#(apparently despite the fact that i stare at that program 8 hours a day for work i just cant get enough of it)

[23meteorstreet]

[itskateak]

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Four

(Bucky Barnes X Single Dad!Reader)

Series Summary: Y/N L/N works as an intel specialist at the Avenger’s Compound. He scans chatter on the international - and intergalactic - level for any information that might be helpful to the Avengers and other agents. But he’s also a single father to a beautiful eight-year-old girl: Angelica L/N. It’s tough raising a little girl on his own and working a full-time job, but he’s managing. A promotion has him launched up in rank at the Compound, leading him to work directly with the Avengers team. The only problem is it’s a 24/7 job. Life around the compound gets a little strange when his daughter is added to the mix of enhanced humans and ex-assassins.

Chapter Summary: Rumors had always surrounded Bucky Barnes. A very early morning has Y/N thinking that every single one of them are wrong.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Meet-cute, fluff, unwanted romantic advances (again), minor language, Bucky being a little self-loathing

A/N: I wish y'all could've seen what happened in the middle of revising this - we got a 5.1 earthquake out of nowhere that jolted the house pretty good and in my rush to pick up my glass (and not move from the couch because screw that, I'm lazy and mother nature would have to throw me off the couch herself like that guy in the bathtub on Nov. 30th, 2018 - which, by the way, who is just soaking in the bathtub at 8:30 AM???), I slapped the keyboard. Oops. And then we got two more in the next two minutes.

Masterlist

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Y/N sank into his desk chair, sleep hanging at the corner of his eyes. He almost had hit his alarm and gone back to bed, but since Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were returning from a mission, he forced himself out of bed. They'd have information for him to add to the system that could be urgent. So, here he was, half-awake and booting up his computer.

He hadn't even had his caffeine this morning so his personality had yet to catch up. He was just a walking, mumbling shell of Y/N until his brain woke up entirely. That could take ten minutes, or it could take two hours. 

A knock on the door made him look up and blink to see who was in his doorway. The hall outside was still dark and his office wasn't very bright either so it was a little difficult to see.

Steve smiled in greeting and leaned against the doorframe. He was still in his tactical gear, a bloody scratch on his cheek proving that he'd come straight from the helicarrier. "Hey, Y/N. You're up bright and early."

"Well, you two decided to come back before even the roosters are awake, so...here I am. Just in case you guys had sensitive intel for me." Y/N tiredly smiled in return.

"Ah. Buck's the one who gathered most of the intel. He wanted to shower first since he was, in his words, sweatier than a sinner in a church and smellier than a nightclub on Wednesdays." Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he's okay when he says stuff like that."

"A...nightclub on...Wednesdays?" Y/N asked, head tilted curiously.

"Apparently, Wednesdays were some of the busiest nights back in the day at the clubs he used to go to. Packed with people. We didn't really use deodorant in that time...so, it smelled pretty bad after a while." Steve explained. "Anyway, I came by to ask you a very important question."

"What's up?"

"What is your favorite caffeinated drink?"

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Y/N didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his desk until someone had carefully placed a cup next to him. He turned his head as he woke up, leaning his cheek against his arm. He blinked awake, noticing the mug.

"Bless you, you beautiful, beautiful person." He mumbled sleepily, straightening up and taking the warm drink gratefully.

"An apology for making you get up really early and somethin' to get you movin'." The person said with a soft voice. "Steve told me that was your favorite."

Y/N looked up at them and paused. He was tall - but that may have been the vantage point - and had wide shoulders. His eyes were a glittering blue and filled with friendliness. He gave a lopsided smile.

 "I'm Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink." Y/N extended his hand to greet Bucky. "So, what do you have for me?"

Bucky set a small stack of old files on the corner of the desk before sitting down on the couch pressed against the wall meant for visitors. He laid his ankle on his knee, leaning back and lounging against the couch. He hitched his chin towards the dusty files.

"Grabbed them from the Hydra base we raided. Not sure what all is in there but it seemed pretty important given how it was locked in a safe within a safe, behind a vaulted door and guarded by people armed to the teeth." Bucky explained then sighed deeply, his head falling back against the top of the seat. He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly.

"Sounds crazy. You okay?" Y/N swiveled in his chair to face Bucky, tilting his head slightly. He warmed his hands with the drink he'd been brought, taking slow sips periodically to avoid burning his tongue.

"Yeah, just tired and glad to be back." Bucky picked his head back up and brushed his hair back out of his face. It was obvious he had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still damp and starting to curl up. 

"Did you get hurt?"  Y/N asked, concerned. From the looks of Steve, the mission had been rough on them. They'd been gone for almost two weeks.

"Nothin' major. Few scratches and bruises. Maybe a pinched nerve or muscle in my knee, but Bruce isn't awake yet to get it checked out." Bucky gestured with his head to his left knee before shrugging. "How're you settling in? I heard about Stark's smooth promotion offer."

"Oh, yeah...that scared the shit out of me. Everything's working out well. A little strange being my own boss, really, but it feels great. I know Angelica's having a blast with the fact there's a pool downstairs and she's surrounded by some pretty cool people." Y/N shook his head fondly. "New office, new room, new environment. It's different...but good."

"That's how I felt when I first moved here. Though, everyone wasn't as welcoming...and they had every right not to trust me." Bucky looked at the floor, expression faltering. "I'm...not the easiest to get along with somedays."

"I think we're getting along just fine." Y/N gave him a friendly smile. "I might be biased since you brought me my favorite drink."

Bucky laughed then, a warm sound that filled the space, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. "So you figured out my plan. Bribe you into likin' me." 

"Don't think you have to bribe me very much." Y/N broke into laughter, too, happy to see a smile back on Bucky's face. "You should get some food and get some rest if you can."

"I won't be able to sleep until later. Too wired still and probably will be for most of the morning."

"Maybe Wanda will make some tea for you." Y/N set his cup down. "My daughter doesn't know that you two were coming back this morning. She can be very hyperactive and excited when meeting new people. I didn't want you to come back from a mission and possibly be in a bad state of mind only to be met with a kid who wants to ask you rapid-fire questions for an hour."

"I appreciate that. I won't be against meeting her this afternoon. It's a Monday, right?" Bucky glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five in the morning. "Yeah. Sometime this afternoon, if you want me to swing by and meet her, just let me know."

 "Of course. Thanks, again, for the drink. I'll get to these files soon." Y/N smiled, waving his hand vaguely at the stack of files.

"No problem. I'll get out of your way and leave you to it. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy to have you on the team." Bucky stood raised his arms above his head in a stretch. "Oh, and if you need translating or cracking the codes, let me know and I'll help with what I can. See you around, Y/N."

"See you, Bucky." Y/N watched him walk past the glass front of his office and down the hall. All the rumors he'd heard about Bucky being gruff and cold to everyone he meets seemed to be untrue. He already liked the ex-assassin, despite only knowing him for ten minutes total. His rough exterior was offset by his kindness and concern for others.

Y/N pulled the top file and opened it. He sighed. It was all in Russian. Luckily, he could scan the documents into the computer and a program would translate them all out. The only thing he'd need to do afterward would be to create a decoder for the system Hydra used. He shook his mouse to wake his computer.

This was similar tedious work to what he'd used to do, but at least he could wear what he wanted and play music out loud without disturbing anyone. And his daughter could come in and out whenever she wanted when she was tearing around like the little gremlin she was. 

With a wayward glance at the clock, he stood and started scanning the documents.

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Angelica came running into Y/N's office after school had gotten out, her backpack thrown on the floor near the couch. She flopped onto it on her back, limbs sprawled out, groaning loudly.

"Well, hello to you, too." Y/N said, glancing up from his computer to look at his daughter. "How was school?"

"Boring. Like usual." She whined, throwing her arms out but nearly falling off the couch in the process. She squealed and steadied herself. "I wish we did harder math things or read more interesting things."

"Can't be as boring as what I've been doing." Y/N teased, scrolling through the newly translated documents. He was still scanning the files that Bucky had brought that morning and he had yet to start cracking the codes that HYDRA used. "I have at least thirty-eight papercuts on my hands now."

"Whatcha looking at?" Angelica rolled off the couch and moved to see his computer screens. He switched tabs quickly to a google home page. "Papaaa."

"It could be sensitive content, Angel. Can't show you that. And I have no idea what kind of content is in there. Some of it might not be suitable for you." Y/N picked her up and settled her on his lap, an arm around her waist. She leaned back against him, leaning her head against his. "I could take a break and we can watch some YouTube."

"Ooh! Can we watch some dog videos?" She asked, excited.

"Whatever you want, kiddo." He leaned forward and brought up YouTube, typing in a search for funny dog videos. "We can have a fifteen-minute break before I should get back to work and you should start on homework."

"Don't ruin this for me." Angelica groaned, lighting kicking his shin. "Ooh! The first one looks adorable. Look at his little paws!"

Y/N grinned and clicked on the video, turning up the volume. Her giggles and laughter always brightened his day. He watched a puppy stumble and tip a water dish over. Everyone needed a puppy break in the middle of the day and it was definitely needed after the very early morning. 

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"Oh, wow. This is fancy. You sure moved up in the world." Kiera's voice startled Y/N and he looked up from his notes. 

"Oh, hi! Come in, Kiera." Y/N minimized the tabs on his screens and closed his notebook. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a few files from our department that are directly related to a mission that's coming up that they want you to look at." She said, holding up two folders. 

"I've not been told of any mission but let me see what's up." He held his hand out and she crossed his office to pass the files over. He opened the top one and scanned over the words. "I'll have to talk to Tony or Steve to see what this is about, but this seems pretty important."

"The boss man wanted me to run it up here as soon as it was compiled. Are you sure you don't know what it's about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They might've told me and I just forgot. It's been a crazy few days with Natasha and Sam prepping to leave for a mission tonight and the intel I had to send to the Guardians." Y/N set the files down on his desk.

"So, how's it feel to be in the elite club?" Kiera sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. She was wearing a pencil skirt and heels, which he didn't actually pay attention to after doing a quick scan over her. 

"I had to get up at like...three-thirty this morning because Rogers and Barnes decided to return from a mission with sensitive files at four." Y/N buzzed his lips, leaning back in his chair. "Rogers stopped by first to say hi and tell me Barnes had all the files."

"Sergeant Barnes makes me...uncomfortable sometimes. He's really quiet in meetings and always looks like he's angry or doesn't want to be there." Kiera pursed her lips. "And whenever he talks, he's really short and gruff. He just seems really cold and unapproachable. Did you have to deal with him alone?"

"He brought me my favorite drink, apologized for making me get up so early, and asked how I was settling in. He was nice and offered to help  decode the files he'd brought." He shrugged, thinking back on their conversation that morning. "He was really friendly and open. I think he just isn't comfortable around strangers or large groups of people."

"Y/N, I'm worried about you and Angelica. What if he tries to hurt either of you? I know they say he's stable but is he really? What if he just snaps one day and turns back into the Winter Soldier?" Kiera stood and crossed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk. 

Y/N arched a brow slightly as she laid a hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing in a circle over the fabric of his shirt. "Kiera, why are you even bringing this up? If there was even the possibility of him being a threat to anyone, especially Angelica, they wouldn't have let us move in here or he would still be in Wakanda."

"All I'm saying is that you should be careful, okay? I don't think you should get too close to him. I don't want to see you get hurt and I really don't want to see Angelica get hurt." Kiera said. She didn't even know Bucky other than what she's heard through rumors or the news, so why was she pushing this so much? In his eight-minute conversation with Bucky that morning, he'd already dismissed all the rumors and other experiences people had told him about because of how open and friendly he'd been.

"Kiera," He started, voice low and stern. "If I had any concerns about Bucky, I would speak to him directly about it. Talking about him behind his back and perpetuating rumors only hurts his reputation and the way people view him. He knows people don't trust him and feels that it's rightfully deserved."

"Just...be careful, okay? That's all I'm asking. I just fear for Angelica." Kiera said quietly.

"Oh, uh...I'll just...come back in a few minutes." A voice made them both turn and Y/N shrugged Kiera's hand off his shoulder. Bucky was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a hand raised to knock on the door.

"No, come on in, Bucky." Y/N flashed him a warm smile and gave a side-eyed glance at the woman still hovering near him. "Kiera was just leaving." He said through his teeth.

"The boss will want me back in my little cubicle." She stood and walked past Bucky without sparing a glance at him and paused in the doorway. "I'll see you Wednesday night." She winked and smiled before sauntering down the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Bucky avoided eye contact, looking at the pictures on the wall instead as he moved further into the office. He looked awkward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Y/N wondered if he overheard their conversation. 

"She was just bringing files relating to a mission coming up that I may or may not have been told about." Y/N turned back to his computer, opening his tabs and notebook again. Bucky could see the intel and he didn't have to worry about the confidential issue.

"Seemed a little more friendly than that." Bucky snorted, sitting down on the couch, and immediately sinking into it. He was relaxing with every passing second. "Wednesday, huh?"

"I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. The only plan I have Wednesday night is to go to the library after getting ice cream at Pop's Shoppe with Angelica like we do every Wednesday night." Y/N said, looking at him with an open expression of honesty. 

"Sounded like a date to me." Bucky threw an arm over the back of the couch, his ankle resting on his knee. "Nothin' wrong with that if it was."

"She's just a friend." Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should clear that up with her in case she got the wrong impression." 

"I don't think you called me down here to talk about your workplace drama, though." Bucky gave him a lopsided smile, head tilted slightly. Any awkwardness or discomfort was gone. "What's up?"

"Need your help deciphering the codes. I've identified four different codes they use but I can't figure out what they mean." Y/N pressed his lips together in frustration. "I've written each of them down."

"Got a pen?" Bucky sat up, hand extended.

"Yeah. Here's the notebook, too." Y/N passed them to him, noticing that he didn't hesitate with reaching out with his metal arm. Not that he minded the metal prosthetic in the first place. "While you work on that, I can look over the files Kiera brought."

"She seems nice. Seen her in a couple of briefings. Knows what she's talking about and is really good at her job." Bucky said, eyes scanning the notebook as he wrote. "Not a bad choice, honestly."

"She is nice, but not my type." Y/N responded, opening one of the new files, ignoring the flush rising on his face. He was so embarrassed for absolutely no reason.

"Don't think she knows that." Bucky snorted before muttering something in Russian under his breath. He glanced up for a moment. "Maybe you should make it clear to her."

"Last week I used going to Operations Control - even though I was actually going to Accounting - as an excuse to leave just to stop her from asking me to dinner because I didn't want to turn her down." He admitted, keeping his gaze on the papers as his face warming up even more.

"Just let her down easy. Tell her you think she's nice but you aren't interested in a romantic relationship with her." Bucky suggested with a shrug.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both worked on their respective tasks. Occasionally, there was a soft whirring of the computers as the fans turned on to cool them down or of Bucky's arm as he moved. It was because of this that they both heard the footsteps rushing toward the office.

"Papa, I finished my homework! Can you check my multiplication worksheet?" Angelica came dashing in, holding a folder to her chest, and smiling broadly.

"Inside voice, kiddo. Inside voice." Y/N looked up with a gently chastizing expression. "But, yes. I can check your math." 

Angelica stopped with wide-eyes, actually noticing the man on the couch for the first time since she'd sprinted in. There went the plan of setting up a meeting time for Bucky and the ball of energy.

Bucky glanced up and gave her a quick smile that reminded Y/N of the one he gave to people when they held doors open for him. It was full of awkward friendliness and Y/N had sympathy for him.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes." She said in amazement, smiling broadly in return. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her enthusiasm.

"Uh, yep. That's my name, but you really don't need to call me James or Barnes or whatever. Just Bucky works." He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into his vision behind his ear. "And you're..?"

"Angelica. Kiddo, you can barrage Bucky with questions here in a second but I need your math homework if you want me to check it." Y/N chuckled. His daughter snapped out of her daze and rushed to hand her folder to him. She then skipped over to the couch and flopped down next to him.

"Whatcha working on?" She asked in her adorable way, her head tilted.

"Code cracking for your dad." Bucky hummed, shifting so he wasn't so closed off.

"Is it fun?"

"Sort of. I'm tired so I'm not exactly at a functioning level." He bounced his foot slightly. "I think you're the only person I've met who has been starstruck and knew my actual name."

"I did a project last month about you for history. That lesson was the only one that was not boring." Angelica swung her legs. "I think you're pretty cool."

"Oh," Bucky said, looking at the notebook. "Uh, thanks."

Y/N glanced up from the multiplication problems to see a blush spreading across the badass Winter Soldier's face. He smiled secretly and returned to the multiplication, scanning just to be sure his math whiz of a kid hadn't missed anything in her speed demon functions.

"Everyone else wanted to do projects on Natasha or Steve or Wanda and no one wanted to do a project on you. Made me mad 'cause they had all these ideas about you that were, like, not at all true but they didn't know that 'cause they jus' listened to their parents and didn't take ten minutes to think for themselfs." Angelica glared at the floor in her very childlike stern manner. "There's a reason you're a hero but they wouldn't know that 'cause all they'd heard was that you were a bad guy. So someone had to tell them otherwise."

"Alright, kiddo. This all looks correct. Good job." Y/N tucked the papers back into her folder and set his pen aside. She hopped off the couch and took her folder back with a smile. "Bucky and I need to get back to work, so you'll have to scram, okay?"

"Wanda said she'd teach me how to make some food from her homeland when I was done with my homework," Angelica told him.

"You remember the rules?"

"Yep!" 

"Then scram. Have fun." Y/N gently shoved her shoulder and she giggled.

"Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Angelica said, pausing at the door to give him a wave.

"See ya around, sweetie." He waved back with a friendly smile before she took off running down the hall again. "She is quite the ball of energy."

"You have no idea." Y/N laughed, picking the file back up. "She didn't make you uncomfortable or anything, right? She tends to get loud and talkative when she's super excited."

"No, no. It was cute. I've...never really had someone act like that the first time I've met them. Usually, they're all wary and distrustful like I'm some feral dog that has to be danced around." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. His lips were pressed into a firm line and he glared at the notebook.

"You know, when she did that project on you, she wouldn't stop talking about you for weeks. I've seen her get passionate about things before, but for some reason, she was extra determined to prove to everyone that you're a good guy now." Y/N smiled fondly. "She likes seeing the good in people. Always have, and probably always will."

"I think she takes after you on that one," Bucky mumbled under his breath. "This should let you decode the information. They mixed codes a lot just to be extra sure no one could sell the intel."

Y/N took his notebook and pen back with a nod. "Thanks. This will help a ton."

Bucky stood, wincing slightly as his knee popped. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh, I have a deal proposition before you go." Y/N stopped him with a smirk. 

"I'm listening." Bucky arched a brow.

"You bring my drink every morning and every time Angelica plans a prank on you or a prank that could affect you, I'll let you know. If she asks, just say it's a super-soldier superpower or something." Y/N offered with a mischievous grin. "We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Bucky shook his hand. 

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Taglist - @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @shadowolf993​ @myybebe @pastel-boy-sungjae​

[alarawriting]

Inktober #26: Dark

My name’s Mike London, and I hunt vampires, and that’s why I don’t love the darkness anymore.

Yeah, I know, I know. At this point you’re probably thinking “do we really have time to unpack all that?”, but the thing you’re getting hung up on is vampires, because vampires aren’t real. How could creatures who are technically dead survive only on blood, and if they were running around turning people into vampires every time they drank blood, why isn’t the world overrun with vampires? How could anyone function if they burst into flames when exposed to sunlight, why wouldn’t they show up on mirrors, does that mean they don’t show up on cameras, so on and so forth.

Okay, so most of the myths are wrong. You can see a vampire in a mirror… unless the vampire is positioned to see into your eyes, or their reflection. Vampires are stronger than humans but not by much – you know about that hysterical strength “mom lifts car off child” thing humans can do in extreme circumstances? They can do it all the time, because their bodies are constantly resetting to a perfect state based on what they were like at the moment of undeath, plus their self-image, with bodies that are perfectly healed except for anything that’s part of the self-image, like a scar that they’ve grown to identify with or a piercing. They’re faster than most humans, but they still have human muscles, so we’re talking Usain Bolt, not the Flash, or even a cheetah. They do burst into flames when exposed to strong ultraviolet light, a condition I can kind of sympathize with myself. And they aren’t created when a vampire drinks your blood, but when you drink a vampire’s, when your own blood levels are very low. As soon as a person has more vampiric blood than human blood in their system, boom, vampire.

They have only one really magical superpower, aside from the fact that they’re alive when they shouldn’t be, and it explains all the others that humans believe they have. If they can look into your eyes, and hold your gaze, they can control your mind. Make you think they’re invisible, make you think they just exploded into a hundred bats, make you compelled to do what they say.

It doesn’t work on me, because I’m an albino. And that’s why, despite the fact that all I ever wanted was to write programs, I am stuck hunting vampires as a side hustle. I’m still physically weaker and slower than they are, and while I see better in the dark than you do, I don’t see as well as they do. In light without UV components, such as standard indoor lighting, my vision’s more impaired than theirs, and a lot more than yours. But they can’t mesmerize me, and frankly, your average vampire has gotten so used to being able to mesmerize humans, it’s crippling for them to run into a human where it doesn’t work.

You probably haven’t got the vaguest idea why being an albino protects me. Maybe you have some notion that albinos have weird superpowers, since frankly in fiction we almost always do. You probably don’t know exactly how my disabilities work – in movies and TV, albinos never get to play albinos, it’s always white men in makeup.

Albinos have bad vision. Lack of pigment in the retina when we’re developing gives us vision problems that can’t be corrected with glasses. It’s like we have fewer pixels to see the world than you do, so everything’s going to be fuzzy no matter how strong the prescription lenses are. And a side effect of bad vision from birth is something called rhythmatic nystagmus, where our eyes go back and forth like an old DVD using pan-and-scan to show a movie on old-school near-square CRT televisions. (Old technology’s a hobby of mine.) I don’t have any conscious control or even awareness of it; I couldn’t stop my eyes from moving like that if I tried, short of closing them. My brain does post-processing on the moving image to make it look to me like my eyes aren’t moving, combining multiple snapshots from different angles into a single image. It means my ability to see a moving object is crap even if it’s close enough that I should be able to see it otherwise, but in theory it lets me see more detail than I would otherwise.

The thing is, there’s a reason the legends all have the vampires going “Look into my eyes”. They need to be able to make and sustain eye contact, the kind where you stare into each other’s eyes, and they can’t do that with eyes that are moving constantly. It’s not that I can’t see their eyes, because for me things don’t look like they’re going back and forth while my eyes move. It’s that they can’t look into mine.

I found this out the hard way last year. I was working at a big financial company, and I was behind schedule on the software I was building for them, and they had security rules that didn’t allow me to work from home. The boss used to say not to stay after hours, but I figured this was the kind of thing bosses say to make the company sound friendly and accommodating but is actually a control freak thing intended to benefit the morning people, which I have never been one of. I can’t drive – the state won’t give me a license, with my eyes – and I have chronic insomnia and equally chronic problems with waking up in the morning, making it impossible for me to rideshare with any of my co-workers. So I generally have an intermittently employed friend of mine who shares my apartment drive me places, and this means I’m usually late to work. If I can’t stay late and I can’t bring work home, I fall behind on my projects. Also, I do my best work late at night when there are no distractions. So I was in the habit of going to the bathroom with all of my stuff around 5:30 and then coming out at 6 after my boss had left. I could sit on the toilet with my laptop and continue to work, answering emails and setting Outlook to send them at 8 am in the morning the next day to make it look like I work normal hours, and then when I came out I could get back to the serious programming work, because my boss wasn’t a programmer and had no idea how to check the timestamps of my build check-ins.

It turned out it wasn’t corporate bullcrap after all. It was vampires. Vampires would come into the building to hold meetings on some kind of irregular schedule that meant something to them. I’d been working late for almost two weeks when they showed up, mesmerized my housemate and nearly ate both of us, and I had to kill a few of them with the combination of a steak knife from the kitchen and the cheap bamboo chopsticks I have a few hundred of in my drawer because I’m always getting Chinese takeout for lunch. See, you can’t actually stab a chopstick into a vampire’s heart – it’s too fragile – but stabbing with a regular knife only takes them out of commission for the two minutes or so it takes them to heal. But if you then stick a wooden chopstick in the wound, it prevents them from regenerating, and bamboo is apparently wood for vampire-killing purposes.

Also, I had a black light in my laptop bag, suitable for detecting whether my cats have peed on my laptop bag before I take it to work because they’ve done it so many times I’ve gotten desensitized to the smell of cat pee, and while I don’t like looking at UV light – my eyes have zero protection from it, so it’s painful – it’s a lot worse for vampires, whose skin will burn from very tiny amounts of UV exposure and can actually set on fire. And it’s just astonishing how often vampires will stand there trying to mesmerize you while you walk up to them and stab them in the heart, because they just can’t comprehend “human who cannot be mesmerized”.

And now that I know vampires exist and that I’m immune to their most powerful weapon… well, shit. I’m kind of stuck. I don’t actually know any other albinos, or anyone else with rhythmic nystagmus, and for normal people, wearing the kind of dark glasses that make it so the vampires can’t see your eyes will completely prevent you from seeing anything in the kind of darkness vampires like. I’m the only one I know who can do this. And they don’t kill humans constantly – they don’t need to – but they spread disease (they can’t get blood-borne illnesses but they can sure carry them) and they tend to pick on weaker humans to begin with, people who have less resistance to the bad effects of losing a lot of blood, because if chronically ill people seem sick and lethargic everyone assumes it’s their illness and not vampires attacking them. They’re like humanoid rats, in other words. If you had a well-behaved pet one who never harmed humans and only drank from volunteers, that one would be fine. But the rest of them are vermin.

Now, the best time to kill vampires is during the day, when they’re sleeping. Vampires know this. You are not going to find them when they’re sleeping, and if you did, you’d have to fight your way through their security guards, who are human, and do not know they’re protecting vampires, and really don’t deserve to have to deal with people trying to kill them. Also, being security guards, they are better at mayhem than I am; I’m an IT guy. So, lucky me, I have to go after them at night, when they have all the advantages except one: they expect to be able to mesmerize me, and they can’t.

Nighttime used to be my time. No bright sun glaring in my face and giving me a sunburn. Everyone around me having such poor vision from it being dark that my bad eyesight isn’t a disadvantage anymore, and when it’s dark enough, my eyesight gets better than theirs because my eyes collect every single photon that hits them, no filters. I’d walk around at night, or crank up my stereo and write code until 4 am.

But every time it’s dark, now, I know: they’re out there. They’re hunting. Feeding. And if I don’t track them down and get rid of them, people might die.

And that’s why I can’t love the darkness anymore.

[artificialqueens]

Free Falling, Chapter 8: Bring the Bitter Taste to a Halt (Branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Thank you holtzmanns for beta-ing! Title taken from Sweetener by Ariana Grande.

Last chapter: Brooke & Vanessa finally get together, thanks to some good old hijinks & tomfoolery from the others on the unit.

This chapter: Brooke & Vanessa go on their first date.

The Royale Diner was by no means the most romantic place in the city. Heck, it probably wasn’t the most romantic place in the intersection,not since that couple had gotten married in the McDonalds across the street last month. But if you asked Vanessa, it had the best comfort food in the world - and there was no better first date to her than sharing soul food with someone that very well could be her soulmate. And that night, when Vanessa caught a glimpse at Brooke’s face as she led her through the plexiglass doors, Vanessa knew that she had made the right choice.

It wasn’t every woman she took out who stared at the diner’s decor in awe before they were even through the plexiglass doors, mesmerized by their reflections the classic checkerboard floors and the glossy red finishes on the vinyl booth couches. It wasn’t every woman whose face lit up in admiration when the waitress came by and offered Vanessa her favourite table and a coffee on the house before they’d even finished saying hello. And it wasn’t every woman who ordered banana pancakes with such enthusiasm she almost broke the table when she slammed the menu shut determinately, blushing deeply when the waitress joked that she’d always known Vanessa liked women who knew what they wanted.

Nor was it every woman who stole pretty much all the fried chicken off of Vanessa’s plate without so much as a sheepish apology, but hey, it wasn’t every woman from whom Vanessa would allow it.

Vanessa wasn’t sure she could put her finger on it, but there was something different about their conversation as they ate. The topics were pretty much the same—their families, different dance competitions, how frustrating anti-vaxx campaigners were—but their tone was lighter, more cheerful, full of giggles and bashful pauses and looks stolen when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It was nice; for once, Vanessa didn’t have to wonder if Brooke’s lingering gaze was because she’d done something wrong, and there was no need for her own heart to quicken with anxiety every time Brooke caught her staring. For once, Vanessa didn’t feel pressure to draw out their contact for as long as possible, afraid to let the other woman go.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re gettin’ to know the kids.” Vanessa took advantage of a lull in conversation, thinking back to the card Brooke had given her. There was no way, thinking about it now, that Brooke had cut it herself, despite the cursive message scrawled there. Really, the jagged lines and safety scissor-crushed edges seemed much more characteristic of Monet, so much so that Vanessa wondered if Brooke had helped her make it. After all, Brooke had been spending more time with the families, trying to discern what they liked and didn’t like, what she could cut or move around or bring to the board to prove the unit was doing well. And Monet was exactly the kind of personality Brooke would love, confident and clever and eclectic, never anyone but herself.

In fact, in Vanessa’s opinion, Brooke probably needed to be around kids like Monet more often, to realize that she could be all those ways, too.

“Yeah, the focus groups have been going really well.” Brooke nodded enthusiastically. “I’m learning a lot.”

“I’m glad, but that’s not what I mean.” Vanessa chuckled, “I mean the rec programs–it’s really cool you sat in with Monet to help her cut the card you gave me.”

Brooke’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

“Card?” her mouth dropped open mid-chew in disbelief, “I didn’t give you a card.”

“Well, your Valentine,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “But it’s the same thing, really.”

“No, I–Vanessa, I didn’t get you a Valentine.” Brooke frowned. Realizing the implication of what she’d said, she looked back up at Vanessa in a panic, words tumbling from her mouth as she added, “That’s not to say I don’t like you! I like you so much, like, like you, that’s why I wanted to take you up on your offer of your date! I swear, I was so happy, it’s just that I didn’t think you’d be okay if I made the first–”

“Whoa, hold on, Mary!” Vanessa waved a hand to catch Brooke’s attention, confusion the only thing suppressing the laugh bubbling inside her throat. “What you mean, my offer of a date? You came to me .”

“But… Your card. The Valentine on my desk.” Brooke blinked, staring blankly at the woman across from her.

“Mama, there was no Valentine.” Vanessa shook her head.

There was a beat, the wheels turning in both of their heads, before the cogs finally clicked together.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna kill Nina.” Brooke laughed loudly, Vanessa unable to resist joining in.

“Well, I mean, all that shit they was tryin’ to pull finally worked, I guess.” Vanessa grinned, her heart swelling at the beaming smile that was still radiating off of Brooke, the blonde’s shoulders shaking with little chuckles as she tried and failed to calm down.

“I swear to God, it’s like elementary school again.” Brooke shook her head as the two finally settled, and Vanessa gave a little laugh, unable to do anything but agreed.

Those girls were all fucking nightmares, but God bless them for helping her experience such a wonderful dream as the woman sitting across from her, sipping her coffee over a wry, yet still giddy smile.

Unfortunately, dreams never did last, and so once the humour of the situation finally dissipated, the two were left in silence, the mention of the hospital and all it implied falling heavy over the air in the booth.

“Quarter’s coming up.” Vanessa prompted quietly.

“Yeah.” Brooke nodded, causing a twinge of remorse to sear through Vanessa’s chest when she noticed how suddenly the colour seemed to drain from the other woman’s face at the comment.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Vanessa reached across the table and gave Brooke’s hand a squeeze.

“Yeah.” Brooke’s face faltered briefly, her voice hollow, and Vanessa felt her heart crush. Their plates were empty now, and if Vanessa knew anything about Brooke, it was that the minute they left the restaurant, she’d be back en route into the hospital to try and do more work. She couldn’t let that happen; things couldn’t end that way. Not tonight.

Brooke deserved so much more than that.

“You wanna go see a movie?” the idea popped into Vanessa’s head at random, but she let it come out without hesitation; there was no time to think of another one, and anyway, there was a movie theatre not far from the diner that plays old family movies, and there was bound to be a romantic one playing for Valentine’s day.

“Yeah.” Brooke nodded, a reassured and grateful smile spreading across her face, and Vanessa breathed out a little, knowing she’d made the right choice.

—

As it turned out, there were no romantic movies playing at the Black Hole Cinema Club that night. Apparently the owner had just broken up with her girlfriend, meaning that the only movie playing was one chosen at random from the theatre’s Family Fun Night archives. As a result, less than thirty minutes later, Brooke and Vanessa sat munching on a large bag of popcorn as the opening credits of Daddy Daycare began to roll. Vanessa had never minded the movie; it was cute, and had some genuinely funny scenes. This time, though, she watched with a growing interest.

The second half of the movie involved the threat of cuts. The threat was responded to with a fundraiser, one that worked even better than needed for the daycare to succeed. A happy ending for all except the asshole trying to take the daycare down.

It was just a movie; real life didn’t work like that. But still, even after the movie had ended, the fundraiser scenes stuck in Vanessa’s mind.

It was crazy. It was foolish. It probably wouldn’t work.

But it also might, and for the unit, for Brooke , Vanessa was willing to take that chance.

The only snag in the plan was Brooke herself. After an hour or so of scheming and scribbling out plans on paper, exchanging texts with Silky, A’Keria, and the others, she realized with a jolt that she had never actually brought up the plan with Brooke, who was arguably the most important player in the whole operation. No, she had to get clearance first–it was only right, after all of Brooke’s hard work. She was about to pick up her phone and call the other woman, when suddenly, a thought froze her finger before she could dial.

If Vanessa’s plan did get put into action, it would take a tremendous amount of work, work that Brooke would no doubt try to take on almost entirely by herself. Vanessa could all too easily imagine Brooke losing entire nights of sleep applying for permits, calling vendors, and climbing into bed at 2 AM only to stay awake the rest of the night worrying.

The plan might keep the unit afloat, but Vanessa just couldn’t bring herself to drown Brooke in the process.

She put down the phone and continued planning, deciding that she would tell Brooke once things were more firmly in place.

–

If there’s one thing that Vanessa learned from her years as an occupational therapist, it was that whenever you’re getting ready to do something, you need to hope for the best but plan for the worst.

In this case, the worst came crashing through during rounds the next morning, and it was definitely something Vanessa hadn’t prepared for.

Everything started out normal; as planned, Vanessa told everyone to meet her a half-hour early for rounds so that they could talk fundraising. As planned, everyone showed up ready to get to work.

Unfortunately, what she hadn’t planned was for Brooke to see everyone going the same way into the meeting room, chattering excitedly. What she hadn’t planned was for Brooke to wonder what was going on, for the blonde to let herself think that maybe people were still talking about the date from yesterday. What she hadn’t planned was for Brooke to be in such a good mood that she thought she’d follow everyone in, catching them right in the middle of planning.

What she hadn’t planned was for Nina to have too much integrity to lie when Brooke asked what was going on.

And she certainly, definitely hadn’t planned for Brooke to be incredibly mad.

Vanessa had been on the receiving end of Brooke’s workplace-appropriate anger to know that when Brooke was upset, she didn’t yell or rage. Instead, she stood up even taller, let her smile fall flat, and made her voice go quietly, terrifyingly formal.

“Vanessa, may I please see you outside?” Brooke’s voice was quiet, but her gaze was pointed at Vanessa with a fire that Vanessa didn’t think she’d ever seen, one that made her shut up and follow Brooke out into the hallway without another word.

“Is this some kind of a joke to you?” The door had barely closed before Brooke turned on Vanessa, her rage now finally starting to spill out as she hissed, “I told you not to tell anyone!”

“It’s alright, though, they don’t blame you–”

“Shut up.” Brooke snapped, pure vitriol coating her voice. Vanessa blinked, the words taking a few moments to process before setting her crumbling.

Brooke had never spoken to her like that before. Even when she’d talked back, even when she’d been a bit of a jerk, Brooke had always been patient, at most putting up a hand and telling her to let her finish.

“You broke my trust.” Brooke continued, “I told you not to tell anyone, and you broke my trust. I told you I didn’t want people to worry, it was my business anyway–”

“Whoa whoa, slow down, Mary!” Vanessa snapped to, the comment bringing her back to her usual stubborn attention. “This ain’t just ‘your business’ here. Everyone could lose their job. You ain’t even care, you was gonna fire half of us a few months ago anyway–”

Now it was Brooke’s turn to be taken aback. “Fire… Oh, for God’s sake, Vanessa! That was different, and I wouldn’t even think of it now!”

“Well, if you’d just listen, you’d know that–”

“Hey, guys?” both of them stopped talking when Nina poked her head out of the meeting room, a worried frown on her face. “Listen, we couldn’t help but overhear, and we just wanted to let you know, Brooke, Vanjie only came to us because she had this idea for a fundraiser–”

“Go back inside, Nina.” Brooke put her face in her hands, her voice finally evening out. The calm was short-lived, though; once Nina had retreated back into the meeting room, Brooke turned back to Vanessa with a renewed fire, one that was even more intense than before.

“Brooke, listen–”

“No, Vanessa.” Brooke shook her head. “God, you’re really something else, you know that? Not only do you tell everyone something I told you not to, but you decide it’s perfectly fine to just undermine all my hard work–”

Her hard work?

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

“Now, listen, bitc–coin. Bitcoin. Listen. You ain’t the only one workin’ hard. Don’t you come up here actin’ like you ain’t the only one scared or the only one who cares! I ain’t do nothing but try to help, the least you could say is thank you!”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Brooke gave a hollow laugh. “It’s not about the fundraiser, or about how this feels. It’s about the fact that I trusted you, Vanessa. And I shouldn’t have.”

Vanessa said nothing; deep down, she knew she should, but she couldn’t. Not just then, when she was this angry.

Besides, she didn’t really have the chance–a second had barely passed before Brooke was walking away.

[fallintosanity]

c’mon guys, stop poking the traumatized guy who happens to be strong enough to destroy the entire building

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

The rest of the week passed remarkably smoothly. Noctis did his single quota-filling mission each day, then vanished back to his bunk, presumably to nap the rest of the day away. Cloud couldn't help but wonder if Noctis was just bored. At the very least, he was entirely unfazed by the minor threats he was sent to handle: an unruly patch of razorweed on Tuesday, a flock of ahrimans Wednesday, more cripshays Thursday, and a little cluster of mandragora, likely attracted from their native grasslands habitat by the mako reactors in the city, on Friday. Noctis dealt with each set of monsters with the same agile swordplay he’d used on his first mission.

They didn’t talk much; Cloud wasn’t exactly one for small talk, and Noctis seemed content with the silence. It wasn’t the easy, comfortable silence of being around Kunsel or Vincent, though - Noctis gave the impression that he didn’t expect Cloud to talk. In fact, he occasionally seemed to forget Cloud was there, or at least seemed surprised when Cloud stepped out of whatever corner he’d retreated to while Noctis dealt with his targets. It made Cloud think uneasily of that first conversation they’d had by the riverbank, when Noctis admitted to believing SOLDIERs couldn’t talk.

Other than that, the only somewhat odd thing about Noctis was that he didn’t use his Thunder materia at all on the missions. Given what had happened when he’d tried casting it in class last week, Cloud could hardly blame him, but it would have been useful against the ahrimans. At least whatever had caused the explosion seemed to have resolved itself; when Cloud’s Thursday materia class rolled around, Noctis’s attempts at casting Bolt produced little more than a glorified spark. He did still cast almost instantaneously, though, which was unexpected and baffling. Artificial materia simply didn’t cast that quickly, not even fully leveled. It didn’t make any sense, and Cloud made a mental note to ask Genesis about it later, after the commander returned from the parade tour he’d been shipped out on with Sephiroth.

All in all, it was a quiet and uneventful week. Which was the only excuse Cloud had for lowering his guard.

Noctis hadn’t taken any missions Saturday or Sunday, apparently (and rightfully) unconcerned by his ability to fill his mission quota. But that meant Cloud had had nothing to do either day. Genesis and Sephiroth were on that parade tour, and Kunsel and Zack had been sent to accompany the Turks on a mission to Wutai to deal with a group of freedom fighters unwilling to acknowledge ShinRa’s grip on the region. Cloud spent Saturday with Aeris in the church, helping her tend the garden and listening to her talk about how her flower-selling business was taking off. But she was back out selling on Sunday, so Cloud retreated to the Training Room to get some practice in.

After the easy week with Noctis, battling the illusory monsters was almost interesting, despite the group of curious cadets who gathered to watch. Whatever technologists maintained the Training Room had updated it recently with new monsters modeled after the increasingly aggressive mako mutants that had begun turning up around the reactors. While even those posed little threat to Cloud, they were still more of a challenge than the previous grandhorns and sahagins it had featured.

He left the Training Room a few hours later, sweaty but invigorated, and all but ran into Lazard in the hallway outside. “Commander Strife,” Lazard greeted him. “Impressive show.”

Something about his tone immediately set Cloud’s teeth on edge. “Director,” he answered neutrally, and turned to walk back to his bunk.

“Do you have a moment?” Lazard fell in step beside Cloud without waiting for an answer. “I wanted to talk to you about a request from the Science Department.”

Cloud’s good mood evaporated in an instant. “Not interested.” He sped up his pace, trying to pull away from Lazard, but the director’s longer legs let him keep up easily.

“At least hear me out,” Lazard said. “I’m sure you’re aware that Hollander’s and Hojo’s deaths left significant gaps in ShinRa’s research programs—”

“Read my contract,” Cloud snapped. “No doctors.”

“I’m aware,” Lazard said. “This wouldn’t be a medical examination, though. Dr. Meridian just wants to interview you regarding the mako treatments you received—”

“No.”

“But—”

Cloud whirled on Lazard, teeth bared. “No.”

Lazard fell back a step, eyes wide, hands half-raised in a defensive motion. “...All right. I’ll let Dr. Meridian know. Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Lazard had disappeared around a corner of the hallway that Cloud realized his fingers were wrapped around the hilt of First Tsurugi. It took several minutes more for Cloud to calm down enough to make himself move, his feet rooted to the spot with a sickening swirl of terror and fury. He’d intended to return to his room, but when he finally made it to the dorms, he found himself lingering in front of Kunsel’s door instead. But Kunsel was out on a mission, and wasn’t due back for days.

Cloud made himself keep moving, stalking into his own room and stripping out of his sweaty clothes. He needed a shower, but that wasn’t going to happen right now, the narrow shower cubby in his room too much like a mako tank when Lazard had just yanked those memories back to the front of Cloud’s mind. He settled for wiping down with a damp washcloth and collapsing onto the bed. It was late afternoon still, too early to go to sleep, but if Cloud went back out into the building then Lazard might find him again. Or some innocent cadet who didn’t deserve to be around Cloud right now.

He hadn’t expected to sleep, not with the memories of Nibelheim and the labs swirling through his mind, but he’d worked out hard and his body was tired; and at some point the memories smeared and faded into nightmares. Green mako soaking his skin, his clothes, his hair. Men in lab coats standing over him, scalpels slicing into his skin. Screaming in agony, in terror, until his throat was ripped raw and he was dropped back into the mako, green pouring down his throat, filling his lungs, choking him—

“Cloud.”

He snapped awake, one hand reaching for the hilt of First Tsurugi where it sat beside his bed before he’d even opened his eyes—

—came up empty and he panicked, where was his sword—

Got his eyes open.

First Tsurugi was propped against the far wall of his room. Sephiroth stood between it and Cloud.

I can’t sleep through your nightmares.

“Get out,” Cloud snapped.

Sephiroth folded his arms and leaned against Cloud’s desk. Like the last time he was here, he wore only pajama pants, and there was a sense of tiredness around him which Cloud had the sick feeling was coming over their connection more than anything about his physical appearance. He didn’t say anything.

“You’re supposed to be on tour,” Cloud managed.

“We got back an hour ago,” Sephiroth said. Cloud glanced at the clock - not quite midnight. Sephiroth added, “Neither Genesis nor I got any sleep the entire mission, thanks to the President’s paranoia about AVALANCHE terrorists.”

“You won’t get any sleep here, either.”

“I told you, it’s still more restful than dealing with your nightmares.”

Something snapped in Cloud’s chest, that Sephiroth of all people could stand here and say that to him, Sephiroth who was responsible for everything that had happened to him, everyone who’d died in the last ten years of his life, all the pain and all the destruction and all the sorrow. Fists clenched, Cloud snarled, “If you didn’t want to deal with them, you shouldn’t have given them to me!”

Green eyes narrowed. “Hojo is the one who gave you those nightmares,” Sephiroth said. “Hojo and a version of me which exists nowhere but in your memories.”

I will never be a memory.

The voice - the other Sephiroth’s voice, the madman who’d nearly killed him - was so real in his head that Cloud almost thought the Sephiroth in front of him was the one who’d said it. His blood ran cold and for a moment he was back there, atop the decrepit ShinRa tower, Masamune spearing him and Sephiroth smirking at him. Phantom pain lanced through his chest and he doubled over, fingers knotting in his shirt.

Sephiroth whispered, “He impaled you.”

Cloud flinched. Looked up. Sephiroth had one hand curled over his chest in the same spot as Cloud, his eyes wide.

Do you remember this pain, Cloud?

Cloud almost laughed, was surprised when blood didn’t pool in his mouth. “Twice,” he said.

“I saw,” Sephiroth said. “In your nightmares, I saw that. But I thought—”

“It was real!” Cloud insisted.

Sephiroth stared at him.

“You impaled me,” Cloud hissed. “All but killed me. You nearly killed Tifa and Zack. You killed my mom.” His voice rose to a shout with the words, but he couldn’t make himself care. “You burned down my village and killed everyone in it. You killed—” remembering just in time not to say her name, not now, not when she was still alive— “my friend. You almost destroyed the planet!”

“You promised,” Sephiroth said quietly, “to kill me if I ever started down that path in this timeline.”

“I will,” Cloud agreed.

“I’m still here,” Sephiroth said. “Therefore, I’ve done none of that.”

It was Cloud’s turn to stare at him. Sephiroth met his gaze levelly, waiting. Still focused on the memory of Sephiroth, the one created out of mako energy and pure bitter willpower, Cloud was surprised to see him blink, to see his chest move slightly as he breathed. The Sephiroth he’d fought so many times since Nibelheim never showed even those faint signs of humanity.

When Cloud didn’t say anything, Sephiroth continued, “I cannot undo what that alternate me did in your memories. But if I can prevent you from reliving it in your nightmares…” He trailed off with a slight twitch of his shoulder, an almost rueful shrug, his eyes still on Cloud. “Let me do that much. And if you won’t believe I would do it for a friend,” he added, and there, there was that obnoxious smirk in the curl of his mouth, the gleam of his slit-pupiled eyes, “then at least believe I would do it for my own sake, so I can get some rest.”

Cloud stared at him for a few more minutes, but Sephiroth had apparently said his piece and was now settling in for the night, shifting to more comfortably lean against the desk and tossing his hair out of his face. “I hate you,” Cloud muttered, but even he could admit there was less heat to it than usual. He slouched back against the wall, folded his arms, and yawned.

At least he’d gotten a few hours of sleep before Sephiroth showed up.

[whoareurl]

Causing Chaos in Pyjamas - 00Q (5/9)

(i just posted part 8 on the forum so i’m queuing the rest of these here too since i realised i totally didn’t finish doing that so i’ll space them out by a few hours each so i don’t clog your dash)

Q was afraid - terrified, really.

The back of the café led onto an estate with skyrise flats. It reminded Q of where he’d grown up but he didn’t get much time for reminiscing because Bond grabbed his free hand and pulled him along behind as he broke into a run.

Q’s chest burned with the exertion and he let out a rattling cough towards the ground but, even though Bond slowed down a little and looked back with concern, Q pushed himself on. He was not going to die today; not when his agents might still be in danger. Well, Bond was always in danger somehow. Even intelligence-gathering missions ended in a shootout with him. Q was surprised he didn’t have more grey hairs, really.

Running barefoot was excruciating and Q let out a shriek of pain as he stepped on a particularly jagged rock, making a gash in the sole of his foot. “Bastard!”

Bond drew to a halt.

“What...are you...doing?” Q puffed, one hand on his wheezing chest as he fought for breath, grateful for the respite despite the pounding fear. Bond’s jacket was draped over his arm now since it had been falling off during their run. Bond swiftly ripped the arm off. “Bond?” Q gasped, shocked.

“Sit down, Q,” Bond said roughly and Q plonked himself down on the nearest wall. Bond immediately set about pulling out the inside lining of the sleeve.

Upon realising Bond’s plan, Q said hurriedly, “007, I really don’t think this is the time for you to play nurse.”

Bond scowled up at Q as he started tightly binding his injured foot. “Call me cautious but I’d rather you didn’t get an infection and running around with an open wound where we’re going makes that highly likely.”

Q didn’t get a chance to ask exactly where that was before Bond tied the lining tight over Q’s wound, making him wince. Bond grunted out an apology and tied another knot before pulling Q to his feet and they were off running again, this time keeping a close eye on the ground for anything else that might cause injury.

Though Q had gone through the mandatory MI6 fitness tests - which were admittedly a lot more lenient than the double-oh program requirements - he was finding it extremely difficult to keep up with Bond. His body screamed at him to just stop but his terror and maybe a little bit of adrenaline spurred him on. He’d never live it down if he admitted it to Bond but he was starting to understand the thrill of risk-taking. And not the usual type of risks Q took with hacking into classified servers. No, this - this was something else.

And Q liked it.

Of course, he’d probably like it more if he could bloody breathe.

“Oyster?” Bond asked as they came to an abrupt stop. Q could only blink at him. Bond rolled his eyes. “Oyster card. Do you have it on you?”

Q shot him a weary look. “Yes, 007. I always keep my Oyster card in my pyjama pocket in case of near-death situations.”

He meant for it to be scathing but some of the effect was lost by his breathlessness and the two kittenish sneezes which followed right after.

isstch! hng’iTschh!

“Never mind. I’ve got a spare,” Bond said, pulling him into Leicester Square station and through the ticket barriers. “And bless you.”

Q wiped his nose on his sleeve for the second time that day, feeling disgusted with himself and quite self-conscious of the fact that he was still in his kitten pyjamas. But at least they were in the tube station now. They could get the Northern Line down to Stockwell and then the Victoria to Vauxhall (and MI6). The idea of sitting - even on the tube - sounded like heaven to Q’s aching limbs. When Bond pulled him towards the Piccadilly Line, however, Q had to pause. Well, he supposed to Piccadilly would take them to Green Park and then they could get the Victoria to Vauxhall. Right?

(Wrong, apparently.)

They were off the train again at Piccadilly Circus and Q was being dragged along to wait for the Bakerloo Line to take them even further north and even further away from MI6.

“Is there anything else you need to do on that laptop?” Bond asked as they took a seat on an empty bench.

Q looked down at his lap where his trembling hands held said laptop against his thighs. He shivered, suddenly remembering exactly why they were running and had it really only been this morning that he’d been curled up with his cat watching Pride and Prejudice? It felt like an eternity. He felt sick.

“Q?” Bond said, one hand on Q’s back and the other taking the laptop from him. He forced Q’s head between his knees. “Deep breaths. Try not to hack up a lung.”

Q might have laughed had he not been so busy fighting the panicked nausea swirling in his stomach. Instead, he just focused on breathing without aggravating his poor chest. His nose dripped in this position and he jammed one hand under it to keep it from leaking onto the platform. He stared down at his feet, both bare and one covered in a bloody makeshift bandage. Tears welled in his eyes; he was a wreck and there were armed people after them and he was pretty sure his fever had spiked given how upset he suddenly found himself.

The rumbling of the tracks signalled the train’s arrival. Bond crouched in front of him and gently lifted Q’s head.

“Don’t break down yet, okay?” He said with a voice that was soft but firm. “Once we’re somewhere safe, you can get it all out but right now I need us both to have our wits about us.”

Bond took his hand and Q wondered how they were so steady. He supposed they had to be. Bond had to be able to shoot people at any time. Right now, however, his steady hand was an asset in a different way as a comfort to the panicked Quartermaster.

As Bond led them onto the train, Q took a final deep breath and sat down. Bond took his usual seat across from him. Q wished briefly that Bond would sit next to him so he wouldn’t have to let go of his hand but he pushed that thought aside. They needed to be able to see everything. This made more sense.

Q felt another sneeze building and pinched his nose shut, stifling it silently. And then another. And another.

“Bugger,” he muttered, sniffling thickly. At Bond’s questioning look, he said, “I left the bag at the café.”

Bond sighed. “Did you at least take some medicine?”

Thinking back, Q honestly couldn’t remember. As his energy failed him, he offered Bond a mere shrug and shut his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Bond warned quietly.

“Piss off,” Q muttered which made Bond chuckle.

Not two minutes later, Q was pulled to his feet again and they were making their way along the platform at Oxford Circus (why did London have so many bloody circuses?) only to be dragged...right back on the train again.

“What-” He began but Bond cut him off.

“False change,” Bond muttered, his voice sounding that way it did when he was focused. “Throw them off the scent.”

Q nodded. Of course. He’d suggested agents do exactly this when being traced. He knew exactly what a false change was so why was he acting like one of Bond’s confused flings? Too exhausted to contemplate this, he slumped down on the nearest seat and shut his eyes. After a moment, he felt Bond’s hand pressed against his cheek.

“Your fever’s gone up,” he noted. Q grunted in response. “Have you done everything you need to do with this laptop?”

“Yeah,” Q breathed. Bond still hadn’t removed his hand. It felt good.

“We’ll leave it here. It’s got to be how they tracked us.”

“M’kay.”

Bond took his seat next to Q this time and Q was frankly feeling too atrocious to question it. When his head fell sleepily onto Bond’s shoulder, he didn’t question Bond’s apparent indifference to the situation either.

What felt like seconds later they were off the train again and back on the same line in the other direction and then they were back at Oxford bloody Circus. Q was allowing himself to be dragged through the station with his legs feeling like jelly when Bond suddenly jerked to the side and Q found his arm nearly dislocated as he was dragged into a service corridor.

Bond put a finger over his lips and peered through the grate. Q watched with him as the same suited men he’d seen outside the café came to a stop. In an absolutely typical show of terrible timing, Q felt his breath start to hitch.

Despite Bond putting his finger to his lips, Q couldn’t contain the soft hitching breaths nor the growing itch in his nose. The suits were talking in the corridor and Q wished they would just move on already as he jammed a finger under his nose and pressed hard.

“Q,” Bond whispered desperately. “Not now.”

Q shot him a watery glare. He was perfectly aware that sneezing now would be nothing short of a disaster, thank you very much, 007. He supposed he could try to stifle silently like he’d done before but he didn’t think it was worth the risk. Stifling was an imperfect art; better to hold it back.

His lungs clenched at the pressure put on them, breath itching in and out. As if a building sneeze wasn’t enough, each desperate breath made him feel like a hacking cough was just on the horizon. He let out an involuntary ahh and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing harshly at his cherry-red nose and up into the corners of his eyes.

Holding it back was proving difficult. He could barely breathe without the tickle growing stronger. He could feel his nose running and went to press his sleeve over it for the third time like some kind of heathen when Bond pressed a handkerchief over his face. He offered a look of solidarity as Q took it from him.

“They’re going. Just a little long-”

But Q couldn’t hold on anymore. He toppled forwards into Bond’s handkerchief with a near-silent stifle but his nose wasn’t finished with him. One more stifle had his head pounding and then-

hhnYISHk! eng’ISHHOOh! hhiHZZHSHEW!

“Gesun-”

“N-not...done…”

hh...hhEHYSHHOO! ngh

Bond waited a moment this time before offering his gesundheit. Q blew his nose and let out a throaty, congested sigh. When he opened his watery eyes, he caught what might be described as a smile on Bond’s face but then he blinked and it was abruptly gone.

“Come on,” Bond said, grabbing Q’s hand again and dragging them onto the Victoria Line. Q stuffed the handkerchief into his chest pocket. Somehow, he didn’t think Bond would want it back; at least not until it had been washed.

Q coughed quietly into Bond’s shoulder and again didn’t ask why he’d chosen to sit beside him for the second time when facing each other would have made more sense. His nose still itched but it had settled to a dull roar which was much more manageable.

“What’d you do w’the laptop?” He mumbled and the question earned Bond’s hand on his burning forehead.

“I told you. I left it on the last train,” Bond said. “It’s on its way to Wembley.”

Q nodded. “Good thinking, 007. Maybe you don’t need me after all.”

He meant for it to sound light-hearted but, with his throat torn up from coughing, it came out more pitiful. Bond didn’t say anything but the way his arm wound round Q’s body and pulled him close said enough. On a better day, Q might have pulled back, might have snarked and grumbled and told Bond exactly where he could shove his pity - but he didn’t. Truth be told, Q craved this comfort right now and he wasn’t stupid enough to refuse it.

His nose was running again. Q ignored it.

“We’re getting off in just a second, Q,” Bond whispered against Q’s hair.

Q shifted, confused. “Vauxhall already?”

“We’re not going to HQ, yet,” Bond said, making Q sit up and give himself an awful headrush. He took his glasses off and rubbed his temples. “I...I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Q frowned. He’d known Bond long enough to know how good his instincts were. After short scrutiny of his face, he nodded.

Bond led him off the train at the next station and onto the District Line where they travelled to-

“Temple,” Q noted obviously as he stepped onto the platform, feeling the cold of the concrete platform numbing his toes. When they finally got back to HQ, he planned to wear at least four pairs of socks for the rest of the day.

Temple tube station - where Bond had chased after Silva following his escape. Q remembered it well.

Put your back into it.

Why don’t you come down here and put your back into it.

Q smiled fondly at the memory. But his smile quickly became a groaning frown as Bond led him into the service corridor and revealed what he’d just remembered came next - stairs. A lot of stairs.

With Bond right behind him, Q started up the stairs on wobbling legs. He just needed to sit down. Just needed to sit down. Please just let me sit down.

Climbing the ladders was painful on his feet, especially the injured one, but finally, wheezing and sweaty and with a dizzyingly high fever, Q finally let Bond gently push him up the last few steps and into the underground base they’d used following the explosion at Vauxhall Cross.

Finally, Q’s legs gave out on him and he sat down heavily against the nearest wall, instinctively curling into himself against the bitter chill of the place.

Just five minutes, he thought and shut his eyes. Just five minutes.

[justsomebucky]

The Only Exception (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes

A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.

And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

So far, your day was a total bust, and it was still early morning.

Your umbrella had blown away in some pretty ridiculous wind gusts, leaving you to get soaked in the rain as you made your way from the subway to Stark Tower for work.

Once you were inside, the elevators were so full that you were forced to squeeze in beside some people who ought to really reconsider the deodorant they were wearing (or buy some at all).

Then you got to your desk, and a post-it note was stuck to your laptop, asking you to go to the conference room beside your boss’ office.

Dammit.

You ran your fingers through your soaked hair, trying to seem presentable as you opened the door to the conference room.

Your supervisor, May Parker, sat at the head of the table, with her assistant Maria and your assistant Natasha on either side of her. There was no one else in the room except the HR person from upstairs. He was standing in the corner, flipping through some documents in his hands.

Oh, crap.

Were you being fired?

Why else would you be called here with HR present?

Your mind started reeling with all the different bills that lay on your kitchen counter, including two student loan bills. Your rent was due soon, too. What the hell were you going to do? You couldn’t afford to stay in Brooklyn if they fired you. What kind of monsters would fire you on a Thursday morning? They could at least-

May cleared her throat, interrupting your anxiety-ridden thoughts. “Y/N, do you know why we called you in here?”

You shook your head. “No, ma’am.”

She sighed, glancing between Nat and Maria. “We had to let Leah go today.”

“Wait, what? Leah?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. Leah was a coworker of yours. Well, she used to be. “You mean you aren’t firing me?”

“No. In fact, HR, we’re good here. You can go.”

The man nodded and gathered his things, leaving without another look back. May gestured to the empty seat next to Natasha, and you sat down obediently. 

“We have a little project for you until we find a replacement,” she informed you.

What the heck kind of project could they have for you from Leah’s team? She was into social media, the star of her own little YouTube show. Surely they were looking for another Leah to lead this. There’s no way they would want you to cover her show in the meantime.

“We want you to cover her show in the meantime.”

Oh.

Wait, what?

You blinked. “I have no experience with any of that.”

“No experience with love? Come on now, Y/N, even I’ve seen you reading those trashy romance novels on your lunch break. Plus, aren’t you seeing someone?” May laid her palms flat on the table. “Look, we’re in a pinch here, and you write advice articles all the time. I’m asking you to transition for a short while to also doing a little YouTube show here and there.”

You had a degree in psychology that hadn’t paid the bills after graduation, so you signed on to be a part of the team at September Media, a section of Stark Industries, writing a little column online.

Sometimes your column was based on reader questions, and sometimes it was just about something that was plaguing you that day. May was your boss, and she typically stayed out of your way when it came to work.

The advice you gave was more along the lines of life advice; ways to cope with stress and anxiety, how to find the silver lining, don’t give up on yourself…that sort of thing. Plus, you never had to appear in any videos or speak on podcasts or anything like that.

Leah, on the other hand, dealt strictly in love advice. She had a popular show on September’s YouTube channel that got millions of hits every week. You suspected half of it was because she was a former model, though you didn’t want to insinuate that she wasn’t good at her job (because you’d actually never watched her show).

Who had the time for nonsense like that? Nothing ever worked out as smoothly as in those romance novels you liked to read. There was no hot guy with loads of cash waiting in the wings to save you from your drab life. Fiction (and Disney) had ruined your hope of ever finding someone to sweep you off your feet.

And really, you didn’t even need to be swept off your feet. You simply needed someone who wasn’t going to live on your couch with no job while they watched anime porn all day. You needed someone who didn’t have a weird affinity for both their own mother and people’s toes. You’d heard these horror stories from your coworkers, and yes, people like that apparently existed.

Where had all the good ones gone?

Dating was so awful, and no amount of advice would ever make the experience better for you.

In fact, the last date you had been on was a total disaster. Your friends and coworkers had insisted that you try online dating, so you did. You actually put yourself out there, despite all of your hesitations.

It turned out, online dating was mostly a weird mix of lewd propositions and dick pics, but on occasion you’d get a message from a decent human.

Even so, the last guy you’d actually met for a coffee date had left with another woman while you were in the restroom.

“I’m so completely under-qualified to offer advice for romantic relationships, May. I’ve only had one recent date, and it didn’t go well at all. I’m not sure what I could possibly have to offer a program like this.”

May nodded, staring at you (and kind of making you uncomfortable) as she appeared to completely ignore this information. “I’m sure you’re a quick learner, Y/N, and I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice here. You’re the new romance advice person until we find a replacement.”

“But I’m not good at lovey-dovey bullshit,” you pressed on, trying to get her to see your side of things. “I don’t have it in me!”

“Then pretend,” May replied, turning to your assistant-slash-friend. “Nat, I know it’s not really your job, but you’re going to have to help her with whatever her hair is trying to do, and get her in front of the camera ASAP.”

May stood up and quickly made her way to the door, pausing for only a moment. “You’ll do great, kiddo, I know it. It’s just temporary. One, maybe two weeks tops!” With a small smile, May left the conference room, putting some finality on your fate.

You sat back in your chair, feeling a little numb. “This cannot be happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. I suggest you get ready. Leah had an episode already scripted for today, but we’ll just have you read the questions, and you can answer as you see fit.” Maria gave you a small smile of encouragement. “You’ve got the training, Y/N. Time to use it for some lovey-dovey bullshit.”

About an hour later, after giving yourself a pep talk in the mirror of the women’s room, you were sat in front of a low-tech, camera-and-laptop situation, in what used to be Leah’s huge, beautiful office. “Why the hell did she get an office like this, and I’m stuck out in the bullpen?”

You frowned up at Scott Lang, your camera man for this temporary gig. He’d always helped Leah with her episodes, so now he’d been assigned to help you. His regular job was to write about advances in technology, especially the strides that Tony Stark and his team were making.

Scott merely shrugged. “She brought in a lot of ad revenue.”

“Yeah, I bet she did,” you muttered, looking out the window to the New York skyline.

That’s what you did when you felt your anxiety trying to take a hold of you, and the city you loved never failed to calm you down. You took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly as your eyes scanned the familiar skyscrapers.

“Look, Y/N, your advice is helpful to a lot of people, but so was Leah’s. It’s hard to make a relationship work these days. If she helped even one person, it was worth it.”

Your eyes flickered back to Scott’s face as you studied him. He was staring down at the camera, messing with some of the settings, but you could tell his mind was a million miles away to his ex-wife and daughter.

He had a point. If Leah could provide some comfort to people, then she was doing something good for people. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“It’s fine.” Scott offered you a sincere grin. “You ready?”

“Just a minute. This has been bothering me all day…I’ve been wondering, why did Leah get fired?”

“Oh.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “She got caught accepting vacations and jewelry and stuff from some of Mr. Stark’s clients. It’s a breach of contract.”

You burst out laughing. “Ah, geez. No worry of that happening with me, trust me. I can’t even get a free drink. Let’s get this over with shall we?”

“All right, I’m going to count down and you will have to introduce yourself, okay? Then you can just dive right into the selected viewer questions.”

“Got it.” At least, you hoped so.

“In three, two…” Scott held up a finger to signal one second, then pointed at you.

“Hi everyone, my name is Y/N, and this is Love Advice with…Y/N. Really? That’s the name of this show? Very original. Anyways, Leah is no longer going to be hosting, but never fear, I’m here temporarily to offer you vague advice and false hope in love.”

Scott made a face at you over the camera, but you pressed on, figuring your cynicism would help you through this ridiculous situation. Maybe if you were bad enough, they would find someone who actually wanted to talk about romance on YouTube.

“Let’s just get to the first question! Dear Leah – and again, I’m not Leah, so please address next week’s questions to the Love Therapist, because that’s my new show name. Anyways, dear Leah, I’m supposed to be getting married to someone this weekend, but I’m having second thoughts. I’ve only known him for seven months – is that long enough to know you want to spend your life with someone? I’ve been worrying all week, and I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure he’s The One. Sincerely, Confused in Brooklyn.”

You made a face at the question as you read it off of the laptop in front of you, then you made a face at the camera. “Oh, confused is right. You sound utterly lost, my friend. Listen, if you are even remotely unsure of this relationship moving to the next level, the worst thing you can do is legally commit to this man. Seven months might be enough for some people, but is it right for you?”

Scott made a motion for you to wrap it up; apparently you were not only supposed to answer dumb questions, but you were supposed to offer short, bad advice. No way. If you were doing this, you were going to do it right.

You weren’t Leah. This poor person needed help.

“Confused, you need to take a good look at your own wants and needs, and figure out if that guy meets them, because if you aren’t sure about him and still go through with the wedding, it’s on you. You’re going to make yourself unhappy, and he will eventually be unhappy, too. Neither of you deserves that. Be an adult, assess your relationship, and then decide. Okay, our next question comes from Lonely in Astoria…”

“I heard you were brutal in every episode,” Nat laughed, snapping a selfie with her coffee cup in view. “First week on assignment and you really didn’t hold back.” You watched from across the table as she posted the picture to her Instagram account. It wasn’t anything new to you to see her doing that; she was always on the lookout for the perfect selfie.

Maybe she should be doing this show instead of you.

The two of you were getting coffee on the corner near your apartment before heading to see a movie down the street. It was some much needed vegging-out time. You didn’t want to have to think too hard today.

“Smile!”

You didn’t even have time to react as she snapped your picture, posting it with the hashtag #grumpyneedscoffee and tagging you.

“You know, it’s not safe to always post your location so blatantly like that. Or mine…especially mine.”

“Oh yeah, we’ve got loads of stalkers. Maybe I wanted to invite them, what do you think about that?” Nat stuck her tongue out at you, then took another selfie. “Hashtag: come stalk us.”

“You’re so hilarious,” you muttered, looking away. Your eyes scanned the faces in the crowd outside, and you couldn’t help but wonder if any of them watched your stupid little show.

You hoped not.

Saturday had finally arrived with a reprieve from work, and you were thrilled that your stint of being the Love Therapist was almost over. May had promised to find a replacement after two weeks.

You hadn’t bothered to ask for feedback, because you just didn’t care.

“I was not brutal,” you added. “I was merely being honest. Just because Leah told people what they wanted to hear, it doesn’t mean that she was giving good advice. Wasn’t I right about Dan the Jerk? The one who lied to you and said he was visiting a sick uncle in Hartford, when he was really sneaking out to see his other girlfriend?”

“You were right,” Natasha relented. “He was garbage, but I just got unlucky that time. I’ve also had plenty of decent dates. Not every man is like that, Y/N. Why can’t you just be hopeful for once? Other people have love and you haven’t found someone yet, so what? You’re gonna find an exception to the rule. You’re gonna find someone soon, and I just hope you don’t push him away just because you’re suspicious and cynical.”

You were about to reply with something a little less-than-nice, but before you could, two firemen walked into the coffee shop in full gear, and you found yourself unable to look away. God, it was just like one of those horrible romance books you adored. A fireman walks into a coffee shop…

“Earth to Y/N,” Natasha said, waving her hand in front of your face. She followed your line of sight to see what caught your attention. “Are you really into firemen or do you know one of them?”

“So what if I have a thing for guys in uniforms,” you said sheepishly, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m allowed to look. What does it matter? They always have hot girlfriends or wives, anyways.”

The two of you glanced back over at the two men. One was blond with blue eyes, and one had brown hair with blue-grey eyes. Both were over-the-top attractive.

“Which one do you want?” Nat whispered.

“I think I like the brunette,” you replied, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. It wasn’t like you to objectify someone, but you let yourself have this one indulgence.

“Good, because that blond has an ass on him that I want to bite!” Natasha rested her chin on her hand with a dramatic sigh.

“Stop,” you exclaimed with a laugh. “Just stop.”

You must have laughed too loudly, because you found yourself locked in a staring contest with the hottie brunette fireman.

His eyes widened, and he turned back to say something to his buddy, which made the other guy turn and look, too. The blond fireman shook his head, as if he was protesting what the brunette was saying.

That’s when the brunette fireman began walking over to you with a determined look, and the blond man trailed behind, looking like he was completely against the idea.

“Oh, shit, Y/N! You got their attention! See?” Natasha sat up, putting on her best flirty look. You felt like a potato next to her. “Be cool. Don’t mess this up for us.”

There was no time for a comeback, because the men were suddenly right beside your table.

“Hey! You’re that Love Therapist, aren’t you?” the brunette asked. “Y/N, right?”

“Right,” you said nervously, offering a smile. “It’s just a temporary stint, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I’m Bucky Barnes, and this is my best friend Steve Rogers. We’re both based in Brooklyn here.”

“Hi there, I’m Natasha. Why are two handsome fellas like you watching a love advice show on YouTube?” Natasha smiled at them, laying it on thick. “I’m sure you don’t have trouble with the ladies?”

Bucky’s expression darkened a little, and he offered no reply, so Steve answered for him. “Uh…we used to watch because the old host was pretty hot. The guys got a kick out of it at the station.” Steve looked back at you. “No offense, I mean, you’re a sight too, it’s just that…”

“Hey, I completely get it.” You held both your hands up jokingly for a second. “Leah brought in the viewers, that’s for sure. But like I said, it’s not my real job, I’m just filling in.”

“So you’re offering advice that you aren’t really qualified to offer, then?” Bucky’s expression was now more like a glare, and a chill rolled down your spine.

“She’s qualified, she has a degree in psychology,” Natasha supplied, finally noticing the change in Bucky’s demeanor. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Steve answered again for him. “It’s nothing. It was nice to meet you ladies, but we should be getting back to work.” He tried to pull Bucky away from the table, but his attention once again fixed on you.

“Can I call you sometime?” The corner of his mouth lifted a little.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was this guy nuts or something? Three seconds ago he was giving you a death glare, and now he was smiling. “Me?”

Bucky’s blue-grey eyes sparkled; now he seemed to be flirting with you, of all things. “Yeah, maybe we can go out sometime.”

“Um.” You looked at Natasha for help, since your thoughts were a little muddled. The attractive fireman, the one you would have picked out for yourself if you could, was asking you out after seeming a little put-off by your line of work. What the hell were you going to say?

“She’d love to go,” Natasha answered, looking to Steve. “In fact, maybe we can make it a double date?”

Steve’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea. What are you girls doing tonight?”

The movies now seemed a little too intimate for some reason. The darkness, sitting beside one another…that would be too much for a first date in your opinion.

“We were going to a bar,” you blurted out. “You can join us if you want.” Where was this newfound ability to get yourself a date coming from?

“Here,” Bucky said, reaching for your phone that was sitting on the table in front of you. You stared in total shock as he plugged his number in, then sent himself a text. “Now we have each other’s numbers. We’ll meet up later after our shift is over, okay?”

“Okay, see you later,” you replied meekly.

This was all a little surreal; did being on a popular internet show really nab you a hot fireman just now? Leah must have been rolling in attention from hotties! Who needed a dating app and creepy dudes messaging you, when you could be recognized in a coffee shop?

Once they were gone, you turned to look at Natasha. “What the hell just happened?”

“You’re internet famous now, cupcake, and we’ve got a double date with two of the hottest guys in Brooklyn!” Natasha did a little happy dance. “I’m definitely going to need to go shopping, and since I’ve seen your closet, so are you.”

“But-“

“No buts! Firemen, Y/N! Hot firemen! We are definitely going shopping!”

“Fine,” you agreed, pretending to be miserable. “But only because I think I read about this in one of my trashy novels once, and I wanna see if it ends with me getting to see a fireman’s pole, too.”

“I wouldn’t bring that up later if I were you.” Natasha laughed, hitting your arm. “Come on, weirdo. Let’s go.”

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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Story tags are open!

[houseplant-central]

This post will contain spoilers about the entirety of the Star Wars Christmas Special, if you’ve never seen it I HIGHLY recommend you do so with fresh, unknowing eyes because it is an absolute experience. Link here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hH8rxarVG8&t=1278s

This post will also contain spoilers for other Star Wars films, but if you've uhhh ever been on the internet you will have already seen such things.

We open on a black screen and a straight to TV movie announcer voice establishing that Chewie needs to get home to his family for life day (Wookiee Christmas). We seen Han and Chewie in the falcon for like, 5 seconds, and then we sit through 5 minutes of including an add for General Motors. Apparently Chewie’s father’s name is “Itchy”, his son’s name is “Lumpy”, but his wife gets the normal name of Mala.

Also, Chewie having a family completely changes the moral values of his character. Sure, after the events of the first film he’s involved in war so he has to be away, but before the first Star Wars film are we to presume that Chewie is a dead beat father who left his wife with their young son to go be a smuggler with Han? Or is the economy on the Wookiee planet so bad that this was a necessary move? Mala’s house seems quite middle class but perhaps that’s only because she’s been provided with Chewie’s smuggling money? But him and Han are in debt? Or is only Han in debt? There are a few ways this could shake out but it’s more likely than not that Chewie willingly chose a life where he rarely sees his kid, Lumpy (I can’t type Lumpy without laughing) and, what the hell, man?

!!! After writing this I remembered than Chewie has a life debt to Han as of the recent Solo movie canon. So in fact it is Han who's dragged this poor man away from his family and allows him to visit only once a year. The questions about the wookie economy remain however.

Then we get like ten minutes of the three Wookiees speaking Wookiee to one another with no subtitles. This will set the tone for the film, I’m afraid. Lumpy watches a hologram circus for a few minutes and then refuses the do the dishes. Mala checks the TRAFFIC report even though Chewie and Han are? In space? And being chased by imperials? And then skypes Luke on a hidden tv that seems to be just for Skyping Luke’s garage.

Luckily for us, Luke is in his garage, in an orange jumpsuit and ten pounds of eyeshadow. He’s condescending to the Wookiees for about 5 minutes while staring directly into the camera and not blinking and then tells Mala to smile which she does, in a terrifying manner, and then I guess Mark Hamill had to go because something explodes in his garage and then Skype connection is conveniently lost. (And no, we don’t ever check on him until the final scene, which is more likely than not a communal drug trip and not an actual confirmation that Luke is okay).

Mala checks the traffic again and this time gets direct footage of the Wookiee planet trading post? There, a discount Vader says “I hate fish” very passionately, after being handed a minuscule aquarium which is just apparently for if you want a pet fish you can keep in your pocket at all times?  

We cut directly to actual Vader, who says he’s going to search “every household in the system for the rebels”. The implication here is that this could ruin Mala’s Life Day, which is HILARIOUS because what about the other implications of Vader having enough men to search “every household in the system”?

We cut directly from the enemy starship to mala cooking. Not in a juxtaposition way, but in a “we forgot what genre this film is”, “four minutes of Chinese medical drama inserted into iron man three for the Chinese release” kind of way.

(https://www.google.ca/amp/s/www.hollywoodreporter.com/amp/news/iron-man-3-china-scenes-450184)

Mala watches a cooking show which features a British drag queen, and Chewie and Han fight a handful of imperial fighters in the middle of nowhere in space.

An imperial soldier skypes the Chewbacca residence reminding them that he’ll be coming around to look for rebels (and WHY is Chewie coming home if he’s going to endanger his family?) The guy who runs the trading post arrives with a part so they can tell him about how Chewie’s late. He also makes Chewie’s wife kiss him on the cheek which is.... a little weird. Lumpy gets a present that’s basically space lego, Mala gets some sort of sewing machine and old man Itchy gets a virtual reality headset that shows him 10 minutes of some lady in space posing, whispering and singing erotically and saying things like “I am your fantasy, I am your pleasure”. Which we of course have to watch as well for 10 minutes. Occasionally we cut back to Itchy’s face in the VR and he is concerning my into it.

As one review aptly pointed out “I wonder what Chewie’s father fantasizes about is not one of the things I wanted to know after watching A New Hope”.

Sexy space hologram actually has quite a powerful singing voice, but watching old man Itchy watch VR erotica while Han and Chewie are fighting for their lives is.... weird.

We immediately cut to Leia and C3PO who Skype in the Wookiee residence. Leia ends up speaking to the guy who runs the trading post who’s.... still at Mala’s house, because she’d rather speak English than have C3PO translate for Mala and her. Leia decides Mala is in “good hands” with this trading post guy, and Carrie Fisher’s first cameo is over.

They turn on the TV and an imperial reminds them that he’ll be coming around soon to check their houses for rebels (why is Chewie coming home if he’s a wanted man here?). As the man on the tv says this him and storm troopers show up at the door (so I guess it was recorded). There’s some casual anti-Wookiee racism and then they guy from the trading post covers for them by saying the husband of the house ran out after a fight. The imperials decide to wait for the man of the house.

The trading post guy shows them mala’s sewing machine which is, in fact, a small tv shaped like a sewing machine. We watch the imperial soldier watch a music video on the mini tv. This goes on for 6 minutes and even I skipped ahead.

The music video is so dope the imperials deicide they’re going to leave, and then they don’t. And then they search upstairs. The leader loudly announces he wants them to find evidence to connect this house to the alliance (even though they don’t even know chewy lives here, I guess they just don’t like Lumpy and Itchy?)

One of them nearly shoots Lumpy just for being annoying (which, fair, his childish Wookiee noises are annoying as hell). Mala turns on a cartoon for him, which is A CARTOON ABOUT THE REBEL ALLIANCE, which Lumpy then watches WHILE THE IMPERIALS ARE IN THE HOUSE SEARCHING IT I...???

And also when was a cartoon about the rebels produced and how was it distributed when the empire is still in charge. It’s only been a few months since the distraction of the Death Star— even if they were going to make a propaganda cartoon about the rebel leaders wouldn’t they? Make it about what happened? Why make a cartoon about events that didn’t happen?

Also the cartoon just feels like somebody by was vaguely described the original Star Wars franchise while drunk.

Boba Fett is in the cartoon too, for some reason, and is actively working with the empire as opposed to Jaba.

The imperials search through ONLY Lumpy’s room, and find nothing (who would hide their rebel alliance stuff in their kid’s room anyways?) Mala is undisturbed by this destruction, happy that Lumpy will be busy cleaning for a bit, which is pretty fucking cold if you ask me.

Then we get to the famous instruction tape scene. Lumpy watches an instructional video for a “transmitter” part that does not exist in real life and we watch him watch it for 8 minutes.

We switch to an “imperial made” program about the moral evils of Tatooine, which is actually a short rom-com about the canteena. This naturally spirals into an anti-empire musical number.

Chewie and Han arrive just in time to save Lumpy from a stormtrooper and then Han tells Chewie’s family they’re “like family to him” with the deadest eyes and they all stare at each other for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Mala and Chewie have as sentimental of a reunion as two Wookiees can have. We transition directly from the threat of the empire to the Wookiee family of four holding their life day candles which, of course, cues up the weird psychedelic music video that is all the Wookiees of the planet singing silently and then walking slowly in their red robes through space into the light.

The Wookiees of the planet then, all sharing this fever dream together, greet in front of the great tree to murmur and hold their candles. Unclear whether there was a quick costume change or if they’re all astral projecting together. We get a small speech from C3P0 and then the main trio absolutely steal the spotlight, with Leia singing a long song and Han staring into the middle ground like he has no idea where he is. The Wookiees, whose holiday this is, get to say basically nothing. A Wookiee baby seems to have been baptised, but it’s unclear. Leia also stands next to Chewie and pets his chest weirdly even though we have literally just spent the last hour and a half establishing that he’s a married man. As the Wookiees all gather at the tree, Chewie has a flashback that basically recounts the first film, including events he was not present for.

Chewie and his three family members pray over life day dinner, and credits roll over the drawing of his house.

So what does all this actually change about the Star Wars canon? Not much, especially considering that the actors involved genuinely refuse to admit that it ever happened. It was an obvious cash grab after the success of the first film, that much is obvious. But it does imply a few things about the characters in canon, and it has created a few good memes.

The implications:

- Han is a uncle-ish figure to Chewie's kid, despite being a terrible influence

- The economy on the wookie homeplanet is NOT GOOD considering they only have one trading post. Either nobody has thought of the concept of exporting raw materials like all the funky trees with funky lumber that they have, or the empire is just exporting what they need without paying the wookies anything.

- Either Han or Chewie is responsible for Chewie's kid having an absent father figure.

- Leia learned how to sing at one point

- Between A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back when they reach Hoth Luke went to live somewhere with a garage? Instead of training for imminent war? And Han and Chewie fucked off to go back to smuggling.

- Leia is like, a little racist? Possibly unconsciously because of her upbringing? But she calls Chewbacca's house to say hello and then when no English speakers are there says she might as well go despite having a translator. Which is weird because as a diplomat you would think she'd sit through translated conversations all the time.

- Owning a pet fish is still a thing in the future. (If you're about to say "actually it's all set in the past, not the future, because it says "a long time ago"!" screw off, you know what I mean).  

- VR softcore porn exists.

- Hair metal, as a musical genre still exists.

- There is a cartoon about Luke, Leia and Han in canon which presumably Luke, Leia and Han would be able to watch.

- The empire is able to keep tabs on how many Wookiees live in each residence on the Wookiee home planet, but are not able to keep tabs on which Wookie it was that was spotted with the rebels.

- Han is even more of an asshole in A New Hope than previously established, because he says he doesn't by into religion and that anyone who does is stupid but he KNOWS Chewbacca is a religious man, and Chewie is sitting right there.

The memes:

- THIS lovely face from Lumpy:

- The Wookies all walking into the light.

- Mark Hamill not blinking for 5 straight minutes.

- Bantha Loin.

- Life day itself.

- and of course, Harrison Ford denying this movie ever existed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7TGWOHTdac