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poledancingdinos · 2 years

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Hidden Desires

Pairing: August Walker (1st person POV) X OFC

Word Count: 3679 words

Warnings: Stripper OFC, Porn with feelings, D/S dynamics, Knife kink (no actual cutting or injury), Primal kink, Chasing, Choking, Fingering, Vaginal sex, Creampie, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Taglist : @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25

A/N: As usual, something that started as a quick fic turned into the length of all three previous parts combined. Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 here.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

I noticed her eyes lingering the first time I packed for a week-long op in Warsaw. I went through all my normal checks, cleaning my firearms, loading bullets into a few spare magazines and pulling the knife out of its sheath to make sure the blade was well sharpened. That’s when her eyes flickered away from her book.

I didn’t know what exactly had caught her attention but I didn’t have time to ask more questions. I needed to get on the road or I was going to miss my flight. She’d only been living with me for two weeks at that point and had never seen me prepare for or unpack after a mission. If she was afraid of having weapons in the penthouse, we were going to have a big problem.

When I got back, I made a show of lining up my weapons on the table before sitting down to clean them. She sat with me at first, telling me about her week at the club and how she was getting settled into her new home. When I reached for my tactical trench knife, her eyes once again sought out the blade as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Shortly after, she excused herself and spent the next six hours reading in the living room.

My pet and I, we work because she always takes everything I have to give. She indulges my every whim then begs for more. What I realized then was that maybe she’d been keeping her own deepest desires quiet and I knew exactly how to find out what they were.

I bought her a Kindle for her birthday last year. I’m not sure if she knows this but since I pay for her account, I have a history of every book she’s bought or borrowed available in an instant.

It’s not surprising that a woman who enjoys submission and works as a stripper has a taste for kinky books. Frankly, the romantic aspect bothers me more than the abundance of raunchy sex. It’s the one thing I can never give her and part of me hates that at least a small part of her craves it.

Maybe that’s why I downloaded all the books she read while I was away as well as the one she binged immediately after my return. Maybe I felt the need to give her her fantasy to make up for the fact that there is one part of me that I will never be able to give her.

It’s entirely possible that the kinks she enjoys on paper have no appeal when it comes to real life and that that is the reason why she never mentioned them to me. It’s also possible that for some reason, she doesn't want to tell me about them. I try not to think about how much that bothers me.

This time, when I get back into town after my mission, I don’t warn her beforehand. I put away all of my gear as usual, shower, trim my beard and redress with my knife strapped to my hip.

I’ve been tracking her phone all evening waiting for her to turn onto our street. As soon as she does, I dial her number and wait for the line to connect.

She picks up after a few rings, “Hey, I just pulled into the garage so I might have to call you back after I get off the elevator.”

“That won’t be necessary, this will be quick. If it's too much, if I push too far, say ‘red’. Remember this, Kitten, when you say ‘red’, everything stops.”

“I don’t understand…”

She knows what the words mean, she just doesn't know why she is being reminded of them now. At the very beginning of our relationship, we established the basic safewords as a general precaution. Though I enjoy pushing limits and toeing the line, I pride myself on being able to read her and stop without her having to tell me. I've never misjudged a situation so much that she needed to use it.

“I’ll see you soon, Pet,” is all I say before hanging up the phone.

I wait for her out of sight of the front door. It takes about sixty seconds before I hear her key turning in the lock. I wait until she pushes the door closed and I hear the deadbolt flip to make my move. There isn't a single light on and she's at a momentary disadvantage while her eyes adjust. It gives me just enough time to silently move in behind her.

I wrap an arm around her front, pinning her back to my chest. My other hand covers her mouth, muffling her surprised gasp, but other than that she doesn’t make a sound. She struggles a bit but it’s more a question of testing my hold than trying to get free.

“Listen to me very carefully. You have indulged my desires time and time again but it has come to my attention that I have failed to give you the same.”

Her head jerks but I don’t let her move. I’m not sure if she’s shocked by what I just admitted or if she’s afraid of what I might know.

The top of her head only reaches about an inch above my shoulder. She’s strong for her size but absolutely no match for me.

“You may not have trusted me enough to tell me what you wanted, but I hope you will trust me to give it to you now.”

I lift my hand from her mouth, finding hers and guiding it to feel the sheath on my belt. Her breath hitches as she traces the shape with her fingertips, registering the meaning of my words.

“I’m going to count to three. On three, I want you to fight me as hard as you can. The knife doesn’t come out until you submit. I won’t risk hurting you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

At any point until now, she could have told me to go to hell. I’ve felt no tension in her body, only a few shivers of excitement, but the fact that I missed this desire in her for so long has me second guessing myself and I feel the need to be sure.

“Do you have a problem with anything I have said?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good. One.”

She stands taller, getting ready for what’s to come.

“Two.”

I let go of her, moving back two steps. There is a prolonged pause as she turns around and locks eyes with me for the first time since she returned. Her chest is heaving and she licks her lips as she looks me up and down.

“Three.”

She darts towards the living room as fast and as gracefully as a feline, showing me once again that her nickname is well earned. I cut her off as she rounds the couch and the little minx smirks as she leaps over the back of it like it’s nothing.

We both sprint down the hallway and I catch hold of her arm just as she ducks into the bedroom. That’s when the mood shifts from a chase to a fight. She pushes me and slams her fists on my chest but I pin her arms behind her back and lift her over my shoulder.

She fights harder than I expected and almost wiggles right out of my arms but I manage to toss her on the bed and slip a hand into her pants. She continues to struggle, bucking and kicking but she falters when my fingers breach her wet folds.

I keep her pinned under my weight as I work her stupidly tight jeans down her legs. I’m tempted to cut them off but her ass looks phenomenal in them and it would be a terrible waste.

While one hand returns to her weeping cunt, the other grabs hold of her hair, baring her neck to me. As soon as my lips land on the sensitive skin, she stops fighting and focuses on just feeling. I make my way south, nipping at the exposed swell of her breasts. Where I had qualms about slashing her pants, I have none about her top.

“Hold still.”

I pull my knife from its sheath, letting it catch the light coming in through the window before I move it to the hem of her shirt and begin to cut. Once the fabric is in shreds, I move on to her bra allowing the blade to come in contact with her skin for the first time. Her panties survive — for now — but only because I have other plans for her.

“Get on your knees and put your hands on the headboard.”

I move off the bed, freeing her, then I set the knife on the dresser as I strip off my suit. I didn’t tell her to keep her eyes forward but she doesn’t dare look back even when the bed shifts under my weight.

She doesn’t so much as flinch when the cool metal of the blade comes in contact with the burning skin of her thigh. In fact, she sighs like she’s been waiting a lifetime for this moment and is finally getting relief.

She’s been mine for a little over a year now. She always submits for me — though, admittedly, I sometimes I have to break the brat in her first — but seeing her now, calling it beautiful doesn’t fucking begin to describe how she looks.

She is completely lost to her arousal, her eyes closed and mouth agape where soft gasps are escaping but that’s not the part that has me going crazy. The level of trust she is displaying for me has a horrifying four-letter word running through my mind.

I can’t cross that line, I just can’t. But damn if she isn’t making me question everything I stand for at the moment.

She is perfectly still while I run the tip of the blade over her soft skin. I slip it under the band of her underwear, tearing them first on one side then on the other. Her hands tighten around the edge of the headboard as she fights her body’s involuntary responses to her arousal. Goosebumps form under my hand and when I scratch the blade sideways on her nipple, her entire body shivers.

I move closer, pulling gently with the hand splayed over her stomach until she leans her weight against me.

“Fucking beautiful,” I whisper against her neck, earning a small whine. “I bet you were relieved when I cut those panties away. That sweet pussy is so wet, they must have been uncomfortably drenched.” I sink two fingers deep within her tight walls, a satisfied rumble forming in my chest when she clenches around them. “So good, Kitten, you’re dripping for me.”

I watch over her shoulder as I continue to tease her hard, pebbled nipples with my blade. I maintain perfect control, scratching but never nicking her smooth skin. No longer needing to hold herself up alone, her body goes lax against me. Curious to see just how far I can go, I cup her chin, smearing some of her wetness over her lips which her tongue eagerly darts out to taste, then move the blade to her throat.

I’m on high alert, ready to react if she unintentionally moves into the sharp edge but still, she doesn’t budge. There is no tension, no signs of fear, only unconditional trust.

I’ve been ignoring my pulsing dick since she got home, and I had originally intended to get her off a few times before I fucked her, but it seems that my little kitten is not the only one who enjoys playing with knives. The building anticipation is driving me insane and I am now desperate to feel her around me.

The knife makes a loud thud as I let it fall to the floor, grasping her hip instead and grinding my hardness against her luscious ass. The hand on her chin slides to her throat, exercising controlled pressure.

“Are you feeling empty, Kitten? Is that tight little cunt begging to be used like my personal fuck toy?”

Her throat bobs under my palm. “Yes, Sir.”

“Because it is, isn’t it? Every inch of you is mine.” Body and soul, I add in my head.

“Yes, Sir.”

I guide her to lean forward, lining myself up and wasting no time before thrusting home. My forehead drops to her shoulder and we both groan. She is hugging my dick like a vice and her walls pulse around me but I push down my need to come to snap my hips with full-force.

“Oh fuck!”

I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling, neither physically nor emotionally. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I need something to ground me, something to prove to me that this is real so I wrap my arms around her front and hold her close as I pound into her relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, joined by my kitten’s cries of pleasure.

She lets go of the headboard, one hand snaking around the back of my neck and the other interlacing our fingers over her stomach. My thrusts aren’t as deep from this position, but the erotic sounds spilling from her lips let me know I’m hitting right where she needs me, over and over and it spurs me on.

“Don’t you dare come without my permission.”

I’m about two seconds away from exploding myself, but I just need this to last a little longer.

“I c— I can’t.”

“Yes you can, you’re my perfect little kitten and you can do anything I ask, you just choose not to. Don’t start being a brat now.” I punctuate my words by giving her pussy a sharp slap and immediately regret it when her walls flutter around me, nearly pulling me over the edge.

Just a little longer. My hands move over her body, desperate to memorize how every inch of her feels in my arms.

“Three,” I say when the pleasure fluttering in my stomach and rushing up my spine grows past the point of no return.

“Two.” My fingers find her clit and I pinch hard.

“One.”

Her face turns back and she locks her lips with mine. Her thighs quiver under my touch as our rapture takes over and I have to plant a hand on the wall to keep me from collapsing forward onto her.

My nape burns where her fingernails bite into my skin, holding me in place against her lips. The kiss is as feverish as the rest of our joining and I refuse to be the first to break it even if my body is threatening to give out and send us both crashing to the mattress.

It seems she has the same idea because she ushers me to sit with my back against the headboard and sits astride my hips. I don’t know how long we stay that way but when we eventually pull away, my lungs are burning from lack of breath.

“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

Her question catches me so off-guard that I have no idea how to respond. Truth be told, now that she’s said it, I know what she means. There’s this sense of finality in the air.

She must take my silence as an admission because she hurries off me. “It’s okay, I understand,” she whispers as she covers herself in a robe and exits the room, leaving me stunned and speechless.

I don’t want her to go or for this to be the end, but I can’t listen to my emotions, I have to listen to reason. Logic tells me that I’m getting too attached and that I should end this before things go south. I’ve left a trail of bodies behind me as I advanced my career but there are still plenty more who are alive and kicking and hellbent on vengeance. Those kinds of people would have absolutely no issue with hurting one more innocent person if it meant gaining power over me.

Every agent out there thinks they are different, that they are better than those who came before them and will be able to protect their families. That kind of thinking only leads to a rude awakening.

I push myself off the mattress, finding a pair of sweatpants to put on before collecting my knife from the floor and slipping it back into the sheath.

From the moment we met, I’ve had this undeniable feeling of possession over her. I mark her every chance I get and we've been seen together in public before. She would already be at risk if someone wanted to get to me through her. To the outside eye, anyone would think she’s my girlfriend even if I’ve never dared use that term before.

I don't know how to love someone. I've never loved anyone and had them love me back. I've been alone since as long as I can remember, never getting attached, never being with the same person more than a few stray nights. Except for her.

I'm definitely not one for marriage, settling down or having children. Well, maybe the marriage idea isn't all bad. I'd like her to wear a mark of ownership for every other man to see but the whole perfect wedding day? Who would even attend?

A choked sob catches my attention and I suddenly feel like even more of an asshole. I exit the room, stopping in the kitchen to grab a bottle of the chocolate milk she loves so much before following the sound to the back room. I told her this was her space to do with as she pleased but she hasn't decided what to make of it yet. For now, it's storage for all the boxes she has yet to unpack and the few pieces of furniture she didn't want to part with.

She's curled up on her loveseat and seems to have found a throw blanket in one of the boxes to keep warm. Tears stain her cheeks and I immediately fall back into my dominant role, sitting beside her on the couch and pulling her over my lap. She protests weakly but her arms are trapped in her blanket and keep her from putting up a real fight.

“Drink,” I order, pulling the soft, velvety fabric back to reveal her arm.

“What's the point? You don't need to play the dom anymore, just leave me to deal with my stupid little emotions alone.”

Well, at least my little brat is still somewhere in there.

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't need to.”

I sigh, setting the bottle on the floor and taking her hand in mine.

“Your question was unexpected, my hesitation has no meaning other than me giving it the consideration it deserved.”

“Well?” she asks, her tone practically daring me to answer.

I look down at her delicate hand in my much larger one. My thumb brushes nonsensical patterns over her knuckles and I linger over her ring finger.

“I can't give you normal. I can’t give you the safety of a house in the suburbs, two point five kids, a dog and a white picket fence.” I grind my teeth, considering how best to phrase what I want to say next. “If that is what you want, what would make you happy, then I will agree to let you go.”

She shifts on my lap, looking down when she feels the bulge in my pocket.

“How did you know I liked your knife?”

She ignores my question, which is fair since I ignored hers.

“I looked at your kindle.”

Her face flushes red and she shakes her blond curls out to hide her face. It’s strange to see her anything but her confident, assertive self.

“Which one did you—”

“Ones. Everything you read the last time I was out of town. And that saucy little number you read after I got back.”

“Then why would you think that what I want is to be normal? Weren’t all the guys in those books dangerous criminals who literally commit murder for the women they love?” She moves to straddle my lap cupping my face with both hands. “Would you do the same for me?”

This woman never ceases to amaze me. She’s phrased her question in a way that gives her the answers she wants without me having to say the words.

I stroke a hand along her cheek, tangling my fingers in her hair and tugging her forward into a kiss. “I would,” I say honestly, making a smile return to her face.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and reaches for the knife, turning it over in her hands. “I love you too,” she whispers, pushing the blanket and the robe off her shoulders and exposing herself to me. “And I want you to mark me.”

“I won’t scar you,” I state, lowering the knife. “The healing is too unpredictable,” I add when she gives me a disappointed look. I should know, I’ve had enough wounds stitched shut in a perfectly straight line only for them to heal oddly because of how the skin twists and shifts in everyday life.

I lean forward, tracing her clavicle with open-mouthed kisses. “We’ll commission a design, something befitting of your beauty, and I will mark you myself once the time is right.”

I don’t have a single ounce of artistic ability in my body — I’m better at destroying beauty than I am at creating it. But it will be a cold day in hell when I let another man mark her on my behalf so I guess I will have to learn how to use a tattoo machine.

“I know who you are, August. I know the dangers.” She leans her forehead against mine. “You once told me that being with me wasn’t settling. Now it’s my turn to tell you the same.”

#august walker #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #august walker fic #august walker x ofc #dom!august walker #henry cavill

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dead-loch · 8 months

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just woke up to the realisation of why I have never felt comfortable in a fandom.

people within fandom communities continue to assume that they’re the only ones truly invested in a piece of media and that everyone else is on a lesser level. I can read all the discourse and watch all the media all day but if I’m not participating in the discussion every single day with these main people, I obviously have no idea what I’m talking about on the couple times I do participate in a discussion. Nevermind that I’ve been watching and reading everything that comes thru my dash and just choosing not to participate because, again, I HAVE NEVER FELT COMFORTABLE IN FANDOM. And these last few months have just reinforced that.

Secondly, people will literally defend a piece of media to the point of actively harming other people. I’m talking, in part, of that post where OP repeatedly said “if you think [thing that was literally never mentioned] then I can’t help you.” Literally putting words into the commenters mouth that were never said and no one said shit. But I’m also talking about the fucking in-fighting about characters. Because, and this is speaking currently of the OFMD fandom but applies to others, I have absolutely seen “both sides” deliberately go out of their way to upset and offend each other. Both sides (Izzy vs the world) bitch and whine about the other side doing the exact same fking things but no one wants to acknowledge that.

Honestly at this point I’m convinced that the only reason people enjoy these communities is because they’re able to ignore the instances of their fellow community members being complete assholes, either to each other or others. I have seen so many posts go by my dash with tons of notes that are clearly deliberately trying to upset certain people, it’s so clear, and no one says a word because they generally agree with whatever the take is. Or the persons their mutual or is very active in the fandom or whatever.

Literally no matter where in fandom I am (the peripheral typically), I can’t help but feeling like it’s all just another big clique for people to feel important and powerful and shit on anyone on the outside.

#fandom #ofmd #unfortunately I find it very difficult to ignore assholes #the first fandom I was in as a teenager was exactly like this too #like is it any wonder I have trouble relating and feel alienated as hell

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wienzard93 · 2 years

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misguided admiration

another genshin character rambling; kamisato ayaka

i just realized why i have my reservation for ayaka. she reminded me so much of a friend i had back in my college days. there’s this post i made way back about “self reflection” and my experience.

first and foremost i’ve never been the ‘savior’ kind of person. i’m not an extrovert. i’m self-proclaimed the most introvert out there to a point of chronic hermit. but when i’m placed in a group settings (especially those with small groups) i become very social. my switch is just kind of flipped on to mold into the situation and condition needed me to be. this isn’t me being ppl pleaser. far from it. this is me trying to socialize and try to ‘human’ and to fit in with society.

while i’m very aware and familiar of human behaviors and their patterns, i’m not actually able to feel sympathy towards most ppl i talked to. i empathize with them. it’s very different. for me when i listened to someone i tried to put myself in their situation and condition, understanding how they feel and course of action. but in my brain, i know i’m not them. when said person look to me for advice, i always can do it bcs i automatically compared that simulation of their experience to my memory and past experiences. i’ve always been aware the divide between me and others and that i’ll never completely understand other people. bcs their life is theirs, so is mine. we have different way of thinking, therefore there will never be a 100% understanding, at most maybe 80%-90%.

when i tried to understand someone i spend my time with them. i do this especially for my friends in equal manner. i always tried to split my time for what small circle i have and have quality times. most usually have no problem with my intense need of that quality times while others reacted in two ways. either they turned off and gradually moving away, or they ended up having a crush on me.

what happened between ayaka and traveler happened to me two or three times in my 4 years of undergraduate alone. one of them almost escaped my attention until my bestfriend told me about that one guy who had a crush on me. i don’t even want to think about when i was younger, maybe there are others that i didn’t know.

people like ayaka never knew what companionship is. it’s more than just spending times together and having your thoughts and words heard. they’re akin to a person who is dying of thirst in a desert. that ‘water’ is affection. affection isn’t always romantic, it can be platonic too. the way i spent my time is how i show my affection to my friends and family. unfortunately some ppl who never had a friend or received a healthy amount of attention given to them, me spending time with them means i gave them ‘special’ attention and in reaction to that the person began to develop feelings overtime.

it’s always the shy smiles, the eagerness to have more time together..

i had to reject someone’s heart multiple times, with different people, because of this misguided admiration. on one hand i can’t and couldn’t blame them for thinking the way they did. they never knew what and how genuine friendship works. on the other hand i felt bad for them. it always sent me into this spiral of ‘what did i do?’ ‘what did i say?’ ‘was it ok for me to do that?’ from time to time.

also, i hate seeing someone’s crying or sad or heartbroken because of me.

i guess in a way ayaka reminded me of that one girl i rejected in my college days. i feel the need to stay away from her to avoid the growing sentiments from ayaka. it was unbidden for me. especially after how ayaka’s character story ended. the other reason for me not liking her is bcs she IS kind of mary sue. she has the illusion of being the perfect noble lady; rich, smart, beautiful, strong and she IS meta in-game. a lot of ppl use her bcs how OP she is. adding to that i found myself hating the metaslaves part of the fandom. they’re rude, some are so full of themselves and thinks the world revolved around them.

there are layers to my feelings for ayaka’s characterization. as much as i try to redeem her in my brain, i simply cannot bring myself to like her. i just can’t.

#text post #i call it misguided admiration #but honestly?#i don't even know if that's correct #it's a misplaced feelings at the very least

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woobly · 2 years

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ANOTHER CHAPTER . . . 황인탁 !

PAIRING. non idol! intak x gn reader GENRE. fluff, high school au, established relationship au WARNINGS. use of petnames (love) WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

𓂋˚˖ A/N. wrote this a few hours before and after my own graduation lmao i found out intak also graduated a few months ago so i just had to do this one

“I NOW DECLARE YOU, GRADUATES!”

You grabbed the tassel hanging loosely right beside your face and moved it to the left side of your cap. The entire hall was then filled with roaring applause, an acknowledgement of all the hard work you've put into the past few years of high school.

You looked to your right, and within the small space between two other graduating students, you saw that your parents were already smiling and waving towards you. A taller figure standing beside them moved a little closer to them so that they were also in your line of sight.

Your boyfriend Intak had finally arrived to see you graduate, and you were more than ecstatic to see his proud smile.

Once the ceremony ended and all the students and guests had exited the venue, it was time for the photo ops.

On one side, a group of hired photographers were taking the mandatory family pictures at a booth that had previously been set up. Others were either taking pictures with the DSLR cameras their fathers brought with them or with their own cellphones. Those walking around were probably frantically looking for their friends to take pictures with.

After you had your pictures taken with your parents, you asked them to wait for you in their car so that they wouldn't tire themselves out waiting. You then made sure you took photos of you and your friends, holding on to your resolve of not leaving until your camera roll was full of people who got you through the past years of a hell ride and the people you also love. Of course, that included Intak, who also happily volunteered to be your photographer for the day.

All goodbyes and photos said and done, only a couple of people were left in the lobby; you and Intak included.

“Sooo, how does being an alumni feel?” He teased as you both take a seat on the bench just outside the school gates where he used to wait for you.

You sighed in response, relishing in the post-graduation rush. “Honestly, I refuse to believe this is all real. It all feels too .. sudden. Like two weeks ago, I was cramming for exams with everyone else, and now you’re saying I won’t be able to see them again in uniform tomorrow? I know I’ll still see them when we hang out, but things will just be a little different, you know?” Again, you sigh, but this time in slight frustration. You then looked up into his eyes that were apparently already looking at you the entire time. You took one of his hands before you continue. “But really, I’m just glad you’re here. You’re kinda like a reminder that things don’t really have to change,”

“Of course, I’d be here. I wouldn’t miss it for the world—not when I’ve seen how much work you’ve put into that shiny medal of yours,” He noted, pointing towards the somewhat-heavy object hanging around your neck.

“And yet, I missed your graduation,” You pouted, and Intak had to physically stop himself from pinching your cheeks and kissing you right then and there.

“But I didn’t even get to attend it myself, so you really didn’t miss anything,” With the hand that you had been holding, he started rubbing the back of yours gently.

“Still. I think it’s an essential high school experience,”

“If you’re that upset about me missing my own grad, then that’s all I really need,” He giggled, and that familiar warm smile appeared once again. You had seen it a gazillion times before, but it never failed to make you feel all fuzzy and cozy inside.

Then, an idea suddenly crossed your mind, and you didn’t hesitate to jump on it. With your hands still joined, you quickly pulled him back inside the hall, and pushed him to stand right in front of the stairs leading to the stage, but not before checking if the place was empty. You placed your diploma in his hands, your medal around his neck, and your cap on his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching you graduate!”

You jogged towards the front of the stage as you fished your phone from your purse and started recording. You lightly giggled as you noticed your boyfriend’s confusion even through the screen.

“Hwang Intak! Honor Awardee!”

“But I’m not an honor student,”

“Well you are now!”

Intak chuckled and decided to play along with you. He walked up the stairs and to the center of the stage with grace. However, instead of bowing normally like how the others did earlier, he exaggeratedly bowed like a prince, raising his hand up and placing it on his stomach as he leaned forward and moved his foot backwards.

You giggled at his antics and watched as he left the stage and walked towards you with a slight skip in his step, feeling pride and elation swell across your chest.

“Thank you, love. You really didn't have to do that,” He took your free hand and interlocked his fingers in yours. You sigh as you slowly left the ceremony hall.

“It’s not the same, but–”

“Y/N. You’ve done more than enough,”

“No, but you still deserved the opportunity to go up there and be recognized. It’s just a shame I’m the only person here to witness it,”

“It doesn’t matter if the whole world doesn’t recognize my efforts; as long as you do.”

You lightly punched his arm to cover up your flushed face before you took his hand once again and slowly made your way towards the double doors.

“Congrats, Mr. Hwang!” You both turned in the direction of the voice in shock; you could've sworn everyone had already left. “You too, Y/N. Good luck with college and…”

One of your favorite teachers who was a fresh college graduate and a new teacher at your school pointed teasingly at your intertwined hands. You had told her about Intak a few times after she teased you frequently about how “glowing” you always looked; she was definitely rooting for the both of you in a not-so-subtle way.

“Ah, thank you Ms. Lim! We’ll do our best.” After saying your goodbyes, you pulled Intak towards the door with a slouched back as if you were still trying to hide. He could only let you drag him along as he chuckled at your behavior and how things had turned out.

Graduating from high school only comes once in a lifetime. This definitely wasn’t how he imagined his own graduation would go, but he’s more than content with closing this chapter in your lives and moving on to the next with no one else but you.

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero.

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping.

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again.

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed.

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for.

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch.

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too.

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick.

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it.

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!”

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist.

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay.

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again.

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you.

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you.

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: water sports

2K notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth & reader #batman fic #batman universe #dc #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne angst #batman angst

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aspoonofsugar · 3 years

Text

Ironwood and Cinder: The Final Word

Cinder: And that’s… checkmate.

The Final Word of the volume is Cinder’s and it is meaningful she says it to Ironwood.

As a matter of fact Ironwood and Cinder are two sides of the same coin on many levels. This is conveyed also structurally.

Volume 7 is mostly about Ironwood’s tragic spiral. We are shown him struggle with his flaw throughout the whole volume, but in the end he loses to it and becomes just as dangerous as Salem:

Oscar: Then you're as dangerous as she is, James.

Not only does volume 8 close with Cinder instead, but it also opens with her:

And it even gives us her backstory:

Why does it happen? And why is Cinder’s final line so important when it comes to her foiling with Ironwood?

GRAVITY

It is not by chance that Watts calls both Ironwood and Cinder out before the climax of respectively volume 7 (Ironwood) and volume 8 (Cinder). This is because, as stated above, volume 7 is Ironwood’s volume, while volume 8 is Cinder’s. So they both are confronted with a truth about themselves and their reaction to it influences their stories in the Atlas arc.

In a sense, even if Watts is the one dangerously hanging over an abyss... it is actually Ironwood and Cinder who are on the brink. They are deciding Watts’s survival, but they are also deciding their own destiny.

They are choosing if to fall because of gravity or if to fly in the sky victorious.

At the same time, the two scenes with Watts show how Cinder and Ironwood are both similar and opposites.

AS ABOVE, SO BELOW

Ironwood and Cinder are nothing, but two products of Atlas’s society.

Ironwood was born at the very top:

Watts: You just stood atop it and called yourself a giant!

Cinder existed at the very bottom:

Watts: You think you're entitled to everything just because you've suffered, but suffering isn't enough! You can't just be strong, you have to be smart! You can't just be deserving, you have to be worthy! But all you have ever been, is a BLOODY MIGRAINE!

Watts is in the middle and he represents the worst traits of both.

He wants everything, just like Cinder:

Ironwood: I gave you everything you could have wanted!

But differently from Cinder it was no true he had nothing. He was successful, had food, clothes and respect. Still, he was never satisfied and ended up disgracing himself in the search of something more.

He also disregards feelings in favor of rationality, just like Ironwood:

Watts: Our tin soldier’s heart has cost him his mind.

And he sees people under him as inherently inferior:

Watts: Yes, yes, please keep your posse in check.

This is why his death is fitting:

Cinder: I merely added more flames to the fires of Atlas.

He burns with Atlas aka the city he wants to destroy, but also a symbol of who he is deep down.

What is more, his death happens specifically because he blindly follows his wishes:

Watts: Oh, believe me, this is everything I've ever wanted.

And because he is outsmarted and manipulated by Cinder:

Cinder: You deserve this, Arthur. We'll be back.

He is proud of his genius and rationality, but in the end he dies because of his feelings of pettiness.

In short, Watts, Cinder and Ironwood represent three social classes of Atlas and how the system corrupts people at every level. In general, all three want to be at the very top, but disreguard and mistreat the ones below.

-This is why Ironwood seeks control even in situations where he is not in charge, like the Vytal Festival. He also challenges Ozpin’s authority and leadership because he is not used not to be the one deciding. At the same time, he is shown ready to discard Mantle in multiple occasions.

-This is why Watts can call out Ironwood’s arrogance without seeing he is exactly the same as him.

-Finally, this is why Cinder lashes out at people she sees as Atlas elites (the Schnees, Ironwood, Watts), but treats those below her just like she was treated:

Emerald: We don't need him! Everything was going fine! (a slap is heard, and she cries out in pain)

Cinder: Do not mistake your place.

Mercury: Oh yeah? Tell that to--

Cinder: Quiet.

THE ENEMIES OF TRUST

Both Ironwood and Cinder’s left arms are artificial. Ironwood’s is mechanical, while Cinder’s is Grimm.

Their respective arms convey opposite approaches to things.

On a more general level, they are respectively linked to Creation (Ironwood’s mechanical arm) and to Destruction (Cinder’s Grimm arm). As a matter of fact a robotic arm is a human creation, while Grimms are nothing, but the symbol of destruction.

On a personal level, their arms hint at the two characters’ opposite personalities.

Ironwood’s arm can’t feel pain.

Cinder’s is instead linked to pain and feelings in different ways:

Raven: Aura can't protect your arm, it's Grimm.

Salem: You chose to disobey my specific instructions just to fail again.

Cinder: She’s back…

Cinder feels great pain whenever her Shadow Hand is cut because she can’t protect it with aura. At the same time, it is used by Salem to torture her. Finally, it links her to Salem to the point that she knows when her Master is back.

In other words, Cinder’s arm lets her feel more, while Ironwood’s lets him feel less.

This difference is mirrored by both the ways Ironwood and Cinder respectively attack Watts and by their semblances:

Ironwood’s Mettle lets Ironwood suppress his own feelings, so that he can pursue any objective, no matter how cruel or immoral it is. It makes him “superhuman”, but in a very negative sense.

Cinder’s Scorching Caress represents Cinder’s explosive emotions. It is a form of self-expression, which is both destructive and self-destructive.

Ironwood’s semblance is about repression, while Cinder’s is about lashing out.

Similarly, Ironwood goes after Watts at the cost of his arm and he ignores the pain he feels:

Watts: I wouldn't do that if I were you. I mean, unless you're hoping to add more metal to that body of yours.

Cinder instead goes after Watts to vent her anger:

Cinder: What do you mean, she'll destroy herself? How am I supposed to take her power if she's dead?!

Both are extremes and both are wrong, as Winter explains:

Winter: But yes Penny, we must still acknowledge our personal feelings, wrestle with them. It ensures us that we’re on the right path. It’s what makes us human.

Ironwood and Cinder should aknowledge their own feelings not to be consumed by them. It is also the only way for them to truly be humans, not machines or monsters, but simply people.

Both characters almost succeed just before the climax of their respective volumes.

Ironwood tries to open up to others:

And Cinder shows vulnerability:

However, none of them is able to capitalize on this chance for development. This is ironically because of each other:

Cinder messes with Ironwood’s insecurities, while Ironwood’s ultimatum gives Cinder the perfect chance to ignore hers.

The result is that Ironwood goes back to control, while Cinder goes back to manipulation. Both do so because they are unable to trust.

Interestingly, they take after their respective mentors in this.

Ironwood takes after Ozpin:

Ironwood: Did you really think you were the only one who got to work on a new plan after Beacon? WIth Ozpin gone, I needed my own team of people I could trust.

Oscar: General? Earlier, you asked for my advice.

Ironwood: I wanted Ozpin's advice.

Oscar: And his advice probably would've been to keep your secrets.

Cinder takes after Salem:

Salem: When I chose you as my vessel for the Maidens, I put my trust in you. So, I trust that you wouldn’t possibly return to me empty-handed.

Ironwood’s whole struggle in volume 7 is his search for a “new approach”. He wants to be like Ozpin, but better. This is why he founds his own group, but wants to trust the world with the truth about Salem. However, he confuses trust with control.

Cinder instead wants to become just like Salem and suffers when she sees she is not. This is why she collects assets, just like her master. This is also why she does not trust anyone, but manipulates others.

That said, what is the difference between Ironwood’s control and Cinder’s manipulation? It has once again to do with feelings.

Ironwood’s attempt to manipulate others is about suppressing feelings. He uses Atlas’s military hierarchy and social structures to ask for his subordinates’ blind loyalty.

Cinder’s method to control people lies instead in making use of others’ feelings. She uses both wishes and fears to her advantage.

In short, control and manipulation are nothing, but the same inability to trust declined in opposite ways. They are both “enemies of trust”.

This is why both Ironwood and Cinder find a strong enemy and a foil in the character, who embodies friendship in these volumes:

Deep down, Ironwood and Cinder not trusting others is because they fear betrayal:

Cinder: I won’t have to run now.

Rhodes: That’s all you’ll ever do.

Ironwood: I've chased a lot of shadows over the years, always expecting betrayal. But never once did I think it would ever come from you.

However, Penny too is betrayed and mistreated by others:

Penny: I do not like it when friends fight.

Ruby: I know. Yang and I may not agree on how best to save Mantle but-

Penny: No. I mean Winter. The general. They were our friends. But then the Ace Ops attacked you. And the general, he said people were going to die, because of me.

However, she does not give up on the ideal of a genuine bond:

Attached but not By strings

Still, if Penny is a positive foil to both Ironwood and Cinder, why does she die?

RISK

Weiss: Trust is a risk.

Yang: Ruby, they’re not called sure things, they’re called risks.

These two lines taken together are why at the end of volume 8 Penny dies, our heroes fall and the manipulative Cinder wins.

It happens to show the main theme of the two Atlas volumes. Trust is not a “sure thing”. It is a risk and it does not always work. Still, it is necessary to trust as it is necessary to take risks:

Yang: You were being optimistic. Look, blind optimism isn’t great, but no optimism means we already lost. We need hope. We need to take risks.

Giving up on trust and risks means giving up on hope. It means to give in to fear.

Still, this does not mean your trust will always be paid back. And it does not mean that the risks you take will always work, even if you come up with a wonderful plan:

Cinder: I knew your plan would be bold, but I never could have predicted all of this...

Sometimes people will betray you:

Sometimes your risk will end up in a fall:

However, it is still worth to trust, even when you have no guarantee it will work:

And sometimes It is even worth to risk the fall because it may lead to people being saved:

This same idea is conveyed also through Penny’s final choice:

Penny: Trust me.

Winter: Thank you for trusting me with this.

Penny dies tragically, but she still manages to pass the Maiden’s power to a person she trusts.

This is especially meaningful because the Winter Maiden power, just like Penny herself, has been subjected to both control and manipulation.

Ironwood does all he can to make sure the power ends up to Winter. At the same time, he is the one most responsible for Penny feeling as nothing, but a robot:

Ironwood: As the official report stated, that footage was doctored. Penny is completely under my control.

Cinder tries to steal the power three times. She also manipulates Penny’s feelings towards her friends:

Cinder: I was hoping your friends would be here. But it looks like they left you to do all the work. You’re just a tool to be used!

In the end, Ironwood treating Penny as a machine (control) and Cinder using Penny’s love for her friends against her (manipulation) are among the psychological factors that lead Penny to be mortally wounded by Cinder.

Still, while dying Penny negates both Ironwood and Cinder and frees the power and herself from both control and manipulation.

The fact she chooses Winter works well to illustrate this.

Winter is the person Ironwood wants as the next Maiden. However, Winter becomes a Maiden not because of Ironwood’s control, but because of Penny’s trust:

Ironwood: So… the destiny I chose for you has arrived.

Winter: You chose nothing. This...was a gift.

Winter is a Schnee, so she represents both what Cinder hates and what she herself wants to be:

Cinder to Winter: You Atlas elites are all the same! You think hoarding power means you’ll have it forever, but it just makes the rest of us hungrier.

Winter is a symbol of Atlas and so she is a reminder to Cinder that Atlas is not really destroyed:

Robyn: What do you think a kingdom is? The people, or just the chunk of land they live on?

Just like Cinder’s past isn’t.

WORTHY

Cinder wants to be worthy. Ironwood wants to be a hero.

Deep down, Ironwood and Cinder want the same thing. They want to be above others. They want to be more than humans.

However, they go at it in opposite ways:

Ironwood: I have sacrificed everything!

Cinder: I want it all...

Ironwood thinks that victory lies in sacrificing everything, while Cinder sees it as taking it all.

These opposite viewpoints mirror their respective social stances.

Ironwood can say he wants to sacrifice everything because he has everything.

Cinder thinks happiness lies in everything because she has nothing:

Cinder: You’re right. Without you I am nothing. But because of you, I am everything.

In the end, Ironwood and Cinder are each other’s true enemies, but they fail to see it and lash out against the wrong people:

Ironwood and Cinder’s respective fight against Winter and Weiss is exactly this.

Ironwood fights a Maiden he sees as an enemy of Atlas, while another Maiden is attacking the people he swore to protect.

Cinder lashes out at Weiss because of her origins, while Weiss has decided to leave her status and money behind to make the right thing.

Still, Ironwood and Cinder are too hypocritical to see the truth. This is why they attack people, who could have helped them, if they were given the chance.

This is also why they receive a warning:

Winter: No, you have sacrificed everyone else!

Winter: You… are going to pay… for everything you’ve done!

Ironwood claims he is ready to sacrifice everything. However, he never sacrifices himself:

In the end, he is unable to sacrifice his life to fight Salem.

Let’s highlight he has nothing to lose by this point. He is falling with Atlas anyway. In his final moments, he is given the chance to prove true to his words:

I would die Without regret, I’d offer up my life With zero reservations I would fly Into the sun If that would keep our dream alive

Instead, he gives up. He has been shooting his allies until the very end, but freezes in front of his enemy.

Cinder thinks she is closer to her final victory, but in the end she has accomplished nothing of what she truly wants.

She wants to kill RWBY, but they are alive. She wants the Maiden powers, but she fails.

At the same time, Cinder is still far away from what she truly needs:

Cinder: You have everything you need?

Watts: Oh, believe me, this is everything I've ever wanted.

She is given a perfect mirror of herself in Watts. Still, instead of seeing it, Cinder uses his flaw, which is her same flaw, to kill him. Watts’ wants lead to his death and the same thing might happen to Cinder if she does not stop herself in time.

Finally, there is this:

Salem: This game is not yours to win, Cinder, it’s mine. Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn, does not make you a player. Everything is already in motion. All you need concern yourself with is your ability to act when I tell you to.

Ironwood and Cinder share a chess motif.

Ironwood thinks of himself as a player and specifically as Salem’s opponent.

Cinder is instead told she is no player.

However, in the end, Ironwood becomes a mere pawn to the point that all Watts has to do is to open his cell to be sure he is going to unwillingly aid in Cinder’s plan.

What is more, he is so fixated on Salem that he fails to aknowledge the people below him. This is why his true opponent is a slave that Atlas exploited.

Cinder frames herself as a player instead. She is the one who truly makes the first move against Ironwood and ultimately she is the one who defeats both him and our protagonists. Finally, she is the one who calls checkmate.

Still, is she really playing her own game?

In the end, the one who gets what she wants is not Cinder, but Salem:

And all she has to do to obtain it is one small move:

Salem: And I’ve realized, it’s all my fault. You’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want and here I am holding you back instead of lifting you up.

While Cinder is once again letting her talent be exploited by those above her. She is choosing to be Salem’s Queen instead than a player of her own life.

She is the Black Queen defeating the White King, but nothing more.

#rwby #rwby meta #rwby vol8 #rwby vol7 #cinder fall #james ironwood #my meta

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carnationcreation · 3 years

Note

Hi!! could you do a hunter bradley one where he is very nice and sweet to the reader who is also a ranger and whenever it’s revealed he’s one of the thunder rangers it takes her forever to forgive him when he comes back but he keeps trying to get her to forgive him and she eventually does?

thank you!

Make Up (Hunter Bradley x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in!

Request: (tumblr anon) Hi!! could you do a hunter bradley one where he is very nice and sweet to the reader who is also a ranger and whenever it’s revealed he’s one of the thunder rangers it takes her forever to forgive him when he comes back but he keeps trying to get her to forgive him and she eventually does? Thank you!

Prompt/summary: Hunter tries to make things right with the girl he hurt

Word Count: 1,012

A/N: I'm so sorry this is pretty short, schools been kinda crazy! But I hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment, I wanted to believe I was hallucinating.

I wanted to believe that the two thunder rangers weren’t in front of me, and that one of them wasn’t the same guy that had brought me a flower last week to my workplace. The same guy who I was supposed to go on a date with.

The same guy who had stolen my sensei.

Even after we got sensei back, even after Hunter and Blake both promised that they would fight with us instead of against us, the pain of the betrayal still stung.

It was hard to handle. Every time I would see him I would get myself out of the situation as fast as I could to avoid looking him in the eye. But he was starting to get harder to avoid.

Thinking back on every single day we spent together, every single compliment and smile he threw my way stung.

I really thought he liked me, and that he wasn't just using me to get close to the rangers.

Hayley had hired the brothers to work at the shop. The same shop I worked at and spent most of my free time at. The thought of spending most of my shift in the same building as him made me sick to my stomach, but I knew I needed to stomach it for today.

Hayley asked me to manage the newest shipment of helmets and make sure everything was properly stocked for the week. I sighed as I opened the door to the shop, walking over to the radio to let music fill the empty store.

A tap on my shoulder made me jump, lifting my hand up to slap the hand away.

“Ow!”

I glared, “What are you doing here Hunter?”

“I… was scheduled to work today. Hayley said something about unloading a shipment-”

“I’m doing that today,” I huffed, “Don’t you have repairs to work on or something?”

Hunter rolled his eyes, “No… and we really have to make up if we’re going to be on the same team-”

I felt my eyes prick with tears, I didn’t even let him finish as I spun on my heel to head to the stockroom. The feeling of my chest tightening made me feel panicked. Panicked over the fact he had that much of an effect on me.

“(Y/n), we really need to talk about this.”

I huffed, “What is there to talk about? That you lied to me and you’re hiding a bunch of secrets from the person you wanted to date-”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Well you did,” I bit back.

“Can you please forgive me?” Hunter reached out and took my hand gently.

I pulled my hand back to my side, “Maybe, but right now it still hurts.”

Hunter didn’t say anything else as we silently unloaded and stocked the shipment.

______

The next few days I avoided him. Training felt so suffocating. I stayed focused on the exercise and when I was done I left as soon as I could. Luckily no attacks had happened for almost two days so the Rangers and I were able to rest for our next battle. Everyone seemed to notice me drifting farther and farther away from the people I used to call my family, my best friends.

“(Y/n), you should really hear him out.”

I huffed, throwing another punch at her she blocked effortlessly, “I did. And he never truly apologized.”

“Did he really get the chance to? You’ve been avoiding him all week.” She said.

She had a point, I sighed and dropped my fighting stance to put my hands on my hips.

Tori dug into her pocket, pulling out a note she put into my hand, “He asked me to give this to you. Just at least go hear him out. He hasn’t been the same since you started ignoring him.”

I looked down at the small piece of paper in my hand as Tori left me alone in Ninja Ops.

Meet me at our spot at 6:30, please I need to tell you something -H

I knew exactly where he meant. Our spot near the ocean.

It couldn’t hurt, maybe he had something he wanted to say after all.

~~~

The rock was a special spot for the both of us. Before, we had sat here listening to the sound of the water crashing onto the shore, talking until the sun dipped below the horizon. I hadn’t been here since he had revealed himself as the crimson ranger.

I checked my watch.

6:43

I glanced around. Hoping to see any sign of the blond before I decided to call it a night and head home. Where was he? He was the one that wanted to talk to me.

Finally after a few minutes I decided to walk back to my car, I slipped down off the boulder before heading back up the bank.

“(Y/n)!”

Finally.

Hunter caught up to me on the beach, his jersey was torn and covered in dirt and sand. In his hand was a beat up bouquet of flowers he held out to me with a nervous smile, “These… were supposed to be for you. I kinda crashed on the way here. That’s why I was late and why these look so terrible-”

I smiled gently and took the bundle of pink roses, “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

“I’m really sorry. For everything.”

“I know,” I nodded, “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

Hunter put his hands in his pockets nervously, “I understand why, I know I really hurt you.”

I looked up at him, seeing his eyes full of sincerity.

“If you would let me, I wanna make it up to you. Can we start over?”

I smiled, taking his hand gently, “I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @hemmingsness @bookfrog242 @smol-book-nerd @thewifeofhades @igotissuesmister @carnations-red @disgustedchild @23victoria @american-sataness

#power rangers #power rangers imagine #power rangers ninja storm #power rangers ninja storm imagine #hunter bradley #Hunter Bradley imagine #Hunter Bradley x reader

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

male chivalry

warnings: okay so there is a trigger warning of sexual harassment and attempted sexual assault, language, men being gross, protective!bucky, angst a bit, i think that’s it, if you see anything else let me know

word count: 3230 :)

a/n: idk why it took me so long to finish this, but it’s here now!!! also this is based off this post from @teaboot (just the op bc the rest of it pissed me off :)) i hope y’all like it. i hope it’s what y’all expected idk, i’m proud of it.

i really hope i did the topics justice, if you don’t think i did, please shoot me a message and help me figure out how to do better. <3

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open! also this is not beta read, so all mistakes are my own.

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

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

It had been about three weeks since Bucky had first met the group of four at the protest. Bucky made sure to check in with Steve and let him know what he was doing. Steve was always worrying about Bucky, which was totally understandable because of everything they had been through.

Bucky’s day was a relaxed one with little to no time to dawdle. Over these three weeks, he had learned more from an eighteen year old than he ever thought he would. It was easier to open up to her, for some reason. Bucky hadn’t fully figured that out yet either, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Bucky had been going to his court mandated therapy with Dr. Raynor, to say they were making progress would be a lie. Honestly, Bucky was making more progress with the new individuals in his life. They knew what he did as the Winter Soldier-- no they know what the Winter Soldier did, Cassie made sure the distinction between the two was crystal clear. Bucky was still a bit cautious around them, not wanting to hurt them or be a burden to them.

It amazed Bucky how open they were with each other. Back in the 40’s, you didn’t express your feelings. Especially if you were a man, for fear of being labeled something unsavory. Even stranger still to Bucky was the encouragement and support that everyone gave to those in hard times. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see Penny comforting Freddie after his recent break up.

“Freddie and Ted had been together a little over six months,” Cassie explained to Bucky one night after the group had dispersed from the dining table. Bucky and Cassie were standing over the sink washing the dinner plates and cutlery. “Freddie was so in love with him. I thought Ted felt the same, but I guess that’s just how it goes, right?”

Bucky shrugged, this was one of his first experiences with modern romance. Dating in the 40’s was very rigid, which was to be expected, but nowadays everything is very fluid. It truly fascinated Bucky.

“I honestly don’t know.” Bucky shrugged as he dried the pristine plates. Just as he began to get lost in thought, Evie pulled him into a subject that he hadn’t thought of in a real long time.

“What was it like with women in the forties, Buck?” Bucky blinked at her and considered his answer carefully. The group had been teaching him how to handle some subjects sensitively.

“To be honest? The last date that I went on was to the World Expo of Tomorrow in 1943, the night before I shipped out to England.” He turned, leaning his weight on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I went with Steve, this was before he was Captain America, so when he was a little ol’ gangly thing. I had hooked us up with two women, one for me and one for Stevie, their names were Dot and Connie, I think.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, Buck. What was it like with women?”

Bucky tilted his head in question.“What do you mean?”

“What was it like with them? Like, how were they treated as a whole?”

“Oh, uh I think they were treated well? My Ma always told Steve and I to treat women with respect, so we did.”

“Right, but what about everyone else? How did they treat women?” Bucky was confused by the question and he began to think that he was giving the wrong answers.

“Um, I guess I don’t know. I guess they were treated how they are today?” Both of the girls in front of him released disdained scoffs.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, right Cas?” Cassie nodded at Evie and dropped her head in disappointment.

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked. He was genuinely curious about what the girls were referring to. “I mean, I get that the treatment of women hasn’t always been good but it’s not that bad right?” The girls shared a knowing look, and then Evie sighed. She hauled herself out of her chair and nodded to Bucky.

“Alright, let’s go take a walk, just you and me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a couple blocks away to the Walgreens. Sound okay?” Bucky agreed, grabbing his jacket and waiting for Evie by the doorway. “We’ll be back soon, Cas.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea, Evelyn?” Bucky had only ever heard Cassie use Evie’s full name when she was getting in trouble.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine, Cas, I swear.” Evie glanced at Bucky, “Besides, I’ve got a Sargent escorting me, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile to her older sister whose face was just a veil of worry and doubt.

Bucky and Evie exited the apartment building and neither of them had said anything since. Bucky was wondering what this whole exercise was all about, but he wasn’t going to say anything until Evie did. The pair walked up onto a crosswalk, causing them to stop and wait so Evie was able to turn the man beside her.

“So, before we go any further, I just want to set the scene for you.” She took a calming breath and it was now that Bucky realized that this was the first time that she was noticeably scared. His brows furrowed and he nodded as she continued. “It’s ten o’clock on a Wednesday night and you’re in Brooklyn, walking to your local Walgreens because you need tampons.” Bucky huffed out a small laugh as Evie playfully glared at the man.

“Yeah, yeah. The female menstrual cycle is hilarious as is the pink tax that is put on feminine hygiene products. Laugh it up, James.” She shook her head and pulled Bucky closer to the front of a building. “I’m trying to tell you something, ya asshole. So, you see that it’s dark outside because it’s late but you decide to risk it anyway because you have a flight to catch at four the next morning. You leave your apartment and you are greeted with this.” She gestured to the expanse in front of her.

“Alright, let’s go. And just a word of wisdom real quick before we really get going. Women are considered fragile but I’ve never seen anything as easily wounded as a man’s ego.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pearl.” Bucky caught up to Evie as she made her way down the street.

“So being a woman and even more so, being a woman at night, means that you have to constantly be on guard.” As they were walking, a man in a greasy white tank top passed them. The man’s head turned and he scanned Evie’s body.

“Goddamn, that’s a sweet little body there, baby girl.” Bucky’s head snapped around to the man, but Evie kept walking. Bucky looked over to Evie with concern riddling his features.

“Hey, sweetcheeks! Let me talk to you for a while!” The greasy man was now following Evie and Bucky. “I bet I can show you a better time than he can, baby girl. Come on, let me talk to you.” He reached his hand out, gripping Evie’s arm and pulling her to face him.

“Please don’t touch me.” “Get your fucking hands off her, you dick.” The man took a step backwards away from the pair.

“Well, fine you bitch! I didn’t want you anyway, fucking fat ass.”

“Hey, you don’t just get to fucking walk away, you jackass! Apologize to her.”

“Why should I apologize to her? I was giving her a compliment.” Bucky’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Did this guy just fucking--

“Okay, buddy.” Bucky went to approach the man to settle their disagreement when Evie stopped him.

“James, leave it. Let’s go.” She kept walking and Bucky didn’t want to leave her alone, not after that whole debacle.

“What the fuck was that Evie?” He questioned quickly, she shook her head in response but never verbally responded to him. A few paces later, the pair was about to pass a group of men leaned up against the brick wall behind them. Brown paper bags crunched around bottles were grasped in their hands. Drunken laughter was ringing out through the near empty streets.

“Hey baby! Why don’t you come on over here so we can talk to ya!” One of the men began to step in front of Evie effectively stopping her movement. The eighteen year old took a few steps backwards, coincidentally into Bucky’s chest. His arms came up to meet hers, about to move in front of her in a protective stance.

“Woah, you got a bodyguard baby?” The man tilted his head and stared at Evie. “You know you don’t need him sweetheart.”

“Damn, baby girl. You’re fine as hell.” Another man walked to stand next to the first. “What do I gotta do to get you in my bed?”

“Please leave us alone.”

“No, baby girl I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.” Bucky stepped in front of Evie protectively.

“I think she told you to leave us alone.” The two men in front of Bucky didn’t waver. Two raised brows and a fit of laughter later, they still maintained their ground.

“Why? You guys going somewhere to fuck? Already got a piece of that ass and don’t want to share it big man?”

“That’s just cold. You gotta share sometime. And it’s just easier to do it now rather than later.” Evie trembled behind Bucky and leaned up so only Bucky could hear her.

“Come on Bucky, let’s just go back to the apartment.” She tugged on his right arm, fingers digging into his soft flesh. Bucky was sure that he would have crescent shaped indentations where her nails laid in because of how much she was gripping him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up and down the two men in front of him, assessing how much of a threat they were. They were clearly enough of a threat to frighten Evie to the point of wanting to go home. Bucky gave Evie a stiff nod, not taking his eyes off of the men.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going baby? We’re just getting started!” One of them yelled at the pair as he reached out to grab Evie’s forearm. A split second later, Bucky’s left hand balled into a fist and he launched it at the man’s face. A loud crack resounded and a groan left the man’s mouth as he hit the ground. A look of shock fell across the other’s faces as they saw Bucky standing over their fallen comrade. The group took several steps away from the pair, holding their hands up in surrender.

“Don’t you ever touch a woman without her permission, you fucking prick.” Bucky then turned quickly, grabbing Evie’s wrist tightly and hauling her away from the men. Several paces later, Bucky still held a tight grip on the girl's arm.

“Bucky, you’re kind of hurting me.” Evie’s voice broke through Bucky’s barriers. He let up on how fast he was walking and then dropped Evie’s arm.

Worried eyes scanned her body for any bruising, “I’m so sorry, doll. Are you okay?” Evie laughed as she was rubbing her sore wrists.

“Bucky, that’s normal for any woman. Ever.” Shaking her head, she began walking back towards the apartment. “We could’ve kept on going to Walgreens, but I wasn’t sure your fragile heart could take it.” Bucky drew in his brows and a deep frown etched itself into his features.

“What the hell do you mean that’s normal, Evelyn?” He thrust his arm behind them, gesturing to what they just went through. “Nothing about that was normal.” Still shaking her head, the eighteen year old shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s normal for women.” She glanced at Bucky as she continued on her way. “Also, I know that you were probably just defending my honor or protecting me or whatever, but I want you to really think back, Buck. Think about when you were picking up women in the forties, did you ever push when they didn’t want to have that drink with you? Did you continuously ask for them to dance with you?”

“No, I told you. My Ma raised me the right way.” They walked up to the apartment building and Bucky reached for the door handle. Evie began making her up the stairs, Bucky not far behind her. She stopped suddenly, a few flights before Cassie’s apartment.

“What about your friends?” Bucky was taken aback. His memories were still a bit fuzzy about those times, but he could remember clearly enough. Although he wasn’t quite sure what she meant by the questions she was asking.

“What are you getting at Evie?” He huffed while opening the door to Cassie’s apartment. Freddie and Penny were lounged on the couch with an almost empty bottle of wine. Cassie’s head shot up at the sound of the two walking in the doorway. Evie dumped her things off on the granite countertop and turned on her heel to stare at Bucky.

“Did you ever stop your friends when women said no?” The quiet laughter between Penny and Freddie stopped suddenly as Evie’s question hung in the air. All eyes were on Bucky as he gulped and thought back to the times at the bars. Out with Steve and the other Howling Commandos, did they ever do that? He tried to think of a time when they pushed for what they wanted to happen. Of a time when the woman they were pursuing reluctantly gave in because they wouldn’t leave her alone. Evie didn’t wait for an answer, she could see that he was processing everything.

“So why did you stop those guys back there?” Her brows raised and her head tilted in question. Bucky took a deep breath and was about to answer when Evie cut him off. “By punching that guy out there, you’re a hero and we should all thank you and congratulate you for doing the right thing.” She stepped closer to Bucky and the three in the living room understood where Evie was going.

“What do you think would have been said if I would’ve punched him? Sure, you would’ve said something snappy and nice about how I can take care of myself. The general public though? They would say that I overreacted.”

“Easy Evie, he’s still learning.” Cassie said quietly. Bucky was thankful for that, he still did have a lot to learn but it felt like Evie was attacking him. That’s the point, you fucking dumbass. If you had been berating her for putting herself in danger by punching that guy, you would think she was reckless.

“Her point, Bucky, is that the double standard for men and women goes beyond what we expect. Everyone goes crazy for the knight saving the damsel, but everyone hates the damsel for saving herself.” Freddie explained from the comfort of the couch. Bucky nodded, starting to understand the concept. “And her questions about your old buddies. That has to do with the fact that you’re part of the problem.”

“What problem is that?” Bucky was honestly scared to know the answer but he knew to fully learn, he had to get all the facts, both good and bad.

“Stunting the growth of feminism. Being one of the people perpetuating the fact that it’s okay for men to be violent, but not for women.”

“Violence in the form of defending oneself in any capacity.” In Bucky’s line of work, he sees tons of capable and strong women. Natasha, Okoye, Shuri, Sharon, he could think of so many. Then he tried to think of when any of them got the limelight like Steve or himself.

“So it’s like anytime that there would be press releases for the team, and the interviewers would come and ask us questions,” he paused to think how to word what he wanted to say, “they always ask the guys about like super important things like how we’re keeping the city safe and stuff. But when they talk to the girls, they ask about their workout schedule and if they can wear underwear under their suits?”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that Bucky. That’s just a different form of it.” Evie replied quickly. She came up to hug Bucky. “I didn’t mean to attack you or anything, but this is something that we all feel is really important for you to grasp now that you’re back out there.”

“And now that you can recognize when it’s happening, the next important step is to stop it before it happens.” Penny yelled from the living room as she downed the last of the bottle in her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Evie. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. You’re still figuring stuff out, but I needed you to see what it was really like for women.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded. “How can I help this situation?” The group exchanged proud looks.

“Well, educate everyone around you. Don’t let it happen when you’re around.” Cassie said as she walked into the kitchen to crack open another bottle of wine. “And just support women. Push our problems into the public’s eye.” Bucky smiled, he could handle that, he was good at that.

Considering he was on his way to becoming a member of the Avengers, he would be able to influence from up high. He could openly support groups that were run by women, for women. He was used to standing in the background for things he didn’t believe in, so standing for something that he did was going to be a cakewalk.

A concern floated into the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He looked down at Evie, who had just recently released him from her death grip of a hug. “You know how to defend yourself right?”

Evie’s brows raised in a challenging manner, “Do I look like I don’t know how to defend myself?” The man shook his head and smiled as the surrounding group laughed. Cassie poured a glass of wine and cracked open a bottle of beer for Bucky.

They all made their way to the comfy couches to snuggle in for a movie night, satisfied with their teachings for the night.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Well, in the spirit of feminism, we are going to watch Legally Blonde.” Penny commented as she picked up the remote. “And it’s Freddie’s favorite so yeah.”

The lights clicked off as the opening credits ran for the movie. Bucky looked around his group of friends as they giggled at the screen. Evie had her head in Cassie’s lap and she was stretched across the sofa with her feet tucked under Bucky’s thigh. Freddie and Penny were curled up in the loveseat across from where Bucky was. Pieces of popcorn and glasses of red wine were being passed from person to person, with the exception of Evie who was still underage. The energy surrounding the five of them was something Bucky hadn’t experienced in a long time and he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon either.

A large grin overtook his face, although today was one of the harder lessons for him to learn, he wouldn’t want anyone else to be teaching him.

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

@mishaandthebrits

#twenty first century liabilities #bucky x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x3 thoughts

Brendan Hunt confirmed on Twitter that the writers wrote the first three episodes of the season with the intention of releasing them on the same day, just as they dropped the first three episodes of season one on the same day. Having finally watched the first three over three different weeks, I really wish they’d been able to launch all three on the same day. I really liked the first two episodes of the season, but the third episode really puts a lot of things into context. Between the political storyline, the return of Sassy (and a bit of a level-setting conversation between Sassy, Rebecca, and Ted) and Rebecca’s navigation of her professional life as an all-in club owner and her experience reconnecting to Nora...all of that feels like we’re done setting up the season now. Exposition complete—and to the writers’ credit, all three of these episodes are far more than exposition. A lot of story has happened.

So much so that this week’s installment has categories.

Sassy and Ted and Rebecca

Hahahahahahahahahaha

No, seriously though, I love that they are mature adults about this and I also love that Ted is Uncomfortable and, to be perfectly honest, I like that Sassy’s aggressive unfilteredness becomes an opportunity for the show to venture into more sexual references and humor about characters other than Keeley and Roy. It was a lot of information!

I’ve seen a couple of people express disappointment that Ted seems weirded out by Sassy discussing Nora’s impending first period, but I didn’t get the impression that he was grossed out by periods. There is a lot going on! Nora is right outside the room with the door open and Sassy has run through a lot of very personal topics! I felt like his reaction was more about the proximity issue in specific and the personal nature of the conversation in general more than anything else.

So many thoughts about the intersection between the biscuits and this conversation that it had to go in its own post.

Nora!

I LOVE Nora. I want every episode of this show to be about her. I want this sitcom to be called Nora Collins.

I love that Nora’s a little bit sassy (pun on her mother’s nickname only lazily intended) in the way a thirteen-year-old can be, but also enthusiastic about spending time with Rebecca and genuinely interested in meeting everyone her godmother knows. Rebecca genuinely hurt Nora, but Nora can clearly see that Rebecca is all-in on their mended relationship, and that gives her the space to be a bit teasing. She knows Rebecca’s weaknesses and has a little fun (the cooking joke when Rebecca offers to make popcorn?!) but also isn’t going to manipulate her or take advantage.

The British doll company and all the riffs on American Girl dolls, OMG. So good.

Like literally everyone, I am extremely into Rebecca and Roy actually being friends and exchanging words with each other this season. Now everyone in the group of four mains have had some great conversational moments with each other this season (I count Ted and Keeley being into Sharon’s bike as a great conversational moment, OK?!), with the exception of Roy and Ted. Cannot wait for that.

During the photo op with the team, Sassy and Rebecca remark on how Nora is loving and hating having her picture taken with Sam and the rest of the players, and that is THE experience of being thirteen years old, and Kiki May does an incredible job infusing all of Nora’s moments with the right proportions of enthusiasm to cringe. Thirteen years olds are constantly cringing but still full of spirit and life, and at constantly changing ratios, and Nora is the perfect embodiment of that.

My heart melted during the email-writing scene. Rebecca’s writing the email on Nora’s computer! In the guest room where her goddaughter is staying! They’re wearing pajamas! And Rebecca’s smile is so genuinely huge and delighted when she signs it “boss ass bitch.”

Led Tasso and Jamie’s Redemption

This was so stupid and I loved it so much. I love that Ted’s angry alter ego is absurd rather than scary, kind of like a parody of how worked up some men get over sports. I wonder if Led Tasso’s appearance in some way foreshadows a more uncontrolled, genuine anger from Ted in a later episode, because this Led Tasso dude is ridiculous.

Tentative kudos to Led Tasso for being able to point out the, ahem, clit of the soccer ball even from within a fugue state.

The entire Chuck E. Cheese exchange with Sharon was so hilarious and wonderful.

When Ted has the idea to bring out Led Tasso, Nate assumes he’s going to suggest that Jamie talk to Sharon. I absolutely adore the implication that Jamie’s growth over this episode is attributable to both Led Tasso and Sharon Fieldstone. Because while some players are still unmoved by Jamie’s willingness to stand up to Led, it didn’t go unnoticed! And then I was so proud of Keeley for refusing to take on the emotional labor of listening to Jamie when she was too busy with her actual job, and I felt that Jamie’s pretty immediate willingness to see what the therapy thing was all about was extremely in line with his character. He’s always seeking out Keeley to talk, and sometimes he actually means “talking” when he asks to talk with her! Jamie feels like someone who’s standing at a wall of doors, knocking on each one, trying to see what sticks. He really lacks foundation. I’m curious to know what he and Sharon spoke about in their session, but I like that the writers left the session private. The knowledge that he’s started seeing a psychologist is valuable information in and of itself, and Jamie’s decision to act in solidarity with Sam and the other Nigerian players is the perfect evidence that he’s thinking in new ways.

Sam and Dubai Air

Toheeb Jimoh is always great, but he’s so great in this episode. It’s cool to see his demeanor, pacing, and confidence shift as he becomes more at home with the team—and it’s also lovely to see that he, unlike Jamie, very much has a strong foundation in his home country, his supportive parents, his own moral center.

I like that Sam didn’t spend a bunch of time and emotional labor on teaching Jamie why caring about other people (and the environment!) matters, because that would’ve undercut the other political messages in this episode. Sam’s leading by example and everyone can either catch up or stay out, and it’s really great.

I really like the way they handled the press conference with Ted and Sam. I like that Ted gave the floor to Sam but prefaced that with very brief (for once!) remarks of his own. And I appreciated that Ted acknowledged his position of privilege, and that the angle isn’t that bad things never happen to white dudes but rather that when bad things do happen to people like Ted, it gets attention with so much less effort than when bad things happen to people who aren’t white men. Because that’s how privilege works—it’s not a shield that prevents bad things from happening to you, but it’s a safety net that ensures people will notice and address and even pitch in to take care of your bad things, often at the expense of the people who lack that privilege.

There’s probably lots of other stuff I could talk about, like the hilariously and realistically bad usernames on Bantr and Keeley brushing her snacks off the desk and into her purse and how things between Beard and Jane are clearly very, very bad and I’m worried about Beard and how it was soooo fun and lovely to see Shannon teasing Ted again (little coffee and football rituals before work are the kinds of details I absolutely live for) and HIGGINS PRETENDING REBECCA SENT HIM A BRILLIANT AND HEROIC EMAIL (which she does for real with Nora’s help just a couple scenes later!) and how delighted I was to feel that by this episode this season has really hit its stride and feels like a fully lived-in portrayal of the energized, loving, imperfect, busy, full place that is the whole AFC Richmond community. Honestly, Higgins pretending Rebecca sent that email because he wants to make her look good in front of her granddaughter is kind of the perfect encapsulation of what this episode felt like. This is a show about a bunch of imperfect people who want each other to succeed.

Edited to add: I was delighted to find out Ashley Nicole Black was writing for the show and the writing here did the opposite of disappoint! ❤️

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #a lesbian watches ted lasso #meta by me #ted lasso 2x3

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bubblesuga · 4 years

Text

off the table.

Summary: Fate has an odd way of playing with your mind. When you leave Min Yoongi on his door step nearly a decade ago, you became positive that you would never find love again. Settling for a man you thought you could learn to love, you had given up on fully moving on. But again, fate likes to play.

W/C: 11,680

Genre: Idol!AU, smut, fluff

Warnings: cussing, smut, mentions of exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, Jimin is curious about Yoongi’s (non-existent) sex life,

A/N: Based loosely off of Off The Table by Ariana Grande if you want a song to listen to as you read :) x

“So, this is it then?”

“Yeah.”

The near migraine-inducing memory always happens to flash in your mind at the worst times possible. Eight years ago, you found yourself standing at the front door of your ex boyfriend’s dorm with a solemn heart as he softly explained what his life was going to turn into. It was a short conversation, one the both of you had seen coming but neither of you wanted to admit it.

As his new friends and new life began to form behind him in the small one bedroom apartment, you nodded, and you left with one last kiss to his rosy lips. His deep brown eyes bore into yours with just as much sadness that you felt before you dragged yourself away helplessly.

Of course, now that you were 3 months into a new relationship, the memory decides to pop it’s way back into your brain as if it had just happened. A soft whisper in your mind gently coaxed you away from your latest fling and disassociated you from the moment entirely. He’s a nice guy, as well. Good head on his shoulders, smart with money, and loves to cook for you. So the sense of guilt you felt was tremendous because despite having this gorgeous man in front of you, your mind always flew back to him.

It has become more and more difficult not to think of him considering the fact that his face is now everywhere. The news, the internet, your fucking cold brew... He was there, the same bright features and adorable nose. You wondered if he thought of you from time to time, how you’re doing or what you could be up to since you graduated university. With as hectic of a schedule that you’re sure he held, you highly doubted that you have been on his mind since the end. Knowing him, he threw himself into his work and hasn’t looked back. It shows in his music, though. You always knew that he would be successful.

“...are you even listening to me?”

The words dragged you out of your trance and you immediately set down your coffee, “What? Of course I am.”

Junwoo couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “What was I talking about then?”

Fuck.

You push your hair back, a habit you developed recently as your desire to try and forget about your ex boyfriend has grown stronger, “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

Maybe it hasn’t just been lately. Maybe every single time you feel Junwoo’s lips against yours, you can’t help but compare him to Yoongi. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yeah, you use that a lot as your excuse. I’ll try not to bore you with tales from my clients anymore.” Junwoo slides the plate in front of you, a heart shaped kimchi pancake lay flat in the middle of it, and you feel your guilt grow stronger.

“No! I love hearing about them, I- I think I need to see someone about what’s going on in my head.” You explain. You had yet to mention to anyone that you dated Suga of BTS before he was known as such. In fact, you’re pretty sure if you even hinted at it, you’d become the laughing stock of Seoul. It made it impossibly difficult to talk about your feelings with Junwoo. He always tries to pry, but you shut him down completely.

“What’s going on? Is it serious?” concern laces his features and he sits carefully beside you at the table.

“No, I just need someone to talk to.” you try to shake the feeling of discontent when his arm wraps around your shoulder.

He leans his head on yours- “you can always talk to me.” -you shutter.

“A professional, just to help me get back on my game. Regain control of...” you let out a soft sigh and feel Junwoo’s lips brush against your temple, “...myself.”

“_____, I am a literal therapist.”

“A literal therapist who is emotionally involved with me. Isn’t it inappropriate to make out with your patients?” You quirk, raising an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes again, “Okay. Let me know if you need recommendations. Us in the brain community are pretty tight-knit.” He stands up and runs a hand through your hair before trotting back to the kitchen to begin his own breakfast.

You nibble on the inside of your cheek as you stare down at your pancake, picking up the butter knife beside your plate and dragging it down the center with a grimace on your face.

~*~*~

Even though you spent many years studying medicine, you didn’t think it would involve this much typing. Staring at patient charts has become a normal during your regular work day, especially since you’re boss decided that he didn’t need to look at the charts, he just wanted to hear from you.

You’re a nurse, not a secretary.

Today you were assigned to the emergency room, which was one of your favorite places to be. Everything was much faster than if you happened to be in post-op or general medicine, but the moment you enter the doors, you were piled with paperwork that you were sure a medical assistant could be doing.

The drowning sounds of chatter and machine’s melodic beeping blended with your fingers as they typed name after name, number after number for an hour straight. Just as you thought your soul had completely drained from your body, you hear a tap on the desk.

“H- hi, uh- my friend’s foot got cut open and we think he needs stitches. Is there any way that we could get seen quickly?” You glance up and your eyes immediately go wide.

You remember meeting Namjoon a few times in passing when you were still seeing Yoongi, but he’s much taller than you remember. Instantly you feel your face go red, and you were frozen in place. Why the hell was Namjoon here? How did he manage to choose this hospital of all the ones in Seoul?

You happen to tear your eyes away from him for a second, glancing over and seeing Jungkook being held up by Jimin as his foot stays elevated in the air. The minute you see a t-shirt wrapped tightly around Jungkook’s foot, you move to action.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that! Let me get you a wheelchair,” you swing around the desk and grab one of the folded up wheelchairs and roll it towards Jungkook. He grimaces as he sits down, his foot crossed onto the opposite knee. Jimin seems relieved not to have his friend leaning on him anymore, and you pause for a second to assess the situation.

“Jenni! Do we have an open bed anywhere?” You grab your co worker who walks passed you with her hands filled with bandages.

“Back corner, we just cleaned it.” She calls back, walking without glancing at the people you’re trying to help.

You nod, immediately walking Jungkook towards the back and gesturing for Namjoon and Jimin to follow. You grab an empty chart as you walk, before opening the curtain for the bed and allowing the three men to slide into the area.

“I hate to be pushy but this really hurts.” Jungkook hisses as wrap your arm beneath his and slowly lift him towards the bed. Immediately, you slip gloves onto your hands and begin to unwrap the t-shirt. There’s quite a bit of blood, but not enough to have you worried that he hit an artery.

Namjoon bites his lip before speaking, “I should have watched the stage better. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook shrugs, wincing while he attempts to pull himself up higher, “It was hard to see. Not your fault, or anyone else’s.”

“Except for the person who broke the stage.” Namjoon quips, rubbing his hands over his face, frustrated.

“It’s fine, hyung. The pretty nurse is going to fix Kookie right up.” Jimin is quick to comfort both of his friends while simultaneously causing you to blush.

It’s then that you notice the three of them in clothes similar to their rehearsal getup from all those years ago. Sweat lines each of their foreheads and you wonder just how this whole thing happened.

After inspecting the wound, you whip towards the suture kit, “It is deep enough to require stitches. I’m going to call the doctor down and have her suture you up. Until then would you like me to numb the pain?” Even though you’re well aware who these men are, and how close you potentially are to your ex boyfriend, you can’t help but let your professional prowess overpower your incessant need to think of Yoongi.

Jungkook nods, “At this point I’ll take a shot of whiskey and something to knock me out.”

You smile, “Unfortunately there isn’t any whiskey here. Believe me, I’ve been searching since I got here.”

Namjoon chuckles from beside you as you put your finger up to let them know you’ll be right back. Pulling open the curtain, you meander over to the nurse’s station and pick up the phone to call the ER doctor down. As you wait for him, you grab all the supplies to clean Jungkook’s foot, including a Lidocaine injection. Before you get the chance to turn back around, you hear the ER doors burst open and see four sweaty men tearing their way into the hospital.

Four sweaty men, including Min Yoongi.

An uncharacteristic whimper leaves your lips as you spot the rest of the members, all rushing passed you when they see Namjoon stick his head out of the curtains.

You feel all the blood drain from your face when the familiarity of Yoongi’s presence passes by you. Jenni notices your panic from the other side of the nurse’s station and lets out a little giggle, “Come on, you can’t get all shy just because they’re BTS. You have a job to do.”

“I can’t go in there now, Jenni. You have to take over.” You turn back to her with wild eyes, desperately trying to hand her all the supplies you gathered. Your eyes continuously glance backwards, watching them pile in. Yoongi can’t see you, you won’t be able to look the man in the eyes. You can’t even begin to think about the embarrassment you will feel if Yoongi sees you.

Jenni only laughs, “You’re a professional. Dr. Gwan will be down soon so you only have to be with them for a few moments.”

In a last ditch effort, you call out to her as she walks towards another patient.

Okay. You’re panicking now.

The universe has to be playing some sort of sick game on you right about now. You have not been able to get that stupid man off your mind lately and now here he was in your emergency room. First he’s worried about his brother but now he’s going to see you and want to chat and catch up. Knowing him, he’ll ask you for coffee and you’ll probably learn of his girlfriend or possible wife. He’ll wonder why you’re not married yet, and you’ll have to hide the fact that you haven’t been able to properly move on because of him.

That’s only to say if he even remembers you.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your anxiety and enter the curtain.

“Alright, Jungkook. Do you have any allergies that I should know about before I inject you with my magic numbing liquid?” It’s much more cramped in the room than it was before. The 6 members crowd to one side of the bed while you stand on the other. You refuse to look up for fear that Yoongi is going to recognize you.

“No allergies.” Jungkook shakes his head.

“Good, good,” you lean forward, elevating Jungkook’s foot and removing the make shift bandage, “you’re gonna feel a slight pinch.”

“He’s not going to lose his foot or anything, right?” A voice asks. You recognize it as Taehyung’s.

“No,” you’re sure they can sense how rigid you are, “he’s not going to be able to dance for a little bit, but he’ll be back and better than ever in no time.” No one responds, and you finally make eye contact with Jungkook, “Are you ready?”

Again, he nods, and you slowly push the needle into his foot. He cringes enough to jerk his upper body slightly, but Jimin is at his side just as quickly as it started.

You dispose of the needle immediately afterwards, wrapping his foot up to keep pressure applied to the wound, “Okay, Dr. Gwan will be here soon. She’ll get you sutured up and I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you, miss. It already feels better.” He sighs happily, relaxing backwards onto the pillow.

You grin, momentarily forgetting that your ex boyfriend is 3 feet away, “Of course, Jungkook. That’s my job.”

It’s then that you catch Yoongi’s eye for the first time that night. It’s not to say he didn’t recognize you before, but he wasn’t able to say anything once he saw you working. He was deathly still, the rest of the day leaving his mind when your shiny eyes met his. He sees you swallow, and you walk out without saying anything else.

“That was _____.” Yoongi murmurs after a moment, staring at the swaying curtains where you once exited.

The chatter stops instantly, and everyone turns to Yoongi.

“The _____?” Hoseok questions, his eyes wide while he also turns to watch the curtains.

Yoongi nods, his throat going dry as memories of you sleeping beside him at night when he had nothing to his name wash over him. You, with the exception of his brother, were the only person supporting him when he said he wanted a career in music. You applied to universities in Seoul so you could be closer to his dream, you were always so excited to hear his new music and you always told him that he was going to make it big.

It’s not like Yoongi hadn’t thought of you since you broke up. He was a complete mess for months afterwards. His schedule solely consisted of working and rehearsing because he couldn’t bare to have a moment to himself.

Yoongi repeatedly beat himself up for the way he ended things and more specifically, the reason he ended things. After getting into BigHit, Yoongi realized he was seeing less and less of you. You were so busy with med school and he was so busy with rehearsals that you were lucky to see each other once a week. He knew you’d be better off finding someone who could be there for you, and that it was best for him to focus on his career.

He just wasn’t aware of how much that would kill him inside.

“Well what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to go talk to her?” Seokjin pushes. There are times when Yoongi has to remind himself that he isn’t the oldest in the group, and that usually comes when Seokjin takes his role as older brother very seriously.

Yoongi scoffs at the taller man, “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey I know it’s been 8 years but lets meet up for coffee and pretend like we didn’t break each other’s hearts’?” he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, “Besides, Jungkook needs us here while he gets his foot stabbed.”

“Oh no, hyung,” Jungkook laughs, “I’m doing juuuust fine. You go talk to the pretty nurse.”

Yoongi swallows, “What should I say?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Whatever comes to mind.”

Yoongi’s feet carry him out of the curtained off area, his eyes searching across the emergency room in an attempt to find you. He spots you at the desk by the front door, and with a nervous head tilt, he’s dragging himself towards you.

The moment you left Jungkook, you threw yourself back into paperwork and became so immersed that you didn’t hear anything going on around you. Except for the soft footsteps pattering up to your station, which causes you to tear your eyes away from the chicken scratch handwriting on the chart in front of you.

It’s silent for a beat, you can feel the heat rising to your ears as you look up at him. His hair is longer, different from the short style he’d gel up every morning before the break up. There’s more piercings on his ears, but at the core of the new flashy clothes and dyed hair, he’s still the same man who professed his love for you at 17 years old.

“Hi.” he whispers.

“...hi.” you respond, your hands still frozen over the keyboard as Yoongi fiddles with his fingers on top of the desk.

“Thank you for helping-” Yoongi is cut off by another Nurse calling you over from a different bed in the emergency room.

You give him a quick glance, “I’m sorry, duty calls.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his heartbeat quicken when you stand. He had a better look at the pink scrubs donned on your body, and the smile on his face was nearly uncontrollable when he realizes that you made it exactly where you wanted to be. Your dreams of helping people has now become a reality.

You’re truly in your element, and Yoongi can tell. The concern on your face as you help a little girl sat in the center of a bed way too big for her was a sure fire way to know that you were in the right place.

So, Yoongi doesn’t push a conversation. Instead, he walks back to his band mates and watches in awe as Dr. Gwan stitches up Jungkook’s foot.

~*~*~

“He walked away.”

“He walked away?!”

“He. Walked. Away.” You emphasize to Jenni, holding your hands to your face while you let out a groan.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she sets down her iced americano, the chatter of the hospital cafeteria drowned out by your conversation, “you dated Suga from BTS before he was famous, and he broke up with you because you were both leading different lives?”

You nod.

She continues, “and you see him in person for the first time in 8 years, and you don’t talk to him?!”

“Wait why are you yelling at me?!”

“Because, dummy,” she leans over the table and flicks your forehead, “he’s been on your mind a lot lately and suddenly he’s at your job! It’s not a coincidence.”

It’s only been about a week since you saw Yoongi, and of course your attempts to get him out of your mind has been fruitless.

“What am I meant to do? Drop everything and run to him?” You ask incredulously, angrily digging your spoon in your yogurt.

Jenni waves her hand haphazardly, “No, no. You catch up with him, see how he’s doing now that he’s a world famous rapper- oh my god, _____ you let go of him?! You didn’t fight for him?!”

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!”

“That was before I learned exactly what you did! Dumb girl,” Jenni shakes her head disapprovingly, “and you’ve settled for Mr. Brainiac instead.”

Jenni isn’t the biggest fan of Junwoo.

“Mr. Brainiac is nice and sweet and knows how to treat me right,” You explain quietly, the fruit in your yogurt seemingly tasteless on your tongue, “but...”

“But he’s not Yoongi?” Jenni tilts her head.

“I don’t think anyone can ever compare to Yoongi. I’m sure it’s unrequited at this point.” As much as you hate to admit it, that’s the part that broke your heart the most about seeing Yoongi. The fact that you couldn’t bare to look at him for more than a second, because it just wasn’t the same as before. It will never been the same as before.

Jenni shrugs, “you won’t know until you find out.”

“And I’m supposed to... what? Show up at his house?”

Jenni’s eyes seem to trail behind you, and a grin on her face, “When is Jungkook supposed to get his sutures removed?”

Confused, you raise an eyebrow and turn around in your chair to see none other than the man of the hour, Min Yoongi. Instead of being dressed in rehearsal clothes like the other day, Yoongi wears all black with a silver bag wrapped around his torso.

You whip back around and glare at Jenni, “I swear to god if you call him-”

“Suga!” Jenni calls out before you can finish your sentence. Your head falls into your hands with another frustrated moan. Jenni waves her hand to him, Yoongi watching warily before he spots that you’re sat right across from her.

He hesitates for a moment, noticing the way you drag knees to your chest which is a nervous tick you have had since before Yoongi had met you. However, he realizes that if he ever wants to talk to you, now would be the best time. Having followed Jungkook to the hospital for the sole purpose of possibly bumping into you, he had to make due with any interaction he could get.

Jenni gets up and leaves as Yoongi walks his way over to you. Your head is now buried in your knees, but you hear the chair screech across from you.

“Hi again.”

You lift your head up, “Hi, Suga. How is life?”

You can see hurt flash through Yoongi’s face at your use of his stage name, but he shakes it off, “Life is going pretty well. How about yours?”

“It’s going well.”

You still haven’t made direct eye contact with him. Despite having not seen you in person in so many years, his heart ached in his chest at the thought that you may still be hurt. Who is he kidding, though? He’s still hurt by the decision himself.

With a sigh, he scoots his chair forward, “Are we going to pretend that there isn’t a history behind us?”

You laugh bitterly, “Haven’t you been doing a pretty good job of that for the passed eight years?”

Yoongi’s jaw drops. You don’t remember Yoongi ever showing his emotions so freely on his face. That was one of the good things from the interviews you have seen, those 6 boys have opened up Yoongi more and more to his emotions. You feel bad for your response, but you’re unsure how to apologize.

“I didn’t want to end things just much as you didn’t,” He bites, ignoring the tinge in his heart, “I want to catch up. It’s nice seeing you again.”

“I have a boyfriend.” You say, your yogurt seeming much more interesting than it was moments before.

He clears his throat, “That’s okay.”

“Because I had to move on.”

“That’s okay.” He repeats, his fingertips drumming along the table top. He hasn’t been chewing his nails lately. That’s good for him. Though, the nervous habit has developed into something different, the drumming of his finger tips echoing more and more in your head as the awkward silence mulls on. Even in a loud cafeteria, your mind only focused on him.

With out thinking much of it, you reach your hand forward and place it on top of his to get the drumming to stop. Yoongi looks up at you while you hold your hand atop of his. For a moment, the silence continues as you stare into his deep brown eyes. You’re transported back to your late teens, where you felt as though you were on top of the world with Min Yoongi by your side. He stared at you as if you were his entire universe, spending night after night cuddled up together, talking about your dreams and aspirations while simultaneously chasing them together.

Well, it used to be together, but instead you had to push yourself through your dreams alone.

Yoongi’s the first to break the silence, letting a dry chuckle fall effortlessly from his lips while he stares down at your touching hands, “You used to do the same thing if you saw me biting my nails.”

Even though you want to be mad, you wand to walk away and never speak to him again, you can’t. Instead, you nibble on your lip in an attempt to stifle your giggle. Yoongi notices and realizes he’s making good headway into conversation.

“You told me to help you stop, the only thing that seemed to get you to stop was-”

“Your touch?” Yoongi suggests, a teasing gummy grin on his face.

“Yeah,” you finally let out a laugh, “my touch distracted you from a lot of things.”

The people in the cafeteria didn’t seem to be bothered by the two of you in the center of the room. Busy doctors and nurses trying to get their lunch in, loved ones of patients desperately waiting to hear if their surgeries went well, all is forgotten as you fall into the same pit you found yourself in many years ago. Bottomless, but bright. Visions of the future dancing along you as you fall deeper and deeper. Although now, it seems to be visions of what could have been.

“Of course it did, how could I focus when I had your pretty face in front of me?” Yoongi’s tone is still teasing, but melancholy wades through his words.

You slip your hand away hesitantly, and Yoongi’s wrist twitches at the sudden loss of contact. “That’s the reason it ended, isn’t it?”

This is a conversation that Yoongi is not ready for, but at this point he’ll take anything he can get with you, “What do you mean?”

“You broke up with me because you knew I’d distract you from your dream.”

He brings the hand you once held upward, scorching skin touching the back of his neck nervously as he takes a deep breath, “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t play a part.”

You inhale and drop your legs from the edge of your chair before leaning forward. After years of questioning whether or not you would ever move on, you finally have the chance to get some closure. “What was the final straw?”

He bites his lip, “I was able to fall asleep without you.”

You didn’t think you’d be able to feel your heart sink as deep as it has. Even after all these years, your emotions are bubbling to the surface. How can something so simple break your heart so badly?

“You were in school during the day and I was training at night,” he continues, “we never saw each other and I struggled for so long to fall asleep without you next to me. Then... one day my head hit the pillow and I fell asleep immediately.”

Another knife to your chest.

“Did you struggle at all? After the break up, I mean.” You try to search for some sense of regret in his eyes but he’s always been very good at putting up a wall and having people fight for a way in.

He laughs bitterly, “Of course I struggled. Are you kidding me? I thought I was going to marry you, have kids with you. I was nearly inconsolable once it really set in that you weren’t going to be with me anymore.”

You swallow anxiously, “But it was really for the best, yeah? You’ve got your career and I’ve got mine. We’re both successful. Given, you’re entirely more successful than I am but I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“Don’t say that,” Yoongi breaths, “you worked your ass off to get to where you are, you’re just as successful as I am.”

“You think we wouldn’t have got to where we are if we stayed together.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Yoongi seems to ponder on his answer.

“I think we were young and didn’t know much about life. It was a shitty time for both of us, but I did and still do think that in some aspect of the word, you are my soulmate.”

Your breath hitches at the word.

Beyond already having thought this yourself, the realization that Yoongi thinks it as well causes your chest to flush with heat. The adoration you felt years ago when Yoongi’s hair was always styled neatly in a mohawk and you had no clue how to use eyeliner still rests itself neatly at the bottom of your heart. Hearing Yoongi even say the word ‘soulmate’ nearly reduced you to a puddle of tears.

Yoongi notices that you haven’t let out a breath, “Fuck,” he’s panicking, running his hand anxiously through his hair, “fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to freak you out, I- I-” He cuts himself off and allows his head to fall into his hands.

A moment passes, and he seems to gather himself once he hears you exhale, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you last. I dreamed about what I wanted to say to you and insisted on being the one to drive Jungkook to the hospital today with just the hope and slightest chance that I might run into you.”

“What’s your plan here, then?”

“I want to be friends.” He proposes.

You scoff, “Do you have time for friends now?”

He sighs, expecting the reply but still feeling his chest tighten, “Let’s hang out on a day where the two of us have nothing going on. When are you off next?”

“I have a boyfriend.” You reiterate, raising an eyebrow.

“Not a date,” he dismisses you, “just as friends. When are you off next?”

Crossing your arms, you eye him suspiciously as he widens his eyes in an attempt to push you towards an answer.

“Saturday.”

“Great,” he breathes, “I’ll make sure I’m free that day too.”

~*~*~

Maybe you are taking a bit too much time getting ready for a man who has already seen you at your worst. Maybe you purposely wore purple lipstick in an attempt to show that you have been paying attention to his career and maybe, just maybe, you are way too happy to be hanging out with Min Yoongi once again.

That doesn’t take away from your nervousness, though. Your hand shakes as you finish applying your mascara. You don’t live in a nice mansion like Yoongi does, and you’re terrified that someone will spot him picking you up from your apartment and all hell will break loose. You’ve read some of the tabloids involving anyone close to the group, so your anxiety is nearly palpable.

“Get a grip,” you whisper to yourself, “you’ve seen this man naked before. There’s no need to be nervous.”

As you finish your make up, you move on to your hair but stop once you hear a knock on your door.

Yoongi isn’t supposed to be here for another half hour.

“Fuck.” you whisper, standing quickly from your vanity mirror and rushing towards the front door in a panic. You peep through the lens in the door, confusion striking you when you spot Junwoo.

The lock turns loudly and you slide open the door, “Hi?”

His eyes raise from the ground until he meets yours, “You’re awfully dressed up just to be hanging at home.”

“I have plans.” You state, slipping your undone hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but notice the instant meekness you felt take over your body the moment you saw Junwoo.

“With me?” He questions, stepping into your apartment. His black hair is pushed back with way too much gel to be comfortable, the honey brown eyes that usually comforted you suddenly made you feel uneasy.

You shake your head in response, “An old friend. He and I are-”

“He?” Junwoo cuts you off, much louder than he was moments before. You take a step back at the sudden change of tone, your jaw nearly dropping at his audacity.

“Yes, he. Is that a problem?” It was probably in your best interest not to challenge Junwoo. If there is anything you learned in your short time together it’s that he was very good at manipulating your words. He claims it’s his way of reading deeper into the situation but you think your intentions are pretty surface-level.

Junwoo didn��t seem to expect your attitude, backing down immediately with a nervous scratch to the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know how I feel about you hanging out with another guy.”

A scoff leaves your mouth as you scan Junwoo’s posture change, “Are you one of those people who assumes men and women can’t be platonic friends?”

“Yes.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

You roll your eyes, “I can assure you that he’s just a friend.”

A friend who you have a long, egregious history with. A friend who’s lips have touched every inch of your body, has seen you break down over text books and has kissed away your tears when you were beginning to reach adulthood.

But yeah, a friend nonetheless.

“Are you still going to hang out with him if I tell you I’m uncomfortable with it?” Junwoo presses, puffing out his chest.

“I don’t feel like you have the right to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with,” you furrow your brows, “why are you even here?”

“I wanted to take you to the park, but that’s not important. Were you going to tell me that you were going out with a guy?” Man, Junwoo’s ability to annoy the fuck out of you has seemingly grown beyond a point of retribution in the short 10 minutes he’s been in front of you.

As you open your mouth to respond, another knock sounds on the door. You let out a small groan, reaching towards the doorknob and turning it swiftly. On the other side is Yoongi, a striped black and white button down unbuttoned on his torso with a white t-shirt underneath. He’s certainly gotten a better fashion sense.

“Hi, Yoongi. I’m almost ready,” you send a glare in Junwoo’s direction, “I have to finish my hair and I’ll be ready.”

Junwoo is staring wide-eyed at Yoongi with his jaw dropped. Yoongi looks back at him and subtly crinkles his nose, just enough for you to spot it.

After a moment, you break the silence, “Yoongi, this is Junwoo. Junwoo,” you gesture to Yoongi, “Suga of BTS.”

Yoongi lets out a laugh, “Stop introducing me like that to people.”

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You tease, spinning the black hat on his head backwards. “Anyway, are you heading out, Junwoo?”

“You didn’t tell me that it was Suga you were hanging out with.” Junwoo speaks accusingly, making you realize that you truly didn’t make any progress throughout your entire conversation.

“He’s an old friend,” you explain, “I’ll call you later.”

Junwoo opens his mouth but closes it again. You know it’s more than likely because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of someone so influential. Junwoo cared too much about his image to do anything to disrupt it. One bad word from Yoongi and he was done for.

Silently, he steps out of your apartment but doesn’t hesitate on slamming the door shut.

Yoongi glances at you and points to the door, “Him?”

“I never claimed to make good decisions.” You sigh, causing Yoongi to giggle. “Anyway, let me finish my hair. Help yourself to anything here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You hesitate for a moment before deciding that you didn’t have anything in particular that Yoongi could accidentally get his hands on that would be embarrassing.

As you walk out of the room, Yoongi runs his fingers along the picture frames on your wall. He remembers these pictures previously sitting on your desk in your parents’ house. Now they were lined perfectly across the off-white painted wall in your living room, images of your family and close friends filling the black painted frames.

He smiles at the picture of your mother, you’re an exact replica of her. One of the first things he struggled with beyond not seeing you anymore was the fact that he wouldn’t see your family. Despite your relationship being short lived in the beginning, he had grown very close to your family in the process. After the break up, your mother called Yoongi repeatedly asking if he needed food and clothes. He knows that you gained your big heart from her, and he wishes that he can speak with her again.

Moving on, he spots the familiar picture of you leaning against a bookshelf with Le Fleurs Du Mal by Charles Baudelaire gripped loosely in your hands. He remembers that picture from the end of high school, you insisted on stopping by the local Daegu city library one last time before you both moved to Seoul. Yoongi snapped the picture as an opportunity to remember your hometown, because he was sure the two of you would never be back there again. You would stay together and conquer the world, but unfortunately that never happened.

Yoongi can’t help but run his fingers along the side of your face, your smile hiding behind the book. Yoongi’s reflection can be seen in the window behind you, his grin just as wide as yours.

You were in love, and Yoongi misses that.

Of course now it’s not like he can do anything about that. You have a boyfriend who is clearly very loving and trusting in you.

Yoongi wasn’t necessarily sure what his plan was when he was searching for you in the hospital, nor was he sure what his plan is now that he has you within arms reach of him. Namjoon was sure to tell him how stupid he was for even attempting to get involved with you again even though you have a boyfriend but Yoongi didn’t care. So long as you were in his life somehow, he was willing to make it work. Friends, maybe more. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted whatever he could get.

He did...okay for a few years without you. He dated on and off but never really developed a connection with anyone the way he had you. He couldn’t help but compare everyone who came into his life to you no matter how hard he tried not to. It’s laughable at best, because deep down in his mind he’s well aware that nobody will ever compare to you.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi tears his eyes away from the picture and instantaneously rakes his eyes up and down your body, “Whoa.”

Dressed in a simple leggings and plaid button down combination, it accentuates your curves and causes Yoongi’s mouth to water.

You let out an embarrassed giggle, “I, uh- I wasn’t sure what we were doing to I tried to dress casually.”

Yoongi doesn’t stop his eyes from staring at your hips, “It works. Everything about you, works.”

“Careful now.” You warn jokingly, putting a hand out in an attempt to pause his thoughts.

Yoongi shakes his head, “Okay, I have a reservation ready for us.”

You lead him out your door and to the car park, “You better not be taking me to some expensive restaurant because I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, opening the passenger side door for you, “but if you still love chicken then I may have found the greatest restaurant in existence.”

Slipping into his car, you wait to respond until he moves over to the drivers side and turns the car on. “You remember that I love chicken?”

He smiles, gummy and bright just like before, “I remember everything about you.”

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, and sit silently beside him while the radio plays softly from his speakers. The car is far nicer than the one he used to have, and the seats have a warmer that Yoongi seemed to know the perfect temperature of. As he continues to drive on, you try not to watch the way his left hand grips the steering wheel and his right sits idly on his thigh.

8 years ago, that hand would have been resting on your thigh, fingertips brushing the inner part of your softest flesh while you leaned your head back listened to the melodic tunes of whatever song he made most recently. A few of those tunes have been turned into BTS songs, and you still felt beyond proud of him.

“Okay, we have to go around the back and through the kitchen. I just don’t want to risk-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut him off, waving your hand dismissively, “you’re hot shot famous guy now. Don’t want to risk getting seen with a lady.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I may be some hot shot famous guy but I’m still the same person I was a decade ago.”

You watch as he turns the car off, “Prove it.”

“What?” He laughs in disbelief.

“Prove that you’re the same person you were all those years ago.” You push, tongue in cheek while you smirk at the man beside you. He seems to ponder for a moment, puckering his lips in thought before he exits the car and runs over to your side of the car.

“Come on,” he gestures for you to get up, “hurry up.”

“Hold your horses, Mister.” you adjust the bag around your torso as you stand and let your eyes fall back to Yoongi. His back is to you and his knees are bent. Hands reach backwards for you and he turns to look at you expectantly.

Tilting your head, you smile as you hop onto Yoongi’s back. A move he’d do regularly when you’d spend hours on your feet interning at various hospitals around the city. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs and you let out a squeal as he hikes you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist.

It takes a moment for him to steady his walk as he leads you carefully up to the back door. You lean upward and knock on the back door labeled “staff only” and wait patiently as you feel Yoongi adjust you again.

“You used to carry me around like this all the time.” You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. It didn’t feel weird hugging him like this. Natural instincts kicked in and the whiff of his cologne had you reeling. It’s exactly the same as he wore before, and his hair smelled of coconut conditioner. Before you would turn his head and kiss his lips every time you caught his scent, and it’s taking everything in you right now not to do exactly that.

“I did,” you can hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice, “and you never reciprocated.”

“I’ll give you a piggy back on the way out, how about that?” You pat the top of his head as the door opens to reveal a very confused looking employee.

A sheepish smile is held on Yoongi’s face while the employee realizes who he is. “Mr. Min,” he bows his head, “lovely to have you again. We have your usual table set up in the back.”

“Awesome,” Yoongi drawls sweetly, “lead the way!”

Heat fills your face as the kitchen staff of the unnamed restaurant watch curiously while Yoongi walks you to the table.

He doesn’t allow you to get off, instead he turns around and drops you onto the booth seat as you try to silence the squeal that leaves your mouth. Yoongi only laughs as he flips back around to see the top half of your body slip between the table and the seat. He’s quick to help you up but his arms grow weak from laughing so he takes a few moments to pull you back up. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, the ridiculousness of the situation bringing back memories.

“I’m sorry,” he says, inhaling another laugh as he slips into the seat opposite of you, “I didn’t think you would fall.”

You adjust the hat on your head, “It’s fine, I didn’t need my equilibrium to work properly anyway.”

Yoongi can’t help but watch you carefully as you open the menu. Your nose still crinkled when you came across a dish you may not particularly like, and your eyes widened whenever you saw something that you thought looked good.

Both of you decided on a beer to drink and various flavors of dry rub wings to enjoy. As you waited on your food to be cooked, you sip your beer and suck your teeth while you decide whether or not you want to ask him all your dying questions.

Deciding to start small, you took a deep breath as Yoongi met your eyes, “How much did they have to fight you to get you to start dancing?”

He let out a sigh of relief, half expecting the awkwardness of your history together to take over, “I almost quit like four times, I won’t lie.”

You giggle, “I figured. You do well, though. I was amazed by your Seesaw performance when you started dancing on your own up there. Genuinely was the last thing I expected.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, he only smiles widely with his head rested gently on his hand. You tilt your head as his eyes scan yours, “What?” You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, wanting the world to swallow you up at the thought that you could have come across as weird or creepy by knowing so much about Yoongi’s career.

“You watch my performances?” He questions, his smile not dropping. A hint of pink brushes the tip of his nose.

“Of course,” you say almost incredulously, “you’re everywhere. It’s hard not to.”

“What’s your favorite song?” Yoongi presses, leaning forward to show you’ve piqued his interest.

Okay, there’s no way you’re going to let him think he has some sort of head over you.

“Cypher part 3.” you say confidently.

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nibbling on the bottom of your lip for a moment before deciding to say why it was your favorite, “specifically the part where you say you’re a starfish feeding off the envy of others.”

“Ah, yes. Truly a fan favorite. You should hear the cheers when I explain what my tongue can do.” Yoongi whispers the latter half of his sentence, causing your throat to go dry. His tongue is skillful in many ways, not just rapping, and you were well aware of that. Decadence rested on the tip of his tongue, and you’d like to think that you contributed to his *ahem* practice.

He pulls away with a cheeky grin just as the waiter comes by with steaming plates of food.

The affect that his words had on you still amazes you to this day. Maybe he does have a head above you, and maybe you’re okay with that.

The rest of the dinner goes by with a breeze, the two of you laughing over drinks and trying each other’s food. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a comfortable fit with Yoongi, even though so much time had passed. It was like he never left, and he truly is still the same person he was before. He laughs the same, his shoulders shakes and his grin is always huge. Although his hair style changes and his fashion sense has gotten better, you still see the old Yoongi poking out whenever he laughed particularly hard.

Being face to face with him has allowed you to compare to the younger him, though. His face has slimmed and his voice has gotten deeper, the adam’s apple you kiss at night was larger than before and his neck was longer. Despite all that, he was still the same. Fame hadn’t changed him a bit.

The moment the check comes you snatch it up quickly.

“_____.” the way Yoongi says your name shoots a chill down your spine, but you ignore it when you slip your cash into the designated sleeve.

“Yoongi.” You mock, handing the sleeve back to the waitress who seems scared of Yoongi’s deep tone.

“I was supposed to pay.” He pouts, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Be faster then.” You grin, standing up and crouching in front of Yoongi’s side.

He laughs, remembering your promise from earlier and slipping onto your back. The path you to through the kitchen is a bit less crowded now, but you felt the same amount of eyes on you the entire time. You felt much less embarrassed about it now, though, because Yoongi had a way of calming you down even at your worst points.

“The night is still young,” Yoongi speaks as he slips off of your back and unlocks his car, “would you like to revisit Yongsan Park?”

“Always.”

It wasn’t a far drive from the restaurant, and it was spent mostly talking about music and the new album that Yoongi was extremely proud of. Of course you had already listened to it but you didn’t want to take away from his excitement of showing you some of the songs.

When you made it to the park, the lights lining the jogging path were already on. You hadn’t expected it to be so dark yet but fall time always had a habit of sneaking up on you.

There was an intense rush of nostalgia associated with this park for the both of you. Nights where the two of you huddled close under the stars were spent here, right beneath the biggest tree in the park. It was unspoken that that was your spot, and you hadn’t been to it since you broke up.

Yet, muscle memory kicks in and both of your legs carry you right to the tree.

“Isn’t it funny how we spent so many nights here?” You bring up as you sit at the base of the tree.

Yoongi nods, “So many nights in this exact spot.”

“I love it here, it was our spot.”

Yoongi’s proximity to you is much closer than it should be but neither of you are making any move to change it. His shoulder brushes against yours and you resist the urge to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It still is.” He corrects, tapping your knee gently with his hand and resting in there.

You freeze for a moment, not knowing how to process his touch anymore but you can’t push him away. In fact, you’re relishing in the heat burning on your skin beneath his hand. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

“Do you remember when you tried to scare me by climbing a tree and the branch broke?” Yoongi looks up, and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at the memory.

“Yeah but that was because I was trying to get you back for pouring ice water on me when I fell asleep on my text book.” You roll your eyes at the memory, distinctly remembering the chill on your back while Yoongi cackled in your small one bedroom apartment.

That same cackle leaves Yoongi’s lips from beside you. You snap your head towards him, “Oh you think it’s funny still?”

“Yeah,” his laugh turns into a giggle, “you can still see the broken branch.”

“What?” You glance up, and sure enough the branch is still gone. Your jaw drops and you use your hands to push Yoongi over. He doesn’t fight you on it and falls with ease even though you didn’t use very much pressure at all, and you’re quick to try and wrestle him down. “It must be so funny,” you groan as you try to pin him down, straddling your legs on either side of his waist, “to still be pinned by- holy shit you’ve gotten strong.”

Yoongi takes his opportunity to flip the two of you over, switching positions and easily pinning your hands on either side of your head. Vaguely, you wonder how much time it took for him to gain so much strength, but your mind quickly shifts once you realize the precarious position that Yoongi has put you in.

Glancing down, you see his hips rest just above your navel, and images of the many nights you shared together flash through your mind. Rushed breathing and sweaty skin sticking together as you explored each other’s bodies and always found new ways to please each other. Briefly, a rush of heat flashes through your lower abdomen at the way your imagination flushes with possibilities of Yoongi’s touch.

You inhale, your chest heaving and Yoongi’s eyes fly to the way your cleavage displays itself for him. You’ve gotten fuller than before, and it suits you. He’s enjoying every second of it.

Before he can stop himself, he leans down and smashes his lips onto yours. The grip on your wrists loosen just enough for you to slip out and have your hands flying to his cheeks. He tastes the same as he did before, his smell intoxicating as it fills your nose. Your senses are overwhelmed with him, his tastes, his scent, the way his lips feel against yours. The familiarity is there, but they feel new and exciting at the same time, like you were pushed back to your youth.

He exhales against you as if he’s been waiting all night to do just this. Slipping his legs out from beneath him, he presses his chest against yours as your hands slide to the back of his neck to hold him against you. The rest of the world falls, dissolving into nothing. You keen helplessly as you feel him grind against you, and that noise seems to push Yoongi over the edge. He growls into your mouth, pulling away to start his descent onto your neck with bites and licks in all the places you loved before.

Arching into him, your hands loop through his black locks with a gasp as his tongue licks at your wine kissed collarbones.

This is everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything feels so right.

Yet, it’s wrong. You need to stop him. You need to ask him to pull away. But you can’t. He feels too fucking good. It’s not until he reaches the stop of your chest, his fingers hesitantly reaching at your collar does he look into your eyes for permission.

And you stop him.

“I- I think I need to go have a very uncomfortable conversation with Junwoo.” You state, and Yoongi’s face drops.

“I can’t believe you still managed to think about him when I was kissing you.” He says nearly incredulously, crawling off of you and leaning his back against the tree again. His chest is rising and falling faster than before, showing that your affect on him was much stronger than you previously had thought.

Your heart twinged at Yoongi’s cold tone. You swallow, “If you think there’s a possibility of us continuing this, I have to end things with Junwoo.”

Yoongi whines, “Why now?”

You let out a little giggle, sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder like you wanted to before. “Even if I didn’t do it right now, I don’t think we could go any further in the middle of a park.”

“I thought you liked exhibitionism.” Yoongi leans to the side, kissing you once again. It’s much breathier than before, and he prays that you don’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage at the mere thought of someone catching the two of you outside.

You gasp into the kiss and force yourself to pull away even though you didn’t want to at all. Giving him a look, Yoongi sighs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll drive you home so you can have that uncomfortable conversation.” He mutters, standing up and pulling you with him. He’s much more touchy than before, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders while he guides you back to his car.

The conversation you’re about to have with Junwoo will truly be one of the most anxiety inducing things you’ve ever done.

~*~*~

The dorms are dark when Yoongi arrives back. The living room in which everyone has a tendency to congregate after a particularly grueling practice day holds no one, a small reminder that everyone finally got some well deserved rest.

He hums softly to the tune of ‘People’, one of his favorite songs from his recent mixtape and opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. When he closes it, Jimin is standing on the other side.

Yoongi jumps, “Jesus fucking christ, Park Jimin!”

“Didja get back together with her?”

“What?” Yoongi takes a second to assess Jimin’s pajama clad body, “N- no. We just hung out.”

“It’s a shame,” Jimin reaches forward and grabs the water bottle from Yoongi’s hand, “I heard you humming so I figured you finally got laid.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest but Jimin continues before he can, “You know, I’ve known you for so long and I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman sign an NDA? Have you even had sex since you broke up with the pretty nurse?”

“I feel like that’s none of your business.” Yoongi yanks the water bottle back, opening it and praying that Jimin didn’t backwash.

“But it is my business because I have no clue how you did it. I’m sure she was fucking other guys regularly. I hear it’s bad for women to go without sex because they turn into-” Yoongi attempts to drown out the sounds of his roommate, his hand gripping the counter top tightly with unwanted images of you in another man’s bed ripping through his brain, “-and I’ve always wondered what it was like to only ever have your hand to get yourself off. Is it lonely? How much porn do you-”

“Jimin!” Yoongi shouts.

“Cutting me off is awfully rude, don’t you think?”

“Shut. the. fuck. up.” Yoongi grits his teeth, moving to walk away as Jimin laughs.

“Called it! I knew you were a born again virgi-”

“Goodnight!” Yoongi calls back, walking up to his room and locking the door behind him. He plops down onto his bed, the TV situated perfectly level with his bed. It’s a stark contrast to the small black and white TV he could afford all those years ago, so the familiar sound of his TV sounding on brings a smile to his face as he realizes yet again how fortunate he’s become.

Now he’s determined to make sure you feel the same sense of fortune that he has. Because he has you back in his life. Was it a twist of fate or the inevitability of soulmates, Yoongi isn’t sure. However, he’s immensely grateful to have you back, even if you’re not truly his yet.

~*~*~

"I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?!”

You cover your mouth as the unexpected sentence leaves your mouth. Junwoo sits in his office with his fists clenched tightly on top of his desk. He’s never been particularly good at hearing bad news, and even though it’s only been a few months you feel as though you’re signing divorce papers judging my his reaction.

It’s been two days since you last saw Yoongi. You put off speaking to Junwoo for a little bit to try and figure out exactly what you were going to say to him. You had a whole speech ready, talking about how he deserves better and that he’ll find his soulmate eventually.

But when the moment came, your speech was practically thrown to the ceiling fan and torn into a million pieces.

“W- why? What did I do?” Junwoo asks, he seems more angry than anything which you didn’t expect.

“You didn’t do anything,” you sigh, plopping in the seat on the other side of his desk, “I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Everything was going so well!” Oh god, he’s yelling. “It’s that fucker Suga’s fault, isn’t it? He’s putting you up to this!”

“Fucking hell, Junwoo! How old are you, honestly? Immediately assuming that it was Yoongi is the most childish thing you could have done.” It is Yoongi, though. You know that, and unfortunately Junwoo knows that as well. It isn’t in good conscience to deny his allegations but you can’t help but do so.

Though, the inevitability of your relationship ending would have happened with out without Yoongi’s push.

“Well excuse me for thinking you would fuck a member of the biggest band on the planet! For God’s sake, any whore would drop their pants for one of them.”

Your jaw drops, “I didn’t fuck him.”

Junwoo rolls his eyes, “Are you sure? Because it’s almost like I could smell the stench coming off of you.”

You place your tongue in your cheek, biting back a response. Should have figured the man wouldn’t know how to take a break up.

Then, you laugh, “Okay. You got me, I fucked him.”

“I knew it.” Junwoo’s nostrils flare.

“Hundreds of times, eight years ago,” You spit, standing up quick enough for the chair behind you to tip over. “it wasn’t working out anyway and clearly that’s for the best. The last thing I need is a chauvinist asshole who refuses to see what was right in front of him.”

“I-”

“No,” you put your hand up, “I’m done.”

You turn around swiftly, walking out of his office and ignoring the stares from his receptionists. Surely they heard the yelling and the last thing you needed was to feel judged.

Except you weren’t being judged. Just before you reached the elevator, one of the girls spoke out. “You’re the second break up he’s had this week, don’t feel bad.”

You turn around, watching her flick vivaciously through a magazine. “What was that?” You speak slowly, turning around walking up to the desk.

“Another woman came by earlier this week, she said he’s been fucking some nurse behind her back and threw a ring at him.” She shrugs, then leans forward with a whisper, “You’re better off without him.”

You scoff, “and I had the decency to break up with him before I fucked someone else. Thanks for the tip, darling.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you whip out your phone and text Yoongi.

To: Suga Delivered: 13:52

Deed is done if you still want me to come by

You make it to your car and hear your phone ding.

From: Suga Received: 13:57

I’ll meet you outside

Your heart flutters, so you start your car and drive as quickly as you can towards the directions of the dorm. It’s not hard, everyone in Seoul is keenly aware of where BTS stay, but there’s an unspoken rule that nobody is to bother them. One of the things you enjoyed most about this whole situation is the amount of respect they boys have earned, and you couldn’t feel more proud of Yoongi.

The gated group of buildings is intimidating to say the least, but you’re unable to contain your excitement as you pull up. Yoongi is a few feet away, waving from the other side of the gate as he presses a few buttons before you hear the gate click and begin to side open.

Your excitement over simply seeing him is nearly too much to contain. A week ago you struggled to not get nauseous at the thought of him seeing you but now you didn’t know how you ever made it without him. Inching your car forward became an arduous task because it took precious seconds away from you being able to kiss Yoongi once again.

So, you throw your car into park as the gates slip closed behind you and run out of your car to jump towards Yoongi.

He catches you, immediately slamming your lips onto his. It’s soft this time, the urgency isn’t there but he doesn’t mind the feeling of your hands gently tugging at his hair and scratching his scalp.

“Mm,” he hums against your lips, “does this mean you’re mine again?”

“With some adjustments to both of our lives,” you smile, “and making time for each other, then I’m willing to try again.”

“Good,” he grins, “let me take you inside and show you how much I’m gonna try.”

He slides you down his torso and grabs your hand, yanking you closely behind him. You let out a quiet yelp as he does so, following him into the building and welcoming the warmth that greets you. You’re lead through a long hallway but are stopped abruptly once Yoongi spots Hoseok walking through the living room.

“Hey pretty nurse, and Yoongi.” Hoseok says without looking up, and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief.

You give him a questioning look but shake it off when Yoongi leads you up a lot of stairs and straight to his bedroom.

“Okay, there’s two ways this can go-” Yoongi slips his shirt over his head and you try to process everything as it’s happening because holy shit you’re going to fuck Yoongi for the first time in years and might actually be able to have an orgasm “-slow and steady or hard and fast.”

“Save the romance for next time,” you giggle, slipping your dress over your head and falling backwards onto his bed, “I haven’t had you inside me in years. Hard and fast.”

He chuckles, “You got it baby.”

He jumps on top of you, his hand flying to your thigh to steady your leg as he grinds his still clothed cock into your core. He’s already hard, and you’re already dripping. The last two days you spent not being near him was the most difficult thing you had experienced because you knew what was coming and how he was going to do it.

And you’re loving every second of it.

Spreading your legs wide, you reach between the two of you and play with the hem of his boxers. He groans into your mouth, inching upward so your hand slips further in, “No teasing, baby girl. Hard and fast.”

“Right, yes. I’m sorry.” you bite his bottom lip before lifting your hips and feeling his hands loop on either side of your panties to slip them down your legs. He drops between your legs immediately and inhales your scent, tossing his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like I remember.” Yoongi dives back, his nose brushing against your aching clit while his tongue darts out and licks your quivering hole. You let out a quiet moan but are quick to cover your mouth as you remember there are six other men on the other side of these thin walls.

The pleasure of knowing that he remembers your scent is enough to send you feral, your back arching off the bed as his lips finally wrap around your clit and sucks hard. The obscene sound of him drinking in your juices fills the room, his groans against your core sending chills up your spine. If there was anything you knew about Min Yoongi, it’s that he knew how to use his tongue.

You fill your core begin to heat up as your orgasm builds and before you know it, you’re uncovering your mouth and letting out a moan loud enough to be heard for miles.

Yoongi can’t help but smirk against you as he drinks in your release, moving to trail kisses up your abdomen as you come down from the pleasure.

“You ready for more?” He kisses your lips, and it’s then that you notice his cock his gloriously hard against his stomach, boxers long discarded.

“Please, yes. Please please plea-”

“Alright, hold your horses.” Yoongi jokes, brushing the head of his cock against your slit a few times teasingly.

You pout, “You said no teasing.”

He nods, “I can’t help it. Your face is so cute when you’re begging for my cock.”

As you’re thinking of a rebuttal, Yoongi finally slips inside. Both of you moan in pleasure at the clenching of your core. He remembers exactly how to move to get you to gasp, how deep to move to get you to clench, and he remembers what each of your movements mean. Your nails currently dig into his back harshly but he doesn’t complain, because that means his thrusts are going at just the right speed.

He wishes you can scream like you used to, but he realizes how weird that could be for his bandmates to hear. However, he can’t say that he necesarily minds all things considered. He’d love for Jimin to hear what he’s doing to you after the way his smart mouth moved the other night. He could imagine his face as he listens, but then Yoongi is dragged back to the moment when he feels you clench particularly hard.

You feel him tensing more and more, struggling to hold on as your vice grip on him tightens even further. The soft sponge of your warm cunt is nearly too much for him to bare, and as you feel your second orgasm approach, you grip Yoongi’s face in your hands, “Cum for me. Please.” His eyes flutter closed and he begins to thrust faster, lips on yours and sweat building on both of your foreheads. Then, your second orgasm washes over you deliciously, Yoongi’s hips stuttering before he follows with his own release, his cum coating your walls white. He’s still for a moment, gasping above you. When you reach up and brush the hair from his forehead, he collapses on top of you, “Fuck, that’s even better than I remembered.”

“Good,” you giggle, kissing his nose, “because there’s so much more I want to try with you.”

His heart flutters irrevocably, knocking the wind out of him when he realizes that you’re in this for the long run just as he is. This time he swears he’s going to make it work, and he plans on spending the rest of his life with you.

His lips brush against you once again, then he speaks.

“Write me a list, baby girl.”

#ty for reading!!#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga #bts #suga x reader #suga x reader smut #yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x reader smut #suga x reader fluff #yoongi x reader fluff

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laurelier · 3 years

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An anti/former harry fan has made several long blog entries about why harry is not political, just privileged and out of touch. Can we please prove them wrong? It makes me sad.

x/x/x

Listen, like.

Ok. Sigh. Big sigh. Because—here you know what I’m gonna put this under a cut bc frankly I don't wanna clog my blog up with discourse. So. If yal care what I think about this then keep on readin.

Honestly? Honestly. Honestly I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I…….. think this person raises some important points. I don't agree with everything, obviously—I wouldn’t be a fan of Harry if I didn’t see such gracefulness and compassion and strength in him and his work. But. Yeah. Some of this is stuff we should consider.

Here's the thing: personally, I don't necessarily think that H's reputation for quietness on social issues or for making soft statements is as awful as it's made out to be. Would I be elated if he said more? Sure, absolutely. He is so, so, so privileged, and he has such a huge platform. But what I see in him is a careful and thoughtful person who prefers to show solidarity through action or appearance rather than words. Which is, frankly, usually enough for me. I understand why it's not enough for some, but most of the time it is for me: I can take what he does and my interpretation of it and apply the goodness and kindness I see there to parts of my own life.

But really, getting to your actual question, I think this person’s point that if you’re pro-choice but are not willing to make unequivocally damning statements about abortion, you shouldn’t weigh in, is..... a fair one. It's interesting. Like, I don't totally know how I feel about this, to be 100% transparent with you. I don’t think I’d want to entirely gatekeep that conversation, and I want H to be able to express support for his fans in the ways he feels he can and should, but I do see where op is coming from there. Seen from a certain angle, H's statement does feel like a flippant nod to an issue that is very, very, very contentious and painful. And personally, I would appreciate a full-throated denouncement of laws prohibiting abortion from Harry much more than this kind of sort of maybe TPWK thing that we keep getting—but I think we have to remember that that kind of statement is not Harry’s thing. It's not, and hasn't really ever been; Harry’s music is all navel gazing and figuring yourself out, internal rather than external, and I don't think he promises us more than that. I don't think he needs to. And, like I said, I can understand why some would resent him for that, given his immense privilege, but really—Harry’s a human, and no matter what he says or doesn’t say people will scream at him and tell him he’s awful horrible evil or amazing gorgeous perfect, the combination of which has to be incredibly confusing, and not to baby someone who’s been read as a white man his whole life but—I don’t know that I’d want to try to make eloquent and perfectly measured statements on social issues if I were in Harry's position, either. I'd be terrified of my own platform. I just—he’s a person. Let him be one.

Granted, this particular instance is a bit tricky because being pro-choice *is* black and white right-wrong for me, where something like gender or sexuality (other issues he's often demonized for not "speaking out" enough on; utter BS, that) is very much a gray-area ~different for everyone and he'll share when he's ready or able~ type thing, but this idea of entitlement to all of Harry’s opinions and thoughts is still so tiring and frustrating to me. I'd like it if we could just let him figure things out at his own pace.

And, also: listen to what he's saying. Right? Like. He literally never said "abortion". I do think he was making a nod to it, but honest, the way I read that statement originally was—Harry doesn't want anyone to tell *him* what to do with his body. I hear, more than anything, just straight-up bodily reclamation there. Someone had to point out that it could be applied to the Texas law for me to get that part of it. It's layered. I feel like he's letting those who hear him decide what he means (yet again). And I see why someone might take issue with him making a statement that, because it's vague, could be misconstrued (even to the point of being twisted into an antivax statement, but I don't really think that's Harry's fault, it's pretty clear where he stands on that issue)—or see this as him maybe kind of going, eh, let's just throw abortion in there while we're at it as if that's not an issue that would deserve its own statement—I just. That's not what I take from it. And in any case I agree with op, in a twisty turny kind of way: I can't expect my politics to come from Harry Styles. I am a fan of Harry Styles because I think it's awe-inspiring that he shares his shifting, expanding knowledge of himself through his art, always with his trademark, ever-present grace and softness and vulnerability.

Really what it comes down to is. The person whose posts you linked said that his statement, if it's about abortion, is inappropriate because it puts the onus on those people actually harmed by the issue to "fix" it by supporting one another, and again, yeah, I can see why they said that—but I still don't think that's the only way to read it. What I hear when I hear Harry ask us to have one another's backs is: kindness is absolutely foundational, kindness is everything; acting human towards yourself and others, even when others do not, is not weak but is rather an act of defiance and it is very, very brave; is a way of fighting, really, for goodness; this is a world in which we all must take care of one another, and it's courageous to do so. He didn't say all that any more than he made a clear-cut statement about abortion, but still.

Whether H means for all of his equivocation and shallow-seeming statements to have so many interpretations isn't really my concern, at the end of the day. I don't know what's in H's head. What I do know is what his art has done for me—so even though it might sound hard to believe after reading this longass answer that I've written you today, nonnie, I do try to focus on only what I can see of H, remember that he's a privileged human being who, like all of us, is far, far, far from perfect, and not idolize him too much. It's important to encourage accountability for what he doesn't say and maybe should, but equally so to hear what he does.

#asks #anon #EDIT lmao i'm so aggressively pro choice that i forgot this is online and u gotta specify those things #a typo in an earlier version of this almost made it seem like my dumbass was pro life so if you were victimized by that earlier #i apologize #rambles #discourse

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drabbles-mc · 4 years

Text

You Came Back (1/3)

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera: Juice has a special place in my heart, so I'm denying his ending on the show😭 I want to foccus on the nurturing,fluffy and romantic side that he deserves😍 maybe something about Opie and Jax childhood friend who comes back to charming( Gemma always thought of her as her own kid) and she's really closed of emotionaly, bit our boy is smitten from the second he has his eyes on her. so romantic Juice overdrive, and she starts to see this side of life that's worth, by his side

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapter Index: Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: Okay so I maaaay have gotten a little carried away with this request (hence it being three parts lmao) but I just felt like to do it right I had to make it longer than a one-shot. Hope you don’t mind! My love for Juice knows no bounds so it’s easy for me to get a little over zealous lol

You rolled into the lot at T-M, turning the radio down as you did. Everything looked pretty much exactly the same as when you left all those years back. You wondered if any of the guys ever actually got out of Charming, or if they all fell into the routine and stayed. You shook your head at yourself, knowing that you weren’t really any different—all those years you spent out of Charming and somehow you ended up right back in it. Maybe you just weren’t meant to stay away.

You parked and took a deep breath, trying to give yourself the will to step out of the vehicle. You looked around the lot, seeing all the bikes lined up together made your heart speed up. You glanced over to the shop itself, not seeing any familiar faces at first. You sighed, finally making yourself cut the ignition and get out of the car.

The walk to the office felt like it was a mile long. The door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering. You heard an unmistakable voice on the other side, “Come in.”

You stepped inside, waiting for Gemma to look up from the papers in front of her. Her eyes flicked up, expecting to see someone else, anyone else, but there you were. It took a second for it all to register, but as soon as it did a smile broke out across her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, wrapping you in a hug.

“Well, well,” she laughed, stepping back so she could get a good look at you, “Didn’t expect to see you rolling in here any time soon.”

You laughed, shaking your head slightly, “Yea, me neither I guess.”

“What brings you here, sweetheart?” she could see the stress on your face.

You sighed, “Don’t really know. I had to go somewhere, and I ended up here.”

She smiled, nodding, “All my kids always make it back home,” she saw you open your mouth to argue and held her hand up to stop you, “Blood isn’t what makes someone my kid. If I ever fed you in my house, you’re my kid.”

You smiled and nodded, glad to be surrounded by the familiarity of it all. You thought that it would’ve changed over the years but you supposed that you should’ve known better. Charming, and all the people in it, seemed untouched by time. You had no idea if you were going to be able to blend back into it after being away for so long.

“That mean that Jax is around here somewhere too?”

Gemma smiled and nodded, “Clubhouse. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

The two of you walked side-by-side in silence. You knew that Gemma had questions, but you knew that she would wait until the excitement died down to pull you aside to ask you them. Today was just about finding everyone else again. Down the road you’d get around to finding yourself again, too.

Gemma swung open the door to the clubhouse, “Look who I found, wandering around the lot.”

Jax and Opie were both seated at the bar, smiles breaking out across their faces the second they saw you. They both stood up and came over to greet you, and you reveled in the warmth of their hugs.

“Holy shit,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Never thought I’d be seeing you again.”

“That seems to be the trend,” you said with a nervous smile.

Opie draped his arm around your shoulder, completely enveloping you as he pulled you against his chest again, “Welcome home.”

You laughed into his kutte, “What a welcome it is.”

You recognized some of the other faces in the clubhouse. Truthfully you weren’t ever overly close with the guys in the club. You were all nice to each other, but growing up with Jax and Opie you made a conscious decision to stay just far enough out of club drama and business to keep yourself safe. They were your best friends and you loved them, but you made a point to not know too much. Plausible deniability was key.

“Come, sit,” Jax flashed a smile, “have a beer.”

“You sure?”

He chuckled, “Yea. We ain’t got shit to do.”

Opie smiled at you, “Besides, how long has it been? Seven years? Eight?”

“Nine,” you said as you pulled away.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax said with a shake of his head, “Where does the time go?”

The three of you were sat at the bar, catching up on the broad strokes of what your lives had been like since the last time you were all in a room together. You always said that you were going to keep in touch with them when you left, but it never happened. You could blame it on a lot of different things, but deep down you knew that if you kept in touch you wouldn’t have stayed away. Charming was like a magnet and there was no denying its pull if you ever got too close.

“I do see some new faces though, right?” you laugh, “Some of these guys definitely weren’t here before.”

Jax chuckled, nodding, “You’re right. Got some new brothers hanging around. This is Half-Sack,” he nodded towards the young man who was behind the bar, trying and failing at not being obvious about staring at you, “He’s our latest Prospect.”

“N-nice to meet you, Y/N,” he nodded quickly as he went back to whatever he had been doing behind the bar beforehand.

You smiled and shook your head as you took another look around the clubhouse, “Who else is new?” you paused, chuckling to yourself, “Who else is new and actually matters?”

Opie chimed in, nodding to the far side of the clubhouse, “Only other new kid in the club is Juice.”

“Not hiring very many people these days, huh?” you chuckled, nudging Opie’s shoulder, “They stop bringing in new talent after you patched in?”

“Who else would they need?” his smile made your heart melt.

“Ope, Jax,” Clay came bursting into the clubhouse, “Church, now.”

“We’ll pick this up later,” Jax kissed you on the cheek, “It’s good to have you home.”

Opie pulled you into a half-assed headlock, kissing the top of your head before trailing behind Jax and following him into the chapel of the clubhouse. You watched in silent awe as the other men filtered into the room, shutting the doors behind them.

You turned and looked at the prospect, “You’re gonna miss roll call.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I don’t go in there unless explicitly instructed.”

“What’s your name?” you sipped on your beer while you waited for his response.

“It’s Kipp,” he only met your eyes for a second.

“Mind if I call you that instead of Half-Sack?” you chuckled.

His cheeks flushed slightly, “You can call me whatever you want.”

You laughed and shook your head but didn’t make any other comment about it. He seemed sweet, and you thought to yourself that maybe you didn’t give the other guys in the club enough of a chance. Maybe you kept a little too much distance from everyone. Maybe if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have had to leave to end up right back where you started, you just would’ve stayed.

When the chapel doors opened up again, the men started trickling out one by one. You didn’t see Jax, Opie, or Clay come back out right away though. You didn’t have much of anywhere else to be, so you stayed put to wait. The prospect brought you another beer when he saw that you weren’t going anywhere.

You were looking down at your phone when someone popped up and sat down on the stool next to yours. It took you a moment to look up and see who it was. You were greeted with a warm smile as the man next to you gave you a once-over.

“I’m Juice,” he nodded with a grin.

You smiled, holding out your hand, “Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You haven’t. I’m an…old friend of Jax and Opie. I haven’t been around in a while. Just got back to Charming.”

“Welcome back.”

You smiled, “Thanks. You’re new, too, yea? You weren’t here when I left.”

He chuckled, “New seems like a strong word.”

The two of you sat and made small talk for a few minutes. There was a warmth that radiated from his smile that made you feel like you’d known him your whole life. You wondered if maybe the club was turning over a new leaf. The newest members seemed like they were cut from a different cloth and it was reassuring to you.

Jax appeared behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, “This guy givin’ you a problem, Y/N?” you could hear the smile in his voice.

You shook your head, “Not at all. Just helping me kill time until you two jokers got out of your little meeting with Clay.”

“How long you in town for?” Jax asked.

You shrugged, “Until further notice?” you tried to play it off with a smile, not wanting to talk about how you had ended up back in Charming, “Why? That desperate to get rid of me already?”

He hugged you back against his chest, almost pulling you off the stool, “Nah, never. Where you staying?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against him, “Haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“You can stay with me until you figure it out,” he offered up, “Beats paying for a motel.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “Of course. Not giving you any more reasons to skip town on us again,” he held his hand out to help you off the stool, “C’mon, you can follow me and we can get you settled in.”

You let him help you, relieved that you had a place to stay, and that it was with someone that you trusted, “Thank you, Jax. I owe you one,” you turned back to Juice, “Nice meeting you.”

“Yea,” there was a small smirk on his face, “you too,” he watched you and Jax walk out of the clubhouse, laughing together as the door shut behind you. He turned to Opie, “Who is she?”

He shook his head with a knowing smile, clapping Juice on the back, “She’s out of your league, brother.”

Juice laughed at the remark, but wasn’t able to take his eyes away from the door that you had just walked out of. He might not have known you yet, but he was hoping that that wouldn’t be the case for long. You felt like a breath of fresh air. He drummed his fingertips on the surface of the bar, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn.

It took a few days to get comfortable staying in Jax’s house. He was more than accommodating, but you were still struggling with being back in Charming. Any time he tried to pry a little more into what your life had been like once you left, and what it was that made you decide to come back, you clammed up. You weren’t good enough at lying to try, especially not with someone who knew you as well as Jax did. He eventually backed off when he realized that he was just going to have to wait for you to be comfortable talking about it in your own time. But you still felt like there were a few degrees of separation between the two of you.

“Plans today?” he asked as he sat across from you at the table, taking a sip of his coffee.

You sighed and shook your head, “Not really. Still waiting to hear back from a couple of the places I sent applications out to.”

“If you need something in the meantime, I’m sure we could find a spot for you at T-M.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept charity, or pity, “No, you don’t have to do that. You guys have a full house there as it is.”

He smiled, “Nah, my mom could always use the help. She says it all the time.”

You chuckled, “Needing you guys to do your jobs and needing extra help aren’t the same thing.”

He laughed, “See? You two’ll work well together. Why don’t you come with me today and you can talk to her?”

“And say what? Just walk in and say, I’m poor, please give me a job?”

“Isn’t that what all job interviews are like?”

You laughed, not able to disagree, “I mean, I guess, yea,” you sighed, “Alright, fine. But I’m not talking to her alone.”

“You don’t need backup, Y/N.”

“Listen, I know your mom likes me, but she’s still one of the scariest fucking people I’ve ever met. So, you’re talking to her with me.”

He caved, the way you knew that he would. You followed him to the shop in your car, him on his bike. You laughed at the way he would speed ahead of you and force you to play catch-up. It felt like you were teenagers again and for a few minutes your heart felt lighter.

When the two of you rolled into the lot, things seemed quiet. The guys were working in the shop, and you looked around trying to picture potentially being here all day every day. You had no idea what that would be like, what you would even really do.

“Hey, baby,” Gemma walked up and hugged Jax, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, Mom,” he turned to you, “Y/N had something that she wanted to talk to you about.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line—you should’ve known that he was going to hang you out to dry on this. He gave you a pat on the back and took off towards the clubhouse, leaving you and Gemma there outside the office together.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she looked at you expectantly.

You sighed, hating that you were about to ask her about this, “Um, so…I’ve just been struggling to pick up a job on short-notice. Jax mentioned that maybe there would be a spot for me here? Just something short-term. I’m not trying to take advantage or anything—if there’s nothing you really need me for here that’s totally fine.”

She smiled, “There’s always something to be done around here,” she gently placed her hand on your arm, “We take care of our own. When can you start?”

You smiled with a shrug, “Now?”

Gemma chuckled, “Perfect. Juice needs an extra pair of hands on a repo run. You okay with that?”

You nodded, “Yea, sure. Will he tell me what I have to do? Because I have no idea,” you laughed.

She smiled with a slight nod, “You’ll be fine,” she waved Juice over, “Juice, c’mere!”

He jogged over, a smile plastered on his face as he looked at you, “What’s up?”

Gemma gestured towards you, “Y/N is working for us for a while. She’s going on the repo run with you today, that alright?”

He nodded immediately, “Yea, of course,” he looked at you with bright eyes, “Good to see you again.”

You smiled, nodding, “You too.”

You could practically feel him vibrating with excitement in the driver’s seat beside you as he drove. You tried to hide the smile that was fighting its way onto your face. You asked him what he even needed you to do when the two of you worked together. He outlined it all to you and it seemed fairly simple. You had to imagine that it wasn’t the most fun part of the job, but it was still something to keep the both of you busy for a little while.

On top of the repo, Gemma had called and asked the two of you to stop and pick up a few parts that she had ordered for the shop. You waited outside with the truck while Juice went inside to pick them up. He walked back out carrying two large boxes stacked on top of each other.

“Can you get the door?” he asked, voice slightly strained.

You chuckled, “I kinda wanted to see you try to pull it off by yourself.”

The two of you were halfway into your drive back to T-M when Juice spoke up, “Can I ask you something?”

You looked over at him, “Shoot.”

“Are you and Jax…you know…”

You laughed, “Dating?”

He shrugged, “Yea.”

You shook your head, unable to stop laughing, “No, no we are not. We’re just good friends. I love him but, yea, no,” you searched his face for a reaction, “Why?”

He tried to play it off, “No reason, just curious. You guys just seem close, is all.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled and went back to looking out the window, “If you say so.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #multichapter #chapter 1 #drabblesmc #you came back #jax teller #opie winston

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everythingsinred · 3 years

Text

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt.7)

Well, Natsume's really in it now! Today we'll be talking about what lengths Natsume will go to in order to protect the people he loves. He's not a normal boy with a normal first crush, after all. He has no intention of wooing her or flirting. In fact, his instinct is to distance himself, and going forward we'll see that instinct is motivated by more than just a low self-esteem.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Natsume has some major character flaws. He’s kinda a jerk in general and is rude and abrasive. He’s chronically selfless and seems to be drawn to situations where he can sacrifice himself for others, which is a very unhealthy way to be. He’s also terrible at keeping his word.

Natsume only made this decision on his own, but he’s pretty bad at carrying through with it. He’s the one who told her to stay away, but Natsume will have more and more trouble staying true to such an agreement.

At first, he makes an effort: Mikan is being bullied for her stupidity and sees Natsume. He glares at her, another discouragement from coming any closer. He doesn’t argue with her or join in on the bullying.

But in no time at all, the whole class is riled up in study mode because of Mikan’s example, and for many kids in Class B, the best person to turn to for tutoring help is Natsume, who is actually quite smart when he actually does the work--though he’d prefer not to. And he does help, though not with any kind or supportive words. He’ll leave that to Mikan. Maybe to him it feels a bit like a cheat, like he can afford to give in a little bit. He later walks alongside her after an exam, like he’s part of her circle, and although he’s not really engaging with her like the rest of the kids are, it’s enough that he’s near her.

And it’s enough for the ESP and Persona to notice.

We can see the ESP looking down on them from his headquarters room, still covered in shadows to maintain his mystery, but his figure is familiar enough for a reread. Natsume has been caught and he will have to face the consequences.

Persona subs in for Makihara-sensei (and we must wonder if Makihara was really unable to proctor his exam or if he was ordered to stay away so that a point could be made to Natsume), and despite his disguise, Natsume can tell it’s him instantly. After all, he was supposed to recognize him. Natsume looks horrified.

So far, Natsume has had to more or less balance two very different parts of his life: a more light-hearted life in Class B and his life as a spy and black ops agent. They’ve been difficult to juggle because of how different they are, but they’ve been pretty separated. Here, the lines are blurring. Was there really any divide at all or was that just an illusion? Persona can invade on his happiness any time he wants, on a whim, and nobody else will notice that anything is amiss. Only Natsume will be bothered, and that’s enough.

Natsume later catches up to Persona, asking him what the hell all that was about.

Permy and his fans aren’t the only ones to notice that Natsume has been softer lately--he and the ESP have noticed as well, and he’s been ordered to put a stop to it. He mentions a “kitten of a different color” who has been of interest to the ESP too, and Natsume plays dumb, his last-ditch attempt to protect Mikan from being drawn into this.

Persona comments on the strangeness of seeing the infamous Black Cat that he trained himself, who he’s supposedly only ever seen in action, sitting and taking a test like a normal kid. He reminds him that he’s not a normal kid. There’s no point in trying so hard. He won’t make it to ever see his family again, so why even bother?

And then Persona makes a point to discourage Natsume from getting close to that “kitten of a different color”. Natsume argues that they’re the ones who made them partners in the first place! And he might as well be giving himself away. Again, Natsume seems convinced that the partners thing was a decision from pretty high up, but I don’t think it was. Here, it seems like Persona is trying to clean up the mess Narumi made before it gets too out of hand. Natsume is a perfect tool and anything messing with that is inconvenient. They can’t unmake them partners (yet) so the most they can do is threaten Natsume.

And now we can see what kind of alice Persona has. It's a real threat, killing that plant. It's a reminder to Natsume what he's capable of, that his friends and loved ones could end up just like that plant.

And so Persona does.

Natsume is anguished here, because he’s been trying his very best to avoid this situation, but he should have known that Mikan was already in the academy spotlight and his feelings would be quickly caught. It was too late from the start and he was doomed all along to add Mikan to the list of people he will do anything to protect.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next chapter opens with Mikan being confused and hurt by Natsume’s sudden new coldness. She has no idea what’s brought this all on, but we do. Natsume has no choice now but to completely try and cut her off. It’s for her own good, after all. If he’s not careful, she could get hurt. Protecting her is worth it, even if it means he has to be even more of a villain than usual.

We don’t see a lot of Natsume in this chapter, actually, because he’s trying really hard to stick by his word this time. We see him trip up a little, staring at her in class. When she catches him, he turns away coldly, but from this we can see that Natsume really doesn’t want to be leaving her alone like this. If he had it his way, in an ideal world, he’d be much nicer to her. Unfortunately, Natsume doesn’t waste his time thinking about his ideals, so he keeps at it, pushing her away.

The next time we see Natsume, it’s after we’ve been thoroughly introduced to the concept of the life-shortening alice. This is one hint of many that he has such an alice, several chapters before we get a real confirmation.

The scene where Natsume struggles on a bed full of pills is perhaps more dramatic in the anime, but it’s no less potent here. It’s like a sucker punch. You don’t want it to be true. He’s ten years old, for heaven’s sake! TEN YEARS OLD! And he’s suffering, hunched over, face red, gasping for air, clutching his chest, next to the biggest bag of medicine I’ve ever seen. It’s the biggest hint we’ve gotten so far, especially in the context of Kaname’s illness.

It's heart-breaking to imagine that most of the time, Natsume is simply pretending like he's not in absolute physical agony.

Kaname stays at the hospital for long stretches of time, staying for weeks and sometimes months at a time. He’s hospitalized more than he’s able to walk around free. There’s a lot to consider when that treatment is compared to Natsume’s. Natsume is the DA favorite and is sent on many missions. His trips to the hospital are never for weeks or months at a time, not because he doesn’t need the rest, but because the school can’t stand to go so long without their prize fighter. Natsume might be in even worse condition than Kaname, but there’d be no real way to tell unless we got it from him, because he has no choice but to put up with it and pretend like he’s not living in constant agony. And on top of being terribly and terminally ill, he gets physically beaten somewhat regularly… this school beats sick children and then threatens them when they find any inkling of happiness.

There is a bittersweet tone about Kaname’s story. He’s already sick anyway but he will probably die if he keeps using his alice, but he wants to, because he wants to bring people the same happiness that making Bear brought him. It’s tragic and heart-breaking, but it’s touching too. That sweetness is missing from Natsume’s appearance. His situation feels miserable and helpless in comparison, because not only does he have no way out, but nobody even knows the extent of his struggles.

He only lets himself feel this level of pain when he’s all alone in his bedroom. He’s been having a horrible past few days, having to ignore Mikan when she’s all that’s made him happy in recent memory. All that together, and we know that this night was a rough one for him.

The next day, we see everyone saying good-bye to Kaname. Once again, Natsume is completely separated from the rest of them, all alone in the classroom, sitting and looking as miserable as one can expect. It’s strange seeing him now after we’ve seen what his nights look like and just how painful they can get.

I just want him to be okay. Why is that too much to ask?

There’s some text on his panel: “I want the future I spend with the ones I love to last just a little longer.” Yet another hint that maybe his illness is more than just that. He has very little time left, and very little time to spend with his loved ones, but even worse: he can’t even spend time with Mikan because doing so would put her in danger. Even with Youichi and Ruka the amount of time he can spend with them is limited. They have their own lives and he doesn’t want to hold them back or hint in the slightest that there’s something up with him. He doesn’t want to worry or burden them. And so he sits alone in the classroom, looking despondent and lonely.

And now we know more than ever that this was never his choice: he has to be like this.

No, he’s not the asshole he makes himself out to be, somebody who doesn’t care about others and cuts others off because he thinks himself above them. All he wants is to protect people from getting too entrenched in his dark life. Natsume being this level of a jerk is a method to protect people, a method an adult would have to take.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I’m quite relieved to have finally passed the point where the anime adapts the manga. From now on, I can focus entirely on the manga. I passed 22k words on this essay too! This whole thing will be sooooo long. I hope it’s an enjoyable read so far. It’s quite fun for me to write.

This chapter is the beginning of a long and dramatic arc. There’s been incidents of people losing their alices. The academy is withholding information about the gravity of the situation, lying that the students have not been affected so far.

But even with the little information the kids have, Class B is full of concern. Everyone is discussing these incidents, debating whether losing one’s alice would even be a bad thing. After all, they’d be able to go back home and see their families. Nonoko brings up a great point, that her alice is a part of her identity, something she loves about herself. It’s not something she’d ever willingly part with. Furthermore, she doesn’t want to leave all her friends at the academy either. Ultimately, the kids all agree that they wouldn’t want to lose their alices.

At this, Natsume stands up and leaves the room. He’s heard enough.

Natsume doesn’t just have complicated feelings about his alice--he feels hatred for it. After all, if it weren’t for his alice, he could live to a ripe old age. He could still be with his family. He could be happy, not used as a weapon by the academy to fight until he dies. He can’t relate much to the conversations about fondness for an alice. From what we can see, he’d be over the moon to be rid of it for good. This is a concept brought up now, because it will be incredibly important later on.

Not to spill about my personal life or anything, but I’m an English major (in an anglophone country so my focus is literary analysis and writing). Writing literature papers in school was a love of mine that I translated to my other interests. I’m writing what I can here about general themes and even visual parallels. I want to write as thorough an analysis as I can. Unfortunately, I can’t effectively pick apart word choices and phrases when they’re translated from another language and when so many conflicting translations may exist.

I’m saying all this as a disclaimer because I want to analyze word choice now and I am aware that this might not carry to the original Japanese or even to other versions of the English translation. (For reference, I’m using the TokyoPop versions for my analysis for the first 15 volumes and then I’ll be using whatever I get my hands on for the rest. The pics I use are from scans, but the main source I use for now is TokyoPop.)

"Nowhere!".... hmm let me read way too much into this.

Natsume leaves the room and Ruka chases after him, asking where he’s headed. Natsume responds, “Nowhere.” This might be a nothing point to make, but it stands out to me whenever I read this part. It’s a reassurance to Ruka, sure, but there seems to be more to it. On the surface, we can tell that Natsume doesn’t have a destination in mind; he just doesn’t want to be in the classroom anymore, listening to all that upsetting talk. Deeper than that, he really is heading nowhere. He’s stuck there, at the academy, unlike the rest of them who will eventually leave to go back home once they’ve graduated. Natsume will probably die at the school, trapped within its gates. He will probably never see his family again. He is, in that sense as well, going nowhere.

The rest of their conversation is just as packed with meaning. Ruka can tell something is up and he wants Natsume to talk to him, to let him in, but Natsume knows that Ruka has made a pact not to smile if he’s not smiling. So even though Ruka is asking and wants to know what’s wrong, Natsume won’t give anything away. Being miserable is one thing, but letting Ruka know that something is worse than usual would only make Ruka miserable too, and he can’t have that. The bottom of one page has him frowning, maybe steeling himself, and then at the top of the next page, he turns around with a grin to tousle Ruka’s hair.

Don't mind me. I am simply crying.

“It’s nothing,” he says with his smile, looking so gentle, and Ruka still looks concerned, but he can’t argue anymore.

In reality there’s a lot going on with Natsume. Later, when we are introduced to Tono, he mentions being concerned about Natsume’s health, having heard that he was making frequent visits to the hospital. We already know he’s sick and going on ceaseless missions, and on top of all that he has to ignore and be cruel to the girl he likes. It’s a terrible situation. But Natsume can’t tell Ruka any of this without worrying him, so instead he will keep it to himself. After all, it’s nothing that can be helped or changed. It’s something he feels he has to cope with on his own. To him, spilling his secrets would be selfish and only cause suffering.

Chapter Thirty

Iinchou has finally returned from his visit to his hometown. He’s brought gifts and anecdotes and everyone is quite happy to see him, until Iinchou attempts to use his alice and finds himself unable to.

It’s a shock to the whole class that a kid at their school has lost his alice. They had been so relieved that at least it wouldn’t affect kids like them, but now one of them is a victim too. It makes the fear much more real. If it could happen to Iinchou, it could happen to any of them.

Things get tense when Iinchou returns to class and says that this might have been the fault of a woman he encountered outside of the school, someone who was probably affiliated with Z. Everyone who was involved with saving Natsume when he was kidnapped is shocked to hear about Z again, but none more than Natsume himself. He gets up and leaves, just like he did last chapter.

He’s thinking about the proposal Reo gave, that Natsume should join Z and fight against the academy he despises. But he’s not alone with his thoughts, because Ruka followed him again, and so did Mikan this time.

She tries to ask him about Z, see if he has any more idea about what’s going on. She’s confused and he knows more than anyone what happened during that incident, but he’s refusing to acknowledge her presence, let alone answer any of her questions. He’s keeping up his charade of cruelty to keep her safe, but it’s driving Mikan crazy. She finally breaks, screaming at him that he should pay attention when people are talking to him, and further that if he has any issues with her he should just say it to her face.

Just like last chapter, we see a panel of Natsume steeling himself, ready to do the selfless thing to protect the other person. Only this time the next panel has him glaring at her, saying he doesn’t like anything about her. He hates everything about her.

Natsume has no choice but to lie all the time about how he's feeling, because everyone else must always come first.

It feels different, but in reality this is the same thing he did to Ruka last chapter. He can’t be honest about his feelings when he’s feeling upset, and he can’t be honest about his feelings when he’s actually starting to fall for a girl. He always has to hide his true feelings, repress and bury them, lie about them in order to protect everyone around him. It’s hard for him to do, but he thinks it hurts him more than it could hurt her, so he manages it.

What adds even more layers to this is that Ruka is observing the whole thing. He sees Natsume’s actions as selfless but misfires on the motive a little--but only a little.

He recalls eating strawberries with Natsume and Aoi, with Aoi cheerfully discussing her newfound love for the fruits. And so Natsume gives his to her. Aoi is surprised, because strawberries are his favorites. He responds easily, “I hate them now.”

"For you," Natsume says.

Ruka knows what kind of person Natsume is, that Natsume would reject something he loves so that his loved ones can be happy. They’re both aware that they like the same girl, and Ruka can’t help but put the math together and assume that perhaps Natsume is doing this for him, hurting himself and bringing himself pain so that Ruka can be happy and pursue a girl he has a crush on guilt-free.

He’s even more convinced of the theory with the tiny panel that reminds us of when Natsume shoved Ruka into Mikan so they could dance. Natsume loves Mikan too, but he wants Ruka to be happy, so he will give up and even ruin his own chances to help out his best friend over himself.

When I say it’s a misfire, I mean that Natsume has a lot of other things going on, including Persona and his imminent death. It’s not that he definitely isn’t doing this for Ruka, it’s just that it’s not as major a factor as other things. He’s mainly doing it because of the threats from Persona. If Ruka is involved in his thought process, it’s mainly a bonus. Ruka’s theory is definitely not unfounded; just not completely accurate.

In any case, it does add extra substance to the dynamic between the three of them, where they all walk away from the moment with completely different kinds of misery.

Before any of them can sit with their sadness, though, they receive word that an intruder from Z is at the school.

Conclusion

In this section, we explored how Natsume has no choice but to distance himself from everybody, and even how the methods he uses to distance himself look different depending on the person. Ultimately, despite the fact that he isn't the sweetest kid you'll ever meet, Natsume being cruel to this extent isn't a quirk of his personality: it's what he has to do. If he didn't have so many things being held against him, he might be much kinder to Mikan, or more honest with Ruka, but he has no choice in the matter.

In the next edition, we're getting more involved in the Z Arc and going into how come Natsume goes from telling Mikan he hates her to backing her cause and going on a dangerous mission with her.

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