#it undermines your story when you come back on decisions you've made

[ragnarssons]

look, i love david tennant and ten as much as the next person. but. a huge part of doctor who, one of the biggest lessons i’ve learnt watching this show, is letting people go, letting the past go, moving on and evolving and getting better. but now this show has become so full of fanservice that it has forgotten its main purpose and messages, creating stupid twists like “oh the timelords were the bad guys after all” and bringing back old doctors just to boost the viewership. and honestly, *sigh*

[ltbarnes]

You Flower, You Feast

Summary: Ever since you began your work as an agent, John Walker has treated you like shit and you have no idea why. Sending you to watch over Sergeant Barnes and his work should have been a punishment—turns out it was anything but.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!reader x Sam Wilson, John Walker x reader

Word count: 9.2k

Warnings: smut, language, unprotected sex, M/F/M threesome, oral (f receiving), unconsented kissing, John Walker attempting enemies to lovers, mentions of violence, blood, workplace bullying-ish

A/N: Porn with a lot of plot leading up to it. Once again proving my ability to only write stories with an unnecessary amount of backstory. Also, thank you for 100 followers!! I only had three two weeks ago so this feels a little surreal

Masterlist

You've been here for six months. Five of them has been spent avoiding John Walker at every cost, to whichever extent you can. It's nearly impossible, but you try. It seems like somehow fate seems to be working against your will whenever you're teamed up.

He's an asshole. There's no other way to put it, and normally you would give people the benefit of the doubt before judging them. At least you try, not always successfully, but Agent Walker is entitled, arrogant, reckless and rude. You've known that since the very first day you stepped inside the compound.

Being new to the team would come with negative consequences. It always does, being the odd one out. When people gave you a hard time you knew not to take it personally, and you didn't for a long time, until John started deliberately targeting you with his undermining comments that question both your integrity and ability to do your job.

You knew he had some type of problem with you, not just as a professional but as a person, when he made it a point to keep you in the jet while the rest of the team went in to ambush the arms dealer base outside of Munich four months ago. It happened again, when he refused to let you come along to a high risk mission that you had spent weeks preparing for. You were better suited to carry out that mission than anyone. And if you were doubting your own capability to perform your duties, maybe you would understand, but you know that you're doing a good job. You are a good agent.

Shit went to the fan when he put you on 'elderly duty'. Overseeing Sergeant Barnes' government mandatory duties was clearly meant to be some form of punishment, or a point to prove that you weren't welcome with the big guys. But James is quite nice to hang out with when he's not brooding or complaining like a child before each appointment with Dr. Raynor. The first week was tense, it was clear that he was neither comfortable with that kind of surveillance or human contact in general, but eventually he warmed up just a little when he had staked you out enough.

You accompany him to the therapy appointments, he brings you a cup of coffee. Your attempts to tell him that it's not necessary always get shut down with a grunt. You ask him how it went and he never tells you anything except that his doctor is passive aggressive. You tell him that she only means well. He tells you that she might mean well but she has a damn peculiar way of showing it. You laugh and shake your head, he gives you that unsure smirk that you're sure might have swept a few ladies off their feet back in the days.

You like Bucky. Maybe more so than what’s professional. He treats you like an equal, with a level of respect your other colleagues can't find it in themselves to give you. There's an exception or two with exceptionally bright and painfully handsome Sam Wilson. And Mr. Gallagher over at IT. But your mostly male team counts you out time and time again. You haven't been on anything but recon missions for months, and each time you try to change that decision you end up with a warning. You're sick of it.

"The guys treatin' you right over at the compound?" Bucky asks, another attempt of deflecting the attention from himself while you stroll down the quiet street. Another appointment and a coffee later, you've managed to slip into conversation.

"You know they're not," you mumble, staring straight ahead of you at the naked trees lining the road.

"No?" Bucky asks. It's a sigh, but you're not sure if it's disappointment in them or in you for not letting it go.

"Got pulled aside again by Walker. Another one of his warnings." You breathe out heavily through your nose to calm down the frustration brewing inside of you at merely the mention of his name. "I don't know what's wrong. I only ever ask nicely, never stir up any trouble because I know they will only find a way to shun me out for it. I can't do my job if I'm going to get scolded each time I ask for a chance to do it."

It's quiet for a few seconds. You wonder if he secretly agrees with them, that you're not good enough for the position you've landed. The realization that you care about what he thinks of you more than all of the men back at the compound combined is unnerving. When or why he became someone you strive to please is entirely unbeknownst to you. He just is.

"You're a good agent, Y/n. Don't let them take that away from you," Bucky says. It's short and precise and probably what you needed to hear.

"Thank you, Bucky." You glance over at him for merely a second to see his stare focused in front of him. Cold and intense, like always.

"Know it sucks to not be able to get credit for all the things you help us with. I'm sorry it has to be that way," he adds.

"It's alright. If it means helping people, I don't really care about the recognition. It feels a little more important now that our missions are secret, you know?" You glance up at him with smile. "I kind of have an upper-hand. Walker doesn't know that I'm probably doing more action-hero stuff than he is."

The corners of his lips quirk up just slightly, gaze still stuck in front of him, but anything you can get out of him is enough.

"Are you coming to the gala tonight?" You ask.

"Unfortunately," he mutters and you smile. It's an environment you've yet to see him in, and it both intrigues and intimidates you. You're not sure you want to know what kind of emotion that would pull out of you.

"I'll see you there, James. And stay out of trouble. You know there's a heap of paper work waiting for me if you break the rules," you say while rummaging through your pockets for the car keys.

"You know I ain't about to do that to you," Bucky nearly mumbles with a shy smile. "Take care, Y/n," he says, hands in his pockets and you throw a smile over your shoulder as you walk to your car.

Bucky stands outside of the door, following your figure until your black SUV has pulled out of the parking lot, out onto the street. A sigh escapes him as he climbs the stairs. Goddamn Agent Y/l/n.

You're already tired an hour in. Your heels are digging into the soles of your feet, constantly worried if the dress actually looks good on you or not, small talk with arrogant old men that can't stop commenting on how interesting it is that you're an agent. It's exhausting and you're uncomfortable.

You've felt the stare of Walker on you ever since you stepped foot into the ballroom. If it's disgust or irritation you don't know, but the distant attention is disturbing and irks you each time you're reminded. And the slight buzz of alcohol in your blood stream almost makes you go up to him and ask what his problem is, but the arrival of the only two people you both admire and can endure stops your impulsive plan.

"Oh, thank god," you mumble under your breath as you push yourself through the crowd.

"Y/n," Sam says with a smile on his face, reaching his arms out before pressing a kiss to your cheek. It leaves tingles behind that you are embarrassed to admit reminds you of some dumb schoolgirl crush.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you two are here," you groan while accepting his embrace. "These people are exhausting," you whisper while moving towards Bucky, pressing a kiss to his cheek that leaves him slightly surprised and very stiff.

You let your eyes travel down his black suit, perfectly clinging to his body though you doubt he's had it tailored. "Well, don't you clean up well, Sergeant."

Bucky gives you a stale nod in answer. It's the most you can get out of him and you think that's okay. You know how he is.

"You look stunning, Y/n," Sam goads, placing his hands on your shoulders while taking in your dress.

You take a spin, turning around slowly while raising your glass into the air. "You like what you see, Wilson? I spent three days pondering over this dress," you say with a bright smile.

"Well, you chose right, sweetheart," Sam says while patting you on the bicep. "Now, where is the alcohol?"

Sam is walking away towards the bar before you have the chance to answer, leaving you with James who looks slightly out of place despite his handsome exterior. He really does look nice tonight, more so than you'd like to admit. He always wears black, but somehow this suit looks especially good on his absolutely ripped arms. You almost wish he'd let his vibranium one out, just for tonight. But maybe it's for the best hidden. You might have ogled it a little too much.

"Do you want a drink, James?" You ask, glancing between the bartender and your empty glass.

"It's not gonna do anything, but if I'm gonna have to talk to these people I can at least pretend," he says in an unusual joking manner. "You know, you're the only who keeps calling me James."

You smile to yourself, not daring to read into the comment as much as you want to, before heading away from the corner you've found yourself in with Bucky in tow, a hand hovering over the small of your back. The barely there contact heats the surface of your skin, aching for his fingers to splay across your back instead of ghosting over it. Goddamnit, you crave his touch and the switch in feelings leaves you bothered and anxious.

Leaning your forearms against the bar, standing on your tiptoes to appear taller than the men surrounding you, your hand waves over the bartender with a confidence Bucky can't imagine himself having. In the 40's, maybe. Now he'd just wait until the bartender asked him instead.

You order him a whiskey on the rocks. He wonders if you remember it from the time you found him in a bar when he'd skipped his appointment with Dr. Raynor. It was his sister's birthday and he felt like shit. Being scolded by his therapist wasn't something he could tolerate that day.

Turning around with two glasses in your hands, you hold the amber liquid out towards Bucky. "I had a memory you ordered this sometime. Hope it's okay," you say once he takes it from your hand, fingers brushing against each other and you have to suppress the gasp fighting to escape you.

"'S good," he mutters, even though he wants to tell you that he's grateful you remembered such a trivial detail about him. Thank you the way you deserve for once.

Eyes glancing over the bustling crowd in front of you, ignoring the host talking about whichever donor they've decided to honor tonight, the two of you stand in comfortable silence while sipping on your drinks. It's what you like most about Bucky. You can just exist without pressure or expectations. Nothing is obligated and nothing has to be said. You hope he feels that safety from you too.

The small bubble is disturbed once two higher-ups in the organization starts conversation with Bucky that leaves him glancing pleadingly over at you. You scrunch your nose with a smile, shaking your head while taking a sip of your drink. Engaging in mindless conversation has reached its limit for tonight.

"I'm gonna go look for Sam," you mouth to Bucky while he sends a light glare your way.

With a shake of your head and a giddy smile, you wave through the crowd while letting your eyes roam around for the person you're looking for.

You spot his bright smile, leaning back in laughter that only Sam can force out while in conversation with painfully boring people. He's beautiful. When his thick arm raises to sling around someone's shoulder, you find yourself wishing it was encasing you instead.

Giving out apologies to whoever you push through, you're nearly there when your arm is grasped gently. You stop in your tracks, turning around to face the tall, blonde man you'd rather not interact with at all.

You furrow your brows in confusion until they quickly turn into irritation. "What?" You seethe, wrangling your arm out of his grip.

"Y/n," John sighs, like your attitude towards him is somehow unwarranted. You glare up at him, tugging on your dress in discomfort. "You look...you look nice tonight," he says, rubbing his chin with the palm of his hand while glancing over the crowd.

You don't know what to say to that. In any other case you would have said thank you, complimented him back because despite how much you resent him he does look handsome. Now you only breathe out deeply, letting your gaze fall to your tortured feet squeezed into those heels.

"John..." you sigh.

"Can we just—can we talk for a minute? Alone?" He asks, nodding towards the exit that leads into the hallway.

"That depends on what you're about to say. Are you going to scold me again for doing my job?" You ask. You can't help the underlying resentment in your words. You try to be nice to everyone, no matter how much they haven't earned it, but it's damn hard when it comes to John.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Please, just come with me."

"I'll listen. But I'm only doing this because you're my superior, not because you've earned it," you say.

John sighs before he places a hand on your back, leading you out of the ballroom while you resist the urge to shrug him off. You're annoyed that you followed with him so easily, and fearful of whatever the topic of conversation might be. He seemed calm, on the verge of regretful when asking you, but you never really know what he's thinking. He always switches tempers on you within a second, looking like he might compliment you before he suddenly insults you in front of the entire team. It's infuriating.

You gulp when he leads you into a secluded room. It's an office you realize, with a desk and old mahogany drawers. You focus on the intricate design of the antique furniture while John closes the door behind him.

Turning around, you cross your arms over your stomach while glancing up at him. He almost looks nervous. "Spit it out, John," you say, leaning against the desk.

He breathes out deeply. One second passes, two, three. You almost open your mouth again when he decides to speak up. "I've been unfair to you, Y/n," he says, not meeting your eyes. "And I apologize for that."

Your eyes widen. An apology from Captain John Walker was not something you expected to receive in the near future. You clear your throat, looking down at the hardwood floor. "Well, I appreciate that. But you do know that an apology isn't gonna make it all good?"

"Yeah, I know that. I know," he murmurs. "Y/n, I—fuck," he sighs. "The reason why I've been acting like this around you is complicated."

"Complicated?" You raise an eyebrow. You pause to take a breath, too agitated to look at him. John walks towards you slowly, a step closer with each word. "I haven't felt like I had a legitimate place in this team even once since I arrived. That's not okay, do you understand that? To treat a colleague differently just because they—"

Loss of air, wet lips against yours, pressed against the desk. Your limbs tense and breathing stagger, eyes wide open in shock while John's hands comes to engulf your face.

Pushing against his chest, you gasp as he takes a step back.

"Oh, god," you breathe out, turning your head away from him.

John nearly heaves in front of you, intense gaze focused on your face while you try to register the kiss somewhere in your mind. "I'm fucking crazy about you, sweetheart," John says, running his thumb along the line of your jaw.

You let your eyelids fall shut. A trace of scotch lingers on your lips from where John met yours, leaving behind a trail of the night's intake that you're sure must have affected his sudden admission.

The space between you and John suddenly feels suffocating. You step aside, pacing towards the other side of the room while leaning your face into your hands.

"Y/n, say something," John pleads, turning around until he faces you. You shake your head frantically.

"No. That's not how this works," you breathe out, taking a step back from him as he gazes down at you. With a shake of your head, fingers running over your lips where his just touched, you breathe out.

He furrows his brows, lowering his hand with disappointment adorning his face. "You don't get to be absolutely awful to me and then expect me to like you. You can't just kiss me after spending months trying to undermine and insult my character every single day."

Your head tilts up towards the roof, a sigh escaping your lips out of frustration.

"You just—you drive me crazy, Y/n. I can't fucking think when you're around," he says. His hands have traveled up to his hair, tugging at his roots.

"That's not an excuse," you repeat. "You don't like me. Not really."

"I fucking love you, Y/n!" He turns around abruptly, throwing his hands out in front of him. His jaw clenches down, staring at you intensely enough to make you take a step back. Your back meets the table behind you, hands shooting out to catch your stumble.

"You don't even respect me!" You answer. "How can you even say that? I've spent months crying over your behavior, and then you have the nerve to say you love me? This is not love, John."

"You don't know what I'm feeling, Y/n," he seethes. A deep breath escapes him, hands positioned on his hips as he shakes his head with a groan. "I fucking—I can't stop thinking about you. Everytime you walk past or open that fucking mouth—"

"Stop. Just stop, John," you say. "I just...if you liked me, why didn't you just say so from the beginning?" You look up at his dark gaze. "I can't trust you now, do you understand that?"

He takes a step forward. "Sweetheart, I can make it up to you," he says, reaching his hand out to your cheek.

You turn your head away. "You're not listening to me." The words come out quiet, in a near whisper. His fingers linger on your skin.

"Just give me a chance, babe—" He cuts himself off by crashing his lips to yours once more, met by reluctance from you as you try to push him away from your body. "We would be so good together," he mumbles through the kiss.

Your sputtering goes unnoticed until a hard shove leaves him stumbling a step back. Heavy breaths and hand clutching your chest, you try to recover from the intrusion.

"C'mon, Y/n," John pleads, his hands resting on your shoulders.

"John," you breathe out. "You have to stop. I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same right now." You can't help the watering of your eyes, out of frustration, out of anger. There is a part of you that fears John in this moment. He's too stubborn.

His eyes narrow, a scoff sounding from his mouth as his eyebrows rise in what seems like disbelief. "I didn't think you were this narrow-minded," he says while running his palm over his chin. "You're fucking someone else, aren't you? That...Barnes guy," he seethes.

You stutter on a breath, finding yourself letting out a scoff of your own in response. "That's not the case. And wether or not I'm sleeping with someone shouldn't matter when it comes to justifying my feelings. I don't need a reason, John."

"Then what is it, god damnit?!" He shouts, slamming his hand down on the table surface beside him. You inch backwards, jumping so slightly that it's barely noticeable.

You take a deep breath, subconsciously making yourself smaller because the temper of John Walker is unpredictable. You don't know where you have him, and you can't put anything past him either. "I don't want to talk to you about this anymore," you breathe out.

Softly and shakily you make your way past John, feeling his burning gaze follow your every step as you walk towards the door. A hand grasps your arm tightly, turning you around to meet John's furious gaze.

"Don't you walk away from me, Y/n," he says sternly. The grip around your arm is sure to be bruising.

"Let go of me, John," you grit out through your teeth to your best ability, tears forming streaks down your face while slowly ruining your carefully applied makeup.

"I'm not done talking to you. You're not giving me a chance to explain myself."

"John. Let me go."

He stares you down, jaw clenched so tightly he might shatter his teeth. He lets you go with a shove, scoffing to himself before turning around.

Your sweaty fingers slip on the doorhandle once before you manage to press it down, gently cracking the door open before you glance around to make sure no one sees you walking out of the room. You don't want to talk about why you were in there to someone in the moment. In fact, you don't want to talk to anyone about anything right now.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, with unstoppable tears cascading down your cheeks, you hastily make your way to the lobby. To safety. Your mind is already clouded with anxious thoughts about the near future. John has taken every possibility of being upright mean to you these past few months, and you can't imagine a rejection would better the situation. You had no idea he liked you, at all. And in the office just now, you found yourself fearing him. Yeah, this isn't going to end well.

You sniffle ridiculously much to get rid of the tears, to pull yourself together enough to get yourself out of there without suspicion. You even manage to seem relatively normal when you get your coat from the wardrobe. The clock on your phone shows 11:53 pm. It's not particularly early to be leaving, though you suspect the majority of the guests will remain until the early hours of morning.

As best as you can on stiletto heels, you walk towards the exit, willing away your emotions while clutching your coat to your body. Your left arm is sore. There's going to be a bruise in the shape of John's fingers when you wake up, you're sure of it. The cold winter air gushes as soon as you near the door, enough to make you doubt your decision to go outside.

"You leavin'?" A voice speaks up behind you. And you know it, you do, even though it sounds slightly out of breath.

Stopping in your tracks and lowering your head without ever turning around, you answer. "Yeah. I need to get up early in the morning," you lie. You don't want to come face to face with Bucky right now, flaunt your tear-streaked cheeks with black mascara stains under your eyes.

"And you were going without saying goodbye?" He asks. You hear the sound of him coming closer. You pray that he won't. He sounds disappointed.

You remain silent. What truthful answer can you give that is not revealing your true motivation behind departing without a word?

"We got worried for a second there, Y/n. Said you were gonna find Sam." His voice comes from only a feet behind you.

"I went to the bathroom." You swallow, trying to dry away the smudged mascara underneath your eyes.

In the corner of your eye you see Sam walking into the lobby, eyes roaming around until he finds your figure next to Bucky.

"Hey, we've been lookin' for you, Princess," Sam says, jogging down the marble stairs until he's by the two of you. He walks around, standing in front of you with a relieved smile until it turns into a frown.

His finger comes to rest under your chin, tilting it up so you're forced to look him in the eyes. Big, brown eyes that are so fucking soft and hardened at the same time.

"You've been crying," he notes, glancing down your red-rimmed eyes and slight sheen of salty tears remaining on your skin.

You glance away, turning your head until his fingers slip away from your skin. You nod, because there's no point in lying when the evidence lays right in front of them. Bucky turns you around by the shoulders, roaming his eyes over your face while you clutch onto your coat. "It's stupid. I think I had too much to drink," you say with an attempt of a smile that appears quite unconvincing.

"Don't say it's stupid. Anythin' that made my best girl cry 's not stupid. Why don't you tell us so we can make it better?" Bucky asks, crouching down just slightly. You've never heard him speaking words so soft, with that goddamn smile on his face.

You shake your head, letting your finger run underneath your eyes in attempt to get the black makeup lingering on your skin. "You can't. It's—god, it feels like it'll never end."

"What?" Sam asks, stern face but gentle voice.

"They won't leave me alone. And now everything with John and god—"

"He’s been bothering you again?” Bucky asks, tightening his grip on your shoulder with a puff of air escaping his nose. You almost see his pupils narrow, arm whirring in badly contained restraint.

"He told me he loved me, Bucky. That all these months he's been a fucking asshole because he loves me." Once more the water pools in your eyes. "I can't believe he expected me to just kiss him back after everything. Having an angry outburst because I don't feel the same isn't gonna make me stay, dragging me away from the door—"

"Woah, woah, woah. Wait a damn minute, sweetheart," Sam says, holding his hand out in front of him while he takes a deep breath, his jaw line defined by the hard clench. "You telling me he kissed you? He hurt you?"

You glance up at him, his hand taking a hold of your arm while Bucky's rests on your shoulder. "No, not really. It's a little sore where he grabbed me. A bruise, maybe. But...I'm okay."

"That jerk says he loves you? Goddamn fucker," Bucky grumbles under his breath, removing his hands from you before starting to walk towards the ballroom with haste steps.

"Bucky, where are you going?" You ask, turning around with a longing frown while following after him, Sam right behind you with a hand on the small of your back and your coat now in his other.

"Talking to that fucking punk."

"I can't believe you did that."

You're leaning over Bucky, cotton dabbing against the bleeding cut on his forehead gently, despite his protests that it would be gone in the morning. He's sitting by Sam's kitchen table, said man leaning against the counter with arms crossed around his shirt-clad chest. You discarded your heels as soon as you stepped inside the door, now padding around his floor barefoot.

"It's against your pardon, James. You're goddamn lucky no one else saw you." You purse your lips in concentration, angry frown in between your eyebrows.

Bucky sits quietly with his brooding expression, glancing up at you every other second.

"And you got hurt. I don't want you to do things like this for my sake."

"I didn't know he would throw a chair at me," he mutters in response. Sam's holding the back of his hand against his mouth to hide the grin wanting to come up on his face. "I was only gonna talk."

"There's no chance in hell you were gonna 'talk'. Nobody believes that," Sam says with an eyebrow raised in amusent, earning a silent scoff from Bucky. "Just got lucky John threw the first punch."

"There was only one punch involved. Ain't my fault he knocked himself out against a table," Bucky mumbles.

"Sure, James,” you mumble, the corner of your lips quirking up just slightly. The sight leaves him trailing his vibranium fingers against your hips, soft circles encompassing his entire attention.

"Why do you keep callin' me James?" Bucky asks.

You walk away towards the sink, throwing away the now red cotton in the trash can while the gazes of the two men remain on your figure, that black, long dress still clinging to your curves. "It's your name. It's nice, I think it suits you."

When you glance up again, you're met with Bucky's blue eyes staring at you so intensely you're forced to retreat your gaze. He's always staring at things, people, ever since you first met him. But the way he's watching you in this moment leaves you urging to squirm.

"Is something wrong?" You ask hesitantly, leaning up until you're standing straight again.

Bucky shakes his head, parting his lips to let his tongue run over his bottom lip so quickly you barely catch it. Your breath hitches, eyes focused on his mouth. "Come here, darling," he says, sitting up straighter in his chair while you slowly make your way towards him.

You shiver involuntarily when his arms snake around your waist, pulling you down into his lap with his chest resting against your back. It feels wrong and so familiar at the same time, having his body pressed up against yours while Sam stares at you from where he stands by the counter.

"Thank you, doll. For patching me up," Bucky mumbles, mouth resting against the skin in the crook of your neck.

You lean your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut with a breathy sigh while his lips press a kiss to your shoulder.

"No—no problem," you stutter out.

"Been watching you all night, sweet girl. Couldn't keep my eyes off you in this goddamn dress." Bucky's right hand sneaks around your waist, smoothing down the fabric until his fingers are splaying across your upper thigh. "Know Sam's been looking too. Wants you just as much."

Your eyes flutter open, flickering over to Sam's burning gaze. His hands are gripping the counter tightly, restraining himself. You gasp as Bucky's hand travels upwards, palming your breast gently through the fabric of your dress while the eye contact remains between you and Sam.

It's not until your eyes travel down the length of his body, letting your gaze linger on his thick thighs and arms, that you slowly raise up from your seat in Bucky's lap. You hear a soft breath of protest when your warmth disappears, but your eyes are focused on Sam as you walk up to him.

He smirks down at you, letting his hands run down your waist when you crane your neck to look up at him. And when you raise yourself up on your toes, mouth hovering just above his, you let out a needy whimper that leaves him no choice but to attach his lips to yours.

Hands encasing your face, pulling you flush against him while running his tongue along your lower lip, he grunts into your mouth. When you pull away from him there's a smile on your face, hand resting against his neck.

"God knows I wanna have my way with you right here, but you deserve the luxury of my first class bed," he says, pressing a peck against your lips with a giddy smile.

"Oh, how thoughtful of you, Wilson," you answer through a smiling scrunch of your nose.

He grabs a hold of your hand, leading you out of the kitchen towards his bedroom with the sound of Bucky's boots following the two of you.

His room is cold as he opens the door, letting you step inside with his hand on the small of your back. For once the low temperature doesn't faze you, meeting your heated skin with resistance.

You turn around to meet the gazes of Sam and Bucky, letting your hands clasp together behind your back while you glance up at them with a small smile on your lips.

"Don't you look at us that way, Princess. Not gonna be able to hold back if you look all pretty," Sam says while Bucky makes his way around you.

Bucky's hands brushes along the skin of the back of your neck, trailing down until his fingers latch around the zipper. Small goosebumps spread across your skin when the zipper is dragged down all the way to the base of your back, sleeves slowly gliding down your arms.

And then you're standing there, half-naked in front of your two men and you've never felt more exposed nor desired. You see it, in the way Sam's gaze travels down your body. Feel it in the way Bucky's breathing picks up behind you.

Bucky's warm breath sounds into your ear. Sharp intakes of breath interrupt your silence when his knuckles brush by your exposed neck.

Your focus wrestles between Bucky's surprisingly gentle fingers and Sam's lustful gaze on your bare skin. He slowly drags the straps of your bra down your arms, lingering once they've fallen down completely. Bucky unclasps it behind your back, letting it fall to the floor to reveal your bare breasts.

Your arm is grabbed softly, turned until the now purple bruise shows on your skin. You shake your head, silently telling them to let it go. You don't want the remnants of John's hands on you to dictate how this moment is going to pan out. You don't want to think about him it all.

And it's not on purpose, you promise it isn't, when a small whimper escapes your lips as Sam's thumb brushes over your now pebbled nipple softly. The rough and calloused skin on his fingers contrasts against the sensitive, creating sweet friction that affects you more than you would like to admit. Enough for you to lean into Bucky's hard chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," Bucky breathes out through an appreciative murmur, watching your body from where his chin rests against the crook of your neck. "Wanted you for so long, doll."

You breathe in sharply, pushing back into him only to be met with the stale fabric of his suit trousers.

"This isn't fair," you say, raising an eyebrow as you pointedly look down at Sam's body.

"Huh, sweetheart?" Sam says with a knowing grin, basking in your hungry gaze. "Wanna see more?"

"You know I do." You lean back against Bucky, feeling his arms wrap around you until he's holding you in an embrace from behind.

Your breath hitches as Sam's dress shirt is unbuttoned to reveal his toned torso. You reach your hand out, earning an amused smirk from Sam as he saunters towards you. Fingers running over his hardened abdomen, you sigh in content while taking in a shaky breath.

"Get rid of this, will you?" You breathe out, letting your fingers tug on the shirt impatiently.

"That's my girl," Sam says through a grin while ridding the shirt from his arms until he's standing bare in front of you.

You begin to feel you've stared at him a second too long when you slowly turn around, meeting Bucky's eyes. Letting your palms run down his chest, you find the top button and work your way down until it's open.

Just when you're about to push it down his shoulders, Bucky's hand grips around your wrist. A deep sigh and a concerned glance from your way leaves you to stop your movements.

"Just—it's bad. My shoulder," Bucky mumbles, averting his gaze.

"It doesn't matter. Not to me," you breathe out, giving him a reassuring smile. "Everyone has scars, Bucky, I do too. Yours are just a little more noticeable. There's nothing I will find underneath your shirt that would make me want you any less."

He nods, glancing down at you for a second before he lets your hand go. And when your gaze remains just as hungry as before his torso was bare, he lets go of his pent up breath.

You press a chaste kiss against his lips, pulling back far too soon for his liking. Just a second isn't enough, it never will be. Your hands rest against his bare chest, letting your soft touch travel over his left shoulder until it glides down the black vibranium, tracing the golden ridges. Bucky watches you intently, following the invisible trail you leave behind until he slowly backs towards the bed.

You squeal when he lifts you up by your waist, carrying you with him until he lowers his back down on top of the sheets, your hips straddling his taught abdomen.

And that goddamn giggle you let out as you sit on top of him, smiling down with the brightest smile he's ever seen, makes him ache to have your skin touching his every second of every waken day. You belong in his arms, by his side. Wether or not Sam has that part of you as well doesn't matter. It's not hard to see that now.

Sam climbs onto the bed, positioning himself behind your back with his hands running down its length. Shuddering and aching for more, you arch against his palm.

Your clothed core presses against Bucky's muscles, wetness seeping through the thin lace, betraying your need without a word escaping your lips.

"Take these off for me, will you?" Bucky asks, hooking a finger under the band. He had a thought of ripping the fabric off of you, tearing the lace in two. But he's seen the prices, walking past lingerie stores on his way home. His girl shouldn't have to spend money on new things for his sake.

You nod, raising yourself onto your knees while Sam helps you up into a standing position. Your fingers latch onto the band of your underwear, gently and slowly dragging it down your legs until the fabric pools at your feet. You lift them one at a time, stepping out of them before they're grabbed by Sam. He puts the lacy number in his back pocket, ignoring your intrigued yet shy glance by running his hand down your bare thigh.

Just as gently as you stood up, you kneel down until you're straddling Bucky once more. You're only staring down at him, admiring his plump lips and chiseled structure. You could sit right here, tracing his features with your gaze for seven lifetimes if only life would be so kind to grant you that privilege.

And though you adore Bucky's face so, he has less than enough patience for admiring his appearance. His lack of patience manifests in the way his arms pull your body up his torso, up until you hover just above his face.

Oh, how he's longed for this.

"I know, baby. I know," Bucky chuckles huskily, voice raspy and deeper than your longing for his tongue to stay on you. You whine, eyelids falling shut and a bead of sweat travelling down your forehead. "I gotta breathe, darling." He pauses, the room so silent everyone can hear the small puff of air making its way out of his nose.

A smooth, though warm, hand rubs up your back, rough pads of his fingers tracing patterns. Sam's lips barely touches your skin, lingering only.

"Sorry," you whisper, moving down just a few inches until you're resting on his hard abdomen, heavy breaths escaping your lips while you try to come down from the high you almost reached.

A small squeak escapes as your thighs are grabbed by strong arms. One chiseled and filled with scars, one cold and made out of vibranium. "I wasn't done with you," Bucky grumbles under his breath with a glare so icy your breath stutters inside of your chest.

Another squeal sounds through the room as Bucky pulls your body back to rest above his face, lips wrapping around your clit in possessive manner, because how dare you scramble away from him before he is finished? This is not about you—this is about him and his time with your sweet pussy. He hasn't tasted a doll since the 40's, that's an awfully long time to go starved. The whines and moans that course out of your mouth is just a side benefit, accompanying the weight of you writhing above him as he makes you come undone on his tongue. God, he loves this. Every second of it. What did he ever do before this night?

"Oh, god," you gasp as your back falls against Sam's chest once more. Bucky's hands remain steadily on your thighs, parting them, holding them in place while he continues coaxing you towards your unraveling.

"Come on, baby," Sam purrs in your ear. "Take what Bucky gives you."

His hands rest on your shoulders, gently guiding you down on Bucky's tongue. You hurdle forward as Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth, nearly biting down on it and you can't stop the embarrassingly loud moan from escaping you when he has the audacity to do this to you.

"Fuck, James," you seethe, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. "Can't—god, it feels so good," you breathe out.

"Attagirl, there you go. Looking so pretty riding Bucky's face," Sam rasps behind you. His voice is like smooth honey in your ears. It makes you wonder if it's really possible for words to affect someone like the way his does to your body?

Bucky groans underneath you, bucking his hips up to somehow ease the throbbing need despite knowing he's only going to be met with air. The taste of you devours him, takes up every space in his mind and the only thing he can envision for his future is your body shaking above his as you come. He wants it, needs it so desperately.

A harrumphed whimper slips out from your lips, gentle humming sounding from your mouth. Your legs shake so lightly, but Bucky notices, he feels them closing in around his head and he has to tighten his hold around your thighs to stop them from suffocating him. As much as he would love succumbing his life to your pleasure, it would mean that he would never get to chance to have you again.

He dips the tip of his tongue inside of you, again and again and your breathing is so erratic he would fear for your health if he didn't know he was the reason behind it. It makes him crazy, mind blurred before he presses himself up closer to your pussy.

And when your head falls back on Sam's shoulder, back arching and hips bucking, they know that you're done. A string of incoherent mumbles through moans follows your orgasm, pulling a smirk from Bucky's lip as he laps up the aftermaths of your climax. Sweet and tangy, perfectly you.

Your chest heaves with effort once you finally come down from the high. Bucky's as gentle as ever when he slides you down his torso, leaving a trail of wetness behind while he sits up with you in his lap.

He can do nothing but stare at you as you try to regain a relatively normal state, but you're not sure if it's possible. How do you recover from that? You can't even find the strength to open your eyes.

Sam's lips find their way to the crook of your neck, gently sucking your skin in between his lips while tilting your head with his hand. The saltiness of the light sheen of sweat on your skin is addictive.

"So good, baby. So good for us," he mumbles in between the kisses, creating a path from your neck down your right shoulder. You hum in answer.

You barely have time to catch your breath until you're manhandled off of Bucky, his hands lifting you onto Sam's lap. Your arms enclose around his neck, one hand pressing you into his chest while he moves up the bed until he's resting against the headboard.

"Take off those slacks of his, doll," Bucky orders, sitting down in the chair beside the bed with legs spread wide and back leaning against it.

You glance up at Sam with a closed-mouth smile, scooting off of him while fumbling with the zipper. He bucks his hips up, letting you drag his trousers down his legs until you're able to toss them aside.

Soft hands run up and down his thighs, feeling every ridge and valley of scars and muscle underneath your palms. You believe his legs might be your favorite thing in the world.

Your fingers travel upwards, tracing the hem of his black boxers until he nods for you to get rid of them.

They're thrown aside, landing together with his expensive suit slacks on the floor before you move to straddle him once more.

The nearly silent gasp from your lips as you glance down at his throbbing cock does not go unnoticed by anyone. Your gaze turns concerned, staring down at his more than impressive girth.

"Sam," you breathe out.

"We'll make it fit, sweet girl. You can take it," Sam says, letting his hand run through your hair. "You'll take what I give you."

You gulp, nodding in what you can only decipher as either anticipation or worry. You're nearly aching for how much you need him to fill you up, clenching around air while his hand closes around himself, thumb running over the bead of precum leaking from his tip.

"Go on," Bucky urges on from where he sits, hand palming his growing bulge through his boxers. "Wanna see you sink down on his cock, think you can do that for me, darling?"

You nod, whimpering while Sam guides his tip up and down your folds. "Would do anything for you," you breathe out, hand steadying yourself on Sam's shoulder.

Your head falls back in a quiet gasp, lips falling open as his cock pushes inside of you, hands guiding your hips down against his while you slowly sink down.

"Take your time, Princess," Sam reassures, holding onto you tightly.

You whimper as he bottoms out, your hips flush against each other while he fills you up completely. You've never felt as completed as in this moment, Sam fully sheathed inside of you. You begin to suspect he might belong with you like this.

"There you go," he groans, your hips slowly beginning to move against his. "Taking me so well."

His words are strained, forcing himself to tell you just how good you feel wrapped around him even though he can barely talk. You deserve to know, deserve every goddamn praise he can give you after being deprived of it for so long. What those assholes couldn't give you, he will provide tenfold. He and Bucky are never gonna let punks put you on anything but a pedestal again.

"Feel so good, Sam," you say, head thrown back in pleasure while he looks at where your bodies meet, his length disappearing inside of your walls.

"You were meant to be filled with cock, weren't you?" Bucky asks, hand wrapped around his own while stroking it slowly. "Look at you, filled up by him so perfectly. There you go, sweetheart."

His praises send you preening under his lustful gaze, rolling your hips down on Sam's cock faster while his hands guide you to meet his thrusts. Big hands splay across your ass, fingers pressing into the supple flesh, creating traces of him on your skin.

"Gonna keep you full of me like this, always," Sam seethes, snapping his hips up against yours, coaxing a sudden moan out of you that forces your fingers to grip his shoulder tightly.

You whine, forehead coming to rest on his shoulder while you let Sam take control of your movements. "I got you, Princess. I got you."

You're flipped around, back resting against the warm sheets before Sam hooks your right leg around his waist. His thrusts increase in pace, easing in and out of you with the filthy sound of your slick being pushed inside of you filling the room along with your moans and whimpers, heavy breaths and pants.

Bucky fucks his own fist to the sight of you panting underneath Sam, taking what he gives you so well. His sweet girl looking so filthy in front of him, only for them.

"Bucky," you breathe out, calling out for him.

Ain't no chance in hell he's not gonna listen to his doll when you beg for him so prettily. He walks up to the side of the bed, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

"Yeah?" He smiles, groaning quietly as he forces himself to stop his hand moving around his length.

"Want you to come on me," you say.

And god, he's done for. Those filthy words on your lips feels like a sin only he is allowed to partake in.

He only lets out a grunt in answer, pumping his length faster while your breath speeds up along with Sam's thrusts. Both of you are close, he can feel it, hear it. Hear how your heart picks up in pace just slightly, how your blood runs faster through your veins, how a moan is building up inside of your chest.

"Can I fill you up?" Sam grits out through his teeth, voice muffled by the crook of your neck and your hands running down his back, clinging onto him desperately.

"Please," you whine. "'I’m on the pill," you assure him.

Sam raises his chest from yours, gazing down at your breasts when he comes with a snarl, fingers digging into your hips and movements riding out his high, pushing his release inside of you.

"Fuck, taking all of me, every fucking drop," he groans, feeling your spasming walls clench around his cock through your own orgasm.

It's the image of your lips parted in pleasure, head thrown back on the pillow and back arching that leads Bucky to his release, letting his cum land on your breasts that he could spend forever in between.

The room is silent, save for your chorus of heavy breaths. An exhausted though giddy smile sneaks up on your face, covered by the palms of your hands as you roll over on your side. You're spent and sore, muscles aching deliciously and you never want to feel any other way.

Sam's arm comes up around your waist, dragging you into his chest with a content hum from his lips. "Did so well for us," he mumbles against your skin, letting his lips trail down your shoulder. You reach your hand up, resting it against his heated cheek.

Bucky disappears into the adjoining bathroom, and you find yourself missing his presence even if he's not by your side for only a few seconds. He comes back with a towel in his hand, kneeling down beside the bed before he motions you closer with his fingers.

You lean your head against your hand, watching his arms guide the towel over your chest, drying away his cum from your skin. His lips are slightly swollen, red and puffy and glistening. So is his cheeks, and you fear you've never seen anything more handsome than the sight in front of you. His only competition is the man pressed up against your back.

When the stiff fabric of it reaches your swollen core, you wince over the contact. "Sorry, sweet girl. Just needa' clean you up," Bucky says, pressing his lips against the inside of your wrist.

You chuckle tiredly, glancing back at Sam to see a prideful grin on his face. "Yeah, yeah. You're big and all that," you mumble with an eye roll.

Bucky throws the towel in to the bathroom, sauntering over to the bed while motioning Sam to move over.

The bed sinks down profoundly when Bucky sits down against the headboard, dragging you up until your back rests against his chiseled chest. Sam adjusts his position, laying his head in your lap with his hands clasped over his chest.

Bucky's fingers run through your hair, your fingers tracing circles in Sam's, scraping gently across his scalp.

You hear the intake of breath, lips parting to speak before the words even come out. "Walker—you don't feel the same, do you?" Bucky asks hesitantly.

You shake your head against his chest. "No. I don't think I ever could," you admit. "Even if I wasn't head over heels for you two."

"That's our good girl. Doesn't deserve you anyway, that punk," Bucky mutters. You let out a tired chuckle.

"I don't even know how I'm gonna go back to work on Monday, act like it never happened. He'll give me hell for it."

It's silent for a few seconds, minds buzzing in contemplation. "We'll have you transferred. It's not hard to do, especially when you're so competent. Been helping us solve all kinds of problems the past six months," Sam says.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Can't have him near you anyway, not after what he did," he answers. "He won't bother you anymore." His hand comes to squeeze your thigh in reassurance.

So, in comfortable silence, you've found yourself a small sliver of peace in the arms of your men. A small sliver of peace in the world of violence you've found yourselves in.

But it's enough. It always will be.

[technowoah]

Rather Be Devisive Than Indecisive pt. 2

You weren't planning to help Techno again, but here you are with his horse.

- ANON REQUESTED!

- I really wanted to do second part anyways! So thanks a bunch!

- this story is long 😪 it'll all make sense though!

- part 1 is here!

- masterlist!

To say everything went south was a understatement. Everything went to hell, and you were currently living in it. You missed watching the sunset standing ontop L'Manburg's walls, you missed the peacefulness before the war. Maybe back then was too good to be true.

After the last encounter with Technoblade you had turned back to help Tommy and Tubbo. You tried to help wherever you could because you can see everyone drift apart, the main reason people came together was gone and dead. You tried to be a bigger sibling to both of them, and you tried to Tubbo and the former citizens repair the crater Wilbur left behind.

It took years, but L'Manburg was new and fresh again, with the help of Tubbo's new cabinet of trusted people L'Manburg was peaceful again. Tubbo had made you apart of his cabinet as well as Quackity, Fundy, Tommy and Karl. It was a new beginning.

There were days where you wondered if Wilbur would get a funeral. Schlatt had gotton a funeral, but you saw first hand how that went it wasnt a somber moment at all. It was for the best, they had mixed feelings about Wilbur and you dont blame them.

You had a new family, but there were things unkown to you, things that are being created out of your knowledge and that scared you. We have new L'manburg, but it isnt the same you dont know how long Tubbo could uphold peace in this new kingdom.

New things were created from the end of a old one.

It was a peaceful day in L'Manburg just as Tubbo promised the new citizens. You had stayed busy the whole day until a certian blonde came around your house frantically urging you to get outside and follow him

"C'mon! Just follow me! I have something to show you!"

"Tommy what are you talking about?!"

"Its VERY important, hurry! I dont want him to leave that spot."

Tommy had dragged you by the arm to the pier that evening and kept chanting that he had to show you something of utmost importance. You were trying to ask questions and keep up with his pace as he weaved through buildings claiming they were a "shortcut". Tommy stopped you at the pier and stood to your side, he was looking back and forth at the end of the pier to the water and back to you again.

You were about to ask why you were there until you saw a familiar man.

"Oh! Hello! Tommy who is this?"

He was pale, no, he was transparent. He looked pale, the sunset's dull rays made it seem like he still had skin. He had a yellow sweater on with brown pants and black shoes. He looked comfortable, he looked free. Next to his side there was a sheep on a leash with blue dye, you noticed it was poorly dyed too the dye was dripping from its wool. It was Wilbur, physically, but it wasn't HIM.

"He's Ghostbur." Tommy whispered to you while he stood between you two.

"Yes, I'm Ghostbur!" The ghost cheerfully said.

"This- this is y/n. Dont you remember?" Tommy cautiously asked Ghostbur.

Ghostbur had a look of confusion and curiosity on his face. He seemed so pure compared to when he was alive.

"No..I can't, but I would love to know." He stuck out his hand in a greeting.

"Hi I'm ghostbur!"

"I'm y/n." You said lowly.

You tried to reach out and grab his hand but it went straight through. You hated it, he's gone and you couldn't bring him back. It isn't him, but Ghostbur maybe better, Wilbur is gone and thats okay. Something came out of nothing, you kept telling yourself that everything was okay, but now seeing Ghostbur so naive and pure and free of the world's weight you believed everything would be fine.

"Im sorry. Im transparent, and I have no flesh." Ghostbur smiled.

"That's fine." You paused looking for the right words. "Do you know what you did? To L'Manburg?"

"Believe me, he dosen't. I tried." Tommy said to you.

"I couldn't belive I would do such a thing." Ghostbur added on.

"He shares no memories of Wilbur. Basically a new person." Tommy continued.

"That's great." You perked up. "It's bittersweet ya know. But Im happy you're here Ghostbur!"

"Im happy I'm here too, and Im happy I met you today." Ghostbur smiled at you while his sheep walked towards you, he unknowingly rubbed up against you putting blue dye on your clothes.

"Oh! This is Friend! I forgot to mention him to you. You can pet him!"

You didnt want to. He was dripping with dye, but you did it to appease Ghostbur. Tommy cringed while you petted the slightly wet, blue sheep. Once you were done your hand was blue, you rubbed it on your clothes that were already blue.

"I think he likes you." Ghostbur cheerfully said.

You were so thankful for Tommy bringing you to that pier. It was the closure you needed to move on and focus on building a new life for all of you. A peaceful life, but it seemed too good to be true. Days went by like normal and that sometimes was too much for you. You worked on new buildings and worked with Tubbo's cabinet too, that was a new normality for you.

The unknown scared you, but you had your family here. You had made amends with them and now and this is what you wanted. But then again it all seemed too good to be true.

Nobody had told you anything, you weren't in cabinet meetings, nor around Tubbo or Tommy. You felt shut out, you felt sick. The cabinet had decided to do something about Tommy and Dream started to become involved in Tommy's predicament. Soon after Tommy was in court, stripped away of his vice presidency, and had been put on probation.

Tubbo had come to you about Tommy being exiled. There was a huge meeting with the cabient and Dream about that situation and you had stayed silent the whole time. You wanted what was best for L'Manburg, but Tommy was like a brother to you, you couldn't send him away to fend for himself. You could see the confliction on Tubbo's face as he was going through the same dilemma as you were.

In the end Dream gave Tubboo 3 days to chose if to exile Tommy or not.

Tubbo had talked to you about the situation before the second day came. You two were in the same boat when it came to exiling him. You two had came to a conclusion, Tubbo just had to talk with the rest of his cabinent for a final conclusion.

The second day came and the plan switched immediately when Tommy came and introduced it. He wanted to fight back against Dream, of course he did, but he wanted another man to come and help. They wanted Technoblade to join their revolt. Quackity and Fundy agreed with the idea, but Tubbo was more cautious. You hated it.

Technoblade wasn't a subject nor person you wanted to be associated with ever since that night in Pogtopia. After all this time you had forgotten about him, you had forgotten your failed attempt at rekindling your friendship until now.

Tubbo was cautious, but you were 100% against it. Tubbo agreed with the rest of the cabinet and Tommy. They eventually asked you, and of course you said no, but it didn't matter, majority rules in this case.

You all approched Dream intop of the obsidian walls with your final decision.

"We have come to a decision. Look around." Tubbk leaded.

"There's giant, obsidian walls." Dream answered calmly.

"There is, there is Dream. And that's a problem, okay? This is funny actually." Tubbo turned back to Tommy. "Tommy, I am- I am so sorry."

Tubbo continues to talk to Dream. "I have come to the decision, that it'll be better for the nation the most logical thing to do is for Tommy to be exiled from L'Manburg."

"What?"

"Tubbo?!"

"Teaming up with Technoblade is an awful idea! It's an awful idea!"

Oh thank goodness.

"We just had this conversation!" Fundy yelled.

"No! No! Okay?! Nothing! Involving any kind of conflict is not safe for this nation! You've undermined my authority from the get go! Okay! All of you! No one here has respected me. You all jump on these merry little bandwagons of destruction. It's not okay!"

Tubbo was livid. His face was turning red and will keep doing so if he kept yelling. You felt a familiar breeze beside you as you saw Ghostbur standing next to you and behind Tommy. He smiled at you and continued yo listen to Tubbo's angry speech. You wondered why he was here, why he showed up at times and then left. Like he only needed to listen and not give any input.

"You cant go back on the plan now?! What the hell?!" Tommy yelled.

"When I was sworn in I made a promise to do what was best for the nation. And right now, Tommy you, your presence here is not the best for his nation."

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you think ghostbur noticed. You were happy that you didnt need to see Technoblade again, but you were going to lose what you would call a brother. You started to backtrack on your final decision, you belived Tubbo was in thr right. Tubbo wanted what was best for L'Manburg and what was best for L'Manburg was for Tommy to be exiled. You wished there was another way, but you know Tommy was stubborn it wouldn't work that easy.

Your mind kept wandering to if Tubbo decided to team with Technoblade. He was right there would be destruction, a huge war and probably the end of L'Manburg. You didn't want that again, you didn't want to see him again. You couldn't help but wonder if he knew L'Manburg was brand new.

"Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country."

Tommy was gone. Its been weeks, four weeks to be exact. L'Manburg was peaceful, everywhere was peaceful, but you had to admit that you missed him. Fundy and Quackity tried to convince Tubbo to bring Tommy back, but he already made up his mind. He was confident in his decision, you were proud he was ruling L'Manburg confidently, but everyone was weary.

You haven't seen Ghostbur around either, he must've been floating around somewhere. It's none of your business.

The walls have been taken down and L'Manburg was independent again. There were sacrifices to be made. There were a lot of sacrifices to be made to keep L'Manburg up, and you kept asking yourself if everything was worth it. Was the discs worth that much to Tommy? Was L'Manburg even a good choice to begin with?

Was Technoblade right?

The Butcher Gang. They were calling themselves The Butcher Gang. The cabinet had several meeting and came ti the decisions that the biggest problems in L'Manburg were Technoblade and Dream. The cabinet decided not to kill Dream because of the fact that he was allies with L'Manburg, so they decided to try and kill Technoblade.

Dumbasses. You've mentioned to Tubbo that he was a very, very, very dangerous man. Tubbo has seen him before! You asked Tubbo constantly why did he wants to kill him when he says that he didn't want to team up with him. Tubbo said it was for the better of L'Manburg, but dosent he know that might cause even more trouble?

You didnt want to join them, you couldn't risk your life for something that is impossible to achieve. You separated from the cabinet, you couldn't watch them do this and you tried to stop them, but they insisted on the act.

Lately you've seen more of Ghostbur and that made you happy. It made you happy he wanted to spend time with you and it made you forget the trouble brewing in the cabinet.

"What's wrong?" Ghostbur asked while sitting on the edge of the pier with you, and Friend who was tied to one of the pier's poles.

"It's nothing Ghostbur." You said with a sigh.

"Good!" He cheerfully said.

"Can I actually tel you something?" You asked again, you wanted to get this off of your chest.

"Of course." He smiled.

You sighed and then began to speak as you looked out to the water. "It's the cabinet, its Tubbo, Fundy and Quackity that's the problem."

"But they are wonderful people! What can they do wrong?" Ghostbur suddenly asked.

"They want to kill someone, Ghostbur."

"Maybe it was a misunderstanding."

"I dont- I dont think so." You hung your head looking at your feet.

"Ghostbur, they want to kill Technoblade and I dont-"

"Technoblade?! That's my friend! Why- why would they want to kill him?"

Your heart felt heavy at his words. Another point not to kill Technoblade, you didn't want Ghostbur to hurt, not like Wilbur.

"He was a friend of mine too once. When L'Manburg first got blown up he- we betrayed L'Manburg and then spawned 3 wither skeletons to destroy the rest of the citizens." You explained to Ghostbur's disrught face.

"You wouldn't do that! You're kind!" Ghostbur exclaimed.

"It wasn't my best decision Ghostbur. People can make bad mistakes. A lot of people do. They aren't pure like you." You smiled softly at him.

A long hush fell over the two of you until Ghostbur perked up.

"We need to save Technoblade!" He exclaimed.

"Ghostbur I cant do that."

"Why not?"

"Because me and Techno aren't friends anymore." You said sadly.

"Why not?"

You couldn't answer that. You can, you can give the right answer, but at this moment you couldnt tell the ghost who suddenly stood up next to you.

"If I take you to where Technoblade lives will you feel better?" Ghostbur asked with Friend's leash in his hands.

Tubbo, Fundy and Quackity didnt know where Technoblade lives and desperately wanted to know to kill him. Maybe this was a good idea. You tried to convince yourself that as you walked side by side with Ghostbur. You had followed him through the woods as he weaved in and out of the trees. Friend was following Ghostbur as well, he wouldn't let Friend stay anywhere out of his sight.

You were getting special treatment, you were about to find out where Technoblade lived before The Butcher Gang would. Would you be considered a traitor again? Tubbo wouldn't want you back in the cabinet if you knew where Technoblade lived and you didnt tell him.

The atmosphere got colder as you two ventured on, you didnt know he would retreat all the way out here. It was snowing and you didn't bring any type of warm clothing considering L'Manburg was rather warm. Ghostbur had no problem, neither did Friend. Luckily you saw a light in the dark woods. It was further away, but you could see the light expand as you two treaded over towards it.

"That's the house!" Ghostbur pointed too.

You two reached the end of the woods and before you was an opening. There was blanket of white snow everywhere, there were footprints in the snow, but they were being covered by the falling snow above you. It was a valley and the only thing there was a beautiful wooden house. It was errie, the only civilization here was was Technoblade who lived in the house.

"It's pretty lonely." You said still cautious of the situation.

"Yeah it's sad, but we're here and it's okay!" Ghostbur said.

"Sure." You whispered as Ghostbur continues to lead the way.

You two got closer and closer to the house and you continued to try and back out. It's too late to do so now, you didnt even feel like walking back to L'Manburg after you confront Technoblade again. The two of you were heading up to his door, your heart was beating heavier as you got to his door. You brought your fist up to knock on the door, hopefully he was home because you were freezing cold. You harshly knocked on his door and awaited for his response.

You two waited for a while, but no one was opening the door.

"Ghostbur why don't you go inside?"

"I'll just peak my head in!" He answered and did so. His head phased through the door and then he came back out with a frown on his face. "No one is in there."

"Why did we come here?" You sulked and started to turn away from the door.

"Why the hell are you two here at night?!"

"Oh! Techno! Hi!"

Shit. You were looking into his eyes and you froze when he turned to you. This was the first time you've seen him in years ever since Pogtopia, you hated it. It was embarrassing you tried to become friends long ago, but that failed, and now you were here again. He probably saw you as desperate, coming back to him after betraying him.

"Hello Ghostbur. How are you?" Technoblade walked in between the two of you opening the door to his house. When he walked in he intentionally left the door open for you and Ghostbur. Luckily it was warmer inside and you welcomed it.

"Im good! But we are here for you." Ghostbur cheerfully said.

"Oh really?" Technoblade said while occupying himself with something else, not even bothering to look at the two of you standing awkwardly at his closed door.

"Yeah, Y/N tell him!" Ghostbur urged you on.

You paused for a second before speaking to Technoblade, who wasnt even paying attention. "There's these people called the Butcher Gang."

"Sounds stupid."

"Yeah it is. And they want you."

Techno scoffed. "Want me for what?"

You knew Technoblade was smarter than this. He was bouncing around the room not even sparing a glance towards you. He wasn't paying attention.

"They want to kill you Technoblade."

He stopped all of his movements, stood up to his full height and looked towards you and Ghostbur for the first time you've been in his house.

"You better not be screwing with me."

"Why would I?!" You got offended by his statement.

"I dont know, because you show up to my house out of nowhere and tell me that people are trying to kill me. This could be a setup! I cant trust-"

"Okay! The Butcher Gang is Tubbo, Quackity and Fundy. Thats all I know of who's in the group. They want to kill you because you are a threat to L'Manburg. Trust me!" You cut him off and explained.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Technoblade asked you.

"Dont kill them, but I wanted to warn you. They are being reckless and since you're out here they shouldn't bother you. They're looking for more trouble, Tubbo already has a lot on his plate, this isn't a good idea for you nor L'Manburg."

You finished your statement still weary of this whole situation. You hated being in this situation, Techno's presence didn't make you uncomfortable it was just seeing him and warning him of future danger. You two weren't even considered close, why were you here? You were here for L'Manburg.

"Okay. I'll try. No promises though." Techno smirked and continued doing whatever task he was doing.

You found somewhere to sit for the time being knowing that you two wouldn't talk. Looking around the room you realized that Friend was alone inside the house without Ghostbur. You looked outside and saw him walking from the woods again in a rushed pace. You didn't know he left, he phased back into the house.

"They say they're gonna kill you. Y/n was right." Ghostbur says.

"Were you two leading them to my house?!"

"No."

"No we didn't! We didn't even know they were coming today!" You stood up looking out the window in search of Tubbo and the rest of them.

"Ghostbur who was with them?" You asked as Techno ran around the rooms for weapons and armor.

"Um, Tubbo, Fundy, Quackity..Oh! And Ranboo."

"Ranboo?!" That poor kid. What is he doing?

"Eventhough I hate to say this. I don't trust you. Get out." Technoblade paused infront of you before rushing to the other room. "And tell them I'm not home!"

"And if that dosent work?!" You yelled back.

"Then to hell with them!"

You rushed outside with Ghostbur, hoping that the Butcher Gang dosen't notice you were leaving Technoblade's house. It was too late, they were already lined up outside with full netherite armor and gear.

"Y/n?!"

"Wait what are you doing here?" Tubbo asked as you made your way towards them.

"Im- I wanted to try and rekindle mine and Technoblade's relationship." You used an old lie to get yourself out of this situation. This was an already bad look on you, hopefully your lie would work.

"I thought your friendship ended a long time ago?" Tubbo asked again.

"It did, but I wanted to try again." This was embarrassing, now you really seem desperate.

"I see, then move out of our way." Tubbo asked you harshly.

"Uh- hey." Technoblade came out of his house with full netherite too, you weren't protected, so you will have to stay out of the way.

"Why have you guys come all the way over here to my humble abode?" Technoblade started walking towards his stable where he kelt his horse. He tried to lighten the mood, but it didn't seem to work. As he moved you moved with him trying not to be inbetween the dangerous men with swords and enchanted armor.

"You need to pay for your war crimes." Tubbo said while following Technoblade.

"That was like- that's in the past! Alright, that was a different Technoblade. Im a changed man now! Im in retirement! Im a good person now Tubbo!" Technoblade dragged on as Tubbo just hummed in response.

Quackity spoke up. "Technoblade you exploded L'Manburg with fucking withers."

"You literally spawned Withers everywhere!" Tubbo exclaimed.

"Im sorry, Im sorry Technoblade as much as you changed you have to be brought to justice for that." Quackity interrupted Tubbo.

The Butcher Gang tried to speak to Technoblade at the same time, when Technoblade spoke up over them all.

"Listen guys! I've gone through so much effort over the past month to change my violent ways! I've reformed alright? The voices, they demand blood! And I- I have been denying THEM! Ive been fighting back! Please! Please dont make me kill all of you, please just leave."

You guess he has changed, but you knew somewhere in your mind that he wasn't talking about just the Butcher Gang, he was including you too. You were somewhat confident that you wouldn't be attacked or killed, but you were terribly wrong before.

There was back and forth banter between the two of them. Techno had tried to show the gang his bees and tried to make a run for it.

"Techno!"

"Hey!"

"He's running!"

The gang started running towards him, but instead of continuing he stopped and turned to them. You were trailing behind trying to catch up to them, you kept running after them. You were not equipped for this night, you didn't know Ghostbur was going to bring you out in the open cold. You could hear Ghostbur behind you as you continued to run towards them.

"Y/N you're gonna damage yourself!" Ghostbur's voice became more echoed and further away as you tried to get closer to the gang before they got killed.

"There's no other way."

"Tubbo dont be stupid!" You were right behind the Butcher Gang.

"There's no other way!"

Fuck

"I CHOSE BLOOD!"

A cloud of smoke enveloped the 6 of you and you suddenly could see. You could only see the glint of everyone's armor.

"Y/N get behind us!" Tubbo tried to blocked you off from reaching Technoblade.

"Why didn't you bring any armor?!" Quackity yelled.

"I didn't think i was gonna be fucking out here!"

Technoblade must've set off multiple smoke bombs because the smoke wouldn't stop, the smoke made you woozy, but the others didnt seemed phased by it at all and kept fighting Technoblade. Your lungs felt full, and you felt like passing out, but you wouldn't allow yourself to do so.

"Tubbo stop this!" You yelled out when the smoke cleared a little.

"No! He needs to pay!" He said while fighting with Fundy.

The air was still hazy and you lost sight of people occasionally. Whipping your head around you were met with what felt like the butt of a axe. You quickly saw a split second of a shiny axe and then a pain in your chest spiked up. You double back and tried to recover, but then you've been sliced in the thigh and a deep cut in your side taking you down to the ground. You were bleeding out and desperately trying to heal the wound in your side. You felt your consciousness slowly slip from you as you laid on the snow. The warm contrast of your blood compared to the cold snow was sad. You always get hurt, no matter what you do. It's inevitable, and you finally gotten used to it.

The last thing you heard was yelling, but it slowly faded out.

You were warm, and not in the middle of nowhere anymore. You opened your eyes to see yourself staring at a polished wood ceiling, the soft pillows and blankets around you made everything feel so much better. Your whole body hurts, you dont want to move nor do you want to remember. Thank goodness that someone had patched you up, you didn't want to die. You tried shifting your body but the pain in your side was denying any movement.

"Oh! You're awake thank God!" A voice called out from your side. You looked over to see the half human hafl enderman sitting in a chair by a window. "I thought you weren't gonna wake up! Tubbo and the rest if the cabinet was worried as well."

"Were you the one who patched me up?" You asked carefully.

"Yeah! Luckily I can see in that fog, so I took you away and patched you up." Ranboo smiled.

"Who- who hit me?" You asked trying to sit up again.

Ranboo paused. "Technoblade." Ranboo said in a somber tone.

"I see." You sighed.

Ranboo helped you sit back on the headboard of the bed and you two continued to talk.

"Are you mad at him?"

"Im just upset. Its okay, he said he'll kill all of us so I knew he would." You kept your gaze at you lap.

"Yeah I get it." Ranboo replied.

"I have a question ranboo!" You perked up.

"Yeah? Shoot."

"Why did you join the Butcher Gang?" You asked the taller man. He stayed silent thinking of a right answer before actually speaking.

"They were nice to me. I trust people who are nice to me, that show me kindness and treat me with respect. I know its lame, my answer isn't fully fleshed out, but that's the reason." Ranboo shrugged and you nodded.

You would love to know Ranboo more, he seems like a great guy, but he's just lost.

"Oh! I forgot! You have a letter!" Ranboo walked around the bed and brought out a folded piece of paper and handed it to you.

You unfolded it and began to read.

𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦

𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶

- 𝘋

"Execution site?" You looked towards Ranboo.

"Oh yeah! Technoblade's execution is today an-"

"How the hell did you get him?!" You interrupted him. "Im sorry."

Ranboo looked shocked before composing himself. "Dont worry! Well, we took his horse hostage and he immediately wanted to surrender if we didn't let Carl go." Ranboo gathered stuff around the room. "And the execution is today, happening in a few minutes and I need to be there. I'll be back soon to check up on you!"

You nodded and continued to listen to him.

"Are- are you coming?" Ranboo sent one last glance towards you before making his way out.

"You know you dont HAVE to go." You said trying to ease the tension.

"I know. I really do know." He sighed. "Are you sure you dont want to?"

"No, Im okay." You sent him a smile.

You had lied again. Of course you didn't want to see Technoblade get killed, but that note that was left made you go to the cave. You trudged you way up to said cave, even though the pain in your side was unbearable you continued on. Once you had gotton up to the cave, you peaked inside cautiously. You saw a man in a cloak with a familiar mask on with Technoblade's horse. You knew it was Dream.

"Hello."

"Hello Dream."

"I will cut right to the chase. Take Carl and wait here. I have other work to do." He handed you the reigns to Carl and started to leave.

"Excuse me!? What do I do? Why do I wait here?!" You yelled after him and he just waved you off.

You rolled your eyes and found a stone in the cave to rest against with Carl's reigns lazily in your hands.

You didnt know what time it was, but the sun was slowly going down, it wasn't particularly sunset, but you knew it was late. Your eyes began to close until your heard screaming in the distance. You sat up slowly, now fully alert. You held Carl's reigns tighter as you backed into the cave more and more.

Footsteps were heard in the distance coming up to the cave and you thought if Dream had set you up for failure. The footsteps grew louder until a panting Technoblade appeared at the entrance at the cave. He looked horrible, he was thinking the same thing about you.

You two exchanged no words. You didn't want to say anything, what would you even say? He rushed over to Carl and started petting him. "Carl you're okay!"

You hummed as you and Techno shared a glance. He smiled at you. He smiled at you. It's been so long since you've seen him smile. He didn't need words to communicate, his eyes and smile said enough. You matched his smile and gave him a knowing nod and he did the same.

"Feel better eh?" Technoblade started conversation.

"Not really. What about you?"

"Eh- used a totem of undying just now."

"What?! Really?" You exclaimed. "I guess that's why you're here now huh?"

"Yeah I'll tell you about it sometimes." He smiled and climbed atop of his horse and you could see him thinking. "Im sorry too. You almost died cause of me. Thats is unacceptable, I shouldn't- I shouldn't have attacked you. I couldn't-"

"You cant control it. It's gonna take me awhile to recover, but..." You touched your bandaged cut. "It'll take me some time."

Technoblade nodded knowing what you meant. He could always read your mind somehow, thats what made you two work. Knowing eachother. He sent you one last silent goodbye before riding out of the cave. You knew that trust was somewhat restored, and that you two were better than before. This might be a new beginning.

A very angry Quackity came running around the corner of the cave and spotted you leaving. He whipped his head around to you.

"Hey! Where the fuck is Techno?!" He yelled at you.

"I don't know-"

"Dont bullshit me!"

"I. Don't. Know." You said more sternly. He gave you a hard glare before running away.

You went the opposite way trying to make it back to the room you woke up in before Ranboo came back.

Earlier you were desperately trying to befriend Techno, but things come more naturally you learned. You cant rush things, nor control this world. Things will fall into place, your and Technoblade's friendship will blossom again.

You will never find peace, but that's okay. You should be used to it by now. Everything is chaotic, but everything will be okay.

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.