mindboogling

[ignitingthesky]

if I could meet my adolescent self again now I'd tell me, "the reason you couldn't finish your fanfic is because overwriting chrome with a reincarnated oc is not what you wanted. you missed out you missed out on the truth that you love her and wanted more of her you just didn't know how in a narrative where she barely exists even though that's the whole point of her character, that she is diminished and made to barely exist and take up no space, and taking up the same space as mukuro as refuge gave her a place to be until she could assert her own place in the world. you didn't understand that her independence from mukuro was built upon her dependence on mukuro and did not understand the complexities of her agency in that dependence. now delete your fic and do it again"

[junipernight]

I'm really curious about the "Yangchen fanfic I'd like to see" :) may all your WIPs eventually come to fruition to your liking! 🩵💛

That's my general brainstorm document! There are lots of little snippets that might become their own stories, but I think most of them are coalescing into two bigger stories. One of the stories exists to fill in the gaps in LoY—it's about the things that must have happened at some point, off-page—while the other takes place immediately after the books and is a sea-faring, secret-sharing, found-family-forming voyage called Accompaniment.

I've already shared an excerpt from Accompaniment, so here's an excerpt from Untitled Gap-Filling Story: _________________________________________________________

It wasn’t necessary to cover their tracks; she had no real connection to the apothecary they’d used for their plan, it had simply been conveniently closed for the week.

Yangchen was tired, and Kavik was limping. They walked only as far as the nearest thoroughfare before hailing the first cab that passed.

The cab driver looked weary of picking up the two teenagers—one covered in dust and dirt, and the other in blood—but his ostrich horses took a keen interest in Yangchen, nuzzling their beaks into Yangchen’s hair. The two clambered into the seat before the driver could get away.

When she got back to her official lodgings in the mansion, Yangchen briefly debated taking a long, hot bath, but in the end, her exhaustion outweighed all else. She pulled off her outer robes, washed her face and hands in the wash basin in the corner of the room, and was about to climb into the bed when she noticed that Kavik was still in the room with her. 

She sighed. She would deal with this one final thing, whatever it was, and then she could sleep. 

“What is it?”

“Is it alright if I keep watch tonight?” He asked.

“Do you think Kalyaan would give up his chance to escape to safety with his family?”

Kavik winced at her phrasing, but answered without hesitation.

“No, I don’t think he would. But that doesn’t mean someone else from Chaisee’s association won’t try something.”

Yangchen shrugged. “If it makes you feel better,” she said through a yawn.

“It would.”

“Okay then. Good night.” She crawled into bed, and was asleep before her head hit the pillows.



***



Yangchen awoke to early morning sunlight streaming over her face. The light was dappled, broken up by the latticework screen that shielded the bed from the rest of the room, offering privacy from any watchful eyes that might wait in the room beyond. She turned her head away from the offending light, and nuzzled into the pillows.

Suddenly she leapt out of bed. “Flying hog monkeys, I forgot to heal you!!!” she cried.

Kavik was still sitting at the desk where he’d spent their first night in Taku, and he was still very much awake.

“Good morning to you too,” Kavik grunted in pain. Or possibly amusement. He was wearing his usual cocky smirk, although today it looked more like a grimace.

“Lie on the bed,” she ordered.

“Wow, are you this forward with all of your pretend lovers?” He joked, but he must have been genuinely suffering, because he did as he was told and gingerly got on the mattress. Then he sat there, and stared at her expectantly.

Yangchen cleared her throat. “You’re going to have to take off your tunic,” she said.

“Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t going to until you said something.” 

“Why?” 

“It’d be weird! Do you mind turning around?”

Yangchen made an exasperated sound, and turned away. Behind her she heard the soft rustling of clothes, and then a tiny gasp of pain.

She turned around in time to catch him as he struggled to lay down on his own.

Her experienced healer's eyes took in the bruises(minor), the ribs (all in their correct places), and the stab wound in his side (previously and inexpertly treated, but in need of a fresh bandage).

She drew clean water out of a pitcher on the nightstand and held it suspended overhead with one hand while she undid the gauze wrappings.

Kavik sucked in a breath when the cold water touched his skin. Yangchen’s hands remained steady, passing back and forth as she ran through the diagnostic tests. The puncture wound was neat; Jujinta had managed to create a wound that looked bad, but avoided all organs and arteries. He was that good with a blade. She preferred not to think about how he must have acquired the skill.

Kavik relaxed once the water began to glow. She pushed and pulled the water in and around him, redirecting energy pathways, unblocking qi, weaving tissue back together.

“The knife cut through your abdominal muscles,” she said. “I won’t be able to heal you in one sitting. You should avoid lifting anything heavy for a while.”

“‘kay.”

They were both quiet for a while. The only sound was the swish of water bending, and Kavik’s labored breathing.

“Bandages,” Yangchen muttered to herself. “I need fresh bandages.”

“There’s some in my kuspuk,” said Kavik. “I grabbed extra from the apothecary.”

Yangchen transferred the bloody water back into the pitcher, and went to rummage through the pocket of his kuspuk. Her hands brushed past a few coins, a pocket knife, and a pencil, before closing around a roll of cloth.

That’s when someone knocked at the door.

[aceofsheeps]

ARCANE: Mel’s End Scene Explained

I originally wrote this for my Medium page, 2 years ago(?) but wanted to start posting here too. I prefer the format over on Medium but it be like that. __________________________________________________________ There are many theories already on whether this end scene is just lighting the scene and dramatizing the horror of the ongoing event caused by Jinx, which it no doubt is. It’s a good transition. A slow fade from black, and then a shine of the gold that indicates something dangerous is going to happen. We’ve seen these kinds of things across different animations, anime and cartoons. For example, the common occurrence of this transition is usually visualized by a black screen followed by another effect, such as a silver sparkle of a blade before it’s shot at a protagonist. Unfortunately, I’ve had a difficult time finding examples and the best I could find is Volke’s Lethality from Fire Emblem, but I’m sure you get the point.

re-watching that specific scene again, I’ve noticed a few things that support the theory of Mel having some sort of magical ability. Personally, I believe it includes something similar to foresight, almost like a Spidey-sense.

Right before the rocket makes contact with the window, we see Mel looking at Jayce. She’s smiling after their successful voting on the peace between Piltover and Zaun. However, we can see her expression abruptly change, while Jayce remains the same. She’s alert. Her head tilts upwards like she’s sensing something and she frowns. Seeing as Jayce doesn’t look too concerned in this shot, we can assume it’s something only Mel is aware of. She knows something’s up.

Now the next shot of Mel starts off with a black screen. Then, the gold decoration slowly glows from left to right. We already know this works as just a transition scene and is most likely a reflection of the light above them. She’s our focal point. However, looking closely — although it’s difficult to see in the above GIF — there’s this distortion and chromatic aberration (seen below). It looks like an alarm. She is sensing this attack. This is what gives me the idea that she has some kind of ability to sense incoming danger. To add to this, if you listen to the scene at first you hear the rocket, but then it grows quiet. And after this brief silence you hear a musical-esque ringing. Something magical is happening here. However, given the first scene, she notices it before she starts to glow. This means this isn’t the source of her ability to sense anything but maybe an effect being activated.

Next up is her attire. You can see that the back of her dress covers a majority of the gold decorative onlay. However, when the scene comes you can see way more than what we should be able to see, assuming the black portion of her dress is transparent. If the purpose of showing the entire design — of whatever you want to call her gold decoration — wasn’t to imply some sort of ability, showing just the portion you’d expect to see off of her would do just fine. Unless of course, they just wanted a reason to show off her design. Given what we know about Arcane so far, it’s unlikely this was the only reasoning.

The three factors that lead me to believe there’s more than just editing tricks going on here are Mel’s expression and reaction, the effects surrounding her, and her attire overall. We also know this is something added on once she became older, as the younger version of her has no gold on her body whatsoever. It’s also likely now a permanent part of her as we never see her without it afterwards, meaning this could be a defensive tool or effect.

On a side note, the design looks similar to Zhonya’s Hourglass. Does anyone else see this or just me?

If Mel was a champion in League, how do you think they would go about fitting in this supposed ability to sense danger? A passive shield that activates upon taking damage perhaps?

[crossdressingdeath]

Forgive me, Father, for I cannot help but admire the Chosen of your sworn foe: Enver Gortash's genius will take us far, but fear not - those of Bane always fall to the same folly: they cannot see the beauty of obliteration. The Absolute hoax will garner false love from new slaves, but once I've built a large enough army, I will use our hold upon the Absolute's slaves to begin this vile world's end. I can see the path through Gortash's brilliant plan. Gortash, Ketheric and I will seize the Netherese relics that control the Crown, and then use the Crown to command the illithid Grand Design. The Dead Three, age-old foes, our dire patrons, will be bosom friends for a time. Father, you created me to be the last soul alive. When the time is right, and my power is assured, I will slaughter Gortash and Ketheric upon your altar, where I myself hope to die when the world itself is gasping its last. At the end of this all, Father, there will not be a single creature living. Everyone will die. Everyone will die for YOU. I will make you proud. [Note appended at the bottom of the page in a different hand] Ha! Orin was right about her sibling. - Balth.

First off: so this whole plan is a deal between the Dead Three? I knew Ketheric had ties to Myrkul and the Bhaalists' affiliation is right there in the name, but I didn't realize Gortash served Bane. That's interesting. Also incredibly concerning, I am very worried about whatever's got these three working together, it can't be good for life in Faerûn. Guess that explains why they're important enough to get loading screen text...

Anyway, more importantly! Did Durge write this?! Is this what got them tadpoled, were they planning to betray the other Chosen to end the world and Orin ratted them out? They don't comment on it at all, not even to recognize their handwriting, but given the amnesia and brain damage situation that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Getting some really strong daddy's kid energy from this, too. Like, they're going to end the damn world and kill everyone alive to make Daddy proud, that's... unhealthy. That's an unhealthy thing to do for parental validation. Don't do that. Although I suppose that does explain why they wanted the Slayer so badly, given it seems to be like. the ultimate expression of Bhaal's favour. Working on the assumption that Durge did write this I can't wait for Bhaal to actually make an appearance, I'm sure it'll be awful in the best way possible. The bit about them being created to be the last soul alive and them fully intending to die on Bhaal's altar at the end is also... a lot. Please can the party return the "let's help our friends escape the conditioning and/or control of the shitty incredibly powerful being who's been fucking up their lives" favour if/when Durge regains their memories, because I'm sure that's going to cause problems. And it seems like Orin did rat them out somehow, which... seems odd, given you'd think this would be her ultimate goal as well. If I had to make a guess I'd say either she's not quite as loyal to their father as Durge is, Durge got a touch overzealous in deciding what their father's will actually was, or this is Orin's goal too and she just wants the glory of being the one to enact it. Or maybe she decided that given Durge wrote this shit down they weren't smart enough. I hope they at least intended to destroy it...

Also: I haven't even met Gortash yet and I think I'm already starting to see why people ship him with Durge. I mean that "Forgive me, Father, for I cannot help but admire the Chosen of your sworn foe" bit? The note itself is called something like Prayer for Forgiveness (I don't remember the exact name and I can't find it on the wiki but I'm certain it talks about forgiveness, if I'd thought of it I'd have made a note of it but I didn't), so the apology is very much the reason why this was written! It has the same energy as apologizing to your parents for falling for the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I feel. And an excellent opportunity for enemies to lovers...

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Thirteen

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Anger Growing

Summary: Spock and (Y/N) realize a strange entity is manipulating the anger between the Klingons and Enterprise crew, but the danger is only just beginning.

            As (Y/N), Spock, and the rest of the crew watched the viewing screen as the Enterprise flew into space at breakneck speed. (Y/N)’s eyes only left the screen when their communications console beeped. They read the message, and they frowned.

            “Captain, reports coming in from the lower decks. Emergency bulkheads have closed,” said (Y/N). The situation was getting stranger and worse. “Almost four hundred crewmen are trapped down there, sir.”

            For a moment, anger swirled around Kirk, and then he turned around and stormed into the elevator. “Spock, get control of the ship. (L/N), get through to Starfleet Command. I’m going to have a talk with our saboteurs.” He disappeared into the elevator.

            “I doubt that the Klingons are behind these occurrences,” said Spock, taking a seat at the command. “They have been confined for quite some time.”

            “I agree,” said (Y/N). “But everyone seems to be jumping to conclusions.” A beep appeared on their console, and they clicked it on. “Bridge.”

            “Bridge! Klingons are on the loose! They are armed and dangerous!” The urgent officer’s voice switched to a cry and the sound of metal hitting metal.

            No phasers? thought (Y/N). “Understood.” They switched to the general radio. “Attention: Alert, armed Klingons are roaming the Enterprise. Be prepared for every eventuality.” They didn’t approve of violence for no reason, but if there was a battle starting, they knew the crew had to defend themselves.

            The elevator doors slid open, and Kirk, panting, stepped through. He held a sword in his hand and passed it to Spock as he ran to his chair.

            “The Klingons are free—armed as we are, they’ll try to take the ship,” he said urgently. (Y/N) and Spock exchanged a look and took a step closer without thinking while Kirk paged Scotty. “Scotty, how many men do we have?”

            “392 trapped below deck,” said Scotty.

            “Deploy forces to protect your section and the Auxiliary Control Center,” ordered Kirk. “Check the Armory and try and free those trapped crewmen.”

            “The doors and bulkheads won’t budge,” said Scotty. “We’ll have to cut through.”

            “Blow out the bulkheads if you have to, we need numbers!” urged Kirk.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. Kirk was behaving more like a general than a Captain. Yes, they needed more people, but the aggression and the anger was very un-Kirk-like. Not to mention, he wasn’t questioning the appearance of swords onboard, and (Y/N) thought that should be addressed.

            “What kind of luck have you had controlling the ship’s speed?” continued Kirk.

            “No, sir,” said Scotty regretfully. “She’s a projectile at warp 9. And don’t ask me what’s holding her together.”

            “Five minute reports, Scotty. Kirk out.” Kirk turned off the radio and turned to (Y/N) and Spock. “(L/N), check for alerts from the crew and for communication to Starfleet Command. Spock, I need a full sensor scan of the ship. Report on any movements by the Klingons.” He faced them both and held up a small dagger he also had with himself. “The Klingon Empire has long maintained a dueling tradition. They think they can beat us with swords.”

            “Captain, neither our nor the Klingon technology can transform phasers into swords,” remarked (Y/N). “I doubt they are responsible.” As they spoke, they felt their phaser turn to a sword at their side. Whatever was happening was spreading.

            Spock nodded in agreement and internally decided that although he always found (Y/N) attractive, there was something especially engaging about them being logical. Or, in plain terms, Spock found that (Y/N) being logical made him fall even deeper in love with them.

            “Any other logical candidate?” said Kirk, the anger still radiating around him.

            “No, but they are not a candidate, either,” said (Y/N).

            Spock nodded. “I concur. If they had such power, would they not have used it to create more effective weapons and only for themselves?”

            (Y/N) and Spock waited for a response, but Kirk just turned away to address Sulu. (Y/N) furrowed their brow. If Kirk wasn’t willing to listen to such basic logic, that didn’t spell out well for the situation.

            “Mr. Sulu, get below,” said Kirk. “Take command of Emergency and Auxiliary Control.”

            “Aye, sir,” said Sulu, leaving the Bridge.

            “Captain!” said Chekov.

            “Mr. Chekov,” replied Kirk.

            “Captain…” Chekov held his sword tightly.

            “As you were, Chekov,” said Kirk, and (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief. At least Kirk wasn’t letting Chekov, the angriest due to his brother (which was strange to learn about), run around. Chekov ignored him and darted up. “Chekov!”

            “Sir! Let me go, too!” said Chekov. He held the sword in front of himself as Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) eyed it warily. “I’ve got a personal score to settle with the Klingons.”

            “This is no time for a vendetta. Maintain your post,” ordered Kirk.

            “Captain!” urged Chekov, anger growing hotter, and (Y/N) stepped back.

            “Chekov, maintain your post!” shouted Kirk.

            “Don’t try to stop me, Captain,” warned Chekov. “I saw what they left of Piotr. I swore on his grave I would avenge his murder.” He backed into the elevator and escaped.

            Sulu stared at where his friend had disappeared in surprise. “What’s Chekov’s grudge against the Klingons?”

            “We didn’t know, but apparently he had a brother, Piotr, that was killed by them,” said (Y/N).

            Sulu frowned. “Chekov never had a brother. He’s an only child.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. Now that was strange. Every bit of this situation was being manipulated by something. It couldn’t be the Klingons, and it wasn’t them. But something was causing all of this to happen. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They needed to keep an eye out. It seemed they and Spock were some of the only people left with logical minds.

            “Sulu, get down to Engineering,” said Kirk.

            “Aye, sir.” Sulu left.

            Kirk pressed the communications button. “Security, this is the Captain. Find Mr. Chekov and bring him to the Bridge.”

            “Why would Chekov believe he has a brother?” wondered Uhura, and (Y/N) nearly grinned. Of course they could rely on Uhura to keep her head more than the others.

            “I don’t know,” said (Y/N). “But something is happening, and we need to figure out what it is. He wants revenge for a non-existent loss.” Their eyes swept over the Bridge. “He’s angry like the rest of you.”

            “Angry?” remarked Spock.

            “Not you, dear,” said (Y/N), patting his arm. “But, Captain, can you honestly say you’ve been making decisions not based in anger?”

            “I…” Kirk frowned as if he was struggling to think. “I don’t know.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Whatever was affecting all of them was affecting their minds as well as the physical world. Fine, then. (Y/N) could play that game. If they figured out what was causing this, there was no one better than them to handle it.

            “What are you thinking, T’hy’la?” murmured Spock.

            “I’m thinking something is changing our minds and the Enterprise to make us angry, make us want to fight,” said (Y/N). “I have no proof, but this isn’t natural.”

            “I agree,” said Spock. “You are the authority on the mind. What do you suggest?”

            “Until I know what’s causing this and why, I don’t know how to fight it. However, you and I can try to keep everything from getting worse. We’re the only ones with our minds still,” said (Y/N).

            “Understood,” said Spock. “If you sense anything, alert me.”

            “I will,” said (Y/N).

            “Scott here, sir,” said Scotty over the comms.

            “Kirk here,” responded the Captain.

            “There’s no use trying to free those men down below. The phaser torches, they won’t cut through the bulkheads or the doors or the decks,” said Scotty. “There’s something happened to the metal.”

            Spock glanced at (Y/N). Yet another fact that confirmed that, although the others weren’t seeing it, something was affecting them all.

            “What about the Armory?” asked Kirk.

            “I’m there now, sir,” said Scotty. “And you never saw such a fine collection of antiques in your life.”

            Kirk sighed. “Get back to Engineering. Try and reestablish engine control. And talk to Ordinance about manufacturing phaser replacements.”

            “Aye, sir.” Scotty closed communications.

            Kirk got up and walked over to (Y/N) and Spock’s work stations. “What in the blazes is going on?”

            “(Y/N) suspects something is affecting our moods and the ship itself,” said Spock. “I am inclined to believe them, though we have little proof.”

            Kirk frowned. “Why would something be making this mess? It doesn’t make sense.”

            “Perhaps not, but there does seem to be some form of logic to what is going on. Scans show that our forces and those of the Klingons are exactly equal at thirty-eight each. That is quite a precise number,” said Spock. “The Klingons also control Deck 6 and starboard Deck 7 while we control all sections above.”

            “We’re on equal footing,” said (Y/N).

            “Ah.” Spock straightened from his scanner, and (Y/N) and Kirk looked at him. “I found have an anomaly. There appear to be more life-energy units aboard than can be accounted for by the presence of the Enterprise crew plus the Klingons. A considerable discrepancy.”

            “So we do have something else here,” said (Y/N). They were right.

            “We cannot be quite sure yet, but I shall attempt a compensatory reading to identify if this is a discrepancy or a correct reading,” said Spock. He fiddled with the controls and straightened again. “No, my original readings were correct. And (Y/N)’s theory now has proof. What we have aboard is an alien life force, a single entity. I cannot, however, ascertain a location.”

            “An alien life force,” repeated Kirk. “We must make contact, find out what it wants.”

            “Readings being diverted to the library computer for analysis,” said Spock.

            The computer buzzed. “Alien life force on board is composed of pure energy. Type unknown. Actions indicate intelligence and purpose.”

            “What purpose?” asked (Y/N).

            “Insufficient data for further analysis,” reported the computer.

            “Could it be the cause of the strange occurrences on board, such as the phasers changing into swords?” asked (Y/N).

            “Insufficient data for further analysis,” reported the computer, and (Y/N) sighed in frustration.

            “A nonexistent brother, a phantom colony, imaginary distress calls, the creation of these weapons…I believe you’ve found the pattern, (L/N),” said Kirk. He grimaced. “And now it has control of the Enterprise and is taking us out of the galaxy. But why?”

            “Captain, I am constrained to point out that since minds are evidently being influenced, we cannot know at this moment whether our own memories are completely accurate and true,” said Spock.

            “Then we have to make sure we don’t jump to any conclusions or assumptions,” said (Y/N).

            Kirk nodded. “We must talk to Kang, bury the hatchet.”

            “An appropriate choice of terms, Captain,” remarked Spock. (Y/N) chuckled. “However, it is notoriously difficult to arrange a truce with the Klingons once blood has been drawn.”

            “A truce?” snapped a familiarly grouchy voice. Bones was on the Bridge. “Are you serious? I’ve got men in Sick Bay, some of them dying. Atrocities committed on their persons! And you talk about making peace with these fiends? If our backs were turned, they’d jump us in a minute. And you know what Klingons do with prisoners—slave labor, death planets, experiments!”

            “Bones—”

            Bones cut Kirk off. “While you’re talking, they’re planning attacks. This is a fight to the death! And we’d better start trying to win it.”

            “We’d prefer to end it, Bones,” said (Y/N) firmly.

            “By reason, preferably,” said Spock.

            “There is an alien aboard that created this situation, engineered the fighting,” said (Y/N).

            “Who cares what started it?” snapped Bones. “We’re in it! Those murderers…we should wipe out every one of them!”

            “The alien is the real threat,” said Kirk firmly. Now that there was proof staring him in the face of it, the alien’s manipulations couldn’t affect him as strongly, and he had his priorities back. “That’s the enemy we need to wipe out.”

            “Sick Bay calling, Doctor,” said Uhura, taking Bones’s attention. “There are more wounded men requiring your attention.

            Bones took a final glare at (Y/N), Spock, and Kirk. “How many more men must die before you two begin to act like military men instead of fools?” He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

            Kirk let out an exhausted breath when the bosun whistled. He wouldn’t get any rest until this mess was sorted out. He pressed the button to answer. “Kirk here.”

            “This is Kang,” came the reply.

            Kirk straightened, looked at (Y/N), and nodded. He knew what he needed to do. “Kang, there’s something important I must discuss with you.”

            “I have captured your Engineering section, and now this ship’s power and life-support systems,” said Kang, ignoring Kirk’s statement.

            (Y/N) tensed, and they, Kirk, and Spock exchanged glances.

            “I have deprived all areas, except our own. You will die of suffocation in the icy cold of space,” sneered Kang. Communications cut off.

            The Bridge crew looked at each other wildly, and (Y/N) touched Spock’s arm. The Enterprise was speeding out of the galaxy, the ship and its people were being influenced by an alien, and the Klingons had the crew’s lives in their hands.

            (Y/N)’s hand slid to Spock’s and gripped it tightly. The situation was hitting rock bottom.

            Kirk leapt into action. “Mr. Sulu.”

            “Captain,” said Sulu, who had returned finally from the skirmish that had overtaken Engineering.

            “Get down to Emergency Manual Control. Try to protect our life-support circuits and auxiliary power,” commanded Kirk.

            “Aye, Captain,” said Sulu, leaving.

            As he exited, Scotty walked onto the Bridge from the elevator.

            “Scotty?” said Kirk, standing as he saw Scotty with a sword in his hand.

            (Y/N) stepped back as a wave of red-hot anger flew around Scotty.

            “Chekov was right, Captain!” cried Scotty.

            “Scotty, I’m glad they found you,” said Kirk thankfully.

            “We should have left those fuzz-faced goons in the transporter. That’s right where they belong!” declared Scotty fervently.

            “Scotty,” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow in horror at his words. That wasn’t Scotty at all.

            “Nonexistence!” cried Scotty. “Now they can study the Enterprise, add our technology to theirs, change the balance of power!” Kirk reached out to calm Scotty, and the Scotsman reared at him. “You’ve jeopardized the Federation!”

            Spock reached out to either calm Scotty or knock him out, whichever was needed, but Scotty jumped back.

            “Keep your Vulcan hands off me!” shouted Scotty.

            “Scotty, we’re your friends, we’re not trying to hurt you,” said (Y/N), speaking calmly.

            “Don’t use your abilities on me!” said Scotty.

            (Y/N) blinked. “Scotty, I wouldn’t.”

            “What are your feelings hurt? Yours, sure, but I doubt he has any ‘feelings,’ the green-blooded half-breed!” shouted Scotty.

            “Scotty!” snapped (Y/N). They knew it was the alien affecting his quickness to anger, but it was still a horrible thing to say to Spock.

            Spock’s gaze hardened imperceptibly. Only (Y/N) saw his emotionless expression had grown colder. “May I say that I have not thoroughly enjoyed serving with humans. I find their illogic and foolish emotions a constant irritant.”

            “Then transfer out, freak,” sneered Scotty.

            Spock took a step closer to Scotty, silent. Scotty raised his sword, and Spock grabbed his wrist and raised his other hand.

            “Spock,” said (Y/N), pushing Scotty back and grabbing Spock’s wrist. For a moment, they let their emotions connect with his, and he blinked as he realized what had happened. “Don’t let the alien manipulate you, too. Scotty doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

            Behind them, Kirk pushed Scotty back and watched warily. Scotty had been shocked from Spock’s attack and gotten scared, driving the height of his anger away. From experience, they all knew Spock was stronger than them, so he was the threat if he were to lose control. Fortunately, (Y/N)’s words, logical and precise while laced with their love for Spock, cleared his mind.

            “Yes, of course. Quite logical.” Spock put down his hands, and (Y/N) let go. “My apologies for the outburst.”

            “What are we saying?” said Kirk, looking around at them all. “What are we doing to each other?”

            “Fascinating. The alien’s power is increasing,” observed Spock. “It seems (Y/N) is the only one relatively unaffected since they are in touch with their emotions in a way we are not.” (Y/N) nodded in confirmation.

            “And it’s left us and the Klingons as equal forces against each other.” Kirk’s eyes widened. “A war has been staged for us, complete with weapons and ideology and patriotic drumbeating. Even…race hatred.”

            Spock nodded. “The alien seems to be set on a magnification of the basic hostilities between humans and Klingons. It is indeed by design that we fight.”

            “It’s all being engineered,” said (Y/N), putting their hands on their hips. “We’re the alien’s pawns.”

            “But what’s the game?” wondered Kirk.

            “I have no idea, but we need to find the alien entity as soon as possible, figure out what it’s doing, and stop it from continuing to manipulate us,” said (Y/N), and Spock nodded in agreement, watching them with pure adoration as they acted on logic so perfectly.

            “Without sensors?” cried Scotty. “All our power down? This thing could go anywhere!”

            “Yes,” said Kirk, frowning. Then, his bosun whistled, and he answered instantly, worried that more things were going wrong.

            “Captain,” said Sulu.

            “Report,” said Kirk.

            “No good, Captain. Circuits are in, but systems just aren’t responding,” said Sulu.

            Nonetheless, the lights returned to the Bridge.

            “We’re getting something,” said Kirk.

            “Aye, Captain,” reported Sulu. “Power and life-support restored. Remotes on standby.”

            “Good work,” said Kirk.

            “But, Captain, I didn’t do it,” pointed out Sulu. “Everything just…came on by itself.”

            The alien had turned it back on. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. It still needed them alive. It wanted its engineered battle to continue.

            “Captain,” said Spock suddenly as his scanner went off. Kirk and (Y/N)’s heads turned to him. “Alien detected. In the Engineering section, near reactor number three.”

            “Let’s go,” said Kirk.

            Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) picked up their swords. It was time to act instead of waiting around.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

[lgctaeha]

╭  ✿ MTBD ! ╯

TEAM UNKNOWN 002 ; RAP LESSONS

"I can do it better! Really - !"

Taeha's silenced by the swift wave of two manicured fingers and a firm shhh! The coach's eyes are fixed on the iPad placed on the table between them, the sound of Taeha's first try at performing a few rap snippets filling the room. She's never been one to shy away from reviewing her performances, but listening to herself now was almost as excruciating as sitting through her first year communications lectures. The coach finally pauses the clip and hums. It was one of those hums. The kind of 'hum' that signals to a trainee already bursting at the seams with nerves that what she just presented was nothing short of -

'Impressive.'

"Wh - what?"

The coach nods once, scribbling a few quick notes onto the notepad at her side. 'You've improved a lot already.'

"R - really?! So... you - You don't hate it?"

'I do not,' the coach's usually stern tone softens, but her hand continues to steadily move along the lines of the page, leaving Taeha on edge. 'Relax. This isn't an evaluation. Breathe. In and out.' Taeha promptly obliges, sucking in a deep breath and quickly pushing it out, her shoulders drooping forward a bit. How long had she even been holding her breath for?! 'We still have a lot of work to do,' the coach adds, sliding the device across the table for Taeha to view. 'I want you to rewatch this section, but without sound.'

Although she can't help responding with a slight frown, she nods and leans forward to watch the clip with somewhat of an open mind. It is a bit bizarre to see herself this way - Brows furrowed and head moving this way and that, her hands flailing somewhat wildly in various gestures. Her coach reaches over to pause. 'What do you think?'

"I think... I think that I definitely need to work on my facial expressions? I look a bit..."

'Ridiculous? Yes." Wouldn't be her first choice of descriptor, but there was little room to argue. Taeha shrinks in her seat, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "I guess.. I was just really trying to be like the artists you sent me? I watched so many performances and everyone is just so... It just seems so..." she trails off, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "I... I just don't know if I'm cut out for this kind of thing? I'm not really - I'm not very - "

'Uh huh,' the coach hums once again, pen still going. Taeha leans forward, trying to take a quick peek but the notepad is quickly tucked under the coach's chin. 'If you think you're not cut out for this kind of thing, then you're not.' Her heart sinks in her chest, eyes already beginning to well at the coach's instant ( a little too instant, if you'd asked her ) agreement. 'But,' she adds, playing the clip once more. There's a brief moment at the end of her reel where'd she'd clearly forgotten a lyric. She glances off camera into space, first staring blankly and then putting on a bright grin as the words finally come to her, wiggling back into center with her eye smile in full view. 'That. That did not look ridiculous. That is a Taeha that's cut out for this. That is rapper Taeha I want to see.'

"You... you want me to forget my lines?!"

'N - No, Taeha. I want you to be yourself! That's the whole reason you were chosen for this role. If we wanted another Kim Nayoon or CL, we would've gotten an impressionist. We want to see what you bring to the rap position. In this entire reel all I saw you do was mimic what you think a good rapper looks like. But that girl -' she emphasizes with a tap of her nail against the screen. 'That girl has the potential to be a great rapper. If she learns to relax. Breath in and out.'

Taeha gives a hum of her own, swiping away the tear that had still threatened to slip down her cheek - this time in relief instead of worry. "Breathe in and out," she repeats, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

'Good. Now, I want to hear you do those lines again, bar for bar, without all the... Whatever that was,' the coach chuckles, navigating to her sounds to play the selected track. Taeha sits back up in her seat, eyes wide and silently reminding herself to just breathe.

[vitruvian23]

Hey, you sent me a reply on that Bucky-Steve post, I have the notification for it but can't read what you wrote. do you remember what you typed? the stupid note on my activity page will bother me otherwise i can imagine. :)

Yeah, sorry, looks like replies were closed on the post just as I put it in, and it doesn't appear there for me any longer either.

Don't recall my exact wording, but basically I go by what's shown and told on the screen in the actually released film(s) and shows, over even writer's room Word of God, especially when the latter contradicts what the directors and producers and even actors have said. As such,

We know Steve stopped off in 1948 for that promised dance with Peggy, and what Old Mr. Rogers then says about having lived a wonderful life at least implies that he stuck around and they had a happy marriage - although he doesn't share details about what that entailed.

The rules of Endgame time travel as explained in the movie means that he doesn't affect his own past history in the main movie timeline, just as the Thanos of 2014 learning about Pym particles and using them to travel to the present and get dusted by Tony doesn't mean that suddenly the Blip never happened.

Therefore, there is at least one long-lasting timeline in which Steve of the main movieverse has changed the fate of at least Peggy and himself and we are led to believe they are happy together for many years. Whatever the TVA's general policy of pruning such timelines before He Who Remains is eliminated and the multiverse explodes into numerous possibilities again, at least this one is allowed to last for decades and decades, otherwise Old Mr. Rogers couldn't have lived through them.

We can therefore conclude that a) MainSteve is not averse to branching off and changing the history of an alternate timeline he's living in and b) he is able to maintain a stable relationship with the Peggy Carter of said alternate timeline.

If 4a is true, then there is no reason to believe he would be averse to making further changes that seem like an improvement to the original history, and even if he's tired, retired, and done at this point, Peggy Carter is likely to do so - because there's no way that 4b is true if Steve even tries to keep Big Secrets like Zola reforming Hydra as a parasite organization within SHIELD or Bucky's current whereabouts or the future assassination of their mutual friend Howard from her for decades. First off, she's Peggy Carter, it is practically inevitable she'll eventually find out and then either kick him to the curb or downright kill him, but even if that were not the case I submit that Steve, even after what he's lived through, wouldn't even think of trying to hide stuff from her. And categorically speaking, if he were, that wouldn't actually be a happy marriage or a wonderful life with all that hanging over the relationship.

Even more long-winded than the first one, but I think my logic based solely on what we see on screen holds up.

[tarlos-spain]

I'm so excited to start posting this work. I have to say that if it exists is thanks to @fandomtrumpshate and it's thanks to @trickzill-art that decided to ask me for an original work.

So here it is.

Summary: Santi has had the luck of writing a best seller, but now, a year later, seems like he can't come up with anything else. Not until he met Joseph, a young barista with big dreams for the future. Thanks to him, Santi finds new motivation, just like Joseph is reminded of what is really worth fighting for.

Chapter 01

Santiago took the book from the shelf. "The Beat of a Rebel Heart" was the title his publisher had recommended for his first novel. It had seemed stupid, he had tried to come up with his own ideas but none of them had convinced the publisher.

"You've decided to launch yourself on the market under a pseudonym, I think it's perfect." Oliver, his publisher, had told him when they were talking about the promotion of the first novel. "But that also takes away your visibility. You'll never be Santiago Carreras, the young promise of gay young adult novels. If all goes well, your book will have a movie on Netflix or Hulu, but no one will link it to anyone but Berta Carros. Are you sure by the way with that name?"

"It was my grandmother's name, she got me started writing, she read my first stories and told me I had talent, while my father told me I wouldn't get anywhere with words. I owe it all to her."

"Ok, Berta Carros it is, then...I still think we could find something more commercial like Vanesa de la Fuente or something like that."

"It doesn't impress me that you call my book whatever you want." Santiago told him. "But my pen name won't be touched."

The book had been a success. Sales were higher than other books of the same style or so Oliver had told him, after all Santiago didn't care about those kind of numbers; his passion was writing, he had his first book for sale and by the looks of it a huge part of the potential audience for stories about gay teens liked it.

Soon half the bookstores in the city had copies of his book and New York was full of bookstores everywhere. Amazon picked up on the success and sales of the digital version began to climb and not just in English. His book was selling in Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, French and German.

Within months, the name Berta Carros had fan pages on Facebook, Tumblr and one day, Sandra, his best friend, sent him some links to some well-known sites where people were writing fanfiction. They had started writing things with his characters, Robert and Myles.

He put the book back on the shelf, although he moved it to the right place. Someone had put it in the romance section, along with Wild Love at the Ranch and The Executive and the Carpenter.

No one remembered his book anymore, it had been an incredible few months, but it was over as quickly as it had come. A year later, Berta Carros was only remembered by the few remaining fans of his book, those who were waiting for a sequel that Santiago knew would never come and those who wondered when Berta Carros would release his second book for sale.

Oliver, his publisher wondered that too, almost every day now and that day when he heard and noticed the vibration of his phone in his pocket, he realized it was no different.

"O. Talbot" was written on the screen of his phone. He stepped out of the bookstore, took a sharp breath and answered the call.

"Santiago, my boy, how's it going?"

"Oliver you called me yesterday, I assure you my life hasn't changed at all."

"Hmmm, I'm not going to say I like hearing that, but tell me you're still writing."

"I'm still writing, yes, but I can't confirm to you that I have Berta's next book in hand."

"Do you know when that will be?"

"Oliver, you ask me that same question every day and you know what the answer is.”

"Yeah, yeah. You don't function well under pressure, but Santiago, a year ago you decided to enter the world of literature and as romantic as writers' lives may have seemed in the past, we all have a deadline now, I as an editor have a minimum number of books to submit to those at the top and for that, you writers have to submit your manscripts to me. It's a chain that has to work perfectly."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'm trying to come up with the perfect story. I don't want to write something mediocre or...."

"Santiago, boy." He hated it when Oliver or anyone else called him that, with that tone of superiority. "We're talking about books that sell to teenagers and adult women who..."

"Oliver. I wrote my first book to tell my own story of that teenage boy who does coming out, who stands up to his parents, who shows them who he really is, and who falls in love."

"Yeah, yeah, it was a very nice and sentimental book, I won't deny it." Oliver said and then there was silence. Santiago figured he was looking for the best words not to bother him anymore and not gamble that he would go to another publisher with his new book, when he had it written. "What I wanted to say is that I'm not asking you to write the new Divine Comedy, it doesn't even have to be a book as special as your first novel. I just need Berta Carros to have a new book on the market for the Christmas campaign, do you think that would be possible?"

"Well, it's nine months."

"Exactly it's like a pregnancy, it's going to be our baby, Santiago, boy."

Santiago felt like cutting the call short when he heard that. Oliver Talbot wasn't his favorite person in the world, but he was the one who had put his trust in him with his first book. He owed him that much.

"I guess I can make an effort and get something out."

"Would you have a general idea for the day after tomorrow?"

"The day after tomorrow?" Santiago asked, stopped in the middle of the street and stared at nothing. "Well, I guess I can get a couple of days out and we can discuss them."

"Great! That was precisely what I wanted to hear. Talk to you in two days."

Oliver cut the call short almost before Santiago could say goodbye.

After the call he needed a coffee, a large one just the way he liked it, with cream, cinnamon, lots of vanilla and chocolate chips. He was not far from his favorite coffee shop, the place where he had found much of the inspiration to write his first novel.

He was sure that there he could find what he needed to get his second book off the ground.

But first he needed a coffee.

It was almost noon when he entered. In the mornings and especially on weekends, the Finca del café was a busy place because of the number of cyclists, teams, families and friends who passed by for breakfast. But at noon like now, the café was usually emptier and quieter, the perfect place to sit with his computer next to the coffee he so desperately needed.

He didn't have to look at the coffee list, he didn't need to in order to make his exact request. He walked up to the counter, he knew all the baristas that worked there. Connor usually took note of what he wanted and often didn't even ask him what he wanted because he already knew them.

"What can I get you?" said an unfamiliar voice that made him look up.

A pair of green eyes, a luminous smile and slightly tousled light brown hair completed him over a tag with Joseph's name buttoned to the shirt.

The barista was new, or at least, he had never seen him before. He would certainly remember him, because he was the most handsome man Santiago had seen in a long time.

"Chocolate mocha, not too hot."

"To go?"

"No, I'll take it here, I usually spend a lot of mornings here, working."

"Oh," Joseph picked up one of the cups and a marker, with an even wider smile on his lips. "That sounds like you're a big shot. Writer looking for inspiration for his next book? Have you written anything I might have read?"

"I had a book out last year. It had some success, but I don't think you know it. Plus I wrote it under a pseudonym."

"I read a little bit of everything. Come on, test me, maybe I’m making your coffee and I’m a fan of yours, even if I don’t know it."

Santiago reacted with a nervous chuckle at the barita's charming laugh.

"I don't think so, but okay. "The beat of a rebellious heart."

Joseph was filling the coffee cup with the milk and then the foam, but stopped short and looked up to Santiago and stared at him like someone looking at an impossible apparition of a ghost.

"You're not serious." Joseph sentenced. "You haven't written that book, because "The Beat of a Rebel Heart" is written by a woman, Berta Carros and I can't wait for her to write her next book."

"That's a long way off because Berta doesn't even have an idea for her next novel."

Joseph opened his mouth, but closed it and gasped again like a fish sticking its head out of the water. He stood there, staring at Santiago as his boss tried to get his attention from the other end of the bar.

"Wait, you are serious. You wrote 'The Beat of a Rebel Heart'. You're Berta Carros."

Santiago put a finger to his lips. He hated having used that name, hated having had that stupid idea to create the pseudonym for himself. At first he hadn't been proud to write a novel for teenagers, no matter how much it was a story of two boys falling in love and then it had caught the critics' attention because of the realism Berta had demonstrated. By then, Berta Carros had made a name for herself with her first book and Oliver Talbot had thought it a good idea to keep her there and use the same pseudonym on subsequent books.

Joseph set the cup of coffee in front of him, one twice as big as he had ordered and as he was about to say something to the barista, the barista put a finger to his lips smiling.

"I've already told you that you're my favorite author. It's a gift."

Santiago accepted it as Joseph went to make the next coffee, retired to his usual table, put down his coffee, pulled out his computer and headphones, put his cell phone on charge and took a seat.

He stood there for a moment watching the barista work, talking to his colleagues, laughing, being charming to the customers and not noticing that there were two girls in line waiting to be served by him, amidst the silly giggles at how much they liked the barista.

He opened the computer and looked at the blank page of the blank document he had not yet started working on. He took a deep breath, he had been having small panic attacks for days at the thought of trying to write something for his new story.

And suddenly, the image of Joseph about ten years younger appeared in front of him, as if from a movie. Teenage Joseph, full of dreams, wanting to be... Joseph wanted to help everyone, in high school wanting to make everyone around him happy. That Joseph wanted to be a doctor... no, a veterinarian.

Little by little his new protagonist began to take the shape of the green-eyed barista with the perfect, radiant smile in front of him.

"A latte and a chai tea, please." Said a woman in a suit to Joseph as she gestured towards the table where her partner was seated.

"Good morning Susan, are you setting up a meeting with the folks in New York?"

The woman gave him an uncomfortable look because the barista was talking to her beyond too hot or not hot enough that she wanted coffee. She nodded nervously and paid to walk away to the end of the bar where her order was to be delivered.

"Why do you keep trying?" Amara leaned on the counter next to Joseph and rubbed his back. "People don't want to talk about their private lives with you. You're not their friend and they don't expect your advice over coffee, unless it’s about the perfect cookies to take away."

"But it's so cold, Mar. When I imagined myself working here behind the bar, I imagined I knew the people, many would be the same every day at the same time and that would gradually give us some familiarity."

"You've seen a lot of movies, haven't you?"

"It's not that. It's my dream, that's the kind of coffee shop I want to work in, the one I want to have."

Amara laughed and patted him on the back a couple of times. "So now you want to have your own coffee shop, and where are you supposed to get the money for that?"

Joseph sighed and went on with his work, there were already several glasses and cups to clean on the pike and tables to tidy up.

Most people didn't understand how he could really like that job. Everyone thought that if someone started working as a barista it was because they were waiting for their life's work, because they were studying, because they came from another city, and if it was someone young enough it was because they had left home or it was their first job.

But none of those possibilities fit Joseph.

Joseph was happy there. He was happy getting up early to open and serve the first coffees as winter dawned, discovering the new items that were invited from the central office for each season and was extremely happy drinking pumpkin spice at Halloween until the Christmas coffees arrived.

He loves coffee, and had managed to squeeze a couple of his own recipes into the cookie section.

Of course his friend was right about one thing. Money was a problem, both to study something related to the world of coffee and to open his own place someday.

But he had time and was saving. Everything he earned working there was going to two places, the rent for the apartment he shared with the fireman in 252 who he barely saw because they had crossed shifts and for that dream he slept with every night, getting into hotel school to learn everything he needed to learn to one day open his own café and have everyone fall in love with the world he saw.

A grunt from the writer's table caught his attention. He saw him sigh and close the computer then turn back to the window.

There was no one waiting to order anything at the counter so Joseph decided to take his morning break. He made his coffee as no one else knew how to do, because no one else understood the amounts of milk, lactose free because he was intolerant, sugar, brown, because it was healthier, cinnamon, you always needed some and cream... any decent coffee should have some in it and walked over to the table.

"Upset?" he asked and Santiago turned to him. "I'm not going to ask for your autograph, relax, but I am looking forward to the release of your second book and I'm dying of curiosity to know if it will be a continuation of "heartbeat" or something new."

Santiago laughed nervously, picked up his now empty coffee cup and wrinkled his nose as he realized it was.

"Shall I make you another?"

"You don't want to see me on a caffeine high and that certainly won't be how I start writing anything. No thanks. As for the new book, I'd like to know what it's going to be, too, although the one who's most curious is my publisher, who's about to fire me if I don't get the first draft to him in a few days."

"Wow, sorry to hear that and sorry then that I'm bothering you at the moment of inspiration."

Santiago let out that nervous laugh again, which this time made Joseph smile because he thought it was charming. He opened the computer again and turned it over.

Prologue

My name is Josh, although here at the hospital I am known as Josh "Dr. White's son." My father is the head of the emergency room at New York Presbyterian Hospital and a dozen doctors and twenty-odd nurses work for him.

They all know me, some of them literally were present at my birth and my father says that the most senior nurse in the hospital was the one who helped me cry for the first time.

As "Dr. White's son" I am free to move around wherever I want, except for the operating rooms, although the truth is that I am not too interested in seeing how they open people up, manipulate their organs and fill everything with blood.

But in the rest of the hospital I can go from one place to another without anyone looking at me funny. They all greet me, ask me about my father when they haven't seen him for a few days and ask me, as usual, if I'm going to follow in Dr. White's footsteps and study medicine.

However, today no one approaches me. Maybe it's because it makes them uncomfortable to see me crying inconsolably and they don't know what to say to me, maybe it's because my clothes are a mess, literally scorched, with a couple of holes from pulling and my hair as if I had fought with a herd of angry cats or maybe it's because they don't like the presence of my companion, Jaime, a wonderful Mexican boy who has gotten me into the best trouble these past few months.

Until recently I wouldn't have realized that there are people who look at you because of the color of your skin, the way you talk or any stupid detail that makes you look like one thing or another. But these last few months have opened my eyes, made me realize that the world I was living in was nothing more than a fantasy.

And you know what is the most ironic thing of all, tomorrow is my birthday, tomorrow I turn eighteen. just a year ago, I had the perfect life, the perfect dream, the perfect idea of the future, not to mention the perfect boyfriend, the perfect father and the perfect house.

If you ask me right now what I mean by perfect, my answer is to see my father walk out of the emergency room with a calm expression and hear him say that the heart of the love of my life has started beating again.

"It's horrible isn't it?" Santiago asked and finally breathed again when Joseph looked up from the computer. "I think I'm going to delete it and start over. I don't think..."

"I hope you don't mean that. You just wrote this?" Santiago's eyes widened in shock at the question. "I mean... I don't think it's little, well yes, it's very little and I love it, I want to know what happened to Josh."

A small smile added to the blush on Santiago's cheeks.

"It's the first thing that came to my mind, which is already saying a lot because I had been in the dry dock of inspiration for almost five months. what is it about this place? Because if it has any secrets, I'll come write here every day."

Joseph shrugged, looked back towards the counter, he didn't want any customers to be left waiting, certainly his manager wouldn’t like that either. But for the moment, Amara seemed to have it under control and motioned for him to take his time.

"You're the first writer I've seen here writing, so I don't know what inspired you. But I do know that many of the customers who come through here have told me that the coffee I make is the best they've ever had."

"I agree with them on that." Santiago looked back at the empty cup. "And for that coffee you make I'd like to come back here every morning."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, until a group of teenagers entered the coffee shop. They were on their way to class and were talking loud enough to disrupt the peace and quiet of the place.

Santiago looked at the time. He had decided to take the morning off to find that idea he needed so badly. Now he had it, it was just a written page, but suddenly his brain was overflowing with ideas that he had to put down on paper.

He stood up with force, so much that he almost knocked the chair to the floor.

"I have to go."

Joseph watched him dart out of the cafeteria, computer under his arm and open backpack full of papers, two or three notebooks and a few other things he hadn't gotten to see. He still couldn't believe he had met the author of his favorite book. When he had woken up that morning he had not imagined that Berta Carros was a man, someone so handsome, nice, attractive and that he would not be able to get him out of his mind.

[inkskinned]

she trails one finger down my cheek, sighing. "I'm gonna miss you."

i roll my eyes, lying back against her uncolored bedspread, watching the room settle into the correct form. she always gets like this, right before an Assignment. she takes our Roles a little bit too seriously. my brain is already sloshing with the pacing of the Narrative - a little stilted, a little distant. I'd been in Close Third in the last one, and more poetic. her hands make shadow puppets on the bright pink walls; the room shifts and become covered in art; shifts and become covered in band posters. then back to pink.

she'd been my Best Friend Forever since kindergarten, usually. the oldest we'd ever met each other was in middle school, but that Assignment had been pretty bleak anyway, and she'd only been in-and-out of the picture. I'd barely seen her. i loved her, usually, from the moment i met her - she usually had done something Charming in some way, solidifying our bond for the Audience.

"you're gonna be fine," i tell her. "we'll be back here in no time."

she sighs and curls up next to me, turning so our noses almost touch. she smells familiar, like drying ink. then she smells like mint and mown grass. then she smells like herself, for a second, before she's back to peppermint. "well, you're gonna be fine," she says. "The Main Character always is."

"this again." i roll my eyes a second time. this Assignment feels like it is heavy in the eye-rolling. i had told her before: i'm jealous of her Role just like she's jealous of mine. the Best Friend Forever gets to be quirky, spunky, cute. she always has a personality like a firecracker - even if sometimes that firecracker had a harsh edge to it. in most Assignments, she'd run around, starting - or getting me out of - loads of trouble. she gets to have grand adventures without too much Character Development, which is always painful for me and kind of annoying. she is always Assigned cool interests and hobbies, whereas i can feel my singular Driving Interest crystalizing in my bloodstream. "i think this time i'm Interested in yearbook. Gag me." I mime choking, she wrinkles her little lopsided nose in a giggle.

"you just hate it from stuff that's leftover from your last Assignment, though." she looks up at the ceiling. "you'll be actually Interested soon. in this one i'm gonna have a secret thing about fashion magazines. now that is gag-me."

"remember when you were like, so -"

"like so into porcelain dolls?"

"and i was like, Interested in -"

"you were deep in the paint of effing biology." she wrinkles her nose again, like a little mouse, and i realize i love this new face, the way i love all of her faces. i like this tic she has. sometimes her tics are supposed-to-be-ugly; i love them every time anyway. she's my Best Friend Forever, I can't not love whatever she is. she bites her lip. "oh gosh. i'm already talking like the Assignment. that's quick."

"sounds Young Adult. I haven't been able to swear in, like, a millennia." i don't usually get to swear though, regardless of Audience, since swearing is a Best Friend Forever thing. although sometimes i would be Assigned to just-swear if it was a big-deal kind of moment, and those Assignments were fun. the words would pop out of my mouth like a soap bubble, big and afraid of themselves. and my Best Friend Forever would always look at me, shocked and awestruck.

i loved when she looked at me like that. it wasn't in every Assignment, but it was always so gratifying to be in her eye like that. to be seen, the way a Best Friend Forever sees you.

she takes my hand gently. she's usually a little bit bigger than me, but in this one, she's smaller than average. slim. we're probably going to have a Big Fight about jealousy - whenever she's slimmer, the Audience needs to know she's also Insecure about it. Usually it's the other way around - I'm slimmer, and Insecure that i don't have her curves. in those, she's always "better with boys." until, at least...

like she reads my mind, she sighs again. "I know. i just hate the part where you meet Him."

i'm not startled by how on-the-same-page (ha! maybe i'm Funny in this one) we are. she's my Forever person. the Him changes a lot, but she is a delicate constant. she knows me - even when i'm not-me. or not this me. whatever. "i mean, it might be different this time."

she sits up. i sit up too, disoriented by the strange violence of the action. she pushes the heel of her palm into her cheekbone. "it sucks, you know?"

i can tell by how she wrinkles her nose that she is understating it. i've known her Forever, after all.

nose wrinkle. "we're always the most dynamic and interesting part. you and i, and how we grow up together, and how we interact, and how we try to get over the same things. i know we have a lot of Big Fights, but we always end back up together at the end."

it's a sore subject. i betray her a lot for Him. i can't help it. "i know, but maybe this time - i mean, it's not always ..."

her eyes flash while she turns to me. "you just, like, get caught up in Him. every time. and i have to, like, watch you leave."

"i don't always leave." i feel pouty, suspicious that she is right. it is a Main Character thing to be Right in The End, not a Best Friend Forever thing. i don't always do it the Right Way, but I always end up back here, apologizing to her. she always ends up being okay with it, because i'm always Right.

"you do always leave. and it doesn't make any effing sense, because He never makes sense like we do, you know, like... you both are never - like, your Development with Him, is never like, actually...." she moves her hands around in the air as if trying to find the term, but gives up. "the Audience even thinks it."

I hold my breath at her blasphemy. "don't bring the Audience into -"

she grabs at the roots of her hair. "i'm right, though. you meet Him, and because you are a girl, and you are the Main Character, you love Him, and you forget about me." her hands drop to her lap and her thin shoulders pull forward as if she has been suddenly deflated. the anger all seeping out around her. she's usually not able to stay angry at me long - loving me is her Role.

the air feels heavy between us. thick of something unwritten. i don't know the rules of this one. in the space between Assignments, she can be a little wild. her Role doesn't sink her as deep into the Assignment - she has wiggle room where i don't.

i try to tease her, nudging her with my shoulder. "i didn't realize you had a jealous Assignment this time."

she looks up at me. biting the inside of her cheek. i can see her jaw working against the muscle. "i'm always jealous," she whispers.

"that's natural," i assure her. "it's a Best Friend Forever thing. I'm always jealous, too, just a little. you know that."

"it's because we actually see each other. because we actually know each other. because we're made for each other." she doesn't drop my eyes. her hands take mine again, warm and soft. again, that feeling that she is a familiar love - a long love, a deep love - comes sloshing up inside me. i was made to love her, and i was also made to betray her. in order for the Character Development to work, i have to love her hard, so it hurts when i choose Him. she has to love me hard, too. "it's..." she breathes deep, as if through a choke. i wonder how much longer before we'll be in the Assignment, and unable to talk like this. it can't be much longer at all. "it's just stupid. every time, you see Him, and for no reason, he's just better and you leave and -"

"you know i don't want to hurt you, though!" it's an old argument. i feel the pattern of it, glad to be back on script. "you know i never -"

"you just see Him, and it's like magic, and it doesn't mater that He makes no sense - "

"it's about growing up! it's about Character Development! it's not about you, you know that, i love you, i just always Love Him, and -"

"and i am jealous -" she grabs my face, desperate, her voice thick. the room around us starts to shift, and i can tell by how it is pulling itself together that it's solidifying into the Assignment. someone is writing us into a space. her words are garbled for a second, and i feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as she fights the Assignment.

"we're gonna be okay," i promise, "i'll love you the whole time, you know that, even if -"

when she kisses me, something happens in the pit of my stomach. i've been Kissed many times, by many Hims. it is sometimes electric, dizzying, powerful. it is sometimes cataclysmic. it is sometimes rushed, hurried, overwhelming - sometimes harsh, dominant. i have been Kissed until i saw stars, and Kissed perfect.

this is not that. i don't have words for this. i have no narrative. there is only her, and only me, and no story, her hands on my cheeks. i realize, in the seconds we have - she's crying.

then i am on her bed again, which is pink and purple patchwork, and she is across the room, lying on the floor, kicking her heels up while she reads a magazine lazily. we've known each other from preschool, when she punched someone for stealing my candy. we both got detention - who knew preschoolers could get detention - and we'd be inseparable ever since. she listens to loud music but loves fashion magazines; and i love her.

she's saying something, but my old phone pings, lying on top of the Yearbook editing i'm doing. i look down, frozen. she asks me something, but i can't hear her, staring at the notification on my screen. i don't even notice her getting up to investigate.

her hair tickles my cheek while she reads the phone over my shoulder.

she grins. "oh my gosh." she says. "you got invited to the party, holy guacamole. do you know who's gonna be there? baby, you need to go."

i know i need to. after all, after a little complaining, i am going to go. we will try on all her clothes first. and while i'm there, i'll be a Main Character, and not-quit-fit-in.

and while i'm there, i'm going meet Him. and it will be Magical. for some reason, there are tears pricking at the side of my eyes, even though i have no idea why. this story is funny, and light, and amusing.

she grabs my hand, and she is warm, and familiar, and i feel Insecure that she's so thin. i feel Insecure - and - something - a memory, or a -

"come on," she says, and, for a second, something in her eyes is deeply sad, and the time between us feels like fraying satin.

but then she breaks out into a grin. "i know just what to dress you in. i can't wait. you're gonna meet Him."

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[bunkerbucky]

Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve. 

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

[merakiui]

I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?

This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!

AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!

(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)

What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.

So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.

Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?

And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.

Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.

Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.

Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.

He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.

As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.

When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.

Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.

But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.

Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?

Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.

Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.

Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.

He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.

Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?

Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.

They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.

Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.

However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.

But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.

However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.

[sunshineandaisies]

Dirty Paws & Wet Kisses

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU)

Words: ~3.7k

Warnings: language, floofs and fluff

Note: if you ever read anything written by me that includes dogs, their names will always be kinda extra or related to historical figures (i.e. my dog is actually named Theodore Roosevelt) and I will try my best to make their names increasingly extra with every fic that involves dogs

You’d argue that your four year old sheperd mix was the most well behaved dog in all of New York until your dying breath.

Most days.

During your weekly trips to the park on Sunday afternoons, she would sit at your feet, lounging in the sun as she watched joggers go by and playfully saying hello to anyone - be they human or dog - that stopped by to pet the pretty pup while you read whatever book you’d picked up from the bookstore earlier that week.

Sure, there were a few times that she would whine and stare down any squirrel that strayed too close to her, but she never left your side.

Maybe that’s why you had grown so complacent, why you’d stopped looping her leash around the bench to secure her to your side and simply kept the leash within your reach beside you on the seat of the bench.

And it was because of that complacency that you were sprinting across the park, chasing your naughty dog and drawing judgemental stares from other park-goers.

“Hazel!” you called after her. “Hazel, I swear to god I’m taking all your toys away when we get home!” Right after you took a nice long bath to soothe your aching muscles. When was the last time you’d run this much?

You lost sight of her when she disappeared around a hedge, and the internal panic that set in was almost worse than the time that you accidentally emailed your creative writing professor the Harry Potter fanfiction you’d written instead of your final paper. (You still got an A on the assignment, but that’s besides the point).

You see her as soon as you round the corner, happily licking at a stranger’s face as she sat between his legs, and-

Holy shit, your dog led you to the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The stranger took note of you before you had a chance to say anything, and he raised his brow at you while angling his face away from Hazel’s kisses. “Does this belong to you?” he asked, pinching the tags on Hazel’s collar between his thumb and two fingers. “Hazelnut Mocha.” He snorted. “Is that your dog’s name or your Starbucks order?”

You weren’t sure if it was the amused smile that curled his lips or the quirk of his brow, but his teasing made you feel personally attacked. You crossed your arms across your chest. “Maybe it’s both.”

He shrugged, scratching the spot behind Hazel’s ear. “I suppose that’s one way to never forget your dog’s name or your coffee order.”

You hummed noncommittally before approaching and tugging Hazel away from the handsome stranger. It took considerably more effort than you had thought it would. “I’m really sorry about her,” you apologized. “She’s never like this. I don’t really know what happened.”

He brushed your apology off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. If a cute girl wants to give me kisses, I certainly won’t complain.” He winked at you, and you wanted to just melt on the spot.

“Well, uh, I should, um-” You cleared your throat, stepping away and dragging a disappointed Hazel along with you. “Again, I’m really sorry. Even if you didn’t mind.”

You turned and hurried away before his smile made your mind any more frazzled.

Two weeks passed before you decided to show your face at the park again, and this time, you were sure to secure Hazel’s leash to your bench, ensuring that there would be no chases across the park and embarrassing encounters with handsome strangers.

The pup resigned herself to her fate and laid at your feet in the grass, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her golden eyes shining in the sunlight. She greeted the other dogs that passed, and you thought nothing of it until you heard someone call her name.

Well, shit. You knew that voice. That voice had haunted your dreams for three nights straight after the incident two weeks ago.

“How have you been, pretty girl?” he asked, and you hesitantly lifted your gaze from your book to see him knelt in front of you, patting Hazel’s head as she yipped happily and dragged her tongue over his face in sloppy kisses.

Despite your proclivity to stare at handsome men that showered your dog with attention, your eyes were dragged away from the pair when a wet nose nudged your leg. “Well hello there,” you greeted the brown and white dog that sought your attention. You quickly marked your page and returned your book to your bag before petting your newest furry companion. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Bucky,” the stranger answered.

You glanced up at him briefly before turning your attention back to the brown and white dog. “Aren’t you a handsome boy, Bucky. Yes, you’re so handsome,” you cooed. The stranger chuckled, and you glanced up expecting to see Hazel mauling him with more sloppy kisses, but instead, he was staring at you, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m Bucky,” he clarified before nodding towards the dog. “That’s Dodger.”

“And you just assumed that I was talking about you when I called him handsome?”

And in complete contrast to how he had acted in your previous interaction, he actually looked embarrassed, nervously scratching the back of his neck while fending off even more kisses from Hazel. “I seem like a complete asshole, don’t I?” he asked sheepishly.

You laughed. “Well, I mean… Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but I suppose you are kind of handsome, too. You know, in a handsome stranger kind of way.” You felt your cheeks flood with warmth, and you averted your gaze, hoping he didn’t see just how flustered you were after your admission. You tried to breeze past it altogether by giving all of your attention to Dodger once again, petting him and praising him for being such a sweet boy.

After a moment of you and Bucky speaking only to each other’s dogs, you cleared your throat and commented, “I didn’t realize you had a dog. Was he at the park with you the day that Hazel practically assaulted you?”

“He’s not my dog.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is he your girlfriend’s dog?”

And just like that, all hints of embarrassment disappeared from his face. He quirked a brow and smirked at you. “My girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend,” you added hastily.

He snorted and shook his head. “It depends on who you ask.”

You cocked your head to the side, and the action conjured up an image of Hazel doing the same whenever you would try to hold an actual conversation with her. “Uh, what?”

His gaze flitted to the ground as he smiled an amused little smile that had you biting your lip and shamelessly staring at the man. “It’s a bit of a joke among my friends,” he began. “Dodger is my buddy Steve’s dog. Some of our friends like to make it seem like we’re dating, but we definitely aren’t. We just know each other way too well.” His smile widened when he looked back up at you. “So to answer the question that you indirectly asked-”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What?”

“-I’m single, sweetheart.”

You gaped at him, trying to form an appropriate response. This man was frustrating - frustratingly handsome, frustratingly smug, frustratingly able to read you like a goddamn open book. How dare he correctly assume you were trying to figure out if he was single or not?

The sound of a phone ringing interrupted your thought process, and Bucky gave you an apologetic look after glancing down at his phone. “I gotta take this,” he told you. You heard him greet the other person on the other end of the call before calling for Dodger. As he turned to go, he paused for a moment, pressed the phone against the front of his shirt to muffle the receiver, and called over his shoulder. “See you around, Hazel and Hazel’s mom.”

Right. You never gave him your name.

You were cursing yourself for nearly a month for not getting his phone number before he disappeared, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you had a smidge of hope that you’d run into him at the park again... But alas, no luck.

You were starting to think that you’d never see your handsome park stranger - although, he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, was he? - but exactly 37 days after your last encounter with Bucky (aka handsome park stranger), Hazel brought you back together in the most heart attack inducing way she could manage.

You’d been sitting on the patio of your favorite little cafe, catching up with Carol and Val over coffee and fluffy pastries, and Hazel had been behaving herself aside from the occasionally whining and begging when any of you would touch your food.

She was behaving until she wasn’t.

You still don’t really know what set her off, but one moment she was sitting prettily and staring up at you with her golden eyes and the next she was breaking free from her leash and sprinting down the street and out of your sight.

You posted on social media asking everyone to be on the lookout for your Hazel and called your friends to help you search for her. You spent hours walking up and down the city streets and through the park that you frequented with Hazel. You called all of the shelters and animal control to see if anyone had brought Hazel to them instead of calling you. You talked to anyone and everyone that you passed on the street, asking if they’d seen your girl.

You tried so much to get your girl back, but nothing panned out.

You were in tears and your feet were sore from walking all over the goddamn city by the time you and the others returned to your apartment, resigned to wait for someone to contact you. Just as you were about to say goodnight to everyone and turn in for the night (read: cry yourself to sleep), your phone rang, and an unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. You shushed your friends and answered the phone.

Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of his voice, and for a moment you forgot that you had just been on the verge of a panic attack. “Take a deep breath for me, okay. I can practically feel you panicking through the phone. I have Hazel. She’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, nodding at your friends in response to their questioning looks. “Thank you so much, Bucky. Is she okay? Where did you find her? Should I meet you somewhere?”

He chuckled. “She’s fine. A little dirty, but she’s fine. As for where I found here...Well, I think your dog has a little crush on me, sweetheart.”

You grabbed your jacket from the coat rack and slipped it on before grabbing your keys. “What does that mean?”

“I came home and found her wandering around the courtyard at my apartment.” He sounded far too amused with the situation, and you definitely weren’t feeling up to dealing with his smug attitude. “She certainly made herself at home here. I may need to fight for shared custody after this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just tell me where I should meet you.”

“I’ll send you my address.”

And just as he had told you, as soon as you ended the call, he shared his location with you. You swiftly assured Carol and Val that Hazel was okay, and you asked them to lock up when they left before beginning your walk to Bucky’s apartment.

Ten minutes later, you were sat on the floor of his living room, holding Hazel close to you and alternating between scolding her and telling her how much you love her as you tried to hold your tears at bay. Bucky sat on the couch, arms rested on his knees as he watched the teary-eyed reunion with a small smile curling his lips.

“You know, sweetheart,” he spoke up, drawing your attention away from Hazel, and you finally noticed the muddy paw prints on the front of his white tee. “I’m not much of a dog-person but-”

You gasped, covering Hazel’s floppy ears. “How dare you say such nonsense in front of Hazel!” You pressed a kiss between her eyes, whispering, “It’s okay, girl. Bucky didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” he countered, chuckling when you glared at him. “I’m more of a cat-person, but I suppose I can make an exception for Hazel. After all, she seems pretty attached to me. Not that I can blame her.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “She has awful taste in men,” you teased.

“I don’t know,” he argued. “People say that dogs are impeccable judges of character.”

You stood, dusting your jeans off and turned to face Bucky. “Thank you,” you told him, the sincerity clear in your voice. “I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t find her. I- I seriously owe you. Whatever you want, just name it.”

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and you immediately regretted your offer. “What about shared custody of Hazel?”

“Whatever you want that’s not that, just name it,” you amended.

“What about a date?” he asked instead.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, over and over again as you tried to form a response. You certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He watched you with curious eyes, waiting patiently for your answer. Finally, the gears in your brain began to turn again and you answered, “As flattered as I am, I’m not really looking to date right now.”

Disappointment flashed across his features, but he smiled and all trace of disappointment was gone in an instant. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything for being a decent person and making sure Hazel got back to you.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers carding through Hazel’s fur. “Thank you, Bucky. Really.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

After that night - and after you and Bucky officially had each other’s numbers - you and he would text throughout the week, and you often sent him pictures of Hazel being increasingly goofy as the days wore on. You’d even invited him to the park one Sunday to see Hazel again, but he’d quickly turned you down, asking for a rain check.

He had a date, after all.

So instead, you took Hazel to the park and sent him pictures of the pretty pup lounging in the sunshine, greeting other dogs that passed by, and even licking the camera lens on your phone when she finally noticed you holding your phone out towards her to get the perfect angle. A smile never failed to appear on your face every time he sent a heart eyes meme in response.

Despite the near constant texting, you didn’t see Bucky again for over three weeks, and you’d only seen him because you had run into his friend Steve at the dog park.

It took a moment for you to realize that the brown and white dog that Hazel had instantly greeted once she’d been released from her leash was Dodger, but as soon as the realization sunk in, you looked around for Bucky.

There weren’t many people present, but you couldn’t find Bucky among the dog parents that lingered around the edges of the dog park.

You crouched down to greet Dodger, scratching him behind the ears and happily accepting his greeting kisses. “Hello, handsome. Is your uncle Bucky here?”

“Y/N?”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice, and you furrowed your brows when you saw a tall blond man that you didn’t recognize. Holy shit, was Hazel a handsome stranger magnet? “Do I know you?” you asked, doing your absolute best to keep your voice steady.

“Right, sorry,” he laughed. “I’m Steve. Bucky’s mentioned you a few times.”

You put two and two together quickly. “You’re Dodger’s dad!”

You spent the better part of the next hour chatting with Steve as Dodger and Hazel chased one another around the enclosed area, and you sent a picture of you and Steve to Bucky, happily claiming that Steve was telling you all of Bucky’s most embarrassing stories. (Bucky had sent a text to Steve within seconds of reading your text, but Steve refused to tell you what Bucky had said all while laughing so hard he nearly cried).

By the time Hazel and Dodger were laying at yours and Steve’s feet, panting and entirely worn out from an afternoon of playing, you were ready to say your goodbyes, but Steve quickly caught your attention before you could go.

“I’m meeting Bucky and a few other friends at the bar in about an hour. Would you be interested in getting a drink?” he asked, smiling so widely at you that you just couldn’t say no.

And that was how, after dropping Hazel off at home and making sure she was fed and had a full bowl of water, you found yourself at a sports bar, slinking through the Friday night crowd towards a table in the back.

You spotted Bucky immediately, and you smiled widely when his eyes widened and he choked on his beer before promptly standing to greet you. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” you heard one of the men you didn’t recognize ask the others.

“Y/N,” Steve explained, and as if that was all they needed to know, the other two nodded. Steve smiled up at you, greeting, “Glad you found the place okay.”

Bucky quickly ushered you into the booth, sticking you between him and the only other woman present. As he introduced you to the others - Clint, Sam, and Nat - his arm snaked around your shoulders casually.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Sam asked, a teasing smile on his face as his gaze flitted from you to Bucky, and Bucky groaned in response.

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘famous’.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sam said, “as much as this guy talks about you, I’d say you’re pretty damn famous in our circle.”

You glanced at Bucky, biting your lip in a futile attempt to hide your amused smile. “Is that right?”

He huffed. “Hazel’s the real famous one, sweetheart.”

“Liar,” Nat accused. She turned to you, one perfectly shaped brow raising. “For weeks, it was Hazel’s mom this and Hazel’s mom that, and after that it was Y/N sent me this picture and Y/N told me this joke. I feel like I already know you, and I just met you.”

“So how’s Hazel?” Bucky asked in a clear attempt to change the topic. “Did she have a fun day with Dodger?”

You spent your evening getting to know Bucky’s friends better, sharing stories about Hazel, and listening intently anytime one of them told you a story about Bucky that had your sides aching from laughter. At the end of the evening, you had four new contacts in your phone and plans to meet up with Nat for lunch the following week.

“Need me to walk you home, sweetheart?” Bucky asked when you walked out together, but you shook your head.

“Nah.” You held up your phone, showing him the screen. “I got an Uber.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Okay. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” A red Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb, and after confirming it was the car that was supposed to pick you up, you stepped towards it. Ever the gentleman, Bucky opened the door for you, and you slid into the backseat. “Good night, Bucky.”

It was while you laid in bed that night, unable to sleep while Hazel snored beside you, that you realized that the handsome park stranger - the one that was more of a cat-person but would make an exception for Hazel; the one that was dating Steve depending on who you asked; the one that was constantly talking about you to his friends so much that they felt like they already knew you - had wormed his way into your heart.

Did that make Hazel your wing-woman? She certainly did have a proclivity for bringing you and Bucky together, even in indirect ways.

He was on your mind all night and throughout the following day, and by the time your customary trip to the park rolled around on Sunday afternoon, you were buzzing with anticipation. Would he be there again? Would Hazel inexplicably get loose from her leash and lead you straight to the man that had you feeling like a teenager with a crush again?

As romantic as it might have been, you didn’t want to leave those answers up to fate. Instead, you sent him a text not long after you woke up, letting him know where he could find you if he wanted to see Hazel that afternoon.

Unsurprisingly, it was Hazel that saw Bucky first that afternoon when he arrived at the park, and unsurprisingly, she tore her leash from your grip and sprinted towards him, nearly tackling him as he crouched closer to the ground to greet her.

Surprisingly, you were actually jealous of your dog as you watched her give him sloppy, wet kisses.

“What’s that look for, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, angling his face away from Hazel. “Everything okay?”

“Quick question,” you told him. “Is that date still on the table?”

He grinned at you with that smug grin that you had scoffed at the day you first met, that same smug grin that made your heart flutter in your chest and made your breath catch in your throat and made you want to press kisses to his face and-

“I was wondering when you’d take me up on the offer, sweetheart.”

[comfortbucky]

I asked for the doctor!bucky andd you don't have to write but I forgot to ask... He is like a really busy doctor and it surprises the female reader that he is going to do her stitches... Wanda is his assistant. He has to give you a pain numbing shot in your cut and he comforts you when you scream and writh in pain... Thanks xxx

𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆｡˚

pairing: doctor!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of bloody injuries, medical settings, stitches, needles

A/N: omg i’ve never written for doctor!bucky before so i’m excited hehe :) thank u for ur request! // i changed around who was administering the numbing agent and doing the stitches btw i hope u don't mind, just made more sense in my head for bucky to be able to comfort her if his hands are free!

hope u enjoy! <3 sorry if this isn't that good asjdfhaldf

Y/L/N = your last name

also let me just indulge myself and sprinkle some of my own experiences in this bc a couple months ago i literally slammed my head into a wall and cut my eyelid😃nothing bad enough to get stitches but i do have a scar💗

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Y/N! Come quick!”

Y/N was digging through her dresser for a sweater when her roommate, Darcy, called out for her. She lifted her head up and spun it without thinking, completely forgetting that her dresser was situated in the corner of her room, slamming her head into the wall.

Her ears started to ring and she bent over in laughter, her natural response to pain, as tears threatened to fall down her face.

“Y/N?” Darcy was met by silence, Y/N struggling to respond, her body overcome with laughter so hard she was inaudible. Concerned that Y/N had knocked herself out cold, Darcy peeked her head around the corner of Y/N’s doorway, to find her hurled over, a hand over her left eye, drops of crimson blood on the ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Y/N lifted her head, calming down from her fit of laughter, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course, this would happen to me,” she replied chuckling, taking a tissue from Darcy to put pressure on her cut.

Carefully making her way to a mirror, Y/N grabbed her phone on the way. She stared at her reflection and slowly removed the tissue from her face to examine the extent of her injury. It was steadily bleeding, most likely a bad sign. Y/N placed her tissue back over her cut and reached for her phone and Facetimed her friend Matt, an EMT.

“Hello- What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hi Matt,” she replied, shooting him a grin through the screen. “Slammed my head against the wall, by accident.”

“I would hope so,” he sighed. “Let me guess, you’re wondering whether you should go to the ER or not?”

“You know me so well, Matty.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” Y/N removed the tissue and felt a warm liquid trail down the side of her face.

“No.”

“Go to the ER, please.” She groaned.

If there was one place in the world she despised, it was a hospital. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to convince either of her friends otherwise, and dragged her feet as she reluctantly followed Darcy to her car.

It was a normal night in the ER, which meant a fury of organized chaos. Bucky found himself needed in 6 places, all at the same time. But this was an environment that he had become accustomed to, almost finding comfort in the madness of it all. Although the ER was bustling with patients, there weren’t any injuries that were very severe, mostly just broken bones and lacerations. Simple enough to the point where Bucky felt like he was operating on autopilot mode. Going through the motions of whatever task he needed to do, but not anything more than that. He felt numb. For the last several years of his life, the hospital was all that he knew. Bucky kept himself busy with work, leaving him with only a small social circle and his cat, Alpine. It was enough for him, but he never really felt complete. Which is why he threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner thoughts about a missing piece he never thought he’d find.

“Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 25.”

Bucky took a quick sip of his coffee and sighed before heading off to see his next patient. Wanda appeared from around the corner and started walking with him.

“This one’s a simple laceration, just might need stitches.” Bucky nodded in response to her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She was one of the select few who he considered a friend. Which was a little odd considering he was an attending and she was only a resident. But she was a good student, a fast learner, and one of the only residents he was ever willing to work with. He took her under his wing, fostering a friendship by spending time together in his office, reviewing various medical cases and files.

“Alright, you up to do them?”

Wanda came to a halt, Bucky taking a couple steps before looking back at her, tilting his head, waiting for a response.

“Y-Yeah, yes!” She stammered. “T-thank you, Dr. Barnes.” He nodded his head and turned back around to continue walking, Wanda close behind.

Y/N was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding a blood-soaked tissue over her left eye. Her leg was bouncing, a nervous tic she had developed from a young age. The adrenaline had worn off, forcing her to feel a throbbing pain, her eyes brimming with tears. She avoided crying in front of people whenever possible, so as soon as Darcy left to grab some coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, she let the floodgates open. The sound of footsteps approaching made her freeze and she used her sleeves to sloppily wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

A firm, but somehow also gentle, voice called out to her before the curtain was pulled open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair, a stubbly beard, and stunningly blue eyes standing next to a woman with blazing red hair and contrasting green eyes. Y/N’s gaze was immediately fixated on the man’s eyes, unable to look away for a moment, before she realized she was staring. She quickly looked down and cleared her throat.

“Y/N, you can just call me Y/N.”

The man nodded and set down his clipboard at the end of the bed before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Barnes and this is Dr. Maximoff.” The woman gave a slight wave as she began charting on a computer. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her anxiety rise as the doctor pulled some gloves on and approached her.

He pulled over a stool to sit on and carefully removed the tissue that Y/N had been holding in place to assess the injury. While Bucky looked at her cut, he stole a glance to study the rest of her face. He couldn't help but take note of the pained look on her face, her eyes still watery and her button nose red from crying. It was the first time in a long time that he felt a twinge of pain while looking at someone's injury, that he felt practically anything at all during a shift. She felt his warm breaths on her face for a moment before he pulled away and replaced her bloody tissue with some gauze.

“Do you mind if she takes a look as well?” Y/N nodded again. Bucky got up from the stool, allowing Wanda to take his spot and assess her eye.

“So it looks like you just need 2 or 3 stitches, very simple procedure.”

Y/N felt her entire body tense up at Wanda's conclusion. She could barely stand sitting in a hospital bed alone and now she was about to get poked and prodded with needles. Bucky noticed and attempted to ease her worries.

"We'll administer a numbing agent, so you won't feel any pain, just pressure at the site."

She looked up at Bucky, who had a kind, tired expression on his face. It looked like he was having a long night and she didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it probably already was. Y/N gave him a small nod and Wanda started to gather the necessary supplies.

She laid back in bed with Wanda and Bucky sitting next to each other on her left. Her hands were folded on her stomach, eyes shut.

"You're gonna feel a slight pinch, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip to try and distract herself.

Wanda proceeded to administer the numbing shot and Y/N squeezed her hands tight, whimpering in pain. Bucky observed the pained expression on her face and placed a hand on her forearm, reflexively rubbing his thumb in small circles. When Wanda pulled the needle out, Y/N slowly fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by Bucky's warm smile. A blush crept to her cheeks and she turned her attention to the ceiling. Immediately, Bucky realized how unprofessional his action was and removed his hand. He had no idea what had come over him, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone like this before.

"Now I'm going to do the stitches, okay? You should just feel a slight pressure." Just as before, Y/N shut her eyes after Wanda spoke and gripped her hands tight. She felt the pressure that Wanda was talking about and couldn't help but squirm at the feeling. Another wave of anxiety rushed over her and she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Wanda removed the needle and quickly turned to Bucky, a panicked look on her face. He gave her a reassuring look before speaking softly.

"Y/N? Do you think you could hold still for just a little longer?" She opened her eyes, brimming with tears.

"Sorry, I just, I hate needles." Y/N fiddled with her hands as she kept her gaze up, trying to avoid the tears from escaping. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight.

"What do you think would help you relax?"

Thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find a solution to relieve her anxiety. Y/N thought back to when she was young and chuckled, remembering a stuffed whale that she got at an aquarium, that went everywhere with her.

"This is stupid but, when I was a kid, I would carry around this stuffed animal around and it helped to hold it whenever I had to get shots."

Bucky thought for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was going to regret the words about to leave his mouth.

"You could hold my hand."

Y/N and Wanda both looked at him with surprised expressions, regret instantly hitting him.

"If you're comfortable with it," he quickly clarified. Y/N felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she nodded.

She laid back down and Bucky took her hand in his. The instant transfer of heat soothed Y/N and she shut her eyes to allow Wanda to get to work.

When she felt the pressure on her eye again, her hand automatically gripped Bucky's tighter, and he squeezed it back to help calm her. Y/N focused on the callousness of his hands, how his hand seemed to fit into hers perfectly. Suddenly, she was thinking about his eyes again, those glimmering blue eyes. Blue was always a calming color for her, reminiscent of her trip to the aquarium where she got her beloved stuffed whale. As she felt Bucky's thumb gently rub the top of her hand, she realized that her whale could never provide as much comfort as he did.

Bucky felt a sense of pride as he watched the tension in Y/N's face disappear. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering, looking at the loose strands of hair on the right side of her face, the rosiness of her cheeks, how she glowed. His heart started to palpate and Bucky realized a flame had kindled inside him. He was feeling again.

"All done!" Wanda chirped, stepping aside to let Bucky check her work. He smiled at her patted her on the back with his free hand.

"You did good." Wanda beamed and thanked him, walking away to complete her charting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, still feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand in hers. He greeted her with a tender smile and slowly helped her up, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"See? Wasn't that bad after all," he grinned, releasing her hand. Y/N's smile faltered, missing his touch, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Barnes."

"Bucky," he stated. She raised an eyebrow. "Call me Bucky."

The pair stared at each other in silence, enjoying each other's presence before the PA system snapped them both out of their trance.

"Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 16."

Bucky sighed, slowly getting up from his seat.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Bucky."

He turned around and was about to pull the curtain open when he paused, turning back around to face Y/N, scratching the back of his head. It took one look at her face and Bucky knew he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" She beamed up at him and Bucky felt his knees go weak.

"I would like that very much." He chuckled in disbelief and smiled.

Bucky had finally found his missing piece.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. 

Previous › Next

A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.  

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

Copyright © @writemywaytoyourheart 2021

Next

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

[azucanela]

chapter i

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

Y/N’S HEAD IS POUNDING when she wakes up the following day. Her hand coming to rub her temple as she attempts to soothe the throbbing of her own head, the light just barely seeping through her blinds already feels like too much as she rises up in her bed. Blinking a few times, Y/N’s eyes adjust to the light and she sighs, stretching her arms upwards and almost wincing at the sound of her bones cracking.

You’d think that a Pro Hero wouldn’t have such issues, and yet.

Coming to a stand, Y/N hisses at the feeling of her cold floor, frowning before she makes her way towards the hallway and rubbing a hand against her eye. She catches a look of herself in the mirror, hair amiss, makeup that she’d applied from the night before still on— and yet her eye bags seem to have grown. If Y/N is honest, she looks and feels like a mess.

That should be a given though, seeing as she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten home last night. Though Y/N was sure the news would detail any screw ups she’d made. Sighing as she grabs the TV remote from the coffee table by her couch and clicks the TV on. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She mumbles out when the TV turns on to reveal that she is in fact the headline, alongside Bakugou Katsuki. 

Almost on cue, a set of rapid knocks sound against her door and Y/N already knows who it is, again.

It was an accident, Y/N hadn’t meant to get blackout drunk at a literal Gala filled with several respectable and admirable peers from the Pro Hero world. And she certainly hadn’t meant to speak poorly about one of those peers— well, if she could really call Bakugou that at this point. After all there was a reason she spoke poorly of him.

“He’s an— an ill-mannered, rude, insufferable—” Y/N inhaled deeply as she looked to Lorelai, gesturing her hands vividly as she finally said, “bastard!”

Lorelai stands with a hand pressed against her temple, rubbing it gently as though that would end the headache that Y/N had probably caused with her shenanigans. “I warned you.”  She mumbles out before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone as Y/N continues to drone on about the young man.

“I ran into him and I was filled with complete and utter rage. Did I do a few questionable things? Yes. Do I regret them—” Y/N sighs, bringing her hands to her face as the news plays in the background before saying, “I do.” 

If Y/N was honest, she wasn’t remorseful at all, not when it was Bakugou they were talking about. But she was embarrassed, she’d acted out like a child and there was no denying it. As much as she disliked the idea, a public apology was probably necessary and a private one to Bakugou was the least she owed him. 

Currently Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katuski were on every headline and front page there were, all because Y/N had elected to get a little too drunk and start talking trash about Bakugou. In the world of Pro Heroes, her word carried a lot of weight, so although it was unprofessional, Y/N had a feeling it was Bakugou’s PR team that was panicking right now. 

"You’re trending.” Comes Lorelai’s words, a hand coming to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly as she looks back up at Y/N, “I suppose that’s good.” 

Y/N had a feeling the people who shipped her with Bakugou were rather devastated upon finding out that the (non-existent) couple that they idolized yet had zero interaction actually hated one another. “Maybe they’ll stop thinking Bakugou and I would ever enter a relationship now.”

Raising a brow, Lorelai looks up to her, typing away at her phone without looking at the keyboard as she replies, “actually they’re shipping you with Pro Hero Deku. They caught quite a few pictures of you two dancing together last night.” Lorelai’s eyes returned to her screen, squinting as she mumbled out, “the Bakugou shippers are disappointed, but they’re still going strong. Something about… enemies to lovers?”

Y/N groans in annoyance, it was beginning to become abundantly clear that nothing good was going to come of this. Not that she expected such a thing, but a girl can hope. With a sigh, she shakes away those thoughts, pushing them to the back of her mind as she looks to Lorelai, “what are we going to do?” 

“I am going to speak with Bakugou’s publicist, and set up a meeting.” Comes Lorelai’s response, bringing the phone to her ear as she made her way towards the door for more privacy. 

Y/N looked to her publicist, brows furrowed, “I don’t want to meet with Bakugou.”

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai gestured to the TV as she replied, “we don’t have much of a choice do we?” Sighing, Lorelai stares at the ringing phone before saying, “you can’t let your issues with Bakugou interfere with your career— you two were bound to work together at some point. Whether you wanted to or not.”

Y/N can easily pick up on the underlying words as Lorelai steps out the door, she’s essentially telling her to suck it up. And though Y/N recognizes that she is absolutely and completely correct— that she unfortunately cannot allow Bakugou’s existence to interfere with her career, that doesn’t mean she can’t be upset about it. 

And besides, avoiding him had gone perfectly fine up until now. Y/N was still wondering what had possessed him to actually attend a public event. Last she’d checked, the boy hated them with a passion, and most of the time they only further damaged his reputation. 

Last night was only more evidence of that fact. 

“You’re right.” Comes Y/N’s words, sighing dejectedly as she sinks further into her couch. “Let me know how it goes.” Even Y/N could recognize that there was no other choice, and well— she had to be mature and realistic about this.

Lorelai steps away, and Y/N finds herself glad that she can’t hear whatever it is the woman is saying as she straightens her posture, sitting up as she crosses her legs on the couch to watch the news. 

“Famed Pro Hero Y/N L/N was caught expressing her true feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, and they certainly weren’t what fans were hoping for.” The woman on the screen leans back in her seat, moving out of the way to gesture to the screen behind her, as she opens her mouth to speak again, Y/N finds herself grabbing the remote and changing the channel with a glare towards the reporter. 

Not that it was her fault, Y/N had a feeling if she had a job with any news station right now, this story would mean everything for her career. But she didn’t, she was a Pro Hero, and she had more important things to do— and even then, weren’t there more important things to report on? 

The screen changes, and this time there’s another woman on the screen, a solemn look on her face as she leans forward on the desk with her hands clasped. “As the anniversary of the villain Stain’s incarceration grows near, civil unrest has begun to worsen. With another copy cat killer on the loose, it seem that people have once again taken to the streets to demand his release, or at least a change in his current life sentence for the murder of—”

Y/N shuts off the TV, grimacing at the reminder of her school years. Each year, crime would spike, so more Pro Heroes would set to work around this time. And each year, the number of casualties for Pro Heroes would practically triple because of all the people that tried to target them. This wouldn’t be the first Stain copy cat they’d seen, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Most of them didn’t last this long though, caught by the police by their first attempt ideally, if not then their first kill.

Y/N had lost good friends to people like that. 

Exhaling deeply, she comes to a stand, pulling out her phone to see she had several unread messages from Lorelai, all of which were in reference to the current… situation they were dealing with. There were— unsurprisingly— a few messages of concern from Izuku that Y/N can’t help but smile at. The boy had always been too kind for his own good. But what did confuse her were the messages from an unknown number, Y/N’s brows furrowed as she moved to open them. 

UNKNOWN ???

It was only a single message, but it still leaves Y/N confused, few people had access to her number, and for some reason she finds it unnerving as she goes to delete the conversation.

BAKUGOU WISHED HE COULD FORGET the chaos that had been the night before. Alas, every moment was burned into his mind, especially that bit in which Y/N had cursed him out while drunk and maybe something about him trying to fight Deku but that wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. 

His eyes open to the sound of his alarm, and like clockwork— Bakugou rises from his bed and when his feet hit the floor he’s slipping on a set of house shoes instantly. He’d always been more of the type to live a methodical, routine like, life. Make the bed, cook himself a healthy breakfast if he hadn’t already meal prepped for the week, take a shower, get dressed, go to work. And then do it all over again. 

Bakugou had never felt the need for any spontaneity, seeing as his job provided enough of that. Surprise, there’s a murderer on the loose. Surprise, the murderer targets heroes specifically. Surprise, it's a stain copycat killer. Surprise! He hates Pro Hero Ground Zero more than anything in the world. 

The entirety of last night was not the type of surprise Bakugou was used to. Seeing as his phone is ringing as he tries to make his breakfast, and when he looks to see it’s his publicist— well, that isn’t really something out of the ordinary seeing as Bakugou seems to have a different “scandal” every week. But when the calls don’t stop coming...

Last night was a disaster, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that. Just anyone with a phone and some sort of social media, or a tv that had access to the news. Which was basically everyone nowadays. Bakugou liked to think that he had gone through worse, like when they caught him speaking poorly about Deku— although the boy had assured them that Bakugou meant no harm, and Y/N probably wouldn’t do the same.

Yeah, this was a problem. 

Bakugou had a feeling that if he hadn’t been the person who hired him, his publicist would’ve cursed him out by now. Regardless, the man in question had remained… kind of calm. He was clearly on the verge of some sort of breakdown, staring Bakugou down like a hawk as he sat across from him— hands pressed together as they rested against his chin. The man had arrived shortly after leaving Bakugou about a dozen voicemails.

“How did you manage to piss off one of the most influential women in Pro Hero society?”

Despite being a newer Hero, Y/N had worked alongside several of the Top Pro Heroes already, probably because of her connections with Pro Hero Hawks and her own Charisma, making her one of the most likable of the next generation. That and the fact that she was regarded as a potential Number 1 Hero given the speed she was rising through the ranks. 

Although Bakugou was sure this had damaged her credibility in some sort of way, he had no doubt she’d come back from this, even if he didn’t. After all, he wasn’t necessarily known for his award winning personality. 

In response to his publicist’s question, Bakugou finds himself crossing his arms, shrugging before he replies, “beats me.”

Inhaling deeply, his publicist brings a hand to his temple, rubbing it rather harshly in an attempt to end the major headache that was coming on. “You have no idea? None at all—” One of the other PR assistants is standing beside them once more, the guy had been leaving and coming back for a while actually. This time he seems rather anxious though, “and what the hell do you want?”

“Well— well, sir. You see, we’ve been getting a call from—”

His publicist, Haru Ishida, as Bakugou had come to know him, appears to have a vein popping out of his head as he replies, “I don’t care which major news platform wants to hear what we have to say, tell them the same thing—”

“It’s Ms. L/N’s publicist!” The man cries out, hand pressed against the receiver of the phone to keep said woman from hearing their interaction, face flushed red in embarrassment as he stands straighter and adds, “sir.”

Haru’ jaw drops open as he immediately shoots up from his seat, snatching the phone from the assistants hand and bringing it to his ear before swiftly saying, “Haru Ishida, how can I help you?”

Bakugou gives the man a look, “put it on speaker.” He hisses out.

The man does as he’s told and a woman’s voice fills the room, “I think it’s more of how I can help you, Mr. Ishida.” A pause, “I’d like to set up a meeting between our clients. We can discuss more in person.”

“Hell no.” Bakugou says instantly, seeing as his little reunion with his former classmate yesterday had gone very poorly, Bakugou couldn’t really see a world in which another meeting with Y/N benefitted him in any way. Despite this, his words cause Haru to glare at him, opening his mouth to respond only for Y/N to beat him to it.

“Bakugou.” She muses, “both you and Y/N are experiencing blowback from this.” Comes her words, the sound of typing on the other end of the call as she continues, “but you need us more than we need you. I know Y/N will come back from this, with or without you. But can you say the same about your career?” There’s almost a subtle threat if you read between the lines and it leaves Bakugou cursing under his breath.

If Bakugou was right, this was Lorelai Flores, a renowned publicist though she was rather new to the game. As someone who aspired to be the best, Bakugou initially sought her out. She’d rejected his attempts at hiring her of course, which is why he’d ended up with the second best he could secure. Haru, who was currently inhaling deeply as he replied, “that can be arranged.”

“No it cannot—” Haru ignores Bakugou’s attempt at protesting, simply shooting him a glare before returning his attention to the call.

“Fantastic!” The woman exclaims, “perhaps it can be just you and I, Haru. Clearly our clients aren’t inclined to be anywhere near each other. Of course, if all goes well then I’m sure they’ll be seeing each other plenty.” The sound of a pen scribbling against a paper followed by, “pick me up at 7, you have my address.”

The call ends, and Bakugou’s brow is raised as he looks back to his publicist, who clears his throat before saying, “we’ll come to a consensus sir.”

Meanwhile, the PR assistant from before looks to Haru, “fraternizing with the enemy?”

“I can fire you.” Haru hisses in response, eyes narrowing at the boy before looking back to Bakugou as he straightens himself and collects the paper’s before him, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for my meeting with Ms. Flores.” He moves to leave, hovering by the door as he says, “by the way, I believe Pro Hero Red Riot is heading this way at the moment.” 

Bringing his hands to his face, Bakugou groans, if he had to guess— Kirishima was going to lecture him, again. He finds himself coming to a stand making his way around the couch, he doesn’t bother to meet Kirishima the door since he’s already making his way inside. At the same time, Bakugou is left to watch as the rest of his PR team is exiting his apartment one by one, taking their equipment with them wordlessly. 

And so, in comes Kirishima, a bright smile on his face as he calls out, “hey Bakubro!” Arms spread wide as he greets his friend, coming to wrap his arms around him. Although Bakugou doesn’t return the hug, he allows the physical contact.

“Hey shitty hair.” Comes his response, mumbled out as he is finally released from Kirishima’s grip. “What do you want?”

With a shrug, Kirishima, steps further inside Bakugou’s apartment, “I figured you might wanna talk—”

“Don’t wanna talk.” Bakugou interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Kirishima. 

Nodding slowly, Kirishima offers him a tight lipped smile, a short silence encompassing them before he says, “but she said some intense stuff so I though—”

“No.” 

“I can talk to her?

“Absolutely not.”

With that, Bakugou found himself wondering how this could possibly get worse at this point, of course, his question would soon be answered seeing as things could definitely get worse.