move his arm when you were sleeping so soundly in his arms.

Izuku Midoriya never got upset when it came to you. He was there to support you, and that’s what he was going to do. He made sure you took care of yourself, that you were eating properly and at least taking care of your hygiene. There was only one instance where he did let his emotions overcome him.

He thought you were making such good progress. You were eating more. You didn’t need to be told to do things around this house. You were out of your bed more often. He thought you were starting to forget about the tragic heartache. So why did he come home to find you frantically packing clothes in a bag.

“(y/n)?” he gently called out, almost carefully. He gently slid off his shoes and approached you but you were too fast and too frantic to pay him any mind.

“Woah, (y/n), what are you doing? Where are you going?” Deku finally stepped in your way. You snapped out of your trance and looked at him with widened, tearful eyes.

“I made a mistake.” You admitted.

“A mistake? What are you talking about?” Deku tried searching your face for any clues about what ‘mistake’ you were addressing and why it had you so panicked. He didn’t expect the next thing to come out of your mouth to cause his heart to drop to his stomach.

“I want him back.” Him? There could only be one person you were talking about.

“…What?” Deku fully stopped in his tracks and his mind went completely blank. His pause allowed you to continue with your packing. You just filled your bag with whatever clothes you could grab, not minding what ended up in there. As long as you had the essentials and the bag was filled, you were ready to go to the airport and fly on the next plane back.

You zipped your clothes-filled bag and tried to bolt out the door, but your sudden quickness helped Deku come out of his trance. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

“Now wait a second, (y/n). Let’s think about this,” he wanted to convince you not to go back to him. He needed to convince you. He didn’t know what happened for you to all of a sudden come to this conclusion, but you weren’t in your right mind.

“Please…” you begged. “I have to go back to him. I want to start over.”

“Start over? But you’ve been doing so well. You were starting to get back to normal!” he had thought.

“Normal?” you grabbed a fist full of your shirt where your aching heart lay. “I feel like I’m breaking apart, Izuku. Ever since that day, I felt this constant emptiness inside of me. Like something’s always missing. I can’t keep living like this. I need him to make me feel whole again. I can’t keep falling apart like this!” you sobbed.

“What about me?” Deku raised his voice. Your sobs halted at his unexpected reaction. “You think I’ve just been here by your side every single day, watching you break because I don’t care? You have this emptiness inside you, well I’m here. I’ve been trying to be that one constant when everything around you is falling apart.” His words panged at your heart. However true that might be, you still couldn’t give up on him. You shook your head and tried to make your way past time towards the door.

“I know. But I can’t give up on him.” Your shoulder pushed past him. But Deku had had enough. He grabbed your arm, gently but firmly, and spun you back around to face him.

“Let’s not forget who gave up on who. He left you for another woman. Why would you want him back after he treated you like trash? You deserve so much more than someone who doesn’t value you.” Deku’s heart pounded with each second that passed. Has he ever been so harsh with his words with you? Never. But he felt like he needed to in order for you to accept reality. And the truth of the matter is, Bakugou didn’t choose you.

“But I don’t know how to let go,” your voice trembled, finally giving up. Deku’s matched trembling voice got as equally quiet.

“Then let me help you. Let me show you that you can live without him. You are strong. You don’t have to go through this alone.” He reminded you. Slowly, you dropped the bag on the floor and surrendered to him.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“You can. And you will. I’ll be here every step of the way. Just… stay.”

You had to try. No matter how hard it was or how much you really didn’t want to or have the strength to, you had to try to get over him. You admit, you can’t act like this forever. Especially since Izuku is trying so hard to help you. The least you could do was try for his sake.

Another weekend you spent wasting away in bed while Deku was typing away on his computer on the desk next to you. Was he playing a game? Was he playing games? Or searching the web? Unclear, but he was busy focusing on that screen. Speaking of screens. You grabbed your phone and finally started to scroll through videos you had missed out. The audio of the videos played out loud and even though Deku couldn’t exactly make out what you were watching, he felt a bit relief that you weren’t aimlessly looking at the ceiling anymore. And instead, looked aimlessly at your phone. Nothing much you had to catch up: some political drama, world news, comedy sketches, fashion advice and… relationship advice. Yuck. You weren’t in the mood for ‘relationship’ advice. Every time one of those videos came on, you hit the ‘not interested’ button.

Ah, this is what you were looking for. Cute videos of animals… and babies… better yet, baby animals! Your favorite creators also posted a lot while you were away, so of course you had to watch those too. By the time you knew it, hours were passing by. But neither one of you would say a word to each other. Both of you were doing your own thing while just basking in each other’s presence. Izuku would sneak a peek at you from time to time, just to see how you were going. Completely absorbed. At least you were distracted and not full in sorrow. That’s progress if he’s ever seen it.

One video in particular was the turning point. You came across one of your favorite content creators and they were imitating Judge Judy so perfectly that you didn’t know a smile had crept on your face. By the end of the video, a small giggle had escaped your lips.

Ba-dump.

A cliché. But his heart beat so loud that it rung in his ears. Deku immediately stopped what he was doing and spun his head towards you with wide eyes. There it was. That smile. Something he hasn’t seen in a hot second. He didn’t think he would see it so early, but he wasn’t complaining. You were so immersed in your phone and you didn’t realize that Deku has shut his laptop closed. You only noticed him when you felt a dip in the bed and Deku was suddenly laying down next to you.

“What’s so funny? Can I watch?” Deku giddily asked. A smile was wide across his face and eyes were bright with amusement. He needed to see what video finally got a smile and laugh out of you. You gladly obliged, scooting over to make more room for him. As Deku got more comfortable on the bed, you decided that you also needed to get in a position where you both could see the screen. Once Deku got situated, you moved his arm over and placed your head on his chest, holding up the phone in front of you both. Deku was flustered to say the least. His hands stayed frozen in the air from when you moved them.

“Really?” you were confused by his actions. “We’ve been cuddling for how long? You should be used to this by now.”

“Yeah, but those times were different…” Deku tried to make an excuse. You frown, a little disappointed by his reaction.

“Oh, well then,” you say, starting to get off him. If he felt uncomfortable, then that’s the last thing you wanted to do. You thought you guys were close enough to be doing these kinds of things without any judgement. You didn’t even know you were crossing any lines. Looks like you were wrong. So you’ll gladly set boundaries if you had to.

But that’s not what Deku was feeling at all. He sensed the change in atmosphere and panicked. You were getting up too fast. He needed to fix the situation. He wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you back into his chest, firmly resting his arms around your waist with no intention of moving it.

“Change of heart, huh,” you mumbled because it was so hard to talk when your face was squished in between the mounds of his pecs. Blush crept to his cheeks and sweat began to run down his back. Yeah, well… something was up with his heart.

“Just show me the video,” he couldn’t find an excuse so he had to bring it back to why he was originally there in the first place. Thank god you couldn’t hear how fast and how hard his heart was beating under his chest.

That was truly only the start of you getting back to your normal daily routine. You found yourself smiling a little more, laughing a little more. You started getting out of the house more often, going on walks with Deku, going grocery shopping with Deku, cooking with Deku, freshening up your apartment with Deku. Even without the help of your friend, you were able to be by yourself. You wouldn’t be able to be more independent if it weren’t for your trusty headphones. You had to listen to music, a podcast, something or else dark thoughts will start enveloping and you didn’t want to go back in that hole again.

Each day you started to feel a bit better. With music blasting through your headphones, you danced around the apartment doing your chores, while you were cooking, cleaning, going grocery shopping, clothes shopping. Anything you could think of, you were doing it with your music. You were your own concert. To many, it may seem like such a small feat, but this was the one thing that was truly making you feel like you again.

So there you were, happily dancing in your kitchen, creating some deliciously smelling cookies. The smell and taste of a fresh, homemade chocolate chip cookie can truly melt all your troubles away. Maybe you should have done it sooner. You were mixing the ingredients together in a bowl, letting your hips sway to the music that was playing via speaker. Because sometimes you have to let your ears take a rest from having earphones in all day. The music was so loud and you were so into your baking, that you didn’t hear Deku come through the front door. The moment he laid eyes on you, he swore that he was swooning for you all over again like it was the first time.

This was the (y/n) he knew. The fun, care-free woman that captures the attention of every person in the room. Look at you dancing, like no one was watching. You did think no one was watching. He could appreciate your looks and your dancing all day, but he wanted in on the fun as well.

“Oh, this is my jam!” he exclaimed loudly. A small squeal escaped your lips as you spun around, hands covering your mouth and heart beating out of your chest. Your squeal turned into a fit of laughter and also embarrassment when Deku suddenly began to create his own dance moves. Hands all over the place, feet uncoordinated, hips not even swaying to the beat of the song, he looked down right silly. But you couldn’t stop smiling nonetheless.

“Stop! You’re so embarrassing!” you laughed, trying to cover your eyes but peeked through a few fingers to see him still doing the same thing. Only, he was getting closer and closer to you.

“How can I stop when you’re playing my favorite song?” he shimmied his way over to you. What made it worse was that he was trying to sing along with the lyrics. But Deku was never good at memorizing lyrics, so he was always a beat too late when it came to the words.

“Fine, I’ll change the song,” you couldn’t bare the sight any longer. You grabbed your phone with full intent on changing the song but Izuku was faster. He almost grabbed your phone out of your hands but you moved your body in a way where it blocked him, outreaching your hand even more to get the phone away from him.

“It’s my phone!” you playfully yelled.

“And it’s my song!” he argued back. Deku being the big, oversized hero that he was, you were already no match for him. He easily grabbed your phone and replayed the song from the start. He muttered a small ‘yes’ as his form of victory.

“That’s not fair!” you began to argue. How could it have been fair when the size comparison between you two were just out of this world? You went to face him but stumbled your words when you realized how close Deku was. You were pressed against the counter, his body flushed against yours, his broad chest right in your face. He was so close that the smell on his cologne caught on his shirt wafted through your nose. And come to think of it, has he always been his muscular before? You guess you never noticed how toned and in shape your green-haired friend was.

“Totally fair! I was killing it with my super stylish moves and you cut it off!” he joked back, but you weren’t quite responding. Weird, you’d have a little banter by now. He looked down to see your face flushed with embarrassment and that’s when he realized how close he was to you. Was it his turn to get embarrassed now? He removed himself off you and cleared this throat.

“It smells good! Cookies?” he changed the subject.

“Oh! Uh, yeah! I made a small batch earlier to test it out, wanna try?” you hurriedly said. You picked up a small cookie and shoved it down Deku’s throat without so much as a warning.

“Mmm,” he hummed in satisfaction. “Now that’s a good cookie.”

That was such a Deku thing to do: always praise you, no matter how big or how small. How could one person have so much positivity, so much happiness? After all the negative energy you put out and put him through, none of it rubbed off on him. Surely, he has his down days too.

“You’re so good to me,” you suddenly turned serious.

“Because you’re a good person.” Izuku brushed some hair out of your face and gently cupped your cheeks. “Look at you. You are doing so well.”

“Because of you.” You admit.

“No. You did that all by yourself.” Deku corrected.

“You did help.”

“I did help,” Deku admit a little bit, “but it was truly all you. You had the strength to pull yourself back together. And you are so cool and strong for that.” You admit, you couldn’t have gotten so far and where you are today if it wasn’t for Izuku by your side. Sure, you did most of the heavy lifting and you had to do all this yourself, but Izuku was your rock through it all. He was the backbone of every step of the way.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” his voice got incredibly soft.

“Everything. How I worried you, and yelled at you and said mean things to you even though all you were doing was trying to cheer me up. How I treated you. And for how I treated myself.”

“Hey, nobody’s perfect, right? All we can do is aim to be a better person for ourselves, no one else. You’re doing just that.” He ruffled the side of your hair.

“You forgive me right?” you broke away from his grasp and embraced him in a hug. Deku chuckled and hugged you right back.

“Of course I forgive you, silly.”

“Thanks… now can you help me make the rest of these cookies?”

And ever since that moment, the moment where you decided to forgive yourself is the moment where you finally accepted that the relationship is over. And that you can’t do anything about it. Not in a pitiful way, but more of a way that it couldn’t be helped. The only way forward is to accept the fact that it happened and move on. Not to dwell in the past. There was nothing more you could have done. Well, you could have not acted the way that you acted, but it was a learning process in the making. It’s time to learn from your mistakes and try to not let it happen again. Or at least, try to manage it better.

Soon were the days where there were no more tears. You didn’t need constant music to drown out your thoughts. The heavy weight on your chest vanished in thin air. Your smile finally returned. One that would come naturally and never forced. You found yourself making more friends and going out to more events. Your eyes turn into crescents every time you laugh. You laugh as if there’s not a care in the world. And every time Deku got a glimpse of that gorgeous, addictive laugh, it was music to his ears. He couldn’t name a better sight to behold.

Now it was no secret that Izuku Midoriya was head over heels for you. How could he not? You guys were inseparable; always going to events together, going out to eat, going to the movies. You guys were each other’s ‘dates’ when the occasion arose. Hell, you were basically roommates because he would never go home. One might argue that you were together, just no labels. But you, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to Deku’s feelings and everyone’s feelings towards the two of you. You saw nothing wrong with how you two were acting. Yes, you were close. Yes, you cuddled here and there. Yes, he was your rock. Yes, he was very attentive and caring and charming and funny and goofy and strong and cute…

But you’ve always acted like this towards each other! Ever since the beginning so what makes it different now?

“It’s because he ~loves~ you,” your friend teased in a sing-song like way. She had come over to help you figure out what this whole situation is. Her response just made you roll your eyes at her unbelievably ridiculous claim.

“I don’t know how you guys could say that!”

“I don’t know how you CAN’T see it!” she retaliated.

“What’s there to see? This is normal behavior! Just because you aren’t as close with your guy friends doesn’t make our relationship any different.” You pointed out.

“(y/n)… he treats you like a queen. You know, every time we go to the bar, he stares down every guy who looks your way. He’s always behind you so you don’t get pushed. He holds your drink for you whenever we go to the bathroom. He buys your drinks! Tell me when the last time you bought your own drink at the club? He is so head over heels for you!” your friend kept pushing examples in your face, but… that was normal right? Don’t all male friends act protective over their female friends at clubs? You had thought that was normal behavior. Because why would anyone want to see their friend being pushed and uncomfortable at the club when all you’re trying to do is have fun?

“He’s not…” you kept denying.

“You know what? This is lowkey making me mad. He is. You just have to accept it. You don’t have to do anything! But just acknowledge that he likes you.”

“He’s just a good person! He’s kind to everyone!”

“He is. But does he drop everything: his career, his family, his friends, to be by everyone’s side? Does he stay with us until the crack of dawn when we’re crying over our ex? Does he smile at us the way he smiles at you? With all the love and care in the world as if you were a precious artifact? NO! There’s a difference between being nice and… that.”

“Okay. You say he likes me. Have you heard it come from his lips?” you challenged. If Izuku hasn’t personally said it, then there was no need to make assumptions.

“Well, no…” your friend couldn’t defend herself there. See? Why should you believe anything if Izuku didn’t say it himself.

“Then what if you’re wrong? What happens if I believe that he likes me, I make a move and confess, and it turns out, he never liked me at all?” a slight pause.

“Oh so you like him?” your friend raised a curious yet playful brow.

“Well I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with him… but…” god, you can’t believe you were gonna say this.

“But…?”

“I’m just afraid.” You confess.

“Of what?”

“Just what if he doesn’t feel the same? Or worse – he does, but I’m just rebounding? He doesn’t deserve that, no matter how I feel.” No matter how you think about it, it just didn’t seem right to be with Deku. Him and your ex were friends. Doesn’t seem right that your next relationship is with your ex’s friend. Moreover, to everyone else, it’s going to look like a rebound relationship. Deku was with you through everything, but that doesn’t mean your feelings for Bakugou are totally over with. You could be getting together with Deku just to get over your feelings for Bakugou. And that wouldn’t be very honest of you. Even if it wasn’t true, that’s how the relationship would look like to outsiders perspectives.

“Oof, that is a tough one… But let me ask you this: are you happy when you’re around him?” she asked you.

“Immensely. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe, like I can finally be myself and breathe again.” You tried to stop the smile that was forming on your lips, but every time you thought about him or how he makes you feel, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Then I think it’s time that you talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel. Be really honest about everything on your mind and in your heart. If he’s the right person for you, then he’ll understand. And you’ll be able to work things out.”

Easier said than done.

When the situation finally presented itself, your nerves were off the charts.

“Izuku… Can I… ask you something?” you ask nervously. The green-haired hero was sitting on the bed next to you, was tightening the screws of his glasses. He was being so nonchalant, completely oblivious to the fact that you couldn’t stop fidgeting with your fingers. Were you really going to ask? Was this the best time? The best place?

“Of course, what’s on your mind?” he asked, not looking up from his handywork.

“I overheard something but I didn’t know if it was true and I wanted to ask you just to make sure…”

“Oh, gossiping were we? With who?” now he sounded a little bit more interested.

“One of the girls.” You were being so vague.

“Yeah? And what did she say?”

“That you liked me.” Silence. The hand that was busy with the screwdriver had suddenly froze in thin air and he refused to look at you. Fuck, you knew this wasn’t a good idea. The air between the two of you became thick, like you couldn’t swallow. Cold sweat began to run down your back and you wanted to run and hide and forget that this conversation had ever happened. But then.

“Of course I like you.” Either he was avoiding the conversation or he wasn’t getting what you were trying to hint at. Sure, you knew he liked you as a friend. But that really wasn’t the question you were asking. You had to pry to get a real answer.

“Well yeah, but like, do you like like me? More than a friend? Because everyone is convinced that you like like me and that I’m the only one who doesn’t see it.” Deku smirked, a small laugh escaped his lips as he continued to tighten his glasses.

“I thought I was hiding it better than that. But yes, I do like like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.” He confessed. Oh. He actually… no way. Is this real? Was he lying? Is this a joke? Does he really like you? So all your friends could see it. How long did they know? And why would he like you? He saw how much of a mess you were, how hung up you were about your ex. Why would he fall for you? And what did he mean when he said he liked you for a long time? What does that mean? Since when? There were so many questions yet you couldn’t ask a single one. You were just in shock. But you hadn’t realized you’d been quiet for a long time. And then Deku started to become nervous.

“Does knowing that make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly, putting your arms up in defense. Deku subtly blew out a sigh of relief. “But, where do we go from here?”

“We don’t have to do anything. Just because I like you doesn’t mean the relationship that we have now has to change. Unless, you want it to change? How do you feel knowing that I like you?” Deku was looking at you a little hopeful. How did you feel? You could only tell him honestly from your heart.

“I like it.” You say and you stared straight into his eyes, never breaking eye contact. No matter how heated your cheeks got, you wanted him to know that you meant what you said.

“You like it?” he questioned as if he couldn’t believe it. Deku nodded his head in understanding, looking away from you. He smiled to himself then looks back at you, head tilted with the most flirtatious eyes. “Then you like me, too?” God, how could he look at you like that?

“Yeah…” you said shyly, having to look away from his intense gaze.

“Then what do you want to do?” he asks, gently taking your hand in his.

“I don’t know. Because I don’t want you to think I’m using you as a rebound or that I’m rushing into something because I’m lonely.” You felt too guilty. You couldn’t look him in the face anymore, ashamed that he was thinking exactly what you were afraid of. So you looked down at your fingers intertwined, playing with the tips of his fingers.

“Well I don’t think that, first of all,” he interjected.

“If we were to date, I want my feelings for you to be real. And genuine. And so, I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know if I’m ready right now but I’d like to try.”

“(y/n), I don’t want you rushing into anything if you’re not 100%.” Deku reaches over with his other hand and tucks the side of your hair behind your ear. “And if that means I’ll have to wait, then I’ll wait for you for another 100 years until you’re ready. If you need time to sort out your feelings, I’ll wait. If you find that you don’t want to be in a relationship, that’s fine with me. All I want is your happiness, with or without me. No pressure, no expectations. Just when you’re ready, you let me know.” And with that ladies and gentlemen, you couldn’t ask for a better response.

“You’re such a good guy.” You say with such fondness in your voice.

“Thank my mom.” He cracked a joke. Oh, he still has room for jokes. He turned the serious, almost awkward atmosphere into something light and playful, which you were grateful for. He knew exactly when and how to make you feel better. But you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, bumping his shoulder playfully as you laughed it off. Deku laughed with you. But while you looked away to laugh, he never took his eyes off you, soft and unwavering, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world.

You took a deep, shaky breath. The nerves were hitting your stomach once again and you felt sick to the point where you wanted to throw up and pass out. You can’t believe you were in this position again. You thought you would never come to one of these again. You thought you would never see these people again. But here you were, supporting your boyfriend on one of his biggest nights. Deku tried to persuade you to stay home. He had told you that knowing that you supported him behind the scenes was enough. Coming to these parties didn’t mean anything. He almost declined the invitation to this party to make you feel more comfortable but you couldn’t let him do that. This party was celebrating another year of him becoming the new symbol of peace, the number one hero. Sure, its been multiple years in a row for him, but nevertheless, there was still a party to commemorate his success. You were going to be the supporting girlfriend that you were, even if that means you’d have to run into him.

You know he’s inside. He didn’t go to many events but with important ones like these, he had to show his face. You didn’t know how to feel in this moment. Should you be nervous to show your face to this group of people again? Should you be ashamed to be arm in arm with your ex’s friend? Should you feel anxious to see the ex who threw you away to be with his ex again? Maybe it should be a mix of all of these. You just knew that your nerves were on edge and you just can’t seem to calm yourself down after going through every possible scenario in your head. Would there be a big commotion? Would a fight break out? Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe if he is there and you did see him, maybe he’ll act like he doesn’t even know you. Would that make you feel relieved? Would that hurt your feelings? Would-

Deku leaned in so that his face was right in front of yours. The proximity of his face snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you were being so quiet next to him. And Deku knows that when you’re too quiet, you were overthinking.

He starts to lean in closer as if he was going to kiss you. So you closed your eyes, preparing for your boyfriend’s lips to meet yours. But it never came. Instead, he snickers.

“Waiting for something?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and lightly push him away.

“Not anymore,” you say with a pout. Deku couldn’t help but love this side of you. He3 knew you were disappointed and trust, he wanted to kiss you just as badly, but seeing your cute, pouty lips was a sight he couldn’t resist seeing.

“Come here,” Deku pulled you in before you could escape and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. The kiss was powerful and steady yet gentle and full of emotion. Like he wasn’t in a rush to go anymore and wanted to take his time showing you how he truly felt. You felt everything he was trying to convey within the kiss. Love, pride, affection, encouragement, reassurance. You were beginning to enjoy the kiss, but felt disappointment when he pulled away what felt like was too quick.

“We can leave whenever you want, m’kay?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Okay. Promise?” you whisper back, comforted by any sort of touch of his.

“When have I ever broken my promise?” Deku cheekily said. “Now, (y/n) is what?”

“Are we really doing this?” you asked, embarrassed. You can’t believe he was making you do that here, of all places. But Izuku wasn’t listening or moving until you finished what he wanted you to say. He leaned his ear closer to you because he wanted to make sure he could hear all the important things coming out of your mouth.

“…strong…” you mumbled, embarrassed out of your mind. You hated this self-confidence bit as you don’t believe in the words you said. But Deku insisted that this exercise would help you see the true you.

“And?” he wanted you to continue. You blushed a deep red.

“And confident.”

“And?”

“And cool.”

“Aaaand?”

“Beautiful.”

“Damn right you are,” he confirmed before giving you a quick peck. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Fortunately, Bakugou was nowhere in sight from the moment you had entered the venue. That gave you a little breather and one less thing to worry about. The obstacle you had to pass now were all the stares that you were getting. As you passed each guest, being hyper aware of your surroundings, you could not ignore the whispers being spread around the venue hall. Was it because you were with the number one hero or was it because you were with the number one hero?

The first hour went by okay. You still weren’t completely relaxed or comfortable with the crowd you were being introduced to. You timidly introduced yourself and tried to just listen in on the conversations being held while Deku was doing all the talking. From time to time, he would squeeze your hand to let you know that while it may look like all his attention was on the company present, he was still thinking about your well-being. You were so distracted by meeting to many people, that you hadn’t realized that Bakugou wasn’t on your mind and you didn’t even question why you hadn’t bumped into him at all. Maybe you were lucky and he wasn’t going to show up, you thought… what was until…

It was like the red sea was parting. You were by Deku’s side, immersed into a conversation that you really had no intention in partaking and just as you decided to glance around, that was when the sea of people split down the middle, revealing a familiar blonde that had your heart clenching and breath caught in your throat.

Bakugou didn’t know what made him turn to the side. Intuition? Fate? Destiny? Love? When he saw you, he almost didn’t recognize that it was you. Because there was no way that you were just going to appear in front of him again after all these years. But it was you. There you were. Staring right back at him with wide eyes. There were times when he thought he had saw you randomly in the street, only for it to be a stranger. There was never a physical reaction. But this time, the pang of his heart was so heavy that there was no doubt in his mind that this was really you. When his mind fully registered that the love that got away was staring at him, he instantly put his glass on wine down and made his way towards you.

No. No. No.

There was no way he was walking to you right now.

In a panicked state, you had gripped onto Deku’s arm tightly and took a step back. The sudden action caught Deku’s attention instantly. He looked down at where your arms were gripping his dress shirt and then glanced to see your frightened expression. You were staring a something – or somebody – so he followed your gaze to what you so appalled by. When he saw Bakugou powerfully walk in their direction, Deku’s protective mood quickly switched on and he hid you behind him.

“Don’t do this right now,” Deku whispered yelled, walking up to Bakugou with an equally powerful stride to meet him halfway, blocking Bakugou’s path to you. He didn’t want to make a big scene but that might be easier said than done.

“Just let me talk to her,” Bakugou said desperate yet through gritted teeth. He was overcome with emotion, he doesn’t even know which one to show or feel. Anger. Desperation. Longing. He was feeling it all at once.

“You need to calm down first,” Deku warned, stopped Bakugou with a hand to his chest.

“I am calm,” he claimed with clenched teeth, the quite opposite of calm.

“If your goal is to start a scene, then be my guest. But you’re gonna have a hell of a hard time getting past me first. So I suggest you walk away right now,” Deku threatened, turning Bakugou’s energy back on him, his tone firm and final. Bakugou quickly scanned the room and even though the two of them were trying to be as discreet as possible, there were a few eyes and whispers aimed at them already. It didn’t help that those two were the two main characters of the night for the special awards. To cause a fight right here right now would not look good in the press tomorrow. There was going to be another opportunity, he convinced himself. He was going to make sure of it. So he backed down. He grit his teeth in compliance and took a few steps back. He then took another glance at you before retreating back into the sea of guests.

You had been on edge for the rest of the night. You were a fool to think that you weren’t going to run into your ex. It was only a matter of time before you two met again, but for some reason, you weren’t expecting that kind of encounter. Hell, what kind of reaction were you even expecting? You thought he would blow you off, act as if he never knew you. That would have been a blow to your ego but would have probably been the best case scenario. But the fact that he was trying to come up to you? For what reason? He didn’t look like he was going for a friendly greeting either. But for the rest of the night, you were paranoid that he was constantly watching you. You couldn’t help the feeling of a constant pair of eyes on you and that he was always close by. But when you turn your head to take in your surroundings, he was never there. You were all in your head which prevented you from being good company to Deku. Deku wasn’t oblivious to your behavior either. He was probably equally on edge as you, but just could hide it a bit better than you. After all, there were so many cameras and people watching him.

“Need a break? Or should we just go home now?” Deku leaned in to whisper into your ear. He could see how anxious Bakugou’s presence made you. If you weren’t going to speak up, he wanted to give you a chance to choose.

“We can’t go home. You haven’t gotten your award yet,” you argued. As if the hero cared about some dumb award he wins every year.

“You know that doesn’t matter to me. We can leave right now if you want.”

“Can we leave right after you get your award then?” you compromised.

“Deal.” Deku promised.

“I think I need to take a breather though. I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you inform him. Yeah, a breather is what you need, to calm your mind.

“Let me come with you,” he insisted, already putting a protective hand on your back to guide you to the restroom. But you put a hand up to stop him.

“I can go by myself. Wait for me here?”

“I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything,” and with that, he sends you away with a quick peck on the cheek.

God, why was it so hard to find the restroom? The place was too huge not to have signs pointing where the ladies room was. You were sure there were some closer, but you got so lost that you ended up in the restroom farthest from the event hall. No problem. This was probably better anyway. The farther you were, the less people, which means you could finally relax and clear your mind.

You stood over the sink as you allowed the water to run its course. The sound of running water helped you organize your thoughts a bit better. So, Bakugou, your ex who chose another woman over you, is here. From what you saw, Uraraka was not by his side. But maybe you just didn’t see her. He saw you and wanted to come up to you. Had your boyfriend not stopped him, what would he have said to you? What would you have said to him? Would you react the same way regardless if he was angry at you or if he just wanted to say hi? You need to come up with a plan in case he really does try to approach you again. All you have to say is that you’re happy now and that you’ve moved on. Perfect. There’s no need for further explanation. You’re sure Bakugou doesn’t care about the details nor will he ask about how you were after the breakup anyway. Okay. You got this. You turned the faucet off, gathered your belongings and prepared yourself to go back out there and face your fears. But when you went to open the bathroom door, it was already opening itself so you made room for the next person to come in. Only, that person blocked you in and wouldn’t let you past.

“Excus- Bakugou?” you exclaimed with widened eyes. Words cannot describe how in shock you were to see your ex walk through that door. Not only was he physically in the way so you couldn’t leave, he locked the bathroom door to really make sure you were both stuck in there.

“(y/n),” he called out to you. But you were not having it.

“You cannot be serious right now,” you mumbled to yourself but loud enough for him to hear it. You grabbed your phone and dialed Deku’s number but Bakugou was quick to grab it from you.

“(y/n), we need to talk,” he insisted. How dare he barge in here and demand things from you.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You stood your ground.

“You have nothing to say? So you’re not even gonna explain why you disappeared on me like that? You deleted every single thing, your number, our pictures together, every single memory of ours… erased. You didn’t even say goodbye and you have nothing to say?” you could tell he was getting angrier and angrier with every word by the way his breath was more rapid, his chest heaving up and down, and the fists on his sides were tightening around themselves.

“What do you want me to say?” you felt like you were going to explode. “How much it hurt to see the love of your life fall out of love with you in front of your very eyes? How it was easier to just disappear than to see you spend another second with her?”

“I never fell out of love with you.” He said with a fact of fact.

“Stop it. You gave up on us.” You had to remind him.

“I was trying to make it work.” He excused. You couldn’t help but scoff.

“How?! She was always in the picture. You never came home on time. You were always messaging her. You always met with her. You never paid attention to me. How were you possibly trying to make it work?!” now it was your turn to get angry. You couldn’t understand where he was coming from. Trying to make your relationship work? No matter how you saw it, no matter how many times you tried to put yourself in his shoes, his actions didn’t make any sense.

“I had to confirm!” he raised his voice. “I had to confirm my feelings for her were over with. I had to make sure. Yes, I was confused but the more I was with her, the more I realized that she was not the one I wanted. It was you. It was you this entire time. It’s still you. Do you know how much, how long I searched for you?” he suddenly dropped a bombshell that you weren’t expecting. Because what do you mean he looked for you?

“You did?” you questioned. Suddenly, your emotions of anger turned into disbelief and your heart began to race.

“Yes. That night… the night you left, I was going to tell you everything. When you gave me that letter to go to the rooftop, I was so happy. But when it wasn’t you there… God, (y/n), I never stopped looking for you.” His voice became soft, almost below a whisper. Had you heard these words a year ago, you might have accepted his words. You might have been so happy that you would jumped straight into his arms and take him back without a moment’s hesitation. And the pull of your heartstrings at his words now… were your emotions being swayed?

Meanwhile, Izuku was scanning every bathroom he could find. You were successful in calling him before Bakugou was able to grab it from you, so he heard your entire conversation together. Izuku was frantic and desperate, gripping the phone in his hand so tightly, any tighter it would shatter completely. His heart was pounding, his mind going a complete blank because… you can’t go back to him.

“Look, I know I messed up. But if you give me another chance, I can make it right again.” Bakugou steadily took your hand in his. The feeling of his calloused fingers in yours made you almost burst into tears. For a long time, all you wanted was to see him, to touch him, to smell him, to hear those words. Now that he was right here, literally in the palm of your hands, you could finally get what you wanted-

BANG BANG BANG!

“(y/n!)” you heard Izuku’s voice yelling out your name from the other side of the door. Your head whipped towards the direction of his voice, snapping you out of your trance.

“No…” you whisper.

“(y/n)?” Bakugou called, but Izuku’s knocks were getting louder and more powerful.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku called out to you once again. He knew you were in there. This bathroom was the only one with the door locked. Even if he couldn’t hear your voice or confirm that it was actually you in there, his gut instinct was telling him that you were. He wiggled the door handle uselessly. When that didn’t work, he tried to slam his body against the door to break it down but it was surprisingly sturdier than he had expected.

“Open the door!” Izuku demanded, not resting as he still continued to break down the door.

“(y/n), please. Give me one more chance,” Bakugou panicked.

“No!” you screamed, ripping your hands out of Bakugou’s grip. “It’s over, Bakugou. It’s been over since the moment you picked her.”

“But I didn’t pick her! I picked you!”

“Well you didn’t show it. I was so tired Bakugou. That entire time, I felt like your second-pick and that you were using me as a placeholder for her. You were always with her. How did you think that made me feel? After I poured my heart out to you, you said you needed time. Well I gave you more than enough time to figure out your feelings and the fact that you were always with her just confirmed to me how you were feeling.”

“Open this door NOW!” Deku screamed again. His shoulder pounded against the door, the door opening slightly but not enough to fully break in. He didn’t want to use his quirk over something like this, but if you guys were being stubborn then he’ll have no choice.

“But, I can make it right. If you give me one more chance, I can-” Bakugou went down to his knees.

“It’s too late.” You tell him.

“If you don’t open this door when I get to three, I’m breaking it down!” Izuku warned.

“Too late? But why does it have to be too late? Why can’t we – I don’t care about the past anymore. I don’t care about her. I don’t care if you’re with stupid Deku. Just tell me that there’s still a chance for us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ONE!”

“So what now?”

“We have to move on.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“TWO!”

“Bakugou…”

“(y/n), I’m begging you. How can I move on when I’m still in love with you?”

“You can’t say that. It’s too late for that now.”

“THREE!”

The door to the bathroom bursts open, revealing a glowing green Izuku. In the end, he did what he had to do in order to get to you. Izuku was beyond furious. His eyes locked onto Bakugou, blazing and wild with fury. He looked at him with something so dark no one would dare approach him. His breath so ragged and uneven, like he was barely holding himself back and lunging towards the blonde hero.

“You son of a bitch!” Izuku screamed, grabbing Bakugou by the collar, raising his fists so high in the air, ready to give him a piece of his mind. But you grabbed onto Izuku, stopping him just in time before his fist made contact with Bakugou’s face.

“That’s enough,” you say, not having any more energy to fight. “I want to go home now.” Those were the magic words that prevented Izuku from doing anything else. He left out a deep sigh, and regretfully let his arm rest at his side.

“Come on,” Izuku says to you. You let him snake his arm around your waist, escorting you out of the venue and back to the car. But as you pass Bakugou, who was still on his knees, arms limp on his lap, eyes completely glossed over and tired, you momentarily pause to say something only for him to hear.

“Goodbye.” You mutter your last and final goodbye and finally, left with your boyfriend.

The silence after was deafening. Eyes brimmed with tears as the weight of your words settled over him like a crushing blow. He thought back to every memory you had together, every secret you told each other, every kiss you shared. The memories he cherished and thought so often over the years, turned into cold, heartbreaking memories. He let you slip away from him. He thought he finally had you in his gasp again and he was never going to let you go. But…

“Fuck,” he cursed. Lips were turned downwards in an ugly frown. He used his arm to wipe away the tears streaming down his face but it was useless. His tears couldn’t stop anyway.

“FUCK!” he screamed as loud as he could, hoping the burning of his throat could distract from the yearning pain he felt in his chest. But the pain was too much. Bakugou clenched his shirt where his heart was and leaned over, slammed his fists against the tiled floor. He slammed them over and over again, not caring if he was bleeding or not. He felt shattered and broken and alone. The realization was coming to him that this was going to be the last time he was ever going to see you again, not just as the one who got away, but as the one he lost forever.

The silence in the car was suffocating. Izuku had a death grip on the steering wheel while you just wanted to sink into the car seat and disappear. The suffocating silence lingered in the air, almost the entire ride back. Not even the beautiful city lights passing by could distract how thick the air was. But you needed to talk to him. At least say something, anything.

“He told me he still loves me.” You say as if those words didn’t stab Izuku right where it hurt. A momentary beat.

“How do you feel?”

“Confused.” You confess. Izuku gripped the wheel tighter.

“You weren’t supposed to say that.” Izuku’s voice cracked, speaking as if he was about to break down any second.

“I’m trying to be honest with you.” Honesty was the best policy, especially where you were in your relationship right now. But how come those words pierced Izuku’s heart so bad? He finally knows what it’s like to be in your shoes now. His partner has feelings for her ex and can’t seem to get him out of her mind. Is this the pain you were feeling the whole time? Feeling like you’ll never matter and never be first in their eyes? It was a crushing feeling. It made Izuku’s confidence about your relationship fly out the window.

“Aren’t you happy with me?” he asks, biting his lower lip so that the sound of his sobs won’t come out.

“Izuku…” you couldn’t believe that you were hearing. You’ve never seen Izuku act or sound this way. He usually always says what’s on his mind, but he was being completely vulnerable right now with you, not hiding his feelings at all. You grabbed his hand and squeezed with reassurance.

“Even if you feel confused right now, I can make you forget him.” He promised. “I can treat you well. I can make you happy.”

“I know you will.” You had no doubt in your mind that Izuku could fulfil all those promises.

“Then will you stay by my side?”

“Izuku, unlike Bakugou, I know what I want. And that’s to be by your side always.” You reassured him, bringing your clasped hands to your cheek so you nuzzle against his hand. Although Izuku still had some doubts, he trusted everything you said, which made his heart explode with relief. All the emotions he held back finally appeared in the form of fat tears running down his face. And after seeing the aftermath of your breakup with the same situation, he vowed that he was going to do everything in his power to not make the same mistakes.

A/N: WOW! She's finally finished. I hope this was worth the wait and got your closure. Sorry if you felt it was boring but again, this was more for me to vent out my feelings over my breakup as well. So... ya get what ya get I guess right? >< I tagged people who I thought were interested and commented about a part two in part one. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! You know I love reading everyone's opinions (good or bad) and I miss you guys!

Tagged: @gbcssskjb @zaptapbam @dwn-bad @superblyspeedydragon @power-house-fan12 @s-viore @forgetmenotlovee @strawberrie-bunbun

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #bnha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #deku #mha izuku

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imaginedisish · 10 months ago

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I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him.

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction.

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett.

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him.

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands.

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more.

God, you are so fucked.

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed.

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you.

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room.

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean.

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag.

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack.

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to.

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip.

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now.

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt.

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him.

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink.

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open.

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now.

He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you.

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means.

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself.

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.”

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in.

“It’s more than that,” you admit.

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence.

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out.

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours.

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him.

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.”

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head.

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly.

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say.

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away.

“Please,” you beg again.

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side.

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fuck me, please.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you.

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine.

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again.

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for.

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out.

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak.

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge.

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers.

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue.

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter.

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest.

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles.

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire.

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses.

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster.

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.”

Always.

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you.

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too.

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted.

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.”

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up.

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them.

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then.

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing.

“I meant it, too.”

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

#logan howlett x reader #James Logan howlett x reader #Logan howlett smut #Logan howlett x reader smut #Logan howlett x you #Logan howlett x you smut #James Logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine smut #Logan howlett x reader one bed #wolverine x reader one bed

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 month ago

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Meant To Be (2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> The day you disappeared from the world.

Disclaimer: This is part two/prequel to Meant To Be. Angst, Fluff, Bucky and Reader having feelings for each other, platonic!Howard Stark, mentions of death, swearing, mourning. Not Proof Read.

You pounded your fist on the front door only to be greeted by Mr Jarvis.

“Ms Y/l/n.”

“Sorry, Mr Jarvis. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Is he here?”

“Still in bed, Ms.”

Jarvis just opened the door wider for you to step inside. “I was just about to take him his morning breakfast.”

“I’m afraid it will have to be on the go this morning, Mr Jarvis.”

“Yes, Ms.”

As you had done for as long as you could remember since meeting Howard Stark, you headed towards his bedroom in order to pull him from his bed.

“Alright, Stark. Get up.”

Howard just groaned from under the covers. It sounded like he said “Five more minutes,”.

“Nope. Not this morning. The Colonel has been on my ass all week about you and I’ll be damned,” you pulled the heavy covers from his body. “If I let my ass get reprimanded because of your ass. So, get up.”

Howard groaned again.

“Mr Jarvis!” You called out behind you. “You wouldn’t happen to have an ice cold pitcher of water by any chance.”

“Why, yes. In fact, I’m just readying Mr Stark one now.”

That got Howard up out of bed. He practically sprang to the other side. “No. You’re not doing that again.”

“Get up when I tell you and I’ll never do it again.”

“I’m up. Are you happy now, sweet cheeks?”

You deadpanned him before throwing the clean washcloth that lay on his bedside table. Howard was known for washing his face first thing before he got out of bed. According to him, it kept him looking “young and attractive,”.

“Get cleaned up. I’ll be outside.”

Giving Howard a ride into work, you were both greeted with almost all the SSR members hustling around the place.

“Is something going on today that I’m not aware of?”

“It’s testing day,” Howard told you as he lay his briefcase over the chair in front of him.

Meanwhile, you were hanging your coat up on the coat rack, taking the space in around you as Howard walked away. But you couldn’t stand comprehending the super soldier in the corner, blushing as Peggy accidentally touched his hand, or the boys everyone knew had lied on their enlistment form but still allowed it anyway, or the ego-centric scientist washing a hand over one of the girl’s asses, for too long.

Within minutes of you entering the building, Bucky had found you.

“How long do you think it’ll take today?”

You jumped a little, holding onto your coat on the rack a little tighter. “Jesus- Do you always have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s not my fault you don’t hear me.”

“That’s because you walk as if you’ve got a secret to hide.” Letting go of your coat, you picked your files up from the main desk, Bucky hot on your heels.

“Not true. Well, maybe a little. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, looking at it now…” You and Bucky paused side by side.

You found that, often when standing together, there was barely an inch of room between you and Bucky. Which, although you were managing to handle, was doing no good for the crush you realised you had slowly developed over the last couple of months.

He’d just sat there across the desk, looking tired and all kinds of handsome. You’d seen him sitting like that a hundred times or more, but for some reason that night was when your stomach decided to erupt with butterflies.

But, you were handling it.

You thought you already had it handled until three days ago when Peggy cornered you in the ladies bathroom. Josie, one of the secretaries, had sauntered her way over looking all perfect and pretty. She’d touched his arm, leaning in close to him. He’s smiled at her and, despite seeing him smile at plenty of girls like that, even recently. For the first time, you’d been jealous.

It was an ugly emotion and you didn’t like yourself very much for feeling it. Bucky- James. He was your friend. One of your best friends. Someone you could talk to about anything. There wasn’t a single part of you willing to risk that.

“I’d say we’re a few months away from something actually happening.”

Bucky scoffed. “He’ll ask her out. He just needs a little coaching, that's all.”

“Coaching?” You laughed. “From who? You?”

Bucky seemed a little offended. “I’ve had plenty of successful dates.”

You tried to not let that sting as much as it did.

“He just needs some confidence.”

You chuckled. “Okay, Romeo. But I know I’m right. And here.”

You pushed a file into his chest.

“What’s this?”

You tried to ignore the feeling that erupted inside of you when his hand brushed yours.

“Your paperwork. I saw you sneak it into my pile last night.”

You continued on walking, Bucky walking a little further behind you.

“You know, if I knew the army contained this much paperwork, I would have had second thoughts.”

You just threw a smile over your shoulder to him, watching as he sat at his desk.

Steve’s desk was joined onto his, meanwhile, directly diagonal to Bucky was your desk. In front of you was Peggy’s desk. So, although Peggy and Steve would have to turn a little to look at each other, you and Bucky had a direct eyeline to one another.

Something else that didn’t help the crush you were harbouring on him.

There was just something…handsome about the way he looked when he was concentrating. In his own little world, flipping and writing between pages. And for a moment, you’d wonder if that is what it would have been like if you’d gone to school together.

You’d been with him to plenty of museums and tech conventions. You’d seen the true side of Bucky. One that was rarely seen. His nerdy wonder and enjoyment.

It was barely two hours before Bucky stood and walked over to your desk. He had tried thirty minutes ago but the Colonel had walked by his desk, stopping in front of him since he’d caught him staring at you across the room.

The Colonel had just hummed, however, before muttering something to himself.

“Just as bad as the others.”

Bucky had wondered what the Colonel meant, until he followed his next eyeline over to the map desk where Steve was standing with Peggy.

Then he moved on.

Bucky knocked on your desk twice to get your attention. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to come with me on Saturday.”

“Aren’t we working on Saturday?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. We’re both off. There’s a new exhibit being put on at the museum and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

Bucky had attended plenty of museum and tech conventions alone. But his favourite ones were the ones where you’d attend with him. He got to be closer to you. He’d hear you talk about whatever thing you’d been waiting to talk to him about. He got to hear your laugh and by the end of the night, he got to hold your hand.

You smiled. “You need me to run the ladies off again?”

Bucky chuckled. “Maybe. Just so long as you stay.”

You looked up at him. This man.

“Okay.”

Bucky smiled. “Pick you up at four?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

That was when a small alarm sounded and Bucky responded to it.

“I better go,” he said before running off. But then he came back. “Make sure Peggy doesn’t touch my desk.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

Bucky smiled. “See you soon, doll.”

You smiled, watching him jog down the hall and towards the control room. Meanwhile, Howard appeared around the corner.

“Y/n?”

You knew that look on his face. He needed your help.

“What have you done?”

Standing up, you left your things at your desk and followed him through the building and towards the basement.

“I haven’t done anything. Well, not yet.”

You sighed. “Show me.”

Entering the room, it was just yourself, Howard and two of his researchers. “The chemical equation is wrong.”

“Don’t you know how to fix it?”

“It doesn’t need to be fixed.”

You looked at him as you examined his machinery. “I understand you’re incredibly smart, Howard. But you’re not making any sense.”

Howard sighed. “The last time I used it, it worked. My math is never wrong.”

“Then change it.”

“I can’t. Any higher and it won’t just melt the machinery, it’ll melt human skin.”

You grimaced at the thought. “You know, if you boys let women do more of the talking, there is a higher chance that war wouldn’t be taking place.”

“Well, right now there’s a war going on in here. Can you…can you help?”

You took a look at his blackboard.

“It’s not your math.”

“I know that.”

You shrugged. “Have you tested a model of this size before?”

“That’s what today is for.”

“Uh, Mr Stark?” One of the researchers popped their heads up. “I think I might have found our problem.”

You watched as Howard walked over towards the control panel that had been recently forced open.

“Well- what is that? Oh, jesus. Is that a bolt? What’s it doing-”

As Howard pulled it out, everyone heard a big clunk!

“Is the building still standing?” You asked after a few minutes of silence.

Howard looked around at the walls and along the floor. Nothing had cracked the concrete. As far as he was aware; the building was still standing.

“Yep. Must be one of the inner mechanisms. Hand me that crowbar?”

You spun around until you saw the workstation and picked up the rusting metal crowbar.

“Military issue. Not the prettiest thing in the world, but she gets the job done.” Howard explained as he began to yank one of the side panels off.

“We figure, if we can make this thing industrial size, we’ll be able to fit it on top of a tank. That way, if it fits on one, it can melt one.” Howard continued to talk as he lay on the floor and practically got inside of the machine itself.

You crouched down on the floor, peering inside. There had to be at least thirty main electrical wires, feeding some kind of blue and green substance into tubes.

“You become more peculiar the longer I know you, Howard.”

From his space on the floor, he looked at you and smiled. “Thanks. Pass me that thing, will you, toots?”

Rolling your eyes, you moved behind you and reached for the socket wrench that had been laying on the floor. You handed it to him before standing up and looking around the rest of the machine.

“Do I even wanna know when you came up with this idea?”

“Uhh.”

Howard was stalling. Usually when he stalled it was because he had been in another tryst with a woman who was most definitely off limits.

“Alright,” you chuckled.

Howard sighed. “You know what, you’re always on at me about my…friends.”

“That’s what you’re calling them now? Not production assistants?”

“What about you and Bucky, huh? I see the way you two look at each other. You’re really gonna tell me nothing is going on there.”

“We’re just friends, Howard.”

“Friends, my ass.” Howard lifted himself from the ground to peek out of his hiding place to look at you. You were standing with one heel across the other, a hand on your hip, staring down at him like you were his mother scolding him for doing something wrong in school…again.

“You and I are friends. No matter how many times I try to make it something else.” He muttered that last part to himself but you heard it anyway and chuckled.

Howard was a flirt. A shameless flirt. It just so happened that, before Peggy, you were one of the first to let the flirting comments fall.

Howard disappeared back under the machine for a moment.

“You and Bucky, however, are not.”

“Howard-”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Going to a museum.”

“With?” Howard pressed.

“Bucky.”

Finally, Howard stood from the ground and looked at you across the console desk.

“It’s not what you think.”

Howard just smiled. “You and Barnes are going on, yet another, date. You like him. I know, because every time you look at him, you get the same goofy look in your eyes that Mr Jarvis does when he looks at his wife.”

You tried to hide your embarrassment, but it only seemed to come out as annoyance against Howard.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And, I also know,” Howard was moving around the console towards you. “That Bucky has deep feelings for you.”

Howard was standing in front of you. He didn’t have to raise his voice anymore.

“He likes you, Y/n. And we’re at war. I don’t like thinking like that, but there’s no escaping the truth. We’re at war and a lot more people are gonna be losing their loved ones. Maybe it’s about time you took a chance with yours.”

You just stared at Howard. He had a point.

“He’d be lucky to have you.”

You took a breath before turning away. “I thought we were down here to start testing, not discuss my…that.”

Howard smiled. “You know I’m right,” he practically sang as he walked away, wielding his wrench like a conductor.

Ten minutes later, everything was seemingly ready.

As one of the other researchers left to go and get the Colonel, Howard started the controls up so everything would be ready by the time people arrived.

Only, as Howard started flicking buttons, you stood up.

“Howard.”

Something was beginning to shake in the room.

“Is it meant to be doing that?”

“No…”

Howard moved around the panels to take a look at the dials. Everything seemed normal.

Then it started to shake even more.

It was almost like your washing machine had been set onto a fast spin, but this time you were inside of the rattling machine.

“Howard!”

“I’m on it.”

“What can I do?”

Howard didn’t answer you, but it didn’t matter. Because within seconds, the arm of the machine started going haywire and as Howard yelled at everyone to get down, you felt the wind get knocked out of you.

As Howard finally shut down the machine from the inside, tearing at one of the wires, the building stopped shaking and the Colonel, along with Peggy, ran inside.

“Stark! What the hell is going on?!” The Colonel yelled.

“I wish I could tell you.” Howard stood, his legs still shaking from the movement in the floor. “Something must have come loose.”

“What the hell is that?”

Peggy pointed and everyone looked at what it was. A smattering of blue dust and what could only be described as a bullet exit wound, cracking into the concrete wall.

More people joined, running inside asking questions but fell silent when they saw the damage.

Cracks along the walls, machinery and different liquids on the floor, and a large crack in place of where you had been standing.

“Y/n? Where’s Y/n?”

“Stark! Where is my Agent?!”

“I…I don’t…” Howard was in shock.

Peggy sprang into action. Maybe you hadn’t been hit. Maybe you’d taken cover or not been in the room at all. People started following her orders to find you.

“Stark, where is my agent?” The Colonel asked as he approached him. “Now, she better not be dead or else I’ll have your neck for this.”

Howard shook his head. “You need a body to be dead.”

They both knew that to be true, but considering the fight they were having with Red Skull and a Super Soldier, it was quite plausible to have a death without a body.

Meanwhile, down one of the hallways, Peggy ran into both Bucky and Steve.

“Hey, what the hell was that shaking-”

“Have you seen Y/n?”

“I thought she was with Howard.”

Peggy shook her head. “Something went wrong.”

“What went wrong?”

“We, uh, we don’t know yet. But I just…”

As Steve took Peggy by the shoulder, Bucky made a run for it down to Howard’s lab. He saw the Colonel sat with Howard, but his commander quickly stood up and walked over to him.

“Barnes-”

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

“We’re still trying to figure that one out.”

In the days that followed, Bucky didn’t know his head from his feet. He’d just spoken to you that morning. You were meant to be meeting him for dinner that evening. He was meant to be taking you out that Saturday.

Nobody could bring themselves to clear away your desk. It was just how you’d left it. Open files, half finished paperwork, scrap pieces of paper with ideas and things written down.

But when the Colonel got word someone was coming in to replace you, he went to one person.

“Son?”

It was after hours and Bucky was yet to leave his desk. Mostly, his eyes had been focused on your desk, where you should have been sitting, scolding him for staying too late because it meant you had to stay late. Then he’d tell you, you didn’t have to stay, to which you tell him you wouldn’t let him work alone.

Bucky looked up and saw the empty box in his arms.

“Someone needs to clean out her desk and I think it should be you. They’ve got a replacement coming tomorrow.”

Bucky swallowed down his fear; accepting you were gone for good. And he took the box.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, son.” The Colonel held his shoulder as he stood up. “I know she meant a lot to you. You meant a lot to her, too.”

The Colonel had seen the red, tearful eyes of Bucky for the last few days. The dejected look each time he looked up and found your desk empty, the bow of his head as he’d hide his face every time someone said your name.

It had taken both the Colonel and Steve to pull him from Howard’s throat.

And now he was left to clear out your desk.

And for a while, he managed to keep his emotions in check. Sweeping away your files, adding them to his pile to finish for you. Clipping all your notes together, cleaning away the ink stains of your fingerprints by the edge of your desk.

Then taking the pictures from your desk, seeing your smiling face, placing them inside the box.

Then he found a key.

Bucky had pulled out your chair and sat down before opening up the locked drawer of your desk. That’s when all control over his emotions left him.

Inside, along with some more of your personal belongings, was a notepad. Each date had been crossed off, as had the things listed under it. Except for the one that you had started at the beginning of the week.

It was all the things you wanted to talk to him about; at dinner, walking home, and on Saturday. You made a list so you wouldn’t forget or accidently leave anything out.

And for a second, he smiled.

Then he cried.

You’d never get to talk to him about these things. He’d never hear your voice again. He’d never see you smile or roll your eyes or scoff or hear you yell at him. He’d never hear you laugh again.

It was hours before he left your desk and went home, keeping your box of things under his bed in case you came back. Howard was adamant that you would. The blast wasn’t strong enough to kill, but it was strong enough to melt. But, he hadn’t made it to melt human skin.

So you shouldn’t have died.

You couldn’t be dead.

You had to be alive…somehow.

And that was the thought, for as much as he wanted to kill Howard, Bucky kept with him.

That you were still out there, somewhere, and that you’d come home.

But the longer time went on, the harder that idea was to accept.

People started to mourn in their own ways. Mr Jarvis and his wife set out your favourite flowers on their dinner table on your birthday. The same flowers Howard started growing in his garden a week after you had disappeared. The Colonel had sent Peggy to make sure the gravestone issued for you was just right. Nothing too fancy; after all, there was still hope you’d come back. Steve, along with the other Howling Commandos, raised a toast in your honour.

But when the day came that Bucky fell from the train…

Only one thing made him smile. And that was that he’d get to see you again.

602 notes · View notes

firewasabeast · 4 days ago

Text

I Never Really Had a Friend

A Buck-focused, bucktommy story. tags: Starting Over, Grief/Mourning, Getting Back Together, Ending Friendships, Bobby's death is mentioned, Eddie's toxic/abusive tendencies are briefly discussed, Bobby's suicidal thoughts are mentioned, Happy Ending. Rating: M. 5.4k. read below or on ao3.

Buck is sitting in the hospital, holding his nephew, thinking about the past few months of his life. The past year, really. The good, bad, and downright painful. He tries to remember the last time he was happy. Really happy.

He thinks it might be when he stumbled into his house, lips attached to Tommy’s, the two of them giggling like teenagers getting away with something.

Maybe, more precisely, it was the next morning. After he said it didn’t have to mean anything, and Tommy asked why not. For a brief moment, all the stars aligned, and everything felt right again.

Until, just as quickly, it all fell apart.

He blinks away tears, sticks his finger out for the baby to grab onto, and smiles.

Chimney’s talking to Maddie, getting her lunch order. She’s been craving an Italian sub for months, but wants it a very specific way, so Buck phases out of the conversation and focuses on his own never-ending train of thought.

Because if he really thinks about it, most of his happy memories from the past year include Tommy.

It sort of felt like the ground underneath him gave way the day Tommy left his apartment and, ever since then, he’s been trying to climb out of a gravelly pit that crumbles more every time he takes a step.

Something deep in his gut clenches when he thinks about Tommy for too long. He’s got ten unanswered messages from him, waiting for a response. Two each week since Bobby died.

Five missed phone calls too. The most recent was yesterday.

Consistent.

Buck wonders how long he’ll keep doing it. How long will he keep texting and calling before he gives it up? Before he realized Buck isn’t worth it.

He’s surprised Tommy has lasted this long, honestly.

It wasn’t that he had meant to ignore him. Tommy hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was just that Buck missed the first message, and the second one. Then he wasn’t by his phone for the first call.

And once he saw all that he’d missed, he started to write out an apology text.

Then he got distracted.

And now it felt like too much time had passed.

Time.

Buck wonders how much of that he’s got left. He feels like he’s lived a million lives already. Feels like he’s used up all of his luck. Next time… next time it’s him in that lab. Next time, he’s the one out of a third option. Next time, they’re carrying him out of the church and following behind his casket at the procession.

It makes him think of Bobby.

Bobby who, eight years ago, wouldn’t have cared to die in that lab. Who would have found nothing but peace inside of him when he realized he was infected. Wouldn’t have shed a tear.

He would have gone willingly, happily, maybe even purposefully.

The bonds he formed with everyone at the station never would have happened.

He never would have married Athena.

Never would have gotten all those extra years.

Wouldn’t have had people to miss him, to ache for him, every single moment of every single day if he’d given up back then.

He’s not sure how it all connects in his mind. It’d probably be a jumbled mess to anyone else. But to Buck, it’s clear as day.

He knows what he needs to do.

*****

Tommy’s hair is a curly mop of a mess when he opens the door. He’s half asleep, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

It’s the middle of the day, but Buck knows he just got done with a shift a couple of hours ago.

“Evan?” His head is slightly tilted to the side, face scrunched up in a sleepy confusion. “Dreamin’?”

Buck smiles, breathes out a laugh. “No, um, I- I needed to talk to you.”

Tommy moves out of the way, holding the door open for Buck to come inside.

“Sorry for not calling or texting you first,” he says as Tommy shuts the door behind him. “I just… it needed to be now.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy assures him, running his fingers through his hair. It does nothing but make his hair poof even higher. “Are you okay?”

Buck nods, a bit too enthusiastically to be believed. “Yeah, I- I’m good.”

“Mm.” Tommy tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. He points towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna fix some coffee. Try to wake up a little bit.”

Buck follows him to the kitchen, smiling as he listens to the sleepy patter of his feet. Tommy is a machine at work. Ready to jump up and fly at a moments notice. But, when he was home, he let his body rest. Let himself fall into a sleep so deep that, sometimes, Buck was sure the house could collapse around him and he’d never hear a thing.

Buck was actually surprised he’d heard the ringing of the doorbell… even if he did ring it twenty times in a row.

When it takes Tommy two tries to remember which cabinet his coffee is in, Buck nudges him out of the way. “Sit,” he says. “Let me. Least I can do after waking you.”

Tommy doesn’t argue. He sits at the barstool and waits, quietly. Buck doesn’t look back until the coffee has finished brewing. He half expects Tommy to be asleep, head tucked into the crook of his elbow.

But Tommy is watching him. Reading him. Studying him.

Buck looks away, pours Tommy a cup. “I probably should have called,” he mentions again.

“It’s really fine, Evan. I don’t go back to work for two days. Plenty of time to sleep.”

Buck finishes fixing his coffee, then slides it across the island. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. So, what’s up?”

“Just, take a few sips,” Buck replies, pushing the mug closer to Tommy. “Let yourself wake up a little bit.”

Tommy grins, lifting the mug and taking a sip. He sighs as it goes down.

Perfect.

“How was work?” Buck asks, keeping conversation light until Tommy is ready.

“Not bad. Not much downtime, but that seems to be the norm lately.”

“Yeah, it’s th- the same at our station too.”

Tommy takes another sip, then straightens his posture. “Okay, I’m awake now.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A deep breath, a nod, and Buck begins. “I’ve been thinking, a lot, about a lot of things. My mind feels like a hamster on one of those wheels lately, just spinning, spinning, spinning, spi-” He waves a hand, stopping himself. “Anyway, um, I feel like my life is nothing like I want it to be. There’s a lot of things I thought I’d have by now, and there’s a lot of things I want, but I don’t say anything about it. I just shut my mouth and shut down and let things happen.” He squints at Tommy. “Am I making any sense?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. So, I- I’ve been wasting time. A lot of it, this last year. Well, maybe not the whole year, but most of it. And Bobby, he- he spent so long being unhappy, you know? Years of his life were spent in this- this limbo. And now he’s gone. I just… I keep thinking that in the end, all we have is time.” He’s rambling. He knows it. Tommy knows it. He reels himself in. “Tommy, I don’t want to keep wasting time, and I don’t want to die without telling you how I feel. I want to be with you, i- if that’s what you want. I want to try again. I want to do this right. I want to be honest. I miss you. I’ve been missing you for months now and I hate wondering if each time I see you will be the last time."

Tommy stares at Buck for a moment, then looks down at his cup. “Maybe one more sip.”

Okay. Now Buck was going to panic.

“I- I’m sorry,” he rushes out. “I’m doing it again. I’m being impulsive and I’m m- making it about me and I don’t-”

“No,” Tommy interrupts, his voice as calm and polite as ever, “it’s… here.” He pushes out the seat beside him, giving it a pat. “Will you sit down, please?” Buck comes around and sits, anxiously wiping his sweaty hands down his pants. “Evan, I’ve tried talking to you for over a month.”

“I know. I- I’m sorry for that too.”

“No, I’m not… Evan, you don’t need to be sorry. I get it, I understand. I just- part of me thought-” he sighs, searching for the right words. “I figured you didn’t want to talk to me. I kept thinking I was bothering you, but I had to do something. When I opened the door I was kinda figuring you were here to tell me to leave you alone. Things have veered in a direction I was not expecting.” He lays his hand out on the counter, palm up, ready for Buck to take.

So he does.

“You have a way of doing that, you know?” Tommy says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Freaking you out?” Buck offers.

“Surprising me,” Tommy responds. He gives Buck hand a squeeze. “Evan, I… are you sure?”

“About wanting to be with you?”

“Yes.”

“I think it’s the only thing in my life I’m one hundred percent sure of right now,” he answers honestly. “But I want you t- to be sure. I don’t want you to say yes just because you think you ha-”

He’s cut off as Tommy stands, places a hand on either side of his face, and presses their lips together.

For a second, Buck freezes. His hands curl into fists, then they relax, and he’s taking a deep breath, and grabbing onto Tommy’s shirt and the blanket he’s still got wrapped around him.

For a moment nothing else in the world exists. This, right here, a sturdy body with a gentle soul, is everything in the world.

And then Tommy pulls away.

“Sorry for the coffee breath,” he whispers between them, their foreheads pressed together.

Buck laughs.

A real, genuine laugh.

It feels scary.

It feels wrong.

It feels amazing.

“I don’t care,” he replies. “Just do it again.”

*****

Buck is standing in the middle of Eddie’s living room.

No. His living room.

At least for one more week.

It’s almost empty.

He wishes he’d never put all of his boxes out for recycling. He never thought he’d need them again, and so soon.

He feels as empty as the room looks. A hollow shell of a person.

He shouldn’t. He recognizes that. This is good, in the long run. It’s exactly what he’s wanted.

He’s not about to be homeless. He offered to go. Offered to give Eddie the place back. In a surprising turn of events, two weeks after getting back together, following a failed date night and a round of sex that never happened due to an accidental kick to the groin, Tommy had grunted out the words, “You should move in with me,” right as Buck placed an ice pack on his crotch.

They discussed it for the rest of the night.

Then had successful sex the next morning.

So Buck isn’t upset about leaving. Not really.

But it’s in this space, this room filled with memories and ghosts, that Buck decides he’s never really had a friend.

Because, yes, he’d offered the place back to Eddie. It’s why he decided to sublease it in the first place. But then Eddie bought a place in Texas, and the move seemed permanent, and Buck… Buck moved in.

So when Eddie decided they were coming back, the words stumbled out of Buck’s mouth without a thought. “That’s great! When do you need your place back by?”

And Eddie responded with a date.

He didn’t ask if Buck had anywhere to go.

He didn’t say he could find a new place of his own.

He didn’t even say thank you.

He responded with a date.

Buck didn’t think about it at the time. In the silence of this house though, a house that once again fills with echoes at the slightest sound, it’s all he can think about.

He decides, right then and there, to make a change.

Test the waters.

He becomes unavailable over the following weeks. He settles in with Tommy, and Eddie settles back into his old home. Then Eddie calls, invites Buck over on Friday.

Buck almost says yes, but something stops him.

Or, rather, he stops himself.

“Why, what’s up?” he says instead.

“Well, you know that woman I met at the building collapse?”

Buck does, vaguely. “Mhm.”

“She gave me her number and we made plans to go out. I figured you and Chris could hang here, catch up.”

Buck loves Chris. He really does. He’d do anything for the kid.

Which is why he pauses for nearly five seconds before replying, “Sorry, Tommy and I have plans. Maybe someone else can watch him for you. Gotta go.”

Two more offers to babysit comes up in less than two weeks time. Buck declines each one. He waits until Chris texts him himself, asks if he wants to hang out, play video games, eat junk food.

Buck and Tommy pick him up together, head back to their place, have a guys day.

Buck and Tommy have talked about it, the way Buck feels. The way the scale never quite evens out. He tells Tommy one night, “I know I can make things about me, I know I can be selfish, but I feel like I’m never able to talk about how I feel at all. Like, i- if I do, I need to feel bad about it… or that, maybe, next time, he’ll do more than get in my face. I don’t think that’s what friendship is supposed to be.”

“Evan,” Tommy had responded, pulling him in to lay on his chest, “you’re the least selfish person I know. Anyone who makes you feel otherwise… I’m sorry, but, they don’t know you at all.”

And that was the thing.

Eddie didn’t know him at all.

Because every time Buck had tried to open up about anything serious, Eddie slammed the door in his face.

"Want me to talk to him?"

"No. Thanks, but no."

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Tommy suggested. “Tell him how you feel.”

Buck huffed out a laugh. “I like the way my nose looks now.”

*****

While he does reduce his time around Eddie to working hours only, he ends up spending more time with Ravi. As Hen takes over as captain, Eddie becomes a licensed paramedic. Buck and Ravi are almost always paired up at work, and they end up working really well together. Maybe it’s because Ravi spent years learning all of Buck’s little quirks, but he can usually figure out what Buck needs before Buck actually realizes he needs it.

This works both ways, and they find they’re a spectacularly efficient pair.

Things might’ve started out a little rough for them on the friendship front, but somehow they end up at the same bar, same time, same day, every week.

“Anyway,” Ravi says, sipping on his third drink of the night, “after Hen talked to her, the lady said she decided not to press charges. Which is insane in the first place, because how could she press charges on me for pulling her out of a burning building?”

“Sounds like she had an interesting way of showing her gratitude,” Buck replies with a shake of his head. “It’s always crazy to me how some people will actually get mad when we don’t let them die in a horrific way.”

“Right?!” Ravi sets down his glass, gives Buck a nod. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you doing?” Ravi asks.

“Oh,” Buck waves him off. “I’m fine. How’s your family?”

“No, no.” Ravi wiggles a finger at him. “I just spent half an hour complaining about my life. The next half hour is yours.”

Buck contemplates his response. Opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.

Then the words spill out like a dam breaking open.

He talks about Bobby, about feeling like the 118 is a shell of its former self. He talks about the fact he spends a lot of nights crying, especially when he has work the next day. He tells Ravi how Tommy does his best to console him, tries everything to make it better. But it’s not really something he’s able to fix.

Buck talks about how he feels like a friendship spanning the better part of eight years now feels like a lie. How he feels used, belittled, and like he gave and gave without ever getting anything back in return.

He talks about the good stuff too. How well he and Tommy are doing. How comfortable they are with each other. How he feels comfortable having flaws, because he knows Tommy loves him anyway. How he feels safe, even when they argue, because Tommy is the most gentle human being he knows.

He talks about Hen, and what a great job she’s doing as captain. How happy he is for her; how much she deserves it. That’s why he feels so bad about the fact that he hates coming into work. Hates being there. It feels wrong. It doesn’t bring him the joy it once did.

And Ravi… Ravi listens. He nods along, and interjects when necessary, and he asks questions. In the end, he may not be the best at giving advice, but he replies with, “Man, that sucks,” and Buck feels like a giant weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Getting everything off of his chest with someone he works with, someone who he is beginning to consider a friend, feels like a fresh start.

He doesn’t cry the night before work.

Tommy holds him anyway.

He falls into a rhythm. Things are different, but they’re okay.

He has Tommy to talk to, and Ravi. He and Maddie make plans when they can. It usually ends with him spending the most time with his niece and nephew, but he can’t complain about that.

Hen becomes more comfortable as captain, Chimney and Eddie settle in as a duo, and they all still operate well as a unit.

Buck cooks, when he can. Maybe not everyone sits down together for meals anymore, but the majority of them do.

It’s good. They laugh, they talk, they compliment his cooking.

He begins to think he can do this. That maybe it just took more time than he expected to find a new normal after Bobby.

His weekly outings with Ravi become less about complaining and more about general talking and catching up on the little things.

He settles.

Until it all blows up in his face.

He and Ravi have been sent out to help with training new recruits for the day. It’s a normal day, everything is going well.

It hits five o’clock, time for everyone to leave, and Buck is in the middle of giving a pep talk when his phone rings.

Ravi takes over as he accepts the call.

It’s Hen. She heard over the radio that Tommy fell from a ladder while working ground ops. He’s at the hospital getting checked out, but he’s alert now.

There’s one particular word that sticks out to him.

Now.

Buck asks what she means, that he’s alert now?

Hen proceeds to tell him that when he was first brought in this morning, he wasn’t conscious. But now he’s awake and answering questions. Hen, Chim, and Eddie are already at the hospital, waiting for more updates.

There’s a whirring noise happening. Buck feels like he’s stuck in a fun house, surrounded by mirrors, all of his reflections laughing at him.

“You heard this o- over the radio?”

Hen hesitates. “Yes, but Buck-”

“So you’ve known since this morning?”

“Buck, I didn’t want you to think the worst without us knowing first. It’s-”

“I’m on my way.”

Ravi drives him to the hospital.

Buck tries his best to bite his tongue, but as soon as he sees Hen he’s livid again, and he lets it be known.

“You have no right to decide what I can or can’t handle. He’s my partner, and I should have been here with him eight hours ago.”

“Buck, I didn’t-”

“How would you feel if it were Karen?” Buck interrupts. “Or one of your kids?”

“Hey, chill, Man,” Eddie says, sticking his hand inches from Buck’s chest. “She didn’t want you freaking out for nothing, which is exactly what you’re doing.”

Buck’s pretty sure he’s never felt the level of rage he feels in this moment.

He takes a breath, wonders if the steam is actually visible as it escapes through his ears.

“You get your hand the hell away from me, Diaz,” he warns and, to his credit, Eddie takes a couple of steps back. Buck focuses back on Hen. “I’m gonna go be with my boyfriend, like I should have been since this morning. You all can go.”

Before Buck has a chance to walk away, Chimney speaks up. “You need us to get anything for you?”

He sounds embarrassed. Buck hopes he is.

“I can get whatever he needs,” Ravi replies. Buck feels eternally grateful for him. “Go see Tommy,” he says as the others filter out. “Text me whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

Buck can’t help himself. He pulls Ravi in for a hug so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“I’ll see what Tommy needs too,” he says as Ravi returns the hug. “You can come right to the room after.”

“Okay.” Ravi gives him a pat on the back. “Now go see your guy.”

In the end, it’s a hairline fracture in his leg, a sprained wrist, and a minor concussion. Nothing too serious. The only thing Buck and Tommy end up needing from Ravi is a ride home, so he joins them in Tommy’s hospital room and they keep each other company until Tommy is released.

Once Buck gets Tommy into bed, he sits beside him. He props himself up with a couple of pillows, his laptop resting on his thighs. He keeps a hand in Tommy’s hair, running his fingers through his curls.

With his free hand, he types, scrolls, and does research until the sun starts to rise.

He takes the next two weeks off.

Spends it studying for the captain’s promotional test.

*****

He keeps it a secret for as long as he can.

He tells Tommy, who spends all of his recovery time helping Buck study and research and prepare in any and every way possible.

He lets it slip to Ravi on accident, who promises not to say a word.

He actually keeps his promise too.

It’s refreshing.

He manages to take the exam without anyone else finding out. Passes with flying colors. He, Tommy, and Ravi go out for celebratory drinks.

But there’s more to it than the written test.

There’s tactical exercises, role-play scenarios, multiple interviews that include evaluators from outside the department. Even an interview with the department fire chief.

He gets scheduled for role-play scenarios and his first interview before Hen calls him into the office.

“Is this because of what happened with Tommy?” she asks.

He could keep it simple. Say yes.

But that wouldn’t be the entire truth.

“I started looking into it after Tommy was hurt,” he answers instead. “But I’ve been thinking about it since… since Bobby.”

“You’d be put at a different house, Buck,” she reminds him. “We’ve got B and C shift already covered.”

Buck nods. “I know. I- I think that’s part of why I want to do it.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, Hen, you- you’re a great captain. You were meant for this job. If it can’t be Bobby, you’re the only other logical option. But I… I’m not happy here anymore. I don’t think I have been for a long time and I think I- I need a fresh start.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then she smiles softly at him. “If you need help,” she says, “pointers, tips, anything, you can ask me. I just went through the process a few months ago, Buck, I’m sure it hasn’t changed much in that time.”

He accepts the help, but they don’t have much more time to talk before they get a call.

He’s not sure how Chimney finds out, or who tells Eddie, but Eddie never says anything about him going for captain.

Chimney does. Chomping his gum, asking Buck what he’s thinking by leaving their family.

He means well, so Buck doesn’t tell him it stopped feeling like a family a long time ago.

He makes it to the final part of the process. Remembers Hen’s advice. Answers the questions the way he thinks Bobby would.

He passes.

He feels his body relax for the first time in weeks.

“Congratulations, Captain Buckley,” Chief Simpson says as he shakes his hand. “I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

*****

He swears he sees God when he comes on Tommy’s cock that night. He can’t help it when Tommy has traded out his usual pet names for “Captain” and “Sir” and “Boss.” Keeps asking him for advice, whispering in his ear, “Am I doing this right, Captain Buckley?”

Chief Simpson calls a week later. It’s sooner than Buck expects.

There’s a captain retiring at Station 13 in six weeks. Buck could start now, train under him, take over as captain of B-shift once those six weeks are up.

Buck accepts without hesitation.

Three days later, they throw him a party at the 118. Tommy comes, Chris comes, Maddie brings the kids, Athena makes an appearance between calls.

When he walks out at the end of his shift, he doesn’t look back.

He starts at Station 13 two days later.

Captain Fredericks isn’t a bad man. He’s a good captain, and treats his team with respect, but there’s little camaraderie between them. When they aren’t on a call, they’re all doing their own thing. The station is quiet most of the time. And when Buck tries to chat with the rest of the team, he’s often met with what he can only describe as “polite resistance.”

Each week, Fredericks takes an extra step back and gives Buck a little more to do. By the end of the six weeks, Fredericks has taken on a mostly silent role in their partnership.

He feels confident as he starts his first week on his own.

It lasts a total of one hour and thirty-two minutes.

Jacobson, who wasn’t an issue for the entire six weeks, manages to undermine Buck multiple times on a single call.

The rest of the day doesn’t go much better.

He overhears Jacobson making jokes about him, and mocking his stutter.

When he makes a meal for everyone that evening, they grab a plate, scoop their food, and go into their own corners to sit and stare at their phones while they eat.

On their last call, instead of having Jacobson rappel down to get a hiker that fell thirty feet off the side of a cliff, he just does it himself. He ends up with a banged up knee, and multiple scratches that bleed for longer than he’d like to admit.

Tommy draws him a bath when he gets home. Puts medicine on the scratches. Rubs his feet and legs. Holds Buck as he cries himself to sleep. The next morning, when they wake up all tangled together, Tommy tells him about Bobby and Sal. It’s a story Buck has heard before, but it helped to hear it again. Especially now.

During his next shift, when he hears Jacobson mutter “weasel” under his breath after Buck gives him an order, Buck stands tall, looks him dead in the eyes, and tells him to repeat what he just said.

Jacobson does.

Buck asks if they have a problem.

Jacobson reminds him that he’s forty years old, and Buck hasn’t even made it to thirty-five yet. How the hell is he supposed to respect him?

“Respect is earned,” Buck tells him. “You don’t know me enough to respect me, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m your captain now so, while you may not respect me, you do have to respect my authority. If you can’t do that, I’d suggest transferring to another station before you lose your job.”

That seems to quiet him for the rest of the day.

Jacobson puts in a transfer request three days later.

Four days after that, another transfer request hits his desk.

But this one is someone asking to transfer to his station.

Ravi Panikkar.

With Jacobson gone, and Ravi filling his spot, Buck starts to feel settled again.

The rest of his team are good people.

There’s Abarca, who is young and full of both spunk and anxiety. She’s nineteen years old and Buck is pretty sure she’s been on her own for longer than she could drive.

Smith and Smith, not related, are both paramedics. Barry Smith, who goes by Smith, has been at 13 for twenty years. Victor Smith, who also goes by Smith, changed careers two years ago. Went from working as a manager in a grocery store to graduating top of his class and getting his choice of station.

Buck thought having two Smith’s would be confusing, but they guaranteed him that they would know who he was talking to as soon as he called for them.

They haven’t been wrong yet.

And then there’s Carmen, who judges everyone, and Buck loves her for it. Her facial expressions alone can shut up even the most annoying humans. It also helps that her wife is a baker, and she gives Carmen anything she has left over to bring to the station.

One day Carmen’s wife comes in herself, and Buck introduces himself to Shiela. He asks her how she makes her eclairs? He’s been trying to get that right for a long time now and the texture always feels off.

This becomes a thirty minute conversation that ends in Shiela inviting Buck and Tommy over for dinner and a dessert class.

Tommy and Carmen have a great time watching and being taste testers.

They make it a regular thing.

Buck invites the team over for a barbecue after a couple of months. He invites the 118 too. It’s nice having everyone together. They have a good time.

That night, when he and Tommy are in bed, Tommy is peppering kisses down his chest. “You know,” he says, nibbling at Buck’s skin before soothing the spot with his tongue, “I see the way your team looks at you. They look up to you already.”

“I don’t, mmm, I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Tommy insists, kissing him just above his belly button. “I’m so proud of you.”

And if tears leak from his eyes as Tommy takes him in his mouth, well, they’re happy tears now.

Buck keeps cooking dinners every shift. While Ravi has taken a seat beside him from the start, he calls attention to the others when they start to walk away with their plates.

“Everyone, I- I’d like for us to all sit at the table today,” he says, clearing his throat when they all give him a confused look. “Actually, I- I’d like for us to, um, to sit at the table every day, for dinner. My old captain, he- he used to always have family dinners for us. We sit together, eat together, talk about stuff. I- I want us to do that too.”

There’s a few more seconds of stares, then slowly they start to make their way to the table.

“Family dinners?” Abarca questions.

“Family dinners,” Buck confirms.

She shrugs her shoulders. “That sounds cool.”

The others nod, take their seats, and begin to eat.

It’s here, in this moment, with these people, that Buck realizes Bobby was right.

He is going to be okay.

And he found the people who need him.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #911 #this is not a spec fic #this shit ain't happening lmao

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rhaenyraeri · 4 days ago

Text

Eternity - Remmick

Pairing: Remmick x fem!Reader

Summary: Eternal damnation is only preferred when you both can spend eternity together, not when you’re alone.

Warnings: major character death, gore, angst(!), i did some lore changing, mayhap a little ooc smoke. i did my best lol. also minor proof reading was done, I wrote this listening to mound bayou on repeat and made myself sad writing it

Also, a note: i wrote this with a reader in mind that bared no resemblance to one race or the other, leaving it open to actually being an x reader. as a white person, it makes me upset to know there are people writing x readers in a way that isn’t racially descriptive of everyone reading, and also to know people are writing of the reader being in any way related to the klan.

if i made any mistakes, please let me know! i want to make it as racially ambiguous as possible. my writings are a safe place for everyone to feel included.

The sun came over the horizon and onto the vampire Remmick, and the two he had been hellbent on killing. A slight gust of smoke filled the air. Pain surged through his once, just a moment ago, envious, rage-filled, hunger devoted body. He let go of Sammie, who ran over to Smoke, grateful to have survived. They watched as the flames grew higher, now covering Remmick’s body, signaling his demise. They were safe now, the hell that the night had put them through had now come to an end. They backed away, creating distance from what was happening before them.

As his body hit the ground, they turned to make their leave. They’d survived the evil that filled their juke, at the loss of so many of their loved ones as well as friends and acquaintances. Limping away, the sound of sobbing filled their ears. It was you. Remmick’s wife, the one that earlier in the night, when his group arrived to the juke, had been right by his side and shown deep admiration of him. The two of you led the group, doing most of the talking, and you tried to compliment your way inside, of course to no avail. Stack had even, when you all walked away, minorly praised your attempt, saying you had the most appeal out of them all because of how charming your words were.

Now, here you were, laid across the charred body of Remmick, sobbing the most mournful, desperate, horrid cries they’d ever heard. Both men were unsure of where you came from, or how exactly you hadn’t met your end with the others. A vampire, like the rest of the hive minded bodies of their company that night, in the sunlight, though your skin was not showing any signs of weakness to the sun. When you looked up from where your head was on Remmick’s burnt chest, it was daylight. Your teary eyes slowly traced from the sky to your body. You weren’t dying. Not even in the slightest. You were damned to this earth from the gift Remmick gave you all those years ago, when he saw you performing with a group, playing some songs of their lineage, admiring how perfect you played that violin. You were different.. something he couldn’t live without. That he was sure of. The night you met, he’d spoke to you after the performance and, with that charm of his, got you to a secluded location, changed you, and from there on out you were inseparable. Love at first sight, he called it.

You knew you weren’t dying with him on this day. You’d suffered wounds from the fight just before and, although painful, they weren’t life threatening to you. To any other, it would’ve killed them. But you were different. Remmick had always said that, with how human you remained after you were turned, how you weren’t affected by the hive mind at all. The sobbing grew more intense, as your life with Remmick flashed before your eyes. The night at that bar, the countless days you’d spend in that abandoned cabin in the woods the two of you called home, the talks of, in another life, having a family together. A real family, a child of your own and a house you took deep pride in. The two of you were cursed to this life, and you knew you’d never get out of it. There was no returning to what you once were.

Footsteps rang in your ears and got closer, a pair of steps shuffling alongside them. You looked up, eyes so blurry with bloody vampiric tears and human tears alike. You could make out the figure, belonging to the man named Smoke.

“How come you’re not burning?,” he noted, squatting beside the two of you in the shallow water. No remorse was to be shown, as he lost the woman he loved but an hour or so before, to the man you laid clinging to. What sympathy were you to be given? You were just as compliant to this as Remmick.

“I… I don’t… I can’t.. I don’t know,” was all you could mutter out between each smothering cry. Remmick was all you knew, all you had. Not even a group of vampires remained. You were alone. Forever. A fear you had told him about one night, after he’d shown concern from being out in the sunlight too long from greedy feasting.

You heard Sammie whisper something to Smoke, who then stood up from his position.

“You’ll see Annie again… and your baby boy. I know you will,” you spoke, your words laced with complete confidence. She knew a lot with her practices, and you knew that mojo bag protected him against the vampires. The love they shared was strong enough to bind them together forever, to meet once more when it came his time to pass.

His feet came to a dead stop, as he turned to look at your pitiful state once more.

“How do you know her? About our son? How can I be so sure?”

“The love you two have.. it does more than you know.”

He stared at you. He was conversing with one of the creatures of the night that cost him his love. He raised the gun to shoot you, but he stopped himself. To be fair, you didn’t deserve mercy from him. You knew that. But the heartbreak in you begged for it. It crawled around your chest, scratching your skin like knives, cutting at your deadened heart, and dragging the guilt around with it.

Once more, he turned to leave. You were to succumb to the sun at some point, and that wound in your torso would only speed it up. At least, that was the hope. As he walked away, your crying grew louder… and louder.. and more desperate.

“Please!,” you managed to scream out, causing them both to turn to you once more, “I cannot live the rest of eternity like this.. Kill me.. Let me be free..”

Annie had said the souls were trapped in the body of a vampire when they were changed. She had shown remorse for them, knowing they’d never feel the sunrise again and that they were cursed to walk amongst this hate filled world for all eternity with no escape other than death. Smoke took a breath. He thought of his love for her, how her faith in her practices meant she and their son would reunite with him once more. He took some steps, bent down to get a thick, sturdy stick, and approached you.

Your body was basically covered in the ash from Remmick’s corpse now, pieces of the char stuck to your face. As you looked up, you made eye contact with the man in the back, Sammie, and gave a look filled with sympathy and sorrow. He experienced terror at the hands of your husband, and you felt for him. You then looked to Smoke, staring right into his eyes as you gave him the most thankful look you could, as he stabbed the stick into your chest, right into your heart. The pain was profound and horrendous, but you kept your eyes locked on his and with one last wail of tears, your words ran together. He could only make out two words; your final words.

“Thank you.”

He stood above the two corpses now, just looking. He didn’t know how you were certain of him reuniting with his family, but it gave him hope and, oddly, comfort. He moved you closer to Remmick’s body, so the two of you could, maybe, reunite in a world where you got your happy ending. An ending he hoped he would get the blessing of experiencing himself one day.

#remmick x reader #remmick x you #remmick imagine #sinners #sinners x reader #sinners imagine #sinners movie #sinners x you #sinners fic #remmick fic #i’m shit at angst #i dreamt this up and decided to write it lol #remmick x y/n #remmick

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kquil · 7 months ago

Note

Request: Remus Lupin x ravenclaw!girlfriend!reader

Plot: Just them appropriately loving on each other, chaste kisses on shoulders and wrists while sitting in positions that may not look innocent, but it doesn’t go farther them that?

I don’t usually ask for bland ones, but some peace would be nice.

SIMPLE LOVING

LENGTH : 0.7k

TAGS : fluff ; remus being smitten ; feeding each other ; couple goals ; tickle fight

NAVI.

“How was Herbology, Rem?” you ask, sitting between his outstretched legs under the willow tree as it cried over the black lake. It was lunch break and because it was one of the lovelier days outside, you and your boyfriend decided to have lunch picnic-style along with the rest of his friends. Your group were also free to join, as always, and sat not too far from where you were comfortably melded against Remus, who lent back against the willow tree’s trunk. The both of you were cradled by its roots and shaded relatively well by its mourning silhouette. It was a perfect day.

“It wasn’t bad,” Remus mumbles against your hair before pressing a brief kiss against your temple. Straining your neck only slightly, you share a smile before relaxing into one another once more, “how was Charms?” he asks, wrapping one arm around your torso as his other hand extends out to your right and pulls the small plate of lunch you brought out from the dinner hall. Remus had done the same but hadn’t touched his lunch yet. He prioritises yours and begins to feed unprompted. Caring for you comes so easily to him.

In between mouthfuls, you reiterate the happenings of your Charms class. Remus didn’t care if the conversation got boring or had extended pauses, he merely enjoyed being around you. He also really enjoyed tending to your needs in small gestures. People often saw him carrying your heavy books to classes, helping you with your assignments and carrying spare hair ties on his wrists for you. Boys didn’t appreciate his setting of the standard and girls envied you for having such a considerate lover.

“The flick and swish always gets me. There’s no standard for it so the outcome is always variable. The others made it look easy but I’ll show them and master that charm soon enough,” Remus smiles at your attitude and rids your pout by offering another spoonful. He loves listening to you talk. He loved hearing the sound of your voice; it was one of the most beautiful sounds he could hear. Whenever you got to talking, he always made sure to be completely silent and gave your words special attention. Oftentimes, whenever he’s reading his academic books for references and pre-reading relevant material before classes, your voice would be the one reading out the verses in his mind — that way, learning became a little more enjoyable and he got through the material much quicker. You finish up your plate of lunch soon enough and lovingly turn your face to kiss his inner wrist in gratitude.

“Your turn, Rem,” you giggle and reach for his neglected plate of lunch. Smiling warmly, Remus observes as you turn in place before moving to straddle his lap. Naturally, his large hands move to hold your hips and you begin to feed him bite after bite.

In the background, your friends gape obnoxiously at the affectionate display, some burn bright red in the cheeks and others hurriedly look away. It was incredibly easy to mistake your activities for something much as the willow tree’s roots cradled your forms and obscured your lower halves. However, your innocent feeding of his lunch was all the indication they needed to know you weren’t doing anything beyond that.

“You’re a mischievous little minx, you know that, darling?” Remus muses, licking his lips as you set down his finished plate.

“Hmm?” you tilt your head innocently and lean down for a kiss, licking away the remnants of his lunch from his lips as you pull away, “What do you mean, Rem? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

He laughs at your playful display and carefully throws you off him, to the grass. As you lay on your back, giggling sweetly, he leans over your form and captures your lips in a heated kiss. A stray hand traces the curves of your waist and hips as the other keeps him hovering above you. He never goes too far with intimacy, especially in such a public place but you savour the scandalised gasps of your distant friends. Your handsome boyfriend pulls away with a hidden smirk and buries his face into your neck, kissing your sensitive skin and tickling the area with his nose.

“Remus!” you squeal in delight, laughing as brightly as the sun overhead. His wondering hand and the loving kisses to your neck and shoulder had quickly divulged into a tickle attack. Onlookers stare on, envious of such a loving and harmonious relationship.

“Lily, can we—”

“No!”

NAVI.

A/N : i'm so sorry it took me such a long time to get to this request, my love, i was in a rut with requests for such a long time and i kept overthinking them all. I'm afraid i don't make any explicit mentions of reader being a ravenclaw but it's still fluffy and cute and perfectly sweet for you x

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #remus lupin x you #📝 : request

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rcmclachlan · 1 month ago

Text

Am I using the 8x16 spoilers as a way to deal with the loss of my own dad almost three years after the fact? I'll never tell!

"They want me to say something."

The warm brick wall pressed up against his back shifts a little, and the bed dips beneath their combined weight with a worrying creak. "'They' who?"

From what feels like miles away, Buck wonders how old the mattress is. Standard advice says to change your mattress every ten years, but he's read you should do it as soon as six. He hopes the bed is relatively new. It's insanely comfortable and he always sleeps so well, not to mention all the memories he's made in it. The very thought of hauling it out to the curb so the city can throw it in a dump makes his eyes prickle for the two-hundredth time in the last half hour.

"You can't get rid of the bed," Buck murmurs, staring at the white dresser across the room. It's the only thing in his direct line of sight. He hates the pulls on it. They're too old to be retro and they make the bureau look like it doesn't belong. "You ate me out for the first time on this bed."

Tommy presses a kiss to his head like he's hiding a sigh in Buck's hair. Which he might be. Buck should probably be annoyed by that but he can't muster up the energy.

"So, those are two very separate ideas," Tommy says. "Let's table the bed thing for now."

Hah. Furniture pun.

"Who wants you to say something?" Tommy's always good at following threads of conversation, no matter how they split and weave into something new. He never loses track of that original stitch.

Buck closes his eyes. "A-Athena. She asked if I would say something. At the uh, the..."

He can't make his mouth shape the word. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he tries to force air around them, to make the 'F' sound, but something in the back of his throat blocks the way.

"Gotcha," Tommy says simply. The arm slung across Buck's chest tightens like a seatbelt during a hard brake. "Is that... something you're comfortable doing?"

"I don't know," Buck says. "I don't know what I'd even say."

The ugly drawer pulls are starting to look like faces. Screws for eyes, the handles for mouths. The way they curve makes it look like they're laughing. If he asked Tommy to get rid of them, he knows Tommy would immediately head down to the garage to get his electric drill. He'd destroy this antique for Buck without asking him a single question.

Hen thinks he's in shock, but he thinks shock's supposed to wear off after a few hours. It's been almost four days since they got the text from Athena—it's him—and he's still existing outside his own body. Every feeling he's ever felt has been vacuumed out of him. Even when Tommy showed up on his doorstep at the end of the first day, eyes rimmed red and glassy, all Buck could say was, "I've never mourned a dad before. Come to show me how it's done?"

Tommy had wrapped Buck up in his arms and said gently, "I've never mourned a dad, either. I'm just here for you."

Loneliness is a bad reason to get back together with someone. Grief is even worse. He wants to say love is behind his desperate refusals to let Tommy leave the house, even for groceries, but he's not sure if it is. But he also knows that without Tommy's seat belt arm around him, Buck would've flown through the proverbial windshield on day two. Maybe it is love. He vaguely remembers what it felt like.

Maybe he needs to bake something. He'd get out of bed to make lemon tarts, but his bones have dissolved. He's just a sack of skin and blood.

"What would you say?" He stares at the open mouths of the drawer pulls and realizes they're not laughing, but screaming. "If it was your father?"

Tommy leans back a little. Buck tenses, then relaxes when Tommy's mouth smears a kiss over his shoulder.

"Mine? Probably 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust, let's now shove this asshole in the earth's crust.'"

Buck huffs with humor that feels like it's coming from two rooms over. "Seriously."

"Seriously." Buck can feel Tommy shrug. "I have nothing to say to him now and I doubt I'd have anything to say if he was dead. But my situation would be completely different."

"How's that?" Buck thinks about rolling over to see his face so he doesn't have to look at the dresser anymore, but then he remembers he doesn't have any bones. Looks like he's stuck here.

"I'd be burying my father. I'm never going to have to bury a dad."

Buck says nothing for a moment. "They're the same thing."

"They aren't, and you know it."

Thank goodness he's belted in by Tommy's arm, because his mind drives wildly across the country to 25 Elm Street, Hershey, PA, where Phillip Buckley is probably puttering around his office, on the phone with someone at his company who needs advice about how to close some multi-million dollar deal. Buck imagines him freezing mid-step, maybe dropping the phone for a little bit of extra drama, then clutching his chest before collapsing to the floor. He thinks about how he would feel getting the call from Maddie.

Maybe that's the difference. If his father died, he'd feel something. Mild shock, maybe, and probably wistful sorrow, thinking about all the time they'd wasted. He'd fly to Hershey and hug his mom when she cried and stand in the receiving line at Hoover Funeral Home and shake people's hands and thank them when they said they were sorry for his loss.

But the world wouldn't lose its color. It wouldn't feel like Buck's heart was fighting for every beat. He wouldn't need Tommy's arm at all.

"I don't know what to... how do I begin to distill what Bobby... what he meant to me?" Buck's eyes prickle hotly. Maybe he'll finally cry. He hasn't yet, which is weird. Usually his taps go on at the drop of a hat. "How do I keep it to, what, three minutes? Is that how long I'm supposed to talk for? T-That's impossible."

"That's a good place to start, actually."

"What, saying there's no way I can keep it to three minutes or less?"

"That you can't condense what Bobby meant—means—to you." Tommy kisses his shoulder again. "Admitting something's too big for you to put into words... well, a lot of people will know exactly what you mean."

"Saying it makes it real," Buck whispers.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's real if you say it or not."

Maybe it's because Tommy sounds so apologetic about telling the truth, or maybe it's because Buck's soul is currently divorced from the rest of him so he's able to hear the other thing Tommy's saying. Whatever it is, it makes his vision swim. Through the blur, he can see a little bit of color eke back into the room. The dresser isn't white; it's light blue.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Buck rasps, "He's dead."

"I know, Evan," Tommy says, strained, like he's in pain. Like Buck's realization hurts him too.

"Tommy, my dad's dead."

The thing that's been blocking his airway rolls away, and the sob that's been waiting there patiently for days finally tastes freedom. At the same time his soul slams back into his body, his bones rebuild themselves, which gives him the ability to roll over and bury his face into Tommy's neck to muffle the sound of his cries.

He doesn't know how to keep Bobby Nash to three minutes, and even if he manages to come up with something, they'll give him the hook before long. He doesn't know what to do with all the feelings that have broken out of the vacuum and settled right back where they'd been. He doesn't know how to do any of this.

But right now, no one's asking him to. Right now, all he has to do is sit with it.

The seatbelt around Buck's chest tightens, but it doesn't feel like it's because of a hard brake. Tommy is just holding him closer.

#bucktommy #911 8x16 spoilers #911 spec fic #911 spoilers #once again living on the edge by writing directly into the tumblr text editor #rc's 911 fics #bucktommy fic #tevan fic

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

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hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

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shiny-kaibernyte · 9 months ago

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Arven Headcannons (Romantic)

No warnings: Just pure fluff

There are a few general headcannons in here and a couple of how i think him and Nemona's friendship would be. But its 90% fluff. I actually wrote WAYYYY more than what's in this post but i didn't think people would want to read an entire Essay. So here are a selection!

This man cannot bake for anything. Give him a grill and bread, he will give you a 5 star meal. Give him a whisk and a cake tray, he will burn the house down. So don’t expect a homemade cake on your birthday. Or at least don’t expect one from him.

He was Smitten with you the moment you agreed to help him on his Titan Quest. Reluctantly or joyfully, hearing you agreeing made him fall head over heels for you and he didn’t even know it. Maybe that's why he tried extra hard on those Sandwiches.

Arven and Nemona used to fight over the best friend position, You’d usually have to stand in the middle of them to prevent their Pokémon battles from spilling into personal ones. Arven would later claim the Boyfriend card once Area Zero was dealt with, Nemona was very pleased to cement the best friend spot.

You are the only other person who's allowed to take Mabosstiff out on walks. You're his person, so you get the puppy. Nemona and Penny both tried, it resulted in Arven throwing a tomato at Nemona and Penny slowly backing out of the room. He did mourn the tomato though… he wanted that tomato.

Arven isn’t necessarily Protective, but he is observant. He will defend your honour and voice with every ounce of his being. But he also isn’t a violent person, that's what Pokémon battles are for.

That being said, if something did happen to you, especially if you fell ill. He would go to hell and back to find some way of helping you. He already proved that much, just don’t bail on him if he needs you most.

Love Language: Gift Giving + Quality time.

If he can, he will SPOIL you. He never had someone love him the way you do. Show him the kindness and compassion that makes his heart sore. If he could give you the world. He’d hand you the Galaxy on a silver plate. But until he can find a Cosmo. A plushie will have to be done for now.

He is not a morning person at all. The only reason you will ever find him up before midday is for one of two reasons: A teacher told him off for being late and he’s only got 1 more warning before another suspension OR Mabosstiff dragged him out of bed by the ankle and forced him to go outside. There is no other reason.

Terrible at video games, absolutely horrendous. Dude can’t even play Minecraft without throwing the controller. Penny tried to teach him how to play Stardew Valley, he got angry at Pierre for the backpack price and hasn’t picked up the game again. Though he’s happy to watch you play and will hold down a button if you get tired. Never ask him to play though… unless you need to laugh, then ask.

One time you tried to put a bow on Mabosstiff ‘s head. With no recollection how or why, it somehow ended up in Arven’s hair. You have now learnt Arven can rock a manbun and a sparkling pastel pink bow.

When you first stayed the night, dude slept like a board. He did not move a single cell in his body. It wasn’t until you were resting your head on his chest that he actually moved. He has since loosened up, but it took a while for him to trust himself enough to even touch you when you slept.

He cannot Flirt. You cannot tell me otherwise.

He bought you both onesies to wear on movie nights. Yes he has to have a Saturday movie night with you or he gets grumpy.

Sometimes Arven will bring you lunch or make you breakfast so he knows you have eaten at least something during the day. Plus he also uses it as an excuse to see you smile but he will never say that to your face. Only Mabosstiff.

Dude is terrified of Cetitan. Ever since the "mountain incident" Cetitan is his greatest enemy. Arven tries to act tough and unafraid to impress you but, Grusha has and will continue to use this fear to his Advantage any time Nemona drags Arven to the Mountains. You totally didn’t make a deal with Grusha and Nemona, that isn’t something you did… Wink wink.

You don’t borrow his clothes, he donates them. There have been numerous occasions you have opened a drawer or wardrobe to find one of his numbers, jackets, vests, anything! Just something new of his somewhere for you to have. He will even buy different sizes if you prefer baggy shirts or snug shirts.

He remembers everything and yet nothing at the same time. You ask him what day it is, he’ll look at you like you just asked him to explain calculus to a class of year 1’s. Ask him your favourite movie!? Arven will go into excruciating detail about everything to the point you’d think he directed it. Nemona and Giacomo once held a quiz night on Arven just to test how much he did remember. Dude remembered nothing about anyone else, except birthdays… he’s good at that. But you dude could write your autobiography.

Dude has zero fear of heights, once Miridon learnt how to fly, anytime Arven would join you, he’d always sit behind you so he could hold your waist. It’s been a little thing of his ever since Area Zero, he can’t not do it. Even if he’s the better driver; Dude will sit behind you as an excuse to just hold you.

Almost No PDA he is a private person. He does lean on you though or will stand behind you almost like a bodyguard. If he does touch you in public it's usually a reassuring hand on the shoulder, on the small of your back to guide you somewhere or your arm locked into his. He isn’t a hand holder, he usually is carrying something or needs his hands free so he does subtle stuff instead.

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myrtlebranch1019 · 5 months ago

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My Thoughts on Solas in *Dragon Age: The Veilguard* (DATV)

It’s been about a month since I played Dragon Age: The Veilguard and I finally feel ready to talk about Solas. Yes, *that* Solas—the one who’s sparked endless debates in the Dragon Age fandom for over a decade, inspiring some of the most fascinating character analyses I’ve ever read. Unfortunately, the Solas we get in DATV feels like a shadow of his former self. Instead of the nuanced and controversial figure we know, he’s been reduced to a one-dimensional scapegoat with inconsistent writing that just didn’t do him justice.

Solas has always been such a compelling character—complex, flawed, and full of contradictions. But in DATV, the trickster archetype, he represented, was so poorly handled that I sometimes wondered if the characters in the game and I were even getting the same information. Take the moments when we uncover Solas’ memories: the reactions from other characters came across as weirdly more venomous toward Solas than even Elgar’nan, who was a literal tyrant. It felt like (some of?) the writers were trying to strip away any sympathy for Solas, but if anything, it had the opposite effect, if we judge from the percentage of people who chose to redeem him. (Pro tip for game writers: players don’t like being told how to feel about a character!)

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to excuse Solas’ actions. He’s done some truly awful things. But reducing his complexity to make him easier to blame? That’s not it. What made Solas fascinating wasn’t just his lies, treachery or rebellion but his wisdom and the fact that he cared too much. Even when he convinced himself the people of modern Thedas weren’t “real,” he still supported acts of kindness and mourned unnecessary loss. That sentimentality made him sympathetic, even while he was pursuing some pretty despicable goals. It’s that balance—the caring, sentimental dreamer weighed down by his own ruthlessness —that made Solas the perfect trickster figure and harbinger of change.

That’s why some of the decisions in DATV just didn’t sit right with me. Solas has always been willing to sacrifice others for his ideals, but that includes himself—*especially* himself. Din’an Shiral, anyone? The reveal about Varric should have been this devastating, mind-blowing moment, but instead, it felt cheap. Solas manipulating Rook by hiding Varric’s death? Totally in character. But actively using blood magic to control their mind? That felt like a shortcut, and a boring one at that. Especially, after those heated debates he had with the Iron Bull in Inquisition about how important freedom of thought is for him.

This was such a missed opportunity to dive into heavier themes like the manifestation of regret and grief—both of which would’ve made Rook more tragic and relatable. What I wanted to see from Solas, was a tragic hero who’d fought for so long he ended up becoming the villain. Not unlike his mortal enemy Elgar’Nan. What I got instead was a caricature of the trickster archetype, stripped of all the depth we saw in Trespasser.

Another thing that bugged me was how DATV framed Solas’ rebellion. The in-game conversations by the Veilguard team seem to suggest that he started it out of spite toward Mythal and/or Elgar’nan, which just isn’t true. Solas rebelled because he believed—to be more precise convinced himself—that the Evanuris were waging war on the Titans in the name of freedom. And realising that this wasn’t the actual motive was his first attempt to “fix” his mistakes. In other words the part he played in the war, and at the same time protect his people from tyrany the worst of fates in his eyes. That’s such a crucial part of his story, and seeing it misinterpreted by the cast, felt like such a disservice to the complexity of the character.

That’s not to say everything about Solas in DATV was bad. The dialogue was exquisite and stood out as classic Solas, especially when it came to the contrast between his wisdom and cunning or the need to offer guidance vs the manipulation (props to Trick for really nailing those moments). The animations were incredible, too, and perfectly captured his aura. And, of course, Gareth David-Lloyd absolutely killed it as Solas. His performance brought so much life to the character, even when during the moments when the writing fell short.

Still, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Solas has always been my favorite DA character, and seeing him reduced like this was frustrating. He’s a character built on contradictions—sentimental but ruthless, idealistic but pragmatic, sympathetic yet maddening. DATV had the chance to explore all of that and take him to new depths, but instead, it just… didn’t. And as a fan who’s loved his journey for years, that’s hard to swallow. Needless to say I would still devour any novel or media about him, because I’m definitely left wanting more from his story.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #datv critical #dragon age solas #solas

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axnqel · 4 months ago

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ⓘ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ I will do anything for you, babe.

─ pairing .ᐟ homelander x fem!psychiatrist!reader

─ synopsis & word count .ᐟ being hired by Vought as the psychiatrist for the seven wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned for your career. and captain patria falling in love with you? yeah, that definitely wasn't on the bingo card either. you liked him—God, you liked him more than you'd ever admit—but loving him? loving him felt impossible. it was like trying to hold onto a storm; no matter how hard you tried, it always slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake. | 4.0k words.

─ content warning .ᐟ slight ooc homelander, talks of narcissism, obsessive behaviors, homelander tweaking out, lwk stalking...., reader being quite literally the complete opposite of homelander, slight arguing but tbh it's lwk one-sided, angst, hurt/not really comfort, ending can be interpreted differently tbh, takes place somewhere in season one i guess.

─ c speaks .ᐟ tiktoks gone and i had over 100 homelander edits and i was only able to save 21. this is what happens when no one turns on their saves. in mourning fr. (edit: i deleted the app when it got banned. yes i know, biggest mistake because now its back??? like omigod), also try to spot the lana songs i referenced by name !!

Vought Tower was intimidating on your first day, though you’d never admit it out loud. The glass walls, the sterile halls, the feeling that the entire building is watching you—it all felt like stepping inside a gilded cage. You weren’t naive; you knew this job wasn’t going to be easy. You’d read the reports, seen the news, and done your research. The Seven were powerful, untouchable, and deeply dysfunctional.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done anything similar to this before. You’d worked as a trauma counselor for too long and needed something new. But although this wasn’t that different from your previous job, the paycheck Vought offered you was obscene, and the idea of helping anyone navigate that kind of mess was almost too good a challenge to resist.

Still, the reality of it was a little more… intense.

“Try not to take anything personally,” Ashley Barrett chirped, with her tangy-pitched voice and her heels clicking too quickly down the hallway as you struggled to keep pace. “They can be… uh, strong personalities.”

Well, that’s lovely. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, clutching your notebook tighter. Strong personalities. Sure. That sounded like Vought’s PR-approved way of saying absolute trainwrecks and fucking maniacs.

The first meeting was set in the briefing room, a sleek conference space with a long table that was seemingly just for show. Fortunately for you, this was just an introductory meeting, and you had extra time to prepare for the sessions you would have with the supes later.

You weren’t expecting them to show up all at once—if they even showed up at all. But as you stood near the head of the table, straightening the folder in your hands for what felt like the thousandth time. the door swung open.

And there he was.

Homelander didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. It was the first thing you truly noticed about him. Perfect posture, perfect suit, perfect smile that somehow felt more threatening than polite. His presence swallowed everything else, leaving no room for anyone else to breathe. And when his sharp blue eyes landed on you, it felt as though the world was closing in on you.

"You're the shrink?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Psychiatrist," you corrected, keeping your voice steady.

He chuckled, low and quiet, like he'd already decided this was going to be fun—for him, anyway.

"Welcome." He said, his eyebrows raising as he walked over to the chair at the head of the table.

You stepped a few steps over, but that clearly did nothing as he subtly scooted closer to you.

My, did you need so much strength for this job.

The job was not easy. In case that wasn't already clear. Getting the supes to cooperate was like talking to a wall. You didn't want to coerce them into spilling out every detail of their life, but you weren't expecting them to be so grounded. Maybe your judgement was just clouded from what the media showed you about them.

Luckily, your office was a calm contrast from the chaos exhibited in Vought tower. The decor was intentionally neutral-earthy tones, soft lighting, and a simple desk with your tablet, folder, and notebook resting on top. A pair of comfortable chairs sat across from each other, meant to foster openness. Yet, the calm facade of the room was tested by the personalities that walked through the door.

Maeve was... okay. She was sweet, closed off, and knew exactly when to stop talking. PR training had clearly blinded her.

Black Noir was quiet—obviously but did exchange a couple words through his notepad.

A-Train was clouded and very insecure. However, that didn't change your resentment for his attitude towards you. Goodness.

The Deep pissed. you. off. But you kept a professional demeanor. His misguided attempt to flirt with you and the exaggerated confidence almost made you want to punch a hole in the wall. Ha.

Starlight might've just been your favorite yet. She was sweet and willing to talk, and her soft voice made you feel safe.

However, when the clock struck 6:00, and Homelander walked into your office on the dot, lord, you might as well have fainted.

It wasn't that you liked him or idolized him. You barely knew of him. Of course, you'd heard the name here and there, but to be frank, you never kept up and your family didn't give two shits. But the way he carried himself and spoke to you, it made your heart clench.

He was surprisingly so open to speaking, but the more he opened his mouth, the more narcissistic he seemed. If you could diagnose him with a God complex, you would. He acted like some million-dollar man, though he truly was. It just seemed he wanted to be in charge wherever he went.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I want to hear about how you're doing and how I can... support you." You kept your expression neutral, though your pulse quickened.

Homelander's smile widened, but there was an edge to it. "Support me? That's cute, but I'm fine. Really. The question is, how are you holding up? First day on the job and all." His tone was so friendly and polite, it confused her.

And it went on like this every session. He would come at 6 P.M. on the dot every Friday and the atmosphere in the room would become so charged. His presence was so magnetic, and his smile was disarming, yet the more he talked, and the more you listened, you started to feel some kind of way. Not anything you could explain, as ironic as that seemed.

And there was no kidding he felt something too. But your feelings were nothing compared to his.

He felt a burning desire for you the minute he walked into that conference room and looked you straight in the eye. He was willing to give himself up for you, and it felt so weird for him. Never in his many years of living did he ever feel this way.

Plus, you were just some ordinary woman. There was nothing special about you to the ordinary eye. You weren't a superhero or an entrepreneur. At the end of the day, you were just a psychiatrist, trying to make it through the day. If that was the case, then why was he so drawn to you?

He didn't understand—no—he couldn't understand.

And as time went on, this desire only grew stronger. Mutually.

Homelander began to fixate on you, quite unhealthily for that matter. It started innocently enough: more frequent eye contact in your sessions, lingering in the doorway of your office, showing up early for your sessions, or even walking you out of the tower at the end of your shift.

Being around you was like a balm for the constant chaos in his mind.

To him, you're unlike anyone he's ever met: calm, kind, and so completely human it fascinates and unnerves him. You were the complete opposite of him, and he never thought he could be attracted to that.

He's always managed to be in a relationship that was, while short-lived, with someone who elicited every ounce of his personality. Someone who was just like him. And maybe that was a good thing, who knows? But it only confused him more.

At first, he tries to justify it. You're his psychiatrist. His shrink. Nothing less, nothing more. You're meant to listen to him, to care about his feelings; he tells himself it's just your job.

However, as time goes on, he starts wanting needing more. He's tired of the patient-doctor dynamic. He begins asking personal questions, sometimes invasive, using his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on your conversations with others, and justifying it all with the idea that he's "protecting" you. Problem is, he doesn't really know what he's doing. He's just trying to convince himself that his actions are worth being justified.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the shift in his behavior and try to keep the professional boundaries. You remind him, gently but firmly, that the relationship is strictly therapeutic. But it felt like you were telling yourself that rather than the captain himself.

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Homelander brings up after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

You shifted in the cream-colored plush chair, your eyebrows raised with confusion. "I'm sorry?" You spoke questioningly. The two of you were just speaking about his narcissistic tendencies and now he's asking what your favorite ice cream flavor is? How bad was his attention span?

Homelander smiled, but it had that edge to it. So much so, you couldn't even tell if it was genuine. "What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Come on, you've gotta have one." He tilted his head as he continued to stare at you, his gaze never averting.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?

But somehow, it felt like the world had slowed down the moment he asked it. What?

You blinked, the words tumbling through your heads as if he'd said something infinitely profound. It was the question itself—it was the way he asked it. The casual tilt of his head, the way his lips curved in that perfect, effortless smile, like he wasn't aware of the absolute devastation he left in his wake. His eyes—bluer than any sky or ocean you'd ever seen—were locked on you, so unrelenting it felt like he could see straight through your skin. He could.

Your throat tightened, a mix of awe and panic, as if he'd plucked every coherent though from your mind and left you with nothing but the ridiculous, overwhelming knowledge that this man was impossibly beautiful. Lord.

It was embarrassing! Really. You weren't some love-struck teenager, swooning at the mere sight of him. But God help you, that's exactly what it felt like.

"Uh..." you stammered, your brain working overtime to catch up to the question. You barely managed to form words; your voice softer than you intended. "Mint chocolate chip. I guess."

His smile deepened, and for a split second, you thought he might laugh. Not in a cruel way, no, but in that teasing, playful way that made your chest tighten even more.

"I love mint chocolate chip." He said, and you swore the warmth in his tone was just for you.

And just like that, you were lost.

You walked into your office the next day to find a tiny red cooler on top of your desk, with 4 jars of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Homelander starts requesting more one-on-one sessions than originally planned. At first, he frames it as a necessity. "You know, it's stressful being me," he says with a tight-lipped smile during one session, leaning back in the chair like he owns the room. "I think I deserve a little extra... support."

You can't exactly argue. After all, this is your job, right? If he wanted extra support, he would get it. Simple as that. But even in those early days, there’s something about the way he watches you that makes your skin prickle—not with fear, not yet, but with the awareness of something unspoken hanging in the air.

It’s manageable, at first. He talks vaguely about the pressure of being perfect, about always having to put a show for the cameras, the crowd, and his fellow teammates. He doesn’t give you much, but to be fair, he doesn’t have to. You’ve worked with people similar to him before, people who hide their vulnerability behind bravado.

What surprises you, though, is how much he seems to want you to understand him.

And he clearly won’t stop until you do. Or until he makes you feel the same way he does.

It’s late—too late for anyone to still be in the building. You’ve been working late, reviewing session notes and preparing for tomorrow’s meeting with The Seven. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, and the silence of Vought Tower felt heavier than usual.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice him at first, not until his reflection suddenly became clear in the glass of your office window.

“Burning the midnight oil?” His voice was smooth, casual, but it startled you all the same.

You turned, clutching your chest. “Homelander—God, you scared me.

He stepped inside, uninvited, and you immediately noticed the difference in his appearance. His cape is slightly askew, his hair less perfect with strands falling into his face, and there’s a tension in his posture that you can’t seem to place.

“I was in the area,” he says, brushing off your concern with a shrug. “Thought I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

The statement threw you off. “I’m… fine,” you said carefully, unsure of where this was going. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here for that.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not trouble. You know, I think you’re the only person in this whole damn building who’s honest with me.”

There’s a rawness to his words that takes you off guard, but before you can respond, he’s already moving closer, standing just a little too close. His gaze felt heavier than usual, like he’s searching for something in you—validation, comfort, maybe both.

"You really care about people, don't you?" he asked softly, almost as if he's testing the waters.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. "I do. It's why I got into this field. I want to help."

He tilts his head, his smile sharpening into something darker, more knowing. "Even people like me?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You meet his eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "Especially people like you, Homelander."

"John." He corrected.

You furrowed your brows. "Sorry?"

"Call me John."

The first kiss didn't come softly—it was a collision.

It happened after one of your most intense and deep sessions. Homelander's mask slipped completely; his usual smirk replaced with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache. He's sat across from you, his hands gripping the edge of the chair as if he's afraid he might fall apart.

"I don't know how to stop," he admits, his voice low and trembling. "This... this thing inside of me. It's like... it's eating me alive."

You're not sure what to say. For all your training, for all your professionalism, you're still just a person. A person who feels too much.

"You're not broken, H... John," you whispered, even though you're not sure you believe it.

His eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, there's silence. Then he's standing, closing the distance between you in a single heartbeat.

"Don't say that," he says, his voice sharp but desperate. "Don't lie to me. You don't really understand—no one understands. But you... you're different."

Before you can stop him, his lips crash into yours. It's not gentle—it's needy, almost frantic, like he's trying to our everything he can't say into you. You feel the weight of his emotions in every movement, every shiver of his breath against your skin.

And for a moment, you let him. You kiss him back, your fingers curling into his suit as you let yourself drown in the intensity of it all.

But then reality hits, sharp and cold. You pull away, your breath hitching.

"This... we can't," you stammer, stepping back. "Homelander, this isn't right."

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze is locked on you, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, a smile curls across his lips—a soft, unsettling thing.

"You felt it too," he says quietly, and there's a glimmer of triumph in his tone.

You shake your head, and the pounding of your heart is like music to his ears. "This can't happen again," you whisper, but even as you say the words, you're not sure you believe them.

You tell yourself it was a mistake. That it was a moment of weakness, nothing more. But it doesn't feel like a mistake. Not when you catch Homelander looking at you during your sessions, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.

"I scare you, don't I?" he asks one day, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"You don't scare me," you reply, though your voice wavers.

He leans forward, his expression softening. "I should." He says, almost gently.

There's a part of you that wonders if he's right. If you're being reckless, selfish, delusional. But then there's another part of you—a darker, quieter part—that craves him. That loves him. Even though you know you shouldn't.

And that's the part that keeps you up at night.

You notice it the next morning—the way your mail seems disturbed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in your hallway. It's subtle at first, easy to dismiss. But it only gets worse.

You find flowers on your doorstep. Your favorite, in fact. There's no note, but you know exactly who they're from.

When you confront him during your next session, he doesn't even try to deny it.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, smiling like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"John, this isn't... appropriate," you say, your voice firm but uncertain.

"Appropriate?" He echoes, his smile fading. "After everything I've done for this country, for this cruel world... you're worried about what's appropriate?"

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. But his words stick with you, planting seeds of guilt and confusion that take root in your mind.

You're sitting in your apartment, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to shake the feeling that you're being watched. The soft hum of the radio fills the space and before you know it, he's there, standing on your balcony like he belongs there.

"You left the curtains open," he says, his tone teasing but his expression serious.

"John," you say, standing quickly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he steps inside, his gaze locking onto yours.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he says, his voice low and raw. "You're all I think about. Every second of every day. And it's driving me insane." He's practically fed up. He could kill you, get it over with and maybe then everything will go away. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that's not the case.

You should tell him to leave. But instead, you let him close the distance between you again.

When he kisses you this time, it's softer, slower, but no less intense. And once again, you let yourself get lost in it.

The kiss ends too soon, leaving you breathless and unsteady on your feet. Homelander—or rather, John, as he’s insisted you call him—steps back just enough to study your face. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of triumph, longing, and something darker, something that makes your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice almost tender. “I’d never let anything happen to you. No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”

You can’t stop the chill that runs down your spine at his words. There’s sincerity in them, but also a quiet promise, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. It’s like he’s already decided what your life will look like, as if the idea of you existing without him is unfathomable.

“I’m not afraid,” you lie, stepping back, trying to regain your composure. “But this… this isn’t right, John. You know it isn’t.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, the mask slips. The vulnerability you’ve seen in your sessions flickers, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder, more calculating.

He doesn’t like being told no. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, in the flicker of irritation that passes through his piercing blue eyes.

“But it feels right,” he counters, taking a step closer. “Doesn’t it? You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too. I know you do.”

You want to argue, to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. Because the truth is, he’s right. You do feel it. That pull, that connection, that overwhelming magnetism that makes it impossible to think straight when he’s around. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and daring yourself not to look down.

“This isn’t about what feels right,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “It’s about boundaries, John. About professionalism. And this—whatever this is—it crosses every line.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, slow and deliberate, like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re scared,” he says softly, almost sympathetically. “Not of me. Of how you feel about me.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Because he’s not wrong, and he knows it.

“I think you should leave,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this isn’t going to happen, John. It can’t.”

His smile falters, and for a split second, you see something raw and dangerous flash across his face. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, his expression hardening into something more familiar, more controlled.

“Alright,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over. You know that, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is watch as he steps back out onto the balcony, his cape billowing behind him like a shadow. He pauses for a moment, turning to look at you one last time.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something unspoken. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there.

You collapse onto the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. The room feels impossibly quiet without him, the weight of his presence lingering even after he’s left. You tell yourself it’s over, that he’ll leave you alone, that you can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened.

But deep down, you know better.

The following days pass in a blur. You throw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles every time you pass a reflective surface, the way you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

The flowers keep arriving, always your favorite, always without a note. And every time you see them, you’re reminded of his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then, one night, you find a letter slipped under your door. It’s written in his handwriting, neat and precise, and your hands tremble as you read it.

I’ll wait as long as it takes. You know where to find me.

You fold the letter carefully, placing it in the drawer of your desk. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you don’t care, that you’re not waiting for him to come back.

But as you sit there in the quiet of your apartment, staring at the faint glow of the city lights outside your window, you can’t help but wonder what it would mean if you did.

Would it be so wrong to want him? To give in, just once, and see what it feels like to be completely consumed by someone like him? Or would it be the beginning of the end, the moment you lose yourself to something you can never take back?

You don’t have the answers. Maybe you never will. But you can’t deny the tiny, treacherous part of you that whispers: what if? What if it was easier? What if loving him didn't have to be so hard? Would you still do it?

And somewhere out there, in the shadows of the city, he’s waiting.

#cece's writings #homelander #the boys tv #homelander x reader #x reader #homelander angst #homelander fluff #homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander x reader insert #the boys #antony starr #the boys x reader #ultraviolence #fluff #angst #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #queen maeve

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Text

Wish, Hope, Dream

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You thought a night would be long enough to clear your head, but a bit of doubt lingers in your mind. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, longing, Natasha and Sharon being both good friends and devil's advocates, ongoing AU, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We Don't Talk Anymore A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry again in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought having answers would give you peace and allow you to rest before facing Bucky in the morning. Oh, how wrong you were. The tussle between your mind and heart didn’t stop, giving you one of the worst nights of sleep that you could remember in a long time. At least your pillow had dried from your tears.

And what was it that you were crying for? Relief that Bucky had feelings for you or were you mourning the lost time you could’ve had together had you two talked sooner? Perhaps both.

“Just get up,” you mumbled, willing yourself to get out of bed and lay out a random sundress to wear.

You wondered if anyone else was awake as you showered and brushed your teeth. Guilt crept in for skipping out on game night. Whatever transpired between you and Bucky, you couldn't let any of those feelings bleed into the rest of the time with your friends. You had to suck it up no matter the outcome.

Glancing down the hall as you left your room, your gaze lingered on Bucky’s door before your footsteps moved in that direction. You raised your hand to knock, wanting to check on him and make sure he got enough sleep. Part of you was tempted to sneak in and crawl into bed with him. Not even completely for sex, which you did not need to think about, but to have him hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay.

And to stop torturing yourself.

But you let your hand fall. You didn't want to assume that he wanted to see you first thing upon waking up. Assumptions and not communicating were what led you on this path to begin with. But you didn't want to smother him.

We can still figure it out together.

You crept downstairs, spotting a few empty bottles from the night before. The main floor was dark, minus the sunlight coming in through the windows and the kitchen. You stayed quiet when you saw Natasha and Sharon huddled together in a hushed conversation by the counter.

Which stopped the moment you walked into the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were talking about you. Not with the concerned look in Sharon’s eyes. Natasha, on the other hand, stared back at you in contemplation. At least it wasn't pity. You couldn't take that.

Did Bucky tell them? Or did they figure it out?

“Hey. Sorry for skipping game night,” you said, shifting on your feet as your gaze flickered between them. “Guess Steve and Sam aren't up yet?” You asked, purposely not mentioning Bucky.

“Don’t need to apologize,” Sharon said, concern continuing to show in her eyes. “I think they’re getting a run in.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. Looking between them again, you hoped things wouldn't be this awkward for the rest of the week. “Am I interrupting? I can just grab breakfast when you two are done.”

“Not interrupting. Go sit in the living room,” Natasha urged, nodding toward the direction of the couch. “Look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Smoothie?” You guessed, glancing around at the array of fruit ready for blending.

“Oh, yeah. Better than coffee,” the redhead teased as she threw a few pieces into the blender with some ice, bringing a small smile to your face as you went back to the living room. She was a good friend.

All of them were.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, sitting beside you on the couch.

You hesitated for a moment. You adored them and always would. But when it came to Bucky, you feared everyone would always side with him over you. Your chest tightened at the thought that if things went south you’d get left behind.

And hadn't you been left behind once before?

“Yes and no,” you answered, not wanting to expand completely yet as Natasha walked in and handed you a glass, your hands gripping it tight. They didn't need to deal with your issues, did they? “Did Bucky talk to everyone? I’m guessing he said something since you two are looking at me like I'm going to break.”

“We don’t think you’re going to break, but you look on edge,” Natasha answered, taking a seat when you didn't disagree. “The guys talked to him a little bit. He wouldn't give them all the details, but we know you two had a long overdue chat.”

“And the way you bolted upstairs last night and how he looked like a kicked puppy, we guessed it didn't go well,” Sharon added, raising an eyebrow. “I think Nat wanted to kick his ass.”

“He looked like he kicked his own ass. Would've just been rubbing salt in an open wound if I did anything else,” she said with no trace of humor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It may help,” Sharon said.

Maybe.

With a deep breath, you told the girls what had happened. How you and Bucky admitted that you had feelings for each other, which neither of them appeared surprised by in the least, but that you walked away from him once the talk was over. How you wished you would’ve given him a chance then and there, but didn’t. It helped and hurt to tell them about it.

You hung your head by the time you finished, your throat tight. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, swallowing a little. “This is supposed to be a fun trip and I’m messing it up with my issues.”

Sharon rubbed your back as you took a sip of your smoothie. “Hey. You’re our friend. You didn't do anything wrong or mess anything up, okay? We all love Bucky, but he's an idiot.”

“Huge idiot. Don't know what you see in him,” Natasha winked as you scoffed. You would always try to see the good in him, even when you were upset. “But I have to say, I’m glad you two finally told each other how you feel.”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde teased halfheartedly. “Kind of hoped you would've said something before we showed up.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. The gang ran late to the beach house on purpose. Of course, they did. The girls were perceptive. Always had been. “So, you knew.”

“Everyone knew, except for the two of you. What’s that trope?” Natasha questioned, her gaze directed at Sharon. “Idiots in love?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “You two are a walking romance novel, torturing yourselves for no good reason.”

“So, I'm an idiot then?” you said, narrowing your eyes when they both opened their mouths. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

You beat yourself up enough.

“Like I said, I’m glad you told him and now you finally have confirmation that he feels the same way,” Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's the problem then?”

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“You said you took the night to think, but you don't exactly look like you're ready to move forward.”

“Because I don't know if I am,” you admitted.

You were overthinking the situation. You wanted to be with Bucky, but some of your wall was still up and you didn't know how to tear the rest of it down. Why was it so hard?

“Look, I'm not excusing what Bucky did because he's an idiot for going out with Dot instead of talking to you, but you know how he feels now,” Natasha began, diplomatic and level-headed like always. “Do you plan to keep him at a distance as a way to protect yourself? Or are you maybe punishing him just a little bit for seemingly abandoning you?”

Leave it to her to ask the tough questions.

“I'm not trying to punish him,” you promised. Both of you had punished yourselves enough. “I just don't want him to hurt me. I mean, I spent two years thinking he'd never want me, but he just didn't want to fight for me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.

“Or maybe he thought he never stood a chance and settled,” Sharon said. “Which, again, he’s an idiot. Most guys are.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should just pretend the last two years didn't happen?” You asked.

“No,” they said in sync.

You huffed. Why were girls both direct and cryptic? “Then what are you saying?”

Natasha grabbed a tissue and handed it over when a tear slid down your cheek. “We’re saying that we think Bucky is genuinely sorry for his stupid assumption and wants you to be his girl. Start slow if you have to and set the ground rules. If it means him apologizing every day with his words and actions, he will. And we know if you gave him your heart, it would be the last thing he'd break. Don’t you owe it to yourself to be happy?”

“Yeah. Maybe just start with a date,” Sharon said, tilting her head when you didn’t say anything. They were only trying to help, but why did it feel like pressure of sorts? Did they fully understand your apprehension? “You really don't see how he looks at you, do you?”

“Why would I when I convinced myself he'd never want me?” You whispered.

Bucky had convinced himself of the same thing. Maybe the two of you were idiots. How long would you continue to torture yourself? They had a point. Why not start with one date and see where it led?

What would be the harm in that, besides risking your whole heart?

“Well, we see how he looks at you,” Sharon said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. I have it.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Have what?” She asked. You wondered the same thing.

The front door opened before you got your answer, your heart skipping a beat when Bucky stopped in the doorway with a beach bag in hand. You realized after a moment that he was still in the same clothes he wore the day before, his eyes bloodshot as he looked your way. His hair was disheveled, too. He didn’t look like he slept well, if at all.

It broke your heart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he croaked when you got to your feet, clearing his throat with a tired smile. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s just a sundress, Dreamboat,” you said, the compliment making your stomach flip before you took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lit up. “You’re still calling me that?”

“Of course, I am.” you smiled softly. He’d always be your Dreamboat. “Did you get any sleep?” You added, sighing when he confirmed your suspicion with a shake of his head. Had you been on his mind? “Why not?”

He gripped the bag handle like a lifeline. “I needed to find a way to say I’m sorry. Tried writing a letter and it wasn't enough.”

Your heart swelled, glancing back at the girls as they both gave you an encouraging smile. “Look. Before you do anything, why don’t you take a nap?” You suggested. “It’s still early and I’m not going anywhere.”

“A nap sounds like a good idea before volleyball,” Natasha said, leveling Bucky with a look. “In fact, why don’t you get him to bed?”

“Nat,” you hissed. Of course, she’d suggest you take him upstairs.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you two in a bit,” Sharon said.

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes was irresistible. “Come on,” you said, taking his arm once he kicked his shoes off. You felt his gaze on you as you took him up the stairs. It amazed you that he didn’t trip over his own feet since he kept his eyes on you. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

“I half expected you to be gone this morning,” he said, opening his door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think I’d bolt after the conversation we had?” You asked. Did he think little of you now?

He chuckled under his breath. “I said half expected,” he teased.

Instead of releasing your arm, he pulled you into his room before you could protest. It wasn’t a good idea to be there, yet there you were. Not fighting it as he pulled you toward the bed.

His large, inviting bed.

“So, what’s in the bag?” You asked curiously to distract yourself as he set it down and stretched out on the bed, pulling you down with him. He gave you plenty of room so you wouldn’t have to cuddle close. He also left the door cracked open.

He was giving you an out.

“I can’t show you yet because I have to put it together,” he yawned, giving you an apologetic smile. “It’ll spoil the surprise otherwise.”

A giddy smile appeared on your face. He was actually going to make you something. “I’ll be patient,” you said, letting him keep your hand in his.

“Haven’t we been patient long enough?” He asked, his hair falling in his eyes as he gazed at you. Even exhausted, he was breathtaking. “I know you needed the night to think it over.”

The smile fell from your face, silence stretching in the room before you squeezed his hand. “Bucky, you need to get some sleep.”

He couldn’t mask the dejected look on his face. It wasn’t an outright rejection, but you hadn’t exactly declared that you should move forward. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick. “All I could see were the tears in your eyes and knowing I caused them.”

“It’s okay,” you told him. It was an assurance for yourself, too. You were okay and he hadn't tried to hurt you.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, the familiar determination back in his eyes. “And I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you smile. I want to win you a stuffed animal at the carnival.”

“You promised me that at dinner yesterday,” you teased.

“I want to take you dancing,” he added, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You could easily picture him smiling as he twirled you around and moved to the beat. Maybe that could be your first actual date. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered,

You inhaled, your heart pounding at the implication. “Bucky…”

“I want to hear about your day. The little things, even the details that you think are mundane,” he said, scooting a bit closer. “I want to be the one you talk to and depend on again.”

Each declaration worked its way into your heart. Why couldn’t you just take the leap of faith? “We can’t just-”

“I want you to be my girl,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I want to give you everything.”

Your heart screamed at you to comfort him, kiss him, to tell him the same. “Bucky, you’re not giving me anything until you get some sleep,” you whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. He needed rest. “Please, for me?”

“I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I can't lose you again.”

You didn't want to lose him either. “You won't lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I said we’d figure this out together and I meant that,” you promised, needing to give him hope. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He finally shut them as he breathed out, “Butterfly, I lo…”

You gasped as Bucky trailed off, smiling to yourself as your eyes misted over. You weren’t going to run. Not from him. Not when you owed it to yourself to be happy.

You told yourself that as his phone rang.

Even as Dot’s name showed on the screen.

It's fine, lovelies! 😭 Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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inkdrinkerworld · 3 months ago

Note

Ok ok ok hear me out. So Remus has always read to his kid, but when the kid starts reading on their own, he almost cries. And when the kid asks to go to the library because they get his love of books, he is overjoyed and take them immediately and gets ice cream afterward. ♡♡♡♡♡

“Daddy?” Carys is laying is your papasan chair in a section of your living room that you’d made into a reading nook.

She’s got her book on her chest as she stares at Remus who’s in a small arm chair reading as well.

Remus looks up from his book, “Yes Carys?”

“Do you fink I gotta get a new book?”

He smiles as she takes great care to set her book down, and then climb off the chair and patter over to him.

She turns six five days after Remus’ birthday, a proper spring celebration that she’s told you and Remus all about.

She wants a tea party birthday, with a cake in the shape of a hat- ‘Like the Hatter mama, wif Alice!’

She’s got a lisp that you’re unconcerned about, her doctor said she’d grow out of it, but you know you and Remus will mourn the day it happens because she’d be all grown up then.

“What new book, baby?” Remus helps her climb into his lap. She settles with her hands on his face, and a kiss to his chin.

Remus can’t help but grin at how affectionate she’s remained, and he knows it’s because of you. You’d helped him with being able to show so much love and you’d both shown Carys so much too.

She thrives under it and she shows it just as freely as you both do.

“I seen a new one in the ‘brary. S’about a girl who disappeared on Hallow’s Eve.” She stumbles through the syllables of ‘disappeared,’ but grins wide when she does it without Remus’ help.

“Yeah? Do you wanna go take it out?”

She nods and Remus smiles even wider. “But I gots two more chaps to read in this one about the fairies.”

“Okay, I’ll text mama while you finish your chapters and we’ll all go when she gets back.”

“Okay, fanks daddy.” He gets a wet kiss to his cheek and then she’s sliding out of his grasp and back into the papasan like she never left it.

Remus calls you just as soon as she gets back into her book and you giggle when you hear the emotion lodged in his throat.

“She asked to go to get a new book ‘cos she’s nearly done the one she’s on.”

Remus knows you’re smiling, “She’s getting older Remmy. It’s hard but that’s the point, no?”

You’re no better in terms of being sad about her growing up.

“Yeah but she used to be so little.” You know exactly what he means. “Would it be so bad if we just gave her everything she asks for the rest of her life?”

You know he’s feeling better with that question. “Maybe we just start with the new book and a trip to the ice cream parlor.”

Remus takes a glance at Carys who’s nose deep in her book and giggling.

“Yeah, we can start there.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #dad!remus lupin #dad!remus #dad!remus lupin x reader

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writeroutoftime · 1 year ago

Text

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind.

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind.

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble.

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately."

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master.

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn.

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?"

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure.

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend.

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump.

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before."

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare.

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group.

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love."

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel."

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in.

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days.

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room.

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss."

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death.

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games.

"What?"

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence.

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you."

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation.

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us."

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him?

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love."

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment.

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting."

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?"

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out."

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back.

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected.

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside."

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded.

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life.

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes.

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came.

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss."

Again, no response.

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses.

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up.

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room.

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand.

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel.

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled.

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you."

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe.

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research."

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words.

"Y-you heard all that?"

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes.

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate."

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more.

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family.

"It worked!"

"You're awake."

"The two of you are mates?!"

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after.

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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reiding-writing · 1 year ago

Note

not the same anon but “sit down” “i’m sat” angsty spencer sounds like an amazing idea my god, like i dunno post-prison spencer just feels so, not the same? 😭 i know a lot people see the sex-appeal but i also really like seeing the broken side of spence after s12

CHANGE [ONESHOT]

Spencer changed after he was released from prison, and an unintentional late-night scare from you leads to a conversation that neither of you ever thought you would have.

WARNINGS: mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of maeve’s death, mentions of spencer’s prison treatment, harsh arguments, emotional breakdowns, optimistic ending

post-prison!reid x gn!reader || angst || 4.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: you understand me. everyone is so focused on spencer being sexy post prison i feel like the emotional side of what he went through is completely forgotten-

Spencer had changed a lot after his incarceration.

None of the team were really surprised. They might not have known the details but they knew he didn’t have a good experience; That the ripple effects of what happened would change his personality.

You could still see the flickers of the man you’d met those twelve years ago in his demeanour.

But sometimes even the most minor of things would remind you just how different he actually was.

Spencer’s elbow almost catches you right between your eyes as he turns around sharply, and if it wasn’t for you reflexively pulling your head backwards you’re sure you would’ve fallen over with a red mark planted on your forehead.

“Woah-” Your hands join your reflexes as they instinctively come up to protect your skull from the bone of his elbow, and you take a few steps backwards from him as they fall back to your sides. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,”

You’d done nothing more than walk up behind him to read what he had been jotting down on the large whiteboard at the edge of the room, but Spencer’s seemingly unconscious response told you that he didn’t see it the same way, and you could see the flicker of apprehension in his eyes as his arm gradually dropped back down to rest against his thigh.

“No, it’s okay, i’m sorry for over reacting,” Spencer offered you an awkward half-smile before turning back to the white board, and you have to consciously suppress a sigh at his demeanour.

You knew he’d been through a lot. Of course he had.

But that didn’t stop you from mourning the sweet innocent Spencer you’d met when he was just barely 23 and innocently oblivious about what the next decade would put him through.

You find yourself gazing at the back of his head for a little too long, and Spencer again turns around to look at you, his sweet socially-awkward roots deftly hidden under a mask of feigned strength and confidence.

“Are you okay? Did you need something?” Spencer’s voice cuts you from your internal analysis of his change in wellbeing, and you physically shake the thoughts from your mind as you reply to him.

“Yeah- Yeah, sorry i’m fine, just got lost in thought is all,” You gesture your words with your hands like it’ll distract from your lingering gaze. “I was just uh- coming to see your progress is all, it’s getting pretty late and the rest of the team have already left for the hotel,”

“Ah, well.” he gestures vaguely, to the board behind him, as if he wasn’t sure he actually wanted you to see it. “Yeah i’ve made.. progress.”

You look at the board behind him. It’s nowhere near as filled out as much as it should be.

"I think we’re all struggling with this one," You try to offer him a soft reassurance along with a gentle hand on his shoulder, but the minute you lift your hand Spencer jerks away again from the touch, causing him to lose his footing and nearly fall to the floor.

"I- i’m sorry I didn’t-" You instinctively move to try and help Spencer not fall over, but catch yourself as you figure that physically reaching out towards him is doing much more harm than good, and you take a few steps back from him with your hands clasped behind your back.

He looks away, and you can’t help the pity you feel. The man in front of you is not the same man Spencer was even a year ago. He might have physically recovered from his time in that hellhole, but mentally he would take years to recover.

You can still see the shame in his eyes as he tries to brush himself off and regain the composure he can’t seem to keep when he’s around you.

He turns his attention back to the board, trying desperately to make up for the lack of progress he’s made.

He’s usually good at hiding his emotions and feelings when he’s working, but even with a mask on you can tell that he’s not well.

"I’ll- leave you be now-" You forced out the words through pursed lips as you begin to retreat slowly towards the door, eyes locked on Spencer’s expression and how it changes at your words. "Sorry-"

“No- No it’s okay-“ Reid shakes his head and looks up at you again, forcing himself to meet your eyes, to force away the shame that floods his body whenever you get near him. “Please stay-“

"I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Spencer I can-" You gesture towards the door awkwardly with your hand.

“You’re not- It’s fine- Just stay.”

Reid forces out the words, and this time you can tell from his expression that this is a genuine demand.

He looks away from you again, his hand clenching and unclenching around the pen as he glares at his writing on the board.

"You’re sure? i know you don’t like people watching you whilst you work and-"

“Just sit down.” Reid bites out the words before he can catch himself, his emotions briefly winning out over his rationale.

He immediately calms down though, and forces out an apology. “It- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell- Just- please sit down,”

"It’s okay, i’m sat-" You’re not entirely surprised by Spencer’s proclivity to snap at the start of a disagreement due to the protective nature he was still harbouring from his time in prison, but it truly cements the fact that he’s not the Spencer that you’d met all those years ago.

The Spencer you knew twelve years ago was timid and scared. The Spencer in front of you right now is angry and frustrated, his patience thin and his nerves frayed.

But you can still see the man you once knew in there- a flicker of a smile, a soft sigh, a gentle gesture. It’s just buried beneath all the trauma, the pain, the anger.

"Are you- okay?" You take a seat on top of the small conference table, resting your feet on one of the chairs.

He sighs, and you see his hands grip around the end of the pen tight enough that you can see the skin under his fingernails turn pale.

Without speaking, he gestures to the board, to the mostly unfinished profile that he should’ve been at least halfway through by now. Then he looks back at you and shakes his head with a look of defeat written across his face.

"In general Spencer,"

You shake your head softly at his gesture. You didn’t want to know if he was okay with the profile progress, you wanted to know if he was okay.

He doesn’t respond at first, not knowing how to.

He takes a deep breath and looks away from you, his eyes closing and his lip curling in thought.

He wants to say ‘I’m okay’, he really does, but he’s not.

He’s not okay and he doesn’t know how to get back there again.

“I’m trying to be.” he finally says, his words coming out strained.

You don’t reply to his statement to anything more than a small nod.

Logically you knew it. The whole team did. But hearing Spencer inadvertently tell you that he wasn’t alright from his own mouth made it feel much more real.

“Does- Does it bother you that i’m.. broken? That i’m not the same?” He’s trying his hardest to get back to normal, and to a lot of extent he is. But there are some behaviours that just won’t go away.

He’s more jumpy, and more skittish than he used to be; His reaction to being touched is more aggressive, and he snaps more easily than he ever used to. “Do you resent me for it?”

"Of course I don’t-" Your denial is immediate, a shake of your head joining your answer. "Everyone changes Spencer, it’s a natural reaction to the things that happens to us,"

“But- But i’m not who I used to be.” He knows he’s repeating himself, but he can’t help but dwell on that point just a little bit.

Spencer had lost such an immense part of himself, and he knows it. He stares at you for a moment, waiting for some form of reassurance he knows you can’t give.

"You’re still you Spencer, that’ll never change,"

“I’m not the sweet innocent boy I was back then.” He speaks again without thinking of filtering himself, his eyes falling down to the ground in frustration as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

His voice wavers briefly as he adds on a low tone,

“You liked me better before.”

"That’s not true,” You shut down his statement immediately.

“It is,” Spencer is certain of it, and the way you’ve reacted to his trauma speaks volumes.

His eyes look at you defiantly, his voice low as he continues. “You miss the nice naïve Spencer, the one who got flustered and stuttered when you looked at him too long, the one who was shy enough to barely speak to anyone new.”

"Spencer-”

“He’s dead. That Spencer died in that farm shed ten years ago.” Spencer’s voice is hard as marble, and his words come out sharp enough to cut through glass.

Spencer was no longer sweet or shy or awkward or innocent.

He was an emotional wreck.

Any minute he could snap, and his words are laced with a pain that you know is too agonising for him to express any other way.

"I- know that, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care, that the whole team doesn’t care, because we do. We care about you Spencer. I care about you."

“But you do miss him.” Spencer’s voice is low again as he meets your eyes with the pain of a thousand regrets and hurt behind them.

He can tell you do miss that version of him. He can see it in the way that you look at him when you don’t realise he can see you, that look you get whenever you see him in anything but a work context.

You miss the old him. The younger and nicer and less damaged version of himself.

"I miss all of you." You purse your gaze as your eyes travel across his face, a soft sigh falling from your lips. "I just want to be able to talk to you properly again,"

“That’s not going to happen,” Spencer’s voice is just as blunt as before, and he can’t seem to soften it for anything. “You want the sweet, sensitive Spencer back, but he’s not coming back.”

"I don’t want any ‘specific’ side of you, I just want… something, anything-" You can feel your emotions threatening to ruin your words as you speak to him, the details of his face blurring as your eyes begin to glass over.

Spencer just stares at you, his words catching in his throat as he struggles to come up with something to say.

His eyes stay fixated on your face, on the tears that threaten to form, and your inability to keep them at bay.

His heart beats so quickly as he wants to say something, to reach out and comfort you.

He wants to hug you.

He wants to say he was wrong.

He wants to say he doesn’t mean any of it.

He wants to tell you that the two of you can go back to having meaningless conversations that could last for hours without getting boring or awkward.

But every time he tries it he backs out, unable to admit to the vulnerability.

"I’m sorry," You take a few steps away from him towards the door of the room, knowing that you won’t be able to have a composed conversation with him if you were to continue talking.

“Wait-” Reid’s voice is loud as he grabs your arm and stops you from leaving.

He realises almost as soon as his fingers brush your skin that he’s being more aggressive again, and he doesn’t want to repeat that behaviour even if that is who he’s conditioned himself to be.

Spencer meets your eyes for a split second before looking back at the table- the flicker of vulnerability disappeared from his eyes, replaced with shame. “Where are you going-“

You can feel his hand consciously loosen its grasp on your wrist, following the sudden soften of his tone, and you gently try to pry his hand from you completely to take another step back from him to regain the distance between you. "I don’t think you know what you want right now Spencer, you need some time to think by yourself…"

“Just- Please listen for a second-“ He doesn’t want you to leave, and the mere thought of you doing exactly that makes him feel as if his heart is being ripped to shreds.

“I was wrong, okay, I was angry and I snapped and I was wrong.” Spencer is trying his hardest to keep himself composed, to control the anger and regret that’s starting to bubble. “Please stay.”

"You were right in some aspects Spencer,” It was very clear by now that you were both emotionally overwhelmed, you so much to the point where you could barely see through the blur of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “The past you is gone, and with it goes what we used to have, and as- upsetting… as it is to accept that fact, that’s just how it is,"

Spencer’s grip tightens again as you speak, his teeth gritting together.

He’s trying not to scream, trying not to hold onto your wrist so hard that it bruises and snap at you again.

You are refusing to look back up at him, refusing to look him in the eyes.

His entire world is crashing down on top of him in the form of the one person he still has and it’s ruining any mental resolve he has left. “Please- Please look at me,”

Your eyes hesitantly tilt up towards his face, joined by a flow of tears that slide over the skin of your cheeks and pool under your chin as they breach your eyelids. "I can’t bare to watch you hurt anymore,"

“So you’re just giving up on me?” The moment you make eye-contact, Spencer feels something shift in his heart. The emotions inside him feel almost physical, and each one is more painful than the last.

He can feel his temper rising, and he finds himself clenching his free fist tightly and squeezing out a sharp breath before he starts to speak again. “I thought- I thought you cared about me.”

"I love you Spencer Reid. I love you so god damn much and I can’t keep pretending that seeing you like this doesn’t break my heart-"

You are way past any semblance of composure by now, tears pouring down your cheeks and your voice trembling with every word you speak.

The moment you say those words, Spencer starts to feel something he thought he killed.

An immense feeling of guilt, grief, and regret washes over him at the utterance of those three words.

You do love him, even with all of his flaws that he's currently trying to repress. But at the cost of his own sanity and well-being.

Spencer stares at you desperately, wanting to be close to you. His entire body aches at the thought of you leaving.

“I loved you ten years ago when you were recovering from your addiction. I loved you four years ago when you were infatuated with someone you’d never met and cried on my shoulder for weeks after she died. I loved you whilst you were imprisoned and I still love you now.”

You shake your head at Spencer as you pull your wrist from his grasp. “But I can’t do this anymore…”

Reid's hands grasp for your wrists, desperation and regret radiating off of his body at the loss of your contact mixing with the finality of your words.

“Please- please don’t leave. I can- I can change, I promise I can-“ He wants to cry in your arms like he’d done so many times in the past and have you tell him everything is going to be okay like you always do.

But he doesn’t.

He just stares at you, silently hoping that you’ll change your mind and that he wouldn’t have to face the world alone again.

"I don’t want you to change Spencer.." You wipe the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn’t want both of you to lose your composure. One of you had to stay strong. "I just want you to be alright.."

"I can be alright, just don't-" He wants to say more, so much more. It's like every word he's ever spoken is pouring out of his lips and hitting him straight in the face.

Spencer wants to beg.

He wants to cry.

He wants to tell you exactly how much he hates everything right now and that his entire body aches for you.

"don't- don't go...."

Your body silently pleads you to just take him in your arms and hug him until all of his problems disappear, but you know that if you do it’ll break you until you’re unrecognisable.

You just stand there with your back to him and your hand on the doorknob to leave, tears threatening to drop against your outstretched hand.

Spencer can practically feel your emotions. Each shake of your shoulders is like a piece of his heart being ripped out of his chest.

He wants nothing more than to grab you and never let go, to take back all of the nasty words he said and just wrap you up in his arms.

In the next heartbeat he's going after you, desperately grabbing onto your wrist as you reach for the doorknob yet again. "Please...."

You turn around as Spencer grasps at your wrist again, and you’re looking at his face for no longer than a second before your tears come back with a vengeance and start running down your face again, all semblance of composure completely lost.

Spencer's eyes follow a tear rolling down your cheek, and all he wants to do right now is give you the biggest, warmest embrace that he can manage.

He looks absolutely desolate knowing he's responsible for all of these tears, and the mere thought that you're leaving him alone makes him feel worse than anything he’d experienced in the three months he’d spent in those concrete walls.

Spencer's words are muffled and hoarse as he tries to speak again through his own tears. "I can be better... I can..."

Spencer can see the pain on your face, and as much as he's trying to keep it together his heart is too heavy to stay afloat from the sheer guilt he feels.

It's clear that he's not dealing well with the knowledge that he could lose you.

"I can be like before....I can be the Spencer you fell in love with....Please..."

The sight of Spencer being so willing, so desperate to change who he is and go back to who he used to be so that you don’t leave him is such a broken feeling, and it makes your heart shatter into tiny shards at the thought of it.

"i don’t want you to be like before Spencer… that’s not who you are anymore.."

Every word you say feels like a stab to his heart, but he knows it’s the truth.

He’s lost the boy you used to know, the happy, sweet, gentle boy who just wanted to be accepted and loved by those around him, to be useful and make a positive difference in the world.

He wants to fight back and beg you to stay, to refuse to believe that this is the end for you two.

But he can’t fight it.

He can’t hold on to someone who doesn’t want him anymore.

"I still love you…"

Your voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, and you’re not even sure you actually said it out loud as your gaze lowers back down to the floor.

Spencer’s eyes widen as your words ring through the room, and with an abrupt motion he moves towards you and wraps his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

He's trying not to cry again, but the emotional weight of your words is too much for him to handle and his tears are falling freely.

His head rests against your shoulder, his entire body trembling as he begins to tear up in earnest.

The minute your face meets his chest any physical resolve completely shatters and you essentially crumble into his arms, your legs giving out underneath you until the two of you are sat in a heap on the floor, relying on each other for support.

Spencer doesn’t mind at all. Your body’s pressed up against his at an angle that’s oddly comforting for both of you, as if you’re meant to be there.

And he’s not going to let you go.

Spencer buries his face in your neck as you sit huddled against each other, the two of you shaking while your tears spill over one another’s shoulders.

Your arms grasp desperately at the fabric of his shirt, hands curled into fists against his back as your face burrows against his collar to muffle the sobs and whimpers leaving your throat.

You’ve never felt more comfortable before in your life, despite your situation.

It’s as if Spencer’s body is moulding to every inch of you, fitting you into him as flawlessly as pieces of a puzzle.

Your legs feel warm where they’re pressed up against his body.

You can feel his heartbeat beating in his chest.

Your arms wrap tightly around his torso to pull him closer even though you’re close enough already.

"I don’t want to leave you..” Your words are quiet, desperate.

“Then don’t.” The words fall from his mouth before he even manages to think about them.

He doesn’t care how selfish he’s being or if it ends in this same conversation in a couple of months time, all he wants in this moment is to be close to you again. “Just- say that you won’t and i’ll get better, i’ll get better right now for you I promise.”

"Don’t do it for me Spencer…" You muster the energy to pull your head away from Spencer’s shoulder and do the same to his with your hand, deftly wiping the pad of your thumb over his cheek to rid of the tear stain lingering there. "You have to want to get better for yourself,"

Spencer nods his head. He does want to get better, he wants to make you proud of him again, he wants you to not worry about each and every thing that might plague him over the upcoming months.

The man you fell in love with is still there and he doesn’t want to go anywhere ever again.

“I don’t care what I have to do, I don’t care if I have to go to therapy every single goddamn day for the rest of my life as long as you stay.”

You bury your head back into his neck at the sentiment, clamping your eyes shut with a shaky inhale. "I’m not going anywhere.."

Spencer wraps his arms around you to prevent you from pulling away again, the relief visible on his face now that you’ve decided to stay.

He’s content with being here, with getting better for both of you.

Your bodies are moulded around each other and there’s nothing more he could ask for in an embrace.

And for what feels like forever, you just sit there, savouring the warmth of each other’s bodies as if you’re never going to feel it again if you let go.

You hope that this marks the end of the rift in your communication.

You hope this means the two of you actually have a chance.

And you desperately pray that Spencer will manage to heal with the help of having someone by his side.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

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