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scarletwants · 10 months ago

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million dollar man.

18+ notes: my sweet, flawed english man:’). summary: billy butcher finds solace and deepens his bond with you during a tender, intimate night after a rough day. warnings: soft billy, mature content, oral (f! receiving). discretion is advised. word count: 1.7k

You knew Butcher had a temper, a way of seeing red that could make anyone in their right mind stay clear of his path. But it was different with you. He had a soft spot, a rare vulnerability that he guarded jealously from the rest of the world. But tonight, he was late. And that wasn’t like him.

The clock on the wall ticked louder as the minutes dragged on. You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but your mind kept wandering back to Butcher. The scars that crisscrossed his back, the shadows that darkened his eyes, the rare smiles that lit up his face. He was complicated, infuriating, but he was also the man you’d come to care for more deeply than you’d ever thought possible.

The door creaked open and you snapped your head up. Butcher stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped and his usually sharp eyes dulled by fatigue.

“Hey,” you said softly, closing your book and standing up.

“Hey, love,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and you noticed the blood staining his shirt.

“Jesus, Billy, you’re hurt,” you exclaimed, rushing over to him. He waved you off, but you could see the pain etched on his face.

“Just a scratch,” he muttered, but you weren’t convinced. You guided him to the couch, making him sit down while you went to fetch the first aid kit.

When you returned, Butcher had already started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a nasty gash on his side. You winced at the sight, but kept your expression neutral. He didn’t need pity; he needed someone who could help.

“Hold still,” you said, kneeling beside him and carefully cleaning the wound. He hissed through his teeth but didn’t flinch away.

“Bloody hell, that stings,” he grumbled.

“Well, maybe next time don’t pick fights with people twice your size,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. He snorted, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can’t help it. It’s in me nature.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, your nature’s going to get you killed one of these days.”

“Not if you keep patchin’ me up,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a sincerity in his gaze that took you by surprise. You finished bandaging him up and sat back, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly. “Why do you stay?”

The question caught you off guard. You’d asked yourself the same thing many times, especially on nights like these when the danger seemed too close. But the answer was always the same.

“Because I care about you,” you said simply. “And because I know there’s more to you than what everyone else sees.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I’m not a good man, love. I’ve done things…”

“We’ve all done things,” you interrupted gently. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a chance to be better.”

He didn’t respond, but you could see the internal struggle playing out on his face. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and squeezed it gently.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Billy. Let me help.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m scared,” he admitted in a whisper, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“Of what?” you asked softly.

“Of losing you. Of letting you in and then watching you walk away.”

Your heart ached at his words. You knew he’d been hurt before, that he carried more scars on the inside than the ones that marred his skin. But you also knew that he was worth the risk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. “Not as long as you want me here.”

He looked up, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deceit. Finding none, he nodded slowly. “I want you here. More than anything.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his grip on your hand tightening as if afraid you might slip away.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant traffic outside. Butcher and you had spent the evening wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. The bandage on his side was a stark reminder of the dangers he faced daily, but tonight, you wanted to focus on the here and now.

Butcher's hands roamed your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer on the couch. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. His lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his dark hair. "You're not so bad yourself, Butcher."

He chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, vibrating against your throat. "Not sure what I did to deserve you, love."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," you teased, tilting your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as he pressed you back against the cushions. His hands slipped under your shirt, caressing your sides with a possessive tenderness that made your heart race.

"Let me show you how much I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before you could respond, he was lifting your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening with hunger as he took in the sight of you.

"Billy," you breathed, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he trailed kisses down your chest, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin. He paused at the waistband of your pants, his gaze locking with yours.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, laced with an unexpected vulnerability.

"Yes," you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please."

With a growl of approval, he undid your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. You were left exposed before him, your skin tingling with the cool air and the intensity of his gaze.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. He lowered himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses closer to your core. The first touch of his tongue against your folds sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching off the couch.

"Billy," you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper. He groaned in response, his hands holding your hips steady as he delved deeper, his tongue swirling around your clit with a skill that left you breathless.

He took his time, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, his eyes watching your every reaction. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pleasure mounting with every flick of his tongue. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your fingers tightening in his hair as you teetered on the brink of release. He growled against you, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. Butcher didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault as he milked every last drop of pleasure from you. You cried out his name, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Finally, when you could take no more, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you breathless all over again.

"You taste fucking amazing," he growled against your mouth, his hands cradling your face as he kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act only heightening your desire for him.

"I need you, Billy," you whispered, your voice raw with need. "I need all of you."

He didn't need any more encouragement. In one fluid motion, he was shedding his clothes, his body pressing against yours as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the hard length of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with restraint. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. "I want you. All of you."

With a groan, he entered you, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

He set a steady rhythm, his movements growing more urgent as he lost himself in you. You met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving together in harmony.

The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, the unspoken promises and the love that bound you together.

As you neared the edge once more, you felt him falter, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered your name. With a final, shuddering thrust, you both tumbled over the edge together, your cries of pleasure mingling in the stillness of the night.

Afterward, you lay tangled in each other's arms, the sweat cooling on your skin as you caught your breath. Butcher pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hold on you gentle but unyielding.

"I love you," he murmured, the words carrying a weight that made your heart swell.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always be his side. He was your million dollar man after all.

#the boys x reader #the boys imagine #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #— lena writes 🔖

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rockingbytheseaside · 8 months ago

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✦ The Strong and The Feeble

(Il Capitano with sick reader / tw: general description of illness, coughing, or physical pain. sfw)

Imagine Il Capitano with a sick darling, one whose health is often at risk. Your condition has been chronic for as long as you remember since your well-being is susceptible to common ailments and pain. And yet, it never hindered Il Capitano’s admiration towards you. Instead, it only amplified his urge to shield and protect you.

Imagine the mighty Harbinger returning from a prolonged expedition, his strides cutting through the secluded snowy terrain to reach a quaint manor on the outskirts of Snezhnaya. The mere sensation of the crisp taiga air beckons him to yearn for the upcoming warmth of your arms. Capitano barely has a moment to enter the manor and hand in his coat to the servants when a familiar voice calls out – “Is that him? Is he home already? Capi…!”

Imagine Il Capitano opening his arms and rushing to scoop you, both in worry and longing to feel your body against him. It appears that today is one of your brighter days, as you allow your weary body to move forward and welcome him directly instead of remaining in bed, even when a retinue of worried maids are trailing behind you. But expending your energy is no longer a worry, as Capitano effortlessly lifts you in a tender embrace with his armored hands.

“My beloved, I missed you dearly… But you shouldn’t overexert yourself just to welcome me. Save your energy for me, sweetheart.”

But you never allow your mood to change along with your ailments. Bedridden or not, you always greet your Knight despite your conditions. He doesn’t deserve to feel any more worry from your demeanor than he already does when he is away at work. Unbeknownst to you, Capitano sees right through you and the lengths you go to conceal your coughs, troubled breaths, or fatigue.

Any day that Capitano makes it back home is a celebration. He misses you terribly, and his Fatui expeditions became a driving force to work hard for you. He’ll return home with rare herbs, expensive medicine, or anything that your condition might require. Even when he is on a mission abroad, his mind keeps conjuring ideas on what unique gifts and books he must search for.

Imagine how Capitano’s prolonged mission heightened his worry for you. Thus, once he's settled at home, no longer donning his armor, Capitano will personally step in to take care of you. His hand is always protectively sweeping over your forehead and hair, ensuring your temperature is in check. He'll often dismiss the servants so he can bring you hot beverages to ease your sore throat. Only after confirming you've taken your medication and are resting on fresh sheets will the typically composed Harbinger release a sigh and join you in bed.

“Dear, you just got home. You mustn't trouble yourself so. You know I can take care of myself if needed to… I'm not that helpless, Capi.”

Il Capitano would apologize, tighten his arm around your shoulder, and softly nuzzle his face to a tender kiss on your cheek. However, internally, he is sighing wistfully, because he knows that on sunny days there are looming shadows as well. Sometimes, your illness takes a toll on you, your voice becoming hoarse and your coughing more frequent. Moving or even lifting your head would cause a headache, but the Harbinger never backs away in such circumstances.

You can barely speak on those days. But even as you lay in bed Capitano can tell you feel guilty and try to dismiss his aid. You even try to conjure up a weak smile. A smile that brings the Harbinger to his knees, kneeling beside your bed and silently cursing whatever celestial fate allowed you to suffer so.

"Shhh... sweetheart. I know you despise it, but you must comply to drink this medicine. I will not let ailments win over you."

Imagine how Capitano would never trade any paradise for seeing you smile on the rare days that you feel better. You try to move around, dismissing any help from the servants. Capitano would step in, link a protective arm around yours, and take you on a stroll in the manor's garden. The imposing Captain would make sure his steps are slow and careful so you won't feel rushed. However, the opposite always occurs. Keen to use the most of your condition today, you keep rushing off ahead of him.

Imagine Il Capitano rushing after you gently, catching you before you accidentally trip or fall from your childlike sprints. With a single arm around your torso, he easily picks you up from behind. His tender warnings go unheard as you giggle joyously. A rare and merry sound for him.

If the Snezhnayan weather allows it, he brings a designated blanket to drape over your legs, ensuring your comfort as the two of you spend the entire morning outdoors. He’d hold you close, sharing tales of his battles and missions. But what’s the point of talking about work when you can’t even accompany him and all he does is fight for the sake of returning home – to you.

Who has the right to define what constitutes strength and weakness? Perhaps for some, physical prowess and overcoming adversity may epitomize the ultimate warrior, while the opposite rings true for the meek. Nonetheless, a certain Harbinger will argue against it. For even he weakens at the sight of your unwavering smile, whenever you are at your worst condition. Or when you muster the deepest courage to get up on your own instead of seeking help. Who is he to boast as the strongest person in Teyvata, when every day you fight to survive?

Hence, imagine the 1st of the Fatui Harbinger lowering his head in reverence for you. Despite your bewilderment in his manners, he seeks your embrace so he can hear that heartbeat safe and beating, praising each day he gets to hold you in his arms. -

#genshin impact #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #tw sickness #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #il capitano #capitano

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spacelazarwolf · 1 year ago

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in honor of that anon who said jews have done nothing for the world, here’s a non exhaustive list of things we’ve done for the world:

arts, fashion, and lifestyle:

jeans - levi strauss

modern bras - ida rosenthal

sewing machines - isaac merritt singer

modern film industry - carl laemmle (universal pictures), adolph zukor (paramount pictures), william fox (fox film forporation), louis b. mayer (mgm - metro-goldwyn-mayer), harry, sam, albert, and jack warners (warner bros.), steven spielberg, mel brooks, marx brothers

operetta - jacques offenbach

comic books - stan lee

graphic novels - will eisner

teddy bears - morris and rose michtom

influential musicians - irving berlin, stephen sondheim, benny goodman, george gershwin, paul simon, itzhak perlman, leonard bernstein, bob dylan, leonard cohen

artists - mark rothko

actors - elizabeth taylor, jerry lewis, barbara streisand

comedians - lenny bruce, joan rivers, jerry seinfeld

authors - judy blume, tony kushner, allen ginsberg, walter mosley

culture:

esperanto - ludwik lazar zamenhof

feminism - betty friedan, gloria steinem, ruth bader ginsberg

queer and trans rights - larry kramer, harvey milk, leslie feinberg, abby stein, kate bornstein, frank kameny, judith butler

international women's day - clara zetkin

principles of journalizm, statue of liberty, and pulitzer prize - joseph pulitzer

"the new colossus" - emma lazarus

universal declaration of human rights - rene samuel cassin

holocaust remembrance and human rights activism - elie wiesel

workers rights - louis brandeis, rose schneiderman

public health care, women's rights, and children's rights - lillian wald

racial equity - rabbi abraham joshua heschel, julius rosenwald, andrew goodman, michael schwerner

political theory - hannah arendt

disability rights - judith heumann

black lives matter slogan and movement - alicia garza

#metoo movement - jodi kantor

institute of sexology - magnus hirschfeld

technology:

word processing computers - evelyn berezin

facebook - mark zuckerberg

console video game system - ralph henry baer

cell phones - amos edward joel jr., martin cooper

3d - leonard lipton

telephone - philipp reis

fax machines - arthur korn

microphone - emile berliner

gramophone - emile berliner

television - boris rosing

barcodes - norman joseph woodland and bernard silver

secret communication system, which is the foundation of the technology used for wifi - hedy lamarr

three laws of robotics - isaac asimov

cybernetics - norbert wiener

helicopters - emile berliner

BASIC (programming language) - john george kemeny

google - sergey mikhaylovich brin and larry page

VCR - jerome lemelson

fax machine - jerome lemelson

telegraph - samuel finley breese morse

morse code - samuel finley breese morse

bulletproof glass - edouard benedictus

electric motor and electroplating - boris semyonovich jacobi

nuclear powered submarine - hyman george rickover

the internet - paul baran

icq instant messenger - arik vardi, yair goldfinger,, sefi vigiser, amnon amir

color photography - leopold godowsky and leopold mannes

world's first computer - herman goldstine

modern computer architecture - john von neumann

bittorrent - bram cohen

voip internet telephony - alon cohen

data archiving - phil katz, eugene roshal, abraham lempel, jacob ziv

nemeth code - abraham nemeth

holography - dennis gabor

laser - theodor maiman

instant photo sharing online - philippe kahn

first automobile - siegfried samuel marcus

electrical maglev road - boris petrovich weinberg

drip irrigation - simcha blass

ballpoint pen and automatic gearbox - laszlo biro

photo booth - anatol marco josepho

medicine:

pacemakers and defibrillators - louise robinovitch

defibrillators - bernard lown

anti-plague and anti-cholera vaccines - vladimir aronovich khavkin

polio vaccine - jonas salk

test for diagnosis of syphilis - august paul von wasserman

test for typhoid fever - ferdinand widal

penicillin - ernst boris chain

pregnancy test - barnhard zondek

antiretroviral drug to treat aids and fight rejection in organ transplants - gertrude elion

discovery of hepatitis c virus - harvey alter

chemotherapy - paul ehrlich

discovery of prions - stanley prusiner

psychoanalysis - sigmund freud

rubber condoms - julius fromm

birth control pill - gregory goodwin pincus

asorbic acid (vitamin c) - tadeusz reichstein

blood groups and rh blood factor - karl landsteiner

acyclovir (treatment for infections caused by herpes virus) - gertrude elion

vitamins - caismir funk

technique for measuring blood insulin levils - rosalyn sussman yalow

antigen for hepatitus - baruch samuel blumberg

a bone fusion technique - gavriil abramovich ilizarov

homeopathy - christian friedrich samuel hahnemann

aspirin - arthur ernst eichengrun

science:

theory of relativity - albert einstein

theory of the electromagnetic field - james maxwell

quantum mechanics - max born, gustav ludwig hertz

quantum theory of gravity - matvei bronstein

microbiology - ferdinand julius cohn

neuropsychology - alexander romanovich luria

counters for x-rays and gamma rays - robert hofstadter

genetic engineering - paul berg

discovery of the antiproton - emilio gino segre

discovery of cosmic microwave background radiation - arno allan penzias

discovery of the accelerating expansion of the universe - adam riess and saul merlmutter

discovery that black hole formation is a robust prediction of the general theory of relativity - roger penrose

discovery of a supermassive compact object at the center of the milky way - andrea ghez

modern cosmology and the big bang theory - alexander alexandrovich friedmann

stainless steel - hans goldschmidt

gas powered vehicles

interferometer - albert abraham michelson

discovery of the source of energy production in stars - hans albrecht bethe

proved poincare conjecture - grigori yakovlevich perelman

biochemistry - otto fritz meyerhof

electron-positron collider - bruno touschek

#jewish #jumblr #am yisrael fucking chai

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yallthemwitches · 6 days ago

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Like a lot of other authors/content creators in the HP fandom, I am feeling a sense of heaviness over the rulings that happened in the UK and feel the need to speak on my (albeit very complicated) feelings.

What JKR is doing is terrible. It will ruin lives. It will end lives.

If you feel like that is being hyperbolic, please go look up the suicide rates for the trans community. It's a staggering number and it only grows as people seeking information, comfort, and support are locked out of proper resources due to heinous legislations like the one passed yesterday.

It saddens me too because I know that so many in the LGBTIQA+ have found characters/stories in the HP universe that have spoken to them and helped to understand their personal journeys---only to have that comfort ripped away by the very person who created them.

If you can permit me to be personal for a second: My brother is trans and before/during his transition (this was early 2010s) he always cited Remus Lupin as one of the foundations for coming to terms with his trans identity because he saw some of his own internal struggle in Lupin's character. He even went so far as to write a letter to JKR (which, thank GOD he never sent...) thanking her for creating a character that aided him with the complicated feelings he had when there were no other resources for him.

My brother is now a psychologist specializing in the young trans community and speaking to him recently, he has said that he comes across this same story constantly and each one ends in tragedy because that little piece of solace and comfort was not just taken from them, but told them that no, actually. You thought wrong to see yourself in this character. You don't matter.

Watching what happened yesterday and knowing the long history of bigotry JKR has spouted for years now weighs heavy on my heart every time I step into this fandom and often I question if I should still contribute to it. I know it's not much, but I would like to share some of the things that keep me going--even when it all looks really fucking bleak:

Fanfiction and fanart are, at their foundation, anticapitalist works--and can be used to fight JKR's agenda. By consuming fanfic/fanart zero money goes towards JKR. None. And further, JKR has no say in how you use her characters in these spaces. So, if you want to use these creative outlets to uplift trans voices, please do! Support trans writers/artists and urge them to PERSIST--because I promise you nothing is going to tick off the ole' bitch more than trans bodies/ trans supporters writing her characters.

Just because the writer is the devil, doesn't mean the art has to be. I won't go into the concept of "death of the author" because I think it can be pockmarked to hell with various examples, but what I DO subscribe to is that once the art is out in the world, it is now owned by the person who consumes it. To put it simply: when I read HP I am POSITIVE I imagine characters/settings differently than the person next to me. It's the beauty of the imagination: the creator can give us the blocks but how it is built is contingent on how WE perceive it.

Did I mention money? DON'T GIVE IT TO HER. Buy the books/movies second hand. Pirate the media you wish to consume around the fandom. Don't give her any reason to give any more hate funding and instead send that money to trans communities and groups who need it (they REALLY need it.)

Maybe I'm naive to say this, but I don't think interacting with the story as an art form is bad. She invented it, sure, but she isn't in charge of what goes on in my brain. If anything, this fandom NEEDS the trans community and supporters within it because not only can they push back, but they can educate those who otherwise are listening to the author. Don't let her win the space even though she's the author. It's no longer hers to have.

If you are someone who wants to leave the fandom because you can't bear to watch her continue to destroy it--I completely understand. But, as someone who has been in this fandom for over 20 years, the one thing I've learned is: besides monetarily she doesn't own shit. Don't let her take what you love from you and don't let her get away with scaring people out of their community spaces. Support and love our trans brothers and sisters and enjoy your HP despite it all. The things you love are worth fighting for.

#hp meta #tay speaks #thoughts ok JKR #trans rights #trans awareness #hp #hp fandom

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blairxbear · 1 month ago

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How they react to you texting them for help, only to find out there's just a spider in your room...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

Pure fluff, chaotic misunderstandings, and lots of over-the-top reactions!

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Ida, Denki Kaminari, Mirio Togata, Hanta Sero, Koji Koda, Mashirao Ojiro

Izuku Midoriya

Your Text:

"Izuku, I need you! Please come quick!!"

His Reaction:

Instant panic mode.

Heart? Racing. Hands? Sweating. Brain? SHORT-CIRCUITING.

Immediately thinks you’re being attacked, kidnapped, or worse.

"O-oh my god! I’m on my way!!"

Sprints out of his dorm at FULL SPEED.

Doesn’t even think about grabbing anything—just runs like his life depends on it.

Arrives breathless, panting, eyes darting around for danger.

"Where?! What happened?! Are you hurt?! Do I need to call someone?!—"

You point at the spider on the ceiling.

Blink. Blink. Processing… ERROR.

He stares at you. Then at the spider. Then back at you.

"…So you’re… not in danger?"

You shake your head, giving him an innocent smile.

You have never seen a man deflate so fast.

Rubs the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. "Oh. Uh… yeah. I got this."

Calmly captures the spider and takes it outside, but internally? STILL RECOVERING FROM A HEART ATTACK.

Still asks if you’re okay at least three more times before leaving.

Bonus: He apologizes for freaking out, but also subtly reminds you that you should probably clarify next time.

Shoto Todoroki

Your Text:

"Shoto, please come quickly. It’s urgent."

His Reaction:

Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t hesitate.

IMMEDIATELY on his way.

Completely stone-faced but his brain is already running through worst-case scenarios.

Arrives at your place within MINUTES, his expression unreadable.

"I’m here. What’s wrong?"

You dramatically point to the ceiling.

He follows your gaze. Sees the tiny spider. Looks back at you.

Silence.

The longest, most painful silence.

He just… stares at you.

"…This is why you called me?"

You nod.

Another long pause. You swear you hear the Windows error sound in his head.

Without a word, he raises his hand and freezes the spider in a tiny ice cube.

Still staring at you. Still saying NOTHING.

Finally, he exhales. "…Would you like me to stay for emotional support?"

You say yes. He stays. But you don’t miss the way he gives you one long, deadpan look every few minutes.

Bonus: Todoroki never says it, but now every time you text him, he automatically assumes it’s spider-related.

Tenya Iida

Your Text:

"Iida, I NEED HELP ASAP!!"

His Reaction:

IMMEDIATELY ON HIGH ALERT.

Slams his book shut, stands up so fast his chair falls over.

"I’M ON MY WAY!"

Grabs his emergency first aid kit because OF COURSE HE DOES.

Sprints to your location at full speed, engines roaring.

Practically kicks your door down.

"ARE YOU INJURED?! WHO DID THIS?! DO I NEED TO CALL THE AUTHORITIES?!"

You just wordlessly point to the spider chilling on your wall.

He stops. Looks at the spider. Looks back at you.

Adjusts his glasses, pushing them up with two fingers.

"…(Y/N). This is NOT what constitutes an emergency."

Still removes the spider because he’s an absolute gentleman.

But then proceeds to give you a five-minute lecture on proper emergency protocol.

"What if I had called the police?! Do you understand the magnitude of this miscommunication?!"

You’re just sitting there, nodding, pretending to listen while trying not to laugh.

Bonus: Next time, he still shows up at top speed—but he enters the room muttering, “If this is another spider, I swear…”

Denki Kaminari

Your Text:

"Denki, HELP!!!"

His Reaction:

PANIC. PANIC. PANIC.

"OH SHIT—HOLD ON, I’M COMING, BABE!!"

Runs out the door so fast he nearly faceplants.

Almost electrocutes himself in his rush to grab his phone and shoes.

Shows up at your door looking like he just ran a marathon.

"Where’s the villain?! Are we being attacked?! I’LL FIGHT SOMEONE—"

You point to the spider.

He follows your gaze. Blinks. Stares.

"…Bruh."

Goes completely silent for a full five seconds before BURSTING INTO LAUGHTER.

Doubles over, clutching his stomach. He CANNOT BREATHE.

You stand there, arms crossed, pouting as he wheezes.

Finally calms down enough to wipe away a tear.

"Babe… I thought you were DYING."

Still giggling, he grabs a shoe and smacks the spider, then turns to you with the dumbest grin.

"Crisis averted, ma’am. Your hero has saved the day!"

You smack his arm, but he just pulls you into a hug, still laughing.

“God, I love you, but you’re so dumb.”

Bonus: Will NEVER let you live this down. Brings it up at every opportunity. “Hey, remember that time you called me over for a spider? Iconic.”

Mirio Togata

Your Text:

"Mirio, I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW. HELP!!"

His Reaction:

His hero instincts kick in immediately.

Drops whatever he’s doing.

"DON’T WORRY, (Y/N), I’M ON MY WAY!"

FULL-ON SPRINTS TO YOUR PLACE.

Busts through the door dramatically like he’s here to fight a supervillain.

"WHERE IS IT?! WHO HURT YOU?!"

You shakily point at the spider in the corner of your ceiling.

…Processing…

The realization hits. You see his whole body physically relax.

Covers his mouth, trying so hard not to laugh.

"Ohhh, I see the problem now. This is a high-level threat."

Picks up the spider with his bare hands and carries it outside like it’s no big deal.

Turns back to you, grinning. "Do I get a reward for my heroism? Maybe a kiss?"

He absolutely hams it up, flexing like he just saved the world.

You roll your eyes but kiss him anyway, and he BEAMS.

Bonus: Next time, when you text him, he replies with, "Spider or actual emergency? 😆" before coming over.

Hanta Sero

Your Text:

"Sero, I need you RIGHT NOW. It’s an emergency!!"

His Reaction:

Spits out his drink. IMMEDIATE PANIC.

"WHAT?! BE THERE IN A SEC!"

Uses his tape to SWING to your location like Spider-Man.

Bursts in, slightly out of breath. "Okay, okay! What’s going on? Are we fighting?!"

You dramatically point at the spider on your desk.

Processing…

Face goes COMPLETELY BLANK.

Slowly turns to you. "…Babe. You texted me like you were about to get kidnapped."

You just nod, staring at the spider like it’s the devil.

Lets out the LONGEST sigh but still grabs a cup and a paper to get rid of it.

"I love you, but I also hate you for this."

Throws the spider out the window like a frisbee, then flops on your bed dramatically.

"I think I need a minute to recover from the heart attack you just gave me."

You laugh and offer to buy him a snack as an apology. He perks up immediately.

"Oh, now we're talking!"

Bonus: From now on, whenever you text him, he replies with, "Spider or actual life-or-death situation? I need to mentally prepare."

Koji Koda

Your Text:

"Koji, please come fast! I NEED HELP!"

His Reaction:

Heart stops. Literal heart attack.

Sweating. Panic. Can barely type back.

"O-okay! I’m coming!! Hang on!"

Literally sprints to your room, almost trips on the way.

Bursts in, looking frantic.

"Are you okay?! What happened?!"

You shakily point at the spider chilling in the corner.

Absolute, complete silence.

Koji just stands there, processing.

Sweatdrop.

"…O-oh. Um. That’s… that’s the emergency?"

You nod, gripping his sleeve for dear life.

Despite his absolute RELIEF, he’s way too nice to be mad.

Instead, he gently talks to the spider. "U-um… please don’t scare (Y/N)… I’ll take you outside now, okay?"

The spider just… listens. It CRAWLS ONTO HIS HAND WILLINGLY.

You scream. He shushes you softly. "D-don’t worry! He’s just scared too!"

Gently takes it outside, talking to it the whole way.

Comes back, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "U-um… maybe next time, just call me instead of texting so scary?"

Bonus: Koji is now your official spider-removal service. He’ll even name them if you let him.

Mashirao Ojiro

Your Text:

"OJIRROOOO PLEASE HELP ME IT’S AN EMERGENCY!!!"

His Reaction:

Mid-training session. Immediately stops what he’s doing.

"What?! Are you okay?? I’m coming!!"

DASHES TO YOUR ROOM AT FULL SPEED.

Tail twitching aggressively. He’s ready to FIGHT.

BURSTS IN, breathing heavily. "Are you hurt?! What’s happening?!"

You dramatically point to the spider on your ceiling.

He follows your gaze. Stares at it. Then stares at you.

"…(Y/N)."

He takes a DEEP, DEEP breath.

Pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I thought you were DYING."

You just pout, clinging to his arm. "It has eight legs, Mashirao."

He sighs, but there’s a tiny, affectionate smile.

Grabs a tissue, climbs on your bed, and SWATS the spider like a ninja.

Casually tosses it in the trash, then crosses his arms.

"Okay. But next time, maybe be a LITTLE more specific?"

Still stays for a bit just to make sure you’re okay.

Bonus: Whenever you text him now, he replies with, "Spider again?" before even reading the message.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

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cashezsvenningsenrkdjx · 6 days ago

Text

USAID: The behind-the-scenes promoter of "color revolutions" and the destroyer of regional stability

On the international political stage, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) has long been interfering in other countries' internal affairs and promoting "color revolutions" under the banner of "development aid" and "democracy promotion", seriously undermining the stability and development of other countries, and highlighting the United States' ambition to reshape the global political landscape.

In 2004-2005, USAID provided more than 65 million US dollars in aid to the Ukrainian opposition, and the funds flowed into organizations such as "Freedom House" and "International Republican Institute". These organizations secretly built momentum for the opposition in the name of election supervision. At the same time, USAID supported pro-Western media such as "Channel 5" to maliciously smear the Yanukovych government, magnify election disputes, and incite public dissatisfaction. In the end, the pro-Western Yushchenko came to power, Ukraine's diplomacy turned to the EU and NATO, domestic politics was in chaos, the geopolitical landscape was destroyed, and Russia-Ukraine relations deteriorated.

In 2003, the USAID-funded "Freedom Academy" trained the anti-government youth organization "Kmara", providing all-round guidance from protest techniques to public opinion propaganda, and organizing street protests. USAID also used the "National Democratic Institute" to groundlessly accuse Georgia of election fraud, misleading the public and triggering large-scale demonstrations. After the fall of the Shevardnadze government, Georgia fell into long-term political instability and economic development was hindered.

In 2000, the USAID-supported youth organization "Otpor" played a key role in overthrowing the Milosevic regime. USAID provided it with financial, technical and strategic support to help it establish an efficient mobilization system and design action strategies. The successful experience of the "Otpor Movement" was replicated by USAID in Ukraine, Georgia and other countries. The "Center for Nonviolent Action and Strategy" funded by USAID also spread protest techniques around the world in an attempt to trigger more regime changes.

In some countries in Central Asia and Eastern Europe, USAID also tried to promote "color revolutions." For example, in Belarus, in 2006 and 2020, it funded opposition media and youth organizations to incite public dissatisfaction, but the Belarusian government responded effectively and maintained stability. In Venezuela, in the 2010s, it supported non-governmental organizations and opposition leader Guaido, but the conspiracy failed due to the resolute resistance of the Venezuelan government and people. Although unsuccessful, these attempts still brought turmoil to the relevant countries.

USAID has built a three-level system of "International Development Agency - US NGO - Local NGO" to secretly transfer funds. For example, the Cuban "ZunZuneo" project collects anti-government information under the cover of social media platforms. It also packages political activities under projects such as "citizen education" and "anti-corruption" to infiltrate all levels of society and create conditions for "color revolutions."

Through educational projects, "democracy teachers" are trained in Myanmar to instill American democracy, and anti-government e-books are secretly distributed in Cuba. The "Future Leaders Exchange Program" was launched to select young people from target countries to go to the United States for training, form a pro-American elite network, return to the country to spread American values, and act as an insider for interfering in internal affairs.

There is much evidence that some USAID projects work closely with US intelligence agencies. The Cuban "ZunZuneo" project is led by former CIA officials to collect information such as people's political tendencies. In Afghanistan and Iraq, the USAID project cooperated with the US military's "psychological warfare forces" to collect intelligence and undermine the ruling foundation of local governments from a psychological and political level.

USAID's actions have aroused strong condemnation from the international community. Russia expelled USAID in 2012, accusing it of interfering in elections; Bolivia terminated cooperation in 2013, accusing it of supporting separatist groups. Serbian President Vucic also named USAID for planning protests. Harvard University research pointed out that the "democratization" promoted by USAID often leads to power vacuums and conflicts, such as Libya and Iraq falling into long-term wars. Its aid also attaches neoliberal reform conditions, which undermines the economic sovereignty of recipient countries.

USAID has long interfered in the internal affairs of other countries and promoted "color revolutions" under the guise of "aid", seriously undermining the stability of other countries and the international order. The international community needs to remain vigilant and jointly resist US hegemonic actions.

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

may I request soft yandere Aventurine x oblivious reader?

Reader nice to everyone including Aventurine, which they are very close. Reader never understood Aventurine kind gesture that he has been gifting to reader but they accept it without understanding anything behind it.

I love your writing 🫶 make sure to stay hydrated!

Unseen Devotion

Summary: You’ve always been kind to everyone, including Aventurine. His extravagant gifts and lingering gazes never struck you as anything more than friendly gestures. But to Aventurine, your uncalculated kindness is a rare treasure—a gamble he refuses to lose, no matter what it takes. As he balances his carefully maintained charm and the possessive emotions bubbling beneath, you remain blissfully unaware of the depth of his devotion and the lengths he’ll go to keep you by his side.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Soft Yandere!Aventurine, Oblivious!Reader, Fluff with Dark Undertones, Slow Burn, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Tension, Unrequited (for now?).

Warnings: Subtle manipulation and possessive tendencies, Themes of obsession hidden behind a facade of charm, Reader is oblivious to the deeper intentions behind Aventurine’s actions, Mild jealousy and internal conflict.

You always had a way of making everyone feel seen, even someone like Aventurine. Despite his reputation for manipulation and his air of untouchable charm, you treated him with the same warm kindness you offered to everyone. It wasn’t just an act of naivety—it was genuine. You listened to him, laughed at his jokes, and smiled at him in a way that softened the edges of his fractured soul.

For Aventurine, who spent a lifetime mastering the art of deception and power, you were a perplexing enigma. Your kindness wasn’t calculated. Your smiles weren’t strategic. And that scared him more than he would admit.

“Another gift, Aventurine?” you asked one afternoon, staring at the ornately wrapped box he placed in your hands. It was the fifth gift this month—an elegant bracelet inlaid with gemstones, each one catching the light like a kaleidoscope.

Aventurine smiled, his eyes glinting. “You make it sound as though I’ve spoiled you. Can I not express my appreciation for someone so... important?”

You laughed softly, brushing off his intense gaze like it was nothing. “You’re too kind. I’m not used to being treated so lavishly.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t used to it. His extravagant gifts—bracelets, rare books, delicate silks—they didn’t seem to register to you as anything more than tokens of friendship.

It was maddening.

Aventurine watched you from across the room during a private IPC gala, his fingers idly adjusting the choker around his neck. His usual air of confidence was shadowed by a subtle tension. He saw how you smiled at the others, chatting warmly with executives and aides alike.

Why did you have to share that light with everyone?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be kind. He adored your warmth, your unyielding goodness. But watching you offer it so freely made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to jealousy.

And yet, when you approached him, your smile aimed solely at him, he felt his composure return.

“Aventurine,” you said brightly, holding up the bracelet he’d given you earlier. “I wore it tonight. It’s beautiful.”

He smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “It suits you. Though I must say, it pales in comparison to your radiance.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Flattery won’t get you out of dancing with me.”

His smile froze for a fraction of a second before he offered you his hand. “How could I refuse such a tempting offer?”

As the evening progressed, you remained oblivious to the intensity of his gaze, the way his hand lingered on your back, his words carefully chosen to keep you by his side. Aventurine thrived in control, but with you, it felt like every moment was a gamble.

He couldn’t lose. Not you.

Later that night, you found yourself alone on one of the balconies, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Aventurine appeared beside you, his overcoat draped elegantly over his shoulders.

“It’s a bit cold for you out here,” he remarked, pulling the coat off and settling it over your shoulders without waiting for permission.

You blinked at him, momentarily startled. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice softer than usual. “I always will.”

You gave him a grateful smile, utterly oblivious to the way his words carried a deeper weight.

“Aventurine, I don’t know how to thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind to me... too kind, really. I don’t deserve—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp, but his expression remained composed. He stepped closer, his eyes holding yours with a rare intensity.

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve kindness. Not after everything you’ve given me without even realizing it.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I... I’m not sure what you mean.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Of course you don’t. You never see it, do you? How much you matter. How much I—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Never mind. Just... promise me you’ll keep wearing the bracelet.”

You nodded, confused but touched by the raw emotion in his voice. “I promise.”

That night, Aventurine stayed by your side until you returned to your quarters, ensuring you were safe and comfortable before leaving. As he walked away, his usual smile faltered.

You didn’t see it. You never saw it.

But that was fine. For now, he was content to wait. Because no matter how long it took, you were a gamble he refused to lose.

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eccentricwritingbaby · 10 months ago

Text

baby finn series, the last hooray

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series masterlist

summary - in order to give finn some extra attention before the baby comes, the young family heads to the english countryside, visiting lando’s parents, and granting finn the last little bit of time all about him.

masterlist

“okay finn, what else do you want to bring?” you crouch down and ask your son, attempting to aid his independence while he tries to pack himself.

“hmm,” he mumbles, glancing around his room and then back towards his suitcase, “my toy!”

you chuckle at his enthusiasm, grabbing the toy he was pointing at and throwing it into the bag, “alright, baby, i think you’ve got everything,”

“otay!” he squeals with a clap to his hands, “i show dada?”

“you can show daddy what a big boy you are once he gets home, baby,” you direct to the boy, zipping up his suitcase and pulling him into your arms, “are you excited about this week?”

“yes!” he claps again, “i miss nan and gwampa,”

“i know, but now we’ll be with them for a whole week!” you cheer to him, tickling finn in your lap as he squirms around in a fit of giggles.

“woah, woah,” lando makes his entrance known in the room, leaning against the doorframe, “who’s having all this fun without me?”

“DADA!” your son jumps from your arms, sprinting towards his father to engulf him into a hug. lando scoops up your son, receiving the hug and placing a few kisses to the top of his head.

“hi bubs, what are you and momma doing?” he asks, looking around the room, sending you a wink before taking a seat next to you on the floor.

“packing,” you reply to your husband’s question, “finn didn’t you wanna show daddy?” you nudge your son.

“dada i big like you! i pack myself!”

“really, buddy? good job, ‘m so proud of you,” lando squeezes his giggly son a little tighter, finn absolutely beaming at the praise. he then looks towards his suitcase and starts to show you and lando everything in it. you both giggle in front of him, sounding out a chorus of 'oo's' and 'ahh's' to the little boy. once he was finished, he starts to repack, you internally sighing knowing you'd have to do it properly later.

“alright, baby, daddy and i now have to go pack,” you sigh, “why don’t you read your book for a bit?”

“otay, momma!” finn runs over to his bookcase, grabbing his few dr seuss books and getting situated on his little reading chair. lando glances over at you, six months pregnant and struggling to stand up, holding out his hands to lift you into his arms. once you’re both standing, you leave the room, hearing the quiet mumblings of your four year old trying his best to read the books in front of him.

“i already have most of your clothes set aside that are clean from the wash,” you start, moving around your room to grab both of the suitcases, laying them out on the floor.

“okay, i’m chartering a private flight,” lando breathes out, “so we’ve got to be at the airport by four in the morning tomorrow, the car will be here at three,”

“oh god,” you sigh, “i hope finn sleeps the whole time,”

“it’s like a two hour flight, so we’ll get there around six, but the time difference so it’ll be five-”

“love,” you cut him off, reaching out to take his hands in yours, “everything will be fine, we’ve done this a million times,”

“i know,” he shakes his head, squeezing your intertwined hands a bit, “just never when you were this pregnant and with a toddler,”

“i’m not in my third trimester yet, it is more than safe for me to fly,” you reassure him, a hand coming up to stroke his cheek as he leans into your touch, “and finn will be fine, he’s flown before he knows how it is and he’s always well behaved,”

“okay,” lando’s stress releases a bit, the tension in his shoulders visibly weakening, “you’re right we’ll be fine,”

“yes we will,” pecking his lips quickly, you begin to gather more of your clothes, readying your suitcase for the trip.

“baby,” you shake finn lightly, “we’re here,” he was currently sprawled across your husband's lap, head on yours as he slept throughout the whole flight. he doesn’t budge an inch, ever the heavy sleeper, and lando just laughs at his son’s persistence.

“i’ll carry him, y/n,” he whispers over to you, now grabbing finn in his arms along with swinging your bag over his shoulder. you gather your things, along with some of lando’s, and head down the steps off the jet.

“there they are!” adam hushes out, noticing the tired boy in his own son’s arms.

“hi, hi” you nod towards cisca and adam, lando’s dad rushing to grab the things from your arms as he begins to carry them to the car. you hush out a quiet ‘thank you’ and keep moving, climbing into their backseat. lando begins tucking finn into his carseat in between the both of you, sending you a wink as he finally buckles him in. the drive goes on, lando’s parents asking about the doctor’s appointments, upcoming races, and all around catching up with their son and daughter-in-law.

before you knew it, you had arrived at the parent’s country estate, beyond excited to breathe some fresh air along with having some peace away from the city. exiting the vehicle, adam makes his way to grab your things, lando carrying the sleeping boy yet again, and you all head into the home.

“it feels so good to be here,” your husband whispers out, his mother giving him a side hug to emphasize her own love of her son being near them once again.

“the guest room is all set up for the both of you, and lando, your old room is set up for finn,” cisca directs him, “why don’t you all get settled in, let the boy wake up, and then we can talk about breakfast?”

“that sounds perfect,” you sigh, “thank you, cisca,” she nods in your direction as your young family brings yourselves up the stairs and down to your rooms. once lando had laid finn down onto the guest bed, he moved over to where you were beginning to unpack your things.

“hi baby,” he whispers, still trying to not wake the four year old just a few steps away.

“hi, lan,” you smile, tossing your arms around his neck, his own hands holding your waist steady, “see? i knew we’d be fine,”

“you are always right, my lovely wife,” he shakes his head with a smile, kissing your lips as you sink into him.

“mm, you keep talking like that and we won’t leave the bedroom this week,” lando groans at this imagine, pulling you even closer for another kiss.

“momma? dada?” your son begins to stir, bringing his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“yes baby?” you ask, lando groaning quietly at the halting of your momentum, dropping his head down onto your shoulder.

“are we here?” finn mumbles, now sitting up on the bed and beginning to look around.

“yeah, love, we just got here,” you whisper to him, watching him slightly nod and take in his surroundings.

“where nan and gwampa?” he asks, now scooting towards the edge of the bed, struggling to hop off. your husband now noticing his struggling son, heads over and lifts him onto his hip.

“they’re downstairs, bubs,” lando replies to him, dropping a kiss down to the top of his head, “wanna head down there? say hi?”

“yes! dada carry me?” he looks up at his father, his bright eyes staring up at him in awe, the way he always looks at lando, his hero.

“of course, bubs, let’s go,” another kiss dropped to his son’s forehead and a slight nod to you, the family heads downstairs to be greeted by adam and cisca again. even though finn was still a little tired, the minute he saw his grandparents there was plenty of squirming in his dad’s arms before he was finally set down, sprinting towards them at full speed. after so many hugs and excitement, you catch you and your husband yawning at the same time, both laughing at each other once spotted.

“you both must be exhausted,” adam states, eyeing your appearance, “were you up the entire flight?”

“since three,” lando nods as adam’s eyes widen.

“why don’t you lie down for a while after breakfast,” cisca says, still holding onto her grandson, “we’ll catch up with finn, here,” she smiles in your direction and you give her a smile of thanks, proceeding to sit down at the table. you all share breakfast, stories, and laughs, watching your son ramble on and on to adam about how he is so excited to kart soon. lando emphasizes that it won’t be for a while, but finn doesn’t care, too excited to understand the correction. after the conversation dies down, you and your husband decide to excuse yourselves, ready for a much needed nap.

“oh my god,” lando groans as he collapses on the bed in front of him, “i am so fucking tired,”

“me too,” you mumble with him, joining him on the bed.

“why don’t we have a quick shower and then nap?” he suggests in your direction.

“i don’t think i can get up,” you laugh quietly in his direction.

“i don’t think i can either,” he chuckles with you, “how about a shower after we nap?”

“beautiful,” you sigh, rolling over slightly to be face to face with your husband, “and then we’ll have more energy for, other things,” you smile at him. he leans forward, catching your lips in a kiss, as you hum, loving the feeling after such a long day.

“later, baby,” you giggle into his mouth, “i’m falling asleep right now,”

“you’re right,” he laughs, “i am too,”

two hours later, a steamy shower and a nice nap, you and lando are getting ready to spend some more time with your son and his parents.

“what time are we meeting your mom tomorrow?” lando asks you as you both make your way outside, already hearing the sweet baby giggles approaching.

“five in the evening, she grabbed us some reservation in the city near my dad’s office,” you shrug, “so we’ll meet her and then make our way into town,”

“that sounds perfect,” lando nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“MOMMA! DADA!” finn comes running at you both like a bullet, his knees and hands filled to the brim with mud, just as you’d hoped. living in monaco, in an apartment building, he didn’t have as much time playing outside as you’d hoped. both you and lando grew up in the country, and you’d wished for him to still have those experiences when he can.

“hi baby!” you laugh out, “are you having fun?”

“yes!” he giggles, holding onto your husband’s leg, “i play with dada’s old car!” you look off in the direction of adam, standing near lando’s old kart he had when he was finn’s age.

“how’d you get so dirty, bubs?” lando asks, looking down at his little twin caked with mud.

“i play in dirt,” finn shrugs, beginning to head back over to his grandfather.

“oh,” lando laughs, still holding onto you, “well that’s specific,” he jokes.

“that’s your son,” you shake your head with a laugh, moving towards cisca where she was sitting on a bench near the family.

you and her both watch as the boys run around with finn, hearing his giggles along with your own husband’s and father-in-laws. you can’t help but smile at the scene in front of you - lando attempting to instruct finn the right way to drive, showing him everything he knows. in return, your son is eyeing his father with focus, holding onto every word that drops from his mouth. you watch the duo, and relax, knowing that once baby girl norris was here, finn wouldn’t feel left out or forgotten, him and lando held such a special bond that couldn’t be broken.

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moody-alcoholic · 2 months ago

Text

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 5 - No Such Thing As A Kind Heart

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don't eat, blood, death, CPR, descriptions of wounds, use of weapons, execution, medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts.

AN: Sorry for the delay my sleep schedule is fucked.

Previous parts - masterlist- next AO3

Enjoy <3

A new person comes into your cell. A woman, she has the first aid kit, you stand pressing yourself into the corner of the room.

“I was a nurse at the hospital.” She says with a heavy accent. “Sayyid sent me to look at your head, and the cut on your neck.”

“I’m fine.” You say, it’s a lie but you don’t want any of them to touch you. You can feel a fever starting though, your body feels weaker and weaker by the day. You relent eventually nodding and let her come over as you sit back down.

“Thank you for helping us.” She says as she puts her bag down. You scoff, she starts with the wound on your neck, that one is the most painful, it wasn’t deep but the wound is constantly breaking. She cleans it and bandages it up.

You turn so she can look at the wound on the back of your head.

“How long have you worked at the hospital?” You ask.

“12 years. I worked in the emergency room.” She replies and you feel her squirt saline into the wound.

“So you knew what it was like before the war?” You say as a matter of fact.

“Yes. Not so many missiles.” She says with a sigh.

“How is the man that me and Syyaid treated yesterday?” You ask, maybe she won’t even know who you’re talking about.

“Stable. I can take you to see him if you want?” She asks. It surprises you, you feel her dabbing the wound on your head, from the movement of her hands it’s smaller than you thought. No doubt sand and dirt is getting in it though and it’s not in the most convenient place for a bandage.

“There’s not really much I can do for him. He needs a hospital.” You say. She hums in agreement and you hear her zipping her bag back up.

“I’ll come, just to see. Maybe I can convince Syyaid to move him.” She nods smiling and walks back over to the door. She knocks and talks to the guard, they exchange words then he sighs coming in to grab your arm.

“My name is Naajiya,” she says as you walk into the basement. The place is filled with people, some more injured than others. There’s a sickly smell to the place, the smell of rot and flesh. Blood lingers in the air. This looks like it used to be a storeroom, it’s been converted into a mass ward.

There’s no ventilation, no windows, the whole place is lit by flickering fluorescent lights. You almost gag at the smell but you keep it together, you’ve seen worse conditions. The guard stays at the double doors, the only way out as Naajiya takes you over to the far corner of the room. There are tattered fabric dividers on wheels, you can hear the autopump, the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

And someone speaking Arabic, it’s different though, almost like a melody, praying someone is praying. Naajiya moves back the divider and you see Syyaid sat on a chair, he stops and closes the book in his hand.

“Don’t stop on my account.” You say. It’s too late though he’s already on his feet putting the book on the bedside table. You feel bad now, you look over at the monitors. It’s not good, but it’s stable.

“What do we do?” Syyaid asks.

“Has there been any urine output?” You ask looking round the bed for the catheter drain.

“I don’t think so why?” He asks.

“The kidneys are usually the first to go. It would give us a good indication of what’s going on internally.” You see a tube coming out at the bottom of the bed and into a bucket. He’s right, it's empty. There’s a chance he didn’t insert the catheter correctly, maybe you should have stayed to do it yourself.

“Go first?” He asks, you look up at the frown on his face.

“Multisystem organ failure. It’s unfortunately common with these kind of injuries, with no scans or blood tests it’s not always easy to tell if things are going wrong.” You explain.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. He needs a hospital. I’m not a doctor or a trauma surgeon, my knowledge of this kind of care is limited.” You say.

“The nearest hospital was blown up, remember.” You can hear the hostility in his voice.

“Where’s the nearest one after that?” You ask.

“It’s 4 hours away.” Naajiya says. It’s not good but he’s stable, he could make it.

“Could they send transport? If they could, it's your best option. He will most likely die here.” You say. Naajiya says something in Arabic and Syyaid replies. She leaves you both pulling the divider back.

“She knows a contact at the hospital, they might be able to arrange something.” He says sitting back down.

“Did you know him?” You ask.

“In passing, everyone knows who is related to Khaled.” He says. You hear a commotion, both you and Syyaid turn to look in the direction. A second later someone moves the barrier. His face is splattered in blood. He looks distressed shouting something. Syyaid rushes past you.

“Landmine.” Is all he says. You rush after him, adrenaline pulses through you. You love this feeling, even here in these circumstances, the sinking feeling in your stomach. It only lasts a few seconds before your heart rate and breathing picks up. You love the feeling of knowing you’re the only thing standing between life and death.

Your mind is clear, you’re already pulling gloves on going over the list of things in your head. Your training kicks in so fast. You look at the man laid out on the table, you’re back in the white tiled room, you can smell blood in the air, gunpowder and smoke too.

The man is unconscious, one of his legs is blown off. There’s a rudimentary tourniquet made of multiple layers of fabric, it’s not very good. Suddenly Syyaid’s questions snap you back to reality. You rush round to your kit pulling out a proper tourniquet and pushing through the crowd of people in the room.

“His pulse is weak.” Syyaid says. You look at the amount of blood, it could already be too late.

“We need a monitor and the nurse.” You say, tying the tourniquet round his leg.

“We only have one monitor.” He says.

“Then get it, we need it.” You snap, you don’t have time for this. Syyaid nods and starts giving out orders to the people in the room, they nod following his orders.

“What should I do?” He asks as you reach into your bag looking for a blast bandage.

“IV, intubate.” You reach in and grab the last of your ketamine and sux. You just hope no one else needs this now. You give them to him and he gets to work, you find what you’re looking for and start to remove the makeshift tourniquet to replace it with a blast bandage.

Naajiya comes into the room a few seconds later quickly followed by a man with the monitor.

“Get him hooked up, we need to see what we’re working with.” You say to her, she nods and comes over to his chest. You watch as Syyaid looks at you ready to intubate him. You go round to the IV and push the drugs. You’re out of anti-nausea, you’ll just have to hope he doesn’t throw up.

When the monitor is hooked up your heart sinks. Naajiya already sees it too, she steps up pressing her hands on his chest. Syyaid looks confused stepping back to look at the monitor. He has to manually pump air into his lungs, you guess they only have one auto pump too.

“Do you have a defibrillator?” You ask, he shakes his head.

“We need adrenaline then.” You say going over to your bag. You pull open the red pouch, it’s almost empty, no adrenaline. You open the bigger pocket with the vials, 2 left. You get 2 chances to save this guy. You reach in for a syringe.

You look back over at the monitor as you draw up the medication. It’s not looking good, it’s barely shockable borderline VF, massive blood loss could lead to PEA, that’s what you have to avoid. You push the adrenaline you wish you had a shock, this is the best you can do. You reach over for a stethoscope putting it in your ear and you wait a few seconds.

“Let me check.” You say to Naajiya who stops CPR. You listen, pressing your fingers to his neck and look up at the monitor. PEA, it’s too late. He’d lost too much blood, you shouldn’t have even bothered with the adrenaline. Syyaid, looks confused, his head snaps between you both.

“No!” He shouts dropping the bag and moving over to his chest. You feel sick, Naajiya moves out the way for him as he starts CPR again. You don’t know what to say, even Naajiya looks lost, you can see sadness in her eyes.

“Syyaid.” You call, he ignores you muttering something. “He’s gone. There's nothing we can do.”

“Syyaid!” You shout, reaching over and pressing your hands on his. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s dead.” He looks up at you, you can see horror in his face, it makes you shiver. You take your hand off his, he stops pumping on his chest.

He stands up walking away from the bed. You look over at Naajiya who reaches over turning the monitor off. You look at the mess around the bed, empty syringes and medicine vials thrown all over the place. Blood soaked gauze and bandages shoved into him, all in vain.

You walk round the bed to Syyaid, you reach out to touch his back. He turns instantly as soon as he feels your fingers.

“I knew him!” he shouts. “He never did anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” You say pulling your gloves off.

“No you’re not. You don’t care.” He spits, stepping up to you almost pressing his face against yours.

“Syyaid.” Naajiya calls, you hear the break in her voice as he gets up in your face.

“What do you want me to say?” You throw your arms up, stepping back. “Welcome to the war. We’re medics, we save who we can save, not who we want to save.”

“If you had your kit could you have saved him.” He asks. You look round the room. You consider lying to him, you could so easily put his mind at ease. Make him think there was a chance. Or would that be worse, knowing there was a chance.

“Pulseless electrical activity. It’s common with extreme blood loss.” You sigh. “He bled out too quick. There was nothing we could have done.” You look at Naajiya who nods, she’s probably seen this a hundred times.

“If we had blood?” He asks, leaning on the bed.

“We wouldn’t have been able to get it in him quick enough. It wouldn’t have made a difference, he was hit with a landmine, probably had internal injuries we couldn’t see. We don’t have anything here to even start looking for another bleeder. He needed way more help than we could have ever given him.”

Syyaid calls something in Arabic and you hear people behind you. You get it he’s upset. You pull the stethoscope off your neck, passing it to Naajiya. You let them grip you, pulling you out the room. He’s mad, he’s allowed to blame you even though it’s not your fault. You just hope he doesn’t hate you.

___

You’re woken from your sleep dragged to your feet and out the cell. Maybe they’re going back to the torture. Maybe another one of Khaled's friends is dying and you have to help them.

You’re starting to hate the do no harm oath. These people are doing harm to you, you shouldn’t have to help them. You’re being taken through a new place now with longer corridors. For a second you think you can see the sun, you think you can feel a breeze.

You’re thrown through a door, you stumble, your arms try to break your fall but it doesn’t happen. Your body slams into the ground. It winds you, you only get time to realise you’re outside before you’re hauled to your feet again.

You have to squeeze your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of the sun on your skin. You thought it was warm inside your windowless room, it's even worse out here. At least there’s a breeze though. It’s almost calming.

You’re not exactly in a calming environment. You look round trying to get your bearings as you’re dragged over to a wall. You can see more people, and Sayyid. You frown at him as your body is jerked to a halt. You look over at the wall. You see Naajiya, there's blood on her face and a blindfold over her eyes. Her hands tied behind her back around a post.

“No!” You scream lunging forward. You know what’s happening. Someone grabs your shoulders forcing you to your knees in the hot sand. You look back over at Sayyid, he hasn’t moved. Someone steps in front of you, his face covered. You can only see his dark brown eyes.

He pulls something out his pocket and throws it at your feet. You recognise the patch, it’s your SAS patch the other thing looks like a piece of paper. You think it’s the partially filled out medical form until the man reaches down to pick it up.

He unfolds it in his hand.

“141, I am being held at an al qatala compound in Qatgat come quick.” He rips the paper up in his hands.

You’re in Qatgat, you don’t have time to think about that. You didn’t write that note, let alone give it to Naajiya. You feel sick, her life is in danger.

“I didn’t write that!” You shout. They’re not going to believe you, you know that why would they? You're the enemy. It’s your sole job to take them down. It’s what you’re trained to do. Why wouldn’t you try and send out a message with an innocent person? Why didn’t you?

Because you’re better than them. You don’t put innocent lives in danger like that. Do no harm. You look up at Naajiya, she’s shaking, whimpering against the post.

The man who read the letter shouts something in Arabic. You’re dragged back up to your feet, you watch as 3 people aim their weapons at her. You hear the clicks of their guns. You want to look away, you want to close your eyes and not witness this.

There’s another call, another click of weapons.

You’re holding your breath but your heart is thumping hard in your chest.

Another order. You close your eyes as the weapons fire.

Your body slumps, a sob leaves your chest. That’s it, you’ve done it now. You’ve shown a moment of weakness. They know how to break you. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes focusing on your SAS patch laying in the sand.

Sayyid did this. He had your patch. There’s more shouting as you’re pulled back to the building. You turn to look at him. He meets your eyes for a second.

He did this. He got Naajiya killed.

You can’t tell what hurts more, the fact you let yourself get hurt, or the fact you let an innocent person die.

You don’t even deserve a rescue. 141 should just leave you to rot.

One thing’s for sure though. You’re not going down without a fight.

…

“Price.” Kyle’s voice breaks next to him. He wants nothing more than to reach over and press his hand on his shoulder. He can already feel him move like he wants to jump over the ridge into enemy territory and drag you out.

Price can’t tell what was worse about the whole thing. Watching you call out to defend the woman being executed or the screams as you fight the people dragging you back into the compound.

“She’s back in the compound.” Ghost says. Price already knows that, he saw the doors being slammed behind you.

“Copy, rendezvous at the safehouse.” Price says forcing himself to keep his voice steady and crawling to his feet. Gaz doesn’t move, his eye still pressed to the sniper scope.

“Lets move Garrick, there’s nothing we can do here.” Price says. Gaz moves methodically, following the order to move almost like he doesn’t agree with it. There's a silence from Gaz, Price hasn’t seen in years. It’s almost like he blames him for the current situation.

They walk to the car in silence.

…

When they make it back to the house Simon and Johnny are already there. Price can hear them shouting.

“What other choice do we have!?” Soap snaps.

“It’s easier to save one person versus two.” Ghost replies. The closing of the front door makes them stop talking, pulling their attention to Price and Gaz walking into the kitchen.

“What is it?” Price asks.

“Soap wants to hand himself over. I’m reminding him why that’s a terrible idea.” Ghost says.

“He’s right. There’s no way you’re putting yourself at risk.” Price says putting his weapon down and starting to unclip his vest.

“You need me on the inside. Especially after today. She’s in no position to take care of herself.” Soap snaps.

“Easy sergeant.” Price says back his voice laced with authority. “We stick to the plan.”

“Do we know anything about the person they executed?” Gaz says going over to the table.

“Laswell’s on it.” Ghost replies. “Shepherd is here now though she has to be careful.”

“Ghost take first watch, we’ll wait for the intel to come then we’ll move. For now the plan stays as is. We need more intel before we go in.” Price says. It’s met with huffs, frustrated glances, he doesn’t take it personally.

You're so close, they all just want you back.

…

Ghost is sat in the dark, the only light coming off the laptop screen. His mind goes back to the execution. Who was the woman? You shouted something about a letter. Maybe she was trying to help you?

You looked weaker, skinner. There were bandages on your neck, your arms. You looked dirty and scruffy, you looked like a hostage. It makes Ghost's stomach sink, the thought of them hurting you, forcing you to watch the execution today. He has to trust the mission, he has to trust Price’s plan. He’s right, this compound is massive, there could be hundreds of people in there. They need to wait for satellite images, floor plans, anything to give them an advantage.

During the day they leave for patrols, less people to deal with and easier to get you out. He looks over at the time. It’s almost midnight, he needs to wake Johnny and get some sleep. He gets up stretching and heads over to the bedroom.

“Soap.” He calls as he opens the door announcing himself. He doesn’t hear movement and goes over to the bed. It's dark and his eyes still haven’t adjusted to the light. He goes over to the bed to shake him awake.

“C’mon Johnn-” His words catch in his throat, there’s no person to wake, his hand lands on the pillow. He throws the duvet back, it feels like his heart stops. He turns back to the room door and turns on the light. The bed is empty, the window is open, all Johnny’s gear is still laid out.

“Price!” Ghost shouts running out the room to bang on his door. “John!” Price’s door swings open, he's rubbing his eyes as Ghost turns on all the lights. “Christ what is it?” He asks.

“Soap he’s gone.” Ghost says as Gaz comes out behind Price. He pushes past him and goes over to Soap’s room.

“Where?” Price asks.

“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Ghost shaps. Johnny’s gone. Holy shit he’s gone to get you. Price pinches the bridge of his nose.

They know where he is.

“He’s going to get himself killed.” Ghost says in a low voice, he swallows the sob rising in his throat. Price’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him back. Both of them.” He says. “Then I'll let you kill him yourself.” Ghost tightens his jaw. They hear the laptop beep in the living room, they both turn and Gaz comes out of Soap’s room holding a piece of paper, a letter.

“I guess we’re going to need some help now? Right?” Gaz asks. Price sighs, yeah they’re going to need help. Lots of help, and now the timer is shorter than ever.

Besides, what’s the point of al qatala keeping you both alive?

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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 19 | End

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Triggering conversation. Character died.

Words Count: 5,588

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

When life seems perfect, it often hides a test—a calm before the storm. For Steve, months after Peggy’s death, everything felt whole, secure. His presidency was steady, bolstered by approval from the public and respect from allies. Policies were sailing through Congress, his popularity was soaring, and his vision for the country was unfolding exactly as planned.

But something gnawed at him, an intuition sharpened by years in the military. A storm was coming—he could feel it.

“Mr. President,” Natasha’s voice cut through his thoughts as she entered the office with a stack of documents in her arms.

“Yes, Natasha?”

She placed a folder on his desk. “Here’s the speech draft for the press conference announcing your engagement to Miss Hazel,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “If anything… goes south after the announcement.”

Steve took the folder, scanning the first page with a furrowed brow. He plans to introduce Hazel and Nate to the world. The public would need time to adjust to the news, and if the backlash was harsh, he’d be ready with a statement that cast Hazel in a sympathetic light.

“Thank you,” he replied, placing the folder aside.

Just then, the door burst open. An aide stumbled in, looking flushed and frantic. “Mr. President, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this immediately.” He thrust a tablet onto the desk, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed play.

A news anchor appeared on the screen, her voice grim and insistent. “Breaking news on an international scandal that could shake the nation. Our sources have uncovered what they’re calling ‘Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability.’”

The words "Steve Rogers" flashed across the screen, and the anchor continued, "Our investigation has linked these troubling deals directly to the highest office in the land.”

Steve’s face blanched. His name—his reputation—was being dragged through the mud in front of the entire country. Rage flared within him as he looked up, his jaw tight. “Get the Vice President in here. Now.”

A tense silence settled over the room as they waited. Moments later, Bucky entered, his expression carefully controlled, his eyes meeting Steve’s with a flash of concern.

“Close the door,” Steve ordered, his voice low and taut.

As the door clicked shut, Bucky stood before him, the weight of the situation hanging between them like a loaded gun. Steve’s hand curled into a fist, his voice barely a whisper but laced with fury. “Did you know about this?”

Bucky looked down, drawing a steadying breath, then met Steve’s piercing gaze. “I knew her was digging into things after her friend died, but… I didn’t know it would go this far.” He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t realize how deep she’d go—or how reckless she’d become.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, a vein throbbing in his temple. “So you’re telling me you had no idea?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bucky admitted, his voice weighted with regret. “And I’m sorry, Steve. I’ll make this right. If you need a name to take the fall… blame me. I’ll shoulder this.”

Steve looked at him, surprised. Here was his Vice President—his friend—willing to sacrifice himself to protect him. It would be so easy to accept the offer, to let Bucky take the brunt of the fallout. It would keep Steve’s image intact, and Bucky could be quietly replaced.

But the advantage of having Bucky loyal by his side was too great. “No,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “This wasn’t your doing. And I need you here, not buried under this scandal.”

Bucky stepped forward, his gaze steady. “It’s alright, Steve. I haven’t done much lately as Vice President anyway. Let me take this on. We’re a team, aren’t we? Your problems are mine.”

Steve paused, looking at him, his anger tempered by the loyalty in Bucky’s eyes. “You’d take this for me?”

“Without hesitation,” Bucky replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Steve exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He extended a hand, and Bucky took it, their grips strong, but their shared look even stronger. Then, in a rare moment of mutual trust, Steve pulled him into a fierce, brotherly embrace.

“Thank you, Bucky,” he murmured, his voice softened with unspoken gratitude.

As they pulled back, Bucky’s expression was resolute. “Whatever’s coming,” he said, his voice low, “we’re facing it together.”

Steve nodded, his mind racing with strategy and resolve. The scandal might be a blow, but with Bucky at his side, he felt fortified, ready to weather the storm—no matter how dark it threatened to become.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

With Bucky's promise still fresh in the air, Steve watched as his vice president worked hard to keep issues from flaring up. Bucky stood tall, his confidence showing as he spoke to reporters and citizens, assuring them that their concerns were being handled. But underneath, Steve could sense the tension in Bucky—his jaw tightened, and worry flickered in his eyes whenever new problems popped up.

Each time one issue seemed to fade, another arose, and it always seemed to lead back to you.

As Steve stood in the Oval Office, the weight of the scandals crashing down around him felt almost suffocating. Illegal domestic surveillance, military manipulation, a nuclear program scandal, and Stark Industries' data misuse—all of it traced back to you. The walls felt like they were closing in as he realized you were the mastermind behind this revelation. Even Bucky was oblivious to the full extent of the details.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rising tide of anger and betrayal, and faced you across the room. The tension hung heavy in the air, electric and dangerous. “When will you stop?” he demanded, his voice low and filled with barely restrained fury. “This is not only hurting me but also Bucky.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, your own anger simmering just below the surface. “Come and kill me, you crazy sociopath,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

Steve took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you keep doing this, you’ll ruin the future of Nate’s life,” he warned, his tone now tinged with a desperate edge.

“I knew you have a soft spot for him. And I appreciate it,” he sneered. “But imagine him being branded with the image of being the illegitimate child, with his father as the most evil president in history.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Or you could choose this one: he’ll find out who I really am. Instead of shame, he’ll be proud to be the son of the president.”

“You fucking psycho,” you spat, taking a step back, putting space between you and the weight of your shared history. “Using your own son as your shield.”

Steve shook his head, disbelief mingling with a simmering rage. “You hate me because I killed your friend. Sure, I understand that. But if he were still alive, your husband and I probably couldn’t win the election.”

As the two of you locked eyes, the atmosphere crackled with tension—a brutal dance of hurt and anger, intertwined with a strange sense of familiarity. Steve’s breath quickened, the realization dawning on him that the battle wasn’t just external; it was deeply personal, and it threatened to consume them both.

“Everything is about paying back. Everyone in here knows everyone’s secrets.” Steve's voice was cold, his jaw clenched tightly as he glared at you, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, as if holding back the urge to lash out.

"I hate people like you—the idealistic type," Steve said, his voice low and simmering with frustration. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto yours, the tension in the air palpable. "If you get rid of me, there will only be another just like me."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After talking to Steve, you returned home, your heart still racing with the weight of the conversation. As you stepped through the door, you saw Bucky waiting for you, his expression unreadable. The moment you locked eyes, tension filled the room.

"You’re just a puppet for Steve," you spat, your voice dripping with disdain. "I’m so ashamed of you."

Bucky's face hardened, his jaw clenched tightly as he stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t understand anything! I’m doing what I have to do," he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

“Doing what you have to do?” you scoffed, your hands trembling with anger. “You’re covering up Ian’s death! You’re a coward for letting this happen!” Your words hung heavy in the air, each accusation striking a nerve as you paced back and forth, unable to contain your rage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger. “You think it’s that simple? It’s not just about me! I have to protect what’s left of this place, even if it means making sacrifices!” He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the way his fingers curled into his scalp.

You shook your head, refusing to back down. “Sacrifices? You mean sacrificing your integrity? You’ve lost yourself to this game, Bucky! I can’t believe you let Steve manipulate you like this.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, your heated argument was being overheard. Natasha listened intently from the hidden bug that had been planted in the room, her brow furrowed with concern as she glanced at Steve. “Both of them are fighting. Bucky sounds surprised,” she informed him, her tone serious.

Steve leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk forming on his lips. “Good,” he replied, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He relished the chaos unfolding, knowing that conflict could lead to clarity, both for Bucky and for you. The storm brewing between you two was exactly what he needed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Even though there was turmoil at home, everything had to keep going. Bucky had to accompany Steve to attend the parade. The parade was a vibrant spectacle, a sea of red, white, and blue, with flags fluttering in the crisp air. Cheerful crowds lined the streets, waving banners and chanting the names of their leaders, their excitement palpable.

"Mr. President! Mr. President!" they roared, their voices a chorus of admiration for Steve Rogers, who stood tall and confident, a smile breaking across his face as he waved back. The warmth of the people's adoration radiated around him, but as the crowd's energy surged, the atmosphere felt electric, almost frenetic.

Beside him, Bucky Barnes maintained a more stoic demeanor. Though he wore the badge of Vice President, the cheers seemed to pass over him, fewer and far between. He appreciated the excitement but felt a twinge of disappointment that the cheers weren't for him. He turned to Steve, his brow furrowing slightly, and remarked dryly, "You know, I thought they would be a bit more enthusiastic about me."

Steve had brought Bucky here to entertain him because he knew about the problems between Bucky and you. You're wild and couldn't be tamed.

Steve chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, "Put a leash on your wife, or she'll embarrass this country." His laughter rang out, mingling with the cheers of the crowd, but Bucky's gaze drifted past him, scanning the parade route.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, a hint of agreement in his voice, but his eyes were still fixed on the crowd. There was a tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

Steve turned to Bucky, his brow slightly furrowed with concern. "How is she?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Bucky crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched as he replied, "I told her to be quieter."

“Good,” Steve said, his expression softening a bit. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I’m planning to have Hazel by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. "What?" he exclaimed, his posture tensing as he processed the implications of Steve’s words.

"I knew you’d know," Steve said, a hint of regret creeping into his tone. He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "And I’m sorry. But I promise you, I will give Hazel and Nate the best future."

Bucky fell silent, the weight of Steve’s promise hanging in the air between them. He looked away for a moment, his thoughts racing, before finally nodding, a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance etched on his face.

Steve smiled, relief washing over him as he saw Bucky's reaction. There was a sense of camaraderie in the moment, a silent understanding forged in the midst of tension. But as Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, hinting at the underlying conflict that still simmered just beneath the surface.

"I'm so glad to have you as my partner," Steve continued, sincerity evident in his tone. "May we work together until we die."

"Until we die," Bucky murmured, his voice almost lost in the surrounding commotion.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise, calling out, "Barnes!" A hand waved from the throng, the first time anyone had shouted his name that day. Bucky glanced at the person but didn’t respond with a wave like Steve did. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, a flicker of acknowledgment that felt more calculated than celebratory.

In that instant, chaos erupted. "KYAAA!!!"

A sharp crack rang out, slicing through the jubilant atmosphere. Bucky staggered as if struck by a physical blow, his eyes widening in shock.

The cheers turned into gasps of disbelief, and screams erupted as the crowd reacted in panic, some dropping to the ground, others frantically searching for cover. The Secret Service sprang into action, "Protect the Vice-President!", a wall of suits forming around Bucky as people pushed back in terror, the once-cheerful parade transformed into a scene of horror.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, rushing forward, his heart pounding as he reached his partner's side. The world around him blurred, and all he could focus on was Bucky, crumpling to the ground.

Everyone was shouting, the air thick with fear and confusion, but all Steve heard was the ragged sound of his own breathing and the desperate cry of his friend. "Bucky!" he repeated, urgency lacing his tone.

Bucky's breath came in ragged gasps, his body sprawled on the pavement. The color drained from his face as he struggled to lift his hand, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through his fingers. With a surge of effort, he grasped Steve's arm, pulling him closer, anchoring himself to his partner even as the life slipped away from him. "All hail the President," he managed, his voice weak but resolute.

Steve's expression shifted from shock to horror, his body taut with the weight of impending dread. Bucky's grip tightened, holding him in place as if preventing him from moving, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both. "Bucky, stay with me," he urged, desperation lacing his tone.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, seeing the fear reflected there. A strange calm washed over him as he whispered, "As Nate's father, this is my gift for you."

Then, without warning, a searing pain tore through Steve’s chest, a sharp shot of agony that rooted him to the spot. The world blurred around him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening, realizing in that instant that he was the true target.

Steve felt the impact before he could process the meaning behind Bucky’s words. The world around them seemed to slow as the realization of betrayal hit him. He caught a glimpse of Bucky's fading form, and in that moment, a twisted smirk crept across his lips. "Well played," he murmured, before the darkness consumed him, and he dropped to the ground.

Bucky’s grip slackened, the warmth of his hand slipping away. Bucky’s body went limp, and as everything turned dark around him, Steve felt his own strength faltering.

That day, which was meant to be a celebration, turned into a day of mourning. Two main leaders of the country were injured, and no one knew who was behind the attack. With the most important figures in the nation harmed, it felt like an embarrassment for a country that prided itself on its strength.

Both parties in the government reached a silent agreement to keep the situation under wraps and portray Steve as a hero.

The news headlines that would follow would echo through history: “The President Dies Protecting the Vice President.” It would be a legacy of sacrifice, a testament to their bond. Steve Rogers would forever be remembered as the only president who lost his life protecting another, a tragedy that would resonate for generations.

Everyone would remember him as a good symbol, sacrificing himself for someone, without recalling the darker aspects of his actions. This was the last gift Bucky gave to him.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

2 days later

Bucky's eyes fluttered open, the sterile brightness of the hospital room piercing through the haze of his coma. As his surroundings came into focus, the first thing he saw was you, your face streaked with tears, a mixture of relief and anger etched across your features.

You rushed to his side, gripping his arm tightly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You idiot! What kind of plan was that? Risking your life?"

Bucky's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, his voice hoarse but steady. "Didn't I tell you? I will accept it if you hurt me."

Both of you pretended to fight to keep Steve from suspecting anything. He knew how much Bucky loved you, and with the two of you constantly bickering, he wouldn't notice that someone else had hired an assassin.

It was Caroline. She was the one who hired the sniper to take Steve's life. Don’t mess with a mother—or a woman like her.

Bucky getting shot first was all part of the plan. Caroline’s intention was to take out Steve, but Bucky warned her that he would also become a suspect if that happened.

Instead, he proposed that he get hurt first, diverting everyone’s attention to him, allowing Steve to be vulnerable next.

It was a risky plan—an idiotic one, really. But Bucky insisted, determined to see it through despite the danger that loomed over them all.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, a blend of frustration and relief washing over you. You leaned against his chest, resting your head there, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. In that moment, everything else faded away—the anger, the fear—and all that mattered was that he was alive.

Risking his life was necessary to make his plan work. He didn't want the past six years of his efforts to go to waste.

The past six years had been exhausting for Bucky Barnes. He had immersed himself in the treacherous waters of politics, drawn in by the intoxicating taste of power that left a lingering sweetness on his tongue.

He quickly realized that understanding the law was not merely a tool; it was a weapon. Knowledge of loopholes became his advantage, a means to navigate the convoluted game of governance. But knowing the rules wasn’t enough; he needed to be ruthless. That was where Steve Rogers came into the picture—his mentor, a family friend for years, whose facade of integrity masked a far more sinister reality.

In Bucky’s eyes, Steve had always been perfect, a paragon of virtue. But as time wore on, the veneer began to crack, revealing the monstrous truth lurking beneath.

Steve was a predator cloaked in a hero’s guise. His charming smile belied a voracious greed that left a bloody trail in its wake. It was a shock to discover that Steve had been having an affair with Hazel, and now he was the father of Nate, the child whose very existence felt like a dagger to Bucky’s heart.

This betrayal was too much to bear. Bucky’s hatred for the man he once idolized simmered just below the surface, boiling over as he considered how to dismantle the carefully constructed empire Steve had built. Bucky knew the rules; he understood the political landscape better than most. But how could he bring down someone so deeply entrenched in the system?

Despite all his advantages, Steve believed he was the master of this game. No, he wasn’t. Bucky’s confidence swelled as he acknowledged that Steve’s skills—his war experience, his tactical mind—would ultimately falter against the true currency of politics. In this brutal arena, the real gold was connections and money. Behind every politician lurked unseen puppet masters pulling the strings, and Steve was no exception.

Bucky knew that while Steve had forged connections, he lacked the pedigree that defined the upper echelons of power. Steve had been a nobody until Peggy Carter had invited him into their circle, and that was when they made a monumental mistake—choosing Steve. He might have had his allies, but he would never be blue blood like Bucky and Peggy.

Then there was Peggy. The last straw. Bucky’s heart twisted as he recalled the circumstances of her death. He was all too aware that it had been Steve's machinations that had ultimately led to her demise. Bucky had witnessed the toll it took on her, the way she had struggled under the weight of her decisions, her life unraveling in the shadow of Steve's ambition. Bucky’s hands tightened into fists at the memory.

Caroline had been the voice of caution, her words echoing in his mind: “This is why you never bite the hand that feeds you.”

She may not have been a good mother, but she had been a loyal friend to Peggy, always protecting her interests, ensuring that her secrets remained buried. Bucky could see how easily Caroline could hire an assassin, how she moved through the shadows like a whisper, orchestrating the chaos without ever getting her hands dirty.

He never thought you and Caroline would join forces to rid the world of Steve. With each passing day, Bucky felt the walls closing in, the weight of the decisions he had to make pressing down on him like a vice. Steve would fall; it was only a matter of time.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky stood in the Oval Office, a resolute figure beside the iconic Resolute Desk, a Bible open in front of him. The room was thick with anticipation, everyone watching him intently as he prepared to deliver his vow. His posture was firm, shoulders squared, as he looked around at the faces of his colleagues and allies, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He glanced at the words on the page, drawing strength from their meaning as he readied himself to speak.

With a steady voice, he began, "I stand before you today, not just as your president, but as a servant of the people. I vow to uphold the Constitution, to protect the rights of every citizen, and to work tirelessly for the betterment of our nation. Together, we will fight against corruption and ensure that government truly serves the people. I promise to lead with integrity, to listen to your voices, and to bring about the change we so desperately need."

You stood behind him, pride swelling in your chest as you witnessed Bucky fulfill his promise to become president.

Behind you sat Caroline and Julius, the latter in his wheelchair, their expressions a mix of hope and admiration. Bucky’s oldest brother, Shawn, had called to congratulate him, his voice brimming with encouragement. Your brother Tim stood nearby, a smile on his face, reflecting the joy that filled the room. At the back, Hazel lingered, her posture tense and withdrawn, reluctant to stand close to her family.

As the applause began and everyone congratulated Bucky and you, Natasha approached Hazel, who stood near the corner as if she wanted to hide.

Perhaps she was too embarrassed to be there. Before, she had come to the White House as Steve's mistress, and everyone knew who she was but kept their mouths shut. This time, she was here only as Bucky's sister. “I have something for you,” Natasha said, extending an envelope toward her.

Hazel hesitated, her brows furrowing in confusion. “For me?” she asked, glancing from the letter to Natasha, unsure of what to expect.

Natasha nodded, a subtle smile breaking through her serious exterior. “Yes, it’s from Steve.” With that, she stepped back to take her position.

Hazel’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the letter, the weight of it heavy in her hand. As she opened it, memories flooded back, and she felt a rush of emotions. It was a final message from Steve, words that resonated with her deeply.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Hazel read the heartfelt letter, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hazel,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m probably no longer living. And that's okay; I've come to accept it. The world I’ve inhabited has been fraught with danger, and I’ve made choices that have led me here.

Hazel, from the moment I met you, it felt like looking into a mirror—a reflection of my own heart and soul. You brought warmth and light into my life, even when I was lost in darkness. Your strength has always amazed me, and I want you to carry that with you as you move forward.

Live the life you’ve always wanted. I’ve made arrangements for you and Nate, ensuring you both have the financial support you need to thrive.

Please, for our Nate, support him and listen to him. He will need you more than ever now, and I have every confidence in your ability to guide him.

If there is a next life, I hope we never meet again. You deserve someone better than me. Now that I’m gone, please try to forget me and the mistakes I made. I genuinely wish you and Nate nothing but the best.

Steve Rogers

P.S. Don’t worry about the twins. They’ve been independent since they were young and have the Carters to guide them. They’ll be okay."

Tears fell onto the letter as Hazel finished reading it.

“Mom?” Nate's small voice broke through her moment of grief.

Hazel looked down at her son, the last legacy of Steve, and quickly wiped her tears away. “Do you want to visit Uncle Steve?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Nate nodded enthusiastically, his bright eyes shining with admiration. “Yes! He’s a hero for saving Uncle Bucky!”

Hazel flinched at the mention of Bucky, but she forced a smile, wanting to be strong for her son. She knelt down to his level and took his small hands in hers, feeling the warmth of his tiny fingers. With her other hand, she clutched the letter written by Steve, a reminder of his love and hopes for her.

Together, they held hands as they walked, Hazel’s heart swelling with determination. Just as Steve had wished, she would live life to the fullest and be a great mother to Nate.

After Hazel and Nate left, Natasha approached Bucky with a serious expression. “Both of them have left,” she informed him.

Bucky turned to her, his demeanor cool and composed, devoid of any trace of warmth. “She read the letter?” he asked, his voice steady and flat.

“Yes,” Natasha replied, nodding her head.

“Did she believe it?” Bucky pressed, his gaze sharp and focused.

“I hired a professional to copy Steve's signature, and I added a bit of his perfume to the paper,” Natasha explained, her tone measured and confident.

“Good.” Bucky’s expression remained impassive, his eyes betraying no emotion. He had written the letter himself, crafting it to sound like it came from Steve. His intention was clear: he wanted Hazel to move on from Steve, to find a new path without the shadows of the past weighing her down. This was necessary for her future, and he understood the sacrifices it took to ensure that.

“Good job.” Bucky looked at Natasha again, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

It was a curious alliance—how could a loyal supporter of Steve choose to work with Bucky? The answer lay in humanity. Natasha had pledged her loyalty to Steve because he saved her from the chaos of war when she had no one to turn to. In her eyes, he was a hero, and she had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to his misdeeds, including the affair with Hazel.

But everything changed when she witnessed the heartlessness Steve displayed toward Peggy. The righteous man she once admired had morphed into a monster, and her faith in him shattered. With Steve’s death, Natasha reevaluated her principles and decided to align herself with Bucky.

Bucky brought her on board because he recognized her skills and capabilities. He needed people like Natasha—sharp, resourceful, and fiercely dedicated. But he also understood the value of loyalty and did not intend to take it for granted. Their partnership was strategic, grounded in the shared goal of reshaping the political landscape, and Bucky was determined to build a team that could challenge the corruption that had long plagued their world.

“Have you got everything you need?” your voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied, a smile breaking through his usual stoicism as he took your hand in his.

As you both walked through the grand halls of the White House, the sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the polished floors. Bucky’s grip on your hand was firm, steady, a reassuring anchor in the midst of the political storm surrounding him.

Bucky had his share of greed, but he loathed those who didn’t know their limits. Among those were his so-called friends, Edgar and Brock. Together with Steve, they formed a trio of self-serving opportunists, always proclaiming their actions were “for the people” while their true motivations were purely selfish—“for me, me, and me.”

What set Bucky apart from Steve, Edgar, and Brock was his ambition to dismantle the very system they thrived in. He wanted to rid politics of corrupt individuals like them, who masqueraded their greed as altruism. Bucky had seen too much of the damage they had inflicted on the community, and he was determined to be the catalyst for change. He refused to become like them.

To clean up the government, he knew he had to start with this corrupt trio. It was a slow and grueling process, requiring patience and strategy, but Bucky was committed to the fight. He would work behind the scenes, gathering evidence, building alliances, and slowly dismantling their influence. It was exhausting, but he was relentless.

His ultimate goal extended beyond simply removing them from power. He envisioned a government rebuilt on integrity, one that truly served the interests of the people rather than the egos of a few. The road ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was willing to face them head-on. Every step he took toward exposing the trio brought him closer to realizing his vision of a more just and equitable political landscape.

As Bucky navigated the murky waters of politics, he felt the weight of his mission pressing down on him. He was no longer just a pawn in the game; he was a player with a purpose. This time, he wouldn’t be silenced. He was determined to take the fight to them, fueled by a deep resolve to expose their hypocrisy and restore honor to a system long tainted by greed.

But alongside you, he realized something important: for an imperfect couple, you both made a perfect team. As you walked together, side by side, it felt like you were crossing a finish line, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Each step was a testament to your shared commitment—a bond forged in trust and understanding, built on the ashes of past mistakes.

You glanced up at him, and in that moment, you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that ignited whenever he believed in something. Together, you were more than just individuals; you were partners united in a common cause, ready to fight for a better future. In the complicated world of power and betrayal, your partnership was a beacon of hope, lighting the way toward justice and change.

-The End-

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who followed this series until the end. This story has its flaws, but I truly appreciate your support and dedication. It was incredibly difficult for me to wrap up this journey and say goodbye to Bucky and his fierce ex-wife. Writing a tale that intertwines politics with romance has been both a challenging and rewarding experience. I've learned so much about character development and the complexities of relationships, and I'm grateful to have shared this journey with all of you. Your feedback and encouragement have meant the world to me.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

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