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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Friends, I think we need to talk about Covid.

I want to get a few caveats out there before I start:

I am aware that there are people who need to exercise extreme caution about Covid; I live with someone who has two solid organ transplants and who is at the most immune compromised level of immune compromised. *I* have to be extremely cautious about covid.

Masking does prevent a certain level of transmission, and people who think they may have covid should mask and people who are concerned that they may be at high risk for covid should mask.

You should be vaccinated and boosted with the most recent vaccines that are available to you; covid is highly transmissible and very serious, you do not want to get covid and if you do get covid you don't want it to be severe and if you do get covid you don't want to give someone else covid and up-to-date vaccinations are the best way to reduce transmission and help to prevent severe cases of Covid.

We should be testing before going to any gatherings, and informing people if we test positive after gatherings, and testing if we suspect we have been exposed.

It is bullshit that there aren't good protections for workers who have covid; you should not be expected to go to work when you are testing positive

It is bullshit that people who are testing positive are not isolating for other reasons; if you have Covid you should not be going out and exposing other people to it even if you are experiencing mild symptoms or no symptoms.

We do need better ventilation systems for many kinds of spaces. Schools need better ventilation, restaurants need better ventilation, doctor's offices and hospitals and office buildings need better ventilation and better ventilation can reduce covid transmission.

I want to make it clear that Covid is real and there are real steps that individuals and systems can take to prevent transmission, and that there are systems that are exerting pressures that needlessly expose people to covid (the fact that you can lose your job if you don't come in when you're testing positive, mainly; also the fact that covid rapid tests should be ubiquitous and cheap/free and are not).

All of that being said: I'm seeing some posts circulating about how we're at an extremely high level of transmission and the REAL pandemic is being hidden from us and, friends, I'm pretty sure that is just incorrect and we're spreading misinformation.

I'm thinking of this video in particular, in which the claim is made that "your mystery illness is covid" in spite of negative tests. The guy in the video says that there's nothing else that millions of people could be getting a day, and that he predicted this because a wastewater spike in December meant that there was a huge spike in cases.

I've also seen people saying that deaths are where they were in 2021-2022, and that we're still at "a 9/11 a week" of excess deaths and friends, I'm not seeing great evidence for any of these claims.

I know that we (in the US, which is where the numbers I'm going to be citing are from) feel abandoned by the CDC and the fact that tracking cut off in May of 2023. But that only cut off for the federal tracking.

I live in LA county and LA county sure as shit is still tracking Covid.

If you want a clearer picture, you can see the daily case count over time compared to the daily death count:

Okay, you might say, but that's just LA.

Alright, so here's Detroit:

Right, but maybe that's CDC data and you don't trust the CDC at this point.

Okay, here's fatalities in New York tracked through New York's state data collection:

It's harder to toggle around the site for South Dakota, but you can compare their cases and hospitalizations and deaths for early 2022

To cases and hospitalizations and deaths from early 2024

And see that there's really no comparison.

Okay, you might say, but people are testing less. If they're testing less of course we're not seeing spikes, and they're testing less because fewer tests are available.

Alright, people are definitely testing less than they were in 2021 and 2022. Hospitalization for Covid is probably the most clear metric because you know those people have covid for sure, the couldn't not test for it.

Here are hospitalizations over time for LA:

Here are hospitalizations over time for New York:

As vaccination rates have gone up, cases, deaths, and hospitalizations have gone down. It IS clear that there are case spikes in the winter, when it is cold and people are indoors in poorly ventilated spaces and people are more susceptible to respiratory infections as a result of cold air weakening the protection offered by our mucous membranes, and that is something that we will have to take precautions about for the forseeable future, just as we should have always been taking similar precautions during flu season.

So I want to go point-by-point through some of the arguments made in that video because I'm seeing a bunch of people talking about how "THEY" don't want you to know about the virus surge and buds that is just straight up conspiracism.

So okay, first off, most of what that video is based on is spikes in wastewater data, not spikes in cases. This is because people don't trust CDC data on cases, but I'd say to maybe check out your regional data on cases. I don't actually trust the CDC that much, but I know people who do tracking of hospitalizations in LA county, I trust them a lot more. Wastewater data does correlate with increases in cases, but this "second largest spike of the entire pandemic" thing is misleading; wastewater reporting is pretty highly variable and you can't just accept that a large spike in covid in wastewater means that we're in just as bad a place in the pandemic as we were in 2022. We simply have not seen the surge of hospitalizations and deaths that we would expect to see in the weeks following that spike in wastewater data if wastewater data was reflective of community transmission.

The next claim is that "there is nothing else that is infecting millions of people a day" and covid isn't doing that either. The highest daily case rates were in January of 2021 and they were in the 865k a day range, which is ridiculously high but isn't millions of cases a day.

But what we can see is that when people are tested by their doctors for Covid, RSV, and the Flu, more tests are coming back positive for the Flu. Covid causes more hospitalizations than the other two illnesses, but to be honest what the people in the video are describing - lightheadedness, dizziness, exhaustion - just sound like pretty standard symptoms of everything from covid to the cold to allergies. There are lots of things your mystery illness could be.

The video goes on to talk about the fact that people aren't testing, and why their tests may be coming back negative and I'd like to point out that the same things are all true of Flu or RSV tests. People might be getting tested too early or too late; getting a negative test for the flu isn't a good reason to assume you've got covid, getting a negative test for covid isn't a good reason to assume you've got the flu, and testing for viruses as a whole is imperfect. There are hundreds of viruses that could be the common cold; there are multiple viruses that can cause bronchitis; there are multiple viruses that can cause pneumonia, and you're not going to test for all of these things the moment you start feeling sick.

He then recommends testing for multiple days if you have symptoms and haven't had a positive test (fine) and talks about the location of the tests (less fine). Don't use your rapid tests to swab your throat or cheek unless it specifically says that they are designed to do so. Test based on the instructions in the packet.

He points out that the tests probably still pick up on the virus because they're not testing for the spike protein, they're testing for the RNA (good info!)

The video then discusses something that I think is really key to this paranoia about the "mystery illnesses" - he talks about how covid changes and weakens your immune system (a statement that should come with many caveats about severity and vulnerability and that we are still researching that) and then says that it makes you more susceptible to strep or mono and that "things that used to clear in a day or two now hit you really hard."

And that's where I think this anxiety is coming from.

Strep throat lasts anywhere from three days to a week. A cold takes about a week to clear. The flu lasts about a week and can knock you on your ass with exhaustion for weeks depending on how bad you get it. Did you get a cough with your cold? Expect that to take anywhere from three to eight weeks to clear up.

I think that people are thinking "i got a bad virus and felt really sick for a week and haven't gotten my energy back" but that just sounds like a bad cold. That sounds like a potent allergy attack. That doesn't even sound like a bad flu (I got a bad flu in 2009 and thought i was going to straight-up die I had a fever of 103+ for three days and felt like shit for three days on either side of that and took six weeks to feel more like myself again).

Getting sick sucks. It really, really sucks. But if you're getting sick and you're testing for covid and it's coming back negative after you tested a few times, it's almost certainly not covid.

The video then says "until someone provides evidence that it's not covid, it should be assumed to be covid because we have record levels of covid it's that simple" but that's not simple. We don't have record levels of covid and he hasn't proved it. We have record high levels of wastewater reports of covid, which correlates with covid cases but the spike in wastewater noted in december didn't see a spike with a corresponding magnitude of cases in terms of either hospitalizations or deaths, which is what we'd have seen if we had actual record numbers of covid.

He says that if you want to ignore this, you'll get sick with covid, and that about 30-40% of the US just got sick with covid in the last four months (which is a RIDICULOUSLY unevidenced claim).

He says that we need to create a new normal that takes covid into account, which means masking more often and testing more often and making choices about risk-avoidant behaviors.

Now, I don't disagree with that last statement, but he prefaces the statement with "it doesn't necessarily mean lockdown" and that's where I think the alarmism and paranoia is really visible here. We are so, so far away from "lockdown" type levels that it's absurd to discuss lockdown here.

What I'm seeing right now is people who are chronically ill, people who are immune compromised, and people who are experiencing long covid (which may not be distinct from other post-viral syndromes from severe cases of flu, etc, but which may be more severe or more notable because of the prevalence of covid) are talking about feeling abandoned and attacked and left behind by society because covid is still out there, and still at extremely high levels.

I am seeing people who feel abandoned and attacked because the lgbtq+ events they are attending don't require masking. I am seeing people who are claiming that it is eugenicist that their schools don't have a negative test policy anymore.

And this comes together into two really disconcerting trends that I've been observing online for a while.

The claim that the pandemic is still as bad as it's ever been and in fact may be worse but we can't know that because "they" (the CDC, the government, capitalist institutions that want you back in the office, the university industrial complex that wants your dorm room dollars) are covering up the numbers and

Significant grievance at the fact that people are acting like number one is not true and are putting you at risk either out of thoughtlessness (because they don't realize they're putting you at risk) or malice (because they don't care if the sick die).

And those things are a recipe for disaster.

I think I've pretty robustly addressed point one; I don't think that there's good evidence that there's a secretly awful surge of covid that nobody is talking about. I think that there are some people who are being alarmist about covid who are basing all of their concern on wastewater numbers that have not held up as the harbinger of a massive wave of infections.

So let's talk about point number two and JK Rowling.

Barnes and Noble is not attacking you when it puts up a Hogwarts Castle display in the lobby. Your favorite youtuber isn't trying to hurt you when they offhandedly mention Harry Potter.

If you let every mention of Harry Potter or every person who enjoys that media franchise wound you, you are going to spend a lot of your time wounded.

People are not liking Harry Potter at you.

Okay.

People are also not not wearing masks at you.

You may be part of a minority group that experiences the potential for outsized harm as a result of majority groups engaging in perfectly reasonable behaviors.

There are kind, well-meaning, sensible people who go out every day and do something that may cause you harm and it's not because they want to hurt you or they don't care about whether you live or die, it is because they are making their own risk assessments based on their own lives and making the very reasonable assumption that people who are more concerned about covid than they are will take precautions to keep themselves safe.

We are not at a place in the pandemic where it is sensible to expect people with no symptoms of illness to mask in public as a matter of course or to present evidence of a recent negative test when entering a public building in their day-to-day life.

I think now is a really good time to sit down and ask yourself how you expect things to be with covid as an endemic part of our viral ecosystem. I think now is a good time to ask yourself what risk realistically looks like for you and for people who are unlike you. I think now is a good time to consider what would feel "safe" for you and how you could accomplish feeling safe as you navigate the world.

I'm probably going to continue masking in most indoor spaces for years. Maybe forever. There are accommodations that SHOULD be afforded to people who have to take more precautions than others (remote learning, remote visits, remote work, etc.), and we should demand those kinds of accommodations.

But it is going to poison you from the inside out if you are perpetually angry that people who don't have the same medical limitations as you are happy that they get to go shopping with their faces uncovered.

So now I want to talk to you about my father in law.

My father in law had a bone marrow transplant in 2015. That's the most immune compromised you can get without having your organs swapped out.

The care sheet for him after the transplant was a little overwhelming. The list of foods he couldn't eat was intimidating and the limitations on where he could go was depressing. It cautioned against going to large events, it recommended outdoor gatherings where possible but only if he could avoid sunlight and was somewhere with no history of valley fever. It said that he should wear masks indoors any time he was someplace with poor ventilation and that he should avoid contact with anyone who had an illness of any kind, taking special note to avoid children and anyone recently vaccinated for measles.

It was, in short, pretty much what someone immune compromised would need to do to try to avoid a viral infection. Sensible. Reasonable. Wash your hands and social distance; wear masks in sensitive contexts and don't spend time in enclosed places with people who have a communicable illness.

This is what life was always going to be like for people who are severely immune compromised, and it was always going to be incumbent upon the person with the illness to figure out how to operate in a society that is not built with them in mind.

It is not the job of every parent I encounter to tell me whether their child has been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months. That isn't something that people need to do as part of their everyday life. However it IS my responsibility to check with the parents I'm hanging out with whether their children have been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months so I know if it's safe for my immune compromised spouse to be around them.

If you want an environment in which you feel safe from covid, at this point in the pandemic (when the virus is endemic and not spreading rapidly as far as we can see from case counts) it is your responsibility to take the steps necessary to make you feel safe. Some of those steps will involve advocating for safety improvements in public spaces (again, indoor ventilation needs to be better and I'm personally pretty extreme about vaccination requirements; these are things we should be discussing in our school board meetings and at our workplaces), some of those steps will involve advocating for worker protections, guaranteed sick time, and the right to healthcare. But some of the things you're going to need to do to feel safe are going to come down to you.

If you are concerned about communicable diseases you have to be realistic about the fact that our society doesn't go out of its way to prevent communicable diseases - norovirus among food service workers pre-pandemic is pretty clear evidence of that. You are going to have to be proactive about your safety rather than expecting the world to act like Covid is at 2021-2022 levels when it is measurably not.

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rcvcgers · 3 months ago

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Rotten Apples, pt. 2

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

part one , part three , part four , part five , part six , part seven , part eight , part nine , part ten

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you run into a familiar face at work.

word count: 4.9k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, kinda sad, a good mix of everything! a hint of foreplay! not proofread!

author's note: thank you for all the love on part one! here's part two! should there be a part three? also, enjoy a pic of caleb i grabbed from the game today!

taglist <3 : @kebarney @pinkismyfavcolor @romils @erisnxxi @rik0shii @reni502 @spacehopper27 @llamabois @likesvader @pandoras-rabbit @princessfruit @lukassafespace @jexizia

Caleb couldn’t say how long he’s been standing outside your door for. Had it been an hour? Three? Maybe it’s only been thirty minutes…time truly flies by when he’s with his love.

It doesn’t matter, though. Caleb would stand guard outside your door if it meant that you were safe.

Safe and alone inside your apartment…no other specimen in there to protect you.

Caleb wouldn’t let them come in if they came. He’d use his evol to shove them towards the side stairwell. He’d shove them down and watch as their bodies crumbled together, bones breaking, finding their screams of pain and agony satisfying.

It would all be worth it because you’re safe. All because of his much needed protection.

You’re his.

His to protect. His to look after. His to care for. His to love.

He glances to the side and notices that Skyhaven’s clouds have slightly parted. A smile spreads across his face, the man sneaking towards the hallway window, looking out at the morning sky. The weather is still undoubtedly gloomy, but the slight sight of sun is sign enough for him that you two are meant to be.

Caleb prances down the hallway, stopping by your door one last time. He slowly inhales, his eyes feeling heavy, and flattens his palm against it.

He’ll be seeing you soon.

The Colonel exits your apartment building, his phone attached to the side of his face. His voice is cheery and if you were to hear it, you’d think that his face would be all smiles and joy. It isn’t, though, and is instead a stoic expression.

“Hey, buddy. Remember that favor you owe me? Well, it’s time to cash in. I need you to get me information on someone. Yeah, yeah, I’ll send her name over to you now. Great! Thanks!” He hangs up and settles into a spot across the street.

People pass in front of him, his back pressed against the outside wall of a convenience store. Caleb barely pays attention to other woman who pause to get another look at him. He doesn’t have time to entertain their fantasies. He’d prefer to cater to your wants and needs. You deserve it after all your years of being apart.

Caleb tilts his head up and finds your window. His sick smile returns to his face, waiting for you to appear.

Except, he doesn’t know that you don’t peer out the window in the morning. Instead, you stay in bed for as long as you can, face and body covered by your sheets and obnoxious amount of blankets.

Your arm sticks out, slicing through the chilly morning air.

Shit. You think to yourself. Did the heater not kick in?

Your toes feel inexplicably cold despite being buried under a behemoth of blankets. Slowly sitting up in bed, your tired eyes look around your dark room before they float to the butterfly that hangs from your window. You love how the orange and blue hues grace the floor, softly turning the cold environment into something warm and welcoming.

It reminds you of home and most importantly, it reminds you of him.

You can’t help but laugh, slapping your forehead as you slip out of bed. Last night was a trip and a half!

Your date with George was so bad that you actually hallucinated Caleb being alive. Ha! It’s laughable, really, and you can’t even fathom who was there to witness your crazed haze. You definitely sounded like a crazy person, probably looking like the other blacked out people on the street who struggled to get home.

“Poor guy,” you say aloud, filling in your apartment’s silence, “I hope we never run into each other again.”

Oh, the irony.

You slowly get ready for your day. You take a quick shower, already running late, and stumble into your closet with your toothbrush hanging from your lips. You snatch a clean uniform jacket from the hangers, sliding it over your white blouse. You tuck your shirt into your black pencil skirt and make for sure there are no wrinkles in the fabric.

You hesitate, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Who are you trying to impress, anyways? It’s not like you’re going to find your Prince Charming at work.

Finally ready for your day, feeling rejuvenated and having shaken off your hysterics from the previous night, you step out of your apartment. You chew on a last minute attempt at making toast. The bread is dry instead of being lathered with butter, a complete oversight on your part.

You don’t even have time to stop for a coffee for a boost of energy. How the hell are you going to get through the day?

The rain stopped but the clouds still hang low in the sky. You’re used to the gloomy days, you actually welcome them with open arms. Too much sun reminds you of home and all of the misfortune you went through and, well, Linkon has a Wanderer problem that you want to avoid. Skyhaven still has them but it’s significantly less. You have the Fleet to thank for that.

And you definitely don’t have to thank a certain hunter who always seems to be at the scene of the worst attacks. As long as she stays away, you can live in peace knowing that if a Wanderer were to show up, she wouldn’t be the one to save you.

Your job as a translator stresses you out. Your boss, Darryl, is a weird, perverted dick that abuses his power. Whenever you don’t accept his daily flirts or go to HR about his behavior, you’re rewarded with horrible assignments that take years off of your life because you’re surrounded by men who are exactly like Darryl. You swear that you’ve seen a gray hair or two sprout from your head.

Being a translator under Darryl is a soul sucking job. You’ve applied to different departments in the Deepspace Aviation Administration, but Darryl has decided that you’re only good enough for translating documents and transcripts.

Your dream is to be a live translator, one that sat in a hidden room during negotiations and meetings between presidents and generals. Hell, you’d be fine with translating between the generals’ secretaries! It’s a thrill that you’ll unfortunately never be able to experience.

A big fuck you to Darryl.

You step through the shiny and clean doors of the Deepspace Aviation Administration. The building is eerily tall, shooting further into the atmosphere. You’ve managed to stay within the clouds, though, barely able to move past the fifteenth floor. Your security clearance is less than desirable, but it hasn’t stopped you from inching your way to the top.

You hope to see the secret levels soon enough but sincerely doubt it.

You smile at Abel and Remy, who work the entrance of the building, manning the security clearance that you pass through every weekday. You place your bag down on the conveyor belt, scanning your I.D. card in the little pad before stepping through the metal detector.

“Good morning you two,” you greet them with a familiar smile.

“Morning!” Remy chimes with a smile. He hands you your bag and nudges Abel’s side. He barely looks up, waving, before sinking his head back into the computer. “He slept like shit. Don’t mind him.”

“It’s all good,” you shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Just as you are about to step away, Abel’s head shoots up.

“Stay here. You were flagged.” Abel waves his hand in the air. Two nicely dressed soldiers approach you, guns slung on their sides. Your eyes widen, looking around for any kind of sign that this is a prank that Remy and Abel were pulling on you.

When the soldiers approach you and take your arm, a weight forms on your shoulders.

It’s not a prank. It’s very fucking real.

Terror rips through your body. Your eyes widen as the masked soldiers stare down at you, their eyes dark and unwelcoming.

“Ma’am. Follow us,” one of the soldiers barks at you. You nod, ready to comply, but are unable to move your feet. You try to move your leg but it doesn’t budge. You awkwardly laugh to yourself, looking down at the unresponsive limb.

Move, dammit! You internally scream, cheeks heating up.

Remy gives your back a gentle tap, nudging you forward. You stumble over your feet, pushing through the gap between the soldiers.

They track you from behind and occasionally bark a direction for you to take. They guide you towards the elevator that is reserved for higher ranking officials and officers. Your gulp, heart pounding in your chest. Your ears begin to ring, heating up as nausea overtakes your body. You close your eyes and grip the railing in the elevator, clinging to the cold metal for some kind of relief.

Where did it all go wrong?

Did you translate something wrong? Is it your fault that a world war is about to erupt? You knew you should have told Darryl to not give you assignments on the language you’re weakest at! He should have given it to Miranda!

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator floor. Each ding from a new floor heightens your anxiety, body shivering at the thought of what could happen to you.

Ding.

Goodbye cruel world!

Ding.

It was nice knowing you all!

Ding.

Don’t forget about me! Use my death as an example on what not to do!

You have heard many stories of what happened to translators that interpreted a word incorrectly. They simply disappeared off the face of the earth and were never heard from again. Or they ended up teaching languages at a community college far away from Skyhaven and the Fleet.

You’d rather disappear off the face of the earth than succumb to that fate.

The elevator doors slide open. You look up from the floor, surprised to see a normal looking work environment. One of the soldiers place their hand on your back, pushing your forward. You move with his hand, not particularly enjoying his touch. You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll take her from here.”

You freeze. Goosebumps spread across your skin and chills run down your spine. You focus on the wall in front of you, a figure sliding in front of your vision. Your eyes are met with a black uniform, the typical red, white, and blue accents that the Fleet uniforms have.

Your eyes float up, taking in the figure before you. Purple eyes stare down at you, your haze focusing on the golden spot that lays on the bottom of his iris. The nausea you once felt disappears but is quickly replaced with an even worse feeling of complete and utter dread.

“Caleb?” His name rolls off your tongue like butter, melting the ice that surrounds your heart.

So last night was not a dream. Caleb was the one to save you from George, not some random stranger who was there at the time. It was your ex-childhood best friend.

A semblance of a smile flashes across his face before his gaze sharpens. He looks you up and down, hands behind his back. Your gaze drops, taking him in his entirety.

Fuck…he looks great in his uniform.

“Long time no see,” he quips, stoic expression remaining on his face. “Follow me.” Without missing a beat, he turns on his heel and begins to walk away. You look around, blinking as if it’ll snap you out of the dream you’re clearly inside of.

When you don’t follow, Caleb walks back. His fingers curl around your wrist, his touch shocking your body to life. You fumble over your words, random sounds fleeing from your lips, as Caleb guides you away from invasive eyes.

His hair is still short but is just shaggy enough to remain charming and add to his looks. Your squint your eyes, noticing a few light scars on the right side of his body. They creep up his neck from under his wrinkle-free uniform. Caleb opens a door and you step inside, swallowing whatever confusion you had left in your mouth, and turn to him.

“Caleb?” Your voice is breathy. Caleb’s eyes fix themselves on you, the man leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re…what?”

“Take your time,” he chuckles. Your breath gets caught in your throat. His chuckle makes you want to jump for joy. “We are on a time crunch though, pipsqueak—”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt him, hissing as your instincts take over.

Any positive feeling you felt towards him in the past five minutes has vanished. You glare and cross your arms over your chest.

How dare Caleb call you that? That was always her nickname, alongside other ridiculous pet names that always made you gag whenever you looked back in your memories.

You made for certain that you’ll never be his pipsqueak.

You groan, rolling your eyes, and turn away from him. To him, it feels like you just drove a knife into his heart. He stares at the back of your head, his gaze falling for a brief moment, noticing the curve of your ass, before circling in front of you.

“I won’t call you that…noted,” he breathlessly chuckles. Once you tilt your chin up to show your glare, his chuckle gets caught in his throat. He covers it with a cough, suddenly feeling nervous around you.

Caleb has never felt this way with you before. In the past, everything was so easy! It was smooth sailing with you, low maintenance. He knew that you didn’t need the constant validation from him whereas she always needed it.

Maybe that’s been his foolish mistake all along. He should have paid more attention to you instead of her.

Is this what loathing feels like? Complete and utter contempt towards someone? Caleb hasn’t experienced this kind of negative feeling before, at least, not with her.

He had always felt so alive whenever she looked his way. Her beauty and innocence was so captivating. He adored playing the hero she needed.

Where was your hero? Who was there to call you pipsqueak or any other cheesy nickname? God, he’s been a fucking idiot.

“Is there…a nickname you’d like me to call you? For old time’s sake?” Caleb’s question earns him an angered scoff from you.

“You can call me by my name, thanks,” You look at him, eyes flickering down to his exposed neck.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His gloved hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, wanting to loosen his restrictive tie, but falls. When your eyes meet again, his shoulders tense before relaxing.

Is he…is he nervous?

“Tell me, Colonel,” you begin. Caleb’s head perks up and he looks at you, hanging onto every word that comes from your lips. “Why am I here?”

“I heard you’re the best translator we have,” Caleb’s compliment makes you raise your eyebrow, “I only want the best. I need you to translate something for me.”

“Sure, I can do that. Not like I have much of a choice, right?” Your half-joke earns a loud laugh from Caleb. You raise an eyebrow at him.

Really? You think to yourself. That’s what made you laugh?

“I forgot how funny you are,” Caleb comments. He pokes your nose and your face scrunches up, watching as he turns on his heel, opening up the door. You stare at his back and the memories of him from your childhood come pouring in.

You sit alone on a bench. You watch as Caleb stands in line with her at an ice cream stand. You watch them with close and steady eyes, your gaze transfixed on how she plays with his fingers. They laugh and lean into each other, undoubtedly whispering secrets that only they can know to one another.

It pained you, yes, to always be pushed to the sideline. You got used to it with time. You didn’t notice it the first year of knowing them. You were all careless and innocent children. Of course there was no malcontent with their actions!

However, the constant repetition of being left out only to be covered with half-asses apologies and sorries became very old really quick.

And it definitely felt like a stab in the back when you hear their mingled laughter through your open window. You’d catch your self sitting by the window, sighing to yourself as they played knight and princess in Josephine’s backyard.

Whenever you played with them, she always made you the monstrous dragon that held her captive. Caleb had to the the one to kill you. You had to watch from the ground, covered in dirt and dust, as he brought her into his arms, swinging her around.

Her thrilled shrieks and giggles were like poison to your soul.

You were only eight.

With thicker skin and a heart beginning to protect itself with a shield of ice, you braved the final days of your friendship with them. When it grew to be too much, you left.

It was the best decision you could have made, right?

It felt so easy to leave, even as they excluded you from the ice cream line. What’s funny is that they forgot to get you your sweet treat, meaning that you had to eventually stand in the line by yourself while they relaxed on the bench.

You were always left with sticky fingers while he cleaned hers, calling her by that stupid fucking nickname while he wiped away the melted ice cream from her fingertips. They were clean and pristine while yours were left with sticky residue and bits of napkin that lingered behind.

You were almost always determined to ditch them after moments like these. You laid in bed, holding your favorite plushie to your chest, when a small pebble hit your window. You walked over, pushing the glass open, as you poked your head outside.

Caleb stood on the ground below. He smiled up at you and held up a small plastic bag. You watched as he climbed up the side of your house with ease, using the vines to reach your window.

The anger slowly left your body the closer he got to you. He’d poke his head instead and you plucked the plastic bag from his mouth, revealing a small metal butterfly you had saw in town earlier that day.

“I got it just for you,” he said, resting his elbows on the windowsill. You watched him with wide eyes, your ice heart melting from his actions and words. “A token of my appreciation.”

Maybe sticking around for a little longer isn’t a bad idea, you thought to yourself.

You always loved butterflies after that day.

“You coming?” Caleb asks, head tilted to the side.

Looking around, you realize where you are and shake away the bittersweet memories from your childhood. You let out a ragged breath. Your lungs burn and your vision blurs.

His purple orbs memorized every detail of your face. When he noticed the small amount of tears in your eyes, he reached forward, wanting to catch them before they had the chance to fall. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You slap his hand away and push past him, entering the main room.

As you walk, you realize that what’s left between you two has expired.

The apple of his eye is not you. You were a Granny Smith while she was a Honeycrisp.

You were perpetually sour and she was always refreshing. Everyone always lavished in her presence while you faded into the background. You were left out in the sun while she was carried inside and taken care of.

It’s no wonder why you’re rotten to the core.

Daggers of pain stabbed into his sides, slipping between his ribs, leaving him breathless. His perfect demeanor finally reveled a crack, head lunched over. He follows you into the hallway, planting himself at your side.

Clearly, there is something wrong with you. Not in a way like there is with him, you know, having failed his psych evaluation, but something that is deeply rooted in your core. He wants to rip your chest open and to pull your heart out. He wants the slowly pull away the thorns that pierce your heart and kiss the wounds. He desperately wants to mend your internal wounds and hold you until you fall asleep in his arms.

“Where’s the file?” You ask him, the tears now gone from your eyes. A slow and ragged breath leaves his mouth, unable to look away from your remarkable face. You snap your fingers in his face, irritation blossoming inside your chest.

“Oh, right,” Caleb recovers. He lays his hand on your lower back. Warmth seeps through the thin fabric of your blouse. Despite the anger you felt a minute ago, you can feel your body relax under his touch. You can tell that he notices it too when his cocky smile returns to his face. You tear your gaze away from his, heat tingling your ears from embarrassment.

He leans down to whisper something in your ear but you turn your head away, not wanting to hear anything else from him. Thankfully, he catches on and straightens his posture.

The office is foreign to you. Many hallways lead in different directions. People in uniforms turn left and right, catching you off guard as Caleb pulls you out just in time before you collide with them. They barely look up from the papers in their hands or leave their conversation to say sorry or apologize.

Caleb swiftly guides you through the floor. The two of you weave and bob through the organized chaos. People stop and salute Caleb as he passes by. He nods in their direction, his charming smiling disappearing as he puts his Colonel mask back on.

He opens a door and reveals an almost empty interrogation room. There’s no two way mirror nor are there the usual cameras in the corner. At least, that’s what you’ve seen on your favorite television show. You step inside, flinching when the door slams closed, the faint click of a lock making goosebumps form all over your skin.

“No need to be nervous, Caleb says, sitting down into one of the chairs at the metal table. He spreads his legs open, making himself comfortable. He looks up at you, gesturing to the chair in front of him. You hesitate, having to force your eyes to look away from his legs, and sit in the chair beside him.

The table only has a few items. Caleb takes off his hat, placing it near the edge. He plucks off his gloves, taking his time since you’re watching him, and set them on top of his hat. In the center sits a neat stack of papers with a few pens and pencils on top. Beside that is an audio recorder with an attached set of earbuds.

“You know how to be discreet, right?” Caleb asks. You sneak a glance at him, throwing a bit of side eye, before picking up the audio recorder.

Ha. Do you know to be discreet…how do you think I got through high school? I was discreet with my hatred of your beloved pipsqueak

“I’ll manage,” you cooly respond.

You already know the drill.

You put on the headphones, you write down whatever it is the people on the other side are talking about, and you hand your work over to Darryl.

Except…Darryl isn’t here. Caleb is.

And you aren’t at your usual workstation using your computer to type. You’re actually writing these words down. What kind of mission is this?

“Then you know that you’ll be working directly under me for the assignment,” Caleb leans closer to you. You pay no attention to it.

“Will I?” You play coy and look at him, batting your eyelashes at him.

Caleb has to picture Josephine naked to stop the tent from forming in his pants.

“Yes…” his word comes out as a whisper.

“May I know any background on it? You know, for translation sake.” You can feel him slowly draw you in.

Those purple eyes that you quickly get lost in. The way his fragrant cologne smells. The way his canine tooth flashes whenever he smiles.

And that fucking uniform. Fuck me. You think.

“It’s classified,” he breathes back, your faces mere inches from each other. Caleb is so thankful that there are no cameras inside. If this keeps going the way he wants, he’ll have you bent over with your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Shame,” you quickly quip back. You tear yourself away from Caleb, leaving him hanging in the tension you two created. You grab the earbuds and slide them inside your ears. The first piece of paper is placed in front of you and you opt for the pen, knowing you never make mistakes.

Caleb watches you with close eyes. Your hand moves at a furious pace, swiftly scribbling down the words from the audio file.

He sits up in his chair, resting his elbow on the table beside him, placing his chin on his raised palm. The Colonel’s eyes close and he slowly inhales. That sweet yet spicy scent of apples and cinnamon fill his nostrils. He slowly exhales, hoping that your perfume lingers on his uniform long after you leave.

His eyes open when he hears you switch to a new paper. You slide him the filled one, you fingers grazing against each other, before you continue to write like you have a gun to your head.

Caleb chuckles to himself. He leans to the right. With the slight movement, he’s able to get a better look at your face.

Your brows are pushed together, no more space between the two. The skin below your bottom lip is sucked in, slowly moving back and forth. Are you…eating yourself? Your eyes flit to him for a brief second. Your face relaxes before it immediately returns to its focused state.

You are so beautiful. Even when you focus on the assignment at hand, Caleb can see the dedication you have for the things you love.

He hopes that soon, he’ll be number one on the list of things you care about. Caleb can brag about it to his already minuscule group of friends, showing off the future photos and selfies you’ll take together. He’ll be able to say that you’re his and nobody else’s.

If someone like George were to come in the way of that, well, he’ll deal with them and lock you away so you don’t have to witness it.

“What are you looking at?” You question, not even looking up from the paper. You slide it to him, drawing your hand away before he can touch your delicate skin, to feel just how soft it is even if it was for a fraction of a second.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” His question surprises the both of you. It slipped from his thoughts before he could stop it from escaping. Caleb’s face remains stoic. On the inside, though, he’s screaming at himself for coming off as too strong.

Your pen scratches to the side, destroying the perfect lines you’ve made from transcribed words. The tip of the pen pierces the paper. Black ink pools around the sharp metal tip. Your fingertips turn white from how tight you grip the pen.

Caleb reaches over you, his muscular arm passing in front of your gaze, trapping you in your chair. He grabs the audio recorder, the device looking minuscule compared to how large his hands are. Veins are prominent in his hand, leading up his wrist before disappearing under the fabric of his uniform jacket.

Your gaze starts from the tips of his fingers, gently dragging past his exposed skin and up his dark material of his uniform, sliding up his shoulder, hovering on the bare skin of his neck. The audio recording in your ear pauses. Caleb retracts his arm, hooking his finger under your chin. He eases your eyes the rest of the way up to his.

Your breath hitches. Lips barely parted, your cheeks flush from his touch and how close he is to you. His lips are mere inches from yours.

All it takes is one…gentle…push…

“I asked if you were doing anything tonight,” the raspiness in his voice makes your lower stomach purr. Your eyes fall to his lips. You gnaw the inside of your cheek, slowly leaning closer to him.

“Are you asking me as Caleb? Or as my Colonel?” You whisper.

“Which one will you say yes to dinner with?”

“Hmm…” you quietly hum. You reach out, fingers curling around his uniform’s tie. You give it a firm tug. A low groan emits from Caleb’s throat. You smirk. “Neither.”

Caleb matches your smirk. His hand snakes up your arm. His long, slender fingers wrap around the entirety of your hand. He overpowers your grip and the tie falls free from your hold. He brings your knuckles to his lips. He plants a firm kiss to them, his eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You push away from the table. Cheeks red, unable to breathe, you step away from him and to the interrogation room door. You tug on the cold door handle, the metal immediately warming due to you body heat. The lock clicks and you shove the heavy hunk of metal forward, escaping into the public eye of the office.

#caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb x non!mc reader #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #rcvcgers writings #lads caleb angst #lads angst #rotten apples ❦︎

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g1rlken · 5 days ago

Text

Last golden thoughts

Bucky Barnes x fem!exwife reader

*follows the original thunderbolts plot line and thunderbolts!Bucky

Warnings: minor spoilers, mild swearing, angst?

Word count: 4.7k+

summary: Congressman Barnes’ marriage did not end for the better only for his paths to cross again with his ‘wife’ in the most unpleasant fashion where he last expected her to be

an: you guys went crazy over this so I had to finish this in two days we are sooooooo back

—

As red guardian’s fancy, gaudy and however bulletproof-ish limousine made a flip at Bucky’s detonator. The relieved group of delinquents inside were overcome with shock, bracing themselves for the fall, gripping handles tightly as the surprisingly present airbags opened in their faces. Ghost was the first one out evidently being more equipped to exit in the blink of an eye. Others fell with a thud a collective ache in everyone’s joints, groaning trying to find their way out ever so impatiently. Ghost broke the door open as Bucky was getting closer. In the front seat red guardian needed most strength to be extracted out of the vehicle.

By then Bucky had reached with a task at hand, Ava and Yelena focused more on trying to get red guardian out, “Not cool man” Alexei said in his heavy accent to the long haired who they’d assumed was here to help them.

With a swift tug with his metal arm Bucky pulled the backseat door right off its hinges, before he could lean John was already on his way out, the person following John out made his eyes widen. “You?!” He exclaimed putting his hands on her shoulders instinctively but she brushed him off and got out herself. “Have you lost your mind?! Don’t tell me you were in the goddamn vault with these-“

Standing up on her feet instantly, trying to regain balance given her vision was a bit dizzy after going through a flipping car. “You lunatic-“ she lunged at him but she was still evidently dizzy and had weak steps, he easily dodged. “You could have gotten us all killed!”

“Stop, stop!” Bucky’s hands were surprisingly of a gentle grip on her shoulders yet again, wanting her to find her footing again. “Are you alright?” He asked scanning for major injuries, if he had known she was in the car he would approached in a way less reckless way.

“Get off of me-!” Taken aback by his might to just downplay the weight of the situation, falling into old habits like they were getting reunited or something.

“Husband mode eh?” Alexei commented with a snicker, Bucky took it well, someone else didn’t.

“He’s not my husband!” She barked almost instantly and pushed Bucky even further, even after he’d let go off her shoulders.

Another truck circled around them, “With me” Bucky told them expecting them to follow without much resistance was really some heavy wishful thinking.

The red guardian was already walking, a lot of faith in the metal armed man when Yelana stoped him by his arm, “And why should we just follow you after you crashed us?”

“Bucky you do realise you could get years for attempted murder on captain America-“ Jon was stopped mid sentence by the others taking an offence at him calling himself captain America and less bothered by the attempted murder.

“You were all being chased by trucks with machine guns and I’m sure more are on the way. This is the middle of nowhere if you have better options than getting in the truck you’re all very welcome to do so” Bucky said crossing his arms, the truck driver probably one of bucky’s favour agents got on his bike and left the truck for him.

Red guardian was the first to pitch in to agree with him, Yelena and Ava had their suspicions. “It’s the worse of two I suppose” Ava said with a sigh.

“It’s not like you have anything on us and we outnumber you so there’s that.” Yelana started walking as the rest followed, no obvious threat so far.

“If it’s our help you need Bucky you know you can just ask.” Walker said with his ever high confidence in himself, it never fails to be less staggering.

“Are you people actually considering this?!” Y/n was the only one who stayed put in her place not trusting everyone’s and especially bucky’s instincts to follow him into god knows where, “We can’t trust this man-“

“‘This man’ honey? Really?” Bucky quoted her absolute disregard for their history like he was some stranger she detested so much. He wasn’t walking back to the truck either, well aware of stubborn she was he was ready to let this play out for a while and eventually take matters, her, quite literally into his own hands.

“Don’t call me that!” The disgust on her face was as though he had committed at atrocity, the others had already started accommodating themselves in the truck for her to get her point across.

“You know all this anger really isn’t good for your health.” He told her, leaning a bit forward and she stiffened.

“You know what would be good for you? Letting me be” she told him uncrossing her arms and the last of her ‘loser’fest team were already walking into the truck.

“Why would you get yourself into this mess? You know you are better than this and please don’t tell me you were in the vault” it felt so natural to fall back into old habits for Bucky. The soft scolding with an undertone of concern and frustration. He didn’t miss this feeling of dread that he was yet again so close to losing her but he was grasping at straws into conversations with her, after the divorce she had blocked his number, locked their old apartment just recently because he kept finding reasons to visit her over and over. Even stopped all streaming subscriptions he couldn’t even work through without her so if this was the conversation he could make he’d take what he can get.

“You are the last person I’m answerable to.” She clarified him losing his keeping tabs privileges on her as their marriage fell. It was the least pleasant feeling to be harsh against anyone, even him, despite of what he did. But if it she acted even a bit less colder it would give him hope to no end. So she kept it up and walked across him, he stayed unmoving from her way and her shoulder brushed his somewhat rudely she didn’t even account it. He felt good about her casually striding against him as if his touch didn’t repel her anymore. Idiot.

Before she could climb into the back of the truck with the rest of them he stopped her getting inside himself first and swiftly started cuffing everyone, “hey what the hell” Yelena said struggling against him but those high tech binds were so swift she couldn’t retaliate in enough time.

“Come on Bucky you know me is this really necessary?” John scoffed trying to break free of the cuffs but or was no use.

“She was right” Ava said nodding at the woman standing outside the truck unfazed Bucky would pull this, trying to make the run for it into ghost mode but the cuffs kept her hands in place so she couldn’t even move forward in her projecting form.

“You, in the front” Bucky said looking back at her and she obviously defied it.

“Why?” She scoffed not wanting to walk into his plan after he literally cuffed all her acquaintances. “We are not your little evidential gifts against Valentina”

“She did try to kill you all” Red guardian chimed in as Yelena nodded about the fact.

“It doesn’t align with our principles if he is the one who turns us in, we could do it ourselves” the fact that ‘Congressman Barnes’ would get all credit for brining Valentina’s assets in after they risked their lives to get out really didn’t sit right with her.

“Why would we turn ourselves in at all?” Ava questioned not really into the idea of getting under oath whatsoever.

“Exactly. It is up to us what we decide not him” So glad the others saw her point at least now, despite of walking into getting themselves tied up.

“It really isn’t” he shrugged and pointed to another one of automobiles from vault’s base at a far distance. “Say no and I’d leave you all here to fend for yourself.” No one but her would be ready to call his bluff. He knew that she knew that too well that he would rather fight off nearly everyone in that truck than put her in harm’s way but he had to convince the others somehow and it seemed to work well enough as he got out of the back container to get into the driver’s seat.

“Why doesn’t she get tied up?” John questioned as she had to walk to the passenger seat on Bucky’s uncalled for demand.

“She is the missus!” Red guardian said stating the obvious and a shrug, already under the cool influence of Bucky to question it.

“They’re divorced” John pointed out

“Doesn’t seem like it was mutual” Yelena commented gaining a snicker from Alexei.

In the front, looking out the window as Bucky pushed it on the accelerator, “Where are we going?”

“New York” he answered her without much debate or resistance, if he were to recall there was never a time he could lie to her. He would never want to.

She didn’t have much questions to ask because she didn’t want to give answers to the ones he would ask back, not without consulting the rest anyways. Besides she would rather turn herself in than to afford another conversation with him. With a heavy sigh she looked out the window crossing her arms.

He looked in her direction, eyes softening despite the gravity of the situation they were in. The exhaust on her face was evident, “There are some pain killers in the cabinet.” He told her.

No response for her equated to her disinterest in taking them, he knew she hated any sort of antibiotics or meds just to push through her pain but it was worth the shot, as stubborn as she was he hates her open wounds. He opened the cabinet and got out the patching kit, whilst his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He opened the pack between his teeth and applied antiseptic on the patches, without asking he put it on her forehead where she’s seemed to have taken a bad hit. “Ow” she grumbled in pain but needless to say it was a required patchwork for the bleeding. “I’ve got it” she said taking it from his hand on her forehead into her own.

Her palms against his arm…he hadn’t felt it in so long. His hand was much larger in her comparison he’d always noted that. Being reminded of that again made him want to intertwine his fingers in hers and hope she could undo every moment he had to be away from her.

Eventually he took his hand away and put it on the driving clutch, even though it wasn’t a manual drive, he just couldn’t contain the life coursing through him after her hands touched him against. It’s these minuscule of interactions with her that gave him so much purpose. At first when he saw her in the flipped car he felt awful she was here in the first place but now he has her right next to him on the road to New York and he feels bad for wishing the miles are longer than they usually are.

“Hey this is not a manual drive” she was quick to pick that up when he didn’t take his hand off the clutch for a while being lost in thought, unrecovered from her touch.

“Oh” he nodded taking his hand off and back to the steering, “I know” he had to shift the conversation “You practised on our old manual when you were renewing your license right?”

“Your old manual was a good car” she said emphasising on ‘your’ given the fall out.

“I wonder why we let it go.” He was left bemused trying to remember what was the reason to let it go given it wasn’t a bad car.

“You wanted to let it go because it was taking up too much space in the garage after the engine got way too old to be repaired” She reminded him thinking back to it now, it had become an old junk but the two of them held onto it for quite a while. Working on it on the weekends, basically he’d work on it and she would keep the conversation. She had a joke that Bucky was pursuing his abandoned mechanic dream every weekend on that car, that black sleeveless vest top laying his biceps all bare and as hot as he was working on the engine she hated the grime and the smell of automobile oil, he would purposely encage her between his arms and kiss her all over, then shower together later. Snap out of it.

“Had a good run with it, it even had a cassette player system” Bucky looked at her but she wasn’t looking back at him. Clearing her throat she shifted in her seat, they got rid of that car before they had a conversation of getting rid of their marriage but maybe the forthcoming was evident.

“It didn’t have that you modified it that way because we had a lot of cassettes between us” she corrected him as her lips curled into a small smile.

“Oh right” he nodded mirroring her smile, it just happened with him involuntarily every time she smiled and this was his first time in a while. “I think I lost some from my set, I maybe have 10-12 tapes left which is crazy given my set had about a 100”

“How would you lose them you never took them out of the house?” She asked with a faux confused look on her face.

“Exactly! It’s like they just vanished” he told her shaking his head, “I think the house needs a bit going over for me to find them”

Just humming in response she leaned back in the seat as the two fell into silence again, it wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t awkward either. Nostalgia was often ugly. Their minds were going through ugly sweet things, Bucky’s mind wasn’t going through nostalgia it was in its usual state: consistent reminiscing of their marriage. In his life he didn’t have much things to lose in the first place except for her, she was the last golden thoughts he could have before he’d sleep and the first before he’d wake up all day, everyday. He didn’t have much to think back to fondly but it changed when she walked out of his life.

As he drove through the terrains, glancing through both the side view mirrors then back at her, she had fallen asleep. Leaning against the window, her eyes closed with a completely serene expression on her face he hadn’t seen in so long. She had actually fallen asleep around him. The scene had a strange intimacy to him, the fact that her mind still considered him safe enough to fall asleep around. Even after all dodged calls and messages, all the get-outs, changing her ways to not come across him in the city, telling everyone her mistrust in ‘this man’ yet she could fall asleep with him at the wheel just like the old times.

When they reached the abandoned safe house Bucky didn’t deem it proper to wake her up when she was already so exhausted. The others tied up and over explaining the Bob situation did not let her absence go unnoticed “What did you do with her?!” Ava asked, high suspicions it wasn’t good.

“We should have listened when she told us to be careful about you, he probably left her back there” Yelena said with a scoff, such a decorated man stooping so low.

“Woah woah” Bucky was crazed at the fact that these people assumed that he would hurt her, of all people. “She is still in the truck, she was sleeping very soundly so I didn’t want to wake her up.”

The red guardian snickered, “A real lover!” He commented in a positive way.

“Grow a pair, Bucky” John scoffed leaning against his binds, the man was on the phone for a while and would’ve happily disregarded Walked’s comments anyways.

“Are you like the podcast men?” Alexei asked facing Walker.

“—What does that mean?”

“Toxic masculinity, not good, insecure—bad just bad, are you them?” Alexei listed off his

very accurate descriptions of men who run podcasts.

“Men who run podcasts aren’t all that” Walker said rolling his eyes at the man’s poor judgement of those guys. “Besides Bucky is not a real lover, he’s freshly divorced”

“Do you not see the wedding ring?” Alexei asked nudging in bucky’s direction, the thick gold band was hard to miss: by anyone.

“Probably just wears it because it’s real gold or something” which was a bit ironic because even as a separated husband he didn’t have one on.

“On his wedding finger?” Ava asked raising a brow as she indulged in the divorce too, tied up they had nothing better to talk about.

Before Yelena could pitch in her two cents too, Bucky got off the phone and started freeing the set of ‘thunderbolts’ out of their ties. Giving them a brief explanation of wanting to help Bob they were all on board, as they headed back down to the truck, it was empty. The back and the front, the highly trained ex assassin went full into visible panic mode with her out of sight. A specific drop of his heart only her absence could cause him to feel.

It was difficult trying to explain to the bunch of all-of-a-sudden-ride-or-dies god knows where she picked up from, that her husband of three years and counting with a small bump of divorce of four months would be the last person in this world to hurt her. However difficult it was he managed to get his point across and decided they were off to a detour before getting to Valentina’s HQs.

Once they loaded back in the truck he drove with determination to get where he had deduced he would find her. Their old apartment, she kept her original gear there. If there was one thing he knew about her she was to never back down from a fight, however big and impossible. That had been his biggest fright throughout their marriage, not a single bone in his body had moved on from.

Bucky thought he could fetch her back down himself but he thought wrong, apparently they did not trust him with her so all or thunderbolts went up the six story building. As expected the door was open, “How many times have I told you to keep this locked?” It really wasn’t difficult to fall back into old habits. Always leaving in a hurry, always forgetting to lock doors. He thought to himself but it wasn’t just about locking the door when he hoped the door was open.

“Again?!” She exclaimed walking out of the bedroom into the living fixing the belts around her gear, her old gear. The most trusted one. It was a superstition of hers really, Bucky knew it affected nothing no combat flexibility or space…it was just old. “How did you all not manage to lose him?”

“We didn’t know if you left or he did something” Ava filled her in about her doubting their capabilities to lose Bucky by choice.

“He wouldn’t.”

“—I wouldn’t!”

Both of them said at the same time.

To avert the sync she refocused on strapping her knives into her suit, in all places and possible belt gaps. “Hey, is that mine?” Bucky’s attention went to the set of two in her hands she was about to fixate.

“No it’s not.” Caught, she hurriedly tried to wrap it in her suit.

“Yes it is, those are mine!” He huffed; it had been a long while since he had to be in a position where he would need all his knives but he remembers and counts all the ones he’s had and he knew exactly which ones were missing, surprisingly right after the divorce. “That set is a wedding gift from Sam if I remember correctly!”

“Exactly! It was my wedding too I can keep them!” She stood her ground, well aware it was a set of two, one for him&her type but it was too beautiful to break the set and she wanted both those knives. He hadn’t noticed it this entire time.

“You don’t get to keep them both I get to keep one.” He argued, validly so. “I can’t believe you just took these both with you letting me know once”

“You never asked! All this time you kept coming at my place for the pillow covers, cushions-literally last month you knocked on my door because you thought I took the tv remote with me! You never asked about these” she pointed at the knives and somewhere along the lines both of them knew Bucky was just finding reasons to see her again and she was allowing it too.

“Wow” Yelena commented at the desperate measure. Given the time they were short on this bickering was too intresting to be stopped abruptly.

In the haste to keep the knives to herself in her suit dropped it, giving Bucky the leverage to pick it up and examine it. He bent down to get it and found stored cassettes in the coffee table. “You have got to be kidding me!” He exclaimed frustrated as he got out all the cassettes, he thought were missing. “You had these the whole time?!”

“—I must have packed them by mistake when I moved out” she shrugged trying to downplay how purposeful it was but he saw through it.

“These are all my classics, you didn’t even ask me before taking them in the settlement?!” Bucky huffed going through the tapes.

Cursing under her breath she face palmed herself, for some reason this day was getting way too long. “Look I know the divorce agreement never said-“

“I didn’t even read that” Bucky scoffed shuffling through the tapes he thought he had ‘lost.’

“You signed it without reading?” Surprised she raised her brows.

He put the box down on the coffee table and nodded with a shrug, making a mental note that he will come by at her place over and over for all the tapes and not just take them altogether. There were around 93 tapes in there which belonged to him. 93 excuses to see her. “It was you, I just trust you.”

“See!” Alexei cackled giving Walker a big pat on his back for being right about the lovers fact. “Very silver springs”

“Silver springs?” Yelena asked raising her brows at the refrence.

“Like the song.” Alexei spoke with his thick accent ‘Like zhe songh’ “Never get away from the sound of a woman that loved you” he even relayed the lyrics from the group, Ava nodding at the obvious relation.

“He still wears the wedding ring though” Yelena pointed out trying to frame the dynamics of who’s who for the song reference.

“He would be Stevie Nicks.” Ava clarified stating the obvious as Alexei smiled wide at her, nothing like someone getting the perfect reference.

“What the hell?” The ex wife in question did not take that insult lightly, she didn’t point it out all these months why he still kept wearing the wedding ring. “Real good manipulation tactics, Congressman Barnes.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Bucky exclaimed unsure how he got under the bus even though the Silver Springs refrence say very right with him. Eire how that refrence came up when no one knew he’s been having sessions of that song in his car ever since she left.

“You need to take off that wedding ring and the whole oh-she-left-me boo hoo theatrics like it wasn’t a mutual decision!” She let out unable to keep it in after these months of heartbroken yet preserving congressman Barnes, all the press issues.

“You know it wasn’t.” Bucky shot back, “I just didn’t want to you to work for Valentina and look what you’re gearing up for! The woman who tried to incinerate you!”

“It was a miscalculation of the job I took up and I got myself alive out of that” it was so frustrating trying to debate this again.

“You chose working for her over me! Over our marriage!” Bucky’s voice grew a bit louder than when he said before and the others just witnessed this break out awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t we let them have this conversation privately?” John muttered looking for the cue to exit this scene.

“No.” Alexei, regardless of his fanboy tendencies towards Barnes, he was somewhat interested in witnessing this, he was the least tensed person in the room. Ava and Yelena didn’t want to exit for the sake of interjecting just in case.

“No I chose a life you couldn’t dictate!” She cried out just as intensely as his voice. “And do not put this on me as if you don’t know what you did.”

“I saved your life that day. Just like today.” Bucky said in a lower voice flatly. Very unbothered and cold to the notion of saving her life, it was such a given to him. She would put herself in such situations and he would just have to make do. Reckless with not much thought but he could always rely on himself to keep that head over her shoulder.

“You put me in danger that day!” The agony in her voice was so evident, “You let me work on that assignment for months and on the final day—you leaked my coordinates on purpose so that Congressmen Barnes can have the best packet, you wanted to Valentina dragged to court and you got that at my expense.”

Putting his arms on his hips; taking in a deep breath. It was planned yes, he gave the feds her location for the OXE group mission she was put on, he could have told her to never take up the job but it had already led to so many countless fights. She had helped him through his electoral campaigns, supported him through it all but it just wasn’t the right fit for her. Combat was all she had known life to be so far, so her let her have her gigs. However he didn’t realise she could also work for Valentina without much thought and by the time he could pitch in she had already accepted the joke. He could have stopped it then too, but he didn’t. There was a bigger gig for him in it, exposing his wife’s secret assignment is how he got Valentina into impeachment proceedings.

Bucky wasn’t proud of keeping it a secret from her the entire time she was working on that assignment but it didn’t prove to be non fruitful, “I am the one who had to bear the expense of you leaving because you didn’t have it in yourself to stay, you just ran. Like a coward. Like always.”

That was a poke at a really old wound, she wasn’t a habitual leaver but at times when stuff got emotionally thick her fight or flight response was not fight. The first time, before they were even together…she always stayed away and distant and after their job was done, Sam upholding the shield. She just left. Leaving everything between Bucky and herself to be unsaid and be lost in fragments of season he just went after her, got the girl and the resr was history. Wretched, domestic, sad, far, a marriage in their history. However she couldn’t stomach that, “You piece of shit-!” She lunged at him full force and he barely held up his defence. More than happy for her to have at it.

“Woah woah woah” Walker spoke as chaos erupted in the small living room itself, not even out in the field yet.

Yelena got a hold of her however Ava wasn’t into the idea of not letting her get her frustration out, Alexei pulled back away, “We are the thunderbolts. Thunderbolts don’t fight ourselves. Not like this.” He said as the fight seemed to break.

“I am no teammates with any of you, especially that man!“ anger still coursing through her she pointed at Bucky as Yelena kept swaying her farther.

“Yeah yeah I think he gets it” Yelena tried to soothe her anger down so he could move on from this outburst.

“Can we just move on with the task at hand?” Before John could even finish that sentence Bucky was walking out the apartment broodingly, slamming the door open out of his way.

She stayed in her place taking in a few deep breaths in order to process it fast enough as everyone left, Yelena stayed with her, nodding off to red guardian in a small look that said ‘I’ve got her.’ “You okay?”

“-Yeah…let’s just get going.”

Please let me know if this story is a drag…for some reason it seemed better in my head than this! Regardless tune in for final two if you liked it! ;)

tags: @blowingbarnes @pattiemac1 @scrumptiousloser @suffragette-cities @toaster-fork @accoochtrement @forthelovelyheart @western-nightss @itsmeamysworld @taniamunson @dakota-rain666 @seventeen-x @bvckys-doll

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x ex!wife #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x wife!reader #thunderbolts fanfiction #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x you #Bucky Barnes thunderbolts

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enha-hype · 2 months ago

Text

&team - period care ♡ (hyung line)

how each member deals with/reacts to different period symptoms

pairing: bf!&team x afab!reader

genre: fluff and lots of comfort

warnings: mentions of period blood, period pain, dizziness, crying, cursing

w.c.: around 500-700 for each member

a/n: if this doesn't flop i'll post part 2 with maknae line lol. also everybody cheer i wrote something for someone other than nichojoo! xD

🪐 euijoo (crying spells)

you wake up feeling like shit and wanting to cry for no particular reason other than that you're on your period and your hormones are all over the place. added to that was the fact that the space next to you on the bed was empty – your boyfriend was already up. which isn't unusual, euijoo had always been an early bird. however, on that particular morning you couldn't help but wish he was still in bed cuddling you – maybe then you would be feeling less shitty. you feel kind of offended although you know it isn't fair – how is he supposed to know what you want if you don't tell him?

(more under the cut!)

“juju?” you call out but there's no answer – he probably couldn't hear you. you groan and steel yourself to get out of bed; it's about time anyway.

you head to the bathroom to freshen up and do your morning duties and when you emerge from the bedroom you find euijoo in the kitchen making breakfast.

“good morning my love,” he greets you with his warm smile and the sight of him immediately makes you feel a little better. “if you've brushed your teeth have this while you wait. breakfast will be ready in 10!”

‘this’ refers to a bowl of peeled pomegranates sitting on the kitchen table. you look at it and then back at him. he peeled an entire pomegranate for you despite how time consuming and troublesome it must've been. AND he's making breakfast. and most importantly, he looks so damn happy doing it. as you stare at the bowl of pomegranates, you can feel your eyes starting to water and the tears spill over soon after.

“no no baby what's wrong? do you not like pomegranates? but they're good for you – especially on your period,” euijoo is by your side in a minute brushing the tears away.

the fact that he specifically looked up what foods are good on your period only makes you more emotional and you feel guilty for feeling upset at him for not staying in bed longer. when you're finally coherent enough for him to be able to understand what you're saying amidst your sobs, he lets out a frustrated chuckle of disbelief.

“that's why you're crying? god you had me worried for a bit there,” he says, hugging you to his chest.

“you're literally the sweetest ever...what did i do to deserve you?” you mumble.

“sweetheart that was the bare minimum,”

“not to me!” you sniffle, wondering what the hell the opposite of bare minimum was. “to me that was like– like, the grand maximum!”

he giggles at that. “alright, cutie. let's get you something to eat,”

after a morning of crying about peeled pomegranates, then about how delicious the breakfast was and then crying about all the crying, you've finally calmed down. you're lying on euijoo's lap and he's running his fingers through your hair with one hand replying to his texts using the other.

“it's very aptly named the orange peel theory, don't you think?” you ask.

“uhh but that was a pomegranate i peeled, not an orange...”

“yes but you're an orange,” you explain like it's the most obvious thing.

he stares blankly at you. “i'm...an orange?”

“uh huh,”

he gives in because really, what choice does he have? “whatever you say my love,”

🪐 fuma (dizziness)

murata fuma is an exceptionally calm and rational man. even when things don't work out or seem to be going downhill, he never panics and instead seeks to figure out what the next plan of action should be – because really, what good would freaking out do? not a lot of things scared him either, it was like the man had no weaknesses. he is one of the most level-headed people you know, and it's no wonder that people often came to him for advice – murata fuma is an exceptionally calm and rational man. except when it comes to you.

for your date today, you're at a mini concert hall to watch this indie rock band play. fuma has been obsessed with them ever since he discovered them a few months ago and after weeks of trying you were finally able to get tickets for today. there's just one tiny problem however – you're on your period, and you don't do well in crowded spaces during this time especially if you have to stand for a long period of time, like you have been for a while now.

fuma is of course not aware of this – as far as he knows your period is not due for another week. you know that if you had told him, he would've not only made you stay home but would've stayed back himself to take care of you and you didn't want to do that to him; you knew how excited he'd been for this.

and so here you both are. you're only halfway through the concert and you're already regretting it. you've been standing for over an hour now and you badly want to – no, need to sit down. you feel kind of breathless and you're sweating but your body also feels weirdly cool at the same time. the music and the screaming around you start to sound like they're coming from far away and you sway on the spot. the last thing your eyes register before you black out is fuma’s panicked eyes.

when you come to, it takes you a minute to figure out where you are – on the couch in the waiting area outside near the receptionist’s desk. worry is etched into your boyfriend's features as he hovers over you along with two other people you don't recognise.

“oh good they're awake. yeah it looks like they just need some air,” one of them says.

fuma helps you sit up and you avoid meeting his eyes; you're mortified.

“how are you feeling?” he asks gently.

you nod and smile sheepishly. “i'm okay now, it just felt a little suffocating in there is all,”

he studies you carefully like he isn't convinced and you notice beads of sweat drying on his forehead. after fuma has thanked and bid adieu to the two strangers who had been kind enough to help your boyfriend who had apparently been running around like a headless chicken after you fainted, he comes to you and envelopes you in a hug so tight you think you might pass out again.

“please don't do that ever again oh my god i swear my heart stopped that was the most distressing 10 minutes of my life. it felt like it lasted forever,”

you chuckle weakly and pat his back comfortingly. “it's a pity i wasn't conscious to see it,”

he pulls back and gives you a stern and disappointed look. “that's not funny, y/n,”

“okay yeah i'm sorry i made you panic. i should've told you the truth, it was stupid,”

“incredibly stupid. i can't believe you thought i would care about a stupid concert more than you,”

“well no it's actually because i knew you would care more about me being okay that i didn't tell you. i wanted you to have a fun time since you've been working so hard lately,”

“any time i spend with you is fun. i don't need to go to a concert for fun,” he grumbles.

“you know what i mean though,”

he crosses his arms across his chest. “no i don't. and you know what? you've just lost walking privileges for the next two days for lying to me and then passing out,”

“i've lost wa– what? fuma don't be ridiculous,”

“it's no more ridiculous than what you just did,” he retorts obstinately.

and he was actually serious about it – he carried you bridal style to the car and then from the car to your apartment and he wouldn't even put you down inside the elevator; he waited until he got to your shared bedroom. and even though you assured him you were fine he proceeded to fuss over you for the next couple of days, not letting you step out of the house without his “supervision”.

🪐 kei (muscle pain)

it's the second day of your period and your legs are hurting more than usual because you had had to stand for hours at the conference at work earlier today. while the pain isn't exactly unbearable, it's still bad enough that sleep keeps evading you. you roll over and look at the clock on the side table – it's 12.47 am. the longer you stay awake, the less well-rested you'll be tomorrow. you have to be up in 5 hours. tears of frustration make their way down your cheeks.

not wanting to disturb your boyfriend kei who is peacefully asleep beside you, you get out of bed and make your way to the couch in the living room. you flop down and try massaging your legs, sniffling quietly.

kei stirs awake a little while later. he reaches an arm out sleepily to pull you close but when he finds the bed empty he immediately sits up.

“y/n?” he calls out, his voice thick with sleep. he walks out to the living room and sees your hunched figure on the couch and frowns. he's about to switch on the light when he hears you sniffle and freezes. he stands there for a few seconds listening to you cry, his heart slowly breaking. he wonders why you ever felt like you couldn't come to him with whatever was troubling you.

he turns on the light and makes his way to you as you quickly wipe your face and try to seem okay. he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“what's wrong?” he asks softly.

“it's nothing. just a bit of muscle pain. i'll be fine in a while, kei. go back to bed.”

kei is not having it. he scoops you up off the couch effortlessly and carries you back to your room, ignoring your weak protests. “is it because of your period? why didn't you wake me?” he asks while he lays you down gently on the bed.

“it's really not that serious, babe. besides it's late and you have work tomorrow,”

“so? you do too. and if anything you need to sleep more than i do.”

“it's really not that big of a deal...” you start to say and kei gives you a disappointed look. he sighs and doesn't say anything further, just quietly massages your legs. but dang does the man have magic hands. his strong hands skillfully knead your leg muscles and you can feel the pain slowly fading away. you could cry tears of relief. you sigh contentedly and mumble a thank you, holding out your arms for a hug but he ignores you. “kei?”

“do you not trust me?”

the question catches you off guard. “what?”

“you never come to me when you're in pain...” he sounds so dejected.

“oh, love,” you sit up and scooch closer to him. “of course i trust you. it's just– you're always taking care everyone else and–”

“because i like taking care of the people i love. and i love you the most. but you never let me do anything for you even though you're always taking care of me and i don't know, it sometimes feels like you don't trust me enough to be vulnerable with me…” his voice cracks on the last syllable and you want to kick yourself.

you never meant to make him feel this way. he was always the one taking care of those around him so in your relationship at least you wanted him to be on the receiving end which is why you tried never to burden him with your problems, big or small. but you were so caught up in what you thought was best for him that you didn't consider how he might feel about it.

“i'm sorry, i didn't realise how that must make you feel, love. i trust you more than i trust anyone, of course you're the one i always want to run to no matter what. so from now that's what i'll do, okay?”

“you promise?”

“i do,” you seal it with a soft kiss on his pout, which makes him smile. he massages you until you fall asleep, and snuggles up next to you soon after.

🪐 nicholas (staining)

you wake up to the unmistakable feeling of blood soaking through your underwear onto your pants and you yeet yourself out of bed as fast as you can praying it hasn't gotten on the covers as well – you're at your boyfriend nicho's place.

but luck was not on your side – there's a coin-sized dark red stain on the light blue sheet. fucking great. you cannot believe this. how on earth did you manage to bleed through not one but two extra large pads?! god kill me. you make your way to the bathroom as quietly as possible so as not to wake your boyfriend – you know how much he loves to sleep and how grumpy he gets when he's woken up. granted, he doesn't mind as much when it's you but you still don't want to disturb him.

you clean yourself up, grateful you had brought an extra pair of underwear and night pants for your stay. then you wet a piece of cloth and head back, leaving the bathroom door open just a sliver so there's enough light for you to see. you lift the stained part of the sheet a little so it doesn't stain the mattress and proceed to rub the wet cloth against it so you can at least get the blood off of it – you know it'll be much harder to clean once it dries – and you can't very well strip the entire sheet off the mattress with your boyfriend still sleeping. and god, does he look so incredibly adorable.

the stain looks significantly much lighter now, and you head back to the bathroom to rinse the cloth out and apply a drop of detergent liquid to it. you glance at the clock on your way – it's 2:14 am. you groan internally. you can't even go straight to bed after this because you will also have to wash the bloody mess that's your underwear and pants. you had triple checked to make sure everything was leak-proof before bed but there's only so much you can do when your body apparently likes ejecting copious amounts of blood for no good reason. and now you're stuck dealing with the aftermath when all you really wanna do is collapse and never wake up for a week but you can't and are now questioning whether a uterus is really worth having or if you can just rip it out. you're so preoccupied thinking about all this while washing up at the bathroom sink that you don't notice nicholas standing at the bathroom door watching you until he speaks up.

“that's a lot of blood...”

you meet his alarmed eyes in the mirror. “oh shit oh fuck i'm so sorry nicho i didn't mean to wake you or for you to see this and i'm so sorry it got on the sheets as well- just a little but i'm still sorry i swear i don't–”

“hey hey hey babe shhh it's okay, stop apologising,” he places his hands on your shoulders and gently squeezes to halt your anxious rambling. you look close to tears and it breaks his heart. “why are you even apologising baby? i said that's a lot of blood in the sense that i was worried - is it normal for you to be bleeding that much?”

“well, um sometimes i guess but– wait are you sure? you're not mad?”

“why on earth would i be mad?” he looks a little hurt that you would think that.

“because i got blood on your sheets...”

“so? that can be washed,”

“i also woke you up...and you love sleep....”

he cups your face. “i love you more, dumbass. if anything i'm just mad you didn't wake me sooner - i could've helped you clean up,”

you stare at your boyfriend, taking in his bleary eyes and his hair sticking up in all directions and the earnest sincerity in what he just said. you didn't think it was possible to love him more than you already did but here you are.

divider credits: @/enchanthings-a

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fastandcarlos · 8 months ago

Text

When He Kisses You At The Paddock For The First Time : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

It was all adrenaline as Max came out of the car, an unexpected victory left him bouncing around, rushing over to his team. He couldn’t wait to greet everyone, however when his eyes landed on you, he felt urgency like never before. It was as if you were the only two people in the paddock as Max cupped either side of your face, pressing a kiss to your lips. You could tell he wasn’t thinking, however when he pulled back and still wore a wide smile, you knew he didn’t care anymore, more than happy to introduce your relationship to the rest of the world.

» Lando Norris

He was sure that there was no one else around as Lando found you hanging around at the back of the garage. As soon as he saw you he pulled you along with him to a hidden spot that he had found amongst some of the equipment. “Come with me,” he whispered, encouraging you to trust what he was doing. You thought nothing of it as Lando kissed you, however you soon found that you weren’t quite alone as you thought, turning around to find Andrea looking back at you both having been looking for Lando to brief him about the car, and now, scold him too.

» Charles LeClerc

It was all planned meticulously by Charles, with rumours beginning to spread about the two of you, Charles wanted to take back control. You walked hand in hand through the paddock, blocking out the cameras that followed you, and as you arrived at Ferrari, Charles pulled you towards him and gave you a kiss goodbye, leaving you in hospitality for a while. His smile was wide, full of pride as journalists fired several questions his way, deciding that the kiss did all the speaking for the two of you, and firmly established you as one of the most popular couples on the grid.

» Oscar Piastri

The day hadn’t quite gone to plan as Oscar returned to his driver’s room where you were, unable to get his head around where things went wrong. You kept a bit of a distance with some of Oscar’s staff around, but with how frustrated he was, he simply didn’t care anymore. “Love, come here,” Oscar told you, tapping the space beside him, wanting you as close to him as he could get you before giving you a kiss, ignoring the stares of his staff around you both who had no idea that that was the direction your relationship was going in.

» George Russell

Everyone knew how close you and George were, friends for years, it was no surprise to see you stood at the very front to celebrate George on pole with the rest of Mercedes. However as he walked over to you, you noticed there was a different look in George’s eyes. As he came over and took his helmet off, George placed his hands on your waist, lifting you up and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. There was a hushed silence around you, no one could quite believe the two of you had managed to fool everyone for so long, but George couldn’t keep his secret any longer.

» Carlos Sainz

As a new face in the Ferrari garage, you had a fair bit of attention from some members of staff, with a couple particularly interested in getting to know you. Carlos tried his best to ignore it for a while, but with jealousy snapping away at him he ended up walking over and pressing a kiss to your lips when he noticed that the guy was stood next to you. Carlos took you by complete surprise, but you’d seen the look in his eye often enough and knew exactly what hint he was trying to drop, silently walking away from you again as if nothing had happened.

» Daniel Ricciardo

His mind didn’t think as Daniel came back from yet another successful race and found you stood in the middle of the paddock. He was used to kissing you whenever he wanted in private, and seemed to forget that you weren’t in private momentarily. Daniel bounded over to you and pressed a kiss to your lips before hurrying to pull away. “Oops,” he muttered, realising what he’d done, feeling your hand hit against his arm, knowing that with so many people around there was bound to be someone who’d seen you both. “Well, at least everyone knows I’m taken now.”

» Lewis Hamilton

Neither of you were aware that you had been spotted sharing a kiss until Lewis was called into a meeting at the garage. He had kissed you at the very back of the Mercedes lounge, convinced that no one would be able to see you both, but when you’re as popular as Lewis is, someone is always watching. Although the team weren’t exactly impressed, Lewis didn’t care, the only person he cared about was you and making sure that you were alright. Luckily for Lewis, you were more than alright, relieved in a way that you didn’t have to sneak around anymore.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago

Text

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

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weemietime · 6 months ago

Note

i am asking this in good faith

If the Bosnian Genocide is has been ruled a genocide and the death count was 33,071 people, how is what is happening in Gaza not a genocide when the number has been surpassed

Because genocide is not about the number of people being killed. Genocide is a specific legal term, and it has to have two components: 1) obviously people have to be murdered -- but this must be done systemically, as a policy (either written or unwritten) of the belligerent party. AND 2) there has to be genocidal intention to murder said people. Genocidal intention means that Party A (Israel) murders Party B (Palestinians) specifically because those people belong to Party B (Palestinians). There is no evidence that Israel has a genocidal intention. In fact, the October 7th massacre was actually a genocidal act on behalf of Hamas - Hamas committed the genocidal action and has been committing genocidal actions for over 20 years, because they specifically want to murder Jews for being Jewish. They also meet the first criteria because this is a systemic policy that is present in the Hamas Charter.

This is very important to distinguish because whilst genocide is a war crime, not all war crimes are genocide. Israel has committed war crimes, including murdering civilians, and even intentionally allowing civilians to be killed (such as bombing a house with a Hamas member in it and killing his family members). But this is not sufficient to rise to the criteria of genocide. We could make the argument that there is ethnic cleansing, because the vast majority of the people being evacuated are of a single ethnicity, Palestinian. However, again, ethnic cleansing alone is not sufficient to rise to the definition of genocide.

Crucially, the ICJ has not ruled that there is a genocide ongoing. They have ruled prima facie that 1) South Africa has the right to accuse Israel of genocide, and 2) that the ICJ itself is fit to hear and rule on the accusation. They have also ordered Hamas to release the civilian hostages, so if Hamas is saying they want to abide by the ICJ, they have already disregarded the ICJ ruling.

Genocide is not based on vibes. It's not based on bad feelings. It's not based on videos and images of dead kids, or destroyed rubble. Genocide is a specific legal term that can only be applied to the above scenario, and it cheapens our language when we levy it in circumstances where it does not apply. It especially cheapens our language when we engage in Holocaust inversion by claiming Israel is doing to Palestine what Germany did to the Jews, which is categorically false.

Beyond this, it belittles the groups that are involved in this conflict, particularly Hamas, to treat them like they are innocent civilians when they are in fact a very well-outfitted military brigade and the official armed forces of the Gazan government with over 40,000 fighters strong, who repeatedly and loudly say "death to Israel, we want to annihilate Israel, we will commit October 7th again and again until Israel is destroyed." They are being funded by the IRGC, they are being used as a proxy for Iran, and innocent Palestinian civilians are suffering as a result. Hamas has openly said that the "blood of martyrs fuels our resistance," they have openly said they hope Palestinian civilians die in droves while they steal aid and resell it at absurd mark-ups, while they flee to Egypt and Qatar so that they don't have to get their hands dirty. They recruit and brainwash young children to fight their "holy war" to murder as many Jews as possible.

And in terms of the death toll, you have to understand that this war is being fought in an urban environment where the belligerents are embedded purposely in the civilian population, in tunnels all throughout the civilian infrastructure. Violating the Geneva Conventions by using hospitals and schools as military bases, refusing to wear uniforms, and intentionally shooting their own people and blaming Israel.

These people even play tapes pretending to be hostages shouting in Hebrew "don't shoot," which is one of the reasons why a hostage was accidentally killed by the IDF, which is then turned around to show how evil the IDF is without understanding the context that these events happen in. In normal urban warfare the ratio of civilian to combatant death is around 9:1. In Gaza, the ratio is, according to Hamas's own numbers, 4:1. Literally twice as low as the average. So, yeah. War crimes are happening. Yes. Absolutely. Genocide is not happening, at least, it's not happening to the Palestinians.

#weemie #israel #palestine #genocide #gaza genocide #hamas #ask #i/p #i/p conflict #i/p war #jumblr

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just-some-random-blogger · 7 months ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, noncon/dubcon, implied smut/cunnilingus, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: pls comment and reblog because 🥲 i wanna nuke this again and could use the reassurance | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You are changed after that, you both are. When Caraxes lands in the dragon pit, Daemon helps you down, something he's never done. The prince knits his brows in offence when you break away from his hold. You walk towards the two knights in white cloaks, gazing in wonder, "twins."

You look between them, smile spreading across your face as you tried to make out one for the other. You point to the one on the left, "Ser Arryk?"

The man smiles back and nods, "well met, princess."

You giggle and clap you hands, "tis dumb luck." You turn to the other, "greetings, Ser Erryk. A pleasant afternoon to you."

You feel someone come up behind you.

Erryk returns your smile and bows, "a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my princess."

You look over your shoulder as Daemon places a hand on your waist. He looks between them, "you need not follow. I will be with my wife until later this evening."

Your brows quirk, "you will?"

Daemon turns to you, lip curving upward, "don't you wish to know the pleasantness of fucking in one's bed?"

In unison, the Cargyll brothers turn away and clear their throats. Meanwhile, your heart leaps into mouth and your jaw hangs low. You cannot even speak as you feel your face burn. Your devilish husband chuckles and rubs your back, "worry not. You'll find yourself making noises soon enough."

With that, the twins step aside and you cower into Daemon's shoulder as he leads you off. He laughs, both in mockery and amusement, enjoying your reaction thoroughly. There was something in the way you retreated into him that made his chest uneasy. The feel of your forehead upon his arm was rather unnatural. He does not like the effect on him, so he pushes you away.

You squeak at the sudden action. Your features spare no reflection of your confusion and hurt.

Daemon grins at it, then pulls you back in, one arm snaking around you.

Your face falls back into a state of rest, that is until his hand begins to travel up your breast. You whimper at his squeeze, "D-Daemon."

He hums, "feels good, doesn't it?"

Your hands tremble as you bring it up to his. You slowly push him away, "later."

His brow quirks. Defiance?. He drags you across him, eliciting another squeak as he traps you between his body and the stone wall. Your heart begins to race when he gathers your skirts. You press your hand on his chest, "Daemon-"

"Is this not my right?" he hangs his head low to press his nose upon your jaw, "if I take you here in this hall, I would only be exacting the will of the gods for a married man and woman."

You squeeze his shoulders, "but there are peo-"

"People should know of my efforts to produce an heir."

Your body burns at the thought. But then, you both turn to the side upon hearing the sound of skidding and footsteps running off.

"Daemon!" you whine, hiding into his chest.

That's enough. He smirks then looks down at you. He releases your skirts in lieu of taking your hand. "Very well, prudish wife. I will claim you in our marriage bed, as you insist."

And Daemon does, right after he claims you against your chamber door and your vanity table. In truth, you do not understand how he had the wits about him to leave bed when it was all over.

The next morning was strange. It felt like a dream, in both parts that you enjoyed yourself coupling with your husband, and that you could not believe the turn of events. You get out of bed when your servants come to rouse you with a, "good morn, milady."

"Good morn," you stand, pushing your long hair behind you. Your servants giggling catches your attention. Your forehead curls inquisitively.

"The prince is a very passionate lover, milady."

You are bewildered by the sudden remark.

"Shall you wear a turtleneck today?" one says.

"Or perhaps a large necklace?" the other adds.

You look into the mirror and only then do you realize why they were offering such things. Red and purple blossomed on your throat, travelling even beyond the collar of your nightgown. Your body burns and you promptly cover yourself.

Your servants giggle and come to your side, "you need not hide from us, your grace."

"My cousin works in a brothel and she has— aw!"

You watch as one of them rubs their arm. The other who had pinched her turns back to you, "many apologies, your grace."

"Apologies," she mutters, rubbing her arm.

You stare at the two of them, feeling something bitter creep up your throat. "Did you..." you take a deep breath, "mean to say your cousin has... lain with my husband?"

She give you an apologetic expression, "forgive me, I-"

You cut her off with your nod, "you need not say more. I would like never to hear about this in future."

The two curtsy and speak no more as they ready you for the day.

By the time you're dressed in a modest turtleneck dress, and your brown hair is braided and adorned with silver pins, there is a knock on your door. You open the door yourself, dismissing your servants on the way.

"Ah," you smile at the sight of Cargyll, "good morrow, ser."

He bows, "good morrow, princess."

You rub your hands together as you examine his face, "... is it Erryk before me?"

He smiles, shaking his head, "tis Arryk with you this morn."

"Ah," you raise a finger, "you misheard me, ser. I clearly said Arryk and not Erryk."

Arryk chuckles softly and nods, "apologies, your grace."

"Perhaps you might teach me how to tell you apart," you mutter, "as a twin myself, I would be most offended if someone mistook me for my brother."

His laugh is more pronounced this time. He links his hands together as he thinks momentarily, "well, I would say he is uglier than I, but then again, he has my face."

You giggle under your breath. You bring a hand to your lips, "I understand you completely."

"As of late," he rubs his chin, "my beard has become longer."

You hum, "good to know." You exit your room, closing the door behind you, "have you broken fast, ser Arryk?"

"Indeed."

"Oh," you pause, "... you... would not happen to know where Prince Daemon is, would you?"

He turns to his feet.

You raise your brows.

"Would you like to know the truth?"

You stiffen at the thought, "...yes, ser. Always."

"Last I heard he was drinking with Gold Cloaks in Fleabottom," he mutters before looking up at you.

"I see," you say softly, "I— thank you for your honesty."

He nods, "of course, my princess."

You needlessly inspect your fingers, "my siblings would be eating with my father," you turn to Arryk, "and I do not wish to face him. I am sure he would say the same about me."

He clenches his jaw. He remembers the argument yesterday, and how Lord Otto moaned and hissed as Arryk escorted him out the maester's ward.

"Do you mind accompanying me as I break my fast?" you mutter, "I do not like eating alone."

He bows his head, "it is my duty to accompany you wherever you may go."

"... Ah," you look to your feet. You meant to offer that he drink a cup of tea with you, but the thought becomes preposterous the longer it lingers. He is not your friend. You have no friends in the Keep, "yes... it is."

Arryk knits his brows then finds himself correcting, "but I do not mind it at all. It is my pleasure to serve."

You offer him a soft smile. He is taken slightly off-guard by the sadness he catches in your eyes, which is why he does not smile back.

As you masticated your first meal of the day, you absentmindedly mashed your food while looking out the window. You longed to seek refuge in your twin, but you knew it would not be long until your father came around to chew you out. It would only be worse if you went to your sister, though, if she was under the refuge of her princess, perhaps not.

You decide it would probably be better for you to look for your husband, for after all, you were no longer a Hightower.

Arryk watches how your hair blows with the wind. He remains five paces behind you at all times. You were a lonesome thing, he thought, fragile and melancholic. You appeared as though you were searching for someone, and yet your gait felt rather aimless. Suddenly, your back straightens when you spot something— someone from across the hall, in turn, so does his.

Before you could speak his name, he calls out yours and smiles at you. Daemon even adds, "there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Your brows quirk as you walk towards each other.

Arryk allows an extra five paces to come between you.

You examine your husband's face, the dimples on his cheeks, the silver hair tickling his curled lips. You simultaneously feel the urge to push his hair away and debate whether or not his fair expression is truly borne form the fact he was searching for you and has now found you.

Your brows furrow as he tucks his hair behind his ear.

Is this what sex does to a man?

"Come," he says, grabbing you, "we mustn't delay."

Your heart races as you look at your arm. He tucks it underneath his own and hastily leads you off somewhere. You do not know where your feet take you, but you do know that the prince looks lovely when he speaks through a grin, just as he does now.

In truth, you catch not a single word from his mouth, which is why you are turned to stone when he begins kissing you. However, whatever rigidness your form holds quickly melts as his lips urge yours to a slow dance. You go putty against the window sill he pushes you against.

There is peace in the warmth he radiates. Your fingers finally find what they had longed to touch and unabashedly crawl up his nape to tangle in the roots of his hair. When he moans and pulls away, you stiffen and come back to reality. Had you hurt him?

"Daem-"

He turns about and says, "ah, Lord Hand."

Your stomach drops. You feel sick as you peak past Daemon's shoulder to see exactly him, glaring at the both of you.

"Or shall I call you father?" the prince grins, as to show the venom on his teeth.

"It would do you good to comport yourself," Otto blurts, face calm, but you knew better to believe he was anything but.

He tilts his head, "what for?"

Your heart squeezes when Daemon takes your hand and brings you to his side. You cannot bare to look at your father as your husband speaks, "you have created such a desirable creature. It would be more tactless of me not to worship her body with my own."

You feel your breath quicken as you hear your father grumble.

Daemon is victorious to see the old man walk away with a dark cloud over his head. He chuckles, "do not be so sullen, my lord. Tis a fine day!"

You feel your palms go sweaty. You lick your lips frantically. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself.

He chuckles as he turns back to you, "very goo-"

Your brows tighten.

Daemon catches your chin between his fingers. You are forced to open your eyes and you see the glimmer in his violet ones as he repeats, firmer this time, "very good."

Your heart does not calm though he rubs your back.

"You did well for me."

Your eyes begin to water, "Daemon, I-"

"Shh," he shakes his head, "there's no need for this."

"I—'ve upset him. "

He feels your body begin to tremble beneath his palm.

"But-"

"You spoke the words yourself, he's tormented you, has he not?"

"D-Daemon-"

"Shh, shh, shh," he leads you back to the window sill and sits you down.

You are gasping for air at this point, but he does not stop hushing you. He even begins to rub your cheeks with his thumbs. He pushes himself into your skirt, making room for himself between your legs. You gawk at him as he mumbles in a language you do not understand. He is impossibly close, as though you were kissing without kissing.

You do not know how many minutes pass, but you do know his timbre is just as serene as the voice of water. You only realize you had been crying when you take his wrists and feel water drip to your fingers.

He speaks that language again and you shake your head, "I do not understand."

"It does not matter," he mutters, pulling away to examine your face, "you are calm, no?"

You cannot reply because the sensation of his rubbing your cheeks is far too arresting.

"There is magic in the High Valyrian," he says, pulling away. It is so abrupt and unwanted that you chase after his hold and involuntarily attempt to stand.

Of course, Daemon is in the way and prevents you from doing such a thing. His head inflates ten sizes bigger upon unveiling how deeply affected you were of him. But as he looks at your wet cheeks, he thinks, how could such a pathetic creature not be so affected by one such as he. He further amuses himself by tracing your collarbones.

Your body tingles at his gentle thouch.

"Think of it as revenge."

Your lips part and brows knit, "r-revenge?"

"Yes," he taps your nose, "to your tormentor."

You gulp and clench your jaw. Daemon grins, but you are no longer blinded by it. "I- I do not-"

"Your very existence is torment to him, is it not?" he tilts his head, "must I remind you of your own words, my love?"

You are flabbergasted by the pet name, but before you could even tell yourself he did not mean such words, his airy chuckles tells you himself. You turn to your lap.

Daemon takes your chin again, "look at me."

Your heart races and your breath heavies.

"You want to be a dutiful wife, yes?"

Your release a deep sigh through parted lips, "... yes."

"It pleases me greatly to watch your cunt father suffer," Daemon rubs your chin before releasing it, "that is all I require of you."

Your brows furrow.

"Then you are free to do all that you desire, notably all those that your father has forbade."

"I-" wait, what?

Daemon catches the way your face shifts when his words finally click. His grin only deepens as he nods, "yes, yes. If he did not let you go out and play, oh, I do so beg you to play at your heart's content."

Your lips part further at the thought.

"But be sure to always play with me when I so desire," he says, cupping your cheek, "I do not like to be kept waiting."

Your heart skips a beat when he swipes your lips before walking off. He nods once at ser Arryk, who you had no idea was still here.

The said man then walks over to you, offering you an arm, "princess."

You look at his armored limb and feel sheepish. He must think you uncouth and ill-bred upon witnessing what he did. You take his arm— amongst sickly and feeble. You weakly mutter, "thank you."

"Would you like me to escort you to the maester's office?"

"W-wha- why?" you stand.

His brows tighten, "you were having an attack, were you not?"

You release his hand and step away from him. You smile softly and shake your head. He watches as you clasp your hands together. "They would only supply me milk of the poppy to ease my pain. There is no medicine for my affliction, Arryk."

He nods, "I see. Th-"

"Apologies. May I call you Arryk?"

He nods once more, "you may call me whatever you so desire, princess."

You smile, "very well," you turn to your feet, "I desire to call you by your name. You may do the same with me," you lift your gaze but do not turn to him, "I admit, the title princess does not suit me."

As you walk, Arryk follows closer this time, "it suits you well for you are a princess."

You sigh and smile at him from over your shoulder.

For the rest of the day, you retreat to your chambers and lay in bed. You stare at the ceiling, repeating over and over what had happened to you. As much as your father's searing glare burned in your mind, it was somehow not as hot as Daemon's gaze. You could do nothing but go between dread because your father and- and... affection because of your husband.

You rub your chest as you feel it tighten, thinking of your prince. You begin to fight your own breathing though, and sit up to calm yourself. You screw your eyes shut as you bring to mind things that calm you: swimming, Gwayne, Alicent, you-

Your eyes open when you hear the door swinging. You straighten up as Daemon walks over.

"Mmm," he chuckles, "did you wait because I asked?"

"I-" but your words are cut off by how the bed dips when he crawls over to you.

"I would prefer you with less clothing next time," he says, leaning into you, pressing a hand on your thigh.

Your heart quickens at his kisses. He smells and tastes of wine. He pushes your skirt up and comes down to kiss your knee.

You gasp when he pushes you back. And then you realize your breathing is heavy, but not strangling. You squeal when he kisses up your thigh, "D-Daemon-"

He gives you a warning look and mutters in a foreign tongue.

Suddenly, your smallclothes are being removed and your husband is sinking between your legs. You yelp, "D-Daemon, you're drunk!"

He holds you in place by your thighs. "No," he dismisses, "but I will be once you let me taste your cunt."

Your eyes widen and you immediately try to sit up.

All he has to do is lift your legs and speak your name for you to- "cease your needless wrangling," Daemon grunts, "you will quite enjoy this."

"P-pl-"

"You enjoyed my fingers did you not?"

Your mouth goes dry.

"Then you will more so enjoy my tongue, shaky thing. Quit trembling."

The strangled moan that is pulled out your throat is more confirmation than any word you could have ever told him.

By the time Daemon was satisfied playing with you, you were sticky and sweaty and naked lying next to him on your bed. You tense when he stands and you immediately cover your body with your blanket, "w-where are you going?"

"Mmm," he walks towards the drawer and pours himself a cup of wine, "to my bed."

You turn to your lap, unable to help the pinch you feel at the confession he does not see this as his bed.

You watch him as he grabs his clothing, then quickly stand, "let me-e help you!"

Wrapped in a blanket, you come to Daemon's side and help him get dressed. He lets you, slight amusement falling on his features as you so ardently assist him.

He allows you and stares at your glowing face, glowing because of how good he fucked you. The blanket rests heavy on your shoulders, but your neck is bare to him. He finds himself reaching out after you tie his breeches.

You still when he pushes the blanket off your shoulder. He tilts your head to the side to behold his work. You begin to breathe through your mouth when his thumb rubs over the new and previous purple marks he's put on you. You gasp when he makes the blanket fall to the floor. Instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine.

He rubs your sides and kneads your breasts. He's made such pretty marks all over your chest.

"Come to me tomorrow," he rubs his hands down your bare bum.

You whimper as he squeezes you there.

"I will be with my Gold Cloaks," he tilts his head, "I wish to parade my prize, so wear something pretty," he rubs your shoulders, "something that shows my good work."

Your lips tremble, from both the cold, night air and his words, "I do not think it-"

"It is not a question, wife."

Your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

He leaves after and you scramble to wrap yourself in your blanket.

The next morning, Erryk Cargyll assumes his station and knocks on your door to announce himself. When the door opens, he is pulled inside before he can speak.

"Good morn," you clasp your hands together as you look him up and down, "Erryk?"

He smiles softly and bows, "yes. Good morn, my princess."

You smile back and him and motion to yourself, "I must enquire your opinion as a man and not a knight sworn to serve me."

Erryk straightens up and nods, "very well."

You rub the cowl upon your shoulders and sigh, "what do you think of my attire?"

The man looks over your red dress and black cowl. He takes a moment to think of what might be out of the ordinary with it, but finds nothing, so he says, "it suits you very well, my lady."

You sigh at this and untie the bow of your cowl. You remove it, revealing your décolletage and his eyes widen at the sight of the marks on your skin. He clears his throat and looks away.

Your face falls and you cover your shoulders with your dark curls, "is it very tasteless?"

Erryk opens his mouth but he cannot form more than a stutter.

You shake your head, gripping your cowl tightly, "Daemon wishes to... parade his work."

The man's brows furrow and jaw clenches.

"Perhaps the cowl should stay on," you mutter, feeling your breath begin to shorten. You turn to the said object and feel your hands shake. You try to put it on, but it feels as heavy as a boulder.

He catches your cowl just before you drop it.

You release a deep, shaky breath, looking up at him with watery eyes, "will you help put it on, Erryk?"

A line forms between his brows as he nods. He takes your cowl then circles around you. He gathers your hair and places it upon your shoulders one side at a time. As he circles back to fix the piece, he feels your trembling, but says nothing as he does the bow.

"What is a wife supposed to do?" you mutter, tears becoming too heavy to remain unshed.

Erryk feels a pinch in his chest upon seeing your pink eyes. He feels rather helpless as he retorts, "I confess, I am unsure."

Your throat tightens. You rub your lips and shake your head, "forgive me. It is a cruel question to ask a kingsguard."

"Did you not say you ask this of me as a man?"

You fiddle with the ring on your finger.

"I do not imagine it oft, for I will never have one, but I imagine still, if I had a wife, she would wait on me and help me out of my armor once I return. She'd nurse me to health whenever I'm beaten. She'd trim my beard and braid my hair. She'd give me children as fair as she."

Your brows raise at his solemn words.

"And in return, I would honor her. I would worship her like the gods," he motions, "I would not allow harm, or shame to befall her, not if I could help it."

You chuckle at the way he says this. You shake your head, "you are man of honor. It is both a blessing and a curse that you are kingsguard."

You feel light headed.

Erryk hovers when you lean your face into a hand.

You barely turn to him as he takes your arm. You mutter, "this is what he requires of me."

His brows knit.

"That I be a conduit of his chaos," you gulp, "and in return... I will have my freedom."

"Freedom?" he leans his head forward.

You finally face him fully and shrug, "many a thing my father forbade me to do. I once believed he did it with love... now, I am not so sure."

The line between his brows only deepen.

"I should like to do most of what I could not before I die," you chuckle, as if it was a jest, to soften the mood. It does not work; it was not a jest.. You rub your chest and walk towards the door.

He guides you, but grows wary upon noticing how you lean your weight into the knob, "perhaps you should take a seat?"

You smile and shrug, "it matters little if I sit or not, Erryk."

You open the door and step out. He links your arm into his. You lean into him and sigh, "apologies-"

"There is nothing to-"

"-I have been calling you by your name."

He places his hand atop yours, "you may call me whatever you so desire."

"Mmm. You truly are quite like your twin," you lead down the hall, "you should do the same for me."

"Very well, princess."

"Hopefully not princess, and simply my name."

He shakes his head, "too late. You told me I could call you what I desire, and I desire to call you my princess."

"Except princess."

"Once more, too late."

"Hmp. You are less kind than your twin."

His jaw drops, "you wound me so deeply, my princess."

"I am glad to hear it, Erryk."

"My princess is quite cruel."

"Relent, I beg."

You realize you unconsciously walked yourself to the training yard by the time you got there. You also realize then how famished you were. On cue, your stomach grumbles, making Erryk look to you in concern.

"Have you not broken fast, my princess?"

"I- no."

"Then why did you walk us here?"

You were about to explain that your body had a knack of going to the areas in which your brother frequented, but before you could speak, the said man was calling your name.

You instantly come alive at the sight of your twin walking over.

"Good morn, sister," Gwyane nods, "Cargyll." He looks at him for a moment, "I wager... Erryk?"

You gasp and chuckle, "how could you tell?'

Your twin turns to you, "mmm, it might have to do with the fact I passed Arryk, who was stationed at the gate today."

"Oh, bother," you swat Gwayne, "I thought you could tell them apart."

"I just did, simpleton," he raises a brow.

"No, you're the simpleton, you nincompoop."

"No, you're the nincompoop, you daft sod."

"No, you're the daft sod, you freakish dunderhead."

"No, you're the freakish dunderhead, you ratty ninnyhammer-'

"You dare speak to the princess this way?"

You all turn and see Daemon's severe expression. He steps between you and Erryk, imposing upon Gwayne.

You tense and take his forearm, "Daemon, tw-"

He silences you by raising a finger. He narrows his eyes at your brother, "I should have your tongue for that."

Your twin chuckles in disbelief, but whatever amusement he might have had instantly melts into irritation, "a jest, prince. You act as though you are not capable of doing the same to your older brother."

"There is a time and a place for jests, yet I doubt there is a time or a place to publicly slander the Princess of Dragonstone."

"Daemo-"

"Believe me, I would be the first to demand satisfaction to whomever dare slander my twin sister," Gwayne grits his teeth.

Your husband laughs loudly, "then perhaps you should go shove a-"

"Daemon, please," you quip, finally raising your voice enough that you could not be ignored.

Both Daemon and Gwayne turn to you. You grab the former's arm and undo the ties of your cowl, "my silly brother is not worth the headache he's about to give you."

Gwayne's jaw tightens as he looks at the face you pull as you look at Daemon.

"He's not, but I can-"

His mouth goes dry when you remove the cowl and hand it to Erryk. Daemon's eyes rove over your cleavage. The marks on your skin were more apparent than he remembered, but then again, he had only seen it in candle light.

"I... dressed so prettily for you," you mutter, pushing your hair back, "perhaps we should go for a stroll instead?"

Daemon's lilac gaze falls upon your pleading eyes. For a moment, he's so distracted he'd forgotten all about your brother, but when he remembers, he turns to him with a chuckle and grins, "yes, you're quite right, wife."

When you look at Gwayne and he immediately turns away from you. Your throat constricts because of it.

"A good stroll would do us good," Daemon turns to you, "then I will shall show you the might of my City Watch. Tis far more entertaining than whatever you could behold here."

With that, the prince leads you off, turning to Erryk as he did, "that is all, Cargyll. I have her now."

You watch as the kingsguard nods at the instruction, stepping back to let you pass. You look over your shoulder, finding Gwayne already looking at you. You give him a sorry expression before looking away.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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holylulusworld · 16 days ago

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Bad Hugs

Summary: You didn‘t want a gender reveal party.

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, awful mother-in-law, remorse, fluff

A/N: This is a scene I wanted to use in Monster-in-law, but it didn’t match the story. It’s a standalone drabble with no connection to the original series. Inspired by a SM post.

A gender reveal party. You never wanted to do one of these. Getting to know the gender of your baby should’ve been between you and your husband.

Winnifred Barnes, your mother-in-law, had a different opinion. And, as always, at one point Bucky gave in. He organized the party and invited your family and friends.

At first, you hated it, but the closer you got to the revelation, the more you got excited to share the best-kept secret with your family and close friends.

People chatted and ate cake, you got lots of gifts, and it was an overly nice and happy day.

“Alright,” Bucky cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. He took your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “It’s time to reveal the gender!”

Everyone clapped their hands as you expectantly looked at Bucky. He held a gender-reveal confetti powder cannon in his hands, looking at you.

“Just tell us,” Steve called from among the guests. “Do not kill us with anticipation, Buck. We all want to know.”

“Okay, okay!” Bucky huffed. He aimed the cannon upwards, twisting the bottom of the rod. Blue. It’s blue, and you could cry because you’re so happy.

You jumped up and down and squealed. Bucky wanted to hug you, but right when you wanted to hug him too, Winnifred shoved you aside to hug him first.

You stood there, frozen to the spot, gasping audibly. It took you a moment to realize that Bucky called your name. He wanted to hug you, and you let him. “Oh, so you do remember me, your pregnant wife.”

Bucky nodded against you, still overly excited after getting to know he was going to have a baby boy.

The room was silent after what Winnifred did, and even more when you turned toward her. For years, you shut your mouth and let her walk all over you, not today.

“Why do you always have to be like this?” You snapped at her, making Steve chuckle. “Why couldn’t you let Bucky and me have this moment?”

“He’s my son, Y/N,” she bit back and dared to look hurt at your question. “I wanted to share his happiness.”

“Oh, are you the one carrying his child?” You put your hands on your swollen belly, stepping toward Winnifred. “Fine, you can celebrate together. I’m out of this.”

Everyone gasped when you grabbed one of the cakes to throw it in Winnifred’s face. “Have the cake and eat it too,” you snarled before storming out of the room.

“Doll, please open the door,” Bucky sighed outside the master bedroom.

You went straight to bed and locked the door. It didn’t matter to you that your family and friends were still at the party. They’d understand you had to leave after the stunt Winnifred pulled.

“Baby doll, please let me in.” He tried again. “I know you are mad at me.”

“You can bet your ass I’m mad,” you growled from inside the room. “You let her steal the show! A show I didn’t want in the first place. You begged me to do this shit only for her to ruin the moment.”

“I know,” Bucky murmured your name and pressed his forehead against the door. “Everyone told me so tonight. I was just stunned when she hugged me.”

“She ruined the moment for us, Buck. It has always been like that,” you sniffled and turned around in your bed. “Since the moment you introduced me to your family, your mother has tried to get all the attention. Even when I broke my arm on Christmas, she faked a terrible migraine, so everyone would care for her.”

“Mom always needed a lot of assurance and attention. I’m sorry she did this today. This was our moment, and she shouldn’t have come in between us. I told her so. Dad told her so. Hell, all of our guests told her so. Sam even threw a second cake at her.”

“I love Sammy,” you sniffled.

“He’s a punk, but yes.” You giggled because Bucky only calls the people he likes punk. “Baby doll, I swear this will never happen again.”

“Yeah, because this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, Bucky,” you snapped at him. “We can’t redo the gender reveal. She ruined everything once again.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispered your name and scratched at the door. “Please let me in.”

“No. You can sleep on the couch tonight. Alpine and I will sleep here alone. This time, you should’ve stepped in, but you didn’t…”

“Baby doll, how are you feeling? Is everything alright? Do you need anything?” For days, Bucky followed you like a kicked puppy. He tried to make things up to you, but you were still hurt.

It was Winnifred’s fault, but you wished, Bucky stepped in this time.

“Do you want me to throw a cake at my mom again?” He asked, watching you pat Alpine, the stray he found before he found you. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” You blinked a few times. “I thought Sam threw a cake at her.”

“Uh—it was teamwork,” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to set her straight, and Sam looked at the cake. It was a silent agreement that he hands me the cake, and I throw it in her face.”

You snickered. “This doesn’t mean you are forgiven.”

“It was a blueberry cake,” he sneaked closer to whisper in your ear, “her dress was ruined, and she hates blueberries.”

“I consider forgiving you,” you said and patted Alpine’s head. “But I do not want to be near your mother…like ever. She just proved that there’s no way she’ll respect boundaries. I won’t have it. You can choose. Her or me and your baby.”

“You,” he immediately answered. “And the baby…and Alpine,” Bucky added. “I don’t know if she’ll ever change. If you do not want her around you or our baby, I’ll make sure she stays away…”

#bucky barnes #au!bucky barnes #business au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #x reader #Bad Hugs

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reasonsforhope · 8 months ago

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"The Sierra del Divisor Occidental Indigenous Reserve, created in May 2024, spans over half a million hectares (over 1.2 million acres) in the Peruvian departments of Ucayali and Loreto.

The Indigenous People’s Regional Organization of the Eastern Amazon (ORPIO) described the creation of the reserve as a victory — not only for the Indigenous people who call it home, but also for those who defend human rights and the environment in Peru.

Indigenous activists say the government must now create a protection plan for the reserve in order to guarantee not only the protection of Indigenous people living in isolation and initial contact, but also to support the communities surrounding the reserve in fulfilling their basic needs.

In May 2024, Indigenous organizations in Peru’s Amazon achieved a milestone in a campaign that lasted for almost two decades. Indigenous peoples living in isolation and initial contact (PIACI) will be protected within the recently declared Sierra del Divisor Occidental Indigenous Reserve, a territory they’ve long inhabited — and place where they have historically faced pressures that threaten their existence.

The Indigenous reserve spans 515,114 hectares (over 1.2 million acres) in the Peruvian departments of Ucayali and Loreto. The Peruvian government officially recognized several isolated Indigenous communities that will be protected within the reserve: the Remo (or Isconahua), the Mayoruna (Matsé and Matís), and the Kapanawa.

“We are going to pay attention and fight for the defense of our PIACI brothers and their rights. We want this wonder of the human race, which still exists in this corner of the world in which we live, to be respected for decades,” said Apu Beltrán Sandi Tuituy, the president of the Indigenous People’s Regional Organization of the Eastern Amazon (ORPIO). ORPIO is a collection of 40 Peruvian Indigenous federations and is one of the Indigenous organizations that promoted the creation of the reserve.

In 2005, the Federation of Native Communities of Lower Ucayali (FECONBU), with support from the Interethnic Association for the Development of the Peruvian Rainforest (AIDESEP), began the process for officially recognizing the Indigenous reserve. However, it wasn’t until 2018 that the Multisectoral Commission of Law #27836 — also known as PIACI Law — approved the Preliminary Recognition Study. This study obtains scientific evidence confirming the existence of isolated or recently contacted peoples. The Supreme Decree, which declared the recognition of these particular communities living in isolation, was published in 2019.

A new decree, published on May 22, 2024, states that the goal of the reserve’s declaration is to protect the rights, territory, and conditions that will ensure the existence and integrity of the Indigenous people living in isolation. This includes the use and management of natural resources for their survival.

“The creation of the Sierra del Divisor Occidental Indigenous Reserve represents a victory — not only for the PIACI, but also for those who defend human rights and the environment in Peru. It is a testament to the resilience and strength of the Indigenous communities and a reminder of the importance of protecting and preserving ancestral territories,” said ORPIO."

-via Mongabay News, July 31, 2024

#indigenous #indigenous peoples #first nations #indigenous rights #uncontacted tribes #amazon #amazon rainforest #peru #peruvian amazon #good news #hope

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lizardsfromspace · 9 days ago

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So one fact from my investigation of the Matrix plagiarism case that drove me absolutely insane but I'm not sure I ever made a post about was her explanation for why the press didn't cover her "victory"

So for people who weren't around for that, look up "Sophia Stewart" on my blog, but long story short: there's a viral story claiming that the premise for The Matrix & The Terminator were stolen from a writer named Sophia Stewart, and that she won a billion dollars in a lawsuit. She actually lost her case, but a mistaken article from a Utah community college magazine spread online, and she still regularly does media appearances based on the idea she won. That's what fascinates me about the case: unfounded plagiarism accusations are a dime a dozen, but the bizarre fluke of a community college sophomore's journalism project making a mistake & that mistaken article going viral has elevated this one to being the most famous one

A major element of this is a narrative relating to race and gender, but that's a narrative she denies in that very Utah community college article. In her view, Hollywood isn't oppressing her for being black. They're oppressing her for being Christian.

Because I got my hands on a copy of her treatment (no, she never wrote an actual script) & I discovered that even most people who've debunked the story never read her pitch because it has nothing in common with The Matrix or The Terminator besides vague plot beats (a chosen one, robots used to rule over a society but not ruling the society themselves). It is, in fact, a new age-y evangelical Christian planet-hopping space opera filled with rants about the powers of the pyramids and the like. The treatment spends like seven pages raving about banks and the media before it introduces the hero, who is a literal, not figurative, Space Jesus. It ends with a mass sacrifice of his cultists followers to grant him power, an epic and stirring Jonestown moment, at which point the final battle happens over the course of a couple lines bc when writing a pitch for a movie five gazillion pages of lore is more important than detailing the climax of the film. There's a lot more to it than that (and tons of wild parts I never posted) but that's the gist

But every now and then in an interview, someone asks, "hey, why can't we find a story saying you won besides this dubious one?" And here is her explanation:

'The reason you have not seen any of this in the media is because Warner Brothers parent company is AOL-Time Warner... this GIANT owns 95 percent of the media... let me give you a clue as to what they own in the media business... New York Times papers/magazines, LA Times papers/magazines, People Magazine, CNN news, Extra, Celebrity Justice, Entertainment Tonight, HBO, New Line Cinema, DreamWorks, Newsweek, Village Roadshow and many, many more! They are not going to report on themselves. They have been suppressing my case for years.'"

So: Warner Bros owns the media. 95% of it. This explanation is wrong. But also it's...really funny.

The AOL-Time Warner merger had happened a few years before this, and it was already regarded as the worst merger in corporate history. Like. Historically bad. Far from ruling the world with corporate synergy up the wazoo, AOL-Time Warner was horribly disorganized, with most companies operating independently from one another and all of them at odds. There's a concentrated plan to destroy her from the dogshit company that couldn't do anything!

But it was never the case that they owned 95 percent of the media. They don't even own a lot of this list. Let's go one by one

New York Times: owned by the same family since forever

Los Angeles Times: owned at the time by Tribune Media, who owned several TV stations affiliated with The WB. Owning The WB affiliates never counted as "controlling the media" at any point, I think, but you know the old adage: "whoever controls the airing of One Tree Hill in the Los Angeles metro market controls the power........"

People Magazine: owned by Time, she's got this one

CNN: owned by Warner, she's got this one. Why MSNBC (owned by Microsoft and NBC at the time, though Microsoft was an absentee father already trying to sell it off) or Fox News (a network that spent like 25% of its time attacking Hollywood, often with claims that they target Christians!) never covered her story is left curiously unexplained. I don't know how far back Fox News' archives go, but I did search since I thought they'd be the most likely to cover this, and: no results

Extra: a celebrity gossip show owned by Warner Bros, she's got this one

Entertainment Tonight: owned by Paramount, a rival studio with every reason to report bad legal news for Warner Bros, and yet near as I can tell, they never covered this case. I'm starting to think it may not be true

Celebrity Justice: what the fuck is Celebrity Justice? It was...a short-lived & obscure celebrity gossip show that indirectly lead to TMZ?

HBO: owned by Warner Bros, she's got this one

New Line Cinema: so she's saying this one bc it had just produced Lord of the Rings. But while they're known for that now, we really should put it into context how much of an anomaly LotR was. New Line Cinema spent most of its history producing low-budget horror & comedy films, made Lord of the Rings, never produced another film with a similar scale, and were shut down a few years later. Actually, there's a whole story about how another film they released the same year as Fellowship of the Ring flopped so hard it effectively cancelled out its success & got the head of the company fired, but that's for another time. They were not so much Hollywood power players as a studio that accidentally lucked into the biggest film trilogy of all time in between Friday the 13th sequels, but they were owned by Warners, so

Dreamworks: never owned by Warner Bros at any point, it was straight up an independent studio at the time whose distribution deal was with Universal. It looks like they co-produced some films with Warner Bros, but they were never owned by them.

Newsweek: at the time owned by the Washington Post

Village Roadshow: they had a co-production and distribution deal with Warner Bros, but were an independent Australian company that made movies and theme parks. Again, a company collaborating with Warner Bros doesn't mean it owns them

"and many, many more!" She claimed the company owns 95% OF ALL MEDIA and she just gave up listing who they own after a dozen. And she was wrong about half of them! She had to resort to listing "Celebrity Justice" as a platform on par with the New York Times and just kind of shrugged at all the others. Clearly, you can't trust any press, besides Utah community college magazines

#the matrix plagiarism case #sophia stewart #long post

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lineli225 · 1 year ago

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Tomura Shigaraki 's abuse and neglect under All for One

I've decided to make this post due to the fact AFO's abuse towards Tomura is often ignored and even denied, so I'll be bringing a collection of scenes that prove he was being severally neglected during the 15 years he lived with AFO

1- Malnourishment and Underweight

At the beginning of the story Tomura used to be very skinny, his spine visible, very accentuated collar bones.

We can't see if his ribcages are exposed too since he's always dressed, but we can tell he is abnormally skinny and thin.

Some theorize AFO's purposefully keeps him in this state so he's more weak and frail similar to Yoichi. Or so it adds to his tiredness and numbness.

He's also been shown randomly struggling before (it could've been the aftershock of Stain attack, i don't know)

2- Lack of hygiene

He literally lives in pure filth, trash bags, old soda cans, paper, boxes, packages of food that seems ordered other than homemade, it lingers all over his floor, he is clearly a hoarder

It's completely different of the kept and clean bar, and now before you say "That's Tomura's responsibility, he's an adult he should clean it himself!" just think for a minute, if you had a son, that you see as your heir, and bets on their future so much,If you truly cared about them and saw they felt into a hoarder mindset, wouldn't you at least help?

Why not even Kurogiri cleans if Tomura was being cared by him? This clearly is intentional neglect, specially to keep his mood constantly down.

3 - His teeth

Tomura canonically has crooked teeth (compare his teeth to the other's in the jump festa art), cavities or at least what looks like plaques or dirt all over his teeth.

For someone raised by someone as filthy rich as AFO, he should've had access to dental care

4- Shaggy hair

His hair looks un-brushed, shaggy and dirty, which had no reason for before MVA when he became homeless, so why even at the start? How long has he taken a bath or a shower?

Look at the blatant difference in this scene after he showered at the PLF mansion

5- Unkept, ragged and broken nails

despite his hands also being very skinny, his nails are also all rough and broken Now, I know Tomura isn't a kid to have someone cut his nails for him, but this implies he was never teached how to take care for himself.

Besides of course his clear symptoms of depression and suicidal idealism, which, are very obvious, All for One IS neglecting Tomura by keeping him in that state /knowing/ he isn't being capable of taking care of himself.

6- His bedroom

First of all: No windows

Second, notice how empty it used to be, he had nothing but a bed and a desk, but right as he committed his first murder he started to receive toys, AFO is lovebombing and manipulating him to kill more

7- The obvious neglect to his pain

Notice how every time Tomura panics or is even wounded, he is just ignored and left on the floor bleeding out, puking or writhing.

Which uh- it isn't normal to watch your kid writhe in the floor while smiling and monologuing

8- 24/7 Surveillance and lack of privacy

There are cameras everywhere, AFO spends most of the time watching Tomura, even in his own bedroom, and even talks to him, Tomura probably hasn't had any privacy ever since he was 5

Which is a sign of abuse and control

His entire childhood from 5 to 20 is often relatable for people who grew in cult like environments, and homeschooled children who grew under controlling parents, despite the abuse not being as "obvious" since AFO never directly physically hurt him, the neglect and psychological torture is still there, that and more all the manipulation, gaslighting and grooming (think of Mother Gothel from Tangled as an example of this type of abuser)

By the way, talking about it

9- Gaslighting

"but wasn't /you/ who desired my power?"

The entire body possession plot is a clear evidence AFO never saw Tomura as anything other than a toy to play with, the same way he saw Yoichi, but so many people say the possession was a retcon because "early afo cleared saw him as his heir, he even said it's all for him!"

Well, argue with the literal "he's the next me", while he is.... weirdly caressing the screen while he watches his kid with no privacy- 100% creep behavior

10- AFO's bizzare behavior towards Tomura

The way All for One's hands are often shown caressing him or encasing him somehow, which yeah, it's part of the symbology of Tomura's character (hands that can both hurt and save)

But knowing AFO represents /hurt/ and, you know, i'ts kinda weird to caress the kid you kidnaped off the streets like that-

Cuz yes! Picking kids from the street even if they are orphan is illegal!! You should take them to a police station instead :D

Tomura was KIDNAPED by AFO, not saved.

11- Proof Tomura doesn't /feel/ saved

During his fight against Bakugou, when he sees him being helped, besides being "broken" he starts to spiral on "why no one saved me even before i was broken?"

The visual including the granny that ignored him on the streets

AFO broke him.

He recurrently thinks back to when he was on the streets, even though he was already traumatized, and had already killed his family, he still had /hope/ he ADMITS he believes he could've been different if it wasn't for AFO

If AFO had truly saved him,he wouldn't think like this

12- AFO gifting Tomura the corpses of his family to intentionally keep him nauseated, uncomfortable and traumatized, so he never heals

Besides their weird placements- On a kid. the gangster's hands being in his chest...

13-AFO's intentional desire for Tomura's discomfort

If this entire thread didn't make it obvious already, All for One benefits of Tomura's tiredness, ill feelings, nausea, depression and suicidal mindset, and over all physical and psychological discomfort

This ensures he's submissive to his manipulations and orders, keep him feeling hatred and anger due to constant overwhelming feelings and makes it harder for him to think of why AFO does all of it at all.

I could go even deeper than this about it, but i've reached thread limit and am lazy, so I hope you enjoyed this thread!

Thank you for reading

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #deku #izuku midoriya #all for one #afo #mha manga

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midnighthazee · 6 months ago

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Greenridge ABO Series

a/n: Sorry for the late post!!! Writer's Block got to me this weekend and I had to push through!! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, fear, mentions of past abuse/trauma, violence, alphas loosing their temper, abuse, blood

WC: 5823

Chapter 12

Felix decided to come upstairs to nap after eating. He was about to go into his room when he looked down the hall and saw your door cracked. You never leave it cracked - usually fully open if you weren’t in there. He goes to your room, knocking. No answer so he pushes the door fully open.

“Y/n?” he calls out.

Silence.

He steps inside, noticing a paper at the foot of the bed. He picks it up and reads. He reads it nearly four times, his mind reeling. He panics, running down the stairs to find Minho.

Minho had been in the living room trying to figure out the unsettling feeling he had in his stomach. It started nearly an hour ago and he’s been nauseous ever since. But why? Could it be nerves? But he never got nervous like this before.

He was so caught up in what it could be when Felix came in, interrupting his thoughts. The other packs came around after hearing Felix yelling.

“Minho!” he calls out. “Minho!”

“What? What is it Felix?”

“Y/n. She left.” he answers, holding the paper out as he pants.

“What?” Minho snatches the paper and reads it. “Shit. How did she find out?”

“She overheard someone talking about it.” Jeongin shrugged.

“How long ago since she left?” Minho asked.

“I don’t know. She told me she was going to shower after we told her she couldn’t come with us. But that was almost three hours ago.” Felix looked at his watch.

Minho shook his head. “Assuming she found her way, she would be there by now.”

“So then let’s go. We can leave now.” Jungwon spoke, standing up. His pack stood with him, ready to fight.

The other packs stood as well.

Minho nodded. “Okay. Let’s go get our pack back.”

They all headed out, getting into cars and driving over to the Nyko territory. It didn’t take long and soon they were driving up the long driveway to the pack house, parking in the front lawn. Getting out they all hurried over to the house.

“It’s awfully quiet.” Changbin whispers.

Minho nodded as the two of them walked up to the front porch. They kicked open the door, hurrying inside. A mix of the other pack members flanked, coming inside as well. The rest stayed stationed outside.

They weren’t confronted with any hybrids as they made their way through the house. It didn’t take long for them to declare it empty.

“It’s clear.” Minho called out.

The Greenridge members and all the alphas came inside.

“Where could they be?” Seungmin asked.

“Alpha Minho, you might want to see this.” Mingyu said, leading Minho to the basement, the rest of them following.

They were all quick to cover their noses at the smell, the smell of rotting flesh now mixed in with the foul smell of the basement.

“Oh my god… Our y/n was down here? Living in this her whole life?” Felix looked on in horror at the cells. They were worse than he had imagined.

Minho clenched his jaw, pushing onwards. Mingyu led them to the torture room, allowing them to look in. Changbin peeked but was quick to turn away, pushing Felix back from view. He knows Felix’s sensitive nature and doesn’t want to upset him further.

“What? What is it?” Felix asks, trying to push past him.

“It’s Lewis.” Minho says, walking past them and back up the stairs.

Felix froze, his face perplexed.

“He’s dead.” Changbin explains.

Felix’s eyes go wide.

They all go back upstairs, exiting the house. Minho’s fuming as he comes out of the house. The rest of the packs come over, wondering what happened inside.

“Lewis is dead. No one’s inside.” Seungcheol announced.

“Alpha, sir, I think I might have found something on the side of the house.” Niki said.

Minho was quick to follow.

“At first I thought it was graffiti, but I think it’s a message,” he explained when they got there.

“Blackmane?” Jeongin questioned. “They have our people?”

“Let’s hope.” Minho said. “Let’s go. We’re going to regroup and get ready for the drive.”

The packs headed back to Greenridge Manor, prepping for their travels. They didn’t know if that’s where their people were, but it was the only lead they had.

Your head was pounding, each pump of your heart making it throb. You groan, turning over and pushing your face into the pillow. The smell wasn’t familiar at all. Where were you?

You open your eyes and take in the room. The room was bigger than yours back at the pack house, having two double beds, a desk and chair, dresser with a tv on it, and a couch with a coffee table. There were curtains shutting out all but a sliver of light - just enough to tell you it was daytime.

The memories of last night come back to you, making you lean forward and massage your temples. Maybe you should have trusted them and stayed put. But then again, they would have been captured instead. Or killed.

You sigh, swinging your feet off the bed and padding over to the window. Squinting, you open the curtains more and look out. Your stomach dropped, making you stagger backwards. Why were you so high up?

Two little beeps made you whip your head around, a door opening on the other side of the room. It was then you noticed another door with a shower beyond it.

“Oh good. You’re awake.” a man said, coming inside and walking over to you. “Hungry?”

You scurried over to the side, only for him to place the plastic bags he carried on the desk. You caught his scent - another alpha. He turned to you, seeing your fearful expression.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He chuckled, as if your fear was silly.

You didn’t say anything as he turned back and began emptying the bags. You eyed the door, wondering if you would manage to get out before he got to you. Even then, you didn’t know what was on the other side of that door - what you would be running into.

“You can run, but I doubt you will get far,” he said condescendingly.

His back was still to you as he spoke. You roll your eyes, finding an ounce of courage to question him.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry. How rude of me. I’m Reed.” He smiled warmly at you.

You looked away from him.

“Are you hungry, y/n?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Uh, I was there the day you were born…” He said as if it was obvious.

“Wh-what?”

He turned around, brows furrowed. “Did mom and dad never talk about me?”

You stared at him in bewilderment.

“I guess that’s fair. Why would they talk about me after they sent me away?” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an older brother.”

“You do actually… Me. And we have a younger brother apparently. Hudson, right?”

Your heart started to beat faster. Who was this stalker?

“Please eat. You’ve been unconscious for a while. Not to mention, you threw up before that.” He says, sitting down on the couch and placing your food on the coffee table. He sat down, taking a bite of his own food.

You didn't move or say anything.

He sighs, putting down his food.

“Y/n…what’s it going to take for you to trust me? I mean you no harm.”

“Where’s Chan? Was he there with Hyunjin and Jisung?”

“Chan…? Oh, you mean Chris?” he asked.

You furrowed your brows.

“Did he not tell you his name was Chris?” Reed sat back. “How long were you with them anyways. Lewis wouldn’t shut up about you being stolen away.”

“I wasn’t stolen…” you cross your arms.

“Please don’t tell me you got Stockholm syndrome with that foolish pack,” he joked.

You felt anger course through you at the way he talked so negatively about your pack.

“They aren’t fools, they are my soulmates…my pack.” You growl. “Lewis lied, abused, and falsely marked me.”

Reed is quiet as he thinks this over. He studies you, smelling the anger and fear off you. He squints his eyes before finally going back to eating. He motioned for you to eat your food. “It’s good.”

“Where’s Chan, Hyunjin, and Jisung?”

“Safe. With the Hybrid Association.”

“Where is that?”

“Why? Do you plan on going there?”

“If I need to in order to get them back.”

“You won’t get through without clearance…which I have. So are you going to indulge me for five minutes to eat? Or keep playing hard to get?”

“How do I even know you’re my brother?”

“You were born twenty three years ago on a full moon. It was a Friday night when the moon was highest in the sky. Mom’s name is Haneul. Dad’s name is Walker. Hudson is…wait I know…five years younger than you. I don’t know that much about him considering I was sent away before you were even six months old. We lived in a little house on the hill, five minutes from town where they had the best fish cakes. Does Ms. Daisy still make them? Or did her daughter Daphne take over?”

You glare. He clearly knew a lot.

“Why’d mom and dad send you away?” you question.

“Why did they send you away?” he rebuttals.

You don’t say anything.

“They sent you away for the same reason they sent me away. Money. The packs paid them.”

“But you’re not an omega…”

“True. Omegas do go for way more, but I was sold to a pack that desperately needed an alpha heir. And they paid a handsome price for that.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“What was the pack like?” You ask, sitting on the bed.

“The pack was great. They became my family, and I took over when the old alpha passed. I am now in charge of them, leading them into years of success. You’ve heard of the Blackmane pack…”

You shake your head.

“Really? That’s a first. Everyone knows us. It’s one of the oldest and largest packs still around. We have over a hundred members, twenty subpacks under us. The Nykos included.”

“The Nykos are under your rule? Did you know I was there?”

“We don’t monitor the packs like the police. They do their own thing, but all packs under Blackmane are automatically in an alliance. So it’s against our agreement to start fights with another sub pack. That’s about as far as regulation goes. As for you, they never listed they had omegas like they should have. Now I know why. So no, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Is Greenridge one of yours?”

“No.”

“So if you don’t monitor them, then what were you doing there?”

“With my help, Blackmane climbed the rankings and became privileged members of the Hybrid Association. There was a tip called in about Lewis and his treatment of omegas a few days ago. I took the responsibility to follow up and see if it was true, seeing as they were under our pack. When we arrived, Lewis was quick to butter us up, but I saw right through him. My men rounded up the immediate members and went through the house. It was then we found a female omega, Chris, and his betas.”

“How did they look?” you stepped forward.

Reed titled his head at you. “They were beaten and bloody but fine. They could walk out on their own so I sent them and that girl to the Hybrid Association with a couple of my men.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that they were okay. “Why send them to the Hybrid Association?”

“To give a statement of what happened so the remaining Nyko members can be dealt with.” Reed went back to finishing his food.

“Why’d you kill Lewis then? Instead of giving him to the Hybrid Association?” you asked warily.

“I couldn’t bear for him to weasel his way out of a death sentence after what he did to you. So when that girl told us what he did to you three omegas, I had him chained in the basement. My men dealt with him, I gave the final blow.”

You shudder, remembering the way his body looked.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not Lewis. If I hurt or kill, it’s with intention and reason, not for fun.” He sat straighter, speaking with so much authority. “I’m not a threat to you.”

You nod, thinking over his words.

“Please eat.” Reed insisted.

You finally caved, sitting down and eating. It was so good you scarfed it down. Once you both finished, he offered you a chance to shower. You showered quickly and got dressed in the clothes he left you to change into.

Once dressed, you emerged from the bathroom. He was sitting on the couch, typing on his computer with a serious face.

“Can you take me home now?” you ask, brushing your hair.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because you’re going with me.” he said, still not looking up from his computer.

“I don’t want to. I want to go home. The rest of the pack is probably so worried about me.”

“They’ll be fine.” He reached for his phone, still barely paying attention to you.

“No. They won’t. Did you forget the part about us being soulmates?”

He finally looked up. “You need to give a statement at the Hybrid Association for what you have been through.”

“Fine. After, will you take me home?”

“Yes.”

You figured you wouldn’t press the matter further and fell back on the bed. You laid there for a few more minutes until Reed declared it was time to go. You followed him down the hall, two men in front of you, two men behind.

They stopped in front of three sets of doors and pushed a button. There was a light above each door with arrows pointing up or down, flashing in time with a beeping sound. One of the doors opened, revealing a small room. They led you inside, and you looked around nervously.

“Never been in an elevator, I’m assuming.” Reed smiled over at you.

“No.” you mumbled,

The doors shut and you felt the room shake. You nearly jumped out of your skin, grabbing Reed’s arm tight.

“It’s alright. It’s just lowering us to the ground floor.” Reed said, resting his hand on yours that was gripping his bicep. “We are going to have to work on your exposure to the world.”

“Blame your minion.” you grumble.

“Oh I do. I just regret not making him suffer longer.”

Part you wished you had been here. Sure you might not have stomached it but to see him struggle and get what he deserved…it would have been satisfying.

The room finally stopped moving, bouncing slightly before the doors opened. You stepped out, seeing a whole different area. It felt like you had teleported.

“Come.” he beckoned with a small smile.

You followed Reed to the car, climbing in the backseat of the Escalade. As the suv peeled away from the hotel, you looked out the window. You didn’t recognize anything around you and it made you wonder.

“How far from Greenridge are we?”

“Couple hours.” Reed shrugged. “But it’s about to be more.”

“More? But I need to tell them I’m okay. That I’ll be back.”

“Do you have their number to call?”

“No…”

“Then how did you plan on telling them?”

You shrug. You had no way of reaching them.

“State your name for the record.” a man said in a bored tone.

“Bang Chan.”

“Please tell us what happened last night to the best of your knowledge.” he muttered, two other gentlemen sitting on either side of him.

“Of course. Well, it actually started earlier that morning when I-”

“Mr. Bang, we are just here to collect your testimony as to what occurred at the Nyko Pack’s main house last night.” the man interrupted.

“This is important information relating to last night’s events, sir.”

“If we need the extra information, we will ask for it.” the man stated.

Chan cleared his throat. “Last night, Hyunjin, Jisung, and myself were locked in cells in Lewis's basement. We had been sedated and were just coming to. Lewis pulled me from my cell, chaining me to a wall in a separate room. He had a cattle prod that he used to shock me repeatedly. He wanted us to suffer, but also wanted to use us as bait for y/n to come back.”

“Who’s y/n?”

“She was an omega he held captive in his basement, tortured and abused for years.”

“Why would he treat his omega like that?”

“She’s not his omega. And it wasn’t just her he abused. There were two others treated the same. I don’t know what compelled him to do such heinous acts.”

The three of them began to scribble on their papers.

“And how do you know this to be true?”

“She came onto our property. I saw the scars and injuries first hand.”

“What injuries?”

“His brothers liked to hunt her for sport, which they did the night we found her. She had silver and cobalt pellets embedded in her skin from them using her as target practice.”

The men scribbled more notes.

“Is she still in your care?” the man on the left asked.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t return her, why?” the center man asked.

“She’s our soulmate.”

“Our?”

“All of my pack felt the soulmate bond, myself included.”

Jotting notes once more.

“What happened next?” The man to the right asked.

“We had our pack doctor, Doctor Quinn assist our medic, Felix, in caring for y/n. They removed the pellets, gave her an IV and let her heal. Slowly she learned to trust us. We helped her settle in, make a nest and now she’s feeling like part of the pack.”

“Is she marked?”

“Not by us.”

All three men looked up, confused. “Elaborate.”

“Lewis marked her.”

“Was he a soulmate as well?”

“Y/n said she never felt the pull with him the way she did with us.”

They wrote down more notes, shaking their heads.

“We’ve gotten a little sidetracked. Let’s get back to last night. After Lewis tortured you, what happened.”

“His brothers, Hayes and Milo came down as well…”

“Well well…look at the true alpha now.” Hayes taunted.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Milo snickered.

Chan was panting and shirtless, now suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. His skin was sweaty and bloodied from the lashes Lewis just delivered.

“Got nothing to say?” Milo asked, circling Chan.

Chan spit at the ground right in front of Milo. Milo punched him in the ribs, smiling at him.

“That wasn’t very nice, Chris.”

“Stop calling me that.” Chan growled.

“Look, Hayes. He’s getting angry.”

Hayes smirks, coming closer. He gets directly in Chan’s face, forcing him to look up at him.

“Such a pathetic alpha…” Hayes taunts. “You can’t even protect your pack.”

As if on cue, the cries of Hyunjin and Jisung echo down the hall. Their pained screams tug at Chan’s heart.

“And soon enough…that little omega will be ours once more. I do enjoy fucking her sweet little cunt. Tell me, have you had the pleasure yet?” Hayes tilted his head at Chan.

Chan was seething, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils red with fury. His jaw was clenched and his hands bawled into fits. The chains above him groaned as he pulled down on them. Hayes threw his head back, laughing.

“She’s quite a prude if you ask me. So if you really want a taste…” Hayes leaned into Chan’s space once more, whispering, “you’re gonna have to take it. And when you do, those sweet sounds she makes…..ugh the tears and whines as she begs you to stop. You know she secretly loves it. She gets so wet and-”

SNAP.

The chains holding Chan’s wrists snap apart, leaving a few links dangling from his wrists as they drop. His hands are immediately around Hayes’s neck, forcing him backwards to the stone wall. Milo was quick to jump in, attempting to pull Chan off his brother. Haye’s eyes flash panic as he feels the strength in Chan’s iron grip.

Chan releases one hand to shake off the pest that is Milo, shoving him to the ground. Hayes grips Chan’s remaining hand with both his hands, still not strong enough to pry him off.

Chan now gets in Hayes’s face, gripping his neck so tight his face was starting to turn purple.

“You will never….ever get to touch my girl again.” Chan growled through gritted teeth.

With a flick of Chan’s wrist and a crack sound coming from Hayes’s neck, it was done. Chan threw his limp body to the ground, turning around and seeing Milo standing there in shock.

“How dare you!” Milo charged at Chan

Chan was quick to duck out of the way, quickly turning around to face Milo, hand grazing the table. Milo yelled, turning around and lunging at him once more. Chan lifted his arm and stabbed a knife into Milo’s neck.

Milo froze. Chan yanked it out, blood spraying out. Milo was quick to clutch his neck, looking dumbfounded at Chan who just watched emotionlessly. Chan’s face and chest was splattered in blood, Milo dropping to his knees as blood poured from his neck. Toppling over, Milo too was now dead.

The room was silent.

“It was then some of the men from the Blackmane pack came in, rescuing me and my betas. They also rescued the omega girl left behind, and sent us all here.” Chan continued.

“I see.” the one in the center said. “And you’re aware of the laws we have in place, correct.”

“Yes, sir. I know it sounds bad. But I only acted in self-defense. They were hurting me and my betas. Plus they also-”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bang…” the man on the right sighed, removing his glasses. “We know your history with these kinds of things. You are a power hungry alpha and many have fallen at your hands.”

“Sir, I-”

“Christopher Bang. Did you think we didn’t know your last name? Or your alias ‘Chan’?” The gentleman on the left spoke, rising from his chair. “You killed your own brother and now two members of a neighboring pack - one being an alpha. Our first law is ‘Thou shalt not kill one’s hybrid brethren’ or did you forget?”

Chan swallowed, before shaking his head.

“Take him away.” the one in the center waved his hand.

Two guards from the back of the room stepped forward, grabbing Chan by the arms.

“Wait. Please, this is a misunderstanding.”

“You would do well mind your manners and go willingly. Any protest will not help your case.” the man on the right cautioned.

So Chan left willingly, the two guards leading him to a holding cell. It looked more like an interrogation room, having a two way mirror on one wall. There was, however, a cot on the opposite wall, a toilet and sink with a smaller mirror next to it.

Once they were gone, Chan groaned. He looked into the small mirror, seeing the blood still decorating his skin. His eyes flash red and he punches the glass, shattering his reflection. Pulling his fist back, he plucks a few shards of glass from his knuckles. His hand bled a little so he turned on the water to wash his hands, splashing water on his face in an effort to wash off the remaining blood.

Hyunjin, Jisung, and the omega named Piper all gave their statements of what happened as well. Hyunjin managed to convince them to allow a phone call to their pack. They knew everyone was probably worried sick and needed to hear from them. On top of that, they desperately wanted to get back home. He held Jisung’s hand as they called together, luckily remembering Minho’s cell number.

“Hello?” Minho asked warily.

“Min? It’s Hyunjin.” They hear him let out a big exhale.

“Where are you guys? Are you okay?” Minho asked in a serious tone.

“We’re okay. We’re at the Hybrid Association headquarters.” Hyunjin answered.

“What are you doing there?”

“A pack rescued us. They sent us here to explain what happened last night.” Jisung said.

“They wanted you to explain Lewis’s death?” Minho questioned.

“Lewis is dead?” Jisung nearly yelled.

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“No. We were here because Chan killed Hayes and Milo.” Hyunjin whispered.

“He did?”

“Yes. They had us in chains and were torturing us. But Chan snapped, breaking free and killing them.”

“I bet y/n is relieved. She didn’t witness it, did she?” Minho asked.

“Y/n? She’s not with us.” Jisung stated.

“She’s not with you?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho was silent, clenching his jaw.

“Min?” Hyunjin looked to Jisung.

“She ran off last night to rescue you guys. We came shortly after, but we were too late. The house was empty. We found Lewis’s body though. We…we assumed she was with you guys.” Minho explained.

“We never saw her. It must have been the pack that found us that has her.”

“They probably killed Lewis too.” Minho said. “Where’s Chan?”

“Um…in a holding cell.” Hyunjin admitted.

“What!?” Minho yelled, making them jerk from the phone.

“They won’t let us see him.” Jisung whined. “Maybe it has something to do with Hayes and Milo?”

Minho was silent. He wondered if the real reason was Chan’s past coming to haunt him once more. After a few moments, Minho spoke. “We will be there shortly to get you. Then we are heading to the Blackmane pack. We believe they have y/n.”

“Blackmane? That was the pack that helped us.” Hyunjin noted. “They were nice people.”

“Then why haven’t they returned y/n?” Minho asked, doubting the kind nature of the Blackmane pack.

“Our time’s up. See you soon.” Hyunjin said.

“We are on our way.” Minho assured them.

Hyunjin and Jisung then followed a gentleman down the hall. They headed down the hall which opened up to a corridor that was well lit with natural light from all the windows. The ceiling was ten stories up from the bottom and glass with a huge chandelier hanging from the center. The halls opened up to the sides, walkways that wrapped around the corridor in a circular design. The center was open through all the levels, the walkway inclined to bring you up to each level.

They headed up the walkway to the upper levels from level three which overlooked the reception desk below. The employee led them up to level four and they turned down the hall.

Downstairs, Reed and you walk in. He smiles at the receptionist, guiding you up the walkway. You get to level three and Reed leads you down a hall towards a small room designed like a courtroom.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done. You can do this.”

You take a deep, nodding. You step inside, standing in front of three gentlemen.

“State your name for the record.” the man said.

“Um… y/n y/l/n.”

“What are you here to discuss?”

“Alpha Lewis and…um…his mistreatment of omegas.” you say, twiddling your fingers.

“Y/n…as in the omega who escaped the Nyko pack?” the one on the right asked.

“Um…yes?” you say.

“Speak up, honey. We can barely hear you.”

“Yes.” you speak louder.

“Okay. Where would you like to start?”

It took nearly an hour to go over everything he did to you while in his house. They questioned you about a lot of details, some hard to talk about. They asked you about your time and treatment during the period you were with the Greenridge pack as well. You confirmed the soulmate connection and talked very highly of everyone. The men just nodded, taking notes to look over later.

Chan paced restlessly in his cell. Of course they knew who he was. And now they had him trapped, soon to face trial most likely. What was he going to do? He had to find a way to prove he didn’t kill his brother. He wouldn’t have become a true alpha if he had.

Plan after plan swirled around his head as he tried to figure out how to get back home to his pack - to you. It was then his thoughts were interrupted, a voice speaking into the intercom.

“Well, well.” The voice taunted.

The hairs on the back of Chan’s neck stood tall. He froze, eyes wide. He knew that voice.

“Seems the alpha finally got caught.”

“You.” Chan growled.

“What about me?”

“You were there. You’re the one who killed my brother.”

“Still spilling that lie? What makes you think it was me?”

“I know your voice.”

“Do you? It would be wrong for you to falsely accuse an innocent person.”

“You’re not innocent.”

“And neither are you, I hear.”

Chan glared at the two way mirror, being only met with his reflection. The man's words rang true as Chan took in his reflection.

“Tell me Chris…or Chan if that’s what you prefer now.” the voice continued. “How much longer do you think your pack will follow you when they learn the truth of what you’ve done?”

Chan’s hand balled into fists, rage coursing through him. Only Minho knew the truth about his past. How his brother was killed right in front of him. How the killer ran off before anyone else showed up, Chan being left there looking guilty. No one wanted to believe the alpha who always boasted about having his own pack. Instead, they called him greedy, power hungry, and ruthless. He’s never been able to prove them wrong, not knowing the name of his brother’s killer. But one day, he always dreamt, he would expose the truth.

“You’re a murderer. They aren’t going to follow a murderer.” the man continued.

Chan growled, banging his fists on the glass and causing the man to just laugh.

Once you finished your statement, you came out to see Reed working on his phone. Okay, not working. More like nodding off. You smiled, coming over and shaking his shoulder. He jumped awake, looking around frantically.

“Oh. You’re done?” he asked, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Yep. They said I was free to go.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him back down the walkway and out the front doors. You got in the suv, eager to go back to your pack. You missed them terribly and felt a deep need to see them. You wanted to assure them you were okay and hopefully get Minho to stop blaming himself.

“Hungry?” Reed asked.

You shook your head.

“You don’t eat much, do you?”

You shrug. “I just want to get home.”

“Suit yourself.” Reed shrugged too, going back to his phone as the driver peeled off from the Hybrid Association.

Not even five minutes after your departure, Minho pulls up. The packs wait outside while Minho and Changbin go inside for their people. The receptionist directed them to level two. They followed her directions, finding themselves in a lounge. Off to the side, they located their boys.

“Jinnie, Ji!” Minho calls.

They both come rushing over, jumping into their waiting arms. They hug each other tight, Minho pulling back to examine them.

“I’m okay.” Hyunjin says.

“Good.” Minho says, kissing him briefly before checking over Jisung as Changbin holds him close.

Changbin kisses his check, rubbing his back as Jisung relaxes into his hold. Minho then ushers them to the car, staying behind at the desk as they walk off with Changbin.

Minho turns around, his smile gone from his face. He marches up to the front desk, all pleasantries gone.

“I want to visit someone.”

“What’s the name?” the older lady asks.

“Bang Chan.”

“I’m sorry, son. He’s not allowed visitors.”

“What?! No, I’m his right hand alpha.”

“I’m sorry. Your rank doesn’t matter here.”

“Is there someone I can speak to about this?” Minho asks, exasperated.

“That would be Mr. Park. His office is on level three.”

Minho marches up the walkway, and finds his way to Mr. Park’s office. He knocks on the door, but no answer.

“Can I help you?” a gentleman asks, coming up from behind Minho.

“I’m looking for Mr. Park.”

“That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see Bang Chan.”

“I’m afraid he’s in lockup, pending trial.”

“I know. I want to visit him?”

“Those pending a trial are not allowed visitors.”

“He didn’t do it. His brother was killed by someone else.”

“I’m afraid I cannot discuss the case with you.”

“I’m his second in command, current Alpha in Greenridge until he returns, Lee Minho.”

“Sorry Minho. Those are the rules.”

“Your rules are bullshit!”

“You’d do well to watch your tone.”

Minho grabbed the man by his collar, shoving him back into the wall. A nearby security officer stepped forward but Mr. Park raised his hand to stop him.

“Let go or you will be in a holding cell of your own.”

Minho growled, releasing the man and storming off. He flipped a stack of chairs in the process, scaring those passing by. He was livid to say the least.

Upon exiting the building, Changbin turned to see his mate.

“What happened?”

“He’s pending trial. So no visitors.”

“Pending trial for what?” Seungmin asked.

“Killing Hayes and Milo probably.” Hyunjin said in a quiet voice.

“And his brother.” Minho added, face void of emotion.

They all looked at him confused.

“We should talk.” Minho sighed, deciding it was time they knew the truth.

You were in fact hungry, but didn’t want to admit it now after you told him no thirty minutes ago. Unfortunately, home would be hours more of a drive to get to. Ugh you were going to have to speak up.

You turned to Reed, who was typing on his computer next to you, but noticed a giant mansion out the window. The car turned, stopping at a large gate that opened.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Home.” Reed said.

“This isn’t Greenridge. You said you would take me home.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t say to your home.”

You stared dumbfounded at him as the car pulled up under a carriage and stopped. Reed moved to get out, noticing you not moving.

“Come on. I’ll show you to your room”

“No.”

“No?”

“You tricked me.”

Reed sighed. “Come inside. I have some things to tend to. You can eat while I do that. Then we can freshen up and change clothes. Then I’ll see about taking you home.”

He winked at you before exiting the car. Groaning, you get out. You were hungry so you’d allow him to feed you first. He will be taking you home to your mates after that.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09.

Shout out to my lovely beta @cherry-erii

#stray kids abo #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #bang chan x reader #kim seungmin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #seo changbin x reader #lee minho x reader #ongoing #stray kids ot8

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