#i should get my head out of this rabbit hole asap

[elenadoeslife]

your first love hits different

[boydepartment]

Pizza Parlor- Lee Felix: Chapter Ten!

Description: Y/n is a stressed-out college student who has no idea what she is doing with her life. She is always wrapped up in nostalgia and her friends seem to know exactly what they're doing. Feeling insecure one night she decides to go on an old website. Club Penguin. Little does she know; she would encounter a certain penguin who was also having a rough night.

Stray Kids are idols, TXT is not.

Partial smau, mainly written.

Warnings for chapter 10: cursing I think??

WC- 2.1k

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masterlist

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Song for Chapter 10: Redbone - Come and Get Your Love

Chapter 10: Only my Girlfriend gets kisses.

After Felix dropped you off you were practically on cloud nine. You smiled to yourself as you set the flowers down at the table. You took out the brownies from your backpack and decided to try one.

Oh

My

God

Now you knew why his friends called him brownie boy. This was such a good balance of everything that was amazing about brownies.

A few hours later, Lea and Kai ended up coming home exhausted. You felt bad because it was late and they had to get up early tomorrow too, they pretty much asked about your day then went to sleep. That didn’t bother you though, you know it was a really busy day and you didn’t want to overwhelm them or anything. You ended up just watching YouTube on the couch until eventually knocking out and accidentally crashing on the couch. When you slept up you felt someone taping something on you, but you didn’t question it. You just simply rolled over and kept sleeping.

 You kept rolling over until the paper crunching sound got too annoying to deal with. You got up rubbing your eyes, it was a note from Kai and Lea, it was pretty much them telling you they are headed out for the day. You groggily poured a bowl of this random sugary cereal Kai bought and then you munched down. Kai and Lea had been texting you photos of the set they were on and you started to giggly, even though they were tired they were still so enthusiastic about this. It was sweet.

You killed some time by using Kai’s switch, he gave you permission of course. He needed you to do his daily chores like the weeds and now farming. You ended up killing A LOT of time.

A few hours later you checked your phone and saw you had a text from Felix saying he was excited for tonight's movie night. His roommates were ecstatic to see you too. It made you really happy to know you would meet his friends who you have also talked to. You hopped into the shower and washed up. You didn’t know what you should wear tonight, you didn’t want to dress like a slob. You pulled out your phone.

You sighed in relief. You picked up a pair of joggers and a hoodie, that should be good enough. You still couldn’t believe he was Lee Felix from Stray Kids. Well…

The next few giggles that escaped you ended with you on the couch now looking up Stray Kids. The secret of his was out. So now you could enjoy this group as much as you wanted.

Opening YouTube on your phone you started to go down that rabbit hole again. Watching Felix preform and seeing him be so passionate about his work was so amazing. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies knowing that this was the guy who kissed YOU yesterday. You smiled to yourself and kicked your feet. Felix from Stra- CLUB PENGUIN wanted to be around you. You started to go through all the popular music videos and little things he said really did all make sense. Getting distracted by this you didn’t even notice the time. The next thing you knew there was a knock at the door. You rushed up to answer. Swinging open the door you saw Felix whose eyes lit up when he saw you.

                “I am finally done with work, and I came here asap.” Felix threw his arms around you and spun you a little just like he did the day before. You started laughing.

                “You remembered where the Air BnB was?” You said between laughs. Felix pulled away and looked offended.

                “Uh yeah, I walked you home! It is also right by my work.” He said, and then heard what was playing from your phone. He put his hand over his chest.

                “You broke our pinky promise…” Felix said acting hurt.

You playfully rolled your eyes and walked to your phone to get it and pause, “Feeelllix you already told me the big secret.” He smiled and rolled his eyes walking in after you.

                “Lemme just get my backpack and stuff then we can head out.” You said and walked to the other room. You just left Felix here in the living room but when you walked back, he was gone. Your brows furrowed.

                “AH!” Felix jumped out and scared you so bad. You yelped and he started laughing before he hugged you again.

                “Ready pretty?”

You nodded and he led you out to a car?

                “It’s kinda a drive to the dorm so I begged Minho to drive, I didn’t want the staff to actually kill me.” He chuckled and opened the backseat door for you. Then he got in after you.

                “What am I an uber?” Minho joked and turned around as much as he could, “hi Y/n.”

                “Hi Minho.” You laughed, he put his hand out to shake and you shook it. You had talked to him a lot over FaceTime with Felix. He started driving and Minho and Felix would go over different stories they had while the staff drove them. It varied from one of their friends vomiting in the car, to another getting tangled in the seatbelt, nonetheless you were all laughing the whole car ride. When you got out you saw that you guys waited a bit before doing anything.

                “Sometimes we have to wait and check outside.” Minho said, he got out of the car and pulled something from the back of the car, “throw this on your head or something sorry if it smells bad.”

                “DUDE!” Felix caught it and smelled it, he shrugged, “okay its fine here.” He put in on your head and tucked your hair in, now laughing at what he created.

                “You’re totally messing up my hair.” You put your hood on after shoving him.

                “This is JUST IN CASE!” Felix said and the two of you got out of the car, now walking up to the complex. It almost reminded you of home. When Minho unlocked the door instantly you heard an abundance of yelling.

                “It’s not usually like this in this dorm…” Minho mumbled then started stomping over. You and Felix followed him.

                “I HEARD MINHO WAS COOKING SO I CAME OVER!” This guy who you didn’t really recognize said rather loudly.

                “Okay now where did you hear that because I sure as hell didn’t tell you.” Oh! This one you did recognize. This was Seungmin.

                “Um JEONGI-“ before this guy could even finish speaking the whole room went silent when they all noticed you.

                “Oh my god Y/N!” Seungmin pranced over to you to take you in, out of all of Felix’s friends you were definitely closest to him and Minho, “ew why are you wearing that old hat from the car, doesn’t it smell?”

Minho had to yank the other guy into the hall and all you saw was Minho whisper yelling and swaying his arms around. Felix took your hood off and took the beanie off throwing it on Seungmin.

                “Ew!” He swung around and threw the beanie across the room.

                “Minho cooked because he knew you were coming over.” Felix said, “he wanted to give you a warm welcome but apparently Han thought he was welcome too.” Felix draped his arm around you and took you towards the kitchen.

                “It smells great!” You said now smelling whatever Minho is cooking.

                “Minho cooks sometimes.” Seungmin said and leaned on the counter, “I wish he cooked more.”

Jeongin came stomping out of the hallway and saw you, “Y/N IS HERE!” He waved to you, and you waved back. Then the other guy came out from the hallway with Minho.

                “That’s Han by the way.” Felix whispered down to you, you looked up at Felix almost bumping noses with him, “the moshi monster guy?” You joked, he nodded and chuckled.

You ended up eating dinner with them and it tasted fantastic, Minho really was a great cook. After, you and Felix headed to his room to watch a movie.

                “I am really happy you are next to me.” He ended up sprawled out on you.

                “I think you’ve mentioned.” You smiled at him fondly. Felix rolled his eyes and continued to snuggle into you.

                “I don’t want you to leave…” He mumbled into the side of your arm. You felt your face heat up.

                “You wouldn’t get any work done.” You teased, he looked up at you and flicked your forehead. Lightly, he didn’t want to full-blown flick you.

Sighing he replied, “you’re probably right.” You played with his hair and he kept looking at you, leaning into your touch.

                “Can you kiss me again?” You asked, just above a whisper. You saw his lips curve into a smile.

                “Only if you become my girlfriend, only girlfriends get kisses.” He laid his head back down on you, still keeping eye contact.

                “And how would that work?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Felix sat up a bit and readjusted, “I can fly you out whenever, we can call, I already used to make time for you it wouldn’t be any different.”

                “You’re crazy Lee Felix.” You were grinning at him. He matched your energy.

                “Okay and?”

                “I love you for that.” You kissed him and he kissed you back. Then he suddenly pulled away.

                “So, wait, does that mean you’re my girlfriend?” Felix asked, you smiled and rolled your eyes.

                “Yes, obviously!”

After that he kissed you again but then you pulled away, “what about the staff wont they be mad?”

Felix thought for a moment, “yeah, I’m not under a ban anymore though, I can date if I want to.”

                “Okay resume then.”

He started laughing before he moved some hair out of your eyes and kissed you again.

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Taglist: @bloofairyfox@yellowroses-world@g4m3girl@forevrglow@nepytune @rensimps @curly-fr13s @amara-mars

Taglist is always open :) if I ever accidentally leave out a tag please just remind me. I have horrible goldfish memory.

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Author's note: Hi guuuuuyyyyyssss ehehehehhe i have been so busy with college, this one teacher keeps going back and forth with assignments and it has really been stressing me out. It will be okay though, from not on I will just fix my assignments whenever she asks. At first I didn't even see the comments on the online program my school uses and so that's my bad. However, its fine. I will get over it, the rest of my classes are okay so that's what's important.

I really hope everyone is doing well today, I have noticed everyone has been really sleepy and tired today :( If you are feeling like that I recommend some yoga! Or if you're feeling a little wild, pilates! I absolutely adore pilates! Remember to eat well today please, with tiredness comes forgetfulness, and eating is so important to keep us humans growing.

If you guys need anything at all, let me know! I will be happy to listen or hunt for edits to send you guys <3

I love you and I am proud of you!

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Which gods are more likely to go down to earth and just spend time with fem!MC?

All of them

No but seriously, if any MC were to catch their attention, they would want to spend time with them in various ways. Since this specified a fem!MC though, I will oblige~!

So to start, here’s a list of those who would freely go and visit her (or as I like to call them: the “frequent fliers”):

Cater, Floyd, Ace, Rook, Kalim, Deuce, Lilia, Leona, Malleus, Ruggie, and Epel.

These deities have a habit of randomly showed up to see what she’s doing and joining or—as it seems to happen more often than not—pulling her along to experience something fun and amazing. It can be a mixed bag of course, and some are very unpredictable, so I hope she’s flexible and patient with the notoriously fickle ones!

[Can you blame them though? There’s so much we wanna share, but mortals only have a short amount of time to experience it all!]

Wah!? Wait, Cater? What’re you doing here? Should…you really even be here to comment on this sort of thing?

[Eh, my responses would be the same regardless if I’m here or not, so why not join in on this one? Besides, I wouldn’t be a very good muse if I didn’t help with feedback and commentary, now would I?]

Well…okay. So in your opinion, who would try to invite a fem!MC to hang out with them?

[Good question! Let’s see…of course I’m okay with visiting and inviting them! As for the others, I’d say: Azul, Jamil, Jade, and Riddle. Oh, and Ortho! I’ve heard he’s likely to try and invite her to see his brother and play games.]

Oh neat! So what about the others? How or what would they do?

[That one’s a toughie, but I guess with the rest it can vary based on how close she’s able to get to them. For a big shot like Vil, it’s tricky getting his attention when he already has so many mortals and disciples seeking it for themselves. He rarely ever leaves his realm or invites anyone outside of the pantheon, so there’s gotta be a trick of sorts to get his attention! And then there are those who act tough but are totally big softies.]

So, what about those like Sebek?

[With him? Hopefully she’s brought earplugs! Jk, jk~! But seriously, mad props to the gal for getting him to enjoy any mortal’s company. He’s not exactly easy to get along with, so you’d have to impress him somehow.]

Oh, so like the time Epel carved apples into mini statues for him in the game?

[What game?]

……I don’t think I’m ready to go down that rabbit hole of a paradox with you. I already made that mistake with Che’nya.

[It was a fun place~!]

[AH!!]

AH!!!

[Che’nya?! What-? Where’d you come from?! And stop creeping us out with just your floating head!!]

[I was just browsing around when I heard my name and decided to join ya. So this is the blog that Riddle and Trey told me about, hm?]

[Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can just drop in unannounced!]

Well…the others would eventually get introduced into the blog, so why not?

[Hm...I guess you’re right. So, Che’nya, since everyone else that’s been revealed so far has already been placed, how would you spend time with a fem!MC?]

[Hmm…I’d pop in wherever she was~! Maybe take her to my dimension—whichever seems more fun at the time.]

[Eh-heh…well, I guess someone’ll have fun with surprises, huh Faun?......Faun? Faun?! Where’d she go?!]

[Fufufu~! Perhaps this way, or maybe that way? Anyway, I guess ya don’t need me anymore, so I’m going. Fufufu~]

[Hey! Get back he--!...aaaaand he’s gone. Ugh…sorry, peeps. Cay-Cay’s gotta go save Faun from another dimension…again. So sit tight and we’ll be back ASAP!]

[doctorstephenvincentstrange]

What If S1E4 Meta: The True “Heart”

The same way Stephen couldn’t let go of Christine in the fourth installment of What If...?, I haven’t been able to shake this episode off and out of my head since watching it. I’m pretty sure it’s put me through the grieving process. Lately, it’s been haunting me like a ghost, and while mentally revisiting it for the fourteen millionth time, I realized something BRUTAL that I just had to share ASAP!

Hear me out, homies. What if...

The running theme and title of the episode was Stephen Strange losing his “heart.” But although the setup and storyline seems to suggest the euphemism refers to Christine Palmer, it doesn’t! The “heart” of Stephen Strange is not the girl of his dreams he lost in that car accident, but the greater man he had gained.

OK LISTEN. Let me have a shot to show you what I see (even in shite quality, pardon my crappy screenshots). Let’s start with the DS1 recap, 'cuz I’m still not over the first movie, either, and it’s relevant.

Like the watcher explained, after the devastating and tragic death of the love of his life, Stephen Strange began to look for answers. Not different from Stephen Strange of the sacred timeline, he was obsessed with reversing the great loss and trauma he’d endured. It was with the same perfectionism that made him a great surgeon, that Stephen sought the power to “find his own way back.”

... By any means necessary. 

They both discover that “power” they were searching for when they stumble upon time magic. However, Stephen is lectured that time magic is something that could risk the stability of the universe, and should never be done lightly and certainly never for the sake of one person over all others. Although harm is not his nature and Stephen doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he struggles to give up on his quest to heal his hands, or alternatively, to resurrect Christine. He was told a solution wasn’t out there, but found it in the Book of Cagliostro.

Despite every person that told him it couldn’t be done, Stephen can’t accept that. He won’t admit there’s nothing that can be done, there has to be something he can do. He’s conceited with the delusion he can alter his past to better his present. And he won’t be swayed of it.

But when the Ancient One fell, Stephen Strange rose to take her place and fend against the invading Dormammu. He saw for the first time the world that was so much bigger than him, that he could do so much good for, more than good only for himself. He saw the millions of lives that had not yet been lost to tragedy he could prevent and save from it, even if not what hardships had already been done and could not be undone in his own life. Things he could save, not fix.

And it wasn’t his own life he saved with that time magic in the end, but earth itself. And Stephen Strange became something much bigger than himself. No matter what he’d lost in that car accident, he learned there was still much more he could gain, regardless of what he’d lost. He didn’t need to fix his hands. They were still good.

Better than his brilliant mind, was his beautiful heart. 

His capacity for goodness, not greatness.

And yet, for all the good he’d achieved and learned, on the two year anniversary of Christine’s death, Stephen can’t help but get sucked into his past, and in a moment of weakness, allow his grief power over him once more. He can’t stop reliving the past. He loops it over and over again, trying to reverse fate, trying to find a way to spare Christine and find that “miracle” that must exist to spare her.

The Ancient One has sensed his presence and meddling with the Eye of Agamotto, and warns Stephen that the path he had set himself on would lead him only to more pain. When Stephen refuses to be reasoned with, the Ancient One brandishes him with a single blow before he escapes into the past. He thinks she missed. She didn’t.

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, AND YOU’RE TO BLAME! DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!

But *ahem* seriously, notice how Stephen was struck mid center his chest, directly over his heart. It was in that moment that Stephen Strange lost his “heart,” as the Ancient One had knocked it out of him, just as she had knocked him out of his own oversized head when they first met. Theory: she cast a spell to separate Stephen’s heart from his mind, the two halves that make one complete man.  

Because even if Stephen Strange’s mind was still set on Christine Palmer, his heart had been changed, and there was still hope for it. And Stephen Strange’s heart had enough with “living in the past for one day,” and chose instead to share drinks with Wong.

Meanwhile, Stephen’s “mind” searched the Library of Cagliostro for a way to reverse an absolute point and save Christine. Eventually, he found the answer he was looking for. He needed more power, that could be obtained by otherworldly creatures. Now, harm is not in Stephen’s nature. On his first attempt, he actually tries asking “nicely,” and ends up getting ass kicked.

O’Bengh, the librarian of the books of Cagliostro, patches up his body and tries to warn Stephen. He may have lost his heart, but if he he keeps going at this rate, he was well on his way to losing his mind.

But Stephen didn’t heed those words of warning. He distorted his body, darkened himself with every sacrifice he made for Christine’s sake. So caught up in the memory of Christine’s greatness, Stephen had forgotten he’d once had one of his own. Christine was all he saw. 

So obsessed with her, he lost himself.

When Strange returns to O’Bengh’s side, the librarian has aged and is dying. He reveals the passage of centuries Stephen has spent devoted to this madness. As someone Stephen thinks of as a friend passes away, Stephen can’t think to cherish these last moments or listen carefully to his final words. All he can think is to use his magic to spare O’Bengh, which O’Bengh refuses, trying one last time to reach through to Stephen before giving up and leaving hope to the “heart” to be strong enough to withstand and stop him.

*Wink, wink, wink.* Do you see it now?

Now, onto the confrontation between heart and mind. Stephen’s mind can’t achieve anything if his heart isn’t in it, and I love the symbolism of that. He must get it on board first, unite on both fronts.

Stephen’s heart can recognize that this isn’t love, but the work of his broken mind lost in a delusion. And Stephen’s so far gone down the rabbit hole, he won’t even listen to his heart. Instead he ignores it, even burns the cloak of levitation... the very symbol of his finding something new that could uplift him after spending so long down on his knees in the past... and he burnt it to ash. When his heart won’t be persuaded, he resorts to trickery, attempting to con his heart with the same delusion that haunts his mind. It’s the same Christine that Stephen first was hung up imagining when he picked up the eye of the Agamotto and got himself into this mess, his trump card.

But again, the heart cannot be deceived. It knows Christine is dead, and it realizes the fantasy his mind is pursuing is not the same as the Christine they once knew and loved. More importantly, his heart remembers that there are other people who need him now, people that are not beyond saving. And the mind is done playing.

If his heart won’t come willing, then he’ll just have to beat it into submission until it can’t make a single sound of protest, and then swallow it whole. Stephen makes the ultimate sacrifice the Ancient One had tried so hard to prevent, and abandons that heart she saw so much potential in and inspired her to teach him.

This episode AMAZINGLY tackles the narcissism and arrogance that hides in specific shades of grief and depression. In believing our problems are greater than anyone else’s, that no one else could understand as Stephen insisted “they didn’t know her!” The selfishness that comes with refusing to see the world or those around you that still need you and choosing instead to chase the memory of the ones you’ve already lost, who are beyond saving. If we choose those delusions over our reality, in the end, we will lose everything, and the ones who will pay the price for your arrogance won’t be you, but the ones you loved. Even the memory of the one you loved, that you twisted to fit your mold. There’s a selfishness in seeing only the bad of what was rather than the good of what could come.

Unless you want to end up alone inside a cold and empty shell, maybe it’s time to listen to your heart, and move on.

[todoscript]

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

[doorbloggr]

Friday 14/5/21: Media Reccomendations #2

The time has come again for me to share the nerdy things that have been rotting my brain over the last week, and what I think other people would enjoy too. Media Reccomendations Friday! Let's get right into it.

Contents for those who wanna skip ahead:

Music: Mori Calliope

Anime: Food Wars

Music: Bill Wurtz

Music: Mori Calliope

Mori Calliope is a Virtual Youtuber or Vtuber, who streams as part of the English side of virtual idol agency Hololive. I'll get deeper into my descent into the Vtuber rabbit hole another time, but what's important to know for this time, is that many Vtubers are visual or musical artists on top of their main streaming gig.

Calliope is a pop/rap artist and her music is very head-bang-y and high energy. Her Vtuber persona is that of a Yandere Grim Reaper who gained a following for a steady supply of souls, and she plays into this for her music. She is also fluent in Japanese and as a result she has a very unique sound.

To demonstrate an example, her debut single and still my fave song of hers, 失礼しますが、RIP♡ (Excuse My Rudeness, But Could You Please RIP?) is a song about Mori Calliope asking her followers to die for her. Since Mori sings in both Japanese and English for different parts of her music, she has gained a following from fans from both Japan and the West.

There is a wide range in her music too, the only uniting theme that they are all bops. There is deeper meaning to much of her music too, a lot of them being about the struggle of being an entertainer, and working on your confidence. Here's link to more you should check out:

Even if you don't follow Vtubers I can guarantee you'd enjoy her music. I myself don't even watch Mori Calliope's streams, but her music is on regular rotation in my Spotify. Please check her out.

Anime: Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Souma

Probably my favourite anime I've watched this year, Food Wars is a shonen style cooking competition story. When I told friends I was watching this show, they replied "Oh you mean the food porn anime". And yeah that describes the premise perfectly.

Main character Soma works with his (unbeknownst to him at first) world renowned chef father in their local family restaurant and believes that if he works hard enough, he will break through the culinary skill ceiling holding him from his father's level. His father tries to break down Soma's ego by enrolling him in a world class Culinary School "Totsuki Saryo Culinary Institute", and giving him a reality on how cut-throat the world of professional food creation is.

Food Wars is tastful fanservice incarnate. Both for carnal and culinary desires. The titular food wars, also known in-universe as Shokugeki, are battles of ego between chefs at the school, and this is where the anime shows its teeth. The action of the series is at its peak both during the food preparation and the taste testing. Shonen style action segments of cutting, dicing, mixing sauces, and roasting meats take the action of preparing food and turn it into a fight scene on the level of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.

You'll see a lot of people on the internet say that anime food always looks impossibly appealing, and Food Wars is pinnacle of Anime Food. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. And then there's the taste testing. When the judges are met with good food (which is very often) the animators represent this sensation as being physically engaged, embraced, or even violated by the food's flavours. Sometimes if the food is good enough, clothes may even be stripped from their bodies. You can tell they had fun bringing a more fanservice-y side to a show about making and eating food.

Food Wars is a show of Food Porn. The food is porn and there's also very high amounts of body fanservice, guys and girls. I promise you its not a hentai, but it is definitely not safe for work. There's a few seasons too, so I reccomend jumping in ASAP, there's a lot of high quality meat on those bones.

Music: Bill Wurtz

I wanna squeeze in one more brief reccomendation for this week because I feel like a lot of people know of Bill Wurtz but are not aware of his music. Bill is a singer/songwriter and Youtuber who is best known for his deadpan psychedelic nonsensical style of media. The video that put him on the map was History of Japan, a 9 min severely abridged explanation of major human events on the archipelago.

This crazy psychedelic style extends into his music career, where he sings about absolute nonsense in a very funky colourful style that is just fun to move to.

His music can be found on his YouTube alongside his crazy videos. But also on Spotify. Go on and groove to Bill Wurtz sometime.

[shotsbyshae]

Cannonball

Warnings: Language

Words: 3.4k

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: When things go bad, you always end up at his door, and things are really, really bad.

Song: Cannonball by ZZ Ward

A/N: This is loosely based on a reader request and can be read as a stand-alone or prequel/sequel to Not Afraid Anymore. (Yea, this rabbit hole is Going. All. The. Way.)

I’m down on my knees and I’m screamin’ I’m a fiend, and I’m beggin’ you, please.

2023

Death.

It’s the end of one’s story.

There’s no running from it.

Death always comes ‘round.

Because all stories have to end – don’t they?

Well, who makes that choice?

Who decides when it’s time for the story to be over?

Of everything that’s happened, you know this can’t be the end of their story.

All that they’ve been through – the lives they’ve saved.

Only to make the ultimate sacrifice.

They defeated him, but Thanos still won.

It isn’t right.

You slide the zipper closed on the duffel bag, slinging it across your shoulder as you hear his deep voice from the door, “Where are you going?” You smile a little to yourself, because you never realized how much you’d miss him until he was gone like the others. Fury continues as you turn to face him. “Stark’s service is in an hour.”

“I’m not going,” you reply quietly. “I – I have to go.”

“Go? Go where?” confusion on his face is evident as you begin to walk out of the room.

“When I was first started at S.H.I.E.L.D., you and Coulson gave me The Shadow Project,” you glance up at him earnestly. “I don’t know why you trusted me of all people, but you did. Aside from the Initiative, Shadow’s all I know – it’s my job.”

“What are you saying?” you can hear the concern in his voice.

“Let me do my job, Nick.”  

If you’ve learned anything, it’s that death doesn’t have to be the end.  

2011

The cell phone from the center console of the SUV begins to ring and you answer it quickly, knowing who’s on the other end.

Nick Fury has many secrets, and a little rendezvous like this of yours is just one of them.

Sometimes even S.H.I.E.L.D. encounters that which cannot be explained.

When that happens, you have to make a phone call to him.

“Hi, Garth.”

“Change of plans,” he says. “I can’t make it.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reply, brows furrowed. “You know that.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Garth states. “I’ve got a couple guys in the area. I gave them the location and they’re going to meet you for the information.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose with an audible sigh into the phone, “I don’t like it.”

“You can trust them,” Garth says reassuringly. “They owe me one, you could say I saved their pretty faces.”

You’ve been meeting him for six months now and the idea of Garth saving anyone still baffles you, even though you know what he does for a living.

You’re standing beside the front of the SUV when the black car pulls to a stop in front of you, same model as Garth had described in his phone call earlier. The two men who climb from inside are nothing like what you expect, given your history with Garth.

They share a look of slight surprise between the two of them as you ask, “You must be Garth’s friends.”

“I wouldn’t go that –” the shorter of the two begins but is interrupted by the other one.

“Yea, that’s us. I’m Sam,” says the very tall one. He’s cute, with shaggy dark hair. “This is my brother Dean.” He gives a smile and you can tell right away he’s trouble.

“Alright then,” you nod, getting to the point. You close the distance, holding out a manilla folder, which Dean reaches for – he must like to be in charge. “Here’s everything we have on the group – there’s about twelve of them.”

“Nest,” Dean corrects as he flips through the surveillance photos. You fold your arms across your chest, uncomfortable at his tone and gold-green eyes flick up to yours, small smirk on the edge of his lips. “Not group – vampires are a nest.”

“Yea – okay,” you respond. “Well, have fun storming the nest.”

You’re halfway back to your door when you hear Dean stumbling over his words, “Wait – how do we contact you?”

“Really?” Sam whispers as Dean slaps the folder against his brother’s chest.

“Why?” you question, glancing back at them curiously.

His lips twitch as he thinks of his response, “To let you know the job’s done.”

A knowing smile crosses your face as you open the door to the SUV, “Call Garth – he can get me the message.” The look of defeat on Dean’s face is almost comical. “After all, he’s my contact.”

2012

It’s official – Tony Stark will be the death of you.

After the events of New Mexico with Thor, he’s going above and beyond to showboat. Fury has tasked you with him temporarily – his idea of a joke – you should get to know Stark.

However, keeping Tony Stark in-line is about as easy as herding cats.

You’re at the end of your rope with him, so an information drop is exactly what you need to get away – even if it’s for a little while.

You open the door to the small diner, glancing around for Garth as you walk inside. It’s not unusual for him to suggest grabbing lunch during a drop. You recognize the face sitting in the booth instantly and you can’t help but laugh as you slowly approach the him. A plate with a burger and curly fries sits on the table.

“Hi,” Dean greets, the smile on his face causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

“Unbelievable,” you shake your head. “What do you want?”

“I’m just here for the information – unless,” there’s a glint in his eyes as you slide onto the green vinyl seat across from him. “What do you want, Agent?”

You breathe deep, laying the folder on the table as your eyes dart around at the other patrons in the diner before settling back on him. Reaching across you pluck one of the fries from the plate, “Alcohol – that’s what I want, but that’s probably a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he agrees, but the boyish grin on his face says otherwise.

***

The sound of buzzing awakens you – your phone. Reaching across to the nightstand, your hand searches blindly but finds nothing. There’s a momentary pause in the buzzing sound before it starts up again and you groan in annoyance. You stick your head out from under the covers and look over the side of the bed, seeing the glow of the screen from the floor in front of the nightstand.

Grabbing it quickly, you put it to your ear, whispering as you answer, “Hello.”

“It’s about damn time,” Fury’s voice says loudly through the speaker and you instantly pull the phone away from your ear. It is too early, and he is too loud. “I need you to come in. ASAP.”

“Huh,” you sit up, wincing as you rub the base of your neck. You can feel the headache starting – fucking tequila.

“They found him,” his voice says quickly through the phone. “Frozen – he’s one giant ice cube.”

“Found who?” you glance over as the man beside you stirs, his hair messy and gold-green eyes heavy with sleep.

“Captain America,” he responds.  

You snap fully awake with a jolt, “What?”

“You heard me,” Nick says. “Get here – now.”

You drop the phone on the bed as you jump up, pulling your jeans on quickly, “Shit!”

“Everything okay?” he questions as you straighten your shirt.

“Yea,” you say quickly, tugging on your sneakers. “It’s work – I gotta go.” Glancing at the man still lying in bed as you gather the rest of your things, you give him a small smile. “Thanks for this though – it was great. I’ll –” You hesitate, not used to being on this side of the situation. “See you around.”

You open the motel room door, and he smiles at you one last time, “Of course.” The door closes behind you and he falls back against the pillows with a sigh. “Well, that’s a first.”

2014

“Where’ve you been?” there’s a tone in Steve’s voice, one he’s never had with you before.

Keeping your eyes fixed on the elevator doors in front of you as you push the button, you decide to keep your reply calm – casual, “Out.”

Once the doors open you step inside quickly, grimacing as you see him follow you from the corner of your eye. The weight of his gaze feels like a ton of bricks as the doors close and after a moment you finally jerk around to stare up at him.

“What?”

“Fury said you were on assignment,” his arms are folded across his chest, judgmental blue eyes baring down on you. He’s wearing a white t-shirt under a navy-blue jacket and khakis.

“Yea,” your tone is exasperated. “And?”

“You never wear perfume on assignments,” Steve responds with a knowing look, eyes narrowed slightly.

You shift uncomfortably, unaware he’d noticed, before you roll your eyes, turning away from the man, “Well, it’s my assignment – not yours.”

“I’m getting real tired of Fury’s secrets and side missions,” he says angrily. “I need a team I can trust.”

“Whoa – hey,” you turn back to him in surprise, raising your hands in defense. “Where’s this coming from?” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell happened on your mission?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head.

“Steve,” you wait for him to look at you before you continue. “You know you can trust me – right?”

He can see the pain in your eyes as you ask and he nods quickly, “Of course – I’m sorry –  I didn’t mean –” The words fall out of his mouth and he tries to make it right, giving you a smile. “It’s just been a day. Really – I’m sorry.”

He lifts his hand up, pinky finger extended. More of an apology than words between the two of you and you smile as you wrap yours around it, “Okay.”

2015

You trace your index finger lightly along the scar-like marking on the inside of his forearm, saying quietly, “This is new.”

“Yea,” he takes a deep breath and you feel his chest rise against the side of your cheek. “Long story.”

Lifting your head from his chest you eye him suspiciously, “Is that why you called?”

“I lost a friend,” he says quietly, staring blankly at the ceiling. You understand now why he reached out, after all, you ended up calling him after Coulson died.

The words come out hesitantly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“Hey – no,” reaching for you as he rolls towards you. He pins you to the mattress in a matter of seconds, gold-green eyes inches away from yours, staring at you intensely. “I didn’t come to talk.”

“Well, if you needed –”

“I know,” the words are hot against your lips as he brushes his mouth against yours in the slightest touch. You lift your head, pressing your mouth firmly to his, needing more, but the sound of your phone buzzing from nightstand makes you groan, and his lips smile against yours. “You should probably get that.”

You shake your head, then pepper kisses along his jaw as you whine, “Nooo.”

Dean reaches for you phone, glancing at the screen before he hands it to you with a smirk, “It’s Captain Spangles.”

You sigh before answering, “Hi Steve.”

“You’re coming – right?”

“What?” your voice is strained, mind elsewhere as Dean’s lips travel along your collarbone.

“Tomorrow – the new recruits,” Rogers clarifies. “Have you got any of my messages?”

“Yea.” You haven’t. “I’ll be there.”

2016

After Germany, you’re so angry with all of it.

Mostly at yourself.

For waiting too long.

Everywhere you look reminds you of Rogers.

So, you leave – ending up in the same place you always do when things go bad.

When everything around you is broken.

Because this can’t be broken – it was never whole to begin with.

Dean had recognized the look in your eyes immediately, because he’d been there before.

“Do you want to –” he manages the words even as you try and silence him with your mouth. “Talk about it?”

You plant both hands firmly against his chest before you shove him hard against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs, causing him to grimace, yet smirk at the same time. “No.” It comes out as more of a low growl than an actual word.

“Okay then,” his voice low as he nods his understanding.

2018

“Howard,” Steve says his name quietly, staring at you from across the lab.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat again. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.” Watching as he places his hands on his hips, you add. “I never told Tony either – Fury did.”

His glare lands on you angrily, “And if he hadn’t – what – we still wouldn’t know?”

“No,” you respond, thinking on it. “I mean ��� I don’t know Steve.” He shakes his head with disgust. You turn, pressing your palms on the lab table as you lean forward, dropping your head between your shoulders. “I was a lab experiment - created with Howard’s DNA. I never knew my mother or him. When I was five, Coulson found me. He was a new recruit then, and they thought all of Hydra was gone, but we know they’re never really gone.” Turning back to look at Steve, you see the sadness in his eyes as you continue with the story. “He saved me – placed me with a family under Fury’s orders.”

“That’s why you joined S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he comments quietly.

“Yea – I mean, my father,” the term comes out strangely. “Howard founded it and it felt like one way that maybe I could get to know him. Plus, the whole super-secret spy aspect is a real selling point to a kid who loved Kim Possible.”

Steve has a look of confusion at the reference for a moment before he exhales slowly, “So, Germany – that’s why you stayed.” There’s an almost sudden realization that washes over him. “Because Tony’s your brother.”

You bite the inside of your bottom lip as you nod, “Just like you fought to save yours.”

“What the hell?” Steve’s face changes abruptly to one of shock and confusion. It takes a second for you to realize he’s looking at something over your shoulder.

You turn and see the monitor across the room, the news broadcast showing the giant alien ship above the city.

The beginning of the end.

2020

Information drops aren’t what they once were.

After the snap, there’s still the occasional situation that requires outsider expertise and you still pass that along to the Winchesters, but things are different.

The whole world has changed and while you and Steve may be more complicated than ever before – he needs you. Still like a lost puppy after grief group.

He was the captain, they had all followed him that day and less than half of them came home. Steve took that loss harder than anyone else with the exception of Tony.

So, you help in whatever capacity Steve needs. Even if it’s picking a fight over the most trivial of things just so he can yell and let off steam. You take it, because you’re his friend and the two of you have lost too much as it is.

You bring Natasha in on The Shadow Project what with Fury and Coulson both gone, someone else needs to know in case anything happens to you.

“Why not just bring Steve in on this?” Romanoff questions you as the large screen across the room tries to make connection on a video chat.

“Well, well,” Dean’s face appears on the monitor with a smile as he leans back in his chair. “Look who it is.”

Natasha quirks and eyebrow as she glances from the screen over to your face, noting the slight look of embarrassment there, “Oh – okay.”

2023

When he opens the large door to the bunker, there’s no hiding the surprise on his face.

“Hi Dean,” your voice cracks as you speak.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Broken is a sight he knows all too well.

This is different though, and it feels like someone gut punched him, knocking all the breath out.

Defeat.

“I lost them,” you say quietly.

***

Dean leans back in his chair as you finish telling him everything, “Where’s Steve now?”

“Returning the stones,” you respond.

“You don’t think he’s coming back?” his eyes watch you carefully.

“When he wouldn’t let me use the stones to at least try and bring my brother and Natasha back,” you shake your head with a sigh. “I – I said some pretty hurtful things. I doubt he comes back – I wouldn’t.”

Dean takes deep breath, tapping his index finger on the wooden table, “Death is tricky.”

“But it’s not permanent,” you say quickly. “You said so yourself that you and your brother have died before.”

“Yea – but that was different,” he responds.

“You have friends that are angels and you have the spell to get into hell,” your tone is past desperate. “Isn’t there some kind of deal I could make?”

“No,” his response is adamant. “Absolutely not.”

“Dean,” you stand up in frustration. “Please – this isn’t fair.” Walking past his chair you ask. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s gone to visit a friend,” he says calmly.

“I know you’d do whatever it takes to get him back,” you say as you turn to face the back of Dean’s head. “I’m just trying to do the same.”

“I’m sorry, maybe there’s another way. When Sam gets back –” Dean feels the sharp stab in the side of his neck and his body reacts instinctively as his hand grabs for the source of the pain. “Sonofa.” His hand grips yours tightly and gold-green eyes look up at you in betrayal as you pull the syringe away.

“Forgive me,” you say softly as your other hand cups the side of his face. “I don’t have that kind of time. It’s just a sedative.”

“And if you die,” Dean’s voice is barely audible. “Would your brother want that?”

“He’s got a family – a daughter,” you blink back the surge of emotions threatening to overcome you. “I was forced to grow up without my father. I won’t put my niece through the same fate.”

The sedative finally kicks in as the weight of his body begins to lean against the table. You ease his head down against the wood and gently place a kiss on his temple before you head off down the hall for the storage room. It’s been a few years, but you remember seeing a drawer marked for spells and you know there’s a one in there that will take you straight to hell.

Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

You just hope once you get there you can negotiate some sort of agreement with whoever is in charge to bring back both Tony and Natasha.

4 Days Later

“How?” the initial shock has worn off and Tony is casting a suspicious glare in your direction.

“I have a few connections,” you reply nonchalantly.

“In what?” the look on his face is incredulous. “Resurrections? You brought me and Natasha back – how?”

“The Shadow Project – ever heard of it?” you fold your arms across your chest.

Tony looks intrigued by this information and he leans against your bar, “No, go on.”

“It’s classified, Fury assigned me to it before the Initiative was started good,” you respond. “That’s my connection.” You move passed him to your refrigerator. “Now, can you just be glad you’re back? Maybe go spend time with your family?”

He turns around as you pull a bottle of water out and close the door back, “You are my family.” You look over at him with a small smile which he returns. “But I know what you meant – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watch him leave, hearing the door close behind him and you start down the hall to your room. The loud knocking from your apartment door stops you and with a sigh you turn around.

“Seriously – Tony,” you say loudly as you approach the door. “We can talk more about this later.” Opening the door, your eyes widen in surprise because Tony isn’t standing there.

“No,” Steve glares at you. “We need to talk.”

It’s the angry look on the face of the man standing beside Rogers that worries you the most, because he’s the only one who could know what you did.

Dean’s voice borders on a snarl, “Now.”

[battle-of-alberta]

OCtober: Cal and Ed

It’s finally over. I’m sorry for the delay but stuff has been Happening. If there’s a tourism site that attracts you more to one city or the other, let me know.

Calgary | Edmonton

Below is some meta stuff about the ‘research’ (if you can even call it   that, it was more of a vibe check) I did for re-doing the profiles. Read  on, if it intrigues you. And I gotta mention there’s a bonus rabbit hole I went down for Calgary’s self-image that is. Well. A Lot.

Major Cities: Calgary and Edmonton

We made it team, the heart of the Battle of Alberta, the major city rivalry that defined generations. Calgary is the largest city in the province and the centre of southern Alberta, a young, fast-paced major city that oscillates wildly between boom and bust and is attracting both attention and employees from the traditional major cities in Canada. Edmonton is the capital of the province and the the most northern major city with a metro population of over one million on the continent, a little older and more blue collar, somewhat more stable economically, and quickly rising to meet the challenges presented by open data and sustainable urban planning. And, as we know, they've been antagonizing each other since the 19th century, but collaborating as well.

Website Round Up Premise

While I was revisiting these character profiles, I took a look at how cities represented themselves on their municipal sites and tourism sites rather than how cities were represented in the news or in stereotypes, as the latter already tend to live in the back of my head. I was interested to see who the target audiences for each city were, what they considered their strengths, and how much effort each city put into putting its own identity on display. I was also interested into what ideas sort of fed into any pre-existing confirmation bias I had about each city's personality as well as interested in what narratives might be used to counteract negative stereotypes.The first thing I tended to notice was the overall information architecture of each city's website. How easy were they to navigate? What kinds of information did they have? How did they organize it? How did they communicate that information?

Out and About

There's a sharp difference between the websites of major cities from other cities. They are very careful to separate the corporation of 'The City of' from the cities we might know, and therefore both websites have a much more business-like tone and more distance from their civic identities. This means no traditional "About" pages as other cities might have.

At the time I'm visiting, Edmonton's page has some ADORABLE art of a nuthatch that's making me very homesick. Calgary has a seasonally appropriate snowy skyline.

Calgary does have an "Our Organization" tab which describes the City as a corporation, and likewise Edmonton has a "City Government" tab that performs a similar function. Edmonton's is in alphabetical order which is only a little annoying and Calgary's reads like a very perfectly chunked business portfolio that doesn't... really say as much as it looks like it does, but it does get bonus points for vision/organization/accessibility.

I have never seen a more concise history of Calgary in my life. It's literally three bullet points and a couple of bracketing sentences, but it does do the job. Calgary is, more or less, what it says it is (although I do take slight issue with its self identification as a trading post - it may have functioned that way but that was not what it was founded for and in fact the trading companies gtfo'd asap in those early days). It goes on to paint a very good sketch of the city in as few lines as possible in the text, and there's a little video at the end that feels like it was voiced over in 1988 even though it's clearly not.

Edmonton's City government page is even vaguer. Let's make a more dynamic and resilient Edmonton shall we, the page suggests. Resilient against What Exactly, I wonder. Winter? The boom-bust? Calgary? who knows. The majority of the sub pages are even more mysterious and essentially paint the picture of a city. It's a normal city. Trust us. We do city things. Here is exactly how government works and how to raise and lower a flag. In Edmonton, which is, in fact, a city.

I'm begging you if you think Calvin is hokey and annoying please read the Our Culture page and see it's EXACTLY how I intended to portray him because it's eXACTLY what it's already like. "The Four C's of Our Culture" give me a break.

Edmonton offers me a picture of the skyline and says "City of Opportunity: City of You". I suppose this is true. I don't know what it means. I fear slightly for its intentions.

I keep seeing "Calgary: A great place to make a living, a great place to make a life" and it's like. Stop! I won't go! You can't make me! (and again the Strong and Resilient Calgary. these kids are always catching colds because they don't eat properly.)

Although Edmonton makes literally zero attempt to define itself (outside perhaps the official symbols page hidden under Facts and Figures), what strikes me is that it is portraying itself as a very future-oriented city, which, when I was growing up we really never were. We were an inward city constantly wishing we were somewhere else which is partially still true, and we were a city with such an intense nostalgia (that unlike Calgary we failed to really capitalize on) that grated roughly against a complete failure to preserve history. It does kind of make me glad that the city is looking towards the future and just like, acknowledging basic realities (like snow) and trying to involve people in urban planning more (and throughout the website the city LOOOOVES to share data which I also called, haha). There's also an adorable animation of the city road map in its strategic planning pages. It's interesting that for a city that leaves itself up to your own interpretation, it does have a LOT of information about itself collected and available.

Tourism

Oddly enough, neither city has substantially changed their tourism homepage to accommodate COVID-related staycation plans, although each does mention that many things may be closed or unavailable as a result of the pandemic.

CaLGARy, Be PaRT of THe EnERGy!!

I like how Edmonton's self-presentation is "original" and "we do things differently". It's like a Keep ___ Weird thing but in an understated self-assured way that makes me laugh a little. Like yeah, I guess we are kind of different, I guess we're just not used to seeing that as a good thing.

In the tourism guides there isn't much to say about Calgary's that isn't just "oh, classic Calgary" but I do think the fact that they have "quick facts" to explain what timezone it's in and what currency they use is adorable to say the least. also the title of the guide is CALGARY (and the canadian rockies) and that sums up Calgary pretty well, which I'll elaborate on more.

I actually can't find Edmonton's guide, if it has one, but that's ok. The website hits all the buttons that I would and I actually use exploreedmonton quite frequently because it has a nicer event calendar than the city website does, which is important in a place nicknamed Festival City. I really appreciate how things are organized by month/season and even down to "what's happening today/tomorrow/this week" because it makes planning trips for my visitors easy, so now you know my secret : ) I wish I could just beam this site directly into people's brains when they mention "oh yeah thats where the mall is" when I say I'm from Edmonton.

Interestingly enough it's Calgary's turn to be vague, which I can only assume is part of its "exactly what it says it is" charm. This desperation to find a shred of self-description outside of things to do and places to stay led me down a rabbit hole I will elaborate on in a moment that truly showed me I Knew Nothing about how deep Calgary's branding goes. Otherwise, the website is very practical and functions more like an answer to questions you had about the what and the how and less so the why.

Also, the "Locals" page on Calgary's site has tips on hosting friends and family from around the province safely during the pandemic which is kind of cute. Edmonton doesn't really have a local page (i guess because if we had a hashtag like #loveyyc we'd ruin it)

Bonus: The Rabbit Hole

I wondered why Calgary's tourism page, which I expected to be the most in your face description of the city possible, fell kind of flat. I learned this seems to be because tourists are not the target audience that Calgary wants to attract. It's companies and corporations, and they get their own page.

Boy oh boy do they get their own page

This led me down this frightening path of getting validation like being repeatedly punched in the face by what On Brand Calgary truly means and I'm frankly quite speechless about it - all I can say is that you need to see it for yourself.

The tourism site gestures to a Billion reasons why you should hold your next meeting in Calgary and here is where the self definition as Big City Energy and Western Hospitality starts kicking the tires and lighting the fires. Likewise with the media-oriented page. Suddenly stuff like the Calgary Bucket List starts popping up and I can't help but go hang on, why not suggest this to tourists?

"It's cowboy spirit, but also refined and cosmopolitan" [sighs into hands]

Suddenly all the "Calgarians love visitors! Calgarians love the outdoors!" stuff is spilling out like water from a dam here. "Where's Calgary?" [Link that reads FIND US].

Like i literally feel like the tourism side on the left is the Kids Menu, it's the corporate stuff on the right that I'm actually finding the type of information I want on. Eventually, I somehow make my way to Calgary's Destination Strategy which is trying to make Calgary a place that... well, people go. Like, internationally. Like the Olympics but MORE of that.

Then I find the Brand Evolution. Then I find Calgary's Economic Development site. The poetry about rocky mountain prairie skies and "where a handshake still means something" starts to reach its peak.

Then back through the tourism site I find the video. And the video makes me shake because it suggests the premise of The Powerpoint.

The Powerpoint. I cannot summarize the powerpoint in any meaningful way or how my emotions were a rollercoaster further and further up and down the longer i scrolled. Everything I know and suggest about Calgary seems to be unequivocally true, including the sense that Calgary as a person is the sort of person who makes powerpoints about his own identity crisis because that's precisely what this is.

And then I get to the part of the powerpoint that suggests I imagine what kind of person the city of Calgary might be (and implied: does that person think about anything other than the mountains???) THEY EVEN DID AN OCEAN PERSONALITY TEST FOR THE CITY I KID YOU NOT

Hi, City of Edmonton, hire me to take an OCEAN test for our fair city. I'm begging you.

[fallingfor-fics]

What We Were- Chapter 3: Quiet Solitude

A Beth and Rio fan fiction, Wattpad: fallingforfics

not my gif

Chapter 2

Warnings: none {=Beth's text ~=Rios text

Rio POV

   Damn that was hard. Walking away like that took everything in me. I wanted so badly to kiss her but I gotta keep things professional I can't get feelings involved. It will just lead to bad things. I know she felt it to though, the feeling when we had sex. It wasn't just physical I almost felt emotional. I shook my head to clear my thoughts knowing I ain't got time to go down that rabbit hole. "Aight yeah sounds good see you then" I said then hung up the phone finishing the arrangements for the run later today. I then got out my phone to text Beth the details.

~ "Sup here's the info bitch-" no I can't say that that's to much like I'm covering something up. ~"Hey here is the info I wanted to get back to you ASAP because I-" nah nah way to girly. Aight I got it ~"Here are the details: 5:00pm go to this location and wait for a green car to give you a bag then bring it to me." Ok that's good enough I press send and not even two minutes later I get a reply. {really? That's it? That seems kind of easy? ~yes that's it I can make it harder if you gonna complain {no no it's fine sorry I'll be there ~good. {can I ask a question though? ~shoot. {why can't you do this yourself? It's so simple and the bag is going back to you. ~it's none of your business. Damn you ask to many questions. I go to go. {Shit I'm sorry for being logical but whatever Ugh that was so awful I feel bad being mean to her but I have to keep up this facade if not things could go terribly wrong.

Beth's POV

What the fuck was that. I mean what the actual hell. I don't know what put him in such a mood. Ugh I have to stop thinking about him. As if he even cares. There are definitely other women he screws I'm sure and they are all prettier and not moms that popped out a gazillion kids. Speaking of kids mine should be home soon. Although I have enjoyed the quiet but it also makes me think to much maybe the kids will distract me from thinking about that one person. I walk to the front door and look out the window to see if the kids' grandma is pulling up with them and sure enough she is they all run out of the car with their stuff as soon as I open the door. "Hey guys!! How are my babies?!" "We are great" "I missed you" "we had so much fun with nana" "aweee well I'm glad,why don't you guys head inside and put your stuff away" "ok!" they all shout. "Thank you so much for taking them" "oh anytime dear I love having them around! I'll let you guys get situated bye bye now" "bye! And thank you again" I say with a smile. I head back inside to start dinner and make sure my kids do their homework. -Time skip to 10pm- All the kids were in bed and Dean still wasn't home which is probably the latest he has ever been. I got used to it though and honestly enjoy it. I was getting out of the shower and putting on my pajamas when I saw my phone light up. My heart stopped for a second then I saw it was just Dean giving a lame excuse as to why he isn't home. Meaning he is probably off screwing another secretary. I really just didn't care anymore. I finished getting dressed and brushed my teeth then went and layed in bed. Just staring at the ceiling then my phone lit up. My heart stopped again as I read what my screen said. New message from Rio.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Wicked (7/10) - Defying Gravity

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes did many horrendous and evil things. He didn’t felt worthy of love and affection because after all, who could learn to love a monster.

Word Count: 1.8k

Previous Chapter     Masterlist

Just you and I defying gravity. With you and I defying gravity. They'll never bring us down.

The last few weeks have been heaven. Ever since your date in New York City, Bucky has really started to open up with you. You haven't pushed the issue about labels, but if anyone were to ask you, you'd happily say that Bucky was your boyfriend. Bucky started sleeping more in your room than his. Those where the nights he slept better, without nightmares. Other nights, you would receive a notification from F.R.I.D.A.Y. in the middle of the night, requesting you to go to Bucky's room. These were the nights when Bucky would have a nightmare, or as you would later learn, the nightmare. On those nights, Bucky needed to feel your warmth and your heartbeat. He needed to feel your arms around him, reminding him that those dreams are just that, dreams. Those are the hardest nights for you when Bucky can't see his worth. When the true effect of HYDRA shines through. You aren't an Avenger, but you sure as hell want to find every single person responsible for hurting Bucky, and snuff them out, killing the cockroaches that they are.

While most days with Bucky are good days, there were still too many bad days. You wanted Bucky to get better, to feel better, so you pushed him. You were a licensed doctor, who specialized in neuroscience. You could see the symptoms of PTSD from a mile away. So you pushed Bucky into seeing a counselor. It was hard to get him to agree. At times, you forget that Bucky was born in the '30s a completely different era than you. He refused therapy, at first. Talking about how real men didn't talk about their burdens, rather they carried them in silence. You remind him that in today's world, there isn't a stigma of seeking help for one's mental health. He was still reluctant, but you gave him an ultimatum. You told him that you like what is going on between the two of you, whatever you will call it. You want to have a future with him, but you couldn't see yourself having one with him if he refused to seek help and bottle everything in. Thankfully, Bucky's love for you was strong. He would do anything to keep you. So, he reluctantly went to therapy. He tried, but only for you. And it was a good thing for you because Bucky would have to be strong, not for himself, but rather for someone else. Events where in motion that none of you could stop, and it would change both of your lives for ever.

You wake up, bolting out of Bucky's arm, heading for the bathroom. A wave of nausea hit you, and you could feel the occupants of your stomach creeping their way up. You try to vomit quietly, which you learn isn't possible, because Bucky leaves in a few hours for a mission, and you want to let him sleep for as long as he can. But your attempts were for nothing. During your second round of throwing up, you feel your hair being pulled back, and you feel the distinct coolness of Bucky's vibranium arm rubbing circles on your lower back. After a few more bouts of vomiting, you were finally done and slumped against the toilet.

"Y/N, this is the third day that you've been throwing up. I think you might have a stomach bug. Could you please go to the medical center?" Bucky asks you while still rubbing circles on your back, trying to contort you in any way he can.

"Buck, do I need to remind you that I am a doctor? I don't think it's a bug. I think that I probably just ate something off." You try to comfort Bucky and let his anxiety for you lower a bit.

"I'll feel better if you'd go. Please, baby, for me?" Damn it, you think to yourself, how are you suppose to say no those puppy dog eyes of his.  

"Fine, I'll go, just for you. Now, let's go back to sleep. We still have a few hours left," you have Bucky help you up, as you make your way back to bed, to cuddle with Bucky for just a few more hours.

You were never were calm when Bucky went on a mission. Especially now, as you were waiting to see one of your co-workers. You have a hunch about what's going on, but you didn't want to add more stress to Bucky. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what a late period and morning sickness bring. But you want the conformation that only a doctor's visit can bring. Especially before talking with Bucky. You didn't want to spook him over a false positive.

Your co-worker, Dr. Cho, escorted you to an examination room. "What can I help you with, Y/N."

"Well, I've missed my period, and I'm having bad morning sickness. I know what it is, but I want to get a conformation, more than just the pregnancy test kits." You shyly tell Helen. You're not sure why you're embarrassed about admitting that you are pregnant. Maybe because if you say it out loud, it makes it real. And you dread to think about all the problems this will bring to your relationship

"That should be easy. Let me grab a phlebotomist in here and let's run your blood. We should have your results fairly quickly." Dr. Cho tells you as she leaves the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.  

How could you let this happen? On HYDRA's file, Bucky was listed as infertile, and you were taking birth control just in case. You can't give birth to this child, let alone raise it. You're a monster, HYDRA proved that. They showed what you're capable of doing. Sure, Bucky would be a great father. He's shown you how loving and kind he is. He would flourish as a father, but you would only bring them down. You continue down this rabbit hole of self-doubt and deprecation when the phlebotomist comes in to do your blood draw.

About a half an hour passes before Dr. Cho comes back in with your results. You're still a nervous, emotional reck when she gives you your results.

"You said it yourself, Y/N. I guess congratulations are in order," Dr. Cho hands you the results from your blood test. And to no surprise at all, you had all the indications that you were pregnant.

"Fuck," you mutter out loud while holding on to the paper that confirmed that there was another living being growing inside of you.

"Do you want to know what options are available, Y/N?" Dr. Cho says to you as she starts to reach for pamphlets and handouts about different services like abortion clinics or adoption agencies.

"No. I'm fine. I know what I'm going to do." Because even if you were terrified at the idea of having a kid, you knew you were going to keep it. You were an emotional wreck, freaking out, unsure about most things, but you were sure that you were going to keep it.

You stumble your way back to your bed and collapse on to it. The emotions of today's events overwhelmed you. You were pregnant, and the baby daddy was halfway across the world doing some mission in some remote country. You were scared and completely alone. You fish out your phone to text the one person you know you can rant too.

You:

Wanda! Please come ASAP! It's an emergency!

Just a few short minutes later, a knock came to your door. In your doorway was a very breathless and flushed Wanda. It seems like she ran all the way to your door. You let her in, and her questions start to fire off.

"What's the emergency? Are you okay? Do I need to call Bucky?" Wanda tries to catch her breath, and you bring her a glass of water to help.

"Don't call Bucky, and I'm mostly okay. I texted you because I needed to talk to someone. I'm so scared, and I don't know what I should do or what's going to happen." You start to tell her of the whole ordeal from today.

"Wanda, I'm pregnant." Wanda lets out a gasp and almost drops her cup.

"How, Y/N? I mean I know how, but I thought Bucky was infertile. That is what all the SHIELD files have listed."

"I know Wanda, I thought the same. But the thing is what am I supposed to do know. I can't have an abortion. I respect other women who choose that option, but I just can't do it. Not knowing the life that's growing inside me. But how can I be a mother, being the monster that I am?" You start to ramble, tears starting to form at your eyes.

Wanda is now confused. She understands the fear of an unplanned pregnancy, but where is this self-hatred coming from. "What do you mean that you are a monster?" She asks you, as she scouts over towards you.

"Haven't you read what I did to Bucky, and all the rest of those poor people who HYDRA got their hands on? That was all me. I was in full control. Now I'm going to tell Bucky that I'm pregnant with his kid? He sees me as the monster I am, whether he admits it or not, and he will think that I will raise another monster." This time the tears are flowing and they won't stop. This is one of the few times where you actually admit your true feeling for your self. You were wicked through and through. Nothing would ever change that.

"Y/N, none of us sees you as a monster. Let alone Bucky. I wish you could see how much love and adoration he has for you. No matter what you did to him, which I want to remind you that you did because you were FORCED to, he loves you with all his heart. And I think he will be more than delighted to find out that you are carrying his child. Because that was something that HYDRA stole from him, and now you gave him that chance back. I think you should get some rest, and call Bucky later to see if he can come back home earlier." Wanda gets up from the couch and sees herself out, leaving you with her final words that were stuck on replay.

Maybe she was right, you thought. Maybe you could actually raise this child and help them become a loving and kind member of society. You caress your stomach for the first time, knowing that a little baby is inside of there. That it was your little baby. That no matter what life threw at you, the two of you, no the three of you, would be able to handle it. You fall asleep with plans, visions, and hopes for the future. But sadly, in the end, none of your dreams would come true.

[erght]

today i got another example of why i should just try to do my best and stop overthinking things that would just drag me deeper in this rabbit hole of anxiety. so; earlier this week, i got assigned to join my PM on a meeting to clear things up for our out coming PoC. the meeting has already been arranged since 2 weeks prior cs the time difference between our time and montreal was quite the hinder for both side to compromise. its clear that we should make good use out of it cs anything left unclear would just mean that things would be put on hold till next year.

well; that was the catch but, on the day of the meeting, my PM told me that he was feeling sick and was on nebulizer atm so he told me to take the lead. of course i said roger that and please let me try, but in all honesty, i was trying to face the unknown. i mean; i was about 3 weeks in, i spent my first week on having a handover from they guy who would resign his post, then spent the next week on learning product knowledge, and this week—the third week—right from the bat i was asked to lead an important meeting. also of course; no, not that im making an excuse or seeking for one. im aware that i do know the basic and gist of the scope, but what i didnt know of is the background of this PoC. i just got the brief that it was about the planned integration of our system to their system and we are trying to make sure that it could work by having this meeting. fuck it—i said to myself—i should just try it first cs theres no way i would know things if i didnt try them first and just go with it. 20 minutes in, all went well. i got what he meant from his demo/guide to the integration, but then our IT—who also joined the meeting—sent me his questions by chat so that i could ask them in their stead. here comes the problem; theres a question from him that i didnt know of yet cs its related to our previous project—which obviously takes place way before i got to join the company—and i didnt know where to start with that question. theres quite the awkward silence, and since it was supposed to be on me—by my natural fear if i fuck things up in this important meeting—i started to stutter. oh fuck—i said to myself—i lost my composure, i failed to take the lead. then my PM tried to help me by explaining things by chat—bombarding, to be exact—which was not helpful at all cs my mind was done at that point as my head was filled with oh fuck i failed im doomed the face of our company is on shambles bcs of me blablargh. then i tried to ask them at some point—stuttered—which didnt quite received well by the opposition. at this point my PM chatted me “calm down”; which i replied “give me a sec”, “thank you but im sorry”. then my PM take off his nebulizer and take the lead. 15 minutes later; its done, with uncleared things. we were forced to arrange later meeting when both side got their time on the table. later on, i just got to know by chance that our high ups was also listening to the meeting but by using a separate meet link that was linked to my PM mics. my hells all breaks loose, i spent the rest of the day with headache and a constant silent screams. hm.

later that night; of course by my natural fear of things, i succumbed myself deep in anxiety. from how the next friday would be when it was scheduled for our weekly meet. to how hard i think it was for the sales to catch this foreign client just for me to fuck it up messily. to what should i do if we couldnt get the PoC working by the end of the year. to how busy everyone will be cs next week was our scheduled time for the yearly report to be finalized. to every little things that was fucked up bcs of me. to my own reminder that last week my dad was feeling sick—not covid—but still forcing himself to work instead of going to the hospital for check up. i hate myself more at that point.

later on the next day; i asked my PM, “am i in trouble?”. im prepared for the answer, i just cant help myself not to ask it just for fulfilling my anxiety or tbh to justify my own failure. which he replied; “not at all” “but calm down” “im sorry that im in a bad shape yesterday”, which i replied “im sorry”, with lots of crying emojis cs i dont want to make things even more awkward between us when he told me to just be informal with him when i kept using formal touch in between our talks. he just want to be that guy that his coworker could just laugh when they want to laugh and serious when its needed at times. he also laughs it off and we go on. i felt a bit relieved. but of course the anxiety was there. it persist. later after work; i called my dad, i asked him whether he had done his check up or not. which he said that its okay, that hes okay now, he was just tired that day and his old body just acting up. i kept telling him to just go to the hospital asap when its ever occured again, which he laugh it off. and of course i told him about it cs he somehow sense it out of me. he said “dont be so hard on yourself” “you did your best didnt you” “you did try instead of turning your back didnt you” “its okay to feel that way but that means you know wheres youre lacking at now didnt you” “you got to know whats to improve” “you got to try and face another problem on your way” “think more about the benefit of improvement than thinking the endless bad things out from it” “dont keep them on and brush it off” “now have you had dinner yet? if you havent then order some, order something expensive to treat yourself from trying your best about it then get some good sleep” “it will be okay” “now get your dinner”. so then, i had mine. it was delicious; and of course i cant sleep that well, its a different case than just having a simple dinner, but i got to sleep anyway.

fast foward to this day; our weekly meet, we talk about a lot of things but none of it was about my messed up on lead. she just said that lets do our best again next week, dont stay up late and take your rest properly. idk why; but maybe she had done her talk with my PM about it or about why did he got in such a bad shape that day without me knowing obviously its their talk and not mine. i didnt get the hard slap that i expected. well; maybe its still there, but just on due lmao. its okay. i want to believe that its okay. cs; it is, okay. lets just try our best, me. believe. its our power that no one could do, to ourself, cs we had to believe in ourself first before letting them believe in us. you had to believe in me, i got to believe in you. believe. lets try this.

[kamidoodles]

Someone said on discord this might be helpful.

About working for yourself:

Finishing stuff requires discipline, not inspiration. Doing a little bit each day is more effective than doing a lot all at once.

Don’t work more than your allotted “work time” per day. If you want to work six hours per day, stick to it. Don’t work more than eight hours a day.* *if you’re working under contract for a particular company this may change, but try to enforce good boundaries.

Also, make sure to have a weekend. Be unavailable to clients barring emergencies during your weekend.

Establish boundaries with your clients. Even if your clients are also your friends.

Take breaks during your work day. Take an hour for lunch, get up to stretch, drink and snack.

Work during your work hours. That seems obvious but I’ve also sat here at my desk “working” when I’m really just dicking around on tumblr.

About setting prices:

Charge for the time & service, not the final product. Shift your thinking from “my skill level isn’t worth much” to “my time is valuable”. If you spend 4 hours on work, that’s four hours you could have been doing something else and won’t get back; you should be compensated for it.

Flat fees should be established based on the amount of time you take for a project of that type x your hourly rate

Hourly rate should be no less than a living wage. not minimum wage. living wage. how much does it take each month for you to have food, a roof over your head, and your bills paid, then add on a little fun money for spending and saving. divide this by four (avg. # of weeks in a month), then divide by five (# of business days in a week), then divide by 8 (standard hours in a work day). Final number is your minimum hourly rate.

Experience should absolutely increase your rate. If you’ve been taking commissions for a few years, give yourself a raise. now you’re charging for time, service, and prior experience.

Charge for the time you work with a minimum price of 30 minutes. If a task only takes you 10 minutes to complete, charge the full 30 minutes. But if you spend an hour at your desk and only 10 minutes actually working and you’re not done, hold on to that 10 minutes til you hit 30 or exceed 30.

I can’t stress valuing your time enough. Don’t price yourself ridiculously high, don’t try to undercut your fellow freelancers, but get paid for your time. If you value your time, so will your clients.

About payment:

Always, always send an invoice. Google docs has some great free templates. An invoice protects you and your clients from fraud. Paypal has them too.

Paypal: Don’t try to get around fees with “sending money to family and friends”. This can bite you in the butt -- no seller protection, and no papertrail of them paying for a service.

Large projects should have a contract. It doesn’t have to be stuffed with legalese, but it should outline the scope of the project: who it’s for, what you’re expected to do, what you’re expected to deliver/how/when, and the agreed on price or budget with any conditions about deposits or upfront payment.

Upfront payment on large projects will save your butt. People are less likely to ghost you if they’ve already invested money, and if they do ghost you then you keep their deposit.

About taxes:

If you do a lot of commission work, you probably have to pay taxes. Do your research on what that means, and the minimum amount you have to make annually from commissions before you pay. If you’re in the US, your state laws AND your county laws vary. US Federal law has a low threshold of $400 USD gross earnings annually before you’re technically supposed to start paying.

Don’t freak out about taxes. They can be scary and confusing, but honestly, unless you’re pulling in tens of thousands or more per year in revenue, the tax people aren’t going to throw you in the dungeon. If you fuck up on your taxes, stay calm and talk it out with an agent -- they want their money, and they’ll work with you to get it. If you’re under 18 don’t stress, but it’s probably worth asking your parent / guardian / local responsible adult to help you start learning about taxes. If this isn’t possible for you, seriously, don’t stress about it.

USA: Estimated taxes are a thing. Since you get all of your money upfront, you’re supposed to estimate and pay state and federal taxes every quarter. If you want a tax return instead of a mountain of owed taxes every April, pay into your estimated taxes every quarter.

Set aside 25% of each invoice for your taxes if you can* (if you’re doing emergency commission work, disregard. it’s more important for you to pay whatever it is needs paying ASAP)

Some places require you to have a business name and a business license. See if that applies to you.

USA, but possibly others idk: CreditKarma has a free online tax filing thing that’s super user-friendly.

Interacting with clients:

“No” is a complete sentence. If a client wants you to do something that makes you uncomfortable -- pressuring you for a discount, pressuring you to meet a deadline you didn’t agree to, if the subject matter is iffy, say “No.” Clients that do not respect your “No” will be clients you’ll regret.

Try and keep in contact as best as you can. You’ll struggle as things come up and sometimes you’ll forget. But an attempt at communicating is better than leaving people in the dark.

Family & Friend discounts will bite you on the ass. Don’t do it. 

Scope creep is a thing and try to guard yourself against it. Scope creep is when people ask you for a bunch of little changes outside of what you originally agreed the project was. A change or two isn’t too bad but be wary; offer a maximum # of revisions to start, and stick with it. Scope creep is how you start off with a commission for a forum signature for $20 and then wind up redesigning an entire forum for free. :( press F to pay respects to 2006 kami.

Keep your messages and explanation brief. Don’t be like me and get sucked into a rabbit hole of having to write an essay to justify my rationale. A simple, “It is more effective if we do X” or “Y is not possible, can I recommend Z instead” makes life easier.

Have a separate work email from your personal one. Gmail allows you to connect your gmail accounts together so you can work from one inbox but send from multiple addresses. Use filters to make sure anything being sent to your work email is marked as important so inquiries don’t wind up in spam.

And sometimes, sometimes, “Go fuck yourself” is an appropriate response. Use sparingly.

[momracha-blog]

[ 9:44 pm ]

         anxiety and upset bubbled heavily beneath your skin, your lips were chapped from you constantly licking at it and nipping at the dried skin like a nervous habit. your heart was pounding quickly and your breathing shallow, you feel your eyes begin to water. why ?? you don’t understand why you were feeling this way ?? you are a STRONG person, you’re an INDEPENDENT person. you understood that sometimes life gets REALLY busy ( especially for THEM ) but you can’t help it. you felt so LONELY and isolated, all of your friends are too far from you or away in another city....you had no one but THEM right now.          you clutch to your phone, staring at the screen, should you ?? should you not ?? you didn’t want to come off as ANNOYING or needy or clingy...god, you’d be the worst significant other....you knew how busy they’d get, you signed up for it but GOD, do you wish...do you wish you could just be with THEM, spend the day with THEM, curl up next to THEM. you just wanted some COMPANY. you wanted some friends....          tears blur your vision as you feel your heart wrench at the thought of being able to have some PEOPLE in your lonesome life. well, not really lonesome -- you had friends, family, people to turn to -- but right now, in this empty apartment, it sure feels like an OVERWHELMING blank space. you feel your breathing get harder, barely able to suck in any air...were you hyperventilating ?! oh god...you had no idea how to calm yourself, you were going downhill rapidly.             in...out...in...out...you got it, slowly now...you hear their voice in your mind, imagining the feeling of a warm palm on your back and a body pressed against yours as they coached you through breathing. even in a STATE of panic, your mind knew what to RECALL to calm you. you recall the last time you fell down a rabbit hole, they helped you through it and went as far as to look into things to see how they can help you. you really wished they were here but you’ll have to make do with your imaginations.             the doorbell rings and it startles you from your reverie, visitors ?? maybe a package....mom always tended to order things online and forgets to tell you. it’s too noisy for the delivery man though...the bell rings again, should you answer ?? you’re really in no shape to do so...but what if your mom yells at you for not doing so ??          rubbing at your eyes, you suck in a shaky breath as you stumbled to the door, “sorry, hi... ??” you were expecting a clipboard, except you say varying pairs of shoes before a curious call of your name. head snapping up, your eyes widen at the sight of NINE boys standing at your doorstep...their excited visage morphed into concern, guilt struck you...now you’ve ruined their day.          “are you okay ??” woojin asks softly, breaking the awkward silence.          “yeah, j-just fine !!” you lie, you don’t want them to worry....you’ll be fine. they’re here now, you’ll be fine. you’re not lonely anymore, right ??          “you look like you were crying, are you sure ??” chan asks, not masking the worry in his tone....darn his observant skills, but that was why he was such a great leader.          “i was watching a sad movie.” lie. stop lying.          “it better be a good sad movie...we texted you,” jisung complains ( they did ?? ), “can we come in ?? my arms are sore !!” he whines.          where are your manners ?? you step aside to let the boys in, a flurry of motion and a quick scolding, lands you with a foyer of shoes neatly lined up but a noisy living room. only woojin and chan pause to look at you with concern. you know that look....the PITY look, that’s what the voice in your head calls it.          “can we talk ??” chan asks softly, a gentle smile on his lips, gesturing to the kitchen ( panic...it’s not good they want to talk to you ).          “calm...it’s okay.” woojin murmurs, trying to reassure you and ease the worry settling in your heart.          you follow, back to the door so you could bolt...you watch the two boys settle on the stools lining the kitchen counter.          “whatever we say, stays in here and between us, okay ??” chan promises, you spot woojin nodding so you mirror him. “what happened ??” the male urges softly, “you were upset, not because of a movie. talk to us,” he prompts.          “it’s stupid.” you mumble, suddenly finding interest in the kitchen floor tiles.          “nothing’s stupid,” was the reply, “it’s not stupid if you got upset over it.” woojin coos softly.          “i....i was just....i felt lonely and it’s stupid. i wanted to....” you struggle, you don’t know how to word what you want to say without coming off clingy. “i felt lonely and i didn’t want to be annoying so i....”          that was all it seemed to take for the two males to understand what went on through your head...sort of, not the ENTIRE story but enough to understand. soon you felt yourself being drawn into a warm hug -- tight, secure...reassuring.          “it’s not stupid. we get it. it’s okay.” woojin murmurs.          “we don’t find it annoying that you wanna hit us up, i mean, yeah, we’re busy and all but we love to take time to talk to our friends and family because they’re as important as our job,” chan said, a warm hand rubbing up and down your back.          “i didn’t want to be...clingy or irritating or distracting you...” you murmur against woojin’s shoulder.          “chances are, we’re already distracted anyways,” chan hums, it was sometimes hard to keep EIGHT tired boys in check, especially when they’re just unwilling to get up and continue to practice.          “true. call us, text us...we’ll get back to you, asap !! always !!” the elder promises, pulling away to give a smile.          “what’s going on ?? a HUG FEST WITHOUT US ??” interrupts the silence that settles between the three of you.          “i can’t believe this betrayal !!” -- the dramatic follow up as soon, you were swarmed with each boy trying to get in a hug...your kitchen has never felt so SMALL but you didn’t mind. you love it so much.          chan and woojin never failed to remind you, even after the talk, that it was never a bother for an out-of-the-blue text message or voice message...and true to their words, the boys always responded to them, never leaving a single message unresponded to.

[thejollyroger-writer]

Keep Hope Close at Hand, Chapter Fifteen

a/n: Hey, hello, what's up! I'm back and here with another (shorter, but important) chapter, now that my semester is over! We don't have too much longer before this story gets wrapped up, so stick with me, guys!

Read me on AO3!

Emma has been at the Nolan's for less than five minutes when her phone begins to ring in her pocket, and she answers it to find a very distressed Graham on the other end, his words running together in a breathless rush.

“Emma, you need to come to the station right now, you and David, something has happened with Neal and he just — you need to come here now.”

Emma has so many questions, but his haste makes it obvious that he has no time for any of them. But she tries anyway, goaded on by the curious expression on David's face.

“Graham, I need you — I need you to slow down, okay? Can you tell me what's happened?” She raises her eyebrows at David, who is watching her from the couch, but she gestures towards the door to the back porch, moving towards it as he nods. “You said something about Neal?”

Moments later, once David has closed the door behind him, Emma puts her phone on speaker and sets it on the table in front of her, pacing beside it as Graham tries to collect his thoughts. “Neal’s — well, Em, he’s gone. He just… disappeared, literally, in a cloud of smoke.”

“What do you mean he disappeared?” David asks, eyes wide as he looks up at Emma, pulling at the tips of his hair with his fingers. “People don’t just disappear.”

“I’m watching the tape right now, boss. And he did. He just disappeared, like magic or something.”

Filled with an overwhelming mixture of frustration and fear, Emma can’t even form a coherent comment, running her hands over her hair before dropping her eyes to the ground. As some form of mantra, she keeps repeating David’s last comment in her head over and over again, hoping that makes it true: People don’t just disappear.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” David’s voice is filled with rage, perhaps more than Emma’s whole body.

“I didn’t — I don’t…” Graham tries, but he can’t quite get the words out. “I don’t know what happened. The mayor showed up, and —”

This makes Emma’s head snap up to meet David’s glare, her eyes wide. “Regina?”

Graham huffs, loud enough to be audible over the phone, before continuing: “Yes, Regina. She showed up and talked to him for a couple minutes, bit it’s like I was frozen, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, and then she left and I turned to follow her but I heard Neal laughing in the cell behind me, and when I turned back to look at him, he smiled at me and disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke.”

The sinking feeling that started in Emma’s stomach when she answered the phone turns to a ton of bricks, and it takes everything in her not to collapse into the nearest chair. She tries to do what she always does when the world is about to collapse around her: formulate a plan.

“Well, we should start at the station,” David says. “Let me see this damned footage of Neal to see if we can make heads or tails of anything. There has to be a reasonable explanation for all of this, it’s not like magic or anything.”

Jefferson.

Emma straightens her back, looking around David’s backyard as if she’s going to find anything there, but David is too busy on the phone with Graham to notice. But in her head, it sounded like… no, that’s impossible. She remembers something Jefferson said in passing, something that made no sense then, but now… well, it still makes no sense now, but perhaps a little bit more than a few hours ago.

“You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution to their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

Jefferson.

There’s no one in David’s back yard whispering clues in her ear, especially not Killi—

Killian.

This time, the voice is her own, calm and collected and understanding the severity of the situation. Because if she were Neal and had somehow — (no, certainly not magic, there’s no such thing, right?) — escaped from prison, who would she go after? The answer is obvious, and realizing it, she feels her heart pounding in her chest harder than it ever has before.

Why?

Because you care for him, you idiot.

Because he’s in danger and he doesn’t even know it. Because if she were Neal, escaped from prison and out for revenge, the person she would go after would be the man that helped Emma escape from his grasp, that showed her the truth and made her see that she was never really in love with him in the first place.

(Damn, that’s harsh.)

Killian.

“Graham, listen,” she says, cutting off whatever thought David was in the middle of, not caring about the glare he sends her way. “I’ll meet you at the station in a couple of minutes, as soon as I can, but I need to call someone, okay?”

“Were you not listening to anything I just said?”

She shakes her head, too scared and overwhelmed to care by this point. “And you need to stay here with the kids, okay? Keep them safe, protect them if the need arises but pray that it doesn’t. This is where you need to be.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but snaps it shut when he realizes she’s right. “Yeah, okay, but keep me in the loop! I want updates as often as you have them.”

“Of course, boss,” Graham says over the phone, but Emma just nods, trying her hardest to smile as David leans in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll be right there, Graham, alright?” she asks, but doesn’t give him time to answer before she ends the call, moving as quickly as she can through the house and her phone to pull up Killian’s contact, pressing the call button just before throwing the door open and running to her car.

Voicemail.

She curses technology as she climbs into the driver’s seat, opting for a quick text instead of a voicemail in hopes it means he would see it sooner: Call me ASAP. Urgent before pulling away from the curb.

 When she bursts into the station, Graham is sitting at his desk, the security footage pulled up on his computer. He’s just restarted it, probably for the hundredth time, when she steps up behind him, and she watches the events unfold just as he described them on the phone. Regina walks in, holding something in her hand as she holds the other out towards Graham, freezing him as he turns in his seat to face her. Once he is frozen,

She holds the item in her hand, a long, intricately-carved dagger, out in front of her, approaching Neal’s cell. Emma watches on the screen as his eyes go wide and then narrow before he begins to speak, and she curses them for not opting for the audio recording devices they discussed a few weeks back.

“Did you hear what they were saying while you were…” she pauses, searching for the right word, and decides on “frozen?”

He turns in his chair to look at her, and she can tell that he’s taking this pretty hard.

“I mean, I obviously don’t remember it word for word, but sort of? Something about it coming back, which they were both pretty excited about, and then she commanded him to “find the pirate” and “end it” before she left, and by the time I was… freed… she was gone.” As he finishes his recollection, he gestures to the screen just as Regina turns to walk away and out of the shot of the camera. When Graham is able to move again, he turns towards the back door — towards the camera — and then back to the cell where Neal is laughing, flashing Graham a wicked smile before — literally — disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Graham is silent as he watches the next movements play out on the screen — as he jumps out of his seat, pulling his pistol from his hip as he fills the space the desk and the cell, but Emma already knows that there is nothing there to see.

She sees him hang his head in defeat as the video on the screen restarts, taking a deep breath before saying, “I don’t even know what to do, Em. I don’t — I was useless against him before, and not he can just… disappear? Does that mean he has magical powers? Is that even possible?”

Emma shakes her head, hoping her hand on his shoulder is consolation enough for what he must be going through. “I really don’t know, Graham, but I think — I think we need to start with finding this bastard, yeah?”

Graham nods, his eyes lighting up with a flash of excitement, which Emma wishes she could share. Instead, she’s just drowning in worry: for her family, for Henry, for Hope and Killian. Graham’s right: Neal was dangerous before this new addition of “magic” or whatever… who knows what he might be capable of now.

They decide to patrol the town, Graham heading towards the center while Emma starts on the outskirts. She doesn’t know why (or, she does and chooses to ignore it) , but she feels pulled towards the docks, taking her time to check every nook and cranny. But she has just parked her car when she hears Graham over the radio:

“Suspect seen exiting alleyway behind the Rabbit Hole. He looks… son of a bitch, he looks like he’s covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem to be injured. I’m going to investigate.”

She slams the car back in drive, peeling away from the docks.

Across town, Graham exits his car slowly, hoping to go after Neal, but just as he parks it along the curb behind the bar, he disappears again, in the same cloud of grey smoke as before. So instead Graham investigates the alley from whence he came, shining his flashlight against the dark brick walls to find a man leaning against the building, sitting on the ground and severely injured. A few steps closer, and he can see that it’s Killian , bloody and battered, with a knife sticking out from between his ribs, just below his chest.

“Jones, holy shit!” he calls out, filling the space between them, worried that he’s too late — but Killian’s still breathing, though it’s incredibly labored.

“I need an ambulance!” he calls into the radio. “Civilian down, with a stab wound behind the Rabbit Hole. Ambulance, now!”

He gets a response almost immediately, but it’s nothing compared to the state of haste that Emma finds herself in as she jets across town.

 She beats the ambulance there, her heart pounding on her chest, and with each deep breath comes a struggle to keep the contents of her stomach where they belong. But that’s nothing compared to actually seeing him there, blood dripping from his mouth and the gashes on his face, not to mention the knife that must have narrowly avoided his heart.

“Oh, god, Killian,” she mumbles, falling to her knees in front of him, thankful for the rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingertips.

But that’s all she gets before the ambulance pulls up behind her and she has to move away from him to let them do their job.

To let them bring him back to her.

“Have you called David?” Graham asks, and she knows that he is trying to distract her, but she’s still thankful for it.

“No, but I’ll do it now.”

“You’re going with him.” It’s not a question, but it’s not an order, either, and Emma’s not quite sure how to respond, so she just nods before turning away.

David picks up on the first ring, doing nothing to hide the fact that he was most likely sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring.

“Yeah?”

“Graham spotted him behind the Rabbit Hole but he disappeared again. Killian’s here, but he’s been beat up pretty bad, and, uh, stabbed.” How her voice stays as calm as it does is beyond her.

“Christ almighty. By Neal?”

“That’s the assumption.”

“Go with him to the hospital. Mary Margaret and I can stay with the kids, but text me with updates and call me in the morning.”

“Okay,” Emma agrees, but stops herself before she moves to hang up.

After a moment, David speaks again. “Emma?”

She hums in response, suddenly unable to control the quiver of her lip.

“He’s going to be alright.”

“Thanks, David,” she breathes, hanging up her phone before turning back to the collection of people behind her, the medics gathered around Killian. She only has to argue with one paramedic before she’s strapped into her seat in the back of the ambulance, her hand wrapped around Killian’s.

She thinks that sitting beside him in the ambulance, watching the paramedics try to save his life is bad enough — but being forced to wait in the waiting room while Killian is in surgery, not being able to feel him alive beside her, is much, much worse.

But until Dr. Whale pushes through the door and tells Emma that Killian is out of surgery, still recovering and asleep but should be up before the morning, the only thing she has to hold on to are the rings that usually hang around his neck, given to her for safekeeping by one of the paramedics.

[mystic-scripture]

What if it wasn’t Fake Pt. 2

A Bucky Fake Dating AU.

Hey all, this is part of Amanda aka @stanclub‘s 2.5 K writing challenge! This is the first time I’ve done one of these. Thanks so much for the likes and supports of Pt 1!! (Tagging: @lost-in-translating, @jamesbvck, and @horsesbeforehomework for signal boost/ the notification!)

Word Count: 5,160

Warnings: Swearing, lots of drinking, anxiety ridden situations, anything else please let me know ASAP

I want to say this is part one of two, but I am not sure yet…we’ll see.

Fake Dating Prompt: my friends are all coupled up and i’m the only single person so i pretended you were my partner even though you’re the barista/bookstore owner/etc. that i see all the time and now they want to meet you (for bucky)

You woke up on a softer surface than you remembered. Stirring slightly, you felt Bucky’s jacket shift from it’s draped position over your chest. You turned your head, trying to gain your bearings only to meet the gaze of Bucky who was sitting in the armchair next to the couch you’d been placed on. Relief flooded his features, and the far of glint to his eyes faded as he took notice of your awakened state.

“Hey…” You lamely croaked, moving to sit up and feeling pain gathering around your temples.

“You pass out on me, don’t wake up for an hour, and all you have to say is ‘hey?’” He raised an eyebrow at you, the relief hardening his voice as if to contradict his concern. “You really had me scared there, (y/l/n).”

“Had a bit too much to drink, I guess.” You moved shrugged your shoulders, pantomiming nonchalance. “Happens sometimes.”

“Bullshit.” He stated, making you look at him with wide eyes. “I’ve seen you at every stage of drunk in the book, hell, I’ve even called you a ride more times than I can count and seen you bounce back the next day. In the three years you’ve been going to Winter’s, never have you fainted like that because of booze.”

“How would you know?” You argued, flushed at how he annoyingly observant he was. “I drink at places other than your bar.”

“Not often, and not with the tabs you run up.” he stated plainly, leaning back and running his hand through the tresses of his hair. You noticed that he’d taken his hair out of it’s do, tangled around his fingers from worrying his hands through it so much. “So are you going to tell me what really happened or try a lie I might actually believe?”

“Right because you know everything about me, right?” You muttered, pulling yourself to your feet so you could glance around the room. Wilson and Rogers were both gone, leaving the two of you alone as the event went on without you. “You didn’t have to babysit me, you should be out there for your friend.”

You didn’t hear, so much as feel Bucky stand behind you, the height difference feeling bigger now than it ever did before. There was also a tensity to the air that confused you, part of it was concern while the other was a thin veil of that forced calm that you’ve been noticing.

“You want to run that first part by me again?” He said, his voice dangerously low as you felt your entire being shudder at the break of silence. “Especially given how stupid the other part was?”

You gulped, turning towards him, but avoiding meeting his eyes, scared to see the intensity of their burn. “I clearly don’t know as much about you as I thought when I asked you to do this, and you have, what? A dossier on me somewhere? You remembered all those things from the day we first met, and I can’t even remember what questions I asked you. You were able to pin all my friends and have none of them question you. Meanwhile I’m here freaking out because I thought this idea was far fetched and-”

You paused, leading up to what caused you to faint in the first place. Bucky however, sensed the rest of your sentence.

“And what?”

His tone had softened, but you still couldn’t meet his gaze. You fiddled with your fingers, twisting at the random ring you wore as if you could screw finger off and that would relieve the immense pressure of his glance. You felt the knot in your throat tighten and expand, the words tangled and stuck there, unable to get out.

“Hey,” he called out, gently pulling your chin so that you had to look at him. His face had softened, the tight lines of whatever emotions were boiling off him had dissipated. His eyes, however, were molten, radiating warmth and comfort. “Say what’s on your mind.”

“And…” You started, testing out your voice but not liking the harshness of it. You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before braving to look at him, tempering your voice. “You just lied to your best friend about us.”

“I don’t understa-”

“The deal was to pretend for my friends, I never said you had to keep the act up around yours.” You fretted, turning from him to pace, only just now realizing that you were barefoot. “This wasn’t supposed to be get this messy. I just had to open my big fat mouth and now-”

You sighed, rubbing at your forehead before looking to him, defeat in your features.

“And now I’ve messed up whatever dynamic we had, nothing’s going to be the same.” You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. “I fucked everything up because I didn’t want to be the only one of my friends that was single.”

You moved to the armchair and felt yourself fall into it, not suddenly like your fainting spell, but slowly, deliberately as if you were expecting him to leave and that you might as well make yourself comfortable. The seconds lasted for hours as you waited for the other shoe to drop. You’d said your piece, aired out your anxieties, now it was his turn to do or say something. But he didn’t, he just stood there, not even looking at you, his gaze where you were as you observed him.

“You could at least deny it.” You said, after a few moments, picking at your lip. “Or tell me I’m right, tell me where we go from here, Anything.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of his daze, a sigh escaping his lips as he shook himself clear of whatever he was thinking. Moving over to you, he knelt down to grab your shoes from where he’d stowed them, hooking his fingers on the heels as he held them out to you. There was no malice in his stance or face, no sadness, it was just blank, or uncaring, you couldn’t pick out which one. Before you could even decide how you felt about either option, he spoke, his lip curling lightly into that smirk that you’ve had a love/hate relationship with all day.

“Let’s just get out there and take this one step at a time…” He trailed off, his voice sounding like he was talking about the royal we versus the two of you. When you hesitantly touched his knuckles to grab your shoes, he looked at you, a comforting smile stretching across his face. “Alright?”

It was in that moment that realized just how deep you’d fallen down the rabbit hole. All of your fears and doubts melted away with that smile, your head nodding as you slipped into your shoes without your mind fully catching up. It was as if your heart was running the show now, and not your mind. All that was there was Bucky, leading you out of the room, after he shrugged his jacket on. Hell, you were pretty sure that if he asked you to jump, you would ask him how high.

The haze started to fade as you got closer to the venue, Bucky drawing you slowly closer, settling for linked arms instead of his arm around your waist or shoulders. People you vaguely recognized as some of the city’s elite or journalists started to appear around you. The canvases were all uncovered now, the traditional pencil drawings in plain view. You smiled, seeing the time and care of each pencil stroke, the faint signs of smudging from erasing lines or blending shadows. Before you could fully relax however, you were abruptly stopped by the man himself and his agent.

“Happy to see you up and about, Miss.” Came the subdued greeting, the slight green of his eyes moving to look at his friend, checking the status of Bucky as well as yourself. “Gave us all a scare.”

“Sorry to worry you when you already have so much to worry about, Mr. Rogers.” You replied, motioning around the four of you. “Your artwork is amazing.”

“Thank you. And no don’t be sorry, it helped to worry about something other than this.” He blushed, ducking his head down as if embarrassed by your compliment. “And just Steve is fine.”

“Well then Steve it is.” You smiled softly, glad to have such a comforting presence be the first person you spoke to aside from Buck. “You can call me (y/n).”

“Don’t expect him to shake the whole ‘Miss’ thing. It’s just part of his old fashioned sensibilities.” Wilson stated, handing you a glass. “Some water; figured you might need some.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wil-” You paused, your hand around the glass, but still firmly in his hand. There was a look in his eye as he held fast, raising an eyebrow at you. “Sam.”

“That’s better.” He smiled that smile he gave you earlier that night, releasing your drink and your nerves. The next thing his said had you choke on the sip of water you took. “Now, shall we give your friends a bit of a show?”

“I’m sorry?” You stammered, eyes widening and throat burning. Had Bucky told them after all? Was this what he meant about taking it one step at a time.

“I said, any idea on when your friends will show?” He stated, making you relax, wishing that your mind would take a break again. “Of if they’re here already.”

You bit your lip before taking a longer sip of your water. “You know, I didn’t actually get to that part?”

“We sort of just decided to wing it.” Bucky shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Which (y/n) hates, so thanks for reminding her, Wilson.”

“Oh, bite me, Barnes.” He scoffed, making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry did I step on your moment? Steve and I can leave the two of you alone if you’d like.” You offered, gesturing between the small group next to you.

You watched all three of their faces froze for a second, twitching slightly with surprise. You opened your mouth, afraid you’d been too brave too quickly, but suddenly all three of them were laughing, making you relax with them. You were used to taking smack with the guys, and with Bucky even at the bar, but the other two didn’t know your  sense of humor yet. Thankfully, they shared a similar one, Steve speaking up.

“You make that offer every time they get like that though, and you’ll be short a date.” He said, pointing between the two in question. “They have this frenemy situation going on that I don’t get.”

“When you’re the connecting point, you never do.” You said, pulling on Bucky’s arm. “Come on, he may be your best friend, but it is his night. I’m sure we’ll see him around.”

“Boys.” Bucky gave a mock salute, happily letting you tug him further into the throng of people.

The two of you walked for a while, trying to locate your friends, but unable to. Soon, you found yourself at the bar that was set off to the side of the venue. Without skipping a beat, Bucky ordered two of your favorite drink, and paid the bartender. You couldn’t help but feel different sitting next to him instead of across from him. He seemed to sense this, or at least the part where you were watching him.

“D-did you want something else? I get can you something else.” He turned to wave the bartender back over, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm and a soft laugh. “What?”

“Sorry, sorry.” You burst out into a harder laugh at his confusion, composing yourself before continuing. “It’s just strange being on this side of the bar with you...and trusting someone other than you or Nat with my drink. It’s definitely something I could get used to.”

“Is that an offer?” His lip curled, and his gaze flicked down toward where your hand still rested on his wrist. You pulled back, rubbing at the back of your neck as you cleared your throat. As you did so, he turned around to rest his elbows on the bar, his figure facing the dance floor. “I’m down a few bussers, and if tonight is any indication, you actually put some effort into your appearance and you might reel in a few regulars.”

“No that was not an offer.” You dismissed him, your mouth hanging open at his words. “And thanks for that severely backhanded compliment. You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself through a thorough negging, don’t you?”

“Negging?” He turned to look at you doubtfully. “Are you secretly British or some shit and forgot to tell me?”

“No...but I may have watched the first Kingsman movie semi-recently.” You admitted, shyly, looking down at the bar. “I can’t stop the references sometimes.”

“You don’t have to.” He said, turning to look at you. “It’s what makes you.”

“Makes me...” You paused, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were in this new position, causing you to lamely finish the question. “What?”

Bucky didn’t seem to hear you at first, his eyes intent on taking in the details of your face, you couldn’t tell if he, yourself, or both of you leaned forward in that moment, but you both did visibly jumped back when the bartender placed your drinks on the counter. You both laughed at that, quietly thanking the man as Bucky gave him a tip.

“You.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows. Finishing the sentence, and then saying it again lamely. “It’s what makes you, you.”

You pulled the straw from your drink and took a deep sip from the rim, careful to not drip anything- you were still a lady after all- before looking to him. Deciding that there was no time like the present, you took the leap of faith.

“And that makes you, you, Buck?” You tilted your glass towards him. “I think we should have another round of twenty questions, what do you say? And that was not an opening to say it counts as a question.”

He took a couple of sips of his drink as he studied your face, trying to find the motive behind your request. Finding nothing aside from your curiosity, he nodded. “Alright, the only thing left to wonder is will you ask the right questions?”

“Seeing your high standards on the matter, probably not.” You said loftily, taking another sip of your drink and motioning for the two of you to start walking. “But it’ll be fun to try.”

An easy smile spread across his face as he looped your arm through his, the two of you slowly walking through the exhibits. You started with a few basic ones, favorite color, movie, pizza place. Knowing that these were lower tier questions, you asked about him and Steve, learning about how they grew up in Brooklyn together, and the trouble they’d get into. You could tell that he cared deeply for his friend, as if he were family, and it made you remember to look for your friends. So far, there were no signs of them, but you were having fun getting to know Bucky.

“What about the bar?” You said, the two of you looking at a pair of still arts on the wall. “Did you always want to do that, or did you happen upon it?”

“A little bit of both.” He admitted, tilting his head to the side. He paused in thought, as if trying to plan his explanation. “I always wanted to help people, and during the war, I was able to see what a good, safe environment could provide. The bar has no sides, no right or wrong, just people getting together and agreeing that life sucks sometimes.”

You felt yourself nodding, a smile forming on your lips as you understood what he was talking about. “Very profound of you, Mr. Barnes. Very Profound.”

He ducked his head down, similar to when Steve did, as if embarrassed by your praise. He quickly turned the table on you though, leading you to the central area. You thought maybe he was leading you to the next part of the exhibit, but instead you found Clint and Laura. Beaming, you gently extracted yourself from Bucky and hugged your friends, finding the others close by,

“We were worried there, (y/l/n).” Peter teased, tapping your shoulder. “Thought you two might have bailed on us.”

“Speak for yourself!” Was your indignant reply, gesturing to the scene around you. “We’ve been looking for you most of the night.”

Clint, however, decided that his lack of tact would come in handy. “We were watching you guys a couple of times, you weren’t trying all that hard.”

The girls all smacked his shoulders with groans. Laura, however, rubbed his chest with a small sigh. “He means to say that we didn’t want to intrude, no worries.”

“No, I meant that we-yeow!” He insisted, rubbing the back of his head where Okoye had struck him. “Dammit! Why are we always messing with poor, defenseless, Clint, huh? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Says someone who usually said or did something.” You corrected.

You all went to a small table to get some drinks and finger food, and before you knew it, you were finding yourself more at ease with your friends. Or at least you did at first. Even though you felt that you and Bucky had gotten this whole act down at this point, you knew that was all it was, a favor that you never knew how to repay. A lie you didn’t want or know how to get out of. Bucky seemed to sense this though, and every time you seemed to get overwhelmed he was there to have you walk with him, or even dance with him, as you were now, a few of the others joining you as well.

“You still have a few questions by the way.” He murmured, cheek gently pressed against your cheek as he held you close. If he hadn’t spoken you would have been drifting into the land of make-believe where this would happen all the time. “You giving up on me, Doll?”

You pulled back to meet his gaze, immediately seeing the mocking glint to his eye. “I was trying to be subtle Barnes. Can’t exactly interrogate you with my friends watching. They think we know all this stuff about each other.”

“To be fair, one of us does.” He shrugged, a smirk curling into his cheek. “You are a very talkative drunk.”

“And you like to brag about being overly observant of other people.” You retorted, shifting your position so that your hand rested atop his shoulder while he held your other hand, allowing you to talk more comfortably. “Tell me, do you enjoy being a cocky know-it-all who gives nothing away.”

“Oh, I’m an open book,” He answered, the smirk widening into a grin, “It’s just a matter of-”

“Asking the right questions. I know.” You rolled your eyes. “A cipher I will crack one day.”

He just sighed, moving to rest his cheek near the crown of your head. “I’m sure you will.”

The rest of the night went well, the limo ride was longer than you remember it being, but you blamed your drunk friends for that. Before leaving, you had made sure to see Sam and Steve again, Bucky saying goodbye to his friends, and both of you assuring the artist that it was a great success. Now, you were leaning into him, the two of you quiet as the others were rowdy, or just deeply seeded in PDA. You were used to it, but it didn’t make it less annoying. You were pulled from your reflections by Bucky nudging you with the shoulder you leaned on. Groaning at the shift in your comfortable position, you sat up with a pout, silently inquiring his motives.

“You know, I just realized that I haven’t done this all night.” He said, giving you only the time to raise a single eyebrow in confusion before the second one flew up in surprise as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He’d given you small displays of affection, the contact, and some light kisses to the temple or cheek, but this felt different. It was hesitant, almost chaste in nature until you felt your eyes flutter shut and you relaxed into it. Then he grew more confident, and soon there was a collection of whooping around you as everyone took in the sight. Of course, this caused you to both pull away with nervous laughter in your throats, but you could only think about how right it felt. You were also sure that you were flushing intensely based on the heat at the back of your neck as well as the look of pure amusement on Bucky’s face as he looked at you.

“Will you two be joining us for our little after party?” Wanda asked, distracting you from the rapid beating of your  heart. “Vis and I have plenty of wine and movies for to last the rest of the night. That is…” She trailed off and gave a suggestive smile in your direction. “If you two didn’t already have plans?”

You bit your lip at the implication there, it was the part of the evening where you usually left your friends for a hookup or to just lay in your living room eating ice cream until you fell asleep with your outfit and make-up all rumbled and half a pint wasting away at room temperature. You hadn’t planned, well for a lot of what happened today, which gave you pause, but of course, Bucky was all about making the brash decisions, and answered quickly.

“I think we’re going to turn in for the night.” He answered easily, not implying anything, but merely conveying that it had been a long night for your both. “Did you want to go to your place or mine, Doll?”

“Your pla- or-” You choked slightly, coughing to cover it up. “My place is closer, we can go there.”

The group nodded and told the driver where to go, and the rest of the ride was relatively calm. People were tired, or otherwise distracted, and honestly, you were just too comfy to really pay attention. You would answer the odd question, and could hear the conversation around you, but you were busy enjoying every last moment of this fleeting contentment, dreading what would happen when you closed your front door.

The moment came all two soon, the two of you scrambling through the seats to give hugs and handshakes to all, and wishing everyone a good night. Bucky had his arm around your shoulders even as they pulled away, gently leading you towards your front door with no sign of leaving. Once you were in the main hallway, he gave you space to open up your door. Once you did, you turned, leaning against the frame.

“Well, that was adventure, wasn’t it?” He breathed, something in his stance shifting to a real comfort and not the forced one.

“I’d say…” You agreed, biting your lip as you figured out what to say. “Thank you, Buck….really.”

He shrugged, shaking head head. “Like I told you; I was going anyway, no need to make you look shitty in front of your friends.”

“True, true.” You said, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You opened your mouth to say something, but Bucky got there first, pointing at you.

“You never did get the last of those questions.”

His eyes were bright, hopeful and filled with an anticipation you didn’t think you could satisfy. You felt yourself pull towards him, much like at the bar, unsure of who moved first, but this time, there was no one to stop you. No one that is except yourself.

“I didn’t, did I?” You paused slightly. “Perhaps I’m afraid of what comes after...”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

His voice soft as he assured you, his hand leaning above your head on the doorway as he continued to eliminate the space between you. You could feel the energy zapping between you two, but your fears had too much of a hold on you. So, you said the first things that popped into your head, two questions; stupid given that you were at three, but you said them anyway.

“Do you think they fell for it? Both of our friends, I mean…” You started to gesture wildly with your hands. “Did they even like me?”

A thousand expressions flashed in his eyes as you said that, most of them making you instantly regret saying that. He settled on a calm one, though his jaw was clenched until he forced through a laugh, genuine amusement in his eyes.“Yeah, I think I can safely say that we had everyone going. Steve thought you were great and who cares what Wilson thinks?”

“Says someone who absolutely cares about what he thinks.” You accused, pushing at his shoulder lightly. “We made a pretty good team, huh?”

“Yeah, should make a rental service.” He spread his hand in front of him as he pulled back, “For all those events where you’d rather die than be single.’ We’d do weddings, family gatherings, high school reunions…”

You both laughed, but there was something missing. You couldn’t really parse it out, and from the look of doubt on his face, Buck didn’t really know either. Instead of figuring it out though, he cleared his throat, and pointed behind him.

“I think it’s safe for me to scoot out now, right?” He turned to look at the main door. “Don’t want to keep you up much longer.”

“I should be saying that to you.” Shaking fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. “I had a surprise one hour nap...and who knows what you have lined up for tomorrow.”

“That’s fair.” He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you around then, (y/n).”

You let out a hushed response, dreading this moment but being powerless to stop it. Just your courage giving out on you when you had the chance. And now, he was leaving, his back turned towards you as you started to close the door in front of you. Hearing his heavy footsteps down the hall. There was no way the night could end like this. What were you thinking? Were you stupid? You couldn’t think on it too long, knowing that he could be rounding the street corner as you did so. Kicking off your heels and pushing open your door, you burst out of your apartment leaving the door wide open and crashed into a solid object that resulted in swearing from a familiar voice.

“Clint?!” You jumped back, holding your hand to your heart. “What the hell are you doing here, where’s Laura?”

“I live here? And Laura wanted to hang with the girls some more.” He shrugged. “Something about being the only one sober enough to direct them where to go. Besides, I figured I’d wait a few seconds for your boy to sneak out, since I know you’ve been in a panic all night.”

“Panic? Wha-No..I wasn’t panicking.” You scoffed, leaning against the wall. “I just really wanted you guys to like him is all.”

“Yeah, and you really wanted him to like you too.” He agreed, and you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself. “Because he isn’t actually your man...yet.”

Being in a rush, you didn’t even both to deny it. “When did you figure it out...were you listening in on the whole saga that just happened at my front door?”

“When he kissed you.” Clint shrugged. “Guys like that don’t ‘just realize’ they haven’t kissed a girl looking like you do tonight, and it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t even expecting it.”

“God, you two are made for each other.” You muttered. “Obnoxious observation skills and all.”

“Well as flattering as that statement is, I’m not his type.” He walked around you, pushing you towards the door. “And you’d better hurry if you want to catch him in time.”

You nodded, mustering up your courage as you hopped into a sprint, nearly crashing into a couple of neighbors coming home for the evening. Muttering rushed apologizes you pulled up your skirt and made for the front door, looking for where Bucky would have gone. He was, as you guessed, rounding the corner, his stance wilted as he walked, disappointed. Mustering up all the courage you had, you held one hand next to your mouth and shouted.

“James!”

He paused, and you ran up to him in the time it took him to turn around. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking down at you now that you’d lost your height. You probably looked like a wreck with your hair everywhere and your dress in all sorts of disarray, but you didn’t care, you needed to do this, now. Or you never would.

“I still...still have one question that I’m gonna try not to waste this time.” You gasped, trying to gain the breath to even get the words out. You could tell the anticipation was killing him a little, but he didn’t want you to know it.

“What if this wasn’t fake?” You blurted out, holding your hands in front of you to back track. “I mean unless I’m reading things wrong and you’re an amazing actor, I mean there’s a reason I’m the single one, and I just couldn’t let you walk away without knowing if-”

You were cut off by Bucky taking your face in his hands and kissing you. It wasn’t chaste like the one in the limo, but it wasn’t fierce either, it was a perfect medium that had you melting in his arms as you kissed him back. As you pulled away, he smiled at you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Now that is the right question that I’ve been waiting for.” He smiled, warm and bright as he spun you towards your house. “Now, let’s get you fixed up.”

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with the way I look, Barnes.” You mocked, falling into step with him.

“You know I am, you look like you’ve lived in that dress for a week.”

“Such a Charmer, Buck, really smooth.”

“Never claimed to be, Doll.” He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Just saying that I liked the park look better.”

And as you walked back up to your apartment, you finally got a glimpse of the happiness your friends found in each other, and you were okay with that.

[shotsbyshae]

Coming Soon: Cannonball

Warnings: Language, Smut-ish (eventually)

Words: 1.3k

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When things go bad, you always end up at his door, and things are really, really bad.

Song: Cannonball by ZZ Ward

A/N: This is loosely based on a reader request and can be read as a stand-alone or prequel/sequel to Not Afraid Anymore. (Yea, this rabbit hole is Going. All. The. Way.)

I’m down on my knees and I’m screamin’ I’m a fiend, and I’m beggin’ you, please

2025

Death.

It’s the end of one’s story.

There’s no running from it.

Death always comes ‘round.

Because all stories have to end – don’t they?

Well, who makes that choice?

Who decides when it’s time for the story to be over?

Of everything that’s happened, you know this can’t be the end of their story.

All that they’ve been through – the lives they’ve saved.

Only to make the ultimate sacrifice.

They defeated him, but Thanos still won.

It isn’t right.

You slide the zipper closed on the duffel bag, slinging it across your shoulder as you hear his deep voice from the door, “Where are you going?” You smile a little to yourself, because you never realized how much you’d miss him until he was gone like the others. Fury continues as you turn to face him. “Stark’s service is in an hour.”

“I’m not going,” you reply quietly. “I – I have to go.”

“Go? Go where?” confusion on his face is evident as you begin to walk out of the room.

“When I was first started at S.H.I.E.L.D., you and Coulson gave me The Shadow Project,” you glance up at him earnestly. “I don’t know why you trusted me of all people, but you did. Aside from the Initiative, Shadow’s all I know – it’s my job.”

“What are you saying?” you can hear the concern in his voice.

“Let me do my job, Nick.”  

If you’ve learned anything, it’s that death doesn’t have to be the end.  

2011

The cell phone from the center console of the SUV begins to ring and you answer it quickly, knowing who’s on the other end.

Nick Fury has many secrets, and a little rendezvous like this of yours is just one of them.

Sometimes even S.H.I.E.L.D. encounters that which cannot be explained.

When that happens, you have to make a phone call to him.

“Hi, Garth.”

“Change of plans,” he says. “I can’t make it.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reply, brows furrowed. “You know that.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Garth states. “I’ve got a couple guys in the area. I gave them the location and they’re going to meet you for the information.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose with an audible sigh into the phone, “I don’t like it.”

“You can trust them,” Garth says reassuringly. “They owe me one, you could say I saved their pretty faces.”

You’ve been meeting him for six months now and the idea of Garth saving anyone still baffles you, even though you know what he does for a living.

You’re standing beside the front of the SUV when the black car pulls to a stop in front of you, same model as Garth had described in his phone call earlier. The two men who climb from inside are nothing like what you expect, given your history with Garth.

They share a look of slight surprise between the two of them as you ask, “You must be Garth’s friends.”

“I wouldn’t go that –” the shorter of the two begins but is interrupted by the other one.

“Yea, that’s us. I’m Sam,” says the very tall one. He’s cute, with shaggy dark hair. “This is my brother Dean.” He gives a smile and you can tell right away he’s trouble.

“Alright then,” you nod, getting to the point. You close the distance, holding out a manilla folder, which Dean reaches for – he must like to be in charge. “Here’s everything we have on the group – there’s about twelve of them.”

“Nest,” Dean corrects as he flips through the surveillance photos. You fold your arms across your chest, uncomfortable at his tone and gold-green eyes flick up to yours, small smirk on the edge of his lips. “Not group – vampires are a nest.”

“Yea – okay,” you respond. “Well, have fun storming the nest.”

You’re halfway back to your door when you hear Dean stumbling over his words, “Wait – how do we contact you?”

“Really?” Sam whispers as Dean slaps the folder against his brother’s chest.

“Why?” you question, glancing back at them curiously.

His lips twitch as he thinks of his response, “To let you know the job’s done.”

A knowing smile crosses your face as you open the door to the SUV, “Call Garth – he can get me the message.” The look of defeat on Dean’s face is almost comical. “After all, he’s my contact.”

2012

It’s official – Tony Stark will be the death of you.

After the events of New Mexico with Thor, he’s going above and beyond to showboat. Fury has tasked you with him temporarily – his idea of a joke – you should get to know Stark.

However, keeping Tony Stark in-line is about as easy as herding cats.

You’re at the end of your rope with him, so an information drop is exactly what you need to get away – even if it’s for a little while.

You open the door to the small diner, glancing around for Garth as you walk inside. It’s not unusual for him to suggest grabbing lunch during a drop. You recognize the face sitting in the booth instantly and you can’t help but laugh as you slowly approach the him. A plate with a burger and curly fries sits on the table.

“Hi,” Dean greets, the smile on his face causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

“Unbelievable,” you shake your head. “What do you want?”

“I’m just here for the information – unless,” there’s a glint in his eyes as you slide onto the green vinyl seat across from him. “What do you want, Agent?”

You breathe deep, laying the folder on the table as your eyes dart around at the other patrons in the diner before settling back on him. Reaching across you pluck one of the fries from the plate, “Alcohol – that’s what I want, but that’s probably a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he agrees, but the boyish grin on his face says otherwise.

***

The sound of buzzing awakens you – your phone. Reaching across to the nightstand, your hand searches blindly but finds nothing. There’s a momentary pause in the buzzing sound before it starts up again and you groan in annoyance. You stick your head out from under the covers and look over the side of the bed, seeing the glow of the screen from the floor in front of the nightstand.

Grabbing it quickly, you put it to your ear, whispering as you answer, “Hello.”

“It’s about damn time,” Fury’s voice says loudly through the speaker and you instantly pull the phone away from your ear. It is too early, and he is too loud. “I need you to come in. ASAP.”

“Huh,” you sit up, wincing as you rub the base of your neck. You can feel the headache starting – fucking tequila.

“They found him,” his voice says quickly through the phone. “Frozen – he’s one giant ice cube.”

“Found who?” you glance over as the man beside you stirs, his hair messy and gold-green eyes heavy with sleep.

“Captain America,” he responds.  

You snap fully awake with a jolt, “What?”

“You heard me,” Nick says. “Get here – now.”

You drop the phone on the bed as you jump up, pulling your jeans on quickly, “Shit!”

“Everything okay?” he questions as you straighten your shirt.

“Yea,” you say quickly, tugging on your sneakers. “It’s work – I gotta go.” Glancing at the man still lying in bed as you gather the rest of your things, you give him a small smile. “Thanks for this though – it was great. I’ll –” You hesitate, not used to being on this side of the situation. “See you around.”

You open the motel room door, and he smiles at you one last time, “Of course.” The door closes behind you and he falls back against the pillows with a sigh. “Well, that’s a first.”