#international week of the deaf

[positivelyqueer]

Hello!

18 - 24 September 2023 is National Week of Deaf People in Australia, coincide with International Week of Deaf People (IWDP) and International Day of Sign Languages (IDSL).

Theme this year: A World Where Deaf People Can Sign Anywhere.

From organisation 'Deaf Australia': "[NWDP] opportunity for Deaf people to celebrate their communities, language, culture and history; make the public aware of their local, state and national Deaf communities; and to recognise their achievements."

Good time look local Deaf organisations and communities, see what events happening in state/territory!

Hope Deaf people get to enjoy community and events, and have good week!

[lifeinacartoon]

Sign Language Advice for beginners learning.

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received about learning Sign Language is that it's a language of its own. It doesn't follow English grammar rules; it has its own structure. Instead of thinking about it word for word, focus on conveying the meaning of the sentence visually.

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[cripplecharacters]

what are the top 5 things you'd like to see a disabled character do in a story?

Hey! This is a very vast question and a lot of it would depend on the character's actual disability - I have completely different wishlists for what I'd like to see intellectually disabled characters do versus what I'd like to see characters with facial differences do. Different stereotypes and tropes affect different groups of disabled people differently - to work with this fact, the below list will try to account for as large amount of disabled character as I can reasonably think of, but it won't have as much detail as you might want. If you have a specific kind of character in mind, feel free to send another ask.

Not in specific order:

Disabled characters being in love. Disabled x disabled, disabled x abled, disabled x very different kind of disabled, all these variants but including more than 2 characters (since I've yet to see a polyamorous disabled character), all of this.

And I mean in actual relationships, not the pitiful and devoid of actual chemistry thing that we usually get (think "really sad disabled man only becomes happy after an abled woman takes pity on him, but they never kiss or god forbid have sex because that's gross and the disableds surely don't do that anyway").

I want to see an interabled couple going through IVF because they want to have kids, a wife with hemiplegia getting to grow old and wrinkly with her autistic husband, a lesbian with Treacher Collins syndrome moving in with her chronically ill girlfriend after a month of knowing each other, DeafBlind men getting hands on each other in the bathroom of a shitty nightclub, a trans woman with autism asking out a trans man with Down syndrome via her AAC tablet, a neurotypical guy with an obvious crush on his classmate with cerebral palsy.

I want to actually see disabled people being shown as desirable partners, good parents and grandparents, potential crushes, going through some new feelings and going on both good and bad dates, from all walks of life, of all sexualities and genders. Just like abled people.

Disabled characters participating in their community. Especially severely and/or visibly disabled characters. This is obviously a concept as vague as it could possibly be, but a big problem with a lot of disabled characters is that they don't... do anything. Not in the sense that they aren't "active enough", but that they aren't really... characters. They're often reduced to a family member who's at home and maybe the abled character takes care of them sometimes, but that's seemingly all that happens; they have no interests, hobbies, agency, preferences, or an internal thought process. All they do is wait for an abled savior to do something to them, not even with them.

I want to see more disabled characters who have jobs (whether it's a "regular" job, a supported employment workplace, a creative job that maybe they can only do a few hours a week, or self-care as a full-time job kind of thing), participating in hobbies that are accessible and/or modified to their ability level, emailing or sending pigeon letters to their friends, trying out new stuff that they're interested in, having actual complex relationships with their caregivers. Anything to actually make them feel like characters that exist in their setting, not just cardboard cutouts that the author had no ideas for.

Disabled characters who are a part of real-world disability (and adjacent) culture. Obviously also a vast topic. Most disabled characters, regardless of setting, are completely separated from concepts that were made by disabled people for disabled people; usually the connection to disability is their actual medical condition and a sterile mobility aid. This is not incorrect or bad to represent since that describes a lot of people, but I'd like to simply see more variety.

I want to see disabled characters who do parasports, who are excited about tactile art, went to blind/Deaf/SPED schools, call themselves #a babe with a mobility aid, decorate their AAC device, learn about disabled history, experience Feelings when hearing that Neanderthals cared about their disabled children, go to disability-centric events or support groups to meet people similar to them.

Do all disabled people do these? Absolutely not, but I'd like for even 1% of fictional characters to represent those who do.

Yeah I just want more disabled characters doing sports. As in real-life sports that real-life disabled people do, apologies to all the fantasy swordfighting that's out there.

There are so many sports out there we can do, some are adapted, some have a sitting or wheelchair version, while others were made specifically for us. Team sports are such a good opportunity to have your character have a community of people like them, have interesting dynamics, yet the only anything I can think of that's about it is REAL by Takehiko Inoue (wheelchair basketball) and the art by @/gayaest / @/sproutwiki (sitting volleyball). Also some Paralympics documentaries that I can count on a single hand - there's like three of them.

I want to see characters who are starting out and really suck at their sport, ones who are decent, ones with ridiculous sports-anime-level over the top abilities. I want to see all kinds of sports done by all kinds of disabled characters; blind kids learning goalball with their blind parents, quadriplegic guys working their ass off to qualify for national murderball championships, folks using sticker-covered bright-pink ramps in their boccia games, people with POTS playing along with their abled partner on their wheelchair rugby league team, standing fencers becoming disabled and adapting to wheelchair fencing that they love just as much. More disabled people having fun, knowing other disabled people, having interests!

Also, parasports are just cool as fuck and interesting to both watch and read about.

Disabled characters getting to make bad decisions. Disability representation is often extremely black-and-white in terms of morality: the character is either an angel who always does the right thing and talks about being grateful a lot, or the character is comically evil, wanting revenge because of their disability, hating their disability, constantly in grief and anger since not a single mildly ok thing happened to them since they became disabled. Neither of these feel like real people.

Disabled characters should be able to say hurtful things, get mad, lie, and whatever else, without being demonized to hell for it the same way abled characters are. They should be allowed to consciously make a decision that they shouldn't take (also known as "dignity of risk" in context of disability). They should get the same consequences for mistakes as everyone else and need to have the opportunities to actually make them.

In a much shorter way: more complex disabled characters.

These are things that I'd enjoy seeing for disabled characters. But the main thing would probably be that I want more of them. The scope of disabled characters in media is so painfully narrow because there's so few of them + they're usually capped at one per series. More writing featuring multiple disabled people please.

Here is a list of wishes from other mods who wanted me to throw them here:

Disabled characters who act like the author did more than a 10 min google search about their disabilities. [So authors doing actual research.]

More disabled characters of color. A lot of time disabled characters are white because it's only acceptable for them to be one kind of marginalized. In real life that's not how it works. People of color are disabled too!

Characters with comorbidities, characters with physical and mental health and developmental symptoms. Disability doesn't just come with one cut and dry disorder all the time - you can even be diagnosed with some things and undiagnosed with others.

[A character can have 5 comorbidities, or 5 completely unrelated disabilities - both happen. Or, most frequently, a bit of both.]

Characters existing in all parts of their diagnostic journey. [So characters who are yet to be diagnosed, currently investigating their symptoms, ones recently diagnosed, and ones who had their diagnosis for their whole lives - and as mentioned previously, you can be on one stage with disability A, and on another with disability B.]

Characters whose whole life isn't just tragedy/struggle! See this a lot when a story with disabled character is just about how life is hard for them as disabled person. Would love disabled characters being leads in other genres and just existing as people. Not to say disability isn't a struggle, but there is more to life and person than disability.

mod Sasza

[ericsprincess]

until you overflow

nc-17, Na Jaemin/Reader, historical au, queen!yn, war prize!jaemin, mildly dubious consent, cunnilingus, penetration, breeding kink

~~~

You need an heir. 

~~~

“I already SAID, I am NOT going to do this now,” you spoke through your gritted teeth, holding yourself back the best way you could to not smash your fist on the table out of anger. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and yet the scene was all too familiar for everyone. 

"B-but you need an heiress! Your highness, the war is over so now we should focus on important internal affairs, one of which is ensuring the succession!" scuttered one of the ministers, a capable, but also an extremely annoying woman with a particular penchant for bureaucracy. One of those people who never knows when to stop, whether they mean well or not. 

“The war is over and we should focus on repairing what it ruined first, don’t you think?” you replied sarcastically, but the minister as if she were deaf to your tone. 

“But..what if something happens to you? We need to have the security of an heiress! The people need it, it will boost the morale of the entire nation too!”

And this was already going on for 20 minutes. For the third time just this week. 

Thankfully, this useless exchange was interrupted when one of your highest advisors, an ancient noble lady, an advisor of your mother before she was yours, stepped out, essentially ending the bickering. 

“Your highness, there is still the..new war prize. You surely know which one I mean,” the advisor bowed deep in front of you. “He seems very strong. He could give our queendom many heiresses. It would silence many mouths, not only about the ones talking about you, but also those that are raising concerns about his future and purpose. Please consider that.” she spoke and retreated back amongst the others.  

Of course you knew which one she meant. Ever since the moment he was brought by your army, and as a part of war prize paraded around the capital to be finally thrown to kneel at your feet, he’s been the talk of the entire country. There were many captives brought in that day, but this one, as if he had put the spell on our entire country. All the men and women alike were marveling at his beauty, mouths hanging open with fingers pointing at that one, do you see that one? as the procession of soldiers and captives and carriages full of gold was passing through the capital city towards the Queen’s Palace. People soon started spreading eyewitness accounts and half-truths as well, even sharing made-up stories how he was so strong and raging that he almost fought off an entire squad of your soldiers before he was captured, how they had to bring him bound in thick iron chains and muzzled, a beautiful, but rabid beast. 

Most of that was not true. As far as the generals’ report that was handed to you said, he was ambushed while he was quietly traveling on his horse alone on a forest path, and went willingly, with a smile. He just let himself get captured, even shooting a joke or two, greeting his captors goodnaturedly like old friends. However, under his plain clothes, your soldiers found out he was armed up to the teeth.

They tried to interrogate him, but even after hours, no one was able to figure out where he came from and where he was going. He spoke with an accent not native to the conquered kingdom, so he clearly wasn’t a local citizen, but refused to prove his ties to another country to avoid being taken as a war captive. Nothing about his clothes or things he had on him specified anything. He provided his name when asked, but it was a simple, plain name, very common in any country around, so no one even believed it’s real. 

So they just followed the orders and just like any other captive, they brought him to the palace to have his fate decided there, and most court people half-expected you would have him publicly executed, as a statement and also just to simply get rid of the potential threat. They threw him at your feet, and he didn’t beg for his life as everyone expected he would. He raised his head from where he was kneeling, dirty with hands tied behind his back, but said nothing and only smiled at you, before dropping his head back down. The crowd gasped at the audacity of him daring to even lay his eyes on their Queen and immediately started whispering, everyone expecting you would immediately order your guards to have his head cut off, bloodthirsty atmosphere rising in the hall.

But you didn’t want to. You have learnt years ago, by necessity, to have no qualms or hesitation about ending an unworthy life, but something drawn you to him. You couldn’t tell what, but you didn’t want to kill him, at least not before he would give you an actual reason. You didn’t want to waste his life, just for the fleeting enjoyment of the masses. You wouldn’t have admitted it, not even to yourself at that time, but you were also intrigued.

You couldn’t decide and you ended up stalling, staring at the back of his head that was hung between his shoulders, with his forehead almost touching the cold marble of the throne room as he was slumped on his knees. The throne room was completely silent, everyone waited with bated breaths for the verdict.

Then a sharp pain in your rib woke you up from your stupor. You startled and looked at the source - your closest court lady, who was until now only standing at her usual place by your right hand, entirely bored, has just elbowed you to bring you back to earth. 

She leaned over to you, covering her mouth as she whispered to your ear. 

“Keep this one. We will put him to good use.” 

You rolled your eyes at her as she drew back, and she just shrugged. What? Sue me, she mouthed back at you before she resumed her bored expression. 

You sighed and irritatedly waved your hand to the right, signaling the guards to take him to the dungeons instead of beheading him right on the spot. The crowd groaned a little, annoyed that they couldn’t witness an almost poetic death of an exquisite beauty, but no one dared to raise a protest. They all knew better than that.

~~~

This is all entirely her fault, you were rubbing your temples two days later to stave off the headache, thinking about what to do about him, cursing your best friend and her one track mind. 

But she did have a solid point, and you are a benevolent and generous queen so you decided to put him where he would be appreciated the best and guarded the most - a royal harem, private only for you and your court ladies to use at your leisure. 

Despite his dubious and potentially dangerous origins, you weren’t afraid for the safety of your court ladies. None of them were here just for decoration - all highly trained professional guards and assassins, the loyal extensions of your power, you weren’t afraid of them getting hurt or letting him escape. Vice-versa too - if anyone decided to become some kind of a vigilante justice and lay a hand on the mysterious dangerous man who could be seen as a threat to the queendom, he would be well-protected. 

It really seemed to be the best solution.

A solution that would make everyone happy - you would have one less problem, the man would be out of prying and gossiping public eyes hidden well within the palace walls, the court ladies would get a new shiny toy and him…Well, no one cares about what he thinks or wants. 

But even this turned out to not be an issue, because as it was reported to you a month later, the new harem addition was settling into his new role well. Maybe even too well, as you have found out from the gossips and giggles between the court ladies. Apparently, not only he didn’t have any reservations about the kind of services that were expected from him, but also he provided them very willingly and enthusiastically. Seemingly impossible to tire out, he was always happy to let himself be used by any woman, even multiple at once! as you heard the whispers.  

The never ending rumors about his skills with his fingers or tongue were constantly making you blush every time you overheard. But not only that, part of why he was so popular was also how comfortable and desired he made the ladies feel. He seemed to always figure out very quickly how each woman wanted to be touched or talked to, or whichever kink she might have. He was also not shy about his own body or sexuality, but his own needs always took a back seat. He seemed to be born for this role, made to please the others. 

The only thing he was not approved nor allowed to do was penetration. He was not deemed fit or deserving to sire a child for your queendom yet, that was an honor and a privilege reserved for only few distinguished harem members that have been in service for a long time. But the potential was there and everyone acknowledged it. 

The beautiful, charming Probably Na Jaemin has quickly become the darling of the harem. Friendly with everyone, staff, servants, even other harem members liked talking to him and had nothing to say about him but high praise. 

No suspicious behavior was reported, no escape attempts, no strange questions, no forbidden items found hidden between his possessions. Na Jaemin seemed to be fully satisfied and content with his living situations and when the servants asked if there were anything he could be missing, he only asked whether there would be a teeeny tiiiny possibility of getting a cat, maybe? If it wouldn’t cause too many problems, of course?

This bastard is just having a vacation on my account, you fumed as you were stamping your Queen’s Approval seal on the request to purchase a ragdoll for the palace. 

Despite the continuous nagging and encouragement from your court ladies, especially your best friend, you haven’t seen him yourself yet. Actually, you haven’t seen anyone from the harem recently, because you were avoiding the entire palace wing by a mile. You wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but you didn’t even want to run into him in the corridors. 

And now you’re expected to consider him as a possible father of your daughters. And you didn’t even have any good reason to reject this idea outright. 

~~~

You have been tossing and turning in your bed for hours already and sleep was yet to come. The full moon has been shining into your chambers so strongly you could see everything even with the lights of. That must be the reason why you can’t sleep, you fumed as you were annoyingly shutting the curtains. 

And then you were lying down staring at the ceiling in complete darkness for one more hour. 

Okay. I give up. You said to yourself and climbed off the bed, picking up a robe, some slippers and a candlestick holder for some light to take with you. 

You left your room quietly and let your feet lead you while trying to not think about where you are going. You passed a few guards on your way, replying only with a curt nod to their deep bows. At the very least you could see for yourself that they are doing their job properly. 

You finally ended up in front of the door that was the target destination of your night trip. You put your hand on the handle and were just about to open it, when the door flew open and a young giggly lady ran out straight into your arms, startling you both. 

You did your best to not drop your light or burn either of you, while she quickly (and with complete horror) realized who did she run into, composed herself and started apologizing, bowing deeply and begging you for forgiveness. You just dismissed her with a wave of your hand and she didn’t need to be told twice - she bowed once more for good measure and disappeared into the corridor. 

Once the commotion calmed down you were free to look into the room. It was a normal harem room, nice and spacious, beautifully decorated with imported furniture and full of lights and candles, with a big bed in the middle. And just there, in the middle of the bed, leisurely spreaded on the finest silks your country could provide, was Jaemin. And what a sight for sore eyes he was - dressed only in light silk pants,so thin, you could almost make out what’s under them, with only his upper body on display, all in its tanned and muscular glory. Lying there, like a picture perfect example of debauchery, sweaty, used, and covered in lovebites and bodily fluids, as if letting himself to show you what he's there for.

He didn’t scramble off the bed to bow to you, which would be a punishable offense and he must have known. Instead, he let his head drop back on the pillow and with drowsy eyes, tired voice and wide smug smile he asked: 

“Your highness… How can I help you?” he drawled slowly, without any care about what’s proper and what is not. He seemed to enjoy being seen in such a state, especially by you. 

You clenched your jaw. You will not be entertaining this kind of behavior. You promptly turned on your heel and left his room, slamming the door behind you. 

You took on the way back to your quarters, fuming the entire time, but trying to not think about why exactly. 

~~~

It’s been a few days and you can’t sleep again. But this time, you are not trying to. You’ve been periodically alternating lying restlessly in your bed with pacing around your room. You might have checked yourself in the mirror once or twice. And now you’re back in bed, more nervous and anxious than you should be. You keep glimpsing on the clock even though it’s still a little bit too early - your instructions were clear - better later than to be seen. But you still can’t wait, you’re not sure if it’s just the anxiety or also maybe some anticipation. 

The heavy door to your chambers slowly opens, revealing your visitor - Na Jaemin, slipping through the door silently like a cat, closing them after himself without any sound. He’s wearing only a thin, almost translucent white silk shirt and some light linen pants - both entirely inappropriate attire even for slinking through the palace corridors deep at night. He is looking at you, his facial expression neutral, not exposing any of his thoughts. 

“Your highness,” he greets. He doesn’t bow. 

You nod in reply, but don’t know what else to say. Usually you wouldn’t be so shy or embarrassed, but none of your harem members unsettles you like he does. You could just order him around, but it doesn’t feel right, you don’t want it like that. The moment is so awkward that you don’t know whether to start laughing or not, as you are just staring at each other. So you decide to slightly break the tension by lifting the silk duvets in invitation. 

He doesn’t wait a second and swiftly joins you in your massive canopy bed, throwing half of the bedding off on the ground. He settles between your legs, laying down on his belly and pushes your nightgown up. With just a brief glance at your face to confirm his intentions he gets to work. He starts eating your pussy with the skill and talent of someone who, well, eats pussy as a profession - and it would have felt maybe too impersonal if he weren’t so good at it. He’s enthusiastic and he clearly likes doing it, with his eyes closed and occasional humming. It feels good, his tongue feels like it’s everywhere at the same time and the tempo is perfect, even more when he dares to slip two fingers inside you. 

It’s good, too good and you don’t want to come. Not yet, not before he does what needs to be done. But he doesn’t know that yet. 

You reluctantly grab him by his hair and unstick him from your pussy. He looks so beautiful, his eyes are closed and his face is flushed, with sweat gathering on his temples. His lower face is all wet and his lips are so red. He opens his eyes, slowly, blinking: 

“You don’t want to? Is that not why I am here?” he asks, looking surprised. You are not sure whether to trust it or he’s just pretending.  But you don’t feel like you are obligated to explain yourself to him. 

“Take it out. Put it in,” you order. 

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” his face transforms completely, his smug wide shark smile back on his face. You let his hair go and he gets up, keeling between your legs, towering over you. He starts to untie his pants. 

“Is that what this is about?” he asks, while grabbing you by your hips, pulling you closer to him so easily as if you weighed nothing. “I heard some gossip about an heir. So are you just using me for breeding?” he says, putting on a fake accusatory tone. How does he have the mental presence to pretend-pout while he’s literally pushing his hard cock inside, flashes through your head. 

He stops when he’s all the way in and leans forward over you, unmoving and staring right into your eyes, his unsettling smile plastered on as usual. 

“Yes.” you do your best to keep your voice stable as he starts moving. You relax and lift your legs to wrap them around his back to push him deeper. His movements are fluid and he’s gentle, clearly thinking of your comfort first, not just hammering in without consideration. 

“The royal court has found you a purpose,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. You drop your head back on the pillows. “And I am not using you, you should be honored.”

“Does the royal court not care about the father of its heirs being just a lowly pleasure slave? Maybe we are more equal than you think, you know” taunts Jaemin. You run your hands over his wide back, holding on for the dear life and he’s starting to fuck you more thoroughly, his tempo getting faster. Despite that, he doesn’t seem to get any winded, his stamina is solid and his self-control clearly impeccable, as he doesn’t seem to be affected in any way. But he is, you can feel him sweat, you can feel the slick wetness between your bodies just as well as you can feel how hard he is. 

“It’s-it’s not important,” you stutter between thrusts. You’re slowly getting there and it’s becoming hard to think. He’s going fast and deep and finally you can hear him getting out of breath. 

“Okay,” he breathes out. He lowers down so he can kiss you on your neck. “I’ll give you your daughters” he puts his lips close to your ear, his deep voiced whispers accompanying his final thrusts, as he loses the rhythm and cums inside of you, with your orgasm following right after, triggered by his and his words. 

You keep holding on to him tightly as you feel pumping his cum inside of you, both coming down from your orgasms. You’re enjoying this closeness and you don’t really want to let go, but everything is getting too hot and sticky, so you reluctantly let him drop on the bed next to you. 

You feel completely liquid but when you glance at him, he’s already recovered, with his breath back to normal and wits fully gathered. 

He grins at you. “Your highness~~ Were you satisfied with my services?”

Yes. “We will see that soon.”

He turns to his side and gets close to cuddle up to you. You don’t know what to do with your limbs, but let him do as he wishes. Which is sticking himself fully onto you like an octopus. 

“I was thinking, If it works out well, maybe you could let me make a few more babies for your court ladies, so the throne heir has friends to play with, what do you think?” he mumbles into your skin.

Fuck no. It’s not that you are possessive, not over a measly harem member, but something about this proposal rubs you the wrong way. You frown and start to fight your way out of his embrace to scold him from a more dignified position, but you’re stuck in an iron cuddle grip. And the more you try to wiggle out, the tighter it gets. 

“Noooooo? Does your majesty not like this idea~~?” he asks. “That’s okay then, we will just have to work eeeeeextra hard to make this one a twins,” he laughs, already scrambling up so he can get between your legs again.

And you can’t help yourself, and laugh with him.  

~~~

a/n: i like to imagine that this jaemin is actually a runaway youngest prince of some neighboring country who decided to become a hitman for hire, because that’s just so much more fun. he loooves killing people, but he really did need a vacation :) 

[fluffymarshmalllows]

In every universe, I'll look for you

fanfic about Reader getting sucked in the portal first, Ford follows.

Another restless night for you and your husband in the basement. Coffee staining the journals as he scribbles more blurbs about this “Bill” person he keeps calling his muse. You didn’t want to feel jealous but ever since that absurdly long late night walk Ford took months ago, he’s been nose deep into every physics book and theoretical researches to prove something, anything. Every time you beg him to rest, he refuses making you a bit annoyed, blame it on the sleep deprivation and lack of quality time.

“Please, Fordsy, you really need some rest. We’ve been working on this project for weeks now” you muttered, half-asleep at this point. But words fell on deaf ears as your husband just waved you off with some empty promises of he’ll be with you to bed soon.

Too tired to argue, you kissed him on the cheek which caused his face to get dusted pink for a bit, but still very much focused on his calculations. A sight you will never get tired of. You also waved to Fiddleford who was roped in this whole project bidding farewell.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he says without looking up as you climb the squeaky staircase. You reminded them both to get some rest while internally praying to whoever God that will listen that you get your doting husband back sooner than later.

Not even hours later, loud metal clashes and bangs from the basement jerked you awake. You shot up and dashed straight to Ford worried that something might’ve happened. Did he get injured? A part fell on him? Was he trashing the place? Shaking your head ridding of those thoughts. Running towards the basement fueled with adrenaline and a power nap is not ideal but the situation called for it.

You got there as quick as you can and witnessed a rather vulgar argument between your husband and Fiddleford leading to the latter walking out and bumping your shoulder muttering unpleasant words towards Ford.

Peering out from the basement stairs, on the other side of their makeshift divider was a big glowing construction whirring with power. “Oh my god” those were the only things that you could mutter in that moment. The machine was… working. It was finally working. After months of sleepless nights, exhausted arguing, they finally made it work giving you hope that things will soon get back to normal, or as much as it used to be.

Ford felt your presence and looked at you like a mad-man, eyes crazed with no sign of sanity. It made you question if the man standing ahead of you was really the guy you married. “It finally worked! The math finally made sense. Do you understand, Y/N?! This is our key to figuring out all these anomalies.” You took a step back your back against the door while he tries to coax you in joining him. “No, Ford, this doesn’t look safe”.

Ford turned his back to you, staring at his creation. “Fiddleford said the same thing” he mused, “but please, beloved, I won’t let you be in any danger”. His reassuring voice was enough to put you in some ease as you walked to him extending his hand.

He held you by your waist supporting your trenbling body, guiding you to admire their creation. Observing some sparks of electricty dancing across the ground and bouncing off the walls. Ford was explaining to you how it works, how he plans to use it, what they should do next and all that but one look at your alarmed face gave him all the hint he needed to keep quiet and let you process all this.

He was so enamored by this portal he built, you both did not realize the glass dividing the area was slowly cracking. Only took some more volts of current to run by it to shatter and allow the portal to suck you in.

It happened so fast. Ford tried grabbing you but the force was too much, pulling you in within seconds. You managed to maneuver yourself to grab on the portals frame. Using all your strength pulling your body out to ask for help one last time before you were completely lost somewhere some time in space.

“Ford, help me!” The last words his lover spoke before getting lost in the oblivion haunts him in his every waking hour. He tried consulting Bill about this, how to get you back, but Bill was adamant about the situation, believing that Y/N was just a hurdle to their masterplan. He spent too many lonely nights missing you and regretting what he has done, it was driving him imsane. This lead to him calling quits with Bill which ultimately made the polygon mad.

Alas, he struck the courage to contact his twin after years. This was not an easy decision for him but to set up his grand scheme of finding you in the vast universe, he had to have his brother fit the missing link.

Ford explained everything to Stan, or as much as his twin needed to know but things did not go exactly as planned. He was planning to portal jump, sure, but not get sucked into it accidentally. He found it somewhat humorous that he ended up the same way his lover left, through the portal—asking for help.

Journal log no. 176? 177. Two years, 18 dimensions, 3 timelines. I saw them again. Different hairstyle but with that same aloof smile. Happy in this dimension with me, alternate universe me. I still live to regret that day. It also appears that she is also being tracked by the space-time continueom agencies (noted from the encounter at the do-over dimension). Just what in the world did my Y/N get to?…

Journal log no. 320+. It has been almost 10 home years if I calculated it correctly. Still no sign of my Y/N in this timeline. From the dwellers of this dimension, it appears that the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron has laid low on the investigation of their whereabouts. It has become harder tracking them down, maybe they learned new tricks. Best to take a note of this…

Journal log __ . I have lost track of days in this dimension. Some part of this dimension are mirrors that behaves like looking glasses. Upon my first arrival, a mirror reflected Y/N staring back at me. As I am writing this, I am still formulating probable hypothesis that could explain their reflection on mine. Seeing them again after so long makes me yearn for them more. If only I h

A zipping sound ripped from a distance away from Ford as he's trying to journal his discoveries.

“Time to go” quickly packing all his materials shoving it in his makeshift bag careful not to drop any while going on another leap. He looked back at those men? Aliens? Whoever those guys are they are pretty hot on his trail. Getting too close for his own comfort. And too many close calls with them than Ford will admit.

“Get him!” The smallest tentacle humanoid man commanded or something similar of the sort, it’s another universe language he has yet to decode. Learning the tongues became much more difficult since he accidentally stumbled on a rebellion matched with a bounty picture of your face displayed in every available surface they can stick it on to. Knowing you, whatever you did there most likely called for it or he hopes so, anyway.

Muttering some curses he took his grand leap and entered another dimension. Not once did he look back.

This time it looked like another parallel timeline of his home universe. Ford walked around pin pointing important anomalies, most of them minor like an extra toe on a cat or a bird with butterfly wings. He slumped down under a tree near the opening of the forest to draw these creatures. Pulling out his journal, he realized something in this dimension feels right, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belong. Another minor anomaly in a dimension filled with other anomalies. It made him feel normal, but not complete. Ford sniffled his tears back overwhelmed by the feeling of missing you. He never stopped looking for you. Eyes scanning every place hoping to see you again, waiting for him, happy with him.

Coast is clear and the sun was slowly setting. It lulled Ford to take a nap. Closing his eyes trying to remember what you look like. It’s been years since he last saw you. In every universe and timeline you were in, they did not look like you, his Y/N. Something was always off, but one thing remained constant— you were always happy together with him. Ford chuckled bitterly. Only in the universe he lived in was he alone. It was unfair, but he did this to himself. He regrets all the time he spent with Bill than his own spouse. His only lover, to think that fame and knowledge blinded him to put you in danger.

A soft thud was heard from the tree he was resting on, followed by a feeling of being watched made chills ran down his spine. Ford became hyper-aware looking, searching, for anything. Standing up quickly, he was ready to dash for it but for unknown reason he stood his ground. His feet felt glued to the ground, waiting for whatever it was to emerge from the trees’ shadows. The now dark forest was eerie and he could not risk getting hurt in another dimension. A pitter patter of steps from the forest heading his way made him draw his gun aiming at the darkness. His fingers at the trigger, steady.

“Fordsy?”

His breath hitched. Hands trembled. A figured appeared out of the dense forest. Face to face with the gun he was ready to fire. His heartbeat was so loud it was almost all he can hear. Seeing you, still perfect after so many years. With gray hairs and past your prime, yet you still had the same effect on him. Decades or more has passed but the feelings remained the same.

Both of you did not dare to take a step. You feared that this is all in your head, a fragment of your imagination that you did not want to go away. The air was still, and the silence deafening. You can’t take it much longer and you run up to him. Ford took you in with open arms.

He hugged you tight, not willing to let go. Never again will he let you go. All those years of longing and you’re finally back in his arms. He stared at your eyes, filled with the love and adoration like the days you were married and living with each other. You took a step back and slapped him. Hard.

“How dare you!” You angrily muttered to him. Voice tight but not so loud to disturb the silence. “This?! This is what you were trying to make?” Shoving a pointed finger to his shoulder blade. Ford was hurt, but he knew he deserved that anger. “We were always together! In every dimension I went to, even in our past, did you know how much it hurt seeing us together? Knowing that every version of me is happy and loved while I am trying to go back home to a husband who’s cheating on me with a guy!” Y/N rambled exasperated. Your cheeks felt wet, not realizing the tears already started falling. All those years of resentment and anger to your husband resurfaced. “And you know what the worst part is?” You sniffled trying to sound brave “I still love you! And at times I feel like a fool for doing so.”

Ford was confused with what to feel to say the least. He felt sad you had to endure being lonely, longer than he had been. Joy? That you still love him despite his wrong doings. Humour as he realized that you thought Bill as a mistress. That made him crack a small smile which you noticed. You turned around calling him a jerk while wiping your tears muttering cusses.

“Dearest” he tried calling out to you. “You know you’re the only one I love right?” He cooed, still not getting over the fact that he had someone else. He reached out to you gently, wrapping his arms around you. His chest at your back as you felt his breathing on your neck. “Y/N, please face me, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your beauty.” Ford purred. What else can you do but look at him again, you reached your hand to the cheek you hit and soothed it for a bit. “I’m sorry for hitting you” you muttered looking at his eyes. “It was deserved” he replied sheepishly avoiding your gaze. The tension was as thick as the dense forest behind you and you can’t take it anymore.

You pulled him down by grabbing the collar of his coat to give him a kiss. A bit stunned Ford was but he warmed up to it. Breathing a sigh of relief, finally in the arms of his Y/N, with no plans of letting her go.

They trudged into the woods, conversing on what they witnessed and all the universe they jumped, comparing notes and journals. You proudly showed him yours as you stated “I was just copying you but it became a scrapbook of some sort”. Inside were trinkets from dimensions folded into the paper with drawings and detailed descriptions of things you saw. Ford was more of interested with the folded wanted poster between those pages. He took it out and observed it closely. “Yeah, I became part of their council for a while,” you said which earned a questioning eyebrow raise from your husband. You raised your hands in protest “Well, I didn’t know that fruits were their money! I was hungry”. This made him laugh and it sounded like music to your ears. Mr. All seriousness laughing with you again, everything felt perfect.

Until the familiar space ripping nearby brought you both back to reality. Whipping your heads towards that sound, Ford exclaimed “I’m getting too old for this”. Grabbing your hand he lead you the forest clearing and pulled out his dimension jumper and you followed suit.

“We are now easily trackable since we are together so we need to be extra cautious” Ford explained as you both explore the city-esque universe you landed in. “Do you think we’d ever go back home?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. Ford turned to you “I trust Stan. It might take a while to be honest.” You nodded in respond, still not giving yourself false hope. “But I’m with you Y/N, and anywhere is better when you’re by my side.” His voice was so sincere you can’t help but believe him. You held him interlocking your digits together. His six fingers perfectly hugging your hand as you both jumped into another dimension unprepared but together.

word count: 2.5k words

woop woop first published fic! should i make a part 2?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[indigostudies]

i've been looking around to try and find resources for csl, and i think i've found another great one! i have yet to try it out (i'm very busy right now with getting settled into classes), but i found a course by the shanghai international studies university is offered through futurelearn for free! it covers word categories, linguistic features, syntactic structures, csl varieties, the distinction between csl and signed chinese, deaf culture, the history of csl, and deaf education and historical figures. it's six weeks long and four hours per week, and you can sign up for it here:

[odinsblog]

In the darkest chapter of German history, during a time when incited mobs threw stones into the windows of innocent shop owners and women and children were cruelly humiliated in the open; Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a young pastor, began to speak publicly against the atrocities.

After years of trying to change people’s minds, Bonhoeffer came home one evening and his own father had to tell him that two men were waiting in his room to take him away.

In prison, Bonhoeffer began to reflect on how his country of poets and thinkers had turned into a collective of cowards, crooks and criminals. Eventually he concluded that the root of the problem was not malice, but stupidity.

In his famous letters from prison, Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is a more dangerous enemy of the good than malice, because while “one may protest against evil; it can be exposed and prevented by the use of force, against stupidity we are defenseless. Neither protests nor the use of force accomplish anything here. Reasons fall on deaf ears.”

Facts that contradict a stupid person’s prejudgment simply need not be believed and when they are irrefutable, they are just pushed aside as inconsequential, as incidental. In all this, the stupid person is self-satisfied and, being easily irritated, becomes dangerous by going on the attack.

For that reason, greater caution is called for when dealing with a stupid person than with a malicious one. If we want to know how to get the better of stupidity, we must seek to understand its nature.

This much is certain, stupidity is in essence not an intellectual defect but a moral one. There are human beings who are remarkably agile intellectually yet stupid, and others who are intellectually dull yet anything but stupid.

The impression one gains is not so much that stupidity is a congenital defect but that, under certain circumstances, people are made stupid or rather, they allow this to happen to them.

People who live in solitude manifest this defect less frequently than individuals in groups. And so it would seem that stupidity is perhaps less a psychological than a sociological problem.

It becomes apparent that every strong upsurge of power, be it of a political or religious nature, infects a large part of humankind with stupidity. Almost as if this is a sociological-psychological law where the power of the one needs the stupidity of the other.

The process at work here is not that particular human capacities, such as intellect, suddenly fail. Instead, it seems that under the overwhelming impact of rising power, humans are deprived of their inner independence and, more or less consciously, give up an autonomous position.

The fact that the stupid person is often stubborn must not blind us from the fact that he is not independent. In conversation with him, one virtually feels that one is dealing not at all with him as a person, but with slogans, catchwords, and the like that have taken possession of him.

He is under a spell, blinded, misused, and is abused in his very being. Having thus become a mindless tool, the stupid person will also be capable of any evil – incapable of seeing that it is evil.

Only an act of liberation, not instruction, can overcome stupidity. Here we must come to terms with the fact that in most cases a genuine internal liberation becomes possible only when external liberation has preceded it. Until then, we must abandon all attempts to convince the stupid person.

Bonhoeffer died due to his involvement in a plot against Adolf Hitler, at dawn on 9 April 1945 at Flossenbürg concentration camp - just two weeks before soldiers from the United States liberated the camp.

—Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Theory of Stupidity

[whyse7vn]

KIM TAEHYUNG

HERE:

[ recommend that you read this for context ]

“You’re…. here?” Taehyung is confused.

It’s not like he was unhappy to see you or anything, in fact his insides felt as if they could fucking explode out of joy right now you’re here. He could of sworn you were mad at him, like reallly mad at him like i’m not talking to you for at least 24 hours, running you over with a car in my mind i’ll push you off a bridge type of mad at him but like he said you’re… here, at his front door. Kinda weird he notes, you definitely do have a key that you make very frequent use of but he decides he’ll call you out on it later.

“Problem?” You voice seems hoarse.

Taehyung frowns. Had you been crying?

You immediately notice the frown that boy in front of you wears and let out a small cough in an attempt to clear your throat.

“Problem?” You try again followed by an awkward smile.

Taehyung can’t help but mirror your small smile with his own boxy grin “Never”

———————-

You now sit on Taehyung’s soft brown couch legs crossed holding one of his many decorative pillows to your chest. You inhale deeply and a musky wood scent fills your nose as you exhale his automatic air freshener, located on a shelf near his tv, goes off and a sickly sweet rose scent fills the room. You scrunch your nose up in disgust but choose not to comment on it knowing that your complaints will fall onto deaf ears as Taehyung claims the smell is “super romantic and alllll the girls love it” You giggle at the memory.

“Water right?”

You break away from your thoughts and look over your shoulder to find Taehyung’s eyes staring right back at you over his kitchen counter. You’ve always liked the way Taehyung’s place was laid out. The open plan really helps his home feel connected and has become your groups go to when hanging out.

You give Taehyung a small nod and turn back around. Something’s…. missing. Your gaze falls to the floor. Oh. You now notice one of Yoentan’s chew toys tucked under the corner of Tae’s fluffy carpet, the toy is purple in colour and what seems to be in a bone shape. Your lips pull into a smile.

“Where’s Tan?” You question.

Unbeknownst to you Tae freezes. “I— erm he’s with my parents right now” He internally cringes he hates lying to you. “Schedules have been real busy lately had to put him somewhere” At least that part was true.

Realistically there was no need to lie you about Yeontan’s whereabouts. I mean sure you would have looked at him funny probably asked a bunch of questions too but ultimately he could have told you. Yet he knew as soon as that question left your mouth he wasn’t going to tell you the truth.

Simply because he’s afraid.

Afraid that you’ll be ok with where Yeontan is right now. Who he’s with right now. And knowing you as much as Taehyung hates to admit it you most likely would be okay with it. You’ll probably read into it congratulate him on finding someone. Taehyung physically rolls his eyes at the thought. He wants you to burn like he did, like he does. He wants the thought of him choosing to leave Yeontan in the care of her instead of you consumes you whole. He wants it to devour you to haunt your every waking thought he wants it to—

“He’s all the way in Deagu? You know i would of taken him if you needed me to”

Taehyung blinks “I know”

He definitely does know.

But call him jealous, call him petty he didn’t care the thought of you and Jaehyun, Joon, Yoongi, Kook and fuck even Hoseok now consumed him. Consumes him. And that’s practically why he felt no shame in calling that number buried so deep in his contact list a week ago.

Now though, he must admit as he sits around an arms length away from you on his couch this whole “no shame” thing he was feeling before had just turned into pure guilt. Taehyung desperately tries to find your eyes but you refuse to make contact the air around you both suddenly awkward. Do you know he’s lying to you perhaps? Or is this just you upset because of the breakup? It’s very rare for Taehyung to be at a loss of what to say most of the time, so with everything in him he decides to break the awkwardness that has somehow found you both.

“Soooo…you went to see Hobi?”

Your eyes lighten up instantly thankful that Tae had taken the initiative to break the silence “Yeah i just wanted to make sure he got that the whole situation wasn’t actually his fault you know he gets in his head about that kind of stuff”

Taehyung nods along with what your saying

Another wave of awkward silence takes over.

You sigh and begin to get up off the couch.

“Maybe i should lea—”

“Did you fuck him?”

Both you and Tae’s eyes widen after the bold question leaves the man’s lips. Taehyung even slaps his hand over his mouth to had to the dramatics of it all.

“I’m sorry?” You begin

“No i’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to ask that i just— i just noticed you are wearing Hobi’s hoodie and i just thought that— you know so i asked and—” Tae rambles trying to save himself.

You look down at the light blue hoodie you’re wearing very clearly not yours and equally clearly Hoseok’s due to the bold “J-HOPE” printed on each hoodie cuff and it entirely being a little too big for you. You look back up from the hoodie to Tae finding him still rambling on.

“I mean with you Jaehyun it’s like crazy so if you—”

You make eye contact with Taehyung and he shuts up almost immediately.

“What if i did?” The air shifts.

“Huh?” Taehyung is quick to reply

“Fuck Hoseok, what if i did fuck Hoseok?”

“T-thats cool” Taehyung suddenly feels small under your intense gaze.

“Is it?” You press

Taehyung nods unable to trust his own voice right now.

“Are you sure Taehyung?”

“Super sure. I don’t care”

“Then why ask?”

Taehyung turns his head away from you breaking the eye contact you both once held. The Tension in the room in the room is thick, suffocating. Taehyung takes a deep breath.

You’re here.

And Taehyung is still confused as to why. You’re making him feel guilty. Taehyung has nothing to feel guilty about. You’re still here you shouldn’t be here. Not after what’s happened today no. You’re here, why are you still here? This isn’t fair, not on him on you, on Hobi, on Joon Yoongi Koo—

Your delicate fingers on his jaw pull Taehyung both out of this spiralling thoughts and his head to face you again.

“I’m here” You speak slowly to him.

Taehyung can’t breath, he won’t breathe he refuses to breathe so many thoughts, too many thoughts it’s-it’s all not fair. Hot, his body feels hot his mind feels hot everything is just hot and the way you’re looking at him is just so…

Hot.

Fuck it. Taehyung throws all the nonexistent composure he had out the window and tugs you closer smashing his lips onto yours. His hands immediately find you hair while yours find rest on his neck your tongues dance in each other’s mouths for what feels like hours your kiss filled with so much passion and unspoken words before Taehyung pulls away for some much needed air. His hair just as disheveled as yours and lips just as swollen he smiles at you. He doesn’t say anything just stares and smiles. You go to open you mouth to say something but he’s quick to cut you off by diving back into your lips. He does this partly out of fear you’ll ask him to stop say this isn’t right and leave and party no fuck that definitely because if your lips aren’t on him in the next five seconds he’ll actually pass away.

In this moment Taehyung is happy. He’s happy and you’re here.

—

i don’t know where tf this came from shocked at myself actually

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @sopebubbles-replies @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp

[wolfpackss]

I LOVED your last post! May I request Jacob with a deaf imprint? She was born deaf but is offered the chance to get a cochlear implant and the first thing she wants to hear is Jake's voice(could be her parents are gone so he's the closest thing she's got.💖)

Please and thank you!

You come up with the best ideas! It’s not that long because I don’t have much experience with deafness, so many information is from google.

Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy

Your entire life you’ve wondered what it would be like to hear your own voice, to hear your own heartbeat, to hear your loved ones tell them they love you. When you were little, you remember your father asking you what would be the first thing you’d like to hear if you’d ever get the chance. The tears burn in your eyes as you remember your answer, the only thing you signed being “mom and dad.” You have something that’s called CHL (Conductive Hearing Loss). You know it’s treatable with a hearing aid or a cochlear implant so you signed up for every treatment you could find but never got accepted. Two years ago, your world changed as your parents lost their lives in a car accident meaning you’ll never get the chance to ever hear their voices. Depression followed and it took a while for you to get your life back together. You didn’t know it came with the help of a man who could shift into a wolf. Six months ago your life changed for the better when you ran into an old friend from school who invited you to have dinner with her at her cousins house. There you met the love of your life, who took you into his world of the paranormal. Exactly 36 days ago you got the call that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been approved for a cochlear implant. Now all you want is to hear his voice.

“Babe? You nervous?” Jacob rests his hand on your thigh and squeezes it. You give him a shaky smile and nod your head. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart. I’m here every step of the way.” You can see Jacob struggling with his signing and it makes you giggle. The moment Jacob found out you were his imprint and that you were deaf, he started sign language classes. He’s even teaching the pack some off the thing he’s learned so they can communicate with you better. Today is the day the cochlear implant will be turned on, two weeks ago you had surgery for your internal implant which they placed on your brain. The specialist walks in the door and informs you and Jacob how it’s gonna work. Not long after she turns the cochlear implant on. “First you’ll hear a beep, which means it’s turned on, okay? Now, it may sound loud, but you’ll get used to it very soon. Okay, here we go!” The specialist smiles at you and works her magic on the computer. She looks over at Jacob and tells him to start talking.

“Hi baby, i love you.” Jacob grips your hands and squeezes them. For a moment time stands still as your brain wraps around the sound of his voice. You don’t even feel the tears streaming down your face but notice them when they fall onto your hand that’s clasped in front of your mouth. “Your voice.. it’s beautiful.” Your shoulders start shaking from happiness, Jacob wraps his arms around you as the specialist smiles and gives you the information you’ll need for the next couple of days. You make an appointment for a checkup in a couple of weeks and you’re ready to go.

The moment you step in Sam’s house, everybody looks at you with wide eyes. “How did it go?” Embry is the first one to speak up. Jacob smiles while squeezing your hand tightly. “It went well”. Everybody jumps up as you speak, happy you can hear them without having to sign.

“I’m gonna tell you how much I love you, every second of every day.” Jacob kisses your lips. “I can’t wait to hear it.” You smile at each other.

[collectorsinn]

Today. Kaeya's confident he's confessing to you today.

He has been saying this for a week, internally, and the idea of confessing and a relationship had been on his mind for a month or two; there had been factors prolonging his step to confession — whether it'd be a sudden conversation switch or someone's intervention.

He's usually been smooth with conversations, but when it comes to confessions with long-term consequences, he finds it hard not to run away from it (like an instinct, or a fight-or-flight reaction, in which he chooses flight).

He's been picturing your reactions: from acceptance, to rejection.

Despite having confidence in his natural charisma and charm, he can't help but imagine being rejected — its aftermath of a bone-chilling awkwardness between you two which forms a gulf he wouid have to actively patch up. It's been haunting his mind, and he's decided the best way to deal with it is to confess.

"Good-morning, (Y/N)."

"Captain Kaeya, good-morning."

"There's something I have to speak with you about, personal matters."

"What is it Captai-"

"Captain Kaeya, good-mornin'!" one of the aunties said, passing by the stalls with a basket in her hands — seemingly shopping for fresh fruit.

Kaeya feels his eyes soften, somehow this always happens and it's slowly becoming a mystery to him as to why. "Good-morning, Ms. Joels!"

Ms. Joels waves for a bit before returning back to shopping along the stalls. Kaeya feels his tense shoulders unwittingly relax — he's used to it at this point, and truthfully speaking, he was a bit relieved.

"Captain Kaeya."

"Ah, yes (Y/N)?"

"I like you."

He feels his eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, pardon?"

"I like you, Kaeya."

You were met with silence. He blinks at you for a good minute before a smirk formed on his lips.

"Ohoho~ I see you've taken a liking to me too. Who knew you would've beaten me to a confession! I suppose this ought to start a path into our more intimate relationship?"

You stare at him in silence, you suppose he has accepted your confession? And also, you've beaten him to a confession? You feel yourself breathe a sigh of relief, one that falls on deaf ears — for Kaeya could only hear the sound of his beating heart.

It's unbearably loud, and oddly quick. He could feel it vibrate through his whole being. Though he had quickly composed himself, his heart wasn't one to lie.

"Let's meet again tonight, I have a few tasks to attend to." He looks at the sky, the sun had risen bright and high, before his gaze lands back onto you. "See you soon, (Y/N)."

He flashed you a smile before walking back toward the Favonious Headquarters. It was then you saw he had dropped a pen that sat on, you guess, his fist?

You call out his name, grabbing the pen off the floor and retrieving it, bringing it back to its original owner. "Kaeya!"

He isn't answering you, in fact, he's walking forward, seemingly walking faster — rushing toward the headquarters. He has been doing this for a while. He meets with you and talks to you for a bit before rushing back to his workplace.

Its to wonder why he bothers. He's always walking increasingly faster, and dodges all your questions.

"Kaeya!" You finally caught up to him,and it seems he has finally gained back consciousness! "You dropped your pen..."

You feel your words trail off as you looked at Kaeya's face.

His widened gaze wanders from his hands to yours, and his furrowed brows are pressed tightly together. His jaw slacked as his cheeks were airbrushed with a tint of rosy pink. His hands, pulling away from his face, hangs loosely in the air — stunned.

"Let's meet tonight. See you later, (Y/N)!" he grabs the pen off of your hands and speed-walks toward the stairs, flustered and a little stunned.

[ahhhhhhh-e-i-e-i-o]

this is ur free pass to talk about ur hyperfixation. i have no idea wtf it is but i want to hear

You dont understand how happy that just made me, I literally giggled and jumped up and down like a little girl.

Ok so it's this show called SKAM, or Shame in norwegian (and I'm deep in it rn). So it's basically this Norwegian teen drama but there's a ton of remakes around the world (so far I've seen Skam France and WTFock which is Skam Belgium, but there's a ton, like Skam Italy and Skam Austin). But the cool thing is when it aired it was in real time and random, so basically if there was a clip of an episode that took place at 5:30 on Monday, it would air at 5:30 on Monday and then at the end of the week they would release the whole episode. But ALSO, they would randomly release texts between the characters AND all the characters had Instagram accounts run by the show that would post randomly. And so basically each season follows a different character and the OG only had 4 seasons but some of the remakes have many many more, and the remakes have to follow the same characters and general storyline of the first four seasons, but then they can do whatever they want and it's really cool.

So basically everyone's favorite season (and the reason I watched) is season 3 because it's about these guys Even and Isak who fall in love (and we love queer romance) and it's actually soooo good. Basically Isak is gay but super in denial and has all this internalized homophobia that goes out the fucking window when he meets Even, a raging pansexual with enough charisma to make a lesbian fall for him istg (ok maybe not a lesbian but at least a straight man I'm sure). But, mild spoiler, Even has bipolar disorder and has this intense manic episode around Isak which fucks everything up and his ex is like super toxic, but then they get over it and have some of the cutest scenes I've ever seen in TV history.

I've really onyl watched season 3 of Skam France and WTFock, and just clips from the other ones, but from what I can tell, Skam France is very similar to the OG, and WTFock is a little darker (like at one point they get beat up on the street by homophobes). But I really like the remakes because the characters aren't exactly the same even though the story is. So like Robbe (Belgian Isak) is super adorable and little tiny baby and like Isak is too but not in the same way. And like Eliott (French Even) has more of a temper and he's a little more "cool guy" and yeah idk.

I also love love love season 5 of Skam France because it's about Arthur who is the love of my life (dear lord he's so hot) and he goes deaf and I think it's a really great story. I also really like television that focuses on a sense (or lack thereof) especailly hearing because you can do some really cool stuff with it. I think the show did some things about it really excellently and some things I would've done differently just to evoke a different or stronger emotional reaction but I still think it was really cool.

Idk I just love it sm it gives me so much dopamine and just like. joy. ahhhhh thanks for letting me rant even if you don't read it I love talking about Skam and my friends are probably so happy I'm talking about it here and not to them anymore haha.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 6: A Fragile Existence

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: Four years after the outbreak, you're travelling through the new world with you dad.

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: reader age: 8, violence, death, fear, typical outbreak emotions and actions, swearing, separation, reader isn’t a helpless kid, Joel goes feral off screen.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

PART II

THE RAIDER AND THE GUILT - 2007

Chapter 6 - A Fragile Existence

If nightmares had music, it would sound like the storm that rages above you.

The wind howls, the rain lashes your skin and the thunder roars. Each sound blending together in an eerie melody that infiltrates the very core of your being.

Your small hand is held firmly by your father's, guided along the cracked concrete surface as you trail behind the rest of the group. The road is paved with fractures and blemishes, bearing the scars of time and destruction, yet it remains a path that you navigate together.

The roar of thunder pierces the air, sending vibrations through the very foundation of your being, creating an unsettling symphony that echoes the fear reverberating within you as you clutch the torn green sweatshirt two sizes too big for you. The ground trembles with each thunderous clap, almost as if mirroring your own internal turmoil. Your heart races in response to the primal force of nature, each strike of lightning illuminating the darkness with a fierce brightness, only to plunge everything into a deeper, more ominous shadow once the brief flash subsides.

The storm had made its presence known overnight, settling into an unsettling, overcast morning. To your father's dislike, the group had decided to press on, disregarding his concerns about moving through the city under such unfavorable weather conditions. Frustrated, he had lashed out, hurling expletives and curses, calling them reckless and ignorant. Yet his protests fell on deaf ears as the group's decision overshadowed his worries, leaving him to begrudgingly swallow his concerns as they braved the storm-ridden city.

Your father had sat you on a log at the edge of the makeshift campsite. He sat beside you watching the others rush about. Their urgency palpable as they hastily packed up their belongings, preparing for the journey ahead. You, on the other hand had long ago abandoned unpacking, knowing well the need to be ready to flee at a moment's notice. The constant state of readiness had become second nature to you, a reminder of the fragile existence you now navigated.

Shoes always on and tied tight as you slept.

The pattern was familiar to you, a cycle repeated time and time again. The group would accept you and your father, allowing you to travel with them for a while. But inevitably, after a few weeks, doubts would set in, and those who once welcomed you would now question your presence. It became a predictable journey, as you never managed to stay with a group for longer than a month, making it impossible to remember names or faces when every encounter seemed fleeting.

Your father leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper as he shared his plan with you. "We stick to the back of the group, and once we're outside the city limits, we slip away, head out on our own,"  He kept his voice low, careful not to attract the attention of any wandering ears that might overhear his instructions.

“You got your knife?” He asked and you pulled it from your belt to show him before securing it back safely.

You had asked your father why he didn't suggest leaving right away, doubting anyone would notice your disappearance. Your eyes followed the clumsy movements of the group, witnessing someone drop their bag's contents, scattering them in the mud. Confusion mingled with frustration on your father's face as he surveyed the scene, clearly weighing the options in his mind.

Your father sighed heavily, his frustration evident as he witnessed the group's behavior. "Cities are dangerous," he reminded you, his tone filled with concern. "It's safer for us to travel with a larger group. It'll be easier for us to slip away if we encounter any trouble." His hand found your shoulder, gently pulling you into a side hug, a gesture of comfort and affection amidst the uncertain circumstances.

"The only trouble we'll encounter are these stupid fuckers," you grumbled quietly, your eyes scanning the disorganized group before you with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he playfully chided you, shaking his head slightly. "And what have I told you about that language?" he teased. A chuckle escaped his lips as he jokingly threatened, "If I had soap right now, I would wash out your mouth." He punctuated his remark with a playful shove, his lighthearted gesture indicating his attempt to alleviate the tension.

"I wish you had soap, you stink," you remarked, wrinkling your nose in exaggerated disgust. His eyes widened at your retort, a mix of surprise and amusement evident in his reaction.

Your father's playful shove sent you toppling off the log, and you landed face-first into the mud with a startled shriek. Mud splattered across your clothes and face, adding another layer to your dirty appearance. You couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter as you tried to wipe the thick mud from your face, your amusement outweighing any irritation.

With a smirk, you threw mud from the ground at your father.

Every ounce of laughter had faded as the crumbling city looms before you, casting an eerie shadow over the once cheerful atmosphere you shared with your dad. The mood shifts dramatically, the change palpable as if crossing that invisible line brought with it a sense of foreboding. The once-cheerful air turned heavy and uneasy as the reality of the city's dangers became more real, dampening the earlier lightheartedness.

Your father's eyes dart around anxiously, scanning the surroundings with a watchful gaze. Every noise and movement seems to catch his attention, causing his head to turn incessantly. His sweaty palms and quick breathing betray his inner tension, a clear indication of his nervousness. You cling tightly to him, feeling the unease that radiates from his tense form.

A shout from ahead disrupts the howling storm, its sound swallowed by the gale. The group comes to a halt, and your father swiftly shields you, positioning himself protectively between you and the approaching figure. A woman emerges from an alleyway, her hands clutched at her stomach, a desperate plea for help escaping her lips as she reaches out to the group, pleading for their aid.

Your thoughts race as you recall the name of the person rushing towards the wounded woman in the alley - Jack, you remember. Your father's reaction, marked by muttered curses and rapid eye movement, conveys his growing sense of unease and apprehension. He appears to be on high alert, scanning every corner of the street, anticipating potential danger lurking in the shadows.

Your voice trembles as you call out through the relentless rain, seeking reassurance from your father. "Dad?" you cry out, your panic evident in the urgent tug on his sleeve. In response, his gaze turns toward you, and you're met with a disheartening sight - the sorrowful look in his eyes betrays the fear he had worked so hard to conceal.

Your father's urgent cry rings out above the chaotic sounds of gunfire and screams. "We gotta run," he hollers urgently, his desperate plea piercing through the chaos of the alley. Your eyes snap back to the group, where the once wounded woman now holds a gun, firing at Jack who collapses onto the ground. The unfolding scene is a terrifying sight, as more people brandishing weapons emerge from their hiding spots.

The iron grip of your father's hand around your wrist tightens into a bruising hold as he forcefully yanks you away, urging you into a sprint. The adrenaline surges through your veins, heightening your senses as your legs strain to keep up with his pace. Fear drives each stride, fueling your determination to flee from the unfolding chaos behind you.

Your vision blurs as tears mix with the relentless raindrops cascading down on you. The alleyway becomes a maze as you dart into it, only to glance behind you as you hear the sickening sound of the group's demise on the street. Fear grips your heart as heavy footsteps draw nearer, their presence a sinister reminder of the impending danger. The echoes of bullets striking the slippery brick walls send a shiver down your spine, mingling with the sound of your own desperate screams reverberating throughout the winding alleys.

Your father hastily locates a potential escape route and forcefully kicks open a door, propelling you inside before reluctantly unclasping his grasp on your wrist and drawing his firearm. In a moment of urgency, he drops to his knees in front of you, his heavy breaths mirroring your own panic. His hands cradle your face with an intensity that speaks volumes, holding your gaze firmly as he locks eyes with your frantic gaze.

"You run," he pleads, his voice firm and commanding. Yet beneath the stern words, there's a hint of desperation. His desire to keep you safe shines through his steely expression. But your defiant head shake tells a different story, the love and fear interwoven into your expression, refusing to budge from his side. The sound of approaching footsteps and shouts serves as a chilling reminder that time is of the essence.

Your tear-streaked face stares up at him, your voice shaky with emotion as you firmly declare, "I'm not leaving you, dad." Your fingers clutch onto his arms, anchoring yourself in the fleeting sense of security he offers. A sob wracks through your body, the weight of the situation pressing down upon you, and your father pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. In that embrace, all the fears and anxieties pour out, finding solace in his protective hold.

His grip on your shoulders tightens as he pulls you off him, his voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I'm right behind you, baby," he assures you, his weak smile unable to conceal the trepidation in his eyes. "You keep running and don't look back," he urges, desperation lacing his words. "Promise me you won't look back, no matter what you hear." In that moment, his plea hangs heavily in the air, the weight of his fear for your safety echoing through the tense silence.

“Dad-”

His voice rises, breaking the fragile silence as your father's desperate plea echoes in the air, "Promise me!" His grip on your shoulders tightens, his gaze filled with intensity as he gently shakes you, his voice quivering with anguish.

Your voice catches in a sob as you echo his words, "I promise." The pain of separation is evident in your trembling voice, mirrored in the tears streaming down your face. With a mix of love and determination, your father gazes at you one last time, his eyes filled with a bittersweet resolve before he gently pushes you away, standing up once more.

His voice blares like a siren in your ears as he bellows "Run!" The urgency in his voice is unmistakable, and you instinctively spin on your heels. Tears fly from your cheeks as you begin to sprint, knowing that the sound of your father's voice may be the last you hear it.

As you crawl through another gap in the wire fence, a curse escapes you as the rough edges catch on your sweater, causing yet another tear. Though the storm has subsided to a soft sprinkle falling from the sky, the ominous sounds of shouts and gunfire continue to drift from the distance, hinting at the dangers that lie in wait. Despite having put several blocks between you and the hostile group that attacked you, the lingering sense of unease remains as you press on.

As you struggle to wipe away the caked mud that clings stubbornly to your skin, you let out a frustrated huff and lean against the wall, feeling the rough bricks against your back. The impact of your head hitting the wall is a testament to the exhaustion that seeps through your bones, and a wave of weariness washes over you. Just for a moment, you tell yourself. Just one brief moment to rest, to clear your mind before pressing onward. The adrenaline that had fueled your escape begins to subside, leaving you feeling drained and vulnerable in the deserted backstreet.

Your eyes fixate on a broken sign swaying in the breeze across the street, marking the location of a pet store. Deciding it would be a safe spot to rest, you summon what remaining energy you have, pushing yourself away from the wall and moving across the deserted road. As you reach the entrance to the pet store, you reach for the knife at your belt, grasping it firmly in preparation for any surprises that may await you inside. The anticipation courses through you, leaving a sense of unease mixed with determination as you step into the unknown confines of the abandoned storefront. 

The chime of the bell announces your arrival as you push open the door, causing you to roll your eyes in annoyance. It seems that every single store has a bell to signal newcomers, and you're growing tired of its relentless presence. As you step inside, the sounds of the city outside fade into the background, replaced by the eerie silence that pervades the abandoned pet store.

The sight of lifeless animals behind the glass cases evokes a mix of pity and discomfort, and you try to suppress the emotions that surface. Resolutely, you push forward, forging a path through the store. As you reach the back, you hesitantly push open the door, the creaking noise it emits adding to the already eerie atmosphere.

The room is illuminated by a soft glow, with sunlight creeping through the window as day breaks through the night, casting a faint luminescence on the surroundings. What captures your attention, though, is an unexpected sight - a light bulb hanging from a string on the ceiling, gently swaying in response to an invisible draft.

That’s strange, there’s no wind?

A searing panic shoots through you as you're suddenly blindsided, hands wrapping around your mouth, effectively silencing your cries and effectively cutting off your air supply. Your body instinctively stiffens, adrenaline flooding your system as you fight against the unexpected assailant.

Your teeth tear into the flesh, a desperate attempt to defend yourself from the unexpected attack. Simultaneously, you bring your leg up, planting a powerful stomp on his foot. A guttural groan escapes the man behind you as he stumbles back, releasing his suffocating grip on your mouth. "The little fucker," he curses, his voice filled with surprise and irritation.

In a swift motion, you spin around, brandishing your knife and slicing it across his chest. He lets out a cry of pain and instinctively kicks you backwards, sending you stumbling into the room. Quick thinking leads you to kick the door shut as you land on your back to buy yourself some time, trying to create a barrier between you and the hostile stranger.

Your breath catches in your throat as panic floods your system, causing a wave of unease to wash over you. You force yourself to your feet, desperately trying to regain control over your breathing. Drawing upon the knowledge your father bestowed upon you, you steady your breaths, willing yourself to remain calm. With determination, you shove a fallen chair under the handle of the door, silently hoping it will buy you precious time to find a means of escape.

Your heart skips a beat as the door begins to shake and the chair creaks under the relentless battering, signaling the futility of its defense. Acting on pure instinct, you swiftly push away the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty face, your body propelled in a frenzied dash toward the window.

Their voices filter through the crack in the door and a woman's voice chimes in, tinged with the unmistakable undercurrent of mockery. She chuckles as she addresses the other assailant, her tone dripping with derision. "What happened to you?" she taunts the man, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

The man's annoyed growl fills the air as he kicks the door in response, his voice laced with irritation. "Little shit had a knife," he mutters, the anger evident in the force behind his kick. Desperation claws at you as you spin back toward the window, attempting to pry it open. However, your efforts are met with resistance, the window stubbornly refusing to budge. In frustration, you bang your fists against the glass, the fear within you swelling as the seconds tick by.

The distinctive chime of the door echoes through the air once more, announcing the arrival of further assailants. Your mind races, desperately scanning the surroundings for something, anything, that can aid in shattering the glass barrier before you. A fallen brick amidst the rubble cascading from the damaged wall catches your attention and you quickly grab it, a flicker of triumph seizes your emotions as you clutch it in your trembling hand.

Chaos erupts in the adjacent room as a heated argument escalates into the eruption of gunfire, its echoes reverberating through the air. Realizing there's no time to waste, you swiftly hurl the brick through the window, shattering it into fragments. Without hesitation, you hastily retrieve a piece of wood and begin frenziedly slamming it against the remaining shards still clinging to the broken windowpane, determined to create an opening large enough to squeeze through without cutting yourself.

Just as you prepare to climb through the shattered window, the door behind you explodes open with a jarring crash, signaling the end of your desperate escape attempt. A shout rings out through the chaos, followed by the thundering footsteps that approach at a rapid pace. Unrelenting panic grips your throat as a hand snatches your foot, exerting an iron grip and forcefully yanking you back into the room.

Your voice rises defiantly as you howl, "Get off me!" In a desperate bid to break free, you miraculously manage to land a solid kick to his face. He lets out a pained groan, frustration palpable in his response as his grip tightens on your wrists, seizing control over you. He violently flings your knife across the room, its metallic clatter blending with the chaotic symphony of sounds. The man is uttering words, but his voice is swallowed by the tumultuous roar of your own screams.

The touch of a calloused hand on your face surprises you, as it feels inexplicably gentle against your skin. In your frenzied screams, the dichotomy registers, and you stop abruptly. With a sense of confusion, you open your eyes, your heart still racing from the adrenaline-fueled panic that consumed you moments ago. 

"It's me," he exclaims, his eyes locking onto yours, pleading for recognition. A note of urgency tinges his voice as he tenderly pushes aside the strands of hair that cling to your face. "Baby, it's me."

Time seems to stand still as the oxygen leaves your lungs, rendering you momentarily speechless. A sense of disbelief washes over you, wondering if this is a cruel trick played by your mind, if his face is merely conjured up by fractured memories. In this surreal moment, you entertain the possibility that you're already in the afterlife, and he has come back to guide you. But the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the undeniable sign of life itself, confirms your reality - he's alive, and it's truly him.

“Joel?” Your disbelief transforms into a tentative hope as his name escapes your lips in a whispered question. As he rises to his knees, your struggles come to an abrupt halt, freeing him from your desperate attempts to break free. In this moment of ceasefire, your eyes meet his, and the tension that had gripped you melts away, replaced by the mutual relief mirrored on both your faces. His chest rises and falls with the weight of his own labored breaths, a testament to the intensity of the struggle.

The image of his battered form burns itself into your mind - his body a canvas of smeared blood and dirt, his soaked hair clinging limply to his face as blood drips from him. Despite the mess that surrounds him, there's an undeniable familiarity in his presence. No matter how beaten and bloodied he may be, the unmistakable essence of Joel remains intact, a glimmer of recognition flickering through the turmoil.

It's him, Joel, kneeling before you, battered yet unbroken.

With sudden urgency, you push yourself off the ground, rushing into his embrace. His arms encircle you with a powerful and desperate hold, as if he fears that you might disappear if he lets go. His grip tightens, holding onto you as if his very existence depends on it.

His words, spoken gently into the crook of your shoulder, hold a soothing promise. "You're alright, princess. Everything's alright," Joel reassures you, his voice a balm to your frightened heart. He pulls you closer, nestling your head against his chest, his own head resting upon yours as he slowly rocks you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat seems to steady your own racing pulse, serving as a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

As your eyes slowly flutter open and rise, they are met with the gruesome scenes that surround you. The room across from you is marked by a stark display of violence and devastation. Your gaze falls upon the splayed bodies, their limp forms spread lifelessly on the ground, starkly contrasted against the backdrop of sticky blood that drips silently down the walls.

With gentle and soothing motions, Joel's hand begins to stroke the length of your back, offering a comforting presence. Your gaze remains fixed on the still form of the dead man, his lifeless eyes staring back at you as blood drips from the hole in his neck. Joel's voice breaks the tense silence, whispering reassurances once more. "Everything's alright." The repetition of his words serves as a soothing mantra, a lifeline that grounds you in the face of shock and terror.

You’re not sure if he was telling you or himself.

Click here for Chapter 7 - Comming soon

Notes

I had way too much fun wrirting this. It's been a while since I wrote anything within the outbreak so it's nice to write scenes in this world again. I havent written anything like this since The hardest part is who we are and it's been a while since i wrote anything for that series. Since the year is 2007, reader is around 8 now - a 4 year time jump. also looking over joels shoulder to see what he did, yikes.

Next chapter Sneak Peak!

And now in this moment, as he cradles her tightly in his arms, a tear runs Joel’s face. The bittersweet feeling of contentment washes over him as he gazes down at her, the sight of her clinging to him echoing the memories from years past. He realizes that his tumultuous journey, marked by the shadows of guilt and the weight of his past transgressions, has somehow led him back to his girl - his reason, his purpose. In this tender reunion, everything he's done, both good and bad, suddenly seems worth it, leading him back home to her, breathing and alive.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp

[mangosrar]

Tough guy Jasper.

pt2 of middle game!!

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

pt1 “middle game”

warnings: alottttt of angst, fighting, chris being a hero 🫶

"Hey nick whats up?". It was currently around 6.30pm on a friday night and Rue was getting ready for a party. Some influencer had invited her, Nick, Matt and Chris and each of them a plus one. Nick and Matt had decided against bringing anyone but, obviously Chris was bringing his girlfriend, Sophie, and Rue was bringing Jasper, her boyfriend of 4 months. How fun.

"I was just wondering if you needed Matt to pick you up later?" His voice rang through the speaker.

"Uh no its good Jaspers gonna drive us there" The girl internally screamed at the thought of Chris and Jasper being within a mile radious of eachother. Truth was, after Rue and Chris had confessed to being in love with eachother, they fooled around for a while before Chris miraculously decided he wasnt ready for a relationship. So naturally Rue did what she saw best fit: to get over one man, get under another, however the irony was, she was still getting under the guy she was trying to get over. Both of them were just as bad as eachother, proven so, when Chris had found out that his beloved Rue had moved on, obviously he had to do the same.

"Oh okay cool. I cant wait to see you, we havent seen you in like 2 weeks bro" Rue couldn’t help but scrunch her face up at the word. We. She wished she could be honest with her best friend but how was she supposed to say 'Nick youre so silly, its just you and matt i havent seen, i was actually getting my bones jumped by your brother last night behind my boyfriends back but snuck out this morning before anyone was up. See you at the party!!!'. She was doomed.

"Me too Nick, ive missed you so much" She wrapped up the conversation and carried on getting ready, but she couldn’t shake the overarching feeling of guilt. She was lying to everyone she loved. Well all but one.

7.30 pm rolled around fast and before she knew it she was waiting for Jasper to pull up. She felt and looked great. Clad in a skin tight dress that stopped just below her knees, white heels, and a perfect amount of clevage on show. Jasper will love this, but Chris would love it more. And just like he infiltrated her thoughts, he infiltrated her attention. Her phone chimed and she raced to check it.

Chris: Tough guy Jaspers coming huh?

Rue: Yes. Sophie?

Chris: Na something came up shes not coming. But you will be 🙃

Rue: Talkin about you "making me come" and your girlfriends name in the same sentence? player

Chris: You know it sweetheart. See you soon.

Asshole.

The party was heaving by the time they arrived. The smell of alcohol and weed heavy in the air. Nick had quickly found Rue and Jasper, Matt in tow, but Chris was nowhere to be seen.

"Wheres Chris?" She couldnt help but ask, curiosity killed the cat.

"Hes outside on the phone to Sophie, he'll be over in a sec" Matt replied shooting her a tight lipped smile. Rue was never really that close to Matt, sure they were freinds but not like how she was with Chris or Nick.

"Speak of the devil and he shall apear" Jasper muttered but it fell on deaf ears, hed said it quiet enough for only her to hear. Jasper was never really fond of Chris. Or anyone who came near his girlfriend really. He always said Chris was 'too friendly' or 'too handsy'. You dont know the half of it.

"Rue, long time no see" Chris pulled rue in for a hug. His hands rested just above her ass and he seperated himself from the girl with a toothy grin, she threw him a warning look saying 'carefull', he just moved his eyes to the left of her and let them land on Jasper.

"What up bro" Chris held his hand out for Jasper to take and he ignored him completely. Not even sparing him a glance.

"Jas dont be rude" She looked over to Jasper with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, after realising she had been staring at Chris this entire time. Jasper just scoffed and continued looking everywhere but Rue or her friends. Rue wanted the floor to open and swallow her up right there and then. Chris just raised his eyebrows and scoffed with a surprised smile turning to look at the poor girl. The look on his face told her everything his mouth didnt. Tough guy Jasper. Huh.

"Im gonna go get a drink ill be back in a sec" She didnt even wanna think about how awkward it would be after she walked away. Making a bee line for the kitchen island that was full of different drinks, she picked up the vodka, popped the lid off the bottle and started chugging. Ew.

The party was now well and truly under way and Rue was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. Chris had been watching her all night, he was like a hunter watching its prey, ready to pounce any second. He had been watching Jasper put his hands all over Rue where his should be. He hated it. It was like torture. He just wanted to go over there and beat Jasper to a bloody pulp, but somehow he couldnt help but be angry at her. He couldnt understand why she was letting Jasper touch her like that when she knew Chris was watching.

There were drunk or high bodies dancing all over eachother, including Rue and Jasper. He was far too drunk for his girlfriends liking but she didnt care. Her back was flush to his chest and she was dancing on him like it was nobodys business. except Chris'. He was like a hawk. He sat across from where they were dancing, scowl on his face, smoking a blunt, man spreading in all his glory for her too see, and god did he look sexy. If it wasnt for the man behind her whispering how horny he was in her ear, she would have walked Chris out of that party and fucked him in the car. For a moment she considered it, but Jasper had other ideas.

He grabbed her arm and before she knew it they were in the hallway about to be lead up the stairs. The same stairs she had just been up with Chris about an hour ago. His face between her legs in some random bathroom, her hand slapped over her mouth.

"You like this dont you mh? Coming on my face while you’re boyfriend waits for you down stairs?" He tutted at her.

"I hope you dont kiss your girlfreind with that mouth" She breathed out in a strangled whine, as Chris dived back in, devouring her like a starved man. He didn’t even bother to respond, he just looked up at her and smirked.

Focus Rue.

She pulled back slightly stopping her boyfreind in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" Her voice slightly raised so he would hear you over the music. Jasper came closer to her grabbing her ass, moving his face down to her ear, planting kisses there.

"Come on baby i need you right now" He continued running his hands all over, despite rue trying to push him off.

"I dont want to Jasper. lets just wait until we get home" He was a man who could not be moved. He continued pulling her towards the stairs but she was having none of it.

"Jas come on" Rue struggled in his grip. He ignored her protests and carried on pulling her arm. His grip was unwavering and she was sure there would be bruises in the morning. Rue wasn’t weak by any means, but Jasper was much stronger than she was.

"Jasper stop it, youre hurting me" She was now panicked and stone cold sober, distress evident in her shaky voice, and desperately pulling against him but he was not letting up. He carried on pulling her through the hall way towards the stairs in a death grip.

She was helpless, the only thing running through her mind was how Chris would never do this. Chris. Chris. Chris.

CHRIS.

Before she could even protest Chris had lached his hands onto Jaspers shirt, roughly pulling him back, away from Rue. Jasper came stumbling back and it was like everything was suddenly going in slowmotion. The look on Chris' face spoke volumes, 'i’m going to tell him'. She kept her eyes on his, wordlessly begging not to say anything. But before she could even get a word in, Chris opened his mouth.

"She asked you to stop tough guy" His chest was heaving and he looked like he was about to rip Jaspers throat out. He protectively stood infront of the girl, putting a barrier between Rue and her boyfriend. People were now crowding around the two boys after hearing the commotion, waiting in anticipation.

"Chris please" She silently begged for him not to. He knew what she was asking but he didnt care.

"If i wanna fuck my girlfriend i will, you dont need to be so pissed just because she wont let you fuck her Chris" Jaspers words were slurred and he could barely stand straight. Chris had a shit eating grin on his face and Rue knew it was coming before it even happened, clasping her hands together, praying for some sort of relief from a god she had no right to beg for. Not with how far she had come.

"Oh but she does" Before Rue or Jasper could even get a word in Chris sent a searing punch straight at him, his fist connecting with Jaspers jaw, sending him flying onto his back, and in no time Chris was on top of him sending hit after hit.

Rue was yelling at Chris to stop, but he couldn't even hear her. He was like a man posessed, Relentless with his hits. Matt and Nick appeared from the living room after hearing all the comotion, but all they could see was her face. The look of pure horror so evident, they knew it was Chris and Jasper. Matt made his way through the crowd and pulled Chris off of Jasper. His nuckles were bloody and he stood there panting, looking down at his bloody handywork lying on the floor. Jasper was bleeding from everywhere. Rue stood speechless, her wide eyes jumping between the two boys, waiting for Chris to say or do anthing. At this point the tears were full force running down her face. Chris turned to her and his face softened at the sight of her weeping, it was like something had changed in his eyes but she couldnt figure out what.

"Rue..." It was like he was the only person in the room. How could he do this? How could he embaress her like this? His hand reached out to touch her arm but she pulled away from him and pushed past him, making sure to shove his shoulder with her own on the way out the front door.

"Victoria!" She heard someone yell after her and she was sure it was Matt, but she was too focused on getting as far away from Chris as she could.

She was so angry she felt sick. Chris had no right to do that. He had no right to interfere with her relationship like that. She wanted to wring his neck. She wanted to tell the whole world just how terrible he was, like he had just done to her.

What he didn’t understand was that she had the information to ruin his relationship and possibly his life. He embarrassed her and carved his name into her back, and she had a golden opportunity to destroy everything on a nuclear scale. Why wouldn’t she use it? The truth was she knew there were two ways to end a war. Going nuclear or just simply walking away. She wouldn’t gain anything by shooting him down or drawing a knife straight through the heart of his ego. It didn’t make her life any better. And this hit for hit thing they've had going on these past few months, was lasting a little too long for Rues liking.

nothing better than seeing a man w bloody knuckles 😛😛😛😛😛😛

@christinarowie332 @sturniolostvrs @kitaysworld @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sturnphilia @cupidtoast @lividnity @sukiwaterhousestan @freshlovehacker @deatthmatch @fandomhopped

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter eleven

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, PTSD, choking, angst

word count: 3.9k

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taglist: @tellmealovestory @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @charmedbysarge @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @aya-fay @differenttyphoonwerewolf @elizabeth916 @buckyb-stan @normalgirlnextdoor @hnnhbananananana @sebastians-love @buckybarnessimpp @sebsgirl71479 @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @almosttoopizza @esposadomd @zannemes​​

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It was the morning from hell. I knew the moment I got in my car that it was not going to be a good day, and that turned out to be the case before I even made it into work. Now I was riding to the hospital in an ambulance, straddling a stranger and performing CPR.

“We’re about a minute out,” the EMT who was driving the vehicle called.

“Page Barnes,” I replied, as I counted out my chest compressions. The EMTs were adamant that they could handle the patient, but I wasn’t leaving his side and I was determined to keep him alive. I heard the doors to the ambulance open and the EMTs carefully unloaded the gurney keeping it as smooth as possible for me to work.

“What the hell…Y/N?” I heard. It was the first time he had spoken to me in weeks.

“Male in his forties, partially deaf. He was walking in a crosswalk and was hit head on by a car. He’s got a broken femur and has been in and out of consciousness with a really weak pulse.”

Bucky turned to the interns and said, “Take over for Y/L/N and get him to CT.” 

One of the interns came over to the patient’s side to take my place and I replied, “I’ve got it.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding,” Bucky stated firmly.

I turned toward him, “I’m fine,” I argued.

“You need to be examined.”

“Bucky,” I pleaded. He just shook his head and held out his hand. I knew arguing was no use, he could easily pull me down and I didn’t need a reminder of what it felt like to be in his arms. I climbed toward the side and took his hand as I jumped down.

“Go take an empty bed, I’ll send someone in to check on you.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need-”

“Let’s make sure, okay?” His eyes were full of concern, and I didn’t have it in me to argue with him, even if I disagreed. I nodded and he moved with the gurney into the pit.

“Buck?” I called before he could get too far. He stopped and turned back towards me. “Please don’t let him die.”

“He’s not going anywhere. I promise.” Bucky ran to catch up with his team. I thanked the EMTs and then found an empty station in the ER where I waited and hoped for the best..

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since our arrival, but eventually Dr. Wilson came by.

“Hey there, Wonder Woman,” Sam said, approaching the bed I was sitting on.

“Wonder Woman?” I replied.

“Oh that’s what they’re calling you now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a hero. And a badass.”

I scoffed, “I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Yet you still managed to get scratched up,” he put on a pair of gloves. “What happened?”

I sighed, “I was driving to work and came to a stop at a redlight. The car next to me was looking to the left to make a right turn and accelerated, not seeing the pedestrian in the crosswalk. Clint, he’s the guy who got hit, he’s partially deaf and didn’t hear the car coming. The guy hit the accelerator pretty hard and didn’t break until he saw Clint hit the windshield.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got glass in your forehead.”

“I pulled over to the right to help out and the guy who started the accident backed up and hit my car.”

“Jesus. Was he drunk?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really talk to him.”

“So what did you do?”

“I yelled for someone to call 911 and started to examine Clint. At first he was in shock, but he was responsive. So I asked him his name and about his job and his life to calm him down. He probably has a concussion. He kept losing consciousness and his pulse was really weak so they need to look at his heart too.”

“He’s already been taken in for scans.”

“Is he stable?”

“He’s stable.”

I eased at that, feeling better already. 

“Now sit still. I’m going to pull out this glass from your forehead. Then I’ll clean out the lacerations and stitch you up.”

Sam started pulling out small pieces of crushed glass and placed them into a bowl. All the shards were pretty small, but it was still painful. I tried to keep the wincing to a minimum but it wasn’t comfortable. Talking seemed like a good way to keep me distracted from the pain.

“So they sent the head of plastics to come tend to a couple scrapes on my forehead.”

Sam chuckled, “Bucky wanted to do it himself but I wouldn’t let him. You would’ve ended up with two big scars on your pretty little forehead.”

I let out a small smile, “Yeah I don’t think his talents would be best served stitching me up.”

“Stitching? You know that man doesn’t do sutures; you would’ve been glued back together.”

I let out a hearty laugh, knowing Sam was correct.  He added, “He wanted the best for you, which is why I volunteered. Told him I’d give you the VIP treatment.”

I sighed, “Just stitch me up so I can go help.”

“I’m sending you to CT after this.”

“What!?”

“You were in a car accident, Y/N. I’d be a bad doctor if I didn’t order you a head CT.”

“I don’t have any symptoms!”

“You’re also running on adrenaline. Just get the scans done and we’ll figure out next steps from there”

“Fine.” I was getting used to not getting my way today.

“Sit tight for now. We’ll have someone take you to get your scans shortly.”

“Dr. Barnes, Clint’s back from CT. He seems much more stable now. Dr. Rogers is in there examining his femur,” one of the interns provided him an update. He thanked him and headed back to Clint’s room. Sure enough, Steve was in there, examining the break in his leg and studying the chart. Bucky knocked on the open door before walking through to his patient.

“Mind if I interrupt?” he said. 

“Not at all,” Steve said. 

“Hi Clint. I’m Dr. Barnes. I'm head of the trauma team and I’ve been overseeing your care since you got here.”

 “How am I looking, doc?”

“You’re doing really well. Dr. Rogers here is going to take you into surgery to repair your femur. You have a little bit of internal bleeding that we’re gonna fix up while you’re in there. As long as everything goes smoothly, you should be able to live a perfectly normal life.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Thank God she was there.”

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Steve asked.

“Is that Y/N?” Clint asked. 

“She’s one of our best” Steve confirmed with a nod.

“She was so badass. She came out of nowhere and took complete control of everything. I was freaking out and she just came over, started talking to me and calmed me down. She was yelling out commands to everyone and insisted the ambulance take us here. She stayed with me the whole time. It was amazing.”

“Sounds like Y/N,” Bucky said.

“Is she single? Do you think she’d go out with me? I figure I owe her dinner at the very least.”

Steve eyed Bucky and raised an eyebrow, forcing Bucky to answer that question.

“I…uh…I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”

“If you see her, would you mind sending her in? So that I can thank her.”

Steve could see Bucky growing jealous and he hoped it might knock some sense into his friend.

“Yeah, I think she’s getting some scans done,” was all Bucky could muster. Steve jumped in to review the plan for surgery and let Clint know they were currently prepping the OR for him. Bucky excused himself and went to check on Y/N before he had to scrub in.

After what seemed like ages, all my scans were done and I sat there half-watching soap operas, waiting for the results. I heard the curtain pull back and figured it was Sam with my results.

“Can I go?” I whined. When I turned toward the visitor, I was surprised to find it wasn’t Sam at all. It was Bucky. “Hi…” I managed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking at my chart. 

“I’m fine. How’s Clint?” 

“He’s good. We’re about to take him down to surgery. Steve is going to fix his femur and he has a little internal bleeding so we’re going to patch that up.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“He should be fine.”

“Good.”

“He was asking about you.”

“Really?”

“Sounds like you did a great job at the scene.”

I gave him a half smile, “Thanks.”

“I got your scans back and everything looks good. Just take it easy the next few days. Sam will keep an eye on your lacerations and will remove your stitches in five days.”

“So I can go?” I asked.

He nodded, “I’ll sign your discharge papers. But you are going home. You aren’t sticking around here.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew he was probably right. He placed my chart back on the edge of the bed and turned to go.

“That’s it?” 

“What, did you have questions?”

“Bucky, you haven’t even looked at me these past few weeks and now you’re just gonna act like nothing happened?”

He looked up at the ceiling before looking back towards me, “We’re not doing this.”

“Come on, Bucky. Please talk to me.”

He shook his head, and just walked away, leaving me sitting there, feeling hopeless.

After a few days of restless “rest” I returned to the hospital, hoping to get cleared so that I could clock in for my shift. I had all the nurses page Sam as I anxiously sat in the waiting room.

“You’re a day early,” Sam called as he walked toward the row of chairs.

“I’m actually just a spectacular patient who follows all the doctor’s care instructions.”

Sam gave me a look but sat in an open chair and signaled for me to lean in. He gently placed his hands on my face and tilted my head to study the wound.

“It is healing up pretty nicely. We can get those stitches out today.”

“Yessss,” I celebrated. 

“Go pop in one of those empty rooms and I’ll be right in.”

I followed his directions and told the nurses which room I was taking. Sam entered a few moments later with his tools.

He started removing the surgical thread and I couldn’t stand the silence, so I made small talk.

“How is he?” I asked.

“Who Clint? His surgery went well as far as I know. You can probably go see him today.”

“Oh…I, uh, I meant Bucky.”

“Oh,” Sam said, taken by surprise. “He’s uh…he’s Bucky.”

“That’s very helpful,” I said sarcastically.

“Well I don’t know what to say. He’s…he’s not himself.”

“How do I get him to talk to me?” I hated how desperate I sounded, but it reflected how I felt. It was only getting worse for me. 

Sam let out a deep exhale. “If I knew the answer to that, I would’ve told you weeks ago.”

“It’s like he’s his own worst enemy.”

“He’s stubborn. But he’ll come around.”

“You think?”

Sam shrugged, pulling out the last of the sutures. “One way or another.”

His response was vague, but he left before I could question him further.

Once Sam officially cleared me, I changed into my scrubs. Before I officially clocked into my shift, I went to check on Clint. He was recovering for a few days in the hospital before he’d be released. I poked my head in the door and found Steve in the room, doing a quick check up.

“There’s my hero,” Clint said, smiling at me. I blushed and looked down before smiling back. 

“Am I interrupting?” I asked Steve.

“No, you can come in.” 

I stepped into the room and walked over to Clint’s side. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“Much better now.”

I smiled at him and then turned to Steve, “He’s doing okay?”

Steve nodded, “He’s doing great.”

“I told you I’d get you the best care,” I said to Clint.

“I think you gave me the best care. Without you, I don’t know that I’d be here.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” I smiled. Clint grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, so this situation has obviously had a big impact on me and I can’t thank you enough for everything you did”

“You don’t have to thank me. This is my job,” I replied.

“I know, but you made sure I was in good hands and taken care of. And I know I would regret it if I didn’t do this so I have to ask…would you like to go to dinner with me on Friday?”

I was shocked, not expecting this. Clint was a good looking man, and he would probably make a great boyfriend. But I wasn’t ready to give up on Bucky. 

“Like…on a date?” I asked for clarification.

“Yeah, a date,” he said confidently. I was looking at Clint but I could feel Steve’s eyes on me as I responded.

I placed my other hand on Clint’s, so that his hand was sandwiched between mine, “Clint, I am so flattered, but I’m not really in a place to date at the moment.”

“Is Friday not a good time? Because I’m flexible, we could do Saturday. Or whenever you’re free really.”

I smiled at him, “It’s not the day. I just…” I considered my words carefully, “my heart belongs to someone else.” I kept my focus on Clint, not able to handle Steve’s knowing glance.

“Ah, of course you have a boyfriend. Lucky bastard.”

“But I’ll still swing by and make sure you’re doing okay before you’re discharged.”

Clint gave my hand a sweet kiss and said, “I will always be so grateful for you Y/N. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“Same to you Clint. You’ve got a long life ahead of you, don’t waste it.” With that, I released his hand and stepped out of the room.

Once Sam finished removing Y/N’s stitches, he knew he had to find Steve. Sam had a busy morning ahead of him and was grateful when he ran into Steve pouring a cup of coffee in the resident’s lounge on his break.

“We gotta do something,” Sam said.

“About what?” Steve asked, sipping on his java. Sam gave him a look that said it all. “Bucky and Y/N?” Steve added. 

Sam nodded, “He’s miserable and she’s still pining. And I don’t know how much longer I can watch this.”

“I feel the same way. Two idiots in love.”

“So what do we do?”

Steve thought for a moment “We need to get them in the same place at the same time. That’s not the hospital.”

“And has alcohol,” Sam added.

“But not Pym’s. Somewhere more…private.”

“Can we get her to Bucky’s house?” Sam asked. A wide grin spread over Steve’s face.

“No, but I think we can get her to mine…”

I rang the doorbell of the house, feeling slightly nervous. This was my first “work” party and I had no idea what to expect. Honestly. I was surprised that I was even invited. I had been working with Steve on ortho all week and it had been going well. Still, I wasn’t expecting an invitation to his housewarming party. I wasn’t really looking forward to the party, but wanted to make an appearance. At the very least, I thought I might see Bucky in a somewhat normal setting where I could maybe corner him and force a conversation.

What I did not expect was for Bucky to answer the door. I’m sure I looked stunned as I said, “Oh, hi.”

“Hi…” he said, as if seeking an explanation. He was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, and he was barefoot.

“Am I early?” I asked him.

Now he looked thoroughly confused. “Early for what?”

“The housewarming party…” Bucky was still squinting in confusion, so I added, “Steve told me to bring gin…”

Bucky shook his head, “Um, Steve isn’t here. And he’s lived in this house for three years.”

Now it was my turn to look confused. “...What?”

Bucky sighed, “This is a set up.”

Again, I said, “What?”

“They meddled. They’re forcing us together.”

“So���why are you here then?”

“I’m dog-sitting for Steve.”

“Oh,” I said, finally realizing what had happened. Despite being fooled, I didn’t feel embarrassed. And I didn’t want to go home just yet.

“So….can I come in?” I asked. Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I have gin,” I cheesed, holding up the full bottle of Tanqueray. 

He bit back a smile and opened the door wider, allowing me to come inside. I was immediately met by a smiling golden retriever. I placed the gin on a nearby table and crouched down in order to give some love to the pup.

“This is Liberty,” Bucky introduced.

“Hello Liberty!” I exclaimed, scratching her behind the ears as she happily panted. She quickly laid onto her back and I started scratching her belly, as she rolled around happily.

“She’s so sweet,” I commented.

“Yeah, she is pretty great.” Bucky was a few feet away in the kitchen and asked, ‘Do you want something to drink?” I picked up the Tanqueray and brought it over to him.

“Just a gin and tonic or gin and soda. Whatever Steve has.” I slid the bottle across the counter toward him as he pulled out two glasses.

“So tequila is for celebrating, whiskey is for wallowing…what is gin for?” he asked, as he poured a generous amount of gin into each of the glasses. He topped the drinks off with a little bit of tonic and then sliced up a lime and placed a wedge into each glass.

“Gin is for…heart-to-hearts,” I offered. He eyed me cautiously before handing me one of the glasses. I held it up, waiting for him to meet my glass, and eventually he did. Once we clinked, we both took a sip, and then stood there awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” I offered, not wanting to waste any more precious time.

He shook his head, “Not really.” 

I took a seat at the kitchen island and pulled out another stool, signaling for him to sit. He looked at the seat before finally giving in and sitting down next to me.

He turned to look at me and yet again I said, “Hi.” This was turning into my catch phrase around him. But I uttered it now because I wasn’t sure where to start.

Bucky let the slightest bit of a smile show and said, “Hi.” He broke eye contact and stared into his drink, and I realized I might need to nudge him a bit more.

“Look, if you’re not ready to talk about what happened, that’s okay. But I can’t take the silent treatment anymore. I’m going crazy and I don’t know how to help you.”

He let out a deep breath, “I’m not good at opening up...”

 “Then just…tell me about your day.” He peered back up at me, uncertain and I shrugged, “We’ve gotta start somewhere.”

And so he did. He told me about the cases he had and I interjected with a cheeky comment every now and then to try and ease some of the tension, which surprisingly worked. Talking with him was always so easy and I just wanted to remind him of that. As the story of his day winded down, I took the liberty of refilling the now empty glasses with gin. I placed the fresh drink in front of Bucky and pushed, “Tell me about the PTSD.”

He surprised me when he didn’t argue. He mentally prepared by gulping down a third of his fresh drink.

“When I first got back from Afghanistan, it was pretty bad. It mostly manifested when I went to bed, in the form of night terrors. It was really terrible for a while. I would wake up in the morning surrounded by feathers with a knife in my bed, having attacked one of my pillows because I thought it was an enemy. I literally would walk through the house looking for weapons in my sleep. After that, I started locking the door and seeing a therapist who helped me work through a lot of it. And I started to get better. I still had the occasional nightmare, but I was able to manage it. I started to feel like myself again. I could get through most days without a flashback and I wasn’t constantly haunted by memories.”   

I could see him starting to get emotional, so I reached out for his hand.

“Seeing you, with those marks on your neck, was evidence that I’m still broken. We’re lucky that this time it was just my hands and not a knife or a baseball bat. I can’t risk something happening to you.”

“Bucky, you are more than your PTSD. Did you ever consider that maybe we could work through this together?” I offered. He didn’t look at me, focusing all his energy on the drink in front of him. “You just pushed me away without even considering our options.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bull. Shit. Things got tough and you bailed. Did you know I pulled you out of your haze? You had your hands around my neck and I was able to stop you and bring you back. So I believe we can work through this. Maybe it's locking the doors at night. Maybe we don’t have sleepovers for a little while. I don’t know the solution, but I’m willing to figure out something that works.”

“Y/N…” he sighed.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t give up on us.” Now I was starting to get emotional. My voice cracked as I continued. “You know we have something special. Hell, you knew before I did. And I resisted against this the best I could because I didn’t want to get distracted. Which backfired because trying not to think about you was more distracting than just succumbing to your charms. But I figured it out and I opened myself up to something more and just when I finally accept that I’m falling in love, this happens. And the thing that hurts the most is how quickly you decided to throw this away. To throw…me…away,” the last line came out as a whisper. 

Bucky bore his eyes into his drink, unable to watch her tear up and in so much pain, knowing he caused all of this. It felt like a lose-lose situation, either way she ended up hurt. At least if he pushed her away, she still had the chance to live a happy life.

I wiped away a stray tear with the heel of my hand and took a big sip of my drink, trying to distract myself from the feelings creeping up inside me. When I looked over at Bucky, he was frozen but there was no emotion behind his eyes. He was fixated ahead, refusing to look at me. That was the moment I realized this was a lost cause. There was nothing else I could say.

I let out the deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding and placed my near-empty glass on the counter.

“Okay then,” I said, collecting the few things I brought with me. “Goodbye, Bucky.”