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#and no unless work demands it I don’t put back my info
xgummibearx · 1 year
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Officer Toyomitsu x Reader
(I learned that in vigilantes All Might inspired Taishiro to become a full fledged hero and he was basically the in hero working at the police station before opening the Fat office so I was mistaken in some of my info but...I really like the idea of him having started out as just an officer before becoming a hero so I'm gonna combine the vigilante canon with my own headcanons for this!)
You as the reader are in a hostage situation, and Taishiro knows that he can step in and end this but he is told to stand down. Can he save you at the last possible minute?
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There were spilled coffees and discarded snacks all over the floor. She kept her gaze lowered, knees gripped tight against her chest. The convenience store was dead, quiet except for the quietest whimpers and shudders of those around them. There was a group, all sitting together behind the shop counter. A hand slammed on the counter, a masked figure growling under his breath. "Silence!" He demanded, the phone was starting to ring. "Hello?" His voice was so calm, it made her blood run cold. "Oh, have you met my demands yet?" He hissed. She could just barely make out the voice on the other line.
"You are surrounded, we advise that you stand down now...those people are not your enemy, let them go and come quietly." The voice was insistent. "We can help you, we will protect you from the media, just please let them go!" The villain laughed, cursing under his breath. He sounded impressed.
"You've got guts I'll give you that." He was chuckling. "But, let the media see! What? You don't want them seeing the cowards that are protecting the world? YOU KNOW MY TERMS!" He roared, "I want ten thousand dollars cash and a truck, no police escort necessary of course." He added, sounding like he was proposing a casual business deal. "and I know where you guys put those tracking things so don't try anything funny." He added. "If I don't see that truck parked outside by nightfall I'll start painting the windows of this place red...one, by, one..." He hissed, hanging up.
Officer Toyomitsu cursed as the phone slammed in his ear. "Sir! He's really serious about this, how should we move forward?" His boss Officer Gi Masayoshi removed his hat. Running his hands along his balding head.
"I'm thinking...we may not have any other option but to meet his demands, I'm sure we can still try to bug the truck and we'll have officers stationed at every city exit!..." He looked at the disapproving stare at Taishiro's face. "Tai, you know there's no other choice! We can't risk sending in troops, he's a maniac! If we do this we can at least get the hostages home to their families!" Taishiro stood, Gi was already knowing what he was going to say.
"Sir, I've been training for this! I know that there's a back entrance that would allow for easy access, it would be an easy take down!" He insisted, a fire in his eyes. Gi shook his head.
"Taishiro, you aren't licensed for hero work..” He sighed, approaching him with a gentle hand. “Legally...you cannot use your quirk unless shots are fired or worse, and I don’t want it to come to that.” He looked furious. “Stupid policies...” He muttered. 
"Yes sir..." Tai sat down with a furrowed brow. He hated this, this was the very reason he had joined the police force. "My quirk is too weak to be a real hero.." He thought, looking towards the store with worry. He couldn’t believe they were conceding to the terms of a monster like that. 
The hours passed and they did as requested. The hardest part was the tracker. They had to overlook all the places they were trained to hide it, and instead sewed it inside the seat and sealed it away so perfectly no one would ever know. At least they hoped. Taishiro watched from behind the police barricades, orange lights illuminating the parking lot as the officers drove the large black truck in front of the store before quickly moving back to the police lines. “Where are you...” Taishiro muttered, his eyes fixed on the storefront. The windows were covered by store shelves and newspapers, he couldn’t see anything going on inside.  Tensions were high, the hostages hardly dared to breathe as the man hung up the phone and then walked up and down the line of victims, who quickly lowered their gaze. Their eyes were all transfixed on the gun that rested lazily on his hip, the barrel glinting in the light outside. (x) looked up slowly, realizing that she was  staring at his boots. As soon as their eyes met a hand gripped her hoodie. “You’ll do.” He had a tight grip on (x)’s arm as she was dragged along with him outside. The cool night air hit their faces as she looked around wildly, screaming as a gun was suddenly pressed to the side of her head. “NO ONE MOVE!”  Taishiro grit his teeth, his eyes fixed on the masked figure then moved to the terrified woman. He looked towards Gi desperately, his hands twitching as Gi shook his head with a warning glance. Tai growled a little under his breath in annoyance, staring down the man as he slowly made his way around to get to the driver’s side. He was smiling as he opened the door slowly, “thank you all so much for your cooperation.” He suddenly tightened his grip, making her cry out. “I still don’t want you getting any ideas of following me...so why don’t little missy here and I go for a spin?” He sharply turned around, tossing the young woman into the truck and hopping in as he slammed the door shut. It only took seconds for him to start speeding away. 
“CHIEF!!” Taishiro roared, his eyes pleading. Gi looked at Tai for a moment then roared to the rest of his men as paramedic filed into the convenience store. 
“All units after that vehicle! I want an APB on a black ram pickup truck, and?” He turned to look at Toyomitsu with a firm nod. “All officers with legally registered quirks entered in our system do have permission to use them if necessary.” Taishiro nodded then took off at a run after the vehicle. His at would give him the stamina he needed. This was after all, the only thing his fat was good for right? Just to be burned off over and over, what use did it have? He could already see the truck in his sights, as he dashed between vehicles that he towered over easily. The Taxi, that was nickname in the precinct. He could chase down just about anyone without tiring out, and would bring them back sticking out of him like a Katamari Damacy. Taishiro leaped onto the back of the pickup truck, his eyes burning. 
(X) was shaking still staring down the barrel of the gun as her captor drove with one hand. “Don’t worry doll...” He turned his face for a second, a grin that could only have been the devil himself. “They’ll find your corpse for mom and dad on the edge of town...” Tears rolled down her face when something heavy suddenly made the back of the truck dip a little. They both jolted, (x) pressed her back to the door shaking under tha angry gaze of the brute behind the wheel as he cursed under his breath. As if this were somehow her fault. “Maybe I shouldn’t of taken the broad...” He grumbled, freezing as a pair of yellow eyes met his in the rearview mirror. Taishiro with one single punch smashed the back window as he shouted at the man behind the wheel. 
“POLICE! PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY!” He ordered, glaring at him with the force of a thousand suns. They could hear more police sirens in the distance, how were they on to him? The truck was bugged, it had to be. Taishiro roared once more into the vehicle, his anger even making (x) shiver. “Would you rather contend with me, or the pro heroes waiting for you at every exit of this city!?” The gun fell from the crook’s hand as he sat trembling. The truck was starting to slow down. “If you’re scared of me, imagine how much worse it will be if you keep this up!” He hissed, “You know you’re in luck! I know for a fact that All Might is on call today.”Taishiro added, reaching in carefully as he slowly pulled. 
“SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH FATSO!” He roared, grabbing for the gun but Taishiro had guessed his thinking.The guy was panicked, quickly removing his seatbelt and trying to make a break for it. Taishiro grit his teeth and launched himself from the truck, immediately in pursuit. Taishiro froze as the gun was fired but to his amazement, he hardly even felt a push in the force from the bullets. Rather, the force seemed to sink into him, right into his body fat. Taishiro sprang up, surrounded by golden light as he leaped towards him and punched him in the gut. He was immediately out of commission and his squadron had just pulled over. He could hear Gi’s voice as he watched the crook get cuffed, as he looked up towards the car he could see (x) wrapped in a blanket, being lead towards a police car for evaluation. 
It felt like hours, answering the same questions over and over as paramedics as well as his fellow officers looked at him with confusion. He looked down at himself with embarassment. All his fat had burned off, leaving him looking like a deflated balloon. His smooth soft belly and smaller build was awkward, hardly legend. He had graduated from Shiketsu, but had chosen to go for a policework intership. Many of his teacher evaluations after having failed the hero license test in his first year, had stated he didn’t have the “build” for a hero. He lowered his head with a sigh. It was true, one punch and he was just a useless pic of flab. He could hear the door open but he didn’t bother looking up. He could tell someone was speaking but couldn’t make out the words until he felt a sharp slap on his back. 
“Excellent work young man!” Taishiro snapped back into reality, and his eyes widened.
 “A-All Might?” He stammered. There he was, standing right in front of him. All Might laughed loudly, patting his shoulder again. 
“Yes, I am here! It’s a good thing you were as well, amazing work! According to witness statements you handled this case with a level of effectiveness and professionalism that even most of us pros fail to accomplish!” He grinned. “Minimal damage, followed every officer quirk use protocol, and acted only in self defense while prioritizing the safety of the hostage. You relied on words, not force.” Taishiro lowered his face. 
“Thank you but really I was only doing as told, I am sure any other officer would have done the same.” All might leaned against the wall. 
“Not every officer or pro hero for that matter can take an entire magazine of bullets and still stand.” He gave Taishirio a wink. “You know, there are public hero license examinations test coming up, and you do qualify for it with your schooling.” He slid a clipboard with a form on it towards him. “This world needs heroes like you Taishiro...it’s heroes with humility, and passion for justice that truly make a difference.” He gave Taishiro a salute then made his way towards the door. “Thank about it...” With that he was gone. 
A few weeks later Taishiro slowly walked towards the desk, his paper work was all filled out, and he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He suddenly froze, as he went to give his form to the woman behind the desk. She looked familiar, and his eyes flashed back to that day. (x) was right there, behind the desk, taking the applications. He cleared his throat, handing the form. (x) didn’t seem to recognize him, she looked up with a warm smile, looking over the form then handing him a large sticker with his examination number and blank space. He was staring at her, confused as she looked over the paper. “You didn’t write a hero name?” She asked looking up. His heart was pounding, staring into her eyes. 
“N-no...no was I supposed to?” He asked. She shrugged, with a gentle smile. 
“It is recommended, this could be your debut.” She added. “You gotta make a good impression.” He nodded slowly, tapping his fingers together. “What’s your quirk?” She asked. “Maybe that will give you an idea.” He sighed, chuckling a little. 
“Well...I mean, I’m fat and...stuff kinda sticks to me?” He pulled some lint off his tanktop. “I...can absorb energy and people?” She laughed softly. Making him feel even stupider by the minute. 
“That sounds really cool.” He looked up, surprised. She waved her hands. “I’m serious! Look...I work with agencies, assigning work to heroes based on quirk types and...I think yours sounds really unique.” He stared for a moment, his face going a little pink as she looked at her notepad. “So...your power is based on your Body mass...but BMI would be very insensitive and not to mention take away from everything else you can do...” She thought out loud. “I’ve got it!” 9X) grinned, turning around. “Fat-Gum!” She exclaimed, then turned immediately red. “no...no that sounds dumb doesn’t it?” He laughed, grinning ear to ear. 
“No...I like it.” He took up the form, and wrote “The BMI hero, Fatgum.” On the top then proceeded to write it on his welcome sticker as well. “Mind helping me get this on my back?” He asked. (X) Nodded, placing it on his back before giving him a thumbs up. 
“You’ve got this!” He nodded, smiling softly. 
“Thank you...you know, maybe if well...things go well, I’ll see you around.” She laughed, her eyes sparkling. 
“A sweetheart like you? They’ll love you Fatgum.” 
105 notes · View notes
purplehanfu · 2 years
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KinnPorsche: Episode 13
notes: Spoilers! content warning: mentions of suicide Ep 12 /// TOC /// Ep 14 Part I
In this episode: Hot tub sex, international bank fraud, crashing your own funeral, introducing your boyfriend to your dead parents and putting all your plot twists in the last 5 minutes.
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We finally get “that scene” from the trailer. You know the one I mean.
Timecoded Review
1:52 These two.
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dude you abducted someone and tortured them- you kind of are a freak
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unless you're a kidnapping torturer, in which case maybe don't be true to yourself
2:57 Kinn and Porsche move back to bodyguard HQ. They have soup w/dad, but Porsche can't stop thinking about the picture from the end of the last episode- what's Dad's connection to his family? Is it the fish maw soup?
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5:54 Vegas makes lunch and his dad comes in to ruin it
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14:30 Tankhun, I love you. Tankhun is apparently clairvoyant as well as being a fashion icon. He senses something is amiss with Pete.
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17:00 Pete's had enough of the hostage lifestyle. He gets a knife away from Vegas and threatens to kill himself. This relationship makes absolutely no sense to me.
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20:00 Finally, Pete escapes!
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21:15 Tankhun has roped the bodyguards into holding a memorial service on the lawn of the compound. He's worried Pete's soul won't be able to find his way back. 
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Tankhun is a very conscientious friend making sure Pete has friends to accompany him as well as an eternally full ATM. 
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Pete interrupts his own funeral.
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But Tankhun doesn’t care if Pete is an undead revenant or not; he’s just glad to have him back.
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27:23 Kim tries to call Chay, Chay won't answer. Kim looks through old photos of Chay and realizes he is catching feelings.
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31:00 Vegas sits sad and alone in his dungeon. Let's see if I can conjure up any sympathy for him. Yeah... no.
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34:38 Worst idea ever- Tankhun taking Pete out to Yok's
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36:00 Porsche has turned to Vegas for help with the photo- but first he gives him a couple punches for Pete.
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This partnership will end well, I know it.
39:50 Pete and Vegas have a reunion that's pretty much what I expect from them.
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43:30 Kinn takes Porsche to his parents' graves, and they have a very sweet scene with Porsche introducing Kinn to his parents.
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47:26 ITS THE SCENE FROM THE TRAILER Y'ALL! They bang it endlessly in the pool, while the Deutsche Bank sign (and probably all the neighbors) bear silent witness. These actors have really earned their pay because we've seen pretty much every square inch of them at this point.
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This seems like a great opportunity to remind you that Deutsche Bank was almost solely responsible for the subprime mortgage crisis that caused a global financial meltdown.
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Deutsche Bank was also found guilty of laundering money for its Russian clients- 10 billion dollars worth in fact.
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"It was a grave mistake to take Jeffrey Epstein on as a client in 2013." -Deutsche Bank
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Basically what I'm saying is that if Satan exists, he would definitely have an account at Deutsche Bank. But don't take my word for it- here's a top ten list of their most egregious scandals- so far.
52:05 Vegas has found some info about Porsche's family. Porsche wakes up Chay and they sneak out of the compound.
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55:57 Wow if I ever tell you I'm laying low in Thailand, catch me at the temple. Everyone seems to hide out here. 
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We meet up again with Uncle Bitcoin who tells Porsche that his parents were shot- they weren't in a car wreck. But who shot them?! We don't find out because Uncle Bitcoin himself is shot. Porsche has some flashbacks to his childhood.
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59:18 Dad is accosted by Porsche who demands to know why he shot his parents. Wait- is that something he remembered from the flashback? Dad reveals a secret:
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So Porsche’s mom was Dad’s sister, making Porsche and Kinn cousins.
Bonus Round: Dad’s Hobbies
Dad appreciates work/life balance. So far we have seen Dad:
raising fighting fish
making pottery
playing chess
playing the piano
Ep 12 /// TOC /// Ep 14 Part I
Master list of all recaps
38 notes · View notes
delicrieux · 3 years
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☆ミ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”
PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN
y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.
─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 
author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!
ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.
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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 
Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.
Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 
But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.
Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”
You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.
But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 
Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.
That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 
You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 
Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.
Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.
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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”
Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.
“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”
While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.
r u dating sykkuno?
You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”
the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team
“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”
how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?
“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 
can i be adopted by ur parents plz
will you and corpse ever collab?!
You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.
Corpse_Husband: yes.
Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.
pack it up, sykkuno
More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 
“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”
we are prepared
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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.
y/n is a child murderer
“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”
take a break and go eat queen <3
“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”
Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 
“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 
The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 
“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”
Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”
“Your pizza came.”
“My what now?” You echo, confused.
“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”
“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”
Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.
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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”
If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 
looking hot, her message read. 
thanks, was all you replied with.
You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.
Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.
“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”
You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.
“Glad you liked it, baby.”
He was going to be the death of you.
✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼
tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707
more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙
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thelastsock · 3 years
Note
NSFW A- Z Walter Marshall pretty please? I'd be so grateful thank you 😊💖
Oooh I wasn’t expecting an ask so this is exciting! 😍
Alright *cracks knuckles* Walter Marshall A-Z below the cut, I hope you like it my sweet!
Alone Time
Walter doesn’t often have time but when a need arises, he’ll take himself to the shower. The hot steam fogging up the glass aside from the hand print as he braces his weight. He takes himself in hand and thinks of you, using a little of your shower gel so he’s surrounded by your scent. The hot shower cascades over his broad shoulders as comes undone to the thought of fucking into you in lingerie.
Bondage
He wouldn’t like to admit to anyone but you… but he loves the way the cold metal of his handcuffs looks around your wrists. Knowing he’s doing something inappropriate with them just gets him every time. Though on the nights where his thoughts won’t quiet down, he’s more than willing to be subjugated under your soft, demanding touch. Tied up with your dressing gown belt, muscles tensing as you bring him to euphoria.
Crying
He sees enough crying in his day job so doesn’t relish any tears that drip down your face. Not afraid to cry himself either but rarely during sex. Only one time really comes to mind though - the first time you tied him up - the sheer relief he felt, bringing that sharp prickle of unshed tears to his eyes.
Dominance
Walter has to be in control whenever he can, a price of the job he holds. He’s a bastard for topping from the bottom, using praise to get what he wants from you. He has little official experience as a Dom but relishes the whimpers and begging he can illicit from you when you’re desperate for him.
Extra Info
Walter is willing to discuss anything at least once. Try most things at least once. Twice if you ask nicely 😏
Food Play
Two words. Messy breakfast. He spilt syrup on your hand one time and he was a goner. He spent ages ensuring he got Every. Single. Drop. IT left you both breathless and led to some amazing shower sex. And while he won’t seek it out (because its not often you both have time for something that indulgent) he’s not going to deny that the thought has occurred to him more than once.
Group Sex
Walter has a job and a rep to maintain. He doesn’t like to put you at risk either, so I don’t think he’d share unless you’d asked for it. Unless it was with someone else he trusted. But who’s to stay what would happen under the right circumstances.
Humiliation
“You’re such a sweet little slut for me aren’t you?”
“Oh look at you, dumb and hungry for my cock. You look so cute.”
Soft humiliation with a lil praise is his jam 🥵
Impact Play
Oh heck yeah. He loves how hot to the touch your skin becomes after he’s slapped your rear raw with each thrust. Wouldn’t be adverse to a paddle to really get into it, so long as he could trust that you’d tell him when to stop.
Jelly
Has some lube like a good gentleman should. Basic, run of the mill, gets the job done. Likes to try to make sure that it’s completely unnecessary where he can though 😉 Wouldn’t mind flavoured lube but much prefers the pure unadulterated taste of you. His favourite flavour lube would be strawberry if he had to pick one though 🍓
Kissing
Walter loves to leave his mark. Those red to purple speckled bruises on your neck, on your chest are reminders that you’re his. Psst… he loves you to return the favour and he goes absolutely feral if you leave a hickey on his muscular inner thigh. 🥴
Lighting
Walter doesn’t care about the lights, on or off, daytime or nighttime, he just wants you. If he wants to impress though, he’ll put candles on every surface and romance your body under candlelight.
Masochism
He loves to sink into you, deep and hard to make you dig your nails in, to feel you scrabble against his skin and feel your own kind of marks on his back. The sensitive texture against his sweaters remind him of you with every moment, especially when he clips on his bulletproof vest.
Not Yet
Walter loves to make you work for it. He’ll toy with you, take you to the edge and back again until your begging him for release. After a few months together he might even suggest that you wear one of those vibrators out to dinner or the local policeman’s ball where you can’t get immediate relief 👀
Outdoor Sex
He’s very much used to being just a little cold or uncomfortable so sex across the hood of his truck on against a tree in the dusk is something he’d definitely be up for if you are. He knows all the best secluded places 😏
Photography
Walter doesn’t send nudes and is very strict about what you do with his work number. But he loves to photograph you, post orgasm, mid-fuck, just in your lingerie - it’s almost a side hobby at his point.
Quiet Please
He loves to hear you scream his name of course. But he also loves those breathless half whispers where you can barely get a syllable out. Those ones where he’s fucked you so good you can’t even form a thought. He’s pretty loud, full of grunts but little words. Any words he does spout are softly spoken swears against your skin.
Routine
His job is a difficult one. You’ve tried scheduling, you’ve tried spontaneous. The reality is somewhere in the middle where it’s part of your routine to do the little things that amp up the spice, but the sex itself is more spontaneous because you never know when he’ll be home. But you can always tell when you just need to drop everything and ride him into sweet oblivion by the dark shadows in his eyes.
Sleepy Sex
Oh this is the best sex. Not because it’s mind blowing but because you get to see the restful Walter. The one almost unmarred by his job, all soft sighs and gently thrusts. But sometimes he just needs you and its fast and furious, racing into post-orgasm dreamless sleep. Walter really does love to watch the confusion and lust wash across your face as he teases you to wakefulness, easing in as you’re almost fully awake to watch your mouth form that pretty little o-shape as he bottoms out.
Top or Bottom
100% top. He even tops from the bottom on the few occasions he’s under your command, because he needs control. Give him time to open up you though and he might be more forthcoming with some alternative options…
Underwear
Would ideally wear nothing but you never know when a perp is gonna vomit on you so wears skin tight boxers that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. He mainly does it watch you drool over him in the mornings you’re awake to see him leave. Your underwear on the other hand, spends more time on your bedroom floor than wrapped around your figure. He finds it cute and hot when you steal his boxers on cold mornings and loves to watch the damp patch grow on them when he teases you.
Voyeurism
See outdoor sex - he’s not going to not do all those naughty things he suggests if you’re down. But he doesn’t like being watched outside. He’ll put on a show if you ask him nicely at home but much much prefers to watch you. He likes to direct you from his seat, watch you clench around nothing, sighing his name.
Water
Not into those kind of water sports but is not afraid to rail you in the shower, in the bath or even in a hot tub if so inclined. The bubbles hide everything 👀 His favourite is those ever so slightly outdoor private showers he’s seen in a holiday brochure - he can’t wait to take you.
X- dressing
He’ll wear your underwear if you ask nicely and you’re into it - he’ll be honest and tell just how uncomfortable it feels squishing his junk. But he’ll still be a good boy if you ask. He loves it when your wear his clothes, but much prefers you naked, all the time if he could help it.
Yes, Master
He calls you, little one, rabbit, sweetheart or even slut if the mood strikes - but never in malice. He wouldn’t be adverse to be called Daddy or Sir but would wait for you to ask. He’d have to think carefully about it though - he gets called Sir at work 👀
Zones
A soft, slow and sensual kiss goes a long way to get his motor running. But there isn’t always time. So. That little spot just behind his jaw and under his ear. Perfect spot to kiss and lick if you want to hear him groan. Tug on his hair if you want to get him hard in an instant. Bite his thigh if you want to be thrown down on the bed and ravished within an inch of your life.
Dirty A-Z Headcanons - send me a letter or two if you want!
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scifigrl47 · 3 years
Text
Every Time a Bell Rings
Author’s Note: Hey guys, between the card project, the pandemic and overtime work in the financial field (oh boy I am getting yelled at by angry/desperate people for like 9-10 hours a day and you can imagine how that has affected my already fragile mental health) I didn’t get as far with the Christmas fic I was writing as I’d hoped.  I’m going to try to get at least the first chapter up on AO3 this weekend, but for now, please enjoy the beginning of a Christmas get together fic.  If you have a kind word to spare for it, for for its poor, exhausted author, it would be very, very welcome now.  Thanks, and happy holidays, one and all!
-Every Time a Bell Rings-
Steve Rogers had never believed in love at first sight.  For him, love wasn’t a thunderbolt, it wasn’t a life changing in a heartbeat, in a breath.  It wasn’t a single instant of knowing, it wasn’t souls meeting, it wasn’t fate or destiny, or anything the poets wrote about.
Love, for Steve, was an incoming tide.
It was standing alone and untouched, and barely noticing the first waves that lapped against his toes.  It was watching, perhaps a bit annoyed, as the water rose around his ankles.   It was barely noticing when it hit his knees, because at that point, he was more occupied with keeping his balance as the sands shifted under his feet.  He’d take a step forward, or a step back, trying to find solid ground again, and in the meantime, the water kept rising.
It was slow.  Slow enough that he was surprised with it reached his hands, reached his hips, reached his chest.  He was already wet.  Of course he was.  The water had always been there.  Hadn’t it?  When had it gotten so high?  Why hadn’t he noticed when the sting of salt his his lips?  Why hadn’t he retreated long before that happened?
When the final wave came, when it crashed over his head, when it swallowed him whole, it was never a surprise.
Love was a incoming tide.  Slow.  Steady.
Inevitable.
You could fight a lot of things.  But when he fell in love, it seemed like a thing that was always going to happen.  Regular as sunrise.  Natural as the rains.
And if love was a tide, then loving Tony Stark was a rip tide.  Hidden currents and invisible shoals.  He had no control over it, and he still wasn’t sure it wouldn’t kill him.
But it was a tide, none the less.
*
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
“She’s singing,” Sam said, his chin propped on one hand.  “Should we be worried about the singing?”
“No,” Tony said, frowning down at his phone.  “The singing’s normal.  The outfit, though?  You should be worried about the outfit.”
“Cut it out, both of you,” Steve said, his voice pitched low.  He smiled at Jan, who smiled back from beneath the fuzzy brim of a very impressive hat.  “I take it we’ll be talking about the holiday party today?”
Jan did a spin, her crimson red coat flaring out around her legs, the white puff on her hat bouncing with the movement.  She came to a stop facing the table, and slammed a phone book-sized stack of papers down in front of her.  She leaned forward, smiling in a manner that Steve honestly found to be kind of worrying.
“It is party planning time,” she sing-songed, and everyone else groaned.  A ball of paper came flying over the table, and she batted it away.  “I’m going to ignore that, Barton.”
“I mean, by saying you’ll ignore it, you’re kinda not ignoring it,” Clint said, as Carol put a foot on the back of his chair and gave him a shove.  His chair slid sideways, and Clint made a grab for the table to keep himself upright.  “Hey!”
“Children, let’s behave,” Natasha said, crossing her legs.  “Or Santa won’t bring you any presents.”
“You can put ‘Santa’ on the tag all you want,” Clint said, scooting his chair back to the table.  Greer and Bruce moved theirs aside so he could huddle between them.  “I know that they’re from Tony.”
“I am regretting buying chairs on wheels,” Tony said to Steve.  “Mistakes were made.”
“How can you possibly call our monthly office chair derby a  mistake?” Sam asked, folding his arms on the top of the table.  “I mean, damn.  That’s cold.”
“Maybe we should let him win next month,” Carol said.  She put a pen between her upper lip and her nose, and Jess giggled.
“I shall not yield,” Thor said, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.  “A race shall be fair, or be no race at all.”
“This explains the damage to the walls in the vestibule,” Jan said. “Doesn’t it?”
“That was actually unrelated,” Carol told her.  “That was-”
“For the last time,” Clint said, his head falling back.  “It was not me.”
Jan studied him.  “You’re getting a bail fund for Christmas, that’s what you’re getting.”
“Way ahead of you,” Natasha said.  She smiled.  “Way.  Way ahead of you.”
“You better pay my damn bail, you used me as a distraction,” Clint said.
“Yes.  Yes, I did,” Natasha said.
“Right,” Jan said, drawing the word out.  “Moving on from friendship-shattering betrayals-”
“No, we’re cool, like I said, she paid bail,” Clint said.
“Why-” Jan pinched the bridge of her nose.  “People.  We’re at a twelve.  I need you all at like, a six.  Max a six.  I’d prefer a four.”
“I don’t think this group knows a setting lower than an eight,” Sam said.  Tony reached around Steve, his hand up, and Sam gave him a high five.
“Okay,” Steve said, holding up his hands.  Everyone subsided, and he inclined his head in Jan’s direction.  “The floor is yours, Wasp. I’m sure that everyone’s going to give you their undivided attention.”  He looked around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes.  “Right?”
Jan waited, hands on her hips, as everyone subsided, shuffling their chairs back into place, turning to face her.  “How do you do that?”
“Practice,” Steve said, leaning back in his chair.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony try to hide his smile behind the palm of his hand, and Steve kicked him under the table.  “Right.  So the holiday party?”
“The holiday party,” Jan agreed.  She rested one delicate hand on top of the papers.  “Everyone’s getting an assignment-” A chorus of groans rose, and she waited for them to subside before she continued.  “Yes, responsibility.  It’s terrible.” 
She gathered up the papers and started around the room, handing stacks to each of them as she passed.  “I have chosen assignments well within your abilities and your-”  She paused behind Clint’s chair, and he grinned up at her. “Attention span,” she said, handing it over.
“Challenge accepted,” he said.
“If you fold that into a paper airplane, you will never see me coming,” she said.  She leaned over, the rest of the papers hugged to her chest, to whisper directly in his ear.  “I know where you sleep.”
Clint paused.  “Challenge being reconsidered.”
“Good choice.”  She straightened up, flipping the tail of her hat over her shoulder, and continued around the page.  “Remember, we are still having a non-denominational holiday party, but Ben Grimm reminds us that his Hanukkah party at the Baxter Building is on for this weekend despite the recent…”  Her mouth pursed.  “Unpleasantness with the squid.
“Fucking Namor,” Tony muttered, and Steve could only nod.
“Yes, well, the damage was minimal, and in Ben’s words, ‘they tried to kill us and they failed, let’s eat’ is appropriate for the season, so we’re all expected.” She handed Carol a fat stack of papers.  “Consider making a donation to the Yancy Street Community Center in his name.”
She made her way around the table, emptying her arms as she went.  “Our party is a buffet this year, we simply have too many people to do a sit down meal, and super heroes have…”  She paused.  “Unreliable schedules, so this makes it so people can come and go when it’s most convenient for them.  Natasha’ll be double checking the guest list, so if there’s anyone you want that I might not have in the group rolodex, please make sure you get their info to her ASAP.”
Tony raised a hand.  “I get veto power.”
“No, you don’t,” Jan said.
“Are we inviting Namor?”
“Absolutely not,” Jan said from between gritted teeth.
“Objection withdrawn,” Tony said.
“The main buffet will be set up in the formal dining room, snacks, drinks and desserts will be in the living room,” Jan continued.  “The media room will be set up with a rotation of holiday specials and movies, and Jarvis has the ‘on demand’ requests ready to go.  Please check the floor plan that’s in your packet, and be prepared to move any personal affects out of the ‘splash zone,’ or don’t complain if something ends up being used as a chair which shouldn’t be.”
Greer flipped through her pages, her long nails tapping against the tabletop.  “When will we be setting up?”
“Professional decorating crew is coming in 48 hours before the start of the party,” Jan said.  “Which brings to me to my next point.”  She turned around, collecting a box from her chair and putting it on the table.  “I want mistletoe.”
“Mistletoe attracts creeps,” Tony said.
She gave him a look.  “Know how you avoid that?  Don’t invite creeps to your party, Tony.”
“I mean, I tried to take Stephen Strange off of the guest list and you made me put him back,” Tony pointed out.
“Do you want curses?” Jess asked him, her foot braced on the edge of the table.  “Because that’s how you get curses.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not a fairy,” Carol said.
“Pretty sure he’s still pretty good at curses,” Jess shot back.
“Stay away from the guest list, it is carefully considered to keep us on diplomatic terms with our peers,” Jan said, her hands braced on the table.  “But no.”  She lifted the lid from the box and pulled out what looked like a a cluster of mistletoe leaves with oversized white berries sculpted out of metal.  She held it up and gave it a shake, and the berries rang like bells, a high, bright swirl of notes.
Jan smiled.  “We’ll mount this.  If someone wants a kiss beneath the mistletoe, they can ring the bells.  If someone wants to give a kiss, they can respond.”
She leveled a look at the room. “No kissing unless the bells are rung.  Got it?”
Tony raised his hand.  “Please save all questions to the end of the presentation,” Jan said, her voice chipper.
“You know you can just ask Hank for a kiss, right?” Tony asked.
She gave him a look.  “It’s TRADITION.”
“You’re engaged.  Tell me you’ve kissed.”
“You’ve seen us kiss,” Jan said.
“Then you can just-”
“TRADITION,” Jan said, slapping her hands on the table, and the mistletoe bounced in place, ringing gently as it settled back against the wood.
If they kept talking, and Steve knew they were still talking, they never stopped talking, but he could no longer hear them.  His world had shrunk, to those gleaming bells.
And the beginnings of a plan.  A terrible, horrible plan.
Just right for Christmas.
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itsapapisongo · 3 years
Text
STEPPING UP | Bang Chan
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Starring: Bang Chan and Ok Taec-Yeon
Featuring: Ok Taecyeon | Seo Changbin | Hwang Hyunjin | Mark Lee
Genre: Action | Superhero
Concept & Tropes: Captain America!Chan | Non-Idol AU | Superhero AU
Word Count: 7.1K
Warnings: Language and sequences of action and violence.
Summary: When a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are held for ransom by terrorists, the Captain—Bang Chan—is tasked with aiding in their rescue.
Context & Notes: This is very much influenced by the Lemurian Star sequence in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. This ties-in with Webbed Surveillance and Measure of a Hero in that these stories are set within the same fanverse. For the sake of simplicity, Chan is not the Captain America, but someone picking up the mantle and is referred to as the Captain since he’s Korean-Australian. He’s a super-soldier, been through some shit (i.e. fighting in the army, losing friends, being put on ice) and getting used to modern life after a couple of years of cryogenic sleep.
This one goes out to Lina ( @scriptura-delirus ) and Ivy ( @chogiwow​ ) for sharing my enthusiasm for idols as superheroes. We need heroes. Now more than ever.
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THOUGH THE QUINJET had cloaking technology, it wasn’t needed as it lurked in the dead of night with ease. It flew undetected across the Pacific Ocean, slicing through the clouds and inching closer to the rendezvous point.
Aboard this state-of-the-art jet, a S.T.R.I.K.E. squad prepared for the mission. Among them, was a living legend. Not the one the rest of the world knew but one that nonetheless stood in high regard.
Bang Chan—otherwise known as the Captain, a name that had caught on but he quite hadn’t accepted yet—was clad in a stealth suit and carried a perfectly round shield on his back; it bore a star and muted tones of silver and blue. He adjusted his earpiece and turned to the squad, giving the team a cursory glance.
Some of his fellow agents checked their weapons while others began to huddle around the squad’s leader, Ok Taecyeon, as he began the briefing. A monitor displayed images of an aircraft carrier stranded at sea. Coordinates appeared on the lower portion of the screen, followed by the vessel’s manifest.
“Eyes on me,” said Taecyeon, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “The target’s a mobile satellite launch platform. This ol’ beaut is the Levanter. It has a skeleton crew aboard, no more than twenty people. They were about to send up their last payload when—” he tapped the monitor’s touch screen with his index finger, zooming in on a satellite image of the carrier. “—terrorists took her over. That was over ninety minutes ago.”
Chan frowned before he asked, “Any demands?”
Taecyeon grimaced. “Pretty hefty demands, if you ask me,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “They want a billion and a half.”
Shocked was visible in the Captain’s eyes but it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. A billion and half? It seemed like an inconceivable figure. Back in the day, it would have been a number to scoff at. It was too high a price for a simple aircraft carrier, he thought, but the world had changed in the past century so what did he know? Even if he believed that by modern standards that was an exorbitant amount of money, he had to know.
“Why so steep?”
“It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s,” the team leader replied, as though it were a no-brainer. “Which means it’s worth more than the ransom itself. If they get paid, the info can be sold to the highest bidder. They’d be making bank for a while.”
Chan clenched his jaw, his hands unconsciously settling on his belt’s buckle. He titled his head to the side and scoffed, not wanting to entertain such a possibility. When he spoke, it was with a tone of disbelief—
“If they get paid?”
“They won’t.” Taecyeon shook his head, pursing his lower lip down as he swiped a finger across the screen. “Trust me on that, Cap.”
These days—an age of answers and curiosity—information was power. Those that were willing to obtain it would do so through whatever means necessary. Chan understood why someone would attack and capture the Levanter, but he couldn’t quite conceal his disbelief.
How had S.H.I.E.L.D. allowed for this to happen? Ships like these weren’t supposed to be vulnerable. If they were, it would be a major liability for the organization and the ransom proved such a point. Not because of the economical factor but because of a potential loss or corruption of whatever data was stored within these ships.
“So it’s not only a rescue mission, we’re recovering whatever data might be in there,” Chan deduced, crossing his arms across his chest. Even if the suit was padded and close to his skin, his muscle definition was nonetheless impressively visible.
“Apparently so.” Taecyeon nodded.
Chan glanced at the monitor and motioned with his chin at it. “What about our extremists friends?”
“They’re with R.A.I.D.”
“Who comes up with these names?” one of the agents.
“It stands for Radically Advanced Ideas in Destruction,” Taecyeon explained. Chan could tell he was doing his best not to roll his eyes. “In essence, they’re HYDRA lite.”
“Hmm,” Chan grumbled. “That’s not very comforting.”
Taecyeon gave in and rolled his eyes. “No shit.” He pushed the monitor forward so that everyone got a good look at the mug-shot of a tall and bearded middle-aged man with a hardened face and malicious brown eyes. “This is their leader: Vladimir Korda.
“Sokovian-Russian, born in Southern Russian but raised in Novi Grad. Sokovian Armed Forces, dishonorably discharged. Our friend here was part of a covert kill squad named EKO Scorpion. Nasty piece of work.” Taecyeon glared briefly at the man’s dossier. “It seems he got fed up and decided to go from military man to mercenary to—”
“Terrorist,” Chan finished for him. “And the kind without a cause.”
“Don’t know or care if he has a cause.” Taecyeon sniffed and motioned a gun with his right hand, pointing it at the monitor. “I just know I’d like to put a bullet between his eyes.”
Chan shook his head, meeting the team leader’s eyes. “We’re not neutralizing anyone. This is a standard CSAR mission,” he said in a stern tone.
Taecyeon tilted his head then gave a small nod of understanding. Chan could tell that he wasn’t happy about it but orders were orders and the man often did his best to do things by the book. CSAR—combat search and rescue—were in-and-out S.H.I.E.L.D. operations that required not only efficiency but the highest of discretion. Contact with hostiles was to be kept to a minimum thus “neutralizing” targets was an acceptable option unless completely necessary.
“Wanna hear about the hostages?”
Chan raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Taecyeon’s casual tone.
“Sure,” he answered, hesitation palpable in his voice.
Taecyeon pulled up the hostages’ photos. There were two civilians. The rest were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as their dossiers showed they had been stationed in the Levanter for over six months. Chan recognized a handful of them and felt a knot tie itself around his throat; two or three of them he’d been with on different assignments. His hands fell from his belt and settled behind his back as he clenched his fists; under the gloves, the knuckles had turned white. As he studied the faces of innocent people caught in an undesirable and undoubtedly traumatic situation, Chan thought of how important it was to accomplish the mission properly.
“They’re being held in the galley.”
“How many?”
“Nineteen people. Mostly techies with the exception of a Level 4 agent.”
With an idle flick of his wrist, Taecyeon swiped the screen and the photo of a bespecalted young man with black hair and indigo highlights appeared. He wore a suit and sported an expression of confused exasperation.
“Seo Changbin,” he told them, grimacing at the agent’s photo. “Good at what he does but not made for field work.”
Chan raised an eyebrow, prompting Taecyeon to motion a hand over his chest, as if to say how-to-say-this-politely. “He’s good at being behind a desk,” he replied, albeit not unkindly. “Which begs the question of why he’s aboard the carrier.”
“Did Fury mention him at all?”
Taecyeon gave him a weary look and shook his head. Why would a Level 4 agent be aboard the Levanter? There was nothing there for someone who sat behind a desk. If he were part of the tech-team, Chan wouldn’t have questioned it. Yet there was a vital piece of information missing and it was beginning to bother him. They people upstairs always asked him to step in and save the day but besides telling him how, they seldom ever told him why.
I feel like a glorified janitor, Chan fretted as his brow furrowed and transformed his handsome features into a scowl. Someone handed him his helmet and he nodded his thanks, silently placing it on his head. Between the Quinjet’s dim-lighting and his helmet, it was hard to read his face.
“So, Cap, how are we going to do this?”
Chan blinked once, twice, then cleared his throat. “I’ll clear the deck, you find the hostages,” he affirmed, pointing a finger at the Levanter’s layout on the monitor. “Get them out and into the life pods.”
“I’ll find Korda as soon as I clear the deck.” Chan turned to Taecyeon. “We don’t want any casualties so we’re incapacitating anyone we come across.”
Taecyeon nodded firmly, saluting the Captain with a wink. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he acknowledged. “No neutralizing. Duly noted.”
The Quinjet went dark then lit up under a red light. An alert turned on. The jet’s back hangar doors opened and a strong wind whipped through the hull. The cool night air nipped at their exposed skin but each and everyone of them shrugged it off. No one had more experience with the cold than Chan. As the rest of the team prepared for the jump, the Captain and Taecyeon walked over the hangar doors’ edge. They looked down at the dark ocean below, felt the wind howling in their ears.
“Captain!” Taecyeon leaned in, yelling over the noise. He shielded his face against the wind with an open palm. “What do you say if I buy us chimaek after this is over?”
“Chimaek, huh?” Chan yelled back and titled his head, a hand unconsciously adjusting the shield on his back. “That sounds tempting.”
“Up to you, old man.” The team leader shrugged, smiling as he caught a glint of exasperation in Chan’s eyes. “I understand if you want to rest. Sit in, fall asleep, drool all over yourself in your rocking chair, y’know?”
“As long as you’re paying,” the Captain half-smiled, fist-bumping his partner.
Taecyeon chuckled, knowing he had won him over as he yelled, “Give the man some space!”
Chan put some distance between himself and the hangar doors. Without hesitation, the Captain cracked his neck, ran the length of the jet, then leaped out of the Quinjet. The S.T.R.I.K.E. team paused, awestruck. No one or spoke for a few seconds.
They all realized something at the exact same time.
“Was he—was he wearing a parachute, boss?” an agent asked, visibly concerned.
“No,” Taecyeon confirmed, half-smiling. “No, he wasn’t.”
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LIKE MISSILE SLICING through the sky, moving faster than the eye could follow, Chan hurled headfirst toward the Levanter. Just as he was about to crash on the Pacific Ocean, he flipped then dived into the dark depths below. He was less than a hundred yards from the ship so swimming to the carrier was easier than expected.
The Levanter floated in the calm water, the moonlight reflecting on its deck. An armed man kept watch and heavily yawned. He was looking out to the sea when Chan was climbing the ship’s steep anchor. Feeling movement, the guard leaned in over the rail just in time to catch the Captain’s ascent and made a sound between a gulp and groan when he was grabbed by the collar of his bulletproof vest.
“What the—” he managed to mumble before he felt his forehead make contact with the railing and was subsequently thrown overboard.
Chan propped himself up and jumped the railing with ease. Gathering his bearing, he looked left and right then reached and took the shield off his back. He parkoured his way across the deck, dispatching another armed man with effortless speed and skill. Several more men patrolled the perimeter, armed to the teeth and blissfully unaware of what was to unfold.
He stood in the shadows and surveyed his surroundings. Out of the four, two were huddled together and carrying a hushed conversation. The other two were on opposite sides of the deck, looking out to the ocean. Chan counted to ten, his grip on the shield tighter, then sprung into action.
He whistled a tune that suspiciously sounded like Arirang and got their attention, emerging from the shadows when the quartet whipped round to look for the sound. The man farthest to Chan barely had a second to register something—was that a saucer?—flying right at him. With a resonating clunk, the shield smacked him right in the chest and knocked the air out of his lungs; he collapsed, instantly incapacitated.
Having practiced for years and learned how to find the proper angles for the perfect throw, Chan blindly outstretched his left hand and closed it around the shield as it ricocheted back to him. He sprinted towards the nearest threat—the chattering duo—and tackled them both without breaking a sweat. The three of them struggled on the ground for a second but were on their feet as quickly as they’d fallen down.
The Captain lifted the shield and, gripping one of the leather straps, punched it; the round vibranium shield slammed into one of the men’s forehead and his knees gave in; he collapsed with a huff and a pained moan. Chan whirled and avoided a kick to the chest; though he was fast, he wasn’t fast enough to completely avoid the attack because he felt the man’s leg grace his ribs. The guy wouldn’t quit, though, because he kept kicking. Even when he missed he managed to have minimal contact.
I’m wasting my time, the Captain mentally groaned.
This guy was fast but the Captain was faster. When the man threw yet another kick, Chan intercepted the attack by grabbing the man’s ankle and twisting the leg with a flick of his wrist. A loud snap-crack confirmed he had effectively fractured the entire limb. The man toppled over and was about to scream when Chan knelt, chopped at his throat, and broke his windpipe. He heard whimpering and glanced over his shoulder to see the other man was shaking from head to toe; the guard had spread his arms out to display his surrender.
Chan straightened and was about to continue clearing the deck when he remembered there was still a man left. In all the commotion, as quick as it had been, he’d been too hyper-focused on disabling any threats that he forgot to not underestimate the enemy. When he turned to search for the last man standing, he felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his neck.
There you are.
“Clear,” the Captain whispered on his comm.
The man cocked the gun but never fired. A low pfft-pfft echoed in the night and he collapsed; tranquilized but not dead. The sound of parachutes alerted Chan of his team’s arrival. Six skydivers slapped their chest releases, their chutes billowing above then behind them. The team landed quietly, already used to these types of operations, sidearms at ready in their capable hands.
“Thanks, Taecyeon-ssi,” said Chan, half-bowing..
Taecyeon waved a dismissed hand. “Don’t mention it,” he said with a devious smirk. “I know you’re helpless without me.”
Chan clicked his tongue, passing the shield from his left to his right hand. Now that they were huddled together, he gave the perimeter a cursory glance and nodded when he found the comms tower. “Have the feeling I’ll find Korda there.”
“Seems like a good place to be in,” said Bam, one of the agents.
Taecyeon followed the Captain’s gaze. “Sure does,” he mumbled, his voice stern and low. “Call it, Cap.”
“I’ll go for the comms tower. The three of you—” Chan pointed at Taecyeon and the two agents beside him. “—find the hostages. And you three—” he pointed to the remaining members of the team. “—secure the engine room.”
“You heard the man. Spread out.” Taecyeon unslung the rifle off his body, wrapping the strap around his wrist. As the Captain nodded and started to walk off, he whispered, “Watch your six.”
Chan winked. “Always.”
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THE COMMS TOWER was taller up close as he used a large pipeline to aid his ascent. Chan balanced himself on the line and he removed a pocket-sized surveillance launcher from a pouch in his belt. He aimed high and fired it at the Levanter’s comms room. A cord arched through the air and a microscale microphone stuck to the comms tower’s window. Initially, there was nothing but white noise until—
He could make out a conversation: two men talking over each other as they argued about something Chan had no context for. A man spoke Russian in a soft voice that was laced with malice and contempt. The Captain raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the dissonance between Korda’s voice and his cutthroat appearance.
Closing his eyes and pressing a finger on his earpiece, he focused on what was happening in the comms room. He was glad Fury had convinced him to learn a thing or two after being thawed out besides martial arts and catching up on politics and the world’s current and complicated status quo. Though he wasn’t fluent in Russian, he knew enough to get by and what he was hearing didn’t bode well for the mission.
“They still haven’t responded to our demands. We’ve been here for—”
“It seems like you’re in a hurry, Anatoly,” said Vladimir Kora, sounding bored. “They know what we want and they know we’re not bluffing.”
“Sir, if I may—”
“Nyet.” Korda grumbled. “You may not.”
A phone rang and Anatoly immediately answered. He mumbled then passed the call to his superior, mentioning it was coming from the galley.
“As soon as we get the money, this boat moves.” There was a pause and a heavy, irritated sigh. When Korda spoke again, he barely raised his voice but the Captain could tell he didn’t know need to because his tone was laced with seething anger. “Move them to the engine room. They’re not gonna be much of use once the ransom is paid.”
Chan scowled. There was no way in hell that was going to happen.
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THE GALLEY WOULD have been immaculate if not for the droplets of still-fresh blood on the floor. The tiles were white, the walls silver, and almost everything was made of metal. The room was cold and smelled of dinner—ramyun, cooked vegetables, stir-fried beef, rice, something spicy—and none of Korda’s men could really resist glancing at the pots and pans where the food had been left unserved.
The Levanter’s crew was silent. They had been ever since they had been hijacked. Tears had been shed and mumbled prayers had been uttered but no one really dared speak up. Their minimal training dictated that they were to disclose nothing and to keep an even temper.
But for Seo Changbin keeping an even temper was the bottom of his priorities. He was tie-strapped to a metal counter. His legs had been tied too so his movability was limited and painful. Changbing had no other choice but heave a sigh and endure the aches and bruises the hijackers had so generously given him. His back was bothering him but it was his shoulder that was really driving me off the wall. Out of instinct, he’d intercepted a blow meant for someone else and was beginning to regret not being more cautious.
Every little movement hurt and made him wince. Enduring someone thrusting a rifle’s stock in between his shoulder and collarbone was no easy feat and nothing he’d ever wish on someone—except, perhaps, on the asshole who did it—but he’d rather take the hit than have his fellow agents be hurt.
The galley’s door opened and a grey-haired man stepped in, clad in a maroon uniform. He didn’t carry an assault rifle or body armor and the only sign that he was a man of authority was the ivory Heckler & Koch P7 holstered in his left thigh. Changbin could make out a familiar insignia engraved in its grip: a macabre skull with six tentacles below its jaw.
Great, Changbin grimaced, these guys are back.
Grey Hair spoke in Russian to one of the three men watching over them, his voice hoarse like that of a smoker’s. He glanced at them, smirked, then kicked at the legs of the two women to Changbin’s far left. The women—Lina and Aibi—leaned into each other but didn’t show fear. To Changbin’s chagrin, they glared at Grey Hair and hissed in annoyance.
“Aish,” they whispered, eyeing Grey Hair up and down in disgust.
Grey Hair scowled and reached for his gun, the ivory losing its splendor in his calloused hand. He aimed it at Lina’s forehead. If she was scared, she didn’t show it. Instead, she stared him down and clenched her jaw, leaning forward so that her head was pressed against the barrel of the gun.
“Go ahead,” she whispered in Russian. “See how that ends for you.”
“You speak—” Grey Hair blinked. Confusion was apparent in his eyes and he hesitated, the gun being pulled away from his victim’s forehead then returning to it with strengthened resolve. “Then you know what’s going to happen. You’ll be dead now or in the next twenty minutes.”
Aibi snorted. “Yah!” she yelled, sounding fierce, outraged. When Grey Hair turned to her, she lowered her voice and spoke in Korean, enunciating every word with thin-veiled vitriol. “Don’t drink your kimchi soup first.”
Changbin scoffed and failed to suppress his chuckle. His father used to say that often and he could never take the proverb seriously. And yet it gave Grey Hair pause as he didn’t understand Aibi and hadn’t counted on their defiance.
“If you’re wondering, I can translate,” Changbing interjected in English, leaning forward so that Grey Hair could see him properly.
“Translate.”
“She said . . . don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Bitch,” Grey Hair grumbled in English and motioned to hit Lina but relented when he saw Changbin struggling against the straps. “You want to be hero?”
“Not really, no,” the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent shook his head then shrugged. “But I’d preferred if you didn’t hurt anyone.”
“You want bullet in your head?”
The gun was aimed at Changbin. His eyes widened as he recognized the present danger. He kept calm and titled his head to the side. “Again, no,” he replied in an aloof tone, as though he was having a conversation about the weather. “I just want you to know, tovarishch, that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Grey Hair flinched. “We are not comrades.”
“Thank God for that.” Changbin lifted his eyebrows and relented from rolling his eyes. “We’re already your hostages. I don’t see the need to be smacking us around.”
“We’re in control.”
Lina lifted her chin, holding back a smirk. “Not for long, comrade.”
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“HOW LONG WILL this take?” Anatoly fretted, leaning on a console with crossed arms.
“As long as it takes,” said Korda.
“We’ve been here—”
“If you have anything to say, just spit it out.”
Anatoly opened his mouth to respond but immediately closed it. Suddenly, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Questioning Korda’s leadership wasn’t encouraged but it wasn’t frowned upon; one simply needed to know how to do it. Unfortunately for Anatoly, he didn’t know how to explain the knot in his stomach.
Korda scoffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It seems the cat caught your tongue,” he sneered as he leaned on the captain’s chair, giving his back to the bridge’s rectangular window. “We stick to the plan.”
“This was not part—this was not the plan.”
“Adapt or die, tovarishch.” Korda cracked his neck, unholstered his side-arm, then pointed at Anatoly’s chest. “You’re not afraid are you?”
Eyes on the gun, Anatoly trembled. “I’m not,” he answered, but his voice was shaky.
“In our line of work, fear is useless. Toughen up, son.”
Anatoly nodded. “I will—” he began but didn’t finish, his breath caught in his throat. He gestured a hand over his boss’ shoulder but before Korda could react something burst through the room’s window and hurled Anatoly backwards. The sound of something light and sharp cutting through concrete and reinforced steel echoed in their ears; it was followed up by the crunching of glass under heavy footsteps.
By the time Anatoly gathered his bearings, Korda was already on his feet. He caught his boss’ silhouette sprinting out of the control room. Anatoly blinked and saw a man clad in dark blue, his face concealed by a helmet bearing a white star on the forehead and stylized wings by his ears. The man glanced at Anatoly, grimaced, then disarmed him by tossing away his holstered side-arm.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized and sounded genuinely remorseful. “We’ll get you some medical attention once you’ve been taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody.”
“You’re Captain—”
“Yeah, that’s me.” The man nodded and placed a finger in his ear. “I got a man down in the control room.”
Anatoly reached out and gripped the man by his forearm. “Am I going to—am I going to die?”
The man—the Captain—knelt and helped him into a sitting position. “Not if I can help it,” he reassured Anatoly with a small nod. “Now, if you excuse me . . .”
The Captain stood to his full height and walked past Anatoly, wrenching something off the wall and clasping it on his back. Anatoly realized what had burst through the window: a shield. That had graced his left arm and knocked him off his feet so it was no wonder he felt like his arm from the elbow down had fallen off.
Before everything turned dark and the pain overwhelmed him, Anatoly couldn’t help but feel relieved that he wasn’t going to die.
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“KODRA IS ON the move!” Chan alerted Taecyeon as he sprinted after the terrorist leader. “Have you secured the hostages?”
“We’re on it, as we speak,” Taecyeon answered, his voice a mere whisper in the Captain’s ear. “We’re thirty seconds from clearing the galley.”
“Clear it and secure it. No one comes in, no one comes out. Not until I’ve subdued Korda.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Taecyeon-ssi? That’s getting annoying.”
A muffled chuckle came through Chan’s comm. “More of a reason to do so,” said the squad’s leader. “And Captain? Go gentle on the guy. I want to roughen him up a bit.”
Chan clenched his jaw. “Yeah? Get in line.”
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THE GALLEY’S DOOR burst open with a bang and the room exploded with violence.
Changbin recognized Ok Taecyeon leading the charge, his aim eerily accurate. In the blink of an eye, Grey Hair and the remaining hijackers were effortlessly disabled. Grey Hair had been shot four times, his chest decorated with tranq-darts. Aibi kicked him squarely in the jaw, groaning as the straps chafed her heels and impeded her movements.
“We told you, didn’t we?” Lina tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “S.H.I.EL.D. doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Galley secured, sir,” said one of the agents, her voice that of a woman’s.
“We’re clear here,” Taecyeon relayed to the Captain and nodded when he heard the man’s response. “Bam, cuff these assholes. Yuna, help me untie our friends here.”
Bam removed his mask, tossed it aside, and pulled a handful of plastic tie-strips from a pouch in his belt. He went to work without wasting a second as Yuna unsheathed a tactical knife and began to cut tie-strips off hands and legs.
“Are you alright?” Taecyeon knelt in front of Lina, slashing the tie-strips in her legs.
Lina stretched her legs, leaned to the side so that her arms could be untied. “As best as I could be,” she retorted with a blank expression. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re glad to see you guys.”
“No shit,” said Aibi.
Taecyeon smirked, swiftly moving to free Aibi and the two technicians between her and Changbin. He patted backs and offered a comforting smile. “You’re a-okay now, folks. We got your back.”
“Now what?” Changbin heard himself ask and cringed when all eyes were on him.
“We wait. It won’t take long. We got a man upstairs getting things done.”
Changbin knew they were safe. The Captain was a force to be reckoned with and one would have to be out of their mind to not yield in his presence.
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FOR A MAN in his mid-seventies, Bang Chan moved with athletic grace and a keen awareness of his surroundings. But as he turned to check a corner, he was unprepared for the steel-booted kick to his lower back. The brunt of the attack was absorbed by the shield, which echoed with a distinctive high-pitched ring. 
Chan stumbled forward, a low grunt escaping through gritted teeth. Out of instinct, he reached for the shield. He gained his balance and whirled so fast that he caught a look of mild surprise in Vladimir Korda’s face. The man was emerging from the shadows and took slow steps forward, scrutinizing the Captain.
“I should count myself lucky,” exclaimed Korda in English, laughing derisively. “The Captain, as I live and breathe!”
Chan sensed he was being measured both in size and skill. He narrowed his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing before giving in to his anger. He narrowed his eyes and winced at how stiff his right hand—from his forearm to his palm—felt as his grip on the shield tightened. It was light in his hands—light enough to be thrown with impeccable aim and malicious intent—but he lowered it. Using it would have to be his last resort.
“The Symbol of a Nation, they call you!” Korda chuckled and pacing back and forth, stretching. He paused, bowed, then took a fighting stance. “It’s going to be an honor tearing you apart.”
“You certainly can try.” Chan glared.
“I’ve heard you can’t live without your oversized frisbee.”
“Uh-huh.” The Captain nodded dismissively. “Who do you work for?”
Korda shrugged. “Why does that matter?”
“Not anyone would hire an man like you for something as risky as—”
“Hijacking S.H.I.E.L.D. property? Please, Captain, I don’t know whether to blush or be insulted.” The Russian placed a hand on his chest and lowered his head, feigning embarrassment. His face darkened when he straightened and glared. “Who hired me doesn’t matter. You’re not asking the right question.”
“Not who but why?”
Korda clicked his tongue as if to say bingo. “You’re perceptive, kapitan. And here I was thinking you were just a shield.”
“Just a shield?” Chan pursed his lips and removed his helmet. He was a young man—handsome, dirty blond, brown-eyed, with a fine jaw, and a fair complexion—and the anger that glistened in his eyes made him look older, jaded. His next words were spoken in Russian: “We’ll see.”
Korda growled, unleashing a fury of punches—jabs, hooks, uppercuts—with deadly precision yet Chan was too agile for him. The Captain was dancing around him, moving out of the way of each attack so swiftly that Korda was beginning to give into anger.
Whack! A high kick to his collarbone, drove Chan back with a groan. He could hear Korda cackling.
“Is that all, old man?”
Old man? Chan reloaded his biceps and assumed a fighting stance, ready to bring this entire ordeal to an end. Yeah, I’m not gonna let that slide.
Korda made a guttural sound akin to a roar and threw a kick above the Captain’s head only to find himself losing balance. Chan held and pulled his opponent’s leg higher, kicked him in the stomach once, twice, then punched upward on the man’s groin. Kodra collapsed on the ground, groaning and mumbling expletives and swearing he’d kill the Captain.
Chan picked up his helmet and said, “I can do this all day.”
“Fuc—”
“Nope.” He lightly tapped Korda on the nose, knocking him out. “That’s enough out of you.”
Breathing hard, Chan sat on the ground. He hugged his knees against his chest and looked up to a starry night sky and the moonlight enveloping him in its glow. The cool breeze nipped at his skin, a reminder that he was still wet from diving in the Pacific Ocean.
The night was beautiful. When had been the last time he’d done this? He couldn’t tell but he wasn’t going to let this moment pass. Unfortunately, despite wanting to be in the moment, he was stirred from his reverie when Taecyeon’s voice came through his comm.
“Cap?”
Chan sniffed and stood up, stretching. “We’re clear,” he answered, lifting then tossing Korda over his shoulder. “Is everyone accounted for?”
“Bad guys have been subdued. Our folk are safe.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“Meet us on the life pods.”
“Are we in a hurry?”
Taecyeon made a sound between a scoff and a snort. “The quicker we’re out here, the quicker we can get our chimaek on.”
“Roger that.”
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FOUR HOURS LATER, they were debriefed and back in Seoul. Upon their arrival, Deputy Director Bae had made the necessary arrangements for the Levanter’s crew to be treated for any medical injury or emotional trauma.
Bam, Yuna, and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. squad were stationed in a safe-house near Itaewon. They were given orders to rest and report twelve hours later to Seoul HQ. As an elite S.H.I.E.L.D. counter-terrorist special unit, they were trained to be the best in a world where the unexpected happened every day. Their work never stopped. Rest was a luxury and it was indulged whenever the opportunity arose.
During the war, sleep was sacred. Just because the day turned into night that didn’t mean getting some shut-eye was guaranteed. Anything and everything could happen. Then again, anything and everything did happen. So Chan knew what it was to be sleep-deprived, going from one mission to another to another to another. When Taecyeon told his team to call it a night, they obeyed without protest.
Yet Taecyeon rarely ever slept. Chan had seen him napping but never sleeping and he seemed like the type who was a light sleeper—a butterfly flapping its wings might wake him up. But as they clinked their soju glasses and celebrated yet another accomplished mission, Chan could see Taecyeon was concealing his exhaustion.
They were in Chan’s dimly-lit studio apartment—the type that was considered spartan with a bathroom, kitchenette, and living room that doubled as a bedroom—and sat on the floor. There was a single rectangular window with a modest view to a modest street outside; it was open and allowed a soft, rain scented breeze in. Empty bottles of soju and beer were strewn in the ground-level coffee table Mark and Hyunjin had gifted Chan when he moved in.
“Got any plans for tomorrow?”
Chan smiled. “Not really,” he replied, lifting the shot glass up to his lips. “What about you?”
“Geonbae.” Taecyeon downed his shot, clicked his tongue, then chuckled. “I got someone waiting for me. I’m thinking I’ll take the weekend off.”
“Oh?”
“Or, y’know, a least a day off. Vacations in our line of work are . . . complicated.”
Chan chuckled and rubbed his neck. To say that working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was complicated was the understatement of the millennium. One thing was being a soldier, the other being a member of an organization so vastly secretive that Chan wasn’t sure how much power they wielded or how many resources they had across the globe.
Complicated, Chan thought, as if that doesn’t sum up my life. “I assume Eddie’s missing you,” he added, smiling ruefully.
Chan knew with certainty three things about Ok Taecyeon: he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. legacy, he and his sister were the grandchildren of a highly decorated agent; he had a fondness for chimaek; and he was absolutely “soft” for his dog. So it was no wonder that a fond smile spread across Taecyeon’s face as he refilled their glasses then dropped them on their beers. He was beaming and it was contagious because Chan couldn’t suppress the half-smile that tugged on his lips. It was strange yet pleasant to see such a change in his usually snarky demeanor.
“I bet he is,” Taecyeon agreed. “I’ve been missing the shit outta him for over a month now.”
“I say take the weekend off.”
“So should you.”
Chan frowned. “And do what?”
Taecyeon scoffed. “Take a walk. Hang-out with friends. Go on a date. I don’t know but just—aish—just step out and smell the roses.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Aish.”
Chan shrugged, taking a sip from his drink—somaek, as it was referred to—and found himself uncertain about how it tasted. It was an odd mix that somehow worked. Taecyeon drank his own calmly, already used to the beer cocktail’s unique flavor. To Chan’s surprise, it went well with chicken since they had devoured not one but two family-sized boxes of hot wings and fried chicken.
“You do anything Saturday?” Taecyeon queried, his tone casual yet coaxing.
“Do sit-ups count?” Chan scrunched up his nose. He didn’t like people interfering in his personal life so he played dumb. “‘Cause if they do . . . that’s how I spent my Saturday.”
Taecyeon clicked his tongue. “Good Lord, you’re boring,” he blew a raspberry and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table’s edge. “Look I get it—work’s important and we can’t always enjoy time for ourselves—but you’re more than just a soldier.”
“It’s not that.” The Captain looked away, eyes drifting to his half-consumed drink. “Schedule’s just a little tight these days.”
“Hyung-nim . . .”
Chan blinked, mouth agape at the honorific. He opened his mouth to reply but was too shocked to form a coherent thought.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. needs you, hyung-nim. You’re the Captain, for fuck’s sake, but—” Taecyeon bowed his head and passed a hand through his hair. He straightened and met Chan’s eyes, smiling a weary half-smile. “The world’s complex and uncertain but the least you could do is find the good within it and enjoy it. You can’t live solely for work—you must live for something.”
“I don’t know.” Chan rubbed his forehead. “Family, stability? The guy who wanted all that was on ice for far too long. I think someone else came out.”
“And what do they want?”
Chan grimaced. “I don’t know.”
“Then, Cap, take tomorrow to figure that out.”
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AFTER BOWING PROFUSELY and apologizing for being drunk and speaking informally, Taecyeon left an hour later. Chan called him a cab and was surprised when received a text from Bam, relaying his commander’s arrival to the Bunkbed—the Itaewon safe-house—and giving the man shit for not holding his own against the Captain. 
After all this time, Chan found it funny that others used honorifics around him. It felt strange being treated like a senior because he still felt like that twenty-something kid that joined the army to fight the good fight. He could be their grandfather but he didn’t look like it.
Despite feeling accomplished, he didn’t sleep that night. Taecyeon’s words echoed in his head—you’re more than a soldier . . . live for something . . . figure it out—and it felt like being hitting with a brick wall. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been pulled from the cold and into this bold new world. Yet he hadn’t taken time to fully immerse himself in it.
Work had impeded that from happening and he was oddly thankful for that. Adapting wasn’t always easy and the times, for better or worse, demanded change. Chan sensed he wasn’t ready for change. Given enough time, he would be . . . but not yet.
The weight of the conversation stuck with him and it was beginning to bother him. still Taecyeon was right. Chan couldn’t keep himself isolated . . . waiting for the next mission . . . letting time pass right by him when he had just returned to the world of the living.
He sighed and reached for a flip phone Jackson had gifted him on his birthday. His contacts were limited since he rarely communicated with anyone outside of work. The selected few that had his number were people he trusted unconditionally. In the off-chance of losing the device—and because he still didn’t trust technology enough—Chan had memorized every number saved on the phone.
He dialed a number and waited. The contact ID read: THUNDER 현진.
With bated breath and closed eyes, he listened to the phone ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing, until—
“Hey there, grandpa!”
Chan couldn’t help but rub his temple. “How are you, Hyunjin?”
“I’m doing as good as I can—M, web him up!—yah! Webs. Use them, like, now!”
“Are you busy—”
There was a loud boom followed by Hyunjin grunting and cussing through gritted teeth. The sound of thunder and crackling lighting echoed in Chan’s ear, as though it were happening right besides him. After a second of silence, he heard Hyunjin chuckle in between breaths.
“Say, ajeossi, what do you say to lending us a hand?”
“With what?” Chan frowned.
“Oh, y’know, the usual . . .” Hyunjin said as matter-of-factly. “Super-villains.”
Chan paused, looked at his flip-phone, and blinked as if to consider what was happening. He heard a familiar and unmistakable voice, calling after Hyunjin with a tone of disbelief and disapproval.
“Are you on the phone right now?” Mark sounded livid. “Dude, are you serious?”
“I’m getting reinforcements!”
“YAH—”
“Don’t get your webs in a bunch, M!”
“Hyunjin—” Mark began but was cut off.
Chan wondered what was going on but before he could ask, his friend interjected. “Ajeossi,” said Hyunjin, not bothering to listen to Mark or Chan. “On your left!”
He heard it before he saw it. Behind him, something began to glow: it started as a just a small, twirling sparkler until it grew into a wide circle that encompassed much of the kitchenette. Chan couldn’t see the rest of his apartment because this burning circle—a portal, no doubt made with magic—opened to a busy intersection in what looked like Enn City. Cars had been crushed or exploded; the streets were cracked or burning; and standing a few feet away was Hyunjin himself.
“Where’s the shield?” he asked, hanging up the phone.
“It’s—uh—there,” said Chan, pointing to a corner of his apartment. The shield laid untouched but ready for battle.
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, his right hand extended as if waiting for something. “Well . . . are you gonna grab it or are we gonna stand here all night?”
Chan smiled. He snatched the shield, ran the length of his apartment, and leaped into the portal. He quickly realized he wasn’t wearing any tactical gear when he felt the hot asphalt under his bare feet. The portal closed behind him with a soft hiss. Great, he thought, I’m underdressed.
“Looking good, ajeossi,” said Hyunjin, smirking.
“Please,” Chan mumbled, ears burning with embarrassment. “Stop calling me that.”
A dull whistle resonated faintly in the air until it crescendoed to a loud boom. That’s when Chan saw it: a war-hammer so splendorous and beautifully crafted that he had to remind himself it wasn’t the real thing. He now understood why Hyunjin had his hand over his head as Pokpung met home in its owner’s hand.
“What are you two doing?”
Chan turned to his left and saw Mark Lee—the Brotastic Spider-Man—glaring at them as he hung from lamppost. His suit was black and neon-green. It fit him like a second skin and was coated with debris dust.
“Are we gonna fight or are we gonna pose like idiots?”
“Call it, Cap.” Hyunjin passed Pokpung from his left to his right hand.
The Captain—Bang Chan—smiled, bursting with purpose.
He didn’t know what he’d do tomorrow. He just knew it was worth fighting for.
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rockthingsbymeg · 3 years
Text
Rockin’ around the Christmas tree
Guns N’ Roses Christmas special - fic no. 6
Pairing: Slash | Saul Hudson x fem!reader
Summary: based of the prompt - “Person A is decorating the tree and refuses to let anyone else help because the tree needs to be perfect.”
Info: Fluff; 2120 words; typical Christmas stuff;
A/N: Last Christmas fic of the day angels. Have a good 2021!
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It wasn't unusual for Slash to wake up and find Y/N already awake, either still laying by his side or going around the house doing whatever she needed to do. He was a heavy sleeper, so that had never bothered him, and that day it hadn't either.
Being awake before Slash, however, didn't exactly make Y/N an early bird. Anyone up before midday was up before Slash.
This time, however, it was different. Around half-past eight in the morning, Slash woke up, groggy and grumpy, with Y/N already out of bed. The bedroom door was fully closed, which meant Y/N wasn't coming back to bed and didn't want to wake him up. When they were asleep, the door was always left ajar or fully open, so none of them would accidentally go against it while trying to go to the bathroom or grab a glass of water in the middle of the night.
When he had rolled on the bed to look at the clock, he had groaned so deeply and loudly it had actually hurt his dry throat, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. After he woke up, he couldn’t fall back asleep unless Y/N was by his side, which he guessed wouldn’t happen that day.
He didn’t understand why on earth she was up so early, but instead of thinking about it, he just rolled on his side, stretched like their little black kitten did while waking up, and then rolled out of bed, bare feet meeting the hard, cold wood floor and sending shivers up his body. Either way, he didn’t throw on a pair of socks or slippers and picked up a fluffy robe that Y/N had gotten him, wrapping it around himself and making his way out of his room.
Every blind in the house had been open, and the bright sunlight shinning against the snow resting on the windowsills burned his eyes, causing a groan to leave his lips and his hand to immediately shoot up to cover his eyes.
He kept walking, slowly becoming more aware of Frank Sinatra's voice mumbling lowly on the lower floor. It was so pleasant, deep, and rich in his early morning grogginess, that it was working as a lullaby, making his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Slash fought them open with much cost as his bare feet began leading him down the stairs, a small, black cursed kitten greeting him happily as it walked in circles, its paws still too small to get him up the steps.
A smile stretched across Slash's face as he made it to the bottom and picked up the youngest member of his and Y/N's furry family. His calloused hands patted the tiny head and scratched behind his ears, smile widening at the soft, small purring sounds reverberating against his chest, where Slash had made the kitten lean against.
Soon enough, however, instead of having one kitten to pet and cuddle, Slash had that one and four more cats meowing at him, demanding their own share of attention.
Slash sat down on the last step of the staircase and let his cats climb closer to him to give him their good morning, curling themselves against the plush material of the robe or lightly craving their nails into the skin of his hands, trying to get him to pet them.
He had sat there for a bit, doing his best to give them all an equal share of attention, until all the heads turn towards their living room, two of the cats leaving to follow the sound and start meowing again to the other source of cuddles and pets.
Y/N kneeled down to run her hands over the fur on their back and then underneath their little chins, smiling widely at them and giving them each a kiss on the nose before taking a seat by Slash’s side on the staircase and leaning her head on his shoulder. Her head tilted up, looking into his eyes, as his tilted down, smiling widely up at her before pressing their lips together gently, one, two, three small pecks before a long, slow kiss.
“I didn't wake you up, did I?” Y/N asked as they pulled apart, lacing their hands together and stroking his knuckles with her thumb.
“Nah, you're fine. Jus’ woke up all of a sudden and y’know I can't sleep without you there...” A soft blush darkened the color of his cheeks underneath his bed-head and the sight made Y/N's heart flutter in her chest, even if it was probably the thousandth time she had seen it.
“I know, baby.” She laid another kiss on his lips and then one on his nose, pulling back only far enough to be able to speak. “Why don't I fix you some food and you eat while I finish what I was doing, and then we'll crawl back under the covers?”
The idea sounded very much appealing to Slash, who eagerly nodded before moving his mouth to press a sweet, gentle kiss underneath her ear. “What, exactly, are you doin' this fucking early, on a Saturday?”
A small laugh rumbled from the back of her throat as she pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, gently putting two of her cats down on the floor and making her way to the kitchen, passing by their living room to turn the music just slightly louder. “It's December 1st baby. You know what that means...”
Combining her answer, with Frank Sinatra's soothing voice and the sight of balled up Christmas lights on the corner, that he, somehow, hadn't noticed until now, gave him the answer he needed.
“I forgot what day it was...” He chuckled, putting all the cats on the floor before following her, sneaking a glance into the living room to see their dark green tree stand high and proud in the corner of the room, right by a shelf filled with little dinosaur replicas. Yeah, everything totally matched. “Do you want help with anything sweetheart?” He asked as he entered the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist as she faced the stove, the smell of eggs filling his nostrils and making his empty stomach groan loud and angry.
She chuckled at the noise and turned to him briefly to plant a kiss on his cheek, before shaking her head and turning to the stove once more. “You know I like to do it on my own. It needs to be perfect, the way I envisioned it...” She explained, just like every year when Slash asked if she needed help.
He smiled against her neck, nuzzling her skin before giving her a small kiss, pushing back to glance towards the slide-open doors that led to their backyard. “Just like you know I'll always ask this. It’s tradition.” He chuckled, both at his statement and at the sight of their two older dogs and their three pups playing around in the snow. “They're gonna be freezing when they come inside...”
“I told them that, they still barked that they wanted to go outside.” Slash could envision Y/N rolling her eyes while speaking in that fake disapproving tone, shaking her head slightly while still cooking his breakfast, waving a small spatula around as she spoke. “They're dumbasses, much like you.”
“Wha- I'm not a dumbass!” He argued in an equally fake offended tone, letting his arms fall from their previous place around her waist and slapping her ass with one hand, before hopping on the counter so he could see her face.
“Why, yes you are, my love.” Y/N’s eyes shone as she smiled at him, playful words spoken in a teasingly posh manner. “You're my favorite dumbass.”
Slash couldn’t help his own wide grin as he looked at her, leaning in to steal a long kiss, humming briefly against her lips at the taste of eggs on her tongue. “Don't tell Duff that you said that. Y’know he claimed the spot of favorite dumbass a long time ago.” Laughs rolled easily between their still slightly joined lips.
“I won't, don't worry.” She nodded as she pulled back, turning her attention once more to the stove and finishing his food, putting his eggs and bacon on a plate before handing it to him, along with a glass of orange juice. “Now, you eat that, so your stomach stops complaining, and I'll go finish the tree.” She laid a quick peck on his lips before turning away, robe swooshing behind her as she made her way into their living room.
Slash gathered everything on a tray and, rather than eating all alone in the kitchen, he placed all his food inside it and went to join Y/N, sitting on the couch and watching her move around.
Her hands moved gently as she wrapped the Christmas lights around the tree, leaving them turned on so the room shone with a soft golden light, along with the early morning light. It didn't take her long to finish that part, and soon enough she had picked up a box filled with dinosaur garlands. It had been something she had bought last year, doing her best to mix his love for anything remotely reptile with her love for traditional yet not “normal" decoration. Garlands were traditional, but dinosaur garlands... not so much, which was the perfect balance for her.
As soon as the garlands were laid down, came all the other ornaments. A box filled with red balls, each one decorated by an old drawing of Santa Claus, then a box filled with golden little starts, followed by one with white and green bells, and lastly, one of Slash's favorites, a box filled with small, plastic snakes, lizards, dragons, and whatnot, all with a string to their back so they could be hanging in the tree.
While Y/N busied herself around the tree, laying every single ornament with accurate precision to replicate the mental image she had conjured, a small smile on her face growing as the decoration came closer to being finished, humming along with Frank Sinatra under her breath, Slash had finished his breakfast, done the dishes, let their dogs in, started a fire so all of them would stay warm and gotten his guitar, softly strumming with the songs playing, until, like always, he began playing a melody of his own, overpowered by his own feelings and emotions.
He hadn't noticed how Y/N had turned off the background music and sat down on their coffee table. She was facing him, elbows on her knees and face in her hands, a smile so wide it had to hurt her. Her eyes glinted, both with the flames from the fireplace and with the unconditional, unyielding, undying, overwhelming love she felt for him.
It had been the same look since the first time they met.
Duff had brought her along to one of their shows, excited to introduce one of his closes friends to his bandmates. She was this slightly shy yet so lively, amazing girl, and Slash was, as much as he hated to admit it, swept off his feet after not much more than five minutes of conversation.
He was shy himself, never one to be able to hold eye contact for long, but whenever he did, it was the one occasion when he'd stare for longer than he could remember. The first time he looked into her eyes, they were so filled with a burning passion, a bit hazed from a few beers, admittedly, but so captivating. It was like a whole world, a whole galaxy was held inside them.
And what had taken him a while to realize, was how much deeper and lively that galaxy got when she was looking at him.
Once his eyes had lifted from the guitar and seen that exact same look in her eyes, he couldn’t stop his mouth from working faster than his brain. “You still look at me like the first day we met...”
A soft laugh left Y/N's lips. Not a mocking or condescending one at the softness of his words, an honest, love-filled one. She got up from the table and made the short distance to the couch, reaching over to gently take the guitar from his lap and taking its place. “Of course I do.” Her wide smile remained, both her hands coming up to cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “I still love you the exact same way. I always will.”
A smile grew on his face too, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, pouring as much passion into the gesture as he did when playing guitar. “I’ll always love you too, baby.”
——
Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛
Requests are closed.
Taglist: @curly-hudson; @agroupiewhore; @littlemisscare-all; @metalheartofgold
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butterflyinthewell · 4 years
Text
Important online safety message to minors.
I’m almost 40. I’ve seen some scary stuff online.
It’s a sad world that someone has to tell you to be more situationally aware of creeps, but I hope this advice helps you be safer online.
🗣
You don’t have to specify your age, but make sure it’s clearly known that you are a minor if an adult engages you online.
If it makes you more comfortable, you can put something on your profile like “I am a minor, 18+ please do not interact.” Add it to your posts too if you have room (it depends on the site). One unfortunate part of Web 2.0 social media is not everyone checks a profile before they retweet / reblog / share someone’s stuff.
If an adult keeps engaging with your stuff and you don’t want them to, it’s okay to block them.
Stay away from spaces adults have marked as nsfw, off-limits to minors or unsafe for minors. Chances are there is material in those spaces that you may not be ready for, or it will shock, offend, frighten, disgust and/or trigger you.
Some adults will pretend to be minors, and unfortunately I don’t know what kind of “tells” give away that they’re lying about their age, but I’m sure someone who knows more about that can reblog this and add that info.
Now, here’s what to do if a creepy adult starts creeping.
If their profile states they’re a MAP or NOMAP, block instantly. MAP / NOMAP means Minor Attracted Person / Non-Offending Minor Attracted Person. These people are pedophiles. Some of them identify themselves with the acronym PEAR or the pear emoji. 🍐 Be wary if you see this in someone’s profile info.
PEAR stands for Pro-Expression Anti-Repression. That’s something you apply to fiction, NOT reality. Fiction can be turned off, flicked off a screen, a book closed or otherwise disengaged from the moment someone doesn’t like it. Real life doesn’t work that way, and don’t trust anyone who claims it does.
It doesn’t matter if a MAP / NOMAP claims they’re getting “help” for their pedophilia or not, they should not be engaging you in any capacity.
If you engage them and discover they’re a MAP, disengage and block.
If an adult sends you anything that is sexually explicit, no matter the form, be it art, fanwork, videos, audio, roleplays, etc, screenshot it for evidence, block that person and tell someone you can trust.
Even nudity that is not sexual (this includes furry art with exposed genitals) should be treated as suspicious if an adult knows you’re a minor and still sends it to you despite being told you’re uncomfortable with it. They might be trying to desensitize you to the sight of nudity so they can show you more and more explicit stuff. Do as above; screenshot, block and report to someone you trust.
+ Part of the grooming process is the adult tries to reach you somewhere private, like DM’s or a messenger app and desensitize you to stimuli you would normally reject by exposing you little by little to it. Think of it as a twisted form of exposure therapy for phobias, but you don’t want this exposure. They want you to get curious and will up the ”intensity” of the explicit material.
The media itself existing is not the problem (unless the adult using it on you made it), the real problem is adult using it specifically to desensitize you into thinking that kind of stuff is okay in the real world. If an adult engages you, shows you media with questionable material in it and tries to tell you “see, it’s okay because it’s being done here” screenshot it, tell them fiction is not the real world and break off contact.
Most creeps stay hidden, so their blog may not contain a trace of anything weird, but when they engage you they send you all kinds of creepy adult stuff. An adult who is engaging you to groom you will use pretty much anything to try to make you think it’s normal and okay for them to do that to you. Remember always that it’s not. Remember the line between fiction and reality.
No adult should be sending a minor any pictures of naked people (or naked furry art with visible genitals) of any age no matter how innocent it seems!!!
If an adult sends you pictures or videos of themselves in their underwear, naked, showing their genitals or showing themselves doing sexually explicit stuff, screenshot the evidence, block them and report it to someone you trust.
If an adult asks you about sex toys or sends you info about them, that is really suspicious. Screencap, block and report to someone you trust.
If an adult asks you questions about your body, like what your hair ‘down there’ looks like, or how you’re developing, or if they ask if you touch your private parts, screenshot the evidence, block the adult and tell someone you trust.
If an adult asks you questions like “do you know what a (something sexual here) is?” or any questions that are sexually explicit or makes you uncomfortable, screenshot that crap, block them and tell someone you trust.
If you’re a creator and an adult tries to commission materials with nudity or sexually explicit stuff, refuse and tell them you’re a minor. If they persist, take screenshots, block them and tell someone you trust.
If an adult sends you violent or gory stuff and you don’t like it, demand that they stop and block them if they don’t. Screenshot anything they say if they keep doing it, and tell someone you trust.
If an adult demands you get on camera for them, do not do it. Screenshot the evidence, block them and tell someone you trust.
If an adult is threatening to reveal secrets you told them unless you do what they say(ie “send me a closeup of your private parts, or I’ll email all our chatlogs and your old naked photos to your whole school”). DON’T DO IT!! Screenshot the evidence, block them and tell someone you trust.
If an adult threatens to hurt themselves if you stop talking to them, stop talking to them anyway. This is especially true if they actually harm themselves and show you pictures or videos of it. That is a classic abuse tactic and it’s not your fault if they hurt themselves. Block them.
If an adult you blocked makes more accounts to keep contacting you, or starts showing up on other sites you visit trying to contact you, screenshot all the evidence and tell someone you trust.
If an adult (or anyone)tries to smear your name because you wouldn’t obey them, use any evidence you have against them in your defense and tell someone you trust about the situation.
If you run a blog talking about your abuse or experiences and an adult engages you to ask uncomfortable probing questions about the details of your trauma / abuse, be very suspicious and block them.
If an adult talks to you like you’re their special friend, or if they say you’re their very special friend, be very suspicious.
Acting like a sole source of kindness is one way an adult can groom a minor. They want you to feel like they are the only source of good that you can trust because they want you to gravitate more and more to them.
If you tell an adult you don’t like it when they swear while talking to you privately and they stop, but gradually start to do it again, be wary! An occasional oopsie slip or typo is one thing, but slipping in swear words when they know it makes you uncomfortable is suspicious. They may be testing your boundaries.
If an adult tries to set up an in person meeting, refuse it and talk to someone you trust about it.
If an adult (or anyone) tries to tell you that you should only trust them and nobody else, expects you to behave a certain way to be accepted, or if they act as if you’ve wronged them for trusting people other than them, that is a huge abuse warning sign. They are not safe to be around and you should break contact immediately.
If an adult compliments you in ways that makes you uncomfortable, break contact. A grown adult should not be telling a minor “you’re sexy” or “you’re hot.”
If an adult makes frequent comments about how mature and grown up they think you are, be suspicious.
If an adult learns you’re trans / non-binary and asks questions about your private parts or whether you plan to get surgery, be suspicious.
If an adult asks if you’re alone at home, say no even if you are.
If an adult asks if they can come visit you, say no.
If an adult asks for your phone number, don’t give it to them, no matter how nice or tempting they may be.
If an adult is making you uncomfortable in any way, it’s okay to block them and disengage.
Do not approach an adult with nsfw stuff you made. If they run across it in public on your blog that’s one thing. Sharing it with them in private can get both of you into trouble. Don’t do it.
🗣
Note: if you, a minor, did any of the above because you didn’t know better at the time, know that you are not a bad person. No adult should take advantage of your youth or innocence to hurt you.
🗣
To adults out there:
Do not approach minors with anything sexually explicit!!! This should not need to be said.
If you send something and find out they’re a minor after the fact, apologize and don’t do it again. If you think it’s proper to avoid any more private contact, do that. If you think breaking all contact period is proper, do that.
Make sure minors know you are over 18, whether it’s somewhere on your profile or tacked onto your posts. Something like “over 18, minors DNI” is helpful. I personally have my year of birth (1980) on my profile because that’s easier than changing a number every year.
You can’t prevent minors who fake their age to see naughty stuff from engaging with your stuff, but you can make it clear that you will not engage them back. And do not engage them. In fact, if you’re worried about that, block them when you discover them.
Private conversations with minors is okay, but make sure you tell them you’re not comfortable talking about something if they mention something sexually explicit. Even if it’s fandom related stuff, keep the conversation away from anything more than talking about characters dating or kissing or whatever.
If something you ship has an underage character, do not talk about it in private with a minor, not even if the character is aged up to adulthood.
Got nsfw stuff on your blog? Tag it that way.
I use “n s f w post” for stuff I want to show up in other related tags, “nsfw post” for reblogs, and “nudity” for nonsexual nudity like mermaids with bare chests or artistic nudes. Those tags are specifically for minors to blacklist or mute. (I don’t usually reblog nsfw artwork, but sometimes I post nsfw fanfics, create nsfw text posts or reblog nsfw text posts / fanfic. If I feel it’s nsfw, I tag it such even if most people don’t think it’s nsfw.)
If it’s fanfiction, I make sure the rating is listed and that it’s nsfw, and I try to warn for triggers as best I can.
If your blog or website features a lot of adult or violent content, mark it 18+ and tell minors to not interact.
If a minor approaches you and tells you a harmless secret, fine, keep it secret. You, the adult, should never approach a minor and tell them you will keep their secrets.
If a minor is expressing a desire to harm themselves or someone else, don’t keep that secret. Tell them to talk to someone they trust irl or put them in contact with a hotline or website where they can get help. Be supportive in talking them down from immediate harm, but do not become their therapist. (It’s tempting, you see a kid in trouble and want to help, but always be careful!)
If a minor tells you they’re being abused by an adult in their life, put them in contact a website or phone number where they can seek help. Be supportive and listen, but don’t become their therapist.
If you run a role play blog, state explicitly that you will not engage in nsfw rps with minors.
If you’re roleplaying with a minor and the story takes a nsfw turn, tell the minor you will not role play a sex scene with them no matter how much they want to. Either fade it to black with a time skip or bail out of the rp.
I say this because I forgot the age of someone I was rping with on AIM a long long loooong time ago and it got explicit, and they got in trouble with their parents for it. Their parents contacted me on AIM without their teen’s knowledge and reamed me out so hard I was scared for weeks. They were right to do so! I told them they were right, apologized profusely and swore to never rp with or speak to their teen on AIM ever again, and they agreed to those terms. I kept that promise. Any contact with that former rp partner was done in public, such as via deviantart comments or LiveJournal comments. It was a major learning experience for me and it stuck because this happened almost 20 years ago.
As an autistic adult I feel more like a kid with all kinds of adult knowledge and privileges (ie can gamble, drink, visit adult places) that most kids don’t have. I relate more to people who are younger than me, but that doesn’t give me the right to assume their level of knowledge or lived experience is equal to mine.
What I’m trying to say is always be aware of the age of the person you’re rping or speaking with!
Do not commission sexually explicit or violent stuff from creators who are minors.
Do not engage with a minor who sends you sexually explicit stuff. Tell them that’s inappropriate or you’re not comfortable with getting that from them.
It’s okay to agree with a minor that an adult celebrity or character they have a crush on is attractive or whatever, but if the celebrity / character is a minor or the minor talks about wanting to have sex with that character / celebrity, tell them that’s not an appropriate topic of conversation because of your ages.
This also applies to them sharing fanworks with you depicting explicit nsfw stuff. Deflect them and tell them it’s not appropriate due to your ages.
Do not ask minor for personal info like their school, phone number or address.
Don’t do any video chats with a minor unless they’re family or it’s a group thing like a Zoom event.
‼️ TAG YOUR STUFF APPOPRIATELY!! YES, EVEN STUFF YOU RESHARE!!
‼️ USE APPROPRIATE WARNINGS!! YES, EVEN STUFF YOU RESHARE!!
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LBAF Chapter 12 Live-Blogging Cause Why Not
Background info: Rafe's body got kidnapped
BRUH
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD
DANI WHY
Starting Ch 12:
She didn’t know what exactly she was looking for right now.
Was she supposed to look for his body? Was she supposed to look for a zombie?
Had he woken up by himself and wandered out? Had someone kidnapped him? If so, why in the world would they do that?
valid questions sis.
“We can’t find the body,” Beatriz said, her face grim.
yeah no shit, its probably in edom with how the plot's going
“Who checked the security cameras?”
“Ma’am!” one of the travel year students put up her hand. “It was me. The security footage has been wiped out.”
demons been getting used to tech already? whoa
“You can’t track someone who is dead,” Beatriz said in frustration and turned to Selena's parents.
have u tried tho?
prolly wont work since again, i have my theory that he's in Edom but still.
The entire New York Institute was shaking.
“What in the fresh hell?” Lexi whispered next to her.
“What’s happening?” her mother demanded. “Is it an earthquake?”
nope, it's Magnus Bane, one of the eldest curses, free wheeling bisexual and most powerful warlock in history.
The warlock was marching towards the main hall. His hands stretched out – blue magic was flowing out of him like waves escaping an ocean.
uncle agnes!
The warlock stepped closer to them and uttered four words.
The only four words that probably mattered to him.
“Where is my son?”
well, fuck
The institute shook harder, and Lexi fell against her. Selena grabbed her sister tightly.
“Magnus,” her father said carefully. “You need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Magnus hissed. “You had one job. You were supposed to keep him safe! Now he is gone. Where is he? Who took him?”
valid concren bestie, but killing every one of your friends and family in rage ain't gon help
“You will find him,” Magnus said. No – ordered. “I will tear this place down brick by brick if necessary.”
magnus.
think clearly u dumbass.
“What happened?” Max demanded loudly. “Someone just waltzed in here and kidnapped my brother?”
“Who took him?” Magnus shouted. “Who took my son?”
“We don’t know,” her mother replied. “The security footage has been wiped out and-”
“What?” the Consul demanded in an incredulous tone. “What were you all doing while this happened?”
“How could you let this happen?” Max yelled.
“We didn’t let this happen!” Lexi yelled back.
y'all are worse than a recurring hindi serial
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!”
All voices fell silent, and all eyes turned to Selena.
YES YES YES MY BABY KNOWS HOW TO DO THIS
Y'ALL SELENA 'CELERY' HERONDALE KNOWS HOW TO DO SHIT.
“We could stand here and point fingers or actually go out there and start looking for Rafael,” Selena said in frustration. “Consul, we split up and searched the institute. Rafael is not here. There is a good chance someone took him out of the parameters. We need to alert the Alliance. We can ask the werewolves to follow his scent and the vampires at Dumort to check the Manhattan borders. Ask the warlocks to monitor all portal activity out of the city.”
She looked at her mother, who had a solemn expression on her face. She smiled at Selena and gave her a nod.
“You heard her,” the Consul barked. “Jace, talk to Lily. Clary, alert Maia. Max, inform the spiral labyrinth. Everyone else team up with the downworlders and look for Rafael. Nobody goes to sleep until we find my son.”
YAS BITCHES, NOW WE TALKIN
Selena walked up to Magnus and put her hands on the warlock’s shoulders.
“Magnus,” she said gently. “We’re going to find, Rafael. I promise. But we need your help. Can you please help us?”
She felt him relax beneath her fingers and the ground beneath her feet relaxed as well.
“We have to find him,” Magnus whispered.
“We will,” Selena promised. “We will get to say goodbye this time.”
agreed, unless he isn't alive already
They were holding onto each other.
No. They were clinging - as if they were each other’s life support.
is it weird that i've always wanted rafe as my parabatai
Rafael should be here right now.
Not just his body. But Rafael. All of him.
Someone had taken Rafael away, and it was her job to find them.
MURDER MURDER MURDER MURDER-
“There is just so much going on,” Selena sighed. “David dying. Then Rafael being dead. Now Rafael being missing. My father going to Idris. Me going to Idris.”
everything going on in this pain of a fic summed up in less than 20 words.
"The faeries have found some herbs that could help Helen,” Uncle Kit replied. “It’s not slowing the progression of the illness, of course. But it is apparently taking away the pain."
YES YES FAERIES GO!
She didn’t want to talk about Gabriel.
She didn’t want to think about Gabriel.
Their stupid face. The way their stupid hair was always all over the place.
And god, that stupid fucking grin.
It was easy not to think about Gabriel because they were not around much. So, Selena often forgot about them.
She had taught herself to forget about them.
Because thinking about Gabriel felt like cheating on Michael.
Which was stupid, of course.
Michael and Selena...They were just friends – or something like that. She didn’t know what they were, but she knew Michael meant everything to her.
Gabriel...Gabriel was just stupidly hot.
That’s it.
It was just sexual attraction. It was because of hormones or something.
She didn’t even like Gabriel as a person. You need to know someone to like them.
nope. NOPE.
this isnt happening. no.
i absolutely hate gabriel. they set off all the alarm bells in my head. not mention i do NOT trust them. no. u aint shipping selena and slinky ol' gabe.
Gabriel can fuck off.
hell fucking yeah. gabriel can fuck right off.
“Because they are a big p-”
She froze outside the training room. Amira let out a little sigh.
Gabriel was inside the training room, wearing sweatpants and a loose tank top. Their short chestnut hair was pulled back by a headscarf. A couple of loose strands that were probably as unruly as Gabriel had managed to escape and were falling over their face.
Gabriel was hanging from a rope and practicing their balance. Selena hated how much they were good at it.
...no NO THIS ISNT HAPPENING NOOOOO-
Gabriel would probably be the outcome if her father and Magnus had a baby.
Heartbreakingly beautiful, annoyingly graceful, and eternally smiling.
And of course, a reckless lunatic.
fuck no.
“Remember who they are,” Selena cleared her throat. “They are a capitalist. We do not stan.”
YAS WE DO NOT.
“But they are hot,” Amira countered. “We stan!”
AMIRA NO, PHYSICAL APPEARANCE IS NOT ALL THAT MATTERS.
“Amira!” Selena scoffed. “What happened to eating the rich?”
“That statement has multiple connotations,” Amira pointed out and walked into the training room.
AMIRA NO-
“Amira!” they smiled at her friend, turned to Selena and gave a solemn bow. “Your highness.”
Selena rolled her eyes. Sometimes it felt like Gabriel only existed to annoy her.
pls u two, dont ruin the enemies to lovers trope for me 😭😭😭
People had started flirting with Selena and making passes at her when she had turned all but ten.
OH HELL NO, U DONT
“Why don’t you give the poor punching bag a break and fight me?’ Gabriel grinned.
I HATE U
She picked up her long curls, twirled them into a bun. Then she grabbed a stiletto from her ankle and put it through the bun to keep it steady.
A trick aunt Izzy had taught her.
YESSSSS BADASS SELENA
... [Cue me reading the entire fight scene.]
oomph, i guess Slinky Ol' Gabe has that decency to back off when Selena said no.
that's it for for this ch! i'm tired smh
@khaleesiofalicante
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dmc-tings · 3 years
Text
DMC Gang Teaching their s/o how to drive
Dante
Uh, yeah he knows how to drive
But... he's not the best teacher
Usually ends up asleep in the back
Cause he trusts you to figure it out
One day though, damn near changed his life
You smashed into a newspaper stand
The impact woke him from his nap
You were holding on to the steering wheel for dear life
Tears welled up in your eyes and he immediately pulled you into his lap
Kicking the door open, hauling both of you out of Morrison's now wrecked car
Dante was more concerned about you
You still hadn't said anything, just letting tears fall down your face
He checked you over, he was silent as well
Pissed at himself for letting his negligence, almost get you killed
The cops showed up, after a kind soul called them
An ambulance got to the scene and checked the pair of you over
While the paramedics looked you over, Dante called Vergil and Nero
The pair made it to the scene in Nico's van
But it wasn't just the two of them, the whole crew came
Kyrie and Lady rushed to your side, Lady shoving the paramedics and cops away from you
Kyrie got you talking, letting you weep onto her shoulder
Dante got a scolding from Vergil and Trish
Something along the lines of, "How could you be so wreckless." And "You knew that was dangerous, Dante."
He wasn't listening tho, he watched you cry into Kyrie's arms, while Lady rubbed your back comfortingly
Once the scene cleared out, it was just you and the crew
Oh! And a confused and angry Morrison
"How the hell.... Dante, you know your paying for this."
Your half-devil finally made his way to you, for once (and during this whole thing) speechless
His head hung, he didn't need Vergil, Trish or Lady to scold him
He was beating himself up over this
You looked up from Kyrie and Lady, throwing yourself into his arms
Crying out "I'm sorry's" and "I should have been more careful's"
He shushed you, burying his face in your shoulder, "Im sorry. I should have been paying more attention."
He silently cried into your neck
After that day, Dante took more care in paying more attention to your driving
Once you got your license though, he still took naps
Or so you thought
The devil man would only be resting
Peeking at you every so often
Vergil
You stood awkwardly in the archway of your shared bedroom
Vergil giving you a (visibly) shocked look
You wanted him to what?
"Verg? Did you hear me?" You shuffled your feet abit, again
He blinked at you
Dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and down right appalled
"You.. You want me to..."
You looked away, abit ashamed
But to your defense, you could and had always walked everywhere in Red Grave
You really didn't need to drive, unless you went to the beach or somewhere out of town
But.... Vergil didn't know how to drive either, he had spent the last 20 something years in hell
And the last thing he thought he would ever be asked to do or teach was FUCKING DRIVE
He shook his head, not saying anything to you
You bit your lip and looked away from him
You misunderstood his head shaking
Then his face flushed, letting out a grumble
"I dont know how to drive."
And in his defense, he just teleports or opens a portal to where he wants to go
You straightened up, "Wh-what?"
Great, you were back at square one
Vergil gave a small cough, "Why do you need to learn how to drive?"
You looked at your feet, "I just wanted to learn..."
In all honesty, Nero had teased you about being an adult, and not knowing how to drive
It made you feel low
Vergil gave a huff, noticing your hesitation
"Who." He stood up
You looked at him, "Ver-"
"Was it Dante? No... he barely knows how to drive..." his eyes flashed
You grabbed his arm, but it didn't stop him
He slashed open a portal, right into the shop
"Who teased (him/her)." It wasn't a question, a demand for the person who insulted his sweetheart
"Vergil. Please stop..."
Everyone in the shop looked at Nero, who had his headphones in
Vergil let out a growl and pushed you behind him
"Teach them how to drive!" He snarled, slicing the headphones off of his son's head
Nero shot up and got ready to fight back, but stopped when he realized what was happening
"Uh... sure... i-"
"Both of us."
Dante burst onto laughter, realizing what Vergil was getting at
Nero looked at Nico, "uh... can we-"
"Oh hell nah!"
At a loss Nero looked at you and his dad
"Well.... uh... i-"
Vergil scoffed, throwing a few summoned swords at his cackling brother
Then he pulled you close, "Tease them about not knowing how to drive again, and you'll feel my wrath."
He took you back home
After setting you on your feet and giving you a kiss on the forehead, he returned to his reading
"So..."
"You have me. No need to drive."
And that was the end of that
Nero
Nero sat in the van in the driver's seat
You in his lap
You insisted that he sit in the passenger seat
But the part-devil placed you in his lap
Now he was scratching his head
"Nero?" You looked at him with big puppy dog eyes
He looked down at you, "Yeah?"
"Do you know what your do-"
Nero waved his gauntlet clad hand
"Of course, I got this."
He, poorly, started to explain the gears, buttons and switches in front of you
"Aight. So. You got the gear shift, I think it's a stick. And the... uh... windshield wipers. And the lights in front, and the brights..."
'Oof,' you thought, 'I could have just asked Dante... and got just about the same experience.'
You drummed your fingertips on the steering wheel
Finally, tired of your boyfriend droning on, you turned the key and started the van
Nero jumped, then patted you on the head, pointing at the 3 pedals at your guys feet
"Well since your in my lap, I'll work the pedals. Just tell me when to speed up and slow down. Ok?"
You nodded, "Alright! Nice and slow though."
From here, using team work, you and Nero made your way around the block
Slow and steady
Then Nero hit the breaks a bit too hard
You nailing your forehead on the steering wheel
"Shit! Nero!" You leaned back rubbing your sore head
"S-sorry! There was a old lady crossing the street..." he mumbled
Then leaned forward a bit, examining your forehead
He sucked his teeth, "Shiiiiit. That looks bad babe...."
"No shit." You barked
You felt your boyfriend flinch at your tone
After the pain passed you patted him on the arm, that was wrapped around you
"Its ok. Good thing you stopped though." You pointed at the old lady still trying to cross the street
Nero nodded, grunting with agreement
"I... I think thats enough driving for the day."
Nero gave another nod, letting you crawl into the passenger seat
He made way back to the garage/shop
Once parked he looked at you
And you gave him a smile
"Thanks. That was pretty fun!"
Nero gave a small laugh, "I suppose it was, save for you bashing your skull on the wheel."
You huffed, poking out your lip, "Not entirely my fault."
V
(Yes, I include him, cause some people like him. And personally I like his character as well)
You and V were cuddling in the living room of your apartment
You leaned into his chest, watching tv, as he read from his book and gently running a hand through your hair
"V." You spoke lifting your head
He gave an acknowledging hum, looking to you from his book
"Can you teach me how to drive?"
He looked at you, his mind drawing a blank
As Vergil, he never drove, hell they barely walked
"Love, I've never driven.... Ever." He told you gently
You looked forward at his chest, searching your mind, trying to figure out who you could ask to teach you how to drive
V cocked his head at you, wondering what was going through your mind
You looked up, eyes shining, "we could learn together! There's plenty of books on driving!"
V's eyes lit up as well, your excitement fueling his
"Oh? Where to we begin then?"
You both sat up, you grabbing your phone and V sitting up with you
"Well the DMV would be a good start. They can give us all the info to study."
"There's a written test?" V asked, he knew he could pass that
You nodded, not looking up from your phone"Yes. And there is a driving segment as well."
V froze and looked down at you, but seeing you so excited, he didn't want to ruin your fun
Later you both got everything from the DMV
And at V's insistence, the library as well
You both spent weeks reading and learning
Even convincing Nico to let you practice and take the driving part of the test, using her van
Eventually when it was time for the tests, you both where prepared
You passed them with flying colors
Ignoring the dangerous tips Nico gave you
When it was V's turn, he passed the written exam
But hesitated when it was time to get into the van
He stood at the driver's door, hand on it
You walked to his side, gently putting your hand in his
"V? You can do it. Just don't think too hard about it."
He looked at you to speak, but you cut him off, sealing his lips with a kiss
Happy, he climbed in
You sat alone in the DMV, anxious
He came back with the instructor minutes later, beaming proudly
"You were correct, my dear. I didn't overthink."
He pulled you into a hug, after you both got your licenses
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Text
There's Always Room For Another
Minors, this story is not for you. This is a KiriBaku x Transmasculine AFAB Reader. As time goes on, I will add on triggers. This is meant to be a long term fic that will eventually become a lemon. Until then it will stay orange - lime. I will give content warnings at the beginning of every chapter. Please comment if I miss any. There will be sex mentions peppered throughout. This is an act of fiction in which all characters are written to be at least the age of 21 years old. I do not claim any rights to the characters in this story, nor do I intend to. All characters in this story are owned by Kohei Horikoshi. Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Chapter 5 is up!
Shinso Hitoshi was just about to try sleeping again when he heard his phone start ringing. He laid there and let it get to three rings before picking it up to see who it was. That was his policy for any call after 10 pm, if the caller was willing to last for three rings, he'd check and see who it was. If he cared about the person, he'd pick it up unless they were known for spamming him in a 3 am smoked-out daze like certain Pikachus he knew. So he looked at his phone and saw it was y/n, pausing to consider why you would call him at this time, but picked up. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, clearly exhausted but making sure you were okay. "Shinso, can I come over...like now?" you asked, and he paused. "Fine, the door's unlocked," he replied in a dry tone, not exactly ready for guests but getting out of bed to put pants on and tidy up a bit. "Okay, be there in five," you said, deciding to get shoes on and jumping out of the window, shutting it before beginning to walk his way, taking a quick pace to avoid getting spotted by a returning Kirishima.
As you walked, you kept your earbuds in, knowing it wasn't safe but not caring as you pulled your jacket's hood up and worked to keep your head down, not wanting to get noticed. In time, you were walking into Shinso Hitoshi's apartment, knowing that you were in familiar territory and appreciating that fact. You'd spent quite a bit of time here, and you found Shinso laying on the couch, waiting in a depression nest. "How are you doing?" he asked, and when you went to respond, "I don't want to talk about it," your mind went completely blank and you felt a scarf pulling you onto the couch to sit down. "Tell me what happened," he demanded, and you did, the words spilling from your out as you sat in the back of your mind, defenseless with crossed arms and hating that he could do this to you. However, you had forgotten about his quirk when you came over, forgotten how he could easily force the words out of you when he was worried and was not averse to it. Once the words stopped, you ended up back in your head and tears pricked at your eyes. "Aren't you being a bit overdramatic?" he asked, "Unless there's more you aren't telling me, it just sounds like Kirishima wanted to share a nap and you had a meltdown. Is there any reason you're so upset?" he asked, and you answered, knowing the alternative. "I...I like them, Shinso. It hurts because I want them both, and I can't have them," you asked, and his expression softened. He understood well how painful this could be.
"Ah, I see," he said, knowing what it was like to feel seemingly forbidden emotions, considering he had a huge crush on a certain loud blonde that he was convinced at this point was straight due to his advances just...not working after years. "You know he's bi," you said, trying to change the subject. He raised an eyebrow, "And they could be polyamorous," he suggested, to which you frowned. "I have seen his kiss both men and women," you said, and he paused. "Have you asked them?" Shinso asked, and you just looked at him. "You expect me to ask Bakugo Katsuki, clearly the most reasonable man I've ever met, and Kirishima Eijirou, if they'd let me date them. The men I live with, men I cannot avoid in the event that they hate me and think I'm disgusting. Those men," you brought up, returning the look to him and crossing your arms. "You could move in here," he said, shooting it back like it wasn't out of the blue. "What?" you asked, taken aback, "I can't just break my lease," you said, though the thought was tempting. "Sure you can, if they throw a fit, just leave. I have an extra room and I'm sure half my rent is cheaper than yours," he said, shrugging. "Your choice, but you have options if you ever learn to stop being a coward." he remarked, getting up and going to get some water.
"So, did you just come over to cry at me or do you want to actually try and calm down?" he asked, having a tough love outlook on emotions and not being the type to baby people as you knew. That's why you came here, why you appreciated him, he didn't baby you like some others. You took a breath and sat down, "Just...sorry. I know this is all stupid, I just don't know what to do." you said, putting your head in your hands until you saw a cup placed in front of you and looked up. You took a sip and sat down, legs spread and relaxed. "Well the way I see it is you have a few options, maybe not options you recognize, but you have options," he said, taking a sip. "But first you need to think hard about this. Polyamory isn't just some joke, I should know," he said, being that way himself. You started taking a sip and paused.
"Wait, you're poly?" you asked and he nodded, "I'm not public about it but I'm bi and poly, though I can be monogamous," he explained. You considered it for a moment and shrugged, "Okay, can you educate me a bit?" you asked, "About being poly, so I can see if my experiences line up. You don't have to, I know it can be exhausting, but I'd really appreciate it. If not, I can google it," you said, and he waved you off. He pulled out a notebook and drew a few diagrams, one demonstrating a closed system and one describing a semi-open system, and one describing a fully open system. Shinsou proceeded to explain them, knowing he didn't have to but knowing that his explanation would answer more questions than google would. After the explanation, you sat back, "Okay, that makes sense," you sad, thinking about it. "I think if I were poly, I would want a closed system, a polycule you called it?" you asked and Shinso nodded, "Good to know you retained something," he remarked and you shot him a look. "I'm tired and it's 2am, give me a break," you said, and he shrugged. "Not my fault you don't retain information," Shinso remarked, closing the notebook, "How about this. If I ask them out and get info off of Denki about whether he's bi or not, and he is into men, you ask him out," you suggested and he frowned. "Fine, not like you'll ask them out anyway," he said with an eye roll that fueled you. After that, you left, determination in your gaze as you headed back home. Shinso locked his door once you left, chuckling, “Knew he just needed a push,” he said before going to his bedroom and trying to sleep once again. “Before I do this though, can I stay here a few nights?” you asked, needing a safety net. Shinso frowned but nodded, “Fine, but only a few nights, I’ll drive you over.” he said, slipping his shoes on and heading out to the car.
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malfoymanortings · 3 years
Text
lavender and velvet //part seven
SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.
PAIRINGS: to be decided.
hello all! hope you all are doing lovely and had a good thanksgiving. dont forget, im accepting requests for just about anything, and you can find the info on my masterlist post pinned to the top of my page. i would love to write stuff for yall! anyways, enjoy!
taglist: @person1839 @big-galaxy-chaos @spooderham @iamashlynmarie @acciosiriusblack @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ivettt @msmarklee1213 @briargardens 
as always, just let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!
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“Miss Black, wake up.”
Juliet was jolted from her sleep to the sound of her head of house’s voice, opening her eyes to see Snape looming over her menacingly. The sight caused her to jump to attention immediately, and she quickly sat up while eyeing him suspiciously.
“Professor Snape, why are you..” Juliet trailed off, very confused.
“Arthur Weasley has been injured,” Snape responded distastefully, motioning for her to get out of bed. “You are due in Dumbledore’s office with the rest of his children and Mr. Potter.”
“Is he alright?” adrenaline now waking her thoroughly, Juliet hurried off the bed, ignoring Snape’s grimace when he saw she was only wearing a shirt. She quickly tugged on shorts, grabbing her robe and her wand.
“I am unsure of his condition,” Snape was clearly annoyed now. “I had to get you quickly so that you could leave with the rest. Unless you want to be left behind, I suggest you come now.”
“What about my trunk, my owl?” Juliet questioned, following Snape out of the dormitory and down the steps. The castle floor was cold on her bare feet, and she cursed herself for not thinking of putting on her shoes.
“It will all find its way to you.” Snape responded dismissively, opening the door leading out to the common room.
The two walked swiftly to Dumbledore’s office in silence, Juliet’s heart pounding in her chest. How had Arthur been hurt? Was it something to do with the Order? It had to have been bad, for them to rouse the Weasley’s and her out of their sleep to leave the castle.
Snape entered Dumbledore’s office first, where Harry and the Weasley’s were gathered around the headmaster’s desk. Juliet followed suit, immediately drawing her eyes on George, who stood next to Fred with similar expressions of worry and fear on their faces.
“Oh Georgie, Freddie,” Juliet breathed out, gathering the tall boys in a group hug. They held back to her tightly for a moment, before they all pulled away from each other. “What’s happened?”
“Harry saw dad being attacked,” George answered, looking quite shaken. “We dunno if he’s going to be alright or not.”
“He will,” Juliet replied forcefully, taking George’s hand in her own. “He has to be.”
“You have all used a Portkey before?” asked Dumbledore, interrupting whatever George was going to say. Everyone looked at the old man, nodding as they reached out to touch some part of the blackened kettle on his desk. “Good. On the count of three then… one… two… three.”
Juliet felt a powerful jerk behind her navel, the ground vanished beneath her feet, her hand was glued to the kettle; she was banging into other others as all sped forward in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onward and then-
Her feet hit the ground so hard that her knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground and somewhere close at hand a voice said, “Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their fathers dying…?”
“OUT!” roared a second voice.
Juliet winced as she felt a pain in her feet; it seemed as though she had scraped them quite good after their harsh arrival into the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher’s loincloth swished around the corner leading out to the hall, and Sirius hurried over to them all, looking anxious. He was unshaved and still in his day clothes, and Juliet scrunched her nose as the scent of stale drink wafted towards them.
“What’s going on?” he said, stretching a hand to help Ginny up. “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured-”
“Ask Harry,” said Fred.
“Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,” said George in a tight voice. 
Without much thought, Juliet slipped her small hand into his large one, giving him a comforting squeeze. George held back tightly, his eyes trained on Harry with a hard look.
Everyone was staring at Harry, even Kreacher's footsteps on the stairs had paused. Harry looked overwhelmed for a moment, before he launched into his tale of seeing Arthur be bitten by a rather large snake. Juliet eyed him carefully, as she had noticed a look Ron had given him when he described the scene. What was the chosen one leaving out?
Fred and George immediately began demanding they head straight off to St. Mungos, which caused an argument with Sirius. He explained that Arthur had been hurt while on duty for the Order, and it was all too dangerous for them to have already got word before anyone else. It made sense to Juliet, but of course, Fred and George were forces to be reckoned with when it came to their family.
“We don’t care about the dumb Order!” shouted Fred, cutting Sirius off.
“It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!” yelled George.
“Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” Sirius said angrily in his turn. “This is how it is -this is why you aren’t in the order- you don’t understand- there are things worth dying for!”
“Easy for you to say, stuck here!” bellowed Fred. “I don’t see you risking your neck!”
“Enough,” Juliet stepped in, standing in between her father and the twins, who glared at her. “This is hard for everyone. Think of how Umbridge has been. Do you really think it would be wise for us to rush St Mungos when no one should know about your dad yet? Whose to say they wouldn’t assume he was working against the ministry, and they either make sure he dies, or fires him?”
Fred and George still looked mutinous, but Sirius shot her a grateful look. He glanced back at Fred, and for a moment it looked like he wanted to hit the ginger haired boy, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
“We just have to stay put, until we hear from your mother. Alright?”
Ginny was the first to sit down. Harry and Ron sat next, at the opposite side of the table. Juliet sat next to Ginny, wincing as pain flared up from her feet. The twins glared at Sirius once more, then George sat next to Juliet while Fred sat next to Ginny.
“That’s right,” said Sirius encouragingly. “Come on, let’s all…. Let’s all have a drink while we’re waiting. Accio butterbeer!”
He raised his wand as he spoke and a dozen bottles of butterbeer came flying onto the table from the pantry. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
At some point, George’s hand had found Juliet’s once more. She ran her thumb consolingly over the back of his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. In turn, George wrapped his arm around her, keeping hold of her other hand. Juliet rested her other hand on his thigh, tracing circles over his pajama pants. 
Harry seemed to be deep in thought, across the table from them, his brows furrowed and guilt written all over his face. Juliet frowned slightly. Had it not been for Harry, they would have had no idea that Arthur had even been injured. Harry shouldn’t feel guilty.
A flash of light appeared, and with it came a note from Molly, delivered by Fawkes. She told them all to stay put, and she was with Arthur now. It didn’t sound very hopeful, and that was clear to everyone in the room.
“Still alive..” George said slowly. “But that makes it sound…”
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded as though Arthur was hovering somewhere between live and death. Juliet held onto George’s hand tighter, and he laid his head on top of hers. Fred examined the letter himself, taking it out of George’s hand. Ron stared at the letter, as though he hoped it would bring him words of comfort.
At some point, Sirius suggested they all go to bed, but the murderous glares from the Weasley’s were enough to answer. They sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sink lower and lower into the liquid wax. They spoke only to check the time, wonder aloud what was happening, and reassure each other that if there was bad news , they would know straight away, as Molly was at St Mungo’s then.
Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways on his shoulder. Ginny had curled up on her chair like a cat, but her eyes remained open. Ron had his head in his hands, and it was difficult to tell if he was awake or not. George kept his head rested on Juliet’s, the grip of their hands onto each other letting her know that he wasn’t asleep. 
Finally, at ten past five in the morning, the door swung open and Molly entered the kitchen. Everyone half stood in their chairs, but Molly waved them back down, giving a wan smile. She informed them that he would be alright, he was sleeping, and Bill was sitting with him now. 
They all let out shaky sighs and sounds of relief, and George, Ginny, and Juliet walked over to give Molly a hug. Sirius declared they had breakfast, and although he called for Kreacher, the house elf didn’t appear. He began breakfast himself, and Juliet slipped away to help him, Harry, of course, joined him. 
Eventually, Molly came over, waving Harry and Juliet off, to begin breakfast. She told Sirius that they would probably be spending Christmas there with him, and he beamed brightly at the news. 
Juliet felt the sudden urge to talk with her father, maybe vent about Umbridge, but before she could, Harry had taken him out of the room for a talk. Her face fell, and perhaps it was the mix of disappointment and lack of sleep, but she felt tears fill her eyes.
“Come on now darling, there’s no need for tears,” George appeared at her side, giving her a kind smile. “Let’s sit at the table while we wait for breakfast.” he reached a hand out, his thumb swiping at a tear that had escaped and rolled down her cheek.
Juliet swallowed hard, and followed George to the table with the rest of his siblings. Soon, breakfast was served and they all ate rather quickly, the nerves of the night having made them ravenous. Once they were done, and the table was cleared up, Molly ordered them all to bed. She told them that once they woke up, they would go back to visit Arthur.
The kids all trudged upstairs, Harry and Ron entering the same room they had spent the summer in. Juliet went to follow Ginny inside the room they had shared with Hermione, but George tugged on her arm.
“Would you mind..” George trailed off, suddenly looking shy. It was very unlike him. “Can you sleep in mine?”
“Oh,” Juliet paused, thoughts of Theo swarming her head. Well, he wouldn’t care anyways, would he? She and George always did this. Surely Theo wouldn’t mind, not that he would find out anyways. “Of course, Georgie.”
George smiled down at her, and she followed the twins into their room. Fred immediately fell into the bed, pulling the covers over his head, and it sounded as though he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Juliet laid in the bed first, shrugging her robe off before she did so. She was aware of George’s eyes on her, but she ignored it. After all, he was just waiting for her to get in bed so he could lay down. He was surely worn out from waiting all night for news on his father. That was all.
George slid in next to her, turning on his side to face her. Juliet peered up at him, getting lost in the many freckles that dotted his nose. He reached out a hand, swiping her hair out of her face, resting his palm on her cheek. Juliet’s heart quickened, and she glanced at his lips before looking at his brown eyes, glistening with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. 
“Jules,” George’s voice was soft, full of exhaustion, and his eyes fluttered shut as he pulled her into his chest. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Georgie..” Juliet swallowed hard, looking at the face of her best friend. That didn’t sound like something you said to your best friend. 
George’s lips parted, and he let out a deep breath. His face relaxed, making him look much younger than his seventeen years. He was asleep, no doubt ragged from the exhaustion of the night's turn of events.
For a long moment, Juliet stared at his face. He was so handsome in a ruggedly, manly yet boyish way. His smile could brighten the darkest day and his laughter would make you laugh yourself, especially because it normally followed a joke. This close, his lips in such proximity to her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if she just inched further and pressed them to her own-
Merlin, what was she thinking? This was her best friend she was talking about. Besides that, he had Alicia Spinnet. And she had Theo, even though they hadn’t given each other a label yet. 
Juliet screwed her eyes shut, and before long, she had fallen asleep in his embrace.
For the first time, Juliet woke up before George. It had felt like she had jolted awake, and she glanced around the room wondering what had caused it. Of course, the cause of it was Fred, who was tugging on a shirt with his trunk next to him.
“Afternoon, Jules,” Fred winked at her, looking at how she was wrapped in George’s arms. “Nice sleep?”
“Why’d you say it like that?” Juliet was immediately defensive, and despite not wanting to, she pulled out of George’s arms. She missed his warmth at once. “We always sleep together- not together, but in the same bed- oh for fucks sake, you know what I mean!”
Fred let out a roar of laughter at her words, grabbing his stomach as he fell onto his bed. He shook the frame, he was laughing so hard.
“Merlin, can you be any louder..” George sat up, his hair ruffled from his sleep. His eyes fell onto Juliet, who was an unflattering shade of maroon as she sat next to him. “What’s going on?” 
“Freddie’s just being an arse,” Juliet grumbled, carefully climbing out of bed. “I see our trunks have come. I’ll have to get ready, I’m sure we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Alright, see you,” George gave her a half wave, sitting up and glaring at Fred. “Merlin's beard Fred, what is your problem?”
Juliet left the room before she could hear his response, nearly running into Ginny in the hallway. The redhead was brushing her wet hair, her dirty clothes bundled up in her arms.
“Good, you’re up,” Ginny nodded to her, walking into their room. “We’re leaving in about ten.”
Juliet dressed quickly, jeans and a hoodie, and walked downstairs. Molly was speaking to Sirius in hushed tones, and their conversation cut off rather quickly once she came down the steps.
“Hello, dear,” Molly smiled, looking out of place on her haggard face. “Good to see you.”
Nearly at once, everyone else came bounding down the steps. Within minutes, everyone except for Sirius was heading to St. Mungos. It was most unassuming, appearing to be an abandoned muggle shop, but it was the entrance to the Wizarding hospital.
Moody and Tonks had arrived with them, but they stayed out in the hallway while the others entered the room. Arthur was doing well, sitting up and reading a book, and he thanked Harry for saving him. Soon enough, Molly was herding the kids out of the room so they could speak privately with Moody and Tonks.
It was a pleasant visit, but Fred and George had the great idea of using their Extendable ears to listen in on their discussion. Juliet was huddled around with them, as they all fought to listen in on the conversation.
“The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake… Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him, then there’s no telling what can happen. Dumbledore has to take whatever precautions he can.”
Juliet pulled away from the Extendable Ear, glancing over at Harry who was now white as a sheet. The others were looking at him too, giving him a fearful once over. 
Was it possible Harry was being possessed?
They left back for Grimmauld Place shortly after. The mood was subdued, mainly due to the information they heard through their eavesdropping. Molly didn’t seem to notice much, and began prattling on about their Christmas plans and how they were going to be going to Diagon Alley the following day for the kids to do their Christmas shopping.
After they arrived back, Harry went up to take a nap, claiming he didn’t feel well. Juliet could assume it probably had more to do with what they had overheard. Fred and George headed upstairs to work on more ideas for their shop. She, Ginny, and Ron went into the living room, and began playing Exploding Snap.
“So, Jules,” Ginny nudged her knee with her own, a grin on her face. “Theodore Nott? Are things getting serious?”
Juliet blushed, suddenly wishing this conversation hadn't come up. “I wouldn’t say that, no. We haven't really given ourselves a label. Just kind of going with the flow.”
“You guys snog all the time. Seriously, I feel like he’s always touching you in some way. Plus, he carries your books for you. Literally. I didn’t even know guys did that.”
“Well, we haven’t really discussed if we were dating or not.” Juliet was starting to get very uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going now. 
“What’s this I hear?” Sirius suddenly appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. “Have you and George started dating, Juliet?”
“No!” sputtered Juliet, her face heating up as she threw out her arms in protest. “Absolutely not! We’re just friends.”
Sirius cocked a brow, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve never looked at my friends the way that boy looks at you. If you aren’t talking about George, then who are you talking about?”
Ginny began to speak, but Juliet cut her off. “No one. No one, just drop it.”
She really didn’t want her father to know she was kinda but not really dating Theodore Nott. His father was a Death Eater, she was pretty certain, and her father would certainly blow a fuse if he knew she was even friends with him.
“Alright, alright, I have other ways of finding out. Perhaps I should go have a talk with the twins…” with that, Sirius left the room.
Juliet groaned, falling backwards on the floor. She grabbed a pillow off the couch, and shoved it in her face, letting out a frustrated scream. Ginny laughed from beside her.
“Blimey, girls are difficult.” Ron muttered. 
Juliet could only hope for the best.
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mtraki · 3 years
Text
Brain chemistry is messing with me... got me in the bad feels looking at dark roads... So let’s try and drag ourselves out of it through hyperfixation!  It’s time to rant about Agent 47′s brain chemistry-- specifically all the serums and antidotes that artificially change it! (It’s a rant... I won’t take up space on your dashboard scroll if you don’t want to see it, but if you do, please check out under the cut.  Spoilers for the comics and Hitman Season 2-3 are unmarked...)
The focus of the rant is thus: “Exactly what did Ether’s antidote do?” ‘That’s easy, MT,’ I hear you tell me, ‘It brought back 47′s memories that were wiped by Ort-Meyer before he escaped the lab.’ Forgive me, strawman Reader, (but as always, thank you for your faithful engagement) but I don’t think it’s that simple...  Maybe because I overthink things, or maybe because the details aren’t adding up... Let’s discuss. In the cutscene in HITMAN 2 (Hitman Season 2) ‘Long Shot’, Olivia and Lucas provide a syringe from Ether Biotech Corporation.  According to their information, Ort-Meyer’s estate and his research were granted to the corporation (through Providence) after his passing.  The syringe is supposed to be an antidote to what Ort-Meyer used to wipe 47′s memory.  Using the syringe, 47 is able to remember Janus, the first Constant of Providence, so they can go get his info on the Partners... and kill him. ‘Yes, MT,’ you say, ‘so it’s easy.  The answer is right there.’ Well, please bear with me... In the next cutscene ‘Gifts and Curses’, our leading ladies Diana and Olivia are doing the real work (tracking Janus’s coffin) while our lads are being moody.  Lucas asks 47 if he’s all right and 47 says, “It comes back in flashes.  Fear.  Anger.  But like it happened to someone else.” Later, in ‘Precautions’, Lucas and Diana talk about how Lucas has feelings about the things he’s done, and 47 does not-- a parallel is drawn between these feelings and “having a conscience”. In ‘The Ark Society’ mission, on the Isle of Sgàil, as you’re marching Arthur Edwards, the Constant you are abducting, to the harbor, he’ll fish around for information by giving some of his own.  For the purposes of my rant, there is an exchange I want to focus on: Edwards: “...Your murdered him [Janus] to get to me.” 47: “Not just that.  He had it coming.” Edwards: “Interesting.  It was my impression that you were cured of such... sentiment.  The ‘good doctor’ built his serum specifically to target the seats of your emotions.  Has Miss Burnwood’s sense of justice rubbed off on you, I wonder?” This is where I feel the need to stop and point out that there are TWO DIFFERENT SERUMS at play here, that were forced on 47 at TWO DIFFERENT TIMES in his forgotten past.  This is shown in the comic series. SERUM #1) This serum was given in 1989, after 47 and 6 failed to take over the Institute.  47 sacrificed himself so 6 could escape (though he was presumed dead) and instead of being killed like he expected, due to pressure from Janus (who spoke as Constant for the Partners of Providence) Ort-Meyer instead used a serum to stifle his and the remaining clones’ emotions.  This one was an injection to the neck (like the antidote).  Here are his exact words: “I gave you something most people lack: a true purpose.  And you cast it aside.  For some misguided dream of freedom.  Why?” “It’s that storm inside you.  All those feelings I fought so hard to lock away.  Raging, driving you.  So now I must wipe them out entirely.  A small chemical insult designed to target the amygdala, the hypothalamus, the cingulate gyrus.  The seats of emotion.  I’ve just sawed the legs off them.  Do you understand, 47?” “Your memories remain intact.  But now they’re a series of events with no significance.” The effects of this serum were devastating.  With the singular exception of 47, every other clone more or less lost the will to live.  They died of starvation, dehydration, infected bed sores... losing any and all motivation for anything.  Meanwhile, 47 became an apex predator of murder, stating that the opportunity to complete the assassinations handed down by Providence through Ort-Meyer were the reason he went through each day.  He had a hand in the deaths of a good number of clones, either via poisoning or smothering. SERUM #2) This serum was given in 1998 (that’s nine years after the first one) after Providence demands Ort-Meyer give them 47 as the only success of his very expensive perceived failure.  Ort-Meyer gives this serum, without the permission of Providence, very specifically so that 47 will not remember him to assassinate him.  This serum is given orally, and through a hose and pump apparatus.  Here are his exact words: “I only need one more day, and a moment alone.” (This is included strictly to point out that 47 must have escaped that exact same day) “I raised you as my own.  Taught you everything you needed to thrive in this fallen world.  And now I have to take it all away.  You would come after me.  It’s the only way I can be free from having to watch over my shoulder for the rest of my life.  It feels like drowning at first.  Don’t struggle.  I’m going to make you perfect.  Now you have all the potential in the world.” 47 wakes up later to the voice of Ort-Meyer over the intercom.  He implicitly trusts the voice, as he knows nothing else.  He knows about the existence of nothing outside of the room and the voice.  He starts making associations as he goes on, and points out that he understands how some things work (”The mechanics of breathing, the science that makes remotely operated restraints possible.”) and the justifications behind their existence (”Somewhere deep down, I even understand the need for them.”).  As he makes his escape, he observes that their is familiarity in the sensations of killing.  Out in the world, he continues killing on his own for about a year, claiming that his work is his only indulgence and that he doesn’t need things, friends, or stories.  He does also claim to have a few stray memories that haunt him-- elicit emotional responses in him (which we also see in Absolution with the whole “doctors” flashbacks). Edwards should not know about the mind-wiping, and his dialogue does not betray that he does.  Lucas apparently knows about both, but I’m going to attribute this to “Lucas became personally invested in learning what happened to 47 specifically after learning he was alive and working for ICA, so put the pieces together once he stole the data from Providence” because he wasn’t around for either serum.  Meanwhile, Edwards doesn’t have many reasons to worry about 47 until he starts trying to use his past as a lure for Diana.  Because his angle is to eventually reveal that it was 47 (AND 6... they were on the job together, per the comics) who killed her parents, and the fact that that juicy reveal would hurt that much more if he could reveal it as something 47 knowingly hid from her... I don’t think he’d go out of his way to discredit Janus’s reporting on the situation that only the first serum was given, and something else happened that allowed 47 to escape into the wild.  Janus is apparently Edwards’s beloved mentor, after all. ‘MT,’ I hear you say, ‘You’re rambling.  What’s the point here?’ The point is that 47, a man who does not mince words, makes the observation, when asked, that he remembers fear and anger.  These are the things that stand out to him in his memories.  The emotions.  This is in violation of the first serum’s properties as well as the second. Now, why is this happening?  Perhaps the first serum has an effective lifespan, and perhaps it’s wearing off.  Perhaps 47′s human (arguably superhuman, per some sources) brain is adapting to make necessary associations despite the “chemical insult”. Or... was this antidote supposed to also be an antidote for the first serum?  It is noteworthy that 47 starts behaving in ways that suggest more emotionally-driven motivations after the antidote is given-- at least it seems that way to me.  This seems especially the case at the very end of HITMAN 3 (Season 3), ‘Untouchable’, when 47 is confronted with his guilt, with his feelings about what he perceives Diana’s thoughts and feelings to be, and with his choice in the end concerning Edwards in the final confrontation.  No matter what he chooses, he owns his choice and all the baggage and consequences that come with it.  At the very end, in the cutscene 'New Deal', he tells Diana that he isn’t ‘Agent 47′ anymore.  That he chooses this path because he can. Perhaps I’m very much misunderstanding the themes, here, but 47 not remembering his past never struck me as something that held him back from choosing something else.  It has always been his inability to connect with others in any way outside of infiltrating their spaces and killing them... with very, very few exceptions... that has kept him from choosing a path outside of murder-for-hire (perfectly executed, of course ;) )  So I’m left at the end with the conclusion that 47 is now able to operate as his own conscience because he now has a... mostly usable independent sense of morality-- which requires a certain level of empathy. So... again: what’s the deal with the antidote?  Is it two-in-one?  This would be fine, (Okay, not really, I would then have to rant about how this only makes sense as a convenient plot device because for which person BESIDES Agent 47 would such an antidote be useful unless they also work with the first serum... and oh boy IMPLICATIONS... I know we keep crashing their stock but can we crash their production too?) except the antidote is only referenced as working to return 47′s memory... and his ‘warmer’ dialogues through the end of 2 and into 3 with his allies is simply treated as matter of course-- nobody points it out. I don’t know if this is a problem with my perspective, the writing, or what... But it seems like Lucas knows and doesn’t know about both serums at the same time (he comments specifically about 47 remembering things... but not him behaving more emotionally engaged)... Or like the games smooshed both serums together while the comics had them separate.  This isn’t like the whole “we don’t talk about Absolution though we do wink and nod that it mostly happened in canon” thing.  The comics were written as a companion for the HITMAN: World of Assassination trilogy! I know how I’m treating it for 'Monstrous’ (because if I don’t, I’ll go crazy and rage-quit the fic) but it still bothers me...  Anybody got any ideas?  Nuggets of lore I missed?  Am I the only one stressing out about this??
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scribble-blog · 4 years
Text
Soulmate AU part 3!!
First • Previous • Here • Next
Side note, I’m a grandma in a 22 year old body who doesn’t understand technology. If somebody can teach me how to get readmores to work on tumblr mobile, and possibly how to start linking the posts together, I’d appreciate it!
Also, the taglist is now full! Though if people want, I could try doing a supplemental taglist? Either in a reblogged or in a separate post to notify you? Let me know in the replies!
Damian Wayne, as it turns out, is almost very certainly the son of Bruce Wayne, who sponsored their entire trip to Gotham. There are only two official pictures of him that are clear enough to truly check against, but Marinette sees the eyes and she nods. “That’s him.”
Trixx, Pollen, Kaalki, and Plagg are scattered about the bed, napping and lounging. Adrien also lounges, catlike and crosswise with the bed, entirely over the pillows at their back. Chloé holds the laptop that Marinette is hovering over, even from her seated position with her much smaller stature.
“It would be you,” Chloé snorts. “Oh, let’s just traipse over to America for a quick class visit! Oops, my soulmate is the incredibly handsome son of the incredibly wealthy man who invited us here!”
“Still more believable than you, Miss ‘My soulmate and I have literally been standing two feet from each other for weeks because not only do we have the exact same friends, but we’re part of the same superhero group and never realized until Ladybug allowed us to learn each other’s secret identities.’” Adrien doesn’t move as he calls her out, lazily curled into the warmth of his two friends and the pillows cocooning him.
“I don’t think any of us can speak,” Marinette groans. “I’m living a cheap rom com, Chloé’s got all the plot elements of a high budget Shakespearian drama, and Mr. ‘Didn’t know I wasn’t straight until my soulmate mark was a guys name” is straight out of a b movie comedy.”
“At least I got my act together pretty quickly once it occurred to me that I could like guys too,” Adrien points out. “And now Jon and I talk all the time, and he even comes to Paris sometimes to see me, or we’ll meet up for my occasional business trips in America. Which reminds me,” he pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text, “he wants to come meet you guys. Next week, while we’re all actually on the same continent.”
“Kudos to you for shaking off whatever Gabe tried to stuff your head full of,” Chloé says. “Took me ages to admit that I was gay, and that was even WITH my soulmark and both Marinette and Ladybug constantly in front of me.”
“Feeling pretty objectified,” Marinette protests.
“Oh shut it, I know for a fact that you’ve basically been the gay awakening crush of every not straight girl in our class. And several outside of it. And that’s not even counting all the dudes that fall in love with you.”
“I still object,” Marinette pouts at Chloé.
“Objection overruled.” Adrien sits up. “Marinette. You’re like, the perfect crush. They have a warning about you in the introductory packet for Mme. Bustier’s class.”
“They do not,” Marinette gasps, outraged. “I wrote that packet!”
“And then the class unanimously decided you were too dangerous to be walking around without a warning sign,” Chloé pinched her cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s still in the packet despite Lila’s best efforts to get it thrown out.”
That does make Marinette feel better.
“Damian Wayne resurfaces after year of being believed dead,” Adrien reads from his phone. “Gotham’s Newest Wayne: The True Son! These all read like tabloids but as far as I can tell the Wayne’s don’t tolerate stuff like that. So I guess it’s true?”
“I’m tired of looking him up,” Marinette groans. “Can we just leave it be?”
“Nope,” Chloé pops the P. “Congrats, Dupain-Cheng, this is what friends are for.”
“I wish I could talk to Tikki about it,” Marinette sighs. “Especially because I have literally never heard anyone talk about that- electric feeling when we touched. Is it a Ladybug thing?”
Plagg opens one big green eye. “Cool it, Spots. It’s definitely a Ladybug thing. You’re literally the reason these marks exist.”
Marinette sticks her tongue out at the mini god. “I just miss her.”
“Join the club,” he grumbles, closing his eye and going back to napping.
“Good news,” Chloé says, bringing her attention back to the laptop. “Searching your name very easily leads to you, and our class, and the fact that we won the contest. So, unless he decides he’s not ready to meet you, you’ll have the chance to find him at the gala. Or at Wayne Enterprises. Or at any of the places the Wayne’s own, which is two-thirds of our trip destinations.”
“Oh god,” Marinette says. “What if he didn’t want to find me?”
Adrien, Chloé, and four Kwamis hit her at the same time, shoving her back into the bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mari,” Adrien scolds her from his position atop the newly formed cuddle pile. “I saw his face too. If the boy isn’t already in love with you, he’ll be hunting you down just for the chance to fall.”
Trixx nuzzled into her side. “I may not be Tikki but all of us Kwamis know how incredible you are, Marinette.”
She sighed. “Alright guys, get off.”
———
Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Tim already knew who the girl was, because he’d been curious when his favorite artist had started talking about the source of his newest looks.
But having Damian demand his help in searching for everything he could find on her, and then only asking for the bare minimum of information about her trip itinerary- Tim wasn’t an idiot.
“So. She’s your soulmate.” Tim takes a sip of the coffee he’d been working on, making a face and instantly setting it back down when he realized it had gone cold.
Damian carefully did not change his expression, but it wasn’t fooling anyone. “And so what if she is?”
Tim looked back at the monitor. “So nothing. Congrats, Demon Spawn. I’m happy for you.”
He barely caught the edge of the scowl the younger Wayne tried to hide.
“Hey, no.” Tim spun his chair to face Damian. “Look, we’ve had our differences and disagreements-“
“You had me on the superhero equivalent of a terrorism watch list,” Damian interrupted.
“And you literally tried to kill me within the first day of meeting me.”
“A byproduct of my indoctrination from birth into a murder cult,” His brother kept his face still but the tone was wry.
“You kept trying to kill me.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” Damian finally exclaimed, losing his collected demeanor. “Just-“
“Point being,” Tim stressed, “even if we haven’t always gotten along- haven’t ever, really- I’m still happy for you. Soulmates are a special thing. We all kind of thought you might not have one, with the way you always acted when Dick tried to ask.”
Damian forced down the immediate retort and looked at Tim. “I thought that maybe my dying would have prevented my name from showing up for them. And my teachings-“ he said the word with the inflection that meant he was discussing Assassin Upbringing rather than here- “were as such that most connections, be they familial, friendly, or romantic, were- unnecessary and even dangerous.” It felt tantamount to a betrayal of his younger self to confide anything in Drake like this, but... Damian really was, in many ways, a better and more mature person than the spoiled, aggressive, near sociopathic brat he’d arrived as seven years ago. He still kept the veneer of it up, but he was no longer the boy who needed to fight Drake to prove his worth as Bruce’s son.
Now he just waited for Drake to embarrass himself by passing out after staying up for far too long surviving on caffeine and energy drinks. Much easier.
And Drake didn’t ever seem as eager to blackmail and fight as Damian ever had, so he figured a small amount of vulnerability was a proper thank you for his discretion in finding Marinette.
Tim just took another grimacing sip of the cold coffee. “Man. In that case, even happier for you that you’re shrugging off yet another of the Child Assassin School’s upsetting and frankly terrible rules. Though as for the dying thing, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t actively die now that you have the mark.”
Damian shrugged. “Irrelevant now, as I will not be dying anytime soon, and neither will she. And she clearly knows that we’re soulmates.”
“Still confused about that,” Tim frowned, looking back at him. “You said there was an electric current between you? Or it felt like that?”
Damian couldn’t stop his hand from twitching, the memory of it clear enough to feel. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself either.”
“I’ll search around. See if anything comes up.” Tim handed him a pile of papers. “Here, the info you wanted on her itinerary, plus things I thought would be pertinent without going over whatever line you seem to have drawn.”
Damian took them, and very begrudgingly said, “Thank you,” before ducking out of the room.
He waited until he was back in his own room before flicking through them, finding the trip schedule and the hotel rooms listed, the names of her class and teachers, and finally a list of her accomplishments and a copy of the paper that had won her class the trip, authored by her.
He read through it, noting the names of her classmates and their own community efforts, and the way her own section in the paper was minuscule compared to both each other persons section and the list of accomplishments Drake had drafted.
One classmate had, if no less written than than any other person, a distinctly different tone to what Marinette had written, and most of her community building and service events were merely echoes or assisting what another person had done. Damian shrugged it off, as there were sometimes people who simply tagged along, and never put their own effort out there. Followers, and not leaders.
All in all, he found himself more intrigued than ever about her.
TAGLIST:
@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @jessigurl-design @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @kuroko26 @moonystars14 @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @area51qt @renscorpio @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @tired-butterfly @catthhay @shamefullove @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @bigpicklebananatree @abrx2002 @cici-schnee @multplelifes @shreky-boi @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person
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salty-sith-bitch · 3 years
Text
Sweet Child O’ Mine
Chapter 1
Words: 5k
Pairings: Din Djarin X Orla Fett (Boba Fett’s daughter), Boba Fett & Daughter 
Genre: Fluff, humor, angst, romance
Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, eventual smut, more to come?
Summary:  Orla Fett is reunited with her long-lost father five years after his presumed death and welcomed into his palace. Hired as one of his best bounty hunters, Orla struggles with finding her place in the galaxy and if she wants to stay a bounty hunter. Her new companion, The king of Mandalore - Din Djarin - may end up helping her make up her mind.
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“I’m just a simple woman trying to find her way in the galaxy, like my father before me ”
That’s what Orla told herself every morning when she woke. She was just a simple woman trying to survive and make her way in the galaxy, catching one bounty at a time as her father did. It was her only job - staying alive and filling her father’s spot.
When her father passed five years prior Bib Fortuna hired her as his main mercenary and provided her with more than enough jobs to support herself. Orla didn’t particularly love it but it’s what she had. Her father had made sure that if anything were to ever happen to him that she had a large and appreciated skill set, making it easier for her to find work. She was thankful for that. Thankful her father prepared her for the worst like his father before him.
There were still days she missed her father. Days where it became hard to get out of bed and put her armor on. She missed the Slave I too. Not because it was a great ship or that it was supposed to be passed to her at the fall of her father, but because of the memories she made with her father there.
Laying in her cramped quarters Orla stared at the ceiling, brushing her fingers through her hair gently as she recalled one of her earliest memories - her first hunt with her father.
The smell of rain and metal dripping from her father's armor made her slightly queasy, reminding her of blood. She could almost taste the iron in her mouth if she thought about it too much. She wasn’t used to it but her father said it would become less noticeable over time. Nodding silently she watched her father drag the bounty away and towards the carbonator. She could hear the hissing and screams of the bounty and it sent a cold shiver through her body. She tried to instead focus on detangling the soaked braid on her head.
Growling in frustration Orla dropped her hands and stomped her foot. Her body ached with exhaustion and she was uncomfortable. Letting a sniffle escape she leaned her head against the wall of the ship and cried.
"Ad'ika," her father called softly.
When she didn't respond he approached her and set a hand on her shoulder. "Orla, my princess. What is wrong?"
Orla rubbed her eyes and took in a hiccuping breath before speaking. "My hair is tangled, papa."
Smiling sweetly, her father patted her cheek. "Come, daughter. I'll fix it for you."
Orla found herself being scooped up and cradled into her father's chest. He carried her to the makeshift cot he made for her and set her down, letting his fingers gently pull apart the tangles.
"You did good today my child."
Humming Orla let her eyes drift shut as she leaned back into her father.
Sighing heavily Orla raised a shaky hand to her cheek and wiped away the tears. A full-grown woman and highly respected bounty hunter, crying in the sleeping quarters of her little hut long before the suns had even risen. She laughed at herself. If her father was here now he would sternly tell her to get herself together and then gently pat her cheek lovingly.
Steadying herself Orla wiped the last few tears and sat up in bed. Throwing the covers off she made her way across her hut and started to assemble her armor.
***
Orla sat in the Cantina of some outer rim planet stressed and annoyed. She had been on this mission for nearly a week and still couldn’t find her bounty. She had even asked the locals and none of them could give her information on the bounty.  Clutching the glass in her hand Orla watched as foam swirled as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She was ready to give up, head back to Tatooine and tell Fortuna he could just shove it up his ass. The thought brought a smirk to her face but she knew she couldn’t do that.
Sighing heavily Orla poured herself another glass of mead and brought it to her lips. Throwing her head back Orla downed the entire glass and slammed it on the table. Wiping her mouth she raised an eyebrow as she made eye contact with the new visitor.
The woman, small and sleek with a braid down her back, eyed Orla back. Her eyes were piercing and it made Orla unsettled. It wasn't often that she felt uneasy about someone but for some reason, this woman in front of her made her uncomfortable.
“I’m not really in the mood for company at the moment. So unless you have info about my bounty I would appreciate it if you left.” Leaning back in her chair Orla reached for the pitcher of mead.
Her new, unwelcomed visitor was quicker though, swiftly grabbing the pitcher and her glass to fill for herself. Lips pressed into a thin line Orla continued to lean back, letting her hand slowly brush over her thigh and towards her blaster.
“I’m not here to keep you company or to give you info about your bounty. And there's no use in trying to shoot me. I know all your tricks. You’re just like your father.” Smirking, the woman lifted the glass of mead and downed the entire glass much like Orla had just a moment prior. “I’m here to take you back to Tatooine. Your presence has been requested at the Hutt Castle."
Orla scoffed. She was starting to grow unsettled but refused to let it show. No one openly talked to her about her father, especially so forward. Yet here was this woman she knew nothing about and seemed to know almost everything about her.
"I'm on a hunt. I'm not just abandoning. They know where I am. If it was so important they could comm me."
"It's under new management now. This hunt isn't important. What is, is that you come back with me to Tatooine and do just as I say."
"Dank Farrik," Orla cursed under her breath.
Her mind was racing with hundreds of questions and thoughts. New management was never good. It meant Fortuna was most certainly dead leaving her without work. The new owner could very well be demanding she come back to the castle to give her a new position… or to simply kill her off. It would all depend on just who killed Fortuna and where the Fett Clan stood with them.
Orla couldn't think of anyone who would be seeking her demise but her father told her to always assume someone would be after her. She thought about escaping. Trying to find a way out of the cramped cantina and find a new home elsewhere, or maker, even change her name and lay low in a village or dinner caves. But then her thoughts turned into what if she just listened to the woman in front of her and went back to Tatooine. This woman wasn't trying to fight her or take her as her own personal bounty as far as she could tell, and if she listened maybe they would see that as her committing her skills to them and hire her on a permanent mercenary.
"Listen," the woman spoke up. "I can see you thinking. This isn't a trap and you're not gonna die. You're more than welcome to just leave now, forget about the bounty you are on, and start a new life but I think you'll want to see what happens at the castle."
Chewing her cheek again, Orla stared into the woman's eyes, looking for any hint of a lie. When she couldn't find anything Orla leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher and glass, pouring herself the last serving and gulping it.
"Fine. I'll go. But what about my ship? And how can I trust you? I don't know who you're working for and I doubt you'll tell me, so can I at least get your name?"
"Your ship doesn't matter anymore. You'll be given a new one. We can stop and collect anything you may need from it for now but if you wish to come back and get it in the future then do as you will."
The woman stood and Orla followed, trailing after her out of the cantina and to the ship docks.
"And my name," the woman said as she looked over her shoulder, "is Fennec Shand."
***
The ride to Tatooine was spent in silence. Orla didn't mind, she was never one for conversations with people outside her close ring and Fennec didn't seem like much of a talker either. Orla spent most of the flight napping in the passenger seat, hand lingering over her blaster just in case Fennec tried to do anything funny. The trip was long and Orla's body cried for rest. Relaxing into her seat she let sleep eventually consume her. When the ship started its descent she woke and stretched her stiff limbs as the dunes came into view.
Even walking to the castle was spent in silence. Orla started to worry less and less about Fennec trying to harm or kill her but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen. The universe felt off, heavier, and almost foggy like a dream. Shaking the feeling off Orla continued to walk until she reached the castle, stopping just outside the entrance to the lower level.
 Fennec didn't bother stopping calling out to her as she continued to go down. "You don't want to keep him waiting."
Shutting her eyes and taking one last steadying breath Orla walked down the stairs and down into the throne room.
The silence that welcomed her was terrifying. She had never seen the palace empty and was prepared for someone to jump out and attach her. Turning around in circles she searched for Fennec but couldn't find the woman anywhere. The only thing that greeted her was the echoing sound of her footsteps bouncing off the palace walls. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She felt the tension in the air, like electricity wrapping it around her and coursing through her veins.
Down the hallway, a new set of footsteps echoed off the palace walls. Orla turned slowly to see who it was, her hand inching towards her blaster prepared to draw and start shooting if anyone tried attacking. Before she could reach her blaster though she froze. Every muscle in her body locked up and she felt her lungs screaming at her to breathe.
Brain screaming, Orla tried to calm herself but she found it nearly impossible as she stared at the bounty hunter before her. Finally able to breathe again Orla dropped her hand away from her blaster, only for her brain to start screaming more, telling her this could still be a trap. She felt like she was going in circles. She couldn't process what she was seeing.
Finally getting herself to relax enough Orla took in a couple of steadying breaths before collecting her thoughts and speaking.
"Dad," she questioned, brows knitting together. Her knees started to shake as she continued to eye the man.
Giving a small tilt of his head the bounty hunter started to take cautious steps forward. Shaking her head in disbelief, Orla walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall.
Confused and on the verge of tears Orla reached for her blaster and drew it quickly. She knew this was an imposter, her father was dead. Killed many years ago by the Sarlac, leaving her to take care of herself and forge her own path in the world of bounty hunting. The only other explanation she could find was that she was also dead. That she had gone with Fennec and was killed in her sleep and as some cruel joke, the maker chose her and her father's resting place as Jabba's palace - the last place she had seen her father. 
Continuing to watch the man slowly approach, she studied the freshly painted armor. It didn't fit the man like it did her father, being a little tight in the gut, but the dent on the helmet told her it was indeed at least her father’s beskar. That dent had been there as long as you could remember. Orla had heard rumors not long after her father's death of his ghost walking around in the far parts of the planet but refused to believe it. Then she heard about how it was just a marshal who had found the beskar, using it for his own advantage. She pondered if this was that man, but couldn't think of any reason why he would be here and why he would have killed Fortuna.
Shaking her head Orla switched the safety off on her gun and lifted it, aiming at the man in front of her. No matter who this was it was not her father and she wasn't willing to let anyone take her life or get her father's armor.
"Take one more step and I'll shoot," she snarled through clenched teeth; her hand shaking just slightly from the adrenaline.
Stopping, the man raised his hands in surrender, letting them drift slowly to the helmet as if going to take it off.
Trembling, Orla clenched her jaw, unable to speak any further as she watched the man lift the helmet from his head. Time ticked by slowly, almost painfully as she waited for the man to reveal himself. When the helmet was completely removed and tucked under the man's arm Orla felt as if the wind was knocked out of her.
"My child," Boba whispered. He studied Orla, wide-eyed as he took in her face. "You've grown so much, little one."
Dropping her blaster Orla lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut; hot tears sliding down her face. The world started to spin as she continued to shake, her breathing becoming heavy and labored.
“This, this can’t be happening. Y- you were dead!” Snapping her head up she pointed a finger at her father. “You left me! You left me to fend for myself and promised you’d be back!” Taking the last couple steps towards Boba she pushed against his chest with both of her trembling hands, the sound of flesh hitting beskar echoing in the empty room.
Stumbling back Boba threw his free hand up in defense, allowing her a minute to process and sob.
Orla was so full of rage and anger she couldn’t tell if she was still shaking from the shock of seeing the man she thought was dead or because she was so furious he was alive all this time and didn’t come to find her.
Furious Orla gave out a shriek and started swinging at her father. Boba was quicker though, quickly stepping back to avoid her fist colliding with his face.
“Verd’ika…” Boba pleaded his own desperation and hurt seeping through.
Letting her fists fall to her sides Orla hung her head and sobbed. She had almost forgotten what her father's voice sounded like after all the years he was gone. The sounds of her nicknames rolling off his tongue were like a spear through the heart. It sent her body limp and every nerve on edge. But the desire for nothing more than to hug her father and beheld was stronger than her anger.
Rushing forward Orla threw her arms around her father, almost knocking him over. Dropping his helmet Boba threw his own arms around her, lifting her from the ground and burying his face into the padding on her shoulder as dust flitted around. The smell of her father overwhelmed her causing her to cry harder. Trying to inhale and catch her breath Orla clung closer to her father like she did when she would have a nightmare and he would be there to protect her.
Maybe that's all this was, she thought. A bad dream and she was just now waking up.
“My little girl,” Boba wept. “I’m so sorry. I should have come back sooner. Should have told you."
"Papa," Orla cried. "I'm just happy to see you. I can't believe you're here."
Setting Orla back down Boba took a step back and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"I was so scared, Orla. When I was tumbling down into the pit  I-I thought about nothing besides you and how I had failed you." Boba's lip trembled as he tried to hold back another sob, determined to be strong for his little girl.
Boba was a fierce man. Anyone could tell you that. He was a little rough around the edges and seldom let outsiders into his life - Fennec, Din, and Orla's mother's being the exceptions. When it came to his daughter though he would go to the ends of the galaxy for her. She was his entire life from the moment she arrived. A piece of him and a piece of the woman he once - and even now still- loved. She reminded him so much of himself when she was younger and when he was falling to his death he couldn't help but think about how he was leaving her, just like his father did. Since the day of the Sarlacc pit, the idea of leaving his daughter haunted home.
Reaching up Orla gently wiped the tears from her father's scarred cheeks. "But you're here now Papa. And I'm here. We're ok. It's gonna be ok."
Giving a wet and loving chuckle Boba pulled his daughter into another hug.
They stood there for a couple of minutes holding each other until their crying died. Father and daughter reunited again and both were determined to keep it that way.
"Sorry to break up family time," Fennec said from the hallway. "But Mando is back and I don't think it will do him good if he sees you crying from your little reunion."
Sighing heavily, Boba stepped back from Orla, giving her a smile and a soft pat on the cheek.
"Buir," Orla groaned playfully. "You haven't done that since I was a child."
"And every day I was away from you I wished I could do it again." Scoping up his helmet Boba set it back on his head. "Now come child, there's someone I'd like you to meet."
***
Meeting the Mandalorian was… interesting. When introduced to him by her father he gave a curt nod and nothing more. The rest of their meeting went with little talking. Her father gave him the credits he earned for his bounty, told him where to find his next one, and asked him how he was doing.
At her father's last question the Mandalorian hesitated before answering, his helmet turning to her for a brief moment before responding with a quiet "fine."
When the Mandalorian left the room Orla stood and looked down at her father.
"Seems like some great company. Reminds me of a certain someone." She said cheekily.
Sighing heavily Boba stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You'll warm up to him while we are all here. The man's just been through a lot."
Frowning slightly Orlla raised her eyebrow. "While we are all here? What does that mean?"
"You work for me now little one. And you'll be staying here in the castle with all of us."
Scoffing, Orla brushed her father's hand away. "Working for you?"
"What, you think just because your father shows back up you don't have to work?"
Shaking her head Orlla leaned against the wall. "Well, I didn't ask to be a bounty hunter papa. There are other things I want to do in life. And I have my own home."
A low growl cake from Boba. "What do you possibly want to do in this life ad'ika?" His tone was sharp as he spoke. "You're a fantastic hunter from what I have heard and just because you are my child doesn't mean I'm gonna give that up."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Orla glared at her father. "I'm a great hunter because I had to be. Without you, it's all I had. It's not what I wanted at all. I want to be able to be me. Do things you never got to do properly and I know you longed forward. Like having a real family! To fall in love and not worry about losing them or my children! And you just came back! And you're gonna send me out on hunts? You of all people should know how dangerous that is!"
"Sorry to burst your bubble Orlla, but that's not how our lives work!" Boba's voice continued to rise in volume, causing Orlla to flinch away from him. "We'll never be the type of people to settle down and just enjoy the mundane things in life. I tried, and look at how that turned out for your mother! So if you want a family then you're gonna have a damn struggle of a time keeping them safe. And maker above, if that day ever comes I hope you're prepared to be fighting for the rest of your life, and whoever the bastard is that touches my daughter - so help me Orlla, it will not go well!" Sighing again Boba took a moment to try and cool himself. "As for the missions I know it's dangerous and the risks I'm running by sending you out there. That's why you're going with Mando."
"What?!" Orla yelled, throwing herself from the wall and storming towards her father. "If you wanna send me out then Ita best to tell you now, I work alone. I trust no one. Not even you right now. You taught me that! I'm an adult! I don't need some sort of babysitter! Or you telling me what I can and can't do with people!"
Lowering his head Boba stared at his daughter through the visor of his helm. "You're my daughter! My only family left Orla! I'm just trying to protect you! In and out of bounty hunting! And I've changed my opinion. At least when it comes to mando. So you're going with him on missions and that's final!"
Grinding her teeth together Orla set her piercing gaze on her father's helmeted face. She couldn't see it but she knew underneath his face was twisted with worry for her. "Fine. I get it. I won't argue. For now. Right now I'm tired physically, emotionally, and mentally. I haven't slept in a bed in I don't know how long. I haven't eaten anything today and I'm still trying to process everything. Let's talk more about this later?" Relaxing her gaze on her father softened, telling him she was done fighting.
Nodding his head in agreement, Boba looked towards Fennec in the doorway. "Show Orla to one of the rooms please so she may rest."
Turning, Fennec left down the hallway, leaving Orla to wander behind.
***
Sleeping was impossible. Tossing and turning in the unusual bed Orla replayed the events of her day in her head. The fact her father was alive and well - despite some gnarly scars and possibly some emotional damage - overwhelmed her. Everything she had known over the last five years was abruptly coming to a halt and she couldn't help the gut feeling that the actions of today were going to drastically change her life. She wasn't sure how but she knew they would.
The argument with her father wasn't how she wanted to say goodnight to her father but it was fitting. Before he left the last time she saw him they would constantly argue before he left for every mission. She didn't like it and it was stupid but it seemed to be their way of communicating with each other. It worked needlessly to say. They always heard the other out and usually came up with a middle ground where they could meet each other's requests. But this argument was different. Orla, much like her father, was not an open book. She didn't share her truest desires or feelings but seeing her father today set her emotions over the edge.
Groaning, Orla tossed over in bed looking at the chronometer on the wall.
4:34 am
"No use in sleeping," Orla grumbled.
Throwing the sheets off she climbed out of the bed and pulled on her slacks. Running her fingers through her hair yelping when she hit a knot, accidentally tugging on it. Giving up on her hair before even really trying to fix it she tucked her long unruly into the collar of her shirt, keeping it out of the way.
Shuffling her way down to the dining room the smell of freshly brewed caff welcomes her, pulling her towards her destination. Wondering if her father was already up by some miracle or perhaps he couldn't sleep either - neither of them were morning people - she rounded the corner into the dining area and was met with a surprising sight.
Standing at the counter pouring coffee was a man with luscious deep brown hair and soft tanned skin. He wore a gray old short sleeve and what appeared to be his flight suit pants. She couldn't see his face straight on but the tiniest bit of facial hair could be seen.
Gasping louder than she meant Orla realized it was the Mandalorian from earlier. Looking over to the table she saw his gleaming silver helmet staring back at her.
"Hi."
The single word filtered into her ears softly, causing her to whip her head back to the man.
Gawking she restudied the man. His eyes were gorgeous. A warm earthy brown that made it feel like summer was swimming around her. Ans his lips… she watched as he brought the mug up to his mouth, his lush lips kissing the rim as he drank.
"H-hi," she croaked.
Lowering the mug mando licked his lips before speaking. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up for a while."
"I couldn't sleep," she said sheepishly.
Nodding in understanding, Mando moved from the counter and sat at the table in the middle of the room.
Making her way across the dining room Orla grabbed her own mug and poured herself a cup of caff. She could feel the Mandalorian's gaze burning into her back as she rummaged around I'm she cupboards, trying to find the object she was looking for.
"If you're gonna stare can I at least get a name to address you besides Mando?" Reaching behind some cans of food she found want she was looking for. Standing she uncorked the bottle and dumped the contents into her coffee.
Turning to lean against the counter she looked at Mando who was still eyeing her.
"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?
Rolling her eyes Orla took a drink of her caff; the hot liquid and burning of the alcohol warming her insides and helping her relax. "Not in this family. It's never too early. More like too late by the time you find the alcohol." Taking another drink she rolled her shoulders, leaning further into the counter. "So do I not get to know your name? I'd like to know something about the man I am going to be spending most of my time with."
"Din."
Curling her lip Orla gave a soft 'hmm'.
Looking away from Orla, Din stared down into his mug. "I get the impression you don't like me very much. Any particular reason? Or do I just have to go off of the information I heard between you and your father earlier?"
Flushing, Orla's gaze burned into the side of Din's face. "That's none of your business. And now that I know your eavesdropping on my conversations it just gives me reason not to trust you even more."
"Not really eavesdropping when the two of you shout at the top of your lungs," he mumbled under his breath.
Seething, and knuckles white from gripping the mug so tight Orla let out an annoyed snicker.
"I'm just saying," Din said with a shrug as he turned to look back at Orla. "Your dad is just trying to protect you. He's scared of losing you again."
"And how would you know that?" She snapped back. "You've been part of my father's life, what, maybe a week?"
"I know what it's like. To lose a child," Din admitted heavily.
"Oh." Relaxing Orla made her way to the table and sat across from Din. "I-I’m so sorry. I didn't realize you were a father."
Sighing, Din gave a weak smile. "It's ok. He was a foundling I saved from the empire. He's with his people now. If it wasn't for your father I don't know what would have happened to the kid."
Looking down into her mug Orla fought the tears that tried to spring from her eyes. Of course, after everything her father had been through with her grandpa, and thinking he lost his own daughter he would help another man save his child. Again, her father was tough but when it came to children the poor man turned into a softy.
"I'm glad your kids safe," she whispered. "However," she raised her eyes back up to look at him, "that still doesn't mean I fully trust you."
"Who says I don't trust you either?"
Smirking Orla brought her mug up to her lips once again with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye. "Touché."
Din and Orla sat in silence for the next hour, sipping coffee and spacing out. It wasn't until they heard footsteps down the hallway they perked up and looked at who it was.
"My own daughter, up before me?" Boba chucked before ruffling her hair.
"Couldn't sleep. Fresh caff is brewing. Alcohol is in the cabinet."
Smiling Boba made his way to the counter, coming back a moment later with a steaming cup of spiked caff.
"Taking It you couldn't sleep either mando?"
Shaking his head Din finished the last of his coffee.
"Well, sorry to say but we've all got work to do today."
Groaning, Orla stood from her seat, downing the last of her coffee. "I'll go get ready then."
Before she could leave the room though she felt a tug on her hair; pulling it free from the collar of her shirt.
"Ad'ika… what is this? Please don't tell me you let your hair be like this all the time while I was gone." Boba scolded.
Orla smiled sheepishly at her father. "I never learned to braid after you left. So I just put it in a ponytail or bun. But when it's down it gets tangled so easily. It's just so thick.
"Orla," Boba chided.
"Papa! I didn't have the energy to learn when you left! And I was gonna cut it off but I couldn't bring myself to do it…"
"You're just like your mother. And if I ever find out you cut off your hair it might be the actual death of me." Chuckling Boba guided his daughter back to her chair. "Now sit."
Groaning Orla plopped herself down into her seat, letting her father pull apart the tangles in her hair. 
"Your so dramatic buir."
"And you're not?"
Both chuckling Boba continued to gently separate her hair into strands, braiding them together and picking up pieces as he went.
Across from them, Din went unnoticed as he watched intently; learning how to braid.
*******************************************************************************************
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Yoongi’s Oneshot
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Au: Mafia
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Rating: M
Potential Triggers: I will carefully note the rating has once again turned to M but I’ll be leaving this as the only warning(unless otherwise explicitly asked) given the heavy spoilers saying all the potential triggers could provide. The only explicit triggers I’ll give in advance is involuntary drugging, grieving, and psychological trauma. Everything will also be under the cut. Authors Note at the end!!
Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x reader
Genre: Drama, Crime, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort
Length: 4k+
You murmured softly in your sleep, tossing and turning as you gradually grew more and more panicked. It’s a miracle you hadn’t had any night terrors after what happened. Your imagination was always quite vivid after all so you supposed you should count your blessings you’d even lasted this long. In either case, all you could see when your eyes finally shot open was white. At first you assumed you were merely adjusting to a bright light...but then it didn’t stop. Including when you moved. And a look down let you know that you were also in the silk white pajamas Yoongi had gifted you last night. All that surrounded you was pure white and you realized abruptly you clearly weren’t dreaming any longer and also had been sleeping on the floor. A quick search of the room ensued, as your eyes flicked around, searching for distinct cameras or a way out and yet...you found nothing. You refused to let yourself panic, putting together that Yoongi must have gifted you these so you’d match with the room.  
You weren’t in enemy captivity, but that didn’t mean you weren’t on edge. Taehyung’s little stunt had reminded you that these people, though often kind to you, had much more sadistic sides to themselves than you typically got to see. You vaguely recalled looking up sensory deprivation as a potential topic for a psychology project, but opted to study dream analysis instead. Lot of good that was gonna do you. You didn’t need any symbolism to know you were merely coping with your grief in your sleep since you still refused to actively show it around the others but now...that info on sensory deprivation sure would’ve been helpful. You tried to wrack your brain for any memories of what you’d looked up, but only vaguely recalled the need to keep your mind active, though you couldn’t fully remember how. Wasn’t that only for long periods of time? 
Where was Yoongi? Why was he putting you through this? You felt your breathing starting to increase, noticed you were beginning to grow paranoid and took several deep breaths, counting to 4 as you inhaled, holding for 8 and then releasing for another 4. It was a breathing technique you recalled your chorus teacher telling you to do back in high school. How was she doing? 
Your breathing finally evened out but you found your eyes were glazed over. You shook off your little stupor, tried to get back on topic. Why were you thinking about your chorus teacher right now? You had more important things to be pondering! Like what Yoongi wanted to see from you so he’d let you out. 
You began to hum absentmindedly. Closing your eyes as you welcomed the now unfamiliar blackness. You aren’t sure for how long they remained so but when next they opened you felt like it was now nighttime. How long had Yoongi left you here for? Was this some kind of punishment? Did you do something wrong? Nothing came to mind. Maybe they just finally realized you were a liability. That you’d never be as good a Nurse as your Mother.
It was then that you saw the door opening inwards and after spotting Yoongi, and blinking several times to adjust to the new colors, you literally rushed him, making him scramble to release the door and hold onto you as you shook violently for reasons you didn’t understand. Tears came spilling from your eyes faster than you could stop them and you barely managed to ask him through your sobs. 
“W-Why did you leave me there for so long!? Did I do something wrong? Please, just tell me and I’ll fix it!! N-Never do that again!” 
Yoongi looked taken aback as he forced you off him far enough away to get a good look at you and his expression morphed from one of bewilderment and shock to analysis. He knelt down, cupping your hands in his cheeks as he saw you frantically looking around at everything, as though scared you’d never see it again. You were acting like some kind of crack addict going through withdrawals. The sound of footsteps made you whip your head around but he refused to let you look, resolutely keeping your head still. 
“Focus on me and stop moving. How long do you think you were in there?”
His voice was a quiet mumble. 
“18 hours, at the least. Maybe even 24. It’s nighttime now isn’t it? Please I want to go see everyone!” 
“Y/N. You were only in there for 8 hours. You shouldn’t be experiencing this so intensely. You didn’t hear or see anything else in there did you? I need you to be completely honest with me.”
You shook your head quickly, even as you bounced on your heels. 
“Mm-mm! No,  I-” 
Before you could even finish your denial he was starting to pull up the short sleeves of your pajamas up past your shoulders and then snarling at you.
“What the fuck did you do to yourself you idiot!?” 
You looked at him in genuine confusion and he growled lowly before brushing his thumb over your bicep causing you to hiss at the sharp rush of pain that greeted you. 
“Ow, Yoongi what the Hell!?”
You looked down and realized you'd dug your nails into your arms, holding yourself during that brief, fitful sleep you'd had so tightly you'd drawn blood and caused wounds. On top of that you'd apparently continued scratching once you'd awoken, irritating the wounds even further.
"Wow that's all it took to break her? Pathetic."
Jungkook's snort made you squirm in Yoongi's grasp to look at him and this time, he let you as he was occupied examining your wounds. 
Yoongi released you with a simple nod to Jungkook before walking off. 
"Watch her."
Once you were out of his grip you hopped over to the built boy, clinging to his arm even as he jolted in surprise that quickly turned to disgust even as a surprised blush stained his cheeks pink. 
"Th-The Hell!? Get off me you freak!"
He began slowly working you off his body but you pouted and resolutely stayed on him like glue. 
"Nuh-uh!! Never thought I'd miss you being an ass but here we are! Suck it up!"
You were so focused on trying to stay attached to Jungkook you didn't hear the footsteps this time and squealed as you were tugged off by Yoongi and into his chest face first who sighed. 
"...Calm down. You're not going back in ever again. I promise. You're gonna be okay. Focus on my heartbeat and count the beats okay? Try to match your breathing to it." 
"The fuck did you do to make her all clingy and weird? You better fix her! If she's fucked in the head for when I train her-" 
"Quiet down. If you don't want to overwhelm her and make things worse I'd suggest keeping your mouth shut."
Just the two bickering was making you start to get squirmy again and Yoongi tightened his grip slightly in response while Jungkook snapped his mouth shut. Your shaking gradually started to subside to the occasional shiver as you did as Yoongi instructed, slowly being soothed by his consistent heart rate. Your breathing also started to even out, and you found yourself surprised at how slow his heartbeat was. 
He had seemed so panicked but moments earlier after all. He must have real control. 
Noticing you slightly beginning to calm, Yoongi gradually released his grip on you to look you in the eyes.
“...Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take you over to the infirmary where I’ll hand you off to Hoseok. You won’t be seeing anyone but 2 people at once for at least today and tomorrow. I’m not risking damaging your psyche further by overstimulating you right after depriving you.”
His voice was as monotone as ever but you felt the way his hand trembled slightly as he grabbed your wrist before he abruptly released you, tersely demanding you follow him instead. 
You did so, albeit slowly as you risked a glance around the room for Jungkook, only mildly surprised when you found he’d slipped out silently. 
You were more surprised he’d left quietly more than the fact that he’d abandoned you in such a state. He’d probably gone to tell Taehyung what awful shape you were in so they could laugh about how weak you were. 
Wonderful. 
You almost wished your lucidity wasn’t returning.
Gods, the way you’d clung to him like a child was so embarrassing. You could only pray given his, what you remembered to be, flustered reaction that he’d never mention it again. At least Yoongi mercifully didn’t seem focused on your display though it was mainly because he was probably more distressed by the reaction from a psychological perspective than anything as kind.
Yoongi opened the door to the infirmary for you and let you enter first before following suit. You spotted Hoseok at the large desk overlooking a window to the greenery you’d been lost in not too long ago with Taehyung, sorting different bags of powder. He looked up at your arrival and frowned as he scanned you up and down before his eyes locked on your injured shoulders and then jumped to Yoongi as he rose to his feet and made his way over. 
“The Hell did you do? I thought she was only going in the sensory deprivation room for 8 hours, how did she manage to hurt herself?” 
Yoongi sighed heavily, watching as you hugged Hoseok who recipricorated gently before he led you over to the infirmary bed nearest to you and setting you down gently. 
“She used her nails; it happened when she was sleeping apparently. I watched the whole time, but when she started sleeping I left to eat...I should’ve picked up on the signs and never put her in this situation. I thought it would be a gentle enough way to start building her mental tolerance to torture should the others ever try such a thing. You know EXO’s policy about women.” 
Hoseok grunted in acknowledgment of his words as he pulled over the metal cart with basic medical supplies he hadn't gotten around to fully cleaning since his own training session two days ago. 
“Blaming yourself isn’t going to make her better so knock off the self loathing bullshit going on in your head right now and get me a wet rag and a bucket with soap and water. I need to clean the wounds before they become infected. You may have caused this situation but you can also fix it so move your ass.”
His voice was crisp, cool and nothing like his typically cheerful self making you blink at him in delirious confusion, your alertness seemed to be fading in and out, despite your best efforts to hang onto it. Everything just seemed so overwhelming, and almost new to you. 
Yoongi listened without quarrel however and nodded before he left the room, to do what Hoseok had ordered you had to guess. 
“Alright lovey I need you to keep your eyes on mine okay? I know it’s hard to focus right now but I want to check some things.” 
His voice had changed tones again, now sweet and gentle as you knew him. You liked this version better, you decided as your eyes flicked up to meet his. 
His smile widened a bit, making his eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement. 
“I happen to prefer this side to me too. Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to let it out very often in my line of work. It’s nice for it to be genuine for once. Now; I want you to talk to me about the day you found out your Mother died. Do you think you can do that for me sweetie?”
You frowned and blearily shook your head in denial, not registering the fact that he was rubbing a wet cloth on the inside of your arm about a third of the way up, nor the fact that the area went numb and tingly. Your whole body felt numb and tingly honestly; what was one more area?
“I don’t wanna talk about that.” 
Your voice had grown small, intrusive images already making themselves known inside your mind as your frown deepened, and his smile only widened. Thanks to your gaze being locked on his you noticed when his eyes flicked to the door suddenly, making you look too in anticipation, expecting Yoongi to perhaps be entering or for someone to be there only to not notice the needle entering your arm on the other side. 
You turned back to him with a pout of confusion but swayed suddenly as the world spun. You would’ve surely fallen had you not been lying down securely in the bed. Why did you feel like you were floating? Was this normal? A part of the side effects of your brief time in the sensory deprivation chamber? 
“How are you feeling now? Ready to tell me about that night?” 
You beamed, suddenly so exhilarated despite the world spinning that you felt giddy; your mind barely comprehending the words Hoseok hit you with or their meaning, just starting to speak without conscious awareness. 
“Mmhmm sure! So, it’s pretty funny actually! I was just coming home from grocery shopping, and I stopped at the craft store before heading home to get Mom some of those adult coloring books since I could tell how anxious she was lately. We used to love doing that together you know? And!” 
You giggled, grinning even at the painful nature of your story. If only it was just a story. 
“She’d promised me we’d spend the whole day together since she was away all the time; now I know she was tending to you. Instead of being home with me, her y’know actual daughter.”
You giggled again, clearly delirious.
“So I finally got home, and when I walked inside I saw her just...bleeding everywhere. She was already dead, or so Namjoon told me later. He’d sent some grunts or something so as soon as I walked in I was being dragged out and to a car before I could even protest. None of you could even bear to clean up the mess you made! You must all be cowards of epic proportions. I mean seriously! You left her body to your grunts? After all she did for you? Real pathetic; lemme tell ya.”  
You shrugged with a beaming smile, feeling a large wave threatening to drag you under as your blinks began to slow.
“At least she’s not anxious anymore though right?” 
Hoseok listened to your story with that kind smile of his never once leaving, nodding in agreement to everything you said so you wouldn’t stop and pet your hair until blissful unconsciousness finally took you and you lost the war to stay conscious with a question of Yoongi’s disappearance being the last words to escape your lips. 
Hoseok’s smile dropped and he turned towards the closet cooly, perceptive gaze narrowing. 
“...You can come out now.” 
Taehyung rolled his eyes as he stepped out. 
“You coddle her too much. You should’ve just given her an interrogation drug instead of a gentle dose like that. We would’ve gotten the information quicker.” 
Hoseok chuckled as he shrugged, uncaring as he took in Taehyung with detached indifference. 
“I got the information didn’t I? And she won’t remember any of this. All the better for our plan. How’s Jungkook? Still distracting Yoongi?” 
Taehyung nodded. 
“Has him held hostage in the kitchen. It’s not like it takes much effort to play the brat on his part.” 
Hoseok nodded, risking a glance at your slumbering form and Taehyung did the same. 
There was a beat of silence and then. 
“...We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”
“We’re doing the only thing we can. And that’s enough.” 
Taehyung suddenly flung himself back into the closet with a vengeance and silently rushed to close the door as he heard the infirmary door just beyond the wall burst open; barely managing it in time as Hoseok concealed the needle in his pocket and feigned confused annoyance at Yoongi’s abrupt entrance. 
“Hyung! Quiet down or you’ll wake her! She just finally fell asleep. What the Hell took you so long?!” 
Yoongi panted as he glanced around the room suspiciously and Hoseok briefly caught Jungkook’s vaguely concerned gaze behind him making Hoseok shoot him a dark look. All he’d had to do was give them the heads up he was returning! It could’ve been a single letter! But now there hadn’t been any time and-
“What’s this?”
Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but Hoseok could recognize that deadly tone anywhere. 
His attention quickly shifted to see what he was referring to and his heart dropped although his annoyed expression remained unchanged. 
Fuck.  
The vial he’d used to extract the drug sat in between Yoongi’s fingers and he cursed himself for forgetting such a detail. 
“Did you inject her with this?” 
Yoongi’s eyes were like icy knives, cutting him to the quick and daring him to lie. He needed to play his cards right here or things could go very badly very quickly. Sure, the most secret documents were in his room but the ones in here would be enough to get him at least under suspicion and he just couldn’t have that right now. Not when they were so close.
Yoongi was growing impatient, his eyes narrowing all the more to fine, catlike slits as he strode forward to hiss into Hoseok’s face. 
“Have you gone deaf? I said, ``Did you inject her with this?!”
“I did. I had to. She grew violent and-”
Yoongi grabbed him by the collar and Jungkook entered the room in panic but Hoseok waved his hand quickly to shoo him away, knowing better than to move his eyes when Yoongi was watching him so closely. One wrong move when Yoongi was in analysis mode and he’d blow all of their covers. 
“Don’t fuck with me Jung. She was acting delirious to an extent yes, showing signs of a need for intense affection and physical contact as by isolating her I accidentally triggered her psyche to momentarily put down her walls and ask for the touch she needs since she’s been touch starved for God knows how many years. But she was anything but violent. Try again. And this time if you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll just have to bring this to Namjoon.”
The dark smirk was on his lips before he could stop it, but he used it to his advantage. 
“Like you aren’t going to anyway? You always were his favorite lapdog. Well…” 
A smirk more snarl than smile twisted his expression to something even more ugly. 
“Besides Seokjin that is.”
Yoongi looked stricken just as he’d intended and then he found himself collapsing from the impact of Yoongi’s fist on his cheek, followed swiftly by a kick to his stomach that made him cough as he curled up slightly even as a pained laugh escaped his lips.  
“Oh? Did I hit a nerve-” 
He was cut off with a kick, to the head this time that had him seeing stars. 
“Good thing you’re not the only one with a taste for hitting them eh? Maybe now you can feel how she did when you injected her with that crap.” 
Hoseok dazedly realized he was being turned so his front was open to Yoongi and found himself straddled and then punch after punch was being delivered as Yoongi snarled venomously down at him. 
“You are going to tell me exactly why you injected her and then we’re both going to tell Namjoon what you-”
Now it was Yoongi’s turn to be cut off. 
Hoseok’s eyes widened and he shouted, loudly. 
“NO!” 
The chair met Yoongi’s head with the sound of splintering wood, and he promptly fell to the floor unconscious as Taehyung panted heavily, eyes swirling with panic and adrenaline coursing through his body as he held out his hand to help Hoseok up. 
Seeing the scene coming to an abrupt end Jungkook rushed to close and lock the door behind him; never so thankful for Namjoon soundproofing the medical ward after he screamed his head off having his wound cauterized one too many times. 
Hoseok gritted his teeth in irritation as he smacked Taehyung’s hand aside, brushing the back of his hand over his now bleeding nose and spatting the blood that filled his mouth from his teeth being forced to bite down on his tongue too hard. 
“...Now look what you’ve done. This wasn’t supposed to happen until her training was fully complete and now we’re going to have to move it up.”
Taehyung scoffed, looking offended. 
“What; no thank you for saving you, you ungrateful ass? Yoongi would’ve continued till you were unconscious for that comment you made.”
“Exactly! That’s what I wanted you-!”
Hoseok cut himself off with a sigh and turned to the girl sleeping obliviously in the bed. 
“Nothing we can do about it now. Jungkook, you’ll be the one to clean those wounds and then carry her out when the time comes.They may be superficial but it’ll be a problem if they become infected on the road. I’ll grab the materials from my room and Taehyung; you’re on weapon and surveillance duty. If we so much as miss one tracker or are spotted by one camera...this whole operation is blown. I hope you finished the map in time. We meet back here in 30 minutes. If one of us doesn’t show...we leave without them. Understood?” 
Jungkook nodded, as did Taehyung and Jungkook was quick to grab the water jug, soap and rag that Yoongi brought in and tried to remind himself to go somewhat gently as he soaked the rag and scrubbed the soap into it before he ran it over your damaged shoulders. He made sure to get the entire area, just to be safe. He was pretty sure Hoseok wasn't above actually killing him if he didn’t clean them up to his standards and he still had plenty of things left to do in his life. 
It only took him about 10 minutes to clean your small scrape wounds to his liking and he quickly finished up by wrapping them in bandages just in case before he set about grabbing whatever suitable medical equipment they may need in the meantime. Gods forbid your wound did get infected, or he or one of the others got injured they’d have some way to cope.
Taehyung returned with 10 minutes to spare, just as Jungkook was placing his gathered medical supplies into a non discript black duffel bag. He was carrying his own bag; also black to better blend in with the night and no doubt filled to the brim with weapons and interrogation tools he’d rather not dwell on for long. 
They were both starting to get antsy as only 5 minutes remained as Hoseok finally rejoined them. In the meantime they’d bound both bags together for ease of carrying and Hoseok observed their handiwork with a hum of approval that made Jungkook’s heart swell despite himself. Praise from Hoseok was so hard to come by, it was something that was to be savored. 
Hoseok mumbled an apology, explaining he’d taken the risk to gather some clothes for all of them in addition to the files and other supplies they’d need. They were doing the right thing, he was sure of it. There was no time for second guessing now; not with a bleeding Yoongi on the floor, an unconscious brat and an ever shrinking time limit. They had to go now. 
At Hoseok’s signal, with Taehyung leading the way with map in hand they began to exit; First Taehyung, then Jungkook with girl in tow, and finally Hoseok. He hesitated for just a moment and then shoved open his vial drawer and grabbed several, rushing to read the labels. Just in case she got too rowdy, he told himself, quickly rushing to follow after his partners in arms. 
He paused just one more time before he left and never looked back, eyes locking on Yoongi as a brief expression of pained regret flashed across his face.
‘...’
‘...Forgive me brother. But I did what I had to. You’ll come to understand one day, I hope.’
And then they were gone.
________________________________________________________________
A/N: Welp; that just happened! I hope you all enjoyed this and I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart for my lengthy absence. Depression hit me hardcore with the arrival of Covid and writing became a major struggle.I was only recently able to complete this after much struggle thanks to the darker subject matter and the characters themselves screaming at me what to do. 
I will be participating in Monster Smash 2020 with @ksmutclub​ so look forward to my Scream AU(and do let me know if you have any good titles!) coming soon. 
As for Tainting Purity...I love that series. So much. But this most recent chapter has really killed my motivation. I think I may have unintentionally censored myself to be more socially correct because it was going a certain direction and that bothers me. I just want to warn you guys; I may have to scrap it and start entirely from scratch to let it fully be my own. 
It’s good to be back guys; I hope you’ll forgive me for dropping off planet Earth and welcome me back with your thoughts on the newest chapter. I love all you guys. <3
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