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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

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No, you can't call me her name (S.R)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

P.T. 2 of Can I call you her name?

Summary: It’s funny how they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

9.8k words

Content Warning: Angst, heartbreak, Steve’s side of the story, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (slight mentions of penetrative sex), fluff from an spectators point of view, big talks about heartbreak and emotional damage because of a relationship.

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

For as long as he can remember, Steve’s life has been plagued by an unstoppable force of people leaving his life, whether it was by death itself, broken relationships, or just time. He had lost his mom when he was only eighteen years old, left alone to figure out his place in a vicious world that had no place for someone like him.

He had also lost Bucky. Except that this time, it wasn't death that did it, at least not entirely. He had lost his brother that day when he fell from the moving train. Everyone, including himself, had thought of him as dead, as it would be impossible for him to survive the fall. The second time he lost him was when he realized what he had become.

Steve had also lost Tony for a while, but the relationship was still on its way to becoming what it once was. He had lost Peggy, the possibility of a life with the woman who had won his heart for the first time.

He had lost stability ever since he woke up from the ice. Things in his life always seemed to fluctuate between okay and bad without warning. Every day could be the day he lost someone else, or something bad could happen to the rest of the world, which would always fall on his shoulders to fix.

That was until she came.

Steve never meant to fall for her. In the beginning, she was just a coworker, someone he had met through S.H.I.E.L.D. and who he would occasionally see during briefing meetings. There was no love at first sight or a sudden realization that he had found the person he had been looking for to complete him.

First, it was just a talk, small talk that turned into something more comfortable once they shared that they grew up in the same neighborhood, at different points in time, but the familiarity of the past was enough to entice him.

One day, he noticed how he was unconsciously waiting for her to cross the door, hoping she would look at him and wave him hello. Another day, he realized how much he liked when she smiled at him, his own smile mimicking hers, and how he would fix his hair and clothes before going into a room she was going to be in.

From that moment on, he was a goner.

She had turned into that piece of stability he had been missing in his life. Their relationship meant he had something to grow attached to, someone to come back to. The veil of loneliness that lingered in his life was slowly lifted with her help, and Steve no longer felt out of place. He was no longer a man out of time.

Things moved on quickly. Six months later, they moved in together, and the confidence they both had in their decision tuned out other people's input about the relationship. Mostly Bucky, who had warned him not to go in too deep, but Steve, as brave and selfless as he could be, was also stubborn.

For five years Steve was able to go back home and it would actually feel like one. For five years, no matter how hard things got, he was always good. Happy. Content. Because for five years he had her at his side, no matter what life would throw at them.

Everything was stable for a while. But the one thing Steve failed to realize was that just because you are happy where you are, that doesn’t mean things will stay the same. Good things rarely last, and time moves too fast.

Steve never saw it coming when she came home one day and told him she had taken a job on the other side of the country. The news that she had been planning this for a while blindsided him. He was aware that things weren't as good as they used to be; a certain amount of tension had lingered between them for the past half year of their relationship. But he thought they could work on it, fix whatever had been broken, and go back to how things were.

After all, he has always been a fighter. No matter how difficult, no matter how unlikely, no matter how painful, as long as there was hope, he would fight.

Except this time, he should’ve given up.

"Because I don’t love you anymore!"

"I can’t keep living in this—this farce. Every time I come home, I wish you weren’t here. I wish I was alone in this house because at least then I could breathe, and I wouldn’t have to pretend I still feel something when you touch me."

"I need to get away from you, because if I don't, I’ll never leave, and in twenty years, I’ll wake up and realize that I spent my life with someone I have never truly loved."

Pain and grief weren’t foreign concepts for him. He embraced them, learned from them, and moved on.

Steve Rogers knew pain from the battlefield. He had been shot, stabbed, burned, and punched by beings ten times stronger than him. He also knew pain from the loss of a friend, the loss of his life, and from the loss of someone he loved.

But the pain of losing your one silver lining in a sea of darkness was too much to bear.

After that, life was a blur spent between missions, training, and gathering intel. Mission after mission, report after report, months passed until he finally realized it had been almost a year and a half since she left.

His hair had changed, his beard had grown, and some might even say he got bulkier as his coping mechanism ever since he got the super serum had been breaking boxing bags. He had moved back into the tower, and his hobby of drawing had stopped completely. The notebook he had half filled with sketches was left untouched in one of the drawers of his desk.

Things had changed, except for the emptiness of his chest.

But then you came.

You came into his life in such an unexpected way that it took him by surprise. a beautiful woman covered in coffee and whipped cream who had such a colorful vocabulary. You were like the whiff of fresh air he had needed for so long, and the more he got to know you, the more he was intrigued by you. He praised your perseverance and enthusiasm for your work, noting that you always gave your all to every project you worked on.He also admired your strength, perhaps not physical but emotional, and the way that no one could make you crumble apart. Not your boss, your coworkers, or humiliation itself.

Not even him.

Steve was well aware of your feelings for him from the start.The way your eyes would shine when he touched you or the sound of your heartbeat kicking against your chest when your eyes connected. He saw every change in you when you went from liking him to loving him. You had never explicitly said the words, but there was no need, you couldn’t mask the emotions that hid behind your eyes.

He knew your feelings towards him from the very beginning, and yet he stayed. He stayed because he liked the way you made him feel and that the loneliness that had taken over his life was no longer there. He allowed himself to be loved by you just so the emptiness in his chest wouldn’t feel so deep anymore.

But Steve also knew he couldn’t love you back. His heart didn’t belong to him anymore; it wasn’t his to give to someone else, as it had left those years ago with her. The way something broke inside you when you asked him for more almost made him break things up. It would’ve been the best thing for you; you were his friend, yet he had no problem hurting you.

However, your relationship had shown Steve a quality he never thought he had. He was a selfish man. He couldn't let you go, not when you were the only thing keeping him afloat in the darkness. You were his lighthouse, and without you, he would drown, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to come back from it. So he said he needed time; he promised you a future that would never come just to keep you by his side.

Of all the shitty things Steve had done, he thought this was the worst one. Using you, playing with your feelings, and giving you false hope. He thought he couldn’t hurt you more than that.

Oh, he had been so wrong.

But now she had her back. And in the end, it was all that mattered, right? The woman he had been loving ever since she left had, for some reason, decided to take him back. Everything was supposed to be perfect and in place. He was whole now.

Then why was the emptiness in his chest still there?

"So, what do you think?"

Wide eyes scan the notebook you hold in your hands. For a moment, he thinks you hate it; the drawing of yourself he had made shows you in a compromising position. The sheets from your bed covered the lower half of your body while your arms extended over your head. Your breasts were perked up, and the soft lines ran along your shape in a seductive position as you lay down in bed.

However, it is your eyes that draw attention away from your frame.Your face is looking directly at the viewer, as if you were laying right in front of them in the flesh. The intensity he portrayed in them is the same one he always sees when you look at him. Steve knows what it is, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. Even when he tries to erase it from his mind, or when he looks away because he can’t bear to see them, they’re always there to greet him. And, if he is honest with himself, he can’t help but be drawn to them.

He likes how they make him feel.

You notice the fire in your eyes too. Your fingers softly trace along the lines of the drawing, making sure not to smudge them as it is only made out of pencil. Perhaps he should use one of those drawing pens you gifted to him on his birthday to immortalize your image on the paper; the pencil is too fragile to let your portrait sit on it. It’s a portrait he will like to preserve for eternity.

"Well, I think that documentary I watched on you lied to me," you say with a frown, eyes still glued to the notebook.

What?

His chest sinks a little; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he had thought you would.

"What do you mean?"

You look up, and his heart soars. You have the same look, now complimented with a coy smile.

"They said you were a good artist, but it turns out you’re amazing."

Your smile is bigger now, and it's contagious. Steve crosses your bed, your bedsheets slipping down his body as he reaches for you. One of his hands grabs the back of your neck to bring you close for a kiss, while the other goes to your hip. The weight of his body pushes you down to your back; his notebook is discarded next to you.

He can feel your smile as he crashes his lips against yours. A hand rests on his chest as delicate fingers bury themselves in his hair. The way you massage his scalp sends shivers down his spine, a trick you discovered the second time you slept together.

With a teasing smile on your now puffy lips, you break the kiss apart."Well, someone has a praise kink."

Heat flushes Steve’s face. The sweet notes of your laugh fill his ears; your head is thrown back slightly as your chest rumbles. You caress his face as your laugh decreases, your fingers brushing his hair as you adjust it. And there they are again, those eyes that burn deep in his soul as much as he tries to avoid them.

But he can’t bear to look at them. So he just nuzzles against your chest, the affectionate embrace taking you by surprise.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he says quietly, almost as if he doesn't think you heard him.

He shouldn’t have done that. He means every word he says. Because right now, as he lays in your arms, he can forget about everyone else outside your apartment. Just for a few seconds, he can pretend.

He can pretend to forget about her.

"Me too," you whisper back.

The hopefulness of your words almost breaks him.

Darkness met Steve’s eyes as he opened them. It took him a second to remember he wasn’t back in your apartment, nor had you settled against him. Instead, the warmth he feels next to him is from the girl he yearned for in that memory, and the apartment he was settled in was hers.

He had dreamed about you nearly every night since you left. Taunting reminders of your affection for him haunted his dreams every time he closed his eyes, but this time he was unable to escape them. He expected the dreams to stop a couple of weeks after you left. However, as time passed and your absence in his life became more noticeable each day, they kept coming back. Each one was more vivid than the previous, as if his mind was desperate to see you, even if it was in the past.

"You okay?" Her whisper startled him slightly. He didn’t realize she was awake or that she was staring at him.

"Yeah, I’m fine." The unconvincing tone of his voice made her frown, but she left him alone. So many times she has asked the same question that his unwillingness to answer doesn’t really bother her anymore. "How long have you been awake?" He changed subjects.

She shrugged. "A couple of minutes." Her hand settled delicately on his chest, making him turn around to see her. "You were mumbling in your sleep."

"Oh, sorry," was all he said to her.

He returned to his sleeping position, his gaze fixed on the roof of her apartment. He'd been there for a few weeks, but he still couldn't get used to her white roof. Yours was also white, but something about this shade made him uncomfortable. Yours made him feel calm. Secure. At peace.

Maybe it was the neighborhood or the decor you had that made him feel like that.

Or maybe it was you.

Instead, he is left with uneasiness every time he comes to see her. Her cups were not where they were supposed to be. The towels she has have a different texture; they somehow felt rougher on his skin, and even the smell in the place is different. The unfamiliarity of the place almost swallowed him whole.

She laid on top of him, her hand tracing lazy circles on his chest as her lips left kisses on his neck. She’s trying to comfort him, but for some reason, the only thing he felt was an uneasiness that found its way to his chest.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"No." He answered quickly, almost too quickly.

In his dreams, your eyes still carried that same warmth. You still made him feel, even if it’s just a memory.

"It was a pretty good dream."

Why do things have to be so complicated, even when they are supposed to be perfect?

Steve had a plan for the night. He had cooked dinner, set the table, and even gone to grab her favorite scented candles. Everything was in place.

He needed a distraction. Or more like a reminder that even if he didn’t have you in his life for the moment, he still had his silver lining. He still had her. He needed to remind himself that everything had turned out for the best, and what better reminder than spending the night together?

The plan started well; she got home, took a shower, and they both sat down to have a great dinner. He had done this many times when they lived together. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she saw his surprise and the way she would smile all evening. Nights like that always brought them together.

However, things may not always be as perfect as they once were.

He couldn’t remember how it had started. Perhaps it was the way he had cooked the food or the mess he had left in the kitchen, or maybe she just had a rough day at work. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but they started arguing. They had argued in the past, as many couples do, but even in the middle of a screaming match, he could feel the love between the words. And no matter how bad it was, he always felt the need to stay.

But this time it suffocated him.

The more they kept fighting, the more the room seemed unbearable to be in. He didn’t like the way she kept saying things about him she didn’t like, the things he had done wrong. He also didn’t like the way he could so easily think of things about her that he found irritating.

And as she stood up to lock herself in her bedroom, he didn’t feel the need to go check on her. With an anger that seeped deeply through his veins, he slammed the door. He didn’t say a word to her, not even leaving a note behind.

There had been a few times when Steve Rogers felt nervous.

He had felt like that when he was given the serum. The pain he felt once his bones started growing was one he would never forget. He also felt it when he crashed into the ice, saving the city that saw him grow up. The world had moved on for seventy years before he woke up.

And as he looked at the door of the conference room and his leg bounced up and down, Steve felt the same way he felt all those times.

Sixty-eight days had gone by since the last time you spoke. For sixty-eight days he had been waiting for this day, when you finally got back from your trip and had to come to the tower to discuss things with him. Work-related things, of course, as you had left it really clear you didn’t want anything else to do with him.

He had been debating all night whether he would try to apologize again. His heart begged him to do it, to keep trying until you heard his apology. But his rational mind would remind him of the phone call you had the day you left. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and he couldn’t blame you.

So, instead of keeping apologizing over and over again, he would treat you as if you were just a coworker. He would pretend as if you were a stranger that he had just met. A stranger that knew his deepest, darkest secrets. A stranger that brought him comfort with just her touch A stranger, whose heart he had shattered

Everything he had planned fell apart the moment you walked into the room and raised your gaze to him. You were there, walking in as if nothing had happened two months ago. But this was not his you.

There was ice around you, a barrier so tall and thick that he could almost feel it as you got closer. You looked the same. The same clothes he had seen before, the same color and length of your hair, and your features remain intact. You were exactly as he had seen you in his dreams every night.Everything was the same, except it wasn’t.

"Good morning" was the greeting you offered him. Different, cold, distant.

He wanted to say so many things, and words of apology were dying on his throat. But he knew how you would react to his wanting to talk about something other than the matter at hand. Besides, he owed you that much after everything he had done. For your sake, he wouldn’t try. He would leave you alone.

The meeting went through without a problem. If Steve had to describe you in any way, he would use the word polite. Through the whole meeting, you were polite to him, asking him what he wanted to do, suggesting new ideas, and scheduling the places he had to go. You were polite yet distant, and Steve realized that maybe he wouldn’t have to pretend you were a stranger.

The woman he had met and the one that sat right in front of him were not the same. The woman in front of him didn’t have the same love pouring from her heart when she talked to him. He wasn’t even sure still you had a heart.

It was all his fault.

He was supposed to stay the night in her apartment; a bag of clothes for the next day hanging from his shoulder was proof of it. But as soon as he laid on the bed, his brain refused to shut down. Flashbacks to him seeing you walk into the room plagued his mind, and your icy stare could freeze him on the spot.

"Selfish, selfish, selfish," his mind kept whispering.

He would’ve been fine staying the night there even if he couldn’t sleep, but when Steve felt her hand trailing down, his first reaction wasn’t excitement. Blue eyes and blonde hair met his sight; her fingers searched through his skin, leading down a path that led under his pants. Before, just the lustful look in her eyes was enough to make him hard. Now it just made him want to crawl away.

She had become a constant reminder of the things he had done and the irreparable damage he had caused to you.

His phone had miraculously saved him. The ding cut through the atmosphere. His body almost jumped from the bed to grab the device that lay on the nightstand next to him. A simple text from Sam asking to borrow his brown leather jacket since his had been ruined a couple weeks ago. He texted him back, quickly gathering his belongings as he zipped the duffle bag.

"Sorry, they need me back at the tower." He had lied.

That night, he walked for hours in the dark streets of New York, passing through the places he had taken you on your first date or non-date.

He could still feel your lips on his when his eyes were closed.

There were three times Steve realized your relationship with his best friend was turning into something else.

The first time happened during a work meeting. Everything went exactly as it had gone ever since you came back. Professional, superficial, and distant. His mind told him it was the best for both, but especially for you. He couldn’t ask anything more of you, and even asking you to hear his apology would be for his own benefit.

But he couldn’t help but want to be selfish, not when you were just inches away from him. It was weird how easy it was for you to pretend there wasn’t a past between both of you. He had expected you to be angry at him, yell at him, maybe slap him. He had expected violence because, at the end of the day, it was what he deserved.

The rage and anger never came. He got the side of indifference, which cut him more than if you were going to hate him for the rest of your life. Why was it so easy? Why couldn’t he do the same and pretend nothing had happened between you two?

Why did he keep dreaming about you?

A part of Steve knew the answer, the part of him that had tried to make him stop using you. The part of him that was humane and cared about people had warned him against it, the pang in his chest whenever he could feel your love was proof of it. Every time he ignored that part of his, just like he kept doing whenever he sat next to you.

Instead, he decided he could be content with just having you here. Because having you sit in front of him was better than not having you at all. Indifference was worse than hate, but he could hold onto it, as long as he could still see you.

He was content with it until Bucky came around.

A reflective flash caught his eye. The artificial lightning had reflected from the super-soldier's prosthetic as he stood outside the crystal walls of the conference room. Steve was aware you two were close now, seeing as he had accompanied you not only during his mandatory press tour but also during your two weeks of vacation. He also remembered that he had been the one to take you out of the room that night at the gala.

Steve couldn't blame his friend for wanting to protect you or for seeming to withdraw from him. Bucky had not really spoken a lot to him since that night, instead opting for avoidance at all costs. The only words that Steve was able to get from him weren’t even words. Grunts and nods, monosyllables, and side eyes were all the responses he would get. The only time he had gotten anything else from his was the night after everything crashed down.

The elevator doors opened, and his friend took long, angry strides out of the metal box. Steve could see his friend's rage seeping through him, a level of rage he hadn't seen in a long time.

Steve never saw Bucky’s fist coming to his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared.

His nose stung from what he thought was a broken nose. Sparks of pain traveled across his face and blood started pouring out of it. His eyes watered as he tried to escape his friend's grasp so he could protect his face. But his friend’s rage was a strong enhancement to his already strong grip. He held him against a wall.

"You don’t understand. "She's back," he said, his voice breaking.

"What about her? What about the fact you had been leading that poor girl on for the past two years?" The pressure on Steve's chest from Bucky’s fist increased. Steve turned his head around, not being able to face his friend.

"I didn’t mean to hurt her—"

"But you did. The things you said yesterday..." He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Steve never meant for you to hear those things, he wasn’t even sure if he was ever going to tell them to you. But when his eyes found yours, the broken image of the girl who had been by his side no longer than 20 minutes ago was seared into his brain.

"Stay the fuck away from her, or the next time I see you, your nose won't be the only thing that’s broken."

His relationship with Bucky had been nonexistent since that day. He was lucky that Sam seemed not to be aware of what had transpired, as he had only found it odd that there was no contact between you and him. Steve wasn’t going to explain the situation, too embarrassed to admit it to his friend and risk losing Sam too.

Lately, he seemed to be an expert at driving away his friends.

He watched you walk through the door, a smile appearing on your face as you saw Bucky standing outside the room. His flesh arm extended, showing off a cup. He recognized the logo on the side of the object. It was from your favorite coffee place, and it was, as he assumed, your favorite drink.

You looked at the drink, then at Bucky’s eyes, and Steve saw it. It flashed in your eyes so quickly that he thought he had imagined it. The light in your eyes that once showed for him and only him, was now thrown at Bucky, even if it was just for a second. And in return, Bucky’s eyes showed the same brightness, a light pink flushing his face.

The coffee mug he held in his hand snapped, its contents spilling all over the table. He didn’t realize his hands were fists or that his jaw was snapped shut as he clenched it. His hands pricked as he continued to stare at you two. Your hand reached out to the super soldier's face, and your lips deposited a small kiss on his cheek.

Steve heard another breaking noise, except this time it came from his chest.

The second time he saw was months later.

Steve Rogers would never describe himself as a guy who likes to go out at night. He didn’t do dancing. It wasn’t like it used to be, the music had another rhythm, his body wasn’t in sync with it. He didn’t do clubs either. There were always too many people in them, the sea of bodies made him feel like he was drowning. He couldn’t even get drunk, the only thing that got him to that state was the Asgardian liquor Thor had gifted him

He had his exceptions, though.

That night you had taken him to a club, that first night when everything started. It was his first time inside a club, having previously only attended Tony's extravagant parties. Those were bearable, he was surrounded by people he knew (at least some of them), and the vast space of the penthouse was big enough for him to be able to step away without anyone noticing.

With you, however, he had been able to dance in the middle of the sea without a care. Your hips swayed to the music, your own body displaying a symphony of movements that made his heartbeat accelerate. His hands moved before his brain could react, landing on the side of your hips. His memories of that night were ones that he would never forget.

Tonight was another one of those exceptions.

She wanted to go out. For a couple of weeks she had been nagging asking about it, not taking a no for an answer. Finding the whole conversation repetitive and annoying, he finally caved in today.

However, he left out an important detail.

He had heard Sam and Bucky talking in the hallways. He didn’t mean to, as he was making his way to the elevator, and he just happened to pick up the conversation. For what he had gathered, you had invited them to go out with you to a nightclub called Temptation Paradise. He thought about leaving, not wanting to intrude more. But Sam's throwing of your name kept him in his place.

"You do need to step up your game," Sam chuckled.

He heard Bucky’s metallic arm flexing. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you gotta dress to impress her man. And do something with your hair, with all the black clothes and long hair on your face, you look kinda depressing."

"Fuck you."

Sam laughed. "No, but I mean it. She’s a beautiful single woman, emphasis on the single, in the middle of the dancefloor. You think no one will shoot their shot with her?"

Sam’s words had made him decide that tonight was the night. He had managed to discreetly suggest to her that they go to the same place, about half an hour after you arrived there. The excitement she felt almost made him feel guilty, but once again he decided to be selfish. Just one more time.

A group of her friends had gone with them. Part of him was relieved because they would be a good distraction for her while he looked for you. He told the group he was going to get a drink, scurrying away before they could ask him to bring them some too.

He hated it. Once again, the sea of people made his chest tighten, body parts bumping and grinding against him as he tried to make his way towards the bar. The ambiance of the place was too dark and sensual for the amount of anxiety he was feeling.

He spent twenty minutes looking for you. His whisky was almost done, as he had given up hope. Maybe something had happened, and you weren’t even there. Maybe you'd already gone home with someone. He put the glass on the bar, leaving a tip for the bartender.

It had all been for nothing, and now shame filled him. It was a stupid idea to try and follow you just because of the possibility you might get together with someone tonight. What was he going to do even if it happened? It wasn’t like he could step up and stop anything from happening. He didn’t have any claim over you, and if you were to find out what he had done, you would’ve probably slapped him. He was an idiot.

But he heard it.

A laugh. Your laugh.

Steve felt like he was in a movie. Time had slowed for him, and your shape had become more distinct to him as people moved around the dance floor. Your eyes were closed as you danced along with the music, the lighting of the place dimming until he could barely see anyone around him. Blue and red flashes kissed your skin, the artificial lights dancing all over the place.

You looked beautiful.

His feet moved for him. He wanted to touch you, place himself behind you as you kept swaying your hips around. He wanted to feel the heat from your body against his chest, your ass grinding on his crotch. He wanted you.

Until he saw a hand wrapping around your stomach. Strong fingers moved through your body in the same way that his had done a few years ago. They rested on your stomach for a couple of seconds before they started traveling up your body. Bucky’s figure came into the light, pressing you tighter against him. His head was low enough to whisper something in your ear.

Steve left the club without looking back.

The last and third time happened a couple of weeks later.

It was true that New York is a city that never sleeps. The streets were still filled with light coming from the many billboards and signs that covered the buildings that surrounded the streets. The rain that poured down onto the streets was stopped by his black umbrella, one that was big enough to cover two people. The dark red carnations he held on to his chest remained dry.

Nighttime walks had become a routine for him. His restless thoughts didn’t allow him to shut off his brain, no matter how hard he tried. He caught himself walking toward your office a couple of times, his subconscious remembering the nights he had that routine. He tried to avoid it, walking in the opposite direction every time he noticed it, but his heart wasn’t as strong as he thought. He bought the flowers before he could even stop to think about it.

As he kept walking, he saw your office building ahead, still a few blocks away. Steve had gotten so into his head that perhaps he couldn’t tell you how sorry he was, but he could still try to show you. He remembered the days you left late at night, Friday being the usual one, as you wanted to leave everything ready for when you came back. A flash of hurt installed itself in his heart as he remembered he had not been picking you up in the final months of your relationship, his own mind too consumed by his ex’s return.

He had let you walk the lonely, dark streets alone.

But the past was the past, he couldn’t do anything to change it. He was half a block away when he saw you going down the stairs, a large black coat covering your frame. Your usual heels were replaced by boots. He remembered you kept a pair in your office for cold, rainy days like these.

His steps faltered, and his heart stammered in his chest. He was nervous about how you would react to him showing up unexpectedly, but more than anything, the unknown feelings kept coming back every time he thought about you. He didn’t know what they meant, but it seemed as if they intensified whenever you came around.

With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. This was his chance to prove himself, and hopefully it was enough to keep you in his life. He was ready to face you.

Except you weren’t alone.

A figure he hadn’t noticed before approached you. For a moment, he thought the man was going to attack you until he saw your smile. It was the type of smile you gave someone you were fond of. The type of smile that makes the edges of your eyes crinkle. It was warm and welcoming.

It was the type of smile you used to give him.

He hid himself behind a vehicle, wanting to watch the interaction more without risking being caught. Who was this man who made you laugh so hard and hugged you so tightly that he noticed the hug was a second longer than it should have been?

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately for him, the man took off his hoodie.

Jealousy was a bitter emotion. The pain in his chest and the rage that made his fists clench were too much for him to bear. The carnations he had been holding close were destroyed, their red petals falling to the ground and being carried away by the streams of rain.

Your arms entwined as Bucky opened an umbrella to protect you from the weather. He heard your laugh as you rested your head on his arm, your body searching for warmth from his best friend. You walked away, making plans for the night.

It was like he was never part of your life.

He was watching you fall in love with someone else. He was being forced by destiny and his own hand to witness how your heart forgot him.

Steve should’ve realized sooner that things were not the same .

At first, it was the little things.

It wasn’t only her apartment that he found odd, nor was it the furniture or the decoration. It wasn’t just the material things that made him feel out of place. It was the way she would brush his hair with her fingers, the pattern she made wasn’t the one he had gotten used to. Or the way she would kiss his neck, her lips didn’t find the place that could make him shiver anymore. It was also the way she smelled, her scent didn’t bring him relief when he hugged her.

Then he realized how much he disliked it when she left a mess behind when she came home. Or the way she would repeat her anecdotes when she forgot she already told them in the first place. Her laugh had lost its endearing tone, and now he could only hear how loud and frenetic it was.

It was her perfume, her clothes, her smile, the way she said "I love you," the way she would embrace him, the things she liked, the way her leg would bounce when she was nervous, her eyes.

Her eyes weren’t the ones he would dream about.

Every night those damned eyes would visit him. And every night, even if it was for just a few seconds, he would lose himself in them. He had seen them so many times that now his sketchbook was filled with them. He thought it would help him get rid of the image from his mind.

Almost three months had passed since he last saw them outside of his dreams. He had to give it to you. You were effective when you wanted to avoid someone. The meetings you had weren’t that frequent in the first place, but, as you had made it your life goal to never be alone with him in the same place, your only meetings were when Sam and Bucky were around. You had stated that this was a more efficient way. Steve wasn’t fond of efficiency ever since.

Even in the rare occasions he could see you, it wasn’t the same. He could only see snippets of the person you used to be, each time less and less as you forgot what you had once felt for him.

But Steve missed more than just your eyes. He missed the way you made him laugh, your sense of humor always had him gasping for air, his stomach hurting as he held it with his hand. He also missed how good of a listener you were. Even as you kept quiet, you had a way to let him know you paid attention to every word he said.

In all honesty, you were the first one he went to whenever everything else in the world seemed too much. He initially assumed it was because he needed to feel your love, his selfishness overpowering his rational mind. Except that the more he returned, the more he realized it was you he craved.

For almost two years, he had you.

And for almost two years he could’ve been happy, if he had allowed himself to.

Anger.

Steve could only feel anger as time passed after that night. The irrational part of him had taken over as a deep sense of despair settled into his daily life. Those unknown feelings you caused plagued his soul, he couldn’t escape them anymore. He couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist, the more he tried, the deeper the hurt.

His own relationship was crumbling apart. There were days they couldn’t stay in the same room, unable to bear each other’s presence. There were nights he couldn’t bear to have her in her arms as they lay down, her touch felt so foreign. Sometimes he couldn’t even text her back. Being with her didn’t feel like a choice anymore, it felt like duty.

At first Steve had thought it was him the one that caused all the problems, his new found obsession with you taking over his thoughts. His mind and heart didn’t belong to him, they didn’t even belong to her anymore.

They were yours. They had always been yours.

But it wasn’t only himself the one that had changed. He saw it in her too, even when they first got back together. Her smile wasn't as genuine as she pretended, and her touch wasn't as loving as she intended. She had tried, though. He could see how much she tried to hold onto who they once were, even going so far as to recreate one of their memories of the past.

The memories were good, but the present couldn’t live up to them.

So, like any couple who refuses to admit their own shortcomings, they attempted to fix everything with sex.

That’s how they got to where they were tonight. The bed in her apartment creaked as he kept pounding into her. He had a firm grip on her hips, possibly enough to bruise her skin, but neither of them cared at this point. They wanted to forget, no matter the cost.

Her whines filled the room. The noises he had heard many times before accentuated his movements, they let him read her easily enough to know that he was doing a good job.

Except that the more Steve kept hearing them, the deeper the hole in his chest grew. He couldn’t feel anything but anger. He closed his eyes, and all he could see was Bucky’s hands around your waist. He noticed your smile, the way you caressed his hand when you thought no one was looking.

He saw the way you cared about him, the tenderness in your touch and your words as you chatted in the corner of the room. He saw everything.

Tears prickled his eyes. His pace was increasing not only in rhythm but also in strength. This was the only way he could forget, and not even now was he able to shut you out. But he was tired. He wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer.

Why couldn’t he stop feeling?

Then it all came crashing down. His eyes closed, and he decided to embrace his thoughts.

"Steve," she moaned.

"Steve! Someone’s going to see us," you laughed. His hands groped your ass as he lifted your legs to his waist.

"Let them see. I want them to know you’re mine."

"Don’t stop, baby."

"You think we could ever just leave everything behind and go somewhere?" you asked. Your eyes were fixed on the window of your apartment. Small droplets of water crashed against the crystal.

His hands found yours, his head found its place on your shoulder.

"Any time you ask, I’ll drop everything to go with you."

"I’m so close."

"I need more." Your voice trembled. Your hands shook as you poured out your heart to him. Your left hand clung to his. "I can’t keep going like this. I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends"

His words died at his throat. He knew this day would come, he had expected it since that first night. He had rehearsed what he would say, how he would let you know he just wanted a casual relationship. No feelings attached.

He wasn’t prepared for the sad look in your eyes, though. Or how broken they looked once he gave you an answer,

"I’m sorry. I can’t."

"Keep going. Please."

"No, please!" he pleaded. His mind was racing as he tried to stop you from hanging up. "Please don’t leave. Your coworkers told me you’re going with Bucky to his press tour today, but I want to see you. I need to see you."

He couldn’t let you go, not like that. Because he knew that once you embarked on the tour, there was no turning back. Your departure meant things would change, he would completely lose you. He wanted to explain. He needed to make you understand. He never meant to hurt you as much as he did, but he did it anyway.

"Stay, please."

You had to stay, because no matter how hard he tried to keep you at arm's length, you still meant a lot to him. For the past two years, you have made him as happy as he could be. Your selfless way of loving had made its home in the place where his heart had been. He wasn’t ready to let that part go.

You had to stay because you loved him. And if life had taught him anything, it was that no matter what happens, you fight. You keep fighting for the ones that mattered and the ones you loved. He wanted you to fight for him.

"No"

His eyes snapped open.

Her moans made him look down. He could feel her orgasm gripping on his cock, himself close enough to his. But once again, his mind played tricks, and the blond hair and blue eyes that belonged to the woman he had once loved were gone. He saw yours.

It hurt. His heart was in pain. The crushing reality of his feelings left him breathless. He was ready to accept them. He was ready to open Pandora's box.

"I love you," he whispered.

Your eyes looked back at him, and he saw them as they were in his dreams. They were loving him back.

His head lowered to your ear. "I love you. God, I fucking love you."

He couldn’t stop saying it. As soon as those three words left his mouth, he felt like he could breathe again. The burden he had been carrying for so long was finally lifted from his shoulders.

"I love you."

"I’ll never let you go, not again."

"I’m sorry. I love you."

"I love you."

"I have always loved you."

Then, your voice filled his ears and his heart.

"I love you too."

He came inside you. Your arms engulfed him in a hug, your legs rested on his hips as he tried to control his own breathing. His nose nuzzled your neck, and the warmth from your body felt like home.

Steve loved you. Deeply. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

But once the ecstasy of the moment left his body, the hands that drew circles on his back weren’t yours anymore. She didn’t smell like you. She wasn’t you. He didn’t love her anymore. He loved you.

He had always loved you.

A knock on your door surprised you. Your hands reached for your remote, pausing the movie you were watching. At first, you thought you had imagined it. It was late at night, and you weren’t expecting company. Bucky had told you he would be away for a couple of days as he had to go on a mission, and he was the only one who came to you this late at night. It was probably someone knocking on the neighbors' door, or the wind knocking over something.

But another knock on the door made you jump. Your heart rose to your throat. Who the hell was that? Their knocks were desperate, whoever was knocking surely had an emergency.

"I’m going! I’m going! Stop knocking on the fucking door." You yelled while putting your shoes on.

The constant sound of the knuckles hitting the door was getting on your nerves. With a strong pull, you finally opened the door, ready to yell at whoever was so inappropriately coming to your house so late at night.

"Hey."

It was Steve.

You froze for a second. Of all the people you imagined could be waiting behind the door, he was never an option that crossed your mind. Those blue eyes that you had once loved were staring back at you.

Steve was there. At your door.

Steve ‘The asshole’ Rogers.

You snapped out of it. The grip on your door tightened before you tried to close it on his face. His hand stopped you from doing it.

"Wait." Your body kept pushing against the door, although it probably felt like nothing to the dickhead of a super soldier that was outside your apartment. With a sigh, you let the door go, allowing it to be opened again.

"What do you want?" Your words sounded harsher than you intended too, but you didn’t back away from them. He deserved them after all.

"I— Can we talk?"

You should’ve closed the door in his face again. You should’ve told him to go fuck himself again, just like you had done many months ago. But the anger that consumed you back then was mitigated. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at all, but the defense mechanisms you had clung to were still telling you to run away. They were telling you he was only there to cause you pain.

But the man who had broken your heart wasn’t the same as the one who was standing in front of you. This Steve was tired, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. The small wrinkles around his eyes deepened too. And for some reason, he reminded you of how you looked eight months ago, the morning after the gala.

He had his heart broken.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to hear him.

The evil, vindictive side of you was curious about what had brought him to you in this state. Who had hurt him so badly that he had come with such urgency to your door in the middle of the night? But another part, the mature and healing part of you knew this conversation was due. You didn’t have to do this for him, but for yourself. There were still so many things left unsaid from your side, and, as Bucky had said, sometimes you need to get those things out to fully heal.

"Fine." you grunted.

Both of you were standing in your kitchen. The contrast of things were between you a year ago and how they were now almost made you laugh. A year ago you didn’t think anyone would make you as happy as Steve. Now, you didn’t think anyone could hurt you as much as him.

"How have you been?"

You chuckled at his superficial question. Of course he would try to start with small talk instead of going straight to the point.

"Good." You took a sip of your water. "You?"

He shrugged. "As good as I can be"

"Why are you here, Steve?"

Your question took him by surprise. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his hands fiddling with the bracelet he was wearing. After taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and looked you in the eyes.His nervousness made you nervous, forming knots in your stomach. His silence was making you spiral.

He apologized, as you knew he had been waiting for a long time.

"I’m sorry for hurting you. I wish I could go back in time and erase all of this. You didn’t deserve any of it."

"You were the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I’m sorry I was too stuck in the past to see it."

" I know you hate me, but you can’t hate me more than I hate myself for hurting you."

Hearing his words made you feel something. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good. You knew all of this, as you had made peace with yourself and decided that the only thing you were guilty of was staying. But deep down, hearing them was the last thing you needed to let go.

His words brought peace.

Until he opened his mouth again.

"I fell in love with you, I don’t know when or how, but one day I woke up and realized that I already loved you."

"I’ve loved you since the very beginning. I close my eyes and the only thing I can think about is you, the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you make me feel."

"I broke up with her. I couldn’t stay with her, not when it was you in my heart."

"I love you"

He said them. The words you had begged him to say for two years were finally directed at you. You expected to be overjoyed, even ecstatic, when this day arrived. You would finally be happy.

Who would’ve thought that words of love would bring so much pain?

His love wasn’t what you expected. You thought it would be comforting, warm, and welcoming. Instead, it burned you. It suffocated you. It drowned you, each time a little more, as he kept repeating his feelings for you.

Steve didn’t know how to love, he only knew how to cause pain.

"And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

Steve flinched. "I don’t—"

"You broke my heart. I loved you with everything I had, I gave you everything and more, and even then it wasn’t enough," you said, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. You didn't even realize you were crying. "You used me as a sort of emotional replacement while you were still in love with her. You fucked her minutes after you kissed me in front of everyone. And you said those awful things too." You couldn’t stop your words, the words that were never said. "Then you have the balls to call me nonstop, text me, send gifts, and even beg me to stay the day I left with Bucky while you were already back with her. And now, months later, you tell me you’ve loved me all along and broke up with your girlfriend? What kind of bullshit is that?"

You couldn’t stay there. Your kitchen now seemed to shrink as you felt the walls closing around you. This was too much. He was too much. You pushed past him, the main door calling your name as a lifesaver. "Leave, leave, leave," your brain kept repeating. This time, you listened to it.

A big hand stopped your escape.

"Don’t touch me." you hissed at him. The sadness in his eyes deepened with your words, but your sympathy for him was long gone. Now he was the victim?. ""God, do you know how bad you fucked me up?" You pushed him with all your strength. You wanted to slap him, you wanted him to feel how deeply he had reached your mind. How were you never going to really be able to get rid of him.

"I can’t even think of starting something new with someone else because all I can think of is what if?

What if one day he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t really love me, that he loves someone else?

What if he breaks my heart the same way you did it?

What if he doesn’t love me the same way I do?

And it’s all your fault."

The echo of your words was all that was left after your speech. You hated how easily he could make you lose control of your emotions, how easy it was for him to cut deep into you. You had forgotten the rollercoaster of emotions that meant having Steve in your life, and now that you were back in it you could say you didn’t miss it.

"It’s Bucky, isn’t it?"

Your head snapped back at him.

"What?"

"Your what if. It's him, isn’t it?"

She recognized the sound of heartbreak when she heard it. His voice was filled with it.

"Yes."

He took a step back as if you had slapped him. You could see all the signs, going from denial to painful acceptance. You wondered if he felt the same way you had felt when you saw them together. Given, you weren't fucking Bucky right in front of him, but in theory, everything was the same.He loved you, but you loved someone else.

"I’ll never get you back, will I?"

You wanted to chuckle, he still had hope. But for both your sakes, you had to extinguish that ray of hope. Honesty was all it took to kill it.

"I don’t think I could be with you without hating myself a little bit for it."

It took a couple of minutes for both of you to compose yourselves. Your apartment had seen a war where two hearts had been broken again and again, yet everything seemed to be in place. Steve cleared his throat, motioning towards the door.

"I think it’s better if I go now." You opened the door, stepping aside to let him walk out of your place. "I’ll see you around."

You were ready to close the door when Steve's voice called for you.

"You think we could ever be friends again?"

You gave him a sad smile. "We weren’t really friends to begin with."

This time, you closed the door without looking back. Your chest still hurt, and your eyes felt sore from all the crying. But amongst all the sadness that the memories brought back, you smiled.

You were finally free.

"Hey"

Bucky’s eyes lift up from the report he’s writing. His heart stammered in his chest before he could speak. You are standing at the office door in a black sweatshirt and pants. There were a couple of droplets of sweat running down the side of your face, and your breathing is irregular.

His first thought was that something bad had happened. He had just gotten back no longer than half an hour ago, he had texted you about his arrival, and your lack of response made him think you were busy. Something had to be wrong for you to run all the way here.

But the shy smile on your face and the excitement that radiates from you change his mind.

"Hey," he mutters, his mind not being able to come up with something more playful or flirtatious as he usually did.

There’s something different about you, though. There’s something new in the way you look at him and in the way you stand. For so many months, he had to see you bear this weight, this darkness that seemed to suffocate your soul. He had been able to pull away the darkness a couple of times, but as you stand right in front of him, you look as if it was never a part of you.

Bucky notices how it takes you a second to say something, they way your hands grip on the frame of the door and he could hear your heart fighting to break free from your chest.

"Is that dinner date still on the table?"

His heart stops.

"I—Yeah, it is."

You smile at him beautifully. Bucky thinks that he has never seen anything more mesmerizing than your smile.

"Good. Pick me up at seven."

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated!

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Requests are OPEN

Tag list: @captainson-of-coul @imyourbratzdoll @kneelforloki

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america fic #steve rogers x y/n #captain america fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #steve angst #mcu fanfiction #steve x reader #steve smut #steve x you #steve x y/n #avengers fic

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shitouttabuck · 7 months

Note

Do you have any buddie fic recommendations for me? Sweet fluffy smutty idc I need something good 🥺

hiya! these are some of my faves off the top of my head and you’ve probably read most of them and if you’re like. nina. these are eighty percent fics by your mutuals. well i BECAME pals with them by adoring their writing and bullying my way into their lives about it <3

stitch my soul 30.5k by @onward--upward (soulmates au that genuinely changed my whole life i think about it daily—fair warning it’s a little heartachey, but in the best way)

it’s nice to have a friend 6.4k by @colonoscopys (a little domesticity i love this with my whole heart it’s so soft and sweet)

drench yourself in words unspoken 26k by @eddiediazes (everything is the same except eddie secretly writes romance novels and i reread this like once a month it makes me so happy)

the side effects of eating too many clementines 3k by @forthewolves (idk what to even say, no one writes love like amanda writes love, it’s a bigger-than-your-chest kind of feeling)

(this kiss is) something i can't resist 7.9k by @clusterbuck (family curse where eddie has to kiss his true love in one year or he’ll die, i laughed so much, EXACTLY the kind of romcom shit with a side of ridiculous i adore)

growing sideways 3k by @housewifebuck (extremely evan buck buckley is christopher diaz’s parent and you WILL cry about it)

left your mark on this heart 5.8k by @anxieteandbiscuits (buck thinks he has post-lightning heart complications but he’s just That stupid in love)

slip like freudian 4.4k by @jeeyuns (eddie diaz gets jinxed and is Extremely entertaining about it)

sundae kind of love 18k by @rewritetheending (okay this was the first morgan fic i ever read—and maybe one of the First buddie fics i read actually—and i think about the pier scene all the time! au where buck works at an ice cream shop by the beach)

maybe fall in love 1.8k by @try-set-me-on-fire (brick’s writing is just. unfailingly gorgeous but also 8 out of 10 times the most devastating thing you’ll ever read so this is a sweet, minimal emotional damage first kiss one???)

there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head 8.7k by @alyxmastershipper (just the heartwarmingest of coming outs feat. the mug of my dreams. so so soft)

i think it’s my body wanting it the most by @transboybuckley (post-date that they’re not sure is a date, this is under a thousand words and i could not stop beaming i come back to it all the damn time)

you shaped this heart of mine 5k by justhockey (i haven’t reread this because it was such an enormous ache—in a good way—when i read it the first time, but god. god i love it so much. domestic sickfic)

i’ll scrawl it on every wall i see 29k by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (loosely a you’ve got mail au???? which is simply my favourite romcom in the whole world. this is so fucking funny as is everything they write and i adore it)

there ain’t language for the things i feel 1.8k by calvingseason (eddie buys buck a plant at the farmers market it is. so unbelievably soft)

i’ve almost certainly forgotten a bunch of faves so let me trawl through my bookmarks later and round some more up!!!!! highly rec ALL of these guys’ fics though SOME OF YOU are hell bent on breaking my heart these days and anon asked for “sweet. fluffy. smutty” and not hole-in-chest-in-shape-of-author's-fist, so

#ask #anon #fic rec #so much new fic to read but so many golden faves i wanna REREAD..... waugh

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ateriblewriter · 1 year

Text

A Sign (q.h)

Family is Everything

Series Masterlist

Requests

requested ✅

Enjoy!

Tonight felt different. The whole day felt off. Quinn left earlier than normal, leaving you to deal with a very upset little girl who never got to say goodbye to her daddy. In order to get Hattie settled down you promised to bring her to the game with you that night. And because you couldn’t find a babysitter for baby Beck, you had to bring him too, this was quickly becoming a family affair. On top of that, you wore the wrong shoes and stepped in a puddle and then the check engine light came on in the car. This night could only get better from here. After all, it was a hockey night.

At the game everything seemed to get better. There were no major meltdowns for either child. That odd feeling you had earlier almost completely dissipated, when you felt the little tug on the sleeve, making your eyes snap forward to focus on the game again.

You didn’t see what initially happened to get everyone in your area standing, gasping and cheering for the ensuing battle. You had seen the majority of the game, your main focus on your two babies. So it was a bit of a surprise when you looked up and saw a sea of blue jerseys going on the attack, fists were flying and a brawl was breaking out.

“Mommy, where’s daddy?” You could hear the anxiety in your child’s voice. It always scared her when someone went down, especially if it was one of her uncles or her father. You watched as the trainer was brought over to the player in a blue jersey who was still in obvious pain on the ice.

“Hattie, daddy’s.” You have a dark feeling starting to form in your stomach, your eyes dancing around trying to spot the familiar number 43 on the ice. It was becoming very evident that he was nowhere to be seen, except for. Oh no.

You could hear your oldest rattling off a million and one questions about the scrum and the player that you were one hundred percent was Quinn. Not feeling bad for one second you drown out the child’s questions.

“He’s not getting up. Why isn’t he getting up.” You whispered hoping no one would hear your trembling voice. Quinn was still sprawled out on the ice. There wasn’t anything you could do about it. Why wasn’t he getting up? He always got up. A dark cloud of what ifs started circling inside your mind.

“Mama?” The scared little voice of your crying daughter brought you out of the trance you were in. Hattie was an empath and could pick up those kids of negative feelings. You quickly bottled your own emotions, to keep her calm.

“Look Trixie girl. Daddy’s okay.” The two of you watched Quinn get up with help and make his way down the tunnel. Before he completely disappeared looked up at you, gave you a slight nod and tugged on his left ear twice, a gesture whose meaning was only known to your little family. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was going to be fine., but it was clear that he wasn’t going to going back into the game.

Towards the end of the game, you got a message from your husband telling you he was still getting checked out and it would be a while and that you just take the kids home.

“Daddy!” Hattie jumped her father as soon as he entered the door to the modest home you lived in. It was late and although her nerves were soothed after Quinn indicated he was okay, the small child refused to go to bed until she had a chance to inspect Quinn for herself.

“What’s the damage? You were down for awhile.” You finally got your husband to yourself once he laid Hattie down for bed.

“I was only down for a few minutes. Nothing major.” He tried to down play the unexpected hit. He just wanted to relax and not talk.

“Quinn.”

“Y/N, darling, my love I’m okay. Just a couple of bumps and bruises. They want me out for a couple of games.” Quinn shrugged wrapping himself around you, wincing as he did so. He would deal with his issues another day.

Please let me know what y’all think! Any thoughts, comments, or complaints! Also if you have any requests for the this little family, request away. I haven’t introduced the third child yet.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb

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wintersoldiersoul · 6 months

Note

I just realised you already have a post similar to my previous ask so maybe could you write something where Bucky noticed reader was struggling with self harm a while ago and thought she was better but she isn’t and he helps her 🥺

TW: self-harm, blood, depression, please do not read if any of these things will upset you. Love you all and reach out to someone if you need to <3

You didn’t know what had happened. You couldn’t even remember how you had ended up where you were. One second you were crying in bed and suddenly you were on the bathroom floor, blade in your hand and covered in fresh cuts.

It had been so long. You were doing so well, about a week away from being 2 years clean. You tried so hard to prevent it from happening but Bucky being gone made it so much harder. When you had first told him about your self-harm and depression, he had sat down with you and made a “safety-plan”.

“If you feel like you’re gonna hurt yourself, the first step is find me, okay?” He had spoken sternly. “If I’m not here, you call. And if I don’t answer on the first try, you keep calling. Second step is to distract yourself. Go on a walk, bake something, it doesn't matter. Just don’t let yourself sit in the dark thoughts.” As he spoke, he wrote everything down on a piece of paper. “And listen,” he grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. “If I don’t answer, for some reason, you call someone else. You call Natasha or Tony or any other person in your life. You cannot let yourself be alone when you feel this way.” You nodded, fully planning on doing just that if the time ever came. But when you woke up this morning filled with a primal need to hurt yourself, you didn’t even remember the plan.

It was like nothing mattered except for feeling the blade against your skin and watching the blood pour out. The emotional pain that you were in needed to escape. You needed to feel it in a physical capacity. So you didn’t call Bucky. Because you knew he’d stop you. And you didn’t wanna be stopped.

You regretted it the second you made the first cut. All of that progress you had made, gone within the blink of an eye. You’d have to remember to erase the day marking your 2 years clean on your calendar. The shame you felt didn’t stop you though. It just made you want to hurt yourself more. You were ashamed and felt like a failure. You cried as you dragged the blade over your wrists, mumbling to yourself how stupid and worthless you were. How you always let everyone down.

You dissociated as you cut, robotically moving to your thighs once you ran out of space on your arms. You couldn’t stop, even as you grew dizzy from the blood loss. Your head was pounding from it and the dehydration caused by your tears but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up off the floor. Eventually, you put the blade down but you continued crying, the crimson of your blood staining the white-tile floor.

You didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear Bucky calling out for you, home from the mission. His heart sped up as he walked further into the house, hearing your broken sobs coming from the bathroom. “Y/N? Sweetheart?” He called, getting closer. He didn’t wanna frighten you but his gut told him that something was incredibly wrong. He knocked on the door, but you didn’t register it. There was no time for you to even attempt to cover up what you had done, plus you knew he’d find out eventually. Bucky’s favorite thing to do when he got home from a mission was to rip your clothes off.

His heart stopped when he opened the door. There you were, hugging your knees to your chest, crying hysterically and bleeding out. There was so much blood coming from your arms and your thighs. “Oh my god,” was all he could say as he rushed over to you. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he kept repeating, trying to assess the damage you had done to yourself. “Baby, can you hear me? It’s me, it’s Bucky,” he said, trying to get you to calm down and talk to him. You were still in your own little world as you cried.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, fully realizing that he was there. He grabbed you and hugged you tightly and you could feel his body shaking as he did. “I’m so sorry,” you sobbed into his chest.

“Baby, we gotta stop this bleeding or I’m gonna have to take you to the hospital.” He wanted to talk this out with you, to comfort you, but right now, you were bleeding out in his arms. “Can I move you? I’m just gonna sit you up on the sink, okay?” You nodded and he gingerly moved your body so that you were perched on the sink, back against the mirror as it was hard to hold yourself up. He created makeshift tourniquets, a skill that he still had from the war, and wrapped them around your arms and legs. “Oh my god,” he said, once again.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I got blood on your shirt…” you whispered quietly.

“It doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.” He assured you, cupping your face in his hands. “I gotta clean these cuts, I’m sorry,” he said, removing the tourniquets once the bleeding had mostly stopped. You winced as he dabbed at your skin, the sting from the contact immediate. “I know, sweetie, I know, I’m sorry,” he repeated words of encouragement to you. “Just breathe, please. Take a deep breath. It’s almost over.” He took his time in ensuring everything was clean and that the bleeding was stopped before he applied bandaids. “What did you do, baby?” He looked up at you with sadness in his blue eyes. “You-you’re covered,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper as tears started falling down his face.

You looked down, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what happened… I just woke up today and it just hurt so much and I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Why didn’t you call me? What about your plan, remember?”

“I knew you’d stop me…” Your voice held so much shame.

“You’re damn right I would have!” His voice grew loud, but he wasn’t yelling at you. He knew you couldn’t help the mental illness you struggled with. And he saw how hard you fought every single day. Even though you had slipped up, he was still so incredibly proud of the time you had spent clean and he would dedicate every second to helping you get back on track. As long as you were willing to try, how could he be mad at you? “I’m not angry at you, I’m just… oh god, I’m terrified. I’d be worried no matter what if you relapsed but baby, you did some serious damage.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m so angry at myself. I was a week away from 2 years. And I fucked it all up!”

He tilted your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Do you wanna stay clean again? Do you wanna get back on track?” You nodded. “Then you didn’t fuck anything up, okay? You’re human and you struggle. That's normal and okay. Of course I wish you didn’t do this. I hate seeing you in pain more than anything in this entire world. But baby, don’t be angry with yourself. Use that emotion as motivation to continue getting better. Please don’t let this send you spiraling back down into a place that’s gonna be even harder to get out of.”

You wiped some tears off of your face. “It’s so hard being alive, Bucky. Even on the good days, the depression is always there in the back of my mind. Even when I’m happy, it’s like I’m never really happy. Maybe true happiness just isn’t in the cards for me. I just wanna end it.”

“Honey…” your words broke his heart. You could see it on his face. “I know how hard it is and how much you struggle. You have no idea how badly I wish I could take away all of your pain. Seeing you like this… god, it breaks me apart. I’m so scared for you. I’m so worried about you,” his body was still shaking slightly. “But you deserve happiness. You deserve it more than anyone. You have such a beautiful soul and you inspire me every single day that you get up and live your life even though you struggle. Happiness is in the cards for you. I know that because I will spend every waking minute of the rest of my life trying to make you happy.” He brushed your hair behind your ears. “I love you so much. Please don’t leave me here alone. I-” he took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears but failed as they slipped out anyway. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t be in this world without you.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, resting your head on his chest. The two of you stayed like that, both crying against each other’s bodies. It was heartbreaking, the way your sadness broke him, too, like you were one soul sharing two bodies.

“Let’s get you into some clean clothes, okay? You’ll feel better.” Your shorts and shirt were both stained with red. He helped you change into a pair of clean pants and a sweatshirt, being extra careful as he noticed your grimaces of pain each time the material touched your skin. You both got into bed, exhausted from the intense emotional turmoil that the night had stained you with.

The two of you lay on your sides facing each other. Bucky wordlessly stroked your hair, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m never gonna abandon you. No matter how many times you slip up. I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug. “Never.”

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

Text

Note: part 5 of the Mechanic fic. this is just a little short chapter, but hopefully it will please you all the same ;)

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Warnings: very suggestive! 18+.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You have been in France for one month already. Your job kept you busy 24/7 and you desperately missed that hot mechanic you had managed to make your boyfriend before you left.

wordcount: 1,8k

Masterlist

'I don't care where we are or what time it is, I'm taking what's mine, whenever I fucking want it.'

*****************

Sihtric: can I see you? Sihtric: I really need to see you… Sihtric: I miss you Sihtric: PLEASEEEEE call me Sihtric: now??? Sihtric: I'm going to video call you now okay???

'There she is,' Sihtric smiled as you appeared on his phone, 'hey, pretty lady.'

'Hey,' you chuckled, feeling yourself blush at the sight of his mismatched eyes, 'I'm so sorry I haven't been able to call or video chat much, babe. It's been crazy here.'

'I know, don't worry,' he said and laid back on his bed, 'everything going okay?'

'Yeah, it's fine, but how are you? Your hair's getting longer,' you chuckled, 'I like it.'

'Thanks, thinking of shaving it all off,' he teased, 'but things are not bad here, except that I've been in a lot of pain actually,' he grimaced.

'What?' you jumped up, 'why? What's wrong, honey?'

'It's this… aching, you know?' Sihtric said, 'I called the hospital already, but they can't do anything'

'What? What do you mean?'

'It's like… this pain,' he continued, 'I mean… damn, lady, you took a piece of my heart when you left.'

'Sihtric!' you yelled, angry but relieved, 'stop scaring me like that!'

'Sorry, baby,' Sihtric laughed, 'missing you, sweet stuff, that's all. Is your flight back booked already?'

'Yes, I took care of it yesterday. I'll be back in exactly twenty eight days!'

'Can't wait to have you in my arms again,' Sihtric smiled weakly.

'Me neither, love. I hope time goes fast. How's therapy going?'

'It's going,' Sihtric said, 'still got one crutch. I can walk small distances, slowly. It's not much but it's something.'

'Really?' you smiled, 'that's so good. Proud of you, babe! So you'll come running when I arrive at the airport?' you joked.

'I wish,' Sihtric chuckled, 'I would if I could. But, hey, about that… the doctors advise me to pick up work again, and Finan is drowning in work, so I'll start next week. Just a few hours a day, you know? But I probably won't be able to pick you up from the airport. I don't have a car and Finan can't take any more hours off. I'm really sorry, baby.'

'Oh, no, that's okay,' you said, 'don't worry. It was really sweet that Finan dropped me off at the airport, but I can get back on my own.'

'Promise it's fine?' Sihtric asked.

'I promise,' you smiled, 'what other news have you got?'

'Hmm,' Sihtric hummed, 'oh! They found the prick who hit me and drove off.'

'What?! Are you serious?'

'I am, my love. And he's facing some time too. Apparently he was drunk behind the wheel that night.'

'Oh my god, Sihtric…'

'I know, baby,' he said, 'just don't think about it, okay? I survived.'

You nodded with a soft smile, 'I know. I'm happy to hear they found him.'

'I'm going to take all that bastard's money,' Sihtric huffed, 'you know, for physical and emotional damage.'

'What about the motorcycle, I never asked, was it insured?'

'Of course it was insured, lady,' he smiled, 'everything's fully covered.'

'Good,' you smiled.

'Yeah, can't wait to buy a new one.'

'What?!'

'What?' Sihtric frowned.

'You want to get a new bike?'

'Of course,' Sihtric shrugged, 'why wouldn't I?'

'Well… you… I mean…'

'No, no,' he said, 'look, I've been riding bikes before I was even allowed to. I'm not scared and this wasn't my first crash. Yeah, it was my first bad fucking accident, but it's not going to stop me.'

You looked at your screen, not knowing what to say, but Sihtric knew you were upset.

'I know you're worried, I get it,' he said, 'but you can't change my mind about this, I'm sorry, baby.'

'I know…' you sighed, 'when do you think you'll get a new one?'

'Soon. Hey,' Sihtric said and licked his lips, 'I love you, lady.'

'I love you too,' you smiled shyly.

'Come back home soon, okay?'

'I will.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

'No French mechanics I need to be worried about?' he teased.

'Absolutely not,' you laughed, 'but maybe that guy at the bakery…'

'Hey!' Sihtric chuckled, 'watch it, lady.'

'Or what?' you taunted.

'Or I might be facing some jail time too,' he laughed.

'Oh, please,' you rolled your eyes.

'I've been working out again, lady,' Sihtric winked, 'you don't know what I'm capable of.'

'Oh, really?' you smirked, 'show me.'

'You want me to show you?'

'Well, I haven't seen your body in weeks,' you hinted.

Sihtric grinned, tilting his phone slightly so you could see his covered torso. And he slowly snuck his hand under his shirt, shoving it up, exposing his abs.

'Oh,' your face flustered, 'looking good, handsome.'

'Yeah?' he smirked, 'want to see more?'

'A little more,' you dared him.

But there was no daring Sihtric. The mechanic was a flirt, and a confident one at that. Always had been. He knew he was good looking and he knew you liked it. So he had no trouble setting his phone back against a pillow, so you could fully see how he took off his shirt and then seductively ran his hands down over his muscular body as he bit down on his lip with a smirk.

'Sihtric, stop,' you giggled.

'Are you sure?' he smiled, one hand sliding down into his sweatpants, 'hm?'

Your eyes grew big, 'Sihtric!' you yelled, almost dropping your phone.

'Come on, baby,' he licked his lips, 'don't tell me you don't want some of this?' he winked and lowered his sweatpants.

Your breath hitched upon seeing Sihtric move his hands over his hard cock, still trapped in his boxers, and you couldn't keep your eyes off your screen.

'Are you really,' you swallowed hard, 'I mean... do you really want to have v-video … sex?'

'Yeah, why not?' he smiled, 'only thing we can do now, right?'

'I- I guess,' you instantly became nervous, but you were so aroused upon seeing his almost naked body, you couldn't deny the feeling in your core.

You quickly ran to your bed and got comfortable, and so did Sihtric, as you both stuffed a few pillows against the headboards of your own bed and sat back.

'Uh… now what?' you chuckled nervously.

'It's my first time doing this too, lady,' Sihtric smiled softly, 'I guess… hm, take your shirt off for me?'

You set your phone on your nightstand and wasted no time lifting your shirt up, but Sihtric interrupted you fast.

'Hey, wait,' he chuckled, 'take it off slowly for me, baby?'

You did as he asked, slowly revealing you wore nothing underneath your shirt, and when you looked back at your phone again, you saw Sihtric's sly smile was wider than before.

'Hm,' he hummed, smiling, slowly working his length just out of view for you, 'what I'd give to massage those right now,' he chuckled as he looked at your breasts.

'You mean like this?' you teased, cupping one breast and massaging your own flesh slowly for him.

'Oh, babe,' Sihtric moaned, his eyes intensely focused on his screen, 'yeah, just like that…'

'Hey, you can't just hide all the fun for me,' you frowned.

'Oh, you want to watch?' he laughed while raising an eyebrow, 'you're cheekier than you let me believe, lady.'

You shrugged with a grin, and Sihtric tilted his phone slightly, and you immediately tensed up when seeing his tattooed fingers work his hard cock as he watched you.

'Oh my god,' you sighed, a little lightheaded, 'you're so hot.'

'So are you, lady,' he purred with a wink.

You were so desperate for his man, and you slid your fingers inside your body. Ever since the first time you set foot in that repairstore, you were ready to drop your panties for him. And you've had a few moments together, but you still hadn't had sex with him, and it was torture.

'I wish I could suck you off right now,' you moaned, remembering how nice that was for both of you.

'Mhm, me too,' Sihtric sighed, 'I can't wait to fuck you when you get back home again, lady.'

'Yeah?' you teased, working yourself as you watched him, 'you think you can handle me?'

'Oh, lady,' Sihtric smiled as he hummed, 'you don't know what I was like before we met.'

'Tell me,' you breathed, 'tell me what you are like.'

'I don't know if you can keep up with my sex drive,' he smiled and exhaled sharply upon seeing your eyes darken on his screen, 'if I'm in the mood, lady,' he husked, 'I'll find a way to get you right there and then. I don't care where we are or what time it is, I'm taking what's mine, whenever I fucking want it.'

'Oh my god,' you whispered, your walls clenching around your own fingers.

'Will you allow me to do that with you?' his voice became more hoarse with every word he spoke.

'Y-yes,' you moaned, 'fuck, I'm close, Sihtric.'

'Me too,' he let out a low groan, 'tell me how you want me to take you, lady. When you're back home, when I'm ready for it.'

'Fuck,' you hissed, 'I don't care baby, anywhere. At work, at home, on the fucking street, I don't care! I just want you so bad,' you cried as your climax approached, 'I wanted you to fuck me in the garage the first time you brought me home.'

'Yeah?' he growled, 'I wanted to, believe me,' his own pace quickened, 'I wanted to bend you over my bike so bad that day, baby. I would've fucked you so good, hm,' he breathed hard.

'Fuck!' you yelled, your climax abruptly taking over when you heard his soft humming along with his heavy breathing, and the thought of being fucked, bend over his motorcycle was too much, and you almost dropped your phone, 'jesus fucking christ,' you laughed.

'I can't believe you finished before I did,' Sihtric complained, teasingly, 'come on, give me some dirty talk,' he laughed, 'finish me off, lady.'

'You know I'd like to finish you off right now,' you purred.

'Yeah?' he bit down on his lip.

'Yeah, I'd suck you good. Taking you all in my mouth,' your voice deliberately more raspy than usual, 'I'd suck your cock real slow, handsome.'

'Ah, please,' he groaned.

'And maybe,' you grinned as you moved one hand up to your breasts, 'I'd let you fuck my tits, babe, would you like that?'

'Fuck!' Sihtric growled, 'yeah, I'd like that, baby. Oh, fuck!' he moaned loudly, struggling to keep his phone steady as he came with a heavy grunt.

You chuckled as Sihtric was trying to catch his breath, and he quickly brought his phone back up so you could see his face and half of his torso. You both couldn't help but laugh when you looked at each other again.

'I miss you,' Sihtric said when you both finally stopped laughing.

'I miss you too, so much, you have no idea.'

'Come back home, baby, I'm waiting for you.'

'I'm counting down the days, Sihtric, I really am.'

'So am I,' he smiled softly.

*******************

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @little-diable

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

#modern!sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk

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en-fics · 1 year

Text

Would it be alright If I pulled you closer?

Pairing : Taehyung x Reader

Content : Fluff, Sweet

Summary : Taehyung not feeling confident in himself and you being his support...help him.

<><><><>

It all felt empty to Taehyung. The longer he sat in his studio, looking at the unfinished lyrics, melody and a bunch of rolled scribbled papers thrown in the dustbin, more empty he felt.

'How long' were the words constantly in his mind. How long will it take for him to complete the songs, melody and an album.

He began feeling his hardwork was going in vain and he was not able to deliver the emotions he wanted to.

'Why can't I finish the album, song quickly like Hoseok and Namjoon hyung?'

'Why can't I deliver and potray the emotions to army?'

These two thoughts were enough to damage him emotionally resulting in him feeling mentally and physically drained.

He knew that it was simply negative thoughts and he knew how much the army and the members support him. But tonight his feelings were mixed.

The clock's needle continued to click and move forward making the time pass from 5:00 PM to now 11:00 PM with him stuck up in his emotions.

Not having the energy to think and drain himself anymore. He decides to finally end the day and go back home.

The whole ride to his home was in complete silence except for the car honks and beating of his heart.

He manages to drive quickly and park his car, now walking towards the main door of his house.

It's already past eleven and he doesn't want to disturb you since he thinks you must be sleeping and himself opens the main door from his duplicate key, only to see the light 'On' of his main hall and your figure arranging some books on the shelf.

You don't know that Taehyung has arrived since he always rings the bell even if he uses the key but today he didn't.

As he sees your side profile, he then realises that he is not alone... instead he has you. To whom he can rely on without the fear of making him feel less or low unlike the world.

He let's out a small tired smile and makes his way towards you after removing his shoes.

You jerk a bit as you feel two big warm hands wrap around your waist suddenly. "Tae" you say and turn around to see him already looking at you.

You see the tiredness on his face. You hug him and he also hugs you back, holding you tightly.

"Taehyung, are you alright?" You ask after hugging him for sometime now. He doesn't say anything and tightens his grip on you, and now you understand that indeed something has happened.

You don't ask him again anything instead rub his back slowly as a way to tell him you are there for him.

Some time passes and he finally looks at you, his eyes are a little watery. He takes a sigh and makes you both sit on the nearby couch.

"(y/n), I-I am feeling really sad...I'm not able to write any song, not even a sentence. How and what will I do now?" He says and some tears roll down his cheeks.

You feel sad for him too. You know he never cries easily, but if he is right now...it means he carried his pain alone and is now overwhelmed with it.

"shhhh, it's okay Tae, I'm here for you. You can do everything. Army's, members and I, we all understand you. We all know you are working hard."

"I know b-but, it's sad that it's been s-so long and I'm still stuck here."

"Tae, I know that you want to write all the songs and quickly make an album. I understand you, but it's important that you understand yourself first. Believe in yourself, I know that you know, you can do this. Maybe it will take a little more time and effort but I know you can do this."

You say some positive words to him to make him feel a bit better than before.

"You know what Tae, maybe you should take a break...like a few days off. Relax your mind and then work on your songs. Sometimes a break is important, to know and understand yourself better. At that time, you can even get a lot of answers and ideas."

"You are right, I should take a few days off, we both will actually." He says this time with a hope on his face and a smile.

"Thank you (y/n) for listening to me and helping me out." He moves a bit towards you and hugs you again.

"Welcome my love, anything for you." You say after pulling back from the hug and kiss his cheek.

"I love you"

"I love you too."

Sometimes we can get so much strength from our loved ones, even when everything seems to fall apart, a simple hug or talk with them feels so good. And that's how Taehyung felt too.

#bts #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung #taehyung ff #bts taehyung #taehyung headers #taehyung smut #taehyung moodboard #taetae #bts tae wallpaper #bts tae x reader #tae x reader

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kazuwhora · 2 years

Text

— SCAR TISSUE

⨳ WARNINGS. gn!reader, small levels of angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of suicide and mental health struggles (kazutora)

⨳ WORD COUNT. 2.1k

⨳ NOTE. commission for the lovely @lesbiansportsanime and also a little something in honour of kazutora’s upcoming birthday <3 I may have shed a tear writing this

KAZUTORA has always been left in his thoughts— always left behind, always alone, and this time was no different. this time, he had taken away everyone he held close to his heart, and pushed away any chance of ever being loved by those around him ever again. he had given in to the sickness of his mind, and lost control— again. but this time, there was no one to save him. except you.

you had watched kazutora from the sidelines of fights. you watched him hurt those around him, and bring them down with him. you watched him spiral into the reality of his own delusions, and you watched as the people around him took advantage of his weakness, and manipulate him deeper into the toxicity of his mind.

part of you had always felt responsible for the events that led up to his imprisonment, after all you had observed it happening— all sides— and you let it happen. you didn’t know him, but you felt like you did, and the guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders when you watched from the sidelines as his eyes welled with tears you had never seen as he knelt beside the body of his best friend.

kazutora had already accepted his fate when he watched the life drain from baji’s eyes. the only person left who cared about him, gone in an instant and it was his fault. every second from the moment he was taken away by the police was spent shelving the blame for everything he had done, to the point where his mind was more broken and damaged than it had ever been before.

the request came as a surprise— draken had dropped by your house one afternoon, respectful as always as he asked to speak with you outside. draken had never been all that close to you before, knowing you only from your friendship with emma and not much more than that. but something about the concern that dwelled behind his eyes as he closed the door behind you made your nerves teeter on the edge.

“I need you to do me a favour” he had asked, looking past you into the distance as the sun set on the horizon. “we need you to do us a favour”

draken spoke as if his voice encompassed the gang as a whole, and he cleared his throat with an uncomfortable shift of his posture.

“kazutora” he hummed, crossing his arms in front of him as your brows knit in a confused frown. “he needs somebody, and I don’t think he can handle it being any of us”

“what—” you started, but draken cut you off before you could finish.

“he can sense it— the resentment” he muttered. draken was never proud of his negative emotions, nor was he ever one to express much in the first place. “takemitchi and I visited him today, and mikey was right. if he’s stuck in there with nobody to help him on the outside, he’s not going to make it much longer”

a knot formed in your throat as you caught drift of what draken was aiming at. suddenly all the guilt you had shrugged away watching kazutora’s downfall crashed against your body like a wave against sharp rocks, and your chest ached with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand. you had never even met kazutora, and yet the responsibility you felt— the yearning to help him nearly made your eyes prick with tears as you imagined him withering away all alone in a cell until he could no longer take the guilt of what he had done.

“but—” you started again, knowing draken was going to cut you off regardless.

“I know it’s weird, but takemitchi and I figured out a plan, if you’re okay with it of course”

you nodded for him to go on, finally giving up trying to get a word in edgewise.

“takemitchi and I— we’re going to write to him, once a month probably. I’ll give the letters to you to bring to him in person, you can tell him we couldn’t afford the postage or something. he probably wont think twice about it”

“but why m—”

“you’re the only person who doesn’t have a direct connection to what happened. you’re emma’s friend, so he’ll just connect the dots between us that way.”

the more you listened to draken’s explanation, the more you felt the waves of anxiety ebb and flow in your mind. you thought about the anguish that kazutora was dealing with— ten years behind bars would never undo what he did, and would never bring back the only person who really cared about him. you thought more and more about the tears that dripped from his eyes, and being all alone in a prison for ten years with nobody left to care would only push him right back to where he was before, and the responsibility weighed heavy on your shoulders once more.

watching from the sidelines and he withered away wasn’t an option this time. you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel that kind of guilt again, and besides, kazutora had always piqued your interest anyways.

and from that day on, you were enlisted as the official mail delivery service for kazutora hanemiya.

your first encounters were awkward. he was closed off, and emotionless— like an empty shell of a person. but somewhere behind his dull eyes, was a tiny twinkle that lit up more and more with every visit.

it started off just with the letters. you would schedule a visit, sit down, hand him the letters, and buy him a drink and something to eat. he was always thankful for your presence, bowing nearly to the ground each time you got up to leave. and slowly, over time, his walls came down and his smile returned.

you became a familiar face quite fast, and though your purpose was born from obligation, you quickly found yourself missing him between the letters.

monthly visits turned more frequent, though the letters stayed the same. you always had a new excuse to see him— sometimes to show off the new shoes you had bought, or your new haircut, or sometimes just to catch up on the only show that ever aired besides the news in prison.

kazutora was no longer the boy he was when he was free, but he was never truly free back then. though confined in walls with tight schedules and rules, kazutora was more free now, than he ever was before— and it was all thanks to your friendship that had blossomed over the years.

your visits had grown so predictable, and so frequent that the staff at the prison barely bothered to check you before entering. you were known on a first name basis by all the staff, all the guards, and all the other inmates that kazutora had allowed himself to befriend thanks to your encouragement and support.

it was his therapist that had been the one that was always on your side. he had rooted for your friendship, and thanked you for allowing kazutora into your heart, and your life all the same. so when your email came asking for his help to organize a visit on kazutora’s birthday, you barely even needed to ask.

in the years before, you had never even considered asking about visitation rights and facilities. you had spent many of kazutora’s birthdays celebrating with an unlit candle shoved into a pile of chips in an open bag, pretending to blow out a flame that wasn’t allowed. kazutora never minded— he thought it was funny and it never failed to bring a smile to his face, or a special warmth to your hugs. but this year was different. this year was his fifth birthday spent in prison— his halfway mark, and you wanted to make it special.

with a table full of groceries and ingredients supplied by both the prison staff and his therapist, you lean your hips against the counter as you sort through the items and get to work preparing. the staff had given you special permission to use the family visitation room, equipped with a half kitchen, a sofa with a tv, and a small table in the center of the room. excitement bubbles in your chest as you slice onions into tiny circles and prepare the only dish kazutora had ever expressed his desire to try: okonomiyaki.

you had never made these types of pancakes before, but days before his birthday you had spent hours watching videos and tutorials to find the best recipe you could think of with all his favourite ingredients. and surely, it would be better than the microwaved ramen he always considered a treat.

time ticks on the clock as you anxiously watch the pancake sizzle on the pan. now, your desire to make everything perfect weighs on your conscience as you scramble to clean up the mess you had made over the last two hours until the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the jingle of the guards keys signals your reminder to turn off the stove and put the food on the plates. just as you finish placing everything down on the stable and straightening the utensils just right, kazutora’s head peeks through the door with a face draped with confusion.

“i-is this—” he stutters, hesitating to enter the room until the guard nudges him past the door and closes it behind him. “for me?”

a warm smile settles on your lips as you watch him look around the room in awe. his eyes are already glossy as he takes in his surroundings, and you can’t help but pull him into a hug you’ve been craving since the last time you saw him.

“all for you” you speak through your smile as he eases himself into the hug, still distracted by everything you’ve done around him. “but also I made you okonomiyaki and we should probably try it before it gets too cold to be good”

“okonomiyaki?!” he gasps, pushing you away from the hug as he stares at you with complete seriousness behind his eyes. “you made… okonomiyaki?! for real?”

you can’t help but giggle watching his eyes light up like a kid when he sees the steaming food on the plate beside him. he can barely contain his excitement as he sits down, legs bouncing up and down while he waits for you to sit. there’s a sense of satisfaction that washes over you as you watch him tear apart the food you so carefully prepared like an animal. it’s times like these that he lives up to his name, but even still you giggle and reach across the table to fix his sleeves that keep rolling down into the food.

“good?” you ask, wishing you had made more at the sight of how fast he devoured the plate.

kazutora only nodded with a thumbs up as he picked every last piece and dusted his hands off with a sense of accomplishment. but words couldn’t encompass how grateful he was for you, and he could only express his feelings through his excitement that spilled over to you with infectious laughter.

“don’t worry about the dishes” you hum, shooing him away from counter and pointing to the sofa across from the tv. “I managed to get them to record the episodes you missed last month so we can catch up together”

just when you thought kazutora’s eyes couldn’t go any wider, his face lights up with shock as he nearly jumps in place and pulls you to the sofa. his fingers move at lightning speed with the remote as he skips through the mindless recordings of baseball games the staff kept for themselves until he finds the first of the missed episodes of your shared tv show.

“seriously though” he pauses, turning to face you as you tuck stray pieces of his hair behind his ear. “why’re you doing all this?”

you smile, letting your hand rest on top of his as you let out a small sigh. “what, you don’t like it?” you tease, and kazutora nearly panics.

“no! no its not that! this has been the best day of—”

you cut him off before he can say another word that might pull at your heartstrings a little too much. “because its your fifth birthday tora, and I wanted to show you how much I care about you”

kazutora cocks his head like a dog. “.. fifth? but.. I’m—”

“you’re not the same person you were when you got here five years ago— you restarted everything— you’ve changed now”

a shaky breath sits in your chest as you watch his eyes fall to your hand covering his.

“you’re right” he mutters, though his face reflects the contentment and comfort of his soul. “thank you— for everything…”

“of course— I want to make your birthday spe—”

this time kazutora is the one to cut you off, and his fingers intertwine themselves with yours.

“I mean for everything— all these years, everything you’ve done for me— thank you”

you look up at him, his glossy eyes reflecting the tears that glimmer in yours. you had spent nearly your whole life searching for something to make you feel whole, and now you’ve realized you’ve had it right beside you all along for the last five years. the missing piece of his puzzle is the extra piece of yours, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than looking down at the finished piece of artwork before you.

“thank you” you hum, looking away as you try your best to withhold the tears that kazutora lets flow so freely. “you’re everything to me, kazutora, so happy birthday”

your lip quivers with a tearful smile as kazutora pulls you just close enough to rest his chin on your head.

and for once in your life, you feel whole.

#kazutora x reader #kazutora angst #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #kazutora #hanemiya kazutora x you #kazutora x reader angst #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #kazutora x you

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rimbaud-fan-page · 7 months

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Read the Fifteen Light Novel and also I hate you Bones

Studio Bones looooooves screwing BSD over, and nothing is more indicative of this than the anime adaptation of Fifteen (except maybe Dazai's entrance exam because what the fuck was that).

To be fair, they did an okay job. It's nowhere near as good as the light novel but there were some changes that I did like; the soukoku hand-hold was one of them, Rimbaud's ability changing from red to gold was good, and like....very little else.

But contrasting the pros with the cons gives an OVERWHELMINGLY negative outcome, because dear lord???? The sheer amount of things they managed to mess up is borderline impressive. And it all leads back to their bastardisation of Rimbaud.

For those who haven't read the Light Novel (but assuredly will after this), Rimbaud's motivation is to kill Chuuya and absorb his memories. Why? To find his partner.

What partner you ask???

Why, were the few lines where Rimbaud offhandedly mentions his partner in passing not enough?

No???

Not ringing any bells????

See that would be because Bones REMOVED HIS ENTIRE FUCKING MOTIVATION????

Meaning all his lines about his partner? Gone. All his reasoning and character and personality? Aufwiedersen.

But why does this matter? Rimbaud is a fairly minor character as BSD goes, and whilst I love and adore him with all my heart, what damage does a couple cut lines do?

More than you could know.

Rimbaud is the main antagonist of this arc, therefore when he is misconstrued, the arc itself falls apart, his impact on Soukoku is gone, the stakes are gone, everything SUCKS (maybe I'm being petty but shush).

The gall Bones had to do this is beyond me, because tell me how they removed the antagonists ENTIRE GOAL and expected it to turn out well???? The thing that sets Rimbaud (and all BSD antagonists) apart from an average run-of-the-mill-villain is that he has a goal, and it's personal. He doesn't want to take over the mafia, although he has the clear means to, he doesn't want to blackmail Mori or betray him or gain any kind of power, he just wants his partner back.

Not only that, Rimbaud's relationship with his partner is a fantastic parallel to the relationship within Soukoku, Rimbaud himself has many aspects to his character that connect back to Dazai and Chuuya, which is why that last fight is SO IMPORTANT for them as both individuals and a duo.

Rimbaud and Dazai have a similar disconnect from the world around them and their internal emotions. Dazai is encouraged by Mori to view others as pawns, and has trouble connecting with his emotions, whereas Rimbaud deliberately does not acknowledge his emotions, as he believes they will interfere with his work. On the other hand, Chuuya is exceedingly loyal to his friends, and is able to understand Rimbaud's reasoning, as he would also do anything for his friends, just as Rimbaud is sacrificing everything to find out what happened to his partner.

Also, Rimbaud is a transcendent, one of the most powerful ability users in Europe, and yet two Fifteen year olds were able to beat him??? Either he's weak, or those are some insane fifteen year olds, and the light novel makes it clear it is not the former. Rimbaud is incredibly strong and clever, he often predicts Dazai's plans, and is able to counteract them. But he still lost, because he was up against Soukoku.

Their first victory and it's a BIG one.

And back on the topic of Rimbaud's partner, he isn't even named in the anime, why does he matter???

Paul Verlaine matters to me <3333

And in the main plot and lore of BSD too but whatever ig, I mean it's not like he's an inciting character that creates a situation that is vital to both Dazai and Chuuya's development and also changes what we understand about abilities or anything.

Not to mention Bones cut out so much of what makes Rimbaud entertaining?? I love him, but he's so boring in the anime, because they took out everything and made a cardboad cutout of a man.

He's so stupid I love him so much <33

In conclusion; Light novel good, read light novel, please please pretty please

#arthur rimbaud #bsd arthur rimbaud #bungou stray dogs #bsd #rimlaine #soukoku #bsd analysis #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd manga #bsd anime #bsd fifteen

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woodrokiro · 2 months

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Do It For the Band, Part Nine (Fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant.Band AU.

Read the rest on Ao3

When Ichigo finishes his story, Tatsuki has no words. She’s absolutely baffled at the man before her.

The two sit in silence for a solid moment before Ichigo tips back the last dregs of his beer, like he’s playing at being casual but he’s Ichigo Kurosaki and he’s never casual and he’s —

“You are the biggest idiot on this planet,” she finally answers in wonder. Ichigo scoffs and gets up to throw his bottle away, turning his back to her.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured you’d say that. So you see? I fucked up, but it’s not like it’s completely my fau—”

Instincts are strange: how fast your muscles can move before you have even a single thought. Like the feeling in the pit of your stomach you get when you meet someone sketchy, or the way human newborns know to hold their breath underwater.

Or the way Tatsuki’s arm finds a nearby pillow and chucks it straight at Ichigo’s head.

The guitarist yelps, throwing his hand to his head protectively as he eyes his attacker with obvious betrayal. “Tatsuki, what the hell?!”

She laughs shortly, shaking her head and getting up. “Unbelievable, Ichigo. Un-fucking-believable.”

“It’s not funny, you could’ve—you could’ve really thrown me off my balance or something!”

“Oh shut up, don’t be a baby… Or hand over the bottle so I can hit it over your skull and do some real damage.”

“N-no!” Ichigo is clearly bewildered and hides said bottle behind his back. “The hell’s the matter with yo—”

“Ichigo. She’s in love with you.”

His mouth snaps shut into a scowl and his eyes don’t meet hers. “Did you even listen to me? Clearly not.”

“‘Did you even listen to me?’” The drummer mimics, and he has the audacity to look at her like she’s nuts. “Ichigo. My dear, sweet summer child. My oldest, closest friend — no, no, don’t make that face, don’t make it weird — … Have you listened to yourself? She made you listen to Taylor Swift and dance with her. She bought your shitty earphone excuse to be physically closer to you. She listened to Joni Mitchell for you. She slept with you — and yes, that is a big deal, considering Rukia is the biggest prude known to mankind except where it counts —”

“Not that big of a prude,” Ichigo huffs, blushing, and jumps when Tatsuki points wildly at him.

“Exactly! To you she isn’t! My point exactly! And, and, let’s not forget about the songs she wrote about you?! ‘Amber eyes turn me dead/Dust to dust until dark’? Who says that about a person they’re not head over heels for? She was pissed, yeah, but pissed because of how obsessed she is with you!!”

“Well… Okay that’s not necessarily—”

“Who knows what else happened when the two of you were alone! And even after all that you put her through — with the album, with Orihime, with the whole thing with her friend whose name is Absolutely Her Friend And Nothing Else — after all that, she still learned and performed the song you told her reminds you of your mom! Your dearly beloved, dead mother! The person that taught you everything you know about music — she did that for you and oh hey by the way: it’s the song that reminds her of her first kiss. With you.” Tatsuki huffs, and no she’s not going to cry but she is humorously emotional for her friend. “Ichigo. You are living a lesbian’s wet dream and you are wasting it.”

The room is quiet, with only the low hum of the air conditioner filling the sound between them. Suddenly, slowly — she catches the slight lift of Ichigo’s lips, and it’s infectious.

The two of them begin to laugh. It’s only a short series of chuckles from both sides, but immediately the air lightens because Tatsuki knows there it is, he’s getting it.

“That doesn’t — okay, that doesn’t explain the ‘friend,’ or whatever he is. Doesn’t explain the hugging.”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes at the sheer thickness of this guy’s skull. “Ichigo, normal friends hug. Not everyone has a friendship with the I-hate-you-but-love-you bit you and I have going on.”

“Careful, Tatsuki. That’s the second weirdest thing you’ve said to me today. Can’t have you getting soft.”

“Honestly it’s Orihime’s fault. Love does that, numbskull. I think you’re already quite familiar with all that, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His eyes shift to the alarm clock next to his bed, and his smile drops a little in uncharacteristic nervousness. “It’s late. She’s probably asleep though, huh?”

To her credit: she says nothing about the way his hand is already moving to the door handle, body half-turned. Bullshit, she almost says — but sees the slight nervous shuffle in his feet and recognizes what he actually needs from her, maybe has never needed from anyone except Rukia: reassurance.

“Of course she’s not, dumbass.” She grins softly, and raises her hand in a “shoo-shoo” motion. “Go get her, Tiger.”

Ichigo nearly trips over himself on his way out.

She sits there, snickering, and is on her way out of his room herself when she sees him get into the elevator and she just can’t help herself.

“Ichigo!” He jerks his head up in answer, eyes a little wild. She cups her hands around her mouth for the sound to carry.

“You know where the clit is, right?!”

HIs face turns beet red in an instant, and he leans forward just as the doors begin to close.

“Oh my God, Tatsuki, just shut the —”

A ding and a whir ends his speech just as the door closes, and she types a text out to Urakara, grinning ear to ear:

The kids are fine.

—

In the most ideal situation: Ichigo may, for the first time ever, wish he had read more of his sister’s trashy shoujo because he has NO idea what he should say to Rukia.

He got hyped from Tatsuki’s support, and even when he’s screaming at her as the elevator doors close (because yes of course he knows all about that and he knows where Rukia’s… Nevermind) he feels on top of the world, like he’s gonna go get his girl.

And now he’s in front of her hotel room and clearing his throat and muttering and he…

Look. Ichigo. Knows. He does not have a way with words… Improv-wise.

He says the first thing on his mind, and even if it’s clunky or sometimes makes people look at him weird, he’s always been at least proud that it’s what’s on his mind. Any poetic musing is saved for lyric writing, and he’s fine with that.

But being with Rukia is recognizing she deserves more than that.

He can’t just say hey sorry I was an asshole to you over a slight misunderstanding and thanks for singing Joni and literally fulfilling a music-nerd wet dream I never knew I had, wanna bang again? Or well.. He could — but the point is she deserves a full apology, and a whole confession that he loves her, has never met anyone like her and never will and they belong to each other forever.

You know. Easy stuff.

Jesus. He’s been out here for ten minutes, pacing, and he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say. It’s stupid, right? It’s probably so stupid, she might not even take him back. Hell, she might not even be here anymore, she might have already caught an earlier flight and left all their asses behind forever—

He hears the sound of a door opening, and when he looks behind him where he’s paced away from the room — Rukia’s standing there.

What feels like hours go by as the two stare at each other, when in reality it’s probably only a few seconds — and Ichigo realizes they haven’t actually looked at each other, like really taken each other in since the photo shoot. Rukia’s expression is unreadable, but he gulps because

God.

How does she do this to him, every time?

Finally, she pierces the moment by shifting her hips and raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

He blinks. “Um — yeah. Wait. How’d you — How’d you know I was out here?”

“I heard you out here muttering and walking around. Nobody talks to themselves as loud as you do.”

“Oh.” He swears he’s not trying to stall, but he cannot for the life of him remember anything of what he was considering to say.

Rukia clearly knows nothing of the internal screaming he’s doing right now, as she starts to frown a little deeper. “So. Can you actually spit out whatever you were going to say? So I can go to bed and you can never see me again? I’m sure Urahara’s already informed you —”

“Yeah, he did.” Ichigo snaps himself out of it. He might not have a full speech prepared in his arsenal yet, but this is a good way to segue into it. “Seriously, Rukia? You’re just gonna not tell anyone you’re leaving except our manager, and what? Disappear into the night?”

She rears her head back as if she’s been slapped.

Shit. He didn’t know he was still feeling a little angry about that.

“What’re you — of course I’m not going to come to you after everything that’s been happening! You, the one who’s accused me of being selfish and a nightmare to work with? You, who just — just assumed everything about me, but did whatever you wanted just to hurt me?” Her voice cracks at the end and it’s his turn to flinch.

“No. No c’mon, I never wanted to hurt — “

Rukia clears her throat, and her entire body language shifts into something deadly casual as she steps back fully into her hotel room. “And honestly. ‘Disappear into the night.’ Don’t be so dramatic. I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Well yeah I didn’t mean literally —”

“I know you didn’t. It doesn’t matter, Ichigo.” She sighs tiredly as she starts closing the door between them. He panics. “The point is, you don’t have to worry. I won’t be here in the morn—”

Her speech is cut off by her own gasp as Ichigo slams forward his shoulder into the door just as it’s about to shut before he even knows what’s happening.

“Ichigo, what—”

“Ow, okay that didn’t feel great and now I feel like a creep —”

“Well you’re being a creep, so I think it’s only logical that you feel like —”

“Rukia, just please for the love of God just shut up.”

“Excuse — You—you have the gall to slam into my door and tell me — “

“It’s impossible for me to think coherently around you, you know that?!” He knows he looks deranged by the way she’s looking at him, utterly baffled.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

“Yeah, actually. I have. All thanks to you. Do you know that I’ve never — when I write, I can usually whip them out so quick. You don’t believe me, because you’ve only ever seen me spend days on a song — but when you’re around, I don’t know what you do but it’s like you’re some fucked up muse that fucks me up.”

She’s pinching her nose, shaking her head. “Ichigo, what are you —”

“You make me better.” He takes her arm firmly but gently, forcing her to look at him. “You make me want to be better, that’s why. That’s why I spend so much goddamn on a single lyric line, for the sole possibility it will make you smile. Otherwise I’m usually stuck sitting here with you without any words in my mouth because you took them all away. You’re so goddamned smart, and wonderful, and so so talented on your own — fuck the word ‘muse.’ You’re your own. Just. Goddess of fucking music or artists or something and I want to worship you.”

She flushes, and maybe even sort of trembles beneath his touch but he’s barely paying attention. “Ichigo —”

“I want to know everything about you. I want to know — I want to know your favorite music to fall asleep to. I want to know what music you listen to when you’re cooking a meal, or cleaning, or in the shower. I want to know what songs you play when you’re incredibly sad, or excited, or the ones you listen to when you want to just feel human, feel connected with everything around you. I want to know all the songs you grew up with, every single one, even the ones you think aren’t technically good but just do something for you. I want to hear every album you ever wished you wrote. Just. The ones that make you scream with jealousy but you can’t stop, you will never stop listening to them. And I want to — I want to know the kind of music you’d like to hear when we kiss. God, I really want to know that one. I want to hear the songs that you’d like to cuddle to, the ones that’ll make you wrap your legs around me like you did that night, the ones you’d like to be made love to to and—”

Ichigo had a lot more to say about what kinds of favorite music he’d like to learn about Rukia, but she’s grabbed him by the back of the head and is kissing him so deeply he forgets everything he was planning to say for the rest of the night.

—-

Their first time that night is a little too, uh. Frenzied for them to really even think about playing music.

But on their second time…

They both find out her favorite for that last category is Buckley’s Hallelujah. His is The Cure’s Lovesong.

“We are officially insufferable,” she pant-whispers to him, grinning wildly beneath him under a bird’s nest of sweaty, tangled hair. He chuckles, equally out of breath, but still leans down to kiss her in agreement.

—

To say their getting together was expected would be an understatement.

For the two of them to actually gather the whole team the next morning and announce the development of their relationship while holding hands and explaining everything that happened like the group didn’t already know was downright excruciating.

As soon as Rukia said she’d like to “open the floor for any questions or concerns,” Tatsuki tapped out.

“I’m leaving. Anyone else wanna get mimosas with me?” The team murmured in agreement and started to get up as Rukia grew increasingly alarmed. Ichigo looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

“W-wait, we have to talk about how this is going to affect our workplace..!”

“Sweetheart, it’s already been affected.” Rukia looks slightly crestfallen and the drummer inwardly curses, feeling bad. “Oh c’mon, don’t do that Rukia. We’re just saying this is nothing.”

“Right, and I really — we are so sorry we put you all through that — “

“Hey don’t include me in that, I never said I was sorry —” Ichigo yelps as his apparently-now-girlfriend elbows him in the ribs.

“Dolt, we put them through hell —”

“Yeah, well, Tatsuki’s been putting me through hell since I was seven years old so I think it’s only fair —”

“Excuse me, you wouldn’t have even found the love of your life there had I not stepped in and —”

“I think the point Tatsuki’s making is we’re happy for you, Ichigo. Kuchiki-san.” Chad’s deep baritone makes them all jump and look to the man closest to the door out. “Regardless of what happens with the two of you — we’re still us. Nothing has to change if we don’t want it to.”

They all stare and Urahara whistles.

“And that, Sado-san, is why you’re my favorite and receiving the majority of next album’s sales.”

A chorus of grumbles and whines arose in the group so loud Tatsuki had to shout to restore order.

“All right, Orihime and I are headed to that breakfast place on the corner. Everyone — except Urahara — is welcome to join us.”

“Aww no fair, Tatsuki-chan, you know you’re still my second in command —”

“Don’t call me that. IchiRuki, you coming?”

“I’m sorry… Was that referring to us?”

“Your new stage name together. Since all the sexual tension is being, you know. Expressed now, ya’ll need a couple’s name.”

“Please don’t say that word or that last sentence ever again… But yeah, we’re coming. Rukia needs to grab something from the room and then we’ll head over.”

“Oh I bet she’ll be grabbing something, all right.”

“Tatsuki, please!”

“Ohoho, lovely comeback Second-in-Command!”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Everyone in this room but me and Rukia can rot in absolute hell.”

—-

The Night the Lights Went Out in Osaka ends up becoming an iconic piece of indie music history when newspapers write about it and video footage of some of the performance is leaked. Their second album triples in profit compared to their first, and soon enough all of them are getting occasionally recognized in the streets.

It’s not selling-out-stadiums-big (yet) — but their rising success makes them excited for the future, absolutely blissful that they can all now afford their rents without working some lame side job during the day. They even get to hire a more professional sound designer for some of their stuff — Rukia’s friend Renji, who is now considered zero threat to Ichigo and therefore taken onto the team with (grudgingly) open arms.

Rukia leaves the band around a year later.

All of them knew it was nothing personal — but Tatsuki may-or-may-not sniffle when she announces the leave, telling everyone in a deep bow and a watery voice that this has been the absolute best time of her life. That she will always consider the band home, but she’s got other dreams she’s ready to focus on — dreams like applying for top grad music programs, or releasing her own album one day of just her and her piano.

Ichigo says nothing beside her, his hand on the small of her back.

But from the softness in his gaze, the slight lift of his smile — Tatsuki knows he is so, so proud of her.

It’s not the end, anyway. Hardly. Tatsuki reminds herself that she will literally see Rukia nearly every day she sees Ichigo, which is — a lot, because the band is still rising in success, with or without their female vocalist. Ichigo and Chad are scribbling as many lyrics together as ever, always asking for both Tatsuki and Rukia’s input and Tatsuki knows this will never end, not really.

She loves that.

She loves that she gets to cuddle with Orihime after a long night in rehearsal or concert or whatever, doing what they both love together. She loves that Urahara’s offered to involve her more in management matters — not giving sole responsibility, but recognizing her talent in bringing the team together and demanding what they deserve. She loves that Chad is finally able to adopt the dog he always wanted but never could afford and brings Yuichi to every rehearsal as their team mascot.

And don’t let either of them know it, but Tatsuki loves to go to Ichigo and Rukia’s apartment on any given Thursday — the day they usually host a dinner for everyone — and open the door to the two of them bickering, supper bubbling softly on the stove as they argue over what album to play. It never really matters — because the night ends with all of them on the living room floor, half drunk and screaming lyrics to favorite songs while Rukia snuggles deeper into Ichigo’s lap, laughing as he not-so-subtly kisses the top of her head.

Their lives are so fucking cute.

Tatsuki's rock-n’-roll heart wants to hurl — but love’s pretty metal too, she guesses.

#ichiruki #my stuff #bleach #do it for the band #fanfiction

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