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kenvais · 3 years

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title: dark royalty.

reader: female

au: royal

characters: tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, issei matsukawa

part: 2/?

taglist: @chrisrue15 @ak-may (list will be moved if it grows.)

recommended song: lilith - ellise

warnings: profanity, mild violence, death mention

♕♔♕

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oikawa pov

"Be careful with her." Issei said nonchalantly as he took a bite out of his apple, glancing towards the brown haired male.

Tooru raised an eyebrow, shooting his friend a questioning look. "Mm, why should I be afraid of some petty queen? She seems like the obedient type, does she not?"

The latter male shook his head. "Miss Y/n is very far from obedient. You might want to watch your back."

A wide grin spread across the emperor's lips.

"Is that so? Well that just makes me feel even more intrigued." He chuckled, making his way to the other side of the room where Hajime was asleep on a couch.

Issei nodded. "She'll be a tough one, but I think it'll be worth it. All the gold in their kingdom is enough to make us the most powerful of the empires." The male hummed as he took another bite.

"Sounds like fun, I think it's a worthy gamble."

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble one of these days with your habits."

"Mmh, if you say so. I think it's fun.. Anyway, there's absolutely no way that someone as powerful as I would lose to a silly little girl. This is child's play."

"Whatever you say, Tooru, whatever you say."

♕♔♕

---

y/n pov

"Your majesty, I deeply apologize to wake you at such an hour, but it seems that we have an emergency--I would request that you make your way to the safe room as soon as possible." One of your butlers said, his voice filled with worry and panic.

Already mildly alarmed, you sat up in your bed, sliding out of the silk sheets and picking up your nearest robe.

"What happened?" You asked as you put the maroon colored robe on, wrapping it around your body and putting on your slippers.

The butler bowed quickly before looking directly into your eyes, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. "It seems that there has been an intruder--they seem to be armed, and there has been a dead body found in the dining hall."

With a click of your tongue, you relaxed your shoulders and frowned, glancing at your butler.

"Claude, please don't alarm me with such trivial affairs." You deadpanned as you shuffled over to the other side of the room and pulled a dagger from the top of your dresser.

"Your highness, what is it that you are doing-?" The male asked, the panic in his voice becoming more and more prominent by the second.

With your eyebrows furrowed, you looked over your shoulder at the trembling man.

"I am doing what a queen is meant to do. I protect my kingdom, my castle, and everyone inside of it. Now is not the. time to panic, it's the time for you to be informing the knights and officers." You stated flatly, sending the butler a sharp glare.

He shook his head quickly. "My queen, I cannot simply allow you to risk your life in such a way!"

"I do as I please, Claude. Now go inform the knights and officers so that they can lock all the doors and windows."

"..Yes, my lady."

"Good. Now, do be a dear and have Beatrice make me a cup of tea while you're at it." You hummed cheerily.

Claude nodded again and bowed. "As you wish, your majesty."

"Ah, and Claude, one more thing."

He raised an eyebrow, looking up.

"Please address me as Y/n, I am not a fan of all of these unnecessarily fancy nicknames that I have been receiving since coronation. Princess was cute, but this whole 'Your majesty' thing is creepy as hell."

The male nodded again and you walked out, roaming the halls in search for what had caused all the commotion.

"My, my, my, what do we have here?" A voice chirped from behind you.

You turned around, eyes wide as you saw him.

He wasn't terrible looking, you had to admit.

But that wasn't what you needed to be thinking about at that moment.

Immediately, you jabbed the dagger into the wall right by his head, pinning him against the wall mercilessly and damn-near choking the male.

His eyes had gone a little wide, seeing as he didn't expect you to be so hostile.

"You know, the violence isn't necessarily needed." The brunette hummed, glancing at you with a frown.

"Shut your damn mouth. Why are you in my castle?" You snapped, taking your hand off of him, although you left the dagger in the wall.

He shrugged. "Mmh, no reason really. I just wanted to meet my future wife in person. You really are quite the looker." He laughed.

"Well now you've met her. Leave." You stated sharply, pointing to the hall leading to the exit.

With his hands up, Tooru nodded. "Don't worry, your royal highness, I'll own this castle before you know it and you won't have any say in it."

"Whatever you say, asshole." You retorted.

The brunette stuffed his hands into his pockets, strolling towards the exit nonchalantly as you seethed with anger.

He had the audacity.

The drive.

The motivation.

The nerve to enter my castle.

He knows what he is.

He knows who he is.

I hope he burns in hell with the rest of his fucking lackies.

You pulled your robe around yourself again and yanked the dagger out of the wall, storming back up into your bedroom.

Had me walking all of those stairs for no valid reason.

And now there's going to be a dead body in the dining hall--that'll definitely stink the place up.

I wonder who it was.

Maybe it was Elliot.

I hope it was Elliot..

Elliot is an asshole, I should've killed him myself.

'A queen can't rule by herself' my ass.

"Claude, Beatrice, where's my tea-?!" You called as you sat down on your bed.

A moment later, a tall, pale woman with exactly 42 freckles entered your bedroom with a cart, holding a tray with some tea.

"My apologies, your high--eh.. Y/n, we had to arrange a cleanup for the body in the kitchen."

You nodded, taking the cup off of the tray and setting it in your lap. "Mmh, who was it?"

"It was Elliot."

"Good, at least that bastard can do something right."

"Pardon-?"

"Nothing, nothing, you all can take the day rest of the week off. You've had enough stress to last you a month within these past days."

A wide smile appeared on the woman's face.

"Thank you, it's highly appreciated!"

"No worries, now head to bed."

"Will do!"

I like Beatrice.

Beatrice is nice.

---

♕♔♕

©skvrtii - do not repost, edit, or modify my content without direct consent from me.

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myherowritings · 5 years

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Take You Out

Request: Could you do a Bakugou x Reader fic where the reader asks Bakugou out on a date to the park but he misunderstands and thinks they’re challenging him to a fight? So they show up dressed up really nice and put together, but he’s ready to throw down? Thx!!!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 1,928

Author’s Note: This is a repost because the original got deleted, ugh. IDK if I did it on accident or if it was Tumblr, but regardless it’s very disheartening to see all the notes gone and agh I’m just frustrated and sad. :( But it’s okay! I’m grateful I had it saved. Any reblogs would be appreciated! xx

“Tomorrow at five, then?”

“Tch. That’s fine by me.”

His brows were furrowed with a glare and his arms were crossed defensively as he looked at you, but you were so happy that Bakugou didn’t just reject you, you hardly noticed.

“R-Really?” you asked, staring up at him as a bright smile threatened to take over your face. “We can meet at the park by the pond! I have the perfect set up.”

Earlier that day, Ashido had helped you plan out the perfect picnic date with Bakugou. You went out to buy a gingham blanket, a vintage picnic basket, and an assortment of meats and cheeses for the sandwiches.

It was going to be perfect.

“You have a whole set up for this?” Katsuki’s face was the mixture of confusion and anger you had grown to love.

“Of course! I’ve been planning this for a while,” you admitted shyly, toying with the hem of your shirt. “I honestly can’t wait to take you out.”

His eye twitched. “What?”

You peered at him through your lashes. “Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that I can’t wait to take you out.” You tilted your head slightly to the side as Bakugou furrowed his nose up. Scratching the back of your head, you laughed nervously, “Sorry-- Was that too forward?”

“Take me out?” he repeated, voice growing louder as his expression became more and more incredulous. “Listen here, pipsqueak. I don’t know where you got that idea, but I’m going to be the one taking you out!”

You blinked.

Katsuki glowered.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said slowly. You heard a series of sparks coming from his hands, but you simply giggled. “I’m the one who asked you. And the one who set this whole thing up. Plus, I’ve been planning this for a while now! It’s definitely me who is taking you out, Bakugou.”

“Why, you little--!”

“But it’s okay,” you quickly amended, giving his cheek a small pat as his whole face turned a bright red. “If you really want to so badly, I’ll let you take me out the following time.”

“Let me?”

You nodded.

Gradually, Bakugou’s growl transformed into a challenging smile as he bared his teeth. His eyes were filled with something that looked like a combination of begrudging respect and outright annoyance.

“Tch. You have some nerve, Y/L/N,” he barked with a rough laugh. Katsuki shook his head. “Fine, I’ll humor you. Tomorrow at five, right? Don’t be late.”

You beamed, happy your biggest crush actually agreed to go on a date with you.

“I can’t wait!”

- - - - -

“Is my outfit okay?” you asked Mina, biting your bottom lip in worry as you smoothed out your shirt for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, you look hot, Y/N! Stop being so nervous,” she said, giving you a once over with a quick thumbs up. “It’s still only Bakugou after all.”

You huffed. “Easy for you to say! He might be ‘only Bakugou’ to you. But to me, he’s a long time crush I never thought I’d have an actual chance with.”

There was a little less than an hour before your first date with Katsuki and you couldn’t stop pacing around your room. You ran through your picnic checklist so many times, you were certain you could now recite it by heart.

“I just hope he likes me back,” you said, tugging at the dainty chain of your necklace.

“He’d be foolish not to.” Ashido propped herself up by her arms as she laid on your bed, staring thoughtfully at the wall behind you. “Plus, he did agree to go on this date with you, right? So he must like you at least a little bit.”

You felt yourself relax at her words, but still couldn’t stop yourself from wandering about.

“I guess you’re right,” you sighed. “Thanks, Mina.”

“I am right!” she agreed, jumping up from your bed and handing you the picnic basket. “Now, go leave already! You know how Bakugou always shows up early to everything. You don’t want him there before you.”

You checked the time and swore under your breath. Giving your outfit another glance in the mirror for the last time, you waved a nervous goodbye to Mina and headed out the door.

Dashing over to the nearby park with a picnic basket around your arm, you prayed to the stars above you wouldn’t screw anything up.

By the time you arrived there, it was a half hour before five. If you were lucky, you would have a good ten minutes to set up before Bakugou arrived. You quickly got to work, laying out the gingham blanket and preparing the sparkling cider and appetizers.

As you finished laying out the picnic, you smiled to yourself at the job well done.

Katsuki will love this! you hoped.

On cue, you spotted the angry-looking blond sauntering over to your spot next to the pond.

“Bakugou! Hi,” you called with a wave, smiling brightly despite the bundle of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmph.”

As he drew nearer, you noticed his casual attire. He had on gym shorts and a muscle tee. It was a stark contrast from your flowy, floral outfit, but Katsuki looked good in anything so you didn’t mind.

“Are you ready for this, pipsqueak?” he asked gruffly before giving you a once over. As he took in your dressed up attire, he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

Your cheeks heated in embarrassment. So much for Ashido’s advice. “Is… Is it too much? I knew I should’ve gone with a less flowery outfit, but Mina said this one looked better. B-But maybe I did go a little overboard, especially considering how casual you look… I didn’t realize--”

As you voiced your dilemma, Katsuki’s face grew more and more confused. He looked around at the scenery of the park, then down to the food laid across the red woven blanket.

“The hell are you going off about?” he interrupted, the harshness of his voice not quite matching the uncertainty in his eyes, but still biting nevertheless. “What is all of this?”

You blinked, taken aback by his rudeness. Bakugou wasn’t exactly what you would call a polite person, but you knew he was capable of manners at the very least.

And, yes, perhaps a small part of you thought he would be a little more speechless when he saw you dressed up like this. That maybe he would want to show you a softer, sweeter side of him no one else got to see.

But that didn’t seem to be the case.

Instead, he was cold and angry and looked like he couldn’t believe the sight around him.

You sniffed, throat feeling tight as you folded your arms defiantly and looked him straight in the eye despite the tremble in your lower lip.

“This was supposed to be a nice picnic with your favorite foods, you jerk!”

Katsuki turned to face you sharply, bewilderment evident as he furrowed his brows. “What?”

“If you didn’t want to come, you could’ve just said no, Bakugou,” you said, fighting back hurt tears. “You could’ve saved me from all this effort if you were just going to come and act like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

His eyes widened when he noticed the glassy sheen in yours. “I don’t--”

“I was so excited, you know? And not even because the mentaiko tastes amazing! I just wanted to get to know you a little more.” You dug the point of your shoe into the gravel beneath you. “But instead you show up looking like you’re ready for a fight and--”

You stopped yourself in your tracks, wiping away a stray tear as you eyed the gym bag by his feet.

“And… Why do you look like you’re ready to fight someone?”

He blinked at your stunned silence.

“What do you mean why!? You said you were going to take me out, baka,” Katsuki grumbled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m here to prove I’m the one who will take you out. But now you’re talking about your feelings and a picnic as if this was supposed to be a date or something--”

Realization dawned on his face as he abruptly cut himself off. Bakugou briefly shut his eyes, muttering a quiet swear.

“Fuck.” He shook his head. “Was this-- Is this supposed to be a date?”

A flush of heat crept up your cheeks as your brain registered the hopeless misunderstanding. You cleared your throat, ignoring the complete humiliation you felt.

“What else did you think I meant when I said I want to take you out?” you cried in disbelief. “That I wanted to meet in you in the park at night for a fist fight?”

When you said it aloud, it sounded even more ridiculous. He thought you meant take him out-- With your fists?

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to laugh at the audacity or cry at the embarrassment.

“What the fuck, Bakugou?” you barked, unable to hold in your laughter.

His face turned a bright red as he folded his arms at your chuckles. “How was I supposed to know when you never used the actual fucking word even once!?”

“I was nervous, you jerk!”

You both stared at each other stock-still before you burst out into giggles. Even Bakugou couldn’t stop the smirk on his face as he scoffed.

“Baka.” He rolled his eyes.

After your amusement died down, you turned to face him, fingers toying with the pendant on your necklace.

“Well, now that you know this was supposed to be a date… You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” you said nervously. “You probably wouldn’t have said yes if not for the confusion--” You bite your lower lip as you faltered at his intense gaze. “I won’t be offended, or anything! I’ll just pack this up.”

There was a deafening silence as you reached to place the container of fruit back in the woven basket. When you grabbed it, you felt a large hand covering yours to stop you from moving.

You almost jolted at the spark.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bakugou mumbled, pulling his hand away so quickly that if it weren’t for the lingering heat, you would never have known it was there in the first place. “You prepared all this food. It’d be stupid to let it go to waste.”

Katsuki avoided your gaze as he took a seat on the picnic blanket.

You watched him, speechless.

“Well?” he said gruffly, offering you a bundle of grapes.

Almost cautiously, you took a seat next to him, taking a grape and plopping it into your mouth.

“You… You’re staying? Even if it’s a date?”

He grunted.

A small smile broke out on your face. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Tch. Why are you saying thank you, baka? This is only because I don’t want to waste the food,” he lied through his teeth, cheeks pinkening as he looked away.

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Hmph.”

“Maybe after the food, I can show you how even dressed in this, I’ll still be the one to take you out.”

Katsuki glanced up at you in surprise, lips quirking into a challenging grin as his fiery eyes met the intense gaze in yours.

He barked out a laugh before shaking his head. “Fine. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re on a date.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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dudebroreg · 5 years

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I am home

(I wrote this around the start of season 2. Reggie’s characterization is therefore heavily based on comic books mixed with Riverdale’s plot. He is not a great person. Story is Fred-centric so I wanted to repost!) After learning of the shooting of his greatest rival’s father, Reggie Mantle reflects on his history with the Andrews family. Warning for heavy profanity, references to teen bullying and child abuse.

I think one of the earliest memories that I still have an actual picture of in my head is waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, totally spooked with this feeling like I just knew that I wasn’t home in my own bed anymore. I rolled over to my left and saw little Archie Andrews sleeping next to me. And even though I was in my own bed when I’d passed out on a stomach full of Pringles earlier, there wasn’t much of an explanation necessary for why I was here now. I knew my mom left again and I knew my dad went off to go find her, leaving me with the Andrews like he always did. It was so normal that no one had even bothered to wake me up, expecting me to just be cool with it when I opened my eyes and saw the ginger dweeb drooling on me in his fucking Sailor Moon PJs. The little fruit.

Archie looked so peaceful sound asleep in his bed that night, an a-doooo-rable smile on his freakish pale freak face, knowing that he was in his own house with a mom and dad who loved him. It pissed me off, so I kicked the kid off his own bed and took all of the blanket for myself, setting into motion a relationship that at its core is about me wanting everything that he has. Fred rushed upstairs to the sound of his son crying. My eyes were squeezed shut pretending to be asleep, but I heard the man sigh and ask me why I did it.

“Because,” I countered, wanting to leave it at that but hearing myself continue: “I want to go home.”

“I told you before, Reggie,” Fred said while scooping Archie into his arms and leaving the room with his son, letting me have the whole bed. “When you’re here, you are home.”

“Jesus Christ, Reg,” Fred would say to me years later when I was 11, catching me hopping over his fence in the middle of night. “Why aren’t you home?”

Dude damn near blinded me with the flashlight in his left hand, but at least he saw me before he used the baseball bat in his right. Two things sucked about that light in my face. One was that it was fucking obnoxious and the second was that he had a perfect view of my super cool black eye. I could tell he immediately regretted asking me the question, sighing like he did that night I kicked Archie out of bed.

“Uh, because when I’m here I am home?” I answered brightly with my most endearing boyish smile, picking myself up off the grass after a nasty fall off the fence.

Fred nodded. Archie was sleeping over at Jughead’s that night, which was cool for me because that meant Jughead wasn’t here and there was actually going to be food in the fridge. We stayed up for awhile watching a Married with Children marathon on FX. I remember him trying not to laugh at the sexist shit coming out of Al Bundy’s mouth to set an example, while I laughed enough for the both of us and to my total embarrassment murmured the words “I wish you were my dad” while drifting off to sleep.

When I was 14, I hit this movie perfect home run in my first high school baseball game.

“Holy mackerel!” the announcer screamed hysterically while I oh-so smugly ran the bases, soaking in the cheers and adulation. “Let’s hear it for MANTLE THE MAGNIFICENT!“

A legend was born. And don’t think I’m exaggerating how epic and sexy that shit was, either. It was at that moment, watching me, that sweet innocent Betty Cooper had her first orgasm on the spot, and our ex music teacher realized that she has a thing for underage boys, and Kevin Keller finally accepted that he’s into dudes. I was a sight to behold, and everyone was beholding except for…

"Dad!” I whined indignantly, pointlessly, into the stands, watching my stupid idiot father being oblivious to the whole thing while trying to make a move on that adolescent dick garage Miss Grundy. OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

“Good job, son,” another voice called out to me.

“Thanks, Mr. Andrews,” I said while dejectedly walking back to the bench. Another black eye on my night and another save from Super Riverdad, just like when I was 11.

When I was 17 – when Blossom’s murder was totally trending on Twitter – I knocked Archie out in the student lounge for having the audacity to stick up for his budding serial killer of a best friend – my favorite victim – after I so accurately pointed out that Jughead is exactly the kind of loner loserfreak who lies in bed at night writing weird first person fanfic on tumblr and ends up snapping. “Ho-ly crap. Did you and Donnie Darko kill him together? Was it some sort of pervy blood brother thing?”

“Aren’t we a little old to be getting into unnecessary fist fights with our friends to impress our other, less important friends?” Fred asked me the next day outside of Pop’s, catching me and the boys on the way in while he was on his way out with his usual order.

“.. Aren’t ‘we’ a little old, period?” I quipped back with a grin so cocky that my reflection in the window almost made me want to knock my own lights out. Mostly, I was just trying to make Chuck and Moose laugh, trying to impress, just like Fred guessed. By then, I had fully become Reggie Mantle: the Lord of the Douche Flies. I may have still had love for the old man, but I sure as fuck was not going to let myself be lectured by someone else’s dad in front of my crew. I respect no one and everyone is temporary.

Mr. Andrews, rock star that he is, responded with a tight-lipped smile and a look in his eyes that said I see right through your shit, Mantle.

“I know you feel like you have to be this person now, Reggie, but I know you. You’re not your dad. You’re better than this.”

For some reason, that just really fucking set me off. I was straight up triggered like Cooper going through Archie’s phone text history.

“Well,” I began full of acid, tilting my head to a side and smirking coldly. “Maybe it won’t be so bad, being like my dad. Where do you think I learned to hit so hard? Thanks for the wisdom or whatever, but you’re not my father. I don’t give a fuck about you.”

yo did you hear about Archie’s dad - Moose Mason first of all, no, i am not going to nude model for your little painting or whatever, but omg reg have you heard about mr. andrews? - Josie McCoy Kind of awkward because your last text was an unsolicited dick pic, but Archie’s dad got shot. We’re at the hospital. He could use the team’s support. - Veronica Lodge

Archie’s dad got shot. Archie’s dad got shot. Archie’s dad got shot. Fred got shot. Mr. Andrews got shot. My friend’s dad got shot. My friend got shot.

Different versions of it replayed in my head. I tried to let go of it and just be numb for awhile, but every time I was close to succeeding, the words ricocheted off the wall and hit me all over again. I sat in my seat in the designated Bulldogs corner of the waiting room, head buried in my hands and hoping no one heard the little sniffles that it took me awhile to realize I was making.

I remembered those last words I said to him.

You’re not my father. I don’t give a fuck about you.

“Bulldogs are here for you,” I told Archie with my hand on his shoulder, and in hindsight it was the lamest fucking thing to say ever. Like a close second to if I had asked him if he was okay. What I said didn’t matter, though. Neither did how much me and him had drifted apart these past few years. All the crappy things I said and did, the fight, competing with each other over every possible thing.

We were instantly as close of friends – brothers – as we’d ever been. Archie let me back in without a second thought, because that’s what families did. I was here with the Andrews in this fight, and when I’m here I’m home.

- R.M.

#reggie mantle #fred andrews #reggie mantle fic

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justsomebucky · 7 years

Text

The Only Exception (Part 2)

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

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,460

Warnings: language, fluff, hot firemen, drinking, (one) sexual innuendo, sarcasm, advice-giving for sad situations

A/N: I got so mad that I accidentally deleted my effing chapter. All your lovely notes and comments are gone; I’m sorry. This is a repost. I’m not retagging.

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

“Maybe they aren’t going to show,” you commented, taking another sip from your drink. You and Natasha had gotten to the bar a little early at your insistence (rather, your anxiety’s insistence), and now you were sitting on bar stools waiting for your dates. Liquid courage was your only recourse at this point.

Shopping had been bearable for once. She bought a new skirt to go with her favorite ‘lucky’ top, but you stuck to your trusty jeans. You did buy a new tank top though, and you thought it looked pretty good.

“They’ll be here. They might have been held up at work,” she replied, biting into an olive from her martini. Natasha always seemed so cool and confident; you wondered what that was like. “Don’t forget that firemen are on call a lot.”

“If they aren’t here in the next ten minutes, I’m taking whatever dignity I have left and going home.” You tapped your foot against the metal bar stool in time with the song playing over the sound system.

“Y/N, calm down, geez!” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Even if it’s not as perfect as your stupid romance novels, can’t you just enjoy some attention and some free drinks for once?”

“Yours was free, I bought mine,” you fired back.

As soon as you had walked in, a man offered to get Nat a drink. She tried to refuse at first for your benefit, but you told her to take it. You didn’t need anyone else to point out your shortcomings.

You knew them all too well.

“See? I knew you were going to hold that against me. Listen, that guy doesn’t want love, Y/N. Guys like that just want to get in my pants.” Natasha sighed. “I would love to be loved for once, instead of just having someone lust after me.”

“Yeah, well, I’d love to not look like a potato next to you, but we can’t all get what we want.”

“Neither of you looks like a potato.”

Both of you looked up to see Steve standing there, his hands in his pockets. “Hi there, ladies.”

Natasha’s entire energy changed when she saw him. She swung right into flirtation mode again. “Hey there, cutie. We were wondering if you were gonna be a no-show tonight.”

“Sorry, got held up at work. You know how it goes.”

Natasha nodded sympathetically, her eyes flitting to yours with an I-told-you-so look.

“Where’s your friend?” you piped up, refusing to acknowledge that she was right.

“He, uh, had some paperwork to do at the station, but he’s not too far behind me.” Steve gave you a small smile. Steve sat down on the other side of Natasha and raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

You wanted to say yeah right and run for cover, but you didn’t, knowing Natasha would be mad. “That’s nice,” you told him, opting to turn back to your drink as Natasha and Steve started chatting away.

After another rum and coke, you found yourself feeling a little less ridiculous. Who cared if that stupid, ridiculously attractive fireman didn’t want to come on the date? So what if he didn’t show? You weren’t the one to ask, so whatever. It wasn’t like-

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice sounded in your ear as he slid onto the bar stool to your right.

You couldn’t stop the surprise from showing on your face. “Hey.”

He took in your expression for a second. “What, did you think I was going to bail?” The corner of his mouth quirked up, and you felt your stomach turn at the sight.

Were you nauseated or nervous?

Also, what the hell did he have to go and do that for?

“Nope,” you lied outright. “Just on my second drink. You’re going to have to catch up.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Bucky’s smile widened. “So how was your day as the Love Therapist?” The bartender came over and he ordered, then nodded hello to Steve and Natasha.

“It was okay,” you conceded, playing with the tiny straw in your glass, stabbing ice cubes lightly. “I only have about one week left before they finally find someone who is capable of offering advice, and isn’t as pessimistic as I am about it.”

“Pessimistic about what? Love?” Bucky thanked the bartender as his beer bottle was placed in front of him, then looked back to you. “Don’t you believe in love?”

Great. Let’s start the date out on a high note, shall we? “I mean, it’s just my own personal issue. We don’t have to talk about this sort of thing on a first date, Bucky.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to know what the damage is here. Why don’t you believe in love?”

“I guess it’s not that I don’t believe in it, it’s that I just think it’s rare. I think people settle a lot.”

“Settle? You mean accept what they can get?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve dated, but I’ve actually never been in love,” you admitted. “Have you?”

“I have. At least, I thought I was. I guess you just never know.” He paused, looking deep in thought, before shaking his head again. “Anyways, how is it possible that a woman like you has never been in love?”

That was a warning sign, some kind of smooth-talking voodoo or something, and red flags went up in your brain.

You turned your whole body to him, ready to lay it out. “Okay, listen, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t really trust guys like you. In fact, I’m not even sure why you’re here tonight. Did Steve put you up to this so he could date Natasha? Because, trust me, she was willing either way. You didn’t need to go through all this trouble-“

“Stop!” Bucky laughed, then took a swig from his beer. “I wanted to be out with you tonight. I did, I promise. You just gotta relax, Y/N. Have some fun for once.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” you muttered, taking another sip of your drink and looking away from him.

“All right, I can see that you’re going to put up a fight here, so I’m going to have to resort to Plan B.” Bucky stood up from the bar stool, beer in hand, and motioned for you to follow him. “Come on.”

“Where are you leading me?” You slid off your bar stool cautiously, clutching your own drink.

“To play pool, of course.” You watched the muscles in his back and shoulders stretch the black shirt he was wearing. If fabric could talk, that shirt would either groan in protest or moan in delight, that’s how built he looked from this angle.

A game of pool wouldn’t be so bad, right? You were all for some distracting competition. Hopefully your penchant for smack-talking wouldn’t ruin the evening.

He gave you a sly look as he racked. “No woman can resist me once we’ve played pool.”

“So you lose to women a lot, then?” Two could play at this game. “Is that your go-to strategy?”

Bucky threw his head back with a laugh. “I’ve never lost to anyone at this bar, not even Stevie.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everything,” you shot back, finally feeling a little better about this date.

Maybe it wasn’t written by Disney, and maybe there wouldn’t be a future with Mr. McSexyFireman, but at least you could have some fun after a hard work week.

“All right, you break,” Bucky told you, moving aside once he was finished.

You set your drink down on the side of the table, then took the pool stick he offered and leaned over to aim. You hit the cue ball perfectly, sending two stripes into a pocket.

“I guess someone wasn’t kidding about their skills.” He took another swig of beer. “I might finally lose tonight. Maybe I should play defense.”

“Go ahead and try it.” You moved past him to aim a second time, determined to beat him. Your break had been unusually good. If you adjusted the strength of your hit, you could easily get-

That’s when you felt him place a hand on your hip as he moved to stand beside you, totally ruining your concentration.

“What the hell are you doing?” you yelped, jumping away from him and accidentally knocking your shot off balance. You watched in disbelief as the cue ball went right into the corner pocket, then turned to glare at him. “That’s cheating! You made me scratch!”

“You told me to try defense.” He had the audacity to smirk at you. “So I did.”

“I didn’t tell you to grab my hip,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest angrily. “You cheated.”

He shrugged. “Fine, then. Don’t get your undies in a knot. Try to distract me, and we’ll be even.”

“I don’t want to play the game like this.” You could feel your competitive anger rising. Who acted like this? Did he think this was cute? He clearly didn’t understand your need to win.

“Are you forfeiting?” He was now grinning at you, and that made you furious.

If you quit, he won.

If you let him get to you, he won.

There was no way in hell or Brooklyn that you were gonna let this joker beat you. You motioned to the table. “No, I’m not. In fact, I’m just waiting for you to take your damn shot so I can win already.”

Bucky gave you another look, his eyes twinkling again like they did at the coffee shop. He leaned over the table to move the cue ball and take aim.

What could you do to distract him?

You wandered over to the other side of the table and leaned over the pocket he was aiming for, knowing that the scoop neck of your tank top went just a little lower with the motion.

He straightened where he stood, and ran a hand down his face. “That’s not fair, either.”

“How do you figure?” you asked innocently, leaning all the way over, your hip jutting out. “I’m not even anywhere near you.”

Okay, so playing dirty wasn’t exactly your style, but if this was how he wanted it to go, well, so be it.

“Augh!” He leaned over and took aim again, but his eyes flickered up to your figure. Clearly this was working better than you thought. “You suck.” Bucky drew his arm back.

“You wish.”

That rapid-fire reply made him hit the cue ball so hard it jumped the table, and you laughed happily, holding your arms up in victory.

“All right, this pool game has been a total bust.” Bucky made a face, but you could tell from the glint in his eye that he wasn’t angry, just amused. “Maybe I should have suggested darts.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m sorry, was I just supposed to giggle and let you win? Is that what you wanted me to do?”

He eyed you for a few beats, then shook his head. “No, definitely not. I don’t think it would have been nearly as interesting that way.”

“Let’s try and see who can win without defensive moves, then, shall we?”

“Sure.”

After you won two out of three games of pool, Bucky graciously acknowledged that you had some skills, and asked if you wanted to go back to where Nat and Steve were now sitting at a table.

You glanced over at them, considering the idea, but they seemed lost in their own little world. “I don’t want to interrupt. It’s been a long time since Natasha had googly-eyes for someone.”

It didn’t much matter, sadly, because Bucky’s phone started buzzing.

He pulled it out of his pocket and scowled, then looked up at Steve, who was also glaring at his phone.

“We’re getting called out,” Bucky said apologetically, showing you the text alert on his phone. “I guess it’s good I only had a half of a beer after all.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. “Good thing.”

Just when you were starting to get somewhere with this guy…

“Maybe we can meet up again soon?” he asked, as the two of you made your way over to Nat and Steve. “I’d really like to see you again.”

“Sure. That sounds…”

Unrealistic? Unlikely?

“That would be nice,” you said finally, giving him a small smile.

Bucky grinned, then leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.”

You and Natasha watched as they headed out of the bar, with Bucky glancing one more time over his shoulder before disappearing out the front door.

“Damn,” Natasha muttered, her gaze fixed on the doorway. “We finally both had dates that were going well.”

“It’s all right,” you replied, glancing at your friend. “What was it that Leah always said? Leave them wanting more?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Oh, so now you’re taking your show seriously?”

“Hell no. I just thought I’d try to brighten the situation. That’s my area of expertise, remember?” You motioned for her to get up. “Come on, let’s go home. There’s no point in hanging around here.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I had a good time. Bucky was a good date.”

She stared at you as she stood. “How do you go from sarcastic man-hater to rainbows and sunshine in a couple of hours?”

You shook your head, not really understanding it yourself. There was just something about that man. “It was probably the rum.”

Monday morning rolled around, and you were actually kind of looking forward to doing your silly little YouTube show. Natasha called off sick, so you did your own hair, and sat down in Leah’s office chair, looking over the notes for the day. You kicked up your feet, and waited for your cameraman.

You hadn’t heard from Bucky since he took off during your date, but you weren’t about to text first. No, he was already too good to be true, and like you’d mentioned before, you didn’t trust guys like him.

If he wanted to see you, he’d have to put in the effort.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up, either way.

Scott came in a moment later, looking frazzled and clutching an iPad. “Sorry I’m late, I just got back from a meeting with May. She said your show is actually holding steady with Leah’s numbers!”

“What?” You sat up, staring at him like he had grown a second nose. “Scott, you can’t be serious?”

“I’m completely serious. Look for yourself.” Scott set the iPad down in front of you, and you lifted it so you could see.

The view counts were nearly identical between all of your episodes so far. If it had just been the first episode, you would have assumed it was just viewer curiosity, but this…

“That’s crazy,” you murmured, swiping the screen to read the next voluntary analytic. “A voluntary poll said views from men ages eighteen to thirty-five increased ten percent on Friday alone? Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Maybe they like your honesty?” Scott was smiling at you now like a proud dad or something. “Leah almost never got those kind of numbers on Fridays. Anyways, Y/N, they’re talking about leaving you in this role.”

Your face fell as you looked up at him. “I- that’s not what I agreed to, Scott. I can’t possibly-“

“You can,” he insisted. “You are. Maybe you could open up the questions to include other advice from your column, but for now, May is loving these numbers. She thinks you’re a solid host.”

“It’s far too soon to say anything like that. They can’t make a business decision that quick!”

“I know, that’s why she has me watching the numbers this week, too.”

“I was supposed to be finished by next week,” you complained. “The end is in sight, Scott, you gotta help me!”

“Sorry, Y/N,” Scott shrugged. “I mean, I have better things to be doing, too, but you gotta admit, it’s been kind of fun.”

Fun? Goddammit. “What if I tanked on purpose?”

“Then she might notice and fire you. I wouldn’t risk it.”

“This is crazy,” you repeated. “I wanted to eventually open my own practice, or at least have actual clients, not be a host of some internet show. No one will ever take me seriously now!”

“Well, do this in the meantime, and maybe the name recognition will get you a longer client list.”

Hmmm…

Scott was a freaking genius. That was a great idea. You had to do something to stand out in a city with a million therapy patients with a million therapist choices. “Not bad, Lang. Your talents are wasted as a cameraman.”

“Don’t I know it! Now, can we please get started? I have some real work to do.”

“Okay, okay. Do your countdown thing.”

Once Scott gave you the go-ahead, you started talking. It was easier for you this week, now that you had some experience in hosting a show and answered relationship advice.

“Okay, our first question is apparently not a question at all, but a follow-up from one of last week’s shows. Confused in Brooklyn wrote back! Dear Love Therapist, I just wanted to thank you for taking my question with such short notice. I thought about what you said, and my instinct told me to follow your advice and cancel the wedding.”

You paused, frowning at the note on your laptop, then looked up to the camera. “All I said, Confused, was to think about whether or not you were willing to be in a commitment if you were unsure. I didn’t exactly tell you to absolutely cancel your wedding. However, I’m glad you feel confident about your future, and I wish you the best of luck.”

With a simple click, you deleted the thank-you message. You definitely didn’t want to see that one again.

“Next question, and I hope it is an actual question,” you joked, moving on. Scott gave you a thumbs up. “This one is from Alone in Manhattan. Dear Love Therapist, what advice do you have for me? I lost my wife-“

You paused, stunned by what you were reading in front of you, before continuing, “I lost my wife to cancer last year, and now I’m going back and forth between guilt and loneliness on whether to date again or not. Any advice you can give would be appreciated.”

With a deep breath, you looked up at the camera, unsure of what to say next.

“Well, Alone, I-” Your voice caught in your throat, and you motioned for Scott to turn it off. “Cut, please.”

Scott stopped the recording, his face full of gentle concern. “We can edit that later, no worries. If you need a minute…”

“How the hell do I tell someone to move on from that?” Your eyes stung with unshed tears, and you tried in vain to blink them away. “I can’t…you don’t just move on, do you?”

Scott tilted his head as he pondered the thought. “I’ve only ever gone through a divorce, so I don’t know what that’s like. You don’t have to put yourself in this guy’s shoes, Y/N, to show him some compassion.”

You nodded slowly. The sheer idea of it frightened you a little, to be honest. To finally meet someone that you fall in love with, so much that you want to be with them for the rest of your life, only to have them snatched away from you by the finality of death…

“Okay,” you murmured. “Okay. I think…I will tell him that he shouldn’t be afraid to look for love again if he is ready. Is that too much, too soon?”

“No,” he replied, offering you a small smile. “I think that’s perfect.”

So that’s what you told Alone in Manhattan, though your uncertainty remained.

You couldn’t shake that feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one that told you maybe Scott and May were wrong. Maybe you weren’t helping anyone. Maybe you weren’t cut out to have a degree in psychology, or a practice with clients.

Maybe you shouldn’t be doling out advice for life-altering decisions, or for people who’ve experienced more than you ever wanted to in life.

What if Confused ruined her life by calling off her wedding? What if Alone puts himself back out there, but it’s too soon? Why the hell should anyone trust in your opinions?

You were going to have to decide what was more important to you: name recognition for the future, or sleeping at night with a clear conscience.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #repost

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