#( i could get into the fact vis will flip up her skirt for anyone who reminds her of beau but that’s a can of worms for another day $

[livingecho-arch]

i tired to make a duel promo for vis & ray ( @dullweapons ) but uh —

[ghostmartyr]

Fic: A Terrible Idea [14/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This is secretly a fake dating AU.

Segment summary: Historia digs the hole a little deeper.

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII

Finding more excuses after several weeks of pulling every one she could out of a hat wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Lunch, sure, and several days in the usual prep table had been gracefully overtaken by Ymir and people Ymir put up with. Pieck and Porco thought hanging out with Historia was a spectator sport, and Connie and Sasha had invited themselves when they saw an opening, because that’s what they did.

Reiner bench pressing both of them wasn’t the mood-setter Ymir was looking for, but time together was time together, and they shared zero classes. Lunch and after school. Such were the options, and neither worked great for talking about feelings. Ymir didn’t even want to talk about feelings.

“Yet somehow, you keep finding a way,” Pieck had said in the wake of one of Ymir’s light jogging sessions.

“More like you and Pock keep bringing it up,” was Ymir’s retort.

What she really needed was some time alone with Historia that didn’t leave them both putting up with crap and people they weren’t in the mood for.

“That’s called a date,” Porco had said, head slumped in his pillow while he stopped bothering with keeping his eyes open. Staying up past curfew was a trick his body had somehow never learned. In the bed on the other side of the room, slightly more awake, Marcel had supplied the similarly helpful comment of, “You two text every night. You can’t talk to her then?”

The people in her life failed at being remotely helpful with this, and she hoped they realized that. She’d told Pieck as much. Pieck, being Pieck, hadn’t cared.

“If you want to kiss her again, your mouth is the one that needs to put in the work.” She’d smiled, batting her eyes passively. “I hear you had some trouble with that the first time. Think of this as a much needed learning experience.”

Ymir’s friends were horrible people with not an ounce of compassion attributed to their combined presence.

The fucking problem, which none of them seemed to get, was that being around Historia made her happy. She liked watching her play games on her phone and teasing her about her jackass parents. She liked having someone around who listened to her bitch about her day. She liked how Historia told her she was being a dick while she squeezed her hand.

She liked the stupid, everyday being together enough that she wasn’t actually thinking about kissing her every second of the day, and bringing that up would grind it to a halt, and the only grinding she wanted to do was with Historia.

But with feelings now.

She’d been pretty upfront about the parts that didn’t take feelings. The new addition was different, and.

Just and.

Completing that thought was probably the first step to convincing Historia that making out needed to enter their socializing mix. With Ymir being such a catch, it would probably be the only step, but it was a step that kept not fucking happening for reasons of who the fuck knows.

A lifetime of watching other people screw up their feelings and laughing about it said that Ymir was probably the fuck who knew.

So she took up walking Historia to her car after cheerleading practice and thought about completely fucking over the warm glow that had decided it lived in her chest by talking about wanting the warm glow to be a real, tangible thing with labels and anniversaries.

Historia was fine with Ymir hitting her up for sex and breaking into lockers. Ymir asking her to spend the rest of her life with her was something else, also moving pathetically fast and probably creepy. Too bad that was the only way she could think of saying it, so sad, maybe they’d conveniently trip into each other in a secluded space and Historia would temporarily gain five inches of height so they could just accidentally make out and never talk about it.

Late Friday afternoon, as they walked to the hellspot of asphalt that contained Historia’s driver, that still hadn’t happened. Ymir was shocked. Truly. Shocked.

Sweeping one of the borrowed school towels through her sweat-tousled hair, Ymir struck up some conversation that kept her from thinking about the way Historia looked at her when she did that. “So why the cheerleading?”

“PE credit?”

Another thing Ymir liked about Historia. It was really easy to figure out where to dig.

“Nice try, but you like PE.”

Historia was trying not to smile. She had to try now. “How would you know? My PE years weren’t at this school.”

“Sure, and the fact that you sulk hard enough to bring down thunderclouds whenever your coach cuts practice short doesn’t say anything at all about what you like to do with your body,” Ymir said. “You never complain about the crap choreography because you get to do flips. You’ve got jock written all over your prep face.”

Historia’s shoulder dug into Ymir’s side. “The choreography isn’t that bad.”

“If you cared at all you wouldn’t be able to say that.” Ymir casually dropped her arm down and around Historia. A quick sight check confirmed she was okay with it. As did the small arm snaking across her back. “So,” Ymir continued, stars and lightning and all things frightening lighting up her world, “why did the girl with no cheer pick leading that charge?”

Historia took an exaggeratingly long time feeding her Tamagotchi as the parking lot crept closer.

“Don’t tell me it was the cute girls in skirts.”

“Jealous?” Historia drawled.

“Please,” Ymir said. “They’ve got nothing on me.”

Historia bit her lip and gave the parts of Ymir’s body she wasn’t glued to a thriceover. Ymir’s knees, a little worn out from running, weakened, and Historia’s arm around her waist turned into a weirdly stable anchor.

“If you don’t give me an answer now I’ll just bug you all night,” Ymir said. Nary a choked word in hearing.

Reaching the loading zone section of the sidewalk, Historia stopped. Racing to join Ralph or Sannes and leave Ymir behind was real low on the priority list. “Frieda,” she said.

“Your sis—?”

“Historia!”

Ymir still, despite Hannah’s token efforts, got the track team all over her ass about joining up. She had amazing legs, and everyone wanted them. She was also just plain faster than everyone on the team. Pieck had a passive aggressive stopwatch reading to prove it.

Historia was frozen stiffer than a popsicle. In a fraction of time unobservable by humans later, she had vanished from Ymir’s side and left several Olympic records in smithereens.

“Frieda!”

All that was visible of her was a tiny blonde cannonball plunging into a human who would have been dubbed stunning in any other company.

Plus that smile.

Holy shit that smile.

Ymir almost forgot to miss holding her when Historia was smiling like that. She was hugging the tall young lady (Ymir had never actually met anyone before who fit the term, but Frieda was a lady) with a strength usually reserved for repressed homicidal urges, and she was smiling. Really smiling. With light and sunshine spilling out of her face like the radiance of the universe was trapped up inside her.

The sister was hugging her back maybe half as tightly, but no less happily, because there was no way to be in the presence of that smile, to cause that smile, without some of it rubbing off.

“There you are! How was practice?”

Ymir didn’t think Historia had ever cared less about cheerleading in her life.

“It… it was good! What—when did you get here?”

Frieda stroked several stray hairs back behind Historia’s ear, looking down at her like they were sharing a secret. “Just now,” she said. “What do you think, a good surprise?”

“Yes! I—yes, Frieda, it’s…” Historia had the same level of words to put to the situation that Ymir did. She went with hugging her sister some more instead. Still with the smiling.

Ymir stood in the background like a forgotten stagehand and couldn’t even mind.

Only she was a little less than wholly forgotten, it turned out. Frieda’s sugary sweet teddy bear affection sharpened over Historia’s head. They had the same eyes, but this pair hadn’t had weeks of being won over with charm and good looks.

Ymir had a very dark hunch, and very little evidence against it.

“Who’s this?” Frieda asked lightly.

It was a heavy compliment, Ymir knew, that Historia instantly broke her hug enough to look back at Ymir. She didn’t lose the smile when she did. If anything it brightened. Ymir didn’t think she felt her heart anymore. Mush didn’t have nerve endings.

“This,” Historia said, with all the significance she’d skipped for the last family meet and greet, “is Ymir.”

“Oh,” Frieda said benignly. “The same Ymir you brought to Dad’s party?”

Historia’s smile evaporated.

Ymir’s hunch started to feel a little more like fact.

She had only met Historia’s parents once. If a second time came up, she didn’t see it ending without a murder, and the only thing sparing Frieda at the moment was the streak of overprotectiveness lacing the hammer of judgment she was throwing Ymir’s way.

“That’s me,” Ymir said. There were worse introductions. Better, too, but she was guessing Mama and Papa Reiss had already screwed her on that front.

Frieda smiled congenially at her. You know, like how mother bears bared their teeth before they disemboweled whatever previously living thing was unfortunate enough to step near their cub. “You must be good friends,” she said.

It was bait on a devilish hook, and Ymir wasn’t going to be able to help the swallow.

Historia beat her to it.

It could have happened in slow motion. In a movie reenactment, it would have, and missed out on the stumbling garble that came from Historia saying the words faster than she had time to think about them.

Before Ymir could even think about tactics, in a second of combusting defiance, what tripped out of Historia’s mouth in front of her shiny, sparkly paragon of a sister who would accept nothing less was, “Ymir’s my girlfriend.”

…

So, the obvious: No, she was not.

The other obvious, stashed between Frieda’s good-natured, lying, happy exclamation of surprise and Historia’s rapidly paling face:

Holy fuck that so needed to change.

Next

[labyrinth-of-headcanons]

Hairpin

Chapter VI

Main Pairing: Kouen X Chaima (OC) Genre: Romance/Drama

Like the tradition requires, Chaima was supposed to give the hairpin to the man she’d marry. While she never believed in the day to come, for her to really follow her mother’s words, she couldn’t have foreseen one little accident that would turn her life around in the little time they spent together. However, with Kouen’s sharp words and keen mind, it was only a matter of time until she found herself falling more and more for the prince that captured her heart.

a/n: Some struggles with the conversation but I am just happy to be able to write about then interacting with each other :3 I hope you enjoy this chapter!

She should have cleaned. She should have picked up the loose papers on the floor, made her bed, and closed the drawers of her dresser. Chaima quickly moved in front of the prince to shut the loosely hanging drawer displaying her skirts. Her head was as red as Kouen’s hair, and for once she was happy about the slight darkness in the room that hid her from his sight, even if it was just for a little. He simply stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face as stern as ever. She had never found her room to be extremely small, but for both of them there was barely any space to stand upright in it.

It was a strange mixture of shame and realization. For the first time, Chaima thought that her living conditions weren’t as good as she always had praised them to be. Even to her it was unclear why she felt so ashamed in front of him all the time, but she did. Through the small window that lightened the room, she could see how the dust twirled through the air, and Chaima couldn’t help but let out a quiet, desperate sigh. Wringing her hands in front of her stomach, she looked at the floor. It was dead quiet between them, even a needle hitting the ground would have been louder.

She held her breath for most of the time, disconnecting a little from what was happening. Even more so, Chaima flinched when Kouen moved further into the room. He knelt down - surprisingly elegant she found - and picked up one of the papers on the floor. Standing up with it, he inspected it in the small light resource they had. “Writing practice?” he mumbled. The question in his voice pierced through her like an icy dagger, and she just returned to looking down in shame.

The way he had looked over to her clearly showed he wanted some answers, but Chaima kept silent, not feeling like saying anything. He proceeded to pick up more of the notes on the ground as well as one of her mathematic books which rested next to her bed and also acted like a nightstand for her candle. He looked through the papers, flipping a few pages in the book, all while Chaima fumbled nervously at the fabric of her skirt. The prince was nice enough to put the book back and then came closer to her and put the papers on the dresser. The only thing Chaima could think about was, Now he cleaned up my mess.

She took a quiet, deep breath, still standing with her back to the dresser with her eyes glued on the floor. By now, he stood so close next to her, their shoulders touching, and he was still busy with looking through her notes. “There’s a mistake,” he pointed out, finally making her wake up from her tense state. First she looked at him while he kept staring at the papers, then she followed his fingers down to a specific word he was pointing at. Turning around, she looked over it, finding nothing wrong. “It would be… this,” Kouen said while drawing a character onto the paper with his fingers.

“I don’t know that one yet…” Chaima mumbled, only realizing what she had said once it had left her. She bit her lip in shame, hanging her head low, all while he observed her. Slightly turning towards the maid, he picked up her right arm, pushing all her fingers out of the way except for her pointer and began running it over the rough paper. He did it once, twice, and a third time. Then he stopped, taking away his hands while she remained the same. She had watched his doings in a mix of horror and curiosity, and when he prompted her with a small, “Do it yourself,” she did what he had showed her. And she did it for a few seconds until her brain got used to it. She didn’t know the meaning yet, but she was sure to look it up later.

“Now you know it,” Kouen stated simply, and Chaima - a little flustered about her actually getting so invested in the act - pulled back her hand and nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness...” she replied, a light blush on her cheeks. He sighed for a short amount of time. It had her wondering why, but she felt too shy to ask if he was okay. “So you didn’t learn writing as a child?” he asked, making her return into a flustered state, before she replied, “No…” Some wrinkles appeared on his forehead and he inspected her for a few seconds. “You are not from Kou?”

Now it was her time to be confused. Eyeing the small mirror on top of her drawer from the sides of her eyes, she saw her reflections. How could he think someone of her complexion would come from Kou? “No, I’m from Balbadd, Sir,” she replied, finding some pride in these words. He turned around towards her fully, crossing his arms in front of her chest. “Where exactly?” Somehow the way he stood didn’t look so menacing anymore, as it did the first few times. Still, Chaima took a step back, making it easier for her to look up as they conversed.

“Tanhae, next to the upper harbor of the country.” He confirmed that he knew about the place she spoke of by nodding at her words. However, the wrinkles still held firm onto his forehead. “You came quite some distance. What made you do that?” That was the moment her stomach started to tighten. Never had she spoken with anyone about this before and thinking about it made her anxious. How would he react? Would he even care about something as low as her backstory?

She kept silent for a while, prompting him to sigh again. It frustrated her too, knowing she couldn’t just speak up for the sake of herself, and it hurt seeing him dismiss her from it. Chaima’s voice was very quiet and brittle when she finally talked, “There’s more money to earn in Kou…” It was more like a whisper and her posture ducked away from him as she spoke. Head trying to hide between her shoulders and hands clutched in her lap, she looked like a mouse, frozen in place at the mercy of her predator.

“There wasn’t much left in my hometown and I support my family with all I have. They figured it was better to send me elsewhere than to work there,” she explained, peeking through her eyelashes up to him. He was indeed staring at her intently but it seemed like he was interested in her words. “How long have you been here?” he continued to question. “Almost six years now, Sir.” Chaima heard him hum in response. “When will you go back?” Kouen asked. It struck her as an odd question, but it made sense for someone so politically involved as he was to ask it.

“I’m not sure yet, Your Highness. I… we need the money,” Chaima stuttered, nervously wringing her thumbs around each other. She took a deep breath. Yes, it was a sensitive topic, but who could she better direct her words at than a person of his status? “My siblings, I have two, they are starting school this summer.” She made a short pause, looking at the papers nervously. But then her expression softened as she added, “They’ll be the first in our family to do so.”

She stepped closer to the drawer, pulling out the third from the top and revealing many neatly bound letter packs. They were tidily positioned, allowing every space to be used. A few still laid loosely in the drawer since they weren’t enough to bind them together yet. “My mother said it’s all thanks to the money I sent them.” She picked up the one that was on top of the others, unpacking it from the envelope and giving it to the prince.

While he looked a little perplex about the offer to read something so private, he took over the letter, his eyes scanning it carefully. When he was finished, he turned the paper once to make sure he didn’t miss anything, before folding it and giving it back to her. “I see,” he mumbled. The letter had spoken about how Chaima’s parents bought the school uniforms for the twins and did a medical check-up. It was not like she expected him to praise her for what she’d done, but for a moment, Chaima wanted to share her pride and joy with him. There was nothing more important than family to her.

“And yet,” he started, giving the room another look over before continuing, “are you okay with this?” His hand made a vague gesture through the room. “Do not get me wrong. I am well aware there are worse conditions for some servants,” he added. The tone of his voice changed as he said that, it was as if he had told a statistical fact and there was no such thing as empathy in it. “However, to live here for more than a short period of time seems unpleasant.”

Chaima let out her breath, following his hand and looking over her room intently. “Your Highness, forgive me for saying this, but I do not know much about you.” She felt how his body tensed at her words since he stood next to her. Chaima didn’t care - no, she couldn’t care less in that moment. “Do you have siblings, Your Highness?” she asked, smiling wryly at him. There was no spark of happiness in her eyes. Instead they were pleading with him to just go along with what she wanted to say.

“I do. I have a lot of younger siblings,” he replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest again. He seemed defensive and his words had a somewhat taunting ring to them, but Chaima didn’t mind. At that point she couldn’t resent him for how he was anymore. Their relationship might not have been close, but for the moment they were merely seeing eye to eye with each other. “Then you must understand that, no matter how hard or unpleasant something is, as the oldest you will do anything to support your family. Tell me if I am wrong, but don’t you feel the same, Your Highness?”

The staring contest that followed was merciless. Chaima figured at some point it was time to give up, as she watched his face contort after confronting him with this. It signified things like ‘Don’t talk like you know me’ and ‘You’re right but I do not appreciate it’. If you look at him long enough, he’s not that hard to figure out, she thought. Nevertheless, she felt like she had found a weak spot, and biting her lower lip, she was only seconds away from apologizing.

Much to her surprise however, he was the first one to advert his eyes. Or well, he closed them, thinking for a second about what to say. “You’re right. I would go to great lengths for them.” His confession caught her off-guard and she felt the control over her mouth slip away, making her jaw drop in surprise. Victory swelled in her chest and she couldn’t help but smile at him. There was some newfound respect for the prince in her, as she had never expected him to admit something like this.

Turning away from him again and looking back into the room once more she said, “And that’s why this isn’t so bad at all.” Chaima drove her hand over the footboard of the bed, starting to list, “There’s a bed,” pointing at the dresser, she added, “something to put my belongings in, and a window even.” She smiled at him sweetly, feeling very pumped after having brought her point along successfully. “I never had such a nice room before, not even at home.”

Kouen gave her a quick nod. He looked somewhat defeated but he did uphold his dignity at all times. Maybe that’s what royalty really was: losing, but with grace. Though - and Chaima thought it was a little childish of him - it’s not like they had been in a war. In the end, she wondered if agreeing with her really was something he was so against doing. Was it because in the end she was just a servant? Or was there something more behind it that she didn’t know about?

To her, the man was like one of those books she used to study. Filled with questions and riddles that seemed too complex to her but were probably easier than she thought. And yet, just like those books, he really did spark her curiosity. Even with the few words they had shared, she felt there was so much more she wanted to tell him. And she also wanted to hear more about him too. Maybe it was just his voice Chaima wanted to continue ringing in her head, but she noticed how she hung onto every word that left his lips whenever he opened them.

“If you are putting it like this, it sounds as if they are taking really good care of their servants,” he noted. The prince had found a more leisurely position, leaning against the dresser while facing her, standing on the opposite direction of him. “Well…” Chaima gulped. She knew better than to spoil the comfortable atmosphere they had, by complaining about her employers. So she simply said, “They take better care of us than the ones I was at before. And they… give us work… Oh! And they pay good.”

She heard an surprisingly amused snicker from him as he stated, “You did good to memorise that.” She let out a nervous laugh. He got me, Chaima thought, not replying to him. Less than a minute passed, and the two of them stood around in the small room in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable atmosphere, but certainly it would have been better if they had talked to each other.

“What does Your Highness-” As soon as she started to speak up, Chaima heard an all too familiar sound. Footsteps that quickly came up the stairs and dared to expose the prince’s presence. Out of reflex, Chaima jumped over to the door, shutting it right before she heard how the steps passed her room. They seemed to have gotten a little slower around the area of her door, maybe having noticed that someone closed it the moment they approached. Hearing the room next to her’s rattling, Chaima could figure out it had been Nysete who had come back to her own room.

Chaima felt her face paling and a cold shudder run through her as she realized she should have never entertained the prince in her room for so long. Now she was at risk of being exposed, and if she had interpreted the reactions of her co-workers correctly before, this would bring her into a dire situation. Turning towards her visitor again, while leaning against the door to keep it shut, she whispered, “We have to leave.” Kouen had stood up tall again, taking a deep breath at her insecurity showing.

There was a somewhat annoyed expression resting on his face, as he agreed, “Very well.” Chaima didn’t dare to waste any more time. She opened the door and peeked through the gap carefully, making sure no one could see the two as they slipped out and made their way down. Luckily, Nysete had been the only one coming back from her duty and Chaima could lead the prince away easily.

It had surprised her how obedient he acted, following her every step. The moment they reached the sliding door out to the main hallway, she made sure no one was there to see them too. The tension leaving her body as she let out a deep sigh, she stepped aside, letting the prince go out first. Chaima wouldn’t let this be taken from her, to escort him the five steps to the door of his room, and fulfill her ‘mission’.

The two of them stood in front of it for a few moments in silence. She finally bowed politely, giving the prince a weak smile. “It was a pleasure, Your Highness. Please excuse my frantic behavior throughout the time we spent together.” Her voice was slightly more quiet than it had been before, as she still feared that anyone could be listening in on them, but he seemed to understand her. Giving her one, firm nod, he opened the sliding door to his room, turning towards her once more before entering.

“I’ll expect you to guide me back to my room this evening after dinner, Chaima.” Her expression faltered under the sudden command. She was surprised about his words as well as him still remembering her name. Flabbergasted, she nodded, mumbling “Okay?” Their eyes met for another moment. Chaima wondered when his piercing red had turned into quite such a shimmering color, and for a moment his expression seemed much softer again.

“After excusing so much from you, you need to pay me the respect I’m due,” he said. There was seriousness only in his choice of words, but his voice sounded as if he was joking with her, friendly even. Chaima couldn’t help a small grin escaping her, before she immediately bit her lip, realizing that’s not how she was supposed to act. Sadly her mind didn’t react fast enough to forbid her from speaking the words that slipped her lips next.

“Well, if the prince says so,” she replied in a just as jokingly manner. The silence returned and she flushed bright red, noticing that he seemed surprised about that comeback. Bowing deep, she backed away, stuttering, “I’ll be with you later then! Goodbye!” Before he could get back to that, she had gotten into the servant hallway again, slamming the door shut a little bit too forceful.

Kouen stayed behind, covering his mouth with his hand as he noticed the smile crossing his lips. “Brother?” he heard from behind. “There you are! We were searching for you, the meeting is already over-” His sister, the princess, approached him steadily, her voice coming to a halt as she noticed his expression. “D-did something happen?” He shook his head slowly, the smile not fading from his lips at any point in time. “Nothing,” he replied, stepping into his room and closing the door behind himself.

Once she had recovered from the first shock of how she had ruined their conversation, Chaima groaned inwardly. Everything had gone so well, just why had she said something so stupid again? She pushed herself off the door she was leaning against and walked down the hallway to the outdoor area again. Passing the laundry room, security chambers and kitchen, it seemed like an eternity since she had last been there in the morning.

The air was still refreshing, though slightly colder, as she stepped down the stairs and into the grass. Like before, the white sheets were swaying peacefully in the wind and as she approached them, she remembered how the two had bumped into each other. Red flushed her cheeks, as the warmth rose in her body, and she began to take down the sheets, trying to keep herself composed.

What a weird man, she thought. Folding the sheets neatly, her mind drifting off to the image of him in her head. She didn’t notice how her heart skipped some beats as she thought about him. And Chaima didn’t give the euphoric feeling in her stomach any mind as she thought about meeting him later that day again. After all, even though it was an unfamiliar feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering excitedly through her, how would she have figured out its meaning when she never felt like this before?

[paintedface]

Glory and Gore

Prompt: “All I need is your lips against mine. Right now.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

Word Count: 3,077 Words

Warnings: swearing, a bit of violence, fluff

Notes: This is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5k Writing Challenge! Seems like I’m really into Punk!Bucky nowadays. Don’t mind my title, I was just searching my ultra long playlist for ideas and this fit slightly. 

“Hurry up Y/N!” Wanda calls from the bottom of the stairs. It’s the first day back at school and you’ll be damned if you’re late. Some may give you disgusted side-glances because of your enthusiasm, but honestly? They’re the types of people who are destined to be future gas station attendants, so they don’t really bother you.

“I’m coming Wanda!” You reply, stuffing your matte lipstick into your bag and kicking your bedroom door closed. You hurry down the stairs, and smile at your best friend. “Ready?”

She rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and tugging you towards the front door. “I’ve been ready since half an hour ago, you just take so damn long getting ready.” She tells you, leaning against the threshold as you lace up boots.

“Well, I’m sorry that I put effort into my looks.” You tease, squeaking as Wanda smacks your head.

“Stop rambling nonsense, let’s go.” She snorts, as you leave your home.

“Hoping to get some attention from Vis this year?” You ask your friend, approaching the school gate.

The blush on Wanda’s face is unmistakeable and you smirk at your friend’s embarrassment. She scowls at you as she purposefully ignores the question.

“Come on, I know you’re into him!”

Silence.

You give her a shove, laughing, and she glares at you fiercely. “Fine, I do like him, is that what you wanted to hear?!”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“I fucking hate you Y/L/N.”

“You,” You jab your finger at her chest, “could never hate me in a million years, Maximoff.”

“Well, first day over!” You sigh in relief, adjusting your books in your arms as they couldn’t fit in your bag. The rest of the hallway has mostly cleared out, everyone all too eager to get out of school.

“God, this year will either be the best, or the worst.” Natasha, your other friend, says while she shakes her curls from her face, kicking her locker shut.

“I’m leaning towards the worst, like most years.” Peggy mutters under her breath.

“First day back, whaddya think, Wanda?” You ask, smiling at your best friend.

The rest of the girls look at her and when she doesn’t respond, you nudge her gently.

“Wanda? What’s wrong?” She jumps and turns to you, flushing a little.

“Uh…nothing!” She squeaks, and you follow her line of sight when you realise why she’s distracted.

You chuckle, tilting your chin towards Vis so your other friends can see who Wanda’s looking at.

Peggy fluffs up her curls and leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow. “Wanda, if you don’t tell him…”

“I will! Just… not yet.” She says hastily.

“Come on, you’ve liked him for years now!” Natasha exclaims, tilting her head.

“Shut UP, he’ll hear!” Wanda hushes the redhead, her blush intensifying. Natasha and Peggy snort, before raising their hands in farewell to go find their boyfriends. As Peggy passes, she murmurs, “get her to do it, or else.”

You nod and give Peggy the thumbs up before turning back to Wanda.

“If you won’t tell him, I will. He’ll be gone soon; almost everyone’s already left school.” You tell her, grinning and moving towards Vis. You’re yanked backwards quickly, Wanda blurting out, “I’m going, okay?”

You give a cheer quiet enough for Vis not to here, as she nervously brushes down her skirt.

“I’ll be waiting outside.” You say cheerfully, walking away before she can back out of it. You flip your diary open at the top of the pile of books, checking your schedule for the day after. You’re not looking where you’re going when you turn the corner, and you let out a gasp as you slam into a muscular yet slim body. Your pile of books scatter all over the floor, and you couldn’t be more done with yourself. The person you had crashed into had stumbled back a little, and you quickly try to recover enough to apologise to them.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t look where I was going and –“ You trail off when you look up at the person you collided into. All colour drains from your face as your body slowly is consumed by fear.

You know who he is immediately. Just from looking at the emblem on his jacket.

Bucky Barnes.

The leader of the school’s punk gang.

They’re known for their intimidating power, and though their numbers aren’t huge, they can still make you white with terror if you merely see one of their members. The white and gold eagle against the black leather radiates ‘warning.’ They’ve sent people to hospital for disrespecting their gang, and if you dared to tell anyone that it was they who hurt you, you would definitely be walking the line.

Crashing straight into their leader? You must have a death wish. There was no way you’d get out of this unscathed as you backed away, heart thumping madly inside your chest. And to your horror, it’s not just from fear. You try to control the blush that spreads across your cheeks, because you cannot have just developed a crush on Bucky Barnes. He’s just the type of person your mum told you not to get involved with. But you can’t help it if he has the face of goddamn Eros. You’ve never seen his face up close, you were too scared to try, but you definitely weren’t expecting him to look like this.

Brown, wavy hair that isn’t slick with grease like you thought it would, a jawline that could probably cut your skin if you touched it, piercings that just make him look better and stormy blue grey eyes rimmed with black that could skewer anyone if they were on the other end of his look. You can see the edge of a tattoo coming out from underneath his jacket and creeping towards his collarbone. You’re pretty sure tattoos break school regulations, but you’re not going to even try questioning why he has them.

Suddenly, you realise that he’s glaring straight at you, and your breath picks up, your attraction dissipating at the prospect of being punched in the face.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll just…” You drop to your knees to pick up your folders, feeling his eyes boring into your skull. Papers have flown everywhere as well, from the large amount of homework you’ve already gotten even though it’s only the first day back.

You’re reaching for your diary when somebody else takes it out from underneath your hand. Your brows furrow in confusion before your eyes follow their arm, up to their face.

“Here.” Bucky says in a low, husky voice, his harsh, cold glare replaced with a slightly playful twinkle. Your eyes widen, your mouth trying to form words but nothing’s coming out. All that’s circling your mind is ‘what the fuck,’ and ‘what the hell,’ because you’re confused to the point that you’re speechless. After a moment of you not doing anything, he pushes your diary onto your pile of books, the corner of his mouth quirking up a little.

“Th-thanks.” you manage to get out, stuttering a little as he hands you your maths folder. You smooth down your shirt before standing up, swaying slightly on your feet.

He tilts his head a little, his eyes looking you up and down, so perceptively that you shift uncomfortably, not really sure what to do when a gang leader is basically commanding you to stand still, with only his eyes. You’re glad that nobody else is around to give you weird looks, but that also makes you that much more nervous, you’re alone with the most intimidating person in school. Not a situation you had really wanted to be in.

“No worries.” He murmurs, startling you a little after the long silence.

He pops his collar, revealing more of the tattoo underneath his jacket before letting it fall back down. Running his hand through his hair, Bucky gives you a small, lopsided smile.

“See you around, Y/L/N.” He brushes past you, his boots clicking softly against the tiles of the corridor as he walks away. You can’t seem to move, still shocked about that interaction, and relishing the fact that you weren’t beaten up.

You slowly make your way outside, wincing as the daylight hits your face.

What the actual hell just happened?

You’re about to pinch yourself when a loud squeal comes from behind you. You turn around to see Wanda, her eyes bright and her mouth spread in a giant grin.

She runs down the stone steps, before grabbing onto your shoulders and bouncing up and down. You push aside your confusion to grab her waist, asking frantically, “What did he say?!”

Wanda lets out one last squeal before she exclaims, “He told me that he liked me too and he then asked for my number! He’s going to text me a time for a date!”

You laugh at your friend’s excitement and grab her hand, pulling her out of the school gates.

“C’mon, you can tell me all about it when we’re seated with milkshakes and crepes.”

The next day, you made no attempt to calm down Wanda’s love-struck behaviour during lunch, so you left her alone to talk more with Vis. She protested but you knew it was for the best when she began talking shyly with Vis, knowing that she had a lot more to talk about with him.

You remembered that there was an exhibition of all the different clubs in the Great Hall, so now; you’re wandering near the bleachers to make your way over to the Hall. You shiver slightly, hugging your arms tightly around you and strangely, it feels like you’re being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck is standing up, and suddenly, you feel predatory eyes on you. You quicken your pace, when you can’t ignore the glares, and you turn around.

Bad decision.

There are about ten of them, black leather jackets with the white and gold eagle, just like Bucky’s from the day prior. You should’ve remembered never to come to the bleachers alone, because it’s ‘Shield Eagles’’ main base on the school grounds. If you’re the only one around, they’re bound to pick a fight with you, and that’s the last thing you want. Before you know it, you’re surrounded by males and females alike, trapping you and making you want to curl up on the ground. This time, you definitely won’t get out without a few scratches. You’re not even sure if you will get out of this in a stable condition. Your eyes flick to each of their hard, cruel gazes. Not to mention half of them are cracking their knuckles. You gulp audibly, raising your hands a little in defence.

“Y/N Y/L/N…” One of them says slowly, before chuckling darkly, crossing his arms, “I saw you speak to our leader yesterday.”

Shit. Your eyes widen and you try to back away from him when you remember that you’re surrounded.

“I didn’t-I mean, I wasn’t trying to – “ You stumble on your words and he lets out another barking laugh, making you shut up instantly.

“The point is, you did, and it seemed like you liked it too. Barnes is Shield Eagles’ leader, he isn’t your little boyfriend. Nobody, nobody talks to our leader without us knowing.” He hisses, stepping closer, and you’d be lying to say that you weren’t scared for your life right now.

You look around frantically for somebody to help you out of this situation, but other people were smart enough to stay away from the bleachers.

“Y’know, it’s too bad that you had spoken to Barnes. Because I would’ve hated to bust up that pretty face of yours.” Are the last words snarled before your arms are grabbed from behind and you’re pulled against somebody’s chest, their arm locking around your neck. You try to let out a shriek but the arm presses down harder, blocking the yell from coming out. You know nobody will come help anyway. You barely register that somebody’s pulling back their fist until it connects with your stomach, and you give a scream, the pain blooming from your centre outwards.

“I think everyone should get a go, I’m sure Barnes will be thankful that the whole gang lashes her. Then he can get a go himself, cause he doesn’t want nobody disrespecting him like this girl here.” The same voice sneers, moving backwards to let somebody else scratch your side, feeling blood seep out of the grazes. You shut your eyes tightly, trying not to let tears prickle your eyes, because it’ll make them laugh at you more.

You endure another punch to your stomach, making you want nothing more than to throw up, the pain intensifying. You wait in dread for the moment that Bucky comes along, because you know that he’ll be the worst. But will he even want to? He’s the one who initiated conversation yesterday, so you’re not even sure that-

A fist connects with your cheek, interrupting your thoughts and making your head snap to the side, giving a cry of agony, the skin already throbbing and swelling up. Your lungs are working overtime, trying to breathe evenly to take control of the predicament. Another hand slams into the area near your eye, and it takes all your strength to not sob, because it hurts so goddamn much. Your left eye’s vision temporarily fuzzes, hazing as it tries to recover from the fist connecting with it. Just when the person holding you against their chest is about to knock your head against their shoulder, you hear somebody yell furiously, “Hey! Let go of her, right fucking now!”

You’re dropped immediately onto the concrete, as voices shout back and forth above your head. Nobody makes any move to attack you again, running past you to a new arrival. You take the time to recover, letting the tears finally fall as you slump against the ground.

“Barnes, she was talking to you yesterday and nobody – “

“So you go and beat her up?!”

“Well, we thought you would’ve wanted to…”

There’s a pause as the guy trails off, before you hear somebody speak through gritted teeth.

“Go. Away. Before. I fucking. Murder. You.”

“Y-yes.” The guy stutters, all the menace from his voice gone as you hear several pairs of footsteps fade away. Except for one that’s coming straight for you. You wince a little, attempting to stand up but you can’t, the pain weighing down heavily on you.

“Y/N?” A quiet voice asks as you look up. Bucky’s looking down at you, and… is he crying? You would’ve never expected to see the leader of Shield Eagles crying, given their reputation.

“H-hey.” You mumble, trying to get up, but a bout of pain makes you let out a sob. He instantly gets down on his knees to pull you into his arms. He hushes you, holding you close and stroking your hair off your forehead. His eyes scan your body, looking at all the injuries the rest of his gang gave you.

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want them to do this, at all. I would’ve never wanted this, please believe me – “

You interrupt him, saying, “I know, it’s okay Bucky.” You smile a little up at him, watching as his tears mix with his eyeliner, dripping down his cheeks. Nobody’s ever looked this perfect to you, and you’ve basically only known him for a day. You’ve never really had a crush, but if this is a crush, then it’s pretty much overwhelming you by the second. Your blush is rivalling to overtake the red of your swollen cheek.

“It isn’t okay, they hurt you because of me! You’re bleeding, you have bruises all over you and you can barely stand! It isn’t okay!” He says, gesturing wildly.

“Bucky, BUCKY!” He stops speaking when you raise your voice a little; tone cracking because of the chokehold that member put you in. “I know it’s not what you would’ve wanted, so it’s alright.” You tell him.  

He nods slowly, helping you sit up in his lap and rest against his chest.

After a moment, he says, “you need medical attention, Y/N, you’re hurt badly.” His eyes are so filled with care that you just think, ‘fuck it’ inwardly. There’s no way you can stand that look any further if you don’t fucking kiss him.

“All I need is your lips against mine. Right now.” You let out in a rush, your flush turning brighter as he raises his eyebrows in surprise, his expression taken-aback and confused. He loosens his grip on you, and you duck your head in embarrassment and shame, knowing that he doesn’t want the same. He’s a gang leader, why would he even want a sort of romance at all? Especially with somebody like you, for that matter.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid, of course you wouldn’t, I mean, I’ll just – “

You try to get out of Bucky’s arms, stumbling up so you can escape the awkwardness. But you don’t even get up from crouching when his hand grabs onto yours and pulls you back down. You let out a gasp as he settles you back into his arms, and before you have a time to catch your breath, he presses his lips onto yours. It sets you on fire as you kiss back, his lips gentle and moving softly against yours. You can vaguely taste the hint of smoke and cinnamon on his lips, not too strong but enough to make you know that it’s uniquely him. You’re surprised your heart hasn’t burst out of your body yet, because of the rate it’s going, and you pull back a little for breath. He leans his forehead against yours, giving you another lopsided smile.

“It took all my willpower to not kiss you back in the hallway, Y/N.” He tells you, nipping at your bottom lip lightly, making you squeak. But his admission makes you blush even further, as he moves his hand up to play with your hair a little.

“You know…” You trace his Shield Eagles emblem with your finger, “you’re the type of person people say to stay away from.”

He smiles gently, letting out a breathless laugh as he cradles you closer. “Well, I’ll be the type of person you’ll want to stay with darlin’. Only for you.”

Permanent Tags: @thecrownedrose @vibranium-arm @gallifreyansass@omalleysgirl22 @girlwith100names @buckysinthesinbin @aenna-4@cameronahugenerd @imsecretlyromanburki

[animeniac]

Starbomb Ch. 3

Fandom: BNHA Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka Genre: Romance and Comedy probably Chapter Summary: Class 1-A gets a Sensitivity Training Assignment where they have to tutor a kid. As fate would have it, Bakugou ends up partnered with Uraraka. (See Chapter 1 for story summary.)

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Did the tension sincerely settle down when Eraserhead entered? Midoriya studied the classroom and could feel the still air of the room. Bakugou typically took a long time to cool down after his surges of anger. Then, after class, how would the situation pan out between everyone? Would the conflict continue or wither? Also, Uraraka - was she upset or saddened by the sudden dramatic commotion?

In that moment of conflict with Bakugou, her pensive stare and lack of a smile had shaken the class.

Bakugou's proposal was not simply some jibe. He meant every word he said, but why? Before yesterday, he never expressed any interest in Uraraka, and then, the innocuous revelation that she gifted Midoriya a stuffed animal nearly moved Bakugou to tears. To Midoriya, that meant that his old friend had his eyes, heart, and mind set on making Uraraka his wife or something like that. He couldn't understand the details of the situation.

For Midoriya, the confirmation for this theory came when Aizawa told them to pick sticks for a project. Matching colors decided the teams

Uraraka drew red.

Bakugou drew red as well.

The wide, fiery eyes and the giant grin that grew on Bakugou's face evoked Midoriya's memories of when the combustible kid got an All Might sticker from a Gotcha game when they were younger. The rare expression may have only lasted for a second before his typical prideful smirk returned.

That second was enough to raise Midoriya's suspicion of genuine joy in Bakugou's heart. The shift from distraught frustration to rage to sincere delight only confirmed Uraraka's yoke on him. Every minuscule movement of hers could jerk him for miles. Could Midoriya rest easily now that he sensed the sincerity in the situation? While Bakugou may have had selfish aims, there was something more to his intentions that had most likely gone undetected by him.

Uraraka tried to still her trembling frown as Bakugou marched up to her desk and slammed the matching stick onto her desk.

Midoriya failed to pay attention to who his partner was after intensely analyzing the circumstance between Bakugou and Uraraka.

Not far from his desk, Uraraka had to deal with her new partner. Maybe there was a way to get out of the situation. "H-Hey, Bakugou," she greeted him and hoped he didn't carry his grudge for that morning.

"Looks like we're partners, round-face," Bakugou taunted with his slanted, furrowed eyebrows. If this wasn't fate, then he didn't know what was. To him, this game of chance led to the confirmation of his insightful hunch. And, he relished the notion that fate worked in his favor. He savored the troubled frown that sank on her face and the raw fear that dilated her eyes.

Uraraka bit her lip and sighed. Being a hero required working in unfavorable positions, but she felt like she got paired with an undercover villain. How long was this project supposed to be anyway?

Sensitivity Training. She already knew they would probably fail based on such a premise. Bakugou had no sensitive bone in his body save for his fragile ego.

According to the board, they had to work with a kid on the other side of town and spend at least 2 hours a week with him for a month and write a reflection essay at the end. For their particular child, they had to tutor them. Activities would contribute to the rest of the necessary time.

Bakugou teased, "What? Are you scared? Better to be with the best than with some other loser." While he didn't explicitly point back at Midoriya, he enjoyed the fact that he won over him.

She held her tongue. Uraraka had to stifle any anger, but for how long? She didn't want to fight and risk their grade for the sake of her grudge against Bakugou Katsuki, so she gulped down every reservation and drop of animosity in her head and beamed a gentle smile up at him. "Let's work hard together, Bakugou," she chirped as her eyes connected with his.

Insolence! How could she be arrogant enough to smile in a detestable situation? He bore his teeth and hissed, "What was that?"

Uraraka repeated with a giggle, "I said, 'let's hard work together.'" Lemons to lemonade, right? Though, she couldn't quite determine the tang from such a standpoint. Maybe she enjoyed his intolerance of her resilience, and perhaps, she could play with the situation to her advantage. Hopefully, they could get a passing grade at least.

Bakugou's eyebrow twitched as he nearly broke his craft stick, yet he held back his anger and shoved it into his pocket along with both his hands. "We start tomorrow, and we're leaving at the bell, so you can't shit around with your nerdy friends." As much as he wanted to say that he had the advantage of their dynamic, he felt the power slip from his hands.

"'Kay, sounds great," she agreed with a thumbs-up an unyielding grin. This project would be a long one, but she could endure it. Her smile grew a little wider when she noticed her partner's eye twitch. Through the next arduous weeks, she absolutely could not lose sight of herself and allow Bakugou to dampen her enthusiasm and general optimism.

"Jeez," complained Kaminari the next morning in class. He approached Bakugou who sat at his respective desk and flipped through a book. The bright classroom lit by the morning sun had nearly just opened, and so the only students were the two of them plus Kirishima. "You're really putting the moves on Uraraka. Are you trying to ruin a happy home?" He poked fun at the idea, for he doubted that Bakugou would have any chance of interfering with the potential relationship of 1-A's sweethearts.

Slamming his book closed, Bakugou growled, "What did you fucking say to me? I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but it's probably a load of bullshit." His pride had split into two schools of thought. One-half disregarded anyone's perspective on his marital interest in Uraraka; the other half despised the possibility that anyone knew anything of the proposition. Situations like Kaminari's smug-ass question and Todoroki's high-and-mighty confrontation lent to his inclination to the latter logical thought.

The kids in his class just couldn't mind their own damn business, and if they interfered with his goals for the sake of their petty gossip, they'd have hell to pay.

Kaminari chuckled having had his fun and left to take his seat.

To attempt to remedy the situation, Kirishima approached Bakugou. With his tact and knowledge of Bakugou's tendencies, he knew that there was a specific way to approach him. He needed to translate his advice in a way that would motivate his friend. "Some people are better at talking to girls than others. Not everyone can be that manly, I guess," he suggested in the most roundabout way possible. "But, you can't force a girl to marry you."

"The hell I can't!" shouted Bakugou - probably alerting everyone on in the hallway of his presence.

Kirishima let out a quick sigh. He had to muster through the conversation. There was no way he could leave Bakugou to believe that he could force Uraraka into an impossible situation. "It's just no good if you don't tell her how you feel, though," he advised as he shooed the thought with his hand.

Tersely, Bakugou spat, "I don't feel a damn thing except rage that Round-Face thinks she can lead me around like a dog."

Knowing what he knew, Kirishima leaned over to remind Bakugou of what he told him in confidence. Maybe the brute didn't connect the dots all the way, but he probably wouldn't want other people to know. "Didn't you say that your hands have been sweatier than normal?" he whispered. Backing away, he continued at a normal volume, "Well, that's something, right?" He rooted for his friend to at least be honest with himself.

Love was pretty damn manly after all.

Bakugou glared at his wet hands when Uraraka entered the room with her crew. His bodily functions had betrayed his self-proclaimed stone facade. He lowered his voice more so than his last remark and muttered, "That's none of her business or your damn business for that fucking matter." Suddenly, he regretted spilling such a secret the night before and grimaced. His sweat fueled his quirk, and so, he should have been careful with sharing that information even if it was with someone he trusted.

"But," implored Kirishima with a bright grin, "maybe it'll be enough to tell her how you two as a pair can be more energetic or something."

Watching Uraraka take her seat a few desk behind him, Bakugou corrected, "Synergetic." Her skirt fluttered down on and around her chair like a billowing sunflower as she sat down, and her posture straightened as she bloomed a smile at the people around her. The sun that washed through the room somehow seemed to focus on her wherever she went. Such a realization might have amused most people, but the predicament made Bakugou gag.

Just how synergetic were they? In what way would she need him in a fight? Who was he kidding? Uraraka didn't need him in a fight. She was tough, witty, and formidable on her own, and if he were ever honest with himself, her autonomy appealed to him.

"Hurry up! Get your ass on the train!" shouted Bakugou from the middle of a crowded train car.

As much as Uraraka wanted to deny that she intentionally delayed getting onto the train, she couldn't. She loathed the idea of committing to him for such a long time and for an important assignment. Her racing thoughts kept her up the night before, and she had to force her foot across the metal bar that bordered the bottom of the train. With a gulp, she stepped forward and stood in the only empty spot available - centimeters away from her partner.

She exhaled hot air that bounced back off of Bakugou's school uniform. Looking up at him would have been a bad idea. Would it be better to turn away from him at least? There was hardly enough space to rotate, but she did it somehow.

Suddenly, Uraraka felt vulnerable to an attack from him. Again, she sighed, "You can do this, Ochako." Hopefully, no one could hear her quick pep talk.

Bakugou heard. His eyebrow twitched before he allowed words to slip from his mind as well. "I can't believe this shit. We have to go to the other side of town just to tutor some elementary school brat," he griped to no one in particular.

Why was he complaining? Uraraka had spotted the malicious smirk on his face the day before as he taunted her. He wanted this to happen with her. Something about his suddenly cynical and pessimistic attitude caused her hand to tighten around the strap that she clung to above her. She needed to calm down before she became too annoyed to relate to the kid that they had to watch.

Although Uraraka's motivations for becoming a hero primarily benefitted her family, she enjoyed being happy and wanted to be kind to others. While she wanted to understand Bakugou, after the past couple of days, she began to lose interest. And if he acted unruly towards the kid that they needed to protect and tutor, she would probably become genuinely upset - if she wasn't already.

To get through the day, she decided to pretend that Bakugou just really wanted to be her friend. Of course, that wasn't true, but maybe if she saw the situation like that, her pounding headache would disappear. She sighed again.

"Why are you sighing? Don't get a fucking attitude just because you're sad you didn't get paired with Deku."

Maybe that plan wouldn't work. Uraraka's mouth twitched at the corners. "I guess I'm just tired," she replied and then under her breath, she added with puffy cheeks, "of bein' around you." Why did she say that? There was no way that she could keep up the chore of being nice to him after the harassment from the past few days.

The audacity! He steamed from his ears and growled, "Fucker, don't talk shit to me. Like I said before, you're lucky to have me as your partner." They could volley hostility back and forth all day, and he didn't know what to do with his anger. At first, he reached out to attack her, but then he stopped himself. If this woman truly became his wife one day, he would want to avoid physically lashing out at her. Being entirely honest with himself, he could destroy her in more ways than one - mentally and physically.

None of the options that sparked through his thoughts included sexual destruction despite the connotations. If his mind ever matured to that point, then he would probably list that off as well.

Bakugou told himself that he wanted her to cower beneath his intimidating power, but he knew that she was too tough or stupid to respect his advantage. And as he wanted to deny before, her rare, tenacious glare drew him. When she darted her eyes back over her shoulders and up at him with genuine animosity, he grinned as he lifted an eyebrow, "What? Did I piss you off again?" His heart raced.

Right, she let her emotions get the best of her too often around him, and she tended to blurt out what she felt in the heat of the moment with him. Since that marriage proposal fiasco, her nerves had gotten more high-strung. "No," she said as the anger faded from her body. Midoriya wouldn't have lost his temper. She wouldn't ever want him to see this side of her again. "I'm excited."

No, excitement was what Bakugou was supposed to feel - the anticipation of her grief. She was supposed to be terrified and intimidated so that she learned her damn lesson.

Uraraka continued with that bright beam of a smile, "I can't wait to meet her. Oh! Looks like we just have a couple more stops." If she didn't hold onto hope that there was something deeper to Bakugou's intentions, then she'd lose sight of herself.

He could handle a glare, but not that stupid smile of hers.

"So you guys are heroes, right?" eagerly asked the child as she stood on the edges of her toes. Her wide, blue eyes stared up at her mentors through her dirty blond hair as her agape mouth widened into a smile. She had dreamed of the moment that she met her tutors all day.

Uraraka shook her head and politely corrected the kid, "We'll be pro heroes one day."

"I'm Kotone," she greeted as she bowed. Dirty described more than just her hair color. Smudges spotted her white blouse and black shoes. If it weren't for her skirt, they may have assumed that she was a boy. Maybe her short hair threw them off, but she was at least a tomboy.

Bakugou noted, "That's a girl's name."

"I am a girl!" Kotone argued.

Did he not notice the skirt?

In lieu of Bakugou's error, Uraraka apologized, "Sorry. He's weird. So what're your hobbies?" She would have to pick up his slack.

They began to walk in the direction of the kid's house. Uraraka made some idle small chat with her while Bakugou checked his phone every two minutes. Ten minutes had passed since they left the school, and he already loathed the pace of the day. Traveling nearly an hour across town to walk a kid that lived half an hour away was overboard for an assignment. On top of that, he had to teach her basic concepts that he learned a long time ago. How was he supposed to talk to a kid? "What kind of shit do you need to work on? We're just doing homework," he interrupted.

Snapping away from her pleasant conversation about UA with Kotone, Uraraka frowned, "Bakugou, you shouldn't use those kinda words right now." Was he ever going to turn down his rage in front of her?

Annoyed that he would ever have to censor himself, he barked, "I can do what I want. I don't give a damn what you think."

"I wanna hurry up so that we can play video games," cheered Kotone as she got out her portable Nintendo 3DS. "Can you help me beat my Kirby game, Bakugou? It's really hard. I can't beat any of my friends."

"You can't beat Kirby? That's for babies compared to real fighting games," he complained as he snatched the device from the kid's hands. "Lemme see that shit."

Well, at least they found something to do if she finished her homework early. Kotone lived in a massive estate that spanned at least an acre. Ornate decorations covered the yard. The bland, white house contrasted greatly. Her parents must have made a lot of money, so why did they decide not just to hire tutors as opposed to asking ordinary high school kids to do it for free?

Immediately, they got to work in the house's study. Uraraka could handle that level of work, but Bakugou wanted to rush the situation so that they could play video games afterward.

Was he a good teacher or did Kotone simply have an adequate gist of the material at hand? Either way, Uraraka felt the distance as she tried to look harder at Bakugou. He had not chided the girl since they arrived. His typical scowl had left his face as he softened his crimson eyes to examine the assignment in the warm light of the study. Uraraka smiled, and he caught her in the act.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"Nothing," replied Uraraka with a slight giggle. Only twenty minutes had passed, and they had a few more math problems to go, so they had 40 more minutes to spend with her. While she wasn't good at video games, she grew interested in seeing more of this softer side of Bakugou. For the time being, however, she felt useless. "Excuse me." She excused herself to leave for the bathroom.

After Kotone had finished the last question, she mischievously smiled, "Why do you say mean things to Uraraka when you like being around her?"

Bakugou raised his head, and he tightened his fist until he broke the mechanical pencil in his hands. "She bugs the hell out of me," he growled. For reasons unknown to him, he couldn't bring himself to say that he hated being around her. "She thinks she can change everything with her cheesy smile, and she hangs out with Deku just to piss me off," he listed out the reasons she annoyed him.

That was simple for him.

Kotone wasn't sure who Deku was, but she understood that something about the way Bakugou tried to portray his emotions was dishonest.

On a separate sheet of paper, Kotone recalled the events over the past afternoon. She sketched sound waves that looked like something seen on EKG heart monitor. The line peaked and rhythmically rose until she stopped her pencil and finished the drawing with a smiley face. Pointing to the high points of the graph, she explained, "This is you when you talk to her. You get the idea, right? You're really happy when you're around her."

"Shut the fuck up, brat," barked Bakugou as he slammed his hand to the desk and got to his feet.

"It's my quirk. I can hear people's heartbeats. I don't think you like-like her. You just like being around her. I'm sorry. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to say that," apologized the girl as she bowed her head. Her parents told her how rude it was to read people's thoughts, but even at that moment, she wasn't afraid. She knew that Bakugou wouldn't hurt her - he was just embarrassed.

Bakugou sat back down in his chair and ground his teeth. Of course, he still didn't like that conclusion either. The entire analysis felt like she cut his insides open. A quirk like that would be nothing but trouble for him. "Your quirk?" he repeated almost like a question, but he didn't care for her to continue.

Uraraka had run towards the room after she heard the commotion. She immediately glared at her partner. "Bakugou, what did you do?"

While Kotone could hear the incongruency in Bakugou's heartbeat with his attitude, she could also sense Uraraka's growing resentment. If Bakugou didn't do anything about the way he acted around her, then he'd lose his chances of becoming her friend. "I'm fine, Uraraka," she smiled. "Do you want to play with us?"

"S-Sure," she replied after a deep breath.

Both Bakugou and Uraraka could sit on opposite sides of the empty train by the time they finished playing with Kotone. Uraraka had calmed down considerably and leaned forward in her seat as she allowed her cheeks to float into a smile.

That day, she saw a side of Bakugou that not many people had seen before. "You're not a bad person," she chirped before she bit her bottom lip. They played video games past the time that they were supposed to be there. He wouldn't have stayed if he didn't have fun. And, for the first time in a while, she could completely relax around him.

"What makes you think I give a fuck what you think about me?"

When she giggled, Bakugou noticed the sudden build up of sweat on the palms of his hands. He wiped them on his pants and groaned. Too many thoughts raced through his mind, and he hated that he suddenly became aware of idle bodily reactions like sweat.

That damn smile haunted him, and her giggle deafened his ears to the point that he could only see and hear her. He had tunnel vision in that train car but with tunnel hearing, too.

Why?

"You're really good at tellin' people how you really feel."

Bakugou rose his head to lock eyes with her plain, startling browns. That wasn't entirely true, but he was willing to listen to her absurd shpeal.

"You tell people when you're mad when you're actually feelin' all kinds of emotions, but I guess that's about it. And, I only tell people when I'm happy or confident when I'm feeling a storm of emotions, too! We're opposites, but at the same time, we're kinda the same. I bet we could help each other out lots, right? Like, sometimes you make me so angry that I can't contain it, so, now, I have to make you feel happy. That's kinda a good thing, right?"

Again, Bakugou had no comment. Rather, he suppressed any commentary he may have had. They would be back at the dorms within minutes. If he could simply silence his mind until then, he'd be okay.

"What's that word? We're synergetic!"