#And I think his English voice is appropriate. I have to check the other languages

[fragmentedblade]

"Quite the story, Master Gongshu"

Jing Yuan at the end of the Seven Arbiter-Generals short video

[ayanonaoe]

1. A Short Essay: "My favourite thing"

Prefaces: The topic is “The thing dear to me”: my music scores. Before I explain why I love them, I quoted one of the lyrics from the music score. I used the first-person view to describe my past memories about the scores, enhancing my ability to do creative writing for the first time in English.

----------------

Things that are dear to me are chorus scores when I was in a chorus club in my high school. The number of those exceeded 50, which had been in my mind already because I had performed them at least once. They were so heavy that I couldn't bring most of them to my condo in Malaysia. After scanning them into my iPad, I had to throw the originals away. However, some of the scores are still comfortably resting on my bookshelf at home, waiting for my return after graduation. One of these cherished scores, shown in the picture, travelled with me from my hometown to Kuala Lumpur.  I want to write the important points that I feel lovely about and the reason why this is dear to me to a high extent. This score was for the last competition in my high school life. The title is "shôga Ⅲ", related to a term for Japanese traditional music technique. The lyrics were written in Early Middle Japanese, and the English translation will be like this; 

The lyrics “宵は月にもまぎれてすむが　更くる鐘にはさんさ袖しぼる”

Translation in modern Japanese “宵は月明かりの美しさで、あなたを思うこころを紛らわすこともできるが、夜更けの鐘の音には淋しさをつのらせ、着物の袖に顔をおおい涙するのですよ”

Translation in English “I can distract my feeling to think about you thanks to the beauty of moonlight at night, but I feel lonely to the bell sound at late night, and I cry covering my face with my kimono sleeve”

From ancient periods, Japanese people have tended to imagine and think seriously about someone’s feelings, for the moon, combining the sense of love. According to legend, one of the famous novelists in Japan, Soseki Natsume translated “I love you” in English to “The moon is beautiful.” Though modern people do not care about the moon too much nowadays, I feel as if I speak for them, striking a sympathetic chord in the hearts of the people: this was the way how I sang this song in the competition.

There are various types of languages and communication tools in chorus scores, which I love to learn. First, notes and musical symbols are messages from composers. They originally came from the Italian language, and my scores have both these and my translation to understand. Vivace is “fast and lively”, scherzando means “playful” in Italian, and so on. As hand-written memos, chorus club members also had to focus on words from my teacher who was an opera singer. He compared the size of the oral cavity and the nasal cavity between Western people and Asian people. To sum up, he highlighted the importance of pronouncing each consonant more exaggeratedly than everyone thought, and I did a similar exercise to the lecture on phonetics. We moved our mouths busily when making plosives until we felt tingly, whereas we made noisy sounds for fricatives as if it was the noise of construction, even though those practices were not as strict as the exercise in UCSI University SE123 Introduction to Phonetics and Phonology that Dr G touched our throats to check the performance whether we could differentiate between voiced and voiceless. In retrospect, that memory included my favourite activity related to language.

Even though this is dear to me, I had to let it go finally by the date of the competition because it was regulated that the judges could check our facial expressions and listen to our voices carefully. I could not rely on the memo on the score anymore and started to memorise to express my interpretation. A child becomes independent of his or her parents someday. I had to say goodbye to the score for a while, becoming a dear point to me.  

I do not think it is appropriate to reveal my selfish desires, but the reason this score is so dear to me is that it was a ticket to achieving my goal of trying again. Unlike the other members, I started chorus singing after entering high school. Immediately after that, I began to work as a member of the student council, of which only six out of 1,080 students were selected, and to be honest, I was not able to attend the strict club activities. As a result, I failed the audition to select 13 altos out of 14 due to the limited number of members participating in the competition. In other words, I came in last. At that time, my teacher, who called me by my last name, simply said, "You are getting better than before." From that regretful experience, I changed my strategy. Even if I was busy, the way to pass the audition efficiently was to reproduce all of the teacher's instructions. The colourful memos written on the score were written by chewing on the soulful encouragement that overflowed from the teacher's mouth, ruminating on it like a cow, and writing them down. I confirmed to proceed in the right direction again and again, and at the last competition of my high school life, I passed the audition. This time I got first place. Moreover, while giving advice to the others, the teacher called me by my first name and said, "You were perfect." In my country, it is customary to call students by their last names, and once you have built a relationship of trust, you may be called by your first name. Therefore, when I see this score, though this is old and dirty paper, it reminds me of that burning competitive spirit that made me want to reach the top. Even though I can sing it without looking at it, I still cannot let it go.

[burnedbyshoto]

arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller. 

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be. 

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment. 

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters. 

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due. 

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving. 

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were. 

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime. 

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked. 

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of. 

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs. 

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor. 

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt. 

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence. 

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you. 

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead. 

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin. 

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know. 

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless. 

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet. 

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him. 

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs. 

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely. 

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor. 

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient. 

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up. 

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands. 

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored. 

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes. 

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours. 

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

tags in comments, theres too many of you.

[hualianff]

How To Piss Off Your Boss II 《I》

When HC places the dishes in front of a group of esteemed guests, foreigners and wealthy business people by appearance, he’s roped into a brief conversation in English. Not that he minds too much. HC has had many opportunities to practice different languages in the kitchens he’s worked in, mainly consisting of English, Spanish, Italian, and Japanese. Most of the phrases HC retained were curse words too. Go figure.

Once the CEO wraps up the small talk session, he spins on his heel and speeds back to the kitchen. As he power walks through the various tables, HC takes note of which guests have seemingly ordered yet still only have drinks on their tables. He’s not sure what his employees were yammering about to delay their service up to fifteen minutes, but it could certainly wait until after the dinner rush, for god’s sake.

A blur of white completely stops HC in his tracks. His neck suffers from a violent double-take when he catches sight of a familiar white turtleneck, worn by a figure with a familiar smile. HC’s mouth gapes open slightly, nearly tripping in his haste to veer off towards the two-person table secluded by the window.

XL cutely waves as he finally gets a glimpse of his husband tonight.  

“Gege!?” HC breathily asks, confused. XL sets his flute of wine down, amber eyes shining with mirth. 

“Surprise!”

HC immediately shoots a glare back to the kitchens where he sees his employees peeking through the pair of windows on the doors. His lips curl into an angry snarl, like a tiger provoked by its own streak. He makes a move to steamroll into his kitchen and rip them a new one. Except a hand grasps onto his wrist before he can make it past one table.

“San Lang, don’t mind them. It’s no big deal,” XL pleads, tugging on HC’s hand. The taller man willingly turns around, rolling his wrist so he can be the one to hold XL’s hands instead. 

“Gege, how long have you been waiting?” HC asks in a tight voice. XL frowns, not wanting to answer, but he knows HC won’t let it go.

“Just under thirty minutes.“

“Thirty minutes!?” HC exclaims. “The fact that no one told me you were here for nearly half an hour is unacceptable. Oh my god, I’m going to fire them all.“

“No, you’re not. San Lang, calm down. I didn’t tell you I was coming, so you couldn’t have known. I don’t think the server who showed me to my seat even knew who I was,” XL reasons.

He subconsciously pulls HC closer to sitting down at the table. 

“Someone should’ve told them because you’re not just any customer, gege. You’re my HUSBAND. You’re important to me, and I would like my workers to let me know if you’re here regardless if I knew beforehand. I don’t want you to have to wait that long for me to come out and join you.“

“They said you were busy! Plus, thirty minutes is hardly a long time.“ XL tries again. HC insistently shakes his head, gingerly squeezing XL’s hands. 

“Darling, your time is too precious to be wasted like that,” HC says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on XL’s forehead. XL hums as he finally pushes HC down into the chair opposite of his own. 

“Well, you’re here now, right? Why don’t we enjoy a lovely dinner together? My treat!” XL says happily.

Seconds later, two massive dishes of finely-boiled squid and glass noodles, along with spicy wonton soup are placed in front of the two men. It’s the new cook who bows while stuttering out an apology, repeating “I didn’t know- Hua Lao Ban, Xie-xiansheng- I didn’t know- please forgive me.”

XL, being the angel he is, claims there is nothing to forgive. Across from him, HC silently churns in strong disagreement. It takes three servers to make sure everything was up to standard, watching their boss’ expression carefully for any hint of dissatisfaction. They leave in a hurry, the abundance of food making XL’s face light up like a Christmas tree.

“I love you, San Lang,” XL cheers, tapping his chopsticks together excitedly.

HC’s face softens, endeared by his husband’s antics. The incident is far from being forgotten in his mind. After all, from the stories XL has told about the times he was truly struggling in life after the pitfall of his parents, HC has a very good idea of what circumstances XL has had to endure—way worse than waiting thirty minutes for his food and husband to show up. 

XL probably didn’t even expect to see HC tonight. And that is still absolutely inexcusable. XL is HC’s number one priority, even above all of his businesses.

But for now, HC supposes he can put it off to share a wonderful meal with his husband.

“I love you too, Gege,” he responds, shoulders relaxing.

However, an offending, black, leather folder captures HC’s attention. It’s tucked into a corner on XL’s side of the table, unopened. HC already knows what it is without having to look closer.

“Gege…”

“Hmm?” XL looks up with his mouth full of noodles.

“Did they charge you for the meal?” HC asks slowly, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. His eye pins the flutes of his favorite drink he hasn’t touched. “And the wine?”

XL chews methodically, cheeks puffing from how stuffed they are. If anyone who cared about eating etiquette were watching him, they no doubt would be utmost appalled at such a messy display. HC would curse them to hell if they dared said or did anything.

XL finally swallows, licking his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with charging me,” XL says. HC’s nails dig into his skin as his hands clench into balled fists. “What if I just want to support my husband?”

HC inhales deeply, then exhales heavily.

“Gege does that enough by being married to me. Look, I’ll be right back-“ HC abruptly stands up. He swoops in to kiss XL on the lips, pecking three more times which makes XL giggle. HC then quickly blows cool air on the spoon XL holds mid-air with his hot soup. 

Without another word, HC storms back towards the kitchens. The other cooks actively avoid their boss, bowing profusely if they happen to cross paths with him. HC doesn’t say anything to acknowledge their remorseful actions. For the next ten minutes, he continues instructing the team as if the mishap hadn’t even happened. 

Apologizing won’t be enough, they all know this. They kept not only XL waiting for thirty minutes but also the other customers that entered after him. However, XL had been waiting for the longest as he was a walk-in customer, which made it all the more displeasing for HC to find out his husband had not received the special treatment he deserved. 

The orders have slowed down enough for HC to snap his fingers as a signal for everyone to line up. When all the cooks are appropriately assembled, HC doesn’t hesitate to hurl the folder with the check onto the main island in front of them. 

“Who was it?” HC asks icily. No one utters a sound. The CEO reaches over to yank out the white paper filled with prices. He points to it, eyeing every single one of his employees. “Tell me. Who gave this to him? Who charged him for his meal when I have specified numerous times to never–and I mean NEVER–bill him.”

It’s so quiet in the kitchen, the guests closest to the kitchen doors can probably hear HC scolding his cooks, beyond livid. HC couldn’t care less, as long as XL was outside of hearing range and slurping down his soup with a content tummy. He’ll have to make it up to XL on his own accords, first by taking his husband home to have uninterrupted one-on-one discussion.

The newer cook who HC has distinguished as Hai Ye shuffles uncomfortably, looking like a child guilty of disobeying their parents’ order. Someone has yet to speak up to confess or snitch, meaning they would rather face punishment collectively than risk one person receiving full blame. While HC is one thread away from blowing his top off, he buries the nasty curses down inside his chest. He knows what it’s like to receive unfair consequences for things he didn’t knowingly do wrong. 

Instead, HC forces his temper to cool down. 

“Seeing as these were a series of mistakes that everyone here has contributed to, I’m canceling janitorial services and assigning all of you cleaning duty,” HC declares, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what else it will take, but this must not happen again. With Xie Lian or with the backed-up orders. We are better than that, understood?”

“Yes, Hua Lao Ban,” the cooks recite resolutely. HC grunts with a tone of finality. He quickly snatches his long coat, taking out his wallet and stacking the amount of money needed to cover XL’s check. 

“Good. We can move on from that. Finish the night on a reasonable note. Additionally, can someone fetch me a to-go box and cup?” HC asks as he unbuttons his chef blouse and throws it into the hamper off to the side. HY is the closest to the to-go boxes, so he instantly abides by HC’s request. The CEO offers HY a nod of gratitude. Then, he’s out of the kitchen, long coat thrown loosely over his lanky frame. 

Between the few orders they have to complete, HY witnesses HC personally box up his and his husband’s food. XL eagerly holds HC’s hand when he’s done, pulling the taller man towards the front door to go home. Before leaving, HC gives the head chef, HX, a menacing glare as if to say, “You better have things under control.”

The CEO of Crimson Embers walks out of his restaurant with a gentle hand resting on his husband’s lower back. They disappear through the front glass doors, subtly leaning into each other’s space, content to be together after a long day apart. 

Bonus:

When the other branches hear about the incident, they hang up a framed picture of XL with HC, making sure to point to XL’s face for new employees saying, “If this man enters the restaurant, show him to his seat and then tell Hua Lao Ban immediately. Get him everything he asks for. NEVER charge him for his orders.”

[meichenxi]

Hey, could I ask you how you do shadowing? Like the different ways you do it? You mentioned in your tag that shadowing is good and I'd love to hear how you do it! I do not attempt shadowing much so I don't really know what helps, etc. ToT (my studyblr is rigelmejo)

Hellooo! Thank you for the interesting question!

Tbh I think I do it fairly basically - I don’t use any particularly fancy software, but software like Language Learning with Netflix has certainly made it easier. There’s a whole video on how to get the most of it here: [on mobile, link didn't work - How to study Chinese with Netflix! by Chinese Zero To Hero] (I’d recommend checking out all of their videos actually, they’ve done a bunch of livestreams recently and they place a lot of emphasis on shadowing + the course they are trying to sell you is…actually phenomenally good)

(Also, I have to preface this by saying that I have been very lucky in terms of pronunciation: I learnt about 80% of my current vocabulary by ear without characters or pinyin. I have been in China for eight months in total, and while I didn’t speak Chinese for all of that, I was constantly soaking in info on natural sentence intonation. I still often don’t know officially what the tone of a vocabulary item is, especially if it changes tone like 教, 为 or 相, but I don’t get yelled at so I have definitely internalised a lot of those changes. I definitely would have more trouble with this if I hadn’t had that experience - my other areas are waaaay weaker because of this though- my reading SUCKS lmao and I can literally handwrite about ten characters)

Anyway. How I shadow:

1) Quite simply by playing the line, and repeating it with all the emotion it has!! I usually use Netflix or Viki for this. I try to do it as fast as possible, and if I can’t do the whole thing, I ‘chunk’ it: if I were doing the sentence 我们还不知道他会不会来, I would start from the end with 他会不会来, then 不知道他会不会来, and then the whole sentence. Notice that this isn’t breaking it down into words or even grammatical phrases, but intonational phrases: it would be perfectly sensible to just do 会不会来 without the 他 but realistically, since this is a question, it’s likely that a strong stress will be placed on the first 会, and you wouldn’t be able to replicate that without also included the more weakly stressed syllable before.

2) I locate (intentionally or subconsciously) the main locus of stress within the sentence, and I focus on that accordingly. Tones may become less extreme if they are not stressed, and may become more exaggerated if stressed. This is always a good exercise. I accompany this with physical actions - I throw my hands down, I sigh, I groan!

3) I put away the text, and don’t look at the tones or even my computer screen - more on this below.

4) Finally, when I think I’ve got it reasonably accurate, I’ll record them speaking the line into my phone with an appropriate pause for copying and play it back to myself at various points throughout the day.

5) I then go and find other words with the same tone contour to slot in, and copy it again. After that, I find words that are slightly different tonally and pop them in too.

6) I finally do fun things like hold a conversation with myself. This can be really simple phrases imbued with some kind of emotion - 这个女子到底是谁呀？为什么不认识我？应该是新手吧。You can do this either really informally, or very formally, or both - trying to speak in the latter way is very fun! So then it’d be idk something more like: 那位姑娘是何人，来自何处？This is fun because you can really slow down your speech and sound as elegant as you like!! (this will sound stilted if you do it for modern speech, but it’s a very fun exercise)

Choosing your media!!

1) Don’t use donghuas. Seriously. The voice actors usually speak at a ridiculous pace and not with the same range of ‘normal’ intonation

2) Your Chinese is definitely good enough to recognise when anyone is quoting poetry or speaking in a paricularly sexy literary way so, uh…don’t do that. That rules dramas like Nirvana in Fire OUT.

3) Modern dramas and reality TV shows CAN be great, but they can also be quite intimidatingly quick and almost too mushy at times. I’d recommend informal speech in guzhuang dramas more, because they have professional voice actors and extensive sound editing, meaning that although it might be fast and the vocabulary harder, it’s actually much more accessible and easier to copy. You don’t want to be stuck with the awfulness of 50% failed foreigner and 50% 12 year old boy who can’t enunciate properly!!

4) CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON WISELY. I try to find characters that speak in a dramatic, whiny or childish way. This is so important! There’s literally no use copying Lan Wangji unless you want to be able to have that particular cadence and tone of voice you get reciting poetry. Childish/whiny/dramatic characters on the other hand stress some words very strongly, and rush others together - this is great for hearing what actual real speech sounds like. Whininess wins. In The Untamed, characters like Wei Wuxian (not yllz!wwx but just…regular wwx), 一问三不知 Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling, and Jingyi are all great. Also Jiggy, who is just very extra constantly and speaks much slower as well, which really helps. In SHL characters like Gu Xiang are good.

5) CHOOSE YOUR VOICE WISELY! If you are really aiming to copy them 100% (which you should try at least sometimes), you want somebody with your pitch range to sound normal. I have a sort of party trick in Chinese that because I’ve spent so much time listening to women in guzhuang dramas I can change my voice and sound like a) a scheming concubine with honeyed words, or b) the voice of the Beijing metro. My teacher found it hysterically funny. But it’s not my natural voice, and if I speak like that for too long it hurts. The women usually are too high for me, and the big burly manly men too low - so I’d recommend finding a man with a higher voice, or an older woman (like some of the female characters in Nirvana in Fire). Again, sorry that this is mostly the Untamed (I’m just most familiar with it) but the voice actors for Wei Wuxian and some of the juniors (+jiggy) has a higher voice. Likewise Chengling in Word of Honour.

On intonation in general:

- The thing is that whilst shadowing is useful it requires prior ability in a whole bunch of other skills that you can train - it relies on your ability to accurately mimic pitch, emotion and other contrasts. Training this in ANY language, including your native one, will help your ability to do this in Chinese - so I’d recommend spending a fair amount of time practicing shadowing (or speaking just after somebody whilst listening to a string of text, like monolingual simultaneous interpreting) in your native language too. Any training copying accents or mimicking other people is going to similarly help, regardless of the language.

So, with that in mind, further tips:

1) Hum / try to copy the intonation without any words. What this does is force you to pay attention to what the intonation actually is, versus what you may think it should be.

2) Don’t look at the text! Do! Not! Look! At! The! Text! If you look at the characters or pinyin you’re telling yourself ‘ok this is a third tone here’ etc, but you want to override the part of your brain that has gotten into bad habits and is supremely self-confident in how you’re pronouncing the third tone, and actually just go straight back to mimicking.

3) Don’t be afraid to do it with vocabulary that is way beyond your level. Actually, I find this can sometimes be helpful, because you don’t have a prior idea about how a particular tone pair should be useful - and you don’t know which tone you should be producing.

4) Learn vocabulary by ear - listen to a vocab podcast or even make one yourself (I often do this; I record my daily Anki and listen back to it through headphones copying throughout the day - if you’re not confident in your pronunciation you can get Google Translate to do it). Similarly, pick unknown vocabulary out of a longer segment and remember it, trying to internalise the tones instead of figuring out which tone it is.

5) Find emotional sentences, and copy them with emotion. This is SO CRUCIAL!!! We remember things when we relate to them, and when we imbue them with emotion - and it also helps in hearing exactly how an angry second tone sounds, for instance.

6) When you’re copying, look up, and imagine you are having an actual conversation. Carry yourself with conviction and poise!! Really try to whine like wwx or slime like jgy. After a couple of turns copying them, try to turn off the audio and keep delivering it in the same manner.

7) Swap individual words out. Once you have a line properly figured out, swap a word or two that has a different tone pair, and focus on delivering it with the same pattern of stress.

8) Finally, practice doing this in your native language too!! It’s a skill that we don’t use often, and it can be trained. Some people are terrible at it at first go even in their native language, but you can work on it!

About intonation in general:

1) I think a lot of pronunciation problems with people sounding unnatural or stiff ultimately come down to a fundamental misunderstanding of what intonation looks like across different languages. In English we mark it by pitch: and we are so used to the rhetoric that Chinese has ‘tone’ and not ‘intonation’ that we try and focus on blindly copying every single word textbook perfect without listening to how it actually sounds.

2) Chinese does have intonation!!! Except that, unlike English, when you stress a word, the pitch doesn’t change, but the tone contour is exaggerated - basically the only time you will ever hear a full third tone is in isolated or very exaggerated speech. If you have a Chinese friend, get them to record a sentence like the English ‘I didn’t ask her to steal his rucksack’, and put stress on the different elements of it - I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, and so on. Notice and copy how the tones change. When shadowing, you should always be paying attention to where the stress is in the sentence: when you speak by yourself, practicing saying a sentence neutrally, and then with stress on one component, the next, and so on. If it feels unnatural, it’s because you might not have practicised like this before - it’ll get better!

Hope that’s somewhat helpful / interesting!

- 梅晨曦

[youngbeezer]

Hi! Can I request Miro Heiskanen for prompt number five? Please 🥰

Referenced Post

Prompt-- 5. Running into each others arms after not seeing them for awhile (w Miro Heiskanen)

A/N: Here's another blurb from the 14 oddly romantic things blurb set. This is unedited I kinda rushed to post this so sorry for any grammatical mistakes.

Thanks for requesting this, hope you like it :)

Word Count: 988

Warning(s): a few curse words i think

[(google) translation-- rakkaani: my love// Minä rakastan sinua: I love you]

join my taglist :)

fic inspo🤍 (all pics are from pinterest)

can you call me now

I miss your voice

These have been the text messages I have been getting the past few months from my boyfriend Miro Heiskanen. He’s currently back in Finland for the offseason while I have been stuck in Dallas working.

I go to click on his contact and press the call button, only having to hear it ring once before I hear my boyfriend’s tired voice on the other line.

“Hi rakkaani.” His soft voice travels through my ears.

“Ten hours.” I can’t hold back the giant grin overtaking my face. “You couldn’t wait ten hours until you ‘heard my voice?’”

I hear him chuckle softly before he replies back, “We are waiting to board plane. Am too excited.”

My grin softens as I express back, “I’m excited too. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Been too long.” He mutters sadly. “How was work?”

I sigh frustratedly. “The same old shit. Just doing constant busy work and getting berated by my boss for the littlest of things. At least I only have a few more weeks left in my contract, and then I am out of there for good.”

I hear him mutter some things incoherently, hearing some words in English and some in Finnish. He tends to do that a lot when I am around-- since I don’t know much Finnish (he has been teaching me a bunch since we have been dating), he tries to remember to say most things in English, but sometimes he will just forget or doesn’t know the word and will resort back to his native language.

Most of what I can make out of his grumbling is “hate that place” “boss” “dick.”

“Babe. I can’t really understand your half English half Finnish mumbling, especially over the phone.” I cut him off. “It’s okay. All that matters is that we are going to be back in each other’s arms soon.”

He lets out a little sigh when we both hear the intercom in the airport make an announcement.

“Minä rakastan sinua”

“I love you too. Have a safe flight.”

“See you soon rakkaani.”

(...)

My alarm blares annoyingly loud and I almost let out a little grumble until I realize what that alarm means. It’s time for me to go to the airport and pick up my boyfriend who I have not seen in almost two months.

I jump out of bed and scramble to throw on an appropriate outfit other than my sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt. I put on a pair of leggings and one of Miro’s hoodies (which isn’t that much of a step up from my previous outfit) before I am out of the door in record time on my way to the airport.

‘just landed’ Is the text I receive as I am pulling into the airport parking lot. I smile to myself feeling giddy and nervous to see the love of my life after almost two months of being apart. I take a quick peek at the rearview mirror and fix any flyaways before making my way over to baggage claim.

Figuring I still have a few minutes until Miro makes his way over, I check over all my social media. I even replied back to one of Roope Hintz’s snapchats where he sent me a picture of him with the caption ‘take care of my boyfriend until I get there ;).’ I chuckle silently to myself while looking up and scanning the area.

I see a crowd making it’s way over to the baggage claim, so I crane my neck in search of Miro.

And just like that our eyes connect, immediately being drawn to each other through the crowd. I let out an excited squeal and start weaving my way through the throng of people.

When he sees me getting closer he drops his carry-on bags onto the ground before meeting me halfway. When we finally reach each other I straight away jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms go straight to the back of my thighs to support me. I feel him bury his face into my neck where he drops a few kisses here and there while we just hold each other, embracing the feeling of being in each other’s arms again.

I feel a few wet spots on my skin where Miro’s head is and find him crying a little bit. I run my fingers through his hair to soothe him as I feel him breath against my neck, “Never again.”

My legs untangle themselves from around him and find the ground again as we both pull away just for a second to then come back together once more into a kiss. His hands slipped down the smooth curve of my sides to rest on my hips as I rested one of my hands on the back of his neck and the other on his cheek drawing him impossibly closer. This kiss was one way different from any of the others we have shared, and it was definitely not appropriate for an airport. But neither of us seemed to care as we savored the feeling that has been missing for two months. I eventually pull apart our lips in need of some air and when a stand byer scoffs at our very public displays of affection.

Miro doesn’t seem to mind them any attention though as he follows through with a few more pecks before taking my hands and leading me to the baggage claim. We both grab all of his luggage, the smiles never once leaving either of our faces as we then make our way out of the airport.

Miro looks over at me as we are nearing the car and gives me one of the biggest and happiest grins I have ever seen on him. He gives my temple of soft kiss before whispering in my ear,

“Let’s go home rakkaani.”

Tagging a few people so this doesn't flop,,,

@heatherawoowoo @barzysandmarnersbitch @matbarzys @matbarzls @noeaerialist @gigissports @turcsandzegras @luukasreichel @only-goalies-allowed @lovereadinghockeyy @carepriceisgoodathockey @prettyboyjackhughes @rosesvioletshardy

[siriusheadspace]

illicit affairs - sirius black x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You and Sirius start seeing each other in secret around Hogwarts since his best friend Remus has a crush on you, but is too shy to act on it. Inspired by "Illicit Affairs", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: God, all of a sudden I developed this hyper fixation with Sirius. I got a bunch of ideas for stories with him (and all of them inspired by songs lol) but this was the one that felt more structured. I haven't written in a while and English is not my first language so be kind lol

Words: 2k ish

-

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down

You could swear the entire Hogwarts castle heard your hitched breath while you tried to make your way to the Gryffindor tower as silently as possible. Sirius was the one to leave first this time, heading for his dormitory while you had to count to 300 - you forgot your watch this time. You were sure it was his time to wait, but you didn't contradict him after he zipped his pants, gave you one last rough kiss, and said "Later, then?".

Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

It took some time to develop this relationship to the point where you didn't have to talk and check each other's stories to avoid being caught. You knew your friends and roommates didn't believe you were risking getting caught and losing house points just for a night walk around the castle, but they gave up on you telling them who you were seeing.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

It started last year, in your sixth year in Hogwarts. You always had a crush on Sirius, but that's not uncommon - nearly every girl on your year couldn't help falling for his long, silky hair, his gray eyes, his long, yet toned body, and, of course, his devil may care attitude. But he never really paid attention to you, just some light flirting in a party at the Gryffindor common room one time; you were pretty sure he didn't know your name. But it changed last year. You can't quite point to when, exactly, you noticed the Marauders would go quiet once you walked by. But it got to the point where you would always notice. You'd pass by them on purpose, flattered by the attention Black was finally giving you. But you didn't notice that it was his friend, Remus, that gave you the most passionate looks.

What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

At a party right after a Quiddich match, you decided you would do something about it and give Sirius the chance to make a move. You took hours getting ready, borrowed a dress from a friend, the cleavage more revealing than anything else you ever wore, the fire whiskey burning your throat and your shyness. Once you came down the stairs, you could feel the glances at you, running up and down your body, another rush to add to the whiskey and to boost your confidence. Your friend group was close to the Marauders and you thanked the gods for it. You were all dancing together, and Remus excused himself after a few songs - you later figured he might be trying to get confident enough to make a move - once Sirius perfume got to you. Sandalwood, something citric and tobacco, all mixed to intoxicate you. You started dancing closer to him, and, in a spike of lust, grabbed his hand and went to an empty room. He looked confused but didn't complain when you pushed him against the wall and kissed him fervently. You felt his smirk, his excitement, once he pushed you back against a table and pulled your legs around him so he could lift you and sit you on it. He only stopped to catch his breath once you were panting and pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You felt like a goddess when his long fingers explored your body, lingering on your exposed curves. You unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped your dress, and, without giving it a second thought, with a spark of pain between all the pleasure, you had your first time with the infamous Sirius Black.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares

When you were finished, the combination of soreness and embarrassment started to make your chest heavy - the first time of many. Sirius was a gentleman, though, helping you fix yourself enough so it wasn’t obvious that you were doing what you just did, not commenting on the blood, or when your nails pressed against the skin of his shoulders out of pain. You felt his stares during the next few weeks, trying to find a way of talking to him and meet him again, maybe on a date, something more romantic than snogging on dark, empty classrooms. One night, you were reading in the common room and noticed him alone, leaning against the wall, close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once he felt your eyes on him, he left the room, and you felt a rush, getting up, counting to ten, and following him to another empty classroom, where he quickly took your book off your hands and moved them to his neck.

It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

You were anxious to repeat his steps, standing against the wall, waiting for him to look at you. But he sure followed you to yet another empty room. That time, you actually had a conversation after you were done, but it was far from the romantic invitation for a date at Madame Puddifoot. "You need to be less obvious", he said, buttoning up his shirt. "I just did what you've done last time", you said, pulling your skirt up, feeling the warmness between your legs, the humiliation of being scolded like a kid by the person responsible for it. "But if it's going to happen that often", he smirked, "we have to figure out a way to do it in a way that people don't have to pay the tiniest amount of attention to find out, baby", he completed, and started scheming. You agreed to his plan: whenever any of you wanted to see the other, you'd send a note with a smiley face, something that wouldn't be revealing and wouldn't mean anything to anyone but the two of you, and you'd meet at three in the morning at the come and go room. "It's safe. And it has an appropriate name, don't you think?", he laughed, and you shot him a weak smile. He walked to the door but before he opened it, you put your hand on his arm. "Sirius", you said, and he noticed that he liked the way his name sounded on your lips when you were composed as well, and scolded himself for the flutter in his chest caused by it, "Are you doing something this weekend? I thought we could go to Madame Pu..." "We shouldn't be seen in public, doll", he said, trying to give you one of his smirks, but you noticed how his eyes still looked sad. It didn't matter, though - the weight of rejection pulled you down and you had to use all of your energy not to break down crying while going back to your room. Sirius went first. Once you were about to go up the stairs that would lead to your room, you heard his laughter with his friends coming from the other staircase. Unbothered by your encounter.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist

You've dealt with by rationalizing it in many different ways. You thought that the next time you got a piece of parchment with a smiley face, you'd just ignore him, happy to imagine him alone and pathetic, waiting for you. But you never had the strength to do it. You'd always fix your hair and some makeup and went straight back to his arms.

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

"Why does it have to be like this?", you asked, feeling brave, six months after your first encounter. "Y/N", he said - you felt a shiver up your spine like you always did when you heard your name in his voice - "I'm a bad friend. And I'm trying to avoid coming to terms with that", he completed with a sad smile on his face. Once he noticed your confusion, he explained how he started noticing you after Remus admitted to having a crush on you, but never had the guts to tell you. That Remus made him notice things about you he wasn't paying attention before - how your lips would pout when you were concentrating during Charms, how your soft curves were visible under the heavy wool of the sweaters you liked to wear - but it was you, in a burst of attitude, pushing him against a wall that made him give up on being a good friend for Remus on what concerned you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

You accepted your status as a shameful secret. Remus still gave you fond looks and eventually had the courage to get close to you, trying to help with your DADA homework, complimenting haircuts, holding doors open to you. And you thanked him with your heart full of guilt, Sirius' stare burning on your back. After one of your encounters, Sirius brushed his fingers against your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You were still shocked at the demonstration of affection when he left the room first, and you started counting to 300 again. 151… Is he falling for you? 208… It can't be. It has to be just physical. Why would he fall for you and still keep you as a secret? 299… It clicked. He could fall for you a million times, it would never be as important as his friendship with Remus. And you loved him a bit more because of that. 300.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

You tried seeing other guys. You went on dates, and you blushed at their compliments, but none of them had a fraction of the effect of Sirius had on you. You still hoped he noticed when one of them would hold your hand on the way to Hogsmeade. You could only hope it hurt him as much as it hurt you to see him flirt with other girls. To listen to his voice calling them "baby".

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

One night, you were whispering his name with him already inside you, your shirt undone, your bra unclasped, your skirt pulled up, when the door opened. The pain in Remus’s eyes as he understood what was happening in front of him was something you knew you would never forget. Sirius left you there, dressing himself quickly while apologizing profusely to his friend. You turned around and tried to fix yourself, and they left without even looking back at you.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

None of them ever spoke with you again. It was as if you were taboo. Even James and Peter wouldn't pay attention to you once you spoke in class or told a funny joke to your friend in the common room. You figured it was fair. They had to do what's best for their friendship. And if pretending you didn't exist was the price to pay for that, they'd all pay it. When you saw them all laughing together, joyful, you knew you'd do the same.

But, sometimes, you could swear you felt Sirius’ gaze against you. And you knew that was as close as he'd get to ever touching you again.

[finiteuniverse13]

home is people, not a place 2/?

Part 1

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.

She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.

She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.

The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.

(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)

The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.

Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.

All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.

She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.

“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”

She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.

“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”

She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.

“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”

Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.

“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”

Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”

A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.

Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.

“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”

TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”

This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.

Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.

“No murder, and no death.”

This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.

Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”

Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.

“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.

“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.

Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.

+

As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.

“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.

“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.

Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.

“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.

“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please

Sonny freezes. What?

“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.

“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”

For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”

Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.

“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.

And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.

Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.

Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.

“How are you feeling?”

Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”

Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.

“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?

“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.

Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.

Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”

Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”

Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”

It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”

Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.

Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.

+

Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.

Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.

Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.

Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.

Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).

Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.

Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.

The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We��ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.

They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.

[aliceaddellheidde]

Birthday boy

A/N: I tried. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY BARNES!!! ❤️💜💙💚💕

WORDS: 1838

WARNINGS: swearing, smut (graphic, 18+)

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader {A/B/O AU}

DISCLAIMERS: English isn´t my first language so sorry for mistakes.

I stole pic from ig of man who looks just like Bucky!!! 😱🤣

Divider by @firefly-graphics

You woke when Sun rays tickled your face. Space next to you was empty and cold which meant that Bucky, your Alpha and husband, went to check borders with his friends. Today was his birthday and you had plans for you both. Nice yummy breakfast, you as a dessert, small party with your big family and then hopefully special evening for you present. You checked if it´s still under pile of your t-shirts and then went down to make breakfast.

Bucky walked in the kitchen twenty minutes later, sweaty. „Good morning beautiful.” he kissed top of your head. „Morning handsome.” He wanted to hug you, but you pushed him away, laughing. „Have a shower first.” „When I´ll be done with you, we both will need another one! Do I really have to go?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. „I dare you to sit to the table dirty and sweaty! Now, shoo.” „Damn you, you feisty Omega.” He groaned but left.

You have been together for six years, four of it as married couple. When you were younger, you were sure you don’t wanna tie down to someone in very young age. But Fate had other plans and one day you literally fell down the stairs right into arms of the most beautiful Alpha in the college. Since that day you couldn’t get his smell from your head. Few weeks later you went on your first date and years later you were married. He worked as auto mechanic and because you didn't have kids yet, you still had your work too.

You heard when he stopped the shower and put bacon and eggs on pan. „All clean and fresh wifey!” Bucky walked to you and kissed you. You smelled cypress and sandalwood from his warm body and deepened kiss a little bit. But sizzling sound ruined everything. „I think our food is ready my little Omega.” he smirked at your pouty face. „Quicker we will be done with this, quicker we can have fun.”

He seated you on kitchen counter, your legs open. Your hands were everywhere, his on your hips as you were stealing air from each other in heated kisses. „Bedroom.” he breathed and picked you up. You were on third step when Steve and Sam walked into your house. „Sorry Y/N, but we need Bucky.” Your husband growled and you apologetically smiled at him. „Again? I was with you in the morning guys.” „We know Buck, but as Alphas we have duties. Even on your birthday.” said Steve. „We will wait outside.” He nudged Sam. „Yeah and girls are waiting for you in the Dome Y/N.” They both left and he finally put you down. „Sometimes I hate being an Alpha. Too much work.” He buried his face into crook of your neck where your connection mark was and then kissed his way to your lips. „I´ll see you later, my sweet Omega.” You kissed his cheek and went to change your pyjama for something more appropriate.

You loved your small family. As you walked to Dome you saw younglings playing with youngest Alpha of your pack, Peter. You all lived in cabin camp encircled by forest and you couldn’t imagine better life.

„Y/N! You are finally here.” „Hi Wan. I heard you need me?” „Yes. You know one Alpha eats for three and we need more food because of guests. Pepper, Sharon and Laura are in the kitchen.” „Yes boss!” Laughing, you walked in the kitchen and were surprised that there was still space to walk. „Are you ok?” you asked your friends, who looked like they were hit by heat wave. „It´s not funny Y/N. It so hot here and windows are not very helpful.” „Sorry Pepper. I´m here to help.” You end up baking cakes and bread and gossiping about your Alphas.

Bucky found you hours later, dressed nicely in jeans and flannel shirt. „Why is your hair wet?” you asked him and yanked croissant from his hand. „Hey! I´m hungry.” „You will have plenty of time later. Now lets go home. I can´t show up on your birthday party covered up in flour.” He laughed with you, easily picking you up and carrying you to your cabin.

You were in shower and he sat on the toilet. „Boys took me to cliff. You know we love jumping in water. Thus wet hair.” „You are like small puppies in adult bodies, I swear.” „Yet you married me.” His eyes were scanning your naked body with dilated pupils and his tongue wetted his lips. „I'm the happiest Alpha on this planet.” His mouth crushed into yours and somehow you ended up lying on your bed underneath him. „I wanted you all morning doll.” He nipped at your neck, clavicles and you gasped when his tongue touched your hardened nipples. You could feel him getting hard as he was rubbing against your wet core. His kisses travelled down your ribs, belly and hips. And finally when he was ready to taste his finest dessert, noise from outside stopped him. You both sighted, defeated. „Damn it! Why they have to cock-blocking me on my birthday?!” You stood up with a huff and put on Bucky´s favourite dress with over-the-knee socks and you chuckled when you heard his breath hitched. „You like it?” You turned to him. „Fuck Omega. You are killing me! Once we are done at the party I´m putting a baby in you.” You moaned at the idea of it. „That´s what you want?” You nodded vigorously. „Words, my sweet Omega.” His fingers traced your face and shoulders. „Yes Alpha. I want your pups.” He smiled wildly. „Great. I love you doll.” He kissed you gently. „Time to go.” He took your hand and together you went to welcome your friends from other packs.

Bucky was happy. He was having great time eating, drinking, singing, playing games and telling stories with other members yet he was checking you from time to time. Once you were with other Omegas, then eating and talking to young Betas. But his heart fluttered when he saw you playing with kids. You were laughing and tickling them and you glowed under warm light in the Dome. He felt his Alpha stirring deep inside of him and your smell overpowered the others. It was feral feel he couldn’t fight any more. He had to have you.

You instinctively felt his eyes on you and when you looked his way he was already standing and walking your way. He was few metres away from you but you smelled his cypress and sandalwood immediately. It made you all warm and your heart sped up. „Sorry kids. I need some fresh air.” They all protested but you were already walking away.

„Fuck you and fuck all my friends.” he growled once he had you pinned against barn wall in the dark. He wasn't angry, just frustrated. And his voice was making you wetter with every word he said. „I will make you feel better.” Your small hand was fumbling with his belt but he stopped you. „No. There is no time. I have to be in you. Now.” You quickly took off your panties and seconds late you were lifted by his strong arms. His cock was warm at your entrance and his breath shallow. „Please Bucky. Keep your promise my big, strong Alpha. Put a baby in me.” He snarled and pushed himself inside of you in one movement. Your loud moans for sure heard guests at the party even over the music. But neither of you cared. „Please move Bucky.” He smirked and started shifting in and out in fast strokes. His thumb was playing with your clit and in mere minutes you felt him growing inside of you and you revealed your neck for him more. His knot swelled and his teeth sank in your soft flesh. Your body was built for this but it was still like someone threw you under hot water. Your body was burning, you were hardly breathing and your head was numb from all that pleasure. Bucky was slowly licking drops of blood from your neck and then he kissed you. „You are the best my sweet, sweet Omega.” He pushed damp hair from your face. „You think it worked?” You were trying for baby for over two months now. You cheekily smirked at him. „It worked three weeks ago.” He was shocked. „What?! And you didn't tell me?” „Happy birthday daddy.” He kissed you again, this time tenderly. „I can´t believe it! All those role plays and other things we did, worked.” You smiled at him lovingly. „It did.” For moment you were quiet. „We should go back.” he sighted. „But damn girl your triggered my Rut again.” He pull out off you slowly and helped you to clean yourself with his shirt. „And you my Heat, so we are even.” He crouched down, his face in front of your belly. „Hello baby.” he said softly. „I love you. And your momma.” You caressed his head and started to cry. „Oh baby, we made her teary. Don’t worry. I´m gonna fix it.” He stood up and took your face in his hands. „You are not going on the party again. Go home. I will be there soon.” He kissed your nose and was watching as you walked to your cabin.

He went the other direction. Some unmated Omegas were glancing at him but he didn't care. He stood up in the middle of small stage and tapped on microphone. Everyone looked at him. „I wanna thank you all for coming to my birthday party and for the presents. But now I have to leave you and take care of my pregnant wife.” His smile was wide when he looked over the surprised faces. „I'm gonna be a father!” he shouted and room erupted in happy screams and congratulations. „Ok, ok. Yeah, it´s amazing. Thank you all again and good night.” He almost ran away from there as he felt another hot wave rush through his body.

You were waiting for him in your bed with wooden box and card on top of it. „Is it for me?” You nodded and watched him as he opened the card and started to cry over black and white photo. „It´s so tiny.” he choked. „I know.” Now you were crying too. „Our baby Barnes.” „And what´s in the box?” „Open it.” He did and took out small pair of trainers. One had 'girl' on it and the other one had 'boy'. „I don’t know which one we are having so I took both.” you whispered. He reached in box again and found soft bodysuits in different colours and a dummy. After few moments when he was just staring at it and silently crying, he smiled at you. „It´s best birthday present ever. Thank you doll.” You put everything away and climbed on top of him. „Ready for round two, birthday boy?”

[collecting-stories]

Fleetwood - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi! I've got a prompt idea for daryl x reader if you like to write about it: prison era, daryl and the reader (she's the one driving) take a car to go on a run to check some stores to see if there's something useful there and to take it with them, the reader finds a cd of fleetwood mac (in the car or in one of the stores), she plays it in the car and she sings, you can figure the rest of the story as you wish -sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language-🌻

A/N: I love Fleetwood, this was so fun to write!

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“Ya remember when I said ‘get something useful’?” Daryl asked, pulling the weathered CD out of the front pocket of your backpack. It was sitting in the middle console between the two of you, the other two duffel bags of goods were in the back, tied down by a bungee cord. This bag was just extras, one of which was the CD in question. An old Fleetwood Mac album, Rumors to be exact. “That go in one ear and out the other?”

“No,” you reached over, plucking the CD out of his hand and sticking your tongue out at him. “I heard you...I got plenty of essentials. Plus, this is essential...it’s Fleetwood Mac.”  

He shook his head, not responding as he put the car in drive and headed down the road back toward the prison. He was annoyed enough as it was that the haul was too big to take his bike, you coming along when all he wanted was to have you safely behind the fences, but now you were putting the CD in the CD player and turning the volume up.  

“Do you not like music?” You asked, turning the case over so that you could see which song to skip to.  

“Ain’t something worth getting killed over.”

“We’re not gonna get killed.” You rolled your eyes at him. You propped your feet on the dash, Daryl reaching over and pushing them down immediately.  

“At least be prepared for when that racket draws every walker around.”

“I doubt they can here it through the window.” You said as the next song picked up and you turned the dial a little higher, mouthing the words and then singing just enough that Daryl could hear your voice passed that of Stevie Nicks.  

Dreams was a favorite and you sang along to it, watching out the car window as he drove down the overgrown road back to the prison. It had been a long time since you’d heard any music at all. There were times for it but never anything that seemed appropriate for driving around in a world where the dead were walking. It wasn’t like putting your iphone on shuffle anymore anyway. You couldn’t queue up a playlist for the end of the world.

“Ya got a shit voice.” Daryl commented, his mouth quirking up in the hint of a smile when you smacked his arm. You’d been looking a little too sad out the window of the pickup and he couldn’t think of anything to say that would break you out of it. Everyone went through the motions being out here every day but he did his best to ensure that you stayed far away from the sadness that seemed to eat at everyone else. It was some kind of attempt at putting things right in the world. You didn’t deserve to feel bad; you were too sweet for that. And he was too sweet on you.  

“I do not!” You laughed, “maybe I’m a little tone deaf but I’m not complete rubbish.”

“Ya ain’t heard ya sing then.” He replied.  

“Yeah well Judith loves my singing.” You argued. There were countless times when you rocked the baby to bed, singing whatever lullaby you could remember from your youth.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it, just said ya were tone deaf.” Daryl teased.  

You smiled, angling yourself so you could rest against the glass, trading the scenery outside for a view of Daryl. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body. It was an unspoken rule that the heat stayed off in the car to preserve the battery for as long as possible. The radio usually stayed off too but Daryl hadn’t said anything about it when you turned it on. At least not to the effect of being wasteful with the car.  

“You think things will be any different now that Woodbury is with us?” You asked, watching Daryl for any sort of physical sign to indicate his thoughts. There never was one, very rarely could you tell how he was liking things.

Things had quieted down, certainly, but they hadn’t calmed completely. Meshing with new people, some of whom had grown accustomed to the post apocalypse luxuries of a place like Woodbury, was difficult. Not the worst thing you had endured so far and easily not the last but it was difficult. You had a hard time keeping your us v them mentality at bay and you craved moments like this, alone with someone you were comfortable with. Enough, at least, to sing Fleetwood Mac.

“Different how?” Daryl asked, keeping his eyes on the road. If he looked over at you he’d flip the car worse than Lori had back at the farm.

“Good different,” you shrugged, “stay here a while different. I’m just tired I guess, wouldn’t mind a little vacation.”

“Don’t think this is the kinda place for a vacation.” Daryl replied.  

“I don’t know...” you said, shifting again so that you were closer to him, leaning against your backpack, “I don’t need Disney World or anything...this is pretty good.”

“This?” He asked, as if he didn’t believe you in the slightest. And to be fair, he didn’t. If only because there was no part of him that would believe that you would settle for this, even in a world like the one you were living in.

“Yeah, this. You, me, driving around listening to music.”

“I could do without the music.” He replied.

-

[gayregis]

right away sorry if this gets too ranty I've just been Thinking lately and i feel like twn is such a good example of like. this idea that Real and Good film and television can only be made by Hollywood i guess? like there's even this polish saying that roughly translates to "you praise the foreign and don't know your own" which gets made fun of a lot but also. it's very true imo. like i still wonder what could've been if actual good polish filmmakers were entrusted with making a new witcher (1/?

and it would've been such a good opportunity for like. one showcasing that there Can be good art and entertainment made locally and two some genuine cultural exchange. like i know its too big of an idea for Capitalism™ but if there was a well made polish-language show on international Netflix like. idk i feel like maybe that could spark some interest in like broadening peoples horizons and changing their views on what fantasy looks like etc and its just frustrating that there wasnt even a chance

i really agree. i have been dreaming recently about what my ideal "visual adaptation" of the witcher would look like, and what i've come up with essentially is something like the polish audiodramas set to 2D animation by fans of the witcher. subs, not dubs, i guess?

audiodramas

gilthoniel1173 on youtube has uploaded many select clips of the audiodramas, translated them and set them to pictures. amazing work and i highly recommend this.

i really value the majority of sapkowski's prose, though there are faults with the witcher, his prose really has a marvelous quality to it and i am trying to think of a way to keep this intact. something like the audiodramas in which there are narration may be the best way to go, with subtitles so that

animation

it's the sort of thing i think about like, hey, if i had netflix's budget (approx. $70 to $80 million, [dies]), how would i make the witcher adaptation?

disclaimer: i hesitated to @ artists because i feel like it sends the message that i am saying, "hey you, specifically, should do this idea for free, also btw, i only see you as a witcher fanartist and nothing more :)" this is not my intention, what i want to do here is just want to bring light to these artists in the community and the work they have done, both witcher-related and original work (and i hope that i am in no way defining them as 'only-witcher' artists). additionally, this is in no way suggesting that i don't want to involve any artists i did not mention or that i do not adore the work of other artists in the witcher fandom, these are just the immediate two i think of when i think of animating the witcher.

i imagine it in the style of @paticmak , @astrolunos , @johix because they have done just such gorgeous art of the witcher... <3 (i hope everyone reading knows of these artists already, but if you do not, please check out their work and support!)

paticmak's cherry vodka, an original animation which you should watch: [x]

paticmak's witcher fanart: [x]

astrolunos' animations, including geralt and ciri from sword of destiny and yennefer and ciri from blood of elves: [x]

astrolunos' witcher fanart: [x]

johix's jadýrko, an original interactive story which you should check out: [x] [x]

johix's art (some ship and ns/fw): [x]

specific witcher pieces from these artists that i think about:

[paticmak / "The witcher drawings redraws and sketches"]

[astrolunos / slavic-inspired outfits]

[astrolunos / "yen and ciri’s room, ellander"]

[johix / geralt and dandelion at beltane (ship)]

other major inspirations in my dreams of this:

studio ghibli movies (spirited away and howl's moving castle)

independent animators like felix colgrave (double king)

laika studio animations (kubo and the two strings)

gobelins studio (sundown)

embracing the roots, introducing diversity

my main point in this section is that i believe the polish & eastern european culture of the witcher is essential to it, at the same time i also value diversity and uplifting people of color. i do not believe that these two concepts are in conflict with one another! a discussion simply needs to be held, which is something that netflix did not do because it had few eastern european voices on the set, and kept the voices of color it did have down.

something netflix failed to do is acknowledge the witcher's cultural origins... at all. really, at all. in the writing, in the dialogue, in the set design, in the character and fashion design... and they had the opportunity to do this. this is massively disappointing and thoughtless.

my goal would be to bring polish & other eastern european writers who are fans of the witcher to work through the prose to tell the story. i would also like to have female and lgbt voices in this because the witcher has some elements that are...! disconcerting, let's just say. as we saw with lauren, having a woman in charge doesn't immediately make things not misogynist anymore, somehow she added to the misogyny of the witcher. but i think this is still a step in the right direction. additionally, this writing process would NOT look like writing fanfiction. it would really be going through and working with the artists and translating the prose, deciding what should be kept and what should be left out (some things like forest gramps should be left out, wouldn't you agree?).

new scenes could be added, but they would just have to be done for a reason. i believe the 2002 hexer did this somewhat-successfully in scenes such as this one, in which they develop relationships between characters just that little bit more and add to the pathos of the witcher (which is quite direct and does not "loiter" upon many things!)

i would also really value the voices of set designers, fashion historians, food historians, and cultural anthropologists who are from + study poland & eastern europe because i believe the history and culture should be integrated into the witcher and appreciated, demonstrated in a positive and celebratory light to the world, without doing so in a cultural appropriation-like manner (in which elements are just taken without any knowledge of where they are from and what context they hold). also, yes, the witcher is not a historical fantasy - but its setting is inspired by history and it would be rewarding to see a visual fantasy universe that is not based in english culture!

i think the witcher community is really vast and holds many opinions... this is both a good and bad thing, because "the witcher fandom" includes both people of color and like, white supremacists. i will say that i wouldn't want the latter working on the project, just saying. i would like to see designs of color for the cast of the witcher (i have done a few but hesitated to post them, lol) and sensitivity readings, NOT just diversity for views like netflix performed, but diversity that empowers, makes sense, and isn't "people of color are in this, they are either white-passing or just there to support the white characters." ... i also would like to think about how we approach diversity, as in, designs/casting of color should not be relegated to insignificant or evil characters, the good protagonists could be people of color. i would also like to think about and avoid problematic tropes such as when white characters in a media teach and "civilize" a young person of color, or when "monsters" or non-human characters are cast as people of color... i think people of color should be given roles in which they are in control, powerful, desirable, and good. we need to think about the message we send. in the end, my goal would be "genuine cultural exchange" as you said.

additionally: i think involving jewish and indigenous (broad terms, but i mean them to be broad) voices specifically in conversations about writing would be significant because sapkowski made some decisions in the witcher which can come off as offensive to these groups in particular (regarding the parts of the story about elves, dwarves, gnomes, dryads, and specific characters such as yennefer and regis).

music

honestly, not many thoughts here! can we really get any better than the soundtrack of the witcher 3? cdpr has many faults, but their music is not one of them in my opinion.

afterthoughts

i was displeased to learn that alik sakharov left twn because of not being appreciated and instead being fought on his writing, but i feel a project like this would actually value input like his instead of kicking him out and citing "creative differences"

what is really the most significant thing to me is good writing and ciri's relationship with her parents, because i believe these being taken away is one of the things which was most painful about netflix's "adaptation."

[sevenseasofbangtan]

BTS REACTION — HOW YOU MET (IDOL VERSION)

Summary: Idol!BTS meet Foreigner!Reader

Warnings: None, except maybe light cursing, reference to a car crash and mentions of alcohol being consumed.

Note: In these scenarios, all members are fluent in English (or they can at least hold a good conversation). I tried to keep all the scenarios gender-neutral, although I had a specific vision in mind for Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s one, which involved a girl. If anyone wants me to write new scenarios or to rewrite these ones in a gender-neutral form, feel free to let me know.

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

It was a rainy day and clouds were filling the sky, hiding any trace of sunlight. As you walked through the streets of Seoul with your friend, an umbrella in one hand, you listed different possible activities you could spend your free time on. You both had just arrived in Seoul and although you hadn’t seen much yet, you had already fallen in love with South Korea’s capital.

Seokjin had a few days off from promotion, glad to get a short break from his hectic schedule. Even though he loved his job to no end, he sometimes needed some time off to himself, so he could go back to work feeling more inspired and relaxed than ever.

He had recently opened a restaurant with his brother and had decided to go lend a hand to the staff, seeing as someone couldn’t make it to work that day. He knew this was far from the stress-free day he had envisioned for himself, but there were two reasons why he felt compelled to head to the restaurant as soon as he woke up that morning, the first one being that he was one of the directors of said restaurant and that it only seemed natural that he visited and helped around from time to time, the second being that he was a generally very caring being and that refusing the request would simply be choosing to go against his core values.

Both your friend and yourself hadn’t yet thought of an appropriate way to keep yourselves occupied, but all you knew was that you were beginning to get quite hungry, your stomach grumbling every once in a while. You didn’t want to disrupt the course of your friend’s thoughts, but you thought it might be relevant to bring up the idea of stopping by a small restaurant to take a bite. As soon as you voiced your suggestion, her face lit up, and with a mysterious and excited tone, she declared, “Oh, I know a place where we could eat!” You agreed with a shrug, thinking to yourself that any restaurant would do at this point.

You walked in the streets for a good twenty minutes before finally reaching your destination, your friend becoming more and more excited with each step, but categorically refusing to tell you why. You entered the friendly-looking restaurant, analyzing your surroundings. On the outside, it looked as any other Japanese-style restaurant, but the inside was harmoniously decorated, suggesting the owner had great taste in accessorizing and inside decoration. A few plants were randomly displayed throughout the restaurant and the wooden touches gave a warm feeling, in contrast with the overall modern style of the building.

As you sat down to your assigned table and began flipping through the pages of the menu, after having spent a good half-hour waiting in line and complaining to (y/f/n), she called out your name and finally decided to tell you what had been on her mind ever since she came up with the idea of stopping by this particular restaurant: “You know about BTS, right?” “Of course! Who doesn’t?” “Well this place just happens to be owned by Jin and his brother!” You chuckled and commented, “Well now I get why you were so excited all of a sudden and why we had to waste thirty minutes of our precious time waiting in line! It’s certainly what’s causing all the hype surrounding this restaurant... This food better be worth the wait though!”

After having spent an overall total of forty five minutes waiting, the food finally came. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you heard several people gasping in unison when the waiter arrived with the numerous plates of meat, vegetables and other side dishes you would be sharing with your friend. As you looked up, you nearly choked on the water in the glass you were drinking from, quickly identifying your waiter as Kim Seokjin, Jin from BTS himself.

Seokjin had finally decided to step out of the kitchen, unable to stand the heat of the crowded area anymore, and as he saw two physically distinct woman sitting at a table, he specifically requested to attend to that table, intrigued and interested in the unusual situation.

In an attempt to make a nice first impression and as to project a good image of his restaurant, he formally introduced himself, trying to remember all that Namjoon and his English teachers had taught him about the English language over the years: “Hello! Welcome to Ossu Seiromushi! My name is Seokjin and I will be your waiter for today. Is this your first time here?” “Yeah,” the both of you answered at the exact same time. He quickly exclaimed, “Oh this is great! I hope that you will enjoy our food and that you will want to come back here next time!”

As your meal went on, Seokjin periodically came back to check on you, way more often than a usual waiter would, trying to hold some sort of conversation as much as possible given the fact that some fans occasionally interrupted the discussion to interact with their idol, and you had to admit that despite the situation, you enjoyed yourself quite a lot and already planned on visiting again soon, as suggested by Seokjin himself. You also had to admit the food lived up to your expectations, much to friend and your waiter’s delight.

When it was finally time to leave and to carry on with your day, it was with a heavy heart that you left the cozy building filled with delicious smells, knowing you might not be met by your friendly waiter the next time you stopped by in the future.

As you left the restaurant and as he headed back to the kitchen, Seokjin made sure to inform his brother about his lovely encounter and to make sure he kept an eye out for the two charming foreigners next time they came back.

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

After having spent almost a year without seeing his family, Yoongi was finally returning to Daegu, having a brief pause in his busy schedule. As soon as he entered the familiar building that used to be his own house, he was greeted by Geumjae, his older brother, who had come over for the night knowing his younger brother was visiting, his dog, Holly, and the scent of his favourite dish, that his mom had so kindly decided to cook. Memories began flooding his mind and he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about his past life, before he even though of becoming an idol. He was glad to have a break, even if it was only for a few days, so he could remember what being normal feels like, although he knew deep down he would never be seen as a ‘normal’ person anymore, even in his hometown. In fact, he was almost an heroic figure there, seeing as it almost seemed like a miracle that a young man from this small neighbourhood had succeeded in the international music stage.

You had arrived a while ago in Korea, settling down in a small apartment in Seoul. However, your desire of seeking new challenges and to explore the unknown led you to smaller cities, including your current location: Daegu. You had rented a hotel room nearby for a few days and had instantly fallen in love with the more modest buildings of the residential neighbourhoods and the flora of your surroundings, even though this town technically wasn’t half as impressive as South Korea’s biggest city, Seoul.

You had decided to go out and explore the city once the sun began to set, so the streets would be nearly empty and you’d be completely immersed into the peaceful atmosphere of the area. You aimlessly wandered around the town, stopping in a quiet park to sit down on the grass, staring at the sky.

Yoongi had dragged his brother out with him, still feeling the nostalgia from his childhood. He knew the only time he could come out of his house without getting noticed by locals was in the late evening, so he waited until it was pitch black outside to leave the familial residence. As soon as he stepped out, the light breeze surrounded him and the sound of silence rang in his ears, making him feel at home again. He carried a conversation with his older brother while walking on the sidewalk, the only lighting being provided by the small shops on the other side of the street, the lampposts lined along the sidewalk and the thousands of stars in the sky. Soon enough, the both of them reached the park where they had shared so much memories back when they were still children.

You got up from your spot on the fresh grass, beginning to walk again. At this point, you had to admit you were a little lost, after having mindlessly walked through the city for an hour or so. The once warm temperature had decreased, leaving you shivering through the thin fabric of your shirt and your partly exposed legs, and you could barely see where you were going as the sun had completely set.

You were so absorbed in trying to find your way back, that you had completely ignored your surroundings. You suddenly heard some noise directly coming from behind you, yelling in surprise. Your screams were answered by those of two manly voices. You looked up, meeting the eyes of two young men, seeming as surprised as you did. You quickly apologized, embarrassed from causing such a scene, but the boys assured you there was no harm done and you shouldn’t worry about such a thing.

Soon enough, you initiated a conversation with the two men you found out turned out being brothers. The oldest was named Geumjae, while the youngest, who seemed to be relatively close to your age, was named Yoongi, a name that sounded oddly familiar to your ears. Having nothing better to do, you sat back down in the grass, carrying on with your discussion. It was definitely close from midnight, but it didn’t seem to bother any of you. The boys were intrigued about what had brought you to their city in particular, seeing as you weren’t from the area, so you shared your story without neglecting a single detail, as the boys sitting in front of you questioned you from time to time, seemingly interested in your adventures.

After spending so much time outside, you could barely feel your arms anymore, your body not being able to keep you warm for much longer. You kept shivering and Yoongi soon noticed, offering you his hoodie, as the well-mannered man he was. After having made sure he didn’t mind, you gladly accepted his offer, the soft fabric warming up your skin at the very first contact.

Yoongi finally asked you where you were staying and as you answered, his brows knit in confusion. “But that’s at the other end of town... How long have you been walking?” he asked, staring at you. You shrugged, having lost track of time. “You’re really going to walk all the way back there?” he questioned you, seeming perplexed. You finally admitted being absolutely lost. At your confession, Yoongi suggested he and his brother gave you a ride back to your hotel. You felt terribly embarrassed at the thought of having to burden the kind strangers with your own issue, especially at such a late time in the evening, but you were also very tired and definitely couldn’t make it back to the hotel by yourself, so you gladly agreed, endlessly thanking the two brothers for their kindness.

About twenty minutes later, Yoongi dropped you off to the address you had given him. Before you left, he stopped you and stated, “You should keep my phone number as well as my brother’s in your phone. You never know what could happen and since you’re far from home, this might be useful. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I might not always be available, but it might be worth the try anyway in case there’s a problem.”

With one last ‘thank you’, you exchanged your goodbyes and wished each other a great night, hoping you might get the opportunity to meet each other again in the near future.

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

You had moved to Korea a few months ago to begin a student exchange program in university and you were definitely enjoying the new culture, as well as the new people you had met.

You did not expect to meet so many friendly individuals you had so much in common with and you had definitely become a more sociable person over the course of the past few weeks, much to your surprise.

You had met Dawon through mutual friends at a party and you were surprised at how well you both got along almost immediately. She was very warm and welcoming and her English was definitely above average, which made it easy to communicate, though you were also improving in Korean. You knew nearly from the start that she was Hoseok’s sister, but you never truly brought it up, well aware that she must hear about him and be compared to him more than enough as it is and there is no need to make matters worse.

Dawon’s parents were soon hosting a big gathering over at their house and Dawon had decided to invite her closer friends over, as well as her fiancé, since they were already expecting a large number of guests, and you felt incredibly blessed and honoured that she considered you as one of said close friends.

On the night of the house party, Dawon had texted you, claiming that one of the friends she had invited could not make it and that you were free to invite someone else to bring along. However, by the time you noticed her message, you were almost ready to leave and didn’t bother trying to reach anyone else.

Dawon, who was living in her own apartment, came to pick you up a bit early, as she had promised her parents to help set up the decoration and cook the different meals that would be served that night. As you got in the car, you noticed she was on the phone with someone and definitely seemed displeased: “What do you mean you’re not coming? I told you not to plan anything too time-consuming today so you’d be ready for the party! I already told my mom you three were coming! On top of that, Ga Young is sick and won’t be able to make it either...” The voice on the other side of the line replied, “I know, I’m truly sorry but I can’t make the cars in front of me go faster. I’ll do as best as I can, but don’t assume anything. If we can’t make it, have a great night and I’ll talk to you later!” Before Dawon could add anything, the other person you had recognized as Eun Hye hung up.

Dawon turned to you and said, “Sorry about that, I don’t want to ruin the mood or anything, but Eun Hye just called to tell me she, Soo Ah and Ye Rin got stuck in the traffic on their way back from I don’t know where, when I clearly told them not to plan anything today so they could come to the party and I already told my mom they were coming, but they’ll most likely not make it. Now you’re going to be the only friend of mine to come over...” She kept ranting, so you reassured her, “Hey it’s okay. It’s definitely not your fault and I don’t mind staying with you and your fiancé all night. I don’t think your mom will mind having a few less people to cater to tonight either...” “Thanks (y/n), you’re way too kind,” she answered. You smiled back at her and loudly declared, “Now let’s go get your fiancé so we can make it to the party on time!”

You soon left the city and reached the nice suburbs of Gwangju, where you were greeted by Dawon’s parents who excitedly welcomed all of you, glad to see their daughter and her lovely fiancé, and intrigued by the foreigner they both had brought along. You were scared of their reactions to your obvious cultural difference, but you were pleasantly surprised by the fact that they were very kind and interested in knowing about you.

Dawon dragged you inside, where you were met by a very familiar face, which left you speechless as Dawon exclaimed, “What are you doing here? Weren’t you on tour?” He frowned in confusion, replying, “What are you talking about? I told you I was coming back on the 5th.” “Oh I thought I had heard the 15th, my bad,” Dawon stated, chuckling. She then ran to hug her brother tightly. They were definitely a close pair. “Hoseok, this is my friend (y/n). You better be nice to her because all our other friends ditched us for the night and she doesn’t know anyone here but myself and my fiancé. By the way, just saying ... she’s single,” Dawon introduced you to her sibling with a playful tone. She then turned to you, saying, “(y/n) you probably already know my brother, but nonetheless, this is Hoseok.” You bowed to her brother and he did the same, the both of you smiling a bit awkwardly at Dawon’s introductions.

You all went on to assist their parents before the guests began arriving. Throughout the night, the four of you stayed together in a peaceful corner of the backyard, as Dawon stated she “would rather avoid the intrusive aunts and uncles constantly asking her about her private life”, to which Hoseok agreed.

You all discussed your latest stories and experiences, often having a good laugh at each other’s expense. The wine and soju you had all drunk surely helped loosening everyone up and making everything sound funnier than it really should be. Hoseok was very sweet, charismatic and down to earth, and it might’ve been the alcohol speaking, but you couldn’t help thinking to yourself that he definitely was very attractive. You thought it had been easy becoming friends with Dawon, but befriending Hoseok had proven being even easier. There was something about him that was so strongly compelling.

As the party came to an end and Dawon’s fiancé drove you all back to her place, she poked your shoulder, still a bit tipsy, commenting, “You know ... My brother really seemed to like you.” You turned to her and told her to stop saying such nonsense, but she continued: “N—No I’m not even kidding! Haven’t you noticed how he kept staring at you ever since you stepped foot in the house, how he laughed a bit more at your jokes than anyone else’s—“ “That’s because my jokes are funnier than yours and he knows that. And he was staring at me because I’m obviously very different from all of you guys,” you interrupted her. “Shhh — don’t interrupt me. He always filled your wine glass first and he kept leaning towards you. I know my brother, I know he’s not like that with just anyone,” she finished. You rolled your eyes and replied, “Dawon, I think you’re tired, just go to sleep and I’ll wake you up once we get to your apartment.”

She ignored your comment and before you could even react, she reached for your phone and unlocked it, already knowing your password by heart, and typed something in. She gave you your phone back and declared, “Here’s his number, since you seemed to be just as interested as he was.” You did not dare say anything, as you knew Dawon would not take any argument if you tried to prove her wrong. Were you being this obvious? As if she read your mind, she carried on, “You were way too smiley and giggly for your usual self, even when drinking. You should give him a chance, he can be a pretty nice guy sometimes even if he often purposely annoys the hell out of me. Anyway, when’s the last time you’ve been on a date?” “Hey don’t be so mean! I’m waiting for the right person, alright?” you affirmed in a jokingly offended tone. She laughed and claimed, “Well that right person might be my brother, who knows...”

Maybe Dawon was right, maybe you should give her brother a chance after all.

KIM NAMJOON (RM)

It was nearly midnight as you stared at the digital clock resting on your nightstand. After almost having spent a full hour tossing and turning in bed, you decided you had had enough and threw the blankets off your body, sitting up in the process. It had only been two days since you arrived in Seoul and you still hadn’t quite adjusted to the jet lag yet.

You threw on some very casual clothes and headed out the door, thinking some fresh air would do you good and maybe even help you fall asleep. You loved the fact that a lot of shops were open until very late, as you enjoyed the calm of the night. You abandoned the busy streets of Seoul’s most popular districts and soon reached the much more peaceful atmosphere of a mostly residential neighbourhood, taking advantage of the quietness that surrounded you. You had seen more than enough crowded places in the last two days and desperately needed a break from the obnoxiousness of the most famous landmarks.

You eventually spotted a small café on the other side of the road that seemed quite nice. As you entered the building, you were hit by the strong but pleasant smell of freshly ground coffee as well as the emptiness of the place, though that did not surprise you, considering that it was getting late.

You went through the list of possible selections on the wall behind the order counter and eventually settled for something simple as to not excite your brain more than it already was.

You stepped forward, greeted the lady in front of you and placed your order. As you were speaking you could clearly read on the woman’s face that she did not grasp a single word of what you were saying.

Although you had learnt some of the basics of the Korean language prior to your trip and that you were still studying the language to this day, you did not consider your skills good enough to have this kind of discussion, especially not at this time of the day, when your brain could barely function normally. Ever since the beginning of your trip, you had managed to avoid speaking Korean to anyone, as there was always at least one person available who could speak in English. However, as you looked around, you soon realized that it was only you and the barista, and that you had no choice but to find a way to communicate with her.

As you were reaching through your pockets to grab your phone in order to write down what you wanted to say on a translation app, you heard a manly voice behind you, making you jump slightly, “Excuse me, do you need help?” You turned around and had to do a double take. There was no way this man standing behind you could be Kim Namjoon, or was there? You decided to keep quiet and not bring this question up just yet. After having frozen for a few seconds while you processed your thoughts, you finally answered, “Ummm, actually, yes I do. I’d like to order something, but the employee only speaks Korean and I don’t master the language enough to hold this conversation.” He smiled sweetly and nodded, questioning you about your order.

Once you told him everything there was to know, he stepped forward and began discussing with the barista, who also seemed shocked by the man’s presence, ordering for the both of you.

“How much was it?” you immediately asked as he finished ordering and paying. He looked at you and smiled once again, declaring, “It’s free. I’m paying for you. Take it as a gift.” You quickly shook your head, arguing, “Oh no, I can’t accept that! You had to go through the trouble of ordering for both yourself and myself. If anything, I should be the one paying for the both of us.” He chuckled and replied, “This is non-negotiable. No matter what you say, I won’t change my answer. If you really want to make it up to me, why don’t you just keep me company while I drink my coffee? I’d sure love to chat if you want to. Get my mind off things, forget about my stressful day, you know?” “As long as you don’t have bad intentions, I’ll gladly accept this offer,” you playfully said, making him laugh.

You both found a clean table at the back of the room and sat down with your orders, chatting about anything and everything. At one point, you couldn’t help but ask him: “Is there a possibility that I’ve seen you somewhere before?” “There is, actually. My name is Kim Namjoon—“ “From BTS, right?” He nodded, as you continued, “Wow, I just want to say that I really enjoy listening to your music and that all of you guys are amazing artists!” He smiled shyly at your compliment, still not used to receiving such positive feedback from anyone, even after all this time, and then thanked you for your kind words.

As you had both finished your drinks and as you started to feel sleepiness weighing heavy on your shoulders, you decided to call it a night and head back to where you came from. However, right before leaving, Namjoon stopped you, cleared his throat and said, “Hey, um. I could give you my number, you know... just in case you ever need anything, or if you ever wanna chat again.” You nodded, answering, “Yeah, that would be nice...” And so you both exchanged your phone numbers before leaving.

As he watched you exit in front of him, Namjoon had a feeling he would be dialling that number soon enough.

PARK JIMIN (JIMIN)

You had just landed in Seoul no more than two hours ago, accompanied by your close friend. As soon as the luggage pickup and the customs were out of the way, the two of you headed off to retrieve your rented car from the car rental company located right outside of the airport, at a three minutes distance in the shuttle bus.

After nearly waiting for an hour in line, the both of you trading places between standing in line and a nearby seat every ten minutes, you were finally done signing the contract papers and had finally gotten a hold of the car keys that would belong to you for the next month.

A kind employee directed you towards the right car and then helped you pack your luggage into its trunk and backseat as necessary, before leaving the both of you by yourselves with this unfamiliar vehicle. You settled yourself in the driver’s seat, in common agreement with your friend, and began discovering and adjusting to its features.

It had been a long time since you both had last gotten any sleep and the darkness settling outside did not help at all. As you drove out of the car rental garage, you immediately noticed the heavy rain pouring from the evening sky, sighing deeply. Then, you were hit with the sight of the immensely dense trafic of the very populated city of Seoul, groaning in annoyance. Nothing seemed to be in your favour at this instant and you were quickly regretting your decision of taking the wheel in these conditions.

You had slowly gotten adjusted to driving and were slowly making your way towards the hotel where you had booked a room for the next few days in order to finally get some rest.

You reached an extremely crowded intersection and tried to pay attention to all of the surrounding cars as you turned around the street corner. However, you forgot to switch your focus back towards the front of your car quickly enough and suddenly —

BANG

Your car suddenly hit the one right in front of yours, making you and your friend scream in shock at the unexpected impact.

BTS were on their way back to their shared dorms after having performed on a music show. All of them were exhausted as it was getting late and they had been up since the early hours of the morning. As they sat at the back of the van, some fell asleep, some stared at the window and some kept chatting despite their low energy level. A sudden impact startled the passengers of the van as the driver let out a string of curses under his breath. Thankfully, the collision was not strong enough to cause any significant harm to anyone, but they definitely knew that the car would not be left intact.

You sighed, hiding your face behind your hands before brushing your hair back in despair. This was definitely not the most ideal way to start off your vacation and you were surely not planning on spending an important sum of money in car repair for a vehicle you had just gotten not even an hour ago as well as paying for the damage occasioned to the other driver’s car.

As you got out of the car and noticed the consequences, you couldn’t help the “Oh crap” that escaped your mouth. Soon after, the other driver also came out to inspect the damages. After eyeing the back of the van for a good fifteen seconds, he turned around to face you, angrily muttering in Korean, as you stood still, staring at him in confusion. Noticing you did not understand a word of what he was saying, he resolved in going back to the van to request an English speaking person as to discuss the incident with the foreigners who had bumped into their vehicle.

You had no idea what was going on and why the driver left you standing there without any explanation. Soon, you found yourself crying from anticipation, feeling a wave of panic overtake you, which was definitely uncharacteristic of your usually composed self. When all of this would be over, you would surely blame it on the lack of sleep, the stress occasioned by travelling and the jet lag. Your friend walked over to you, resting a soft hand on your shoulder in reassurance and questioning why you were in tears, but all you could manage to do was to gesture at your car and the van. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you did not notice the men coming out of the car.

BTS all sat in the van, curious as to what was taking so long. The driver soon came back and requested the only English speaking manager to come out, as the other individuals involved in the situation did not seem to speak much Korean. Said manager then turned to Namjoon and asked him to join him, as he wasn’t fully confident of his own English skills. Taehyung had fallen asleep on Jimin, who was beginning to feel restless and slightly bored. He decided to follow the two other men out of the car, despite the orders he had received to stay seated.

Namjoon approached you and your friend, firstly asking if you could speak English. The both of you nodded, encouraging Namjoon to continue. Your vision was still blurred from the tears and you were frightened by the situation, so you barely noticed the shocked look on your friend’s face and the three men standing in front of you. The manager began speaking, but didn’t know how to finish his sentence, so Namjoon took over once again: “Would you mind telling us what happened?” Your friend immediately responded, seeing you weren’t exactly in a right state to speak much, explaining the full situation in details to the good-looking man in front of her.

Jimin had always been extremely empathetic, a trait that would sometimes betray him, as he would excuse people that did not deserve forgiveness or as some took advantage of him. However, as he listened to your friend’s story and saw you standing on the side with tears pooling in your eyes, he couldn’t help feeling the need to walk over to you and try to comfort you as best as he could. 

You felt someone resting their hand on the side of your arm, so you looked up from the ground, freezing as you finally realized who the men standing in front of you were. Jimin smiled softly, asking if you were feeling okay. As you shook your head and once again motioned at the two vehicles, he spoke up again: “Don’t worry about it too much, it happens to everyone... My friend, Jeongguk, could definitely tell you something about it.” He chuckled, then carried on, “Seriously though, we can definitely afford the repairs that need to be done to the two cars. Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of that so you can peacefully enjoy your vacation.” You quickly shook your head, embarrassed at the thought of them paying for your own mistake, but Jimin was having none of it and dragged you back to where the others were standing, suggesting his idea to the two other men.

The manager refused, saying he was being too kind, as you were still the one who had caused the accident. Jimin did not give up and quickly thought of a seemingly fairer deal: “What about we pay for our own car and they pay for theirs? I can handle the cost for the van without a doubt.” The manager still felt sorry for you, and easily agreed to the offer.

You gratefully thanked Namjoon, Jimin and their manager, as Jimin walked back to you. “Please open your phone and give it to me.” You did as told, not knowing what to expect. Jimin seemed to be writing something down, and as he gave it back to you, you realized it was a phone number. He glanced at your slightly confused face and claimed, “Here. In case you ever need anything, you can call me, alright?” You thanked him and you both exchanged one last smile before parting ways.

As you sat back in your car, your friend turned to you and asked, “What was THAT?!” To which you replied, “You sure we’re not asleep and dreaming?” It came out as a joke, but you truly felt as though you were in some kind of dream or unconscious state since the situation felt so unreal.

You finally drove to your initial destination, the hotel, and right before falling asleep, you stared at your phone screen, a fond smile on your face.

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

BTS had just started filming a long awaited new season of Bon Voyage. In the past few days, they had learnt how to cook traditional foods, competed in an obstacle race against one another and flew over the area in an helicopter, trying to spot important features that were listed in a document that was handed out to them.

Today, they were yet again racing against each other, but this race was much different than the one they had previously done. They were being given a map of the city they were currently in and had to orient themselves without the help of electronic devices in order to get to a specific landmark before the others did, requesting help from locals if needed. The boys all started at an equal distance from the target, but they were all separated as to avoid some members following or helping out others, which would be considered as cheating.

Taehyung looked at the map in his hands, immediately drawing over what seemed to be the quickest path to take to reach the final goal from his starting point, then searching for the right street to head on. After walking for nearly ten minutes, Taehyung noticed that the road in front of him seemed to be going uphill on a long distance. He decided he would find a new itinerary, as the one he was currently on would significantly slow him down because of its increased difficulty.

He walked for another twenty minutes, before he stopped to take a small break. He stared at the street signs, then back at his map with eyebrows knitted in confusion. It seemed he had been going the wrong way all along, despite him making sure to look out for the different streets and avenues that would lead him to the landmark. With a deep sigh, he decided he would not waste time trying to find his way back by himself and would instead resolve in asking a local for guidance.

You were getting out of a small shop, a water bottle and your phone in hand. You had planned on meeting a friend in a park at the other side of town and thought it would do you good to walk the whole distance instead of going by car or public transportation, a choice that you were deeply regretting as you felt overly thirsty and tired not even halfway towards the destination. You had forgotten to bring something to drink, so you resigned in buying a water bottle and then kept heading towards your destination.

Taehyung noticed you walking out of the store and thought that you looked nice. He walked over to you, hoping you could help direct him.

You felt someone gently tapping your shoulder, then an unknown voice said, “Excuse me, do you live around here?” Confused, you turned around and nodded at the stranger’s question. As your eyes met his, they widened in surprise. You thought you knew who these eyes belonged to, yet there was no way Kim Taehyung could be standing in front of you right this instant, or so you thought.

He smiled shyly, then continued, “Sorry to bother you... My friends and I are not from around here and we’re competing in some kind of race. I’ll spare you the details, but now I’m — kinda — lost. Could you maybe direct me the right way?” You kept your excitement to yourself, not wanting to bother him while he was on some kind of vacation, and simply asked where he was heading, so you could help him out.

As he showed you his map with a big red dot on the target location, you realized it was relatively close to where you were meeting your friend. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m heading approximately the same way, so if you want, I could walk with you and accompany you until you reach your goal, then head off to my own destination,” you suggested. You knew this was not exactly the most prudent decision, as you barely knew the person standing in front of you, at least, not personally, and he might as well have been a psychopath that was planning on abducting you, but there was something about his charming face and genuine smile that radiated trustworthiness, reliability and kindness and you couldn’t help trusting and assisting him. Too bad if you end up getting killed, at least you’ll have spent your last minutes with a handsome man. Besides, he had a cameraman with him, so what could truly go wrong?

Taehyung gladly agreed to your offer, before stating, “Well, since we’re going to spend the next minutes together, might as well introduce ourselves properly. I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you!” His introduction sounded so simple that if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve never guessed he was part of the biggest boy group in the world. “Nice to meet you too Taehyung, I’m (y/n),” you replied with a smile, handing out your hand for him to shake.

You didn’t waste any more time and started walking towards Taehyung’s destination. However, the man did not seem to be in such a hurry as he was before. He was fascinated by everything your city had to offer, even in the smallest details, and he often stopped and pulled out his expensive camera to snap a picture of something he thought was worthy of being captured. You had to admit he really had an eye for that and seemed to take some amazing pictures that you could only hope to ever achieve. He was very interested in anything you had to tell him about your city’s history, attractions and current events, as well as stuff about yourself and your life. He was very attentive, yet revealed very little about himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was constantly in the public eye that made him that way, so you did not insist on asking him more personal questions.

As you reached Taehyung’s end goal, you both figured he was clearly not going to win the race, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He wasn’t much of a competitive person. Before you left and he went to join his other members, he cut out a small piece of the map and took his pen out, scribbling something on the paper and handing it to you. It seemed to be his phone number.

“Thank you so much for your time and help, I promise I’ll repay you for that. Just think of anything you’d like and let me know. Have a nice rest of your day and hopefully we’ll speak again soon,” he claimed, walking away before you could argue that it was not necessary of him to repay you for anything.

You went on to meet your friend and had to explain your late arrival as they gave you a skeptic look, but believed you anyway in the end. As you got back home that night, you plugged Taehyung’s number in your phone, a wine glass in your hand. As you were about to press send on your text message, you thought to yourself that it was definitely worth giving it a try and that the worst that could happen was that you’d be left with a funny story to tell.

JEON JEONGGUK (JUNGKOOK)

You had recently gotten a job at a relatively famous club in your city through a friend who already worked there. You weren’t exactly the type one would imagine working in a club, but you were gradually getting used to the loud music, the drunk people stumbling around and the flirty individuals, who’ve had one too many drinks and who seem to forget about personal space. Not that you were complaining about it, but working a few nights in a row could be quite exhausting and you definitely enjoyed your days off even more than you used to.

It was Friday night, which was already a busy night to begin with. However, at some point, you could definitely feel the crowd getting bigger than you had expected and the atmosphere being filled with an unusual level of excitement, which had you wondering what could be happening that had gotten people so thrilled.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence that celebrities would come and visit the club, but there had never been so much enthusiasm linked to it. Although you were curious as to what was happening, you couldn’t leave your spot behind the bar unoccupied, so you kept your curiosity to yourself and kept doing what you were supposed to do and what you had been doing all night: serving drinks.

It had been about an hour since the crowd’s intensity had reached a new high when two young men came to sit on the bar stools right in front of you. As you turned to face them, you immediately recognized Jimin and Jungkook from BTS, and god were they even more gorgeous in real life than you could ever have imagined! You thought to yourself that this must be the reason why clients had been so excited all night. Feeling slightly intimidated by their presence, you minded your own business, waiting for one of them to speak to you first.

After a few awkward seconds that seemed to last for hours, Jungkook turned to you, grinned and said, “E–Excuse me miss! Y–You really have n–nice hair!” He then turned to face Jimin, who was giggling uncontrollably at his friend’s behaviour. They were both very clearly drunk. You nodded and smiled, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’, hoping the dark lighting would cover the fact that you were extremely flustered at his words. Drunk or not, Jeon Jungkook had just complimented you.

Turning back towards you, Jungkook carried on, “Can I pleaseee have um... maekju?” “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Jimin quickly corrected his friend: “Beer. He wanted to say beer. I want one too please.” You nodded and left to go and get the beverages, confirming that this was what they wanted as you came back.

Before giving them their orders, you jokingly claimed, “Just because you complimented me, doesn’t mean that you’ll have this drink for free!” Jungkook exaggeratedly gasped in a silly manner and replied, “Oh noooo! Why?” You rolled your eyes, although your smile clearly gave away your amusement. “Because that’s not how it works, sir.” “You can call me J–Jungkook and... and this is my friend Jimin! And Jinnie-hyung, Namjoonie-hyung, Hoseokie-hyung, Yoongi-hyung and Tae are somewhere else. It’s Yoongi-hyung’s fault if I’m like that now! He gave me all these drinks Ma’am!” You almost felt as if you were talking to a child and you couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of it. “What’s your name, Miss?” “(y/n).” “Lovely (y/n),” Jungkook drunkenly mumbled.

It seemed as though the two friends were not there to party, since they spent half an hour discussing with you and drinking a few beers. Jungkook suddenly stopped you mid-sentence, asking, “M–Miss! I want your uh... phone number!” As soon as he finished speaking, he reached for his phone, handing it to you. “You need to put in your password so I can have access to it,” you stated. He quickly grabbed his phone back, unlocked it, and shoved it back in your face. You plugged your number in and gave the phone back to him, as he asked for your phone so he could give you his own number. He then insisted on giving it a try, to verify that all was working well.

After a while, you could see Jungkook dozing off on the counter in front of you, his excitement slowly being replaced by sleepiness. Jimin asked you if you could keep an eye on his friend, so he could go and gather his other friends, to which you gladly agreed. He soon came back with the other members of BTS who introduced themselves to you, all chuckling at Jungkook’s sleeping form on the counter.

You delicately patted his head to wake him up, so he could join his friends. He smiled up at you, then awkwardly hid his face back into his hands once he became aware of his surroundings and noticed his band mates staring at him.

When the time came for BTS to leave the club, Jungkook decided to pay for all of his friends, giving you definitely much more money than needed, adding, “Extra tip for an extra-nice barmaid!”

The next morning as you woke up, you tried texting Jungkook:

“Hey! It’s (y/n), the barmaid from yesterday night, in case you don’t remember. You seemed pretty drunk... How are you feeling this morning?”

You laughed at the short answer you received from his end:

“Sick :(“

You were glad he at least remembered you despite the drunken state in which he had met you. This seemed like the beginning of a pleasant and exciting friendship, and you couldn’t wait to see where this would lead you.

Author’s Note: Hi! I used to be excusemiihatesnakeu, but I recently changed my username. I haven’t written on this blog for a long while, despite having promised to come back with some content soon after having posted my first reaction. Truth is, not only have I been extremely busy with school, work, relationships, social life, etc. but it also takes me forever to write anything because I keep doubting my writing and lacking inspiration, which deeply discourages me of even trying to write anything to begin with. Despite still being extremely busy, I will challenge myself to write more, as it is somehow calming and freeing for me, and I will try my best to post more content in the near future, but please be patient with me, I swear I’m trying my best! By the way, sorry about the excessively long scenarios (and the uneven, varying length of those scenarios between the different members), I seriously cannot stop myself from writing once I begin. I’ve literally spent hours on this and I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind (lmao)! If you have any thoughts or (constructive) criticism that you would like to share, please do so in the comments or in my ask box (in which you can also request content). Thanks for reading my work and I hope you’ve enjoyed doing so! If you’ve read up to here, you clearly deserve an award! :)

[hale-13]

Caved In

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 10 - Trapped

Despite Peter’s obvious enthusiasm to join missions, Tony tends to keep him away as much as possible. But this is just a simple raid of a defunct. There’s no trouble the kid can get into here right?

Words: 2534, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov

TW: Medical Procedures, Claustrophobia

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Tony coughs himself awake, the mask of the Iron Man suit cracked nearly down the middle and crumbling at the edges, gaping holes allowing for dust and debris to trickle in. His cough is dry and unpleasant but causes only a small twinge of discomfort in his chest and, beyond the minimal aches and pains that come from the regular wear and tear of trying to be a superhero in his late forties, he feels pretty solid.

“FRI?” He croaks, coughing dryly again on the end and trying to clear his throat. “You up honey?”

His comm that connects him to the rest of his team and his AI is worryingly silent for a three count before FRIDAY’s pleasant Irish lilt says “Here Boss,” with only a small amount of static. Score.

“Thank God,” he breathes out. “Status report.”

“It appears someone activated the self-destruct sequence,” she offers helpfully, a broken layout of the HYDRA base they were raiding popping up on his HUD, only partially visible due to the fractured mask but it gives Tony plenty of info.

“How’s the rest of the team?” Tony asks, still lying on his back and making no effort to move yet. He feels okay considering the situation but he doesn’t want to waste energy until he has to. “Why is my comm muted?”

“The collapse damaged the transmitter,” FRIDAY explains. “I have sent in a distress signal and pinged your location,” Tony lets out a relieved sigh that gets caught in his throat when his AI reports, “All Avengers accounted for except for Spider-Man.”

“Vitals FRI,” Tony says, a little frantic and struggling to sit up now around the dizziness that surely means a concussion. “Where’s the kid?”

“The suit is approximately thirty feet to your left,” FRIDAY tells him, marking it on the blueprint still in the corner of his HUD with a blinking blue dot. “Karen is offline so I’m unable to get vitals,” she tells him regretfully as he groans and rolls onto his hands and knees. The floor starts to rotate under him and he has to take a few deep breaths to control his nausea before he feels like he can crawl through the mess of concrete around him in the direction of Peter.

With FRIDAY’s help, Tony is easily able to navigate through the rough patches on his way to Peter and, though his comm is broken, she is able to relay rescue info from Nat. So far they don’t have much idea on how long its going to take and Tony can already feel his heart beating too fast in worry.

“The kid’s fine,” he tells himself firmly. “He’s okay.”

When he comes across Peter about a minute later he is, decidedly, not okay. His right leg up to mid-thigh is trapped under a large slab of concrete and he’s unmoving except for the stuttering of his chest and the wet sounds of his breathing. Tony’s heart beats ever faster when he notices how wet the suit is around Peter’s trapped thigh and the oddly shaped protrusion that surely indicates a compound fracture.

“Fuck,” he curses, settling next to Peter’s head on his knees and carefully removing the torn mask from his face. Peter is pale under the spandex, a bruise high on his cheekbone and his nose crooked and bleeding – clearly broken again – but he’s breathing and seems otherwise alright. “Up and at’em Petey,” Tony says, patting Peter’s unmanaged cheek softly with two fingers until his eyes scrunch up and crack open.

“Hey man,” Peter slurs, a lopsided dopey grin pulling up the corners of his mouth and his pupils obviously uneven as he looks up at Tony. “Come here often?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony tells him with an eye roll. “Love hanging out in decrepit buildings, you know me.”

Peter snots out a laugh and then winces, a hand coming up to probe at his nose. “Ouchies,” he mumbles, sounding a little nasally. Tony bats his hand away from his face.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, pressing a hand to Peter’s chest to keep him from sitting up. “Let’s just take it easy for a bit until the rest of the team busts us out okay kiddo?”

Peter frowns at him, his eyebrows pulling together in an expression that would be adorably confused if Tony wasn’t internally freaking out a little over their situation. Peter looks woozy and out of it from his concussion but the kid has always been pretty perceptive and Tony doesn’t say anything as he does an obvious full body check, gasping in pain almost immediately. “Mr. Stark?”

“You’re alright,” Tony reassures, trying to defuse the situation before it even becomes a situation. “Nothing we can’t fix. You’re just a little… confined until Nat can figure out how to get us out.”

Peter looks unconvinced and he has a tinge of panic on his face – leftover claustrophobia from getting trapped under a warehouse Tony knows – but he gulps and takes a few deep breaths to relax himself. “How long?”

“Whatcha got for me FRI? Any ETA on our imminent rescue?” Tony asks, one hand rubbing through Peter’s sweaty, messy curls and the other tapping on the side of his mask over the comm impatiently. He tries to hold in his grimace when she reports back that it may be a couple of hours for Peter’s sake and, instead, smiles down at him, only half his mouth visible through the cracked mask. He opens his mouth to lie through his teeth but Peter rolls his eyes before Tony has the chance.

“You know I have enhanced hearing right?” He questions pointedly, taking the wind out of Tony’s sails before he can even talk.

“Yeah alright,” the man agrees with a shrug. “It’s going to be a bit before they get here.”

Peter squirms a little uncomfortably, letting out a hiss when he jostles his leg, eyes crossing and sweat breaking out across his forehead at the pain and Tony feels his chest clench in sympathy. “Can you uh…” Peter starts, gulping and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, tears of pain popping up in the corners but stubbornly not falling. “Can you distract me?”

“Did I ever tell you about that time in college when Rhodey and I got blitzed on cheap vodka and flooded the laundry room with foam before our engineering final?” Peter lets out a little hysterical laugh and shakes his head ‘no’. “Well settle in because it’s a doozy. So it all started around ten in the morning in the fountain at the student center…”

Tony had plenty of stories about his and Rhodey’s misadventures through undergrad but he was really running out of semi-appropriate tales he could spin by the time the clock in the corner of his HUD had passed three hours. Peter, stubborn and ever the trooper, had stayed awake and cooperated every time had harassed him to keep the kid coherent. The shifting of concrete was definitely getting closer now.

Peter, however, had continued to steadily decline since Tony had found him. The wound in his thigh where the bone had punctured the skin but, miraculously, not the suit had continued to bleed steadily to the point that Tony had cut a hole in the tightly woven carbon and spandex fibers around Peter’s leg so that he could staunch the bleeding with specially made nano-particles. This had, unfortunately, clearly been a bandaid on a bullet wound situation.

Peter had steadily paled until his face was greyed around the edges and clammy. His hands were shaking and, since he wasn’t able to thermoregulate well and shiver, could only be from shock. The situation was quickly becoming dire and Tony knew he wasn’t doing such a stellar job of hiding his reservations anymore.

“Get me an update FRI,” he ground out, one hand moving methodically through Peter’s flat curls, overworked by how much Tony had been basically petting him for the past few hours. The kid’s brown eyes, half-lidded, flickered up to look at him and some quiet conversation passed between the two of them before Peter broke eye contact with a weary blink.

“Rescue is imminent Boss,” the AI reported. “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Here that Pete?” Tony asked, trying for bright but falling short. “Fifteen minutes. We can do that right?”

“Sure,” Peter mumbled, his own voice hoarse from coughing up dust and a little blood sneaking its way onto his lips when he wet them. His teeth were stained red and Tony could feel his heart stutter at the sight. He hated nothing more than being useless and that’s all he was right now. “Fifteen minutes. No problem.”

“Tell them to hurry it up,” Tony hissed into his comm before hitting the emergency release on his suit and peeling it off. Peter’s eyes were hazy and confused, a frown pulling his pale lips down as he watched.

“You can’t,” he said, fingers twitching in the direction of the defunct suit. “Need to be protected.”

“I’m fine kiddo,” Tony promised, moving them around until Peter’s head rested in Tony’s lap instead of on the ground. “We’re almost out; nothing’s going to happen.” Peter’s eyes narrowed but he clearly didn’t have the energy to argue further, letting his lids flutter shut and stay closed. Tony shook him none too gently to rouse him, heart aching at Peter’s low whine of pain and betrayal. “Stay awake for me Webs. Just a little longer.”

“I’m really tired,” Peter muttered, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to keep them open. “Just a little nap. Please?”

“No can do,” Tony said, feeling on the verge or tears, running his thumb carefully over the bruises under Peter’s eye and up to his temple to gently massage it. “No sleeping until Bruce gives permission. He’s a stickler about these things.”

Peter hummed, his mouth pulling down at the corners. “Sorry Mr. Stark,” he whispered, his eyes closing and his speech starting to slur. “I don’t think I can.”

And then, terrifyingly, he went completely boneless in Tony’s lap.

“No!” Tony nearly screamed, shaking Peter as carefully as he could. “You need to wake up right now Peter I’m serious!” But Peter’s head just lolled to the side, his face and jaw slack and his skin, somehow, even paler than before. “FRI get them here now! I don’t care what it takes, Peter needs out!”

“Tony!” A voice echoed through the cavern not even a second later and Tony felt tears of relief prickling his eyes.

“Here!” He called back, sniffing hard. “About time you got down here!”

Moments later the dusty forms of Steve and Sam pushed their way into the small space that Tony and Peter had been occupying, dragging a stretcher and a bag of medical equipment behind them.

“Shit,” Steve breathed, taking them both in before hustling over to lift the concrete off of Peter’s leg.

“Stop!” Sam said, trying to body block him in the cramped space and having little success but Cap stopped nonetheless. “He could have compartment syndrome. You move that before I place a tourniquet and you could kill him!” Steve turned white and moved back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Tony you need to take the suit and get out.”

“Like hell!” He protested, bearing his teeth and gripping Peter’s shoulders possessively only to have his hands batted away so Sam could get Peter’s pulse.

“You’re in the way,” Sam explained firmly as he pulled the medical bag over and began to wrap the tourniquet tightly around Peter’s upper thigh making the kid gasp in his sleep but not wake up. “You can trust me with him,” Sam promised, making brief eye contact before getting back to his work. “I promise that I’ll take care of him for you but you have to let me help him and I can’t do that when you’re in the way.”

Tony let out a choking sound that he would never admit was a sob and covered his mouth. “That’s my kid Wilson,” he said, voice firm. “I’m trusting you with him.” Sam nodded solemnly and Steve just watched them both with a wounded expression. Tony ignored all this and bent down to press a feather-light kiss to Peter’s hair line before squeezing his eyes shut and doing the hardest thing he’s ever had to do – leave Peter alone.

“Tony,” Bruce said, relieved, when Tony emerged from the hole that the team had dug up. The man was shirtless and in his Hulk shorts, hands shaky and tired but looking alert and ready to do what he could to help them. “Where’s Peter?”

“Cap and Sam are getting him,” Tony said, feeling a little shaky and shell-shocked himself, not noticing he was swaying until Natasha ducked under his right arm to help steady him. “He um. His leg got trapped under dome of the rubble. It’s broken and he’s lost a lot of blood.” Tony explained, allowing Nat to guide him to sit on some of the surrounding debris.

“It’s okay,” Bruce soothed, bending down and grabbing Tony’s wrist to take his pulse with a frown before prodding at a couple of the tender spots on his head that made Tony wince. “We can fix it. I have blood on the jet and we’re only an hour out from the nearest SHIELD base with a full medical staff. He’s going to be fine.”

Tony nodded compulsively and submitted himself to Bruce’s exam, watching the hole intently until Cap emerged, carrying half of the stretcher with Sam following closely behind supporting the other half.

Things became a bit of a blur from there for Tony. Nat held him back from getting in the way of Bruce and Sam treating Peter and assisted him onto the jet and into a seat near the head of the gurney they had moved the kid to. Peter was still passed out, his hair and face covered in dust but he was getting a little color back in his face once Sam started the blood transfusion.

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall and only his finger twitching showing how worried he was, taking the words right out of Tony’s mouth.

“He has a good prognosis,” Bruce reported, looking at the X-ray FRIDAY had taken and sent to his tablet. “He’ll need surgery to reset the bone but you know how quick he heals. I suspect he’ll be begging to get back in the saddle by the end of the week tops,” a collective exhale of relief passed through the team and Tony dropped his head into his hands.

“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion, stumbling over to stand at the head of the bed and run soft fingers down the side of Peter’s peaceful face. This was enough excitement for a while, Tony decided, he and the kid would need to sit out the next few missions and take an actual break. Pepper had been looking at a cabin on a lake as a possible summer home and Tony couldn’t think of a better way to recuperate than sitting on the ample porch in the warm weather with his family.

[deadgirl-requiem]

On Boundary - Pt. 1

💧// angst  ⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒⭑⭒

I ran, as fast as I could. The wind whipped past my face, my lungs burned, and my legs felt unstable. I needed to get away from, away from that house. I knew they were behind me, they had to be.

... It was sunlight, the sun was glaring down, the breeze was light, the grass crunched under the wind... no, that's not right. I rolled over, my hands bracing under my chest, and my toes and knees ready to go. When I looked in the direction of the crunching grass I saw a long-haired man. His hands raised slightly from his side. We made eye contact for a second before I bolted.

My eyes caught the blur of 2 other people to my right and my left. As I ducked a low branch and entered a clearing I was shoved to the ground and flipped over. Without even thinking I started screaming, trying to get whoever was on top of me off.

"Calm down, calm down please, we're just trying to help."

Almost on pure instinct I bucked my hips up and kicked my legs out, around the person above me, and brought them down next to me. As the 2 other people caught up to us I just slid back under the shade of a nearby tree.

"Please miss, what's- can you tell us your name?" It was a taller white man; he seemed older than the other 2.

"Did she have to slam me down that hard?" The one that tackled me down was a thin lady, blonde hair.

The man with long hair had approached me and looked at my face, my appearance. I probably looked like death. Running through... wherever here is, without shoes on.

"Here take this, please, you must feel cold." The long-haired man stepped closer, his jacket in his hands.

Right, I forgot to dress appropriately. I reached forward, my hand, well all of me shaking as I grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.

"Th...Thank y...you."

They looked like an odd group; the long-haired man was dressed a bit differently from the other two. Not to mention his face, he seemed almost familiar.

"I'm Sheriff Walt Longmire, this is Mathias he's police chief of the tribal police over on the res, and this is Vic, my deputy." My eyes fluttered around, as the older man spoke, to each person he gestured to, the blonde and the long-haired man.

"Why don't we get you somewhere a little less exposing? What do you say?" Mathias spoke up.

I nodded softly, stood on the balls of my feet, and limped forward, "I guess running barefoot out here isn't a good idea."

"No vine aqui por eleccion. Puedo obtener un poco de ayudu por favor?"

I didn't come out here by choice. Can I get a bit of help, please?

Mathias, Vic, and the sheriff stopped as they heard my hoarse voice, "What- What was that?"

"Are we gonna need a translator?" Vic looked at the sheriff as he walked back towards me.

"Look we'll take her to your station and get her comfortable see if she can tell us anything. But until she says for sure she didn't come from the res, I'm coming with you." Mathias stepped forward, ushering me softly down between a few trees.

The Sheriff and Vic climbed into one an SUV-style vehicle ahead of us and Mathias lead me to his. He helped me climb into the passenger side and then we were off, driving back down the dirt road. I just stared out the window at the passing trees, "Ya' know, if you told us your name it'd help not just us but you too."

"Sabes que mi nombre no me ayudaria." You knowing my name would not help me.

He turned and glanced at me, "If you're in any trouble, scared about someone coming after you, they can help you."

I had to stop talking; I had to stop thinking about myself. It wasn't just me.

When we reached the station in town, I kept my head down, I looked at the cement, like the cracks in it were so fascinating. Getting inside the office, I was met with a new face. She seemed so gentle; her name was Ruby. She handed me a pair of grey sweats and a zip-up to put on.

"You can change over here dear," She lead me away from the other 3 and to a door labeled 'Reading Room.'

I stepped in and pulled off the thin tank top I had on, zipped up the sweater, and then took off the pajama shorts I had on and put on the sweats.

I opened the door and stepped out to see Vic waiting on me, "Sorry, they're just waiting inside here," she led me through the next doorway and I was sat on a couch.

Vic handed me a small glass of water and said she would be back. I looked around the office, wood, wood, and more wood, not to mention bookcases as well as gun cases. Shortly after that, I heard what was supposed to be hushed arguing. I could hear them bicker back and forth, they went on about- about me. I tried to listen but my ears felt like they were full of water.

I had my legs crossed under me when the door pushed open slowly, "We just wanna ask you a few questions. Figure out how to get you home. Now, if there is any way for you to communicate with us, that'd be helpful too." Walt spoke softly as he pulled up a chair to sit in front of me.

I shook my head fervently, "I-I do-don't uhh... remember."

"So she does speak English," Vic commented from the back.

"Could you tell us your name?" Mathias spoke up from behind Walt.

"Usted sabiendo mi nombre no ayudara," I cleared my throat, they can't find me based on just my name, "It won't help you."

"C'mon, it won't hurt to try." Mathias looked so sincere when he said it. I gave in.

"Veaha- Nevaeh. My name is Nevaeh Blackridge."

"Alright Nevaeh that's good, now can you tell us, is Spanish your first language or English?" Walt asked.

"English..." I shouldn't be saying this," We speak Spanish at my home..."

"Ok, Nevaeh, it'd be super helpful if you could tell us what happened last night why we found like that this morning."

I shook my head again, tears in my eyes, "I-I do-don't remember. I-I re-really do-don't. All I-I know is feeling a burning in my chest, and an aching in my legs... it was dark and then it was light..." My eyes snapped open, I didn't even realize they were closed. Tears streaked down my face.

"Nevaeh, we found you 8 miles from the res' boundary. Do you know if you were running to of from there?" Mathias crouched in front of me.

"I-I think so..."

Vic brought over a map of the land near the res' and near where they found me, "We found you here, do think you could get us close as to where to start looking?"

I nodded softly and looked at the words on the map and tried to remember anything told to me before last night, "There... I think"

Mathias and Walt looked at where I pointed and it was close to where they found me but it was still on res' land. They shared a look and then back to me.

"Nevaeh we're gonna take you to the hospital to get checked out ok? It'll be quick, we'll get you some real clothes and some food too." Walt spoke softly.

I shook my head, the tears at bay again, "No I'm fine please..."

"Nevaeh your feet are cut pretty badly. You have cuts up and down your feet as well as your arms. We just wanna make sure you have no other injuries and that these ones get treated." Mathias held his hand out.

I nodded and grabbed his hand.

At the hospital the nurse was sweet, she seemed very genuine. She asked me to undress on a white paper and put on a medical gown. I did as she asked and as I pulled off the sweats I saw newly formed bruises up and down my legs, the same as on my torso when I took the sweater they gave me.

When I stepped out from behind the privacy wall the nurse cleared her throat and apologized for what she had to do next. She photographed the bruises, swabbed my cheek, checked under my fingernails, and then she asked me to lay back on the examination bed. What she did next, I couldn't help but cry.

As she finished she sealed up some bags as well as envelopes and sent them out of the room. She dressed the more serious of my cuts and wrapped the bruises around my torso, something about a bruised rib. When she left the room she told me the doctor would be in shortly. I nodded and she handed me a tissue. I looked at the room I was sat in, it was so clean... there were posters of the different body parts and health warnings.

When a man walked in I'm assuming to be the doctor, he smiled solemnly, "Hi Nevaeh, I'm Doctor Weston. I have a few results I wanna share with you and some questions I wanna ask you."

"Do you have any friends or family the sheriff could call?"

I shook my head; he's not looking.

"Nevaeh, some of the injuries you suffered indicate that someone did this to you. You don't have to protect them anymore."

"I'm not... I just... can't remember."

"Before I release you, we got an early result back that shows you may have been pregnant recently."

My breath hitched in my throat, "I-I ... My baby didn't make it... I used to do a lot of gymnastics... High stress sport and I didn't know how far along I was... My stupidity." It was what I told myself all the time; it sounded true.

"Alright, Nevaeh. I'll let them know outside you're ready."

After the doctor left it was a few minutes before Vic entered. She brought a change of clothes and fresh undergarments and some shoes. She left the room and let me change, had me come out when I was done. They were just down the hallway from the door.

"So we're gonna take you back to the station till we can find you a place to stay," Walt spoke.

"When we get to the station... can I talk to you guys." They were actually trying to help; maybe they could help me.

Mathias and Walt exchanged a looked and then nodded. Back at the station, I was sat back on the couch; the sun was getting ready to set.

"What's on your mind, Nevaeh?" Mathias asked, his arms crossed as he leaned against Walt’s desk.

"Look, I do want your help but, I don't remember. What I do remember is that he wouldn't let me outside, and I can't forget the smell."

Mathias sighed, "Nevaeh, I'm sorry but, that doesn't help us."

"I'm saying if you can get me there, I can tell you whether or not I was there."

Walt and Mathias agreed it would be better if they worked it together, and as for where I would be staying, they didn't know if whoever left me in the woods would try looking for me so they sent me to a mutual friend.

Mathias drove down the road, the night sky looking beautiful, lit with stars.

"So, where am I going?"

"It's a bar, the owner has an apartment upstairs. Henry is a good man, you can trust him. He'll check on you a few times to make sure you're comfortable. He can be a bit serious but, that's him being friendly."

"Got it. Uhm... so tomorrow, are we gonna go back and check the woods where you guys found me?"

"No. We are, you are going to stay with Henry, get better. Try and remember anything you can about last night."

I sighed in defeat; if I was going to find them, I would have to do it on my own.

Arriving at the bar, it looked just like a roadside barn on the outside. A man a bit taller than Mathias walked towards the SUV. As I hobbled out he offered to help me, "Thanks."

"Mathias tells me you need a place to stay." Henry smiled softly.

"She'll be okay here for a few days?" Mathias asked as he rounded the hood.

"She'll be fine."

"Will you be back?" I asked as Mathias turned back to the SUV.

"... Yeah. Walt or I will be back tomorrow to check on you; let you know what we come up with." Mathias nodded.

Henry led me up the steps, slowly, to the apartment entrance. He let me comfortable. He showed me where everything was and offered me dinner. I said I just wanted to rest after being poked and prodded all day. He nodded and said he'd just be downstairs. He said I could ring him at the bar if I needed anything, to not go outside unless it was important.

I laid on the bed letting my body rest, my side ached, and my muscles burned. I wished I could remember what happened, but all I could think about was laughter... Cutesy, little giggly, laughter.

My eyes snapped open when I heard the doorknob jiggle. I rolled over to the far side of the bed and onto the floor. The space was small, so was I. When the door opened the lights turned on and all I could see were the boots of the person who entered. My mind was going a mile a second; I couldn't hear anymore. It was like my ears were full of water again. mysterious boots rushed around the room and then stopped. My eyes widened, and I tried to hold my breath. The person who came in dropped to the floor and I nearly screamed.

I scouted myself deeper under the bed, and against the wall the headboard rested against. Henry disappeared from my sight; my mind was racing, my chest was pounding, I couldn't breathe. The next thing I knew, I saw Mathias; he was reaching out towards me, saying something.

I reached out slowly and grabbed his hand; he carefully slid me out of my hiding spot and to his chest. The look on his face and Henry's; I just broke down. The ugly sob that left my throat, The tears that ran like waterfalls down my cheeks. It wasn't pretty, but pain never is.

It took me a minute to calm down, to get my breathing back to normal, to slow the tears and my heart. When I did, I felt embarrassed, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause such a -be a hassle. I didn't even mean to doze off. and the door- it scared me. I just panicked-"

"Nevaeh. It's ok. It's alright. Henry was just coming to check on you. He didn't mean to scare you." Mathias cradled my face and looked me over.

"I am truly sorry, I should have announced myself before I opened the door." Henry looked ashamed.

"Nevaeh, breathe. Just take a breath in and out."

It took me a good while to calm down and before Mathias let go. He sat me on the bed and pulled up a chair from the table, "Nevaeh, I need to ask you just a few more questions."

I just nodded, my fingers picking at one another.

"Doc estimated you were around your late 20's, you're 5'4" yet you're small enough to fit under that bed."

"And? What are you asking?"

"Nevaeh, I'm trying to figure out how far back we need to look for possible kidnappings-"

"Mathias, all I remember is the inside of that house and looking out one window wishing I could be outside."

"Ok, Nevaeh, you should try getting some actual rest. Henry, let her know when you open that door." Mathias gathered a few things and headed for the door.

"Vaeha- you can call me Vaeha."

Both of them nodded and Mathias left through the door. Henry brought me a glass of water, shuffling a few things around here and there.

"Uhh- Henry, do you think you could stay up here with me... I feel like I'm too jumpy to be left alone."

Henry nodded and gave a quiet of course. He went to finish locking up downstairs and I settled back in, seated on the bed. I fiddled with the bandage wrapped around my calf, zoned out. The silence of being on the roadside was peaceful. Every once in a while I could hear Henry moving around downstairs, putting stuff away.

When he came back upstairs, we settled into a slightly uncomfortable silence. I could never sleep by myself. Especially in a different place, I've never been anywhere else.

"Vaeha, if I may? Did you know who was hiding you all this time?"

"Uhh... Not really, I mean it wasn't like I was born and never let out. My childhood was pretty, well kind of normal. Then one day, my dad said 'I can't let the world take you from me too', he was so paranoid. Sometime later another man joined him..."

"I'm sorry, that sounds rather troubling."

"I got used to it. I stopped asking to go outside. I took advantage of the one window I had access to. It wasn't easy or fun, but I ... lived."

The next morning I found a new stack of clothing and a note from Henry;

Went into town, should be back by noon Help yourself to something to eat and a shower. -Henry

I showered first, basked in the hot water. It felt good to get clean. After getting out of the shower I threw on the jeans and tank top that were left for me. I grabbed the zip-up from the bed and looked at the time. 10:30. I didn't feel hungry but I did feel like getting some air. They didn't want me going outside but I wanted more than just opening a window.

Fuck it.

I pulled on the shoes I had and left the apartment. I walked to the tree line behind the bar and took several deep breathes. I took a seat and threw myself back into the foliage. I stared up at the morning sky, the treetops, and the clouds.

I heard the familiar hum of an SUV and just closed my eyes, "Vaeha? Vaeha, what are you doing out here?"

"What does it look like, Mathias. I'm getting fresh air, I'm focusing on breathing."

"You could open a window." He sounded frustrated.

"Why don't you come focus with me. You seem a little irritated."

He huffed and crouched next to me. "Ya know when what I was stuck inside all that time, all I had was a window. Now I have the option to go outside... I'm gonna sit out here. If I die, I die."

"Look, I am a little irritated, but it just feels like we're going in circles... and I can't shake this feeling that I should know you, your face."

I chuckled a bit, "Tell me about it, my memory feels like a swirling drain that won't empty. Just round and round it goes. Not to mention you. The second I saw your face, it seemed familiar."

"Oh so it's not just me?"

I shook my head, "Nope. I appreciate that you're worried and you want to help me."

Mathias stayed with me for a bit as I dozed off under the sun. When Henry got back we dusted ourselves off and I headed back up to the apartment. Mathias looked torn, they were really trying to help. I didn't even tell him or Henry that I recognized this bar...

Henry came up and asked if I was hungry and I nodded. He led me into the bar and made us both lunch.

Henry cleared his throat as he sat down with me, "I don't mean to pry, but how is Mathias with you?"

"Erm... He's nice, he seems genuinely sincere about helping me. Why?"

Henry looked at me with an honest smile, "Mathias is very much about our people, and knowing that you may be from the res' he feels the sense to right that wrong. Then there's how the two of you look at each other."

His words caught in my throat as I chewed. I coughed and looked at him quizzically, "What? I don't- Mathias and I don't look at each other anyway."

"Vaeha, I'm not blind. The others may be oblivious to it but not I. Mathias wouldn't care as much as he does, come here in the middle of the night if he didn't care. He also does not usually work cases with Walt."

"So what are you saying? Should I be careful? Should I not trust him-"

"No no- I'm saying you should definitely trust him. Let him in, let him help you." Henry said earnestly.

I chuckled a bit at his words, "Henry when you're hidden from the world. Told that everything and anything will try to stomp out the flame you have inside; trusting people doesn't come easy."

"I can see it in your eyes, for you, trusting him is easier than you think."

"I don't think I like being read like a book, please stop." I chuckled.

Henry lifted his hand as he took my empty plate, "I didn't mean to overstep, I just think it'd be good for you to have someone you can have there for you."

"Wouldn't that be crossing a line... I mean I'm a victim." Calling myself that didn’t feel right, I didn’t feel like one... 

"It's technically Walt's case, Mathias and his department don't have to funds to handle a case like yours."

"Are you encouraging me- us- whatever you're reading into."

He chuckled but didn't give an answer. I rolled my eyes, told him I was heading back up to the apartment and to bed. Still tired from yesterday.

I put on the pajamas Henry had brought me from town and laid on the bed, my back facing the door. I dozed off, the sound of Henry opening his bar and the chatter of people below, lulled me to sleep.

My eyes snapped open, the sound of giggling ringing in my ears. I rolled over slowly, scanned the room, and didn't see anything, I didn't see Henry either. I could still hear the noise of people downstairs, he's still open.

I stood from the bed, my breath hitched, and my muscles ached. I couldn't hear the noise anymore, the dullness was back. Just on instinct, I start moving; I walked out of the apartment. I walked down the steps and down the road. I walked through the opposing treeline till I heard the sound of water sloshing. It broke through the dullness I looked up from the dirt path and saw water. I've been here before. My legs gave out from under me, landing me just inches from the water.

"The sky is so pretty..."

When I woke up in the morning I knew I was in trouble. I could hear my name being called out, "Mierda."

I slowly dusted myself off, some of the mud proving rather stubborn now dried. I hobbled my way up to the tree line towards the dirt path when I ran into Henry, "Fuck!"

"Vaeha, what happened to you? Where have you been?"

"I uhh-"

"There you are!" I heard their voices in unison.

"Ah shit." I dropped my head.

Walt and Mathias practically jumped on me when they caught up, "Wanna tell us what you were doing out here? You were gone all night, you know how dangerous that was!?"

"What Mathias- I had a... a weird dream... I heard something, and I took a- midnight stroll. I'm sorry."

"Midnight stroll? Nevaeh, do you know how far you are from the Red Pony?" Walt asked as he handed me a clean jacket.

"Wha- isn't it just through the trees right here?"

They all looked at each other and then at me, "No, Vaeha, what kind of a dream did you have that led you out here?"

"Well, I just heard laughter, and I figured that I was either crazy or something and you all were busy so I'd just take a walk."

Walt's other deputy came up beside him and told him he had a call. He walked a few steps away and took it.

"Vaeha you can't keep doing stuff like this, you know that right?"

"Why Mathias, does it make me look suspicious?"

He didn't say anything to object to it and I just stared at him, "Really? Oh, didn't know the battered woman you found shattered to pieces could look that suspicious."

I stepped around him, that hurt more than I thought it would. As I hobbled back down the dirt path Walt stopped me.

"I think there's something you need to see."

"What?"

[libsterslobsters]

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 1

(Divided because of length)

Post 2

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language

Author's note: Tumblr is being a poo-poo head and won't let me post the whole fic because it's too long, so this is a two parter.

*************************************************

The text comes when she’s in the middle of teaching English feminine and masculine pronouns. Immediately, she knows it’s something important. There’s a very limited amount of people she’s allowed to filter through the “do not disturb” status she sets her phone in while she’s in the classroom. Her first though is Barnes, but at this point, he’s memorized her schedule even more thoroughly than she has, so it’s unlikely he’s responsible for the disturbance. Pepper, maybe? But no, she’s a powerful enough woman that if she needed anything, she could simply ask and it would be hers. Peter? It’s within normal high school hours, so if he’s messaging her, she’ll give him a lecture next time she sees him for texting in class. That only leaves one person, or rather, organization. As she instructs her students to come up with a few examples of common words which can be said different ways to demonstrate masculine and feminine, then takes a moment to check her phone, her suspicions are confirmed. Rhodes. The Avengers.

“You guys keep working. That’s an example of an English masculine. Now what would the feminine be?” A chorus of ‘gals’ follows her out the door. Once she’s rounded the corner, she dials the number, completely skipping the texting process. The line only rings once before Rhodey answers.

“Hello?”

“Soothsayer. What is it?”

“You need to come in. We’ve got a mission, and it has to be you.” She lets out a silent groan before asking,

“How much time have I got to square things away at work?”

“Wheel’s up in ninety minutes. You need to be here at least fifteen before to read over your orders.” Her boss isn’t going to be happy, but it’s doable.

“Right. I think I just got a crippling migraine. I’ll call you back later.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You’re damn right.” She mutters it as the line goes dead.

Thirty minutes later, she’s on her way after giving the sub her notes and her boss a bullshit excuse. So far, no one’s worked out that she’s one of the people who fought in the battle against Thanos, and she hopes to keep it that way.

She speeds across the city, driving a little faster than is responsible, but her reflexes are fast enough to cover for it. If this is going to be the sort of mission where they need her brawn as well as her brains, she’d like a few minutes to warm up before she has to hop on a quinjet. Grabbing her go-bag (complete with weapons, her suit, and a set of spare cosmetics), she jumps out of the car as soon as it’s parked in front of the newly rebuilt Avengers compound. Warm up, and make a call to-

“Well, look who the cat dragged in.” She turns her head towards the voice, catching sight of Sam and-

“What’d you tell them? Stomach flu?” Barnes. Okay, maybe she won’t have to call him after all, but that brings up more questions than answers.

“Migraine.” She falls into step next to him while Sam rushes on ahead. “They called you too, huh?”

He nods, grimacing. “Looks like it’s something big.” Obviously. If they’ve called in both him and Sam, not just one or the other, then it’s a guarantee the situation is FUBAR. Plus her? She’s usually in the background. If she’s being pulled then-

“You alright?” She nods, smiling with more confidence than she feels.

“Yeah. Just wish I knew what we were getting into. If they want both unstable super soldiers-” It’s a joke, which thankfully, he gets.

“Then the situation must be pretty hairy.” That’s putting it lightly. They’ve never been called up together before. Never.

If the mounting evidence weren’t enough to clue her in that this is going to be major, the final factor would be, after Rhodes explains to all three of them that with the return of so many people to Earth, a former dictator who disappeared in the snap has gathered up his forces and is attempting to usurp a now-peaceful democracy in hopes of using the territory to levy compliance from surrounding nations. Usually that wouldn’t be their thing, but when the words “dirty bomb” and “gamma radiation” are brought into play, it’s no mystery as to why they’re being called in.

It’s about what she expected. Falcon is running point, Winter Soldier is the man on the grassy knoll (she shudders when Rhodey goes with that particular descriptor because of a confession several years back just after he woke up in Wakanda; “I really hope I’m remembering this wrong and it was just a dream, but I think I was behind what happened to the president.”), and she’s on evac and rescue, making sure there’s as few civilian casualties as possible. However, when the briefing is called to a close, it’s a total shock that Sam is let go while she and Barnes are told to stay back.

Rhodes sits at the edge of his desk, arms crossed, wearing his most serious expression. “You two have completed the appropriate training hours together, correct?”

“Yes.” They say it at the same time, and she has to bite her cheek to keep from yelling out, “Jinx!” It was a requirement after the defeat of Thanos that the two of them specifically learn how to work together as a team, play off of each other’s strengths, just in case something truly catastrophic happened. She also trained with Bucky and Sam as their third. What she’s wondering is, why ask a question Rhodes clearly knows the answer to? He’s the one who set up the training, after all.

“And you’re comfortable working as a squad?” She catches Bucky’s eye, and it’s clear that he’s come to the same conclusion as her: this isn’t what Rhodey is really after.

“We’re fully capable, yes.” He’s the one that answers, while she reaches out into the unknown, hoping for a vision. No dice.

With a sigh, Rhodey stands.

“What I mean is, can you be objective out there on the battlefield? Can you work together like anyone else?” This time, she’s the one to speak up.

“Can we be objective? Yes. Can we work together like anyone else? No, but that was your goal with the training program.”

“You wouldn’t have called the two of us up if you didn’t need what we can do together.”

For a moment, she feels sympathy for Rhodes. The poor man is clearly struggling to make a point. That’s when it hits her, a vision of what he’s prepared for them to do. As soon as it passes, she kicks Barnes’ chair leg lightly, which is enough that he gets the message.

“Just say it, because she’s already seen it.” She wouldn’t want to be in Rhodes’ position for the world right now with the news he’s about to deliver.

“Fine.” Rhodey nods. “If we get in a tight spot, someone is going to have to draw fire. It can’t be Barnes for obvious reasons.” Part of their mission is to obtain stolen scientific data located deep inside enemy lines. She’s smaller and therefore faster, can fit into tight places more easily, but he’s been trained to go unnoticed, and what’s more, to incapacitate anyone who sees more than they should. It’s an obvious choice. She’s in essence the diversion, the boy crying wolf while the real thief makes off with the shepherds’ wallets. Her size and speed will work to her advantage, as well as the fact that they won’t recognize her, so they won’t know right away that she’s the decoy, whereas the second they have eyes on him or Sam, they’ll know to batten down the hatches.

She doesn’t have to look beside her to know what he thinks of that idea. She can practically feel him seething. But, it’s a scenario that, along with Sam, they’ve trained for.

“What I need to know is that, once the bullets start flying, you won’t fall back on instinct and run to protect each other. Out there, you are not a couple. You’re teammates, fellow soldiers, nothing more. Got it?”

She keeps her eyes focused on Rhodey’s face as she nods, otherwise hers will show what she’s feeling. “Agreed.”

“Barnes?” There’s a pause, so long she’s about to kick his chair leg again just to get a reaction.

“Understood.”

“Good.” Rhodes’ posture immediately changes. “Now, suit up. Quinjet is leaving at 1300 hours.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Oh!” Bucky looks up from the building schematics he’s studying at the surprised noise from the woman next to him. “This one’s actually not bad.”

“Which one?” He leans towards her, scanning the house listing on her phone. “Nah. I don’t like the look of that roof.”

“True, but it says here they’re willing to knock some off the asking price if we’re willing to do our own repairs-”

A groan issues from the other side of the jet.

“Are you two really searching realtor.com while we’re on our way to save the world?” Sam asks, scowling.

“No, of course not.” She shakes her head, smirking. “It’s zillow.” That reminds him-

“Scroll down. Let’s see when it was built.” It looks like… ah. “Hard no. That thing’s older than me.”

“And like you, it has character.” It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. He sees an opening, and he’s going for it.

“Did you just compare me to a house?” She snickers.

“Now that you mention it, there are some similarities. Good bones, had some renovations done, could use some landscaping-”

“You know, you could’ve just said ditch the beard.”

She gasps, clutching a hand to her chest. “I would never!”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there.” Sam holds up a hand. “If you’re gonna talk about his hair anywhere below the neck, I’m gonna open up the hatch and jump out.” It would be a more effective threat if he wasn’t already wearing his wings.

“Mind out of the gutter, Sam.” She half-heartedly scolds before returning to examine her phone. “The market is just shit right now but there’s got to be something listed that’s less expensive than renting an apartment in the middle of Brooklyn…” That’s what all of this is about, really. After the snap (at least from what he’s read) the price of renting was lower than it had been since the fifties. Now that everything is back to normal, everyone and their mother is looking for a place to rent. Not that he can blame them. He’s one of the returned, after all.

“I guess we could move into the complex once it’s repaired. Just for a little while-”

“Nope.” Sam cuts them off. “Hell no. It’s enough that I gotta deal with you and Judge Dredd here being all domestic on missions. If I have to hear you two going at it, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

He may not understand the pop culture reference, but he caught the sexual one. The truth is, they haven’t slept together since he returned. It’s not like things have been platonic; they shower together, cuddle, and make out like teenagers walking down lovers’ lane. However, five years is a long time (even if for him, it was barely more than an instant), and while he’s ready to resume their sex life, he’s not going to push in case she’s not there yet.

Before he can go too far down that rabbit hole, the intercom crackles to life and their pilot announces that it’s time for the drop. He’s not a huge fan of parachuting (falling to his near death and losing an arm sort of took the magic out for him), but he calls on what remains of his training now that HYDRA’s brainwashing has been deactivated and puts on an emotionless front.

“Com links on.” As Sam speaks, he activates his own com. “Everyone getting a signal?” He is, and if the face she just made is anything to judge from so is she. “Okay. I drop first, then on my mark, Winter Soldier drops; five seconds later, Soothsayer follows. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Copy.”

Sam shoots them a grin that doesn’t completely hide his nerves. “Good luck.”

As soon as his partner’s exited the plane, he catches her eye. “Love you. See you on the other side.”

“Love you. Come back in one piece.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Even before Sam hits the ground, he knows it’s going to be a shit show. Even though he doesn’t activate his com to tell them as much, it’s obvious as the super soldier plummets past him that his chute didn’t open. Sam might worry about this if it weren’t for the fact he saw Steve jump out of many a plane without anything to keep him from free falling. Their tag-along, however? She has activated her coms (either that or she forgot to deactivate them) and she lets out a gasp. That’s all, a gasp, but it’s enough to put Sam on edge. This is why coupling up is dangerous in this line of work. Your affection can work to your disadvantage.

Because he can’t have his team scattered, worrying about each other, he asks, “Barnes, do you copy?”

“Copy, Falcon. Don’t think I’ll be doing that again.”

“Oh, you are so getting shit for that when we get home.” He rolls his eyes.

“Let’s cut the chitchat. We have a mission. On my mark, Soothsayer heads into the encampment to lead any P.O.W.s and civilians away. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Copy.”

He lands just before she does, and as soon as she’s detached her shoot, he gives her the go ahead.

Any thought that they might have succeeded in having the element of surprise on their side goes out the window when a shot whizzes past his head.

“Barnes, cover me.”

“Copy.”

Even with the rain of bullets from his own personal sniper, he barely gets past the first defensive line in one piece. He takes out at least a dozen hostiles, incapacitating when he can, eliminating where he must. Just outside the main fortress, he asks,

“Come in, Winter Soldier. How many hostiles between you and my position?”

“Eighteen.” A muffled shot follows the statement. “Seventeen.”

“Alright. Clear a path. Let’s show these sons of bitches what they get when they threaten innocent lives.”

He thinks that maybe they’ll be able to turn it around when they find their human target fairly easily and are able to capture and incapacitate. The orders, however, were not just to bring him in alive but also to seize the assets they’ve lost before a bomb squad and team of radiation specialists comes in and sweep the place. The only way he’ll be able to get their target back to the jet unharmed (not to mention survive himself) is if they do the one thing he was hoping it wouldn’t come to.

“Soothsayer, this is Falcon. Come in. Over.”

“Copy, Falcon.”

“Winter Soldier is going in. Deploy “big bad wolf” initiative.” In other words, go get shot at while at the same time covering me.

“Copy. Be advised, there are hostages in the building. I repeat, hostages in the building. Over.” For a moment he wonders if she saw it in a vision or if one of the people she’s just helped escaped has started talking out of gratitude, but pushes it to the side. He has biggest issues.

“Winter Soldier, Soothsayer, get into place. On my signal, we move.”

“Copy.”

“Copy.”

“Three… two… one… go!”

Sam kicks off into the air, thanking whoever the hell out there invented this tech that he doesn’t have to fly with an extra 250 pounds of dictator in his arms (Redwing is handling that). Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Soothsayer making a run for it, shooting as she goes. Where the hell did she get the gun? Problems for later.

He’s just about to radio into the jet to see if the ‘package’ was delivered when the shots turn in his direction. He returns fire at the same time a dagger flies past his head.

“Throw it a little closer next time Soothsayer. I dare you.” It’s muttered under his breath.

“So you wanted a sniper’s bullet in your back?” Damned super hearing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be causing a distraction?”

“I am. Close your eyes and cover your ears.” He complies just in time for the flashbang to go off over his head.

“Fuck! You could’ve told me that’s what you were doing!” There’s no reply. “Soothsayer?” A grunt followed by the sound of impact comes over the com.

“Little busy. Hold up.” Hand to hand, if he had to venture a guess. More shots are fired, and he flies lower, returning them, kicking a few assailants in the head as he goes.

“Winter Soldier, this is Falcon. Come in.”

“I read you.”

“Do you have eyes on the target?”

“Almost there. There’s a few more obstacles than we thought.”

“Copy. Over and-” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence as a yell of “Get down!” pierces the night.

It all happens in slow motion. He reaches for the shield, but he can already hear the gun discharge. A force runs into him, knocking him to the ground. Realization hits him: it’s her. He doesn’t see the bullet impact, but he hears her cry out. On instinct, he covers both of their vital organs with the shield, and that’s when he sees the splotch of red blooming from her right shoulder, which so happens to have acted as a human barrier, blocking what would have most assuredly have been a kill shot to the head for him.

“Falcon, Soothsayer, come-” There’s a muffled shout over the com, followed by more sickening thuds and a few shots.

“Barnes?” He hears a whisper of movement from behind him, and without looking, fires. “Barnes, do you copy?” As he speaks, several hostiles gang up on him at once. Using the shield to it’s full advantage, he knocks two off their feet, kicks another in the gonads, then chin, and punches two more’s lights out. He starts on the one that’s left, but out of nowhere, the hostile’s legs go out from under him. What-

“This is Barnes. I have the target. Moving hostages out now.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak again, but a tug at his ankle draws his attention. She’s sitting up, features drawn in pain and still bleeding, her fist bloody from the last hostile’s face.

“Don’t tell Barnes.”

Internally groaning, he speaks again. “Copy. Meet us back at the ship. Over and out.” Grabbing her good arm, he hauls her to her feet and drapes her body over his shoulder. “Pretty sure the blood’s gonna tip him off. And the bullet hole.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“It’s not that bad.” This has to be the tenth time she’s repeated that sentiment in the past five minutes since arriving back at the quinjet, and yet it’s still not making an impression. As she stands yet again, Sam gives her good shoulder a hard push.

“Sit your serum-ed up ass down. You’re gonna bleed out if-” She narrows her eyes at the man with the shield. “Fine. You’re still dripping blood everywhere.” Yeah, well, it’s not like it hit a major vein or artery. She saw it coming, after all. Still… it fucking hurts.

“Shouldn’t you be hailing Barnes again?”

“Who’s in charge here? You or me?” She thinks about snapping back with something truly brutal, but bites her tongue. “Only thing you should be worrying about is how we’re gonna get that slug out of you.”

“Give me a pair of pliers and I’ll do it myself.”

“The hell you will.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It’s-” Before she can repeat herself again, the door opens. Her breath seizes in her throat a she takes in Barnes’ appearance. Dear God.

“Target acquired?” Sam nods and motions towards the back of the plane.

“What about you? Package secure?” With a thump, a black bag is dropped onto the floor between them. Sam opens his mouth (more than likely to make a sarcastic remark about being careful with the brain child of at least a dozen scientists worldwide), but before he can-

“You’re hit.” He’s in front of her, crossing the narrow space in just two strides.

Biting back a wince, she stares pointedly at the oozing bullet wound in his thigh. “So are you.”

“It’s nothing.” She’s about to call bullshit (that’s a fuck ton of blood, and also she doesn’t remember that cut on his forehead last time she saw him), but he turns away, fixing Sam with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you say we had a man down?”

“Not a man-” She starts.

“And technically, she never went completely down. Plus-” She knows what he’s going to say, and mouths a silent ‘Don’t’, which Sam ignores. “-she told me not to.” There it is. She’s never gonna hear the end of this.

Returning his gaze to her, he asks, “You told him-”

“It wasn’t a big deal. Can we talk about this later?”

“I second that.” Sam nods. “Preferably when you’re not both about to bleed out in the air.” Bucky’s lips twitch momentarily, and she barely contains her own smirk. They’re not about to bleed out. Still-

“You want to go first with the pliers, or do you want me to?”

“For the last time, no one is using pliers to go spelunking for bullets. Aren’t you two supposed to be smart?” She raises an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction, and he smirks.

“Technically, I think the serum just turned us into better soldiers. Not geniuses.”

“Right, and since it would take us what?” She glances at her phone, checking the time. “Five hours to get home? More than likely we would’ve already started to heal pretty significantly around the bullet and would have to disrupt that so they could dig them out.”

“So, pliers.” She nods.

“Pliers.”

With a groan, Sam stands and, digging around in the compartment overhead, produces a first aid kit.

“Fine, but if either of you starts to hemorrhage, don’t come crying to me.”

Rolling her eyes at his retreating back, she asks, “The question still stands. You want to be the surgeon first or the patient?”

“That depends.” Bucky motions to her own bullet wound. “Is that as bad as it looks, or worse?”

She attempts a shrug, but the motion makes her wince. “It’s just a scratch.” The look on his face tells her he’s not convinced.

“Then I guess I’ll dig yours out first. If push comes to shove, I can fix myself up.” This time, she’s with Sam. The hell he will. She’ll just power through.

“Alright.” She motions to the few members of the TACK team still hanging around. “If you don’t want to see me shirtless, I’d suggest you find somewhere else to be, or at least look away.” Shockingly few heads turn at her words. “Okay smart-asses. What I mean is give a lady some privacy and avert your eyes.” There. That’s more like it.

She’s kinda pissed off that she’ll have to junk the suit. It was a new one. Even more infuriating is that when she goes to unzip it, thanks to her injured shoulder she can’t manage it, and what’s worse, she lets out a groan of pain.

“Easy. Let me help.” If they were alone, she’d make an off-colored joke (something along the lines of “any excuse to get me undressed”), but she swallows it down and grits her teeth as the material tugs at her wound. She’s just going to have to toughen up and rip it off like a band-aide.

“I think there’s a water bottle somewhere, so we could soak-” Bracing herself, she gives the material a sharp tug, completely exposing herself. “-or you could just do it the hard way.”

“After all these years, why would I start doing things the easy way now?” She feels more than hears the short intake of breath that signals a laugh.

“Good point. Hold tight while I check the kit.” Taking advantage of the brief lull, she closes her eyes. She’s not exactly squeamish, but there’s something about seeing a bullet lodged in her shoulder that’s somewhat unsettling. “Alright. This is gonna sting, and then it’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” That one earns her an actual snicker.

Sure enough, it does sting. That is, if by “sting” you meant “feels like I scrubbed myself with a sandpaper washcloth and then rinsed off with vodka.” Still, she manages to keep still and wipe any expression of pain from her face as the disinfectant is poured on, completely soaking her.

“Sorry.” She shakes her head.

“Nothing a towel won’t take care of.”

He’s in front of her now, so she opens her eyes, concentrating hard on his face so she won’t look down.

“You alright?” It’s completely false, but she pastes on a smile.

“Splendid. Thinking of taking this up as a hobby, actually.” He frowns.

“You couldn’t just take up embroidery like a normal person?”

“No one-” Her breath catches as he starts to probe for the bullet. It was a distraction. “-takes up embroidery as a hobby anymore.” Deep breaths. She needs to take deep breaths.

“Shit.” Shit? That’s not comforting. “Do you want the good news first or the bad news?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

“Good news, it’s in one piece. Bad news-” He looks up, holding her gaze. “It’s lodged pretty far in there, Doll.” Of course it is. Just her luck. “Do you want to wait ‘til we get home, or-”

“Just do it.” Once more, she closes her eyes. “Sooner we get it out, sooner the super soldier mojo can do it’s thing.”

“You sure?” She nods.

“Just do me a favor. Don’t tell me when you start pulling it out. I don’t want to know.”

It’s silent, no one saying a word. Still, she clings to the little sounds she can make out in order to keep herself occupied. The engine running. The air filtration system. Her own jagged breaths and his measured ones. Despite her attempts at distraction, she can feel it the moment he starts easing the bullet out of her shoulder. On instinct her body seizes up, and she has to force herself to relax each muscle. It’ll only be more painful if she’s tense.

“Do you want something to squeeze? Maybe a hand to hold?”

Taking a slow, deep breath, she answers.

“That depends. How much do you like that arm?” If she takes out the pain on anything else, she’s almost certain she’d crush it.

“I’m sort of attached to it, so-” She chuckles, and that’s when the bullet slides free. “And, next time you make fun of my corny jokes, I get to remind you of this.”

The patching up process is simple from there. The bleeding is easily staunched and although it’s in an awkward place, they manage to bandage her without much trouble. She’s so nervous, she expects her hands to shake as she takes her turn and, with her good arm, digs the bullet out of Barnes (his is in fragments but luckily, a vision hits and shows her the shards’ locations), but surprisingly, her hands are steady. She glances up at his face just as she pulls the last shard out, but of course, he’s shut down, completely expressionless.

Finally, the quinjet touches down outside of what used to be the Avengers’ compound. Normally they would disembark, then head straight off to a debriefing, but under the circumstances, Sam calls it a night and tells them to get some rest, then come in tomorrow to go over mission reports. As they watch Falcon climb into his car and drive away, it hits her how terribly exhausted she really is. Between her bum shoulder and his bum leg, neither of them is really fit to drive home, so-

“Think we can get a cab this time of night?” Great minds think alike, it seems.

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

It’s only once they’re home safely and she’s climbed into bed that she allows herself to wonder if they’re ever going to talk about today.

[bronte-deserves-better]

So this has probably been done before but imagine Sophie coming out as agender to Bronte

So i may have gotten a little carried away and written a whole short fic about this-

ahem. anyways. I wrote this late at night and didn’t edit at all, so if you see a grammar error no you don’t <3. Also I might put it on AO3 if I figure out what to call it but I’m way too tired for fic titles so fuck that.

(Tw for swearing and mentions of transphobia.)

"Miss Foster, are you paying attention?"

Sophie's head snapped up from where they had been studying the table, worrying about what Grady and Edaline were going to say if they ever came out. Logically, they knew their parents were supportive and kind, but...none of the elves they had met had ever mentioned trans people. Let alone agender people like Sophie. 

"Miss Foster?" Bronte asked again.

This time, it was harder to contain their flinch. "Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, I was just thinking. About stuff."

"Alright, well I do understand you have a lot to worry about, but try to stay focused, please."

"Okay," Sophie muttered. The word came out rougher than they intended, more tired, and Biana shot them a concerned glance across the table. Which they proceeded to ignore. "What were we going over again?"

"The importance of building good relations with other species in our fight against the Neverseen, but I think we might as well stop there for the day." Bronte's gaze was piercing. "It's been a long day for all of us. Good job, you five, we can keep talking about this at next week's meeting." 

That was all it really took for Team Valiant to leap to their feet and start packing up their stuff. Like Bronte had said, it had been a very long day. And a whole lecture from him about interspecial relations hadn't helped much, although Sophie guessed it was probably good for them to be learning about all the things Bronte had been teaching them. Relations with the trolls, ancient rules and tricks of elven combat, more info on the Prime Sources, some parts of elven history that weren't taught at Foxfire, how to dress formally while still being able to move freely, the proper greetings for every rank of elves and every foreign leader...the list went on.

"Miss Foster, do you mind staying after the meeting for a bit?"

Sophie internally groaned. "Sure, Bronte."

Biana cast them a sympathetic look as she left. "See you in bit, Soph!"

Bronte waited until everyone had left before he spoke again. "Right. Sorry to keep you longer than necessary, but I noticed you seemed off today, and I wanted to check in."

"I mean, thanks for looking out for me, I guess." Sophie stared at the floor. "I guess I've just got...a lot on my mind."

"Hmm. I know the feeling. Does any of what's on your mind have to do with the term 'Miss Foster'?"

Sophie couldn't help but flinch a little, again. "Maybe."

"If you have a problem with it, I can stop calling you that."

"That would be great, actually. It's just...really...formal. Yeah."

"Is just Sophie an appropriate level of formality?" Bronte looked startlingly uncertain. "I must admit to still struggling with knowing when to address people more casually."

"Sophie is great."

He nodded. "Sophie it is, then. Any other reasons why you dislike that name?"

“No,” they said, too quickly.

"Hmm. Alright." Bronte didn't say they could go yet, taking a breath as if steeling himself for something. "I won't pry any further, but...I hope you know that you're always welcome to talk to me about anything, provided that 'anything' only involves mildly illegal activity. I- well. I suppose you should know I struggled with the term 'Miss Pyren' myself in my youth. Not that a lot of people addressed me with respect," he added dryly.

“You're trans?" Sophie blurted, and then instantly regretted it.

"Yes, I am. I'm not very open about it due to...past experiences, but yes."

"Do I need to go after some transphobes?"

Bronte cracked a small smile. "There are far too many for you to take on alone, mi- Sophie."

"Fuck that, I might as well try." They hesitated. "Do the elves have a concept of nonbinary?" To Sophie's surprise, the word for that was right there in the Enlightened Language. They didn't even have to use English.

"Yes, they do, and have for years. Why?"

Sophie took a deep breath. "I'm nonbinary- agender, specifically. I just recently figured it out, and I've been worrying about people's reactions ever since."

They caught a flash of deep, long-held sorrow in Bronte's ancient eyes. "I understand far too well, but I promise you're safe with me. What are your pronouns?"

"They/them."

"And are you changing your name? I know some of us do and some don't."

Of us. Their community. Bronte's community. "Nope, I like the name Sophie."

"Alright, then." Bronte offered another faint smile. "Would you like me to use she/her around people you aren't out to for now? I can use Sophie over Miss or Mx. Foster regardless."

"Yes, please." Sophie fiddled with their sleeves. "Thank you for being so nice and accepting about this, and- and outing yourself to me so I'd feel safe to be out."

"Of course. I was lucky enough to have someone to do that for me when I was your age, a mentor who taught me the word trans and what elixirs trans elves used back then and how to navigate the system. And I've known too many elves who weren't that lucky. I would hate for you to face all of this alone.”

Just by the enduring pain behind those words, Sophie believed him. "Still, thank you. You're the first adult I've come out to, actually, which is like, a really big thing."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you felt safe to. Does the rest of Team Valiant know?"

"Yeah."

"So I'll use your proper pronouns around them."

"Yeah, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Bronte muttered. "I still haven't made this world safe enough for kids like you."

"You can't blame yourself for everyone who's shitty," Sophie told him. "Plus, you made the world feel a little safer for me just now, so that's something."

"That’s something." His voice was a little rough, eyes misty as Sophie made to pick up their stuff. "Maybe not enough, but something."

"A really good thing. Do you- do you need a hug?"

Bronte looked like he was starting to shake his head, and then nodded, hesitantly.

They threw their arms around him carefully, feeling him tense for a moment before relaxing into the hug. 

"Thank you, Sophie."

"Anytime, Councillor Grumpypants."

"Hey!"

Sophie giggled as they pulled back and picked up their bag. "I'll see you next week, I guess. Thank you for all the support, and the lessons are interesting too."

"Oh, I'm glad. They're important things to learn."

"They seem like it. Now I'm going to go get some dinner!"