#I’ve probably posted almost this exact same thing several times but i will continue to praise yuujis character I think it’s great 😤 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonjaekook · 3 years

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Residual Starshine

Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.

Word Count: 19.3k

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst

Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet

This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.

You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds. All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.

Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.

When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.

Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-

You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”

Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”

“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.

“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.

“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”

Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”

With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”

After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”

“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”

“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”

“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.

“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.

You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”

For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”

“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”

“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”

You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”

He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”

“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.

“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”

He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”

“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.

“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”

“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”

You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”

“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.” “You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.

“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”

“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”

As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.

The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.

Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.

As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.

You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”

He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”

You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.

Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.

That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.

“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.

“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”

“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”

“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.

“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”

Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”

“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.

Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”

“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”

“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”

“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.

That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.

The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.

The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.

“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”

“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.

He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”

“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.

“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”

You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”

“What position does he play?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”

“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.

“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.

“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.

“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.

“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”

You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”

A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.

From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.

You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.

The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”

After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.

Then, the whistle is blown.

The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.

For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.

The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.

The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.

“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.

“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”

“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”

“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.

“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”

There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.

Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.

“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”

You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”

“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”

You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”

The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.

“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.

“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.

After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”

You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.

“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.

“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.

From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended. “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”

Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”

Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”

As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.

“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”

It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.

A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.

You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.

On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.

As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.

There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.

You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.

The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.

To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.

Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.��

“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.

He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”

You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”

“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?” “I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.

B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.

At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.” The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”

“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”

“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.

You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.

Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”

Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”

You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”

“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.

“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.

“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.

Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!” “I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.

“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”

There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”

“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.

Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”

He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”

“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.

“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.

You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.

The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”

At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”

He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.

Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”

You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”

The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”

“This again?” You say, frowning.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”

“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”

You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”

You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”

On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”

“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”

“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”

You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble

Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?

Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.

As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”

Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”

“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”

The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”

“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.

“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”

“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”

It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.

When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”

“You could say that.”

The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”

“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.

As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”

“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.

“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.

“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”

Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”

That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”

“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”

“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.

Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”

“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”

“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?

Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.

When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.

That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.

When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?

Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.

The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.

Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.

During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”

He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”

“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”

“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”

“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”

“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.

You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.

“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”

“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.

“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.

“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”

“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.

You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”

“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”

The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.

After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.

“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.

“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.

“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”

“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.

“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”

“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”

“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”

With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.

You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…

It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.

That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?

You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question. You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.

Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.

The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”

You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.

Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.

He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.

As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.

You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.

The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.

At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.

You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.

He misses.

You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.

The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.

You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.

You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.

“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.

“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.

“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.

“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”

The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”

“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”

He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”

You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”

“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”

“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”

“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.

“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.

Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.

As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench. “Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”

“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.

“Yuta, it’s me.”

“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”

“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.

“You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.

“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.

“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.

“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.

“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”

“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.

“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.

“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”

The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”

“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”

“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”

His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”

He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”

You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”

The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”

“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.

The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.

You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.

You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.

Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”

“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”

You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”

You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.

“These have to come off.”

“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.

“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”

You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.

“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.

“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”

He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.

His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.

You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.

“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”

“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.

“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-

Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”

You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”

“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”

“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”

“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”

“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”

The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”

The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”

“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.

His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.

“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”

“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-

“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.

Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”

“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.

Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”

You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”

“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.

As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”

You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”

“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”

“Hm?”

“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.

You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”

“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”

“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”

He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”

He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.

“Do you want to go professional?”

He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”

“I really think you could do it!”

Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”

At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.

Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.

In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.

When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.” “Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”

“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”

“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.

“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”

“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”

“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”

He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.

“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”

“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.

He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.

He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.

Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”

“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.

“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”

“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”

You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.

Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”

“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”

“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”

“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.

“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.

“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.

“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”

He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”

With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”

You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.” “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”

Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”

“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”

“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”

You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”

As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”

He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”

Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.

“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.

“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”

Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”

“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.

“I do.”

“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”

“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.

“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.

“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.

He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”

“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.

He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.

Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.

You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.

When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.

“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.

It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.

#yuta smut #yuta fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #neowritingsnet #nct angst #yuta angst #nct one shot #yuta one shot #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #yuta imagine #nct imagine #yuta fanfiction #yuta fanfic #sports collab #i hope everyone enjoys this :)#apologies for lateness #wonjaekook

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count-lero · 3 years

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So thanks to @microcosme11 who showed a lot of interest in the incredible painting “Battle of Leipzig” by Johann Peter Kraft I’ve decided to consecrate a series of posts to the main participants of the event depicted on the canvas!

It’s simply going to be a bunch of my guesses about who is who over there. 👀

Unfortunately I’m going to illustrate my ideas with such an amount of pictures that it’s simply a necessity to divide this post into several parts…

Well, as an old Russian saying goes, “Don’t feed me bread, just let my speak a lot about 19-century men in fancy uniforms”!

Ahem.

So here comes part 1!

First of all, let’s start with the most important participants - three allied monarchs themselves. Here they are: Alexander I of Russia, Franz II of Austria and Friedrich Wilhelm III of Prussia. 👑

…Aaaaand I was lucky enough to find some old photos I took in the State Hermitage Museum during my last trip to Saint-Petersburg!

I guess Saint-Petersburg is at some point the second home for each and every lover of the Russian Empire. Even nowadays the city itself represents the living remains of that illustrious period in Russian history. :)

As for the paintings those epic depictions of allied monarchs are located in the Military Gallery of the Winter palace. The portrait of Franz II is also one of Kraft’s works which was presented by Kaiser himself to Alexander I when the latter decided to organise the Military Gallery (which is also dedicated to the victory of Leipzig, what a coincidence) in the 1820s while the portraits of Alexander and Friedrich were made by the German painter Franz Krüger who had been working for the Russian Imperial court for a long period of time.

All three of them look truly magnificent but it’s a little bit hard to find the right angle for a photo because they hang pretty high and are gigantic. 😅

Okay, back to the “Battle of Leipzig”~

Since monarchs were usually followed by an escort of their loyal courtiers, the exact same thing goes for the Kraft’s painting. This time for the major part it consists of different military men. I believe most of them come from the general headquarters.

There are three major figures accordingly behind Alexander, Franz and Friedrich - three chiefs-of-staff of the allied forces.

The first man in the crowd is (I’m still not entirely sure about him but it would be still logical to some extent) August Neidhardt von Gneisenau, quartermaster-general of the Silesian army and Blücher’s right-hand man.

The second one is probably (like I don’t know where his aiguillettes are but the resemblance is quite obvious) Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky, chief-of-staff in the Russian army.

He became one of the Alexander’s closest friends since he was introduced to him by his father Pavel I, the emperor of Russia, when Alexander was still a grand-duke (or how we call him in Russian - цесаревич / tsesarevich ✨).

By the way, Volkonsky and his colleague Mikhail Semyonovich Vorontsov, a general who also went through all Napoleonic wars, were the only commanders in the Russian army who received the Grand Cross of the British Order of the Bath after all the struggles.

And here is Vorontsov as a small postcriptum. :)

Mikhail was the eldest son of Semyon Romanovich Vorontsov, a Russian diplomat who served as an ambassador in the United Kingdom for almost thirty years! That was the main reason why he knew English language as well as his mother tongue, Russian.

In the nearest troublesome future he and Wellington actually became very good friends as well! 🇷🇺🇬🇧

To be continued 🔜

#napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #battle of leipzig #völkerschlacht bei leipzig #battle of the nations #alexander i of russia #franz II of austria #friedrich wilhelm III of prussia #august von gneisenau #pyotr mikhailovich volkonsky #mikhail semyonovich vorontsov #19th century

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luckgods · 3 years

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Why all the white guys in whump?

I got Inspired by a post asking that question, and here we are. Warning: long post ahead.

I think it’s due to a combination of factors, as things frequently are.

The preference for / prevalence of white male characters in fandom is well-known and has been examined pretty thoroughly by people already.

What’s worth noting for discussing this tendency in whump in particular is that the ‘whump fandom’ itself is not a ‘fandom’ in the traditional sense of being made of fans of one single source narrative (or source setting, like a particular comics fandom, or the Star Wars extended universe) with pre-existing characters. Although subsets of traditional fandoms certainly exist within the larger whump fandom, a lot of whump is based on original, ‘fan’-created characters.

So, given the tendency of ‘traditional’ fandoms to create stories disproportionately centered on white male characters due to the source material itself being centered on white male characters (and giving more narrative weight to them, characterizing them better, etc), if we say hypothetically that the whump fandom is split say 50/50 between ‘traditional’ fandom works and original whump works, you’d expect to see a higher number of works focused on white men than the demographics of the ‘traditional’ fandom’s source work would predict, but not as extreme of a divergence between the source material & the fanworks as the one you’d see if whump fandom were 100% based on popular media.

However, that doesn’t quite seem to be the case. Whump stories and art remain focused on overwhelmingly male and frequently white characters, which means that the tendency of the fandom to create stories disproportionately centered on white male characters cannot be ONLY explained by the source material itself being centered on white male characters (and giving more narrative weight to them, characterizing them better, etc).

And, having established the fact that whump writers & artists presumably have MORE control over the design of their characters than writers & artists in ‘traditional’ fandoms, we have to wonder why the proportions remain biased towards men, & white men in particular.

—

The race thing is pretty simple in my opinion. Mostly, it’s just another extension of the fanbase’s tendency to reflect the (predominantly US-American, on tumblr) culture it exists in, which means that, in a white-centric culture, people make artworks featuring white people.

There’s also the issue of artists being hesitant to write works that dwell heavily on violence towards people of color due to the (US-American) history of people of color being violently mistreated. I’ve actually seen a couple of posts arguing that white people SHOULDN’T write whump of nonwhite characters (particularly Black characters) because of the history of actual violence against Black bodies being used as entertainment, which means that fictional violence against Black people, written by white people, for a (presumed) white audience, still feels exploitative and demeaning.

I'm not going to get into all my thoughts on this discussion here but suffice to say that there's probably an impact on the demographics of whump works from authors of color who simply... don't want to see violence against people of color, even non-explicitly-racialized violence, and then another impact from white authors who choose not to write non-white characters either due to the reasons stated above, or simply due to their personal discomfort with how to go about writing non-white characters in a genre that is heavily focused on interpersonal violence.

Interestingly enough, there’s also a decent proportion of Japanese manga & anime being used as source material for whump, and manga-styled original works being created. The particular relationship between US-American and Japanese pop culture could take up a whole essay just by itself so I’ll just say, there’s a long history of US-Japanese cultural exchange which means that this tendency is also not all that surprising.

—

GENDER though. If someone had the time and the energy they could make a fucking CAREER out of examining gender in whump, gender dynamics in whump, and why there seems to be a fandom-wide preference for male whumpees that cannot be fully explained by the emphasis on male characters in the source text.

I have several different theories about factors which impact gender preference in whump, and anyone who has other theories (or disagrees with mine) is free to jump in and add on.

THEORY 1: AUTHOR GENDER AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.  Fandom in general is predominantly female, although these days it might be more accurate to say that fandom is predominantly composed of cis women and trans people of all genders. However, pretty much everyone who isn't a cis man has had to contend with the specter of gendered violence in their real personal life. Thus, if we posit whump (and fandom more generally) as a sort of escapist setup, it's not hard to see why whump authors & artists might willfully eschew writing female whumpees (especially in the case of inflicted whump), because (as in the discussion of people of color in whump above), even violence towards women that is explicitly non-gender-based may still hit too close to home for people whose lives have been saturated with the awareness of gender-based violence.

THEORY 2: SICK OF SEXY SUFFERING.  Something of an addendum to theory 1, it's worth noting that depictions of female suffering in popular media are extremely gendered (in that they specifically reflect real-life gender-based violence, and that said real-life violence is almost exclusively referenced in relation to female characters) and frequently sexualized as well. There's only so many times you can see female characters having their clothes Strategically Ripped while they're held captive, being sexually menaced (overtly or implicitly) to demonstrate How Evil the villain is, or just getting outright sexually assaulted for the Drama of it all before it gets exhausting, especially when the narratives typically either brush any consequences under the rug, or dwell on them in a way that feels more voyeuristic and gratuitous than realistic and meaningful. All this may result in authors who, given the chance to write their own depictions of suffering, may decide simply to remove the possibility of gendered violence by removing the female gender.

THEORY 3: AUTHOR ATTRACTION.  I'll admit that this one is more a matter of conjecture, as I haven't seen any good demographic breakdowns of attraction in general fandom or whump fandom. That said, my own experience talking to fellow whump fans does indicate that attraction to the characters (whether whumpers, or whumpees) is part of the draw of whump for some people. This one partially ties into theory 1 as well, in that people who are attracted to multiple genders may not derive the same enjoyment out of seeing a female character in a whumpy situation as they might seeing a male character in that situation, simply because of the experience of gendered violence in their lives.

THEORY 4: ACCEPTABLE TARGETS.  The female history of fandom means that there's been a lot more discussion of the impacts of depicting pain & suffering (especially female suffering) for personal amusement. Thus, in some ways, you could say that there is a mild taboo on putting female characters through suffering if you can't "justify" it as meaningful to the narrative, not just titillating, which whump fandom rarely tries or requires anyone to do. This fan-cultural 'rule' may impact whump writers' and artists' decisions in choosing the gender of their characters.

THEORY 5: AN ALTERNATIVE TO MAINSTREAM MASCULINITY.  Whump fandom may like whumping men because by and large, mainstream/pop culture doesn't let men be vulnerable, doesn't let them cry, doesn't let them have long-term health issues due to constantly getting beat up even when they really SHOULD, doesn't let them have mental health issues period. Female characters, as discussed in theory 2, get to ("get to") go through suffering and be affected by it (however poorly written those effects are), but typically, male characters' suffering is treated as a temporary problem, minimized, and sublimated into anger if at all possible. (For an example, see: every scene in a movie where something terrible happens and the male lead character screams instead of crying). So, as nature abhors a vacuum, whump fandom "over-produces" whump of men so as to fill in that gap in content.

THEORY 6: AMPLIFIED BIAS.  While it's true that whump fandom doesn't have a source text, it's also true that whump fans frequently find their way into the fandom via other 'traditional' fandoms, and continue participating in 'traditional' fandoms as part of their whump fandom activity. Bias begets bias; fandom as a whole has a massive problem with focusing on white male characters, and fans who are used to the bias towards certain types of characters in derivative works absolutely reproduce that bias in their own original whump works.

—

I honestly think that there is greater bias in the whump fandom than anyone would like to admit. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems as though whump fans avoid introspection and discussion of the issue by bringing up the points I talked about in my previous theories, particularly discomfort with depictions of female suffering for amusement.

However, I think that, as artists, we owe it to ourselves and one another to engage in at least a small amount of self-interrogation over our preferences, and see what unconscious or unacknowledged biases we possess. It's a little absurd to argue that depictions of women as whumpees are universally too distressing to even discuss when a male character in the exact same position would be fine and even gratifying to the person making that argument; while obviously, people have a right to their own boundaries, those boundaries should not be used to shut down discussion of any topics, even sensitive ones.

Furthermore, engaging in personal reflection allows artists to make more deliberate (and meaningful) art. For people whose goal is simply to have fun, that may not seem all that appealing, but having greater understanding of one's own preferences can be very helpful towards deciding what works to create, what to focus on when creating, and what works to seek out.

—

GENDER ADDENDUM: NONBINARY CHARACTERS, NONBINARY AUTHORS.  Of course, this whole discussion so far has been exclusively based on a male-female binary, which is reductive. (I will note, though, that many binary people do effectively sort all nonbinary people they know of into 'female-aligned' and 'male-aligned' categories and then proceed to treat the nonbinary people and characters they have categorized a 'female-aligned' the same way as they treat people & characters who are actually female, and ditto for 'male-aligned'. That tendency is very frustrating for me, as a nonbinary person whose gender has NOTHING to do with any part of the binary, and reveals that even 'progressive' fandom culture has quite a ways to go in its understanding of gender.)

Anyways, nonbinary characters in whump are still VERY rare and typically written by nonbinary authors. (I have no clue whether nonbinary whump fans have, as a demographic group, different gender preferences than binary fans, but I'd be interested in seeing that data.)

As noted above with female characters, it's similarly difficult to have a discussion about representation and treatment of nonbinary characters in whump fandom, and frankly in fandom in general. Frequently, people regard attempts to open discussions on difficult topics as a call for conflict. This defensive stance once again reveals the distaste for requests of meaningful self-examination that is so frequent in fandom spaces, and online more generally.

—

TL;DR: Whump is not immune to the same gender & racial biases that are prevalent in fandom and (US-American) culture. If you enjoy whump: ask yourself why you dislike the things you dislike— the answer may surprise you. If you create whump: ask yourself whose stories you tell, and what stories you refuse to tell— then ask yourself why.

#eposting #whumpinions #whump #whumpblr #whump community #essay #i wrote this so yall all have to read it lol #but seriously the next person who implies that a nonbinary person is just 'woman-lite' or 'man-lite' is going to Die By My Fucking Sword #mine

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ohmygoodnessgraciouss · 3 years

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Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023. The two bonded over the loss of their partners. It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend. Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!! I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile. It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible. I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them. Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter. I changed things a little bit. We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late. The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did. I promise!

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone!

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously. Watching her fix the wall was incredible. It was unlike anything you’ve seen before. So unusual yet so familiar.

Wanda smiled lightly at you. “Alright, I understand. But please feel free to come by anytime. Whatever you need,” She said. You smiled back at the woman.

“Of course! Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door.

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you. Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face. “Vision? What’s wrong, buddy? You look paler than a ghost.”

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood. The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place. “It’s nothing,” He smiled.

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you. It was cut nearly in half. From what, you couldn’t tell.

“Absolutely. I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father. It feels like it happened so quickly.”

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision. You’ll be fine though. You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too. Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone. You’ve got this whole town.”

“That’s true. This town seems to be quite... Supportive.”

“Sometimes too supportive. It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh.

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected. Sometimes it is almost concerning. This town is nothing like I have ever seen before. I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on. The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it. His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was.

“I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form. He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly. His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined. Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself. “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.

“Quite,” He said stiffly. Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention. He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another. “I am Loki. But who are you?”

“That’s impossible,” Scott said. “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.”

“2018?” Loki questioned. “The year 2018?”

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes. “What other year would I mean?”

“What year is it now then?”

“2023. You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here. The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this. Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?”

Scott ignored his question. “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me. But they told me he died. Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Scott shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there. Plans have changed.”

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue. It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore. The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border. The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades. An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering. Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign. Now it seemed ominous.

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road. It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore. Or perhaps, it was the other way around. For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight. The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away. The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly. A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.

So you kept on walking.

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it. You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it. You hardly remember anything before Westview. What was on the outside?

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier. It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago. The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer. It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside. Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back. The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did. You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it. You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand. They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby. No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched. You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in. It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body. You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on. You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it. It felt as if you were frozen solid. Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out. Memories were starting to seep in though. Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.

You gained feeling back in your hand again. You had to be close to the end if you could feel it. In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier. You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath. It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you. “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say. It was distinct, clear, loud. Whoever it was sounded like the leader.

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface. A gurney, probably. You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were. Someone familiar stood next to you. It was Geraldine. Was that her name?

At that point it didn’t matter. Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you. She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her.

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had. For the first time in a long time you were able to dream. These dreams weren’t normal though.

They were memories.

Memories of everything before Westview.

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear. Clearly, he was just an illusion. Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control. He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track. They never told him about Y/N being involved. They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked. They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right. Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea.

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time.

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy. She felt something turn in her chest. Something was wrong. Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts. He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back. She turned to him and smiled.

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked.

“No, nothing at all. Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

#loki x reader #loki odinson #laufeyson #thor #westview #WandaVision #WandaVision spoilers #Reality Check Masterlist #Fanfic #Fanfiction #fluff #wanda maximoff #vision #avengers #marvel

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted.

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on.

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie.

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers.

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her.

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand.

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom.

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!”

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was)#Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 7: Symptom

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Three days in a row on accident because I have 0 self control. Someone on ao3 suggested a hot spring scene but it didn't fit the narrative- SO I have also written two "interludes" in the springs. I will post those both this weekend for funsies. No idea where they fit in the story but they're fun so who cares? Haha.

Part 6 Interlude One: Electricity in the Springs (Kung Lao x Reader) Interlude Two: Steam (Liu Kang x Reader) Part 8 Chapter Index

Together you walked through the temple, Kung Lao leading you down several flights of stairs, further into the mountainside. He chatted with you casually about several of the halls that you passed; what was down them and places he had explored with Liu Kang when they had been strictly forbidden to do so. You were grateful for the white noise of conversation. It was even nostalgic. He’d talk like this when he’d come to visit you at your Grandma’s. He’d talk and talk about anything and everything, even if you never said a word.

“Y/N?” He slowed his walk. You turned toward him and stopped walking just in front of where he’d now stopped. “Can I ask you something? And will you be honest with me?”

“Depends on the question, Kung Lao.”

“Are you sweet on Liu Kang?”

Completely floored by the boldness of his accusation, you stuttered and then laughed uncomfortably. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just curious. You lit up when he joined us in the pit.” He seemed barely able to say the words without gagging though there was a playful smile on his lips still.

“I don’t remember you being such a gossip.”

“You’re avoiding answering the question, Y/N.”

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved his shoulder. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” You were flustered to say the very least. Kung Lao was so damn forward, a far cry from how any of the time you’d spent with Liu Kang had been. He’d just outright asked! Of course you were sweet on Liu Kang, of course you were.

“Oh? Well, then what about me?” He tapped his chest with a childlike grin. “Were you ever sweet on me? Are you still?”

“You know, I am seriously considering throwing ink at you again.” You batted your eyelashes and spoke in a teasing sort of way. The questions were intrusive but he said them in such a way that it was actually comical. It was funny, honestly, to think that you’d fallen right back into a rapport that you’d had with Kung Lao when you were kids. He stepped in front of you to stop you from continuing forward. Then he pointed to your left. You followed him down the hall and then he leaned against the wall near an opening that led down yet another hall. He tapped the sign to his left that read ‘women only’.

“I can’t go past here without getting in trouble.” He held his arm out to stop you as you made to walk past him to further avoid awkward conversation. He didn’t need to say anything. The look he gave you was enough to know that he wanted an answer.

“I’m not thinking about that right now, Kung Lao. I’ve got ink in places that I don’t want to discuss with you.” You pouted and knocked his arm aside. He pulled it back. “What’s going on with you? You just got back and we’ve barely spoken since, you know, you died.” You emphasized the word more dramatically than necessary. The humidity beyond the hall in front of you was already filling the hall and you craved the comfort of clean, hot water. “These are silly questions, anyway.” Your nerves were very much shining through. You weren’t ready to admit anything to anyone. The last thing you wanted was Kung Lao meddling.

“I brought you something, that’s all.”

“I feel like this something comes with terms and conditions with the way that you’re talking.”

“Not at all. But if you’re sweet on Liu Kang then it might make things weird.”

“Do whatever you want, Kung Lao, just do it quickly. The ink is starting to crust and this conversation has made me so uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to give it to you no matter what your answer had been. I was just trying to weasel an answer out of you.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“Some things never change.” Despite your obvious frustration, you couldn’t help but smile. Kung Lao had been a huge comfort to you when things had been at their most difficult in your youth. It was as though he’d never left. The lack of distance you felt between you was strange and you struggled to wrap your mind around it. You had to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years. “You’re such a pest, Kung Lao.”

You walked through the doorway but Kung Lao grasped your wrist and twisted you back to face him. You made a sound of surprise and stumbled into him. He caught you with a laugh.

“You’re clumsier than I expected after how you fought earlier.”

“Kung Lao, I swear.”

He reached between the folds of his shirt and withdrew a small purple flower. Your stomach dropped and you stared with your mouth hanging open, having been forming an empty threat. The flower. It was the exact same kind of flower that he’d given you the last time that you’d seen him when you’d been kids. Your heart had practically stopped in your chest.

“I made a detour on the way back. You’re right. They don’t grow in town anymore. Had to look around a bit before I found one.”

“Kung Lao…” Chills raced down your spine and you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat before reaching to grasp the flower. Kung Lao pulled it out of your reach.

“I thought that instead of teasing you like I used to as a dumb kid that I would be better off making a kind gesture.” Much to your surprise, he took your hand and placed the precious flower in your palm.

“I… uh…” You stuttered, feeling just about as clueless as you sounded.

“Enjoy the springs, Y/N. You can have your privacy for now but next time we’re joining you.” He patted your shoulder then tipped his hat and turned, walking away with a skip in his step down the hall.

You watched him go and sighed, resting your back against the stone wall while staring at the flower that he’d left you with. It was a precious little thing, with soft rows of petals that seemed frail but held on stronger than they looked. There was a small speck of pollen at its center and the stem was just long enough that you could wrap your fist around it. You’d gone looking for those flowers once in hopes of keeping them in the garden behind the dojo. There hadn’t been any and when you’d asked about them, no one knew where you could find one. It had been so long since you’d seen one living that you’d forgotten how resilient and perfect they were.

It seemed a small thing but it was also a huge gesture. He hadn’t said what the gesture meant but he had implied it well enough. You were surprised by how touched you were by the flower. If he’d caught you out there staring at the flower, then you would have never heard the end of it. He’d likely have teased you for being sweet on him.

You turned and entered the hall just to your left. There was a changing room with rudimentary waterflow systems so that you could clean off before going into the actual springs. You had never been so grateful for running water in your life. Ink pooled at your feet as you showered off, scrubbing as much of the ink away as you could. As you did, you felt your side sting painfully. Then blood flowed freely with the spray of water. You held your hand over the wound on your side and winced. You’d forgotten that Kung Lao had gotten you with the hat. You’d been so full of adrenaline and excitement that it had slipped your mind.

Now that you’d felt it, it was difficult to forget. Besides that, it was bleeding fairly freely for something that had happened some time ago now and should have scabbed over. It was probably a bad decision but you were going to enjoy the springs anyway. You found a first aid kit and covered the wound with gauze, then the gauze entirely with tape to protect it from the water. Then you took one of the towels there and wrapped it around yourself.

The cave beyond was smooth and the steam filled the room from floor to ceiling. These springs were huge. The cave formation seemed fairly natural, settling in shallow areas with deeper pools spread throughout. From where you stood, you couldn’t see the end of it but you didn’t feel the need to go far. In the distance, you could see several other monks enjoying the springs but they were far enough away that you wouldn’t be bothered by them.

You were suddenly disappointed that Kung Lao and Liu Kang hadn’t joined you. It was likely that they were too busy anyway. Your face went red at the mental image of what could have been and you sunk into the water and swooned. It was probably for the best that you’d come alone. Next time though, all bets were off. You rested the flower next to you on the stone beside where you rested your head.

It was difficult not to fall asleep with the warmth of the springs and the sound of rushing water in the room behind. Now that you were drifting in and out, you were grateful for some alone time. Often the air around Liu Kang was so stifled with whatever tension you’d cooked up that day that you couldn’t talk or think straight. And you had no idea what was happening with Kung Lao. You had to talk eventually and catch up but for now, those were all problems for you to deal with later. Future Y/N’s problems. Right now nothing mattered except for you, the steam, and the comfort of the springs.

Finally, you got up and as you did, the room spun. How long had you been lying there? Time was difficult to judge in the dimly lit cavern with scant an opening to the outside world. You lifted yourself from the springs, cautious of the flower you’d set aside, and sat on the edge. Then you whined since your towel and the water surrounding you was stained pink. Apparently two layers of gauze and a roll of tape wasn’t enough to keep the wound closed.

How embarrassing. Light-headed with blood loss because you’d been careless.

You picked up the flower and returned to the changing room. There were no extra clothes so you had to choose towel or filthy gi and you trusted the gi more than the towel. It was as crusted as you had joked it had been earlier. Before tying the top closed, you checked the wound and inhaled sharply at the sight of it. It bled freely and was red and ugly looking. Panic swelled in your chest.

When you’d been a kid your wounds had bled more freely than they should have. Even a scraped knee had been a problem. Doctors had put you on medicine to help you clot but it hadn’t helped. There was no way it was happening again. You’d outgrown it.

No, you were being silly. It had been the water and bad timing. You wrapped the wound tightly again but the damage had been done and your fingers tingled as a reminder. You’d been a fool not to go to the infirmary before going to the springs. Between the poison having made your blood such a mess and your recovery from those wounds, it was a wonder that you hadn’t accidentally bled to death while napping in the springs!

Carefully, you tied the gi closed and then tucked the flower inside of it safely. When you’d been led there by Kung Lao earlier, you’d made a point to remember where you’d come from so that you could return without getting lost. You’d spent more time lost in Raiden’s Temple than you had ever spent lost in your life.

You felt Liu’s energy before you saw him turning a corner and walking toward you. He smiled in greeting but it quickly fell into a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

You sure were tired of that question. Then again, you didn’t feel well thanks to your lack of foresight.

“Huh?”

“You’re incredibly pale.”

“Oh yeah. It’s dumb, really.” You pulled on the tear in the side of your gi and Liu’s worry only worsened.

“You said you were fine earlier.”

“Adrenaline is a funny thing, Liu. I forgot about it until I was cleaning up.”

“Kung Lao didn’t help you take care of it before letting you go?”

“I’m almost certain that he alsoforgot about it.”

“Careless.” Liu Kang didn’t sound surprised. “Come sit with me. We’ll take care of it.”

You looked him over, pulled the sliced gi a little and then looked back to Liu knowingly. What, were you just supposed to take your shirt off so that he could take a look at your wound? He laughed and held both his hands up defensively as if realizing what he was asking you to do. You caught the slightest bit of red on his cheeks. It was nice to know that it wasn’t in your head.

“If you aren’t comfortable doing that then come with me to the infirmary.”

“Ugh.” You were so tired of the infirmary! But you were feeling the impact of blood loss at an alarming rate. Your fingers were frigid and your breath was shallower than it should have been. You leaned against the wall nearby with a heavy sigh.

“Please?”

“I can probably sleep it off, Liu.”

“You’re like a ghost, Y/N.” He tried to joke but the worry in his eyes wasn’t going away. You were such a sucker for those eyes that you melted almost immediately.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You pouted and he laughed, offering you his arm.

“Thank you for humoring me, Y/N.”

Together you walked through the maze of corridors. Liu filled you in on what he and Kung Lao had done after you’d left. It hadn’t been anything remarkable, mostly tasks they were given to contribute to the life they lived in Raiden’s Temple. When you reached the infirmary, you were taken away by one of the female monks that you’d gotten acquainted with during your time there. They offered you a change of clothing and you couldn’t have been more grateful. A tank top and some comfortable loose pants. Familiar clothing, at long last. It was far easier to maneuver those around with the wound on your side.

Afterward you returned to the main room and sat on one of the benches there. The monk crouched next to you and you lifted up your shirt to show them the wound. It definitely looked uglier than it had earlier but it had also gone completely numb. Why couldn’t it look like the minor convenience you’d viewed it as earlier? Now it was swollen and the flesh was torn and jagged. Liu’s expression shifted and he turned away from you to hide it.

“It’s good you came to us. Don’t want to get an infection.” The monk offered you a smile then set about working on the wound. It was no longer numb and you twitched but stifled any painful objection you may have had. Liu stood behind the bench and offered you a hand to squeeze which you took.

“I’m fine.” You reassured him but your brain was buzzing. Did he think you were weak? Frail? Easily broken? You were strong! You had worked so hard to be strong. It was just a bad situation, overall. Kung Lao had immediately regretted throwing the hat at you. Accidents happened. You were getting it taken care of and you would be the better for it.

“Stay with us for a few hours to make sure you are alright.” The monk said and while it seemed like a question, it didn’t really seem optional. You exchanged a glance with Liu who you knew would argue with you to get you to stay. You had no leg to stand on except that you wanted to go back to your room.

“Fine.” The monk bowed to you gratefully and walked away. Liu had you scoot over and then took the seat next to you.

“I told you that hat was trouble.”

“You did. And I know staying is the right thing to do. I’m not happy about it though. I want to be strong again, Liu. It’s one setback after another.” He picked up your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll get there. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, monk stuff, inner peace and all that.” He laughed at you. “So much for celebrating.”

“There will be plenty of time to celebrate later. This is more important. Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll stay until you find rest.”

“I’m not sleeping here tonight, Liu. I’m going back to my room the moment they say I can.”

“Sure, Y/N.” He seemed unconvinced and you pouted. Afterward you made casual conversation about your arcana, things that Liu wished to test, and what they thought your capabilities might be. Liu seemed to think you’d be excellent at mimicry. What was ink used for if not to record things? Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

***

Liu Kang waited until you fell asleep then watched you for some time afterward. Just to make sure you were alright. Then he crept away from where you rested and consulted with the monks, ignoring their snide remarks about the attention he paid you. It wasn’t their place to judge what he did with his time.

He finished his errands for the evening and as he returned to his quarters, he found Kung Lao in the fight pit, tossing his hat about and practicing. Liu stepped into the fight pit and when the hat turned toward him, he knocked it back with a definitive kick where it slammed against the sand. Kung Lao willed the hat back to him, caught it, and slipped it back on his head, strip neatly tucked under his chin.

“Want to spar? I don’t think I can sleep.”

“No, I’m good.” Liu folded his arms over his chest. “You were careless today, Kung Lao. Y/N nearly bled to death because of it.”

“What? Is she okay?” Kung Lao took an aggressive step toward the stairs but Liu held his arm out to block him, stepping back with him. Liu then explained where he’d found you in the hall and what they’d had to do in the infirmary where you were now resting. “…so she’s fine, is what you’re saying.”

“That’s not the point, Lao.”

“I’m sorry, Liu. I forgot. She handled it like a champ and kept on fighting. I was extra careful but it slipped! We were having so much fun that we may have gotten carried away. We used to pretend when we were kids…”

“I’m not here to scold you. I only wanted to let you know and to remind you to be mindful. Not all the warriors with the marking will be the two of us. Some might not have any experience at all. We’re lucky that Y/N does.”

“What is this, Liu?” Kung Lao’s tone shifted and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“The consequences of your actions.” Liu turned to leave the arena.

“You know, I asked you to make sure that she was okay and keep her safe not to fall for her.” Kung Lao called after him. It wasn’t an accusation. He didn’t sound angry. He’d always had a way of stirring the pot.

“And keeping her safe is what I’ve done. Then you come back and undo half of the progress she’d made because you wanted to show off.” Liu turned again to face him. There was nothing that would undo their bond of brotherhood but Kung Lao had always been his careless counterpart. In the Academy he’d skipped classes, ignored studies, and had dragged Liu into all sorts of trouble. While Liu had been more studious, he’d gotten them into plenty of trouble over the years too.

“I’m sorry. Really, Liu. I’ll be more careful.” Kung Lao slipped his hat under his arm. “You’d tell me though, right?” Liu threw him a disapproving glare. “When I left back then one of my biggest regrets was not telling her the truth. I never thought I’d see her again so with time I wasn’t sure it mattered. Now I have a chance to be better than I was then. So, I’m going to ask you again. What is this, Liu? You’d tell me, right?”

Liu stepped back. They’d wrestled over far less and he was in no mood. He didn’t know what to say either. He didn’t want to lie to Kung Lao but he wasn’t sure what it was other than a few close calls and some pretty clear attraction.

“That was more than enough of an answer.” Kung Lao dusted off his still ink stained shirt. “Well, may the best man win.”

“This isn’t a contest, Kung Lao. We’re brothers. Always and no matter what.”

“Of course. And I’m going to win.” Kung Lao walked past him and hopped up the steps two at a time, waving him off with a laugh. Liu Kang sighed deeply and looked up at the starry night sky. That could have gone better but he supposed it also could have gone worse.

#liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #liu kang/reader #kung lao/reader #kung lao x you #liu kang x you #fanfiction #fanfic #romance #angst #slow burn #mk kung lao #mk liu kang #arcana #ludi lin #max huang

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

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negasonicimagines · 3 years

Text

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

#a/b/o #yukisonic #yukisonic x reader #yukio x reader #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #yukio imagine #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #yukio #negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men imagine #x-men fanfiction #sapphic x reader #sapphic imagine #wlw x reader #wlw imagine

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whitleyschn33 · 3 years

Text

Not Everything Can Be Wiped Away With A Hug

Or why I’m not happy with Weiss and Whitley’s reconciliation.

Whitley and Weiss haven’t had a great relationship. From the first time we see him, the two are shown to not be comfortable with each other. Weiss’ tone when they meet is one of dismissiveness and wariness, even if the conversation ends on a technically hopeful note. As the show goes on, every interaction the two have is riddled with tension. Weiss accuses him of wanting her loss of status, Whitley gets angry and bites back. Whitley stops by her room to ask if she wants anything and twist the knife, Weiss asks if he’s jealous and slams the door in his face. When Weiss comes back at the party, she does everything she can to brush him off, clearly annoyed, while Whitley talks about what he’s been up to since she’s been gone. Weiss laughs when Whitley gets splashed with wine, Whitley storms off in a huff. Then Weiss comes back during the... siege(? I don’t know what to call this failed attempted at a Fall), commanders the house, shoves a weapon in Whitley’s face, sends him to his room like he’s a child, and then doesn’t acknowledge him again until he calls Klein. At which point she hugs him and all tensions disappears from their relationship.

See what’s missing here? We have point A of massive hostility between the two with both parties having grievances with the other and point B of both parties having found a balance in their relationship. What’s missing is a strong connection between those two points. What’s missing is the meat of the actual arc, something between set up and pay off, and that’s ultimately the problem with their reconciliation. It wasn’t worked for, at least on Weiss’s end. There was no effort for any of their grievances to be addressed, talked about, and worked through. There was no point where they took the grievances that had been brought up and had the characters discuss or react to them in any meaningful way. It just fell into their laps - or rather, it fell mostly into Weiss’s lap. That’s the short version, anyway. Let’s discuss the long version.

In Volume 7, Weiss and Whitley’s relationship is tense, Weiss clearly annoyed and dismissive of her brother for being a snot towards her, and Whitley angry that Weiss ignores him and abandoned him to their neglectful/abusive parents. In episode 7, though, Willow flat out tells Weiss why Whitley acts the way he does to her. Willow gives us Whitley’s motivations - that he’s hurt and resentful towards Weiss. This is the set up for a reconciliation; Weiss has been given insight into Whitley’s point of view (had it literally shoved in her face), and has the chance to contemplate it so as to be able to find common ground later.

Plot stuff happens, and the two are separated as Weiss deals with all that until Weiss needs a place to lay low. Armed with new information on Whitley’s disposition, Weiss...

Whitley: Oh, you’ve picked a fine time to--

Weiss interrupts by pointing Myrtenaster at him, and he looks at the blade in fright.

Weiss: Not. Another. Word. We’re coming in.

Whitley steps aside and groans as Ruby’s group walks into the manor.

...threatens him after saying 7 words. Not even words of “you can’t come in” or anything to suggest he won’t let them in but, “oh great, this is a wonderful~ time to drop by”, venting frustration. Weiss doesn’t try anything else before shoving a weapon in his face (the face of an unarmed, defenseless, civilian minor that physically can’t stop her from coming in anyway) and forcing her way inside.

Whitley: Things are already bad enough after what you did to father, now you want us to harbor fugitives too? Our family has a reputation.

He crosses his arms in annoyance. Blake, having set Nora down on the floor, looks at him.

Blake: That’s what you’re worried about? Your reputation?

Whitley: I’m just saying that we’ve already lost all the house staff, and Mother locked herself in her room.

Weiss: Maybe you haven’t figured out what’s going on, Whitley, but we’re busy trying to save Atlas.

Whitley continues to vent his frustration. Jacques, Whitley’s only source of familial attention, has been taken away by Weiss (”what you did to Father”), the staff has all vacated the estate (most likely a combination of their employer being carted away in the back of a military truck and then all hell breaking loose in Mantle and Atlas airspace), and Willow, the only other human being in the mansion, has locked herself in her room for several hours, up to almost 24 hours (I’m honestly lost on the timeline of this volume with how much it flip-flops between night and day, and I can’t be bothered to rewatch these episodes).

Whitley has been left completely and utterly alone, and Weiss comes back not for him, but to use his resources to hide herself and her friends, all of which are wanted by the military. I don’t know what Atlesian policy is, but harboring fugitives is a crime punishable with prison sentences in the US, dependent on what the fugitive is charged with. She’s forcing him to risk being arrested and imprisoned for her crimes, after destroying his family’s reputation with Jacques’ arrest and causing everyone to vacate the manor and leaving him utterly alone (the way he follows up Blake’s response with “I’m just saying we’ve already lost all the house staff” makes me think he’s tying those two things together. With Jacques’s arrest, their reputation is falling, and everyone’s jumping ship, starting with the house staff. Any other family allies the Schnees might have legally and politically are likely to follow suit to save their own skin (ah, societal politics of the rich). Harboring fugitives and Whitley and possibly Willow arrested as well? The Schnees are sunk, dead in the water. They’re not getting out of that, they’ll be left to the dogs.). And how does Weiss respond?

Weiss: Maybe you haven’t figured out what’s going on, Whitley, but we’re busy trying to save Atlas.

How in the absolute hell is he supposed to come to this conclusion? No, really, tell me. He knows two things: one, he knows there’s some kind of Grimm threat in the heatless Mantle and hovering around Atlas based on the news - maybe; we don’t know how much the news has reported about how bad it is outside of that one Mantle broadcast and how much Whitley has kept up with the news (he seems the type to absorb in as much information as possible, but he may not have been watching every waking second) - and two, he knows his sister and her friends have pissed off the military and are marked as fugitives. There is no way for him to know that the group of fugitives are doing anything to help Atlas, especially when he has no way to know what’s going on and what Weiss+co are up to. Weiss’ comment does nothing but imply that he’s too wrapped up in his own stuff to see the big picture, when he doesn’t have the knowledge that there’s even a big picture to look at. Rather than trying to reach out and reason with Whitley, Weiss snaps at him and treats him like he’s being self absorbed and shallow. His life is falling apart, he’s been left behind again by staff and his mother, and Weiss doesn’t just not respond to it, she gets mad at him for it. It’s Ruby that has to step up and tell him that they just need a place for their friend to heal and then they’ll leave (which turns out to be a bold-faced lie, but that’s another post).

Whitley relents then, and asks what they want him to do. Weiss then tells him to “go to his room”. Let’s set this up - we don’t know how old Whitley is, but we can guess based on Weiss’s age. Weiss is 19, and Whitley is likely 2 to 3 years younger, as he seems a bit older than Oscar but most likely more than a year younger than Weiss. That makes Whitley at least 16 years old, possibly 17. Whitley is either just a year younger or the same age as Ruby, the girl Weiss is blindly following as a leader. Whitley is not a child. A minor, probably, but not a child (I consider “child” to be 12 and under, and minor to be 13 - 16/17 (depending on what the age of maturity is in Remnant, which I’ve always considered to be 17 based on Beacon admission ages) btw to clarify). Yet, Weiss tells the boy that she has no legal or emotional authority over that’s about the same age as her leader to go to his room, treating him like he’s a petulant child. She doesn’t want to have to deal with him, so she shunts him aside - makes it clear that she’s not going to break his isolation, she wants him out of her way. Alone.

The relationship between Weiss and Whitley was already tense and hostile, but this pushes that to the next level. Before, it was hurt feelings and snipping - valid hurt feelings on both sides - but this has escalated it. Physical threats of violence, forcing him into committing a possible felony, and then dismissing him like he’s a child shows a lack of respect for Whitley, and is the exact opposite of working towards reconciliation. I wouldn’t be surprised if Whitley’s anger and resentment towards his sister grew after this; that would be my reaction.

“But wait!” You might be thinking. “That’s not really fair to Weiss - she’s worried about Nora who’s possibly dying and about being followed by Atlas’ military. She just wants to get under cover as fast as possible and then get to helping Nora! She’s stressed and tense, it makes sense that she’d be brusque to Whitley; we shouldn’t judge her so harshly.” To which I say - character is the choices you make under pressure, not when everything is just fine. Weiss resorting to the threat of violence immediately against someone she knows is no threat when faced with a tense situation where some diplomacy and respect would go a long way, it’s not a good look for who she is as a person. But alright, let’s play that game. Weiss is too worried about Nora to deal with Whitley at the moment. She gets Nora to bed, starts treating her as best she can, and then...

Nothing. Weiss doesn’t speak to Whitley again until he calls Klein for Nora, presumably a day later (once again, I’m not entirely sure. They arrive at what I believe is sunset, Amity happening that night, then the sun rising or setting in Midnight (?) and in War it’s night again as Klein arrives, so I think that this has to be the next night but it’s extremely difficult to tell and causes a crap ton of plot holes, thanks a lot CRWBY (I might skim through each episode to put together just how broken the timeline is)). That’s 24 hours where Weiss didn’t decide to ask Ruby or Blake (who I would have thought would be the one to have the most first aid knowledge of the three with her militia group experience) to watch over Nora for a few minutes while she seeks out Whitley to talk to him. 24 hours where she didn’t choose to apologize for threatening him, or go to talk to him about what’s going on, or follow up on Willow’s request, or ask if their mother is even alive still if she’s been locked up drinking for over a day, probably 2 (again, the timeline is fucked up). That’s not “I’m rushing and being harsher than I normally would out of concern for my friend”, that’s “I don’t regret or care about how I’ve treated my brother; I don’t see any reason to reach out to him” (And as side note - if Weiss had gone to see Whitley earlier, letting him know just how bad of shape Nora was in, Whitley might have called Klein earlier. By talking to her brother, Weiss could have gotten Nora the help she needed sooner, but she didn’t).

This is the next conversation Weiss and Whitley have after she threatens him and sends him to his room. I know I spent far too long breaking it down, but that was just one incident, the only one between between Willow telling Weiss to not forget Whitley and their hug.

Weiss: You called Klein?

Whitley: That girl needs a doctor. (turns away from Weiss) I didn’t do it for you.

Weiss: I know. That’s why it means so much to me.

Whitely gasps as Weiss steps forward to hug him. After some hesitation, he sighs and embraces her back. Weiss gasps when she and the others hear an explosion from outside.

That’s it. That’s their reconciliation. After this point, Whitley shows no anger towards Weiss or brings up his issues with her, so we’re meant to think that this is it, the Weiss-Whitley reconciliation is over.

Now, on Weiss’s side, I could see this putting Whitley in her good graces (maybe). Weiss’ grievances with Whitley boil down to hurt feelings over him being a snot about her loss of inheritance and being annoying. Whitley was being a jerk about it when he came around in V4E9 to twist the knife, but we know why he did that (he was pushing his own situation in Weiss’s face, a “see how you like it, being stuck here alone like I was” type thing), Weiss does get an explanation for it later from Willow, and at the end of the day, that’s all he did. He didn’t betray her, act against her, try and get her in trouble with Jacques - he didn’t do anything to her. Gloating at the role reversal is petty, yes, but it’s not like Weiss doesn’t attempt to fire right back, and it’s not like she wasn’t plenty rude to him when accusing him of wanting it to happen. Weiss mentions “you never liked me” in V4E7, but we never get anything more specific than that, and implies that he was just bitter and snippy with her like he is in V4E9. Theoretically he could have been an absolute terror before, but since we’re never shown any of this or given any examples, it’s difficult to factor in anything Whitley may have done before V4 as a piece of Weiss’ attitude towards him. Point is, since I’m starting to ramble, is that ultimately Whitley hasn’t done anything but hurt Weiss’s feelings, and him calling a doctor for Nora purely because Nora needs one feels like it might be enough to put Whitley in Weiss’ good graces, even if it raises some uncomfortable implications - that Weiss only extends her love and affection when Whitley does something she likes and can revoke it if he does something she doesn’t (like make a light joke).

On Whitley’s end, though, this scene is an absolute mess of an ending. At the end of Volume 7, Whitley is angry and resentful towards Weiss (and Winter) for abandoning him to abusive and neglectful parents, and then arresting Jacques, taking away his only source of attention and dealing a huge blow to their family’s status. In Volume 8, Weiss comes back, threatens him physically, dismisses his concerns, treats him like a child by sending him to his room, and leaves him alone again until he does something she likes. At no point does Weiss do anything that would make his attitude towards her shift to the better; in fact, she does things that should only further alienate him. Why is Whitley no longer mad at her? Because she gave him a hug? That doesn’t change that she still (from his point of view) abandoned him without a second thought, blamed him for things he didn’t do, threatened him with a weapon, forced him to harbor them, and then talked down to him and pushed him aside when she didn’t want to deal with him - abandoning him again. Weiss has done nothing to make Whitley any less resentful. She hasn’t acknowledged how she’s hurt him, they haven’t discussed why he was so hurt by her leaving, there’s been no attempt for the rift between them to be mended. Weiss just hugs him, and somehow that makes everything better. I didn’t realize that Whitley was so completely starved for affection that a hug makes him forget everything leading up to it - a hug that he initially backed away from.

He has his hands raised defensively, he starts backing away, and his expression is completely shocked. His posture is completely stiff, his arms falling to his side and hands clenching into fists. He’s clearly not comfortable with this initially, before giving in with a sigh and hugging Weiss back - giving in and giving Weiss what she wants.

Weiss is happy with him now, so Whitley can’t be upset. Weiss gives her approval, Whitley has been useful to her, so Whitley is “redeemed” in the eyes of the characters and the audience. What Whitley wants, what Whitley feels, what motivates Whitley? They don’t matter now that Weiss cares about him again. They aren’t discussed, they don’t continue to effect how Whitley acts and views Weiss, Weiss has forgiven him, so Whitley isn’t allowed to still be pissed with Weiss. Weiss didn’t have to do anything to reconcile with her brother, she doesn’t have to be humbled or acknowledge her own role in this dysfunctional relationship. She got to treat him with violence and like a child, and then hug him and act like everything is forgiven when by all reasonable logic, Whitley should be pushing her away, repeating that he didn’t do this for her and to back off.

Weiss didn’t work for this; Weiss didn’t earn this. Whitley’s own emotions and motivations were stripped away to let her get her brother on her side without her having to confront her own mistakes, because RWBY refuses to let its main girls make mistakes.

This isn’t the first time this has happened in RWBY, far from it. This isn’t even the only example of this happening with Whitley. Next episode and a few later, they do the exact same thing with Whitley and Willow! Whitley starts episode 8 rightfully pissed at his mother; she’s left him completely alone for two days straight to drink in her room, being less than useless, straight up neglectful. This anger carries on when she tries to call him, him turning to the door as the Hound approaches with anger. During the Hound attack, Willow grabs onto him, and he lets him. That makes sense, both of them were extremely frightened by this Grimm unlike anything they’d ever seen. What doesn’t make sense is that in episodes 11 and 12, Willow is still hanging onto him. I haven’t watched episode 11 for personal reasons (RWBY’s pissed me off), but I’ve seen the screenshots.

Willow’s holding onto him like she’s showing him off with pride. It’s a cute image - but why is Whitley allowing it? Why is Whitley not pulling away? Whitley was rightfully angry at his mother for neglecting him, for leaving him emotionally and mentally, right up until the Hound attack. Now, I know what you’re thinking; Willow saved his life. They killed the Hound together. Something like that, it can being people together. I agree - and I would even buy that being the spark for Whitley giving his mother another chance if there had been any kind of scene or even conversation on screen where we get to see this transition from rightfully anger at a drunk neglectful mother to a son giving a proud mother another chance at being his mother. It would have been incredibly easy to slip in, too! Like, and I’m just spitballing here -

Willow after the Hound is killed: Are you alright, Whitley?

Whitley: Oh, so you suddenly care. That’s nice to know.

Willow: I have always cared -

Whitley: Then you haven’t ever shown it! Whitley gets visibly angry. You’ve done nothing but leave me alone in this house with him while you drown yourself in your wine. You haven’t cared about me since I was 7 years old! Stop acting like you’re my mother! Whitley starts walking off.

Willow: Whitley - ! Willow reaches out for Whitley and stops him I - she deflates - You’re right. I have been a horrible mother. I’ve left you alone, all this time, and if I had been even slightly more drunk tonight, you might have been killed. ...I might have lost you for good, and it would have been my own fault. I’m sorry...

Whitley: He pauses, and falls silent.

Willow: ...Please. I almost lost you tonight, and I don’t want to lose you to something I can fix. Is there anything I can do? Can I... Can I get a chance?

Whitley: .....he turns back to Willow, taking a deep breath, and looks up at her. ...One chance. You can’t - You can’t fix all of this, but... Whitley looks away ...I’ve wanted you back for 9 years. I don’t want to lose you either if I might get you back.

Willow: Willow looks surprised, before giving him a weak smile and pulling him into a hug. Thank you, Whitley. And I am so, so proud of you.

Whitley: Whitley stiffens with surprise, looking at his mother with shock, but returns the shaky smile and hugs her back.

One minute for this conversation, and I would be completely on board with Whitley and Willow seeming to reconcile as well. The same goes with Weiss, except a longer conversation.

If Weiss and Whitley had had even one talk where they both admit their faults and failings, apologize to each other, and agree to try again, I would be all on board with this Schnee family reconciliation. As it is now, though, with how it’s been written in the show, neither Weiss nor Willow have had to work to repair their relationships with Whitley; Whitley’s anger has just been wiped away. They set up the potential for reconciliation between Weiss and Whitley, between Willow and Whitley, acknowledging why Whitley is angry with both of them, but rather than have any of the characters take that knowledge and use it to reach out to Whitley, the writers skip all of that and let the characters treat Whitley however they want until they end up reconciled with one act. A single summon is treated like it makes up for years of neglect. A single hug because Whitley was useful to Weiss is treated like it makes up for abandonment, disrespect, and threats of violence. They don’t, and the lack of respect the writers’ have for the emotions of a male abuse victim sickens me.

#rwby #rwby8 #whitley schnee #weiss schnee #willow schnee #man this got long

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shreddedleopard · 4 years

Text

10 Reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to conclude together.

I’ve been wanting to do this for ages, but I’ve been nervous of the backlash. Feels like it’s now or never though, and theorising for/analysing stories is one of my favourite things to do - I’m clearly missing those literary analysis essays from university days. So please excuse me if you think I’m deluded - I probably am - but the analyst in me won’t let me be until I’ve got this all out of my system.

Beware, it’s a long one. There's some thoughts on chapter 130 nearest the bottom!

1. Childhood Parallels - The Abandoned Children

Levi and Historia’s childhoods mirror one another - there are striking similarities, but then also sections that fit together to complete each other, as though they are matching jigsaw pieces. The characters start out in worlds that are opposite - Historia has the comforts of a safe home, food on the table, and fresh air and sunshine. She has all the physical nourishment she needs, but she does not have her mother’s love. On the contrary, his mother’s love is the one thing Levi does have, otherwise living in poverty underground. Both their mothers, however, appear to be using sex and the idea of love as a means to survive or way to try and improve their circumstances, and it is out of this necessity that both end up being born.

Levi is clearly affected when he first hears Historia’s tale of her childhood - Isayama shows this through the fact that Levi’s plate is the only one left untouched at the end of her story. He has been so sucked in by what she’s relayed, and probably saddened, that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to eat as the others have. Historia’s story rings true with some of his own experiences, but also highlights the world he may have found himself in without his mother’s love.

Remember, Isayama consciously thinks about each panel he’s drawing - he wouldn’t include a small detail like that without reason. We see more of these instances of small but significant stylistic choices and minor details as we progress. Isayama stated in an interview that he wants to give fans an ending that fans would never guess, but that when they look back, the clues were there all along.

Continuing on with the theme of their childhoods and Isayama’s stylistic choices, let’s take a look at two significant moments:

Both characters, although experiencing different forms of deprivation initially (Physical vs. Emotional Nourishment) were abandoned at crucial moments in their lives - when they were looking for validation from their primary caregivers and the people who should have been responsible for demonstrating affection. Historia was abandoned when, after reading and taking onboard information she read in books just like her mother, she reached out to hug her, and Levi was abandoned at the moment he demonstrated that he’d absorbed everything Kenny had taught him. The parallel between these images is very powerful.

Kenny is a character that highlights more parallels between Historia and Levi.

Kenny’s words highlight the literal lack of growth in height for both Historia and Levi - both are particularly short, and also look youthful - but we can also take the words to suggest that the characters are still very much defined by what happened to them in their pasts, and have yet to step away from their demons and achieve closure on what has happened to them as children.

At this point, we can definitely say that Isayama has chosen to tie both Historia and Levi’s stories together through their childhoods - their backstories are revealed alongside each other, in the same arc of our story, and in terms of experiences, they are both identical and mirror opposite at different points.

2. Shared Values

Despite being deprived of affection for large portions of their childhoods, both Levi and Historia appear to have experienced glimmers of kindness in their darkness as well, and this has shaped some of their values and behaviours.

Levi experienced his mother's love for a short while until he lost her - we know how deeply she cared for him from her refusal to give him up despite Kenny’s advice to her when she fell pregnant. Historia had Frieda’s kindness instilled in her, even though she's not able to consciously remember her actions until later.

Both display an affinity for animals, with several manga and even anime-only scenes where we see them being affectionate and kind to their horses. We don’t see this as prominently with any other characters.

But one of the biggest shared values is their desire to protect children. I've posted on this before, but here are a few examples of Levi being driven by this value:

It’s clear Levi has a soft spot for children. And Historia? We know her feelings on children from her first action as Queen - realised with the support of Levi.

3. Kenny’s failure … Levi’s success?

These next scenes we’ll focus on represent the moment that Levi and Historia are set up to undergo that ‘growth’ Kenny was referring to earlier in the uprising arc. Note Isayama’s choice of words here, and the symbolism of the whole scene. Kenny doesn’t tell Levi, ‘I couldn’t be someone you looked up to,’ or ‘I wasn’t fit to act as your father figure,’ he literally says ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.” What does he do then? He shoves the titan serum at Levi.

Isayama pays great attention to this - dedicating several panels to the weighty moment, and Levi’s expression. It’s very dramatic. Notice how the word ‘Dad’ even has it’s own speech bubble. It’s almost as though Kenny is passing the mantle on to Levi - passing that responsibility on to him. It feels as though the passing of the serum replaces the missing words, ‘but you can.’ Isayama didn’t have to have Levi ask that question in the moment before Kenny passed the serum on to him. He could have positioned it so that the discussion about dreams was the precursor to the serum being passed over - which in my head, for the context of the scene, would make more sense. But he didn’t; he chose to have Kenny say that exact line to Levi - to admit his inadequacy as a father figure, with that focus on the word dad - and then hand the item over to Levi.

By itself, the scene could be seen as highlighting the ways that Levi is already a better father figure than Kenny. He has been somewhat paternal in his role as a Captain. But it’s the very next scene that brings Historia immediately into focus.

Historia looks suddenly so much maturer here, and the way the scenes sit immediately after one another feels too much like foreshadowing.

If you want the full effect of what I mean here, just rewatch this section of the anime!

We are presented with parallels between them once again. The focus of the crown and power of the monarchy being bestowed on Historia parallels the gift of the serum from Kenny to Levi - drawing on the ‘titan science’ element of the Ackerman heritage, perhaps?

Let me take a moment here, while we have these two visual representations of the Ackerman and Royal bloodlines side by side so perfectly, to point out that Isayama chose to answer a question in Bessatsu Shonen Magazine regarding the nature of a child born of both these bloodlines in 2018:

Q: If a child were to be born between two people from the royal family and the Ackerman family, which blood would take precedence?

A: I think that both [of their bloodlines] would be reflected.

4. Blood Lines, Identity and Destinies - the Acker/Royal connection

We are still missing some information about the Ackermans, and Mikasa’s own Ackerman powers and behaviours have been a focus in recent chapters, prompting more questions. This suggests that the role of the Ackermans will be important in the story’s finale. With that said, lets have a look at what information we have about them so far in relation to the Royal Family:

- They worked closely with the Royal Family at one time, even being described as their sword and shield until they fell out of favour.

- They cannot be controlled by the king’s vow or have their memories tampered with. For this reason, they became enemies of the crown and the two bloodlines became at odds with one another.

Do either of these scenarios sound familiar in a romantic setting? The knight and princess trope has been hugely popular in fiction for as long as stories have been told - Lancelot and Guinevere is a well known classic. And two feuding families finally brought back together through love by the younger generation? Romeo and Juliet, anyone?

Okay, so maybe I’m reaching here. But Isayama has opened the discourse around this connection between the two bloodlines without concluding it, so I am certain it will have a part to play in upcoming chapters. Why create two characters from said bloodlines with such satisfyingly parallel but awful childhoods, if not to use them in some way to conclude this part of the narrative in the future?

5. The Beast Titan.

Another common plot point that Levi and Historia have is Zeke. The Beast Titan is a defining element in both their arcs. Levi is driven forward by his vow to kill Zeke, and this is repeated to the point where we expect this to be realised, or at least to see some satisfying resolution between the two. Historia’s situation is defined by her vulnerability to being turned into a Titan in order to consume Zeke. This threat to Historia’s life as a normal girl is also repeated across the later story arcs, just as Levi’s vow and apparent destiny to face off again with the Beast Titan is. If we link back to the knight princess trope, we could suggest that Historia is the metaphorical princess, Levi is the metaphorical knight, and The Beast Titan is the metaphorical dragon. The dragon must be slain in order to protect the princess, and the one to do this is always the gallant knight, or the hero. We know that Levi has been labelled Humanity’s Strongest, and even a hero, before.

It has been Levi’s destiny from the start. What's more, what is the crux of Zeke’s plan for Eldians?

Euthanasia by preventing reproduction. Zeke’s ideology basically directly opposes the values of Levi and Historia - who wish to save as many children as possible.

6. The Smile

If there is one scene Levi fans lost their heads over, it’s this one. The Smile. Who was responsible for getting the sullen Captain to smile? None other than Queen Historia. The one time we get to see a genuine smile from him, in all 131 chapters of SNK, is when Historia playfully punches his arm. I think by this point, it is absolutely fair to say that Levi has a soft spot for her, although I’m not suggesting this is anything romantic at this stage due to her still being a child. What else is interesting about this scene? Let’s look at it from Historia’s point of view. She’s still a 15 year old girl. I’m hardly suggesting she’s got deep, meaningful feelings for a Captain so many years her senior. What I am suggesting, is that clearly there is the beginnings of her seeing him in a different light, and feeling some sort of fondness towards him too. This is also the stereotype of innocent, youthful infatuation - how many times have we seen teenagers play-fighting or bantering with the object of their affections? Something might just be stirring in Historia towards the Captain as she begins her transition into adulthood.

7. THAT (deleted) Scene

Okay, so we can’t very well talk about the smile in the context of this topic without addressing this scene:

There were a few scenes cut to make the uprising arc in the anime more streamlined. This is one of them, and again, has been one of the most talked about. People either love or hate this scene. In the manga, it absolutely sets up some major character growth for Historia, when she goes from being scared and allowing Levi to threaten her into taking an action, to standing up to him atop the wall at Orvud district, throwing his own words back at him. In contrast to Historia’s willingness, Levi becomes more receptive to her perspective and backs down, which also shows his growth. (More on that shortly!)

So, if it adds to the narrative around Levi and Historia, and is a key part of their development as characters, why did Isayama let the studio remove it? It must be because their influence on one another’s growth is no longer important to the story, correct?

If you ask me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Isayama has stated there were some elements of Uprising that he was unhappy with. Just, for a moment, think how this scene would fit into the bigger picture of a relationship (whether that be deeply platonic or even romantic) between Historia and Levi. Could people get behind that knowing that once, he handled her so roughly? Does keeping this scene as canon for the anime open a can of worms in terms of what is and isn’t acceptable (even more so than the age gap already does) when it comes to a relationship? Could Isayama be seen as glorifying abuse and suggesting that female characters are likely to develop feelings for men who have treated them so poorly in the past? I completely understand Levi’s reasoning for acting this way in this scene, and I loved the set up and pay off later in the arc. However, I do believe that animating this, and then having them become much closer later in the story, could make a backlash likely.

My conclusion to this particular section is - if their influence on one another as characters was unimportant, and the payoff of them reaching a stage where they bring out the best in one another wasn’t relevant to the rest of the story, then The Smile shouldn’t have made it in, right? So much of the set up was removed that it would have been far easier to scrap the scene than to try and figure out another reason for Historia to punch Levi, and make him smile.

That punch was important. It remains for a reason.

8. Levi’s Echo

So, since we discussed the impact of Levi’s words on Historia in the previous point, and how Isayama uses them to illustrate her character growth, let’s jump ahead all the way to chapter 130. We’re now post time skip, where Historia is nineteen. She’s matured now into a young woman - a woman old enough to acceptably conceive a child. This is the chapter which caught everyone’s attention due to Historia’s words to Eren regarding the idea of said child. But first of all, I want to focus on a scene which appears a couple of panels before her question:

‘It’s not as if I’ve just been tending to cattle all this time.’

What does this line mean? The only thing we know in terms of what Historia has been doing in the time skip is that she set up an Orphanage that Levi was also very much invested in and supported her with. So she’s not only been tending to cattle, but ... tending to orphans? With the Captain’s help?

Remember how we said that Isayama doesn’t include subtle details unless there’s a reason. Having Levi support her with the orphanage as a way to show how much he cares about the poorer children wasn’t needed - we already know from several instances discussed earlier that he cares about that topic deeply. So surely this must have been a small detail to set up for a later reveal?

This line alone is interesting, but not necessarily enough to suggest a big influence from Levi. But it’s the next line that grabs attention:

‘There’s no need to fight or run.’

What does this echo?

In my mind, the reason served by this dialogue in 130 is twofold. It works with both the literal events of the deleted scene, and also with the reader’s knowledge that the scene was disregarded later:

1. There is no reason to run or to fight, because Levi is on her side now. When he originally spoke those words to her - run from me or fight me - they were used in reference to what he and the corps were going to make her do - ie, become Queen. Now, they are not forcing her to do anything - they aren’t making her comply with the 50 year plan of producing as many royal children as possible and turning herself into a titan. Instead, she’s empowered by them, and very importantly, him, to make her own decisions while they try to figure out an alternative. (Why do I say him? I’ll cover this in the next point). And yet ... she still chooses to bear a child. A child born of love, not necessity. This is the difference between the birth of her child, and her own birth. And funnily enough, Levi’s birth, too.

The cycle of history is being broken.

2. Her words serve as a reminder that in the revised version of events, Levi never even forced that choice upon her in the first place. He’s always been her ally and treated her with care and respect. Even more reason for her to value and care for him in return. There really is no need to run or fight - from the military police, because she will bear a child, stopping them from turning her - or from Levi, either.

9. The Hooded Figure

As promised, let me explain why I say that Levi empowers Historia (yet again) to make her own decisions. My good friend Key made a wonderful discovery regarding the hooded figure panel, and honestly, based on the evidence I’ve seen, I’d be prepared to bet a whole lot on this next claim:

Levi is the hooded figure who warned Historia of the plan to turn her.

I’ve shared Key’s original post previously, but here’s the gist, with some added observations.

Levi from the hallway; Levi from that iconic scene, fits the dimensions of the hooded figure perfectly, without having to adjust the panel sizes.

The jacket worn is lighter in colour than Eren’s standard black one, but is reminiscent of the jackets worn by the Levi Squad in the uprising arc. The only other clue we’re given to work from is that the figure has their hands in their pockets.

Hmm ... you know who else has a habit of stuffing his hands in his pockets?

So if Levi is the one who warned Historia, is that why she subtly uses his words when talking to Eren?

Let me return to chapter 130 once more, and just invite you to read the following panels from a different angle.

10. Mikasa-Eren/Levi-Historia Parallels

Alright, so this is a bit of a head-mash, but just consider what I’m about to say. In our panels with the Historia-Eren-Zeke conversation, Mikasa is never mentioned by name once. Zeke mentions ‘this Ackerman girl,’ however there is no confirmation that Eren was in fact talking about Mikasa when he asked Zeke about the Ackerman traits ...

Isayama only shows us the conversation with Zeke after Eren has just spoken to Historia about her fate and what the Paradis government want her to do in terms of bearing children. If these are just all memory fragments of Eren’s, why would discussing this with Historia suddenly make Eren think of a conversation about Ackerman traits with Zeke?

In this conversation, Zeke puts two and two together and gathers that Eren is asking these questions because of Mikasa. He then tells him how much Mikasa obviously cares about Eren, regardless of any ‘ingrained behaviour.’ What does Eren then link this with?

The conversation where Historia asks him what he’d think if she was to bear a child. What does ingrained Ackerman behaviour and Mikasa’s true feelings have to do with Historia’s child?

I want to suggest this possibility: this conversation has nothing to do with Mikasa’s feelings for Eren, and everything to do with Levi’s feelings for Historia.

Eren even confirms that Zeke has the wrong end of the stick with asking him how he will respond to Mikasa’s feelings.

What are you even talking about?

Here, he is not considering how he will respond to Mikasa, because he can’t even contemplate that with what he is about to do, and how long he has left to live (although this may have then prompted his later conversation with Mikasa after the market - where he sees Levi save the boy that he will later kill - do you see how this is all linking together?)

Here he means the lives of Historia, her child, and potentially even Levi, as well of course as Armin, Mikasa and the rest of his friends. Want to know why I think that? Isayama hinted it. Again.

We have the image of Historia, suggesting the idea of bearing a child, followed by the image of the child Levi saved, followed by the image of Levi himself.

Isayama draws every detail in every panel for a reason. If part of his conclusion to this manga involves Levi and Historia intertwined and the birth of an Ackerman-Royal child, it won’t be a massively random idea.

It will contribute to an ending where the clues were there all along, but we never really considered them.

(There’s more, so much more, but I have to stop somewhere or I won’t leave my computer. If anyone wants a part two because you’re thirsty for more of this crap, drop me a comment!)

#Shingeki no kyojin theory #attack on titan theory #snk manga spoilers #historia reiss #Levi ackerman #Historia dad theory #Historia pregnancy #royal Ackerman connection #snk chapter 130 #snk theory #aot theory

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dearest-bucky · 4 years

Text

One more try (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/n hate each other! Or do they?

Words: 6.1K

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of blood, fluff

A/n: This is written for @buckysknifecollection‘s writing challenge, I had no. 11 - Enemies to lovers. Thank you so much Ellie for allowing me to be a part of your challenge, it has been a genuine pleasure for me! ❤️ p.s. I’m sorry you’re getting another notification for this, I’ve had to make a new blog and repost everything smh.. Feedback is always appreciated! x

Originally posted: August 22, 2020

Only one ray of sun was able to make its way inside her room, which was otherwise dark and gloomy. That lonesome ray of light, like a beacon of hope, illuminated her face and she threw one of her pillows over her head to escape it. Not even a minute later her alarm started ringing and Y/n groaned in annoyance, but she knew she had to wake up. She'd have less than thirty minutes to get breakfast before Natasha hauled her ass to the gym for their morning training. With a pout she got up from her bed, almost blindly finding her way to the bathroom through the mostly dark room.

In record time she got dressed in her work out clothes and quickly left her room to head to the kitchen, she needed coffee - too much coffee - to wake up properly and something to eat to fill her growling stomach.

After an awful night of disturbed sleep, she felt like punching anyone who so much as looked her way. Heavy steps directed her to the communal kitchen and she hoped it would be empty, not even a little bit in the mood to interact with anyone before breakfast, but her hope was crashed as soon as she heard the voices of several team members chatting idly over their own meals.

"Good morning Y/n." Steve was the first one to greet her and she could only grunt out her reply to him, moving purposefully to the coffee machine. So close to salvation, she thought as she grabbed a mug from the cupboards, but apparently it was already decided this was going to be 'Y/n's very shitty day!' because the coffee pot was empty when she turned to fill her mug.

"Great! Who the hell drank all the coffee?" She rose her voice in annoyance and everyone's head turned to her. She eyed them all, all of them looking confused at her outburst, only one person had the decency to look sheepish as he sipped uncomfortably on his own coffee.

"Sorry doll, I had a refill just before you came and didn't think to make more." Bucky. Of course it would be him; the bane of her existence.

"Of course it would be you!" She scoffed at him while moving around to make more coffee for herself. "Asshole." She muttered as her back was turned to him but everyone heard it anyway, Bucky included.

"Excuse me!" He spoke up, getting slightly irritated at her. "You can say that to my face." This was usual for them, their relationship consisted of insults and mean words thrown to each other. Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder, silently asking him to not start an argument with Y/n again, but the brunette had already made his mind. Y/n spoke again under her breath, probably a curse word meant for Bucky, but didn't turn around to speak to him directly. "I don't know what's your problem," he then continued after not receiving an answer from her. "but it doesn't give you the right to be a bitch."

That only worsened her mood and she turned around to finally look directly at him, rage evident in her eyes and features. "Yeah, maybe I'm a bitch, Barnes, but that doesn't mean you're not still a selfish brainless fuck." As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them, but it was already too late to take them back. She saw his face fall immediately, heard a shocked gasp fall from Wanda's lips who had been silently eating her cereal next to Bucky. Steve only looked her way, his signature "eyebrows of disappointment" look evident on his face.

Y/n wanted to apologize, she truly did, having already regretted the words that spilled out of her mouth before she even spoke them, but before she could say another word Tony entered in the kitchen with his usual light step, unaware of the tension around. "Good morning, kids." He said. "Barnes, I'm glad you're here." There was an easiness in the way he spoke, the absolute contrary of the conversation that had happened literally two minutes ago. Bucky let out a low grunt in acknowledgement, but said nothing as he waited for Tony to say what he had to say. "There's this journalist that's been on my back for a while now, wanting to do an interview with the Avengers. But since we're rather busy with other small, meaningless things like saving the world." Tony and his sarcasm. "You're gonna have to do it."

"Why me?" Were the only words Bucky said, not in the mood to engage in another conversation for the day.

"Because the rest of us have to leave on a mission this afternoon." The billionaire explained. "The interview is set for today at 5pm. The journalist will come here at the compound, one of the offices is set up for her to do this. And don't worry, you won't be alone, Y/n will stay with you."

At that her and Bucky visibly panicked and Y/n was the first to start the protesting, but Tony was having none of it. "Don't bother wasting either of our times, that's already decided Y/n." She wanted to say something but Tony didn't let her. "Nuh-uh." He held his hand up to stop her. "You and Barnes will represent the Avengers today and that's final. Besides, your arm isn't still fully healed for another mission anyway, so there's that too. Now the rest of us, let's get ready to kick some Hydra ass." He left the kitchen just as he entered it, that same strut in his step still present.

Steve and Wanda finished their breakfast and got up from their seats wordlessly, only patting Bucky lightly on the shoulder before they left the kitchen, leaving Bucky and Y/n there alone. To say the air was uncomfortable would be severely underestimating it. One could literally cut the tension with a knife. Y/n wanted to apologize to Bucky for earlier but he got up too, putting his empty mug in the sink and leaving Y/n behind too, alone with her thoughts and feelings of shame and guilt.

Way to ruin everyone's day!

Just like Tony said, at precisely 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the journalist was at the compound, along with a cameraman. The office had been set already, only Bucky was missing. Y/n was there to greet the young woman who seemed too enthusiastic to be doing this, she even asked Y/n for an autograph which she promised to give after the interview. A few minutes later Bucky showed up too, the same somber expression in his face that was painted after Y/n's outburst in the morning in the kitchen.

The interview was going well, the journalist asking questions about the Avengers in general, the missions and Y/n and Bucky answered all of her questions in turn, being kind and polite to the young woman, but after some more questioning she decided it was time to show her true colors.

"So mister Barnes, how do you feel about everything that happened to you as the Winter Soldier and I was wondering whether you think you're free of all that.. I mean do you think you are truly over that part of your life?" The world came to a stop as she asked her question, even the air seemed to have stilled in the meantime. Bucky was like a deer caught in the headlights, fumbling with himself to get the words out in answer, but he couldn't. He couldn't form not one single coherent thought to reply to that. Y/n was shocked too by the rudeness of the journalist and she turned her head on the side to look at Bucky, finding him glued in place, an unreadable expression on his face, he wasn't even blinking anymore.

Y/n felt so bad, thinking she was so mean to him in the morning and now this stupid journalist was doing the exact same thing that she had done earlier, she knew she had to do something, so without losing another moment she replied instead of Bucky. "Every question pertaining to the psychological evaluation of Sargent Barnes has been already answered in the court room when the State declared him innocent two years ago. You have no right to be asking that kind of question, you-"

She wanted to say more but the other woman interrupted her. "No, I was just wondering if... I mean Mr. Barnes could..."

This time it was Y/n's turn to interrupt her, raising her hand to signal her to stop speaking and getting up from the chair she was sitting. "You can show yourselves out." Was all she said before walking out of the office, Bucky following right behind her, a little stunned by her behavior.

She was walking to her room when Bucky called behind her, making her freeze in the spot. She turned around to face him, silently waiting for him to speak first. He seemed still a little flushed from the situation before, but he spoke before he could lose his nerve. "Y/n, um.. Thanks, uhh for.. you know.. that.." He stuttered his words out with difficulty. "You didn't have to do that but thanks." He seemed embarrassed as he turned to leave her alone, but Y/n stopped him, her hand reaching out to grab his wrist lightly.

"I'm sorry." She said. His back was turned to her and he didn't turn to face her, closing his eyes to inhale a deep breath before breaking free of her hold, not saying anything. "I'm really sorry Bucky, you know I didn't mean what I said in the morning." She spoke again to his retreating form as he walked away from her on the opposite side of the hall. She sighed dejected, resuming the way to her own room.

Truth is, Bucky and Y/n have never been friends. They were colleagues and it was all they would ever be. They had each other's back on missions but anything other than that was simply unthinkable. It wasn't always like this. When Y/n had first joined the team, she tried to get along with everyone on the team, but she supposed not everyone likes everyone. To her credit, she'd tried to be on Bucky's good side, being a new member she felt like it was her duty to try and get along with everyone, but the ex-Winter Soldier seemed like he actually hated her, what with the nasty, kind of disgusted looks he sent her way every time they crossed each other in the compound.

She couldn't understand Bucky's hostility towards her, as far as she could tell, she never did anything to offend him in the slightest, but evidently Bucky had already decided he couldn't even stand Y/n.

With time, things seemed to change and Bucky started to at least tolerate her presence around him, but they still couldn't be friendly with each other. Despite Bucky being unfriendly - for the lack of a better word - to her, she couldn't help but feel bad with herself because she actually liked the man. Ironic, isn't it! There was really nothing to dislike about him, from his looks - the man was seriously a treat for the eyes - to his kind nature, which everyone seemed to be on the receiving end of it; everyone except Y/n, who could only witness that from afar.

No matter how hard she tried to be nice to him, it was simply impossible to climb over that wall Bucky had built around himself when it came to Y/n. She finally gave up after some months, but she figured if he didn't treat her as a friend, she'd be a pain in his ass, at least that way she still got his attention somehow. So she'd started to throw words his way, being a sarcastic little shit every time she got the chance. At first Bucky continued to ignore her, just like he had done before, but then her words started to get to him, she started to get under his skin, pushing his buttons every time they were in the same place. It started innocently enough, but after a few months of back and forth, they just kept going at each other's throat all the time, bantering, throwing insults at each other and once the situation had degraded up to the point Steve had to forcefully take Bucky away from Y/n, otherwise they'd most likely end up killing each other.

It became almost natural to them to hate each other, to argue and to throw insults at each other at any given moment. And it had been going on for too long everyone else on the team was getting tired of it.

A few weeks had passed since the interview and the situation at the compound was back to normal, well, kind of. Tony had filed a complaint about the journalist, saying her behavior during the interview had been nothing short of unprofessional and that got her fired. She had it coming though.

Y/n was at the gym, training with Steve in hand to hand combat. Steve insisted everyone trained with everyone so they'd know different fighting techniques and that was a valid point he made. They'd been going at it for about two hours and Y/n was sweating profusely. Once again, Steve managed to kick her feet from underneath and she fell on her back on the mat. Y/n groaned in frustration. "Okay that's enough for today, my muscles are killing me. You're killing me Rogers." Her finger pointed accusingly at him as she laid down, too tired to even consider getting up.

"Or maybe you're just too weak." Came the surprising voice of Bucky who had just entered the gym, wearing only a pair of shorts and nothing else as he walked to the ring, leaning his arms on the ropes.

Ever since the day of the interview, there hadn't been many interaction between them, choosing instead to just ignore each other even when they ran into each other in the compound. Y/n still felt guilty for what she said that day so she didn't want to upset Bucky more than she already had and he had seemed to be in the same board with her because he never said anything; until now.

Y/n only scoffed at his comment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her annoyance and still too tired to even argue with anyone, least of all him, but apparently Bucky had something else in mind, because he spoke again. "'S that it, you're too weak, dollface?" His voice held a hint of mischief to it, and no matter how much Y/n wanted to just ignore him and what he said, he knew how to get her riled up. With screaming limbs she managed to get up and move towards him, leaning on the same ropes he was, coming face to face with Bucky as she was staring down at him.

"Right now I am, I'm sure you know how it is to get your ass handled by Steve." She said it so casually, as if she was talking to a friend and not Bucky. Steve on the other side of the ring snorted out a laugh as he sipped from his bottle of water.

Bucky smirked at her words. "Wait 'til you try me then. Your ass won't recover for weeks." And he winked.

"Shut up Barnes." She replied, trying to hide the growing blush on her cheeks and moved to walk away from him and out of the gym, dragging her duffel bag on the floor as she walked, leaving the two men behind.

"You're a punk Buck, why'd you have to tease her like that? You always do this and then you end up saying hurtful things to each other." Steve pointed out with a frown on his face. He seriously hated it when Bucky and Y/n argued with each other, because it left them always fuming and wanting to punch something. That something most of the time was Steve.

"Shut up, jerk. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Steve stared him down until it was starting to get uncomfortable and Bucky left the gym too, not saying anything else to Steve.

Bucky hated to fight with Y/n. If he was being honest, he hated himself for doing it too, but it seemed as if that was the only way there could be some sort of relationship between them. Bucky knew it was mostly his fault. He'd been unwelcoming towards her since the beginning and now it seemed as if it was to late to try and salvage anything. Deep in his heart, Bucky regretted his every action that lead him to here with Y/n, because very deep down, he liked her. Y/n was interesting, to say the least.

When she first joined the team she was too happy, almost too much for Bucky's liking. She was the exact opposite of his haunted soul, too lively, too innocent. She was always nice to him, greeting him with that same mirthful smile every God damn time. She seemed like too much for him at the time anyway and he did his best to steer her as far away from his as possible. And he succeeded at it. He finally managed to make Y/n hate his guts, and he had no one to blame for that but himself. Now, what he wouldn't give to see her lovely smile directed at him, he had lost his chance though.

It had been days on end since they had their last interaction, now it seemed as if Y/n wouldn't spare him even insults or sarcastic remarks anymore. That was still something, he thought to himself. He actually looked forward to teasing her relentlessly every time he ran into her, it was the only way they knew how to talk to each other. But ever since the day of the interview, Y/n had gone way out of her way to ignore him. Bucky knew she didn't mean what she said that morning in the kitchen, he could see the regret written all over her face as soon as the words left her mouth, but that didn't mean that in that moment it hadn't hurt.

Bucky still lived with the feelings of guilt and remorse for everything he'd done as the Soldier and having people slap him in the face with that truth, it hurt more than he'd ever care to admit. Especially when one of those people was Y/n. Despite the fact that he knew she didn't mean it, what she said was true and a lot of other people thought so too. That journalist thought so too. He still remembers how Y/n stood up for him, showing the door to that rude journalist and he can't help the flutter in his heart at the sentiment. He had decided then and there to forgive her for the words she said, before she even apologized to him in the hall. Bucky had called her a bitch too, so he was as guilty as her.

"Wake up, Buck. Urgent mission." Steve shaking his shoulder slightly woke him up, not registering his words yet and humming in question sleepily. Steve repeated himself and finally Bucky got up from his bed, fully awake and conscious.

Steve hated to wake him up, he knew Bucky barely slept enough as it was, but being an Avenger meant urgent, impromptu missions the entire time. They walked to the jet together, finding the rest of the team already seated there. Apparently they were all waiting for Bucky.

"Good morning." He greeted everyone and almost everyone greeted him back.

"Finally the Sleeping Beauty decided to join us." Y/n's voice rang in his ears and he inwardly smiled at her words. It seemed like there was some kind of weird normalcy back, despite the fact that Y/n still didn't meet his eye most of the time.

"I was actually fixing my hair, princess. Not all of us enjoy wearing the same crappy looks you serve." He replied to her, the same sarcastic but playful hint in the tone of his voice. Her hair was up in a sleek ponytail and there was a natural morning glow on her face that made her look as beautiful as ever. Bucky only liked to give her shit, but in reality he loved how she looked all the time. Y/n was about to reply again but Steve didn't let her, saying how they had to debrief the mission before going blind in the war zone. That shut them both up as they listened to the Captain explain what was going on and what they had to deal with.

"Second floor is clear, I'm going up." Bucky spoke in the ear piece that everyone shared connection with. Another Hydra base to wipe up. Nothing they hadn't done before. The only downside to it was the fact that it seemed like their 'Cut one head, two more shall take its place' motto, was proving to be true because lately more Hydra bases were showing on the Avengers' radar. It was getting irritating.

"Okay, just be careful." He heard Steve's voice in his comm and scoffed lightly. That punk and his mother hen tendencies.

The team had been searching the place for around an hour and they had found nothing yet. The halls and the offices were mostly empty. It seemed as if they had abandoned it just before the Avengers arrived, but still something just didn't sit right with Bucky. Call it a gut feeling or whatever, he simply knew that this couldn't be as easy as it seemed to be at the moment. He climbed the stairs to the upper floor, his gun in the ready to shoot anyone who crossed him. Just as he was about to turn on the left, a series of gunshots was heard from the other side of the floor Bucky was in.

"What's going on?" He asked quickly, a chilling feeling of panic settling slowly in his bones. He walked towards the noise, hoping whoever it was there from his team, was doing fine. Just as he made another turn, another gunshot was heard, then several more. His gun in the ready, he looked in front of him, finding two Hydra agents shooting at somebody he couldn't still see from where he was. He fired at them without missing a beat and when they saw him they ran in the opposite direction, trying to save themselves.

Hurrying he walked towards where the Hydra agents were shooting, his eyes widening in horror at the sight in front of him. He rushed to get a closer look at the person who was laying down just a few steps away from him and he reached her he fell to his knees next to her.

"Oh my God." He said in panic. "Y/n, can you listen to me?" He patted her cheek lightly, trying to gain her attention and it worked because she averted her eyes to look at him.

Her entire abdomen was bloody, the navy blue cat suit stained with her blood. There were at least three bullet holes in her abdomen and one in her thigh and she was losing too much blood, too quickly. "Y/n, what the hell!" He yelled in panic, then finally came to his sense to notify the team. "Y/n's been shot. Several gunshot wounds in the abdomen. I need immediate evac. I repeat, I need immediate evac." Then he looked at Y/n, fear still evident in his eyes. "Hey, keep your eyes on me okay, look at me. It's going to be okay." He spoke in a rush, wanting to somehow make her feel better.

"Buc-" she tried to speak but she started coughing, then only a second later she was spitting blood from her mouth.

"It's okay, please don't speak. I just need you to stay awake right now." With careful movements he scooped her up in his arms, then started walking as quickly as possible to the exit. He could hear Tony's voice in his ear telling him that the jet was ready to get back at the compound, but he couldn't say anything back to him as he kept his eyes to Y/n. She was staring back at him, not daring to break eye contact, as if she were memorizing his features, the blue of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the scruff on his cheeks, the dimple on his chin. She was looking at him as if it was the last time and he didn't like it one bit. Her eyes started to flutter closed as more blood came out of her bullet wounds and Bucky yelled at her to keep looking at him. And she did.

"Bu- Bucky..." She tried to speak again but she was too tired to even form out the words. Instead she rose her bloodied hand to his face and cupped his cheek softly, but it quickly fell off as she lost the consciousness.

"No, no, no, no, no." He repeated in a frenzy as he was finally out of the facility and only a few more steps away from the jet. He practically ran the remaining distance and placed her in one of the cots there, carefully laying her down. Tony was the first to do a full body scan with Friday and put an oxygen mask on her mouth. Natasha pressed some rags on her wounds to stop the bleeding and that was all they could do at the moment. At the compound the doctors were ready to bring her in and take care of Y/n.

Bucky was pacing around the small space of the jet, mumbling to himself, he was actually driving himself and everyone else around him crazy. Steve got up from his seat and placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Come sit." He spoke softly and Bucky simply nodded, obeying to him, not having even the slightest amount of force to say no.

Soon enough they arrived at the compound and Y/n was immediately taken in surgery. She had lost too much blood already and every second that passed without removing the bullets and closing her wounds was a second that could lead her to death.

Just like before, Bucky resumed to his pacing, this time in the hall of the med bay, waiting impatiently for the doctors to come out of the surgery room and say something. He'd been there for three hours already, not having left the spot for even one moment. While everyone had gone to their rooms to shower and change, Bucky had glued himself at the med bay and he wasn't planning to go away until the doctors came out with some news.

"You should go to your room and take a shower, change your clothes." Steve spoke behind him, hoping to convince him. Bucky turned around to face his friend, fear written across his face evidently and he shook his head slightly.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know she's okay." He replied, voice cracking a little with each word he spoke and Steve couldn't help but feel bad for his friend. There was a stain of blood on his cheek, mixed with streaks of tears that had ran down his face. He looked as miserable as he felt.

"Bucky..." Steve tried again but Bucky was having none of it.

"I said no." He yelled at him, then more tears ran down both of his cheeks, his voice losing all the sound, his next words coming out in a broken whisper. "I can't... I just, I can't lose her." He finally confessed. "I can't fucking lose her Steve." He came to Steve, his forehead resting on his friend's shoulder in defeat.

Steve placed both his hands around his shoulders in a hug. "She's going to be okay. She's strong, pal." He could hear Bucky sniffle but he didn't say anything, silent sobs escaping his lips as his own arms came to wrap around Steve's body, returning the hug. After a few moments in silence Steve tried again. "Please just go take a shower. I'm sure the doctors will be there for some more time, but even if they aren't I'll call you as soon as they come out of that door. I promise." That seemed to finally convince Bucky and he nodded, even though half-heartedly, stepping away from Steve and walking towards the bedrooms.

Up in his room, he was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, staring at the stain of her blood on his cheek. He recalled the way Y/n had looked at him, as if it would be the last time and he quickly shook his head to get rid of the thought. He couldn't lose her. He could not. Not without him never telling her how he truly felt for her. The bickering and arguing back and forth was nice for however long it lasted, but now he needed to tell her that he wanted a real relationship with her. He needed to tell her he loved her.

The thought that ran in his mind shocked him. Did he really love her? But there wasn't a doubt in him as he silently nodded to his reflection in the mirror. Yes, he did. He totally did. With a newfound determination and a rush in his bones, he quickly discarded of his tactical suit and moved under the stream of water, washing away all the tears and blood and grime. He was quick and thorough to wash himself and he rushed to get dressed and get down to the med bay again.

Y/n needed to make it out alive and he would tell her the truth about his feelings. No more hiding behind petty insults and sarcastic comments.

They had to wait for another three hours before the doctors finally came out. Bucky was the first to get up and walk to them, immediately asking them about Y/n. Behind his back, Steve, Sam and Natasha were waiting impatiently to know too.

"The bullets are all out and we closed all of her wounds, but one of them was too close to her spine and more difficult to remove. We hope she will wake up soon. For now she has to rest." One of them explained as calmly as he could.

"You hope? You fucking hope?" Bucky yelled.

"Buck.." Steve tried to calm him down but Bucky wasn't listening.

"No, you shut up." He turned to say to Steve, then back again to the doctors. "You're telling me her life is depending on your fucking hope? I thought you were the best and that's why Stark hired you." He was shouting in their faces and the poor doctors couldn't say anything.

"Mr. Barnes it's too early to speak now." The other doctor said, hoping to calm him down a little. "We did our best, now it's all up to her body and how well she recovers." The doctors excused themselves and walked away, leaving Bucky with his friends there. His mind was running at millions miles per hour, thinking of the worst things that could happen, but he was quick to dismiss those thoughts. Y/n had to wake up! She had to be okay! She had to!!!

Almost a week had passed and there was no sign that she was waking up. Her body was healing in a normal rhythm, but it seemed like it was her mind that wasn't cooperating. The doctors explained it as a short coma that her brain had put her body in to recover fully, but Bucky thought it was just a bunch of bullshit.

Every moment of every day he spent it in the room she was currently at, sitting in a semi comfortable chair next to her bed. He sat there during the day and slept there during the night, even ate next to her when Steve brought him something to put in his stomach after he refused once again to leave her side. He hadn't shower since the day they returned from the mission and he so badly needed to, but he still refused to leave her side.

"You know, doll, when you wake up, the first thing I'm gonna do is kiss you. I'm telling ya this now so when I do it it doesn't come as a surprise to you." He spoke to her as if they were conversing normally. He was always speaking to her, pouring his heart out to her, expressing his love to her, his fears, all of his feelings. And she remained there, immobile and silent while he spoke and spoke.

He was holding her hand in both of his, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb when the door of the room opened and inside entered Natasha with a determination in her eye no one was able to break. "Get your ass up Barnes. You reek." She spoke to him, a little harsher than she intended to, but he wasn't listening to their kind requests anymore. Bucky only grunted out at her to leave him alone but Nat punched his right shoulder in reprimand. "I didn't ask. Now get your ass up from that chair. You're going to go in your room, and you're going to take a shower and then you can come back here. I'm sure Y/n wouldn't appreciate your unpleasant stink when she wakes up." That last sentence got his attention and he finally relented, albeit still a little unsure, but he got up from the chair and with one final look at Y/n's face he left the room to take a quick shower. Nat was definitely right about him reeking.

Another week scooped up in the same hospital like room, another week she's been silent, still not waking up. Bucky hated the feeling of the unknown, he hated to not have a sure answer, but he figured he'd wait his entire life for her. And that's what he was telling her this time. "I promise baby, you just have to wake up, then you can leave the rest to me. I know I've hurt you in the past and I know you probably really hate me, but I just need only one more try and I'm gonna make you fall in love with me just like I've fallen in love with you."

"Do you promise?"

The hoarse sound of her unused for weeks voice was heard, low and gruff and Bucky couldn't believe that it was actually happening. Still dazed, cupping both her cheeks in his hands he asked. "Y/n?" A little unsure of what to expect, almost certain he had only dreamed the whole thing.

"What, you lost your voice now? You were talking big game before I woke up." She spoke again, this time a little hint of playfulness evident in her otherwise still hoarse voice. Bucky chuckled, finally convinced that he wasn't dreaming and without missing a beat he connected his lips softly to hers, just like he had promised before. He sighed at the contact but broke it too soon for either of their liking.

Her eyes opened slowly to look up at him who was hovering above her, a dreamy smile plastered on his face.

"Hi."

"Hi, doll." He replied to her, a little breathlessly and she grinned up to him. "How much of what I've said this entire time have you heard?"

"Pretty much everything." She answered with the ever present grin. "You've made a lot of promises mister." Her voice held a glint of joy in it, the sound, Bucky was convinced it was angelic.

"And I plan to keep every one of them, sweetheart." He leaned down slightly to kiss her lips again, actually relieved he was able to finally do so. He was so stupid to have lost all that time arguing and fighting, not telling her how he really felt, only coming to his senses when he almost lost her, but he was done running away from his feelings. And apparently so was she. They kept kissing, keeping it slow and sweet, but able to transmit every single feeling into each other. They were so lost in that kiss they didn't even hear the door of the room open and the team entering, finding them lip locked and wrapped up in their own little world.

"Barnes, you asshole, when were you going to tell us that Y/n woke up?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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