#vehicle demand decline

[townpostin]

Tata Motors Jamshedpur Plant Declares Block Closure on August 19

Employees to receive 50% pay during the block closure on Raksha Bandhan. Tata Motors’ Jamshedpur plant will close on August 19, with workers getting only 50% of their wages for the day. JAMSHEDPUR – Tata Motors’ Jamshedpur plant will observe a block closure on August 19, coinciding with Raksha Bandhan. A circular issued by Plant Head Ravindra Kulkarni stated that employees will receive only 50%…

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Year - 2023 Edition

Welcome to our special edition newsletter recapping the best news from the past year. I've picked one highlight from each month to give you a snapshot of 2023. No frills, just straightforward news that mattered. Let's relive the good stuff that made our year shine.

January - London: Girl with incurable cancer recovers after pioneering treatment

A girl’s incurable cancer has been cleared from her body after what scientists have described as the most sophisticated cell engineering to date.

2. February - Utah legislature unanimously passes ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy

The Utah State Legislature has unanimously approved a bill that enshrines into law a ban on LGBTQ conversion therapy.

3. March - First vaccine for honeybees could save billions

The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has approved the world’s first-ever vaccine intended to address the global decline of honeybees. It will help protect honeybees from American foulbrood, a contagious bacterial disease which can destroy entire colonies.

4. April - Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days

Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years. 

5. May - Ocean Cleanup removes 200,000th kilogram of plastic from the Pacific Ocean

The Dutch offshore restoration project, Ocean Cleanup, says it has reached a milestone. The organization's plastic catching efforts have now fished more than 200,000 kilograms of plastic out of the Pacific Ocean, Ocean Cleanup said on Twitter.

6. June - U.S. judge blocks Florida ban on care for trans minors in narrow ruling, says ‘gender identity is real’

A federal judge temporarily blocked portions of a new Florida law that bans transgender minors from receiving puberty blockers, ruling Tuesday that the state has no rational basis for denying patients treatment.

7. July - World’s largest Phosphate deposit discovered in Norway

A massive underground deposit of high-grade phosphate rock in Norway, pitched as the world’s largest, is big enough to satisfy world demand for fertilisers, solar panels and electric car batteries over the next 50 years, according to the company exploiting the resource.

8. August - Successful room temperature ambient-pressure magnetic levitation of LK-99

If the claim by Sukbae Lee and Ji-Hoon Kim of South Korea’s Quantum Energy Research Centre holds up, the material could usher in all sorts of technological marvels, such as levitating vehicles and perfectly efficient electrical grids.

9. September - World’s 1st drug to regrow teeth enters clinical trials

The ability to regrow your own teeth could be just around the corner. A team of scientists, led by a Japanese pharmaceutical startup, are getting set to start human trials on a new drug that has successfully grown new teeth in animal test subjects.

10. October - Nobel Prize goes to scientists behind mRNA Covid vaccines

The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine has been awarded to a pair of scientists who developed the technology that led to the mRNA Covid vaccines. Professors Katalin Kariko and Drew Weissman will share the prize.

11. November - No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV.

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the group that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women.

12. December - President Biden announces he’s pardoning all convictions of federal marijuana possession

President Joe Biden announced Friday he's issuing a federal pardon to every American who has used marijuana in the past, including those who were never arrested or prosecuted.

------

And there you have it – a year's worth of uplifting news! I hope these positive stories brought a bit of joy to your inbox. As I wrap up this special edition, I want to thank all my supporters!

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[zvaigzdelasas]

China’s massive rollout of renewable energy is accelerating, its investments in the sector growing so large that international climate watchdogs now expect the country’s greenhouse-gas emissions to peak years earlier than anticipated—possibly as soon as this year[!!!].

China installed 217 gigawatts worth of solar power last year alone, a 55% increase, according to new government data. That is more than 500 million solar panels and well above the total installed solar capacity of the U.S. [...]

Wind-energy installation additions were 76 gigawatts last year, more than the rest of the world combined. That amounted to more than 20,000 new turbines across the country, including the world’s largest, [...]

The low-carbon capacity additions, which also included hydropower and nuclear, were for the first time large enough that their power output could cover the entire annual increase in Chinese electricity demand [!!!!], analysts say. The dynamic suggests that coal-fired generation—which accounts for 70% of overall emissions for the world’s biggest polluter—is set to decline in the years to come, according to the Paris-based International Energy Agency and Lauri Myllyvirta, the Helsinki-based lead analyst at the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air.[...]

Its rapid emissions growth long provided fodder for critics who said Beijing wasn’t committed to fighting climate change or supporting the Paris accord, the landmark climate agreement that calls for governments to attempt to limit warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius over preindustrial temperatures. Now, analysts and officials say Beijing’s efforts are lending momentum to the Paris process, which requires governments to draft new emissions plans every five years.

“An early peak would have a lot of symbolic value and send a signal to the world that we’ve turned a corner," said Jan Ivar Korsbakken, a senior researcher at the Oslo-based Center for International Climate and Environmental Research.

In 2020, Chinese leader Xi Jinping pledged that the country’s emissions would begin falling before 2030 and hit net zero before 2060, part of its plan prepared under the Paris accord. He also said China would have 1,200 gigawatts of total solar- and wind-power capacity by the end of this decade. The country is six years ahead of schedule: China reached 1,050 gigawatts of wind and solar capacity at the end of 2023, and the China Electricity Council forecast last month that capacity would top 1,300 gigawatts by the end of this year.[...]

Transition Zero, a U.K.-based nonprofit that uses satellite images to monitor industrial activity and emissions in China, says the official data are “broadly aligned and consistent" with theirs.[...]

[M]oving China’s timeline for an overall emissions peak forward could shave off around 0.3 to 0.4 degrees Celsius of projected global warming if emissions started to decline next decade, analysts say.[...]

The most certain variable in the equation is the breakneck pace of China’s renewable-energy rollout, which analysts expect will continue to add 200 to 300 gigawatts of new wind and solar capacity a year. The investments in renewable energy have become a major driver of the Chinese economy. The country’s clean-energy spending totaled $890 billion last year, up 40%. [...]

The adoption of electric vehicles is happening so rapidly that analysts say peak gasoline demand in China was already reached last year[!!!].

10 Feb 24

[britsyankswheels24]

🇺🇲 Step back in time and experience the roar of the iconic AMC Javelin, a true legend of American muscle cars! Introduced in 1967 by American Motors Corporation (AMC), the Javelin was a front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-door hardtop automobile manufactured across two generations, spanning from 1968 through 1970 and then from 1971 through 1974 model years. It was designed to compete in the pony car market segment against rivals like the Ford Mustang and Chevrolet Camaro.

🚗💨 The AMC Javelin burst onto the scene in 1968, showcasing a sleek design and powerful engines. Styled by Dick Teague, the Javelin offered a range of trim and engine levels, from economical pony car variants to high-performance muscle car models. Its distinctive appearance, featuring a long hood and aggressive stance, turned heads on the streets and racetracks alike.

🏭 Besides being manufactured in Kenosha, Wisconsin, Javelins were also assembled under license in Germany, Mexico, the Philippines, Venezuela, and Australia, showcasing its global reach. American Motors even offered discounts to U.S. military personnel, leading to many Javelins being exported overseas.

🛞 Under the hood, the Javelin packed serious power. It was available with inline-six engines or potent V8s, delivering thrilling acceleration and speed. The AMX variant, equipped with a 6.4-liter V8, boasted over 300 horsepower!

🏆 The AMC Javelin wasn't just about looks—it excelled on the track too. It competed in Trans-Am racing, demonstrating its speed and agility. In fact, the second-generation AMX variant was the first pony car used as a standard vehicle for highway police car duties by an American law enforcement agency. Today, the Javelin's unique style and racing heritage make it a sought-after classic among collectors.

💔 By 1974, the automobile landscape had shifted. While other manufacturers downsized engines in response to changing market demands and fuel shortages, the Javelin's big engine option continued until production ceased in November 1974 amidst the Arab oil embargo and declining interest in high-performance vehicles.

🦅 The AMC Javelin embodies the spirit of American muscle cars, blending style, performance, and affordability. It's a timeless classic that continues to capture the hearts of car enthusiasts everywhere. Get ready to hit the road and experience the thrill of the AMC Javelin!

[thought--bubble]

A Beautiful Gift

Billy Washington X (Girlfriend Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 3,020

Billy Washington Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Emotional abuse, Depressed Billy, use of a collar and leash, use of restraints, sub/dom behaviors, slight choking if you squint, teasing, whimpering and whining Billy, orgasm denial, established relationship,unprotected p in v, oral male receiving.

Going out to dinner for Billy's birthday should be a fun experience. Unfortunately, whenever you go out with Billy and his parents, you know it is going to be anything but.

You know his parents love him, and are worried about his lack of success in life, but you have come to know Billy well enough to know that asking him repeatedly when he will get a job or why he isn't doing anything is not going to help motivate him.

"Calm down," you say to him gently as you button up his dress shirt. He is clearly nervous. His fidgety hands and tapping foot give this away all too easily.

"I am calm!" He sqauks. "It's just a bloody dinner." He pushes your hands away from his shirt. "I can do it myself. I'm a man"

You chuckle and sigh. "Of course you're a man, Billy. I was merely attempting to help." You hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers. "Small fingers, easier for me to get those little buttons. Now come here, " you pull him back toward you by his shirt collar.

"You are a man. A wonderful man." You smack your lips down on his and press your body up against him. Your favorite way to ground him when you feel his anxiety starting to overtake him.

"Oh, don't you start this." He laughs as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly tight up against him. "You'll make us late"

"Hmmmm," you giggle. "I don't think it would be too big a problem if we're a little late." You kiss him again, this time pushing your tongue past his lips, savoring the taste of tea and cigarettes.

"We wouldn't be a little late." he grips your waist tightly, scrunching the material of the cute black dress you had put on for dinner.

"You sure? I happen to remember a few times that were pretty quick, " you giggle again and lean in for another kiss.

Billy brings his hands down over your ass and squeezes tight before letting go and giving you a smack. "You're real funny, ain't ya?"

"I think so." You wink at him and then pull back briefly to finish buttoning his shirt before placing your hands flat on his chest. "You ready?"

"Yeah." He sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose. "Let's get this over with."

The ride to the restaurant is awkward and quiet. You look over at him periodically as he drives. His jaw is tight, and his shoulders tense. You can see the tendons in his neck going down to his collar bone. You wish you could take this stress from him. Demand, he turn around and leave his parents at the restaurant alone, wondering why their failure son has declined to show up. But you know he would never do this, for there is a part of him that believes, believes that he will someday be the son his parents so want him to be. Something you doubt very much. Their minds are made up about Billy, and you fear if he should reach one goal, his parents would simply set the bar higher.

Once he pulls into the car park and stops the car, the two of you sit there in silence for a moment. You know better than to push him so you wait patiently as he builds himself up enough to go inside.

You know it's in vain, yet you decide to hope anyway. Hope that his parents won't take this dinner as an opportunity to tear him apart. To judge him, scold him, demand more of him. Especially on a day that is meant to celebrate him and his very existence.

Billy lets out one last deep sigh before stepping out of his old beat-up clunker of a car quickly rounding the vehicle to open your door for you.

He was like that. Little things like holding the door open for you or making you a cup of tea without asking were his love language. Acts of service. He had trouble outwardly expressing his emotions, no doubt a conditioned response. So he showed you how he felt, and everyone of these little gestures made you love him just a bit more.

You step out and link your arm with his, patting his forearm in a quiet sign of support.

The walk into the restaurant is silent. You can almost hear Billy's brain running a mile a minute, his self-confidence shrinking with every step.

When you arrive at the table, it's no surprise to you that Lana, Billy's sister, was unable to attend. She worked an important job and missed most family events. Although it almost felt like she was there with how much her parents spoke about her skills and achievements. As if to make it clear to Billy that he would never be able to rise to the occasion the way his ambitious sister had.

The two of you were sat down for no more than 5 minutes before the questions started rolling in from his parents.

"How is the job search going?" Was the first question from his father, and as Billy attempted to explain how many applications he had put in and how he is getting no response, his father shakes his head and simply states "if you really wanted a job you would have one by now."

His mother quickly joins in on the conversation with little tips and tricks of how to land a job and ways to motivate himself.

If only they knew how motivated he is. Billy wants a job. He wants to impress his parents even half as much as Lana. Unfortunately, just like his parents, the world underestimates poor Billy and squishes him down more and more with every rejection.

Dinner continues on in much the same manner, your tongue nearly bleeding at how hard you were biting down on it.

You keep one eye on Billy and watch with a heavy heart how he shrinks by the moment. How could they not see what this is doing to him?

When the dinner finally ends, Billy's father hands him money, a birthday gift of sorts, but of course comes with one last comment to bury Billy just a little bit more.

"You can use this to help pay the rent. I can't imagine that girl staying with you much longer if she's forced to support ya" he pats Billy on the shoulder while Billy stands in place frozen. You feel a fire rage in your belly and wish you could tear into his father. Let him know you would support Billy forever if that's what it took. But you knew this would only upset and embarrass Billy further, so you simply grimace and attempt to hide your eyeroll.

His parents say their goodbyes, not even noticing the state that Billy is in. You sigh again before sliding your hand into his and giving him a gentle tug to signal that it's time to go.

The ride home is silent, and your heart breaks a little bit more every moment he doesn't speak.

"I have some presents for you at home." You say softly, hoping to potentially lighten the mood.

Billy nods his head, his jaw clenched and eyes glued to the road ahead of him. He isn't mad at you. He isn't even mad at his parents. He is mad at himself, and you hate it.

Once back in the flat, Billy immediately goes onto the balcony and smokes. You know he feels awful right now, and you want to badly to make it better. He tries hard and just never seems to succeed in the way everyone expects him to, and the pressure makes it all the worse.

You take the two small gifts you have for him in your hands and join him on the balcony, handing them to him with a big smile on your face.

"Thank you," he grumbles, his voice so quiet you could hardly hear him over the traffic below.

He sits in the chair opposite yours and begins to unwrap his first gift. Inside a collar and a metal chain leash.

He chuckles quietly as he takes them out of the package and looks up at you. "Oh?"

You smile back at him, pointing to the gift that still lies in his lap.

"Open it," you bite your bottom lip as he starts to tear off the paper and lifts the lid of the small box, pulling out two black silk ropes.

He pulls them out of the box, slowly turning the material back and forth in his hands.

"Now I'm gonna go take off my makeup and take down my hair." You say while rising from your chair and moving towards the balcony door. "And when I return to the bedroom, I expect to find you, wearing only your collar." You don't wait for his response opting to instead enter the flat and head to the restroom.

You giggle to yourself as you hear him clamor through the door and take off toward the bedroom, half the buttons on his shirt already undone.

You take off your makeup and let your hair down, making sure not to finish up too fast. You want to give Billy enough time to get ready and give him a moment to sweat it out.

You take off your shoes but leave the little black dress and thigh high stockings you were wearing on. Knowing how Billy feels about you in a pair of thigh highs. It's his special day, after all.

When you enter the bedroom, Billy is lying in bed, his collar, and leash on, covered only by a sheet with the silk ropes placed neatly on the nightstand.

"Who said you could cover up?" You quickly pull the sheet from his body. Revealing his entire naked form to your eye. "I believe my instructions were nothing but your collar." You run just your finger up the skin of his leg as you work your way up to the top of the bed.

When your fingers reach his hip, he shudders.

"Oh?" You place your hand palm down and slide it across his belt line. The side of your hand just barely ghosting by the tip of his now fully erect cock.

Billy's back arches slightly at the touch. "Please don't tease," he begs.

"Me? Oh baby, I never tease you know that" you brush your fingertips through the blonde curls that surround the base of his cock as he whimpers. "Never"

You pull your dress up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your black lace bra and panties and thigh-high stockings.

Billy reaches his hand out to touch your thigh, and you quickly swat him away.

"Oh, be a good pet baby, so I can give you your treat" you climb onto the bed swinging one leg over his hips so you are straddling him yet hovering above him just out of reach.

"Sorry, sorry," he whines as he crumples the sheets beneath him in his fists.

"Oh, that's ok baby, let me help you be a good boy, ok?" You lean over him, taking the silk straps from the nightstand.

"Thank you," he says between heavy pants. You click your tongue at him knowingly as you tie up his wrists and secure them to the bedposts.

Once you have his hands securely fastened, you lay your hands flat on his chest, rubbing your palms over his quickly hardening nipples.

Billy takes on a sharp breath, his hips lifting slightly from the bed.

"Down boy," you coo, moving your flattened hands in small circles.

"Please baby please" He whines, undulating his hips.

"Please, what? my sweet pet. " You bring your tongue to his nipple. Lightly licking the small bud as he squirms.

"More, please more," he gasps as your tongue continues to swirl around his oversensitive nipple.

Billy pathetic and squirming beneath you. Your favorite sight on earth.

You sit up straight and grab his leash, wrapping it around your hand twice and yanking him up from the bed so that his shoulders are lifted.

"You're gonna be a good patient boy, aren't you?" You bring your face close to his as he nods excessively. "Good. Good boy."

You loosen your grip around the leash, allowing him to sink back down onto the bed while you still keep the leash coiled around your hand.

Billy sighs contendly as you return to his chest, and speckle kisses down his sternum and further to his belly.

He loves these small movements and sensations. They drive him completely wild, and you revel in the power they afford you.

You gently lick the rim of his bellybutton, and he whimpers loudly.

"Shhhh, pet. Shhhh, " you rub your hand along the skin of his waist in a soothing manner while your kisses continue down the path of his body until you reach his hips, his painfully hard cock, next to your face.

"I always take care of you, do i not?" You tease, Billy simply whimpers back at you, leaning his head back in anguish.

You take his cock in your hand and he shudders before bucking his hips whispers of "yes" desperately flooding from his mouth.

You stroke him leisurely while rubbing your nose against his leaking tip. His heavy breathing and the obvious tension in his legs make this all the more tantalizing for you.

You know he is holding back, trying to be a good boy. You lick just the head of his cock. Circling your tongue around the bulbous tip.

Billy thrusts his hips forward, pushing himself further into your mouth, seemingly unable to control himself. You grip him tightly by the hips holding him flat against the bed as he whines.

"Please, please," He whimpers between huffs. "I can't take much more."

You crawl back up his body, situating yourself by straddling his stomach and look down at him, a gentle, caring smile on your face.

"You can't, can you baby?" You brush your fingers along his cheek and sigh.

You step off of him and slowly shimmy your panties down your legs. Billy's eyes watch them as they go, licking his lips, his panting growing heavier. You move back and line up the tip of his cock with your slick entrance.

As you slowly lower yourself down, Billy's body reacts by his hips raising and his legs shaking. The look on his face, a mix of pleasure and pain.

His fingers wrap tightly around the silk straps that connect him to the bedposts as you sink down his shaft at an agonizingly slow pace.

As your ass becomes flush with his thighs, you smirk at the look of relief that crosses his face.

Before you start to move, you again pull him off the bed by the leash, this time coiling it ever tight around your hand.

"You excited, baby?" You start to roll your hips, his cock bullying the spot inside you it never misses when you ride him like this.

"Yes, yes!" He pants, jaw slack looking up at you like the perfect little puppy you know him to be.

You hold him tightly by the leash as you increase your pace, his whimpers, and whines, getting louder with each movement.

You know your Billy. He won't last much longer at this stage, and knowing that brings you almost to your own peak. The friction between you building as you grind against him.

He's so beautiful like this. Panting beneath you, not worrying about disappointing anyone or not being good enough.

He's your silly little pet to be used as you see fit, and he loves it. His eyes roll back and his mouth opens wide.

"Not yet, baby." You move faster against him the knot in your stomach, pulling tighter as your thighs clamp around him.

"Not yet, not yet," he chants to himself. This little sign of obedience is what finally pushes you over the edge into bliss. Your peak washes over you, almost violent in its onset.

Your cunt clamps around him tightly as you continue to grind against him riding out the blissful moment almost to the point of over stimulation.

"Please," He gasps before biting his bottom lip impossibly hard. Poor baby is still holding back.

You make him wait for just a few more rolls of your hips before finally allowing him his release.

"Go ahead, baby." You coo, and almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he moans loudly, his hips stuttering as he spends himself inside you.

You sit patiently atop him as you watch his face contort in pleasure, small grunts of relief coming from his chest until he finally stills exhausted.

You lean forward and kiss his open mouth as he pants and smiles up at you, his arms now hanging limp from the silk straps that bind him.

"Such a good boy you are," you gently stroke his face, him turning his head towards your hand.

This is your favorite Billy. Freshly spent Billy. No worries, no stress, and he actually feels good.

You lift yourself off of him and release his hands from the straps. He quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tightly and kissing the top of your head.

"So, did you like your gifts?" You snuggle up next to him and reach up to help him take the collar off.

Billy simply smiles as you remove the collar, rubbing your hand against the slightly red irritated skin.

"I hope you don't bruise!" You say worriedly. Lifting yourself up on your arm and leaning over him to get a better look.

Billy chuckles and looks up at you, resting his hand on your cheek.

"I hope I do. A bruise necklace from you? Now that's a beautiful gift."

He pulls you back against him, your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ears. Little does he know that to you.

This is the most beautiful gift.

To be added to taglists please see HERE

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Ok so, I love all the shorts you post on here, you are building up a background of Competent Officer but Emotionally Stunted Price and Emotionally Intelligent and Badass Nik. Cool, fabulous.

But I've got to ask; what is Nik's sore spot?

With the extra decade it does make sense that he is more sure of himself and his relationships generally but you did touch on it with the body image/food one and mentioned it in passing with the how they met bit. Does the age gap get to him sometimes? All the loud machines (and guns) is he worried about his hearing going?

Or, his English is pretty good but does he sometimes get lost with fast speakers/strong accents?

What about something more silly? Is he fine with spiders but gets freaked out by daddy long legs (like me)? Is he wildly afraid of moths? Is he fine with big injuries but if he get a papercut is it the end of the world? Does he suffer terribly from Man Flu?

On a more domestic note, what irritates Price about him? I mean, no one is perfect right?

Does he always leave the bathroom in a state? Do all the broken noses mean he snores like a bear with a head cold (admittedly that might apply to Price as well)? Is he like my Dad and has very strong opinions on adverts and regularly go on rants about how the ad has nothing to do with the product? Does he like Marmite and Price hates it (or vice versa)?

Some excellent questions. I think Nik's weaknesses or vulnerabilities are tied up with his strengths, which I know sounds weird, but hear me out:

- This man is mad intelligent. He speaks eight languages, he canonically can fly pretty much anything (from what I've seen). He was significant enough in knowledge and skills for MI6 to go for him twice. Weakness: his intelligence can sometimes make him coldly logical. Look at how he didn't even blink twice at terrifying Butcher's family; I think that feeds well into Price's ruthlessness. He cares deeply about those he loves, but if you're not "his"? He won't even blink when pulling the trigger if it will help meet his goals.

- Linked to the above, he values his physical strength and his intellect. They make him worth something and he doesn't feel he has any intrinsic worth just as Nik. (Overbearing and demanding Soviet General father made it clear Nik needed to earn his place in the world.) If he feels they are declining or lessening, this is going to throw him through a loop. Big time. (Well noted from the food ficlet.)

- I think he was hugely, perhaps even suicidally, depressed when he turned informant. That conflict of loyalty and morality would have been difficult for his mind to process. I think that explains his apparently unflinching loyalty to Price and Laswell. In his eyes, they saved his life by giving him a purpose. (Nik you stupid fuck you literally set up Chimera and you're a hugely wealthy arms dealer off your own back wtf mate.) Nik never really had time to heal from that, he papered over it and got on with the job. I think as he settles down with Price, he will need to go to therapy. A lot of it.

- He is untidy (not unclean) at home. Laundry on the floor by the basket, never puts books away, gets fixated on a project at the expense of other things. It's like he left the military and his psyche rebelled against the bits he hated the most. Price can't compute how he can be so clinical at work and yet a complete clusterfuck at home. The garage is full of vehicles and appliances he disassembled and never put back together. Man's lucky he's dynamite in bed.

Nik is a "good" man in so far as he can be in a morally grey position. I write him with Price, through Price's lens, so we see "hero protagonist Nik" because that's who he is to/with Price. However, I do have a little ficlet tucked away when a jealous Ghost confronts him in Paris, and he tells Ghost, "If you take a shot, boy, you better not miss, because it will not happen again", and Ghost realises just why Price chose this man as his life partner. He's exactly the same level of ruthless.

[quinncupine]

So glad your request are open I love your writing! Here’s a request for you, Deku x fem reader where he’s out on patrol and calls his s/o to check up on her and she doesn’t answer, so he goes home and and sees someone holding the reader hostage and he saves her. Protective worried Izuku wins my heart every time lol

I definitely got a little carried away with this one. This request was a bit similar to the last one, so I took a few liberties, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same!

Failsafe

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Female Reader

Word count: ~7,600

Warnings: Blood, mild language, guns, explosvies, violence

MASTERLIST

The phone buzzed for a second time in his pocket. With a distracted sigh, he pulled it out, only getting a momentary glance at the caller's I.D. Your picture lit up the screen, and he couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips. He moved to answer it, but someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Deku, the negotiator just finished the call." Detective Tsukauchi said with a grim look. "Dynamight just arrived as well."

Izuku glanced back down at the phone and declined the call with a promise to call you back once this situation had been handled.

The command center that had been hastily assembled outside of the museum buzzed with activity. Officers had scattered about, all running orders and securing the perimeter of the increasing amount of curious onlookers. Evening had set upon them, bathing the area in golden rays blended with the flashing lights of the nearby cruisers.

Both men headed towards the back of a S.W.A.T. vehicle where Dynamight stood, grumbling about something to a man right outside the truck.

"Dynamight!" Deku called to his old friend as they approached, "It's good to see you! We'll not under these conditions, I suppose."

Hearing his name on familiar lips, he tensed, and turned to glare at the bright beam of a smile being shot his way. "Of course, you'd be here," was his apparent greeting.

"I'm glad you're here," Tsukauchi said to the feisty hero with a nod. "I'm sure you've been briefed on the situation at hand."

"Yeah, a bunch of rich ditz's got themselves kidnapped during their own fundraiser." He snipped, crossing his arms. "The idiots robbing the joint made a mistake during their little heist and decided to make things worse."

Tsukauchi cleared his throat. "Um, well, yes I suppose you could put it that way." Then he turned his attention to the man Katsuki had been talking to earlier. "This is Agent DeLuca. He's our chief negotiator tonight. He'll fill you in on the rest."

"Right," the older man nodded, looking between the three of them, "I've made contact with their leader. He didn't have much to say except for a list of outrageous demands."

"Outrageous?" Izuku asked, curious.

"Yeah," the man chuckled before turning serious. "They want a helicopter landed on that roof," he pointed to the museum, "five fresh pizza's waiting in said helicopter, along with four crates of top shelf sake. They want it all within twenty-eight minutes, or they'll execute their first hostage. And by my count, we have twenty-four minutes left."

"Pizza and booze?" Katuski scoffed. "What're they playin' at?"

"Twenty-eight minutes is a pretty specific timeframe." Izuku cocked his head. "And with those kind of demands It almost seems like they're waiting for something. Stalling."

The phone in his pocket buzzed again but this time he simply reached in and turned it off, mind swirling with possible theories. They had to be aiming toward a bigger goal here. What weren't they seeing?

"Do we have eyes and ears inside?" He peeked into the truck where a wall of screens shone through.

"We managed to patch through to the security system, but they've been hacked. They're just playing the same loop on repeat. We do have a specialist currently working on overriding it, but that's gonna take time." The detective rubbed his head while he explained. "From what we can gather, they still have roughly 18 guests and staff held hostage."

"And that quirk barrier is preventing anyone from getting in," Izuku murmured, examining the building. It emitted a faint purple aura. "I bet holding that up takes a lot of stamina. That could be why they were on such a specific time frame."

"Our men tried to get through." Tsukauchi frowned. "Anyone who touched that thing ended up numb from the shock. That's why you two are here. It might be possible to break through with your quirks. The only problem is alerting the captors."

"They said they'd start shooting the moment anyone stepped foot in that building. Agent DeLuca explained. "At the moment, we're in a deadly stalemate."

Tsukauchi's phone rang, and he excused himself.

Izuku pinched his bottom lip in thought as he faced the building. There were a few ways they could go about this. With Dynamight here, it should make things a little easier. However, he needed to be sure to keep the lives of the civilians as his first priority. So maybe if he-

"Deku," Tsukauchi grabbed his shoulder, pulling him from his ruminations. "Your wife is calling."

He blinked. You were calling again. When he instinctively reached into his pocket wondering how the detective new that, he paused, finally noticing the phone in his hand. Then he noticed the deep-set frown on his face.

A million questions scrambled through his head, but he locked them down in favor of taking the phone. "Hey, is everything alright?"

"Deku, listen closely," you said quietly. Your voice didn't sound right. A slightly slurred warbled edge.

had the baby hairs on his neck on end. "You're going to…to let the men in the museum leave unscathed. You will not pursue. Do this, and everyone gets -" You hitched your breath "- everyone gets to live."

A lingering silence pressed between the two of you. Your labored breaths a loud echo to his ears. It was wrong. So very wrong.

"Are you hurt?" He finally spoke, locking eyes with a concerned detective.

A shuddered sob answered him. It locked his heart in a vice grip to hear you so frightened. So vulnerable. How long had you been like that? How many calls did you try to make to him, and he simply ignored them all? Right when you needed him most. An equal flood of guilt and rage filled his veins. He could feel the sparks of his quirk begging to be let out in the wake of his anger, but he had to reel it in for your sake.

Behind your erratic panic, he could hear it.

The faint puffs of air around your own tattered breaths. Someone was there. Someone was there with you. And if he didn't act carefully, your life would be on the line.

"You have tw-twenty minutes to either s-save the innocent people in that building or come f-find me. There's not…there's not enough time to do both. If not…" you faltered before taking in a sharp drag of air and screaming. "Don't do it, Izuku! Save them! It's a trap. There's a-"

The call abruptly ended.

He stared at the screen. Too many conflicting emotions were battling for control to think clearly. Someone, a villain, had taken you. That much he was certain. There were more men than those five stuck in the museum. But it didn't add up. Even if there was someone from this crew working from the outside, there would simply not be enough time to plan something like this on the spot. Unless…unless it had been orchestrated from the start.

"Deku!" Katsuki snatched the phone out of his hands with an annoyed growl. "Get your head out of your ass. What was that about? You sayin' there's more of these losers?"

Izuku flinched at his words, not realizing he'd been mumbling.

"It's-she…they-" he locked eyes with Katsuki, "-they have her."

He straightened, glancing between the detective and Izuku. "Explain."

And so he did.

A nervous energy he couldn't quite tamper down ran rampant through his body. He itched to just take off and leave to go find you right then and there. But there was more to this than they realized, and if he ran headlong without forethought, it could put not just you but the other hostages in danger.

"That bastard!" Katsuki snapped. "They want to divide our forces. They think they can escape that way."

Yes, Izuku figured as much, but it still didn't change the fact that you were in some slimy villain's hand. He'd already tracked your location from the phone. It pinged from home, but whether you were still with it was up in the air. Those calls he'd missed seemed to be mocking him now.

He couldn't forgive himself for that.

You were calling for help.

You were calling for help, and he didn't answer.

You were calling for help, and he didn't come the one time you truly needed him.

What kind of lousy hero was he?

"Stop that," Katsuki slapped him upside the head, non to gentle either. "I know what you're thinking idiot. This isn't your fault. You just happened to be their target."

"What?" He asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"If they actually put a few braincells together to plan this thing, then it would make sense to have a backup plan. A failsafe of sorts." He tossed a glare towards the building before focusing back on Izuku. "They must've known your route. They must've planned for you to be in the area. What better way to take you out of the equation than to create your own hostage situation? Draw the heroes away."

"I believe Dynamight's got the right idea. They have more men involved than we thought. We'll need to revise our plan." Tsukauchi turned to relay this new information to the command tent.

"We're wasting time." Izuku turned to Katsuki, eyes wide and almost pleading. "I need to go. We're on a time limit. Whatever he has planned….I have to save her."

"You don't think I know that?" He scoffed. "I can handle things here easily. I bet those dumbasses didn't expect me to show up. My route doesn't fall into this sector."

Izuku nodded, grateful that he had arrived, then paused. "Why are you here?"

"Because I had to track down that bastard mugger that managed to escape through here. And if you thought I'd let you steal my crook, then you're dead wrong." He puffed up, daring Izuku to challenge him.

"First time a mugging actually worked in our favor then." He chuckled ironically and grabbed Katsuki's shoulder, his small smile slipping. "Thank you. I'll radio you as soon as I get her back."

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged off his hand and shooed him away. "Now get out of here before I have to show you up again."

"Wait, Deku," Tsukauchi jogged back over, "I'm coming with you."

"I appreciate it, but I'm faster airborne." Izuku explained, impatience rearing itself in the form of a harried sigh.

"I know, but you're here under our jurisdiction. This kidnapping falls under that. I'm coming." He pulled out his keys and headed towards his car. "We can't rush into this without our own plan. Dynamight can handle things on this end, but i'm coming as backup. There are too many lives at stake here. If you barge in there with quirks blazing and emotions clouding your judgment, then it could spook the boss into doing something we'd all regret."

Logically, Izuku knew this. He did. But he also felt that overstored anger directing itself towards the detective. Izuku could handle a hostage situation. He's handled them before, and he most likely will have to handle them again. Then the rational side to his brain told him it would be good to have backup in case things did end up going wrong. Regardless, he couldn't waste any more time by arguing, so he simply nodded and got in the car.

The moment Tsukauchi started the car, he peeled out past the gathered crowd, straight towards Izuku's home. The same home he shared with you.

The house was silent aside from the low buzz of the television in the other room. It played some show Izuku had been watching earlier before he left for his evening patrol. A hero documentary he's made you watch hundreds of times already. You absentmindedly listened to it as you cooked dinner, making sure to make leftovers for him to reheat once he returned from work.

After making a plate for yourself and storing some in the fridge for him, you dumped everything in the sink for a soak with the intent to come back later to clean. The meal smelled good if your rumbling stomach had anything to say about it. Washing up your hands, you took your plate into the dining room where you could finish watching the show.

On the way there, the lights flickered overhead before the power went out. You paused, staring around in the darkness to see if it would come back on. With the television off, the lifelessness seem quite foreboding as you stood all alone. Left in the quiet of the apartment, you set the plate down and headed into the living room where your phone sat on the coffee table. A quick call to the power company should clear this up.

When you stepped into the living room, using muscle memory to feel your way to the coffee table, the lights suddenly flickered back to life. You blinked rapidly to readjust your eyes as light flooded your vision. Glancing around the empty room, you wondered what had made the power surge like that.

"Weird," you whispered to yourself as you picked up the remote to turn the television back on.

One look at the flatscreen, and you gasped, dropping the remote. A dark, murky shape loomed behind you in the reflection, and before you even had time to react, a sweaty hand wrapped around your mouth and pulled you right off your feet.

You were slammed down into the carpet with a hard smack to your side. The attacker didn't give you much reprieve as you were hoisted back up and thrown onto the coffee table, smashing a vase full of flowers and knocking everything off as he dragged you across the wood surface.

It took a few seconds for your brain to pick up on what happened, and you shoved your legs under his arms and kicked as hard as you could in the groin. He yelped and let go, stumbling back into the couch, clutching himself.

That defense only bought you a limited amount of time. You scrambled off the table and landed on your knees, still a bit disoriented. The phone had landed underneath it, undamaged, in a stroke of luck. Dropping to your stomach, you reached under and nabbed the device.

You knew exactly who to call.

The intruder's hands latched onto your ankle just as you gripped the phone. He pulled your leg so hard you were sure something popped out of its socket. You screamed and twisted over, kicking at him wildly.

He didn't bother trying to hide his face. The man towered over you. He sported a neatly trimmed silver beard with matching square eyes that drilled an icy glare into your own.

"Stop fucking moving!" He growled as you kicked his knee and he doubled over, releasing you.

"Get away!" you screamed out, scurrying to your feet and dashing around the couch in an effort to make it to the door. "Help!" With the phone in your hands, you dialed in the number. He could respond faster than any police. And you would just feel better hearing his voice.

The phone rang twice before it disconnected. There wasn't much time to think about it as you made it to the door. You turned the knob, but a much larger hand snatched your wrist at the same time. The door slammed shut along with your hope.

He towered over you for a terrifying moment before he rammed you into the door. Your body dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks. Pain seared up against your spine where you had impacted.

The phone landed out of reach, corner of the screen smashed. You just prayed it would work.

Still disoriented, you didn't react much when his burly hands seized your throat and easily lifted you off the floor. Panic set in. You didn't even realize what had happened until it was too late. When it did catch back up, you scratched anything you could reach in an exhausted effort to release the pressure on your neck. The only sounds that managed to escape were wheezing gasps that held no form.

Regardless of how this scenario ended, you knew it wouldn't end well for you. This man had strength on his side. Fighting him would be a mistake, so you had to figure out a way to escape. Or, at the very least, call for help. Unless you could reach your phone, you were screwed.

Slippered feet struggled to try to pry him off you. His fingers only seemed to tighten further. Black ebbed at the corners of your vision, and pain blossomed up your head. Thinking, let alone, fighting seemed nearly impossible.

As your swirling vision dimmed, your foot managed to connect with his stomach. You dug your heel in as hard as you could. The fingers around your neck loosened slightly, and the only thing you could think to do was bite down on his hand.

He yelped and threw you against the door where you slumped forward onto your knees, gasping for air. The phone sat within reach, but first you swung out, and sucker punched him right where it hurts most for a second time. He roared and fell backward.

You used the opportunity to dive for your phone and redial Izuku's number, praying he would answer quickly. With a tight grip on the phone, you launched to your feet, swaying dangerously as you stumbled for balance. That hit to your head did more damage than you thought. You were almost sure you had a concussion.

Turning to the door, you glanced down and your heart sunk. It had gone to voicemail again. What was happening? He always answered.

"You're not going anywhere!" He yelled, staggering back to his feet.

Shit. You couldn’t think clearly and wasted too much time stumbling around. Now, he stood between you and the door, giving you quite the death glare.

"Please, just take whatever you want!" you tensed as he stepped closer. "Just…please just let me go."

"That's kinda hard when it's you that I need, now ain't it sweetheart?" He sneered, grabbing hold of the collar of your shirt and twisting you around into a headlock. "Now come on, we've got a schedule to keep."

He squeezed hard, forcing you to shuffle forward, away from the door. He wanted to keep you here? Why? If this had been kidnapping, you were sure he would've taken you somewhere else. Why keep you here unless… Actually, you didn't want to think of those implications.

"Sit," he ordered, not giving you much choice as he shoved you into one of the dining room chairs.

You could try to run again, but you doubted you'd get very far before he caught up to you. And you weren't too keen on figuring out if he really wanted to keep you alive or not. He already looked pissed off as it was.

"What do you want?" you asked, hating how wobbly your voice sounded.

"I want you to make a call," he said, placing a hand on the back of the chair and the table, essentially trapping you between them, "to that little hero of yours."

He wanted you to call Izuku? That was strange. Usually, villains try to steer clear of heroes, not invite them to their crimes. He must have some plan to try to lure Izuku here to do who knows what. As much as you wanted him to come, you also didn't want to walk him right into a trap.

You steeled your nerves and glared up at him. "No."

"Oh, so you wanna play hero now, do ya?" He grinned. "Think you're ready to play in the big leagues, huh? Let's see if ya are!"

His hand moved too quickly. You nearly tumbled out of the chair as his palm struck your cheek. Aching streaks of pain weaved across your stinging skin.

"Don't test me." He leaned so close you could smell the tobacco on his breath. "You're gonna want to make that call, sweetheart, trust me."

He leaned across the table and dragged a large duffle bag into view. How long that had been sitting there, you weren't sure. You actually weren't even sure how he got into the locked apartment in the first place. It seemed a little late to worry about that now, though. With a sadistic smirk, he unzipped the bag and let you have a peek inside. It nearly made your heart stop.

"Now," He pulled out a stack of notecards from his coat and forced them into your hands. "Your job is simple. All you have to do is read these cards. Simple enough, eh?"

As you scanned the cards, your stomach flipped. Did he really expect you to read this? You were too distracted to see him pull out your phone until he grabbed your wrist and used your thumb to unlock it. He put it on speaker as the phone rang. It barely rang once before it went straight to voicemail for a third time. You were starting to worry Izuku had been hurt and unable to answer somehow.

"Hmm," the villain stared at the phone thoughtfully. "Guess he doesn't care so much about ya, huh?"

"Don't say that! You don't know anything about him!" You spit out, then bit your tongue, knowing you shouldn't stoop to his barbs.

"Well, I know he's too busy to answer ya darlin." He chuckled and dialed in a new number. "I'm sure the detective will be more willing to talk, yeah?"

Detective? You only knew one detective. It still struck you as odd that he would call the police on himself. But with the cards and what he had stored in that bag, you were starting to understand your role in all this.

The phone rang, and this time, someone did answer. You refused to say anything. It would be too dangerous to bring him here. Not with what he had planned.

That turned out to be the wrong decision as the man reached into his coat and brought out a handgun. He used the barrel to tap the cards.

"Deku," you whispered, glaring up at the criminal.

"Y/N? It's unusual to hear from you at this hour. Are you alright?" He sounded concerned.

"I…need to speak to Deku," you blinked hard. "Please."

A notable pause hung in the air before he hesitantly spoke. "…alright."

Tsukauchi was a smart man. One of the few who you thought could hold a candle to Izuku's analytical skills. If he could already tell something was wrong, then Izuku would pick up on it immediately.

Suddenly, his voice came on and threw you for a loop. They were already together? It must have to do with whatever these cards meant. It could be the reason he didn't answer. Izuku could be caught up in a case already. But the real question is how did the man know that, let alone know you would have Tsukauchi's number.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He sounded confused with a concerned undertone.

The cards shook in your hands as you scanned them again, debating just going off script. But with that gun looming in front of your face, you wisely decided to play nice.

"Deku, listen closely," you began quietly, knowing your voice had a slight quiver he would undoubtedly pick up on. "You're going to…let the men in the museum leave unscathed. Do this and everyone gets," those next words caught in your throat, "everyone gets to live."

They were using you as some sort of ploy to try to escape whatever situation this gang had found themselves in. Everything about this was just wrong. Now, Izuku would have to worry about rescuing you while also trying to do his job. You loathed every minute of it.

"Are you hurt?" His voice, quiet and low, betrayed the calm air he tried to maintain. A characteristic tone you've heard before. Anger and frustration just barely concealed.

The fact that he knew you were in danger filled you with a sort of relief that now he could finally do something about it. He could fix this. He always managed to fix things.

You tried to answer, but only a garbled sob of mixed syllables spilled from your mouth. It took you a moment to compose yourself again as the man huffed at you, tapping the cards impatiently with his gun.

"You have tw-twenty minutes to decide." More disturbing things were written, but you needed to warn him about what kind of trap he was walking himself into. "Don't do it, Izuku! Save them! It's a trap. There's a-"

The phone crunched in half under his brute strength and he threw it against the wall. Despite your very real fear, you managed to smirk at him. In hindsight, making a man with a gun angry was probably the worst thing to do in your situation. You learned that the hard way as he twirled the gun to his other hand and with a violent swing, he whipped the side of your head, knocking you clean off your chair.

Head throbbing, you clutched the gash just above your temple. A warm, sticky trail of dark red dripped down to your cheek.

"Got a loud mouth, don't ya?" he grinned and hauled you up only to drag you across the floor and dump your ragdoll form into the middle of the living room. You couldn't hide the panic as he knelt by your face, plopping the black duffle from the table next to him. "I'll just leave ya with a little present to greet your hero with. How does that sound. A nice parting gift."

The drive couldn't have taken any longer in Izuku's opinion. Even if Tsukauchi flew down the road, he still wasn't getting there fast enough. A few times, he had been tempted to just jump out and fly the rest of the way there.

He bounced his leg impatiently, glaring out the window as the silence seemed to permeate the air around them.

"We'll get her back," Tsukauchi broke the silence first.

Izuku turned his attention back to his phone. The three missed calls from you berated him each time he looked. He willed his leg to still, but all that pent up adrenaline didn't have any other outlet to escape from.

"This is my fault," he mumbled.

"No, it's not. There's no way you could have predicted this. No one could." Tsuhauchi sighed, turning sharply onto the next street. This was a conversation he'd had with the young man on multiple occasions. He was starting to understand how All Might felt, practically raising the boy through high school. "The only people to blame are the criminals responsible. You know that as well as I do. Thinking that way is only falling into their trap."

He made a noncommittal sound, turning back to obsessing over the missed calls. The rest of the ride was made in silence. Izuku had gotten so lost in thought that he didn't realize they'd parked until Tsukauchi opened the door.

Silently cursing, he blinked back into reality and got out of the car. The two of them headed for the apartment building. Your last known location was here. Though Izuku had doubts that you'd still be here. Most kidnappers took their victims to secondary locations.

They burst through the lobby, startling a poor woman taking her dog out for a walk. She jumped out of the way as they rushed past, yelping when she saw Tsukauchi's drawn gun. They paid her no mind, set on reaching their target.

Izuku took the lead. He raced up the stairs with a spark of his quirk, only stopping when he reached the right floor. Tsukauchi trailed up behind him at his fastest pace. He paused when the door came into view. Closed and undamaged. Whatever lay beyond might be an entirely different story, and it had his heart racing with fear.

"Take it slow," Tsukauchi huffed when he reached the last step. "We don't know what's waiting for us."

"I know," Izuku nodded, taking a spot in front of the door.

He signaled for the detective to take the side. Whoever was in there was sure to be expecting Izuku. He would have to act quickly. When they were in position he readied Fa-jin to break down the door with a strong kick of his leg, but the moment he lifted it, that sharp stab of Danger Sense screamed at him. He tensed and prepared to dodge whatever threat was coming his way, but when nothing came, he set his foot down, examining the door with a critical eye.

"Something's not right," he whispered, hand gently grabbing the handle.

The knob turned slowly in his hand and opened the door just slightly. Danger Sense lit up his spine once again. He drew in a sharp breath when he finally saw where the danger lay.

Opening the door any further could trigger whatever nasty surprise waited inside. He let go of the handle in favor of leaning closer to try to get a glimpse of the room. From his narrow line of sight, he didn't see anything amiss. He would need to see further somehow.

A shimmering line of wire ran across the entryway.

Trap, his mind so helpfully supplied.

"Here," Tsukauchi pulled out a small mirror with a telescopic rod attached. "Use this."

Izuku took it without question. The police had all sorts of gadgets at their disposal. He was just thankful Tsukauchi was here.

As discreetly as he could, he slipped the mirror partly into the doorframe. It gave him a full view of the living room. What he saw nearly made his racing heart stall.

The room was a mess. The coffee table had been kicked over, and the couch pushed off to the side to make room for the single dining chair plopped directly into the center of the disaster. The worst part was the person he cared for most sitting… no, tied to the chair. You were slumped forward and seemingly out cold. A gash in the side of your head trailed dark sticky blood down the side of your face and onto your shirt. Even from a distance, he could tell it was still wet. Still fresh.

You were draped in a throw blanket, which he found odd. It sent alarm bells off in his head. On the other hand, this entire situation was just one blaring alarm.

He was so close. All he needed to do was figure out a way to get to you without tripping any booby traps.

Angling the mirror down, he tracked where the nearly invisible wire led to. His eyes followed it across the floor and right up to you. It threaded under the blanket that had been wrapped across your chest. As he leaned in further to try to see you better, the door creaked slightly.

It caught your attention.

You stirred with a groan and when you looked up, he could see the duct tape sealed over your mouth. As you straightened in your seat, the blanket slipped from your shoulders.

He finally realized why the wire led to you.

"Tsukauchi," Izuku whispered, a slight tremble to his voice. "I need you to evacuate the building and…and call the bomb squad."

It took a few precious minutes, but Izuku had exited the building and now stood on the fire escape, examining the window. Another wire had been threaded around the handle. If he lifted it, it could trigger the bomb. He would need to go about this carefully.

The only good thing was that the top part of the window seemed to be unaffected. After scoping out the interior, he'd come to the conclusion that the man had fled. A smart choice. If you strap your hostage with an explosive, you don't want to be around for the aftermath. A dumb choice to target someone Izuku loved. He'd find the man later, that much he vowed. Right now, he just needed to get you as far from that bomb as possible.

He took a deep breath and in one solid strike, he shattered the top portion of the window. That startled you enough to flinch in your seat, pulling the wires taut.

"Hey, it's alright," Izuku called out softly as he navigated through the window, careful of any more surprises. "It's just me. It's Izuku."

You deflated a little, nodding to show you understood.

The moment he landed, he carefully picked his way through the room until he came face-to-face with you. Your eyes carefully tracked his movement, wary of the various strings attached to the heavy vest you were wearing. He knelt in front of the chair, cupping your bruised cheeks. At the soft contact, you squeezed your eyes shut to blink away the tears.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm right here," He kept his voice low and comforting as he offered you a small smile. "I'll get you out of this, I promise."

Then he dropped his attention down to the explosive. They had strapped you into a Kevlar vest with the clunky explosive sewn right into the fabric. The most worrisome thing was the clock. The numbers were steadily counting down.

Nearly four minutes left.

A time limit.

You did say he had twenty minutes to decide. Didn't the criminals inside the museum say something similar? They must've been working off the same clock. No wonder they gave such a specific time frame.

"Don't worry," he said, looking up when you made a muffled whine of a cry. "I've got people coming to help. People who can disarm this thing in no time." He glanced at the kitchen where you kept the knives. "I just need to get it off you first."

Your reaction caught him off guard. You wildly shook your head, careful of the wires pulling around you. He turned back to you, eyes wide, and hands held out in a pacifying gesture. You only seemed to grow more desperate, shaking your head faster.

"Hey," he laid a hand on your cheek to stop you and forced you to look in his eyes. "Okay, okay."

As you fought back your ragged breaths through your nose, he gently gripped the edges of the tape and slowly peeled it back. You winced as the tape pulled against your skin. The moment your mouth could move, you went into a panicked rant.

"You can't! You can't cut it," you cried, words jumbling over each other as you tried to push them all out at once. "There's a- a failsafe inside the vest. You cut it, and it triggers the bomb. It's the same for these wires," you eyed the wires all connected to various parts of the room. "Any of them pulls too tightly, and it explodes. But the time limit - oh my god, Izuku. It's almost up, I don't - there's no time! There's no time!"

He wrapped his scarred fingers around your chin to center your focus and shushed you before you could run out of breath. "It's going to be okay. I'm here now. I'll get you out of this." His eyes tracked over the vest again, scanning every part of it. He didn't want to tell you that the bomb squad would be at least ten more minutes. There was no time to wait for them. "I'll be right back. Trust me, I promise I'll get you out of this."

If your hands were untied, you would've reached out to stop him. Now that he had come, you were terrified of him leaving. He had a comforting presence that everyone had come to rely on as a hero. He always kept his word. If anyone could get you out of this nightmare, it would be Izuku. You just had to trust he knew what to do. Though the bomb strapped to your chest had built up a raw terror in your chest, making it hard to get even a solid breath in.

Izuku, true to his word, only disappeared for a moment before he returned, kneeling at your side with a knife. "I can disarm it."

Could he? You didn't want to doubt his skills, but you also didn't remember him ever working with bombs like this before.

"Didn't I tell you about those few weeks I spent with SWAT?" He smirked as if reading your mind. "Taught me all sorts of cool stuff." There was a hard edge to his casual tone as he pried open the front of the device to reveal the bevy of wires inside. "This was nothing compared to the kinds of stuff we did. I'll have you out in no time."

You nodded. It was about as much movement the vest would allow at the moment. You could scarcely believe a small contraption like this could be your doom in a matter of mere minutes.

"Izuku," you whispered, looking up at the ceiling as if that would put any distance from you and this death machine. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, eyes flitting up to meet yours before he refocused on the wires. "This isn't your fault."

Silence fell over the room as you absorbed that. Your fingers held a death grip on the arms of your chair, pulling against the restraints. It felt as if the room grew smaller. The beeping only seemed to be getting louder by the second. Panic had nestled itself deep in your chest, spreading throughout your body as the seconds passed.

"H-how much longer?" You dared to peer down at the clock, angling your head to try to see for yourself.

He didn't answer. You watched his fingers hover over the wires, subtly glancing at the timer but refusing to speak. In other words, not long.

"How much, Izuku?" you said again, gritting your teeth.

"Two minutes," he finally ground out. "I've almost got this figured out. I just need to make sure this one is- it should be…" he trailed off, as his finger followed where the wire connected.

Two minutes.

That wasn't a lot of time. You both knew that much.

"Izuku, I don't want you dying too. Please, just go." You warbled out, straining your head up to the ceiling again to try to stop the ebb of tears. "I don't want you dying for me."

"No one is dying tonight," Izuku chose a wire and locked eyes with you. That determination you'd grown so used to seeing cemented on his face. He looked so confident, you almost believed anything was possible. Hell, maybe it was in a world with someone as determined as him. "Are you ready?"

Drawing in a forced breath, you chewed on your lip and nodded. He hesitated for just a moment before bending the wire and cutting it with the knife. The two of you sat in complete silence, breaths held as he stared at the timer. The numbers stopped just before the minute mark, and relief sagged through his body.

"See, I told you I-" the words died on his tongue as the clock beeped twice and suddenly began counting down at double the speed. "-shit!"

"Get out of here!" You tried to shove him away with what little movement you had in the restraints, wires be damned if it meant he could still survive. "Please, save yourself! Go!"

"NO!" he pulled at the bundle of wires, muttering as his eyes darted between them. "I made a promise, and I refuse to break it! There's no way I'd ever leave you!"

He picked a wire and sliced through it. You squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper.

The beeping stopped again with eight seconds to spare.

Izuku froze, body tense as he stared at the machine, daring it to start again. After a few terrifying seconds, he looked up at you, wide-eyed and slightly shaky. He swallowed, setting his face into a more composed look as he offered you a small smile.

"It worked." He breathed out.

Those unbidden tears leaked from your eyes as you drooped your head froward with a heavy sigh of relief. All that terror that you were storing had nowhere to go. Every part of you buzzed with adrenaline. You were quite literally shaking in your socks.

"Hey," he set down the knife and found your chin. "Are you okay?"

"Still got a bomb strapped to me so 'okay' is a bit relative at the moment." You coughed a harsh chuckle out. Maybe it was the frayed nerves trying to find an outlet out of your system, but you laughed again, harder this time, your body just expelling all your emotions out in the form of near hysteric laughter.

"Uh, right," he mirrored your smile and easily unhooked all the wires connected from your vest to objects around the room. Now that the main trigger had been deactivated, these were just decorations. "I think I'll let the professionals handle this vest. They should be here any minute. But I can at least get you out of those restraints."

Using the knife, he easily tore through the tape to free your arms and legs. When you had freedom of movement again, you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close, careful of the disarmed bomb on your chest. It was still an explosive, afterall.

"Thank you," you whispered, "thank you for not leaving.

He brushed the hair out of your face and placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "I told you, I made a promise, and I never break my promises." Then he pulled back to give you a pout. "But please, don't ever tell me to leave you like that ever again. I could never even think of doing something like that. I would never abandon you, you know that, right?"

The way he looked at you made you feel like you'd kicked a puppy. But in your mind, you just wanted to protect him, too. For the moment, though, you simply nodded and buried your face into his chest, knowing you were safe with him. That you would always be safe with him.

It took another six minutes before the squad arrived and another ten tense minutes with Izuku gripping your hand the entire time to safely remove the bomb. As soon as it slipped off, you rushed into Izuku's arms, trying to entwine yourself as deep as you could with him.

"What about the other hostages? The criminals, too?" you asked, twisting your head up to look at him. "The ones you were supposed to let go?"

"Kacchan, uh, Dynamight handled it." He assured you. "He didn't even need any help taking them down. I think they were counting on this scenario working in their favor. The hostages are safe, and the criminals are in custody."

"Even…" you pinched the fabric of his uniform between your fingers, dropping your gaze to stare at the stitchwork.

"We'll find him. I won't let him get away with this." He assured you, tightening his own hold on you. "But right now, all you need to worry about is getting some rest. Well, actually, we need to get this -" he ghosted his fingertips over the cut above your temple, "-looked at first."

"I'm fine." you waved him off.

"Yeah, you will be," he agreed, pulling you over to the medic who had set up shop on the dining table, just waiting for you. "Once we get you fixed up."

With a small sigh, you sat in one of the chairs, facing the medic. Izuku, who you still had a hold of his sleeve, moved to stand behind you.

"Are you going to leave? I mean, I guess you should. There are other people out there who need you too. And with this whole mess, I'm sure there's a lot of-"

The words were just spilling out of you now, and in the back of your mind, you realized you sounded just like Izuku. You only managed to stop when he bent over and lightly bumped his forehead against yours.

"Take a breath," he gave you a fond smirk, "I'm not going anywhere. Like I said, Kacchan handled it. The only place I need to be right now is by your side."

He stood hunched just inches from your face, and all you could do was stare into his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling through those big green irises, but the biggest one shining through was his sincerity. A solace you didn't realize you needed until just this moment. The warmth he emitted was so comfortable, and the sheer exhaustion from your ordeal had you leaning back into the chair with a tired nod.

"Okay, I trust you," you mumbled, pulling his arm down so you could hug it. "You're a really good hero, Izuku."

He blushed at the soft comment and glanced at the paramedic trying to busy herself with getting her supplies out, but even she couldn't help the little smile that played on her lips.

"She's right, you know," the medic chimed in, gently cleaning your cheek of the blood. "I'd say that was the work of a top-class hero. You should be proud."

Izuku rubbed the back of his head. Years in the field and still hearing something like that overwhelmed his heart so he decided to focus back on you. Your hands were interlocked with his and casually fiddlin with his bony fingers.

A lot that could have gone wrong tonight, and he knew he would be certain to go over every detail in full to make sure those mistakes would never happen again. Not if he was going to be a hero that could protect not just you, but everyone.

Right now, though, he put his analysis on the back burner and turned his full attention to what was most important.

You.

Taglist: @stanny-uwu @lykingart @rei165

[velvetures]

alr alr alr so hear me out just HEAR me out right

Gaz. Right, right. Showing the reader he's a certified munch. Right. Idk how it would go. I imagine he maybe helped them out with something and they owe him a solid and then bro just like "fuq all this sexual attention bruv. Bring dat arse here and let me sip on ye like sum fine wine" or sumn. Idk. BUT PLS CONSIDER IT PLS I LOVE THIS MAN SOO MUCH

Tip the Driver

summary: you go above and beyond the call of duty and it earns you a certain operator's constant attention and adoration. he's insistent that he pays you back... and you're utterly shocked at what he suggests.

t/w's: canonical violence, blood, GSW, Gaz eating pussy like a champ, fem-reader, fem oral receiving, dirty talk, fingering, female orgasm, male orgasm, public?fuck,... probably missed a bunch..

MRAP's didn't make for the best office... but it was yours whether or not you liked it all that much or not. Between the .50 cal bolted to the roof and the unmoveable windows, it made for a shitty view just about everywhere you received orders to go. Be it sand and dusty nothingness or abandoned and flaming city streets with car alarms blaring after a bomb strike. Your "office" hardly proved to be comfortable, but no one could contest your ability to drive the damn thing and keep the men inside of it safe.

The most important of all was Task Force 141 on the frequent occasions that your specialist skills were necessary for getting the boys in and out of a tight situation when a helo couldn't be afforded. It was a pain in the ass job that hardly anyone ever wanted... and you couldn't say that you'd initially volunteered for it either. You'd been forced after multiple vehicle squads declined to work with the 141.

Nothing ever went to plan with them.

It all happened far too quickly.

What started as a simple insertion by vehicle turned into nearly inescapable hellfire raining down on the sides of your armored truck. Banging heavy brass and lead rounds against the walls and drowning out the sounds of Captain Price’s orders. The whole plan went to shit the first second an RPG took a nose dive less than fifteen feet in front of your truck; stalling the movement of the small convoy and pinning you between two rocky cliffs pinched off and slowly closing up even tighter.

One moment you were doing the only thing asked of you: drive Task Force 141 through the gap to the small terrorist encampment on the other side, and hide yourself until they needed a quick escape. The next you were knelt down in the back, tightening down a tourniquet around Kyle Garrick’s thigh and preparing with shaky hands to pack a steadily bleeding bullet wound. There was hardly a second to think about anything, much less second guess your best instincts after Soap and Ghost hauled Gaz back to the truck and made a very harsh demand that you “pack him tight”.

Honestly, you didn’t even know what that meant. But Gaz -in all his inhuman strength- had enough patience and discipline to ignore the pain he was feeling to walk you through exactly what it took to keep him from bleeding out before you could get him somewhere for real medical attention. From cutting his own pant leg open to handing you each tool or material necessary, Kyle couldn’t have been a better patient to learn with. But it didn’t make you feel any better for looking up at him every few seconds and seeing him practically chewing on his own belt to keep from screaming or cracking his teeth.

“Doin’ good sweetheart…”

“That’s it, keep it -fuck- keep it tight like that…”

“Can’t be shy with me. Need you to be tough, m’kay?”

Every little praise or motivation he gave made eased your worries, but damn if you didn’t feel the littlest bit guilty for needing a wounded man to give you reassurance. It should’ve been the opposite. You easing his nerves. Telling him he’d be okay, and that there wasn’t anything to worry about. But there wasn’t a single thing you could do except following his directions to the letter, and hope that he didn’t pass out before you could finish up.

“For a gearhead, you’ve got nice hands…”

“Aren’t you a little too pretty to get stuck drivin’ us around?”

The longer you stayed in the back with Gaz, trying to mop up the blood pooling on the floor and around him, the more invested he became with you; not just what you were doing to make sure he didn’t die. Naturally, you’d known Kyle well enough to say you were acquaintances but it was never significant enough to say more than a friendly hello and goodbye when you caught each other’s attention. But with each milliliter of blood lost, Kyle Garrick began losing that well-mannered silence he was so often teased about. Enjoying the sight of you that close to you, and mentioning even the smallest little goofy detail he could muster up in half-consciousness.

“Gaz… you need to rest,” You’re hardly able to get the words out with all of the anxiety you have building with each bullet lodging itself in the side of your truck. “Can’t have you leaving us…” He just chuckles with a little wince. Leaning his head back against the back of your driver’s seat with one hand resting over his thigh and the other instinctively resting on the grip of his pistol still tucked against his hip.

“Not leaving if you’re around… s’pecially now that i’ve got your attention..” He gives a shy little smile. “You’re a really pretty for a MRAP driver… well… the only pretty one…” His eyes cut down and away from yours. “But still…”

You’d have been mush with such a cute admission had it not been for the firefight happening just outside your vehicle. And it was the limit of your power to ensure that Gaz was stable until there wasn’t a shot fired and you heard a nearly breathless all-clear from Captain Price outside. When the back doors swung open, the rest of Task Force 141 took in the sight of your blood-soaked gear, red-stained hands, sweat dripping down your neck, and Kyle slumped against you sleeping off the exhaustion with a fairly decent field dressing.

They were impressed.

Enough so that Price ordered Ghost to drive and let you sit in the back next to Gaz who had unconsciously laid up against you like a body pillow of sorts. Your mission had been busted by bad intel and a tip-off. It led to all of you regrouping back at base.

The 141 hauling Kyle off to the infirmary to get legitimate treatment, and you back to the garage where your truck had been shot to hell and back and needed repairs… If you could make them.

It was a good thing you’d been in a MRAP… but even they could only take so much abuse before bulletproof panels started bending and cracking under pressure. On first inspection you’d seen the pinholes of light shining from the garage lights through the walls onto the blood-stained floor in the back. And that was an entirely different struggle you’d been attempting to overcome. Seeing the dark red remanence of Gaz’s injury puddled and dried all over the desert tan painted floor. You’d been so upset by it that you attempted to scrub it off by hand since nothing else had worked. For two days you scrubbed at it… your squad mates passing by to yet again see you down on your hands and knees with a scrub brush, hot water, and bleach. But you’d hardly made a dent in the unmistakable stains by the time that Gaz was given full release from the doctors on staff.

Fuck, the only reason you knew that was because he’d been the one to come and find you still scrubbing at the back of your truck.

The light tap on the open back door halted your frenzied scrubbing. Looking up from the pink-tinged bubbles surrounding your hands, you came to meet Kyle standing there a bit stiffly with a somewhat curious look on his face.

“Sorry about that…” His apology isn’t exactly a joke, but you can tell that a part of it bothers him. “I’m normally not that messy.”

“You hardly have a reason to be sorry.” You feel responsible for reassuring him. Having it in the back of your mind that without saying it, he’d go on believing that you were inconvenienced by the whole ordeal, instead of deeply, and for some reason -very- emotionally protective. “It’s the least I can do to let you bleed in my truck.”

Kyle chuckled, stiffly moving to pull himself up into the vehicle. He sat down even more slowly with his boots facing away from the stain you’d been scrubbing at. “I guess you have had at least a couple fingers shoved inside my thigh… maybe we’re even?”

He earns a laugh from you.

Probably the most genuine one you’ve let out since the day he got injured. Gaz can’t help but be reminded of just how pretty you are in that moment. Kneeling there with a mop bucket and suds of soap surrounding your knees with baby hairs sticking to the sweat on your forehead. He’d not been too under the influence to exaggerate just how pretty he thought you were. And the fact that your job entailed driving on an equal skill level to being part of the presidential motorcade certainly added attraction points.

That little crush he nursed was ignored as much as possible. But remembering small flashes of your worried face looking over him a few days back haunted every waking moment of his day. While a little crush on a pretty girl was one thing, adding fuel to that fire was burning Kyle’s self-control into ashes.

He wanted to think there was some way of… flirting with you, he supposed. Giving a hint that he wasn’t just coming to waste time in the garage with you because of how well you shoved gauze into the hole in his thigh. But he could only think of one decent idea… and damn if he didn’t think it was the most feral thing he’d ever dreamt up. Seeing you just sitting there like that enticed his pain-med-laced thoughts with enough eroticism to even make Soap’s head spin like a fucking top.

“You feeling okay Gaz?” The sound of your voice breaks him from the thoughts.

His nods, one hand sliding over the heavily bandaged spot on his thigh under his pants. “Yeah, just thinking about something…”

Your eyebrows quirk up. “What’s that? Must be important for you to be staring off into nothingness like that.”

“Just how I’m going to pay you back for keeping me alive.” He smiles, lazily drawing his gaze down to look at you. His forearms resting on his thighs gently, looking down at you sitting just out of arm’s reach on the floor. “And I think I know how to do it.”

Kyle’s wide stance and downright confident swagger merely sitting there makes the slight bleach smell in the air pale in comparison to the dizziness his heavy gaze does. From the black boots, to the jeans, hoodie and black baseball cap, he’s nothing short of pure masculine energy. And fuck does he know it. Screaming felt like an appropriate response to his comments, yet the only think that could come out of your mouth was a nervous giggle. Soft and a little hesitant. Flashing your nervous anxiety like a white flag right in Kyle’s face.

“Somethin’ funny?” He smirked a little, adjusting the bill of his cap and tugging it down closer to his eyebrows. You shake your head ‘no’, trying to recover and sober up quickly.

“Oh, no… please, do tell.” He presses smoothly, dark eyes brightening with what you can only compare to champagne and chocolate diamonds glittering in warm, cocktail bar lighting. Enticing… rich… and oh-so-pretty.

“Just, sounded a little suggestive is all.” You smile, saying it with an uncertainty that wavers between it being a joke, and a question as to his seriousness. Trying to keep the ball in his court as not to foul up on whatever kind of situation Kyle came here to trap you in.

If it’s naturally possible, his eyes darken. “What if I was being a lot more suggestive?” His upper body leans a little closer. “What would you think then?” You feel your own stomach twist into tight knots.

“I’d think you’re crazy.”

Gaz laughs. Actually laughs out loud, and grins down at you.

“Crazy, huh?” He reaches a hand out, fingertips touching the underside of your chin and guiding your face up to meet his. His huffs a little chuckle, almost mesmerized by you and the way you think. “Well, I might just be,” He answered quietly.

“But that isn’t going to stop me.” You swallow thickly, feeling his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip ever so softly.

“Stop you from doing what exactly?” Gaz chuckles lowly again, giving a moment to look at the blood stain on the floor and the hell of a time you’d been having trying to remove it.

“Showing you the one other time I don’t mind making a mess.”

***

You can’t be sure if it’s just how time suddenly bends around Gaz, or if you just can’t care enough to keep track of it. But you find yourself sitting naked in the drivers seat of your own MRAP, pants hanging from one ankle, shoes lost somewhere in the cab, and your panties shoved into Gaz’s back pocket. Be an hour or five, you’d already lost count of the times Kyle gave you the same praise as he did when you were helping patch him up.

Only this time, he was muffling your screams of pleasure with his hot mouth pressed against yours and fingers so deep inside your cunt that it was almost too easy to make you come for him. Your slick dripped from your clenching pussy into the fabric seat cover, soaking Kyle’s whole hand and your ass.

“That’s it… such a pretty pussy…” His low rumbling praise against your ear feels like electric static running down your spine. “What a lucky man… getting to shove my fingers in it, and see how wet I can make you.”

Lithe digits massage against the squishy front wall of your cunt, while his other hand doubles to put pressure on your stomach while rubbing at your clit with his fingertips all at the same time. You’re helpless to do more than let your head heavily thump against the tinted window behind you and squeeze your eyes shut to keep from utterly losing your mind. Kyle Garrick has turned you into a whimpering, messy, slutty-looking mess. And god is he more than happy to let you know just how good it looks from his angle.

“Fuucckk yesss..” He groans, kneeling closer to your pussy. Resting his cheek against your inner thigh and pressing a sloppy kiss to it when he’s able to draw yet another orgasm from you. Rending your legs truly useless and unable to fend off his attacks in any meaningful way.

It’s exactly where he wants you.

You’re pinned back against your seat with your knees on either side of your head and a dizzy look on your face as Kyle blows a teasing breath against your swollen clit, staring down at you damn near drunk off the sight alone. It makes you yelp, but with all of his methodical preparation, the only thing keeping him from sinking his tongue into your wet hole is wanting to see what other sounds he can drag out of you without touching that sensitive collection of nerve endings. Gaz couldn’t get enough of seeing your legs limp and easily maneuvered out of his way so that nothing more than your submissive little expressions and dripping cunt are on display.

“Told you I don’t like making messes…” His tongue licked lazily at the crease of your thigh, teasing himself with just the slightest tase of your arousal. Edging himself with the full prize of tasting all of his hard work.

“But I want you to look this slutty all the time, pretty girl…” He grinned darkly.

Finally lowering himself to your core, he curls his tongue through your folds with a satisfied groan. Purposefully burying his nose against your clit and sucking at your release until he’s certain he won’t need to eat for the rest of the day. You’re too wrecked to squirm anymore. Merely staring up blankly at the celling as he tongue rolls over your clit and dips down to gather up your slick before it drips down onto the seat again.

“Oh my god…” It’s a miracle you can utter a single word.

Kyle squeezes at the muscle and fat on your thighs in reward for finding your voice, if even for just a moment. That’s good… he thinks, knowing you can take this much pleasure and not give up when he’s still not satiated with the taste of your come sliding down his throat. He’s nearly lost all composure of himself as well; but damn if he didn’t just want to tie your legs to the driver’s seat and steering wheel just so he could lap at your cunt for hours without you interrupting him. Wishful thinking for this only being the first time he’d been able to taste you. But he was certain there wouldn’t be a single day in the future he’d go without at least the slightest tease of your pleasure lingering on his lips.

“One more,” He demands, teasing your hole with his thumb as his tongue traces your inner lips languidly. “Feed me baby…”

There’s not a moment’s hesitation.

You nearly come on command at this point. So overstimulated but desperate for more that when Kyle gently grazes his teeth over your clit, everything unravels in a fuzzy lost of your eyesight and a shock of sensation so strong in your body that Gaz manages to actually make your legs shake one last time. It’s so damn strong tears flood your eyes, and it’s not until you feel him slowly pumping a few of his fingers in and out of your weeping cunt that you realize he’s actually helping you ride it out by stroking at your g-spot tenderly and kissing your inner thigh.

He looks just as lost in the moment as you feel.

His mouth parted and still lapping at your folds like he’s possessed to do nothing else. Your arousal slicking the entire lower half of his face, and his baseball cap turned around backwards with a light grey t-shirt that he’d have to let dry before getting out of your truck due to the cum splatters covering the front. As if that wasn’t enough to turn you on seeing Kyle Garrick on his knees and pussy drunk off you, the large wet spot just to the left of his zipper made your weakened muscles clench around his fingers. Kyle follows your line of sight, chuckling quietly and gently palming at his softening cock through his pants with a small shrug.

“It’s my favorite…” He explains soft but very honestly, eyes flashing back to where he begins slowly removing his fingers from your cunt. Eyeing his own fingers and how your walls accommodate them before sinking his own fingers in his mouth to finish ‘clean up’ on his favorite messy job.

“Now we’re even?” You ask, a little dazed and reaching a hand out to find his for some stability and reassurance. Kyle laughs softly, helping you readjust your legs and lifting you up to sit in his lap to ward off the after-sex chills raising up on your bared skin.

“I suppose so,” His wetted lips press against your temple and linger there reverently for a minute or two.

“Or… we could… keep doing each other favors?” His voice lowers a bit, sounding far too unsure for your liking.

“I don’t want to do favors, Gaz.” You smile.

“I just wanna do you.”

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

One Foot Out the Door (Won't You Come Back Inside?) 2/3

I don't know why I put chapter counts on anything I work on anymore, I am genetically incapable of sticking to them. Also, holy shit I am SO used to writing in present tense, I hardly remember how to do past. I think I caught all the tense switches, but please forgive me if I didn't.

The continuation of this

Pairing: Buck/Tommy (Buddie is mentioned, but one-sided in this)

“Evan…” He jumped out of his chair, reaching for his boyfriend before he was even aware he was moving. He didn't know what he was going to say, had no idea how much Evan had heard, or what he was even going to do.

He just knew that Evan looked wounded, and he'd put that expression on his face.

It hurt more than he could say when Evan pulled back, actually stepping away from Tommy and holding one hand up as if to ward him off. “What the hell? What do you mean ‘when I move on’?” he demanded. He wasn't loud, didn't shout, but Tommy saw a few closer heads turn toward them out of the corner of his eye.

“Baby,” he started helplessly, only for Evan to cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

“No, don't you Baby me! Tommy, what the fuck?” Evan hissed. And then worse…he shrunk. His shoulders hunched in, his posture slumped, the glowing, happy light in his eyes that always appeared when everyone managed to get together snuffed out like a candle.

Evan was not a small man in any measure or sense of the word. But he…diminished…right in front of Tommy's eyes. It had been ages since Tommy had seen anything make his boyfriend pull inward like this, and the thought that he had caused it was a punch straight to the ribs. He froze, wanting to reach out and pull Evan into his arms, but well aware it wouldn't be welcome or wanted right now. He didn't think he could stand it if Evan actually physically avoided his touch…not because of this.

Evan stared at him, and Tommy would do anything to be able to rewind the last five minutes, to just politely decline Karen's questions and go back to the status quo he'd been living in for the last year. Sure, it kind of sucked just waiting for the sword to fall on a love he wanted so badly to last, but it was better than being responsible for the bewildered hurt currently twisting his boyfriend's face. It was better than giving that sword a perfect goddamn opportunity to fall faster.

“Buck, Tommy, everything okay?”

Bobby. Tommy hadn't heard him approach, but suddenly he was within a couple feet of Buck, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. Behind them, the party had gone nearly silent…everyone but the children was staring at them. Eddie looked like he had started forward, but arrested the motion, a worried frown on his face.

“Yeah. Fine. Everything's great,” Buck said abruptly, his voice bitter and despondent. “Sorry, I'm gonna head out. Thanks for dinner.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the patio doors, shaking Maddie's hand off him when she tried to grab his wrist as he passed.

Tommy stood there stupidly for a few heartbeats, before his brain kicked back into gear. “Evan, wait!” he called after his boyfriend, cursing softly when his boyfriend didn't even acknowledge him.

“Go after him, I'll handle everyone else,” Karen advised, leaping to her feet.

Tommy needed no prompting. He raced after Evan, ignoring confused calls of his name, barreling through the same doors his boyfriend had just burst through. He didn't bother searching for Evan in the house, just hurrying through halls that had become as familiar as his own in the last few months, heading straight for the front door. Relief and concern washed through him in equal measure hit him as he spotted Evan at the end of Bobby and Athena's driveway, pacing rapidly between some of the 118's vehicles that packed the drive and the street in front of the house.

He and Evan had driven together in his vehicle, and he was unsurprised to see Evan had his phone out, probably summoning an Uber. He slowed his pace as he approached, regret pooling in his gut at the agitated jerkiness of Evan's movements, the way he kept plucking at his shirt or his hair, as though he didn't know what to do with his hands.

“I can't talk to you right now,” he barked as Tommy approached, refusing to turn and look at him.

“Evan–baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that and–” As soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Evan stiffened, a sharp inhale the only warning Tommy got before his boyfriend whirled on him.

“Great. So, so, so doesn’t matter you feel like that, just–just that I heard it?” Evan's face looked as though he was wheeling wildly between hurt and anger. “I can't believe you…I love you! I, I, I've been giving this everything I've got since the beginning! And, and what? You've just been waiting for me to get bored? You really–” Evan's voice broke, going quiet and rough in a way that went straight through Tommy like a blade of ice. “You think I'd do that to you? That's what you think of me? Everything we've done, everything I've said and you, you, you think I'm just using you?” Evan laughed, a ragged sound completely devoid of humor. “God, I actually thought we were…fuck. Never mind, I guess.”

“Evan,” he tried again, only to be cut off again. Evan turned away from him, visibly trying to regain his composure. A dark-colored sedan pulled onto the street, obviously heading for Bobby and Athena's house.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Evan said tiredly. “We can…I dunno, I'll just call you tomorrow.”

Tommy was left to watch helplessly as his boyfriend climbed into the back of the Uber without even looking at him.

He couldn't even remember the last time they had parted ways without a kiss goodbye.

Tommy had fucked up. Monumentally. A voice that always sounded uncomfortably like his father's laughed derisively in the back of his mind. What had he been expecting? That he'd get to keep the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to him? Evan–fuck, Evan was everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd spent years convincing himself he could get by without. But hadn’t he basically been waiting for it to be over practically from the moment he realized how serious he was getting about him? The only unexpected thing was that Tommy himself had messed it all up…Eddie wasn’t involved at all.

No surprise there, actually, the sneering voice in the back of his head insisted.

He looked over his shoulder at the Grant-Nash house, where all their friends—Evan’s whole family—was no doubt falling over themselves trying to figure out what was going on. He was honestly kind of surprised no one had come out to see what was going on yet. He had no idea what Karen was planning on telling them…and he found the thought of going back and facing them all exhausting. Fuck, Maddie, Bobby, and Athena would probably rip him a new asshole. And he didn’t know what he’d even say to Eddie. No. No, he couldn’t do it. They would all be on Evan’s side—as they should be, he wasn’t complaining about that—and he did not have the energy to face an inquisition. He dug his own keys out of his pocket, suddenly immeasurably thankful that he’d never gotten into the habit of just hanging them up on the keyboard by the door like everyone else when he was over here.

He maneuvered himself out of the tangle of cars that always ended up taking up half the street parking whenever the 118 got together and headed onto the highway, intending to drive around for a while to clear his head. He and Evan had planned to spend the entire weekend together at his place, and the idea of walking through his door without Evan under his arm, or plastered against his back, or hanging onto his neck for dear life while they did their level best to scandalize all the neighbors as he fumbled for his keys was too depressing to contemplate.

Evan said he would call tomorrow. That was something, wasn’t it? He hadn’t broken up with Tommy right there in the street. He pulled to a stop at a red light about halfway between his place and Evan’s, with only the vaguest memory of how he’d gotten to this street. Evan had said he would call tomorrow.

But was that just a delay of the inevitable?

Pain lanced up and down his arm, and he realized he’d slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. He did it a few more times, letting out a frustrated growl.

No. No, fuck this. Fuck this.

Fuck inevitable and fuck waiting around for the worst to happen. He’d messed up. He’d messed up so badly, but he had to try and fix it. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe he’d been right all along and tonight had just hastened Evan’s inevitable realization that he and Eddie belonged together.

But maybe…maybe he was wrong. Maybe he’d been wrong from the start. He had to try. He’d never gone down without a fight in his goddamn life, why the fuck should he start now? Evan was worth fighting for. Evan was worth everything. Why hadn’t he been fighting for him from the start?

The light turned green and he stomped on the accelerator, wheeling around in a reckless and highly illegal u-turn that had more than a few horns blaring.

*

Evan gave him a key to the loft months ago—just as he’d given Evan a key to his place—but it didn’t feel right to use it. Instead, he knocked, and fought the urge to hold his breath until he heard the deadbolt turning.

Evan did not look entirely surprised to see him when he opened the door.

Nor did he look pleased.

It was jarring—he’d grown used to Evan’s face lighting up every time he saw Tommy, had grown used to the wide, unselfconscious grin that split his face and made Tommy feel like he was basking in pure sunshine. Now, Evan’s face was shuttered and carefully blank.

“I told you I’d call tomorrow,” he sighed after a moment.

“I know,” Tommy said quietly. “But I don’t want to leave things like this all night.” He steeled himself internally. “But I’ll go if you want me to.”

Evan looked down at his feet, and Tommy hated that he had put that small, insecure look on his boyfriend’s face. After a moment, though, Evan stepped aside, gesturing him into the loft. A knot of tension he hadn’t even been aware of loosened in his chest, and he gratefully slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Evan headed into his kitchen area, picking up an abandoned beer bottle and taking a swig. The silence was unnerving.

“I don’t think you were using me,” Tommy blurted out finally, and Evan’s eyes snapped to his face. “Baby. I’d never think that. I know that’s not you.”

It was true. As sure as he’d become that someday Eddie Diaz was going to come between them, he was equally sure that they would both be as gentle as they could about it. Even in his worst-case scenarios, he’d never imagined that Evan would be cruel to him. Would sneak around behind his back or try to string him along while he figured himself and Eddie out. He’d had every expectation of a sincere apology and a genuine attempt to maintain a friendship from both Eddie and Evan.

“I don’t—I love you.” Wrong, he was doing this wrong. Evan was still looking at him with that carefully controlled mask, an expression that looked so terribly wrong on him, when Tommy was used to every thought and feeling Evan had being bared for all to see in his eyes, on his face.

“Then why are you just waiting for me to leave?” Evan asked. His voice was subdued. Quiet. And so, so sad. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Writing’s on the wall, that’s, that’s what you said. What, uh, what did…what did I do to make you think that?”

And here was the crux of the matter.

Because the answer was: nothing.

Not a goddamn thing.

Evan had given him everything, every part of himself, and held nothing back. His heart, his time, his body, his attention, his care—he’d offered it all up to Tommy with a joyful smile. And still…and still, he couldn’t bring himself to trust it. Not all the way.

“Evan,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I just—” Goddamn it, he’d flown into wildfires, hurricanes, and active combat zones. This should be nothing. It wasn’t, though. This was a conversation that demanded the kind of honesty and vulnerability he’d spent too many good years running from, and something inside him shook at the thought of laying himself so bare.

But the alternative was worse.

“I’m a decade older than you. I wasted more than half my life hiding who I really was from everyone important, I wasn’t…I wasn’t half as brave as you were. Sometimes I feel like I can barely keep up with you. I went into this thinking we were just going to have a little fun, and you just blew past every expectation I had and turned into the most important person in my life.” He gritted his teeth, calling on years of military discipline to keep his voice steady, to meet his boyfriend’s eyes as he spoke. “You could have anyone you wanted. Drop of a hat, you could have anyone. And it’s not like I’m just sitting on my ass and waiting until you see someone you like better on the street, but…sometimes it’s hard to accept that you’d want to tie yourself down to me long-term. And I get I should have talked to you about that, and baby, I am so sorry I didn’t.”

It was, he reflected dully, the most raw and sincere thing he had ever said to Evan.

His boyfriend just stared at him, his mouth hanging slightly open, his hands lax on the countertop in front of him. Then he swallowed roughly, blinking as though he had something in his eye. “I—Tommy. Don’t…you can’t say stuff like that.” He shook his head, leaning hard against the countertop. “I never want you to think that. You’re—you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met! And, and, and keep up with me? God, you’re the only one who puts up with me, no matter what. Even—even Eddie tunes me out sometimes! Why would…don’t you understand? You…you’re everything to me!”

Tommy let out a trapped breath, something cracking in his chest at the vehemence in Evan’s words. “I notice you didn’t say anything about me being older than you,” he said, and was rewarded when Evan let out a bark of laughter. Real laughter, this time, not the broken, humorless sound from before.

“You already know age gaps do it for me,” he quipped, before his face turned serious again. “I love you, too. More than, like, anything, except maybe Chris and Jee. I—God, Tommy, I’m sorry I ever made you think that wasn’t true.”

And just like that, Tommy felt the quiet shadow that had always existed on the periphery of their relationship hovering directly over him again. Something must have shown in his face, because Evan stood a little bit straighter, before stepping around the countertop separating them. He came to stand directly in front of him, hesitantly reaching out and taking Tommy’s hands in his.

“That’s not all, is it?” he asked slowly. “All that not being good enough bullshit—and we’re not done with that, just so you know. But there’s more, isn’t there?” There was an edge of fear in Evan’s eyes, now, not just worry. Not just sadness. His hands tightened on Tommy’s.

He’d come here intending to fight for the man he loved. If he was going to do that, he had to do it in all quarters. He licked his lips, braced himself silently.

“Eddie’s in love with you,” he said, forcing it all out in one go.

He’d expected denial. He’d expected shock. He’d even kind of expected to be called a liar. He was not expecting Evan’s shoulders to slump wearily as he gave a tired nod.

“Yeah,” he said lowly, staring down at their joined hands and rubbing his thumb along the back of Tommy’s knuckles. “Yeah, I know.”

[daisygirlwrites]

Car Rides

Summary: An old memory of Simon’s resurfaces during a car ride to Crash’s house.

Warnings: none

Pairing(s): Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,025

Note: No uses of (Y/N), some angst but it’s barely there. 

a/n: hello hello! back with another fic :) ngl this one made me kind of sad but still enjoyable to write. I have a set of headcanons that I wrote along with this fic but i decided that I’ll put it into the next post instead :0c !! anyways, i hope y’all like it and would love to hear feedback!

“Keys.” He demanded.

Quickly, you pull your hand back, the other coming up to shield it. The man in front of you narrows his eyes but puts his hands back into his hoodie pocket. You open your hand, revealing a set of keys, along with a lego Darth Vader keychain. Flipping over the key fob, your black Jeep Wrangler makes the distinct sound of itself unlocking. “After you, LT.”

He opens the back passenger seat to set down his duffle bag before moving to the front. While he does that, you get yourself onto the driver's seat and start the vehicle. You check your surroundings before backing out of the parking spot and after a series of turns, you two are on the road, exiting the airport.

“Apologies about earlier, Simon,” you say, after a couple minutes of silence. “I know you want to drive but love this car way too much. Don’t want to crash it, ya know.” He glares at you as you let out an airy chuckle.

“And what do you mean by that, Sergeant?”

“Remember Las Almas? How you slammed on the breaks so fuckin’ hard that I almost went through the window, for the second time? Or that time in Moscow, where you proceeded to hit every curb you saw and we got pulled over?” You glance at him. He stares back at you, offended. And even with a facemask, it’s evident that he’s scowling at you.

Looking back at the road, you lightly elbow his arm. “Don’t worry, LT. You’re great at a lot of things.” You pause, weighing out the option of whether or not to push his buttons more before saying, “Just not driving. Or piloting. Like last month, with the helico-”

“That’ll do!” Simon raises his voice.

Palms on the steering wheel, you open your hands as a signal of surrender. “I’m just jesting, Simon.” You give him a half-hearted smile. He sinks down into his seat, with his arms crossed.

45 minutes passed and the only sound you hear are the cars on the road. Simon looks out of the window, taking sight of the buildings rushing by. In the distance, he can see the large mountain range.

The whole team was given a month of leave after the last mission went up in flames. Literally, burning helicopters and all. While the guys usually went back to the UK, you had invited them to your mountain home in Colorado. Ghost initially declined but after you and Soap begged on your knees, he reluctantly agreed. And now he regrets it after you made fun of his driving skills. But at least it was just you and not the rest of the team. Actually, he’s grateful that they’re flying in tomorrow. Didn’t want to handle three idiots in a car.

“I got a CD folder in the glove box,” You break the silence. “It’s your pick too. Long drives are better with music.”

Simon gives you a nod and begins flipping through the case. He recognizes most of the albums, and taking a closer look, some of the art on them are flaking off.

“Never thought you’d still have CDs this old,” he comments.

“Half of them are my grandpa’s. I’m just adding on to it.”

He hums in response. Spotting a maroon colored disk, he rotates it, reading ‘Queen: Greatest Hits’. Carefully pulling it out of its pocket, he hands it to you. Left hand on the wheel, you stick your finger in the middle and glance at it. Nodding, you slide it into the car player.

“Good choice.”

“Brits have good music.”

“I agree with that.”

Flicking your eyes down to the display screen, you skip the first eight tracks. Without looking, you can tell that Simon is giving you a disapproving look. “We’ll come back to it, promise. Just want to listen to this first.”

He turns his eyes back on the road before him, the first couple notes of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ playing out. They’re in the mountains now, the roads becoming more twisty. Slowly down a bit on the turns, you let the windows down a couple inches. He hears you quietly sing along with the song. Rolling his eyes, Simon leans back on his seat again. Again, looking out the window, enjoying the greenery. It reminds him of the long drives to his aunt's house. Green blurs of evergreen trees passing by. Turning his head to look at you, his heart picks up the pace.

He doesn’t see you. Instead, it was a woman in her early thirties. The driver window slightly opened, leaving her light brown hair flying behind her ears. Hands tapping on the steering wheel on beat with the music. Hazel eyes meeting his. There were bags under them, dark circles hidden by makeup. She smiles at him, little wrinkles appearing on the corner of her eyes, along with two dimples, one of each side of her smile. Just like his. Opening her mouth, she sings along with the song,

“Ooh, you make me live Whenever this world is cruel to me I got you to help me forgive Ooh, you make me live now, honey Ooh, you make me live.”

His mom stops singing. “Simon!” she calls out. “Come on, love. Sing with your ma!”

He’s too stunned to say anything, he just stares at her. “Simon?” Her smile drops, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Simon?” Her voice sounds muffled.

“Simon?!” It’s like echoes now.

“Lieutenant Riley?!” That one snapped him out. 

Heart beating like a drum, he opens his eyes, staring at the bottom of his hoodie before looking back up. It’s just you, Crash, his sergeant. Not his mother. But the worried look you give him is identical to hers.

You give him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to wake you up LT.” His eyebrows go up with confusion, he didn’t know he was even sleeping. “We’re here.”

Simon steps out of the jeep, closing the door behind him. Taking a look of his surroundings, he glances up at the towering evergreen trees, just like the ones in his childhood. Just like the ones at home.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Canary Media:

The country that once boasted the world’s first coal-fired power plant is now set to eliminate the highly polluting fossil fuel from its power grid.

In late September, the United Kingdom will shutter the Ratcliffe-on-Soar Power Station, the country’s last operational coal-fired power plant. The closure indicates just how far the U.K. has come in its bid to do away with dirty sources of electricity. 

The rapid change was made possible by the U.K.’s embrace of wind power, both on- and offshore. Over the last decade, this form of renewable energy has surged in the U.K., from generating around 8 percent of the country’s electricity in 2013 to 29 percent in 2023. Coal has plummeted over that same time period, falling from 36 percent of power generation to 1 percent last year — and then to a (literally) vanishingly small portion this year.

The country’s grid cleanup comes amid a backdrop of declining electricity demand. The U.K. used 17 percent less electricity in 2023 than it did in 2013, per Ember, as households adopted more efficient appliances, natural gas prices rose, and its economy shifted away from energy-intensive manufacturing jobs. Demand has continued to decline even as the country has started to embrace heat pumps and electric vehicles.

As a result of the U.K.’s rapidly decarbonizing grid and falling electricity demand, emissions from the country’s power sector have taken a nosedive, helping the nation reduce overall emissions to the lowest levels since 1879 — three years before that first coal-fired power station was even built.

Still, planet-warming fossil gas remains the single biggest source of electricity in the U.K. The country has led the way in moving past one form of polluting power, but now it will have to do the same with another if it is to meet its rapidly approaching goal of decarbonizing the grid by 2035.

[jinisnuggets]

✧ ˚ · . ɢɨʀʟ ʏօʊ'ʀɛ ֆօ ʄɨʀɛ

PAIRINGS | Model! Mafia! Member Junkyu x Model! Fem! Reader

GENRE | Suspense, Mafia Au, MILDLY Suggestive (mdni)

WORD COUNT | 1.3k

SYNOPSIS | Kim Junkyu lives a life of luxury, being a famous model with millions of fans, but maybe that is only the side the screens show…

WARNINGS | Small hints of murder, strong(ish) mafia themes, Junkyu is a little bit of a brat, manipulation topics, swear words, overall it's kinda wholesome.

NETWORK(S) | @starlit-network @k-library @blossomnet

A/N | HI! This fic is mainly in Junkyu's point of view because I wanted to try a new format of writing, overall, I hope you enjoy reading and I am very sorry and not uploading ;)... I've been a little inactive lately, but I'm going to try to comeback. Yes, I will be continuing my series (atz yh) but keep in mind that I only posted the first chapter to see how it went, not to continue it for the moment, so yes I'll continue writing it and will post the remaining chapters when they're ready :)!

“If you expect that raise, then you best bring me the best information you can find,” he demanded.

Junkyu sighed, placing his hands behind his back as a form of respect.

“I'm already one of the biggest celebrities in Seoul; I'm sure however much money it'll be I wouldn't need it.…” he muttered, watching his boss turn around as he lowered himself.

Sometimes he couldn't hold back his form of speech.

“It'll be lots of money, so I recommend reconsidering those words.” He scolded, figuring Junkyu wouldn't pay much more of his attention as he simply nodded and made his way back towards the door, bowing on his way out.

He exited through the back, entering the vehicle through the Limo’s door as his bodyguard drove away.

Though he was still processing his bosses words, he couldn't help but recall them so vividly every time they recurred in his mind.

The more he thought the more he noticed that everything he did for the organization was practically useless, but what more could he expect from being a member of a mafia.

He'd done countless of unexplainable things, but it was all for a good cause, and that was something others couldn't understand.

Maybe if he had just quit the moment he began his career as a model, it would all be normal. But then again, maybe it was simply the fear of stalkers finding out that secret that had been long buried, exposing him to the public for millions of people to misunderstand; or possibly it was the thought of them blackmailing him with it.

He preferred not to think about it.

The car’s door opened as he was greeted by screaming crowds and millions of paparazzis speaking over each other and invading personal space as they pushed their mics up to his face.

Politely, he declined the interview attempts and chuckled while making his way inside the modeling agency.

“Look who's here.” A female voice teased from ahead as he waved goodbye to the fans positioned outside.

He smirked in a teasing manner, deciding to add more fuel to the fire by approaching her with that same mocking demeanor.

“I wasn't expecting to see you here my lady.” He finally spoke, beginning to walk in the direction of his stylists room.

“There was a change of plans.” She shrugged.

He nodded in understanding; a sense of satisfaction washing over him as she wasn't known for frequent schedules. Encountering her brought him some sense of genuine joy.

“L/n Y/n!” A voice echoed from the distance causing her to glance back towards the source of her name. There stood her manager, a considerable distance away with a puzzled expression.

Finally, he began walking up to her, politely greeting the familiar face which had been all over recent magazines and TV commercials.

“What are you doing? Your turn is coming up." he asked, prompting her to nod in acknowledgment as she looked back at her friend.

“I need to head out, my shoot is up soon.” She chuckled, and he nodded, observing her walk away peacefully with her manager into her stylists room.

He turned around, not needing to turn his head to become aware of the coming presence.

“Junkyu.” A voice lingered in the air. Junkyu turned his head and there stood the person he had mostly anticipated.

Park Jihoon, a model from a big agency with a huge fanbase. Not only that but he also seemed to release banger music.

Jihoon also happened to be one of the main sources to the mafia's disposal. There was nothing he wasn't good at.

“Did they give you your next investigation to carry out?” He questioned, a look of prolepsis crossing his eyes as the words exited his mouth, almost as if he knew what was coming.

“L/n Y/n is a girl who keeps many dark secrets, one being her history with her parents. I need you to collect as much as you can about her and her family history due to this being a case of importance.”

“L/n Y/n and her family history.” He muttered to which Jihoon sighed.

“I asked them to give it to someone else, guess they never listened to me.” He chuckled awkwardly, causing Junkyu to glance back at him in confusion.

“Pardon me?” He asked.

Jihoon looked back, thinking for a moment until he glanced around, making direct eye contact with a security camera as he watched it shut off.

“They mentioned they'd give you her case, but I urged them not to as she's someone you're close with. I guess that's what they're looking for however.”

They walked into the stadium, forgetting about their shoots and simply deciding to just watch the other models and their shoots.

Watanabe Haruto was up: someone Junkyu always admired for his insane visuals and incredible acting abilities. He'd been trying different poses over a white background wall. Many other famous models and celebrities sat around them as they watched their colleagues in awe.

Jihoon and Junkyu picked their own table, a safe distance away from any other guest.

“It's alright, afterall, I'm sure she'll be relieved once her family’s out of the picture.” He sighed, looking up at an already shut off camera.

He looked back at the famous young star, smiling as his expressions changed depending on the mood his supervisors were aiming for.

You were up next, and he was left impatiently waiting for your familiar face to come up, smirking the moment it finally did.

“Seeing her here is only making things easier for me in a matter of fact.”

***

‘L/n Y/n is dating Kim Junkyu?’

‘Are L/n Y/n and Kim Junkyu a couple?’

‘Alleged leaked photos caught L/n Y/n and Kim Junkyu kissing.’

It was all over social media and he knew it. It was also likely the cause for why he was called up to his bosses office so suddenly one morning.

After multiple deep breaths, he finally opened the door to see his boss holding multiple files worth of informational papers, slamming them flat onto his arms the moment he approached his desk.

“What the hell are you thinking Kim Junkyu!?” He scolded.

Junkyu rolled his eyes very lightly, looking back at his boss with eyes of acknowledgement.

“I can't control what fans think-”

“But you can control what you do!” He once again yelled, making Junkyu flinch ever so slightly. He knew he was right.

Multiple moments of silence passed with no one saying a word.

“Alright. I'll shut down the rumors later today. We have another shooting event in the evening, where I believe L/n will be attending.”

His boss stared in intimidation, ultimately nodding to his apology and accepting it, shooing him away shortly after.

Junkyu didn't have an exact plan on how to do so, but he knew that it was all simply a lie. The main regulation of this organization was the strictly prohibited lovers rule.

But he was their most crucial piece.

And you, were his lady ever darling.

“Junkyu!” You called from afar, once more approaching him as he stared at you, smiling while doing so.

“I'm glad you made it.” He teased as you shook your head in playful annoyance, rolling your eyes in the process.

“I don't miss every event.” You defended, making him nod.

“I'm aware, my lady.”

You didn't realize when he dragged you into that secluded room, gripping your arms with an undeniable strength as he pinned you up against the wall.

Staring in utter confusion, you watched him move closer to you, constantly bringing your faces closer and closer together.

He smirked seeing your flustered expression.

“What do you say we put an end to these rumors my lady?” He asked.

You gulped, face burning as your cheeks turned a light red color.

“I.. I agree, it'll get in the way of our careers.” You assured, attempting to get out of the entire situation.

“Then shall we do so? What do you say we put an end to them by making them a reality?”

[zvaigzdelasas]

[RFA is US State Media]

China’s economy improved in the first two months of the year buoyed by a 7% rise in industrial output despite the ongoing decline in the beleaguered real estate industry, a major economic driver.

The two-month increase in industrial output from enterprises above designated size was also a 0.2 percentage point increase from December, according to data from the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) on Monday.

A 5% jump in retail sales – a gauge of consumption – also boosted growth in the world’s second-largest economy[...]

[The] numbers surpassed market expectations, according to a Reuters poll of economists, which forecast a 5% increase.[...]

The state’s investment push would also have boosted overall growth. Fixed asset investments, including those in infrastructure projects, expanded 4.2% to 5.08 trillion yuan (US$706 billion) in January and February from the year-earlier period. Investments in real estate continued to be a drag as, minus property investments, the increase was 8.9%.

On the other hand, investments in property slid 9%, underlined by a 20.5% drop in the amount of newly built floor area compared with the first two months of 2023. In tandem, sales of new homes plunged 29.3% to 1.05 trillion yuan ($145.9 billion).

Still, Liu conceded that the worst is over.

She said industries and companies continue to suffer operational pressure due to rising costs and insufficient orders.

But she was quick to add that a “new leap forward” to modernize the industrial system and accelerate the development across sectors like electric vehicles, hydrogen power, new materials, life sciences and commercial spaceflight would revive growth.

It is also part of the domestic consumption drive under Chinese President Xi Jinping’s latest mantra to unleash “new productive forces,” [...]

To support the domestic demand policy, Beijing will issue 1 trillion yuan of special long-term bonds this year, and more in the next few years.

Externally, China continues to face a complex and difficult global trade environment, even though exports edged up 10.3% in the first two months of this year, compared with the previous year.

Seething lol (18 Mar 24)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Zipper at Vox:

Despite a recent slowdown in US sales, global forecasts for electric vehicles remain bullish. Countries across North America, Europe, and Asia are expanding charger networks and offering EV subsidies; global EV sales are projected to nearly triple by 2030, reaching 40 million vehicles annually. The incipient wave of EV purchases raises a question: What will happen to the millions of gas-powered cars whose owners no longer want them? The likely answer: Rather than scrapping used gas vehicles or selling them domestically, rich nations will dispatch them to developing countries where limited incomes and low levels of car ownership have created eager buyers for even older, substandard models.

An influx of used gas cars would be a welcome development for those in the Global South who aspire to automobile ownership, a luxury that many in affluent countries take for granted. But it would undermine efforts to mitigate climate change, since shifting gas guzzlers from one country to another doesn’t lower global emissions. For developing countries themselves, a sharp increase in car ownership could amplify calls to build auto-reliant infrastructure, making it harder to construct the dense neighborhoods and transit networks that can foster more sustainable growth. And since these imported used cars would be fueled by gasoline, air quality would further decline in cities that are already choked with smog. The world is in an era of polycrisis, facing concurrent challenges including climate change, toxic air, and extreme inequality. Difficult trade-offs are often inevitable. Such is the case with the thorny issue of what to do with the millions of gas cars that the rich world will discard as its fleets are electrified. Electrification is a necessary goal. And it’s natural for people in the developing world to desire the same luxuries that characterize middle-class comfort in wealthier countries. The question is how to manage a transition with enormous stakes that has largely been ignored. The experts who do pay attention are growing alarmed.

[...]

How used cars move from rich nations to poor ones

Although it generates few headlines, a massive industry transports used cars across borders every day, with exporters collecting lower-quality models from dealers and wholesale auctions. Ayetor noted that colonial legacies are reflected in the trade flows: the UK, with its car cabins designed for drivers who keep to the left, tends to ship to former colonies like Kenya and Tanzania that still follow the same rules.

According to a report issued in June by the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), some 3.1 million used cars were exported in 2022, up from 2.4 million in 2015. Most come from Japan, Europe, and the United States. (In the US, around 7 percent of all cars no longer in use are sent abroad. The rest end up in junkyards where their parts and materiel are sold off.) About one in three exported used vehicles is destined for Africa, followed by Eastern Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and Latin America. Imported models often dominate local auto sales, since international carmakers send few new vehicles to the Global South and rarely establish production facilities there. (In sub-Saharan Africa, only South Africa has local factories.) The developing world’s demand for cars is robust, in large part because comparatively few people own one. According to one 2020 estimate, the US had 860 cars for every 1,000 residents, while South Africa had 176, Morocco 112, and Nigeria just 56. Meanwhile, growing populations provide a steady supply of new potential customers. Africa is home to all of the world’s 20 fastest-growing countries, with Angola, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Niger, and Uganda expanding their populations by at least 3 percent per year. (For comparison, the US population is growing at a 0.67 percent rate).

[...]

The world needs a plan to adapt

The risks of aged, polluting cars sent abroad will not be borne by the Global South alone. Climate change is a planetary phenomenon; driving a gas guzzler produces the same amount of emissions in Lusaka as it would in London or Los Angeles. Reducing greenhouse gasses requires reducing total vehicle emissions, not just shifting their location. In an ideal world, electrification would enable the rich world to scrap its most decrepit gas cars. Instead, wealthy nations are likely to ship them to poorer countries, which will be left to figure out what to do when even the most MacGyver-like mechanics cannot keep them running. “All of your worst vehicles end up here,” Ayetor said. “When we want to get rid of the vehicle, what do we do?” No wealthy nations currently screen exported vehicles to weed out those that flunk basic quality tests, Kopf said. But that may soon change. The European Union is now considering new regulations that would prohibit exporting “end of life” vehicles, requiring that cars shipped abroad obtain a certificate confirming their roadworthiness. Its adoption would be a “game-changer,” according to UNEP’s Akumu. (She and Kopf said they know of no comparable proposals under consideration in North America.)

With the increase of electric vehicles in the developed countries, used gas-fueled cars are headed to a developing country (aka the Global South) at increasing rates.

[lovetgr76]

Catherine & Jackson

S1e6 Follies

S1e6 Follies

Standish, Ho, Guy, and Harper are still at the Smithfield café.  They call in information about the kidnappers vehicle, but realize they’re not able to do much more from there.  Harper and Guy take off in the direction the kidnappers vehicle, while Ho and Standish set off to find Lamb, using Ho’s tracker. 

Roddy and Catherine are seen approaching Lamb’s vehicle with Lamb and Cartwright inside. Ho knocks on the glass directly in front of Lamb’s face.

How the fuck did you find us? – Lamb

Roddy grabs the tracker from Lamb’s tire well to show him.

Well, put it back.  It’ll come in handy if it gets nicked. - Lamb

They haven’t cuffed us.  You must have the photographs. – Standish

Yeah. We checkmated Taverner. – Cartwright

Were you planning on telling us? – Ho

No, I was enjoying not seeing you. – Lamb

Where are Min and Louisa? – Cartwright

Well, Ho tracked out a way to track the kidnappers.  Min and Louisa are chasing after them. – Standish

My orders were pretty clear. Do fuck all! You’ve let two Slow Horses tear off in a doomed attempt to try and not make things worse. – Lamb

*you’ve LET two Slow Horses… as if she was left “in charge” of the Slow Horses in his absence.  Or that the others would immediately obey her requests/demands on his behalf!*

I didn’t let them.  Jackson, they’re autonomous beings. – Standish

I just hope they only get themselves killed and don’t set an orphanage on fire.  Keep tracking that van.  Let me know if it so much as changes lane. – Lamb

Think they’re headed here – Taverner  is speaking to a “dog”… while walking outside where Lamb’s parked.  Lamb sees her and drives up to her and Duffy… Taverner is looking at Standish and Ho left standing in the street.

They’re headed to Harwich. – Lamb

How did you know? – Taverner

Black used an old legend to hire a van.  Ho accessed the van’s theft locator. They’re on the A12.  Nearest port is Harwich. Standish and Ho will give you all the various.  I’m off for a kip. – Lamb

Lamb drives off while glancing into his rear view mirror while River asks if he’s not really going to go to bed; Taverner is seen marching straight over to Standish and Ho, who are standing in the middle of the street, followed by two of the dogs.

*My observation here is that Lamb keeps glancing at the mirror where Standish is approaching Taverner.  I believe this is because he is concerned that Taverner, as mentioned last episode, will use his secret(s) about Partner as leverage with Standish, and get her to turn.  Now, we know that Standish will ask, be denied, and then make her dramatic exit – but again… this is my personal headcanon as to why he’s shown looking at them in this scene.*

You have something for us? – Taverner

That’s the van’s plate number and the ID for the theft locator – Ho, as seen handing papers to Taverner, who is making her way next to Standish.

They’re going after the kidnappers, aren’t they? God, men are such boys.  – Taverner

Ma’am, while I appreciate you offering to include me in your circle of sisterhood, I’ll have to decline. Unless you want to fulfill the promise you made and tell me what you know about Parner’s death? – Standish

That ship sailed, Standish, when you pulled a gun on one of my Dogs. Just think, if you’d returned my call, you’d be back at the Park tomorrow. - Taverner

And why on earth would I want that? – Standish

Taverner walks back to her vehicle.

Standish pulls Ho around and walks away… in need of her dramatic exit.

Roddy. – Standish

What? – Ho

Shut up and keep walking. – Standish

Where? – Ho

Slough House. – Standish

No, but that’s – Ho

I know it’s the other way, Roddy, but I was in dire need of a dramatic exit. – Standish

Ho looks back to see if Taverner is watching.

Do Not Look Back!  That’s just what she wants. – Standish

Taverner is shown watching them walking away, as Standish planned.

Jackson and Cartwright are seen driving down the road while on the phone with Roddy who informs them that the Van is 20 miles ahead of them, Min and Louisa 10 miles ahead of them.  Standish is seen standing behind Ho as he explains he was nearly able to hack into the Park’s feed.  Jackson tells him to stop talking, but Cartwright asks about Sid.  Lamb grabs the phone out of Cartwright’s hand and throws it in to the backseat.

What the fuck? – Cartwright

Standish is seen picking up the phone in surprise to the call disconnecting like that.

Lamb attempts to be sensitive and explains that Sid is gone. Cartwright is visibly upset.  Lamb tells him to count himself lucky, explains that he’d lost a baker’s dozen by Cartwright’s age.  How it was after the wall came down.  How he hasn’t forgotten any of them, and he wouldn’t forget Sid.

Besides, she was the only one of you - - Lamb

Who wasn’t complete shit. Yeah, Yeah. You - you’ve said that. – Cartwright

Lamb is seen smirking to himself a bit here.

Any rate – moral of the story is, get used to death.  Cause you’re gonna see a lot more of it.  And if that scares you, then open the door and roll out now.  – Lamb

Slow Horses save the day… and are seen returning to Slough House.  Jackson enters first to find Standish and Ho watching the news about how the kidnapped boy was saved by an MI5 operation.  Lamb lights a cigarette.

Well, I suppose well done, us. – Standish, said while looking quite proud of the team. Jackson is seen heading out of the room.

I’ve got a bottle of wine in the desk if anyone wants to celebrate. – Harper.  Jackson turns around at this…

Celebrate? What? – Lamb

Well, we saved him. – Harper

How? You - - You were useless – Lamb

I tracked the van. – Ho

Yeah, to Harwich, where the Dogs were waiting for him.  Thanks to me squeezing Lady Di. – Lamb

Yeah, well, I actually did save him. Whilst he was being shot at and threatened with an axe.  – Cartwright

The kid saved himself, with a rock. – Lamb

I just love these team talks, I really do. – Cartwright

Lamb fights off a smile before declaring Come on, everyone. Back to Work!

It’s Saturday. – Standish

Then everyone piss off! – Lamb

Harper and Guy consider a drink but decide to postpone and meet later for a date.  Roddy and River discuss Sid and the fact that there is and never was a Sid Baker in Mi5, so that lil mystery is left hanging.  Jackson is seen reviewing the photos of Taverner and Black at his desk.  He says “All right.” Into the telephone, and puts the folder in a plastic bag.  River is feeling feelings in his office when Lamb is seen leaving the office, and going down the stairs.  Duffy pushes Reporter guy in front of a bus.  Jackson Lamb is seen leaning against a stone structure, when Taverner walks up from around the corner.

Diana – Lamb

Jackson – Taverner

Well done. Managed to keep the name Alan Black out of the headlines.

The exchange is made – Taverner gives Jackson a file and takes a file at the same time.

Never existed. You mean Dermot Radcliffe, Son of Albion. – Taverner

Hassan didn’t overhear anything that might poke holes in that? – Lamb

Possibly. But his student debt’s been cleared, and his comedy club is about to receive a large anonymous donation. – Taverner

Do you know what boils my piss? – Lamb

Taverner makes a face but doesn’t speak.

Is that you won.  Boy saved, you get to look like a hero.  Made your boss look like even more of a hero. – Lamb

What are you gonna tell Standish about what’s in that file? – Taverner

*just to note* this is intentional… he got his secret file, Taverner got hers, but still she asks him “what are you gonna tell Standish about what’s in that file?”  to me this indicates that this file is not just the exchange of information, but at the center of his relationship with Standish.  This is woven throughout the books/series – and part of what makes their relationship so interesting to me.  Little by little we learn about his and her versions of who and/or what Charles Partner… really was.  And I think it’s spoken out loud here because it IS the only weakness we are privy to in regards to Lamb, and Taverner knows it.*

Lamb shrugs.

And the photos on Cartwright’s phone? – Taverner

Deleted – Lamb

Can I trust you on that? – Taverner

Can I trust you didn’t make a copy of this? – Lamb, said as he begins to walk away

I’m assuming you don’t want Struan Loy back. – Taverner, who remained standing where she was.

Well, you put him in a very difficult position, Diana. Betray me, get back to the Park.  Or don’t and be cast into the wilderness. – Lamb

He betrayed you, so wilderness. – Taverner

Fuck Yeah! – Lamb

And River Cartwright? – Taverner

Lamb is seen listening but does not respond and walks away.

Lamb is seen coming up the stairs with the file in his arm.  He gets to his floor and sees that Standish is still in her office, light is on, movement is seen behind the frosted glass.  Lamb goes into his office, pulls out the file “EYES ONLY” sticker on top. Opens it to review the internal report on Charles Partner’s death, the pictures of Charles Partner, Catherine Standish, and Jackson Lamb are seen before he buries it in his desk drawer behind other files and a bottle of whiskey.

Now Jackson has his jacket off, is seen in his shirt, about to put a cigarette on his mouth, sitting on his sofa, in his office. He lights the cigarette and sits back placing his feet upon the table in front of his sofa, arms out, head back. (the sound of opera music as found blasting in Charles’s Partner’s house is heard slightly increasing in volume)

Standish is seen in her office, pacing, we see her memory of walking into Partner’s home, bringing him his suit, we hear the voice of Diana Taverner telling her that there are things Lamb hasn’t told you.  She remembers finding the body and the sensation of wanting to run away.  She finds herself running out of her office and into Lamb’s office.

Lamb is seen with his arms out and head back, slowly lifting it as Standish walks into his office purposefully.

Standish is fiddling with her belt and keeping her head down trying to make it clear that she wants answers.

What was Taverner going to tell me? – Standish

For fuck’s sake. It’s – It’s Saturday. Haven’t you got other people’s cats to steal? – Lamb

What aren’t you telling me about Charles’s death? – Standish

Nothing – Lamb, he tried…

I don’t believe you.  I should have read the signs.  Should I? – Standish

Lamb says nothing, just looks at her… with pity?! / concern…

Standish is seen suffering with her memories.

Tell me.  What don’t I – Standish

I gave him the gun. – Lamb, … looks uncomfortable, but tries to maintain his composure

Why? – Standish

Lamb is shaking his head

Because he asked for one – Lamb

Lamb looks away

And he was my friend. (Standish is seen listening, as Lamb continues) This was after the Wall came down. Cold War scores were being settled.  And he told me he’d seen some old unfriendly faces. I thought he was being paranoid, but … you know, what if I was wrong, and he ended - - Lamb.

Lamb is seated and looks up to Standish’s face, as if to check if she’s buying this.

Standish is listening, looks into Lamb’s eyes maybe… but says nothing.

Well, it threw my mojo off.  Put a dent in my armor. I – I didn’t want to be in the field.  I wanted to be a civilian even less.  – Lamb, again he looks up at her before continuing his story and looking visible uncomfortable discussing these particular memories.

So… this is why I asked for this place. – Lamb, shrugs and leans back, arms over the back of the sofa.

Somewhere where I could run out the clock. Nothing matters and no one gets hurt. – Lamb, who is looking up at Standish’s face.

Standish says nothing but appears to be grateful for Lamb opening up about Partner and what … happened… at least according to Lamb… at this time.

Lamb looks uneasy under her observation and starts to bite at the inside of his cheek.

Oh, come on.  One of us has to leave the room now. – Lamb, looking up at Standish.

And I’m just too fucking tired. -  Lamb

Standish finally walks to the door, but pauses before leaving his office.  Lamb is seen looking at her as he hears the door open.  She says nothing, just looks at him for another second, before turning to leave, closing the door behind her.

With Standish gone, Lamb lays down on the couch while smoking a cigarette. The sound of water rushing is heard and we see Partner’s bathtub filling.  Partner turns on his opera music and makes his way to the bath.  Partner slides into the bath and has his eyes closed when we an arm in a black suit, with black gloves on push Partner down into the water.  Partner is surprised and flailing in the water, comes up and instinctively gasps for air, mouth open wide so that the gun can be fired into it.  Jackson is seen grimacing next to the tub, trembling and visibly shook as he places the gun in Partner’s hand, backing away slowly. Jackson is seen exiting the building, removing his gloves and sits into a parked car where David Cartwright was waiting for him.

Is it done? – the OB

Yeah.  And so am i. – Lamb

If they find out… - the OB

Lamb looks at the OB in utter disbelief!!

How would they find out David?  It’s just you and me in this car? – Lamb

They are rather good at their job. – the OB

Well I hope for your sake, they don’t – Lamb

The OB is seen driving off while Lamb heads off on foot. Jackson is seen with eye closed… they open and the weight of what he’s done seems to weigh on him.  He takes a drag off his cigarette and shakes some ash off onto the floor… Theme music starts… S1 is over!!!

*just wanted to wrap up S1 since I started it lol - I will go ahead and work ahead and after S4 wraps up will continue with S2-S4! As always, your thoughts, comments, feelings and ideas are so very much appreciated! ♥

[darkmaga-returns]

Germany's ongoing deindustrialisation is no accident; key Green intellectuals have demanded precisely this for decades, and now the Greens are in government and they are getting what they want.

eugyppius

Oct 30, 2024

Volkswagen is mired in deep crisis. This flagship of the German automobile industry and symbol of our postwar economic miracle is awash in debt, battered by unrelentingly high labour and energy prices. The metalworkers’ union IG Metall have driven wages at Volkswagen to imprudent extremes, and the company has poured mountains of good money after bad in its grasping effort to develop serviceable and marketable electric vehicles.

VW have no choice if they are to survive our looming and entirely self-imposed ban on internal combustion engines. Alas, VW’s battery-powered cars compete poorly with foreign models from companies like Tesla and BYD, because electric vehicles are entirely different products that employ entirely different technologies, and there’s no reason that a leading producer of petrol-powered cars should also happen to be a leading producer of electric cars. Demanding, via political fiat, that your automobile industry begin producing a totally different product in the course of the next decade, is not all that different from abolishing your automobile industry.

This week, VW announced plans to cut tens of thousands of jobs and to close three factories. That is a very big deal, because they have never closed a single German factory before. I try to avoid economic topics, but this story is so much bigger than economics. As Daniel Gräber wrote in Cicero last month, “the VW crisis has become a symbol for the decline of our entire country.”