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hoardcloneheadcanons · 1 month ago

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Stone & Robotnik's Gaggle of Robot Children P6

Stone needed to find a new way to view Dr. Jeffers, one that allowed him to be polite and gentle.

Think of him as a badnik, they weren’t perfect either when you first worked with them.

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Robotnik is dead, Agent Stone is "captured" by G.U.N. and is still trying to build Metal and complete his boss' legacy.

On his quest to do so Stone gives the gangliest, saddest researcher he can find an actual spine.

It will come with a price, but Dr. Jeffers doesn't need to know that yet.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Ch 1: The Miserable Start of Kyle Jeffers

Kyle Jeffers liked watching birds, and deer, and dogs, and insects. He disappeared a lot into the woods as a child and his mother was fine with it as long as he returned before sundown.

When he was 8 he wanted to have bird wings and tried to make some for himself out of blankets and plywood before his mom took his jury-rigged construction away from him and herded him into the “animals and biology section” of the local library.

There, he learned that bird bones were hollow, and his were not, and even if he made perfect copies of bird wings for himself, it would not work, because he had the wrong density.

His mom tried to get him interested in paper airplanes after that, but he was so interested in the actual motion of the thing. He didn't want gliders; he wanted something that flapped.

So instead, he tried making a tiny bird toy, one out popsicle sticks, rubber bands glue, and a toy-car engine. And he created something that flapped, but not something that flew.

Frustrated, he switched to creating a copy of the family dog. Flying was hard, but he was certain he could do it perfectly with a dog.

And so with the same materials, he made a thing that walked on four legs. It did not walk like a dog, but it walked. Over the next year he obsessively watched his dog. He studied dog musculature and skeletons from the local library and tooled around with making fake joints with cue-tips and plywood And with each iteration the toy walked a little bit more like a dog. He made floppy ears for it, and a tongue that moved. He considered it finished when his mom looked at it and gave a quizzical but impressed “huh, well I’ll be” at his tiny creation.

And when it was done, he tried to make a deer, then a cat, then a stink bug. He became obsessed with capturing motion in automata. When he remade his bird toy it flew.

He never stopped, he just got better materials, a more intimate understanding of biology, and less adult supervision when he used power tools. He won science fairs, and helped out with parade floats. He was a quiet kid, an odd one, but a nice one. And he never stopped hiking or loving nature.

He got a bachelor degree in mechanics and life sciences, a masters in veterinary science, and finally a PHD in biomimicry.

He never really got the handle on public speaking. He was so attuned to being quiet in the woods, and calm for animals that speaking up never came naturally. He managed to get past his dissertation because the people on the review board liked him well enough and were certain enough of his research to go lightly on him. They took him out to a bar and drilled him on his dissertation on Pangolin-based body-armor while the alcohol allowed him to bypass his natural nervousness and stutter. They told him he would do well working on academic journals and data collection.

It was a gentlest way to tell him his public speaking still sucked.

It was after college, after his PHD, while he was applying to different research positions, when the incident happened.

Kyle was taking a break from the drudgery of applications by doing what he loved best, and walking in the woods. He was hidden under bushes, with some binoculars, excited to see a red-crested woodpecker or some interesting squirrels, when he witnessed the wrong deer, So named in his head, because it moved wrong. It picked up its legs too high, and the motion was out of order. Deer, in general, lift only one leg off the ground while shifting the weight on their other three. But this one would move its feet in diagonal pairs, more similar to a beetle than a deer. Then he saw two more deer, walking exactly like it.

He thought he’d discovered some new neurological disease, specific to deer, and he followed them. closer, taking pictures. But looking closer, he noticed that the hooves were almost iridescent, and their pupils were round instead of rectangular, and he grew even more excited, suspecting he’d discovered a new species of deer.

Then, one of the three deer opened its mouth impossibly wide, unhinging its jaw at a straight 180 degrees, and from the back of its throat a large insect head popped out.

Kyle was very lucky his fear caused him to freeze instead of scream. He stayed in those bushes, motionless, watching the creatures chitter to eachother, rezip the deer jaws, and walk away.

He called animal control, and the police got them to send a town warning to stay out of the woods, and then sent a research report about the new parasitic species he’d discovered. He did not sleep, and he did not go into the woods again for weeks. The longest he'd ever gone in his life.

Then the town warning stopped, and some nice government agents came to his door and informed him that what he witnessed was an not a new species, but an extra terrestrial scouting mission. They were very proud of him identifying the spies before more could be sent over and they assured him that they had already eliminated the threat.

(That didn't really matter, Kyle would see the fist-sized compound eyes in his dreams for the rest of his life.)

However this was not the kind of species that they wanted the global public knowing about. They were already burying the story and hiding his research paper.

He, as a witness was given three options: Have his memory wiped and possibly lose some of his memories of his doctoral program, be imprisoned, or accept a very strict employment contract.

They’d seen his body armor research, they thought he had such promise.

Kyle had taken option 3.

And at first they thought he had potential. He thought had potential. And it seemed like a sweet gig.

They were going to set him up with a job monitoring animals. It wouldn’t be outside, that wouldn’t have enough global coverage. Instead it would be from a series of computers monitoring data recorded by citizen scientists and social media. He could create bots and programs to compile data and scan for abnormalities. They gave new shiny lab, with a bunch of computer monitors for the task.

But that was just supposed to be his back-burner assignment, the thing he did while he was finding his footing. His main job was to come up with new cutting, edge military technology based on the animals he observed. More stuff like his body armor, He was to write up a proposal, submit it to a budgeting committee, and then they’d approve it, he’d get a team, and make cool new shit for them.

The problem is he never got that far.

Every idea and project proposal had been shot down.

Most didn’t even make it past the submission phase. The few that did were killed the moment he got in front of an audience, and they got to see his stutter, and hunched formed, and meandering points.

It didn’t help that the incident itself made him a more nervous person. His stutter was worse.

A year passed, and then another, and another, and then it was five years. And people stopped expecting things from him.

everyday all he had to look forward to was looking at screens, day in and day out, and waiting for the weekend when he could drive off base, to the park reservation two hours away and collapse in the woods.

He couldn’t wait until his thirty-year contract ended.

And it was in that dreaded fifth year of no expectations that he found note slid under his door that said:

Come to Dr. Keller's office tomorrow between the hours of 10 and 12 if you want any of your grant proposals to get approved."

He was sure if this was punishment for bad performance, or an offer of assistance, but either way he was a little insulted that he wasn’t worth the email.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ch. 2 - Predatory, Active Species Need Enrichment

Dr. Keller had always judged people who bought dogs bred to run and run forever, when they knew for a fact that they didn't have the time to take them outside. She'd watched an old work colleague do so and was insanely frustrated when she saw the poor creature vibrate with pent-up energy and bite at its fur.

However, at the current moment she felt like one of them.

Stone was restless, every single part of him. There were times when he'd just sit in a chair at the far side of the lab, staring at the opposite wall while his leg jostled or his fingers tapped. Both of which he did completely silently.

He was driving her primary Agents insane. He was always in their space asking for new tasks, and he didn’t make noise when he moved, so he was just suddenly there, frequently startling all three of them.

It felt like they were going in inverse directions. As she slowly recovered from her years of overwork he seemed to be falling apart from stillness. She was certain the cell he was staying in during his office hours was making the situation worse. The best she could do was slide him more reference books and hope he didn’t explode.

The lab was sparkling, and alphabetized, every reference textbook he was handed was filled with neat tiny notes, and people were handed their tools before they asked for them, and the pastries he made kept getting more complex, and he looked a like he was going a little insane.

So was a little bit more lenient than either Agent Adelaid or Agent Franklin would like when he started asking about Dr. Jefffers.

He’d been in one of his “taskless, staring at a wall states” when she heard.

“Dr. Keller if it wouldn’t bother you too much, I’d like to ask about Lab 707.”

She jumped when he talked, she’d forgotten he was there.

It took her a moment for her brain to click out of the jolt and engage in the conversation.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes, what about it?”

“I am curious as to the reason there is a researcher’s name plate over a door that I was fairly certain was a utility closet last time I was here.”

“Oh- Dr. Jeffers, yeah- Uh.” How did she explain Dr. Jeffers? “A lot of his work is virtual, so he doesn’t need a lot of space, and he’s... new so he gets last pick on lab spaces. He got shuffled there when Dr. Myopic needed more space for his bacteria.”

“Not a great self-advocate?”

“No. “ An understatement. Jeffers gave off the disposition of a startled baby deer. “Honestly, he should have had mentorship upon coming here, but his hiring was sudden, and nobody had the time or space. And he said he was fine, that he needed some time to compose himself.”

“Would you mind if I attempted to help him?”

Keller felt like] she had a glimpse into what must’ve been in Stone’s quiet contemplation, a tiny smirk came to her lips.

“Am I not a dysfunctional enough scientist for you, Agent Stone?”

Behind her, Agent Franklin choked.

Stone's right eye twitched, and the tips of his ears got a little redder.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy working with you, but I am used to scenarios with a little more- stimulation. This lab seems well and sorted, and his situation seems like more of a challenge. And maybe I’m hoping G.U.N will look a little more kindly on my sentencing if I can get one of their assets in order.” ” She looked to the side mulling it over, “If it were just up to me it would be an automatic yes, but I need to run it through Rockwell if I can get your tracker changed to allow you movement between more than one lab.”

“I'd appreciate that for the future, but It's unnecessary for today, I already asked him to come here tomorrow while you’re out at a progress check-in, but I'd appreciate it for the future, it'll probably make working with him easier."

The lab grew cold for a moment, and Keller’s eyes narrowed, “I’m going to let this go because you look very close to chewing off your own leg but never invite anyone else to my lab without clearing it with me first. Understood?"

He held up his hands defensively “Heard.”

“And don’t let it interrupt any of your tasks. I’m lending you out, not giving you up.”

“Absolutely not, I know who my primary scientist is.”

__________________________________________________________

Later Agent Franklin pulled Dr. Keller aside.

"I urge you, strongly to wait on that request with Rockwell. Jeffers lab is so out of date that it is one of the few labs without security cameras or Agents. I know you like him, but can you at least wait until we get cameras installed before you let the security-threat move to the security weak-point."

"We're worried about him in a utility closet?"

"Alone? with a possible hostage that can't defend himself? Yes. I can think of three ways to kill Jeffers with computer parts right now."

"Fine. I'll put in a camera installation request first, it wasn't likely Rockwell was going to approve it anyway."

______________________________________________________________

Ch. 3. Venus Fly Traps Smell Like Nectar to Approaching Insects.

Kyle didn’t know what he expected from the scribbled note under the bottom of his door, but the man with a well-ironed suit, standing by a well-cleaned lab table with a dish of neatly-sliced quiche sittion on it was not it.

"Are you Dr. Keller?

" Oh no, she's away at a meeting right now. I’m Agent Stone. I've heard that you've been having trouble getting some of your projects through."

The name Agent Stone sounded familiar, but he couldn't place where, maybe he saw a character with a name like that in a movie?

From the side of the room Kyle Jeffers could see two agents keeping themselves busy working on an experimental engine, close enough to not quite give privacy.

"Do you want a quiche? I'm trying something new, I need more people testing them."

“Um-” the closet Kyle was staying in had one flicking overhead bulb and he usually left it off to prevent seizures. He relied on the light of the screens and a little desk-lamp he found. He was still blinking in the bright, overhead light of Dr. Keller’s sterile and spacious lab.

“Uh-no on the quiche. Is this a disciplinary meeting?”

“Absolutely not.” The strange agent's smile was warm and Kyle wasn’t prepared to respond to it after not talking to people all day. He thinks he was supposed to move his face muscles to match it? The moment had probably passed, but the agent didn’t seem to mind and he kept going, "I think we’re in positions to help each other. I was wondering if you could do me a favor and gather some of your old proposals so we could review them together. See what we can polish on them.”

“What for?”

“Well- ideally to get them approved.”

“Did someone send you?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Well. You seem to be… stalled in your career, and it makes me deeply sad to watch and-”

The agent kicked his foot out from under his desk to reveal a blinking anklet.

“-I’m a little stuck myself, My last employer went AWOL on his contract, I got implicated in the incident and now I'm under house arrest here while still filling out my duties to the Agency. I would like more freedom.”

The agent rubbed his face, he looked visibly frustrated. “Keller’s doing what she can but Director Rockwell still insists on treating me like a threat. I’m hoping if I can help you move forward, they’ll see me as enough of an asset to give me some breathing room. Or if I do this right, you’ll get enough influence to pull some strings for me. So I help you move forward you help me get more freedom. Are we clear?”

“You’re hitching your ride to a hopeless case, but I can agree.”

Agent Stone’s smile seems to flicker, before returning to placid and calm.

“Fantastic! I look forward to working together.”

Stone reached out to shake his hand.

“And word to the wise? There are already enough people here who will be looking to exploit your insecurities. You don't’ give them a full-flight path to them in self-deprecation.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ch. 4: Baby Cuckoo Birds Pretend to Be the Children of Other Bird Species to Gain Resources

Kyle brought Stone his old reports, and Stone attacked them in red pen, with a viciousness that rivaled his bloodiest target eliminations.

Some of the problems with Kyle’s work seemed so evident and basic to Stone that it made it hard for him to want to snap in front of the young man. He had to scan and reprint the first few just so Dr. Jeffers didn't read his first round of red-inked insults.

“At this point in your career, how do you not understand the basics of the human attention span This is long, meandering and impractical. How are you so uniquely un-adapted to this environment? Who let your hiring go through? They need to be reported. You could have watched other presentations and read other reports and mimicked their style. How is it still this bad?”

This was unproductive. This wouldn't work if he broke the kid so early, he needed him on his side. These were all words that he needed to be prepared to choke down his throat and shove back into his chest when he talked to Dr. Jeffers.

He needed to find a new way to view this, one that allowed him to be polite and gentle.

Think of him as a badnik, they weren’t perfect either when you first worked with them.

______________________________________________________________

The badniks had always been good at targeting and shooting, but they hadn’t always been good at being subtle.

Robotnik had designed them to be fully shielded; they didn’t need to hide. They could come in, in full force and blast whatever target was there.

But it was easier to eliminate multiple targets if you could take out a few without sending up the alarm.

He’d tried to explain this to Dr. Robotnik, who insisted the drones were fast and plentiful enough to compensate for their lack of stealth and had responded by saying.

“If you think you’re so good at it, show me. I’ve got a bunch of spies who took some proprietary information from me. Fetch it or kill them all. Actually, scratch that. Do both or never correct me on my drones again.”

He then ordered them not to follow their automatic drives, and set them to mimic Stone and follow his orders. He'd have to direct them bit by bit.

Stone remembered shushing the hovering eggs and gently herding them to where the brush was thickest, where the fog covered the area, or where the angle of the sunlight would get in the victim's eyes as they turned around. And then showing them, one small, silenced shot to the back of the head.

“Now you” he mouthed to the one closest to him

They mimicked diligently, and Stone managed to sneak in and get the blueprints before anyone realized that half their men were dead.

Robotnik got his proprietary information back, and he adjusted their programming so Stone remained registered as a head badnik that the others could update from. From that point on the had a combination of their automatic drive and mimicry.

Well I guess as government dogs go you are a nearly-perfect killing machine.

Stone bared his teeth at the compliment ripped from the jaws of the stubborn.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

______________________________________________________________

He let the memory reform his view of the writing, remembering the early badniks bursting through the bushes with reckless abandon, throwing power everywhere instead of focusing on one point.

He thought about it as he continued to mark out the presentations, going word by word.

Perfectly fixable.

………………………………………………………………………………………………...........

Ch. 5. The Stomach Acid of a Vulture has a Comparable PH to Hydrochloric Acid. They Practice Defensive Vomiting.

Kyle had responded to Stone’s summons by giving him all of his past work from the past five years. He was hoping it would delay Stone enough to give him time to figure out how he felt about the man.

It took Stone a day.

“You got through all of them?”

“Yes! I’m a fast reader, and it was engaging although a little-”

(Stone thought of the badniks using full powered blasts on a single victim “that’s noisy, you don’t have to waste your battery on that, one lower powered shot to the neck would do.”)

“-over-eager? Look for instance, this one right here. You had a project based on the corrosive properties of the stomach acid of vultures. And you said you could create a machine that mimicked it perfectly so that you could consistently and cheaply create that stomach acid to use as a rust remover or use as a weapon. Here’s my question- why did you recreate the entire system? Why not just the parts necessary for the corrosion?”

Kyle resisted saying the “Because then it wouldn’t be as cool” part and instead said “Well there’s nuanced variables and I wanted the system to be complete. And that would help us better understand vultures if we could fully mimic them from scratch.

“Right it would. And when you get an established reputation you might be able to ask for that. But this is a military facility, and they’re not going to fund research that’s pure academic curiosity. You have to have a use-case and you have to focus on it. If you pared this project down to just get the parts you’d need for the acid you could cut your budgets and timeline down easily and make it much more acceptable. Did no one tell you this?”

(Hold it back, Stone)

“They told me no one was interested in the digestive system of vultures, and that I was wasting their time. So I switched to other animals that sounded more militaristic.”

Stone had read through the clamps based on alligator jaws that required the entire head.

(Take a deep breath)

“The Agency isn’t always clear with it’s directions. They didn’t want different animals, they wanted a less thorough exploration of them, they wanted evidence that you would have a result on a shorter deadline.”

But there are additional applications if we fully mapped out their stomachs! They eat bacteria filled meat all the time, there could be disinfecting applications if we research further, not to mention the propulsion capabilities.”

“But do you hear how that’s two additional projects? And it means a longer time for the agency before they get some results back on their investment. You were busy trying to justify why the animals were interesting instead of showing that you could make something based on your study. All of these are salvageable. Every single one. Pick one and cut the budget and timeline down as much as you can.

Pick the shiniest feature you can create, emphasize how it’s cheaper and more effective than what they’re using now, guesstimate a timeline based on similar projects, and then repeat what the shiniest feature is until it’s impossible for the reader to forget This is an easy fix. We’ll go over it when you’re done”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It hurt Jeffers to adjust his proposals. Even if his hopes had been diminished over the years he had never stopped dreaming of being able to study a creature’s insides and create a perfect simulacrum. And he’d gone into depth each time describing why each part was fascinating.

Cutting it down to a simple focus felt like a baby's first project. It felt like cutting off his own limbs, making the entire thing stunted and small.

Surely, they were looking for more than this?

He looked at his own cramped office, filled with nothing but screens and shelves, and one hanging light-bulb with bad wiring.

Then again maybe not.

At a certain point he got spiteful, started scratching it down to its most basic parts. Until it was nothing but the barest essential practical's.

He could’ve done 5 projects based solely on vultures if it was just like this. It must be more efficient to loop all under one proposal. Surely that isn’t what they wanted?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ch. 6. Sea Turtles and Most Species of Snake, Abandon Their Eggs After Laying Them.

He handed it to Stone a week later.

“This is markedly better.”

“You’re kidding. Please, you have to be kidding. This is barely anything. This is injecting some chemicals into a vat with some microbes and calling it a day.”

“It isn’t. It’s based on knowledge you have in you expertise, but you’re too deeply in it to see it that way. You can make some figures to prove it’s better than our current metal treatment techniques, and how it can be made easily into a weapon. This would actually be good for making a body appear older than it is...” He said the last part as an afterthought, disappearing into some dark part of his mind.

That would haunt Kyle when he wasn’t distressed by the tragedy of lost possibility.

“But all of this technology already exists! And it’s based off of pre-established knowledge. It’s just taking things we already have and mashing it together. There’s so little discovery!”

Stone had his hands steepled in front of him. And Kyle could’ve sworn that he was repressing a smile.

“Well. Yes. Which makes your chance of success more certain for the people giving you funding. Don’t worry, they’ll likely complicate it, once they’ve accepted it.”

“How does that make sense? You just insisted I simplify it.”

“Because it’ll be changes, they ask for instead of the ones you want. They want it to be cheap and fast, but they will also want to add their own interests and addendums. The trick is to negotiate for more money every time they do.”

“No- I- that’s gotta be a special circumstance. They can’t want this. I’m a research scientist, this is technician work.”

Now Dr. Jeffers was certain that Stone was suppressing a laugh.

“You’re in Research and Development, heavy on the development. I’m going to mark out a few formatting errors. Submit it and see what happens. In the meantime, work on a few others, get them to the same level.”

Jeffers turned to leave, still wanting to protest. But assured that he’d be able to shove it in Stone’s face when he got rejected as it always did.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was in review.

They were asking him to present it in a week.

Dr. Jeffers felt high.

This was better. It was better than being locked in a closet, just reviewing screens for possible aberrations in animal behavior. There was hope of moving forward.

But it was a project that he could finish in a couple of months. It wasn’t that exciting. It felt like he was shifting from boring to slightly less boring.

He’d found a dark tunnel out of his hole and now he wanted to know how long the dig would take.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was the first time he’d come into Dr. Keller’s lab without a note stuck to his door telling him the time to come in at a specific time. He found Stone, the other Agents, and a woman he didn't recognize, who he assumed was Dr. Keller, in the middle of welding together smaller parts onto the experimental engine he’d seen them work on for the entire time he was coming.

He waited in the corner until Agent Stone walked over to him.

“Jefffers, I didn’t expect you here today. Did your proposal make it through?”

“Yeah-actually, thanks. I didn’t expect it to work.” The reminder that this was intended to move him forward, made him feel guilty and ungrateful about asking the next question, but it was eating at him and he pushed the words out anyway,

“You said I could negotiate for more exciting work once I got more respect? How long do you think that will take?”

“Well- I don't actually know. My last boss was already established by the time I was working for him." Stone waited for a pause in the welding, "Keller?”

She lifted up her welding mask to look at the two. Jeffers shifted to put Stone in between them. The other scientists in the facility still intimidated him a touch.

“How long do you think it took you before you got to the point in your career where you could request a project that had a year’s deadline or more, and had more exploratory features rather than guaranteed ones?”

Keller squinted at Jeffers.

He seemed to be standing up just a little bit straighter, and she's not sure he'd ever asked another scientist a direct question before.

Keller rubbed her teeth with her tongue, thinking.

“You’re comparing apples to oranges there. Technically I got to a point like that the moment I started working for the agency, it’s why I joined. However that was 17 or 18 years into my career. Before that it was a lot of saying yes to whatever project was thrown my way and being part of a team that was under supervision by a more established project lead. A lot of designing the gear shift or break mechanism of the car rather than the entire vehicle. Even now- I get more project requests that someone else thought of, they just give me a lot of creative freedom to solve their problems. They still haven’t approved my mech suit design.”

She wiped the sweat from her head looked at Dr. Jeffers with pity.

“ But I’m not sure if any of that applies to you. I don’t think G.U.N has the established infrastructure to train someone new. I don't know what they were thinking when they hired you. They normally hire scientists established in their careers. I don’t know how your path will go. It could go faster because you’re essentially starting a new department from scratch, and have some freedom to play around or slower because you have no support.”

She watched Jeffers face get paler. She had tried to explain it to him gently but he did need to learn.

Stone turned to look at Jeffers, “Does that answer your questi- oh you should sit back down, let me get you some water.”

,.............................................................................................................................

17 years.

And he had no mentors when he should have

Stone handed him an open water bottle and he stared at it blankly.

“I should’ve had my memory wiped. It would’ve taken me a year to relearn anything I lost, and then I could’ve taken a research position. They told me I was made for academic journals and obscure research when I did my dissertation. I wasn’t made for development. I’ve spent years wondering what I’ve been doing wrong and it turns out I was acting like I had a different job that the one I actually had.”

He was a circular peg trying to fit into a triangular hole and no one had told him.

“It’s not going to help you to focus on the past at this point. It’s time to focus on what’s left. When’s your presentation?”

“Next thursday.”

“Let’s focus on getting that in order. We can arrange some time for you and I to go over some practice questions, figure out how to fix your presentation style.”

Jeffers nodded, he was still staring into blank space, locked into the void.

(Stone remembered fixing the wiring of a badnik as it struggled to contract and expand it’s main optical aperture. It sparked under his gloved hands.

“I’m sorry my darling, we didn’t know they had armor piercing bullets. I’m going to get this fixed up and then your Dad’s going to figure out how to reinforce your shell, ok?”

He said it in Arabic, hoping no one would hear the softness with which he spoke to the badniks. As far as he knew, no one had, Robotnik had certainly never brought it up.)

He sighed

“Look if you really need exploration to function, you can send an email. To Director Granite of Warehouse F. I’ll see if I can get his contact info.”

“Warehouse F?”

“Yeah, F for failure- and that’s the politer phrase. It’s where all the decommissioned projects go. Ones that ran out of money or never accomplished their target goals. Things they don’t know what to do with. It’s just junk that they have no idea what to do with but hide for proprietary reasons. They’re overly ambitious puzzles that more experienced researchers failed to solve. Ask for one of them. It’ll give you something to explore while you wait for something bigger. It might even help you get more approval if a department head sees you showing initiative. I wouldn’t let it distract you from your primary work, but if you need something to puzzle through, it’s there.”

And suddenly, Jeffers felt like there was a small lamp in a long tunnel.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

One main anxiety down, one to go.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Something bugged at Keller, and she brought it up Stone once she knew Kyle had left the room.

“Stone, answer me something.”

“Hm?”

“I only remember G.U.N. having one scientist with a biomimicry degree. So, be honest, Was Robotnik supposed to be the one to train Jeffers?”

Stone shrugged.

Internally, he may have remembered a ‘request for trainee form’ sliding across his desk around the time. Most of those requests, along with ‘additional agent requests’ slid off his desk and into the trash too fast for him to recall.

“It’s possible, but Jeffers came in around the Montana incident. At which the Agency cut ties with both of us.”

“So they hired him with the idea that there’d be someone to train him, and then couldn’t admit they’d messed up when there wasn’t.”

“Likely. It’s probably for the best. He wouldn’t have survived Dr. Robotnik.”

She thought of the way the kid hid behind Stone from her and gave a morbid chuckle.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

Her faced screwed up in irritation, and then rage.

"Jeffers has a degree in mechanics, right? Biomimicry in chemistry and mechanics?"

"Yes."

"Goddam it I was requesting extra-personal for years and he was right down the hall. I could have trained him. It would have solved two problems in one go."

She sighed and then fiddled with her blow torch.

"Excuse me for a minute while I set something small on fire."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ch. 7: Striped Hyenas are Born Blind and Helpless. They Do Not Develop Bone Crushing Jaw Strength Until They Are 3 Years Old.

Kyle sent the email to director Granite. It felt weird how many additional channels there were to get work and prove yourself.

Nobody had told him anything except the basics, They expected so much out of him that he hadn’t been given guidance and then they let him fail.

Thank god for Stone.

He’d had to have a desperate criminal give him the option.

..........................................................................................................................

The next thing Stone told Dr. Jeffers to do, was make the most dumbed-down version of his presentations he could, and then write up a script for it.

Something basic that he felt like he could recite even if he was drowning.

He then requested that Jeffers present it to him, in the hallway while Stone stood in the doorway of Kellers lab.

When Jeffers brought up how hideously awkward that would feel with anyone being able to walk by. Stone claimed “That's the point, if you can present it in an inherently awkward way now, it'll make it easier for you to do it in front of a crowd later.”

It also gave them a modicum of privacy from Keller and her agents, who seemed to be calming down after several of Kyle's visits.

The process was simple.

Kyle would present for 15 minutes or until he broke. Then they would go over breathing techniques, or some way to refocus him and they'd do it again. It was easy. He was starting to get comfortable with Stone, and even if he was nervous, he could say it all if he was going slow and staring at the wall. He eventually got to the point where he could say it without. Stuttering. He knew all the words, it was easy.

He thought after that, that Stone would extend the time. He didn't.

Instead he started asking questions. The first few were soft balls, ones that just, allowed him to expand on a point that he knew the answer to. Then they got hard, questions he hadn't thought of. But then they got more annoying. More condescending. He'd ask him to repeat parts he'd already said, Ask him minute details that just didn't matter.

And Dr. Jeffers was tired of saying the same thing over and over and over again in an exposed hallway, holding print outs of his slides and he starting snap at him.

"That's a stupid an irrelevant question?! Yeah, it could dissolve a hinge if you got a few hours to spend on your B & E but may I suggest a screwdriver?"

"Good response. Good diction and energy, no stutter. Work on the anger. Learn to say the first part in your head. You can take a minute."

"I can't just tell them their question is stupid?"

"You? No. Keller? Maybe, but you don't have the reputation, established respect, or pile of blackmail for it. You'll get shot."

"Metaphorically?"

"Depends on who you insult."

____________________________________________________________

The worst session, by far, was when Stone stopped asking quesions.

Jeffers kept waiting for them to come, but instead Stone looked restless and bored and was looking the other way to check in on Keller's lab and then would switch to looking at his watch.

Kyle's vision started to flatten, and his heart rate picked up, and he couldn't form the next word of his sentence. It kept coming out wrong. And his chest hurt.

He knew it, this still wasn't going to work. It was all going to turn out the same for him, and when they kicked him out, the compound eyes would be waiting.

Stone stopped the timer, “Jeffers I'm going to need you to list three things in the room for me.”

“WE'RE IN A HALLWAY.”

“In the hallway then”

“Your stupid overly shiny shoes, the overhead lights that are giving me a headache and Dr. Kellers's name tag on the door.”

He felt his heartbeat go down as he was forced to pay attention to his surroundings.

“Now do you want to tell me what happened there?"

“They're not going to care. We're going to do all this and they're still not going to care. You can't even care. I mean- I know when it's you, it's an act to make a point, to help me practice but it won't be when I get up there.”

“... that's not necessarily true. A lot of them have the training I have. And breaking down someone's self esteem before negotiating with them, is part of that.”

Suddenly Jeffers wasnt struggling to breathe. He was momentarily distracted by anger.

“Say psyche right now.”

“ If they did accept your project, then they would be negotiating with you for how many details they can add without you adjusting the budget, hoping you'll do unrecorded hours to compensate. And that's easier if you're already... pliable. You're also just in a room filled with people used to being in charge.”

“I've not even able to show them what I have that's valuable because I'm so terrified that it sends me into stuttering fits. I can't even get to the negotiating table.”

“They find that an acceptable loss. They look down on weakness and a lack of presentation skills is that.”

“But- if that's true - they’re doing it so much that I can’t even show them what I have is useful, they’re destroying me before I even get to the negotiating table.”

“They are under the impression that, that is an acceptable loss. In their minds if you’re too weak to do a presentation, then your science isn’t worth looking at.”

“But my science is good. I was a good researcher before this. I was before they got me here and shoved me in a closet. They forgot to give me resources. I just suck at presenting. That doesn’t make my science faulty just because they can’t listen through a stutter.”

Jeffers felt like he was flailing as he said it. But it also sounded true. He was a good researcher. He was dedicated and had the most rigorous studies and was the best at keeping notes and finding sources, and diagnosing the errors in machines and identifying behavior patterns. He was good at this, and he felt like that fact had been beaten out of him.

There was a slight quirk to the corner of Stone's lips, so small. Repressed.

“I know. I didn’t say they were all that bright. They waste useful resources all the time. It’s what happens with a lot of money and a lack of oversight.

Something shifted in the register of Stone's shifted as he said it. The unmistakable tone of condescension as he talked about their employers.

Something in Jeffers’s brain was breaking. The thought that people might be intentionally tripping him up, intentionally getting in his way was infuriating. He’d been stuck in a closet for years, for a dick measuring contest.

“Dr. Jeffers?”

Kyle looked up.

"Are you ready to keep going?"

He half shook himself out of his rage trance.

"Yeah- yeah let's do this."

……………………………………………………...........................................................

Dr. Jeffers, had a new problem.

He could now say, the entire presentation fully, entirely without stutter, with confidence, with his full chest.

The thought of a room filled with idiots, who had actively screwed him over, and had coaxed him into an employment contract they weren't prepared for was- oddly relaxing? It was easier now that all the respect was gone.

He just couldn't say respond to questions anymore without at least one insult slipping out. Stone noticed, and they'd stopped and restarted on a different day, but the anger was still there, trying desperately to bubble out of his throat.

“Well yes, this project would be easy to scale up. You basically just need a larger vat. And I'd be happy to shove you in once you get one, so we could estimate the size and capacity."

It probably didn't help that Stone just thought it was funny. He had put in an effort to look disappointed on the beginning of the second day, but Jeffers caught Stone's shoulder's shaking in his peripheral when he thought Jeffers had his back turned.

"Are you still laughing at me?

He was audibly snickering now that he knew Jeffers was looking.

"I swear I used to be better at hiding this, I think I'm out of practice."

Stone looked exasperated and fond.

“This is really going to be a problem for you isn’t it? You’ve gotten a taste for it and you can’t stop.”

“It’s easier not to be scared when I’m angry.”

Strone considered, and then looked to the side at what Keller and her agents were doing and noticed that They were working with a large loud buzz saw and had hearing protection on.

“Look, I have a solution, but it's going to require you to ask a limited number of questions."

"Oh, actual super spy shit?"

"Yes. I'm going to find the guest list for your presentation. Then I'm going to find the person with the least amount of social status amongst their peers. Someone they won't mind being mocked, and I will give you a name. If you find them and confirm their name, you can rip into them once. Do you understand? It’s not my favorite solution, but I believe a controlled detonation is better than an unpredictable blast.”

Dr. Jeffers cocked his head to side. That sounded...practiced.

"Did you have to do this for your last boss?"

“Oh- him? Yes. Though he had the authority to have a few more names on his list.”

If Stone’s expression had been fond before, it could now melt sugar-cookies with its level of warmth as he looked into the past, into a memory that- based on the expression- must've been hazy and pink and filled with flowers.

“I used to get him a list of everyone in the room, maybe discounting one or two major sponsors, numbered in order from “least problematic to insult” to “most destructive to insult” and on a good day he’d only go through three or four and on a bad day I'd be lucky if there was three or four left. But he always went in order, every time. He had them memorized. Some of those lists had more than two hundred people on them. I think he was showing off. But that was just for meetings and conferences. Couldn’t do anything about him in the field though, then it was just whomever was closest.”

The loud buzz-saw Keller and her Agents were using sounded off and ripped him from the happy memory and the expression vanished.

“-and it was completely destructive to his reputation, and you should not mimic it."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Jeffers learned that Stone very much liked his old boss. And that he wasn’t supposed to, which meant he was probably a traitor.

Jeffers did not feel loyal enough to G.U.N. to care.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Ch. 8: The Death's-Head Hawkmoth Can Mimic the Presentation and Smell of Bee Well Enough to Enter a Hive Without Harm.

Keller went to Jeffers Budget-hearing presentation as a walk-in. She had the time now.

She didn't feel the need to add anything, she was just there with her chai latte, observing.

Agent Franklin was still on her case about not trusting Stone, and she figured she'd keep tabs on his latest project to see how it was going, to see if he was actually helping Dr. Jeffers out or doing something secret behind their backs while using the kid as the justification.

If all went well, She was planning on bugging Rockwell about updating Jeffers lab to their current security standards and lengthening Stone's leash.

Based on everything she saw, yeah, he was.

Jeffers had maybe tripped-up word here and there, but the presentation was, well-timed, clear, engaging to follow. Which was a vast improvement over the last time she saw his presentation, which inspired in her second-hand embarrassment, and a desire to nap.

She wondered how many presentations Stone had helped Robotnik with- all of them? Stone seemed to be an adept communicator; it wouldn't surprise her.

That would make it hard for him to avoid learning technical skills though, being so close to the project proposal. A more paranoid voice in her head said.

She shrugged it off. Theory was different application. You could know what direction to turn a wrench and still hold it wrong. He'd probably take to it though if given half a chance.

Her musings were interrupted by a reedy voice asking if he knew the itemized pricing on the titration equipment.

Jeffers rattled off a rough estimation, at which point the voice asked if it was a fully researched budget or if he was just guessing.

She glanced over to the speaker. Ugh- Feldspar, one of the accountants who took a little too much pleasure in her job. She'd be at this for the next 20 minutes.

Keller glanced down at her phone screen. It was 11:57. Dang it she was hoping to have enough time to have lunch outside today, rather than ordering in and eating it in her lab.

Jeffers froze, for several long beats, Keller was worried that he'd lost whatever nerve he'd carefully built up. Then he squinted, reading a name-tag.

"Harmony Feldspar, right?"

(A memory itched at Keller, Dr. Robotnik on stage, crouched, squinting at a nametag before saying "So do you not have five braincells to clack together or are you deaf? Because I need an explanation for why you didn't hear me the first six times.")

"So do you have tunnel vision, or are you actually capable of seeing the other people around you? Because I cannot think of a drier topic than what every spoon and syringe costs. And as much as I want to watch everybody's head slowly drop to the table or try to claw the walls to escape as you satisfy your curiosity, then maybe we don't go down this line?"

Feldspar was squirming.

"This is unprofessional behavior- and it's perfectly reasonable way to gauge you research techniques."

"My entire presentation was a perfectly reasonable way to gauge my research techniques. Tell you what. I'll answer any question you have if you stand up here with me, look at your colleagues and tell them you don't care about their time. Ok Harmony?"

The kid wasn't blinking, and he was vibrating with rage.

Harmony Feldspar clicked her teeth shut.

"Any other questions?" No one spoke.

"Great! Presentation over, everyone get-out and have a nice day."

Oh.

Oh that was too familiar.

Maybe Keller could wait on asking Rockwell to extend Stone's leash. At least until she did a little extra digging.

...........................................................................................................................

Dr. Jeffers manages to act cold, calm and collected, all the way to his office, at which point, he closed the door and let his bones turn to soup as he collapsed on the floor.

The main accounting officer? That was the name Stone had given him?

His brain was flipping back and forth between blacking out and reviewing all the words he'd said to see just how much of an asshole he'd been.

He'd felt giddy, he felt sick. He felt like he'd finally succeeded for the first time in a while, and he was wondering the cost. He'd felt confident when he'd been speaking, but he'd also had the anger waiting to pop.

He'd memorized the seating chart because he'd been eager for it. Then when it happened it took everything in him to hold his cool and not apologize when the woman looked flabbergasted and afraid.

She was just doing her job.

"Part of her job was breaking you down." A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Stone's said. "She had her teeth bared just as much as you did and she wouldn't have given you half the consideration you're giving now."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it feels good."

He needed normalcy.

He logged on to the computer to do his normal, standard job of reviewing global animal behavior.

One email notification popped up, then two.

He skimmed through them.

Glad to see your presentation skills have improved. Excited to work with you. Can we meet to discuss details at lunch tomorrow?

He made a face.

"This place is weirdly fucked up."

............................................................................................................................

The next morning, Dr. Jeffers opened his office to see a white, spherical, object taking about 30% of his office floor. It had, what appeared to be a large powered off-eye, and not much else. He couldn't see any buttons or switches to turn it on or activate it, just slats where it could theoretically open up.

On top was placed one, yellow sticky note.

“Check Your E-mail, Director Granite."

"Oh, yeah Warehouse F" he thought, "I'd almost forgotten about that"

He did, staring at the unidentified object the entire time.

The email read as follows:

Hey kid, saw your presentation yesterday. Glad to see some initiative and some guts out of you finally. I got project tailor-designed for you.

We used to have a different scientist on staff who was interested in biomimicry and weapons, but he went absolutely insane and died and now nobody's been able to activate any of his drones. I figured your specialties aligning you might have additional insight. We’ve sent some files on what’s been tried so far. Whatever you do, don't try prying them open, they explode.

The guy went by Dr. Ivo Robotnik. I think G.U.N. got ahold of his old assistant, you might want to try asking him some questions.

Don’t get too distracted by this, we still need you on potential alien monitoring. Tell us if you find anything.

-Director Granite.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

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cleolinda · 1 year ago

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So last night at the Democratic National Convention, Kamala Harris pulled off, in my opinion, the most glorious flex in all of American politics. It was petty as fuck and I am here for it:

Harris, in a Show of Force, Holds a Large Rally 80 Miles From Her Convention

Choosing Fiserv Forum in Milwaukee [the smaller venue used for the Republican National Convention] as the venue for Ms. Harris’s rally also served as an intentional rejoinder to Mr. Trump, who has fumed over the size of her crowds since she replaced Mr. Biden on the Democratic ticket. The campaign said about 15,000 people attended the rally in Milwaukee, and the 23,500-person convention hall in Chicago was packed.

Someone on Reddit then linked to the Kamala HQ video of her brief Coming To You Live From My Rival’s Venue acceptance speech for the Democratic nomination. And Redditors pointed out that you could actually see the juxtaposition, and the sold-out crowds could see each other, and it was beautiful.

Posters on r/politics constantly say to any positive discussion, “None of this matters if you don’t vote.” While this is true, the constant doomer nihilism of “None of this matters” pisses me off. I know they’re afraid people will get complacent. They’re afraid people will see, for example, pictures of these massive crowds and think, I don’t have to leave the house. I don’t have to vote. Everyone else will get this. But that’s not what I think when I see news like this. It DOES matter. I was always going to drag my carcass out to my polling station in a blood-red state, whether I have to use a cane or not, whether the Electoral College even gives a shit about my vote or not, but this is exciting. Whenever I see Kamala’s packed, enthusiastic crowds, I think, This is a movement forward and I get to be part of it. We are gonna run up the popular vote as a statement that will make bad-faith actors think twice before meddling, and we are gonna flip some battleground states. We are gonna nail down the electoral votes, and I am going to sit there and watch on TV as they certify the electors in December, and then I am going to sit there and watch them officially count it out like they did on January 6, 2021, and I am going to know that I was part of that.

It’s not about getting complacent. It’s about feeling the agency and possibility that we can actually get this done. It’s about saying, I get to do this, even if it’s just one ballot, one I Voted sticker, one day. We’re gonna get our first female, first South Asian American, and second Black president into that office. The enthusiasm is our running rebuke to that fucking guy, and we’re gonna get the numbers as even Republican politicians turn on him and support Kamala Harris. And any time someone tells you that being hopeful is getting complacent, come back and look at those crowds. Or better yet, get hyped up by Michelle Obama:

youtube

Hope is energy, not complacency. We can do this.

#kamala harris #michelle obama #yes of the two obama family speeches this IS the one I’m posting #she got up there and Told It #us politics #video #dnc 2024

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aliyahwritings · 10 months ago

Text

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with.

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you.

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control.

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals��but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn.

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

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sleepinghypnos · 3 months ago

Text

The Manager (Aespa)

Named Male x Female Idol/s

Tags: Smut...

Note: (The "Male" has 13 inches long and 5 inches thick schlong, so it's size kink and it will be prominent in the story. Sorry. If you feel uncomfortable with size mentions, DNI).

Extra Note: Another series i'm not going to finish... Let's go.

A/N: Wattpad... 2nd Person's POV

Ms. Lorelei smiled at me... "Lucas, here's a new assignment for you!" She said, while pointing to the chair in her office. I was welcomed by a folder labeled "Management".

I'm looking at the files and saw the name "Aespa".

"Another one? I thought I'm done looking after idols?" I said to my dispatcher. "I already made myself clear that I'm done doing stuff like this."

She look at me and smile a little, a smile of guilt. "It will be different this time. You're going to manage a four-member idol girl group. They have huge projects waiting to be fulfilled. And you're not going to go back and forth like last time since you'll be living in the same house with them." She said as if that will change my mind. I'm done with these brats. That's why I specifically told the agency to not give me anything related to idols. I somewhat have an authority since I've been doing such a good job with my assignments.

But looks like this time I will be forced to go. "Fine." I simply said.

She handed me a key. "That's the key to your room. You'll be living with them, so you can respond to emergencies as fast as possible. Make sure to be there after three days."

"Thanks, I guess..." I stood up and went back to my house to pack my things...

I spent the next three days packing my stuff, steeling myself since I'm going to deal with brats again. But still making sure to be professional.

Then safely moved to the house where Aespa lives while they are out. I'm excited to be on the field again but at the same time weren't because of this idol management stuffs.

Since I already did this before, the dispatcher also gave me the some lists of likes and dislikes in terms of food.

I bought something for each of the four members of Aespa. They are doing some individual projects as of now. I'll be dropping by their location one by one.

Using the designated van that I'm going to be using for my managerial work for Aespa, I drove to the location of the first member.

Stopping by at a beach called Gyeongpo Beach located near SM Entertainment... Karina is the first member I'm going to be meeting today.

I searched for the people doing photoshoot and saw Karina with her beach attire, not some bikini or something but still beach like style. She's promoting a brand of beverage.

Aespa has 4 managers, managing each one of the members and I'm assigned to be the general manager. Her personal manager came up to me, I showed her my ID and she report to me on how the photoshoot was going smoothly and point me to the dressing room.

I went to the dressing room, putting down her food. Tonkatsu, Carbonated Soda, and Coffee Jelly. Then Karina suddenly bursts through the door startling me a little.

"Oppa?!" She said, her voice filled with excitement.

"Nice meeting you. I'm your group's new general manager." I replied, extending my hand to her. Gesture of politeness.

She shook my hand and said "I knew it. I saw you before! You are Red Velvet's former manager. I can't believe it's our turn now."

"I'm glad that you are happy to see me... Well, I'm here to drop the food I prepared for you." Pointing to the table where her food is.

"Sweet! I like these! Thank you so much, Oppa!" She exclaimed and hugged me. I patted her back and she let me go.

"Your personal manager told me that the photoshoot is going smoothly, keep up the good work." I said to her while smiling. "I'm assuming you are on break... Why don't you eat your food now. I can't have you starving..."

She indulged herself with the food I prepared for her. Humming and cutely dancing while eating. Karina finished her food aside from the Coffee Jelly...

"I thought you liked Jelly? Is Coffee Jelly not part of it?" I genuinely asked, if she doesn't like it, I can removed it from the Jelly options.

"No, it's just that... It lacks cream!!!" She said to me that raised my eyebrow...

"What do you mean?"

"Just sit on the sofa, and I'll get the cream myself." She knelt between my legs...

This time, I already know where this is going... It's the main reason why I don't want to work with idols anymore... These girls are sex deprived, with their dating ban, they can't see or date anyone, they don't even have the time to actually date since the media would be on their asses if they saw them with someone.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked her as she unbuckles my pants.

She nodded. "I was so happy to know that you are going to be our general manager, Red Velvet unnies always brags about you... I'm so curious why they praised you so much."

And with that she successfully freed my cock from it's enclosure.

"I think I already know why they praised you..." She said stroking my non-erect cock... "You are already big 'soft' but you are for sure a grower..."

Karina then strokes my cock, making it grow longer and bigger... She can't close her hands while holding my member, her soft delicate fingers can't wrapped around it properly...

"I knew it! We got a grower!" She exclaimed, shock is audible in her voice. She measures it with her forearm and smiled as if she hit a jackpot when she saw how big my cock is compare to it. "You're so fucking massive, Oppa!"

"Where do you even learned that?" I asked as I watch her make my cock harder.

"Sooyoung-unnie!" Karina casually claim.

After answering, she immediately dove down and engulfed my cock with her warm mouth. She bobs her head, I can tell that this is her first time sucking dick...

I let her do her own thing, with her own pace...

My hands on her head, guiding her a little but she's still in control of her actions.

She gained confidence with how I reacted and starts going for a deepthroat. I can feel the tip of my cock slamming to the back of her throat.

Her unrefined fellatio makes this encounter a material for domination.

I stopped her from deepthroating me. "Let me..." I simply said and she nodded, already know what's going to happen.

I held her head in place, slowly thrusting back and forth in her mouth... "Here I go!"

GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!!

The sound of her gagging on my massive cock filled her dressing room. I threw my head back, enjoying the warmth of Karina's mouth. I keep thrusting into her throat until she can take half of my massive cock.

GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!! GLUCK!!

Her eyes rolled back as her throat convulsed around the brutal invasion, her body shuddering in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The forceful thrusts sent shockwaves through her entire being, making her feel like she was drowning in the abyss of my massive cock.

Gagging reflexes kicked in, but Karina's perseverance allowed her to relax enough to take it deeper—her jaw unhinging further with each merciless plunge into her esophagus.

"Aaaaahhh... F-fuck...!" She struggled to maintain composure, desperate not to gag or choke on my unrelenting assault.

As I continued ravaging her throat, Karina's mind disintegrated into a haze of lust and submission. Her vision blurred from the intense pressure building behind eyelids that threatened to burst at any moment. "Y-y-you're going too fast...!" She whimpered between gulps for air.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she felt herself reaching critical capacity—her throat straining under the relentless pounding. The intense sensation made her own arousal peak, juices dripping from her quivering slit.

"P-please... Oppa... don't make me choke..." She begged, voice muffled by my monstrous cock.

GLUCK!! GLUCK!!

Despite the danger of asphyxiation, Karina's addiction to my massive cock kept her consuming it with reckless abandon—her body responding only to the primal urge for more.

"I'm close!" I said to her. Still thrusting into her throat. "I'M CUMMING!!!"

Karina's eyes widened in shock as the first thick ropes of cum began to erupt from my cock, flooding her throat and stomach with a deluge of hot, sticky seed. The sheer volume was overwhelming, causing her belly to swell grotesquely as I pumped load after load directly into her gullet.

GLUCK!! GLUCK!!

Her mind reeled at the sensation—her body convulsing involuntarily as she struggled to swallow the torrent of jizz pouring down her esophagus. "Aaaahh...! F-fuck...!" She gagged and sputtered, tears streaming down her face from the intensity.

GLUCK!! GLUCK!!

The feeling of my massive cock pulsing inside her stretched-out throat sent waves of pleasure coursing through her veins. Her own arousal peaked intensely—juices gushing from between her thighs as she came undone. "OOOOH!! FUUUCK!!! SHIT, OPPAAA!!!" She moaned around my shaft, voice muffled by the relentless stream of cum.

As I continued to unload deep inside her stomach for what felt like an eternity, she could feel the pressure building in her abdomen. Her belly distended obscenely, looking ready to burst at any moment. "P-please... Oppa... it's too much..." She whimpered weakly, barely able to form words through the haze of pleasure and pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you pulled out with a wet pop. Karina gasped for air desperately as thick globs of cum spilled from her abused throat and splattered onto her heaving tits. "Haaahh... haaahh..." She panted heavily, body trembling from the intense experience.

She looked down at her seemingly full stomach—stretched taut by the sheer volume of semen inside—and groaned softly. "S-so full..." She mumbled deliriously before collapsing back onto the bed in a boneless heap. "I still have a photoshoot, you jerk!" Karina playfully smacked my thigh.

"I ask you if you are sure about this..." I replied. "What a first day back to the field."

"Woooh!" She's still out of breath but still have the guts to smirk at me. "Thanks for the cream, Oppa."

I help her fix herself, and someone knocked on the door. "Ms. Karina, It's time for the photoshoot again."

"See you at our house later..." Karina said and gave me a peck on the cheek.

I look at the clock and it's time for me to go to the next member... Giselle

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fic #kpop #aespa smut #aespa karina

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writeriguess · 6 months ago

Note

Having a super hard time right now so could you do a single dad kirishma or bakugo or shinsou and they’re struggling trying to juggle parenthood and being a pro then they meet y/n she’s new to their agency and she just so happens to catch their eye, just a simple receptionist but she has so many ideas. They’re so busy that they don’t even get the chance to actually meet her until one day she comes up to their office with an idea for a daycare in the agency since she’s getting so many call outs about people who don’t have child care. She offers to run/teach the daycare as well since she was a teacher back in the states before she moved and it turns out this is the key to their own problems and they slowly fall in love with her.

author's note: Hey, I just wanted to clarify something. I’ve noticed that “comfort fics” sometimes get published quickly after being requested, which might give the impression that I prioritize them. However, that’s not the case—every fic is written and published in the order it was requested.

If you requested this piece, you might have noticed that I didn’t publish it immediately after seeing it. Please know that I don’t rush requests out of order. The only time I made an exception was for an emergency request, but I now realize that was a mistake, as some people overlooked my author’s note explaining it was a one-time thing. I’m sorry for any confusion, and I appreciate your patience!

Safe in Your Hands

The constant buzzing of his phone was a persistent, grating reminder that life didn’t slow down for anyone. Not even for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he read yet another text from the daycare. His son, Ryo, had caught a cold and needed to be picked up early—again. He wasn’t mad at the kid, never at him, but the frustration of trying to juggle being a top pro hero and a single father was wearing him thin.

His office was a mess of paperwork, mission reports, and unfinished emails. He was barely keeping his head above water, and his agency, while thriving, was in dire need of some structure. Or a miracle.

That’s when a soft knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he grumbled, expecting another stack of files or another meeting he didn’t have time for.

Instead, you stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Dynamight-san.”

He barely looked up at first, recognizing you as the new receptionist. You’d been here a couple of months, always polite, always handling things smoothly. He’d noticed, even if he never had the time to actually speak to you. You were a quiet force in the chaos, managing things from behind the front desk with a calm confidence.

“I, uh, hope I’m not interrupting,” you said, shifting slightly but holding your ground. “I have an idea I wanted to run by you.”

His gaze flickered up then, curiosity outweighing his exhaustion. “What kinda idea?”

You stepped forward, placing a neatly written proposal on his desk. “I’ve been getting a lot of call-outs from employees who are struggling with childcare. And I’ve noticed you’ve had to step out unexpectedly for similar reasons. I was a teacher back in the States before moving here, and I was thinking… what if we had an in-agency daycare?”

He blinked, stunned into silence for the first time in what felt like months.

“I’d be willing to help set it up, even run it,” you continued, your voice steady. “It’d give the staff some peace of mind, knowing their kids are safe while they work. And it might make things easier for you, too.”

He stared at you for a long moment, your words sinking in. No one had ever suggested something like this before. No one had ever looked at the chaos of his life and offered a solution so simple yet perfect.

“Tch,” he finally scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re serious about this?”

You nodded. “Completely.”

And just like that, something in his chest loosened.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Once Bakugo approved the daycare idea, you got straight to work. There were meetings to hold, rooms to convert, supplies to order, and staff to hire. Despite the long hours, you found yourself energized by the project. The employees were thrilled with the idea, and as word spread through the agency, more and more heroes began stopping by to offer assistance.

Bakugo was still a little wary, though. He wasn’t the type to trust easily, but he couldn’t deny that things were starting to feel a little less overwhelming.

One evening, as you were reviewing the final details before the daycare’s official opening, Bakugo showed up at the converted space. You looked up from your clipboard, surprised to see him standing in the doorway with Ryo in his arms. The little boy, looking sleepy and snuggled into his father’s shoulder, blinked at you drowsily.

“Figured we should do a test run,” Bakugo muttered, stepping inside. “See how the brat likes it.”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. Come on in.”

Setting Ryo down gently, Bakugo watched as the toddler hesitantly explored the room. His tiny hands ran over the soft mats, and he eyed the shelves of toys with curiosity. Slowly, he toddled toward a plush All Might figure, giving it an experimental squeeze.

You crouched down next to him. “You like that one, Ryo?”

The boy looked up at you, then at his father, before nodding shyly.

Bakugo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like it’s a hit.”

You grinned. “I think so.”

For the first time since you’d met him, you saw the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders ease slightly. Maybe this really was the answer to the problem he hadn’t been able to solve alone.

As the weeks went by, the daycare became an integral part of the agency. Parents were relieved, the kids were happy, and Bakugo—though he’d never say it outright—was grateful beyond words.

You and Bakugo started seeing more of each other, too. At first, it was just in passing—quick meetings to discuss logistics, brief encounters when he dropped Ryo off. But then, it turned into coffee breaks, conversations that stretched a little longer each day, small moments of laughter that neither of you had expected.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, Bakugo stopped by your office. You looked up, surprised to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

“Hey,” you replied, setting your pen down. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Just… wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. “You don’t have to thank me, Bakugo. I’m happy to help.”

His gaze softened, just a little. “Still. You’ve made shit easier for me. And for Ryo.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad. He’s a great kid.”

A rare smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, he is.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. And in that moment, you both knew—this was just the beginning.

As months passed, your presence in Bakugo’s life became more than just professional. He found himself looking forward to seeing you every day, whether it was during a hectic morning drop-off or a quiet evening chat after work. Ryo adored you, always running to you with excitement when he saw you at the daycare.

One night, after a late shift, you were locking up when Bakugo showed up with Ryo asleep in his arms. He was exhausted, but there was something softer in his expression than usual.

“Wanna grab a late dinner?” he asked, almost shyly.

You blinked in surprise before smiling. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, everything changed. The weight on Bakugo’s shoulders didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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uranometrias · 6 months ago

Text

isn't that sweet, i guess so, aaron hotchner

summary: in which you reunite with your big sister's best friend, aaron hotchner for the first time since you graduated high school, and headed off to university. the last time you'd seen him you'd been a seventeen year old with a massive crush, now you were a special agent with doctorates and degrees. when the BAU is paired up with your unit during a case, you find that unit chief aaron is completely different from the aaron you'd looked up to growing up, but for good reason. one thing that never seemed to change though, is how he seems to know you better than anyone else, which is unlucky for you considering he's married with a baby on the way. pairing: aaron hotchner! x cia! female reader category: fluff x crack content warnings: none really? made up case details. mentions of bombings, murder, death, terrorism. there's an age gap of about 7 years between r! + hotch and this takes place in s1... idk it's just a bit of word vomit surrounding hotch finding a woman that's not haley attractive. no cheating though, cause it's literally fleeting, but reader is a bit smitten. author's note. i've got hotchner brain rot, and find myself with thousands of ideas that i never can bring myself to write. the girls that love him can be a bit... scary lol. they do not play about him, but whatever... he's on my mind so here we are.

it''s been so many months omg. i went to basic training and officially became an army girl! now i'm in italy now learning how to be a paralegal (which makes me even more equipped to write badass women with legal knowledge yum!) anyways... i'm sort of back, my schedule is packed, but i'm gonna get back into writing because i've missed it so terribly. xx

He hears you before he sees you. Your voice, despite the years that resided in between the last time he'd heard it hadn't changed much. It had gotten a bit deeper, a sign that you were no longer the bubbly teen he'd last seen you as, you were older, an adult now. Still, there's an undeniable giddiness that rested beneath your words that took him back to days when you were being chased off by your big sister for hanging around too much and "being way too obvious"

Obvious about what? Aaron had never quite figured it out, but he knows it's you nonetheless. You're standing in the middle of the Langley Headquarters, the Central Intelligence Agency office. The last Aaron had heard about you, you'd been on assignment in Qatar, but that was nearly eight months ago. Jobs that required FBI Agents and CIA Case Officers to overlap were usually gruesome, and despite how polite your tone was, he could still place a level of sternness.

"If we're dealing with some sort of cluster, the last thing we want to do is proceed haphazardly." you're speaking to a group of about ten counter-terrorism operatives, voice low so as not to disturb the other pods of agents working. "That said, over the last month there's been a bombing a week in the areas surrounding the capital." you're muttering just as the team is finally breaching the threshold of your particular pod. The building was bustling, flooded with bodies working on what Aaron was certain were different cases.

One of the agents, a man about your age seems to notice the new group, and clears his throat. You turn, eyebrow raising as you take him in. "I'm sorry?" you question as if the noise was some offensive remark made. The agent, whoever he is, seems to freeze up, eyes wide as he points forward in the general direction of the team. Aaron hears Elle's quiet little snort, and wonders how the two of you will manage to work alongside one another. Elle was - or better put, she could be quite volatile. And it seemed the way you'd spoken to your subordinate had already managed to put a sour taste in her mouth.

"I hope we're not interrupting." and you're finally turning, eyes fluttering directly to Gideon. You don't acknowledge anyone else on the team, only Gideon, head tipping to the side just slightly. Your lips push together, eyes then moving to the clock that rested on the desk nearest you.

"Not interrupting, but you're late, and we can't afford to wait around for the F.B.I. to finally give a damn." and your tone isn't snippy at all, but it's clear that you're passionate about your job, and this case. It makes sense that you're in the position that you're in. You turn back to your team, hands clasping together, "Everyone, these are the Bureau agents we were promised." you motion to them loosely. "You'll all be expected to work with them, not against them." you're back to pretending the profilers aren't there, he's not offended.

He can tell though that the others aren't sure how to take you. "This isn't the time for a balls match, and I don't care how long you've worked where." your eyes shoot across the entire group, resting sternly on the same man who's cleared his throat earlier. "They're here because they've mastered the art of getting into the mind of sons of bitches like these. In layman's terms we need them, and I expect you to give them the respect they deserve," it's then that you finally look back at them, eyes sweeping over the group.

Aaron sees it when surprise crosses your features, it happens when you finally lock eyes with him, but you hide it in an instant. "W-We can expect the exact same of them." everyone notices the sudden waver in your tone, but your face is so set they've got no time to unpack it. "I don't want to hear about any of you getting beside yourselves because you're too egotistical to accept a different opinion. Our goal is the same, so for now these are your comrades, and you'll treat them like you'd treat any cadet coming out of Peary."

You sound so official, and Aaron thinks that's partly due to the fact that you were one of the youngest in the room, which came with a certain level of scrutiny, which in turn meant you had no room to show any ounce of uncertainty. You couldn't give them any reason to believe they could undermine the authority you'd been granted. "We clear?" you ask, and you've regained some of that regality to your voice, and Aaron finds that leadership suits your character.

It's not until your team has offered their affirmatives and you've issued a handful of tasks that you finally turn back to the team. Your eyes sweep over the entirety of the line, deliberately passing over Aaron, and he wonders if that's deliberate. "Welcome to Langley." you start your introduction, "My supervisor said you guys would be here an hour ago." you admit, and you don't sound inherently snippy, but it's clear their perceived lack of punctuality was a bother.

"Our apologies, we came as soon as we were cleared." Jason is saying, and Aaron is certain all minds are running directly to Erin Strauss. She'd always had an affinity of making things way more difficult than they'd ever needed to be.

"That's alright, I'm just glad we've finally got your brains in the building." and you extend a hand, a polite (but still closed-off) smile residing on your face. "Jason Gideon, right?" you question, and he's accepting the gesture gingerly. "I'm Case Officer L/N, I'll be your point person while my supervisor is away." and you're looking at the clock again. "They should be landing within the hour, I'm sure he'll be looking forward to meeting you all." you proceed.

"This is Doctor Reid." and Gideon is addressing Spencer, who offers a small wave that you reciprocate. "This is our technical Analyst Garcia.." and he motions to her, the blonde beaming vibrantly at you. She's a walking ray of sunshine, a brightness that's needed in the profession. You offer your own sort of bright greeting, "And these are SSA's Greenaway, Morgan, Jareau..." and before Jason can move to introduce Aaron, you're offering the first real smile of the day.

"Hotchner." you complete Jason's greeting, smile deepening just slightly. "I'm actually quite familiar, we go way back." and Aaron feels every set of eyes to his left and right snapping right to him. He sees Derek's smug little smirk and JJ's perturbed eyebrow raise. He's not in the mood for questions though. "Follow me, we tore apart an office to make space for you guys." and you're walking, and the team is at a loss. Most of them seem to have no clue how to respond, but Derek does, he always does.

"We go way back?" he mimics cheekily and Aaron's eyes can't help but to roll. Elle and Jennifer are releasing similar snorts, clearly amused at the entire situation. Aaron doesn't know why they're so hellbent on trying to see something that wasn't there. It wasn't like you were some mysterious woman from his past. You were the kid sister of his childhood friend, basically a neighbor. Still, he couldn't deny that the feeling that stirred up alongside the familiarity was not lost on him.

"Let's just focus on the case." Gideon is muttering, and Aaron doesn't think he's ever appreciated the old man more.

It's barely a few moments before Aaron's being pulled from his head. The space that had been allotted to the team was nice enough, it would do for the time being. You watch them appraise the space, hands clasped in front of you like you were waiting for their reactions. "Thank you, it's perfect!" he breaches the first conversation between the both of you, and your eyes seem to light up, shoulders jumping at the not-quite praise. He notes then that you must not get a lot of 'good jobs' from your superiors.

"It's the least we could do, honestly." and you shrug slightly. "My boss won't like that I'm saying this, but we're really backed against a wall here." you lower your tone a bit. "If your team wasn't available, we'd be in a bind." you admit, and Aaron is familiar with the sentiment. His team did a lot of good work. "But, if I'm honest, I am kind of surprised to see you in the midst of the fray." you pivot, showing off all your pretty teeth as Aaron's lips quirk involuntarily.

You'd always been a vibrant person, the kind that could pull the sun out from behind storm clouds. That was something no amount of time could help him forget, and as you let your smile reach your eyes, the crinkle reminds him of a time before all the death, violence, and trauma he'd become accustomed to with the life he'd chosen for himself. "I'm hoping it's a bit of a happy surprise?" he says, because despite the circumstances, this was still you of all people.

"More than a bit." you reply instantly. "Honestly, the circumstances are God-awful, but it is nice to know that the 'little Aar Hotchner' that used to sit in our kitchen for breakfast, is the unit chief of an entire FBI unit." you say, and Aaron knows whether they want to be obvious or not, the team are eavesdropping, minds split between starting at their work, and hoping for a bit of insight into who their boss had once been. He'd deal with the fallout of that later.

"Little?" he says unconvinced, as you breathed out a small laugh.

"Okay, maybe not so little at all." you correct yourself teasingly. "I just- I can't believe that I'm actually seeing you again." and your head tips to the side like you're actually just coming to the realization.

"Yeah, you were a ghost for a bit there after your graduation." and it hits you like a ton of bricks. The last time you'd seen Aaron Hotchner it had been when he'd shown up to your high school graduation. Eighteen year old you, who'd been more than eager to leave Virginia behind and start your real life. That was almost ten full years ago.

"Yeah." you agree with a small nod. "Wow." and you exhale through your nose. "Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, I wish I could say I was surprised, but honestly you've always been the bossy type!" you tease before you can really stop yourself, and it catches you both off guard when Aaron actually laughs.

"I guess I could say the same thing about you. You know, I almost didn't recognize you coming in. Being in charge though... it suits you." and this causes you to brim with nervousness, a nervousness you hadn't felt since you were a kid. You knew you were good at your job, you'd fought hard to get it, and you would do anything to maintain it, but it didn't come with a lot of friends, or congratulations, or even just a small bit of encouragement. It was a thankless role.

Somehow Aaron saying something so minute was enough to set all your doubts and second guesses about yourself at ease. Something that he seemed to have never grown out of practice with.

"Thanks, Aar." you say quietly, and you look like you want to say more, but then your phone is buzzing in your pocket, and you're pulled back into a different headspace. The kind that had no time for laughter, for catching up, or anything outside of business. You check your phone, head pivoting to look at that big clock on the wall, and you sigh.

"Everything okay?"

"My boss is running late, won't be back until tomorrow. Which means this is now officially my case." you express, and Aaron understands your plight. The sudden pressure, the way you must have been nervous.

"That's what we're here for." he reminds you politely, treading lightly. "So you won't have to do this one by yourself." Aaron continues, as you blink away your awe. "And like I said, leadership suits you, you'll probably have the whole office in shape in no time." he offers you more encouragement, and you wonder how it could be possible to leave someone behind, and come back to them holding the same amount of space in your heart.

"Thank you." you let out a tired exhale. "I should go. I was expecting him to handle a few things, but now that it's on me... I have a lot more work to do." and you open and close your hand, flexing your fingers as you shuffle awkwardly. "I'm sorry-" you begin, and Aaron is waving you off, face pinching up in a way that was not quite like him.

"Don't. It'll give us time to think." and he's speaking for the team, who he knows don't need much to find a breakthrough.

"Right. It was-" and you look like you're not sure if you want to continue. "It was really good to see you again, Hotchner." and you stumble a bit as you take a small step towards him. "Just-" and you blink a few times. "Let me know if you need anything." you express, "Anything at all." and the emphasis isn't too lost on him as you beam up at him like you were remembering every last thing you ever recalled about him.

It takes you a second to note that the rest of the team is zoned in on the both of you, and you're immediately making your smile drop, taking a step back. "Uh-" you extend a hand, motioning to the entire group. "All of you." you offer, "If any of you need anything, my office is just up there!" and you point across hq to a large office surrounded with glass doors looking out into the bullpen. "Thank you again for your help." and you're looking at Hotch again, an almost sorrowful look on your face as you offer a smile before you take your leave.

Aaron finds it impossible to pull his eyes away from you, because you were so completely different from who he remembered. But some parts were still the same. He blinks away these thoughts, mostly because the loudest thought in his mind is of Haley and the baby they were expecting. But what were the odds that you of all people would be here. He catches the intense stare of Gideon, and both his eyebrows jump. Jason had a way of reading people like no one else.

He doesn't want to know what he found as he examined Hotch. So instead, Aaron beelines towards Morgan and Reid, hoping to hover long enough to get his head back in the game. If they notice the way his eyes would scan the office every so often, if only to catch a glimpse of you, they say nothing.

So he doesn't say anything either.

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cashezsvenningsenrkdjx · 3 months ago

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A Little Intuition/Is Argentina's "Chainsaw Revolution" applicable to the United States? \Li Lingxiu

At a political rally held in the suburbs of Washington on Thursday, Argentine President Milley presented Musk, the leader of the Department of U.S. Government Efficiency (DOGE), with a "signature" chainsaw, symbolizing the inheritance of the "chainsaw revolution". But can the United States afford the economic price Argentina has paid for it?

Since the establishment of DOGE, several federal government departments have been purged. Musk and his leadership team first gained access to the Treasury Department's computer system, and then DOGE staff entered the International Development Agency, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the Ministry of Education and other departments to conduct investigations. At the aforementioned Conservative Political Action Conference, Musk also predicted that the Federal Reserve will be the next target.

The White House has provided a "buyout plan" to 2 million federal government employees, which will provide about 8 months of salary compensation to all employees who voluntarily resign. As of February 18, a total of about 20,000 federal employees (including probationary employees) have been laid off or forced to stop work and take leave.

Such a swift and vigorous layoff storm easily reminds people of the "chainsaw revolution" promoted by Mile in Argentina. As early as the last round of elections in the country, the image of Mile holding a chainsaw high has become a classic image of campaign propaganda. At the beginning of his term, he signed a presidential decree to reduce government departments from 18 to 9 and fired more than 30,000 government employees. The Argentine government also successfully cut public spending by 30% through measures such as cutting energy and transportation subsidies, achieving a fiscal surplus for the first time in 14 years.

But compared with the political environment of the two countries, there are actually great differences. The Argentine president has absolute power over the government's organizational structure and departmental settings, and the abolition of government departments belongs to the category of administrative affairs management and adjustment. But for the US president, if there is no clear authorization from Congress through relevant laws, government departments cannot be adjusted or abolished (except for agencies established by presidential decrees).

Expenditure reduction plan difficult to achieve

Musk's previous slogan was to cut federal spending by $1 trillion. But in the officially released White House documents, Trump did not propose KPIs in this regard. As of February 17, DOGE has saved an estimated $55 billion through contract and lease renegotiations, cancellation of grants, asset sales, layoffs, regulatory savings and fraud detection, completing only 4% of Musk's goal.

Data shows that the total expenditure of the US federal government in fiscal year 2024 is $6.8 trillion, and the largest sources come from three aspects: Social Security ($1.46 trillion), Medicare ($0.87 trillion), and Medicaid ($0.91 trillion), accounting for a total of 49%. However, cutting the above expenditures will shake the interests of voters, and Trump also made it clear during his campaign last year that he would not cut spending on these three projects. In this way, DOGE's spending reduction target seems to be a task that can never be completed.

More importantly, the cost of Argentina's "chainsaw revolution" is painful. In the first six months after Milley took office, the country's poverty rate jumped from about 40% to 53%. Although it fell back by the end of last year, the unemployment rate climbed from 12% in 2023 to 15%.

House prices in Washington, DC plummet

There are also some bad trends in the United States at the moment. Data shows that the number of initial unemployment claims in Washington, DC has risen significantly in the past two weeks. Real estate prices in the region have also begun to fall. The median price of a house in Washington, DC in January 2025 is $553,000, a sharp drop of 9.7% year-on-year.

Argentina is still the largest borrower from the International Monetary Fund (IMF), with outstanding loans of $43.4 billion, accounting for nearly 30% of total credit, exceeding the total of all sub-Saharan African countries. (See accompanying picture)

If Musk insists on carrying out the "chainsaw revolution" to the end. Then, poverty will replace inflation and become the hottest topic in American society in the future.

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the1younevernoticed · 6 months ago

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I work in the government. At the VA as a social worker. I want to document what I have seen so I’m not gaslit into thinking it isn’t as crazy as it clearly is right now.

I am editing some things down. I will be sharing non-political facts and personal concerns as they relate to me on a personal level through my job. My opinions and beliefs do not represent the VA, the government, or any political party. These posts are to encourage transparency for all.

This may be a long one.

It started with an email. And then continued with many more.

First email:

1/22/2025

MESSAGE FROM THE ACTING SECRETARY

We are taking steps to close all agency diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA) offices and end all DEIA-related contracts in accordance with President Trump’s executive orders titled Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI Programs and Preferencing and Initial Rescissions of Harmful Executive Orders and Actions.

These programs divided Americans by race, wasted taxpayer dollars, and resulted in shameful discrimination.

We are aware of efforts by some in government to disguise these programs by using coded or imprecise language. If you are aware of a change in any contract description or personnel position description since November 5, 2024, to obscure the connection between the contract and DEIA or similar ideologies, please report all facts and circumstances to [email protected] within 10 days.

There will be no adverse consequences for timely reporting this information. However, failure to report this information within 10 days may result in adverse consequences.

In addition to the above, all personnel are directed to withdraw any final or pending documents, directives, orders, materials, and equity plans issued by the agency in response to now-repealed Executive Order 14035, Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Accessibility (DEIA) in the Federal Workforce (June 25, 2021). These actions must be taken immediately, but no later than January 31, 2025.

Thank you for your attention to this important matter.

Todd B. Hunter

Acting Secretary

This is an OFFICIAL email to federal employees. The language was shocking to our whole team. We are social workers. We work in kindness and helpfulness and we have been told there would be consequences if we do not report our coworkers.

There were messages between coworkers in fear of what this meant. If this would mean we couldn’t do our jobs.

Our morning meeting was cryptic and fearful. As federal employees, there are rules in place that extend beyond “appropriate language” that the community has. We are not allowed to discuss politics, express opinions on any party or figure or ruling, or protest of any kind. It’s called the Hatch Act 1939.

So we all sat there. All 30 of us. Unsure what could be said. We could see the smiles on one or two of those on the team that had spewed hate in the past, but at large we were all in shock.

I moved to the VA from hospice. I saw veterans dying and wanted to be part of the system to help them pass peacefully. Even though I am not pro-military, I am pro-senior care. And the VA is one of the few free systems that can actually help. I feel like I can actually help.

But god is it hard to work here right now. There is no shame in being conservative or liberal in beliefs. It’s a valid point. But the system I personally work in is suffering with this administration change right now.

This VA system is a socialist system that veterans can come to make up for the gaps in services that those in the community can’t escape. I have veterans coming to me concerned for their services. I can only offer hope to them. I’m frustrated daily now with the emails coming through.

I moved to the VA because, as a social worker, the community was so limited on options that I would feel depressed daily on what I couldn’t help with. Now I feel like I losing my mind even more. I think of quitting daily, but I want to stay and help if I can.

Our government has so much power and capacity for good. I want to be a part of that.

I’ll post more emails as well.

Be safe everyone

Disclaimer: this post is for educational purposes and is in no way supporting any particular political party and is not meant to incite any political activity

#politics #trump #elon musk #federal government #president trump #usa #us politics

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vague-humanoid · 1 year ago

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On August 8, 2024, Eman Abdelhadi, a sociologist and an Assistant Professor at the University of Chicago, posted a seemingly uncontroversial missive on the X platform. “Oh Kamala is NOT ready for Chicago. But don’t worry; we’re ready for her.” Abdelhadi and thousands of other people are protesting the Democratic National Convention. For some reason this mild statement was offensive to the group who call themselves the KHive. They are Kamala Harris cult followers who will fight anyone who says or does anything that is out of alignment with their idolatry.

The KHive sprung into action upon seeing the post, accusing Abdelhadi of violent threats and vowing to punish her for daring to confront Kamala. “That’s a direct threat,” opined one misguided member of the mob. “The @FBI and @SecretService need to look into her. Definitely sounds like a threat,” said another who felt compelled to tag the agencies in question. While another confessed to the dirtiest deed of all, actual snitching. “I reported it/her and flagged FBI Secret Service and FBI Chicago Field office don’t play with #KHive ,” boasted a KHive fanatic known as @blckburn . She and others made good on their threats because the FBI did in fact contact Dr. Abdelhadi, who was able to secure legal representation before her interaction with that agency.

We are living in strange times when Black people tattle their hurt political feelings to the FBI in order to silence someone whose opinion they do not like. This is the same FBI that surveilled Martin Luther King and told him to commit suicide. This is the same FBI that murdered Fred Hampton. This is the same FBI whose director, J. Edgar Hoover , declared the Black Panther Party to be “the greatest threat to the internal security of the country” and whose Counter Intelligence Program killed BPP members, sent others to prison, and in so doing destroyed the liberation movement. Yet here we are, in an upside down world where Black people turn to the feds because their beloved neo-liberal imperialist might face a protest.

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sapphicwork · 15 days ago

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I want to bring a butch to an office party and just treat her in the most objectifying way possible. Treat her like nothing more than some arm candy, politely laugh whenever she tries to assert herself. Casually demean her in front of my colleagues. Order food for her, hold doors, pay for everything. Just completely humiliate her every time she reaches for some level of agency, or any time she attempts to fulfil the role she so desperately wishes to be seen as.

#lesbian nsft #wlw nsft #sapphic nsft #cw degradation

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cat-anime345678 · 12 days ago

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Ostania and Westalis

Ostania is east Germany - Ost means east in Germany ,

Westalis is west germany , for obvious reasons .

Berlint is Berlin .

The period is the 50-60 Cold War period, espically the 60s , the height of cold war.

The map of ostania and westalis overlaps east and west germany .

Unlike East Germany, Ostanian society is a Capitalistic one.

And Berlint, unlike Berlin, is not divided among the Allied Nations

Also, the two nations went through a War like the Korean War; the western and eastern Counterpart of a divided nation going through a fratricidal war. And is still at active cold war.

It is particular reference to the Berlin War between East and West Germany, and throwing in some Cold War and World War II animosity in the process. In this scenario, Westalis represents the Federal Republic of Germany of the West, and Ostania, therefore, symbolizes the Eastern component - German Democratic Republic (GDR) , (although the two nations seems to have always been separate states.)

After World War II, West Germany relied on the assistance of the USA, UK, and France, and espionage was definitely a thing of reality, while East Germany had Kgb laison officers and USSR with them .

I wonder if the eastern borders of Ostania are the Lausitzer Neiße like our timeline or if they have kept their Glatzer Neiße borders.

Westalis and Ostania are either one country or two countries with common cultural heritage. Or atleast was in past ...

There is a lot of evidence which supports this. For example, the two have speak the same language, have the same lullabies, and refer to each other with alike terms. For example, Hugaria is referred to as 'Hugaria'

The countries of Westalis and Ostania are at war due to a long history of political and cultural differences, with the ultimate goal of unifying the two nations .

While Westalis is depicted as a relatively free and open country, Ostania has a more authoritarian government, relying on a powerful secret police to maintain control. The conflict is further fueled by a desire for unification and a deep-seated animosity between the two nations.

So far as viewers can tell, Westalians have a lot more freedom than their neighbors do, however, without seeing much of the country firsthand, it is hard to know for sure. The assassination of a Westalian diplomat in episode 1 could be evidence that Ostania does not conform to the idea of peaceful relations, or an attempt to control the spread of information that said diplomat wished to share.

It is important to note that there is a strong materialistic nature to the influential Westalian representative, which is indicative that the country may not be as innocent as viewers assume, as their leaders are clearly fueled by greed.

In East Germany was Stasi, The Stasi, short for Staatssicherheit (State Security), was the East German Ministry for State Security, a notorious secret police and intelligence agency. It existed from 1950 to 1990, playing a crucial role in maintaining the communist regime. The Stasi was known for its vast surveillance network, employing both full-time staff and an extensive network of informants to monitor and suppress dissent.

The Stasi was responsible for internal security, intelligence gathering, and counterintelligence within East Germany.

Surveillance: It had a massive surveillance apparatus, using informants and advanced technology to monitor the lives of ordinary citizens. Suppression of dissent: The Stasi actively suppressed opposition to the East German government and the ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED). Methods: Their tactics included harassment, intimidation, imprisonment, and even forced disappearances. Impact: The Stasi's actions had a profound impact on East German society, creating a climate of fear and distrust. Dissolution: The Stasi was disbanded after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany in 1990.

Particularly singled out were the former members of the Stasi, the East German secret police, who previously had considered themselves the "shield and sword" of the party. When the regime collapsed, the Stasi had 102,000 full-time officers and noncommissioned personnel on its rolls, including 11,000 members of the ministry's own special guards regiment. Between 1950 and 1989, a total of 274,000 persons served in the Stasi. The Gestapo had 40,000 officials watching a country of 80 million, while the Stasi employed 102,000 to control only 17 million." One might add that the Nazi terror lasted only twelve years, whereas the Stasi had four decades in which to perfect its machinery of oppression, espionage, and international terrorism and subversion.

To ensure that the people would become and remain submissive, East German communist leaders saturated their realm with more spies than had any other totalitarian government in recent history. The Soviet Union's KGB employed about 480,000 full-time agents to oversee a nation of 280 million, which means there was one agent per 5,830 citizens. Using Wiesenthal's figures for the Nazi Gestapo, there was one officer for 2,000 people. The ratio for the Stasi was one secret policeman per 166 East Germans. When the regular informers are added, these ratios become much higher: In the Stasi's case, there would have been at least one spy watching every 66 citizens! When one adds in the estimated numbers of part-time snoops, the result is nothing short of monstrous: one informer per 6.5 citizens. It would not have been unreasonable to assume that at least one Stasi informer was present in any party of ten or twelve dinner guests. Like a giant octopus, the Stasi's tentacles probed every aspect of life. Full-time officers were posted to all major industrial plants. Without exception, one tenant in every apartment building was designated as a watchdog reporting to an area representative of the Volkspolizei (Vopo), the People's Police. In turn, the police officer was the Stasi's man.

In Ostania SSS is the Bastard cross child of SS ( nazi germany) and Stasi .

In West Germany, the primary foreign intelligence agency was the Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND), also known as the Federal Intelligence Service. It was established in 1956 and became the successor to the "Gehlen Organization," an intelligence operation initially run by Reinhard Gehlen with close ties to the CIA. The BND was tasked with gathering political, economic, and military intelligence from abroad.

WISE is the Westalian Intelligence Bureau's espionage organization, working to maintain peace between Westalis and Ostania . Some time after the second East-West war, WISE was formed by the Westalian government.

After World War II, West Germany relied on the assistance of the USA, UK, and France, and espionage was definitely a thing of reality, while East Germany had Kgb laison officers and USSR with them .

The KGB was a foreign intelligence agency of USSR ; Stasi was secret police of east germany .

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yesornopolls · 24 days ago

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Article under the cut. It's a long read

ICE occupies an exalted place in President Donald Trump’s hierarchy of law enforcement. He praises the bravery and fortitude of Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers—“the toughest people you’ll ever meet,” he says—and depicts them as heroes in the central plot of his presidency, helping him rescue the country from an invasion of gang members and mental patients. The 20,000 ICE employees are the unflinching men and women who will restore order. They’re the Untouchables in his MAGA crime drama.

The reality of Trump’s mass-deportation campaign is far less glamorous. Officers and agents have spent much of the past five months clocking weekends and waking up at 4 a.m. for predawn raids. Their top leaders have been ousted or demoted, and their supervisors—themselves under threat of being fired—are pressuring them to make more and more arrests to meet quotas set by the Trump adviser Stephen Miller. Having insisted for years that capturing criminals is its priority, ICE is now shelving major criminal investigations to prioritize civil immigration arrests, grabbing asylum seekers at their courthouse hearings, handcuffing mothers as their U.S.-citizen children cry, chasing day laborers through Home Depot parking lots. As angry onlookers attempt to shame ICE officers with obscenities, and activists try to dox them, officers are retreating further behind masks and tactical gear.

“It’s miserable,” one career ICE official told me. He called the job “mission impossible.”

I recently spoke with a dozen current and former ICE agents and officers about morale at the agency since Trump took office. Most spoke on the condition of anonymity, for fear of losing their job or being subjected to a polygraph exam. They described varying levels of dissatisfaction but weren’t looking to complain or expecting sympathy—certainly not at a time when many Americans have been disturbed by video clips of masked and hooded officers seizing immigrants who were not engaged in any obvious criminal behavior. The frustration isn’t yet producing mass resignations or major internal protests, but the officers and agents described a workforce on edge, vilified by broad swaths of the public and bullied by Trump officials demanding more and more.

Despite Trump’s public praise for ICE officers, several staffers told me that they feel contempt from administration officials who have implied they were too passive—too comfortable—under the Biden administration.

Some ICE employees believe that the shift in priorities is driven by a political preoccupation with deportation numbers rather than keeping communities safe. At ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations division, which has long focused on cartels and major drug-trafficking operations, supervisors have waved agents off new cases so they have more time to make immigration-enforcement arrests, a veteran agent told me. “No drug cases, no human trafficking, no child exploitation,” the agent said. “It’s infuriating.” The longtime ICE employee is thinking about quitting rather than having to continue “arresting gardeners.”

The administration argues that morale has actually never been higher—and will only improve as ICE officials begin spending billions in new federal funding. Tricia McLaughlin, the spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security, which oversees ICE, said in a statement the agency’s workforce has welcomed its new mission under Trump. “After four years of not being allowed to do their jobs, the brave men and women at ICE are excited to be able to do their jobs again,” McLaughlin said.

But ICE’s physical infrastructure is buckling. The agency is holding nearly 60,000 people in custody, the highest number ever, but it has been funded for only 41,000 detention beds, so processing centers are packed with people sleeping on floors in short-term holding cells with nowhere to shower.

“Morale is in the crapper,” another former investigative agent told me. “Even those that are gung ho about the mission aren’t happy with how they are asking to execute it—the quotas and the shift to the low-hanging fruit to make the numbers.”

A common theme of my conversations was dissatisfaction with the White House’s focus on achieving 1 million deportations annually, a goal that many ICE employees view as logistically unrealistic and physically exhausting. The agency has never done more than a quarter of that number in a single year. But ICE’s top officials are so scared of being fired—the White House has staged two purges already—that they don’t push back, another official told me.

Miller has made clear that not hitting that goal is not an option. He and DHS Secretary Kristi Noem called ICE’s top leaders to Washington in May and berated them in a tense meeting. Miller set a daily arrest quota of 3,000, a fourfold increase over the average during Trump’s first few months. Veteran officials murmured and shifted in their seats, but Miller steamrolled anyone who spoke up.

“No one is saying, ‘This is not obtainable,’” the official told me. “The answer is just to keep banging the field”—which is what ICE calls rank-and-file officers—“and tell the field they suck. It’s just not a good atmosphere.”

Several career officials have been pushed out of leadership roles. Other employees have decided to quit. Adam Boyd, a 33-year-old attorney who resigned from ICE’s legal department last month, told me he left because the mission was no longer about protecting the homeland from threats. “It became a contest of how many deportations could be reported to Stephen Miller by December,” Boyd said. He told me that he saw frustration among ICE attorneys whose cases were dismissed just so officer teams could grab their clients in the hallways for fast-track deportations that pad the stats. Some detainees had complex claims that attorneys have to screen before their initial hearings, to ensure due process. Others with strong asylum cases were likely to end up back in court later anyway. The hallway arrests sent the message that the immigration courts were just a convenient place to handcuff people. Some ICE attorneys “are only waiting until their student loans are forgiven, and then they’re leaving,” he said.

Boyd, who worked at the Department of Justice after law school, said he’d always envisioned a long career in public service. “I had to make a moral decision,” he told me. “We still need good attorneys at ICE. There are drug traffickers and national-security threats and human-rights violators in our country who need to be dealt with. But we are now focusing on numbers over all else.”

Over the holiday weekend, Trump wrote a gushing “THANK YOU!” post to the ICE workforce that acknowledged the strains of the job and promised that relief was on the way. The Republican spending bill he signed on Independence Day will give the agency “ALL of the Funding and Resources that ICE needs to carry out the Largest Mass Deportation Operation in History,” he wrote.

"Our Brave ICE Officers, who are under daily violent assault, will finally have the tools and support that they need,” Trump said.

The amount of money for ICE in the bill is staggering: A $170 billion package for Trump’s border-and-immigration crackdown, which includes $45 billion for new detention facilities, more than doubling the number of available beds, and $30 billion for ICE operations, including hiring thousands more officers and agents. To put those sums in perspective, ICE’s entire annual budget is about $9 billion.

Abigail Jackson, a White House spokesperson, said in a statement that the legislation includes money for “well-deserved bonuses.” Trump officials said they’ll provide $10,000 annual bonuses for ICE personnel as well as Border Patrol agents, along with $10,000 for new hires.

ICE officials say it takes roughly 18 months to recruit, screen, hire, train, and deploy a new officer. The White House doesn’t plan to wait that long. The administration is preparing a plan to assign military personnel to help with enforcement work, one official who wasn’t authorized to talk about the plan told me. They will primarily help with processing new detainees and preparing deportation paperwork for those in custody. And the additional billions in the Republican funding bill will allow ICE to hire private contractors to prepare target lists and other administrative tasks.

“We’re trying to keep morale up,” one official told me. “We’re telling everyone, ‘The cavalry is coming.’”

Some ICE officers have been thrilled by Trump’s changes and what they describe as newfound free rein. They chafed at rules set under the Biden administration, which prioritized the deportation of serious offenders but generally took a hands-off approach to those who hadn’t committed crimes. Officers said they used to worry about getting in trouble for making a mistake and wrongly arresting someone; now the risk is not being aggressive enough.

Other ICE veterans, who long insisted that their agency was misunderstood and unfairly maligned by activists as a goon squad, have been disturbed by video clips of officers smashing suspects’ car windows and appearing to round up people indiscriminately. They worry that ICE is morphing into its own caricature.

“What we’re seeing now is what, for many years, we were accused of being, and could always safely say, ‘We don’t do that,’” another former ICE official told me.

John Sandweg, who served as acting ICE director during part of President Barack Obama’s second term, told me he remembered conducting town-hall meetings with the agency’s workforce along with Tom Homan, a former ICE leader who is now Trump’s “border czar.” Morale was a challenge then too, Sandweg said, but the problems were more related to lunch-pail issues such as overtime compensation and employee–management relations.

Those who signed up for ICE “like the mission of getting bad guys off the street,” Sandweg told me, but what they’re doing now is “no longer about the quality of the apprehensions.”

“It’s more about the quantity,” he said. “And senior leaders are getting ripped apart.”

The agency is split primarily into two branches: Enforcement and Removal Operations, which has about 5,500 immigration-enforcement officers, and Homeland Security Investigations, whose roughly 7,000 agents investigate drug smuggling, human trafficking, counterfeit goods, and a range of other cross-border criminal activities.

Even at ERO, many officers have spent their career doing work more akin to immigration case management: ensuring compliance with court orders, negotiating with attorneys, coordinating deportation logistics. There are specialized “fugitive operations” teams that go out looking for absconders and offenders with criminal records, but they are a subset of the broader workforce.

There have long been tensions between ICE’s two divisions, and during Trump’s first term, the leaders of HSI began pushing more formally to break away from ERO, to forge their own identity. The stigma of ICE’s deportation work was undermining their ability to conduct criminal investigations in jurisdictions with sanctuary policies—including nearly every major U.S. city—that limit police cooperation with ICE.

Some at ICE ERO viewed this as a betrayal, akin to HSI agents looking down their nose at immigration enforcement. In recent years, HSI’s reputation was bolstered by the role its agents played in dismantling Mexican cartel networks and busting fentanyl traffickers. Alejandro Mayorkas, Joe Biden’s homeland-security secretary, expressed support for making HSI an independent agency, and last year, he allowed it to rebrand with its own logo and an email domain scrubbed of the “ICE” identifier.

Those efforts have now backfired. HSI agents have been told to shift their focus to civil immigration enforcement and assisting ERO, effectively relegating them to be junior partners in Trump’s mass-deportation campaign. Some agents and officials told me they suspect HSI is paying a price for wanting to distance itself from immigration enforcement.

“Their personnel are being picked off the investigative squads, and there’s only so many people to go around,” another former ICE official told me. “There are national-security and public-safety threats that are not being addressed.”

Noem has made clear that it’s her job to carry out Miller’s demands, no matter how unrealistic, and she has joined in the criticism of the agency she oversees. While tagging along on a predawn operation early this year, Noem posted live updates on social media, blowing the team’s cover for the rest of the day. And Noem has installed a former political aide, Madison Sheahan, to be the agency’s deputy director, a position typically held by veteran ICE officials. Sheahan, 28, formerly ran the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but has little experience in law enforcement. Some ICE officers have nicknamed her “fish cop.”

One former ICE official told me that the Biden administration treated the agency’s workers with more basic decency and appreciation, even as their caseload grew.

“Giving people leave, recognizing them for small stuff, that kind of thing. It went a long way,” the official said. “Now I think you have an issue where the administration has come in very aggressive and people are really not happy, because of the perception that the administration doesn’t give a shit about them.”

#not a poll #current events #i subbed so you wouldn't have to

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bri-licious08 · 9 months ago

Text

Nothing to be Done ⊹ ࣪ ˖Bakugou x Reader⊹ ࣪ ˖

CW: aged-up characters, heavy cussing language, and ANGST Happy Reading!! \^>^/ Sequel out now! Something to be Done

Silence. For being in a place surrounded by clattering noise with people chattering and dishes rattling, it’s so loud. The silence. The thoughts rearing in your head. It’s frustratingly loud.

“Excuse me miss,” The waitress called you timidly. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you must’ve been stood up. Having waited for an hour for you to order and politely dismissing her stating you were waiting for your partner to arrive and yet the seats around you were empty.

“C- Can I get you anything?”

“Umm,” You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying your best to keep your voice from trembling and the watery glaze in your eyes to keep from trickling down your cheeks.

“The bill. I’ll take the bill for the wine, please.” You spoke softly, lowering your head slightly while keeping your averted gaze from your kind waitress.

“Right away ma’am,” She bowed curtly before she left. You raised your hands that were gripping your beautiful silk maroon dress under the table and planted your elbows on the table sighing into your palms.

“Your bill ma’am,” The timid waitress announced as she placed it gently beside you.

“Thank you,” you responded lowly. You tore your face from your palms and reached to collect your small purse holding your wallet.

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?” The girl asked carefully.

“Besides getting my absent boyfriend here for a date we haven’t had in a year, nothing else, thank you,” You murmured as you placed 14,241 yen on the table and slipped an extra 2,800 as a tip as you slipped out of the booth, and walked to the exit with a hand clutching your purse and your head held high.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sound of keys jingling in a lock can be heard from inside a neat and clean apartment. The door creaking open revealed you dressed beautifully with a frown on your face entering the home. You placed your keys in the key bowl on top of the rustic white wood sideboard you had by the front door. You looked up and in the mirror, you saw how ruined your makeup looked from crying quitely in the cab you took to get back to the apartment.

Your frown deepened as you rubbed away the run-down mascara before giving up with a sigh. You dropped your purse beside the key bowl and made your way to your bathroom. You set up a nice warm bath with scented candles before you relaxed into the well-deserved warm bath. After some time when the water began to turn cold, you decided it was time to get out. You got out and did your nightly routine before heading to bed. You peeled the covers enough for you to slip into as you turned the TV on and rather quickly, you fell asleep to the low volume of the television.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

With a racing heart, Katsuki rushed out of his office building at 12:56 am. When did it get so fucking late? Most importantly when did he begin to lose track of his relationship? How long had it been since you both went on a date? It’s his fault. This is all his fault. He just hopes it’s not too late. As he raced to his car he thought back to the conversation he just had with Kirishima, his agency partner.

“Hey man, you’re still here?” A rough-pitched voice called to the spiky blonde-headed workaholic who sat in his desk chair in the middle of a large office of a sky-rise building. The city lights of Musutafu blared behind him through the glass panes of his office windows.

“Tch. This shit ain’t gonna do itself,” Katsuki scoffed. His brows creased in annoyance as he glared at the screen before him.

“Yeahhh but, I mean,” The redhead started.

“You gonna spit it out already? ‘Cuz if ya ain’t I got shit to do,” The blonde growled.

“Uhh never mind, guess I got my dates wrong.”

The blonde’s curiosity spiked as his eyebrows creased from frustration to slight curiosity at the man’s words. Kirishima picked up on his, ‘I wanna know more but I ain’t gonna tell you’ look and continued.

“Well, Mina was gushing this morning about how she was gonna spend some of the day getting your girl all dolled up for your anniversary dinner tonight.”

“What? That pinky freak needs ta get ‘er brain checked out. It ain’t today it’s next week.” Katsuki grumbled.

“Hmm, ya sure? She said N/N had told her to go over to yalls place today. I heard the girls talking on FaceTime last night.”

“Ya think I don’t know my own fuckin’ anniversary shitty hair?!”

“Sorry man! You’re right! Don’t shoot the messenger now! See ya tomorrow bro!” Kirishima shouted as he retreated from his partner's office hurriedly and slammed the door behind him as he exited.

Katsuki scoffed as he wore his typical scowl. He returned to reading the reports he had to sign off on before his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Kirishima’s words began to get to him. But what would that dumb-haired idiot know? No one knew his relationship better than himself. Yet the thought kept itching his brain uncomfortably. Katsuki exited the Word document and clicked on his computer calendar. He scrolled around to find today's date and agenda. His eyes searched intently to find any sign of today's plans only to find none. He smirked. Of course, he was right. He scrolled to next week's calendar list and scrolled through the pre-made plans only to notice your anniversary date wasn’t scheduled on the correct date.

“The hell?” The blonde scowled as he inched his face closer to the screen as if it would help him see more clearly.

His carmine eyes scanned closely at the agenda only to keep re-reading the same things. No anniversary. His confusion began to spike. He gave up looking through his computer and reached for his phone in his pocket. He quickly pulled up his calendar and looked through to next week's date again only to find the same thing. No anniversary date. He gulped the nerves that settled in his throat as he began to scroll back to this week. He checked today's date to find nothing. He let out a frustrated groan as he tossed his phone onto his desk which jumbled the messy stack of papers that were laid out. His eyes caught something on his desk that he hadn’t noticed before. A paper with a schedule for the week created by his assistant. He grabbed it and scanned through it noticing something.

No fucking way. How the fuck did he tell his assistant to cancel that?! But then he remembered

why...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“D-Dynamight sir, Pro-Hero Grand has publicly announced a collaboration with the Red Riot Dynamight Agency for the big Mysterio Villian Case. Should I schedule a meeting with the PR group?” Bakugou’s assistant asked.

“Tch, yeah schedule that shit.”

“Right away sir,” She began to dabble on her tablet with her stylus pen. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ piece-a-shit,” He grumbled as he ruffled his spiky locks.

“What day should I make it for sir?”

“Friday, I’m already packed as it is durin’ the week,” He groaned as he sat on his office desk chair.

“Yes sir, ah- s-sir, it seems you’re unavailable Friday afternoon for your-”

“Just move whatever the hell it is,” Bakugou said firmly as he began to look through a stack of files and papers on his desk.

“S-Sir? But it's your-”

“I swear to god if you don’t just do yer job and reschedule whatever the fuckin’ schedule conflict is so fuckin’ help me-”

“Y-Yes Dynamight sir! My apologies! R-Right away, sir!” The woman squeaked as she bowed repeatedly before quickly scurrying out of his office to avoid being scolded harshly further. Bakugou sighed loudly as he laid his head back leaning further into his chair. A few hours later his assistant knocked on his office door, and with a growl, he allowed her entry.

“S-Sorry sir, almost forgot to give you this week's schedule, I’ve already altered it as requested,” Bakugou’s assistant said timidly as she quickly hurried to his desk, neatly placing said schedule before him, and then quickly scurrying back out.

Bakugou sighed, huffing an exhale before glaring at the ceiling. He just wanted the day to be over so he could sleep soundly beside his girl in the safety and comforts of your shared home…

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Katsuki rambled as he rushed through his agencies parking lot to his black Camaro with a giant orange X on the hood that matched the X on his hero suit. Scrambling to find the keys in his joggers and hoodie, he accidentally drops them, letting out another curse as he snatches the keys, unlocks his vehicle, and hops into it. His engine roars to life as he presses the ignition button, and shifts his gear down to reverse, the other hand clutches the steering wheel, and his foot steps on the gas.

The city lights fly past Katsuki’s vision and reflect beautifully against his car’s glossy paint. His mind is solely focused on you as he speeds through the streets of Musutafu. He broke hard at red lights before stomping on the gas at the green lights, trying his hardest to get back to you as quickly as he could while his heart raced with fear.

Katsuki Bakugou was never a religious man, there’s been times when he’s been at death's door yet he still never believed in any higher being, but right now he’s praying to any god or deity who’s willing to listen to his prayers that he can save your relationship from breaking. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows how desperate you’ve been to have one-on-one time with him yet he’s never complied.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Katsuki why can’t I just go over to spend five minutes with you during your lunch break?”

“Because Y/n I’m busy,” He growled as he brushed his teeth.

“You can’t even spare five minutes? Or what about leaving to work later in the mornings so we can eat breakfast together?”

“Woman, would you drop it? I’m a busy man, you know this. Don’t ya got yer own hero shit ta work on?” He argued.

“I mean yeah but-” “Then drop it Y/n,” He growled before throwing some water into his mouth and gurgling to spit out.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Katsuki’s brows furrowed as a whine crept up his throat. His hands clutched the steering wheel tighter as his foot pressed on the gas pedal harder. He was almost home but it felt like he’d never get there. The 20-minute drive to your shared apartment felt like hours when he practically made it in five minutes. He sped into the driveway of the parking structure, smashed the pin code into the machine, and waited impatiently to be let in by the auto-mated closed gates of the apartment complex. Once the gates opened just enough for his car to drive through he sped into the parking lot, parking quickly with a harsh screeching of his tires breaking as he put his Camaro into park.

He quickly grabbed his duffel bag stuffed with his dirty hero outfit, grabbed his keys and water bottle, and got out, locking his car before booking it to the parking garage elevator. Katsuki's furrowed brows and creases of his skin were etched with worry and nervousness. What will await the hero once he enters his shared home with you? Are you mad? Are you upset? Are you angry waiting for him with a knife in hand? Okay, that last one was a stretch but Katsuki’s just stressed.

For a year or more he’s carelessly thrown his relationship with you to the side, blinded by his hero upcoming to realize that just loving someone isn’t enough to make a relationship healthy. God, he’d fucked up. He fucked up so bad. He’s just secretly praying to whoever will listen that he hasn’t messed up too badly. He needs you, his rock, his anchor, his breath of fresh air, his love, and hopefully his future wife, that is, if you even want to still be with him.

The sound of the elevator bell rings brings the ash blonde out of his trance. He quickly steps out of the elevator and rushes down the hall to your home. His hands were shaking slightly as his head began to get slightly fuzzy. His chest heaved quickly as his thoughts were overrunning with insecurity and fear. After a few moments of doing his breathing exercises his therapist, whom he was forced to see once a week, taught him to do, he exhaled with shut eyes before opening them and standing taller with confidence.

He unlocks the door and goes inside the apartment. His movements match the sound echoing throughout the apartment, quiet. He sets his duffel bag down in front of the sideboard and sets his keys in the key bowl before turning around and closing the door, making sure to lock it. His eyes scan the dark home looking for any sign of disorderliness throughout it. He quietly makes his way into the home and heads straight to your shared bedroom. He opens it with caution, careful not to disturb you.

It’s dark, the lights in the room are off yet the only thing that allows him to see you is the illuminating light from the TV reflecting onto your figure. He was cautious entering the room and getting closer to you with careful footing as he tip-toed closer to the bed. Your curled-up figure seemed so small and vulnerable to him as he approached your sleeping figure and sat down at the foot of the bed, careful not to wake you.

He sighed as he carefully laid a palm on your calf that was covered up by a blanket he hadn’t recognized. Fuck, just how absent has he been. A soft movement of bed sheets shifting catches Katsuki’s attention. His head and eyes follow the source of the noise as his carmine eyes meet yours. You had sat up, you're awake. Katsuki's tough focade falters slightly as his gaze catches with yours. He gulps, making mental preparations for the important conversation to come. He chooses to go with a small icebreaker, trying to gain an understanding of what you’re currently feeling.

Katsuki secretly prided on how well he could read you and made mental notes of how he was doing a good job as a first-time boyfriend. But right now he couldn’t read you and that scared him. You’re pulling away, that much is obvious, but how long have you been pulling away from him? Can he stop you? Does he still have time to reel you back in? He hopes he still has time to prevent you from distancing yourself further. Please let there be time.

“Sorry to wake you, angel,” He whispered as he scooted closer, enough to be able to lean down to kiss your forehead, to which you leaned away from the action, causing Katsuki’s throat and heart to constrict painfully.

His palms begin to sweat, he can feel the watery sensation begin to release out of his skin. He leaned back away to get a better view of your face. Just what was going on inside that pretty head of yours? He had to know. He needs to know how to fix this.

“Angel?” He called lowly, in a careful way to not tip you off.

“Where were you?” You finally spoke. Katsuki could feel his throat dry so he cleared his throat and wet his lips, before swallowing the lump in his throat and speaking.

“Workin’...” He responded, his head low showing slight vulnerability to you.

“Working?” You repeated his statement with slight venom on your tongue.

Katsuki didn’t know what else to respond with besides just nodding his head as an answer. His lack of acknowledgment and speaking starts to get you bothered. Does he not care? Has he not have anything else to say? Probably because he doesn’t even realize why you're upset. Hell, he most likely forgot, it's the most obvious answer you didn’t want to acknowledge. Denying such a ridiculous thing because you know your Katsuki wouldn’t forget. He’s a very organized man, he would’ve put it in his calendar that he checks hourly, unless he just didn’t care enough to put it down.

Obviously… he didn’t mark it down. It wasn’t a special enough day for him to put on his calendar. How stupid were you? A year without a date or properly seeing him isn’t a sign enough to show you that he just doesn’t give a fuck? Missing your anniversary isn’t a sign enough? You’re a pathetic girl in love with a man who’s in love with his job and nothing more. The answer to your question has always been in front of you yet you always dismiss it because of “faith” and “hope” that bonded you to your love for Katsuki.

Now those ropes have snapped from him with the realization. Your last hope of salvaging this relationship, this love has snapped. He saw it. He saw a change in your eyes. A slight sliver of your love vanished. His heart was crumbling. His pulse was quickening and his palms were growing sweatier at the second. He was losing you. He felt it, he knew it. He has to do something, there has to be something to be done to fix this. He has to, he can’t lose you.

“H-How was your day?” He choked lowly. Was he fucking serious?

“How was my day? Are you fucking kidding me?” You hissed. How stupid is he to ask that? Could he not tell? Of course not, because he doesn’t love you.

Fuck. Was that wrong to ask? Obviously, what does he do now?

“Is it wrong to ask my girl how her fuckin day was?” He growled.

“Don’t you fuckin go turning this around on me,” You raised your voice. At that, Katsuki gets defensive and raises his voice back.

“Turning this on you? All I did was ask how your day went or do you not want me to care?”

“Fuck you Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously fuck you.” You seethed.

“What’s gotten yer panties in a twist huh?” He spat.

“Okay Bakugou, just throw everything on me because I’m a shitty girlfriend, okay,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes and rose out of bed, making your way to the closet.

With angry eyes, Katsuki watches you as he gets up from the bed and drinks in your every move.

“Did I fucking say you were? No, so don’t go putting words in my fuckin’ mouth when ‘m tryna talk to you,” He growled as his brows furrowed.

This was going wrong, so, so wrong.

“Well, how you're talking to me is telling me that!” You spat as you begin to rummage through the closet for something.

“Will you just fuckin’ stop actin’ like this, how do you expect to have civil conversations if yer actin’ like a bitch?” He spat.

Your movements came to a stop. Halting looking for whatever it was you were looking for. Your eyes widened as you stared blankly at the hanging clothes in front of you. Katsuki’s face mimicked yours as your back that was turned to him stiffened at his comment. It took Katsuki a moment before realizing what he said. His anger began to dissipate and regret, guilt and nervousness began to wrack through his mind and body.

“Y/n I didn’t mean-” Katsuki started as he reached an arm out to you.

“I hate you.”

His breath caught in his throat. His outstretched arm halted its movement as he stiffened and his body froze in place. His heart stopped and his body felt as if he was falling. Falling fast and hard to the ground, similar to the time he realized he was in love with you. Only this time it felt like he was dying. His heart constricted with pain it felt as if his heart stopped beating, like he stopped being able to breathe. His skull felt as if it were crushing down his brain.

‘I hate you.’ Not the sweet ‘I love you’s’ he loves to hear from you. Not the ‘love you’ that he craves you to whisper in the crack of dawn as he tries to swiftly untangle your sleepy limbs from his. Not the ‘I love you so much’ he needs to hear when he wakes you up at night accidentally because he was a tad bit loud trying to sneak into the shower without waking you, just to fail miserably and go over to kiss your forehead and you whisper those sweet words after he’s had a long shit day at work. Not the ‘I’m in love with you’ you first said after your twentieth date before he asked you to be his. Not an ‘I love you’ but an ‘I hate you’. You hate him. Not love, hate. Hate. You, his only weakness when it comes to anything, sweet you who he adores although he hardly shows it. You, who he needs although he hardly proves it.

You who he loves more than anything in the world, although he’s never said it. Is that why you hate him? He’s been an asshole, he can see it now. Is it selfish of him, to want to keep you when all he’s done is hurt you? Probably, but does he care? No, because Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish bastard but he’s going to change that with you. He wants to change that for you. He has to because he loves you. Even if you hate him he’ll follow you to the pits of hell because he loves you so much. He hopes it's not too late, he hopes there’s still something to be done to fix this.

“I love you.” He whispers through a broken whine. He hears the soft hitch caught in your throat.

He sees how the muscles and limbs of your body tense at his words. His eyes drink in every little thing you do to come up with his thoughts of what you must be thinking. From what he’s observed, what he said did nothing to help the situation.

“What?” You whispered.

“I-I umm. I said-”

“No. I heard what you said.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands cautiously waiting for you to speak. He feels it coming, the outburst.

“Why?” You murmured.

He wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t mentally tuned everything else in the world out just so he could focus on you. He was good at doing that. Being a hero forced him to learn these things regarding the human senses. He trained himself to be a hound dog with his eyes, ears, and smell for the job. With that experience, he could always hear the slightest change of your breath whenever he was around you. He heard your response, now he has to figure out what you mean by why and come up with a good response to save this relationship.

“What do you mean why? Because yer my girlfriend that’s why,” He scoffed. God his cursed fucking mouth.

“Just because I’m your girlfriend?” You repeated lowly.

Katsuki’s guard keeps going on higher and higher alert which he didn’t know was possible. It worried him. He didn’t respond, didn’t know what to respond with, so he waited for you to speak.

“You say you love me but you only love me because I’m your girlfriend?” You snapped as you turned around to face him, causing his body to snap straight up at your sudden outburst.

“You don’t love me because I’m hard-headed yet so calming. Because I’m rude but so loving. Or because I’m ruthless but so caring, or emotionally unavailable yet so emotional, or rough and tough yet so soft and gentle or scary looking yet so soft looking, or rough around the edges yet mushy in the center, or a bully yet sincere or mean yet kind or cocky yet insecure or brave yet fearful or clever but stupid or clean yet dirty or organized yet unorganized or active yet lazy or hygienic yet sometimes unhygienic or strong yet soft or ambitious yet negative or because you set goals so high the world can’t see them yet you go above and beyond to reach them, or because you inspire those around you without meaning to or because you strive for something so great and you work so hard to achieve it or because you don’t let anything stand in the way to get what you want or because you’re so beautiful and I don’t mean from the outside but the inside because Katsuki you are incredibly beautiful inside and out and that’s why I love you…I love you for all of those reasons because it makes you, you, and I love that, I love you. But if you can’t give me one simple fucking reason why you love me besides the fact that I’m your girlfriend then I don’t want to be anymore… because that just proves this relationship has been one-sided this whole time. I’m tired Katsuki… I’m tired of the late nights with no contact from you. I’m tired of always coming second and putting all the effort into this relationship to keep it from tearing but it’s already been torn. I am tired Katsuki. I’m done being tired.” Your broken voice broke him.

He tried and tried and tried so hard to keep himself strong but with everything you said, explaining every detail of him down to the bone broke him. For the first time in a very long time, Katsuki Bakugou broke down. His face instantly contorted to anguish as hot fat tears spouted down his soft cheeks. His arm quickly came up to cover his eyes from you as his unoccupied hand gripped at his shirt where his heart was. His knees buckled as he fell to the ground still sobbing. His emotions were running wild with absolute adoration for you yet he was heartbroken. You love him. A complete asshole who’s done nothing but hurt you, you love him, but he couldn’t love you as you deserved and now he’s going to lose you forever.

“I’m sorry!�� He howled through choked sobs.

As he peered up to look at you, you weren’t there. He quickly got up and wiped his tears away as he scanned the room. His ears caught the sound of a heavy plop sound coming from the living room. He hurried to the noise source as he saw you stuffing a sweater into a duffel bag. The alarms in his head stopped as his mind came to a realization. You were leaving. He quickly went to you.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked with a demanding tone. You didn’t respond, just continued to stuff some things you had laid out on the couch.

“Y/n I’m talking to you!” He called for you louder as he reached to snatch your wrist to prevent you from packing your things further.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you talk to me!” “I did talk!”

“Well yeah but-”

“No Bakugou, you forced me to talk earlier so I did and now I’m leaving. I spoke my peace, I got nothing more to say to you.”

“Well, I got way more to say to you, but I need you here to say it.” He growled, yet his eyes showed panic.

The slight shaking of his arm and hand, which kept you firmly in place from leaving, caught your attention as you looked into his eyes and down at his hand that gripped your wrist. You nodded slightly, causing Bakugou to loosen his grip. You took that slight change to snatch your wrist back. Katsuki stared down at you with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“What Bakugou?” You asked with a tiredness to your tone.

Your shoulders slumped and your eyes drooped. You're tired. He can see it. The slight black dusting your eye bags. Your eyebrows creased to show your exhaustion. He sees it, your love dissipating. It makes him tremble. He doesn’t miss the name you address him as. His last name. No loving nickname. No first name. Just Bakugou. His last name. Something strangers address him as. The last name he wanted to share with you. Was it too late? Is it too late to still give it to you?

He wanted to propose to you. He wanted you to carry his last name. Wanted to share a deeper bond through marriage. Wanted to share new experiences as a bonded pair through golden rings. He had everything planned for your fifth anniversary. He fucked it up. Katsuki didn’t believe in love until he met you. The love that is now one-sided. He knew he’d been unfair these last few months. No, it’s been longer than that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to believe how shitty he’s been. As a very prideful and cocky man who prides himself on being the best in every aspect, he didn’t want to believe he failed. No, that’s not what’s eating at him. It’s that the one good thing he had in his life was leaving. Fleeting and he’s scared of the unknown.

In the hero industry, he excelled at foresight. He always had plans to be one step ahead, and always had an idea of what would happen next. Now he’s got no clue what’s going to happen and that scares him because it’s about you. He wants you more than anything and he knows that now. He doesn’t want to lose you. He’s known that but he didn’t show it and now you’ve reached your breaking point and he’s so fucking scared of a life without himself by your side.

“Please. Y/n I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” He said lowly with a break to his words.

You stood there watching your- watching Bakugou break. You did this. The great Dynamight who’s notorious for his strength and unvulnerability is broken before you. Some twisted part of you isn’t even empathetic towards him. You’re glad he’s hurting as you have been for the past year. Yet the part that loves him is aching. The inner battle of turmoil is clouding your judgment.

“I’ve been an asshole. I know that- I see that now-”

“So what? Did it have to take you losing me to see that?” Bakugou’s lips pursed tight and wobbled slightly. Loose you? Was this truly it? Did he really lose you?

“Please. Please, I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry for everything-!”

“And what exactly are you sorry for? Do you even have the slightest understanding of why you’re even sorry?” You shouted with tears brimming your eyes.

“For being an asshole! For being a horrible shitty fucking boyfriend! For being negligent and absent and expecting everything from you and giving you nothing from me! I see now how I’ve treated you and I know now how horrible of me that is and I’m sorry!” Bakugou rasped with tears.

Tears he’s vowed he’d never shed but are now sprouting from his eyes. Falling to his knees he sinks into himself as he crumbles. His world seemed to crumble down to ash. This is what he was good at. Destruction. Destroying anything and everything he touches. His quirk that he prides himself with, the quirk of explosion that makes Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki, was now seeming to feel like a curse rather than a blessing.

Katsuki flinches as his senses reel him back into reality from the soft touch of your fingers against his cheeks. His eyes drink in your face, the crease of your brows furrowed into an expression of sadness and worry. The puffy redness around your eyes hints at you crying. The tip of your nose is red and your lashes are slightly damp. God, you were truly beautiful. A gorgeous woman he had the liberty to call his at one point. At least he got that. Though his heart will never be satisfied with that.

“Thank you for the apology.” You said so softly.

The soothing tone he loved to hear. Lately, it was the only tone of voice you’d speak since he would only return home to you at ungodly late hours. The tone you called his name with when you were half asleep. So melodic.

“I love you,” He rasped as his body moved to hold yours, but you stopped him.

Your hands reached out to keep him at a distance by his shoulders. His gaze fell to your hands that pressed on his shoulders and back up to your face in confusion.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Katsuki felt his heart twist painfully again.

“You, can’t?”

“Oh, Katsuki. It’s not that easy anymore. We can’t just fix everything with a simple apology and an “I love you” and expect everything to be perfect.” You sighed as you returned your hands to your side and avoided his gaze in defeat.

“I know that. I do. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever I have to to fix this. Us. For us.” He announced as he slowly reached for your hand to hold in his. You noticed and quickly moved your hand away from his.

“No Katsuki you don’t get it. It’s not simple at all. This situation. Our relationship. It’s non-existent. I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Then, then tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do to fix it and I will. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can baby. Anything you need from me, just tell me so I can fix this. I can’t lose you Y/n, please. He whined.

“I can’t Katsuki.” “Yes, you can! Please! Please Y/n. Just-just tell me what I can do to fix us. To save us! C’mon Y/n, please! Just tell me what I can do! There has to be something I can still do to save us! Please!”

“I can’t!” “Why?! Why can’t you?! There has to be something to be done still please baby!”

“I can’t because there’s nothing to be done Katsuki!” There it was. The final tether of the string that tied your hearts together, it snapped.

“Nothing?” You didn’t respond. Just kept avoiding eye contact. Trying to focus on anything but him.

“Is this really it?” He murmured, although he was more so speaking to himself.

The disbelief. The refusal to accept it. The denial. His heart can’t. It’s refusing to accept the loss of you. It’s crying, screaming, threatening to rip out of his chest and rush to yours. To hug and hold your heart and beat warmly once again. But Katsuki has to resist, to hold it back and keep it in its ribcage, locked up. Forever in solitude as it deserves, as he deserves. He can’t blame you. He’s been so fucking awful to you. He can’t blame you, judge you, not even think about hating you, but it doesn’t mean he has to be okay with it. He’s not sure if he’d ever be.

“I’m sorry. There’s just nothing else to be done anymore. It’s over.” You said softly with a crack at the end of your sentence.

Katsuki knows you love him. But the damage he’s made has been done and he’s pushed past your limit. He understands. But even with knowing his heart can’t stop it’s yearning for you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, just merely above a whisper.

Loud enough for you to just catch it. You finally decide to look up at him and you see just how disheveled he looks, how broken he seems, and he is. It’s felt like hours. Perhaps it has been. It’s been hours since you left. Left him here, alone. Hours since he’s moved from the floor. He’s still sitting on the cold wood floor since the argument. He can’t find the energy to move. How long has it been? He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to find out. His gaze drifts to the windows of the apartment and notices the dark sky. Fuck, it’s late. It’s been a whole day yet all he can think about was what happened hours prior. His eyes move to look for his phone.

Finally having some sort of motivation drives his body to get up and search for his phone. He finds it on the kitchen counter. He turns his phone over and the first thing he’s greeted with is his lock screen picture of you and him, smiling like idiots in love. He fights so hard to keep the dam he worked hard to build over the past hours to stay up. With a hard deep breath, he wills himself to unlock his phone and takes off the Do Not Disturb. His phone instantly floods with notifications, messages, and missed calls, none of which were from you. His eyes scanned to see most texts were about his whereabouts from work employees such as his PR team, assistant, weird hair, and the nerd.

Instead of reapplying the Do Not Disturb, Katsuki just shuts his phone off completely. He has no use for it. He also wouldn’t like to see the reminder of what he once had on it either. He tosses his phone back onto the kitchen counter and takes a good, hard look around the place. It’s the same as it has been for years. It’s changed since you and him first bought it. Aside from all the hard work you put into decorating it, it’s still the same. Only now it feels emptier than it had been the day you both first moved in.

Katsuki takes the time to actually take in his surroundings and notices just how much the space has changed. His entire home looked more feminine yet empty. As if only one person lived here. Slowly his shared home with you began to look like just a home for you. Slowly things that made the home for you both began to disappear. The little decorations that he added for slight touches of his personality to blend with yours were now gone and all he could see was you. You surrounded this space and it frightened him because he’s now realizing he had been pushed out of your heart and mind completely for far longer than he’s realized. You drew all thoughts of him away by removing everything that made the home him and you to just you. Maybe in doing so it dulled the ace of him being a dead-beat boyfriend.

He wouldn’t blame you if that were the reason, it just doesn’t dull the ache within. Katsuki heads to the bedroom and slowly opens the door. As he enters the room he notices the changes that had been made. The silk black sheets he bought years ago now changed to white silk ones. The bed frame is new, and the mirror in the corner of the room is new as well. The tv is larger than the previous one and the blankets are a different color as well. God fucking dammit, he’s been sleeping here for five years, sharing a home with you was the best thing to experience but even though he’s been here he wasn’t truly here. Absent-minded living has driven you away and he can see why. He’s not noticed a thing that’s been going on under his roof. Even under his fucking nose for crying out loud.

He’s angry. All his emotions are building up. Fueling the giant pit of fire in his belly. The surging flames explode up the tubes of his veins, flowing into his brain. The flaming bursts of emotions kept fueling into his mind until it overflowed to be too much and then, he exploded. Crackling and thundering echoed throughout the walls of the apartment. Loud booming and thudding hallowing like a storm. Red. Nothing but red is all he can see. Red is all he sees as he grabs and throws anything he can grab a hold of. Red is all he sees as he blows up anything and everything in his path. Red is all he sees as he repeatedly pounds his fist against the wall.

Blue is all he sees when images of you pop up in his head. Blue is all he sees when he blinks his tears away. Blue is all he sees when he closes his eyes and slides his slumped body down against the wall that is bloody and charred. Black is all he sees when his exhausted body succumbs to the sleep he so desperately needs. When he sleeps, he can dream.

When he dreams, he can dream of a world where something could be done to keep your love for him...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

.*☆ﾟ.* Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for reading my story and if you liked it please let me know! The sequel is out now! Something to be Done

I also have a few other stories on my masterlist so feel free to read those as well! Thank you and please come again! .*☆ﾟ.*

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader angst #bakugou x reader angst #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki

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samcvrpenters · 8 months ago

Text

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: secret service! caitlyn kiramman x criminal! assassin! fem reader

summary: after betraying her, caitlyn vowed to hunt you down and make you pay for your crimes. but her vengeance slowly turns into more and she finds herself wanting your affection and attention

warnings: weapons, violence, a not very well written fight scene, mentions of death

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

is she meant to be grateful for your incompetence? for your ungraceful, egotistical betrayal to the national security agency? if you even think you’re correct on any of those assumptions then you’re dreadfully wrong, because she has vowed to hunt you down and lock you up in a blacksite never to see the light of day again.

she never expected it.

how could she? you were ever so kind and polite to her since the first day you met her in the office.

it may have been a little suspicious; your wide eyes and happy smile supported that, yet her judgement became clouded because, well, it was the first time she saw someone so happy to jump into such a job, and she wanted to trust you.

she instantly had put in an application to become your handler, and it took many discussions with her superiors and her own handler to allow her into the position, but when she was given it, she took it with enthusiasm.

she wanted to lead you.

she believed you could do marvellous things for the agency and she wanted to make you feel like you could reach your potential if she was the one who was looking after you— if she was the one who was ready to take care of you.

your aim was a little shocking, to say the least. in a good way, though. maybe that should have pointed to the fact you had done this before.

but caitlyn was blinded by her own adoration for you and she had made every single effort to make you better than you ever were before, so she adjusted the small things that you were unable to do and she did make you better.

looking back on it, she should have known.

she sits in her office now and she dwells upon the fact that you had betrayed her and her trust.

she’s wearing gloves, and her fingers are tapping against the mahogany table, which is covered in knife marks. she should be glad she’s took it out on the furniture. not on anyone else, because she doesn’t want to get into as much trouble as you have.

where even are you?

she doesn’t know.

she wants to know, but she’s unable to find out because you keep your tracks so well hidden that she can’t locate you in the slightest. she’s proud, in some way. she taught you that. but at the same time, treason is treason. and it’ll be treated severely, like any other criminal would be treated.

the phone rings. a loud, sharp sound that causes caitlyn to flinch because the unfortunate loss of you has caused her a lot of grief.

she reaches for it, her hand wrapping around the material, a clicking noise signifying she’s answered it, and the other person on the phone speaks instantly, like it’s such an important matter that everything else can wait for this.

her eyes widen when the voice says that they’ve found you.

at first, she’s ecstatic. she wants to embrace you and hug you and tell you that everything will be okay. because you had to be manipulated into this. this isn’t your fault. but that’s not how it works, and she’s forced to change her mind as her hand reaches for the gun on her desk.

and then she’s walking out, and the door slams behind her when she doesn’t even have the courtesy to shut it quietly.

in an instant, all thoughts of what to do with you when she gets you is flooding through her head, drowning any feelings she has. she needs to arrest you. if that doesn’t work, shoot you. and if that doesn’t work, shoot you again. and again. and again. and there’ll be blood everywhere and your blood will forever coat her hands and her gun and her mind and she’ll never be able to unsee it.

she’ll hallucinate.

she’ll always see you— bullet holes over your body and your body drenched in red. she knows that’s how it’s going to work.

she finds you.

she will always find you.

“you need to stop!” her usual honeyed voice is twisted with malice, some sort of callousness that stops her typical self from entering the conversation.

because she’s here to arrest you.

not love you. again.

perhaps that’s what hurts so much: the fact she shared so much of herself with you and she allowed you to touch her and hug her and embrace her and comforted her. now all of that is gone and she knows she needs to make you pay.

“you’re not even aiming your gun at me, agent kiramman.” your voice rings sharp in return and your eyes are fixed through the scope of your suppressed sniper rifle. “how about you try to intimidate me and then i’ll stop?”

how do you know without even looking?

it doesn’t matter, because she’s scrambling to pull her handgun from her holster, her finger resting against the trigger guard as she takes a step forward.

she isn’t putting her finger on the trigger. yet.

but the muzzle of her gun is pushing through your hair and to the back of your head.

“come with me. and i will make it a lot safer for you. it’ll be a lot easier for the both of us if you comply.” why is she being so stern? this isn’t how she usually acts with you.

oh well.

does it truly matter? no. not really. because you know she won’t pull the trigger because she doesn’t want to see blood pouring from your head whilst she cries against your corpse.

“you won’t pull the trigger.” you drawl, hands tightening against your sniper rifle, which is mounted on a stand for the time being. “i know what you’re like. and i have too much faith in the fact that you love me that i don’t believe you’d be able to shoot me.”

it’s true.

she still loves you. even with what you did.

“stand up.” her voice is a hiss and she shoves the gun against your head again, jaggedly, as if she doesn’t actually care about your health. but if that was the case, she would’ve shot you already. “stand up and we might take it easy on you.”

you can get out of this situation in a heartbeat. she knows that. are you just entertaining her? do you want to play with her heart? her feelings? do you want her to experience these contrasting emotions of hate and love?

“you’ve gotten predictable, agent kiramman.” what’s with the formalities? are you trying to seduce her, or something? manipulate her? distance yourself from her? she’s not sure. “because i know you won’t do anything. how about you lower your weapon and i’ll lower mine, and we can talk, hm?” you sound like you’re mocking her.

her hand is gripping the gun tighter, and she’s shoving it against the back of your neck instead, and with that, you whip around.

grabbing onto her hand, you roughly push her arm up, above your head, so if she did decide to pull the trigger (whether it be out of surprise or pure anger), you wouldn’t get shot.

and you’re pushing her against the roof of the building, twisting her arm back behind her body, before managing to get her onto the surface and looking up at you.

it’s like she didn’t even try to fight back.

but you’re gripping onto her shoulders, keeping her against the surface of the roof, nails digging through her clothes and into her skin.

“are you just going to lay there?” you hiss out. if she was being rough, you might as well do the same. “say something. do something. get up, caitlyn! aren’t you mad?”

but she’s staring up at you.

it’s as if she can’t look away from you because she’s so enamoured by you.

and then she snaps out of it, and her knee lifts into your abdomen with no caution whatsoever, and you find yourself groaning and letting go of her shoulders. she’s pulling herself up and round to grab your own arms, rolling you over onto your back and she’s pulling you up so you’re sat up, before shoving you back down again.

your legs are wrapped around her waist and it’s almost as if you’re trying to pull her back around so you can roll her over again.

“stop trying.” she breathes out, and she’s moving her hand to grip the back of your hair.

a rather compromising position, which would be seen as something different if the two of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

“fuck you.” you groan out, and since your other arm is free, you manage to smack a punch right across her face, a satisfying crunch erupting from her nose to prove you’ve broken it.

she groans in response, and lifts both hands to cover it, the fabric of the gloves absorbing the blood as she covers it.

and you’re running back to the sniper in the time that you have and opening up the case next to it and pulling out your own handgun. the one you were given to by the nsa.

it was surprising that you had kept it.

“emotional entanglements are unacceptable in a professional, dangerous environment yet are inevitable. is that what you said, caitlyn?” your head tilts to the side and your finger rests against the trigger, ready to pull it if needs be. “if that’s true, then why have you become so attached to someone that you’re meant to arrest? to kill?”

a step forward and you’re closer to her.

she’s not moved, her hands still holding her nose before she pulls them away once the bleeding had subsided.

“it’s unfortunate, really. i enjoyed being in your bed yet your affiliation with the person i was meant to kill in the agency made it stop.”

a sigh escapes your lips at her silence.

“i’m giving you the opportunity to run away, caitlyn. be blind. not brave.”

she needed to act like she had never seen you. and that would make everything so much easier because then you wouldn’t have to worry about her reporting you and she wouldn’t have to say a word.

you were making this easier on her, but she wasn’t making this easier for you.

she doesn’t know why she takes the opportunity. she just does. maybe she doesn’t want to hurt you, and she doesn’t want you to hurt her, but she leaves the rooftop and she’s sprinting down the stairs and back to her car.

“false alarm.” that’s the only thing she mutters to her partner as she steps into the car.

she’ll find you one day. officially. it’ll be printed on documents that she was the one who find you. but to say she’ll take you in? no. she’s sure it will read that she decided to join you.

no matter what the cost is.

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman x fem reader #au #arcane au #arcane netflix #arcane series #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane #arcane oneshot #caitlyn kiramman oneshot #caitlyn kiramman imagine #caitlyn arcane

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jooyeonsvape · 8 months ago

Text

L.A girl: joshua smut

w/c: 2.3k

pairing: idol!joshua, female!reader

genre: smut

summary: joshua comes back to his hometown and meets with a girl from his past.

svt masterlist

you highfive your teammates when you score a point and glance over at the crowd forming, cheering you guys on.

there was a particular face which sticks out when you go to serve the ball, it was a tall, well dressed, and smug smiled man.

joshua…

your eyes never left his as he slow claps for you, the arrogance was radiating off his body and you drop the ball to the ground. never has your heart beaten so fast by a person who didn’t have to speak a word, joshua only uses his eyes to get his point across.

without saying a word to your friends, you run off the beach and immediately regret looking weak infront of him.

when you walk down the pier of the beach, you didn’t notice someone following you because your mind was clouded, “why did you run?” a familiar voice from behind you semi-shouts due to all the noise happening around you.

even with all the other sounds coming from every direction in your ears, his voice was crystal clear and transparent. “i-i didn’t run…” you stopped in your tracks but didn’t have the strength to turn around.

it was an obvious lie, he saw you laughing and smiling with your friends until your eyes met his. “you didn’t huh?” he retorts with a sly chuckle.

your fingers ball into a fist until your knuckles turn white and finally turn around to face joshua. “okay fine i did, but who are you to judge? don’t you run away from everyone and everything also?” you shout, walking up closer until you’re chest to chest.

“i can’t argue there, i just thought you would’ve got over that by now.” your eyes roll and he smirks, loving the reaction he gets from you anytime he speaks.

you weren’t sure why he has such an emotional effect in your brain, it’s been that way since middle school. he can be on the other side of the world and you still can’t help but look around small crowds for his face.

“i missed you [Y/N], my band is doing some shooting in la, i just wanted to catch up.” joshua seemed innocent by the way he spoke but you can read his thoughts. “i’ve been great… we caught up, have a good summer.” you turn around and continue your journey down the pier, far away from him.

2 days later was the next time you’d see joshua again.

the day was nothing extraordinary, shower, coffee, and work meetings; that is until, you see the handsome yet annoying smug face walking into your office.

your cheeks sink in and you give him a death glare as he walks to your bosses office door, knocking politely. you stand from your chair and sneak over to the room, peaking in through a window your boss uses to surveillance all your colleagues.

there wasn’t any clear words you could hear and you stomp your foot slightly, getting frustrated you didn’t know joshua’s intentions.

when the two men start walking toward the door, you take off back to your desk, falling off your rolling chair in the process but quickly sitting down, and breathing heavy.

they walk behind you and the hair sticks up on the back of your head just by the presence of joshua hong. “mrs. [Y/N]? this is joshua from the korean band seventeen. they are looking for someone around the area to help them with shooting locations.” you turn around in the chair and bite the inside of your cheek hard.

you worked in retail at the largest agency in la and you had no idea what selling houses had to do with finding locations for a boyband to shoot a music video.

“the beach is always a good location, have a nice day.” you turn back around in your chair and your boss clears his throat, “mrs [Y/N]? take his team to every available property along the shore we have.”

you hesitate but stand up from the chair and grab your belongings. “it’ll be my honor, shall we, mr. hong?” you fake a polite voice for your bosses satisfaction and drop your smile when you’re left alone with joshua. “let’s go.”

the elevator ride to the first floor was nothing short of the most tense experience you’ve ever been in and the worst part is you can’t run away this time.

“sooo… is your manager going with us?” you awkwardly ask, trying to stay professional. “yes, also the other boys, they want to have an opinion on where we shoot.” you just nod and look around the small elevator at anywhere but him.

once the two doors were about to open he presses a button to make the doors close again. “what-” was all you said before he pushes you against the elevator wall, both of his hands on either side of your head.

“why do you do this to me [Y/N]? after all these years of no communication, you still make me feel like we’re in high school.” he mutters in your ear, sending shivers down your entire body.

you didn’t dare speak a word to the man who was now hovering over your body and after a few moments of silence he chuckles, pulling away. “i know you like the back of my hand [Y/N], you act innocent and push me away, then can’t handle the tension so you hate fuck me.”

you push him away when the elevator opens again and people crowd inside, then slip out the door skillfully, leaving joshua behind. your heart was beating so fast you thought it was about to explode.

you’re on level 8 when you need to be on the ground floor, so you quickly run to the stairs in case you run into joshua again.

it was silent, dark, and every move you make echoes throughout the walls of the stairs. halfway through the journey you were already panting and waving your hand on your face as a makeshift fan, seeing ‘floor 4’ on the wall infront of you.

a door opened and closed but with the echoing, it could’ve came from anywhere.

you stop to rest and text your boss it was going good, even though you planned on making a break for it when you finally reach level 1.

as soon as you hit send your phone was snatched out of your hand with aggression, you look up to see joshua. “we never finished our conversation.” he blankly stares, holding your phone as ransom.

you cross your arms and hold your hand out, tapping your foot in annoyance. “may i have my phone back?” “you may have your phone back…. once we finish our conversation.” he replies back, holding the phone behind his back.

“if you don’t give me my phone back, i will scream murder and they will take you to jail.” you threat and your foot tapping getting faster. “there’s no one else in here darling, no one would even hear you,” he smirks to himself as if he won, then putting your phone inside his pants.

your face scrunches at his lame moves, knowing from personal experience he could do much better. “how about, you can have my phone, i’ll just get a new one.” you smirk back and he hums, hearing a text message ‘ding’ coming from in his pants. “that might be important, you should come get it.”

you nod your head and reach your hand in his pants as he wished, digging around to find what you were looking for.

“ahhh there it is, it was so small i almost missed it.” you smirk, cupping his semi-hard dick in your hand, rubbing it slowly until you feel it become fully hard.

after you left him speechless, you grab your phone and walk down the stairs again, texting your boss back. “you were right joshua, it was important.” you call out, not caring if he is following or not.

when you reach level 3, you were pushed against the wall for the second time in the span of 30 minutes, you look up at joshuas eyes and bite the inside of your cheeks again. “you did this to me.” he whispers, glancing down at the very obvious outline in his pants. “yeah and now its your problem.” you spit back, huffing at his aggressive gaze.

joshua pushes his hard on against your pussy that has been aching since the elevator, and hums. “it’s our problem [Y/N], i can tell you’re putting on a brave face, but you want me.”

even if his words were true, you needed to stay strong so you don’t end up as the loser in his game.

“look at you, the desperation in wearing that skin tight leather skirt is all i need to know.” joshua smirks, spreading your legs apart with his knee. “how much you wanna bet you’re soaking in those panties? a slut like you loves when a man is basically begging for your pussy.” he whispers in your ear, moving a hand down to lift up your skirt slowly.

“i-i won’t be, you have no effect on my pussy.” you whisper back, clenching your eyes shut when you feel his hand creeping up your thigh. “you sure?” joshua asks with a chuckle, the wetness running down your leg before he could even make it to your panties.

“i love how i can make you dripping just by my words. you’ve always liked being degraded.” he mumbles and finally reaches your core, his hand stopping when he feels no panties. “were you preparing for this moment? you knew i would find a way to get us alone huh? god you’re so slutty and sexy.” joshua smirks and flicks your clit with his fingers, making your entire body jolt.

“it’s true.” you whimper, not caring about winning or losing his game anymore, you just needed his dick.

joshua lifts you by the waist and pins you to the wall so your legs are spread around him. “sorry doll, no time for foreplay, someone can catch us.”

the thought of someone hearing, or seeing joshua fucking you hard against your work walls made you even wetter, the juice dripping on his pants as you wait for him to take his dick out.

once it was free, he lifts your hips so he could get a good grip on you before slamming as hard as he could inside your pussy. you yell but a hand slapped over your mouth, and tears forming in your eyes. it hurt so good, you wanted to feel him slam in you again without any warning.

joshua bounces you up and down on his large cock, smirking at your already tearful eyes. “its not small now, is it whore? it’s not small when its pounding into you tight wet pussy.” he moans out, thrusting his hips as fast as he can.

his name calling made your walls clench around him, it was your biggest turn on. “you’re so obedient doll, i tell you to spread your legs and here you are, being fucked senseless at your work.” he was panting now and you knew it was going to be a quickie, which you didn’t mind, you were already cumming on his dick as he spoke.

joshua reaches a hand up and wraps it around your slim throat, kissing your lips sloppily. he slurps up the saliva that was running down your mouth from pleasure and hums. “so sexy.” he moans, choking you harder.

“go faster.” you choke out, hearing a chuckle come from his mouth. “this isn’t fast enough for my little cum slut?” he retorts and you clench again at the name.

despite the teasing, he does as you ask, and thrusts as fast as his hips could go, “im about to cum baby, i missed your pussy so much.” he lowly moans, hands still around your neck and kisses your mouth.

joshua gives two more hard thrusts before shooting inside of your guts, pushing deeper in and whimpers against your mouth.

“f-fuck.” he groans when he pulls away from the kiss, resting a hand against the wall so he could hold you up on his waist, still deep inside of your now sensitive pussy. “that was the best hate sex we’ve ever had,” you giggle, twitching everytime he moved inside of you.

joshua finally pulls out of you when he catches his breath and zips his pants up. “lets go back to my hotel and do that again.” he smirks, kissing your neck slowly. “what about the house hunting for your music video?” you ask, tilting your head so he could kiss more of your neck.

“oh, we’re shooting at the beach, i had a free day and got bored.” he admits and you scoff. “you’re such a dick.” you cross your arms and start walking off, joshua catching up to you fast, “i just wanted your pussy, but i will tell your boss you are the best employee, and we spent all day looking at beautiful houses. meanwhile, we’re at my hotel fucking and you get a day off.” he negotiates and you think about it for a second, “alright deal.”

he was satisfied with your response and he grabs your hand but you pull away. “we’re better at hate fucking, not lovey dovey.” he nods in agreement and leaves your workplace with you, heading to his hotel.

“you should come back more though shua, you’re much use to me when you’re here.”

a/n: its 5 am and i just finished, im so tired, i started at 12 am 😂 but i really wanted to get this posted bc i have a busy day tomorrow, hope you enjoy!! my requests are open!!

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