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threewaysdivided · 1 year

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Have you ever abandoned a fanfic? Just curious. I havent started one because i know that i WILL abandon it and feel shitty about it.

Hey nonnie,

Sounds like you’re in a bit of a bind right now 😔

To answer your question: no, there hasn’t been a point where I’ve personally discontinued a posted fic.

I think I might be a little bit like you in that regard. I’ve had quite a few potential story or scene ideas over the years, but either I didn’t feel like those stories headed towards a satisfying end-point or I just didn’t feel like committing to the work of fitting those scenes into something that would be interesting (or even understandable) for another person. When I start a large creative project I like to have an idea of what the end-product will be, or at least some specific creative goals to aim for. I need to feel as though I have a good chance of seeing a project through before I commit.

That being said (if it’s okay) I’d like to talk to the sentiment you expressed: that there’s something you’re not starting because in your mind giving up is inevitable and you’ll feel bad when (not if) that happens.

To me, it kind of sounds like you’re already feeling shitty about it? Like, you haven’t done anything yet but you’re already anticipating the worst possible outcome and emotionally punishing yourself for it.

If that’s the case, then why not just try it anyway? The time will pass regardless. And what’s the worst that could happen? You start writing a story, you post a few chapters, and then maybe you feel like the story isn’t going the way you wanted, or you get frustrated by a creative roadblock, or you find yourself losing interest, or maybe it’s just that other things come up that you’d rather spend your time on… and so your story becomes one of the literally thousands of discontinued fics that exist. Maybe a few invested readers are disappointed for a while, maybe it slips quietly into being forgotten… or maybe the part that you did post inspires someone else, or another fanwriter adopts and continues it, or you yourself find inspiration again and come back to it somewhere down the line.

It's worth pointing out that the vast majority of fanfics are either currently-unfinished works-in-progress or in some state of hiatus/ discontinuation/ being abandoned. Many of the fics that inspired me are either discontinued, have sequels that were discontinued or were written by fan-authors who had previously discontinued other projects. In fact, several of my favourite published original series are in some state of cancellation, indefinite hiatus or have endings/continuations that myself and others prefer to ignore, but that doesn’t make the revisit experience any less enjoyable.

a good plot was one which made good scenes. The ideal mystery was one you would read if the end was missing. - Raymond Chandler in the introduction to Trouble is My Business, 1950

Still, that doesn’t really change the fact that it can feel really shitty to pull the plug on a creative project. Even if you never showed anyone, it’s okay to feel disappointed or frustrated at yourself for not reaching a personal goal. That’s a perfectly normal reaction, so long as you don’t let it spiral into self-punishment or something self-destructive. It can be easy to fall into a state of analysis paralysis or procrastination, where the fear of “failing” or choosing the “wrong option” means you just don’t start, or you keep stalling because you expect to feel guilty at the end for not finishing sooner (something which I’m definitely prone to doing). There’s also the risk of falling off the other end into sunk-cost fallacy or trying to overcommit your time, leading to things like sleep-procrastination and burnout.

Some of that might come down to broader personal challenges like overcoming perfectionism, depression, self-criticism or negative self-talk, learning how to be more gentle and reasonable about personal goal-setting/ expectation-management, and finding ways to celebrate the progress/ achievements you did make, even if you didn’t achieve everything. If these are things you struggle with, then it might help to talk to someone about it or even seek therapy if you’re able to (I am currently doing both of those things and it genuinely helps).

You might also like to check out my writer self-care and digital self-care tags, where I’ve been squirreling away helpful advice from other users.

In the meantime, here are some practical ideas that might help your story to cross the finish-line:

#1: Keep the scope small You don’t have to jump into a big multi-chapter ensemble fic as your first project. If you’re worried about sustaining creative energy (or even just having limited time) then maybe single-scene or one/two-shot stories would be a better place to start. Pick a project which you feel confident that you can finish, and which lets you see and enjoy a tangible result quickly. Consider using AO3’s series feature to assemble short stories into a bigger narrative that you can build piece-by-piece. Set your bar low, start small and work your way up as you develop your creative workflow and stamina.

#2: Outlining might help you I don’t know where you fall on the planner-to-pantser scale of writing styles, but having a roadmap for where and how far the story is going can give you a goal to keep focussed on. I’ve previously written a post series with some tips for outlining stories: [Part One] [Part Two].

#3. Know what you want from your story I talk about this in Part One of the Outlining Series, but understanding what motivates you to start or keep writing can help you to understand where the creative drive for a project comes from. Maybe you’re writing purely for yourself, maybe it’s to share with a community, maybe it’s in response to another story or maybe it’s because you just want this to be a thing that exists.

For example, my long-fic Deathly Weapons started because I couldn’t find a story like it in the archives, and now I keep writing it because I want to see whether I can pull those things off for an audience who don’t have my behind-the-scenes notes. Meanwhile, there are a lot of other potential ideas that I haven’t written down because those are just for me – I get what I need from them just being in my head and I don’t feel a need to codify a “canon version” or do all the drudge-work of making those ideas accessible for someone else.

#4. Find a cheerleader Sometimes it’s good to have writing buddies who are also interested in your story and can help to sustain enthusiasm, inspiration and excitement for your project. Whether that’s finding a beta-reader, joining/starting a discord server, reaching out to commenters on early chapters, roping in IRL fandom friends or finding community in other places.

#5. Your first attempt won’t be your best and that’s okay I do a lot of cooking and a common rule there is “the first pancake always comes out wonky”. You need to get a feel for what you’re working with before things start to flow. Similarly, the first draft almost always feels rough… because it’s purpose is to be a rough draft. Don’t be dispirited if it’s not immediately perfect, or as good as what you pictured in your head. Each time you iterate/edit you have a chance to identify something you’d like to do differently and experiment with moving it closer to the effect you want.

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#6. Set milestones and consider an exit strategy If you feel like there is a possibility that you might (or might need to) pull the plug on a larger project before the end, then it might ease your mind to have a plan for how and where you would want to draw things to a close.

This is something I have for Deathly Weapons. It’s a very long story that I planned at an age when I had more time and energy to spare, crossing two fandoms (of which one is getting pretty old and the other died of sudden-onset seasonal rot) and something I’ve been aware of for several years now is that one day I might need to call it quits, whether due to lack of time, inspiration-loss or for mental health reasons there have been times where this fic (and especially the attached fandom-rot) has been legitimately not good for my headspace. I’d like to finish DW and I don’t like the idea of leaving either the characters or my readers without closure, but I also recognise that it simply might not be possible. My compromise is that if that day comes I’m going to polish up all my story-notes and make them available so that the full narrative at least exists in some form. In the short term I want to make it to the end of the Mission 2: Flashpoints-Equilibrium set. Once I get there I’ll take stock and see if I feel like the Mission 3: Something Wicked set is still on the cards, and so on and so forth.

#7. Remember that fanfic is a hobby You can certainly learn valuable things and meet wonderful people through writing, but ultimately this is something you do for fun, because you find it inherently rewarding or compelling. It’s a knitting club. Sure it might feel a little bit worse to close down a project that other people are invested in but, just like with any other hobby, it’s perfectly fine to take a break or move on if it’s not something you enjoy anymore, if it’s effecting you in a way you don’t like, or if you don’t like the particular group of people you’re currently doing it with. It’s your free-time to use, and it’s fine to weigh options and decide that it would be more fulfilling or better for your health to pursue something else.

Above all else, remember that it’s okay to “fail”

I feel like this is something we don’t talk about enough as a collective (and it’s definitely something I wish I had been told more). Sometimes you try things and it doesn’t work out. Sometimes you screw up. Sometimes you give up. That’s alright. It doesn’t change your worth as a person. Put it down to experience: it still teaches you things. And you can always try again.

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Be kind to yourself, okay? 💚

#Anonymous #3WD answers #Writing advice #Creator self-care #Writer self-care #Abandoning fanfics #Advice from a recovering perfectionist #It sounds a bit like you’re already punishing yourself nonnie #I feel like maybe you’re falling into a similar trap to one that gets me: self-selecting out of something that might be good #If you feel like there’s a chance that it won’t work out then it can be tempting to preemptively opt out #because at least then you feel like you had control over the outcome #You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take #(but sometimes it’s tempting to tell yourself that you only missed because you chose not to shoot)#Perfection can be the enemy of progress #I also understand the idea of feeling guilty for the thing you’re making if you leave it unfinished #I have a half-done painting of a bird that’s been on the backburner for a few years now and sometimes I feel bad for the bird #There have been several times where I’ve felt like continuing Deathly Weapons was just sunk-cost fallacy #and that maybe I should abandon it #(especially recently with the burnout + bad canon + current less-fun bridging chapters)#but ultimately this story is something that I want to exist #so I just keep swimming

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little-lizard-big-brain · 2 years

Text

A ode to my heart

There is a sort tiredness that pervades my life,

The kind not associated with a lack of sleep,

The life draining kind,

That sucks all of the energy from your body in a moment,

And leaves you to wonder how things became like this,

I’ve grown ever more tired of the monotonous, never changing days,

There is no fulfillment in watching yourself fall apart,

There is no joy in being able to notice how even if you sleep all day, you’ll only ever be tired at the end of the day,

Only ever tired watching as your life passes you by,

Some times, I wonder if this tired feeling would be considered dread,

I doubt it,

When I get tired like this, there is no pit in my stomach,

No worry of something bad happening,

All there ever is, is melancholy,

A lonely feeling that only brings you into the pits of despair the longer you fight it,

Knowing you have no real value in this world,

Despite being told otherwise,

You just know,

You know in the ways you lose friends to time,

How once, you spoke to them every day,

And now you’re lucky if you’re even left on seen,

Small friend groups expand,

You don’t have the heart to say no when someone asks if they can add another person,

You don’t have the heart to oppose being asked to leave in place for someone else,

At this point, you’ve become used to mattering the least

Sure, you’ll be remembered, maybe even missed should you ever disappear,

But not long enough to make a lasting impact,

No one will mourn you longer than a year,

So what point is there in constantly trying to prove you’re worthwhile?

When an item fulfills it’s purpose, it is discarded,

Just like You are when you no longer serve a purpose to others,

Is it even fair to be angry, to cry and deny your fate in this world?

You learned a long time ago that you were disposable,

That when everything comes to a boiling point,

You have no right to be upset when You knew this would happen.

You cannot keep people to yourself,

You cannot stop the eventual outcome of being alone,

It’s pointless to cry over something you knew would happen.

You knew you would be replaced, all tools are once they show signs of wear,

No one wants a dull tool impeding their work,

They want the smoothest process possible,

And using something that doesn’t get the job done quite like a newer tool does is redundant,

Your doubts and fear will never be worth paying attention to,

After all,

You’re just a pessimist,

All you can do is expect the worst,

Because that’s all you’ve ever lived through.

That doesn’t matter to anyone though,

They have lived lives free of the constraints of the pain you know awaits them,

They can throw caution to the wind and still come out better on the other side,

You can’t,

You tried living that way,

Happily,

In the moment,

Trusting that inherently people are good,

That the people you trust now would never, in a million years hurt you,

That the people closest to you love you for you,

Idiot,

You knew better,

In trusting and loving freely,

You were tore apart Again,

The person you had become,

The confidence you had,

The Happiness you had,

They were killed and skinned like animals,

Your destroyer wears the pelts like a Medal of Honor,

What was once yours is now a trophy kill,

Displayed by the hunter who lured you into the snare,

And when you voice your fears,

All anyone ever says is

“He didn’t force you to have sex with him, he never touched you sexually”,

No, he didn’t,

He would have gotten to that point though if he wasn’t made to leave before he got too greedy,

Grooming is so much more than the physical,

Because an animal never lets it’s guard down unless you tempt it with sweet words,

Treats to its tastes,

Gifts of things it enjoys,

And words of false compassion when it catches on the barbed wire you surrounded it with while it was distracted,

Your mind is what is lulled into a sense of false security first,

Only then does the manipulation begin,

The isolation,

The lies, because yes, omitting the truth is the same thing as lying,

The accusations,

The beginnings of physical touch,

Leaning on you once in a while,

Then embracing you a bit too hard for too long,

The subtle touch on your cheek while you aren’t paying attention,

Touching your neck once, and immediately receiving a reaction that could destroy all of his work up until this point,

So they avoid touching your neck,

But your back is not avoided,

Nor is your shoulder.

In the moment,

You don’t see it,

How could you?

He’s your brother,

Or at least your friend,

You’ve told him that since the beginning,

You never loved him that way,

You never could,

Because he is your brother,

Everyone else watches,

Saying nothing,

Maybe they think someone else will say something,

The bystander effect at its finest,

The beast’s adoptive kin beseeches the hunter to tell the beast the full truth,

But he doesn’t,

No,

Not until the beast directly confronts him with what they have learned,

Then the tears fall again,

His eyes wet with what ifs,

Telling the beast that if only it had met him at a different point in his life, maybe they could have been together,

Sickening,

The beast wants to believe that deep down,

The hunter never meant to hurt them,

Time only makes the beats realize what has been done to it again,

Just like ever other man the beast was ever close with,

He took away all the beast had built up till this point,

The dignity,

The pride,

The courage,

The trust in humanity,

But most of all he took away the identity the beast had,

Now all that was left was the scared little girl who had prayed for this to never happen again,

The center of the beast,

Was no more than the child it used to be,

You had become a beast to protect yourself,

And yet You let your identity be stripped away again.

And at the end of it all, the hunter dared to say this was your fault,

If only you hadn’t been so tempting.

You were nothing but a child again, terrified and vengeful,

You want to forgive him, you know you do,

But the need to spill his blood across the ground is greater than anything else,

You cannot rest until you taste his blood in your mouth the moment he reaches to caress you,

The moment he learns that you will never forget, or forgive his transgressions,

And yet he will never learn,

He will only ever think of himself,

What profits him,

Regardless of what it does to others

#no i am not okay #life is getting to me far too much #i wish i could evaporate

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks,

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1.

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little.

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it.

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished.

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder.

He shouts your name but you don't respond.

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you.

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all.

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more.

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing.

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue. He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away.

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon.

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures.

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth.

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it. “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.”

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good.

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it.

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating.

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something.

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now.

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings.

A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there.

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth.

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to-

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely, But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here.

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch.

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind.

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference.

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air.

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second.

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony.

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim.

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names.

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you.

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room.

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces.

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger.

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway.

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,”

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet.

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now.

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady.

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room.

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.”

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once, but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.”

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline.

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way.

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it.

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands.

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi. Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness.

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard.

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement.

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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makeste · 3 years

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“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua and @class1akids’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.

#bnha 322 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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rnelodyy · 3 years

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hello here’s another post about why c!phil sucks, but from a different perspective this time.

/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters not content creators. tw for talk of suicide, self-harm and intrusive thoughts.

When Tommy opened up about his hesitation to sacrifice his discs for Tubbo, Phil immediately got pissed, yelled at him, burned the Rapple to teach him a lesson about materialism, and then made him do some exercise involving breaking a piece of stone over and over.

As someone with intrusive thoughts, I can say that that was about the worst thing he could’ve possibly done.

The thing about that hesitation is that Tommy knows he shouldn’t have hesitated. He’s aware that that was bad, and opened up to Phil about it because he felt guilty.

And that’s not uncommon, in fact, it’s expected. Intrusive thoughts are often horrific, and can cause extreme emotional responses like fear, anger and guilt, especially when they’re directed at other people.. This, paradoxically, will make the thoughts worse.

In my own experience, when I was a teenager I started getting strong thoughts of suicide. I wasn’t depressed, and I didn’t want to die, but oftentimes, I couldn’t think of anything other than ways to kill myself. I came home crying one day because I was so scared of my own thoughts, and I had a long talk with my dad about them, which honestly helped a ton, because my dad and I have a very good relationship and he never judged me for thinking about that kind of thing.

The thoughts didn’t go away. They still haven’t gone away. I don’t have them every day anymore, but that’s because I’ve learned to detach myself from them, avoid things that trigger them (i.e. staying away from ledges, not keeping scissors on my desk), and learned to reassure myself when I do get them. The urge is there, but I know I’d never act on it.

Having thoughts involving bringing harm to other people is something I’m not personally too familiar with, but I’ve seen others with those thoughts, and it’s even more emotionally taxing. Because adding to that fear is now a heaping of guilt, because now it feels like it’s not just your own welbeing that’s in jeopardy, but someone else’s too. Goes double if it’s a child, or someone you’re close to.

Point being, intrusive thoughts are difficult, and what someone who has them desperately needs is someone to reassure them that it’s okay. That their thoughts aren’t what make them who they are, and that their actions matter infinitely more.

What you DON’T do is yell at them. You do NOT validate that guilt and shame, you DON’T make them feel like their intrusive thoughts make them a danger or a bad person, and you sure as FUCK don’t destroy a keepsake of their dead friend to teach them a lesson.

Tommy already knows the idea of sacrificing Tubbo for the disc was terrible. Even if it wasn’t an intrusive thought in the literal sense, it was still a thought he never would’ve acted on. In fact, he even asked Tubbo what to do, and then ignored him and gave Dream the disc anyway after Tubbo said to take the disc and run. Scolding him and punishing him for thinking about it is useless, because he’s already learned the lesson Phil was trying to teach. Like, he KNOWS he shouldn’t prioritize his discs over his friends, he’s LEARNED that, you don’t need to destroy his things to hammer that in!!

The first thing people with intrusive thoughts need is compassion and understanding. They need to know that their thoughts don’t make them monsters, that it’s not who they are, and that their actions are what really matters. They do NOT need to be told that they’re awful people for thinking awful things, because we’re not always in control of our own thoughts.

It’s also pretty fuckign rich that Philza “I nuked L’Manburg because my friend asked me to and also the government sucks” Minecraft is having a go at Tommy for not valuing Tubbo’s life l m a o

#dream smp #dsmp #c!phil critical #tommyinnit #c!tommy

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

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The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

#considering I’m turning 20 this year this is my little gift to myself congratulating on avoiding teen pregnancy #I made it lads #it was one of my biggest and most irrational fears as a kid #lotr x reader #lotrdaily #lotr movies #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #Gimli #lotr imagine #turns out teen pregnancy is really easy to avoid

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

That Shirt

Klaus Hargreeves x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2083 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader and Klaus decide to get married, but they run into a few issues, only remedied by his unique wardrobe

—————————————————————————————————

You knew it was crazy.

The idea that you had even considered getting married didn’t make any sense at all but you couldn’t help it..

The truth was that you loved Klaus, more than anything in the world, and when people loved one another, they got married.

It was what normal people did, what you would have done if Reginald hadn’t turned you both into some kind of vigilante superhero squad.

All things considered, it was probably the most mundane thing you’d do in your life.

Still, that didn’t mean everyone else in your interesting little family was so keen on the choice you were making.

Of course, they were shocked by the announcement of your engagement, but you didn’t really think it was going to be as big of a deal as they were making it. You were both adults, and only related as far as your adoption went..

It wasn’t hurting anyone.

...but given the fit Allison was currently throwing, you would have thought you had suggested that you end the world, again.

“I just can’t see you going through with it. I mean, Klaus?” she repeated, for what felt like the fifteenth time since you got here. You wanted to go impromptu dress shopping, seeing as you wedding was in two days, but she wasn’t having it.

Instead, all she wanted to talk about was how bad of an idea getting married was, and the worst part was, if you were her, you would have been doing the same thing.

You knew Klaus, and you knew better than anyone how flippant and strange he was, but you weren’t a child. You knew what was best for you, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

Even if it didn’t make any sense to someone as close to you as Allison.

You understood why she was doing this, why she was your biggest critic, but you also couldn’t make your every decision based on that. You had all lived your entire lives like that thus far, and it wasn’t worth it.

By this point in your life, you wanted to be able to make the choices your father had taken away from you all for so long.

“I know it’s not the choice you would make for me, but I could say the same to you. Like Luthor is such a prize” you shot back, using her crush against her as you so often did when she tried to tease you about Klaus.

She thought this was so strange, but you both knew that sometimes these kinds of things didn’t make any logical sense.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-” she tried, as if she hadn’t been the one to start this in the first place.

All you wanted was to marry the man you loved, and Allison was the one trying to force cold feet on you.

“I do, actually, and every day, I wish you could accept it” you sighed, turning around and leaving the way you’d come without much more in the way of an order.

You loved Allison and you knew that at some point, she would come around. Until she did, you were just going to have to go find a dress yourself.

...unless, of course, there was another way.

There was always one place you could go when the rest of the world felt like it was against you. A place that wasn’t much of a place at all.

“Woah there, why the long face?” Klaus cooed, rolling over in bed the second he heard the door, open and close in succession, followed impressively closely by a heavy sigh from you.

You had that far away look on your face, the look you got when the world made choices for you that you didn’t agree with.

Not that figuring that out was the hard part.

“Oh nothing, I just found out that Allison doesn’t think we should be getting married. So, it must be a tuesday” you grumbled, flopping down on the space on his bed Klaus had made for you, having already anticipated your deflating into him.

There was no good reason a man like him should have been so good at reading you, and yet, even with his brain scattered five ways from Sunday, he could crack you open like a book.

“It’s okay honeybunch, I still think getting married is a great idea” he allowed, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he did his best to focus on actually making you feel better. The two of you knew this was going to go down this way.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why you cared so much.

You had never worried about the opinions of your siblings before.

“I’m not kidding, Klaus. What if it is one big mistake?” you sighed, ignoring the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead as you further retreated into his frame, rather than focusing on the disaster that surrounded you.

You were supposed to get married in two days, and so far, you didn’t have anything.

The two of you had decided to have your wedding in the backyard of the manor, so it would be small and private, but even then, there was still so much that had to be done. There had to be food, places to sit, and a dress.

You still needed a dress.

“We aren’t ready for this” you muttered, your words buried so far into his chest that you weren’t even sure that he had heard them but the more you thought about it, the more you hoped he hadn’t.

Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t a mistake.

You knew that marrying Klaus was the only thing you wanted to do, and that it was going to make you happy.

...and thankfully, Klaus knew it too.

Even after all these years, there wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

It was clear to him that the stress was getting to you, and because of that, Klaus made up his mind. This was one of those times when it was his job to take care of you like you had taken care of him a million times over.

After all, he was going to be your husband pretty soon and husbands didn’t let their wives stumble into nervous breakdowns.

“Okay, get up grumpy. I’ve got an idea” he prompted, all but rolling over you to stand up. You were going to get a dress with Allison, but given the circumstances, it seemed she wasn’t going to be joining you.

Instead, the man in front of you was going to use every bit of fashion prowess and skill he had to figure something else out.

All he had to do was get you up out of bed.

“There’s no point. I doubt anybody's even going to come”

Those words were little more than another groan from your throat, this time flowing seamlessly into the fabric of Klaus’ sheets. Evidently, since everyone else thought your getting married was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t worth throwing a big party.

Maybe it was stupid.

You weren’t children anymore, and the idea of a big white wedding was one that seemed sort of out of place for you. If your father could see it now, you were sure he would lock you in your closet.

He hadn’t raised you to get married, or care for anyone in the first place.

Not that he managed to actually raise you to do much of anything.

“What if this whole wedding is just to get back at him? What if it’s one big mistake?” you repeated, your voice just as small and uncertain as he could have expected when you did manage to raise your head from the mattress.

However, as much as Klaus wanted to rush to your side and convince you of just how wonderful an idea this was, it wasn’t going to make a difference.

His words weren’t going to make you feel better. Klaus knew that if he was going to make a real difference, if he was going to convince you that this was what you should be doing, it was going to take something bigger.

Something grander.

Thankfully, before you could wallow anymore in your upset, Klaus found exactly what it was he was looking for.

“Hold that thought, for one second” he prompted, leaving the room for just a second with the garment he’d been searching for tucked under his arm, hidden from your curious gaze.

You had no idea what he could have had going on, or why he wasn’t taking this more seriously but you knew Klaus well enough to know that there was no stopping whatever off the rails thing he had in mind.

It would just be better to let him do his thing, and maybe, he may even help you figure this out by the time he’s done.

He did have a habit of surprising you like that.

“Here! If I wear this, no one will pay any mind to what you’re wearing” Klaus teased, entering the room again with a start, a smile so wide there that you feared he may physically tear the flesh of his handsome face.

After so many years with Klaus, you had learned not to be shocked by anything he brought to the table.

That being said, you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking a little bit at the dress shirt Klaus was currently wearing, waiting for your input.

It was quite the shirt, flowy with an ornate pattern in emerald green and black, finished with a red-orange trim.

“That actually works quite nicely with your complexion” you shrugged, only standing when he offered a hand to you, the cuffs of that shirt flapping as he moved in a way that brought a smile to your face.

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to remember who frustrated and flustered you were, that garment had to have been the most hilarious thing you’d ever seen.

“I sure hope so, this is my nicest outfit” he defended, shooting you a wink that let you know this was his plan all along. Always the clever jester, he knew it would be better to distract you than to let you wallow in your own self-pity.

You wouldn’t have looked at it as something to get married in, not at first, but the more you studied the truly hideous shirt, you understood just what he was getting at.

Klaus was quick enough to pose it as a joke, but the point behind his actions was loud and clear to you. As long as the two of you were together, it didn’t matter who was there to witness it or if you were wearing a potato sack.

Marrying the man you loved was the most important thing, and if he wanted to get married in something like that, you would happily stand by his side.

“I love you” you gushed, barely holding back a cheek-splitting grin of your own as you admired the beautiful disaster in front of you.

Klaus had always been the most authentic, raw person you had ever had the privilege to know and the fact that you were lucky enough for him to love you as you loved him was all you should have been thinking about now.

Your wedding was supposed to be one of the best days of your life, after all.

...and, even though it wasn’t here yet, you knew that it would be as long as Klaus was by your side.

“You love the shirt, but I’ll take it” he grinned, reaching down to capture your hand in his own before leading you back toward the entrance of the room, his focus set on something that you couldn't have hoped to predict on your own.

Not that you got a chance to ask him to tell you before he took it upon himself to fill you in.

After all, there was still a problem at hand, even if he had managed to put it into perspective for you.

“We still have a little bit to do before this shirt and I can make you our wife” he teased, only further proving to you that this was the man you wanted to marry. Only Klaus could talk about his shirt like its own entity.

To be fair, though, there was nothing more you wanted than to be the Lady Hargreeves, floral shirt or no.

#klaus hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x ps reader #klaus hargreeves x plus size reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x ps reader #the umbrella academy x plus size reader #the umbrella academy imagine #tua x reader #tua x ps reader #tua x plus size reader #tua imagine #number 4 #The seance

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vanillanaps · 3 years

Text

Unthinkable | Bucky Barnes

Summary - Tired of hiding your relationship with Bucky, you decide that you’re ready to go public, but when he doesn’t have the reaction you expect, things take a turn for the worst

A/n - Unthinkable x Alicia Keys

Category - 40s!Bucky x black!Reader, angst

Warnings - well it’s the 40s with a black reader so, language, implied smut (if you squint) talks alluding to racism.

Word count - 2.0k

♡♡♡♡

A soft breeze gushed through the open space of the cracked window, filling the room with crisp air. Yours, along with his, body laid beneath the thin fabric that barely covered anything. Slick with sweat limbs were limp, chest heaving as your breathing tried to regulate. You were connected to one another, his fingertips trailing the side of your naked hip as his warm lips pressed soft kisses onto your shoulder.

“I should go soon, doll.” He muttered into your neck, a smile gracing his lips once he heard you groan. Wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, “I know, I know. I don’t wanna go either, but I have to.”

You relished in the moment for a while longer. The way his lips felt against yours, his calloused hands following along the curves of your body, gripping it where he pleased before it all ended. Bucky pulled away from you with one last kiss. You watched him as he sat on the side of your bed, pulling his boxers up his legs and over his hips.

A quiet sigh escaped you as the dread flooded in. You hated this. Bucky quietly sneaking his way into your neighborhood, into your window to spend a few hours of the night with you. A whole 19 hours passing by before you could hold him in your arms again. Sure, you’d see him on the streets, but what good was that? You couldn’t walk over to him, hug him, hold his hand, kiss him. Hell, you would barely be able to speak to him without receiving the looks you had gotten for simply just living in your skin. But, was it worth it? Was fearing the way people viewed you worth you finally being happy in public with the love of your life? Would it be worth letting the plethora of women that came up to flirt with Bucky fly free? Countless amounts of times had you watch women walk up and flirt with your man. Of course, he’d turn them down but not without that charming smile that had them still thinking they had a chance. That charming smile that won you over in the first place.

You wanted to be able to flaunt Bucky. To tell those women that he was taken by you. To be able to tell your family that you were in a happy relationship and found someone to spend the rest of your life with. A man that you were so deeply in love with and who were ready to have a family with, but you couldn’t do that in hiding.

Your eyes followed Bucky around your room as he collected his scattered clothes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He glanced over at you, letting you know that he was listening before pulling on his pants. Taking your lip between your teeth, watching him dress, you started second guessing yourself. What if he didn’t feel the same as you did? What if he only liked you because it was a secret? He would be satisfied with his lay for the night and was relieved in the fact that he wouldn’t be bothered by you until he would be by your window again—No, no. Bucky wouldn’t do that, Bucky loved you inside and out, he would never use you in the way that you're implying. He’d never use you in a way that you didn’t want to be used, “Doll? What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?”

The concern in his voice pulled you from your thoughts and pushed away all the bad ones. He sat besides you, his steel blue eyes locked into your brown ones. You finally spoke, “..What do you think of me?”

Bucky eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could tell by the look on your face that something was bothering you, but was he expecting this question? Not in a million years, “What kind of question is that?” He huffed out a laugh.

“Buck, be serious.” You pouted, pulling yourself up to lean against the headboard, using the blanket to cover your chest, “What do you think of me?”

His eyes searched your face, finally realizing that you were serious. Had he done something recently to make you doubt yourself in such a way? Had he not been showering you in enough love whenever he got a chance to see you? Did he not call you beautiful enough? Spew to you much he loved you?

He nodded taking your hand into his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles, “Well first, I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous, smart, hilarious, compassionate. You’re the only woman that I have ever loved more than anything in this world. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you...someday.”

Someday. Someday. Someday. The word repeated over and over in your head. Someday when? Today? Tomorrow? In the near future? How could it be someday when there wasn't a day the two of you had been seen together.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Nerves taking over your entire body. It was now or never. If he loved you like he said he did, there would be no objections, “I don’t wanna hide us anymore, Bucky.”

This time, it was Bucky’s turn for his heart to beat out of his chest. Were you being serious? Where did all this come from? The two of you had a schedule and it was there for a reason.

His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a nervous chuckle, “Baby, you’re joking—right? Tell me you’re joking?”

Your chest filled with pain as the tears bubbled in your eyes, pulling your hand from his grasp as you cleared your throat desperately not wanting to cry, “I’m serious, James.” His face dropped at the usage of his first name. He hated when you called him that. It was too serious—too formal. James didn’t feel like him. To you, he was Bucky, baby. Now you sat here calling him by his government, it definitely wasn’t a joke.

“But, why? Why would you want that? I mean, we do this for a reason, Doll.” He expressed, trying to reach out for your hand again only for you to push it away as you scrabbled out of the bed, scanning the room for your clothes now as he took your spot from watching on the bed.

“Why would I want that? Maybe because I’m sick and tired of us having to hide. Seeing you for what? 5 hours out of the 24 of the day? Sometimes even longer due to us working, or just having separate lives completely?” You ranted, pulling your undergarments on, picking up your dress from hours before and tossing it in the hamper, “I want to be seen with you, Bucky. I want to be able to kiss and hug you without a care in the world. Walk down the street holding your hand. Cuddle up with you at the theatre while watching a movie. I want to tell those girls that come up to that you’re taken! I don’t want to watch from the sidelines anymore! I’ve been doing it for a year and I don’t want to be your dirty little secret anymore!”

“Y/n, lower your voice before someone gets suspicious.” Bucky told you as he stood from his spot on your bed and made his way over to you, stopping you from wandering around the room. You were frustrated and he could tell by the way you had started cleaning in the middle of your rant, “Look at me.” He pleaded, face following yours as you turned it in every way trying to avoid him, but eventually his hand came up to grab your chin, forcing your face to stay still as his eyes came in contact with yours, “I hear you baby, loud and clear. I love you and I’d never want you to feel unhappy or insecure in our relationship—but we do this for a reason. Do you have any idea about the things people will say about you? The looks you’ll get? Baby we can’t, not now at least.”

“What can they say about me that they already haven’t, Bucky?” You sighed, finally letting that tear slip down your cheek, “I don’t care about them, I care about you! I care about us! And this—situation we have is hurting me.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” He tried explaining.

You pushed his hand away, moving away from his body as you walked to the opposite side of the room, “Trying to protect me or trying to protect you?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky was taken back by your words.

Your tongue ran over your now dried lips, the saltiness from your tears now lingered on your taste buds, “How can you say you want to spend the rest of your life with me when you don’t even want to be seen in public with me?”

Now it was his turn to get defensive, “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“How else am I supposed to take it?! What are you protecting me from, hmm? Have you listened to anything I’ve said?! People are going to talk about me because I’m just me. Simply because my skin is darker than yours and theirs.Whether I’m with you or not! I don’t care about what people think of me, if I did they would’ve ran me out of this town a long time ago. The only opinion I care about is yours!” You argued, “But clearly you do care about what everyone else says.”

Bucky stood there, shocked and confused. Just a few days ago, you were perfectly confined in what the two of you had been doing for over a year now. What had drastically changed that had you wanting to risk it all, “Yes, Y/n, I do care because I don’t want to sit and listen to people shit talk the girl I’m in love with! I want to marry you! I will marry you! I’ll propose to you right now and go out to get you a ring. I will do anything to make you happy and you know that. Why can’t you do this for me and just be patient?”

“Patient ‘till when? No matter where we go, we will get looks from people, Bucky! There’s no stopping that!” You were exasperated. This was getting nowhere, he was hellbent on staying a secret and you were the exact opposite. You were foolish to ever think this would work. Not in these times, “It’s getting late. Maybe you should just go.”

“So that’s it? You’re gonna kick me out now?” He questioned, waiting for response, but when your eyes never left the ground he got his answer. Bucky shook his head as put his shoes on before grabbing his jacket and going over to your window, opening it more. His escape route since it caused less attention than your front door. He glanced back at you one more, “I love you.” If possible, you’d be able to hear his heart shatter into a thousand pieces when you didn’t return your affection. There was never a time he didn’t leave you without the both of you saying I love you. This has done it now.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he left through the window. You waited a minute before going over to check if he was clear as you shut the window. Not a moment passed by before the tears began rolling. You questioned how a simple request had turned into this whole fiasco. You should’ve listened to your gut and never asked that stupid question because now everything you worked for, had gone to waste. All the love and commitment that had been put into your relationship was in the trash. Guess it wasn’t meant to be after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes

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love4buckybarnes · 3 years

Text

HERE IN BROOKLYN

Summary: Stuck for the night in Brooklyn, New York, Y/N meets a stranger at the bar. At first it seemed like a one night stand, but the more time they spend together, the harder it is to let go.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. SMUT WARNING-unprotected sex, oral receiving male&female, and steamy hot.

A/N: hope you enjoy this one. I had a pleasure to writing this one. My inbox is open for anonymous requests.

“This can’t be happening right now!” Y/N exclaimed at the woman behind the desk. “When will the next flight be?”

This was the cherry on top of one of the worst weeks of her life. Her asshole of a boss sent her on a work trip to Brooklyn, New York, in the middle of winter. She worked as a marketing agent for a sales business. Earlier morning on this day, she pitched her strategies to a potential client. It was important because this was the last opportunity to prove herself to her boss. Unfortunately, they rejected her ideas and upon hearing the bad news, she was fired on the spot over the phone. So, here she was at the airport only trying to get back home.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do,” the check-in clerk apologized to calm the frantic woman the best she could. “Because of the oncoming storm, all flights have been canceled until further notice. We will post new flights once we feel it’s safe.” She turned her attention elsewhere to help another customer.

Y/N stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, before storming away. “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

White powder fell from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. Icy, bitter air nipped at any exposed skin. Y/N could see the fog of her frustrated breaths. She tightened the thick coat around her as the snow quickened its pace. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the cold. Everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Finally, after waiting in the freezing snowfall, the headlights of the cab appeared in the distance.

• • • • •

Bucky laid there on the couch in his living room, listening to the low hum of the TV. All he wanted was to get some much-needed sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, instead of darkness, he would see memories of his past fill his mind. He’s seen a therapist. Any progress he makes, the doubts that whispered in his head held him back. It wasn’t going to be that easy, he knew that. Nothing he could do can change or erase what he’s done.

Instead of some shut-eye he grabbed his coat, and he found himself wandering outside in the cold. He made his way to the local bar down the street.

Bucky took a sip of the bitter liquid that calmed his nerves. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he still enjoyed the taste and the burn in his throat. With enhanced hearing, his ears picked up the faint sound of boots walking to where he was sitting. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman sit down next to him.

“3 shots please,” she requested to the bartender, voice distressed. She choked one down as soon as they have been set down in front of her.

His head cocked to the side to get a better look. Her beauty struck him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Bloodshot eyes met his briefly. He noted the puffiness around the fragile skin as if she had been crying.

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He leaned over, so she could hear him over the loud music and voices. “Rough night?”

The second shot glass was raised up and she paused, looking at him. “Could be better,” she replied dryly. The clear liquid passed her lips. She cringed at the taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, mine too.” He took another sip of his beer. “Are you from around here?”

She shook her head. “I’m here for a business, or was,” she explained. “My boss fired me today because I didn’t get the contract... I was supposed to fly back home tonight until they canceled the flight. So now I’m here.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up at what she said. “Yeah. You’re night is much worse than mine. I’m sorry. That definitely sucks.” He swiveled the stool around that he sat on to face her and stuck out his human arm. “I’m Bucky.”

She looked down at his hand, hesitant at first, before placing hers in his. “Y/N.” She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him, she recognized him. “Wait a second, you’re the Winter Soldier. I’ve watched you on the news.” Y/N found him attractive. The long dark hair she’s seen him with on TV was cut short, and he had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen.

Not being used to people recognizing him, he looked away. He was mostly afraid they would judge him for the bad things he did, instead of the good. “Which side of me have you seen?”

Y/N frowned at this. “Both. I like the good Bucky.” She drank down the last shot.

Bucky went to say something else but tensed up when her arm reached out, a hand grabbing on to his. Normally, he would freak out whenever someone touched him out of nowhere. That was then, so he relaxed.

She tugged on him. “We should go dance. This is my favorite song.”

At first, he stalled, staying in his seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t really dance.”

Y/N ignored his protests and continued to drag him on to the dance floor. She stumbled on her own feet, feeling fuzzy from the alcohol.

Bucky was a bit uncertain, but he followed her anyway. She swayed her hips to the beat with a grin on her face. He stood there, not knowing what to do, nor did he have any intentions to join her. That was until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. On instinct, he placed his hands on her waist. He decided he needed to loosen up and live a little, mimicking her movements.

Y/N had a boost of confidence from the booze running through her veins. She pushed herself up on to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips on to his.

For a second he was frozen in shock. A rush of something unexplainable came over him, telling him to kiss her back. His palms moved to each side of her face as the kiss deepened. “Want to get out of here?” he asked against her lips. Y/N nodded, and that’s all it took for Bucky to lead her back out into the cold.

• • • • •

As soon as they made it inside of his apartment, she was against the wall, Bucky hot on her tail. Their mouths locked in an intense kiss. Bucky kicked the door closed with his foot as he moved his mouth roughly against hers. His human-hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her hips to brush against him. Y/N panted for breath when he tore away to pepper her exposed neck with kisses, her head lolling to the side to give him better access.

Bucky had a sudden sense of nerves, causing him to pause his pursuit. “To be honest, I haven’t done this in a long time.” The words he spoke came out in shaky whispers.

She looked at him in a dazed way, her eyes filled with lust. “Do you want to stop?”

To answer her question, Bucky kissed her again. His tongue that wove into her accepting mouth found hers, and they danced together. He hoisted her up by her thighs, her legs wounding themselves around him. By the time they reached his bedroom, most of Y/N’s clothes were thrown every which way, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Bucky’s mouth made a trail from her lips to her neck. His lips traveled further down to find the curve of one of her breasts. With ease, he popped the clasp of the undergarment and tossed it behind him. Y/N arches at the warmth of his tongue flicking against her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth. Teeth grazed the swollen bud while his hand massaged the other.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, breaking the silence. She gripped the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his arms to assist her.

For a second Bucky’s insecurities got to him and closed his eyes tight, scared of what she’ll think of his metal arm. But all his fears washed away when she didn’t even acknowledge it, pulling him closer towards her. Y/N’s hand found the zipper to his jeans and he kicked them off, his briefs following in the same direction.

He hooked his hands, one on her hip and one on her thigh. Before she knew it, she felt the dip of the bed under her weight as she sunk into the sheets. Their bodies pressed ever so close together, skin to skin. Lips locked, his fingers lacing into her hair. Once again, he let his lips wonder her body until they reached the spot where she wanted to feel them the most.

Hot breath brushed against her clothed core. A cool sensation ran along her slit. Without a warning, her thong was torn off. Light feather kisses littered the inside of her thighs.

A breathy moan seeped out when she finally felt his wet mouth encase her pussy. He suckled on the bundle of nerves. The flat of his tongue licked up in a slow motion. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. The cold feeling came back. She shivered in response as it pressed its way into her entrance. She twitched and writhed under his touch.

Tension rose inside her as she was reaching her peak. At the sound of her moans and motions of her squirming, the movements of his tongue on her clit quickened its pace. His metal fingers moved in a rhythmic motion inside her. She screamed out his name. Her orgasm washed into his mouth, and he sucked her clean.

Bucky crawled back up and kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips exciting her. She flipped them over, wanting to return the favor. Without wasting time, she took his rather large length in her mouth. Tongue flicked and circled around the head.

“Shit baby. That feels incredible,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands found themself tangled into her hair.

She bobbed up and down, massaging his balls. He quivered at the sensations he was feeling. Before he could let go just yet, he pulled her up and was back on top, his knee spreading her legs apart.

They shuddered in unison when the tip of his groin brushed against her entrance. Not being able to contain it any longer, he shoved the rest of his dick all the way inside as far as it could go. He groaned in pleasure at her wetness.

Bucky went slowly at first. He wanted to avoid hurting her, but she urged him to speed up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, crying in ecstasy. His breath fanned over the side of her face and bare skin.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he growled out in a hungry tone. He pounded in to her in fierce strokes. She felt extraordinary against him.

“Me too,” she moaned out, her eyes rolling back.

They both let out a series of almost animalistic moans, the rush of their release sending them into complete bliss. Bucky collapsed on top of her, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush her. He rolled to one side of the bed. Y/N followed him, her arm and leg slung over his torso. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping his arms around her too. The two laid there breathless, like they had the wind knocked out of them.

• • • • •

“Careful, it’s hot,” Bucky warned her, handing her a mug of steaming hot tea. He took a seat next to her on the couch with a cup for himself.

“Thanks.” She sighed at the warmth the mug gave off to her hands, the heat soothing her insides. They were fully dressed and shared a large blanket that bundled around them.

The rest of the night was spent sat on the couch together, talking and getting to know each other. Y/N spoke about small bits of her life, and he told her some things he remembered before he became the Winter Soldier, back when Captain America was his best friend. Soon enough, they both drifted off to sleep against each other. And for once, rather than nightmares, Bucky had pleasant dreams.

The weather cleared up the next day. Bucky and Y/N spent most of it wondering around Brooklyn. He showed her around to some of his favorite places.

Bucky quickly grew fond of Y/N. He felt at ease around her, which is something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Was it crazy to say it is love at first sight? The things he was feeling, he wished it would never go away. Everything about her made him crave and want more. The little quirks she did like her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled. And when she got shy, she would play with her hair. Y/N’s presence enticed him. The usual worries, the negative thoughts, and all else that beat at Bucky daily went away.

Y/N sensed it too. She saddened more when the day went by. Being around Bucky, she felt light on air as if she was floating and like she was on Cloud 9. There was something in her that was begging her to stay. It told her not to board that flight and go home. But she was afraid of being vulnerable so fast. She was also not used to change.

Later on, they found themselves at a park. Both sat down on a bench, watching families play on the snow and people all around them.

Bucky turned to her. Those steel-blue eyes that were starting to tug on the strings of her heart held sadness. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, his voice gloomy.

Y/N thought for a moment. She almost wanted to say no. “I should get back home.”

“Or you could stay,” he pushed. “You’d like it here and would be happier here. It’s New York. There are opportunities here, you could find a better job, and there’s me.”

Something rubbed her the wrong way. She stood up, whirling around to face him. “You only met me last night, and you already think you know what’s best for me?”

He was taken aback at her outburst. His hands went up in a defensive stance. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry that you thought that. I just don’t want this to end.”

“You’re just being selfish. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls that you could pick up at the bar that I’m sure would be happy to have sex with you,” Y/N snapped out. Her own words surprised her. As soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them.

Bucky was confused at her words. “You assume that I picked you up at the bar just for sex? Is that what you think all of this was? And hey by the way, you’re the one who came on to me.”

Y/N jabbed at his chest. “Yeah, well, I was upset and had a bit to drink. I didn’t think it would go any further than this.” She wasn’t even upset at him. She honestly didn’t know why she was mad. Maybe it was the fact that .

The commotion stirred attention from a couple of bystanders as they watched the scene unfold.

“I’m not just some guy that uses girls. That’s not me at all,” he retorted back, standing up too.

Y/N became distraught and emotional. Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “It shouldn’t have gone further than it has. I’m supposed to move here all because you got caught in your feelings? Well, I did too. We have to say goodbye.”

“But it doesn’t have to end now. I feel something for once in the longest time.” Bucky felt his stomach turn. His fists balled at his side, clenching and unclenched.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she croaked out. “I can’t stay. I can’t change everything suddenly for you when we just met.” She turned on her heels and ran off, hurrying down the park. She waved down a nearby taxi.

Bucky just stood there watching what could be the start of his life drive away. The cab disappeared, and his head lowered. He felt stupid. He knew he was in the wrong. She had every right to feel and think like she did. At first, he thought about just forgetting it and going home. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let it go. “Fuck!” he blurted out loudly, scaring the surrounding individuals. He raced down the street and flagged down a taxi as well.

Y/N grabbed her stuff from the conveyor belt. She got there just in time. The plane that will take her home had just landed. Her mind was swirling with many emotions. She felt the guilt eat away at her for being mad at Bucky. She couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much. All he wanted was something good for once. She also wanted it so badly too. But her life isn’t here. She wasn’t about to put it on hold.

Before she could make another step forward, she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Y/N recognized it as the metal arm that belonged to Bucky. He spun her around. She went to speak, but lost her train of thought when a pair of lips came crashing down on hers.

A few seconds into the kiss, Bucky pulled away. He placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes said everything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to change your life. You’re right. I was being selfish. I just, I felt different around you. For once, when I’m around you I was at peace. All the worries and darkness that I have, is pushed aside. It felt so good to have a sense of freedom from the constant battle I have everyday. I didn’t want to lose that.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes at his confession. His thumbs quickly swept them away. “I’m sorry too, for getting mad at you. I let my emotions and doubts get to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m so grateful that I make you feel that way.”

He kissed her again, this time it was soft and full of promises. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, hopeful.

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, Bucky. I promise.”

They shared one last kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye. It meant see you soon.

Y/N kept that promise.

• • • • •

She leaned against the window, looking out. The plane has just landed. Y/N gleamed with happiness and excitement. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to JFK Airport. It is 7:43 pm and 60 degrees out.’

Her happy thoughts drowned out the rest of what the captain was saying. It was the end of March. The snow has melted away. Here she was, back in New York.

Bucky sat at the bar, beer in hand. His mind wandered with delight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today and yesterday. Mid-sip, his extraordinary hearing, his ears perked up at the sound of heels approaching him.

“Rough night?”

His lips curved up in a grin. That voice was something he was impatiently waiting to hear again. Setting the bottle down, he swung around. There she was. The woman who has not left his mind ever since they met stood right in front of him.

“Actually, my night just became even better,” he spoke. The grin on his face broke out into the dorkiest smile.

Y/N’s matched his. “I have some good news to share.”

He arched his brow in response.

She sat down on the stool next to him. “I got an internship,” she began to say. “And if they like me enough, a permanent job. Here in New York to be exact.”

Bucky’s heart swelled, as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He reached over and kissed her. Oh, how much he missed those addicting lips. He pulled away. “That is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, Doll.”

“The good thing is that the people I’m working with I’ve personally worked with in the past,” she said. “So it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Well, we need to celebrate. How about I take you on a proper date?”

Y/N’s heart soared. “I can’t say no to that.”

This was the beginning of a new start for both of them, together.

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