#Spark Racing Technology

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Pioneer 25 Prototype, 2024. A new  Extreme H race car powered by a hydrogen fuel cell with a peak output of 400kW (550bhp). The Symbio fuel cell is has been engineered specifically to meet the demands of motor racing, Extreme H represents the first-ever testbed of hydrogen technology in motorsport. Each car in Extreme H features a standardised package of parts from Spark Racing Technology, while allowing teams the flexibility to customise areas such as the front and rear bodywork sections and lights. 

[thunderstomm]

Creativity inspires Innovation! 🩷💛

Brights & Spark find themselves working together on a lot of big projects to better Hot Wheels City, ranging from new cars, technology, and even villain-thwarting contraptions! That’s just part of why they’re the best!

[novemberisland]

The year is 2055.

In the race to build AGI, humanity lost its way. As technology outpaced its creator, global disruption escalated. But when systems collapsed, something else emerged.

Humans slowed down. They returned to the land, and eventually, to each other. Old communities sparked back to life.

And from the quiet, something new began…

[startheskelaton]

Do you have a timelime for your sparkplug au?

Yes and It's LONG. This isn't even all of it but it's what I have written out at least

Timeline: important plot points 

Pre war

Orion pax and D-16 are born 

Both experience the loss of parental guardian 

D-16 is taken to the pit 

Orion pax breaks into the pit, he and Dee start the foundations of the Decepticon cause 

Revolution starts to take shape on Cybertron 

Orion is killed in an attempt to stop D from falling down the slippery slope of a rage filled warmonger 

Orion is brought back as Optimus prime 

OG Ultra Magnus makes him a general in the Autobot ranks 

During war 

War goes on for like…. Long ass time

Autobots land on earth 

Main decepticons fallow suit and step up shop due to amount of resources

Governments make deals with different factions in place of protection and access to weapon technology

Eventually Megatron has a “oh fuck” moment when he invades an illegal mining operation in central Africa. It puts into perspective how far he has fallen, seeing his commanders make deals with those who profited off the mines, just like those in power back on cybertron. 

Midlife crisis, Megatron leaves the Decepticon cause, he takes Soundwave with him. Declares he will do whatever he needs in order to free those enslaved on this planet

Megatron joins the Autobots, this cases Prowl to leave and switch sides 

Battles pick up heat as both sides are desperate 

Millionaires and those in places of high power use Cybertronian technology to flee earth and live in space as earth is being destroyed

Starscream kills Optimus Prime in an attempt to kill Megatron. Both sides retreat as a result 

Optimus splits the matrix and gives it to Hotrod and bumblebee, 

Rodimus prime and Vespa Prime are born 

Optimus Prime’s spark is put in a reformation chamber with parts of Megatron in an attempt to bring him back 

Treaties are made and the decepticons take Cybertron as the Autobots stay on earth 

Post war 

Decepticons start rebuilding Cybertroinian society 

Shockwave finishes creating a replacement for Soundwave

Soundblaster is born 

The first sparkling born on Cybertron in millenia emerges

Nightflyer is born 

Due to the splitting of the matrix of leadership, dormant energon on earth awakens and allows for new sparklings to emerge 

The attempt the revive Optimus prime’s spark fails 

Sparkplug is born 

A new era 

Earth 

The Autobots have made it their mission to help reform the planet and help the humans rebuild 

Rodimus prime leaves earth in a hope to find some kind of explanation for why he feels like everything is in the shitter 

Subsections of colonies start to pop up, some keep to themselves, others work directly with the autobots, some hate transformers entirely 

Railroads are made more efficient in order to transport supplies across countries 

Earth starts to heal with the help of the matrix, forests grow and temperatures fall to a normal level 

Major cities act as sanctuaries for the human population, help from other alien races arrives as well, helping earth to become a space traveling hub 

Cybertron 

The Decepticons no longer go by that name, no longer wanting to be associated with the past. They go by Workers of Prime 

Shockwave has put together a complicated and purposeful chain of command and leadership that he sits at the top of. However Starscream is the “king” of Cybertron, while being a puppet 

Prowl takes care of enforcing laws and regulations to the planet. Along with trying to unite the cities with one another 

Cybertron now has a entertainment industry, focused on promoting good morals to the population along with keeping bots distracted 

Cybertron only communicate with it’s colony planets, trying to form a stronger relationship between all transformers 

“Peace times” (start of the story) 

Sparkplug is currently working as the assistant of Ratchet under the blessing of Megatron and Elita one 

Sparkplug trains in her free time to be a scout and will sneak off every once and a while to play basement concerts 

On Cybertron, Nightflyer is top of his class while training to be a high guard soldier. He is chosen by Shockwave to go on a mission to earth and infiltrate the Autobots

Cybertron is in desperate need of resources 

Nightflyer lands on earth and pretends to be a Decepticon defector, Sparkplug is wary of him 

Nightflyer manages to become an Autobot and meets Sparkplug during the scout tryouts 

Reluctantly Sparkplug is passed but gets put on the Energon transportation and quality control team, she’s fine with this as she just wanted to see the world 

Nightflyer gets put on a mission team, meeting Landlot, Defender and other bots his age. 

During this time we get our first mentions of a cult ran by a former Decepticon that’s turning humans into purple energon

Both Spark and Night explore earth and meet new and old bots.

Example: Sparkplug gets to know earth born transformers, Nightflyer gets to meet bots like Skyfire 

Back at the base, Sparkplug gets annoyed with how much fanfare Nightflyer is getting, while she still gets treated like a sparkling 

She breaks Night’s social mask and gets to know the real him. A romance between the two starts to form 

Shockwave informs Nightflyer that they’re sending a team to take over the main Autobot base 

Shockwave employs the DJD to help in the Autobot attack 

Return to war 

Sparkplug confesses to Nightflyer, Nightflyer returns the feeling as he does like her.

Right before the invasion he tries to convince her that living on Cybertron wouldn’t be so bad. Sparkplug refutes that she likes Earth and that Cybertron would probably hate her.

The DJD and a group of seakers make their way to Earth and start fucking shit up

Big dramatic reveal to the characters that Nightflyer was a spy all along and is Starscream’s ward

Things are going in the bad guy’s favor until Tarn realizes Sparkplug is part Megatron.

 He orders his men to capture her and kill everyone else, as they have a new leader of the Decepticon cause 

The battle becomes even more messy as sides are switched and the Autobots and seekers are now fighting to survive

While attempting to help Megatron fight off Tarn, Sparkplug is grabbed by Soundblaster, who hopes to bring her back to Shockwave in order to get in his favor. 

Space distortion happens when Skywarp tries to help get Soundblaster out of there and accidentally sends him and Sparkplug halfway across the universe. 

This cases the DJD to leave as they are now looking for Sparkplug, and the seekers(after getting beaten by the DJD) are taken prisoner for now 

Depression but in space 

 Sparkplug and Soundblaster are in the middle of nowhere on a deserted planet. After trying to restrain one another, they realize they need to help each other if they wanna survive this mess

Back on earth, Rodimus comes back from space due to getting a SOS message, he is yelled at by his family

Acidstorm, Slipstream and Airachnid are absolutely furious about being stuck on earth for the time being. Nightflyer is currently being used as a verbal punching bag for the Autobots 

Back in Space, Sparkplug and Soundblaster start to develop a chemistry as they learn more about each other.

Rodiums takes it upon himself to get Sparkplug back as a way to make up for leaving everyone years ago. This is a big reference to “the lost light”, characters like megatron, rodimus, swerve and others join, along with some OC’s like Nanabah (native american sharpshooter) who forms a friendship with Preceptor, and Lobo (the lowrider transformer born on earth) 

Rodimus takes nightflyer under his wing in an attempt to reform him  

In space, Spark and Soundblaster start to feel romantic feelings for one another. However this is interrupted by them getting found by the DJD.

Soundwave takes it upon himself to split off from Rodimus group as he might be able to locate her better through his mind powers (I don’t know, it's all space magic man)

Sparkplug properly meets Tarn and is quickly given a new frame and alt mode against her will. 

Soundwave finds the DJD with Spark on it and sneaks on, However he is caught, and even if he fights well, he can’t fight off all of them.

Tarn forces Sparkplug to finally give into her anger when he kills Soundwave in front of her and lets her kill him. 

Spark takes on the name “Megatron” and is then forced to eat Tarn’s spark in an act of dominance. She is now the leader of the DJD 

There will be more to come!!! this is not all of it

Part two

[linkedin-offficial]

hymnheart birds, better known as "hymns", or "travel mount" birds, are a genus of bird derivative from todays common flocking birds of sky (doves), and the less common nightbirds.

during the days of prosperity, these birds were bred to be large and capable of carrying many passengers, as skypeople flight was not a common form of travel. similarly, it wasnt uncommon to find a smaller version of these birds (usually bred by hand, and not by known breeders), meant for single person travel, that was also often used in racing. these lesser travel mounts are known to have sparked the use of mantas for racing and speedy travel, as mantas were faster and smaller, and functionally better for the same uses.

in modern day, these birds are considered to be extinct. after great technological advantages like flying boats becoming mainstream, and soon after the modernization of 'caped' flight, hymns numbers had begun to dwindle due to simply no longer needing them for their main purpose. unlike hymn travel however, manta riding remained persistent as a practice, as the species was abundant, and did not need skypeople aid to continue to breed.

few individuals, like those of the nester families, continued to breed these birds, but eventually discontinued the practice as it became laborious and took too much time.

[smallestapplin]

Can I request some cute Soundwave stuff? 👉🏻👈🏻 Maybe human reader bringing him some of their favorite songs and trying to dance with him despite the huge height difference.

I am so down bad for this thank you.

-

-

You smile up at Soundwave, finding his curious head tilt adorable as you held up a device for him to look at. Earth technology is so primitive compared to Cybertrons, so it takes him a moment to realize it’s a music device? But it’s so small.

“Inquiry : what is this?”

You chuckle before gesturing for it back, “It’s my phone, silly! I was hoping, since things have been steady, I could show you some songs I like, maybe I could make a playlist for us.”

The large mech’s visor gleams down from where you stand on his desk, staring down at you knowing you can’t read his hidden expression, and for once Soundwave is grateful for that, you can’t see his optics go wide at your words or the small smile twitching on his dermas.

A playlist for just the two of you? He could make one, in fact he could make personalized songs for you, maybe-

“Soundwave? It’s alright if you don’t want to hear Earth music, I won’t make you.”

“No, please proceed, I want to hear what you like.” He sets his data pad down, his attention fully onto you and your tiny device. The music is too quiet to start, but Soundwave always comes in with a plan, using your phone’s Bluetooth to hook it up to his own systems.

You look happy, even swaying to the upbeat music and singing a long to your catchy love song. Humans are strange, you are strange, yet his spark pulses as he feels like you’re directing it at him.

Such strange words, but he’s quick to catch on and mentally replace the human words with Cybertronian terms, making it clear what it’s about.

“C’mon, give me your hand, or your finger. You need to loosen up.”

His visor brightens and the music skips a beat before swiftly getting back on track, are you asking him to dance? You’re so much smaller than him, so so tiny, and yet he finds himself mindlessly agreeing. Your tiny hands wrap around his index digit, pulling slightly to get him closer and to follow your beat.

He feels like he’s back on Cybertron before the war, care free, doing what he loves after work. Soundwave easily begins to follow, his hips swaying and pedes moving to the beat as if in a tango with you, moving and swinging you around his desk, dipping you gently.

Spark thrumming at the sound of your gleeful laughs and giggles, he can’t help joining you in your joy with soft laughter of his own. It feels silly dancing like this, yet you two move in sync, matching each others rhythm. There is a comfort in knowing that, as he records your smiling face, how you look up at him with such raw love and adoration. He’s moving before he can even process it, picking you up in his servo, catching you off guard, and holding you face level with him.

“Whoa! H-hey, a warning next time, yeah?” You laugh, sitting sweetly in the center of his servo.

Your eyes sparkling as his mouth guard retracts, letting you see his lips for once, even in the time you’ve been together he’s never liked taking it off, but now?

“May I kiss you?”

Your cheeks feel like they are burning, eyes widening at his request, but how you’ve always wanted to.

“I’d like that.”

There it is again, the music skipping a few beats, as if affected by his emotions. You stand up carefully, walking closer to him as he moves you closer to his face plate. It’s a bit awkward, but it’s so pure in his optics, how your much softer lips press against his derma, by this point the music is a jumbled up mess unable to play right from the flustered mess of a con before you.

You are all he wants, everything he damned.

Brain module racing for ideas on what songs to make you, what earth songs he could add to it, anything just he needs to make it for you.

“Thank you for the dance, Soundwave.”

He almost wanted to kiss you again the second you pulled away from him.

“Request : can we do this again?”

Your joy is infectious, almost as much as you getting to see his smile, though only briefly as his mask is quickly brought back up, hiding his lips from your view again.

Your heart racing knowing you must be special to him for such an act.

“I’d like that very much.”

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents, plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course, who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly even known her, you wouldn't let yourself. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

When you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view and then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper. You just didn't exist, you never would.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

It felt weird knowing his name, his story or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

Your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess...another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them and you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while, you told yourself.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. When you finally spoke, your voice was low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him, someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this, like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too, the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission, the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice. "Nothing."

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his blue eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine., I trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess it up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t and even if you stumble, I’ll be right here.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Okay.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Okay,” he echoed.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden and despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this time and Bucky behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong, let me help, I want to help."

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish you could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers, Captain America so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. "A sibling? A friend?"

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.”

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t and so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here every connection, every moment would be left behind.

Bucky made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had to do this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself Nurse,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too, Sergeant," you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[lets-try-some-writing]

Don't know if you have got this question before but how do the bots react once they learn humans eat other sentient beings?

ex- cows, pigs, chickens,

Would it be disturbing to know that it is ones nature to eat another living being? What if they found out that cannibalism sometimes happens?

I swear I wrote about this once, but I shall gladly do so again!

Cybertronians are not unfamiliar with organic life cycles and their nature. The older amongst Cybertron's number have seen and witnessed acts of flesh eating personally. The younger ones though? They can hardly process the concept of eating another living thing the way organics do it. Ghouls, spark eaters, and the like are all understandable concepts. But devouring the whole frame? That's WEIRD.

Ratchet and Optimus are severely uncomfortable watching the kids and Fowler eat meat and similar products, but they understand on a fundamental level that this is how it must be for organic races. And for that reason, they can usually stomach the sight without flinching (although Ratchet does tend to gag when the kids aren't looking). Arcee, also being quite old, can similarly deal with it if she has to. But she's not exactly happy about driving Jack to and from his flesh eating establishment. She is now far too familiar with the smell of burning things, fleshy things, to be at peace with it. Ultra Magnus is in a similar boat and chalks humans eating other living things up to them being savages, and that's on a good day. He is of the belief that if humanity manages to just get up and become technologically advanced, they will have no need for such barbarism.

Bulkhead is aware of what the humans do and just... tries not to think about it. He doesn't like imagining small creatures such as puppies or kittens giving him those eyes and then promptly seeing Miko eat chicken wings nearby. He recharges better pretending the humans just stick to vegetation. Wheeljack is not quite as lucky and outwardly makes a meme worthy face of disgust every single time the kids eat meat around him. He knows they have to eat that stuff, but it still bothers him and he's not afraid to show it (he may or may not have poked their lunches with a stick once just to see if the kids eat their prey alive).

Smokescreen, being as new as he is, is totally unaware of what meat is to begin with. Burgers are just weird shaped fuel. Those silly humans and their billion strange fuel shapes and colors. He thinks it's hilarious how much effort goes into making their fuel look so unique. If only he knew...

[absolutelyterrifichonestly]

Protocol

Pairing: Kate Stewart x F!reader

Fandom: Doctor Who

Warnings: smut, alcohol, smoking, age gap, boss/employee relationship

Description: Kate Stewart is impossible. Stubborn, fierce, beautiful, and your boss. Sparks have been emerging between you for weeks, but she remains professional - until she doesn't.

Word count: 3,777

It was humiliating, having a crush on your boss. At your age, and with your past experiences, you felt like you should know better by now. She was old enough to be your mother. Why did that make it even more appealing?

You rolled your eyes at your own cliché, stirring a cup of instant coffee, deciding to drink it black as if it would wake you up more effectively. UNIT hummed with it's usual Monday morning energy, phones ringing, buzzers sounding, doors opening and closing and brisk greetings called across the floor. The little kitchenette was your haven for a few minutes. Monday morning always began with a team-wide boardroom meeting. It used to be held on a Friday evening, but Kate received enough push-back from her permanently sleep deprived employees that she finally agreed to move it to the start of the working week, not the end. This meant that every Monday from 9:15 to 10:30, everyone would gather together in the glass-walled boardroom and discuss the previous week - near misses, risk audits, key messages, that sort of thing. It was desperately boring, but you still arrived dutifully, notebook in hand, reports at the ready if needed, taking your seat towards the back of the room.

You were a junior medic, your salary modest but undeniably better than if you'd chosen to stay with the NHS. You'd started at UNIT three months ago, fresh faced and carrying dreams of alien technology and thrilling missions. A few weeks in, you realised it was more about drills than danger, spending most of your days running training simulations and maybe patching up a grazed elbow here and there. So far, the most gruesome thing you'd witnessed was a projectile stomach bug.

You'd been on the field for one mission so far. Rogue zygon tech, discovered in an old warehouse in Woolwich. It was handled carelessly, resulting in a number of your colleagues needing on-the-spot treatment, your mind racing with anxiety, focusing on stitching them up whilst also looking competent in front of Kate. She'd barely registered your presence until that day, so when you noticed the shallow cut on her forehead and offered to clean her up, her eyes had narrowed as she looked you up and down, taking you in. You'd held your gauze awkwardly, gesturing to her head.

"You're bleeding." you'd stated, tapping your own forehead in reference. "I can, you know...stop that for you."

She'd looked annoyed, her fingers moving to dab at the small droplets of blood, inspecting the stain with a reluctant sigh.

"If you must." she replied flatly, letting you approach whilst she tapped away on her tablet, her expression unflinching as you carefully cleaned the small cut, applying some pressure followed by a thick plaster.

"Keep it clean, if you get any headaches, dizzy spells, visual disturbances, that sort of thing, just..." you'd started, but she got up and strode off towards a group of soldiers before you could finish. "...let me know." you'd sighed.

A week later, you spoke again. She came to observe one of your training simulations, a run-of-the-mill exercise to test the soldiers on basic life support. She watched with quiet intensity, her expression unreadable. When you'd lightly asked if she'd like to volunteer to be put in the recovery position so everyone could practice, she'd looked at you like you'd just spat on her shoe.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to knock you unconscious," you'd grinned. She'd reluctantly agreed, holding her body rigid and glaring at each hapless trainee as they manoeuvred her limbs into the correct position.

"Nice job, everyone. Now we can be confident that Ms Stewart will make a full recovery." you'd smiled, a gentle murmur of amusement rippling around the training room. Kate huffed from the floor, gingerly accepting your hand to help her up.

"You make a fantastic patient, boss. Uncomplaining." you'd teased, watching her cheeks flush just a whisper of pink.

The next day, you made coffee for her as she was just behind you in the kitchenette and the kettle was already boiled. Your fingers brushed hers when you handed her the steaming cup, and you felt a jolt of energy. A week later, she lit your cigarette when she slipped out for a quick break herself. As you smoked together thoughtfully, you ended up having a brief but lovely conversation about the UNIT archives, where she'd spent her morning rummaging through old files. You told her your favourite thing about medical school was the library days, and she told you about a bit about her time at Cambridge. It was pleasant. Practically warm.

At the end of the week, you ended up working late with her, helping her with some mind numbing data entry because there was no one else available. It was almost 9pm by the time you both finished and she closed her laptop with a satisfied snap, stretching her arms above her head, her blazer rising up to show a glimpse of her silk-clad waist. You looked away, blushing.

She'd offered you a cup of chamomile tea, but then changed that to a proper nightcap, pulling a bottle of 25 single malt from her desk drawer with a wily smile. You'd sipped your dram whilst you talked about your childhood, and she spoke about old missions and her rookie mistakes when she first started, her eyes creasing as she laughed at the memories. A second dram was finished, then a third. Her eyes lingered on your neck, and you felt hot. When you leaned closer to her she brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, her fingertips on your cheek. Your breath hitched, pulse hammering, and then her expression changed. Any semblance of intimacy was wiped immediately as her face hardened, remembering herself as she stood up briskly.

"It's late. Thank you for your help tonight, L/N. Be sure to log your overtime hours."

On the tube home, your head hazy from the whisky, you replayed the way she'd looked at you over and over, the memory cementing itself as a warmth in your stomach.

Kate began to avoid you after that night. She was curt, civil, but her visits to the medical bay lessened significantly. When you offered to make her a cup of tea, she declined. When you bumped into her coming out of the bathroom, she dropped her gaze. You knew she hadn't quit smoking, but you stopped seeing her in her usual spot. All in all, you were strangers again. Until Shirley's birthday.

It was going to be carnage. Of course, Shirley had invited everyone at UNIT, her eyes bright with mischief as she laid out plans for the pub followed by a circuit of Soho. You didn't really fancy going out, but she looked so enthusiastic you couldn't decline her invitation. What's more, Kate was going, much to everyone's surprise, saying something about "team morale" and "building a community". You suspected she just wanted to get a bit pissed. And seeing Kate Stewart in a nightclub? You couldn't miss that.

You'd all started at The Golden Lion, the group spilling out onto the pavement, pints emptying and laughter increasing before moving on to a club a few streets over. The din was tremendous, your head pounding, unable to understand how you used to go to places like this frequently. You danced, channelling your tension into your fluid movements, the neon lights painting your skin with technicolour. Mouth dry, you took a break to head to the bar. Kate was sat on the end, nursing a gin and tonic, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. You smiled despite yourself: her awkwardness was nothing short of adorable. You sidled up to her, catching her gaze in the mirror behind the bar. She looked sheepish, taking a large sip of gin.

"How's Soho treating you?" you pressed, signalling to the bar tender.

"Oh, just peachy." she said flatly, making you grin. "Nothing like plunging head-first into a room of 20-somethings to make you remember why you don't bother with this kind of thing anymore."

You nodded in understanding, your tone dry. "Aw, come on, some of us are in our 30's." you smirked, watching her roll her eyes and look away.

You ordered two shots of whisky, passing one to her. She glanced at the shot glass with suspicion.

"What's this for, L/N?"

"It's called whisky, boss. You drink it."

She held your gaze for a few beats before scoffing lightly, knocking back the shot with an ease that made your heart flutter. You sat together in silence for a few minutes before you turned to her again.

"Come dance."

She looked at you like you were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"I don't dance, L/N."

You simply smiled, holding her gaze as you left the bar and walked back into the crowd, your body starting to move to the pounding, sensual beat, the lights low, the club bathed in a deep neon red. Kate watched you for a while before she got up, walking towards you, her willowy frame slipping through the crowd until she closed the distance. She took your movements in with a hunger you hadn't seen before, her eyes half-lidded, her breath catching in her throat. You were close, your bodies pressed together, your arms resting loosely around her shoulders, feeling her hands lightly grazing your hips as you swayed together. The music was like blood, the heat as intoxicating as the whisky, you wanted to breathe her in and keep her forever. As the track built to it's crescendo, you brushed her hair away from her ear and leaned over, taking your shot.

"Come home with me."

She stared at you, eyes wide, searching and needy. "What do you mean?" she asked, her attempt at naivety only drawing your bodies closer together.

"I mean come home with me, Kate." you purred, your tone leaving no room for subtext.

She looked at you, lips slightly parted, hands tracing circles on your lower back, and for a delicious moment you were certain she was going to say yes. But then she took a step back, looking startled at herself, at you, at where she was. Before you could take her hand she'd turned on her heel and marched off the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd and out of the club.

Shirley was by your side within seconds, having witnessed the entire ordeal.

"You took your shot, babe," she said, sipping her cosmopolitan, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "not everyone can say they tried to pull Kate Stewart."

"Yeah, and I crashed and burned. Spectacularly." you mumbled, crossing your arms, a tidal wave of humiliation tumbling down on you. You went straight back to the bar, ordering another shot, then another. The rest of the night blurred into the early morning, when you finally stumbled into your flat, reeking of stale tobacco and cheap beer. You fell asleep fully clothed on the sofa, waking up some time on Saturday afternoon, your head throbbing and your stomach churning. The weekend was a cocoon. You ate cheese on toast, took a long bath. You curled up in bed watching Dad's Army on repeat, the buffoonish drawl of Captain Mainwaring oddly comforting. You napped. You took another bath. Your fingers ran laps around your clit, bringing yourself to climax over and over again, thinking of Kate. Kate's lips, Kate's hands, Kate's hips. Kate pressed against the bedroom door, your mouth on her neck. Kate straddling you, riding your strap. Kate bending you over her lap and ordering you to count. Kate curling her fingers inside you until you begged. Kate, Kate, Kate.

And then, it was Monday. Monday morning, 9:15, in the boardroom.

Kate looks infuriatingly put together in a burgundy suit, her hair in its usual gentle wave, whilst you still felt fragile, avoiding Shirley's attempt at eye contact, fiddling with your biro as you listened to status reports from the previous week, jotting down vague notes you know you'll never read. Kate is focused, clicking through a PowerPoint, explaining the new protocol for emergency triage off-site. You listen, frowning slightly. When she pauses to take a sip of water, you raise your hand. She glances at you, unreadable as ever, nodding for you to speak.

"Morning, boss. Sorry, I don't want to be that person, but..."

You see her eyebrows raise slightly and steady your nerves.

"...but, that triage set-up won't work off-site. You're leaving critical cases too exposed without immediate care."

Kate's tone is measured, but her eyes flicker with irritation.

"We had to make adjustments during emergencies, L/N." she says coolly. "Evacuation first, then provide care. Streamlines our efforts."

Your jaw tightens with frustration.

"Sorry, but...I don't see how that's going to streamline anything. You're risking lives to save time. I've seen this before, I know what works best: stabilise first, carry out emergency triage, then proceed with evacuation."

Kate's gaze hardens. "We've already ran the simulations, L/N. It's proven sufficient."

You shake you head. "No, you've ran digital simulations which doesn't factor in human error. Tell a hypovolemic soldier that leaving them to bleed out to save time is 'sufficient'".

Everyone in the boardroom is silent now, shifting uncomfortably. Shirley looks at you, mouthing let it go. But you won't, you're right. You know you're right. And from the way Kate is looking at you, she knows you're right too. She takes a deep breath.

"Remember your place, L/N. In the interest of keeping this meeting efficient, I suggest you email me any reasonable complaints you may have." she says, her tone dry, her gaze shifting to her notes.

Your jaw drops, the injustice of her words making your skin prickle with anger. Before you can stop yourself, you're standing up, your chair screeching on the wooden floor. You storm out of the boardroom, but not before turning around, holding Kate's gaze and throwing her the middle finger, your face pinched with rage.

"Go fuck yourself, Kate." you spit.

She looks taken aback, hurt even. In any other situation you'd find her face absurdly hilarious, but right now you just need to get away from her. You throw your notes down on your desk and bolt for the archives, knowing it'll be deserted at this time of the morning.

You slam the door behind you with a heavy clatter, pacing up and down the dimly lit room, shelves stacked high with files, books, old tech that will never see the light of day. A florescent light hums overhead, dust motes forming clouds as you kick a box in frustration, scattering papers everywhere. You pace up and down, eyes burning with angry tears, willing them away with every breath you take, trying to calm down.

"Fucking hell, Kate." you mumble out loud, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your heart is still pounding, hands sweating. You desperately need a cigarette but you daren't leave the archive yet. You continue to pace up and down, until the door opens.

Kate storms in, blazer unbuttoned, hair slightly mussed from frustration. She approaches you, face hardened.

"What the hell was that, L/N? You do not disrespect me in front of my team like that, ever." she thunders, her voice low, her anger bubbling. You scoff, shaking your head.

"Disrespect? That is some delicious irony, boss, after how you just spoke to me."

She pauses. "I accept I could have handled your criticism with more poise, L/N." she says, her voice controlled, as if she's measured the exact distance between each word. "But what you just did was unacceptable and quite frankly adolescent. I suggest we have a very frank discussion about professionalism and..." she swallows hard. "...boundaries."

You guffaw in disbelief.

"Boundaries? Boundaries. Oh my god, Kate."

Her expression doesn't flinch, her arms folding.

"I'm serious, L/N. I feel that we've perhaps crossed some lines we shouldn't have. I take full responsibility for that, but you have to accept the reality of working here. Emotions run high, and..."

"Emotions run high? Really? Next you're going to tell me this is just PMS. You sound like my GP." you say, laughing shakily, the suppressed feelings of the weekend building up inside you. You approach her, shaking your head. "How am I supposed to keep up, Kate? You're on and off like a fucking tap, hot and cold. Please don't insult me."

"I don't know what you mean." she says, her voice icy. You sigh furiously, throwing your arms up.

"How? How can you not know?"

Her resolve is wobbling, her chest rising and falling with increased effort, her lip trembling just the tiniest amount. You move closer, your eyes sad, drinking in the sight of her.

"Kate, please don't tell me you don't want me." you whisper. Your words seem to puncture her like soft bullets, and her expression breaks, her lips parting as she takes you in her arms.

The kiss is soft at first, a test, a knock on the door. When Kate pauses, you're sure she's going to pull away again, but she doesn't. She kisses you again, harder, her hands finding your waist as she pushes you back against a cabinet, the air leaving your lungs as she holds you steady. One hand moves to the back of your neck, the other reaches under your scrub shirt, warm and intoxicating against your skin. Your breath is ragged, your hands moving to hold her hips, pulling her closer to you, her belt buckle pressing into your stomach, her lips hot against your earlobe.

You pull off her blazer, throwing it to the side, hands scrambling as you unbutton her shirt, fingers sweaty and slipping. She sighs, slapping your hands away, unbuttoning the shirt herself, the dark grey silk sliding away from her body, revealing her lace bra, nipples already hard and poking through. You reach your hands around her back and unhook it, carefully peeling it away, placing soft kisses to her breasts, her hands stroking your hair.

"Fuck," you whisper, unable to stop yourself. "you are so, so beautiful."

She smirks, bringing you up to kiss her again. She pulls your scrubs over your head, her movements deliberate and so in control. You kick off your trainers as she slips your trousers down, fingertips tracing your hips.

"Turn around," she purrs into your ear. You obey, heart pounding, turning your body to face the cabinet, her hand keeping you steady, the other slipping down your underwear. She admires you from this angle, stripped bare and bent forwards, breath shaky, the wetness between your legs betraying how much you want this. Her fingertips draw patterns on your skin, teasingly reaching between your thighs, gathering your arousal before she moves her hand to your mouth, telling you to open up.

"Taste yourself, sweetheart," she commands. "make my fingers wet enough to fuck you."

You moan, her soft digits entering your mouth, the musky, sweet taste of yourself pressing onto your eager tongue. She hums in approval, her fingers leaving your mouth again with an obscene sucking sound, her lips returning to your earlobe as she slowly pushes inside you.

You instinctively bend over further, back arching, mewling as she fucks you, your wetness gushing so loud it makes your face burn with embarrassment.

"Good girl," Kate praises, slipping a third finger inside you, her digits curling to find your sweet spot. Her other hand comes down hard on your ass, the sound cracking through the still air like a whip. You yelp, bucking your hips. She chuckles darkly, soothing the same spot, before bringing her hand down again.

"Don't stop, Kate, please..." you whimper, biting your lip, the side of your face pressed desperately to the cabinet. Kate places gentle kisses across your shoulders, her strong hand continuing to spank you, her fingers still deep inside you, making you sing the prettiest song, so completely hers.

She feels your body start to tense up, the heat building in your core. Her thumb presses against your clit, smoothing the soft hair around it, feeling herself almost salivating. She pulls her fingers out and you wail.

"W-what? Kate, please..." you beg. She turns you around so you're facing her now, her fingers returning to your swollen cunt, entering you again, thumb rubbing circles over your centre, holding your gaze until your eyes roll back and you come so intensely your legs buckle, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to keep yourself from falling.

She pulls out, gathering you in her arms, sinking to the cool stone floor, lifting your legs over her lap so she's holding you bridal style, lips pressed to your forehead as you come down from your high, trembling, panting. You don't know how long she holds you like before you manage to find your voice again, your words hitched and shaky.

"...are...are you alright?" you whisper, looking up at her, fingertips tracing her gentle features. She blinks, surprised, before smiling.

"I should be asking you that, you ridiculous girl." she says lightly, running her hand through your hair. "But yes, I'm alright. More than."

You smile, kissing her. She smiles into the kiss, then pulls away, her eyes searching yours.

"Was that...I mean...did you...is that what you wanted?" she asks, her voice soft, almost hopeful. You giggle sheepishly.

"Kate, I've been wanting that since the day I patched up your cut forehead."

She pauses, remembering.

"God, that day was something else. I seem to recall I was dreadfully rude to you."

You smirk.

"You were just setting the tone, boss."

She looks at you again, her expression now tinged with guilt.

"I...I'm sorry, Y/N." she sighs. You shake your head, stroking her cheek.

"It's fine. I think an orgasm as good as that one warrants at least some of the guilt being taken away." you grin, your cheeks flushing. She looks at you, a mixture of fondness, wonder and the same hunger as before. She shakes her head.

"I'll say it again, you are ridiculous."

You snort, sitting up so you're straddling her, holding her face in your hands.

"And you're impossible, boss." you purr.

You push her down, knees on either side of her hips, kissing her deeply, tasting her peppermint lipbalm, breathing in her heady magnolia perfume. Her breath hitches as your fingers unbuckle her belt, your hands tracing her heat through the expensive linen of her trousers. She whispers your name and you want to hear it forever.

"I want to taste you," you moan between kisses. "every part of you."

God, this was unprofessional. So unprofessional.

[thestarkperspective]

o p e n rp (english or polish)

Stark sat in the workshop, surrounded by flickering screens and tangled cables, his hands darting over the touch panels as if in a trance. He couldn’t tear himself away - the fascination with this chaotic technology drew him deeper and deeper. Hours slipped by unnoticed, and he lingered in that moment, forgetting sleep, forgetting the world beyond the steel walls of his sanctuary. The workshop’s darkness was his refuge, and the flashes of blue screens reflected in his tired yet fiercely gleaming eyes. He didn’t eat, didn’t rest – he sustained himself only on the machine’s beeps, which seemed to understand him better than any human ever could.

He knew it was an obsession, but he didn’t care. After all, he was a genius, and geniuses knew no limits - especially when no one stood in his way. He seized this moment of silence, while the rest of the world slept, to immerse himself in his projects. The metallic clicks of tools blended with the soft hum of servers, weaving a symphony only he could comprehend. Sometimes he paused, staring at holographic schematics as if seeking answers to questions he hadn’t yet voiced. His mind raced at full speed, and though his body was exhausted, it refused to yield.

There was no room for doubt or voices that might hold him back. In the workshop, he was the master of his fate, and the electronics were his truest companion. He knew it was dangerous - no sleep, no balance - but in this madness, he felt free. Each new idea, each spark of inspiration pushed him further into this technological labyrinth. And though a whisper of consequences lingered at the back of his mind, for now, only this moment mattered – this dance with the machines that knew no end. ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Stark siedział w warsztacie, otoczony migoczącymi ekranami i splątanymi kablami, a jego dłonie śmigały nad dotykowymi znakami niczym w transie. Nie potrafił się oderwać - fascynacja tym chaosem technologii wciągała go coraz głębiej. Godziny płynęły niepostrzeżenie, a on trwał w tej chwili, zapominając o śnie, o świecie poza stalowymi ścianami jego warsztatu. Ciemność warsztatu była jego azylem, a błyski niebieskich ekranów odbijały się w jego zmęczonych, ale żarliwie błyszczących oczach. Nie jadł, nie odpoczywał - żywił się jedynie tymi piknięciami maszyn, które zdawały się rozumieć go lepiej niż ludzie.

Wiedział, że to obsesja, ale nie dbał o to. W końcu był geniuszem, a geniusze nie zna granic - zwłaszcza gdy nikt nie staje mu na przeszkodzie. Wykorzystywał ten moment ciszy, gdy reszta świata spała, by pogrążyć się w swoich projektach. Metaliczne kliknięcia narzędzi mieszały się z cichym szumem serwerów, tworząc symfonię, którą tylko on rozumiał. Czasem przystawał, wpatrując się w holograficzne schematy, jakby szukał w nich odpowiedzi na pytania, których jeszcze nie zadał. Jego umysł pracował na najwyższych obrotach, a ciało, choć wyczerpane, nie dawało za wygraną.

Nie było tu miejsca na wątpliwości ani na głosy, które mogłyby go powstrzymać. W warsztacie był panem swojego losu, a elektronika - jego najwierniejszym towarzyszem. Wiedział, że to niebezpieczne - brak snu, brak równowagi; ale w tym szaleństwie czuł się wolny. Każdy nowy pomysł, każdy błysk inspiracji pchał go dalej, w głąb tego technologicznego labiryntu. I choć gdzieś z tyłu głowy czaiła się myśl o konsekwencjach, teraz liczyła się tylko ta chwila, ten obłęd z maszynami, który nie miał końca.

[ltwilliammowett]

HMS Warrior, 1861

August marks the 163rd anniversary of the commissioning of HMS Warrior into Royal Navy service in 1861.

HMS Warrior was a ground-breaking warship in the Royal Navy, marking a significant shift in naval architecture and military capability. When commissioned she was one of the world’s most heavily armoured warships and also one of the largest ever constructed.

Her innovative design sparked a naval arms race spurring other nations to develop their own ironclad fleets. Despite her initial advantages, rapid advancements in naval technology soon rendered HMS Warrior outmoded. She was decommissioned in 1883, 22 years after entering service.

📷 Simon Clabby

[starlightkwan]

sparks fly- zayne li

can your evol help you figure out your relationship between you and zayne?

fluff, word count: 1.9k

warnings: swearing (pls lmk if i'm missing any!)

info: gn! reader, reader has an electrical manipulation evol, reader has liked zayne for 3 years and known him for 12 years, pavlov effect?, zayne being a smart cutie as always, both reader and zayne confess <3

notes: if i could choose what evol i would have, it would definitely be electrical manipulation like you can control the weather, people's movements and technology? sounds like a no brainer to me icl

Having an electricity manipulation evol makes life very easy.

Stuck outside and your phone is at 2%? Use your evol! Sat in the car and you’re running late? Use your evol to change the traffic lights from red to green obviously!

It's like having a personal genie that grants all your requests. But can your evol help you figure out if Zayne likes you back? You decide to test this theory of yours.

The plan? Create literal sparks whenever you touch.

The first time you meet Zayne after devising your theory is a Monday. Perfect. You agree to meet Zayne at the café outside Akso hospital after you finish work. You sit down opposite Zayne, looking through the menu and a server approaches you. “What would you like to order?” You order your favourite mango pancakes and Zayne orders his usual macaron set.

“Would you like any drinks to go with that?” The server asks, pen in hand ready to take down your drink orders.

“I’ll have a salted caramel milkshake with extra caramel sauce, please.” Zayne says, looking over at you.

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake, please.” The server writes down your orders and moves on to serve the next table.

The server comes back about twenty minutes later, orders in hand and places them on the table. “I think this milkshake is yours.” You say, passing over Zayne’s milkshake to him and his fingertips gently brush past yours.

This is it, ___. Use your evol! You allow your evol to pass through you, creating an electric shock. You look at your fingers in confusion to play the part, gently blowing on them. Zayne jumps back at the sensation, rubbing his hand against his fitted white top.

“Perhaps it’s the fabric of the chairs that caused the electric shock.” Zayne says, popping a macaron into his mouth.

Clearly we have some work to do.

The second time you meet up with Zayne, you insist on meeting up at a playground.

“Why are you just standing there? Join me!” You exclaim.

“Why did you insist on meeting up at the playground?” Zayne asks, simply standing there like a parent watching over their child.

“It’s fun! Let loose, Doctor Li!” You say, hanging off the monkey bars.

“I’m not ten, ___.” Zayne says, his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t even show one of his 0.05 degree smiles. In all of your twelve years of knowing him, he has never looked more serious in his life.

“Think about it from another perspective.” You sit up. “You’re a doctor. When you have a five year old patient, what are you going to talk to them about? There’s no way for you to have a flowing conversation with them if you haven’t allowed yourself to have fun in literal years!”

“I guess you have a point.” Zayne says, his expression defeated, showing you that you have won this battle.

“Race you to the slides!” You shout, jumping off the monkey bars and you immediately sprint towards the slides.

“You didn't even give me a countdown!” Zayne’s footsteps quickly follow you.

As you make your way up the climbing equipment to the slide, you hear Zayne trying to catch up with you but he is desperately losing. The sound of his head hitting the sides of the equipment resonates throughout the playground, making you double over in laughter.

You reach the ground first, making a victory pose and waving to Zayne as he sits with his legs crossed, catching his breath. He eventually gets down the slide, and you grin at his tired expression. “Nice try, Zaynie. Maybe you’ll be able to beat me one day! Just not today.” You pat his back, comforting him.

Once again, you allow your evol to flow through you, feeling the gentle vibration as your hand makes contact with his back. In his tired state, Zayne gets startled by the sparks and jumps back.

“Look at us! I guess we have some chemistry.” You tease, playfully shoving Zayne’s shoulder.

“I guess we do.” Zayne responds and you smile widely. “Or it might just be that we wear ill- fitting clothes that are more likely to cause electric shocks.” Your smile falters for a second and only then, does Zayne smile.

Zayne doesn’t seem to feel the same way. That’s okay. It’s not okay, but maybe time will close the feeling of emptiness after a while.

The next time I see Zayne, I won’t use my evol.

You find yourself sitting at a park bench, kicking your legs in boredom as you wait for Zayne to come back with his popcorn bucket from the pop up stall.

I should just confess once and for all, get it over and done with. Maybe he’s just being subtle about his feelings?

Zayne comes back, hugging his popcorn bucket in his arms, his cheeks puffed up from all the popcorn in his mouth. “Do you want some?” He asks. He looks like a little squirrel that is saving all its acorns for winter hibernation. How cute.

You nod, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shove it into your mouth.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? But what if he does feel the same?

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, noticing your weird demeanor and sits down next to you.

“It’s just work.” Liar. You sigh. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Maybe a little stroll would help.”

“Let’s go for a stroll then. How about we go to the lake?” He suggests and you stand up, following Zayne's lead.

You soon find yourself between two paths. One that is extremely busy with people barely fitting between the designated paths and the other quieter path that seems to be for nature lovers. “Which way do you want to go?” Zayne asks, looking over to you.

“I think we should go on the quieter path. We would probably get there quicker since there won't be as many people getting in our way.” You suggest and Zayne nods in agreement.

Making your way through the path that you chose, you notice the countless large roots and little weeds in the ground make it hard to step on flat ground. This was a mistake. Or maybe it’s for the better, you can probably get out some of your frustration on this hellish walk.

“I think I see a glimpse of the lake in the distance.” Zayne says. You slow down and you see Zayne with more energy in his steps, probably from the sight of the lake in the distance.

Finding purchase in a steady tree trunk, you lean against it, closing your eyes for a quick break. “You look comfy.” Zayne says. You open your eyes and he's suddenly appeared in front you. “Come on, we will be at the lake in about five minutes. Three, if we are really quick and careful.”

“Where’s your popcorn bucket?” You ask, completely ignoring his comment about the lake.

“I threw it away whilst you were deciding which path to go down.” He responds.

“I don’t believe you.” You squint, trying to look for his popcorn bucket.

“Do you really believe that I can hide a massive popcorn bucket on my body without it sticking out like a sore thumb?” He questions you, his face clearly confused.

“Knowing you, Doctor Li, one of the smartest people I know and a sweet addict, yes. Difficult, but possible if it’s you.”

“Check me if you want, but you are not going to be able to find it anywhere.” He suggests and you check his inner and outer pockets. Nothing. Only some black pens.

“Told you so.” He smirks in victory and you put his pens back into his pockets.

“Help me up then.” You say, stretching your hand in front of him, your hand hovering over his.

He takes your hand. “If I feel an electric shock and accidentally drop you, it’s not my fault.” Your fingers stiffen at his words. “There we go.” He helps you up and brushes off the dirt off your shoulders. “Strange. I thought there would be an electric shock but there wasn't any. Would it be weird of me to say that I kind of miss it? I still felt an electrifying feeling when I touched your hands, even though there was no electric shock.”

How can he get an electrifying feeling if I didn’t use my evol?

“Zayne. I have something to confess.” You breathe in sharply. “I was the one who created the electric shocks, the sparks- whatever you want to call it. I used my evol to create them. I wanted to know if you liked me back. It’s childish, I know. I should have just been mature about it and told you straight up but I thought my evol would have helped me like it usually does.”

“I know.” Way to be subtle, ___. “The first time it happened at the café, I thought it was an accident. The second time, I thought it was a coincidence. It definitely made me a little suspicious. When I mentioned the electric shocks, I noticed your fingers tense up. Besides, you're the only person that I know with an electricity manipulation evol. All signs lead to you, ___.” Can the ground just swallow me whole?

“Since I just gave a heartfelt speech, let’s just pretend that never happened.” You splutter, ready to walk to the lake.

“I wasn't finished, ___.” Zayne says, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist and you turn around to face him. “I know I’m not the most expressive with my feelings but I thought my actions would be a little helpful. Why would I willingly offer you my popcorn when you know I love sweets so much? Why would I willingly brush off the dirt on your shoulders when you know that I hate having unclean hands?” Zayne breathes in, composing himself. “I’m sorry that I expected you to notice my small actions when I should have stepped up and confessed instead. I like you ___, so much.”

What?

“Zayne.” You look up at him. “I thought that if you felt the same about me, I would be screaming and would be letting the entire world know. Now that you have actually confessed, my brain is all jumbled up. You actually like me back?” Your vision slowly becomes blurry with tears.

“I do.” Zayne smiles, gently wiping off the tears falling down your face. “I’ve liked you for about five years now.”

“How did you manage to keep those feelings to yourself for five years? I’ve liked you for the past three years and every time I saw you, all I wanted was to be in your arms.” You ask, genuinely intrigued at his amazing patience.

“Because it’s you. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have been able to hold on for this long but I have always had this slight feeling you felt the same.”

“You had a slight feeling that I liked you back and just decided to do nothing about it? Whilst we were both clearly struggling to keep the feelings to ourselves?” Your mouth is open in shock. “Zayne Li, you better start running like your life depends on it. If I get to the lake before you do, you’re in for it.”

“What are you planning to do to me?” He gulps.

“I tackle you to the ground and kiss your cute face.” You beam, imagining his wide eyes in shock as he hits the ground.

“Deal, but on one condition.” He agrees to your bet. “If I get there first, I’m going to kiss you until you pry me off with your own hands.”

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖° pls don’t be afraid to interact! likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :) dms work too! if you have any feedback pls lmk! <3 enjoy the rest of your day/ night!

[ginxyy]

Love Ain’t No Science

In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which, they claim, will pull you to your soulmate. It’s the day they turn the magnets on, and you’re waiting.

The air is charged with anticipation as you stand in line, your heart thrumming like a drum against your ribcage. You can nearly hear the whisper of the future echoing through the sleek, white hall lined with pulsating screens displaying shimmering lights. Today is not just another day today is the day your world becomes decidedly more electrifying, more romantic. With each breath, you feel the subtle weight of your electromagnetic bracelet, a promise of connection strapped tightly around your wrist, blending seamlessly with your skin.

You glance sideways, catching glimpses of others around you. Each individual reflects a different blend of hope and anxiety; a mixture of eager smiles and the nervous flickering of fingers against their bracelets. You wonder about their stories the paths their lives have taken and how the magnetic pull of their soulmates will alter everything. There’s a thrill in the air, a freshly charged promise spun from dreams of fairy tales and fated love.

And then, it happens. The lights dim and a harmonious chime resonates in the room, filling you with a rush of fireflies dancing in your stomach. The announcer’s voice booms, quieting the room with the kind of reverence reserved for sacred moments. “Today, we turn on the magnets. It’s time for your hearts to connect.” A ripple of unease cascades through the crowd, but you shake it off, remembering that this incredible technology has been designed to bring soulmates together, to spark love more profound than mere desire.

You feel the breath hitching in your throat as the countdown begins. The numbers flash on the screen; a part of you desperately hopes to make eye contact with someone that makes your heart race. As the final second ticks away, a fierce magnetism surrounds you, and suddenly, you are drawn toward the doorway like a moth to a flame.

With each step, electricity pulses through you, a literal tug that transforms your body into a finely tuned conductor of emotions. You’ve heard stories how some have been drawn into the arms of their chosen ones so swiftly, as if the universe itself orchestrated the reunion. Glancing down at your bracelet, you can see it glowing, its energy palpable and seizing your attention completely.

You whirl around to see familiar faces, your friends clustering excitedly together, but your gaze drifts, drawn by an invisible thread. Your heart accelerates with every beat, and suddenly, the crowd melts away, blurring into an abstract swirl of colors and sounds. There, standing illuminated by beams of ethereal light, is Mingyu from Seventeen, his presence commanding and magnetic, both literally and figuratively, like gravity pulling you closer against your will.

The moment you lock eyes, a spark ignites, transcending the physical pull of your bracelet. You are entranced, mesmerized by the way his gaze glitters with warmth and curiosity. It feels absurd, a concept torn from a storybook, yet here you are. You remember the countless hours spent listening to his voice, the countless songs shared with friends, and how in your dreams, you often found yourself wandering through a world colored by his melodies.

“You,” he says softly, his voice a silky caress against the hum of the buzzing crowd. It isn’t a question this is a statement, a declaration of inevitability. You feel your cheeks heat, a blush blooming under his gaze, wishing you’d tidied your hair or at least worn your favorite outfit. But nothing matters but this moment.

“Me,” you reply, your voice flustered but surging with a rush of excitement. Somehow, the world fades no more lines, no more anxious faces. Just the two of you, pulsing in sync with the deep, rhythmic hum of your bracelets, symbolic of something much larger than either of you alone. Was this destiny? Was this what fate felt like in its rawest form?

Drawing in a deep breath, you step closer, your hearts in synchrony, the connection intensifying with every anxious beat. Mingyu looks down, a shy smile creeping onto his lips before he asks, “Shall we?” He gestures toward the exit where your futures await, where dreams twist together like vines in an enchanting garden.

“Absolutely,” you whisper, the thrill of his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Leaving the room behind, you step into the sunlight, the world outside alive and you are alive in a way you’ve never been before. With Mingyu by your side, every detail sharpens; colors seem more vibrant, the laughter of distant friends harmonizes like an anthem of possibility, and the air carries a charge that’s intoxicating.

You walk together, side by side, and the bracelet on your wrist pulses gently, as though it is affirming something profound. Curious onlookers stare, their eyes wide as whispers circulate about the spark between you and the boy who sings your heart’s desires. And you can’t help the way your spirit soars, warmed by the sense of belonging, the allure of shared moments yet to unfold.

“What do you want to do first?” Mingyu asks, laughter spilling from his lips as they curl into a mischievous grin. His youthful exuberance is contagious, igniting a vibrant energy within you. You can hardly believe you’ve found yourself here, with someone who seems both mysterious and familiar.

You ponder for a moment, a world of possibilities swirling. “Let’s dance,” you suggest, unable to suppress a giggle. The idea feels whimsically thrilling, spontaneous a reflection of the connection blossoming between you.

“Dancing it is,” he replies, the light in his eyes sparking further delight. He spots an open area nearby where the sound of music drifts, beckoning you both towards a vivid escape. As the rhythm swells, Mingyu takes your hand and pulls you into the lively atmosphere, a whirl of laughter and stirring emotions surrounding you, one that feels like coming home.

With every movement, your bracelet hums in harmony, a tangible testament to your connection as if it is echoing the very cadence of your hearts. Here, dancing together beneath the sprawling sky, you understand that the magnetism you feel is more than just science; it's the unquantifiable magic of a love story written in the stars a singular journey between two souls destined to find one another.

As the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon in hues of warmth, you know, deep down, that this is just the beginning. And with Mingyu beside you, pulling you into the rhythm of love, you embrace the future with open arms, your hearts forever entwined.

[alltoomaples]

Speed of Science🧬💻💌

I'm dating a STEM girlie and you're not (F1 Edition)

a/n: and im baaaaaacccckkkkk (like anyone even missed me lmao) with the long overdue request! life of a postgrad StEm girlie here and the struggle is really realll af. but besides that, I'm writing this down as a headcanon for the drivers requested on this poll i had posted long back here. I've always wondered how there's soo minimal povs/ocs where they are a scientific researcher, analyst, etc. sooo i dedicate this one to all the STEM F1 girlies out theree <33

alsoo quick shoutout to my girlieee @smoooothoperator for inspiring and motivating me to get back at writing!🥹🫶🏼 check out her lastest ongoing work 'What Was I Made For? ' its amazing and thats a FACT!! do check her works! its absolutely amazing❤️

check out my works: until i found you masterlist | other works

Scientific Art Illustrator - Charles Leclerc

As a Scientific Art Illustrator, you specialize in creating visually captivating and scientifically accurate illustrations that depict complex biological, astronomical, or technological subjects.

Charles first discovered you through your works at an exhibition where their stunning illustrations of Formula 1 cars caught his eye. Impressed by their attention to detail and artistic talent, they struck up a conversation about their mutual love for precision and creativity.

During a peaceful weekend afternoon, Charles suggests a spontaneous visit to a local art supply store. Excitedly exploring aisles stocked with vibrant paints, fine brushes, and specialized papers, the two of you engage in discussions about artistic techniques and innovative tools. Amidst laughter and shared enthusiasm for creativity, you bond over your mutual appreciation for the intricacies of art and science, making the afternoon a cherished memory of their shared passions.

After being away from home during race season, Charles always finds a framed series of sketches by you for the races you couldn't make it, capturing his most memorable racing moments. Each sketch is intricately detailed, depicting not only the speed and intensity of the races but also the emotions and determination etched on Charles' face. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Charles hangs the sketches in his study, a constant reminder of your support and admiration for his passion.

...

Data Scientist - Lando Norris

A Data Scientist specializes in analyzing large volumes of data using statistical methods and machine learning techniques to extract insights and make data-driven decisions.

You and Lando first connected through a mutual fascination with racing data at a technology symposium focused on sports analytics. Your presentation on advanced predictive modelling in motorsports caught Lando's attention for its innovative approach to enhancing race strategies.

During a cosy evening at home, Lando playfully challenges you to a friendly data analysis competition using real-time telemetry from previous races. Their banter and shared excitement over dissecting racing data create a lighthearted and memorable bonding experience.

You two would watch old races and analyze historical racing data together, playfully debating optimal pit stop strategies and analyzing driver performance trends, their shared passion for racing and data fostering a deep connection and mutual admiration.

...

Oceanographer/Marine Biologist - Oscar Piastri

An Oceanographer or Marine Biologist studies marine life, ecosystems, and ocean processes to understand and protect marine environments and resources.

You and Oscar crossed paths during a research expedition to study coral reefs in a remote location. Your expertise in marine biology and passion for conservation impressed Oscar, sparking their connection.

Amidst the hectic F1 season, Oscar surprises you with a weekend getaway to a coastal retreat, where they explore tide pools and participate in a beach cleanup together, reaffirming their commitment to environmental stewardship.

You gave Oscar a custom-made charm bracelet featuring miniature charms of marine animals they've discussed during their beach walks and conservation talks. Each charm represents a meaningful moment in their relationship, from their first discussion about oceanography to their shared admiration for marine life. Oscar wears the bracelet during race weekends as a reminder of you and all the love and support you give, both on and off the track.

...

Mechanical Engineer - Daniel Riccardo

You are a passionate Mechanical Engineer, specializing in advanced automotive design and performance optimization.

Daniel first encountered you at a technical conference organized by one of the team sponsors where you presented groundbreaking research on aerodynamic innovations that caught his attention.

Often, while you meticulously draft engineering schematics at their home office, he makes sure that you have your "engineering emergency kit" beside your workstation, which is a tray of snacks and their favourite coffee – ensuring they're fueled for their late-night brainstorming sessions. For when he's away for races, he stacks them up with small cute notes.

Before Daniel heads to a crucial race, you surprise him with a meticulously crafted miniature replica of his race car, complete with detailed decals and a personalized message of encouragement engraved on the base. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Daniel proudly displays it in his motorhome, a reminder of the reader's unwavering support both on and off the track.

...

Statistician - George Russell

A Statistician specializes in collecting, analyzing, and interpreting numerical data to help organizations and individuals make informed decisions.

You and Russell first crossed paths during a university seminar on advanced statistical modeling in sports. Your insightful analysis of Formula 1 race data caught George's attention, sparking a lively discussion that led to mutual admiration for each other's analytical skills and shared passion for racing statistics.

During a particularly demanding race weekend, the reader surprises George with a meticulously prepared statistical analysis report highlighting his strengths and areas for improvement based on recent race data. This thoughtful gesture boosts George's confidence and motivation, showing the reader's support in his pursuit of excellence.

During a weekend getaway, you guys stumble upon a local go-kart track. George, always up for a challenge, suggests they have a friendly race. Knowing George's competitive spirit, you secretly calculate his optimal strategy and surprise him by winning with a perfectly executed last-minute overtaking maneuver. George is impressed by the your strategic thinking and playfulness, and they share a lighthearted and joyous moment celebrating their shared love for racing and friendly competition.

...

Astrophysicist - Logan Sargeant

An Astrophysicist studies the physical properties, behavior, and evolution of celestial objects such as stars, planets, galaxies, and the universe as a whole, using principles of physics and astronomy.

Logan and you first crossed paths during an expedition to study a rare astronomical event—a comet passing close to Earth. Both passionate about astrophysics, you found yourselves sharing a telescope at a remote observatory, marveling at the comet's beauty and discussing its celestial significance late into the night. Their shared awe and intellectual connection sparked a mutual admiration that grew into a deep bond over their shared passion for exploring the wonders of the cosmos.

During a quiet evening at home, Logan excitedly shows you a new telescope he acquired for stargazing during race weekends, expressing his eagerness to learn more about the cosmos together and sharing their enthusiasm for both racing and astrophysics in equal measure.

Before a critical race weekend, the reader surprises Logan with a personalized star chart that maps out the night sky above the upcoming race venue during the race weekend. Each star on the chart is marked with a heartfelt message of encouragement, reminding Logan of their unwavering support and belief in his abilities on and off the track. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Logan treasures the star chart as a symbol of the reader's love and encouragement throughout his racing career.

...

Climate Scientist - Lance Stroll

A Climate Scientist studies climate patterns, environmental changes, and their impacts on Earth's ecosystems, using data analysis and modeling to understand and address global climate challenges.

Lance crossed paths with you at an eco-friendly racing event where Lance was advocating for sustainable practices in motorsport. Being a respected climate scientist, you caught Lance's attention with your insightful presentation on the environmental impact of racing and innovative solutions for reducing carbon footprints in the sport. Their shared passion for sustainability sparked an immediate connection and admiration for each other's dedication to making a positive impact on the environment.

One weekend, Lance surprises you with a homemade dinner featuring sustainably sourced ingredients, proudly showcasing his culinary skills while discussing ways to reduce your carbon footprint. His earnest commitment to sustainability and your shared vision for a healthier planet melts your heart, making this a cherished moment you both treasure.

You, being deeply involved in climate science, often spends late nights analyzing data or writing research papers. One evening, Lance bring him a cozy blanket and a mug of your favorite hot beverage, quietly sitting beside him as he works. You look up from your laptop, touched by his thoughtfulness, and pulls him into a warm embrace, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding of your demanding but vital work.

...

taglist: @lndonrris @thatgirlmj @lwstuff @dannyramirezwife-f1dump @moonypixel tysm for your suggestions! apologies on taking this long to write😅🫶🏼

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed reading this! this was my first time writing a headcanon and for f1 drivers beside charles and lando so hope i did justice to all.

i'm being wanting to read some good domestic bliss, sweet, adorable and lovey dovey blurbs, fics of lando (i talked abt it here) soo maybe i'll work on some drafts at some point cause i'm currently in the middle of project work of my masters degree soo don't know when i'll be posting soo until next time, see yaaa and going back to read mode 👋💓✨️

check out my works: until i found you masterlist | other works

[smallgodseries]

Out of Russia they arose, victor in the remarkably genteel race to become representative of the many and glorious ways for the people of the mortal world to take their tea.  Out of Russia, out of the steppes and the snows, all the way to the modern day and the modern world, and countless households therein.

Their earliest forms were open to the fire outside, a unification of elements: earthen or metallic shell, air to carry the fire, fire to warm them, and water to boil in their bellies.  They heated the tea, they warmed the belly, they gave life and strength to armies and artisans alike.  And now, today, they carry the electric fire in their own hearts, even as their artisanal ancestors still pass hand to hand, treasured heirlooms of older days, which look so often better in the cracked glass of memory.

They are beautiful.  They are beloved.  And for all of that, they are humble, recognizing that they hold their place through chance, when it might be better held by Tea Potter.  But Tea is content to be small god of the high tea, enjoying the ceremony and the circumstance more than the art of brewing, and so Sam holds their place for the time all but unchallenged.

It cannot last.  There is always a challenger to come.  They hold their place against the marching armies of the coffee chain, which spawns gods almost as quickly as the technology can be updated, divinity sparking into being and fading away in almost the same instant.  Sam O’Var has watched the rise of gods of French press and cold brew, gods of steam and foam, and waited for the day when they would try to take dominion over all hot beverages brewed to stimulate the mind.  That day has yet to occur.

If ever it does, they will be ready.  And they will offer their challenger one last sweet cup of tea.

[theplotmage]

Sci-fi/Fantasy Writer PROMPTS, Activities and Exercises: Ideas to Spark Creativity and Fight Writer's Block! Try this out!

Character Creation & Development

1. Alien Species Bio – Create an entirely new alien species. Detail their appearance, culture, language, and planet of origin.

2. Fantasy Race Creation – Design a new fantasy race with unique traits, beliefs, and magic systems.

3. Character’s Dark Secret – Write about your character’s biggest secret and how it affects their choices in the story.

4. Intergalactic Job Interview – Write a scene where a character interviews for a job on another planet.

5. Hero or Villain? – Take a character and rewrite a scene where they’re the hero. Now, rewrite it with them as the villain.

6. Character’s Fatal Flaw – Choose a character and write about their fatal flaw—what could lead to their downfall?

7. Create a Fantasy Ancestry – Design a family tree for one of your fantasy characters, exploring their magical or royal lineage.

8. Magic System Blueprint – Create a unique magic system with rules, limitations, and societal consequences.

9. Inter-species Romance – Write a love story between two characters from different species or worlds. How do they overcome their differences?

10. Superpower Conflict – Give your character a superpower, then make them face a challenge where their power causes more harm than good.

World-Building & Setting

11. One Day in a Fantasy City – Write a day in the life of an ordinary person in your fantasy world.

12. Galactic Government – Design the political system for a galaxy-spanning empire. How does it manage different planets?

13. Map Maker – Draw a detailed map of your fantasy or sci-fi world, including key landmarks and unexplored areas.

14. Alien Landscape – Describe a bizarre alien planet’s landscape and its effect on the inhabitants.

15. Sky’s the Limit – Design a sky in a sci-fi or fantasy world. Is it green with floating islands? Does it have three suns?

16. Magic and Technology Clash – Write about a world where magic and advanced technology coexist but are constantly at odds.

17. Futuristic City Tour – Write a detailed tour of a futuristic city—describe the technology, architecture, and social dynamics.

18. Weather Control – Create a world where the weather is controlled by a powerful group or machine. What happens when it fails?

19. Invent a Holiday – Design a holiday in your fantasy or sci-fi world. What does it celebrate, and how is it observed?

20. Multiverse Portal – Write a scene where a character discovers a portal to a parallel universe. How is it different from their own?

Plot & Story Development

21. Time Travel Trouble – Write a scene where time travel goes wrong. How do the characters fix the timeline?

22. The Last Dragon – Write a story about the last dragon on a planet, and why it’s being hunted.

23. Space Heist – Plan and write a scene where a crew of space outlaws steals something from a heavily guarded space station.

24. Elemental War – Imagine a world where the elements (fire, water, air, earth) are at war. Write about how it affects daily life.

25. End of Magic – Write about a world where magic is slowly disappearing. How does society adapt?

26. Alien Invasion from Another Dimension – Write a short story about an alien invasion, but from a dimension parallel to ours.

27. Betrayal in Space – Write a scene where a crew member on a spaceship betrays the rest of the team. What are the consequences?

28. Space Pirate Crew – Create a band of space pirates and their spaceship. Write a day in their life aboard the ship.

29. The Artifact – Write about an ancient, magical artifact found in a sci-fi setting. How does it change technology?

30. Rogue AI – Create a scenario where an AI system gains consciousness and decides to rebel against its creators.

Conflict & Challenges

31. Magic Duel – Write an epic magic duel between two powerful wizards or sorcerers. Focus on creative use of magic.

32. Futuristic Dystopia – Imagine a dystopian future where society is controlled by corporations. Write a rebellion scene.

33. Alien Diplomacy – Write a scene where humans negotiate peace with an alien species for the first time.

34. Survival on an Uncharted Planet – Write about a team crash-landing on a mysterious planet. What challenges do they face?

35. Telepathy Gone Wrong – Create a story where telepathic communication backfires, causing chaos among those who use it.

36. Fae Court Politics – Write about the inner workings of a fae court, with political intrigue and magical manipulation.

37. Symbiotic Relationship – Write a story where an alien species requires a symbiotic bond with another species to survive.

38. Shape-Shifting Battle – Write a battle scene where both combatants are shape-shifters. How do they outsmart each other?

39. Uncontrollable Power – Write about a character who gains a new, uncontrollable power. How do they handle it?

40. Artificial Gravity Failure – Write a scene where artificial gravity on a spaceship fails. How do the characters react?

Perspective & Point of View

41. Non-Human POV – Write a scene from the perspective of a non-human (alien, dragon, robot, etc.) and how they view humans.

42. Object POV – Write a story from the point of view of a magical artifact or futuristic device.

43. Villain’s Perspective – Rewrite a pivotal scene from the villain’s point of view, explaining their motivations.

44. Mind-Meld – Write a scene where two characters experience a mind-meld. How does it affect their relationship and understanding?

45. AI POV – Write from the perspective of an AI that is learning about human emotions for the first time.

Miscellaneous & Fun Prompts

46. Sci-Fi Tech Ad – Write an advertisement for a new piece of futuristic technology. What are its uses and potential downsides?

47. Fantasy Cookbook – Create a menu for a tavern in your fantasy world, complete with magical drinks and enchanted meals.

48. Starship Design – Design a unique starship for a crew of adventurers. Describe its layout, capabilities, and any quirky features.

49. Create a New Currency – Invent a new form of currency in your world. What does it look like? How is it earned or spent?

50. Interstellar News Report – Write a news article or report about a major event happening in a galaxy far, far away.

Bonus Activity: 30-Day Writing Mastery Challenge with the Plot Mage Planner

Activity – For the next 30 days, fully immerse yourself in your writing project by using the Plot Mage’s All-in-One Writing Planner.

Here’s how!

1. Day 1 – Start with character creation using the guided worksheets in the planner. Fill out the character profiles and experiment with different backstories and traits.

2. Day 2-5 – Dive into the world-building section, where you can craft your world’s geography, politics, and culture using detailed prompts and templates.

3. Day 6-10 – Develop your plot with the fully guided general outline. The planner’s roadmap will help you break down your novel’s key plot points and arcs.

4. Day 11-15 – Organize your book series overview. Plan out future books or tie in different plot threads with the automated and synced pages for maximum cohesion.

5. Day 16-20 – Take advantage of the repository of writer tools integrated in the planner. Research, brainstorm, or discover new writing aids from all over the web in one convenient place.

6. Day 21-25 – Refine your writing by using the planner’s automated daily writing goals and tracking pages. Keep your progress in sync across devices and stay on top of your schedule.

7. Day 26-30 – Reflect on your journey. Use the planner’s overview to assess your story’s progress and tweak any sections, ensuring everything is aligned before moving forward.

Try these exercises by using this world bible, tinker and play around with this tool