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batsplat · 3 months

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“the issue was that valentino had thought that he could fix that bike - and while obviously he did influence that project, it was still several years away from being particularly close to being fixed. those two years are all about frustration, of trying to make changes to the bike and nothing working... which was enough to make valentino willing to accept yamaha's terms as long as he could get back to a point where he was competitive again. because he had begun to doubt himself, because after two miserable years of injury, a bike that oscillated between throwing him off and just being slow, the tragedy he and the sport suffered at sepang 2011... well, more than anything else, he just wanted to enjoy himself again”

sorry to copy whole chunks of your work into your inbox and idk if you meant it to sound this way or if it’s an accident but reading this part you could have also been talking about marc’s last years at honda (heartache! my god, my chest twisted) and his switch to ducati and it’s rather interesting… that this happened at almost the same age for them… through almost the same situation………. idk, as different as they sometimes seem, it’s almost like they are meant to be viewed as two versions of the same

(x) maybe a teensy bit on purpose lol

yeah, look, obviously there's plenty of notable differences between the two situations - from how serious the injury was to the personal tragedy valentino went through during that time to the disparity in their ages (three years doesn't sound like a lot but in this sport it kinda is). personally, I didn't really doubt that much that marc could be a title contender again, but from the way he speaks about it, talking during this last presser that he was considering retirement at assen last year... look, some of the stuff early this year was expectation management and of course he's perfectly capable of lying about this stuff, but he very obviously did have some serious doubts about the extent to which he could be competitive again. this is the thing, right... he just hadn't been able to fight at the front of the field for so long, plus he was on a bike that is just ideal for slowly stripping away the confidence of a rider. if you're constantly unexpectedly crashing because you just can't trust the feedback you're getting from the bike, that's just psychologically incredibly tough to deal with (incidentally broadly an accurate description of the ducati during the early 2010s)

which is where the parallels with valentino really do come in, don't they... it's the confidence, the way for the first time in their careers, it's really been systematically stripped down... all this self doubt, the way they're struggling to find themselves again. of course, they'd both gone through rough patches before - the 2006-07 period for valentino, 2015 for marc. they've had a few knocks, it's not as easy to shrug off injuries any more, they know there's no guarantee they'll measure up to the riders they once were. I compiled valentino talking about marc's injury here, but most relevant is how he compares it to his own 2010 injuries. so you have this in july 2020:

I think it's interesting that valentino acknowledges that it helped he knew his title charge was over after the broken leg, to force him to give it up and just focus on his recovery. it's easier, right - if he'd been in marc's situation, it's entirely possible he would've tried to race the following week too. I also think this is an interesting way of framing his actual recovery process, where he *checks notes* still came back way sooner than everyone expected,leading to speculation he didn't really believe his title charge was over - plus kept delaying surgery to the shoulder to the off-season even though it was very obviously hampering him, which then continued to be an issue the following year. like, okay, great job, you didn't try to ride a motogp bike WITH A BROKEN LEG, but also "I only thought about getting better" doesn't quite match up with your actions buddy

as valentino acknowledges, the sport does have a history of near-miraculous comebacks... I feel like these days people only remember 2010 and not the 2017 knock-off

and of course marc's ill-fated decision has to be seen within this context. the ways in which he was influenced by the comebacks from other riders in the past (the most famous of which is probably jorge assen 2013) and by how he himself had a habit of somewhat improbably recovery timelines after constant off-season surgery. from the vale race recs post *wink wink* *nudge nudge*:

valentino also compares his own mugello injury with marc's in september of 2020:

so you also get valentino agreeing with the parallel between honda's situation in 2004 and 2020. of course, the situation in 2004 wasn't as dramatic for honda - but in both cases, they went into that season fully expecting to win that title and instead found themselves underperforming and losing

moving on to comparing the injuries: valentino says his initial injury was worse, but it was marc doing the crazy fast comeback that really fucked him over (which is all true). he talks about why it's so tough... the "physical side" of the pain when you ride the bike but also "on a mental level if you have any fear". how this leaves a "mark on all riders". not particularly hard to draw any parallels here, he's already doing it for us

and lastly in november 2020, again with reference to his own 2010 injury:

talking about how eventually it becomes not just about the career but also about quality of life... how it was a tough period for him because he was just in constant pain... "sometimes you need time"... again, not really much to add, is there. the following years are a brutal double whammy of sorts: not only are you attempting to recover from your worst career injury, not only are there massive reasons why you're suffering (chronic pain, personal tragedy), but also you're suddenly uncompetitive in a way you've never been before in the premier class. you know there's a real possibility your time at the top of the sport is over... that even if you get back on a competitive bike, there's no guarantee you'll be able to come close again to being the rider you once were. you've ridden a bike that's gradually sapped your confidence, your ironclad trust in your own ability to be able to master any bike... you've spent so much time away from the top positions, and you've also made way more high profile mistakes that you had at any stage of your career. for valentino, the most memorable one is obviously jerez 2011 - which, yeah, you can write it off as just a dumb error in the wet, but it's not the kind he'd make if he didn't see this as his one chance to get a big result this early in the season with the crap bike and the crap shoulder (this is 'ambition outweighs talent'). for marc, it's silverstone 2021 (as martin says afterwards, "I hope he can learn from this one and improve for the future", which is great snark lol), portimao last year (y'know, the home crowd booing him)... arguably aragon 2022 the first lap, but that one's not quite as bad a misjudgement (admittedly, he maybe should've called it a day after the first collision). obviously, valentino was never a particularly crash-prone rider until he got on that ducati - but it's worth remembering marc wasn't really known for this kind of error, where he was collecting other riders and causing them both to crash. all of this isn't fun! it's also just kind of humiliating! they're used to so much success, and now they're getting barely any of that - while also occasionally having to go around apologising to other blokes for annoying errors they weren't really making back in the day!

then from marc's end, you've got this quote from 2014 (credit to this post):

of course, knowing marc, there's no way he's not thought about the parallels between his current situation and valentino's back in 2013. and, look, obviously it's not one to one. valentino was three years older back then, his injuries were serious but considerably less so than what marc went through, the competitive landscape looks completely different now than it did in 2013... but this isn't about drawing direct comparisons, it's more about the associated feelings for both of them... all this self doubt, all this pain, the way they just weren't having fun any more... this is the first order of priority, rediscovering the joy. personally I reckon they were being more or less sincere at the start of that journey in not primarily thinking about securing more titles. of course, that changes once they realise they can be competitive again... but while the doubt remains, it's not the main thing they're concerned with

that's the fun thing about qatar 2013, isn't it? there's no point in valentino's entire career where he would have been less invested in whether he ended up winning or losing a fight like that. the whole point wasn't the end result, it's that he was even capable of fighting like that again... of having fun again, battling with a top rider, with the star of tomorrow. given his weekend up to that point, he wouldn't even have been expecting to do so right before the race! really, beating marc in that race was just a bonus. in a different way, the same thing was obviously true of marc: making his debut in the premier class and immediately getting to fight his hero, ending up taking his first ever premier class podium. because of some cruel alchemy of timing and circumstance, you've managed to capture them both at the precise moment where they really are just happy to be there, made their first fight with each other a moment of pure, undiluted ecstasy. such a sweet moment for the pair of them, where they found themselves able to fight each other and had every reason to relish it. you really couldn't have scripted it better

and like you say, they are two versions of the same rider! it really does feel like their careers should be read in conversation with each other! obviously valentino frequently acknowledged this himself early on, saying it wasn't an 'exaggeration' to call marc 'the next valentino rossi'... the ways in which marc had modelled himself after valentino, including of course copying some of his most famous overtakes. beyond their rivalry and conflict, there is also continuity between the pair of them. their entire feud hinges on how it can feel like a blessing to face another version of yourself... but it can also become a curse. the reason why they grew so close in the first place and why things got so ugly between them is fundamentally the same. neither of them have ever really forgotten about the similarities between the pair of them either. mutually inescapable until the end, I fear

incidentally, for context, here's what valentino was actually saying at the end of the ducati years. first of all, he pays casey his dues for being able to succeed on that bike:

you'll note that while he says the experience hadn't broken him (though "I don't think so" isn't particularly firm either), he does talk about how psychologically tough riding that ducati was. also, like I mentioned in the post that this one is a follow-up to, the really big frustration is not even about the riding as much as it is in the utter failure in bike development terms - where nothing they did actually worked:

he describes this as his first wrong career choice (although in other places he has also defended this decision), while also paying credit to his ducati team. crucially it followed on from all these rolls of the dice that had worked, the most major ones being probably the switch to yamaha and later the switch to bridgestones:

he says he's uncertain about whether he'll be able to fight for titles and even race wins again, stressing the importance of the valencia test (which is when he knew he was in serious trouble back in 2010):

and he talks about being the number two rider back at yamaha (while of course flipping it around again to ensure he's putting pressure on jorge):

same principle as with marc, some of this is expectation management and avoiding putting too much pressure on himself, cf marc's constant talk about being content if he could just fight for those 'top five top six positions' again (lol). but crucially valentino didn't know what would be possible

he does also talk a bit about his successors to the seat:

the thing about the ducati during this time, right, is that it was a very bad bike. honda decided to be a bit more dramatic about this post-2020, but these are two broadly analogous cases of massive decline for a manufacturer that had recently won a championship. casey came in for 2007 as a 21 year old insanely talented rider who wasn't too familiar with another bike (certainly not one as friendly as the yamaha) and was able to do something special with that capricious package... but he also talks in his autobiography about how ducati became far too complacent once that title had been won. it's not just mystery illness that explains the progressive decline in his results at ducati during the following three years - it was hubris from ducati, their refusal to listen to their riders while preferring to insinuate their riders simply weren't following the right diet or just weren't exercising enough. valentino switched to this poor package at an age at which adapting to a new bike is just categorically harder, and he failed in making any real progress with that bike for the following two years

that being said, at the end of the day ducati's situation back then isn't a million miles away from what you've seen with the honda - albeit in a different era where this performance decline wasn't punished quite so badly in championship standings because the margins now are a lot slimmer. casey did the equivalent to what marc did in the late 2010s, and put a somewhat evil but obviously fast bike into championship contention for two of his four years at ducati. he jumped ship at the right time, valentino jumped onto it at the wrong time and swiftly realised most of the ship was by this point underwater. look, just some interesting context imo! feel free to ignore. if you're interested in a more in-depth read about what was actually wrong with the bike in 2011, here you go - the short version is "front end feel". which is of course the ideal way to ruin confidence... if you can't trust the feedback you're getting, you can't trust yourself, simple as

#i prefer not to state my actual takes on anything i just vaguely allude to them while burying them within walls of text #but don't apologise!!#//#brr brr #batsplat responds #idol tag

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14buddy22 · 2 years

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I’ll Spend The Rest of My Life Making It Up To You Series

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader

Warnings: Domestic Abuse, bruises, blood, broken glass/mirrors, trauma, engagement, marriage, reader does have a child.

A/n: Long title but idc... Here’s part 1. I’m halfway through student teaching and I begin my elementary placement next week. So who knows when part two will come around, but it will! Comment if you’d like to be tagged in part 2.

WC: 3.8K

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

You were in an abusive relationship. Problem was, you had been in it for 10 years before coming to terms with your abuser. It took one special person to help you. That special person had a significant role in your life before you met your husband, your abuser. What happens after years of not seeing them? What’s going to happen to you? Will you survive the cycle of abuse? Will you get help? Will you get out? Are you strong enough to break the cycle?

It was a hit to the face in front of your son that finally got to be too much. You knew that it was going to be hard to conceal. You didn’t understand it. Why did he constantly have to criticize you to make him feel big? How could he not know that his words hurt? Your body had taken a toll mentally and emotionally, all before it took a toll physically.

How in the hell did you even get yourself into this situation? How could you be in it for 10 years? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Why did it have to get to this point where you finally realized you’d had too much? He always told you he was sorry, he told you he loved you, he just had a bad day at work. The thing was, you were stupid enough to believe it, you always believed it.

You had finally had enough. The mental, emotional, and physical abuse from him was too much. You needed to lead a better life for your son. You didn’t want your son to grow up to know that’s how a man should treat somebody. You were worth so much more. At first, you believed that what your husband would get mad about was your fault, but then over time, the more posts that started showing up on your phone about abusive relationships, you knew that you were in one. You didn’t want to believe it at first, but you did. Slowly over time, you realized that you had to walk on eggshells around him.

You thought that it was normal that he just had triggers that set him off, but then you thought back to the man who once brought you so much joy, the man before your husband, the man who broke your heart. That man that you had loved so much, you never had to walk around eggshells around. The man you could be yourself in front of, the one who loved you for who you were, faults and all.

You tried to get out of your relationship, literally. You got in your car one day to leave, but he tracked you. He called you and asked why you had left the house. He started questioning you because you hadn’t told him that you planned on leaving that day. He had a tracking device placed on the car and would get alerts when you’d leave the house.

He also hated whenever you went out to lunch with friends, especially your guy friends. He hated it. You don’t understand why. Well, you do. It’s because he was nervous you’d let something slip that you were in an abusive relationship. You were too afraid too. You hid the bruises well, that’s why he never hit you on your face either, because you could conceal it everywhere else.

While he went away for another weekend, you decided that you’d had enough. You remember reading about the cycle of abuse from domestic abuse survivors. The cycle of abuse is tough. It’s the hardest thing to break. You want to get help, and you think you’re going to do it, but then he does something so great that you think he’ll change, and then you fall back in love with him.

You had constantly been in that cycle for 10 years. It’s the only love you thought you were ever worthy of, but you are worthy of so much more.

After debating for 2 hours and figuring out a game plan. You packed a suitcase filled with clothes as much as you could fit and started putting stuff into a car. You grabbed your son’s clothes, diapers, wipes, blankets, car seat, and bottles. You threw as much as you could into the suitcase and you finally took one look around your home.

You saw the hole in the wall that your husband’s fist had left when you dodged it. You saw the broken glass still in the corner from before he left. You saw the broken picture frames, the blood-stained carpet that you tell your guests you had accidentally cut yourself and didn’t realize it but it was actually from your husband hitting you so hard you were bleeding from your mouth.

Chills went down your spine. You were attempting to get out. You knew that if you were caught, he would kill you. You needed to get your son somewhere safe. You were done looking around your house, there were no good memories except the one’s you made with your son. You didn’t deserve this abuse anymore. You didn’t know where to go, so you found your way to the FBI. If there’s one person you could trust, the only male you could trust, you were going to him.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the FBI building parking lot. Your son was in the middle of his nap, but you were just hoping that it wasn’t loud or busy in there. If he did wake up, it wasn’t the end of the world, you needed to get out of this relationship, you needed to do better for your son.

When you made your way into the building, your eyes started to roam around. You were trying to look for him everywhere. You knew he wouldn’t be down here, he always needed an office, but you just were trying to look for comfort, a familiar face.

You explained to the receptionist that you needed to see him. You knew he was the unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you were proud of him. He always set high standards for himself. He had been through so much, he was a survivor, too, but not many realized that.

When you were escorted into the BAU, you were met with an older man walking by. You learned his name was Dave Rossi and you told him your name and your son’s name.

When he asked if there was anything he could do for you, you just asked politely to see Aaron Hotchner’s office. That really drew everyone in the room to look at you. You don’t know how close these people were but, they were a team, you could only assume they’d been through everything together.

Rossi knocked on Aaron’s door and you heard his voice. You hadn’t heard his voice in 3 years. It sent shivers down your spine. You were really getting help, and you were getting it from the love of your life, the man you always wanted to be with, but weren’t good enough for, you didn’t deserve him.

When you walked in after Rossi opened the door for you, you were met with Aaron writing something in a case file, working hard, and being busy. You began to think how wrong you were to come here. This shouldn’t be Aaron’s problem. Maybe you were just overreacting. But now you needed to come up with an excuse for why you were here.

“Hi, Aaron.”

Aaron’s head shot up from his desk and all it took was one look from Aaron for you to begin to break down. Aaron didn’t know what was going on, so when he looked at Rossi, the door was already being shut to give you two some privacy. You didn’t know what caused you to break down, maybe it was because your lover was here, seeing you at your worst, yet you’re still here.

You placed your son’s car seat carrier on the floor and Aaron wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but all he knew was that someone he loved deeply, even though he hadn’t kept in touch for the last 3 years was hurting, and you didn’t deserve to feel whatever you were feeling.

As he held you in his arms, he began to look down at your sleeping son, and when he tightened his arms around you, he didn’t miss the way your shirt rose up, leaving your skin bare. When his hands touched your bare skin, you tensed up, and that’s when he saw it. He saw the marks, the fresh ones and those still healing. He began to roll up your sleeves, he didn’t care if he was crossing boundaries, he needed to see that those were real. That the love of his life, the one he let go, had bruises old and new.

His first priority was finding out who did this to you so he could kill the man who was hurting you. He also knew that there was a sleeping baby in his office, who didn’t look more than 6 months old. If the man who was beating you touched what he presumed to be your baby, he would for sure kill the man who did this.

“Who did this to you?”

Aaron was furious. His jaw tightened and his fist clenched with rage. Everything at that moment stopped. He wanted to kill whoever was hurting you. You could see that all in his eyes and in his body language. While you and Aaron broke up, you still remained friends through it all. Well, friends who just hadn’t talked or seen each other in person in 3 years.

You just were afraid to tell him. You weren’t afraid of Aaron. You never were. You were just afraid that he’d see you at your lowest point because you knew he already dealt with so much in his life and your situation would just add more problems to his life.

“Aaron.”

You began to pull away from Aaron as he still was holding your waist. When he let go, he still had no idea what was going on. Well, he knew something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You had bruises, you tensed up at the feeling of his hands on your bare skin. His best friend, the love of his life, was in an abusive relationship and he didn’t know. He was a really shitty person for it. How could he not recognize that you were in an abusive relationship when you told him you could never meet him out for lunch anymore, or when he finally got one last lunch with you when you hugged him, held him a little tighter, and whispered “goodbye Aaron” after you kissed his cheek.

Aaron would always remember that moment 3 years ago and it killed him that he never knew why you said what you did. However, you here in his office, getting ready to tell him that you were in an abusive relationship only made him feel that much smaller, like such an asshole that he was a profiler and he couldn’t tell you were in an abusive relationship.

“Who did this to you? I will make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

“Aaron, I can’t tell you, he will find me, and he’ll kill me and my son. I can’t go back. I have nowhere to go. I just wanted to come and ask if you had any friends who were lawyers to help me out. I want to sell the house, but I can’t face him again. Is there any way you can help me out? Please, I’ll take you and Jack out for dinner. I’ll watch Jack and give Jessica a break. I’ll do anything, Aaron.”

“Wait. Slow down, slow down. You need to tell me who did this to you. I will help you. Of course, I will, but I need to know who has been hurting you.”

You were about to start crying even more. You weren’t ready to tell Aaron. You were, but you weren’t. All it took was one small cry from your son before you looked at him and were going to lose it. Aaron was profiling you and you hated it.

“I can’t, Aaron. You know I can’t. Aaron, please. I’m in an abusive relationship. I need out. I need the tracker disabled on my car. I need a lawyer who can help me make sure I keep custody of my son, Mason. But you have to understand, it’s better if I don’t say his name, for my sake and for yours.”

You picked Mason up from his car seat and Mason began to look around. When he laid his head back on your chest, you made eye contact with Aaron. He was still trying to make sure that Mason was okay.

“Aaron. You know I can’t say his name.”

“N-no, please tell me that after I broke your heart, this is what happened. This is what you got. You never deserved this. You deserved so much more. You deserved more than I could ever give you. You met someone, you met Jake after me, you were in a relationship with him for 10 years. He beat you Y/n. Please tell me that it’s not Jake who did this to you. Please tell me that it’s not the man I watched you dance with at your wedding while I wished it had been me. Please tell me that Jake didn’t do this to you, that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time with someone.”

You reached out for his hand. You needed to calm him down, you needed him right now. You didn’t need him to take the blame for this. He couldn’t have known what was going on. You were great at hiding what was going on. That was the plan, to not get caught, to not have people feel sorry for you and try and help you, because you were in that cycle where you believed Jake could do no wrong.

“Aaron, it’s not your fault. I loved him. Well, at some point I did.”

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me whenever we’d meet up? Why didn’t I say something? How did I not know?”

“Aaron, listen to me, please. I covered it up. I didn’t want our lunch dates, something that brought me so much joy, to be ruined for me. I wanted those moments to be good things. Something I could hold onto until the next thing happened. You were and had always been the one good thing in my life, Aaron. Now it’s you and Mason. Aaron, this is my son, Mason. He’s 6 months old. I’m asking you to please help us. I’m going to leave this state. I just need help with the car and a lawyer.”

Aaron stepped closer to you and wiped the tears that were falling onto your cheek. He placed his hand on your son’s back and said, “I’m going to get you the help you need. But I’m sure as hell not letting you two out of my sight until Jake’s in prison. You’re staying with me. I’ll get my team to disable the tracking device. I’ll be able to get Penelope to reroute the signal to say that the car’s at home.”

“Aaron, he already knows I left the house. He knows where I am now. I guarantee it.”

“Stay here. I’m getting my team.”

He kissed the side of your head and for once you weren’t tensing up when a man touched you. You followed him out of his office, too afraid to be left alone, even in a secure government building. You and he walked into the conference room with his team and you listened to him explain who you were and your situation, how you needed help.

Being in that room made you feel small and weak. These individuals were all going to help you. You hated that you were going to make their life worse. Whoever was going to try and help was going to be affected by Jake. You knew it would.

Penelope said, “We are going to take care of you, girlie. We will take care of you and your son. I’m already hacking into the tracking system. My chocolate thunder here is going to disable the device on your car once we find it. We will work some magic. You go take that precious baby boy in your arms back into Hotch’s office and we will work our magic.”

Your son started to get fussy and you looked at Aaron. “I know you’re already doing so much, and I hate that I’m bothering you, but is there a microwave where I could warm up his bottle?”

“No, you’re not bothering me. Come on. Guys, I’m going to warm up the bottle and then we’ll be in the office. No one leaves until we make sure they’re safe. Got it?”

The team all shook their heads and gave you a sympathetic look. You and Aaron began to walk out of the round table room and he walked into his office to help you grab your son’s diaper bag.

“I can take it, Aaron. You can just tell me where it is. I’ll feed him in there. You’ll have your office to work.”

“No. Nonsense. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

When you began to warm up his bottle, you started to scoop the formula and Aaron said, “I know it’s been a while since Jack was a baby, but can I hold him? I know how hard it is to make a bottle with a wiggly baby.”

“Are you sure?”

Aaron began to take Mason from your arms and your heart melted at the sight of Aaron and Mason. The way he held Mason was a fatherly way that you wish you saw in Jake. Jake never hurt Mason, but you also made sure Jake was never alone with Mason. You didn’t want to think about what would happen if Jake snapped at Mason the way he snapped at you before.

Aaron’s fatherly instincts worked well. Mason was starting to settle down in his arms before he even began to eat. When Mason grabbed for Aaron’s tie, you found yourself smiling.

“I haven’t seen that smile since you and I were together.”

“It’s been a while. Only Mason gets to see this smile. Jake doesn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to have you in his life for 10 years, to treat you the way you were treated for the past 10 years.”

When you and Aaron made his way back to his office, he shut the door and you sat on the couch. You began to feed Mason and Aaron pulled out a pad of paper. He sat on the chair next to his couch and you looked at him.

“I have to ask you everything he did. As much as you could tell me. We also need to take pictures of the bruises. We’ll get you to a hospital, to make sure there’s nothing more than bruises, no broken ribs, no healing fractures.”

“I’m not going.”

“Let me help you.”

“I just asked for a lawyer friend. That’s all I need from you. I will be out of here as soon as they-”

“I already lost you two times in my life, I’ll be damned if I lost you a third time. I want to help you and Mason. Please let me help you. I need to know what he did. I’ve already sent a text to one of my colleagues who I went to law school with. He’s pulling all your files now. We’re taking care of it. If we get you to a hospital.”

“Then you’ll see the very worse of what he did to me. You’ll see the healing fractures, you’ll see the scars. I don’t want you to see that, Aaron.”

Aaron looked like he was going to snap his steel pen in half. He was gripping the pen so hard when those words came out of your mouth and then you saw the color drain out of him. He couldn’t believe what you just told him. He knew you were scared, but how could you be scared of him? How could you not want him to know how Jake hurt you?

“I won’t think any less of you. You’re stronger than I could ever be. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

The team was out in the parking lot disabling the tracking device from your car and they all began talking. They saw your car, how you’d thrown random things, well not random, your necessities into the car. They knew that your relationship must have been bad.

Rossi spoke up when he looked in your trunk and found a box of pictures and letters. He saw the bruises, cuts, scars, and marks all over your body that you had taken. He saw the pictures you took of your house, the broken pictures, the broken glass, the mirror.

Penelope said, “I don’t want to see her like that. Are there any happy ones? I mean, I don’t know how she could be happy with him, but is there anything? Maybe there was a trigger in the relationship. At one point she had to have been happy with him. That’s why she went out with him?”

“That’s how the cycle works, Penelope. He was probably good to her at the start. Then as things went on in their relationship, maybe she burnt something she was cooking and he went off on her. Then maybe it was she tripped and he blamed her for tripping over his mess, or maybe it was he squeezed her arm so hard to gain her attention and it left a mark, one of the first marks that he intentionally wanted to leave. But then he’d make it up with something romantic. Just when she’s had her breaking point, maybe considered walking out, he did something nice.”

Penelope’s heart was breaking at the thought of you, someone she didn’t even know was hurting. She wiped her tears as she was trying to rummage through the photos of your deepest, darkest secrets.

“But where does she come into Hotch’s life? When we met him, he was with Haley.”

Rossi found a smaller box. When he opened it up, he found pictures of a younger you and Aaron. He found the ones of you and him kissing.

“I know why she’s here.”

He turned the picture of you and Aaron towards the team and they immediately began to get teary-eyed.

Morgan said, “Hotch was her boyfriend before she got into this relationship.”

The team all looked at each other as Rossi continued to look into the box. Then he saw the flash of something when the sun hit just right. When he moved it to try and find the flash again, it’s when he saw it, taped to a picture.

Rossi pulled out the photo of Aaron kneeling on the ground, holding the ring out to you. The same ring that was taped to that picture.

“More like a fiancè.”

The team looked at him and said, “What?”

Rossi showed them your engagement ring and picture and said, “They were engaged. Hotch was her fiancè.”

Next Part

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x single mom!reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #Aaron Hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #Criminal Minds

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poopyballz28 · 11 months

Note

how would the Baki cast react to an emotionally intelligent partner, hell, even someone who has studied psychology trying to help them understand themselves better. Would they be terrified at first?would some find it stupid? How would they feel afterwards?

A very intriguing idea, I like your brain.

Some Baki characters meeting an emotionally discerning person

Kozue

- She could really benefit from someone who can actually wrap their head around her problems logically. She’s often overwhelmed with her own issues, not knowing which direction to go from where she is. I’m sure someone who actually has the knowledge to help her out could seriously aid her.

- She’s initially a bit nervous, thinking that she’s not particularly worth helping and downplaying her very clear problems. She really dislikes being a burden to others, she’ll try to act like she’s fine and she doesn’t need any emotional support.

- But if they're able to get her to realize just how low she thinks of herself and how much she’s actually struggling, tears will begin to well up in her eyes. Things she tried to not think about in the past she’s suddenly confronted with.

- She would realize things that she tried to ignore for so long, but she will ultimately be thankful afterwards. While yes, she can put on the waterworks pretty quickly, she’s a pretty emotionally strong girl. She toughens up, wiping her tears and realizing that she does want to move forward.

- She’ll thank them for helping her out, and promise them that she’ll try and make a change. For herself this time, not for others.

Kiyosumi

- He would definitely be incredulous of them and close himself off, especially if they make it pretty clear they want to help him.

- God, does he hate that word. “Help” It’s something he completely feels he doesn’t need. Having lived his life mostly having to work things out (or lack thereof) by himself, having someone who wants to “help” him makes him very irritated. He thinks he’s normal. How? He’s crazy.

- If I were to give a word of advice to this person, I would tell them to not be so upfront and tell them to try and take it slow. If you do make him angry enough he will show aggression, mostly because it’s all he knows how to do when face to face with his own issues.

- If this person happens to be his significant other or perhaps a really really close friend, they may actually have a better chance at getting him to actually open up and give in.

- He may start even jokingly admitting to some pretty harsh things he thinks about his self and his way of living. He never realized how much he disliked himself until he actually heard the shit that was coming out of his mouth.

- He’ll still be very hesitant of course, but you could probably get him to come to terms with all of his pent up hatred for himself and others. He gets a little speechless, I’ll admit. He’ll have an uncertain look on his face with his eyebrows still tensed tightly. He’ll have to do a lot of thinking after.

- He’ll make an attempt to ignore everything they told him and drink the thoughts away but they just won’t vanish from his head. He’d push his stubbornness aside, something that he often struggles doing, but he’ll think about everything that they said to him and actually take it into consideration. Crazy, I know.

- He doesn’t particularly want to change, but he will finally, for the first time, realize that maybe he does have overlying problems that have been there for a long time. He thinks he’s an idiot for not realizing sooner. He’ll be grateful overall that it happened, but he probably wouldn’t tell them this.

Kosho

- Also very hesitant about the whole thing. He believes he doesn’t need help from another person, insisting that all of his tribulations and internal problems are things he already knows about and can handle on his own. (this is not true.)

- He’ll have his arms crossed throughout most of the conversation, a very skeptical look on his face. But he’s already emotionally vulnerable, it won't take a lot to truly unlock the huge metal door he’s put up in front of his heart.

- The more they show that they understand what he’s going through emotionally and how hard it is to live the way he does, the more that he starts to tear up and give in.

- “It must be very difficult to feel like you have meaning when your own brother overshadows all of your hard work.”

“I know right?! It’s completely-” He’ll fight back tears.

“Everything feels completely…hopeless.” He says, in full-hearted honesty.

- They’re able to be a shoulder he can finally lean on for support and understanding. Nobody has ever been able to really sympathize with him to his face but be so truthful and caring. It’s new for him.

- Afterwards, he’s still trying to understand the whole thing. He comes to some realizations, and uses them to build himself up. He’s still very strong, despite his almost cry-baby nature on occasion. He would probably bring himself to thank them to their face. (very timidly, of course) Because he is thankful they were able to understand his problems and help him out, him commonly being one to struggle with putting his own emotions into clear words. But seeing them be able to do it so perfectly made him feel like there is a light in the pit of darkness he usually finds himself in.

Kureha

- Ohhh boy.

- There's really no reasoning with this guy.

- He thinks he's completely fine. And not to mention a good contributing member of society who DOES pay his taxes. Who…does…pay his taxes.

- He thinks it's quite preposterous that anyone would want to “help” someone who’s mostly normal and has no problems whatsoever. (this is, again, not true)

- He would find the whole thing much like a game, a moment for him to be the center of attention. He can't take them seriously at all.

- When he does get a little irritated he’ll generally just laugh it off, especially if what they’re saying is true.

- He finds it quite amusing that someone would simply want to understand and help him. He feels he doesn’t need others to “understand” him and his mindset to live his life fulfillingly. Mostly because he’s awfully aware that he’s done some messed up things that even he can’t fully blame himself for. (even though it was…one hundred percent his fault)

- If they kinda started digging deeper and mentioning maybe his now clear narcissism, he would still keep his same attitude but maybe even start agreeing with them.

- It’s pretty useless when he’s actually subconsciously aware he’s not the greatest person and actively doesn’t plan to do anything about it.

- He thinks, “So what, I’m the “bad guy”?” He’s too narcissistic to truly blame it all on himself but also self aware enough to know he’s horrible.

- Sure, he’s done some bad things, but that was in the past and the past means nothing. Others were affected? Well he was affected too! He’s different now! (he is not.)

- He thinks they are an intriguing specimen…very interesting.

Jack

- Much like a brick wall, telling what his emotions are at all is pretty difficult in itself. It’d be awfully hard for them to really get him to talk at all.

- He doesn’t think his problems should concern anybody but himself. He insists that he “doesn’t have any issues” and that “that stuff doesn’t work on him”. (guess what. this is not true)

- He really refuses to elaborate on any part of his life or problems. Like I said, whose business is it other than his? He’d most likely have to know them well enough AND get a little drunk to really be able to say anything of importance that could help them make a judgment.

- If they were able to really connect with him on a personal level, maybe one on one at a quiet night bar or something, he may start pouring his concerns out to them. He’d kind of ramble on and about his aggression's and things that just stress him out. Anger is a big, overwhelming emotion for him.

- Maybe he’d even start sharing how hard it was having lived the life that he has. All of the hurt and the pain was finally showing on his face now. I imagine he would maybe start tearing up, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

- If they can really show true empathy towards him and guide him through his issues he may start lingering around them more. Not particularly on purpose, though. Afterwards, he first tries to act like the whole talk they had was essentially nothing to him. But somehow it keeps crossing his mind. He thinks on it alone and then does some realizing, understanding his own pain and being content that he actually had someone to talk to about it. He uses this new-found understanding and utilizes it to get more powerful, not just physically now, but emotionally.

- He would definitely be polite enough to thank them after. Quite impassively I’ll say, but it’ll be one hundred percent genuine.

Hector

- Having lived mostly in solitude and loneliness, he thinks that the way he lives his life is not something for others to understand. He knows he’s done wrong and probably will continue to do wrong but how another person feels about it is no concern to him.

- In a way, he barely sees other humans as people. Seeing them as merely creatures or pawns, things that are not particularly understandable on any other level but physical. He doesn’t get anyone and nobody gets him. But he’s fine with it that way.

- If this person were to show genuine compassion for wanting to help him he would initially be quite confused. Help him? Why? What’s in it for them?

- Even if this person is attempting to help solely because of the kindness in their heart, he still wouldn’t be able to wrap his head around the reason why. He’s fine with the way things are, and he doesn’t desire any help. Especially from other “people”.

- He’s very similar to a brick wall like Jack, not showing very much emotion on average. Trying to get him to really open up is a challenge. It’s not like he knows how to open up anyway, though.

- I feel this is another case of someone who’s almost unhelpable unless they matter to him. Sure, he's definitely able to show sympathy and benevolence for others on occasion, but only if he truly cares about them through certain circumstances. (which is very rare)

- He just can’t take the conversation seriously, just seeing it as a little chat instead of a conversation that’s trying to help him understand himself. Because what more is there to understand? He knows he’s despicable but he has no other paths to walk. It’s pretty hopeless to try and get through to him.

Katsumi

- He’s frankly a bit inept when it comes to understanding certain aspects of himself. Usually it has to take time for him to legitimately understand. But I will say, someone who was basically trained to help out can definitely do him some good.

- He would be a bit nervous, but it doesn’t take very much for him to really spill out his concerns to them. He often feels he doesn’t have many people to talk to on that level of emotions. He has so many fears and doubts for the future and for himself, but to finally be able to come to terms with it and actually talk about it is very empowering for him.

- He’s definitely a rambler, going on and on about how frequently he’s frustrated and fearful with the way some things are. It makes him feel…weak. He thinks that someone in the position that he’s in shouldn’t have so many problems and worries.

- If this person is able to get him to understand that it’s okay to have issues and it’s fine to struggle through very obviously tough situations, he’ll have almost another realization.

- He’d be overjoyed that someone actually wanted to hear about his concerns, but he’ll finally realize it’s okay to have fear and anxiety. He’s not weak or less of just because he feels those quite common emotions and he soon realizes that struggling emotionally is just part of the process. He uses the conversation to get stronger, now knowing it's okay to feel scared sometimes. He promises that he’ll work through the fear no matter what.

- He would definitely thank them after. After all, he owes some of his strength to them! They helped him grow into something stronger and he couldn't be more grateful.

#baki the grappler #grappler baki #baki hanma #baki son of ogre #baki dou #baki headcanons #katsumi orochi #kozue matsumoto #jack hanma #kiyosumi katou #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #hector doyle

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elvisabutler · 2 years

Text

should have worshipped her sooner

summary: you are known around campus as a bit a harlot when it comes to sleeping with professors. it's a title you have earned rightfully but you want to change that. as a last hurrah your friend convinces you to go for professor presley, a man you've admired from afar. things go unexpectedly for both of you. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m overall, but this part is a high t i think. pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 8420 i don't even know warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. use of a cane to startle people. mild fantasizing about the cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. power kink/title kink? elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. author's note: so welcome to the beginning part of the my heart's already sinned, there's a final part after this where it has the happy ending that i promise i'm giving these two but i'm not quite done with it so welcome to the thing that started these two being- the way they were in the fic i linked. special thanks everyone who has listened to me scream about these two, y'all know who you are. and i kind of tagged anyone who reblogged this/left a comment on the last one sorry if you didn't want to be tagged but i at least promise the smut for the last part is- a beast and i wrap it up in a nice bow. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis.

"I'm just saying it'd be a waste to not try this last time. I get it, I support you and I'm proud of you. But you're- if anyone could sleep with Professor Presley, it would probably be you. I'd bet good money, we could win good money." Noelle says, brandishing her fork at you over dinner. "I could see you and him getting along."

You roll your eyes at her antics before glaring at her with a mouthful of your food. You swallow before shaking head. "Of course, because the religious studies professor who everyone knows goes for women who are not going to our school and who is pretty religious himself would go for me, the "Tour Guide" for the school. I could definitely see it."

Normally your sarcasm would clue Noelle into dropping it but she can't help but continue her line of thought. "That's why, though. You're not his type, though we both know you love taking orders from someone big and strong. And you and both know how big and strong you think he is."

"I told you that with the idea that you wouldn't use it against me." You whine, poking her with your fork. "If I agree to this, if I agree to try, will you never mention it again?"

There's a moment where your friend debates whether or not she wants to agree to the terms before she nods solemnly. "I'll bury my knowledge of you liking Professor Presley and any other professors who are big and strong deep within me. As long as you tell me if you do manage to sleep with him. Just for my own selfish desire."

You can't help the way your lips purse but you nod anyway. "Deal."

Seeing Professor Presley up close, breathing in his scent as he walks by is something entirely different than seeing him from afar, seeing him from across the way, talking to the selected group of other professors from varying different departments that he dubbed his Memphis Mafia. Did it matter that not everyone was from Memphis? No. Did it matter that technically speaking neither was Professor Presley himself? Also no, because they had come to Tennessee and fell right into the lap of someone who from what rumors say is practically a King in Memphis. He was imposing enough from afar, capable of commanding his group like it was nothing but in person? In the same room as you with his eyes flitting around the still empty classroom? That was another thing entirely, that was the universe narrowing its focus to just this room, to just this part of the room where you're sitting in a dress jotting down a note- or ten- in your planner. The tap of his cane gives him away even as you don't look up and it's perhaps for the best because if you had looked up your reaction to Professor Presley might not have been as chaste as it is. After all, how is a woman supposed to react to someone looking at you like you're some priceless religious tome- like you're more beautiful than every angel in heaven or any god or goddess in any religion especially when most people on campus have never seen that look on Professor Presley.

He stops in front of you, tapping his cane once on the ground and clears his throat. "Pretty early for class, aren't ya? One of those overachievers?"

Your first instinct, the one that you have to tamp down on when you look up is to roll your eyes and try and say something cute. Something charming to rope him in like you've done with so many other professors. What you do instead is look up at him with a small smile. "Something like that." Not at all like that, if he asked anyone else. "And I wanted to get a good seat. I know in classes like this a lot of people take al the good ones if you don't stake your claim first. Is it a problem, Mr. Presley?"

Elvis lets out a short whistle that sounds more like him saying whew than anything else before he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know ya ain't calling me Mr. Presley like ya talkin' to my daddy. Know I ain't a spring chicken no more, but ya gotta way of takin' a man down a peg wit' that."

Almost as if you can't control your body, your head tilts a little as you raise an eyebrow. "What do you want me to call you, then? Professor Presley?"

Elvis's leg and cock twitches at his title slipping from your lips as if you're just casually reading off a menu or a list of ingredients. Never in his life has he thought being referred to as his title was arousing and yet there you were having him react like that. He shakes his head and licks at his lips before answering. "Elvis." He pauses to exhale quietly. "Call me Elvis."

You blink once and a slow gentle smile crosses your lips. "Elvis." It feels surprisingly right leaving your mouth, feels surprisingly right being on your tongue. "In that case, is me choosing a seat a problem, Elvis?"

It was a mistake to have you call him by his God given name, oh it was a mistake because now he knows how it sounds rolling off your tongue. Knows how the angel standing in front of him, this sweet girl that he knows isn't what she seems, sounds saying his name. He wants to hear it more, he is- he knows he shouldn't but there is something about the way the syllables fall from her lips that sound like a hymn, the musicality he only ever hears in them falling from her lips. He'd call you a siren if he didn't know any better but no, no you're something else entirely. A moment passes before he answers, trying to tamp down on the arousal he feels in his veins at your use of his name, innocent as it may have been.

"It is, darlin', because that's not where I planned on ya sittin'. A girl like ya in the middle of my class? Tryin' to hide from me? That won't do at all." He lifts up his cane and uses it to rap against the chair two rows in front of you. It's a seat in a spot you hate, at the end of the row and smack dab right in front of the podium. Even though you were planning on trying to charm him throughout the semester and you planned on paying attention in class the idea of being right there in front of everyone made you feel a little self conscious for some reason. "Front row, right there. Up n'at 'em."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pout just a little bit before you gather your items and your bag, standing up and walking to the aforementioned seat. There's a part of you that wants to turn around, wants to be a little childish and stick your tongue out at him but while you've heard that Professor Presley- Elvis was a bit of a child at heart, something tells you he'd prefer the show of respect and so you resist. Instead you choose to just go back to what you were doing originally, thinking that perhaps he was done talking to you. You hardly register the tap of his cane on the floor approaching you yet again, and what part of your brain does assumes he's heading to the front of the classroom before you feel the warmth of his hand against your shoulder. On top of your shoulder, really, the sheer size of his hand making it so that the heat emanating from it feels like a fire licking at your skin. You swear you hear your heartbeat roaring in your ears and feel it rushing through your body and your head. Despite this or perhaps because of it, your brain narrows to just you and Elvis and your ears that aren't hearing a single other thing in the room at the present time can hear the words leaving his mouth.

"That's a good girl." His voice practically rumbles against you and you know he's not pressed up against you, there's no reason you should swear that you can feel the vibration of his words and yet here you were. "Doin' what you're told." He pauses. "Be prepared f'me to call on ya today."

You don't realize when your eyes shut of their own volition until you have to force them to open at his question. Part of the reason you had chosen your seat was to really study Elvis in his class setting properly without him being able to really study you back or accuse you of being distracted, but here you were being thrust into his view and under his constant attention. You swallow slowly and exhale. "I-Are you prepared to hear my answers to what you ask?"

There's a moment where you swear you see or maybe you feel Elvis bending closer to you, to maybe brush his mouth against your ear. You know you're imagining it though, knowing he wouldn't be that close to your neck and the shell of your ear. "Darlin', don't think 've ever been more prepared for somethin' in m'life. 'sides, curious what's inside that head of yours."

A smile crosses your lips, small but still ever present before you respond. "Careful what you wish for, Elvis. Might live to regret giving me a challenge."

"Regret giving ya a challenge?" He moves to be in front of you, trying to walk to the front of the room before he looks back at you his eyes dancing with something you'd like to call amusement before he shakes his head. "Doubt it, if anything you might become my favorite student because of it."

There's a rush of heat that runs through your body at those words and you find yourself biting your lower lip and looking down, bashful and yet thoroughly delighted. You open your mouth to say something only to realize he's not paying attention any more, that he's already moved to the bottom where his podium is and you take that to be a sign you should get back to your other notes. The moment you bury yourself into them, looking down instead of looking up at him, he allows himself to stare at you, thanking God you had to take his class this semester.

Your class goes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself marveling at how he's commanding the room with everyone actually paying full attention even as they take notes. True to his word he calls on you multiple times and you find that seeing how his mouth splits into a grin and how he seems to have a bit more of a pep in his step as he moves to the next point after you provide a bit of debate with him. Elvis has always supposedly had a way of making a mildly boring subject to most be a rather boisterous and entertaining class but if anyone who had his class before were to see him today- hell- if any of the Mafia had seen this class today they'd wonder what he took to have all the energy he has.

The next class is a few days later and you remember what Elvis had said, that he assigns his seats and that he had specifically picked out your seat for you. A thought crosses your head to sit in a different seat but after that first class you find you enjoy where he put you, find that it fits your plans for the semester but it also makes you feel watched by him versus watched by everyone else, which was the reason you had avoided it in the first place. Elvis is running a bit late to class that day, he's still there before it starts but there's more people in the room and you barely hear the tap of his cane before you feel his warm hand on your shoulder and you swear you feel the heat from the rest of his body against your back as he leans over to you, his voice pitched low and rumbling in a way that has you shivering just slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as images of him speaking to you like that as you roll together among his sheets before you open your eyes.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be, Y/N." He murmurs and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his tone before you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. "Better than everyone else around here."

"You assigned the seat and I'm good at following directions when I want to." You answer, clenching your pen just a little bit tighter in an effort to keep yourself from doing anything stupid. You had a plan forming in your head for how you wanted this to go and falling for him- falling immediately into his arms wasn't how you wanted it to go in the slightest. "I wanted to for you, Elvis."

You swear you feel or maybe you hear Elvis growl a little at your words and it has your toes curling in your boots just a little. Against your will you shiver just a bit and when Elvis speaks you can definitely hear a smile in his tone as he squeezes your shoulder. "Oughta get a jacket, darlin'." He removes his hand and you bite your lower lip to keep a noise from escaping, knowing you're around people before you hear the rustle of fabric and then feel the the warmth of fabric and the scent of Elvis- at least you think it's his scent- envelop you as you look down and see a jacket that is not your own around your shoulders. You open your mouth, turning around to say something before he shakes his head, motioning for you to put it on properly, not just have it draped around your shoulders "Use it for right now. Just gotta give it back after class. Hate to have you distracted because you're cold."

There's words on the tip of your tongue but they're jumbled up the second you look at Elvis and see him without the jacket, his shirt tailored enough that the buttons don't rebel against any part of his waist or chest and you merely nod, swallowing your spit as to not drool. You had already found Professor Presley attractive from afar and you had already planned on trying to sleep with him but this- oh this might be a genuine problem. You're not used to this, you're used to the men being sweet maybe but not- like this and not after such a short period of time. By the time Elvis has turned around, ready to start the class you find yourself burrowing into his jacket, hugging it tightly to your chest. You don't bother to look up at him until he calls on you, unsure if you want to see just how he feels about you wearing his jacket but when you do look, you find yourself relieved and a little put out that he doesn't seem to care about you wearing it. Almost as if he had offered it to you with the intention of just keeping you warm with no strings attached and nothing behind the action. It's not an unwelcome concept just entirely new. By the end of class you find that his jacket around you has relaxed you, made you a little more bolder than you already are and it appears to be lighting a fire in Elvis's eyes that spurs you on even more. You wait until the class has dispersed other than the two of you before you make your way down to the podium, your books in your bag. You've made no motion to actually take off Elvis's jacket and when he notices his heart stops in his chest. He thinks you look good in his jacket, thinks you look like you belong wearing his clothes and he has to look away for a moment, leaning on his cane before he exhales.

"Do ya want to come to my office?" He starts, allowing one of his hands to play with the lapel of the jacket. "We had to cut our debate short so everyone else could have a chance but-"

"I'd love to." Your answer comes so quickly out of your mouth and so eagerly that both of you look a little startled by it before you both start to laugh. "Sorry- I meant-"

He shakes his head, moving to smooth out the shoulder of his jacket. "Don't apologize. Not for bein' excited like that. It's- People like my class, darlin' but not usually like this. It's nice to see. Helps me- I enjoy it, alright? Don't even dream of being sorry 'bout it. Just walk with me to the office, alr'ght?"

You nod and start to follow him. Maybe it's because he usually takes his time when he heads into class but you're prepared for one speed as far as walking goes only to realize you're more behind than you mean to be before you've even crossed the threshold of the classroom. It's easy to catch up though and you find yourself just talking to Elvis about the debate you had been having with him, keeping your passion in check as to not alarm anyone passing by but still proving to be enough of a spitfire that Elvis can't help but have a huge grin on his face as he fires back his own responses. More than once his eyes drift to his jacket, not that you notice too busy hugging it just a little closer to your body for the warmth but the surprising comfort you find it brings. The pair of you reach his office quicker than either of you expect as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. A part of you wonders if this is it, if this is him just bringing you in here like every professor ever has after you've charmed them only to have sex and be done with it. He motions to the couch for you to sit on as he moves the chair out from behind his desk to relax in it across from you, his eyes glinting with unashamed delight. "Lay it on me, Y/N. Tell me what ya were really thinkin' in class."

The grin that breaks out on your face is one of unabashed joy that has Elvis's heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before you launch into a tirade that has him laughing loud enough that the professors in the rooms beside him take note and the members of his mafia who are about to come see him stop at the door before turning around, figuring interrupting whatever that is can wait. it's not that Elvis hasn't laughed like that in a while but- they forgot what it was like to hear him laugh like that when he wasn't with them and hearing your laugh follow suit as he talks they realize it's best to not interrupt. You're a bit late for your next class as you lose track of time but when you finally do leave the room you make move to take off the jacket only to have Elvis's hand stop you.

"Keep it. Got a dozen like it at my house. Won't miss that one." He pauses before he shrugs. "'Sides, you look good in blue."

Your breath catches in your throat as you try and speak, try and tell him that you can't keep his jacket before a baser part of you, a part of you in the back of your mind wants to let him lay the claim on you. That's what you want, right? To have him want you enough to fall into bed with him and maybe you get to keep a trophy for once to go along with the one you'd leave him. His eyes rake over you for a second before he opens the door and motions you out. "Go on, out ya go, just tell 'em I kept ya real late. They'll understand, I can talk an ear off."

A nod is the only thing you manage as you leave, risking a glance back at him and seeing nothing but him closing the door. You think you hear him say something like "lord have mercy" but you figure you imagined it.

And so it goes throughout the semester, you wearing his jacket on certain days you see him, finding yourself in his office practically every day after class with the only exception being the occasional days you had plans in between his class and your other one. It becomes an integral part of your life, arguing with him in class as you take notes and arguing with him in his office in between sips of Pepsi and coffee and finding out more and more about him as a person. Noelle tries to press about how things are going- noting how you seem happier than she's ever seen you in an attempt to sleep with a professor. There's a thought you have to tell her, to pick her brain on if this is what a normal progression to something more as an adult is supposed to be but you find yourself wanting to keep whatever it is you're nurturing with Elvis a secret even if half of his Memphis Mafia has come in to see you grinning on his desk or him laughing with you on the couch. Their knowing looks say it all but you don't pay any mind for once and Elvis- well he does command them for a reason. Both of you are so used to each other's company that when you leave his office one day you can't help but notice he's looking a little more tired than normal and you find yourself frowning before you leave, your hand moving to cup his face with the sleeve of his suit jacket just covering your hand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look-" Worn out, tired, sick are all the words that come to mind before you settle on a single word. "Exhausted."

Unbidden, Elvis nuzzles into your hand, his eyes shutting momentarily before pulling away, realizing what he's doing. "'m fine. See ya after m'next class?"

Your frown deepens before you exhale as you nod. "Always. Get some rest, though, Elvis. Can't have you letting me win because you're tired."

"Never." His chuckle is soft before he shuts the door, leaning on it for a second before he moves to the couch to just take a nap. What you don't know is that Jerry and Joe find him after he misses his next class to teach and that they take him home, setting him up to rest before leaving.

Finding out that Elvis isn't there for the next class feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Sure it's a little chillier outside now, but that has nothing to do with the cold that seeps into your bones and has you hugging his jacket closer to you. You're not- You shouldn't be worried about him the way you are, you think. He's just your professor and while he's proven to be the nicest person and has proven to be so much more in general this isn't what you're supposed to do with a professor. This isn't- you know better, because they've always got a wife or a girlfriend or you're just the fling for the semester but it feels- you feel different with Elvis. Sometimes in his office you just do your work for other classes, enjoying the company of someone who you can talk to so easily after an invigorating time in his actual class. He never seems to mind, never makes a move to kick you out, instead choosing to kick back on his couch and read some text for the lesson plan for next week, occasionally asking you if you think he should tweak the plan. You had told him to tweak this week's plan about two weeks ago and you had been excited to see what he was going to do with it only to find him not here, instead a substitute- you think it might be Joe from the Memphis Mafia stepping in. You know this isn't his area of expertise, but you figure maybe he's one of the few people Elvis trusts to teach his class.

It goes by fine enough with a paper being assigned to make up for the fact that Elvis wasn't there. You find yourself wondering if he's alright, worrying if he's sick as you hear whispers from your classmates about the status of his health because "he had this problem last semester didn't he" and "not surprised, we've all seen how he is coming into class". You feel like you should have noticed something was up and done more to help before you realize you couldn't have because there's some things Elvis keeps close to his chest. The thoughts that run through your mind and envelop it to the point where before you realize it you find yourself at his office door, completely forgetting that he's not there- that he's not here for you to talk to. Once again you hug his jacket closer to you, sniffling as you head to your apartment before your next class. He- He'll have to be there for the class after this one. You just had to wait a couple of days to see him.

Those two days feel like some of the longest ones in your life, Noelle notices the change in your mood and asks if it has anything to do with the lack of Professor Presley today. Your answer- or lack thereof give her the only confirmation she needs before pulling you into a hug. She doesn't press beyond that, choosing to distract you with tales of how stupid everyone else is as the hours tick by until that Friday. You've got on one of your own jackets, choosing to leave behind his at your apartment just in case he isn't there again. As you put on the finishing touches to your paper you hear the tap of his cane and a tension you didn't realize was within your shoulders dissipates, causing them to droop down just a little before you feel his warm hand against your shoulder and his breath against your ear.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be." His voice is tired and tight but you can still hear the warmth and the rumble you like to think he only reserves for you.

"Always. Even when you're not here." You answer, turning a little try and look up at him before he shakes his head and mouths the word later to you as he slowly makes his way to the podium. He sits on the chair, a true rarity that has a few gasps including your own erupt from the class before he waves you all off.

"Stomach bug, still feeling a little off. Don't get used to it." He says before launching into the lesson plan a little more subdued than normal but still with enough vigor that the class barely misses a beat.

When it ends you see him still just sitting on the stool before he moves to get up with a grunt as you stand in front of him. "I owe you a meetin' don't I? Last class of the day, right?"

You nod, smiling softly. "You know my schedule too well, Elvis. Last class. So I can be in the office as long as I'd like. If you're not too-"

"Don't ya accuse me of being too tired, Y/N." He starts to walk to the door and motions for you to follow him. "'m older than you all. Can't always bounce back as quick. 'll be fine come Monday. Provided I can get through all these papers Joe decided on assigning y'all."

There's a response at the tip of your tongue that you swallow until you reach his office, watching as he flops onto the couch, his bag falling next to him and his cane following suit. You make sure to not startle him and sit on the coffee table in front of him, your hands moving to touch his knees as you speak. "I could help you with them. The papers I mean. I've- I'm pretty light on my classwork this weekend so I don't mind."

His eyes dart around your face, trying to find a lie in what you've said only to come up with nothing. You're being genuine in wanting to help him and that has a rush of fire traveling from his chest to every part of his body. He's gotten used to women he dates not necessarily caring the way you are right now. Not for the first time since his first class with you he finds himself falling more for you than he already was. It almost makes him feel like a younger man again, makes him feel like that young man tripping over his words with girls while also making him feel like that young man who had girls falling all over themselves for him because of his hips. He sees your face morphing into one of regret before he nods. "If- If you don't mind spendin' a while wit' me 'll definitely take the help."

A smile crosses your features as you grab his bag and start to pull out the papers, splitting the first pile out between the two of you and leaving the room to grab you both Pepsis. He watches you leave and exhales slowly rubbing his face with his hand, praying to every god he knew that he could keep himself in check with you acting so helpful near him like this. When you come back there's a moment where he's about to say something before he stops himself, allowing himself to just focus on the papers, kicking up his feet on the couch while you take his desk. His door is locked as to prevent interruptions and you both find that time passes by quicker than it does when you have conversations. He yawns, looking at the time to see that it's about 5PM and curses to himself. You had been there for five hours with him with no real break. Sparing a glance at you he sees that you're leaning your head on one hand and chewing a red pen with the other. The image of the pen entering your mouth has his cock showing a slight bit of interest before he shifts in his seat and coughs to get your attention.

"Y/N. It's gettin' late you- I'm plannin' on headin' home, 'less you wanna come wit' me, why don't ya just-"

You wave him away with a flap of your hand. "I'll come with you, just let me finish this one. I'm almost done." You pause and look up. "I- I don't have to come home with you."

He should tell you that you shouldn't come home with him and that if you did he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid but something about the way you sounded so earnest made him stop. He was a grown man, he could stop himself from being stupid with you. He could stop himself from pulling you in for a kiss and taking you to bed. He could resist the urge to do all those things, after all, wasn't he already? "I offered, darlin'. Just hurry up."

It takes you longer than you admit to finish looking over the paper as you keep getting distracted by looking at Elvis off and on. Watching him clean up his office just a bit before you finally finish and he whisks you away to his car a black cadillac that you feel fits him surprisingly well. The car ride is quiet and you both don't dare to look at the other for fear of saying something you might regret later. There's a thought in the back of your mind to make a move- that this would be the perfect time to make a move but you stomp down on that thought, knowing that this isn't right. This can't be the right time, not right after he's come back sick and looking haggard. No, you can wait just a little longer. Especially once you see just how big his house is. Honestly, you'd define it as a mansion if you're being one thousand percent honest but it's his as he casually reminds you as he opens the door for you to exit the car.

"Home sweet home." He pauses. "I have a lot of guests over and- the rooms help for them."

"I wasn't going to ask." You whisper, taking in the sights of everything as you enter the house.

Elvis tells you to get settled in the living room where you find a record player and a sea of records nearby. You know that sometimes Elvis like to incorporate gospel into his classes but these records aren't just gospel. In fact some of them are his records. Your ears hear Elvis's cane even as it's muffled by his carpet in the room and you can't help but ask the first question that comes to mind the longer you stare at the records.

"You used to do music?" You ask innocently enough as you flick through the records, stopping on one whose cover makes you chuckle a little to yourself as you pull it out. The man in front of you and the man on this cover are the same person- you can tell in the eyes but physically they're two very different people and as you glance back at Elvis setting down two Pepsi's and some you find this one is the one you prefer over the one on the cover.

His eyes flick up to you as you fiddle with his record player and place the record on it. He looks down at the floor, a rare show of bashfulness that you find yourself smiling at as he finally speaks. "Aw hell, yeah. Back before everythin', back before I got drafted I did. Stopped- right 'bout '60? Made my manager mad as hell but I couldn't do it no more. Constantly gettin' told I was doin' things wrong, being a bad impression on the youth. I wasn't that old ya know? Wasn't that much older than the youth they wanted to say I was corrupting. Like everythin' I did wasn't t'make sure my mama- god rest her soul- and my daddy and my grandma were taken care of." Elvis pauses when he realizes just what record you put on and he has to hold back the urge to just stare at you. Of all his songs. Now or Never?

He runs his tongue across the front of his mouth and just looks at you before crossing the room in a few short strides. A short exhale leaves your mouth, almost a reverse gasp as you find yourself a bit startled by the way a switch appeared to be flipped with him. You’ve never been the most demure but you find yourself looking down for a moment before you feel his hand underneath your chin. You find that your brain seems to shut down looking at Elvis. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but it’s heady and has your body shivering just slightly at the intensity of whatever emotion is hidden his blue eyes.

“Can I hear you sing?” You ask before scrunching up your face. In all the times you’ve been talking about class and occasionally about things outside of it, he had never mentioned a music career. This had to be something he didn’t like to talk about and here you were asking him to sing. Even though you want to hear it- you’re starting to- you have been caring about him too much to put him in too much discomfort. Your mouth opens to tell him he doesn’t have to before you hear it as he pulls you closer to him.

His voice is deeper than in the recording, fuller you suppose but it sounds no less beautiful, no less rich and inviting than it does on the recording. The vibrations of the song, of his lungs and of his throat and chest as he sings settle something you didn’t know was giving you a problem. It’s then that you take a chance, a stupid chance you feel like you might regret, of just leaning your head on his chest. He doesn’t push you away and he’s thankful you can’t see him looking at you, can’t see inside his head and realize that he wants to just stroke your hair. He wants to feel you this close to him more often than not, he wants to have you be this gentle and comfortable with him. It’s easy enough to tamp down on the urge though, to tamp down on even telling you this instead choosing to start to sway along with the music. You pick up quickly, swaying back and forth as you listen to him sing, noting that some lines seem to be getting more attention than others.

Maybe you're just imagining it, maybe it's just the natural cadence of the song but you shut your eyes as you sway, allowing yourself to pretend he's saying things like "my soul surrendered" and "I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time" to you. That he's singing those to you while in your bedroom, or maybe in another life while he's on stage, telling everyone that he loves his- girlfriend more than anything. You look up to try and meet his eyes only to realize that he's not looking at you so you sigh remembering it's only a fantasy but one you're willing to indulge in, perhaps one you can make a reality if you just took the plunge, if you just finally admitted to him that you wanted to be with him intimately and more. His heartbeat feels fast but you've never been close enough to listen, close enough to hear how his heart beats a strange percussion just for you. The song is reaching its end you think and you feel Elvis's lips- you think- on top of your head, kissing it softly as he practically whispers a line of "kiss me my darling, be mine tonight" against your hair.

He's asking you, he's begging you he thinks but you don't notice. You don't realize as you hum along as the song ends, his heart threatening to twist at how it feels so goddamn natural to have you like this- to have you in his arms. It's silly, what he does next and he's ready to play it off if you hear him but he places another kiss at the crown of your head and whispers soft as a church mouse "my love won't wait".

You can hear him just barely but your mind knows better, it knows that he can't be meaning that. This is just him trying to charm you like other professors have. Your heart though, your heart beats faster, threatening to escape from your chest after hearing it. Maybe- maybe you're not wrong, maybe you're not wrong when you think this is different. Maybe Elvis actually is different than the others. Still- you're not- you want to be the one to make the first move but not here, not in some place as intimate as his home. It's with a heavy heart that you pull back from him, looking up at him with a smile that you hope doesn't betray how delighted you are to hear what he's said to you.

"We should eat." You whisper, not trusting your voice to go any higher but figuring he can hear you even as the record flips to play some song with the words make me know it in it.

He pulls away fully from you and moves to sit down where he set the food and nods. "Course. Then we'll get back t'work."

As it turns out you only get about three more hours of work in before you hear him snoring lightly next to you in his lounge clothes. You don't know when he fell asleep but you see how his body is contorted into something that you figure is him trying to get comfortable and realize that maybe he might feel more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Shaking him awake isn't the easiest thing but after about a minute he looks at you blearily, his eyes blinking to try and focus on you.

"Come on, big boy, to bed with you." You try and wiggle yourself under his arm, forcing him off the couch a little before he grumbles something and moves into a proper sitting position. He's still not standing up but it's progress, especially when he follows suit as you stand up from the couch, leaning just a bit on you as he tries to get his legs to work to move in the way you need him to.

Elvis is surprisingly easy to maneuver for someone who you'd think once he starts to doze off would practically be dead weight, but you still find that he leans on you a little more than you'd like, than you feel you can handle in the moment. Not for the first time tonight you find yourself looking at his face, seeing the little wrinkles by his eyes, seeing the stubble growing on his chin and realizing he looks exhausted and just at least mildly like he's seen better days. You feel your heart twist at the knowledge that even with you coming here tonight, he's likely in for less rest than you think he needs in the coming weeks trying to catch up. A part of you is thankful that Elvis had changed into his lounging clothes when the two of you had gotten to his house, after all if he hadn't have you might have had to help him change in his state right now and- you truly don't trust that you would have been able to keep your touches helpful and chaste.

As it stands you get him to the bed after pulling down the sheets and lightly push him to give him the hint to lay down. In a moment of clarity, he looks at you as if to voice his displeasure at the idea before he frowns and doesn't argue. Once he's settled himself in with your assistance when he gets his legs tangled in the sheet a little you pull the sheets up, almost tucking him in before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. You're about to pull away before you feel his hand moving to grab your wrist and hear his sleep addled voice speaking.

"Stay 'ere, Belle. Stay wit'me."

You freeze, unable to move between his grip on your wrist and the shock of what he said just now coursing through your veins and bouncing in your brain. This has got to be a dream, you both fell asleep on the couch and you're dreaming. This is not real. His grip loosens as his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls to the side. You manage to pull away but not before you place yet another kiss to his forehead and walk over to the bedroom door. The words that leave your mouth are barely audible but you know what you say. "Not tonight, Elvis. Not tonight, my Big Daddy. Maybe another night."

The walk back to the couch is lonely and a bit cold if you're being honest, despite the heat in the house. Elvis's jacket is sitting on the couch in plain view of you as you hug your own jacket closer to you. Your eyes drift to the plates that you had left on the table before you head to clean them, setting them where they need to go. A thought crosses your mind to head home but you realize you don't have your car and you're not about to try and drive his home. The couch isn't an ideal place to sleep but you figure it'll do for tonight, at least until Elvis wakes up. There's no blankets around but there is his jacket and you allow yourself to cover yourself with it, inhaling the unique scent of cigars and old spice and everything else that makes up Elvis. The warmth of the jacket has your eyes falling shut quicker than you think is possible.

It's warm when you wake up, warm enough that you take more time than is perhaps necessary to actually open your eyes and register your surroundings. You shift just a little only to realize that where you are at the present moment and where you fell asleep are two completely different places. You had been on the couch alone covered in a mix of your jacket and Elvis's, inhaling the unique musk that was him. It made you feel as if you had taken him up on his offer and joined him in bed, his arms enveloping you and keeping you warm despite the slight chill in the house. You still can smell that unique musk and you can still feel the warmth that accompanied it but your eyes flit down to your waist where even in the dim early morning light you can see the outline of Elvis's arm, you can feel his arm wrapped around you pulling you close. You shift again, trying to see if there's any give to his arm only to have him tighten it as his head moves down to the back of your neck and nuzzles, growling ever so softly.

"Too early, darlin'. Stayin' right 'ere." He mumbles against your neck, placing soft kiss there. "No early bird this mornin'"

You can feel his arousal against your backside and you tamp down on the urge to grind against it, knowing that as much as you want to that's not what- you can't do that when he's still asleep like this. Still, a sigh erupts from your mouth as you feel him shift causing it to thrust up against you just a bit. How had you even gotten in here, last thing you had remembered was being on the couch. Had you walked back here in your sleep? Had you been craving his warmth and his embrace so much that you had done something as silly as this in your sleep? No, you- maybe you had. You needed to leave- you could stay here not for him to see you when you woke up. He had gone to bed alone even if he might not have fully realized it so he needed to wake up alone just the same. If he didn't maybe he'd- no Elvis wouldn't hurt you. He was different but you didn't want to risk the anger, risk seeing his face contort into something you didn't recognize because you let yourself be greedy before you had properly planned. You needed to talk to him before something like this happened. Every card needed to be on the table before you allowed yourself this guilty pleasure of waking up in his arms enveloped by a heat and what feels like maybe the first smatterings of an honest love.

It takes you twenty minutes to detangle yourself from Elvis's arms as you struggle not to wake him and as his arms tighten around you every time you so much as think of moving but you finally manage to grab a pillow that you use to replace your body slowly but surely as you move out of his grasp.

A pillow is a poor substitute for you, and you’re aware of it, knowing fully well that at best it’ll buy you maybe ten or twenty minutes before he’ll wake up and realize you’re not there. Even now you can hear him mumbling your name in his sleep interspersed with Belle, it makes your heart jump into your throat, seeing him clutch the pillow as if it’s the only thing allowing him happiness. He’s- even if he’s meaning you he doesn’t know you probably crawled in here after having a hard time falling asleep or that you slept walked into there. He wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing you in the bed with him, let alone as curled up together as you were. Even as he clutches the pillow he looks so happy, the smile playing on his face as he holds the pillow close. You knew you were doing the right thing, knew that if you didn’t he might regret letting you come to his house and everything up to this moment would be for naught and truthfully you’re not entirely sure your heart would be able to take the rejection that you figure would come when he awoke.

The overwhelming desire to stay there, to crawl back into bed with him chokes you the longer you look at him, look at the empty space beside him before you remind yourself why you’re leaving. Elvis won’t- he won’t do anything to you, you don’t think and yet. You allow yourself the pleasure of placing your hand in his hair, running it through the strands and hearing a relaxed sigh leave his mouth as any tension he had in his shoulders leave them. Before you go you place a kiss to his forehead, mirroring what you had done earlier that night and without much noise you sneak out of his bedroom, grabbing your jacket on the couch before you sneak out the front door as well.

Elvis wakes up about an hour later, his brain not catching on immediately to the fact that you had become a pillow, allowing himself to grind against it for a moment before his eyes shoot open and realize you’re gone. His brain blanks on anything but this one thought.

“Now you’ve gone and left me alone too?”

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbot, @lokis-right-femurr, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphis, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley angst #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #professor presley #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis x you #austin elvis #austin elvis x y/n #ally writes

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marimayscarlett · 6 months

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*hands you an empty ask that allows you to talk about most beloved pretty men*

*walks away to watch Matrix on my laptop in my LOTR sweatshirt*

Hi 😌

Thank you for this! I will use this ask to present two little, very self-centered lists about my favourite old men, eventhough no one really asked for it ✨

First up of course my love, always:

5 Reasons why I love and adore Richard for almost 10 years now 🤍

1) His enthusiasm When it comes to his passion in music, Richard is extremely enthusiastic, regularly bubbling over with creative ideas, tries out different guitar gear to get the perfect sound (even builds his own tech equipment like the mic Roboter he shows here) and exudes just an intense drive for music. You can feel how much he thinks about the music he puts out, how much of a perfectionist Richard can be (a fact which sometimes makes things more complicated/tiresome) for him and how much joy he can find in work. Music even has a therapeutic effect to him, leading him out of his depressive episode in 2019. This man really burns for his passion and I love this enthusiasm 🤍

2) His openness It is clear that Richard had some problems in the past with drug abuse as well as mental health related, due to some conflicts in his past - depression, frustration and longing for appreciation accompanied him for a long time as he mentions in-depth here, and maybe still do. And he is outspoken about it, wanted to change things and actively looked for help! Things you need strength and courage for, and Richard allows himself to be openly vulnerable, like when he talks about it in interviews. It might be a reason why some people don't really like him or find him boastful and self centered, yet I can't stress enough how important his openness about topics like these is! It shows that yes, everyone can have problems, might have to deal with trauma for several decades and yet can overcome it. And this openness and honesty is something I find quite admirable.

3) His honesty and not being afraid to express his opinions Richard does not mice any words when it comes to express his opinions and thoughts on things. He is very honest most of the time; about how exhausting yet exciting work in a group like Rammstein can be, how much he dislikes certain things and cities, also about personal things like himself being quickly irritated by things, needing alone time to come to terms with feelings and impressions, about how much he can be a perfectionist and controll freak… Whenever you read an interview with him, you sooner or later are confronted with an opinion of him. And I think that's a way to get to 'know' him as a person a bit! This might sound 'closeminded' that he's so opinionated, but he's pretty much the opposite: for example does Richard express his dislike for German rap and hiphop (he clames he just doesn't understand these music genres) and yet he's always open to listen to tracks which others who him to get to know more about different music styles.

4) The courage to improve and reinvent himself Richard is not afraid of change, self growth and taking steps forward (away from bad influences) or trying out new things. From starting Emigrate as an additional outlet for his musical creativity to trying out different fashion styles and wearing what makes him feel comfortable - this man knows what he wants to do and wear, and goes through with it! We sometimes laugh about his questionable choices, yet he looks comfortable and has the guts to really be true to himself (at least he comes across this way), which is something a lot of people wish they could do, but are withheld from doing it due to thinking too much about opinions of others 👀

5) His cuddliness and cordiality This is something widely known and appreciated - Richard is a natural born hugger and enjoys showing his affection in a physical manner. In a world where showing affection and love openly as a male is still sometimes viewed as 'weak/unmanly', I just love how open he is about it! Plus he can be very warmhearted and appreciative with fans, too 🤍

Now on to:

5 Reasons why I fell in love with Hugo 🤍

1) His versatility I swear to God, 'versatility' is Hugo's middle name. The range of the genres he plays in, the range of the characters he plays is incredibly wide - from playing a drag queen to playing a ruthless AI agent to a fool in love to an elven lord to a bisexual business man to a smug detective to a crossdressing police officer to several classical theatre roles… I could go on and on. The reason for this wide range of roles is: he just chooses what interests him. Not thinking about what brings the most money or prestige, but choosing roles which speak to him on different levels; which are nuanced, have some sort of twist to them and are neither black or white, which is an important thing for him.

2) His devotion and calmness This man first met his partner Katrina when he was four years old, they got acquaintanted properly in acting school and fell in love in their mid 20s - and are still together to this day. He really is a proper family man, absolutely devoted to his partner (mentioning over the course of several interviews that one of the reason for him loving to work in Australia is being close to her and their kids). He's also very, very down to earth, quite modest and an overall a really positive sweetheart and loved by his actor colleagues - his close friend and an actress he worked with a lot Cate Blanchett once called him 'a god amongst men'. And this type of constancy and calmness has such an relaxing effect on me - sounds strange, I know, but this just makes him even more likable for me.

3) His outspokenness and support for important causes When I tell you that this man takes no shit and uses his voice for bringing attention to significant topics, I mean it. Hugo advocated avidly for marriage equality in Australia, slammed far-right movements and republicans (including Trump) for blindly using imagery from 'The Matrix' and 'V for Vendetta' for questionable causes and not looking further into the meaning of the movies and wants to raise awareness for men's mental health issues. He is also an advocate for epilepsy awareness, a condition which with which he was diagnosed with in his early teen years.

4) His voice and his use of it Hugo could read a phone book to me, I'd thank him on my knees and would pay my left kidney for it. He has a lovely voice, a quite calm way of speaking, a beautiful vocabulary (most likely also shaped by his work as an on stage actor) and way of describing things. Hugo can use his voice to really give his roles different levels and depth - he modelled the voice of Agent Smith after American news anchors and sounds so different than for example as soft spoken yet firm Elrond in 'Lord of the Rings' or ambitious and borderline aggressive Richard in 'The Dirtwater Dynasty'. Now you'd say "well, that's his job as an actor 🤨" but honestly, I've never encountered another actor who uses his voice so intensely.

5) His love for Australian cinema Hugo is not the biggest fan of Hollywood, which of course can seem quite contradictory considering the huge productions he was in. But he's extremely invested in Australian productions as well if not more, which he continuously supports and brings attention to Australian movies and culture. He's of the opinion that Australian cinema deserves way more recognition (even within the country itself) and is a great way to bring light to the culture and show the different sides of the country. It really is a shame that Australian movies aren't that much known most of the time - for example "Proof" (Hugo plays a blind man with trust issues) from 1991 is seen as an absolute classic by movie critics, yet not a lot of people outside of Australia have seen it.

(I added gifs of them both purely because well. I love looking at them)

Thank you for coming to my unasked for Ted Talk! 🎤 (Damn, I really should take up on Paul's idea and should start a business like that)

#ask #rammstein #richard kruspe #hugo weaving #i will scream about this two men until someone shots me or takes me to horny/enthusiasm jail.#sorry to everyone who has to witness this once again

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stxrvel · 1 year

Text

greatest fear (3)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: bucky has to learn to deal with the fact that things don't always work out the way we want them to.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +5k i think

warnings: none? angst, that's for sure

note: hello!!! i think it's been almost a month? but better late than never. this didn't came out like i wanted at all, but i'm still gonna publish it bc i don't dislike it that much. i probably could've approach the subject way better. maybe i'll edit this someday. anyway, i do hope you all like this and give it some love 💜 i'll try to keep it up to get you guys pt 4 sooner, but i don't promise anything. feedback is always appreciate!! thank u all!!

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Everyone already knew Bucky's greatest fear. He had spent years being untouchable, seemingly the only person on the team who wasn't afraid of anything, not even living on the edge. They had spent years getting used to seeing the inscrutable face of an emotionless man. And they'd spent years thinking that was never going to change. To be honest, Bucky believed the same thing. As he resumed his “normal”, ordinary life, he felt that there was nothing he hadn't experienced before and that, because of that, there was nothing that could really hurt him. So why bother worrying about anything, why be afraid in the first place?

Bucky used to be an unflappable person. Even after meeting you, after confessing his feelings for you, after knowing that you might be a weak spot, Bucky still thought he wasn't afraid of anything. What's more, with you by his side he considered himself an invincible person. Unreachable. The people around him saw him as so sure of himself that they never once doubted that he could be the most fearless man in the world.

Until you had the accident.

Bucky began to see the world in dark colors. He had been afraid, yes, he had said so many times. But he was also struck by how close he had come to going insane. The people around him had ceased to view him with respect, but with concern. He had never allowed himself to be seen that way, because even if he had ever felt in a similar way, he had never been as strong as he was that time. He was at a point of vulnerability that was almost incomparable to anything that had happened in his life before.

The level of despair and stress he was dealing with from the moment he found out about your accident until months later when he knew how to manage his emotions, he couldn't quantify it in a rational way.

And the people around him were sympathetic, but he still hated that he had let himself be seen that way. The quivering mess he'd become since he found out about it haunted him like a symphony echoing in his head on the highest note. Sometimes it wouldn't let him think, wouldn't let him remember, wouldn't let him live. Even being there in a room with you, there was nothing but a din of incongruous notes crashing against each other, without any harmony, without any order.

At other times there was silence. A deafening silence sometimes accompanied by a beeping that increased as the minutes progressed. The voices were echoes and the images were blurred figures in the distance. There was nothing else in his head but space to process the silence.

Everyone knew Bucky's biggest fear, and it had caused him some long-term problems that he still didn't know how to handle. Since everyone knew that, he was no longer the fearless Bucky, the most daring person. Now he seemed to be perceived as a walking time bomb, even though he seemed to be the one who handled the situation the best… well, not from the beginning, but he learned to cope.

He hated that that stage of vulnerability had become so embedded in the memories of others that it was now the only thing they evoked when they thought of him. He hated that consideration. As much as he wanted and appreciated the support, he hated when it came from regret. From condescension. Of the wary glances. Like tiptoeing around him in fear that he would explode at any moment.

That was how Bucky felt at that moment. With everyone watching him around him, thinking that at any moment he would freak out and start screaming at each of them.

“She's okay now,” Bucky heard Natasha's voice flooding the room that had become the recipient of an imperturbably uncomfortable silence. Her voice was neutral, calm and patient, like the others', even though their faces showed incomparable chagrin.

Bucky let out a long sigh and let his gaze fall on any object in that room.

The rain was lashing hard against the city that day. The drops bounced off the large window and fell swiftly towards the end of their ephemeral life where gravity used to drag them down. The cold crept into the building through every crevice it could find, as if seeking any refuge from itself within the warmth of the human structure.

Bucky didn't plan to ever feel fear again.

He was constantly surrounded by worry, but tried to reassure himself that you were in a safe place surrounded by people who were willing to protect you. Until Steve appeared running down the hallway of the rooms shouting his name, and then yours, and then named Dr. Cho. A peculiar combination of words but they were enough to push him over the edge.

He had never run so fast from one end of the building to the other since that fateful day.

Memories slipped as fast in front of his eyes as raindrops did that day, swept away by the restlessness of his mind surrounding almost possible catastrophic scenario. Bucky knew he shouldn't do that, but telling him not to was like going against nature.

The worst part was that he couldn't see you as soon as he got to the medical wing of the Complex. He could barely make you out through the glass doors.

And so hours went by.

Bucky stayed in the next room waiting for some news, when one by one the others began to arrive.

Near midnight Natasha appeared and finally gave him good news.

“They stabilized her and are now waiting for the drugs to take effect.”

Bucky nodded at her words and the vibe in the room finally changed. Sighs of relief and comforting words leapt into full view, but Natasha didn't take her eyes off Bucky.

“What happened to her?” he finally dared to ask, though he knew the answer the moment the redhead entered the room.

“They still don't know. One moment they thought it was cardiac arrest, then a stroke, then she had seizures. But finally she was just… still. At some point she regained consciousness and said her whole body hurt. The doctor gave her some medication and now she sleeps. All her vitals are fine, like nothing ever happened.”

Bucky was not thinking clearly. He had understood every single word that came out of Natasha's mouth, but he couldn't pin his thoughts down to a single idea. His mind was conjecturing at an incomprehensible speed and it was causing him severe irritability that he couldn't come up with a solution.

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

It had been six hours when you woke up. Bucky had settled into a chair in the corner of the room, not too far or too close to where you were lying, and was trying to get some sleep, but worry wouldn't leave him. Steve accompanied him for a while before he had to leave on a mission, and Natasha stopped by at some point to drop off something to eat before leaving, just like Steve, on a mission. After that, he must have spent about two hours trying to fall asleep, but it seemed an impossible task. The constant sound of the machine monitoring your heart kept him unconsciously aware of his surroundings. And, even if there were no external stimuli to keep him awake, his mind would have done so. The fear, the panic, the hopelessness…. He almost feared that you would never even wake up again.

His body almost reacted to your movements because he opened his eyes just as you were beginning to move on the gurney.

“Y/N?”

Rising from the chair, he began to slowly approach you, even though his body was begging him to run to your side and wrap you in his arms. He watched you move one of your arms to cover your eyes for a moment, before focusing your gaze on his.

Your frown did not bring him good news.

“Where am I?”

Finally reaching where you were, Bucky pressed the button on the side of the gurney to call the doctor, his heart heavy and aching. That those were the first words out of your mouth should have made him understand what had happened, and in a matter of seconds the limbs of his body shook with a shudder. But it couldn't be like that, he couldn't go through that again. Bucky was not in the capacity to go through that again.

He was promptly convinced otherwise and focused on your confused expression.

“You're at the Avengers Complex in Washington.”

“What do I do…?”

“You were in an accident. You lost consciousness for several hours.”

The dazed expression on your face didn't change and Bucky's nerves ascended with each passing second. The words came out of his mouth as an automatic response and your face contracted taking in the reality, but you didn't seem to make peace with understanding. The few things Bucky had told you seemed to only worsen your state of confusion.

“Do you know what day it is?”

When you shook your head, Bucky felt a cold chill run through him as if he were standing in the middle of a heavy snowfall. The fear he had deprived himself of and had almost prayed he would never feel again was making its way through his mind and body, and if he didn't stay calm things were not going to go well.

“It's November fourth of the year 2023. Do you remember anything about this year?”

You shook your head again. Your expression was starting to change from confusion to fear and Bucky knew he had to do something soon to keep you from being consumed by the feeling.

“No… No, I don't understand… what's going on. It's like my head is totally black. There's no-I don't see…”

Your distressed gaze met Bucky's and your bewilderment bordering on concern caused a pang in his heart. He felt like he could die of a broken heart at that moment. He didn't know what the look on his face was, but he knew it must not be as neutral as he wanted it to be because somehow he had to let out the feeling that was choking him at that moment. It seemed like that look Bucky had on his face gave your tears permission to start bulging in your eyes.

“I can't remember anything. At all,” you sobbed. “I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't remember what happened. I don't remember who-”

Bucky watched your eyes move around the room and noticed how you clenched your hands on the sheet. Your breathing becoming ragged confirmed to him that you were about to have a panic attack. Of all the times he had done it before, he automatically reached out to you and took your hands in his. He swallowed the feeling that wanted to overpower him and the hopelessness in a second. He couldn't leave you in that situation at that moment. Your glassy, big eyes turned to his.

“You're okay right now, okay?” with your eyes locked on his, still breathing erratically and your heart about to burst, you nodded slightly. “Okay, then breathe with me and then we'll talk again.”

Bucky took a deep breath, lifting his shoulders and not taking his eyes off yours to urge you to mimic him. He stayed in that position until you did the same, taking a shaky breath and tightening your fingers around his hand. The tears wouldn't stop coming and the sight almost made him cower in the corner of his head to cry with you.

“Now let the air out of your mouth slowly.”

Exemplifying your words, Bucky let the air out and you mimicked him next, still not letting go of the trembling.

Bucky took another deep breath and you followed suit, expelling the air once he did.

Like that, again and again.

And again.

Until you could only stare into his blue eyes without a single thought in your head.

“Feeling better?”

You nodded without a word.

Bucky could notice your lowered shoulders and the few tears on your red cheeks, so he ventured to let go of your hands. He didn't let it go unnoticed the way your eyes parted from his, after so long, to observe the place where your hands were joined. You intertwined your own hands and let out a sigh. Bucky had to swallow again the feeling and the urge to move closer. It made him angry inside because he thought he had already learned how to handle the distance and because he didn't think he would have to go through such a scenario again, but life is full of surprises.

“I understand that you're scared and worried, okay? But I want you to try to stay calm for a while while Dr. Cho asks you some questions and runs some tests, are you okay with that?”

Bucky watched as you shook your head as he pointed behind him to where there were two women standing in the door frame who he had heard enter a few minutes ago, but didn't acknowledge their arrival until you were calm and willing. He was dying to know what had been going through your head as you cocked it and frowned slightly watching the women.

“Yes,” you barely mumbled, but Bucky could hear you perfectly. He could hear you even in any kind of crowd.

With a heaviness in his soul, Bucky got up from the gurney and gave Dr. Cho and the nurse, Christina, room to pass.

He took a few more steps away, until he was near the door, and it weighed on him to see how your eyes did not leave his figure. He didn't know whether to leave or to stay there waiting for them to finish. He didn't want to leave you alone, that was clear, but the pressure in his chest grew stronger with each passing second, and he wasn't sure he could stay any longer if you kept looking at him like that. Like he was the only person in the room, like he was the only person who mattered, like he was someone you remembered… but you don't. You don't remember him. Not anymore.

Bucky found himself wandering around the Complex until he decided to settle on the rooftop. He thought that spending that time alone wouldn't do him much good because his mind would replay over and over again the moment when you had that frightened expression on your face again, and then he wouldn't have time to try to calm down and regain his composure. And he did. For a few minutes.

Bucky let his mind snap. The tension building up on his shoulders was too much, and if he didn't let it out, he feared it would explode inside him. He was thankful to be alone at that moment because he didn't like to cry around people. Not just crying, but expressing too much in general.

At that moment he was crying not only for his suffering, but for yours. Because more than not wanting to go through it himself, he had to think about what you must be feeling and thinking, being in a completely foreign environment and with strangers proclaiming to know you more than you know yourself. Bucky hated the thought of you having to go through that again, even if you didn't remember the first time. Bucky was crying on that rooftop because once again life had robbed you of the well-being you deserved, because you could no longer spend a moment fully aware of yourself.

More than his pain, Bucky ached to think of yours.

And what could he do about it? Nothing. Just like last time.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, arms resting on the edge of the rooftop overlooking the green field around Complex. He only knew it was around noon when Tony Stark opened the door behind him.

“You must be hungry,” was the first thing the man behind him said, trying to lighten the tense mood that must have been surrounding Bucky at that moment. But no, he didn't have time to think about mundane things.

“Not really.”

A silence settled and he knew Tony must be weighing whether or not it had been a good idea to show up there knowing he was alone. Bucky really didn't mean to be hostile, he just felt too much anger and rage against life and the universe inside his body that he wanted to get out somehow. It wasn't the right thing to do, of course, and he was trying to control himself, but he didn't deny that it would be difficult.

“I'll leave it here, anyway. Just in case.”

Bucky caught the sound of the bag and then the sound of Tony's shoes that weren't moving away but coming closer.

“Thanks.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“And you didn't have to. I was almost going down anyway.”

Tony snorted, moving closer to the wall where Bucky was leaning.

“Surely you don't even know what time it is.”

“Surely,” Bucky agreed, nodding.

Both men took a detailed look at the trees stretching a long distance away in an oddly comfortable silence.

“Did Dr. Cho say anything?”

Tony turned to watch him, and stood for a moment pondering what to say.

“Everything's fine. She ran several tests, but everything came back fine.”

“Everything's fine except her memories are gone again.”

“She thinks it may be some kind of condition left in her brain after the accident.”

“It's been over a year now, Tony.”

“I know. They're exploring every alternative.”

Bucky nodded, getting a bitter feeling in his mouth. He knew he should be grateful you were alive, but damn, did you have to go through all that?

“How's she doing?”

“She's looking good. She hit it off real quick with Christina and was eating with Clint when I came out.”

“And she's eating well?”

“Yeah, the usual.”

Bucky nodded again. Maybe he should come back, stay with you for a while and talk about some things; anything. But every time he thought about going back he felt that tug in his chest that made him recoil from any progress. He didn't want the situation to overcome him, but he was losing the battle.

“Barnes, I wanted to tell you-”

“Tony, it's not necessary.”

“It is, especially at this time.”

“No, it's not,” Bucky spat, shifting his body to stare at the mechanic. “Especially right now, it's not.”

The man pursed his lips and Bucky turned away to look at the lunch that should have been inside the white bag on the table.

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. That was it.”

Bucky turned to look at the man who had settled in the same way, both of them with their backs to the green field. Bucky sighed, and knowing Tony he knew he couldn't leave without having his conversation. But maybe that would do him good. It had been months since he'd last talked to anyone about that situation.

“There was no way to foresee it, you know that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky watched the man shake his head as he did every time someone gave him a similar comment. He just wouldn't accept it.

“I could have been more vigilant, you know? I've spent my life trying to learn from my mistakes, trying to take care of the people in my charge, trying to do my best to keep everyone safe. I still don't understand how… How I could have made that mistake.”

“We were dealing with something bigger than ourselves. I think, even if you had gone all out, there couldn't have been any other ending. And believe me when I tell you I'm the person who would have wanted another ending.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest with his eyes on the rooftop floor. His mind roamed over those memories he tried not to return to under any circumstances, and he allowed it only because he couldn't deal with that situation any other way.

“I had to have tried.”

“Tony, I know you did your best. And I also know that after everything that happened you asked FRIDAY a thousand times if there would have been another chance to have avoided what happened. Did you have an answer?”

Tony didn't answer.

“Then it doesn't make sense for you to blame yourself for something you simply couldn't have controlled. I guess that's the way things were supposed to be.”

“It's unfair.”

“Life isn't fair to anyone.”

Bucky stepped away from the wall and reached over to take the bag Tony had brought him. “Thanks for this.”

And without further ado, he walked into the building once more.

From outside, Bucky watched you talking animatedly with Clint and Carol. Dr. Cho had told him that, although she had not yet been able to find the reason why you had lost your memories again, you were in perfect health. Bucky wanted to punch a wall, but settled for thanking her for looking out for you.

The day had gotten extremely long and he had only spent a quarter of it with you. It was already dusk and he had barely mustered the strength to come see you. And seeing you there, so giggly and happy, made him question whether he should come in and ruin all the fun. He knew his face was a jumble of a hundred emotions that he still couldn't quite control, because even seeing you caused him a sharp pain in his heart that he couldn't tolerate. So he didn't know if going in looking like that was the best choice.

But before he could weigh it further, your gaze met his through the masses of air, and his breath hitched for a few seconds.

The look of recognition you gave him brought a sense of warmth to his body. It was like wiping a damp cloth over his bruised heart. Bucky knew you didn't remember him, but that in such a short time you could give him that kind of look meant too much to him. Your face looked much more serene than the last time you had seen each other, and you no longer had so many wires around your body embedded in your skin, from what he could see from a distance.

Maybe it was indeed safe for him to enter.

Act normal, act normal…

“Hi, Bucky!” you greeted him effusively.

Bucky felt his body faint. Halfway through he planted his feet on the ground and watched the other two with you hold back smiles. Well, Clint wasn't so sneaky.

“How's it goig Bucky? Did you enjoy lunch? It was courtesy of Tony for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he replied dryly. He knew Clint was trying to keep his spirits up, but he didn't feel moodily ready to keep talking to other people, just to share a pleasant silence with you.

“Y/N ordered ravioli,” Carol added to the conversation, turning to look at your red face. “And she also ordered your lunch.”

Bucky frowned.

“I'm glad you liked it,” you mumbled in his direction, barely audible but crystal clear to him. His heart flipped, and he hated that his mind was trying to remind him of where he stood. He wanted a small moment of ignorance.

He didn't know what to say other than thank you, so he just stood there in front of them in a very awkward position.

“All right, Y/N, our fun is over.”

“You're leaving already?”

Bucky detailed you looking at Clint as he and Carol stretched to leave. He mentally wondered if it bothered you to be left alone with his presence, if you didn't want them to leave and leave you with him. If you saw him as an annoying, grumpy figure. He wondered if the others had said something to you about him that suddenly made you see him in a less sympathetic or friendly light. He wondered if-

“We have a mission to attend, and we're very punctual,” Carol's voice broke in on Bucky's train of thought.

“As soon as we get back we'll be here. We have a lot of other things to talk about.”

“Okay, have a good one!”

Bucky watched you shake your hand in farewell to the two people who were leaving the room and was surprised at how much your attitude had changed since he saw you after you woke up. But hey, it had been a while since then. Maybe you had been able to make peace with what had happened by now, and they must have told you everything?

“How are you?” Bucky found himself suddenly asking.

“I'm feeling fine. Besides the obvious, I'm not in any more pain. Dr. Cho told me I'll probably be discharged tomorrow.”

“That's good,” the man mused. “And you want to talk? About what happened.”

You made a thoughtful grimace that Bucky found quite tender, but his mind conjured up the times when you'd made similar grimaces in the past and he'd planted a kiss on your mouth. It wasn't a good time to reminisce about things like that, and the twinge in his heart proved him right.

“Not really,” you replied. “Why don't we talk about you?”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“And what things do you want to talk about me?”

“Well, I was told that our relationship was different from the friendship I had with everyone else, so we can start there.”

“You want to know what kind of relationship we had?”

“Mm-hm.”

“We were married.”

Your eyes expanded in surprise, as if you expected any answer but that one. Which was strange for Bucky because he couldn't conceive of what other kind of relationship you could have besides a friendship.

“Married?”

“Yes.”

“But I don't have any rings,” you mumbled as you held up both hands to look at your fingers, then held them out to him, as if to let him see you weren't lying.

“You don't use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Bucky didn't know how far to go with his historical account because he didn't know how much Dr. Cho or the others had told you and he didn't want to saturate you with information either. “What do you know about what happened?”

You took a deep breath and brought your hands to your lap as if you had been waiting for that question. It probably was.

“Dr. Cho told me that I had an accident over a year ago due to which I was in a coma and lost my memory. That a couple of months after being in the hospital I was discharged and came to live here. And that almost two days ago I had some kind of incident that caused me to lose my memory again.”

Bucky was taken aback by the matter-of-fact way you told him all that. The only thing that was going around in his mind was how before you didn't like to mention the subject at all and used to avoid it any way you could unless it was strictly necessary. At that moment it was as if you were telling someone else's story and not your own, because not a hint of emotion could be seen on your face.

“Then why don't I wear the ring?”

Bucky held his frown. This was definitely almost that much of a sharp change to the last few times he interacted with you.

“Hum… You've had it removed since the accident and I gave it to you after some time in the hospital, but I told you that you didn't have to wear it if you didn't want to.”

“Oh, I understand. So I decided not to wear it. And where is it?”

“I don't know. You kept it. Maybe it's somewhere in your room.”

“Right. I'll go look for it when I get back.”

Bucky nodded at your words not really knowing what to say. He didn't know how to act in reason to your behavior. Well, it should be good that it didn't seem to affect you as hard as it did before, but he found it hard to believe that it didn't affect you at all. Could it be that it really was?

He couldn't know for sure, but the calm expression on your face was about to convince him completely. The way you looked like you didn't have a care in the world made him feel much better, and he would definitely battle to make it last much longer.

“Besides that, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Too many things.

“No.”

You let out a short laugh that bloomed in Bucky's chest.

“Then our relationship boils down to: we were married, and that's it.”

The man shrugged, not really having a clue what else to say about it.

At his gesture, you exhaled with a determined look.

“We were close?”

“Yes.”

“Did we make jokes?”

“Yes. You mostly.”

“It definitely had to be that way. Did we go out on dates often?”

“Yes.”

“Did we argue?”

“Not a lot.”

“Okay. Did we buy each other gifts?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw. Did we live together?”

“Sure.”

“Did we sleep in the same bed?”

“Of course.”

Bucky frowned as you stood for a few seconds in silence, just watching his face.

“We had children?”

The man went blank for a few seconds, only looking into your eyes. He definitely wasn't expecting that question, but it was something that had been on his mind a lot before.

“No.”

“Ah. So, did we travel a lot?”

“Yes, we traveled quite a bit.”

“Excellent!” you smiled genuinely at him, with that kind of smile he loved and that since the accident he had almost never seen. If he had seen it, it hadn't been directed at him. “Then we were a good match.”

Bucky smiled. It was almost an instinct. His mind flashed back to the one memory that at the time didn't cause him sadness: sometime, someday, you had told him that some questions had to be answered in a positive way to know if they had fulfilled their purpose of being a perfect couple. He didn't remember if it was those same questions, but he could make the connection to that memory he had of you at the time. Then, for a second, he allowed himself to enjoy the present. No worries, no sadness. You were alive right there in front of him, in an excellent state of health and, it seemed, a good state of mind. Beyond that, what could he ask for? All that was left for him to do was to make the most of every moment he had.

“Yes, we were a good couple.”

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A/N

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sevensoulmates · 6 months

Note

I really appreciate you making the buddie meta post for 7x4, taking that many hours of your time just to write it and sharing it with us. I'm really grateful, I was literally giggling and kicking my feet while reading your post 💕

What a wonderful episode, it still feels like an out of body experience and I'm so happy Buck is finally free (I'm still in disbelief they gave us bi Buck in such a beautiful way).

I really wonder how they will give us the Eddie coming out arc. ¿Do you have any theories at the moment? Also why does it feels like Marisol will be kicking rocks sooner than expected? 👀

Thank you again ❤️

Thank you so much!! I mean I always have so many thoughts going round and round in my head about this show at all times so at least this gives me a place to put em.

I was beyond happy with everything we got in this episode. 10/10 no notes. I'm getting the feeling next episode is gonna be similar but is also gonna have some plot twists as well. The possibility of a double date has me V~I~B~R~A~T~I~N~G especially if Eddie doesn't realize the entire time that BuckTommy are on a date. Eddie and his queer blinders runs so deep and I want to see the way his face changes when he realizes.

I loved how they handled Buck having this discovery and I'm beyond happy they're not going the "gay for you" route with Buck (and I hope not with Eddie either). I'm glad Buck can exist in the world as a bisexual man outside of his relationships, but also in conjunction with them. They're all a part of him and he deserves to finally be settled in that aspect of who he is.

I do get the feeling that Buck's gonna be so swept up in the euphoria of figuring out his sexuality that he's likely going to be attributing a lot of those feelings to Tommy where he actually isn't wholly the cause. Don't get me wrong, I do think Buck is genuinely interested and attracted to Tommy, and I'm excited to see where that goes, but we're already getting some hints about potential issues with their relationship and I'm very intrigued about where that will go.

My prediction for Buck is that he's going to dive headfirst into whatever he has with Tommy and start seeking out the feelings/connection he has with Eddie, but in Tommy. I think the date will have some hints at Buck and Tommy trying to connect in certain ways and Buck in the back of his head finding *something* missing.

As for Eddie....HOO boy. I think that he's gonna be in for an interesting time. There's a chance he might break up with Marisol in 7x05, or I was also seeing spec about breaking up in 7x07, etc. IDK ANYMORE!! As much as I PERSONALLY would like to see them break up next episode, I think it would also be interesting to extend that relationship out a bit more just to show Eddie's sexual struggles and have her as a foil.

I'll give you what I would LIKE to see instead of what I speculate might happen because at this point the information we do know is confusing.

I would like to see Eddie feeling visibly weird about Buck dating Tommy. The reasons for him feeling that way can be nebulous at the start. I want this to cause some issues with Marisol, but I want his primary issues with Marisol explored separately from BuckTommy as well.

I would love to see more of his incompatibility with Marisol explored, whether that's in terms of how they act on a date, how they talk to each other, maybe even sexually (?). I want Eddie to genuinely start questioning why once again he's not feeling anything in a relationship with a woman. Like Ana could've been a fluke, but now Marisol too? I want him to think about why he just forces these relationships into something full-blown when most people would be able to recognize they're not attracted/into someone after the first few dates and end it.

I would love to see him possibly being dissatisfied with sex (if they go the demi route) and being really confused about if it's the sex itself, or the woman he's having sex with. I want some definitive building blocks for Eddie being like "I don't understand why I don't feel attraction to her" leading to an eventual "I don't feel attraction to women" realization. I think that Eddie's queer realization arc deserves more nuance and time put into it and a slow unveiling. I think it can still overlap with BuckTommy, with his feelings regarding them confusing him even more.

Buck getting kissed once by a man, understanding and accepting his sexuality right away, and being excited about it makes sense for his character. Eddie on the other hand I think is gonna struggle with it a lot more. I would like to see those struggles highlighted. Bring in more of his family (parents, sisters, etc) and show him struggling with heteronormativity around them. Show Eddie struggling to act "normal" in his interaction with BuckTommy when they're around him as a pair.

I would love it if a surprise kiss in the heat of the moment came in somewhere. Whether Buck is/isn't with Tommy and Eddie is/isn't with Marisol, would provide different ramifications. But I don't want the kiss to immediately lead to them getting together. I want them to have to sit with it, and maybe Eddie can then deconstruct his feelings about men, his sexuality, and his feelings for Buck at the same time. I wouldn't mind this struggle continuing over the hiatus and into the season 8 opener, or having this be a season 8 storyline altogether.

Either way, I do firmly believe Eddie's queer arc is coming down the line, and what we're seeing now is going to be the foundation for him to work up to it. As we know, Eddie doesn't really have sudden realizations. He kind of lets things build and build until it explodes and he is forced to sit down and think about it.

Also I don't believe Tim Minear about his "spur of the moment idea to have them kiss". What a liar. They were filming the scene with Buck, Tommy, and Eddie at the helicopter hangar back in January. That was a whole 3 months ago. Oliver literally said it was his first day back on set. You can't tell me you filmed that without knowing how the episode was gonna end, Tim. What a lying liar who lies. I do believe him that bringing Tommy in to replace Lucy probably meant they could streamline the queer Buck storyline faster in the season, but I firmly believe he knew they were planning to get to it at some point. There's no way Tim could've gotten the green light for it from ABC that fast without major lengthy discussions, both with TPTB and the writer's room. People take a long fucking time to respond to emails, Tim. Get better at lying.

#911 abc #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #bucktommy #eddiemarisol #speculation

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kaipotato · 6 months

Text

Announcement regarding my Hermitcraft AU

hello fellas! I am happy to announce the start of the fic writing for my Hermitcraft AU, which is currently dubbed the merger au, but the name is subject to change

there is a public doc with the lore, species, and introductory stuff which can be found here

canon designs will be posted over the coming week(s), starting the day this is posted

i will try to be consistent with chapters and im planning for once every month or sooner if possible

this is also my first ever fic so it WILL have flaws

the fic will contain light shipping with NO nsfw content, possible gore, and horror imagery so if any of that makes you uncomfortable DO NOT INTERACT

all shipping is of the characters, not ccs

and for the people who are new to the au, here is the intro which is also avalible on the public spreadsheet:

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[The fic would follow the pov of Scar but may alternate sometimes. It is set in season 10 and Scar is still suffering the effects of Secret Life.]

Since Scar never died in Secret Life, he was pulled out of the loop manually by the secret keeper and was almost coaxed into becoming one, but he escaped in time before any major damage was done.

Except the secret keeper follows him.

When Scar fled the watchers' realm, he accidentally led the secret keeper to the Hermitcraft S10 world, giving them access to it and every other Hermitcraft world before it. In an attempt to communicate with Scar and bring him back to the watchers,the secret keeper uses this new “tool” to mess with reality and merge the different worlds. Some days, a random building from season 8 might show up in a crater, other days Larry may return because “the snails built him on the cart” (lie), and sometimes this even affects the hermits themselves, causing sudden wardrobe, personality, and motive changes.

Like how Joel randomly grew a Tanooki tail when joining the server.

Many people blamed the servers' already weird aspects in terms of species, but others suspected it was caused by the transition to becoming a “hermit.” Joel himself claimed it was caused by too much time around Etho and that it was because “Etho is so obsessed he used his mind to give me a tail so that we had something in common.” No one believed him.

And we can’t forget Etho somehow getting a glass monopoly, which was also pointed out by some when the permits were handed out, and is also not possible since every hermit only got 6 shopping permits. The keeper seemed to favor Etho in this way.

Maybe it was Magic Mountain’s looming presence and mystic powers, but Scar felt that many things were off this season. From the weird references to past seasons, Etho’s odd luck, Joel’s mutations or…..

…..was it the feeling of not being alone?

---

aaand thats all you get for now ;)

all content will be under the hermitcraft merger au tag and any ideas or fanart is welcome! <3

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitshipping #hermitblr #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #of watchful eyes au #oweau

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 19 days

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Long Death my beloved!!! It’s getting its own post this time!

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(that last chapter was phenomenal! The action and suspense was so well done and had me on the edge of my seat despite having already read all the snippets)

I know there’s decent odds that the story might be done by the time you get to this ask. Whether it’s done yet or not please know I have LOVED every single word of this fic it’s been so so good! It’s up there with Both Blade and Branch in terms of epic angsty supernatural love stories. Truly you’ve done a phenomenal job!

I also wanted to ask about your process with this story if you’re willing to share? I know you’ve said you had the idea before the end of season seven and you ended up reworking the whole thing, so I was just curious about your original plan. With no kim and chris not being in texas how was it going to go?

Anyways consider this an official love letter to Long Death - reading it has been a super fun journey and I’m already excited for the binge-reread I’m gonna do once it’s complete!

- PCA <3

AHHH PCA COMPARING IT TO BB&B IS EVERYTHING I COULD EVER ASK FOR! I REALLY HAVE FELT SIMILAR WHILE WRITING IT!

And great question!! So, obviously there was no Kim. It was a random vampire that attacked Eddie when he was alone. Chris was never in Texas. So Buck was raising him while vampire tracking, and Chris was MUCH madder at Eddie for leaving. No Sophia, either! So I am very glad that changed. There was more of a plot of Eddie wanting to come back to L.A. to get Buck and Chris to leave with him, rather than face his life. But I much prefer the direction it ended up taking.

48 for the last chapter!!!

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“How can I move forward?” Buck protests. “Eddie, how can I move forward when this is all my fault?”

That stops Eddie short. His brain sort of glitches as he processes.

“What are you talking about?” He demands. “How could this possibly be your fault, Buck?”

“I should have stopped it,” Buck sobs. He’s getting really worked up now. “I should have stopped it, Eddie! I could have!”

“How?” Eddie asks, baffled. “How could you have?”

“I was sleeping when she came to the house and attacked you! If hadn’t fallen asleep, if I’d woken up sooner-”

“Buck, I walked out into the dark and tried not to wake you!”

“I-I could have brought you back to the loft so she wouldn’t have known where to find you!”

“You had no reason to believe the person who attacked me knew where I lived!”

“I… I should’ve been with you on Father’s Day. When you were attacked.”

“I told you I wanted to be alone!”

“I shouldn’t have listened!”

“Buck!” Eddie snaps. “This is not your fault! I should have never gone out in the dark. I should have never gone over to her place when she called pretending to need me. I should have never gotten to know her to begin with or shown her where I lived. I caused my problems! I could have prevented them!”

“I could have stopped it, and I didn’t! I could have fixed it, and I failed!”

Eddie groans. “I am not another thing you have to fix!”

Buck flinches. “That’s not what I meant. Not you.”

“Just this part of me?” Eddie asks.

“The part that hurts you!”

Eddie deflates. He’s still not getting it.

“Buck, I hurt me. And, yeah, okay. Kim, too. But the thing hurting was just me.”

#daisies and briars writes #long death fic

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starrybxcky · 1 year

Text

And then there were two.- Ch.3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Its been three months since Bucky goes dark for a deep undercover mission and when he returns you can't help but sense that something isn't quite right.

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: A biiiiiiiig thank you to @brotherblaze my beloved for beta reading 💕

Chapter 1

A week of constantly falling in and out of consciousness and being glued to the bed leaves your restless and itching to spring into action. Your muscles ache for some movement other than getting up to use the bathroom, but the doctor's orders were clear. Bed rest. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s change of clothes every day, you’d have no idea how much time had passed.

Speaking of- Your days have been filled with Bucky. You’re not complaining, far from it. It’s a blessing. His presence made being stuck in bed more bearable and allowed you to keep your sanity. Whenever you’d open your eyes, he’d be right there, by your side. But, it was odd.

Bucky has been the only person in and out of your room since the day to woke up. Other than the two-minute visits from Bruce- who barely talked to you much less looked at you as he did his checkups, you hadn’t seen anyone else. Tony didn’t show after that first day- there’s been no sight of Sam, Nat or Peter –

And when you asked Bucky about it, his reaction was weird. Apparently two of them were assigned missions before you regained consciousness; and the others did pop in, but you were asleep. An uncomfortable knot twisted in the pit of your stomach.

While it wasn’t uncommon to be assigned a mission back-to-back, it was strange that Sam was assigned another long-term mission just as soon as he got back. You remembered how Bucky tensed was when you asked for Sam specifically. His gaze was avoidant, answers short and clipped. Bucky clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so you decided to drop it. Something must have happened between them.

You wanted to believe him you did- but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. That also didn’t explain why you haven’t seen the others. Over the past few days the hours you’ve been awake have increased so surely they could have visited. But you swallow down your concerns, not wanting to seem clingy or desperate for attention. Surely, they have their reasons. They must be flooded with work. There’s no other reason for them to avoid you….right?

Even though they were your work colleagues first, only a fool can deny the unshakable bond you’ve formed. After everything you all went through together- you can never doubt them. Your faith and trust in each other was unquestionable. Even if you didn’t agree on certain things there wasn’t something you couldn’t come back from.

The only thing you should be focusing on now was healing. As soon as you’re given the green light, the sooner you can escape these mind-numbing white walls and wafts of disinfectant. And the sooner everything can return to normal.

Surprisingly, that green light comes much sooner than expected almost two weeks later. You walk through the doors of the med bay like you’re exiting a hospital, breathing a sigh of relief. You briefly glance down at the silver cane on your right hand, a temporary measure for support. You hear rustling from behind and then feel the warmth of Bucky’s presence. He had insisted on walking you to your room and laughed telling him you didn’t lose your memory.

Bucky was a step behind you as walked down the hall, heading towards your room. You couldn’t help but scan your surroundings, noticing that everything looked perfect and pristine, as if it wasn’t blown to bits a few weeks ago. Even the paintings were replaced. Guess that’s Stark’s due diligence for you.

Bucky’s steps came to a stop when his phone buzzed and you halted, looking back. He frowned, jaw clenching as he looked at the screen, “Stay right here. I’ll be right back in a minute.” He said, without looking up and turning on his heels.

You found the firmness in his tone weird but brushed it off, assuming his sudden shift was due to whatever he read on his phone. You continued walking down the hall, taking a left and walking further down before you reached your bedroom door. As you unlocked your door, you jumped, hearing Bucky call out your name. It was the panic in his voice that jolted you. You looked back at him with wide eyes and the creaked open, “What?” you sputtered out just as hastily.

His eyes were wide, flickering between your face and the space behind you. His lips were parted, ready to speak but unsure of what to say. You were quick to follow his gaze and what you saw surprised you. “This…..isn’t my room.” You said, though it sounded more like a question as your brows pinched in confusion. You turned to Bucky for answers.

Bucky licked his lower lip as he took a step forward. “That’s what I was notified about.” He began, “Apparently Stark felt the need to do some remodeling. Your room’s on the other end of the hall.”

That was random but you didn’t think much of it. It just meant your room was further away from Bucky’s.

Your room didn’t look like your room. It was plain. No personal effects. Nothing. Apparently, both Peter’s and your rooms were caught in the blast. But you could have sworn the bomb that went off wasn’t that big to have reached your rooms, but Bucky said otherwise. A twinge of sadness prickled your heart. All of your memories locked in little trinkles you’ve collected over the years, your picture albums from your childhood and the more recent ones of your days with everyone, with Bucky, were gone. Despite the thriving digital age, you had a fondness of keeping photo albums. They had a certain warmth and nostalgia to them. Running your fingers over the pictures, protected by the clear plastic film ignited the memory and all its feelings. Nevertheless, you have them locked in your heart. You were grateful that you were here to make new ones.

A satisfied moan left your lips as you jumped onto the bed, spreading your arms and legs as you made an angel amongst the white cotton sheets. You laid there for a while, eyes shut, content to be back in your own space. The stillness in the room triggered something in your brain. You peek through one eye to find Bucky leaning against the door frame, one hand gripping the door handle, just…. staring at you.

His lips are drawn into a soft pout. Those big soft baby blues zoned in on you swirl with a certain vulnerability and your heart clenches. Bucky looks like a little hurt puppy. It’s the first time since your accident that he allows you to see the guilt eating at him. He blames himself for not being able to protect you. And so he stands there, waiting for your permission, your forgiveness.

You offer him a warm smile and reach out to him, “What are you doing alllll the way over there hmm?” you call out softly.

Bucky freezes.

He looks away, jaw clenched, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left. He’s fighting with himself again. You call out his name like a sweet melody and he crumbles. He slowly makes his way over to you, standing at the foot of your bed when you take his hand, tugging him down. It’s under the gentleness of your touch that his super solider body gives in, sinking into the plush mattress beside you. You lie on your side to face him entirely, resting your head under your arm and Bucky mimics you. The pair of you bask silently in each other’s presence. You eyes shift all over Bucky’s face, drinking in every inch of him. You note the slight wrinkles in his forehead from all his brooding to the stubble that has grown out a little and his eyes, heavy with an underlying sadness. And his lips, the prettiest shade of pink, still pulled into an adorable pout, looks soft and inviting as ever.

You meet Bucky’s lingering gaze. The room is pin drop silent, so quiet that your ears catch Bucky’s soft exhales as he breathes. You lean in, noses almost touching, cupping his left cheek. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, letting out an appreciative hum as he instinctively leans closer to you. You didn’t realize how tense he was until he deflated under your touch, shoulders dropping and leaning in.

Your thumb soothingly caresses his cheek. When Bucky finally looks at you, his eyes are glazed over. His hands twitch at his side. Slowly, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft and warm, and so comforting. The tension from the last few weeks, and the hole in your chest that grew the last few months without Bucky’s presence closes. You finally allow yourself to just be.

“Missed you…” You mumble against his lips.

Bucky hums, eyes still closed, savouring the feeling of your lips against his, “Missed you so much, sweetheart.” Finally, he allows himself to touch you, gripping your chin, kissing you. His tongue darts out, and you part your lips, welcoming his warmth and the taste of him. You sigh into his mouth, hands tangling up in his hair as you roll yourself onto Bucky, straddling him.

Bucky makes quick work of removing your top before removing his, his hands, one warm and the other cool against you skin, sends shivers down your spine as he traces your waist. He looks at you like a man starved. He drinks in every inch of you, like it’s the first time. His mouth is on your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as his hands continue to hungrily roam your body. You hiss at the sharp pain on your chest and hear Bucky chuckle. “ ’m sorry...” he grins up at you – no he isn’t, eyes dark as his tongue darts out to lick over the broken skin. Your stomach does somersaults as your need for him grows.

“Want you now, Bucky…” You say as you trail kisses along his jaw. “Need you now…” you breathe, biting and pulling on his earlobe.

The other side of the bed is cold when you wake up. You don’t think much of it, Bucky’s probably busy given that he’s been taking time off to help you recover the past few weeks. You almost trip over your own feet as your stand up, knees giving in. You balance yourself against the wall and manage to make it to the bathroom without your support. While waiting for the water to heat up you take the chance to examine yourself in the mirror. Your fingers dance all over your skin, skimming your collarbones and down your chest, over Bucky’s little love bites. They were littered all over you. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he tried to eat you. There was something different about Bucky last night. He was a little more rough than usual, not that you minded, it was something different, but it was the look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite figure out. There was something about the way he looked at you- it held a certain possessiveness but unbeknownst to you, something darker lingered deeper below the surface of those ocean eyes. The steam fogging up the mirror snaps you out of your thoughts. You shrug it off. Perhaps you were overthinking it. You step into the shower, welcoming the near volcanic temperature water hitting your skin, allowing your mind to drift, thoughts washing away with the water.

You stepped into the quiet hallway, looking right and left when you heard the faint sound of familiar voices coming from the kitchen. Your heart was racing as practically skipped down the hallway, albeit a bit awkwardly given you leaned on your cane for support and your legs were feeling like jelly thanks to a certain someone.

Just as you set foot into the kitchen you yelped as you bumped into a lean body. Your world was tilting until a pair of arms caught you by the waist, steadying you. You looked up and met a familiar pair of brown eyes.

“Peter!”

The spiderling called out your name in disbelief at the same time. His eyes were blown wide with a mix of bewilderment and confusion. He pulled you in the tightest hug, lifting you a few centimetres off the ground. “What..? You’re..but how?!” He exclaimed, head bouncing back and forth like a tennis ball on court as he looked between you and the others in the room for some explanation. His hold on you tightened and his eyes pricked with unshed tears. “You were….” He croaked out, his sentence dying on lips as he looked at something beyond you. His expression hardened ever so slightly.

You were solely focused on Peter and his jarring reaction to seeing you standing before him that you didn’t notice Tony and Nat in the room carefully watching the scene play out.

Did… Peter think you died? How- how could he not have known you woke up almost a month back? There’s no way- Surely someone on the team- surely Bucky would have told him and everyone…right?

You followed his line of sight to find Bucky, right behind you. Suddenly, you could feel the heat radiating off him like a furnace. You miss the warning glare that Bucky sends Peter, keep your mouth shut as he greets, you’re a smile and a kiss to your lips. It lasts longer than you expect. Your stomach twists as you’re aware that you have an audience. You feel Peter’s hands slowly slip off your shoulders as you squirm against Bucky.

When Bucky finally releases your lips, allowing you to catch your breath you slap his chest, shooting him a half-hearted glare. When you turn around Peter’s nowhere in sight and you sigh with defeat. “Could you maybe not eat each other’s faces for breakfast while I try to eat? Thanks.” Tony quips and your face burns with embarrassment.

You catch Nat snickering behind her mug, and you shoot Bucky a nasty look again. Bucky brushes you off with a shrug as he walks towards the island. You’re hot on his heels but before you can ask him about Peter you’re welcomed into Nat’s arms. She presses a sweet kiss to your cheek and shoots you a wink, “Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”

“Thanks Nat,” You breathe a laugh, “I missed you,” you pinch her cheeks, silently questioning her about her absence until now. Nat cocks a brow, her usual devious smile gracing her lips, “I was on a mission, just got back not too long ago.” She looks at Bucky, “I didn’t want to disturb you.” She grins knowingly and you roll your eyes. It’ll have to do for now.

You grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl, taking a bite, “So,” you began lightly, looking between the three as you leaned over the granite, “What was up with Peter’s reaction? The poor boy looked like he saw a ghost.” You frown, unable to hide your distaste. “Didn’t he know I was alright?” You’re aware your tone sounds accusatory, but you can’t get over how distraught the poor boy looked when he saw you.

Nat said nothing and Tony shrugged casually, like it was nothing important as he popped some almonds into his mouth. “I left the kid a voicemail, he must have missed it. He literally just got back from a mission.” You looked at Bucky who only nodded and shook your head. What…..?

It’s been a month. Was Peter gone on a month-long mission? Alone? Sure, he was capable, but he was still inexperienced to go on such long missions alone. Before you could voice your concerns FRIDAY speaks up, informing Tony that one of his guests has arrived, robbing you of your chance.

Still…something wasn’t right. Peter could be a little slow sometimes but the last thing he would ever do is miss one of Tony’s messages. You clicked your tongue in annoyance. No one could give you any straight answers. Not Nat, not Tony and certainly not Bucky and you were beginning to grow tired and frustrated of letting these things go. Over the last few weeks whenever you’d bring up the incident Bucky would brush you off or give you vague details about what happened, and who was behind it. At the time you let it go because your recovery took priority. Now that you were back in relatively good shape, the sugar-coated answers weren’t going to cut it.

You didn’t understand the secrecy. It was like everyone knew something you didn’t, and you did not appreciate it one bit. It hurt to think that Bucky most of all did not think you could handle it. It was a slap in the face. After all, you’ve been through much worse. You were tired of secrecy and half-truths. You needed to speak to Peter yourself.

Bucky could see the fury flare up in your eyes as the gears spun in your head. You were frustrated and your patience was running thin. You needed some answers to pacify you. Bucky instinctively grabbed your arm when you kicked off the Island, preventing you from going to Peter. He knew you too well and he also knew Peter. If he wanted everything to go smoothly, he realized he no longer could keep you in the dark about everything. He knew you’d seek out answers eventually. The most important thing was that he had to be the one to tell you exactly what you needed to know.

__________________________________________

A/N: rip no smut asdfghjkl. Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter or any theories you might have 👀

#starry.writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier

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