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alltheirdamn · 2 months

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?”

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him.

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown.

Fuck.

You wanted the day to be over.

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right?

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation.

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart.

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak.

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return.

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do.

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness.

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked.

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye.

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out.

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault.

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day.

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school.

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows.

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied.

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow.

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now.

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words.

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly.

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?”

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected.

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished.

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee.

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly.

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.”

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft.

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly.

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine.

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash.

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes.

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away.

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist.

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body.

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck.

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar.

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs.

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.”

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine.

“Joel,” you whined.

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours.

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear.

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear.

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved.

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.”

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing.

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless.

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing.

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair.

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek.

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you.

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly.

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him.

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand.

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together.

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered.

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you.

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch.

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased.

“I just don’t like them!” You defended.

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms.

“Your turn,” you sighed.

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned.

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face.

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected.

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften.

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest.

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you.

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered.

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you.

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed.

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled.

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier.

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence.

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room.

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously.

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it.

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it.

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand.

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head.

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking.

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

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ash-and-fog · 12 days

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I love making myself cry :D

#mine #digital art #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanart #fanart #angst #so much angst #tragic lesbians #my beloveds #daisy x basira #alice daisy tonner #basira hussain #tma basira #daisy

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magnoliasandarson · 5 months

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Voicemail

Jason isn't really sure why he does it. Dickhead had never really been his biggest fan, and maybe they had kinda been getting along recently, but that didn't erase all the bad. But Bruce had taken Robin away from Dick, and now he had taken it away from him, so he calls.

Unsurprisingly, it goes to voicemail. Jason swipes a hand over his sweaty forehead, Ethiopia is a lot warmer than Gotham. The phone beeps, and he pauses for a second before saying, "Hey, Dickface,"

For some reason, he tears up, but he takes a shuddering breath and says, "I just wanted to let you know that B kicked me out, so you can go back to the Manor or whatever. No more replacement," he swallows down the old rage and sadness that claws its way up his throat, "Sorry. It's just- whatever. I found a lead on my birth mom. I'm gonna find her. She's a good person, you'd probably like her,"

He kicks some dirt, trying to find a way to say what he needed to say, "Anyway, I called because," there had to be dust in his eyes, "because I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I wasn't a good Robin, I should've never worn the stupid suit. You were good. You- uh- you made me wanna be good. Whatever- I'm not gonna be hanging around anymore bothering you, but I wanted to tell you- I wanted to say that you were a good brother- the best. I wish I was better. It doesn't matter," he scrubs the tears off his face, "see you around, Dickhead."

--follow up is posted "One Missed Message"---

#jason todd #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dc comics #dick grayson #dc universe #robin #nightwing #voicemail #ethiopia #angst #so much angst #wonder what happened next

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mermaidgirl30 · 5 months

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My Heart I Surrender

This was a writing challenge by @iamasaddie and it was soooo much fun to partake in! I got a really angsty moodboard, so I apologize for the tears you might spill 😭 I LOVED doing this and hope to do more very soon! I just jotted all this out this afternoon, so I hope you enjoy 🥰 This is also in Joel’s POV!

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Angst, feelings, angsty Joel, smut, confessing feelings, more angst

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The rustic, spinning clock ticks over the soft patters of rain against the fogged up living room window. It’s like a competition, the vibrating sounds colliding together in a deafening noise that reverberates around your mind. Tick, tick, patter, patter. It’s too much, too loud for you to handle.

You hold your head in between your hands and cover your ears, trying to drown out the suffocating noise in your mind. You close your eyes tightly and try to forget. Forget the sounds of her walking out of the room, forget the way she slammed the door and ran out. But you can’t forget. It’s too fresh, too paralyzing.

Tick, tick. You gnash your teeth together and crush your head between your knees, desperate to escape the haunted ticks that keep coming. Louder, louder. It’s enough to drive a mad man crazy.

Tick, tick. That’s it. The final straw to make you lose control again. You push yourself out of the leather recliner and throw the empty whiskey glass at the clock. It immediately crashes to the floor, glass and broken pieces go everywhere against the dark wooden floors. The ticking abruptly stops and so does your pounding headache.

You run a rough hand through your messy curls, slicking it back into place. You sigh haggardly and slowly turn in the direction of the worn out couch, freezing at the mere sight of it. Your jaw clenches up as soon as you see it. Right in the center of the rose colored couch is the imprint of her. You run your calloused fingers slowly over the velvety material, feeling exactly where she laid. It’s almost like she’s still here. Almost. It’s still damp, still dripping with her arousal. You can smell her. The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon lingering in the air, just like the memory of her.

You pull your hand back and bite your tongue as you feel blood run straight down your throat. It’s the taste of loss, the taste of resentment. You did this to yourself. You. You throw yourself over the cushiony material, splaying your hands all over the damp material. Come back, come back. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

You remember her sitting in this spot not even an hour ago, with your head in between her creamy thighs. The way her breathy moans sounded as you tasted her. Your wet tongue sliding up her folds as you circled her clit nice and slow, sucking her into your mouth as she moaned your name and tangled her fingers through your mess of wild hair. She tasted so good. Just like a fresh sip of lemonade on a warm summer day that quenched your thirst. And God, the taste of her slick as she came in your mouth again and again. That warm salty and sweet taste mixing together that formed like hot cider on your taste buds. It was addicting. You couldn’t get enough, could never get enough.

You dig your fingers into the soaked material, trying to claw your way back to her. Come back, come back. You rest the edge of your face right where she sat, feeling your rugged scruff blend in with the smell of her. Too much, this is too much.

You remember how it felt being inside her as you thrusted yourself into her again and again, can still hear her ragged moans against your ear as she wrapped her legs around you and dug her nails into your back, slowly scraping red lines against your skin. She clung to you, ripping into your plaid shirt as she squeezed you tight, not ready to let go. And you fucked her like it was the last night you’d ever have with her. You made it passionate, slow, rough, exotic. And you made her cum three different times, but it wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough.

But it was the last night. Just like she told you when you saw her at Tipsy Bison earlier. One more time, she said. This is the last time. It was a love letter that ended with you. No more, this was the last straw. She was saying goodbye. It was a goodbye. But goddamn it, you didn’t want it to be. You never wanted it to be. This can’t be over. It won’t be over. Not if you can help it.

You pick yourself off the floor, crawl your way to the door as you grab a single cigarette that sits in the pocket of your denim jeans. You stopped smoking, she killed your bad habit as she always grabbed them out of your hand and threw them in the trash. You don’t need them. They’re bad for you, she’d say. She was always good about that, killing your bad habits. But she wasn’t here to tell you no. And God, you needed something to numb the pain. Anything.

As you stand up and walk to the white wooden door, you caress your fingers on the brass knob and close your eyes, remembering exactly how she left. You could still feel her hot skin, feel the echoes of loss and torture swirl around the room as you remember the way she left. Her eyes were filled with tears. Those sparkling, gorgeous eyes that took your breath away every time you set your sights on her. But this time she was broken, a torn fragment of your imagination now. She was so sad, so distraught in the worst way. And the way she looked at you before she walked out… God, it nearly kills you to think about.

Please, don’t go, you called after her. Desperate to keep her here with you, to stay one more night. If it meant you got to hold her one more time. One final time.

I can’t stay. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.

I….. You almost told her you loved her, almost broke down when you saw her opening the door. But almost wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

I have to go, she said. And then she walked out that door, leaving you hollow and broken inside, just like your now empty, vacant house.

You ran after her, calling her name, yelling her name. Please, please. Don’t go, you pleaded. Your voice a scratchy, hurling mess.

She turned so slowly, bloodshot with red eyes and tears spilling down her crimson cheeks. She shook her head no, digging her hands inside her violet jacket. She was right on the verge of collapsing, so close to barreling over in agony. And she said the words, those frozen, utterly dreadful words. I can’t… And then she fled, running back to her house, away from you. For good.

You stood there watching her, fisting your unruly curls with your fists and trying not to break down. But you had already broken down the moment she walked through your door, the moment she walked out into the rain and left you standing there, broken and beaten. A bottled up case of whiskey blues.

You punch the door, your knuckles hitting like jagged scars across the wood. Your knuckles turn red and start bleeding, just like your black heart. You step out on the vacant porch, the wood squeaking beneath you as the pounding rain hits against the edge of the wooden porch. You light up the cigarette, sticking it in your mouth and inhaling a puff of nicotine, desperate for some kind of relief. Any relief. It shoots through your lungs, numbing the pain just a tad as it takes the edge off. You blow out the smoke as it curls around the drizzle, mixing in with the whispers of the howling wind. She’s gone.

You inhale the smoke like it’s oxygen to your lungs, fighting every feeling in you to numb that empty space in your heart. The space where she’s missing. Your petal made from roses. Your sweet, intoxicating rosebud. But she’s not yours anymore. She’s not yours.

You finish the cigarette and stomp it out with your leather, worn boot, pushing it to the side so you don’t have to be reminded of the bad habits you said you’d stop. You did stop, but she’s gone so why does it matter anymore?

As you look out at the foggy, rainy night, you can almost see her. See the ghost of what once was an hour ago. Can see the way her long hair clung to her shoulders as the rain dripped off onto her back. Can see the look on her eyes before she ran off. She was torn, eaten up with hurt as she walked away. Her figure was only a mere memory now.

God, you couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t stand the mere thought of losing her. Not after you held her in your arms night after night. Not after you entwined yourself in her and lost yourself in her body over and over again. Not after her lips had marked yours, singeing her scent all over you as the cinnamon flavor swirled through your mouth. She was what brought you peace. Her. But you fucked it up. Fucked it up with every pointless fight you started because you were so fucking angry with the world, and you didn’t know how to control yourself. But she helped to calm you, helped to part the seas of your chaotic crashing hurricane. She was like a gentle spring day, a bed full of soft roses where you could lay your head when it got too much. But now it was just cloudy thunderstorm days without her. It was pure torture, no more spring days to mask your pain.

A wave of nausea pulls at your insides as you stumble forward, anxiety coursing through you like a hard metal bullet. You feel like you can’t breathe, your chest so tight that it hollows in on itself and leaves you bleeding inside. It’s like a sharp knife slicing you in two, tearing open your insides as you bleed to death. You hold your chest as you step into the rain, trying to calm your racing thoughts as you claw at the wooden railing on the edge of the porch.

The rain comes down hard on you, covering you in a sea of regret and longing. It dawns on you now that you can’t lose her. You can’t say goodbye. You won’t say goodbye. So without thinking, you run as fast as you can, dodging mud puddles and holes in the ground as you run like lightning. You have to stop her, you have to apologize. You have to get her back. You can’t lose her too. No, you just can’t.

You’re wheezing, coughing your lungs out as you run faster and faster, getting closer to her house. God, you wish you wouldn’t have smoked that cigarette, but it was too late. And now all you care about is finding her before it’s too late.

You make it to her front porch and pound on the rusty door, desperately clawing your way back into her life. You have to try, you have to try. After two more sharp pounds to the door, she opens it swiftly as shock registers on her face.

“Joel, what are you…”

You cut her off, too desperate to wait any longer. You come back crawling to her like a starving dog that’s lost its owner, pleading for her to take you back. You say her name anguished, your eyes tearing up and filling with puddles as you feel a teardrop trickle down your cheek like the soft droplets of rain that encase your cold body.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For always starting fights, for blowing up in your face from things that weren’t your fault. For breaking your heart over and over. I just… I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me, please. Because if you don’t then I can never forgive myself for ruining what we have because it’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. I need you, baby. I need you,” you desperately plead as more tears fall down your face, blurring your vision from the beauty that stands in front of you.

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. I’m right here. See?” She asks as she grazes her warm hand over your scruff, catching a falling tear with the tip of her thumb as her eyes glaze over yours, regret filling her face. “Joel, why did you come?” she asks as she looks into your eyes eagerly, looking for an answer in your blurring eyes.

“To apologize. To tell you I can’t live without you. I…I…” you struggle with the words, getting caught in your throat as you choke them out. But you say it, you have to say it. “I love you…” you whisper as your voice fills the void, your heart bleeding out on the dirt that you stand on, screaming her name as you try to claw your way from the hollow ground.

“You love me…?” She asks with softness flowing off her voice.

“Yes. So much. Please, baby. I love you so goddamn much it hurts.”

Her hand brushes your jawline, narrowly tracing your beard as her eyes start to water. You slowly graze your fingers against her cheek as you catch a falling teardrop and wipe it away shakily.

“I…I love you too. I always have. I always will,” she chokes out.

You close your arms around her and bring her into your chest, crushing her against the wet plaid material as more tears spill down your face, landing in her damp hair as you run your fingers through it, feeling that velvety touch that you missed so goddamn much. “I’m not letting you go again, baby. Never ever,” you breathe out, clinging to her like your life depends on it.

“I’m sorry for walking out. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t. I just…I…”

You tilt her head up and crush your lips to hers, feeling that soft, velvety skin that you longed to taste again. She folds into you, wrapping her hands around your shirt and pulling at the buttons, desperate to get near you again. You slide your tongue in her mouth and encase her flavor all over your tongue, basking in her warmth as you melt into her. She pulls you into the house and slams the door closed, still connected by her touch.

She pulls apart from you and stares up at you with longing eyes. Loving eyes. “Don’t go back tonight, Joel. Stay with me,” she says in a desperate, needy tone.

You draw a line with your thumb down her jawline, memorizing every perfect feature on her face. “I’ll stay. For however long you want me to,” you promise, your words filling up your chest with warmth as another tear slips down your face.

“Forever?” she asks with hope filling her eyes.

“Forever.”

You spend the rest of the night just holding her, both of you in wet tears as you lay all your emotions on the table. It’s exactly what you should’ve done all along. This is what you needed. You needed to feel your feelings, not bottle them up. But this felt good, it felt…natural. And so you stay like that the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other and losing yourself in one another. But this is where you belong, where you need to be. You’re home. With her, with your love. Your glowing, beautiful rose petal. Your forever and always.

Tags: @iamasaddie

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justaz · 8 days

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this got longer than i meant it to so im putting it under the cut

merlin and morgana watching arthur and gwen be The Couple in camelot. they are heartbroken, jealous, and tired- no, exhausted. they've arthur and gwen for years and fell madly and hopelessly in love with them (respectively). however, they care for the both of them and if they’re happy together then merlin and morgana will simply bite their tongue. besides, its not like their feelings are reciprocated so there’s no use in stirring up trouble.

but the pain eats away at them until they are shadows of their previous selves. merlin is quiet and demure while morgana’s lighthearted snark is growing harsher and harsher. it comes to a head when morgana makes a scathing remark to merlin about his feelings. before, her comments had been directed at others, arthur more often than not, but never toward merlin. they were in the same boat so why would morgana target him?

but she did and things get a little tense. then merlin finds a spell and shows morgana and the two of them, utterly exhausted and desperate for an end to their agony, agree to take part in the spell together. merlin concocts the potion and they both down it. the next day, merlin and morgana are as happy as can be. it was a startling 180° from the morose and downtrodden duo they had been not even twelve hours before to the happy, on cloud nine, nothing is wrong with the world people that hummed as they danced around the castle

merlin and morgana exclaim to one another how freeing it is to not feel such a heavy burden of unrequited love. they mention how easy it is to breath. how they haven’t been this happy and carefree in years. of course, like everything else, there comes a price

to be rid of feelings like love, the opposite feeling would take it’s place. a lot of people believe the opposite of love to be hate, but it is in fact indifference. it starts off slow where gwen makes inside jokes that morgana cant remember. then it moves to them having trouble remembering arthur and gwen’s names. then their memories begin to rewrite themselves to remove arthur and gwen from their minds. eventually, they roam the halls, arm in arm, without even a glance at either arthur or gwen bc they cant find it in themselves to care about these two random strangers. who would?

arthur and gwen go to gaius who has already noted their odd behaviors and has been looking into it. the rest of the knights join them in gaius’s chambers bc they had also noticed how weird they were acting. lancelot is quiet and brooding until arthur pushes him to confess what he knows.

lancelot tells them how he fell for gwen the first time he had come to camelot. she flushes and arthur seems upset but lancelot continues. he tells them all how despite, or maybe because of, his love for gwen, he let her go to be with arthur bc she was happy with him. he hesitates and gwen encourages him. lancelot mentally apologizes to his two magical friends and spills the beans. he explains how morgana has loved gwen for years and how merlin has loved arthur for years. the three of them had bonded after arthur and gwen were engaged about how much it hurt watching the person you love be happy with someone else.

slowly, he pulls out a vial filled with glittering, dark red liquid - dark like blood. he hands it to gaius and explains how they had come to him a few days ago with that and said how it would cure his pain. it would wash away his love for gwen so he wasn’t crushed under the weight of it. he says he never took it bc he didn’t think it was right but merlin and morgana had already taken it. he wasn’t sure what the side effects were going to be until he saw them that afternoon.

gaius finds what the potion is and explains how it did in fact wash away their feelings of love for arthur and gwen and with the absence of love, indifference took hold. he wasn’t sure if their missing memories could be attributed to the indifference or if the spell took to wiping the memories to prevent the love from regrowing.

arthur and gwen are quiet, guilty and upset that their closest friends were going thru such turmoil and they weren’t aware at all. leon clears his throat and asks how to cure them. gaius grimaces and read the book a bit more before responding that a counter potion would do the trick, it would neutralize the previous potion by bringing back their memories and feelings. arthur is quick to agree but gaius interrupts that once the counter potion has been administered, everything will come back at once. everything.

they question him and he explains that every memory, every word spoken, every touch, and every feeling from the past 7+ years will run through them at the same time. considering they’ve been dealing with unreciprocated love and watching the one they love be with someone else for the past couple of years, it wouldn’t be that farfetched to assume that they would look and sound like dying animals. suffice to say, it wouldn’t be pretty.

in spite of the guilt and fear in arthur, he insists that they have to bring merlin and morgana back. he doesn’t want to put them in pain but he cant just let them wipe themselves away and continue on with his life as if he didn’t just lose his best friend and sister. they spike merlin and morgana’s wine with the potion and, as gaius predicted, merlin and morgana both drop to the floor, screaming and crying in pain, pleading with anyone to make it stop and take the pain away.

gwen hides her tears in elyan’s shoulder, arthur uses his long taught skill of being an Emotionless Prick of a Prince his father taught him to not cry. the tears stay in his eyes and do not fall. a few minutes later, merlin and morgana are both catatonic on the ground, limp and staring at nothing. their breathing is slow, so slow they almost appeared dead.

lancelot and gwaine help merlin up and take him to his chambers while leon and percival do the same for morgana. no one mentions what happened and merlin and morgana stay locked in their rooms for two days before being able to get up out of bed. they aren’t back to their shadow selves from two weeks prior, nor are they the happy go lucky duo from the past few days. instead, they are slow and quiet and barely even there. they’re barely even people anymore. simply going through the motions.

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bonezjack · 6 months

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a little bit of dsaf3 angst because im feeling jolly

#art #digital art #fanart #dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #animation #dsaf jack #dsaf dave #dave miller #jack kennedy #davesport #im scared of dsaf3 #ANGST #so much angst #i hate dsaf so much (lying)#i hate gay people #i forgot how to tag things on tumblr

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http-paprika · 8 months

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what's lost / simon "ghost" riley

part one zombie-apocalypse!au / pairing simon "ghost" riley x female reader / wc 1103 / warnings brief mentions of gore and violence, minor swearing, attempted suicide.

summery during the escort to edinburgh, things don't go as ghost had planned, causing him to lose y/n

note when i saw this is just an angst filled shitshow, i mean it. like, bawled my eyes out a bit, had to write this over multiple days i was struggling.

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The air in his lungs was bitter, stale. His body was a shell of what it was, skin turning purple and yellow like a large bruising sore. It had been too long since Ghost had cried, what felt like a lifetime ago as tears blurred his vision, jagged sobs escaping his throat.

Ghost’s breathing harbors, slowing as the infection pulsed through his veins. In his final few moments of sanity, he thought of Y/N who he’d forced to run when a horde had overcome them on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The sound of her voice, the feeling of her lips against his mask warmed his heart as Ghost brought the gun up against his head. His jaw was slacked, broken in the fight, blood drooling from his lips. The words spewed out his mouth, a muddled mess as he closed his eyes and gripped the metal harshly. “I– I’m sorry.”

The gun clattered to the ground, he should’ve done it, but her face burned too painfully in his to pull the trigger. All consuming him along with the infected venom that had transformed him.

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Y/N’s laugh was like a sweet song as they continued, through the wild brush of an overgrown wheat field. Ghost couldn’t even remember what he’d said to make her laugh, but a smile tugged at his lips to hear it.

“If the outbreak hadn’t happened, what did you plan on doing with your life?” She asked him, obvious to the lump that clogs his throat.

“Didn’t exactly plan for a future.” Ghost admitted, watching her stop and frown at his response. His feet slowed to a stop, and he turned to look at her. “I’m not exactly the type who plans to settle down, have kids, and retire—nothing for me outside of the military. The outbreak didn’t really change that. Probably spend the rest of my days being worked to death by them if I’m not bitten first.”

“Oh.” It sounded so painfully bleak for him to tell her the truth, but she’d asked, and Y/N had heard worse.

“Don’t break your heart over it. You’ve still got a promising life ahead of you.” He walks back over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Gotta make a cure, have your name known across what’s left of the UK, maybe the world.”

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Y/N can still hear her heart beating like a drum through her entire body as they check it, ensuring it’s clean from infection bites. Her cheeks were tight and dry, the crying had stopped when she’d reached the QZ, not out of relief or happiness, but because of a numb dread that’d washed over her. It had been two, maybe three hours since she’d left Ghost, the infection had either spread and he’d turned into a walking corpse. Or— Y/N shuddered, hating the ugly images that bubbled in her mind. Either result was a knife to the chest and tears threatened to spill over again.

It had been her fault that he’d been bitten, at least that’s what she’d convinced herself. Had she been more aware, more capable, Ghost wouldn’t have had to become a flesh barrier between Y/N and the undead. She’d scowled and cursed at him, anger turning into blinding grief when the realization hit, a blood indent in his wrist from teeth. He’d been served a fate worse than death saving her. And the guilt of it sliced like a knife through her heart.

Ghost should’ve been there, with her safely in the QZ. Kissing her and reminding her that they were safe, safer than they’d been since they’d left London over a month before. But she was there, a hollow shell all alone as they escorted her through the secured area to the lab that would become a prison for her.

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The song of crickets filled Ghost’’s ears as they settled for the night, making a small camp in the deep black of a forest. He sat so that Y/N’s head rested on his lap, his hand absent-mindedly running through her hair. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Almost wondering if she’d fallen asleep there, he looked down at her face and she quickly averted her gaze away from his. “Y/N? What’s wrong love?”

“What are you going to do when we get to Edinburgh?” She finally speaks, keeping her gaze focused on the small camping lantern they had, watching the few insects that flew to it, hoping for the warmer sun. “Or were you not planning on getting that far either?”

“Oh.” Ghost lets out a groan, running a hand over his face. So she was still thinking about their conversation from earlier, considering his words on a personal level, as if they’d been directed to her. He’d been backed into a wall with her question, the truth was pathetic and Ghost worried how she’d respond to it.

“So you didn’t think that far.” Y/N didn’t ask but stated firmly before sitting up and pushing away from Ghost. Taking her warmth away from him.

“Y/N, love–” He reached a hand out, placing it lightly on her arm and removing it after Ghost watched her flinch from his touch. “No, I didn’t think about what I’d do after. Was too focused on the mission of just getting you there safely. But I’ve thought about it, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay there for you.”

Whipping her head around, she stared at him surprised by his request, almost wondering if she’d heard him correctly. He was being vulnerable with her, it caused a lump to form in her throat.

“Stay… with me?”

“Yes.” Ghost nodded his head, taking her hand in his and bringing it close to his clothed mouth. “Please, Y/N? I’ll be your damn guard dog if that’s what it takes.” He finishes his plea, kissing the palm of her hand despite the fabric barrier between his lips and her skin. Stray tears in his eyes he blinked away, focusing on her, nothing else mattered but her.

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The afterlife was not what Ghost expected, his body and mind were infected, driving him with an everpresent thirst for flesh and blood. Like a street dog, wandering the expanse of Edinburgh fighting the wild hunger that’d taken over him and so many others. But there was a hollow feeling, some part of his past life still tethered to the shell of his body. Some haunting voice that still rang in his ears like a beautiful song that drew him away from corpses and rotting flesh. Someone whose side he should’ve never left.

tag-list @amazingori

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw22 #ghost mw2 #fanfic #y/n #call of duty zombies #zombie ghost #zombies!au #zombie apocalypse #so much angst

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honourablepranksinatra · 8 months

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Zuko in the beach episode

#so much angst #atla #gilmore girls #zuko #my thoughts

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

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I keep imagining that reader is going to go into destress again and like Dr Keller is going to find us and like call laswell who will call da boys since they're coming home soon or whatever

I giggle when characters get traumatized....

#you're gonna love some things that happen later then 🤭#so much angst #answered #crcb spoilers

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sleepershell · 8 months

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truth or dare

synopsis y/n convinces the Skittles to play truth or dare. It's all fun and games until Reggie doesn't like your answers. He storms out and, when you go to confront him, he's forced to admit how he feels.

Word count 1309

note loosely based on a prompt I saw @sufferingstarlight write from.

warnings a little sad, angst, mention of death eaters/the dark mark, some swearing

pairing Regulus Black x reader (no pronouns I think? Although I was writing it thinking f! Reader)

I couldn’t believe I’d convinced all these pureblood wizards to play a muggle game. But there they were, all my friends, sitting around me and playing a game of truth or dare. Evan charmed a Hufflepuff girl into giving us some weed for free, and we’d smoked it outside before running giggling back to the Slytherin common room. The seventh years all left at the first sight of us. They probably knew we were in the mood to start some trouble.

It was never hard to sneak Dora in anymore, although that probably had something to do with Regulus’ clout among our housemates for being a Black. Or maybe our housemates’ fear of him being a Death Eater. Either way, it worked out well for us. Dora was leaning against Reg, her long legs splayed in front of her. I was in a similar position, my top half leaning on Cas so she could play with my hair. It was the most euphoric feeling in the world to have her hands in my hair, especially when I was high. Evan was between Cas and Reg, while Barty sat between Dora’s and my feet. It was a good position, since I could give him a good kick whenever he said something stupid. With all that brain of his, one would expect him to say less dumb shit.

I was just recovering from a fit of laughter at Evan’s last confession when Cas asked “y/n, truth or dare?”

“Hm,” I pretended to think. Normally I would love a good dare but, knowing Cas, she’d try to give me something she knew I’d struggle with. No one quite knew how to push my buttons like my best friend. “Truth this time.” I cracked my knuckles for effect.

“Alrighttt.” I could feel the vibrations in her chest as she spoke. “If you could kiss any of the boys at school, who would it be?”

My stomach dropped. Of course, she still had found a way to torture me. Oh, that girl was going to get jinxed later. She’d never be able to sleep safely in our room again. There was no way I could tell the truth. It would be painfully embarrassing to admit who I really, really wanted to kiss in this group. I wouldn’t live it down. Barty was wagging his eyebrows at me, and Evan looked equally interested in my answer. I was always so careful to keep who I liked close to my chest, though I suspected everyone already knew. I had to think of something before the length of time got way too suspicious. I let a glance fly over at Reg. Like always, he just stared at me, eyes blank, a slight furrow in his brow. I should say Sirius. Then maybe he’d actually react to me for once. Then maybe I’d know how he felt. Saying Potter might hurt him even more… But I couldn’t do something like that to him.

“Uh, Remus, I guess.” I shrugged.

Barty wrinkled his nose at that. “That boring friend of Sirius’?”

“He’s not boring,” I protested, “he’s… nice.”

A scoff from Regulus.

I sat up straight, ready for a fight. “Is there something you want to say?”

“Nope.” Cocky asshole.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms. “Reggie: truth or dare?”

“Truth.” His dark eyes were still blank but I could see tension in his lips.

“Who in school would you kiss?”

He shook his head with a small laugh. “This muggle game is ridiculous.”

All at once he was standing and stalking out of the common room with the haughty grace typical of all the Blacks. Pandora looked shocked when he disappeared from beside her and nearly fell over. Other than she and I, everyone gave a collective shrug. It wasn’t out of character for Reg to leave so abruptly, to get rumpled over nothing. But this time I hopped up from my spot as well. He couldn’t just leave like that.

“Where are you going?” Evan asked.

“I’m going to find that fucker.” I called back over my shoulder.

“Oh boy.” I could hear them all break out into laughter as I slammed the door behind me.

Regulus wasn’t hard to find. When I didn’t see him in the dungeons I knew where else to look. It was late in an October evening, and I had to wrap my arms around myself as I followed the edge of the Black Lake. There was no moon above, the only reflections cast on the water from the monolith of a castle behind me. So many days we’d spent out on the bank of the lake, on the side closest to the Forbidden Forest. There was nowhere else he’d go.

And there was Reg, pacing back and forth, his hands held out in front of him grasping the cold air. Strong hands. Piano hands. Writing hands. Hands I’d almost reached out for so, so many times. He appeared suspended in an argument with nothing.

I held my tongue until I was near, but had to speak when my presence wasn’t acknowledged. That close, I could finallyI see emotion on his face. Twisted up and white as a sheet.

“Reg, tell me what’s going on.” My voice was soft, barely more than a rasp.

“Nothing.” Still not a glance at me, though he’d stopped pacing. His chest was heaving as if he’d been yelling. “Go back inside, y/n.”

He loved to give orders. As if anyone had any reason to obey him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” The words flew out of me with a bite, and he looked up as if he’d been slapped. Maybe my tone was too close to his dreadful mother’s for comfort. But I couldn’t worry about that. We’d been playing pretend for too long. “Do you have a problem with Remus or do you have a problem with me?”

He scoffed again, his eyes up to the moonless sky. “You have no idea what I’ve got going on.” He always had to play superior. Always had to play prince.

“Salazar, Regulus, I’m not a bloody idiot! Do you think that little of me?”

He glared down at me, his eyes glistening. I took a step closer. The gap between us was so small I could feel his breath.

“Either you’re jealous and you want me or you don’t and you’re the blood purity asshole Black family heir you want everyone to think you are. Just say which.”

“Stop.” He shook his head at me.

“I’m already in. You can’t scare me away.”

“Please stop.” Head still shaking.

“I am in love with you, Regulus. I won’t take it back because it’s true and you can’t ignore it anymore.” I could see the water welling in his lower lids. It was in mine, too.

“We can’t,” he breathed.

My hand, out of reflex more than anything else, lifted to his chin. I brushed my thumb along his bottom lip. He didn’t shy away from my touch like he had so many times before.

“Please walk away.” There was so much desperation in those eyes. “Please.”

“Why?”

He grasped his sleeve and wrenched it up. I didn’t have to look; I already knew.

“If I have to take the mark myself, I will. Anything. Anything.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the tears finally falling. He let himself fall forward with them, our foreheads bumping against one another.

“You love me.” I didn’t ask, but it was a question. A desperate question I’d asked myself about him a million times before. Does Regulus Black love me like I love him?

A nod that shook my own head with it. His red-rimmed eyes bore into me. “I love you.”

I moved my hands to cup his face on either side. “You never told me your answer.”

And then I felt the softness of his lips on mine.

#regulus black #regulus arcturus black #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #harry potter #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #angst #so much angst #self insert #jealousy #slytherin #love #💤🦪#🐍#friends to lovers #star crossed lovers

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murciafire · 9 months

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Not My Hero

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Summary: You were always so self-sacrificial, and Jason finally had enough of it

Warnings: sexual assault; abuse (if you squint)

Words: ~2.2k

Notes: well, if this ain’t me with my own insecurities. Hopefully, someone out there gets it. But oh man, the angst in this was crazy, made me take a few minutes to pause and just suffer in the most heart wrenching words I just wrote. I’m not entirely happy with the outcome but live, laugh, love.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

“Why didn’t you let me save you?”

Jason’s strained voice cut through the deafening silence that was threatening to suffocate you. His face was stricken with pain as his eyes, wild and bright, searched yours desperately. His hair, you noticed as you urgently looked elsewhere, was a mess as he had clawed through it trying to keep his temper under control. You wanted to reach out, run your fingers though his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but it wasn’t going to be. Because you fucked up—again. Because it always came down to you, didn’t it?

“Jason, it would’ve put you at risk,” you rationalized, looking at the floor. You had gone out with your friends to the club, unbeknownst to you that it was the same club that Jason had business with—well, more like forcefully extracting information from a criminal as the club was a front for illegal affairs.

Jason couldn’t help but raise his voice at your response, he was just as angry with himself as he was with you. “Put me at risk? You were the one who was in danger! Not me!” he replied aggressively, pacing back and forth in the living room.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, perhaps with shame too, at the fact that he was right. You had been sexually assaulted by a man at the club, and not wanting to distract him from his mission you had decided to endure it because if you were being honest with yourself, you could. Whatever happened, you would survive it—and you had become really good at surviving. You didn’t know how to ask for help, didn’t know what it was like to not carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, didn’t know how to accept an outstretched hand.

“You would’ve been in danger,” you continued to push. “If you had saved me, it would’ve taken you off course of your mission. It would have jeopardized you—compromised you.”

Jason whirled to look at you, his eyes cutting to you sharply. “Mission? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Jason asked in total disbelief and annoyance. He felt the ground sway beneath him as he was still reeling from what you said.

“Do you really think I care about a mission at that time when the woman I love was being threatened right in front of me?” He continued angrily. “If it was you or taking down a mafia boss, I would’ve chosen you every single day of my life.”

“But you didn’t,” you said, voice so small it almost came out as a whisper. “And it’s okay.”

Jason looked at you, expressions flitting across his face as he felt a surge of emotions overwhelm him. He was so angry at you, but mostly with himself. It was not okay; how could it be? He had failed you and you were saying it was okay? Jason felt his chest tightening around his heart that was becoming heavy.

“We both made a choice tonight,” you said quietly. “And we’re both still alive so let’s just go to bed.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue some more, but as he looked at you, he clamped his mouth shut. He exhaled through his nose, trying to grasp onto reality, anything to center himself and his eyes landed on yours. You looked exhausted, tired from the events of this evening and tired of the emotional turmoil you were going through. Jason knew you were looking out for him and that you weren’t looking out for yourself. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he gave in reluctantly, crossing his arms.

You stood up, the air around the both of you still thick with tension as you walked to where he stood to give him a hug, but his eyes hardened with every step you took.

“Let me look at those,” Jason commanded. Your eyes travelled down to where Jason kept his eyes trained, seeing the bruises that the man had given you begin to bloom more apparently through your sheer shirt.

“They’re just small bruises,” you brushed off, which made Jason flinch.

“Let me see your bruises, y/n,” he ordered.

Knowing that he wouldn’t stop until he saw them, you crossed the gap between you two and he gently—with the utmost tenderness, pulled up your shirt, his fingers grazing the bruises on your hips lightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he pressed, irritation dripping into his voice. “You were hurt, and your first thought was to protect me? Instead of taking care of the wounds on your body?”

“I didn’t think there was much to say,” you mumbled out.

His eyes filled with cold rage. “Are you listening to yourself right now? Why the hell did you let him hurt you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My friend and I figured it out,” you argued, trying to keep your voice steady but failing.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t need me,” Jason spat, his voice filled with hurt and malice. “You got hurt, your body was injured, and you chose to hide it from me? You really think I would have been fine with it? You know this is exactly why I get frustrated with you? This right here?”

He gestured to you, and you flinched, your voice breaking. “Of course, I needed you.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” he asked angrily. She always kept things from him that he needed to know, and he was getting sick of it.

“It was already a tough night for both of us,” you offered weakly. “I didn’t want you to be more worried than you already were.”

Jason took a step back as if he had just gotten slapped. You really thought your selflessness was a virtue, and the more that Jason thought about it, the less impressed he was becoming with your behaviour. You were hurt, assaulted, and bruised and your first thought wasn’t about yourself. It wasn’t even seeking comfort or help. It was to protect him—and if Jason was going to be honest with himself, it was getting old.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jason snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was annoyed at your apology, but he was even more annoyed at the wall you had built up—that you had always pushed him away.

An unsettling silence fell between the both of you and you had felt that the way things had turned out was your fault—it always was. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “I’ll just go.”

You began to walk away from him, but he grabbed your arm. “You’re not going anywhere. I need to know why you’re doing this.”

“Doing what?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“Why you’re always thinking about me,” Jason said exasperatedly, pain tinging his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, utterly confused.

Jason stood still, completely silent. Were you really this blind to reality? You were hurt and you still made a point to think about him and not yourself.

“Do you realize just how much it hurts me when you do that?” Jason asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you hurt yourself for my sake?”

Jason continued to glare at you, even as the realization began to set in. He couldn’t believe that you were now just starting to understand what he had been trying to tell you for so long.

“You think your selflessness is helping me?” he said bitterly, his voice rising with every word. “Don’t you think it hurts me seeing you hurt? Not only physically but emotionally?”

“I-I d-didn’t know,” you stumbled over your words, feeling so lost at the realization.

“Are you kidding me? Do you understand just how much it hurts me seeing you put your needs aside? Seeing you get hurt?” Jason asked, his eyes starting to well with tears. “What’s so wrong with me that you have to do that?”

His voice cracked as he talked, his eyes desperately searching your face. “What am I doing to make you behave like this?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed around the lump that burned your throat. How could you tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was entirely yours? That you didn’t know how to open up, or how to share the weight of your own trauma. How you were terrified of being a burden to another person, and so you kept it all to yourself. “Nothing is wrong with you, Jay!”

“By always putting my needs before yours, it’s only hurting me more,” Jason said, his head hanging low, defeated.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jason,” you said, voice breaking. That was the last thing you ever wanted—you had bottled everything in so you wouldn’t, so why does this hurt so much more?

“I know you didn’t,” he said quietly. “But I’m so tired of seeing you hurt.”

There was a lot that you had decided for yourself that night: you had decided to not tell Jason, you had decided what his safety was. Jason was hurt, angry, and confused. He wanted to tell you how much he hated you, but even more so he wanted to tell you that he loved you too.

“I know that you did your best tonight—that you tried to protect me,” Jason said, his voice cracking. “But you’re not my hero. So, stop trying so damn hard to help me.”

You stepped back from him, feeling so overwhelmed, drowning in your own self-deprecation. “What if I don’t become the person you need?” you cried, your tears burning your face.

“What if I need you as you are?” he fought back. “Just because you may not be what I expected right now, doesn’t mean that you still haven’t exceeded my every expectation.”

“It’s not fair that you can be so nice to me even when you’re angry,” you sobbed, voice cracking.

Jason pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. Just because you’re not perfect—no, just because you think you’re not—it doesn’t mean that I can’t be patient with you. That I can’t love you. And that I can’t stay by your side—because I can. Yes, you’ve made me angry. You’ve hurt me. You’ve shut me out. Yet I’m still here. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you. You are so perfect to me right now, I can’t even put it into words. You’re hurt right now, and I can see it. And it’s killing me to see you like this. Y/n, I don’t need you to be perfect. You can be messy. You can be angry. You can hurt me. Because I’ll always love you.”

You sobbed against his chest, your body wracking with so much guilt, and hurt, and brokenness, because you were such a fuckup. How could he love you?

“You don’t deserve that, Jason,” you cried. “I shouldn’t be hurting you. I shouldn’t even be with you!”

Jason pulled back, his eyes ablaze as he looked at your face desperately. “Why? Why shouldn’t you be with me? Y/n, why do you keep beating yourself over this? Why do you keep pushing me away? Why can’t you accept that I love you? Why can’t you accept that you can be loved? Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

You looked away from him, hiding your face in your hands. “I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he sighed. He placed his hands on your gently, pulling them away from your face. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You looked up, your eyes glistening with tears as Jason tried to look at your face.

“We’re not doing this,” Jason said, his voice stern. “You’re not leaving me because you think you’re not worth it. You’re not leaving me because you don’t think you can be loved.”

You looked at him so vulnerably—nervous, fear, and insecurity written across your face.

“Y/n,” Jason said gently. “Listen to me. Just listen. You are worth it. You are perfect. You are everything that I could ever want. Do you understand? I don’t care that you’re not perfect. That you mess up. I don’t care that you push me away because I love you. You’re not leaving me, got it?”

You shook your head, wracking over sobs. Jason pulled you into his arms once more, caressing your head.

“Say it, y/n. Say that you’re not leaving me, and that you understand that I need you right now.”

You tried to steady your breath enough to say the next words: “I’m not leaving you. I understand that you need me right now.”

You broke off, crying again and Jason gently caressed your face. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s just you and me now. We’ll always figure it out.”

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thinking1bee · 1 month

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You Haven't Failed Part 1

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

There were many things about being an Avenger that you truly loved. Your friends and family were one of those perks, the line between the two blurring, ever since the Avengers defeated Thanos. The moment Thanos snapped, the moment you watched the people you loved turn into dust before your very eyes, was the moment where you realized, that everyone that fought by your side was your family. You didn’t care that you lost the war. It was a selfish sentiment that you would never dare to utter out loud. In that moment, where you felt your heart shatter a thousand times over, it didn’t feel like you failed the world. It felt like you failed the people you loved. You and the remaining Avengers stopped at nothing to get your team back, your family members. Consequently, with defeating Thanos came a satisfaction so resolute, that it almost healed the wounds in your heart. Almost. It still felt like you failed though you eventually got everyone back. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. If you had been stronger, better, faster, Wanda wouldn’t have died in your arms on that day. You still remember the shaky breaths that left her, the rapid and jagged beating of her heart, and the slow tears that dripped down her pallid cheeks. When she collapsed, at first, you ran to her side and gently eased her into your lap as you ripped off your mask. In your mind, she was exhausted, tired, and hurting. Wanda had to destroy Vision, her best friend, to keep one of the stones from Thanos. In the end, her pain, her tears, and the guilt she felt at having to sacrifice someone she loved had been for nothing. Thanos still got the stone. He managed to collect all six, and everyone watched with fear and bated breath, as he snapped his fingers.

First, it was Bucky. Then, it was Sam. Then, it was T’Challa. And Groot. Then, it was Wanda. It started at her feet and slowly made its way up. Pieces of her turned into ash, inch by torturous inch, and floated away in the breeze polluted with the stench of death and darkened by the smoke of war and destruction. When you saw what was happening to her, all you could do was shake your head slowly, the denial at what was about to happen quickly engulfing you. The tears fell faster as sobs left your lips, and you clutched onto her with every ounce of your strength. Wanda reassured you over and over, her hand cupping your cheek as teary sobs left her, that everything was going to be okay, and that you were going to be alright. Her very last words to you were that she loved you, and the last of her that you felt before she disappeared from your hold had been the cold and shaky touch of her caress on your cheeks. You watched as what was left of her, the dust that had once been the woman you loved, disappeared into the orange hue of the sky that was ablaze with fire and explosions. Five years. That was how long it’d been. Five years. That was 260 weeks. 1,826 days. 43,830 hours. 15,780,000 seconds. You had to live that entire time without Wanda in your arms, without feeling her body against yours. Five years not seeing the gorgeous smile you loved. Five years not hearing the accent you adored. Five years not seeing the lush green of her eyes, eyes that reminded you of the green dahlias she loved to plant in her garden. Five years without the feel of her lips against yours. Five years not hearing her moans when you made love to her. Five years with you realizing, as every second ticked, the arms on the clock mocking you as they kept moving while your world ground to a screeching halt, that your future with her was gone. Just like that. All with the snap of two fingers. She was gone, and at the time, the last memory you had of her, was of her crying in your arms.

…but you couldn’t think about that right now. Not when you were in the middle of a mission, but also, you didn’t want to think about what those 5 years did to you. You could hardly remember them. The trauma had scorched those five years completely from your mind, and there were some things just not worth remembering.

Regardless of the hardships endured, there were only a few select things about being an Avenger that you truly hated. This one, you realized with growing dread, was one of them. You scaled down the walls of Oscorp Industries, silently making your way to the lower lab. It was eerie being in here by yourself. You weren’t in any immediate danger, or else your spider senses would have been bouncing off the walls of your mind, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. To say that you hated Norman Osborn wasn’t quite true, but you didn’t like the man either. Rumors of his biological experimentation had spread like wildfire in the public news. However, the allegations couldn’t be proven without any substantial evidence. Norman was by the book. He crossed his T’s, dotted his I’s, and made sure that any mistakes that were made were taken care of internally. By government standards, what he was doing wasn’t illegal, just immoral. So, they allowed him to keep experimenting. Except, whatever happened just a few hours before you arrived was apparently so out of his hands that he had to call the Avengers. “His hand was forced” Nick repeated to you, Osborn’s words, not his, he told you as you were briefed on the mission details. Osborn had been less than forthcoming with any specifics, but he did say that the building was entirely evacuated of all personnel, and that whatever escaped was contained…for now.

This was where you came in. You made your way to the lower floors, and still crawled further down into the basement. Each floor you passed looked the same as the previous. Empty. Abandoned. Desolate. Eerie. Though the loud buzzer of the alarm was silenced, the overhead, florescent lights still remained off while the white, sharp lights of the alarms flashed repeatedly. It illuminated the space around you a millisecond at a time, and you felt like you’d dived head first into a scary movie. Someone would either scream at you to leave while they knew of the danger that lurked below, or would call you a dumbass for entering because they knew the danger that you weren’t aware of just yet. You would be the latter if you were in the audience.

The comm in your mask chirped to life and you flinched, your heart jumping into your throat at the sudden, unexpected noise.

“Any updates, Y/n?” Fury asked. You had to swallow your heart back into your chest before you could answer.

“So far so good,” you replied. “It’s spooky as hell in this building though.”

You could hear his chuckles. “Need back up?”

“Nah, I got this.”

“Copy that.”

You got lower and lower, your hands and feet gripping the walls securely as the lab you needed to enter came into focus. The moment you reached the ground and stood on two feet, you received a phone call. This, too, was patched through your mask and you smiled. You already knew who it was.

“My, my Ms. Maximoff,” you answered with a chuckle. “Don’t tell me that this is a booty call.”

You heard Wanda’s adorable giggles. In your mind’s eye, you could see the way her eyes squint when her smile reached them, the way the green would sparkle as her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“We live together, silly,” she finally said when she was able to talk. Still, some chuckles bubbled from the other end of the call, and you nibbled your bottom lip with your teeth as you felt your heart flip in your chest. “I was calling to see what you wanted for dinner.”

“You can be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, baby girl,” you said with a husk. “I can always use the extra protein.”

Wanda snorted at your not-so-subtle innuendo. “As tempting as that sounds,” she said, her voice sarcastic but still humorous. “I was hoping that we could both eat. I’ve missed you and I wanted us to have a dinner together.”

You couldn’t help the bubble of emotion in your chest, your love for Wanda somehow growing stronger when you heard her words. It’d been a hectic few weeks, that’s for sure. It was mission after mission, assignment after assignment, and for those weeks, all you were able to share with her were only a few phone calls. You missed her too and you wanted nothing more than to be in her presence.

“I’ll cook us something,” she added when you didn’t immediately respond. You smirked.

“Do you want to cook?”

A laugh. “Not really, no.”

“Then, I’ll pick us up some Chinese on the way home.”

You could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh! Can you get the potstickers?”

“Of course. Steamed not fried, with chicken not pork, and the ginger, sesame seed, soy dipping sauce on the side. Just the way you like it.”

“You know me so well, detka.”

“I try. I have to go and clean up a rich man’s mess. I love you.”

“One of these days, I’m going to put you in a maid’s uniform. It’ll be one of those slutty ones too, like what you see in anime? With as much cleaning Fury is having you do lately, I think you need a change in uniform.”

You smirked. “Don’t forget to buy the matching collar.”

“Now that is an idea,” she replied on a laugh. “I love you too. Be safe.”

“Yes ma’am. See you tonight.”

You ended the call and returned to the task at hand. Right as you webbed the doors and pulled them open with your strength, you heard the comm crackle to life in your ear.

“Y/n, I keep telling you to mute your comm when it concerns personal matters.” You smiled.

“And I keep telling you to not eavesdrop or you wouldn’t be as traumatized as you are. Besides, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever heard. Remember that time we all heard Yelena and Kate-”

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to god I’ll fire you,” Fury grumbled, the threat very much empty.

You couldn’t help the cackle that left you. Yelena and Kate thought it appropriate to have phone sex one day and they both forgot to shut off their comms. Fury was unable to mute the lines on his end so you, Natasha, and Bucky all heard what was said in excruciating detail. Bucky had turned an ugly shade of red before excusing himself. Natasha cackled the entire time, her phone out and recording what was being said before she sent it to both Yelena and Kate. Fury released a deep sigh before reaching beneath his desk and removing a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. He said that he was going to drink until the last few hours were completely scorched from his internal mainframe. It hadn’t worked. The only thing he successfully did was give himself a hangover that incapacitated him for two days. And you? Well, you grabbed a note pad and a pen from Fury’s desk and started scrawling notes. To say that the conversation you heard was colorful and informative was an understatement. There were things you heard that were definitely not a part of your sex ed curriculum when you were in high school. Later that night, you told Wanda what happened and what you learned. Then, you both decided to put your new knowledge to the test. It resulted in Wanda having some of the best orgasms of her life, and you sprinted into work the next day thanking Kate and Yelena profusely while they stared at you in horror. It took a month for the teasing to stop. It only did when Tony took a dick pic and sent it to the group chat and not to Pepper. Nick was a part of that chat, and when he saw it, he closed his one eye, sighed in defeat, and reached for the tequila bottle under his desk. He forwent the shot glass and wrapped his lips around the bottle instead, chugging mouthfuls at a time like the contents inside were water.

“I do like being employed,” you said.

“Then please do your job and go home to your girl.”

“Aye aye.”

You continued into the lab, the hallways just as pitch black as the floors were, and you moved silently. You listened intently and kept your guard up as you searched. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary, and you kept moving forward until you reached a reinforced metal door. You tried to enter the code Osborn provided, but the keypad would flash red and beep. You were about to contact Fury when you saw another means of entry. You shot a web at the vent and yanked the cover off before you webbed a line to pull yourself inside. You were only in there for a second before you removed another cover and dropped to the floor.

The lab you were in was massive, and it was completely wrecked. Electric panels had been ripped from various machines and the walls. Sparks of energy crackled and flew haphazardly to the ground before they fizzled out. Ripped wires and tubing hung from the ceiling. The white flashing of the alarms barely illuminated the space before you, but thanks to your enhanced vision, you weren’t having any problems. There were cracks and craters in the floors. As you looked around, you saw what looked to be a black rocked housed inside of a tank. The reinforced and impenetrable glass was cracked. Pieces of it were still breaking off and falling to the ground in sharp twinkles of sound. Something destroyed this place, and as you glanced back to the door you tried to enter from, you saw the deep indents of something strong and seemingly incorporeal in the metal of the door. It tried to batter its way out, the metal warped beyond repair.

“What do you see?” Fury asked after a while.

“It looks like someone released Bruce in here.” You knew that Fury could hear the sparks flying from the demolished electronics in the room. “Beyond that, I am not seeing anything.”

You turned and looked towards the black rock. It was iridescent, shiny, and shimmering as it reflected what little light still shined on it. Something inside of you told you not to touch it.

“Any casualties?”

“No.”

Something shifted behind you. It’d been quick, just the sound of movement that had you spinning on your feet. You looked around and held your breath, the seconds passing by without you hearing anything else before you relaxed. Maybe it was a trick of your senses. The darkness coupled with the unexplained destruction you were seeing played with your nerves. You turned to leave, but you still remained vigilant.

“Sorry, Nick, but there’s nothing-”

Your words were suddenly cut off when you felt your spider senses tingle, and you were about to whirl back around when something wet and dense slammed onto your back. What would have been a retaliatory attack against whatever was on you, morphed into you gaining your footing, standing there, and staring around the lab with confusion. What just happened? That fleeting feeling of panic was there and gone in a flash, and a sudden feeling of being okay replaced whatever had gripped you at first. Your spider sense faded back to normal, and you reached behind your back to feel nothing but the smooth texture of your suit. Nothing was out of place, and you furrowed your eyebrows. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t remember why you were so ready to attack in the first place.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

You looked around once more, before turning to leave. “Yeah, I’m good. I almost tripped over something, I think. Osborn must be getting sloppy in his old age, but there’s nothing down here anymore. Whatever was in here must have escaped.”

“Okay, return to the compound, debrief, and go home.”

“Understood.”

You started to make your way back out, but had you been able to see what happened on your back, you would have seen the last few remnants of black soak into your body before it disappeared from sight altogether.

Part 2

#ladies of marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem!#spidey!reader #venom!reader #graphic depictions of injuries #graphic depictions of violence #angst #so much angst #fluff #smut #violence #blood #feelings #lgbtqia

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resident-gay-bitch · 4 months

Text

Regulus’ heart breaks as he stands there, just behind the willow tree, watching James and Sirius roll around on the grass, play fighting in their own little world.

Of course he left him. Of course James would pick Sirius over Regulus, wouldn’t everyone? Regulus has never been picked first. Not once.

Not by his parents, who ignored him throughout his entire childhood to focus on framing Sirius as the perfect son and heir.

Not by Sirius, who ran away, picking James to be his brother and not bothering to ask Regulus to tag along.

Not in team games, where students would pick through the class one by one, and Regulus would be one of the last few standing.

Not by his friends, who all would chose their partners, or the other people in the group first. He joined last, it’s only fair.

Not even by the lizard who inhabits his dorm room, who picks the three other boys to crawl over to first, every time.

And certainly not by James.

He thought, for once, the cycle might be broken. He thought, for once, someone would pick him first. He’d get chosen over someone else, just once.

He should have known better.

He should have known that the moment Sirius found out about he and James sneaking around in dark corridors and whispering sweet words to each other, James would have to pick.

He was foolish to think James would pick him over Sirius. He was foolish to think that James would pick him over anyone.

And as Lily, with her fiery red hair pulled back into braids, comes marching over to the boys, snatching James up by his collar and earning herself a cheek kiss, Regulus realises he should have seen that coming too.

Not even two weeks has passed since Regulus placed second to his brother, as he does in fucking everything, and James has already moved on.

Regulus would never be anyone’s first choice, he should have known better.

He knows better now.

It’s not until three months later that Regulus finally shatters from it. The crushing weight of never being enough, never being someone’s first choice.

It’s Slytherin against Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup, and there in the crowd, he spots his brother and James.

They’re decked out in silver and blue, and they don’t look at Regulus, not even once.

Barty finds him in the showers, once the entire teams cleared out. He’s dressed in a confusing mix of blue and green, for his own house and his friends.

Hes crying. Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever cried this hard before. The water is pouring down over his head, and he’s still fully dressed in his uniform.

Slytherin lost. He lost them the match, because he was more focused on trying to catch James or Sirius looking his way just once than getting the snitch. They didn’t, and he lost.

Barty clearly doesn’t know how to handle this. The lowest he’s ever seen Regulus would have been prior to an exam he stressed himself out about. Besides, Barty has always been a little awkward when handling emotions.

Regulus tries to tell him to leave him be, he really does. But his words get all chocked up in his throat and he can’t get out much more than a wail or a sob. It fucking hurts.

“What’s the matter, Black?” Barty asks, switching the water off before crouching down in front of him, “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hey?”

“I-I’ll never be… good enough.” Regulus confesses. He’s never said it out loud before. He’s not a vulnerable person, he doesn’t do this. He knows better than to let out his sob story to someone, they can hold it over him one day. But he can’t help himself, he finds. He needs to get it off his chest before it rips him open, “I’ll never… b-be enough.”

Barty’s silent for a while, clearly unsure of what to say. It only makes Regulus sob more. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his head in his hand, and he fucking cries. He’s sure if anyone’s still out side, they’d hear it, but Barty locked the door when he came in. At least that’s something.

“I can never be enough.” Regulus sobs again, and this time Barty kicks into action.

He’s still awkward about it, Regulus can tell, he probably has better things to do than listen to Regulus cry as well, which only makes this worse. He pushes Regulus’ sopping hair out of his face and pats his face dry with the end of his Slytherin scarf before hauling them both to their feet.

“Who told ya that?” Barty asks, pulling his wand out to try his hand at a drying spell. It mostly works, so Regulus can’t complain.

“I don’t have to be told something to know it, Barty.” Regulus sniffles, wiping his eyes. They sting, and he knows he looks terrible, but there’s no use in worrying about that now.

“Well… I think, if you haven’t been told, it can’t be true.” Barty shrugs, tucking his wand back in his pocket.

“Fine.” Regulus nods, “My entire fucking family has told me then, on several occasions.”

“Oh.” Barty stills, and he has a look on his face of utter confusion.

Regulus shakes his head and goes to walk for the door, but he winces when he puts pressure on his ankle. He fell on it weirdly, midway through the match when he was knocked off his broom. It didn’t bother him before, but it does now.

“You hurt?” Barty asks, and Regulus nods.

Silently, Barty reaches out and wraps his arm around Regulus’ waist. He flinches at first, startled by the slightly intimate touch, but then Barty pulls Regulus to shift his weight, and he relaxes into it a little. Together, they walk back across the field, Barty carrying Regulus’ broom, and half of Regulus’ weight, and make their way back to the castle.

It’s oddly silent.

It’s always quiet, between them. Regulus isn’t much of a talker, and when Barty runs out of stupid things to say he goes quiet and people watches. He usually watches Regulus, since they’re always together, something that took a while to get used to. Barty really likes to watch Regulus read, it makes him a little self conscious of any strange expressions he might be making.

But it’s a strange sort of quiet now. It’s silent. Regulus isn’t talking, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he feels ashamed for breaking down like that. He doesn’t just break down. Men don’t fucking break down. Especially not in front of people like that. He feels embarrassed that Barty found him.

Well, he’s grateful it was Barty over anyone else, seeing as though they’re supposed to be close friends, Merlin forbid Sirius found him. But it’s still uncomfortable.

The only friend any of them have that likes to talk about feelings is Pandora. Regulus assumed this was because she was a girl, at first, however, Dorcas doesn’t like talking about them either. Pandoras just strange like that, she cares about people in odd ways. Sometimes it’s nice, but mostly it’s terrifying.

Barty looks like he wants to talk. He also looks like he wants to watch Regulus, but every time he turns his head to do so he probably sees the red rimming of Regulus’ eyes and finds something much uglier than usual. It only makes Regulus feel all the more ashamed.

Barty starts whistling. It’s not his regular noise filling whistles either, it’s his uncomfortable whistling. He doesn’t want to be here, Regulus can tell. Merlin, he needs to get away.

“Going back to your dorm?” Barty asks as they round a corridor in the castle.

Regulus nods, “Is Evan-“

“He’s there.” Barty says, “Cas too… dunno about Dora, she’s always off with the fairies. If she’s not hugging Dorcas about their loss then I dunno where she is.”

Regulus goes tense, “I don’t want them to see me.”

Barty stops and swallows, “Okay… how about my dorm then? My roommates are all down by the lake. They snagged some firewhisky.”

“Okay.” Regulus agrees, because he has no where else to go.

Once settled in Barty’s dorm, Regulus changes into more comfortable clothes. Plaid pyjama pants and a green knitted sweater he knows is his own that went “missing” last year. He doesn’t question it, Barty’s strange like that. He likes to collect things, and especially Regulus’ things.

They’re both sitting on his bed, Regulus tucked up under the covers and Barty sitting on the other end. He’s flipping through one of his dorm mates magazines and whistling to himself, his regular whistling again. It calms Regulus a bit.

Lying there, stuck with his own thoughts, he can’t hide from the images that pop into his mind every time he closes his eyes. All of Sirius and James, all of them examples where Regulus placed last.

There’s so many it’s hard to filter out which ones are new and which ones are old.

They all hurt just the same.

“Whatcha crying about now?” Barty asks, looking over at Regulus. He didn’t even realise he was crying again, but he is. “Did I do something wrong? I’ll fix it, whatever. Get ya whatever you need, promise.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Regulus sniffles, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling. Barty’s stuck posters up there, muggle ones of girls on motorcycles and punk bands, just to piss off his dad. “I’m just…”

“Go on.” Barty asks, sitting up now, cross legged and attentive. “There’s no one here, just me. Promise I’ll never tell.”

Regulus sighs and fiddles with his fingers, “I don’t need your pity, Barty. I’ve survived this long, I can survive some more.”

“Yeah, but you’re crying.” He says, and Regulus glares at him. “What? I ain’t seen you cry before, it’s weird. I know it’s really gotta be botherin ya if you’re crying like this. What would Dora say?”

“She’d probably try to hug me and make me cry more.” Regulus offers.

“Do you want… me to- uhm, hug you?”

“No.” Regulus glares at him. “I don’t want your pity, I said.”

“It’s not my pity, Regulus!” Barty splutters, “It’s a bloody hug. Dora says there really good for ya! I love her hugs, you know. Get ‘em all the time. I- I know I’m no Pandora but… I mean, I can offer ya a real bony one.”

Regulus snickers and looks back up at the roof, “No thanks. That’s weird.”

“Is it?” Barty asks, “Cause… cause I’ve been listening to what she’s sayin and… I think it would be nice.”

“If I hugged you right now?” Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah… and other times.” Barty shrugged, “I dunno, might be dumb but… we’re supposed to be friends, ya know? Friends hug. Cas hates ‘em, unless they’re from Dora, but Evan and I hug sometimes.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m not trying to.” Barty frowned, “I just… I care about you, I suppose.”

Regulus swallowed. The only person who’s said that before has been Pandora, but she cares about everyone.

Barty… well, he doesn’t care about much at all. He cares about so little, that Regulus thought the only thing he probably cared about was pissing off his dad and Pandora herself. But apparently that’s not true.

Regulus doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to hurt himself by believing that he could be one of the very few things Barty has come to care about.

But they’re friends, and Barty watches him a lot, and collects Regulus’ things, and helps him when he cries, and offers to hug him.

Now Regulus is crying for a whole other reason.

“One hug?” Barty offers, sticking out his arms, “I’ll make it so quick and if you hate it we don’t ever have to do it again.”

Regulus contemplates it. He doesn’t remember the last time he was hugged.

He knows the last good one was Pandora, maybe last year, when they were leaving for summer. Quick and carefree. The last bad one, that was James. Not that it was bad at the time, but it hurts to think about now. It was false stability and ended in heartbreak. The last time he was hugged to be soothed though? His mind takes him back to Sirius, when they were still little.

“Fine.” Regulus mutters, sitting up under the covers, “But make it quick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Barty nods and moves in, “Sorry if I’m uncomfortable.”

Regulus nods and sits very still as Barty wraps himself around Regulus’ shoulders. It’s awkward, to say the least. They’ve never done this before, and they’re going about it very strangely.

“Reg… you gotta relax a bit.”

“How am I supposed to relax when I have a boney man attached to me?”

Barty scoffs and squeezes him a little tighter, “Just put your head on my shoulder, orrite. Relax, just for a second.”

Regulus huffs but does it anyway. He leans his head over to rest on Barty’ shoulder and drops his own, and… oh, it’s nice. It’s actually really, really nice. Barty’s soothing his back, and twisting his finger around the end of Regulus’ hair. And it’s nice.

He can’t even feel Barty’s ribs poking him or anything. It’s really, really cosy.

Regulus pushes him away, wiping his tears.

Barty gives him a guilty smile, “Terrible?”

“No.” Regulus sniffles, “It was actually grossly nice.”

Barty snickers and nods his head, “Well, if you ever need another hug, I’ll give ya as many as ya kneed.”

“Thanks.”

“No problems, Black.”

Regulus fiddles with the ends of his sleeve, refusing to look up at Barty, who he knows is sitting there and staring. He’s so quiet, when he stares. It’s as if any noise Barty makes would ruin his ability to set his full attention solely on Regulus.

It’s so strange. He’s so strange.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Regulus mumbles.

“What, that we hugged?” Barty laughs.

“No.” He scoffs, “What I said before, wanker. In the showers.”

“Oh.” Barty nods, “Well, I wasn’t gonna anyway. Course not, Reg. I know you. I know you hate people knowing your business.”

Regulus nods, “You really wouldn’t have told anyone? Not even Dora?”

“Cross my heart.” Barty smiles, doing just that, “I know she’s my best friend, but you are too. It means something, you know?”

“Oh.” Regulus mumbles.

Barty can only laugh at him, and Regulus turns a little pink.

“Can I… no, don’t worry about it.”

“No, go on.” Barty offers, “It’s just you and me.”

Regulus sighs, “I just… I’m tired of not being good enough, Barty.”

“I dunno what you mean, Black. You’re bloody brilliant.” Barty says, flopping down on his back like a starfish, “You shoulda been in Ravenclaw with your smarts, and not to mention your skills as a seeker. You’re top of the class, Reggie, course you’re good enough.”

Regulus thinks Barty will never understand how much that singular sentence fucking means to him, even if he tries to explain it. It stings, how good it feels to hear it. He never has. Not once.

“Not just in school, Barty. Everywhere else.” Regulus mumbles, wiping his teary eyes. They’re stinging again, and he really doesn’t want to cry, but he knows he will. It’s so stupid. “Everything else. I’m just…”

Barty rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow to look at Regulus, “Like, with your family?”

Regulus nods, chewing on a hangnail.

“Yeah, I get that.” Barty sighs, “Is this about… those who must not be named?”

Regulus closes his eyes to compose himself, and nods again.

“Right.” Barty says, “Did Sirius do something? You know he barked at me the other day, like a fucking dog. So I’ll go hex him, happily, if you want?”

“No, Barty. Don’t.” Regulus shook his head, “He didn’t… I… they both just…”

“Go on.” Barty said softly, softer than Regulus has ever heard him speak before as he slowly sits up to get level with him.

“I’ll always be second best.” Regulus mutters, and then he starts crying again. Hot tears down his cheeks, redness in his eyes, stuttering over himself as he shakes.

“Oh, Reg…”

“He- he just picked James, over his own blood brother. Every time it’s James and… and I… and James just… I loved him. I loved him Barty, I was in love with him. I think part of me still is, but… he, he picked Sirius too. He picked Sirius, and Lily, because she’s just… she’s so pretty, and smart, and she’s got everything that I’ve got but, she’s just… she’s just so much better.” Regulus heaved, pressing a hand to his chest, “Everywhere, I see it everywhere. Not just with them, but mostly, I- I’ll never… I’ve never been someone’s first choice, Barty. Ever. And I don’t think I ever will be. No one picks me just because they can.”

His shoulders shake as he cries, his breath short and stuttered. When Barty reaches out in offer for another hug, Regulus falls forward into his arms, head pressed against his friends chest.

It feels so safe there, to be cradled in Barty’s arms, it’s warm. He cries a puddle through his sweater, but Barty doesn’t seem to mind.

“Shh, Reggie.” Barry sooths, lightly scratching his nails over Regulus’ back and sifting his fingers through his hair. “Just breathe, love. Just breathe.”

Regulus follows his command, taking deep breaths and timing them with the rise and fall of Barty’s chest beneath his head. He relaxes there, letting his eyes fall shut, and Barty continues to rub his back and play with his hair.

“I’m so tired.” Regulus mumbles through the last of his tears, “I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“That’s okay.” Barty laughs softly, “How about we lie down?”

“Isn’t that weird?” Regulus asks.

“Isn’t everything I do weird?”

Regulus shrugs and follows when Barty pulls him down to lay against the pillows. Barty slips under the covers with him, and pulls Regulus’ head against his chest again. Bartys heart is beating faster than it should be, but Regulus ignores it and wiggles around until he’s comfortable.

Once again, Barty strokes his back and scratches his scalp, and folds himself into Regulus a little.

He presses a little kiss to the top of Regulus’ head, and his heartbeat speeds up rapidly.

Regulus tenses, “Why is your heart beating like that, Barty? Are you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?” He questions, already coming up with a million terrible reasons for it. He’s been so stupidly selfish about his own problems he didn’t even notice how uncomfortable he’s made his supposed best friend.

“No…” Barty half follows as Regulus sits up, leaning back on his elbows, “No, Reg. Obviously not.”

Regulus’ shoulders relax a little, “Well, then what is it?”

Barty looks away, “Come on, don’t tease, Reggie. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not teasing.” He shakes his head, “What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, obviously.” Barty snickers, “Come on, we can just… we can forget about it by tomorrow if it’s weird.

“What’s weird, Crouch?” Regulus pressed, “I don’t understand.”

Barty looked at him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and his mouth slowly fell open, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Regulus asked.

“About me…”

“About you… what?” Regulus shook his head.

“About…” Barty sighed, shaking his head in delirium. He laughed, at himself, mostly, which only confused Regulus more, “Everyone said it was obvious. I just thought we both… I thought we had an understanding. That we’d both ignore it and go on with our lives.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Barty?” Regulus asked, shoving at his chest.

“Oi!” Barty snickered, “That I… well… I thought you knew you’d be my first choice for everything.”

Regulus froze, scowling at him for a moment, “Don’t tease-“

“Not teasing, Reggie.” Barty looked away, taking a short breath. “Look, if it’s… if it’s too weird, I get it. But, I’m okay pretending, if you want.”

“P-pretending?” Regulus whispered.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, sitting up and loosely hugging his knees, “Pretending I’m not in love with you.”

Regulus didn’t have an answer for that. He was truely wound speechless. Barty… loves him?

“I meant it… I’d pick- I’d pick you over everything else in this world. I really mean it, Reggie. I promise.” Barty mumbled, “You’re my first pick, always have been.”

Regulus’ heart stops in his chest for a moment. His throat hurts and his eyes sting again. Regulus doesn’t think he’s cried as much as he has today through his entire life, including when he was a baby.

He can’t help it, crying again. Because Regulus believes him. Barty’s always been devastatingly honest, even at the worst of times. So why would he lie about this? And he looks so earnest, sounds it too. He sounds like he really, truely means it.

No ones ever picked Regulus first, besides Barty Crouch Jr, who has a collection of Regulus’ things, and who stares at him unashamedly, and consoles Regulus when he cries even if it makes him uncomfortable.

And Regulus has been too self centred to ever notice.

But Barty is in love with him, and by the sounds of it he has been for a while. Apparently everyone knows it.

He thinks about it for a moment, while he sobs and cries and heaves. Barty does all that he can to soothe him, reaching out to wipe away tears, and hold him, and rub his arms and back.

Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever felt as safe as he doesn’t when he’s around Barty. Which is an odd thing to realise, because Barty is kind of a loose cannon. He’s violent, and angry, and snarky and rude. But with Regulus he’s always… well, he’s funny, and he can still be a little rude sometimes, but he’s also kind and generous and a little odd.

Regulus now realises all that oddness he’s noticed is just things Barty does that signals he’s in love with him. But Regulus has never noticed, he’s never looked to see how Barty doesn’t do all these very things with other people.

He’s Barty’s first choice.

And now that he thinks of it, Barty might just be his.

He’s the only person Regulus trusts to see him like this. Not even Pandora could, as much as he loves her. Regulus just hates being vulnerable. But he supposed it’s a little different with Barty, because he’s always been a little vulnerable with Regulus.

It’s comforting, to say the least, to have confirmation that he’s wanted. That he’s cared for. That he’s somebodies first choice.

And Barty loves him, which is strange. He’s never looked at Barty in that way before. And sure, Barty makes plenty of jokes about finding Regulus fit and wanting to snog him and so on and so forth, but he’s never thought too deeply about it.

He does that with other people, doesn’t he?

Now that Regulus thinks about it, he definitely doesn’t do it as much as he does it to Regulus.

Barty pulls away, rubbing up and down Regulus’ biceps, as he gives a nervous smile. It’s crooked, like most of Barty’s smiles, but this time Regulus really notices it.

“I’m sorry if it’s weird, I dunno what to do, Reggie.” Barty tries, “How do I stop you crying?”

Regulus sniffled and blinked his tears away slowly, refusing to cry anymore. His cheeks are all wet and sticky, and his eyes fucking ache, as well as his throat, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Do you really mean that?” Regulus sniffles, and he blinks away a few more tears, “Me being your first choice?”

“Of course, why would I lie about that, Reg. It clearly means a lot to you- I just… I thought you knew.”

Regulus scrunches up his nose, “Well, why would I cry about how I’m no one’s first choice if I knew I was yours?”

Barty’s quiet for a moment. He retracts his hands and ducks his head to mumble, “I just thought… well I thought I didn’t really matter, at the end of it all.” He shrugged, “I’d do anything for you- I already have, you know, and… I just… I thought you knew. And I thought it didn’t matter to you because… well, I’m the same, I suppose. I don’t think anyone’s picked me first either.”

“You still… even thinking that I just- I just didn’t care about you, or your feelings or… or anything at all, you still…” Regulus scrunched up his nose, ducking his head to catch Barty’s eye, “You still would have picked me first?”

Barty nodded, “Done anything for you.”

“Oh.” Regulus whispered, shaking his head, “Barty…”

“Yeah?” Barty asked, swallowing a large lump in his throat.

Regulus kisses him. No thoughts, no warnings, no nothing at all. He just leans forward and kisses him right on the mouth.

Barty pulls away first, almost immediately, wide eyed and startled, “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus muttered, touching his lips, “You just… I… you love me, and… fuck, Barty. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.” Barty nodded, there’s water in his eyes now, and Regulus can tell he’s trying to hold it back, “And you just kissed me. Please don’t- don’t do that. I’m… I can’t handle that, Reg. I can handle us being friends, even though it’s driving me mad, but… I just- I can’t-“

“Well, don’t you want to be more?”

“Fucking hell, Regulus.” Barty leers back.

“What?” Regulus scoffs.

“You can’t just fucking… don’t say that.” He shakes his head, taking a moment to compose himself, “Don’t be stupid, orrite. I can’t fucking… I love you, Reggie. I can’t handle… possibilities because I’m just… I’m gonna drive myself crazy thinking about them. And that’s not good.”

“I’ve never had someone love me before, Barty.” Regulus whispers, “I’ve never had someone… I want- I want to chose you too. You’re my best friend, and I already do choose you. But I want to do it more. I want to… please?”

“I don’t understand, Reg.” Barty whispered back.

Regulus took his hand, smoothing his fingers over Barty’s rigid knuckles. They’re rough and scarred, just as they always are. Just as Regulus knows them to be.

“I don’t really either, Barty.” He admits, “I never knew you felt that way, and I’ve never thought about it- you- us. I’ve never thought about us like that before, but I… I can picture it.”

Barty closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Barty. I don’t want to lead you on. I want to try. Don’t you want to try?”

Barty keeps his eyes sealed shut and he shakes his head no, “What happens when you get bored of me? What- what happens when Potter comes crawling back to you? What happens when you realise I’m fucking… more insane than you thought? I’d- don’t tempt me, Regulus, because I meant what I said, I’d do anything for you.” Barty’s breath trembles, “I’d kill him, I’d kill them both. I’d kill all of them, just to make you happy. So you never feel like a second choice to them ever again- I- I mean it, Regulus.”

“I know.” Regulus breaths, and it scares him, what Barty’s saying, because he does know. It’s not just words. But those words aren’t the part that scare him, it’s the fact that he likes it that does. It makes him want. “I know, Barty. And I know that if I hurt you, truly, truly hurt you like this, you’d make my life a living hell. I know.”

“What about Potter?” Barty asks, trying to mask tears of his own, “Don’t you love him?”

“Maybe.” Regulus admits, regretfully so, “But I don’t want to. He’d never… he could never love me the way you could anyway. The way that I need.”

“And how do you need it?”

“To be your first choice.” Regulus whispered, “How do you need it, Barty?”

Barty took a deep breath, thinking about it for a moment. He looked up at Regulus with a pout and hopeful eyes, “I just want to be good enough for love before anything else.”

Regulus smiles, “You are.”

Barty shakes his head.

“You are.” Regulus confirms, “To me, you are.”

Barty sniffles, “Do you love me… like that?”

Regulus sighs, “N… no.” He scolds himself for the truth, because it seems to shatter Barty’s heart to pieces. “But I want to, Barty… I want to love you the way you do me. And I think I will. You just have to let me.”

“Really?” Barty sobs.

Regulus nods, “Will you let me?”

Barty nods and leans back in, and Regulus kisses him again. They both had wet cheeks, and headaches, and heartaches from crying, but they kiss anyway. And Regulus cries again, for hopefully the last time, because Barty kisses like he never wants to stop.

Regulus has never been kissed like that before.

Regulus has never been loved before.

He thinks with Barty, he might just be enough.

★ ★ ★

Bartylus shippers unite.

This one’s so angsty I’m sorry but I can’t help it and yerr Reggie kinda has misogynistic views which is gross but it’s the fucking 70’s and look at his parents. I USUALLY write them all to be better than that and not arseholes but I wanted to make this one hurt.

Also I don’t think I’ve written from Reggie’s pov before sooooo that was interesting.

Idk I liked this. Let me know your thoughts :)

Read here on ao3

If you want to read more of my stuff you can find it all here :))

Tagging everyone that expressed interest in the angsty bartylus one shot lmao: @lapassemirroir @mayflywrites @garlicbread4ever @moonyluv-s @managingmischeif @stxr-bxy @the-lionsheart @crimsonlovebartylus

#bartylus #regulus black #barty crouch jr #using Jegulus as a plot point for bartylus 😬🤭👀🤷#Reggie has so many big feelings but he’s never got to express them before the poor baby #it’s okay. Barty’s here to save the day #also Barty is a Ravenclaw. and so skinny it’s concerning. he’s trying to defy his dad by being the opposite of the big man he wants him 2 b #Barty is also awkward. not good at emotions but feels them so violently anyway. Barty is also a loose fucking cannon.#barty thinks he doesn’t matter when he actually matters to regulus most of all. they both just didn’t know it yet #and then they kiss and get married and have lots of babies #pandora my beloved and lily both get honerable mentions of being wonderful wonderful women. even though Reggie hates Lily he still thinks #she’s amazing #marauders #slytherin skittles #prev Jegulus #barty x regulus #fluff at the end #angst #kinda Jegulus slander #fluff if you squint #so much angst #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s #RAB #Barty jr #Reggie

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