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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #park jimin #jimin x reader

157 notes · View notes

elen-aranel · 3 years

Note

Ok. Don’t worry. I just want to see if you could do one where Christopher Pike is taking care of his wife after she gets side effects from a shot she had to get.

As long as it’s not pushing you out of your comfort zone.

The weather is grey and cold and writing this has made me feel warm. Thank you so much for my first ever request @sitkafay I really hope you like it 💖

Side Effects May Include

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: fluff, reader is sick WC: 1660 Tag list: @jusvibbbin (to be added to my Pike X Reader taglist let me know)

“It’s bad. Ensign Parsons almost died. Some humans are particularly susceptible, according to Phil.” Chris takes a bite of the pasta carbonara you synthesised for dinner. You thought your husband might need some comfort food – today had been tough.

The transporter’s bio filters hadn’t picked up the infection when the away team beamed back from the planet the Enterprise had been surveying a couple of days ago. So by the time the first person got sick, it had already infected almost all of exobiology and the beta-shift security team.

“They developed an antiviral and a vaccine, though, right?” You say, concerned, taking a sip of your synthesised white wine.

“Yes. Phil came up and administered the vaccine to the bridge crew already, and engineering are going to sickbay to get their doses overnight. Everyone else gets theirs tomorrow.” Chris sighs a little and you see the worry in his blue eyes. “It could have been a lot worse – it’s only as infectious as Earth’s flu, so locking down the ship has worked. Phil said it if had been as infectious as measles we could have been looking at multiple fatalities, even with the antiviral.” He sighs a little and you put your fork down and reach out for your husband’s hand.

“Too close for comfort,” you say, and he nods. You both take a moment, then he brightens up.

“You all right to work from ’home’ tomorrow?”

“I expect I’ll cope.” You grin, happy to see his dimpled smile in return.

It’s odd having to synthesise a mask to wear to go to sickbay. Environmental control has been set to filter the virus in the air, but the ship is a closed system and Chris – Captain Pike, you remind yourself; he may be your husband but you are on duty – has let Boyce take the lead. The CMO is not taking any chances.

You sit on a bio bed as a Nurse T’Hara scans you.

“I have confirmed you do not have any of the virus in your system. With your permission I will now administer the vaccine. You should have full immunity within eighteen hours, but prior to that you may experience some side effects as your immune system adjusts. We estimate the probability of this to be less than five percent based on the crew who have received this treatment so far.”

You nod, understanding. Chris didn’t have any side effects, so hopefully you won’t either.

She presses a hypo spray to your neck.

Back in your quarters you sit at Chris’s desk, PADD in hand. You look out at the stars going by at warp. In three days the ship is due to scan a nebula with some interesting subspace properties, and you are working on a proposal for the best way to scan it – routes round the nebula and sensor optimisation, as well as probes, possibly to collect more data and to take samples. You love when Enterprise has a spatial phenomenon to investigate – stars drew you to Starfleet in the first place, and you love being on the cutting edge of astrophysics. The proposal is almost done, and you’re due to send it to Spock by 12:00 after you reread it and cross check your supporting data.

But somehow it’s difficult to concentrate. Maybe it’s the way you can see the stars going by? Your office doesn’t have a window, and you don’t usually use this desk. Chris has so much paperwork to handle you understand that he can’t do it all in his ready room; you like that you get to spend time with him as he works. But you don’t often bring work back to your quarters, and if you do you usually sit on the sofa.

You get up and stretch, and walk across to the sofa. You feel like you do the day after you’ve had a particularly rough workout. But the ship went into lockdown before you and Maryam – Lieutenant Ahmed, your friend in security – could have your weekly sparring session yesterday. Weird.

You sit down, tucking your legs under you, and get back to your proposal. You manage to read and edit a couple more sections. There’s only double checking the referenced data to do now. You shake your head a little; you feel a bit spaced out. Not quite connected with your body.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The current time is 09:55.”

You have time to take a little break. You put your PADD aside, and rub your eyes. You could just shut them for a few minutes – your head is aching a bit, but it’ll probably be fine in five minutes or so.

“Sweetheart?”

Someone wants something. But your head is aching and you’re so drowsy. If you ignore them they’ll go away.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You blink, opening your eyes, squinting. Chris’s face is right in front of you, his blue eyes staring into yours, worried.

“’m fine,” you say. But your voice sounds a little rough. “What’re you doing here?”

“Spock was expecting you to send that proposal. When you didn’t we commed you but you didn’t reply.”

He reaches out a hand and holds the back of it against your forehead. It’s pleasantly cool and you lean into the touch, sighing a little as he flips his hand round and strokes your cheek.

“Sorry. I had a bit of a headache. Thought I’d just close my eyes for a few minutes. Don’t know what happened. What time is it now?”

“13:00. You’re a bit warm. how do you feel?”

“Not great. My head’s pounding, and if I’d known I’d fall asleep I’d have gone to bed.” You groan as you shift. “My muscles are all ache-y, and the sofa hasn’t helped.”

Chris presses a kiss to your forehead. “Sounds like you’re having a reaction to the vaccine. Sickbay reported that a few people had. Come on, let’s get you a little more comfortable.” He puts an arm round you and helps you stretch your legs out along the sofa. He grabs a couple of throw cushions and props them behind your back.

“Don’t you need to get back to the bridge?” As sick as you feel you know that Chris has to prioritise the ship; one of the things you love about him is his commitment to the people under his care.

“Number One has the conn. Actually I’d planned to get caught up on crew evals in the ready room while everything was quiet, but...” you see the love in his eyes as he stands. “You need me. Can’t neglect you when you feel like this.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, glad that he’s staying, but still feeling the need to check. You close your eyes again, now feeling a bit cold.

Next thing you know Chris’s strong arm is around you, and there’s a delicious smell in front of your nose. You open your eyes – Chris must have dimmed the lights because you don’t need to squint anymore.

“Chicken soup. It’ll make you feel better.”

You take a small sip from the cup he’s holding in front of you. It’s the perfect temperature, hot but not too hot, and the savoury flavour bursts across your tongue, familiar somehow, and soothing. You hum in pleasure, and take another sip, bringing your hands up to hold the cup.

“Mom made the program after you said you liked it last time we visited. It’s the soup she put in a flask for us when we went for a ride on the last evening we were there. She said it won’t be as good as homemade, but she hoped you’d like it anyway. I’ve been keeping it to surprise you... now seemed like a good time.”

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back into him. You remember that ride – he had taken you to his favourite place for stargazing as a kid, and you had sat there looking at the Milky Way, the horses nearby, you and Chris snuggled under blankets, warm together in the cool desert night. You need to thank her, you think, when you feel better.

“Thought this was the best to get some food into you, get you hydrated.” He squeezes you and kisses your temple. “Would you like to go to bed?”

“You have reports to go through, right? Maybe I can sit with you, while you read them here?”

“We can do that,” he says, voice warm, and he helps you move up so he can sit next to you. He flips the throw from the back of the sofa down over you, then he pulls you against him, and you lean back. He puts an arm round you again, and holds his PADD in his other hand. You doze, feeling comforted.

“...should resolve by themselves? Thanks. Yeah. I’ll make sure. Let me know if you— All right. Pike out.”

“Hmm?”

“Phil. He wants me to keep you hydrated, but thinks you’ll feel better by the morning.”

You stretch against him. You’re already feeling a bit more yourself – your headache is easing, even though your muscles are still a bit sore.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Chris. You—you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. In sickness and in health, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m going to get you some water, then something to eat if you can manage it, then hot shower to soothe those muscles, then bed. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect. But—”

“Your proposal? Spock has it. He’s pleased, says your idea to use the probes is a good one.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” You swing your legs round, pulling away from him a little as you sit up, keeping the throw over your bottom half. You turn toward him, reaching out to touch his face. His mouth quirks into a smile.

“I’m not Captain for nothing, sweetheart.” He leans toward you and gives you a gentle kiss.

#Christopher Pike #Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #request #writings of the girl from outer space #sitkafay #Star Trek discovery #star trek strange new worlds #star trek fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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gendercensus · 4 years

Text

Gender Census 2020: The Pronoun Question

This report is the fourth in a series, analysing the >24,000 responses from the 2020 Gender Census question-by-question.

[ Report #1: On “enby” and age // Report #2: The Identity Question // Report #3: The Title Question ]

This year’s Gender Census, aimed at everyone whose gender(s) or lack thereof are not adequately described by the gender binary of “always, solely and completely male OR always, solely and completely female”, was open from 12th February until 7th April 2020. There were 24,576 usable responses. (Unfortunately the spreadsheet of responses won’t be available until I’ve written up the report for every question, sorry about that!)

This report will summarise the responses for the third question, regarding pronouns.

As in previous years, I asked about pronouns in two sections.

The first section is very straightforward, just one question:

Supposing all pronouns were accepted by everyone without question and were easy to learn, which pronouns are you happy for people to use for you in English?

Participants were presented with a selection of check-all-that-apply checkboxes, and if they selected “a pronoun set not listed here” they were taken to a second section where they were invited to enter all five forms of up to five sets of neopronouns, with associated verbs (singular vs. plural) and whether the set is gender-inclusive or -exclusive.

THE CHECKBOX LIST

This year, the top five pronouns (or lack thereof) were:

Singular they - they/them/their/theirs/themself - 77.5% (down 2%)

He - he/him/his/his/himself - 30.5% (down 0.3%)

She - she/her/her/hers/herself - 29% (no change)

None/avoid pronouns - 13.7% (up 3.4%)

Xe - xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself - 7.4% (up 0.2%)

14.3% of participants wanted people to mix it up a bit, and 9.1% of participants were okay with any pronoun set.

In previous years I hadn’t specified verbs for singular they, only to have people assume that the “singular” in singular they refers to the verbs (i.e. “they is a nonbinary person”). This year I tried to counter that by changing the wording of the singular they checkbox option to clarify: Singular they - they/them/their/theirs/themself (plural verbs, i.e. "they are a writer"). It doesn’t seem to have made any difference.

The most striking differences are that under-30s are more likely to go for singular they and he/him, whereas over-30s are more likely to go for she/her or no pronouns at all. Overall pronoun preferences are well-matched between age groups.

Here’s how this year’s pronoun responses fit into the bigger picture:

[Note that there is no data for 2014.]

That’s singular they in blue at the top, holding steady at just over 75% even when the number of participants more than doubled this year, and she/her and he/him are also stable at about 30% each.

All of those other pronouns get a bit lost, so here’s the same chart with singular they, he/him and she/her removed, to give the rest a bit of room to breathe:

[Note that there is no data for 2014.]

Most pronouns are well within a 5% margin of wobble, with the exception of ze/hir, which has been steadily declining since the Gender Census began and has dipped from 13% to 4%. I had privately wondered whether ze/hir might be more popular among the over-30s, because I remember it being the go-to neopronoun in my social circle around 10 years ago, and it is a little more popular with over-30s compared to under-30s (6% and 4% respectively).

9.1% of participants didn’t want to be referred to by he/him, she/her, or they/them. 6.3% of participants didn’t select or enter any specific pronoun set at all.

Every pronoun in the checkbox list was selected by over 4% of participants in at least one of the two broad age groups, so nothing will be removed from the pronoun list next year.

NEOPRONOUNS

The most popular neopronoun is in the checkbox list: xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself, at 7.4% of participants.

For the top five typed-in pronoun sets, I’ve taken into account only the subject and object:

ey/em - 0.6% (142 participants)

ae/aer - 0.3%

they/them - 0.3%

ve/ver - 0.2%

ze/zir - 0.2%

The reason I don’t take into account more forms of the pronoun or whether it uses singular or plural verbs is because there is so much variation that each pronoun gets split into several sets, such that it becomes impractical to work out whether any pronoun is entered often enough that it should be added to the checkbox list. I’ve noticed a lot more variation in the possessives (possessive determiner and possessive pronoun, eg: his, hers, their, etc.) and reflexives (”[pronoun]self”), which is why I tend to leave them out when counting to find broad patterns.

As an example, let’s take a look at ey/em, the most popular neopronoun entered into the textboxes. When you include singular/plural verbs in counting, it goes from 142 to 68. If you take into account every variation in all five forms and verbs for every set beginning with ey/em, you get 18 unique sets:

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (singular verbs) - 63

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (plural verbs) - 35

ey/em/eir/eirs/eirself (plural verbs) - 14

ey/em/eir/eirs/eirself (singular verbs) - 11

ey/em/eir/eirs/emselves (plural verbs) - 3

ey/em/eir/eir's/eirself (plural verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/eir's/emself (singular verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (any verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/[blank]/[blank] (any verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eir/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself / emselves (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eirs/erself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eis/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eirs/eirs/eirself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/er/eirs/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/er/ers/emself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/es/ers/eirself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/eyr/eyrs/eyrself (plural verbs) - 1

Part of why I love running this survey year on year is I get to explore which neopronoun sets have an approximate consensus on how exactly to use them. This one would be:

I’m in a coffee shop with my friend Sam. Ey is buying emself a coffee in eir reusable takeaway cup. “Is this your coffee?” the barista asks me, holding up Sam’s coffee. “No,” I reply, pointing to Sam, “it’s eirs.”

I have collected data on whether the sets are considered gender-inclusive (can be used by anyone of any gender) or gender-exclusive (can only be used by people of a particular gender), because I thought that I or someone else might be curious to find out whether there was a neopronoun rising in popularity that would be considered a truly “nonbinary pronoun”, in the way that singular they can’t due to its use as a pronoun for people whose genders are not specified. I haven’t done any statistical calculations or analysis on this, because none of the neopronouns (checkbox or textbox) are clearly climbing in popularity. When the spreadsheet of responses is published anyone who is curious can investigate.

Even when you combine every set that begins with the most popular first two forms (ey/em) it only totals 142, which is under 1% of participants, so there will be no neopronouns added to the checkbox list next year.

Fun trivia: counting by subject/object/reflexive, there were 768 different pronoun sets entered, of which 165 were entered more than once (about one neopronoun in five). That’s one neopronoun set for every 32 participants.

OVERALL

Of all specific pronoun sets in the checkbox list and typed in, most people (43%) went by only one set, and 33% were happy with two sets. Some examples of people going by two sets of pronouns might be:

A nonbinary man whose favourite pronoun set is he/him, but they/them is also correct.

Someone whose favourite pronouns are ze/hir, but because that set isn’t well-known ze’ll accept they/them from people who don’t know hir well.

A nonbinary person who was assigned female at birth and who presents in a feminine way, who hasn’t found a pronoun set she likes yet, so she’s happy to go with the pronouns that were assigned to her at birth until she finds something that feels right.

CONCLUSION

Singular they continues to be the most popular pronoun among survey participants, greater than the two runners up (he/him and she/her) combined. At over three quarters of participants, if you’re not sure of a nonbinary person’s pronouns, this is a good fallback.

However, since 9.1% (almost 1 in 10) aren’t into he/him, she/her, or singular they, it’s always good to ask if you can. (Don’t call them preferred pronouns, they’re just pronouns!)

The most popular neopronoun is xe/xem, at 7.4%.

SEE ALSO

A list of links to all results, including UK and worldwide, and including previous years - summary page / results tag

The mailing list for being notified of the final report and next year’s survey

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it and would like to give something back, you could increase your chances of taking part in future surveys by following on Tumblr, Twitter or the Fediverse, or subscribing to the mailing list. Alternatively, you could take a look at my Amazon wishlist.

If you’re in the UK and open to supporting a very topical cause, please do consider signing this petition calling for the UK government to add a nonbinary option to their coronavirus test order form. At the moment nonbinary people must lie to order a coronavirus test online or over the phone, which is illegal in two ways! You can also reblog this blog post by @mxactivist.

#results #2020 #pronouns #neopronouns #nonbinary

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「眷然恋影」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Zuo Ran Birthday 2021- Days to Re-Live Forever (4.20: Questionnaire Filling)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Will also be filed under Zuo Ran’s tag #Tears of a Lawyer *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

4.18 / 4.20 / 4.22 / 4.24 / 4.26 Messages / Investigations / Call

Location: Cafe

Shortly after taking on the voluntary job, I'd soon accumulated enough points to redeem the Live-action Studio bookings.

But other than the additional, original movie props, I still had to prepare other little trinkets that Zuo Ran would like, along with a birthday cake.

In order to better understand his preferences in things, I'd specially edited the Film Museum's questionnaire. I'd added in a question about his likes and dislikes for him to fill.

Eventually, I found an opportunity to get him to fill the questionnaire out, during a break at work. I'd invited him out to the Cafe downstairs of our company.

MC: (I really never knew that Robin had that many fans even offline...)

I'd gathered and heard countless people speak of the film critic, Robin, over the course of the past couple of days as I collected survey information.

Everyone had a myriad of wild guesses regarding this mysterious film critic, and the guesses about what his real identity might be was no different either.

But I still stick with my own stand on this. This Robin person should be Zuo Ran.

MC: (It's really interesting to be able to understand Lawyer Zuo from this point of view.)

Zuo Ran: Sorry for making you wait. I had to take a call, and it delayed me for quite a bit.

Zuo Ran's here. Ha laid his suit jacket out on the back of the chair before taking a seat opposite me.

MC: Not at all. I just came earlier, that's all.

MC: This is the Film Festival survey that I mentioned to you before, Lawyer Zuo. Could you fill it in for me?

Zuo Ran: Of course. Actually, there's no need for you to be buying me a cup of coffee for something this small.

I passed the survey that I'd added my own "personal touch" to, to him.

MC: You only ate lunch in a hurry earlier without taking a break at all. You'd have spent the entire afternoon being a busy bee if I didn't invite you out for a cup.

MC: Having a good work-life balance promotes efficiency; that's what you taught me.

Zuo Ran: You're really… I still can't win against you; however I might try.

Zuo Ran accepted the questionnaire and started filling it in without any other question whatsoever.

But looking at how serious he was when filling out the form made me involuntarily get the nervous jitters.

MC: (I'm sure he must find something odd about it once he sees the question about "What flavour of cake do you like?"...)

MC: (Haa, I'm only doing this because I'm out of ideas…)

For the past few days, I'd tried many different ways to find out what his preferences were, but they were all for naught. For example...

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Wednesday. Sister Zhao Xing and I collaborated with each other. I was going to take advantage of the opportunity that presented itself, when she requested to increase the Law Firm’s benefits, to ask Zuo Ran for his birthday preferences.

It all went smoothly at the start. We’d successfully brought up the topic of birthdays, and our colleagues all really got into the conversation regarding it.

But when I asked Zuo Ran about it...

MC: What about you, Lawyer Zuo? Would you like any birthday benefits?

Zuo Ran: I don’t really want anything in particular, so let’s just see what everyone else prefers.

MC: You can just throw anything out there, just as reference material for everyone to brainstorm about.

Zuo Ran: I…

Before he could say anything, however, his cell phone rang. And immediately afterwards, he’d been called away by his Client at the most opportune moment.

By the time he’d returned, the conversation about birthday benefits was already long over...

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: (I don’t think it’s all that obvious when I put my own private questions into the original questionnaire, right…?)

Paralysed by nerves at the side, I looked out for Zuo Ran’s reaction.

Sure enough, he frowned right after completing the first half of the survey.

Zuo Ran: Hm?

MC: What’s wrong, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: “Hobbies and favourite colours” ...? Does the Film Festival’s Survey really require such information?

He pointed to the part that I'd added.

MC: ...Yes, this was specifically designed to be so. We can only do a more targeted analysis of the data if we understand everyone’s personal preferences.

Zuo Ran: Also, “What kind of souvenirs and cakes would you like to receive on your birthday”? This is also for data collection?

MC: Yup. I hear that the Museum intends to give all members birthday gifts. Very considerate, aren’t they?

Zuo Ran: ...Is that so? Alright then.

He nodded and continued filling in the survey without voicing any more objections.

MC: ……

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Zuo Ran: Okay, I'm done. Here, does this look okay?

Finally, the questionnaire was completed. I took it from him and flipped through the pages, seeing that every single question had been filled without any blanks left.

MC: Yes, yes. This will work perfectly!

Zuo Ran: That’s great then. Do you… Have anything else?

MC: Nope.

Zuo Ran’s gaze flitted between me and the questionnaire for a few seconds, hesitant to say anything more.

Zuo Ran: Really?

MC: Yes, really.

What’s the matter with him? He was sighing almost inaudibly.

Zuo Ran: All I did was to fill out a questionnaire; there’s no need for you to be so nervous.

Looks like my many different reactions to him earlier had only served to make him suspicious.

MC: Not at all, I’m just… Afraid that you might have found it a tad troublesome, considering the number of questions in there...

Zuo Ran: Don't be. It’s as easy as lifting a finger, I never once found it a hassle in any way at all.

Zuo Ran: If that’s all, then… I’ll be going back upstairs to continue with work.

MC: Alright, I’ll catch up with you soon.

Zuo Ran stood up, pausing as he moved to retrieve his jacket, shooting me a meaningful look as he did.

Zuo Ran: You really don't have to think of it as a bother to me. You can look for me anytime, if you require something.

MC: Okay… Sure.

It was only till I had seen his figure disappear out the door, that I realized just what he might have had misunderstood this for.

MC: (Please don't tell me that he thought that I'd run into some sort of trouble in life that I was too embarrassed to talk to him about…)

MC: (As someone who's his partner, being so polite with him over a mere questionnaire… That must have been a pretty big tell…)

But I can't explain anything to him, in the current situation. All I could do was go wait for his birthday to come to pass before I could even reveal anything to him.

With that in mind, I thoroughly read through the survey that he'd just completed.

MC: (As expected of Lawyer Zuo, he really did do his due diligence in filing everything up!)

It could be said that the manner in which the questionnaire was filled was very Zuo Ran-like— Not only was it done in impeccable handwriting, he even listed out the main points, his logic and thought flow displayed clearly for all to see.

He wasn't sloppy or careless at all, even with those questions I'd thrown into the fray as my own "personal touch". Thus, with this, I've now collected all the information I needed to work with.

MC: Great! Looks like I've finally succeeded this time! This method actually works pretty well, all things given.

I can now go shopping to buy the other props to use in decorating the studio after work's up!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Zuo Ran's Office

That night, Zuo Ran retrieved the book "Introduction to Love Psychology" again, after he'd finished up his work.

He flipped to the page on "Mutual crushes", his fingertip skimming through the lines.

Zuo Ran: "Signs that show that the opposing party has an interest in you…"

Zuo Ran: "1, initiative: They'll be proactive in asking you about your personal preferences and the like, including, but not limited to, inviting you out to places alone…"

Zuo Ran: “2, nervousness: They'll appear a little nervous, or won't quite know what to do with themselves, especially when alone with you.”

Zuo Ran: "Inviting you out to places alone", "Appears nervous"... All of these checkboxes have been ticked, but she still seemed more concerned about the completion of the questionnaire than anything else...

Probably going over the recollections of her many different reactions earlier in the day, he pondered over the un-complicated scene, mulling over it. His brow furrowed.

Zuo Ran: Although I don't understand what your thoughts about this are...

Zuo Ran: My feelings have always been the same.

Zuo Ran: I'll try to take it slow and convey it to you.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (4.18: Volunteer Application) | Next Part: (4.22: Dubbing Contest)

#Tears of Themis #Zuo Ran #左然 #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #眷然恋影 #Days to ReLive forever #Zuo Ran 2021 Birthday #Tears of a Lawyer #Tears of an Event #weiding shijian bu #tears of themis translations

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littlespaceporgs · 4 years

Note

i have a need for more soft plo my dear 💕 how abt “i wanted to say ‘i love you’ for the first time without stuttering, but that failed” with everyone’s fave kel dor? also i love you to the moon and back and am super proud of you

A/N: Yeah that’s right, I’m back mostly fully now and yes I am writing the requests I have! JJ - I hope you like this! I LOVE U TOO! It’s funny to start off with and then goes angsty and then goes super fluffy and is an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish. I was aiming for a little 500 word blurb... it stands at 1.7ish i think 💀

So if you haven’t been reading my Clone Wars Reacts series, you probably aren’t aware that I am a massive simp for Plo Koon (and others characters 🤦‍♀️)and if this is you deciding to read them here’s the link to my masterlist, which has all the parts posted already.

Glimpse

Word Count: 1.7k Pairing: Plo Koon x Jedi!Reader Summary: Anakin running late, an awful sense of foreboding, and one thing that you were yet to say, mixed with a glimpse of a future you couldn’t have. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags for my loves: @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @libradusk @catsnkooks @mcu-padawan

The reasons why you agreed to go on a mission on Skywalker seemed to escape you at the moment. His plans, though working occasionally, had the reputation of heavy damage and being absurdly reckless. You did however, enjoy working with Ahsoka, though she could be just as bull-headed as Anakin on occasion. Maybe it was for her sake that you joined the mission?

The plan had originally been for you to lead a small troop of men in quietly, retrieve the data you needed, and then Skywalker would swoop in and distract them so that you could escape. The entry went well, and collecting the data happened without a hitch, but you were spotted on the way out and Skywalker was late. Again. And to make things worse, your comms stopped working a very long time ago.

“If you concentrated on getting out instead of what you’re thinking, we might just survive.”

Ah, that’s why you came on this blasted trip.

“Well maybe if you focused on this, instead of your sarcasm, we may live past the next 10 minutes, Plo.”

You’d known the Kel-dor for many years, almost as long as you’d been a Jedi, but the feelings you had for him were only a few years old, and started shortly after you began going on regular missions with him. He always had put the wellbeing of others ahead of his own, which was frustrating to no end, but endearing all the same. He knew that you had a way of overthinking every situation and very quickly becoming a ‘stress head’, so he always simplified the instructions and looked for the tell-tale signs of you steadily becoming unstuck. Always waiting for the clones to get on board an escape pod, making sure there were enough supplies, somehow always having all the answers and a witty response. It was the little things at any rate.

Like now for example, as you both knelt behind a box, trying to catch your breath, and he was trying to use humour as a way of distracting you from the very real possibility of dying by the hands of a droid.

You stretched up from your crouch and turned to look over the box. Oh shit, there’s an entire battalion of droids just a few meters – oh, and that one’s pointing- oh.

With a sharp tug, Plo pulled you back down, the blaster bolt whizzing past where your eyes had been only half a second ago. Despite not being able to see his eyes and mouth, he still gave you an exasperated expression.

“Be more-”

“I was fine! I saw it coming and I was going to move!” The Kel-dor ran a hand across his forehead, although, at this point he should be used to this type of behaviour from you.

Despite the joking and poking fun, your stomach was sinking further by the minute. As you just realised, if you stepped out, you would surely be shot instantly. A vast majority of the clone troopers had long since been torn apart. Swallowing, you closed your eyes, and leaned back resting your head on the box. There is no way either of you are going to surrender and get captured, but you both were aware of the fact that you likely weren’t making it out of this either.

Your shoulder was burning, and your ribs and abdomen ached, and there was a blaster burn on your leg. Another hand wrapped around your own, and squeezed it tight. Trying to stop shaking, you spoke.

“I – we’re not getting out of this one…” You turned your head and opened your eyes, finding his face. His eyes were turned down at the edges, and his shoulders were slumped the smallest bit. “Are we?”

Plo turned and took a similar position to you, not letting go of your hand.

“We must not think like-”

“Be realistic we-”

“It’s going to be-”

“Don’t- don’t you dare say it’ll be fine-”

“Skywalker-”

“isn’t coming! Or- or if he is, he’ll be too late!” you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking now, stuttering more with every word that came out. Plo’s head hung and you could see the weight of your words hanging on him.

“At um – at least we’ll go out as we are, teasing the s-shit out of each other, you old man.” He let a laugh drift out of the mask.

“Don’t call me old, youngling.” You laughed back, smirking all the while. If you’re going to die here – if technically you wouldn’t be jedi – your heart raced at the thought. The code was – well if you’re dead you can’t very well follow the code, now can you?

“I- I um I love you.” As soon as it was out, you felt lighter and heavier all at once. His back straightened so fast the back of his head nearly whacked the crate. When he finally turned to you, his brows were sitting much further up on his face than what they had been before, so you traced every corner on his face with your eyes, just in case. His hand squeezed yours tighter.

“I- well I wanted to say it without stuttering, and preferably when we weren’t a few minutes from death, but well- I guess there’s really no time like the present?” He still hadn’t moved, frozen and staring at you. Oh, no. You waved your free hand in front of his face, trying to break his stupor.

“Plo? Are you-”

“I love you too.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand moving to his face instead, moving your thumb across his cheekbone. Idly, you noticed that he hadn’t let go of your other hand yet. His hand moved the hair from your face, smudging the ash and dirt also. With a hand on the back of your head, he gently pulled so your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes slid shut, and you concentrated on the feeling of warmth and light that this brought. If this was the last thing you remembered before death, then you would die happily. For now, you savoured the few seconds you had sitting there. You sighed, and opened your eyes.

“I – just-”

“I know.” You pulled away, and despite the happiness of a few seconds before, a sense of foreboding sat heavily in your chest. You swallowed harder, and moved to grab your lightsaber. You grasped it tight, and ignited the glowing blade. Next to you, you heard his blade reveal itself. Your muscles in your legs tensed, and you braced your shoulders. One more time. When you turned to him, he was still looking at you, with a sad expression that rivalled your own. You shuffled so you were instead in a crouch, ready to fight. Might as well go out swinging.

You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. For a second before you stood, you couldn’t hear anything. When you thought back and remembered it, there was the sound of droid’s legs and chatter, of occasional blaster fire of those who were left, and your lightsaber humming in your ear. At the time, there was nothing. You just kept staring at Plo, hoping that somehow, you’d get more of this, more than 5 seconds.

Faster than a blink, you got a glimpse of a future that could have been. Cold nights on Coruscant, wrapped up in blankets, watching the night sky past by. Daybreak, curled up in each other’s arms, feeling the glow of sun come in. On missions with small troops of trusted clones, being able to be open with your relationship. Sneaking around before council meetings, trying to savour what moments you could before missions. Feeling like young padawan’s again, running around quietly. Visions of you leaving the order, years from now, quoting being unable to stick to the code, Plo following shortly after. Of you building a home, your stomach steadily growing outwards.

And just like that it was over, and you were stuck with a reality of death.

Your throat burned and your vision blurred. Now.

And then Plo’s hand desperately grabbing yours and pulling you down again, a shrill beeping coming from his wrist. Your heart pulsed in your ears and you looked to the sky. Of course.

“Sorry, we were busy dealing with Ventress! How are you holding up?” A scathing laugh burst out of your throat. The droids were falling back, away from your position at the sight of the sheer number of Republic soldiers. You laid back on the dirt, feeling the sun on your skin, soaking up whatever light you could. It was only now that you felt the weight lift, where the light feeling of relief took its place. Plo begun to answer Anakin. You cut him off with a venomous tone.

“We’re a-”

“We’re alive, you’re late, and I am going to kill you, Skywalker.” There was an audible sigh that sounded suspiciously amused from Plo as he made to stand.

“I wasn’t that la-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Plo’s hand reached down and hovered near your face, though you ignored it and shot up on your own, winding your arms around his neck. He softly grunted as you laughed and the realisations began to sink in. Maker, we nearly died. We were very nearly dead. You nearly had to watch the man you fell in love with die.

Whilst your mind rambled, he pulled apart, and was still brushing the hair from your forehead again. You hadn’t noticed, but he was taking in every freckle, wrinkle and scar you had, like you had been doing to him not too long ago.

You nearly died. Plo nearly died. You almost didn’t get to say – oh, no. You told him. You thought you were going to die and you told him. But now you’re not going to die. And he said it back.

He said your name and whisked you from the spiral. His leathery forehead leant down and pressed against yours.

“I love you.”

Maker, he said it again. You grinned, and pulled him closer. You wanted to say it one thousand times at the top of your lungs, and suddenly the glimpse didn’t seem as far out of reach as it had a few minutes ago.

“I love you too.”

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #star wars fanfic #plo koon #plo koon x reader #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #star wars imagine

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connorandersons-blog · 3 years

Text

Love Me

Thank you @justtrashandshitlikethat!! I really hope you enjoy!

Tags: dom/sub, degradation, spanking, masochism Ship: Markus/Connor/Nines Words: 4,393 Rating: E

Hope you enjoy! You can find it on A03 here

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"Ah! Markus!" Connor whined, so close to tipping over that ledge. He'd never get bored of Markus's tongue playing with him as he sat and bounced on his face.

He knew Markus would be spilling praises that would turn anyone's face red or blue, words that would turn Connor into mush, but as is Markus could hardly even breathe.

His fingers pressed against that ball of nerves and Connor shouted, his orgasm rippling through his body. "Markus!" He couldn't keep the static out of his voice even if he wanted to.

He squeezed his eyes shut, systems doing a soft reboot as he calmed down. He slipped off of Markus's face, all but face planting onto the bed with a content sigh.

He really needed that after the week he had. Case after case piled up, and it was all he could do to stay afloat. What didn't help was Nines. Ok, he did help solve the cases but he didn't help Connor's growing frustration every time they brushed hands or Nines pressed in close.

He was sure Nines had no idea what he was doing and Connor certainly wasn't going to bring it up. He was perfectly satisfied with Markus, the man he loved and got to hold.

"What are you thinking about?" That very same man mumbled, fingers dancing over Connor's back.

"Nines." He didn't think about his answer, but when it caught up to him, his eyes widened, and he peered over at Markus.

"Oh?" Markus didn't seem upset, but Connor couldn't tell if he was just masking his emotions.

How was he supposed to answer? That he was thinking of his co-worker right after having sex? He didn't want to lie to Markus, but he also didn't want to lose him.

Markus gave a small hum, reaching out to boop Connor on the nose. "You're thinking too hard; you know you can always speak your mind with me."

He knew that; Markus was one of the most open-minded people he knew. "I just… Nines keeps touching me–not inappropriately!–just small touches when we work, and it's driving me crazy." He buried his head in the sheets, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Markus's face.

Markus's fingers froze, hovering over Connor's back. Oh god, he knew it was a bad idea. He was always open with Markus about his fantasies even when he was sure it would disgust the other. He had mentioned a few times how he wouldn't mind someone joining them for some fun. No matter what Markus had thanked Connor for being open and trusting him. Had he pushed Markus's trust too far?

"Hmm, well thank you for telling me, love." Markus eventually spoke, and his words held no anger in them. "I must say it's an intriguing thought. Can I ask why?"

Why did he like him too when he had Markus? That he wasn't sure of. "I guess I like the idea of being his inferior. You know he was made to replace me, be faster, stronger, better. It's just…" He wasn't sure how to word it. It was thrilling to have someone be more powerful than him. Every bit of Nines was made to be perfect.

"I can see the allure, I do love you after all. It's certainly something we can consider if you really want to. At a time when you aren't trying to sink into the bed, though." Connor can hear Markus's smile. He lets out a squeal when Markus pokes at his sides, tickling him until he's left wheezing again.

He doesn't think about it for the rest of the night, but he can't help it when he sees Nines at work. The way he holds himself demands respect, and the look in his eyes can only be described as power. He knows he's the best, and he chooses to show humility.

Connor had no idea how to react when Nines grinned at him or gave him a tiny nod. It's all so subtle that Connor is sure he's imagining it, but he can never forget how his lips would twitch up when Connor did something particularly ingenious.

He hadn't intended to avoid Nines and his touches, but it had just gotten too much. He knew Markus was interested, and the two even got along very well, but he wouldn't do anything without them both talking.

Nines being himself had caught on after Connor ducked away one too many times. He just didn't want to do anything stupid like kiss the man at work.

Connor would leave the room when Nines entered if he could, not wanting to talk about it or chance any touches. It didn't help that Markus had been busy for a week or so, and Connor had been left withering on the bed with only his hand for company.

He had escaped to the evidence room when it had gotten too much. This time it wasn't Nines but his sensors gathering too much data. The lights seemed too bright, and the sound of someone clicking their pen had set his nerves on fire.

The evidence room was cooler, and no sound could be heard. It was almost too quiet, but when he pulled his coin out the soft metal sounds helped calm his processors.

"Connor, may I be of assistance?" Nines asked, startling Connor enough that the coin slipped from his fingers.

"Nines!" He grabbed his coin and shoved it back into his pocket, scrambling to get up. "I'm so sorry, did you need in here? I can go." He wasn't sure where to, but he'd find another quiet hiding place.

Nines stared at him with those cool eyes, and Connor knew he was being scanned. It was common courtesy not to analyze others without their permission, but no one was going to say anything to Nines about it. "I was looking for you."

Oh. That certainly made things awkward. "I see; is it the case? I was just… I was looking at the evidence we collected already." It was a complete lie, one Nines surly saw right through.

"No, it is not the case. I have noticed you evading me. It started exactly eight days and three hours ago. I have gone over my logs, but I can't find a reason for you to do this." Nines's hands were still clasped behind his back like a perfect officer, while Connor's hands fiddled with his jacket sleeve.

"Right. Um, I can't really talk about it yet. I swear you've done nothing wrong!" He reached forward, holding his hands out for Nines to take. He wasn't certain that was the best course of action, but Nines had looked so hurt and dejected that he couldn't help it.

He held his breath as Nines slid his hands into Connor's. They were bigger than his own and not as soft. These hands were made to crush someone's skull with a single punch. It shouldn't have made him shiver, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

"See? It's not you, I promise." His voice was softer as if speaking any louder would somehow let Nines know exactly why he shouldn't be doing this.

Nines stared down at their hands, a small furrowing of his brows was the only emotion he could see. Was he confused or did he just not like holding Connor's hands? "I see. If I ever do something that displeases you, please let me know. You are my closest friend and I'd hate to lose you."

"Oh, Nines," Connor sighed, shaking his head. "You aren't going to lose me. I promise to tell you everything I can when I can, but right now you have to trust me." He'd have to resolve this one way or another.

"Alright. We should both be getting back, I'm sure the Lieutenant will end up starting a fight with Reed if we waste more time." Nines smirked, letting his hands fall.

He knew he had to get back to work, Nines didn't need to remind him, but he was in this room for a reason. "I… I'm gonna look over the evidence one more time if that's ok."

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Only if you want." He was happily surprised to find Nines's deeper voice didn't grate on his nerves like everything else did currently.

Nines stayed with him, only speaking when Connor would mention something and even then he kept his voice soft. Connor left work with a small smile on his face that day, but he had no idea what Markus was planning.

The two had finally time off and it even worked out so their time off matched up. Connor was pretty certain that wasn't a coincidence, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth (though, he would thank North later).

The day was theirs to do with, and the two decided to spend it together. Connor didn't mind sleeping in since he got to cuddle up with Markus and kiss him awake.

The bath was rather lovely, and Markus had joined him for that too. He still thought the candles were a bit much, but Markus was a romantic, and he'd never have it any other way.

He had no idea what was coming when the night was closing in, and the two were on the couch. Markus loved to see how long it took for Connor to break his focus off the documentary and tonight was no different.

Connor let out small content sighs as Markus peppered his neck with hot kisses, hands sliding up and down his chest. He wouldn't last much longer, but he didn't mind. He'd been so worked up, and Markus had asked him not to get himself off for the last few days. He wanted today to be special and for Connor to be begging for it.

"Fuck you," Connor finally growled out, pulling Markus into a bruising kiss. He was far from shy with Markus, he took what he wanted with greed, and Markus gladly went along for the ride.

He seated himself in Markus's lap, feeling that bulge that had him groaning in anticipation. "Well, I did have some fun plans, but if you really want to fuck me…" Markus trailed off.

"No! What did you plan?" He hoped it was something that would have him screaming all night long.

Markus paused, his hands keeping Connor's hips from moving around too much. "If you don't like this you can safeword out at any time. Can you tell me what your safeword is?"

"Blue for good to go, yellow for slow down and or talk, and red for a full stop. I have a perfect memory; you don't have to ask me every time." He still appreciated the kindness and protection of it, though.

He almost jumped out of his synthetic skin when there was a knock on the door. He glanced at Markus, squinting his eyes when Markus didn't appear all that shocked. "Markus?"

"Go to the bedroom, baby. I'll take care of this." Markus's smile held no answers, but Connor was sure he had something to do with the sudden interruption. If not, he would murder whoever was at the door.

He still did as told, going into their bedroom on silent feet. He almost wished their floors would creek but it was better this way just in case someone broke in.

He sat down on the bed, kicking his legs as he waited. He heard the door open, but there was no talking, so perhaps another android or someone who was mute. Who would Markus invite over when he had plans for the night… unless this was his plan.

Should he change? He still had on his oversized sweater that actually belonged to Markus and shorts that didn't even touch his knees. Surely Markus would have told him to change if he needed to.

His eyes flew to the door when he heard movement and his jaw dropped. "Nines?" What was he doing here?! He didn't have any messages or missed calls, but what if there had been an emergency. What if something had happened to Hank!

"I hope you like your surprise," Markus said, once they were both in the room.

Connor looked between the two, trying to make sure he understood what was happening. "Is he here to, um, you know…"

"Yes, if you are alright with that," Nines spoke up, eyes never leaving Connor.

He was more than alright! He hadn't thought Markus would set this up, but he couldn't be more grateful. "Yes! Yes, this is more than ok."

He'd never done anything like this, he had dreamed of it but surely that wouldn't be anything like reality. He'd found, with Markus at least, reality was far better than the fantasy.

"Good, I'm glad. So we're going to go over what's going to happen and the rules. If you don't like anything then please tell us." Markus stepped closer, holding out his hand to Connor. He took it without hesitation, beaming up at him.

"Ok."

"Nines, would you like to tell him the plans?" Markus asked, peering back at the android.

Nines stepped forward, looking flawless as always. "Thank you, I'd like that. Tonight I will tell you what to do, and you'll do it. You will not talk back, or you'll be punished. Do you have a preference on position?"

That all sounded amazing, and he was curious as to what punishments there would be. He loved Markus but he wasn't one to dish out pain all the time. "Could I suck you off while Markus fucks me?" He wouldn't mind two at a time, though perhaps he should work up to that.

Nines glanced at Markus who simply nodded with a fond smile. "That is doable. I have been told about your safeword system, and I expect you to use it. You will call be sir here; are you comfortable with that?"

"I am." Connor nodded.

"Connor." Nines scolded, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, that was not fair. Nines shouldn't be able to make Connor tremble from just a word and a pointed look. "I am, sir."

Markus pressed a kiss to his cheek, giving his hands a soft squeeze. "Good boy, you're doing so well already."

Connor bit his lip, ducking his head just slightly at the praise. "Thank you. Am I supposed to call you something too?"

"Just what you normally do for me. Unless you want to call me something else." Markus said.

He didn't really know what else he'd call him, all his ideas sounded a bit too cheesy in his head. "I'll stick with that."

Markus nodded and looked to Nines, motioning for him to come closer. "Would you like to kiss him?"

Connor wasn't sure if he was asking Nines or him, but he nodded his head anyway. It seemed that's all Nines needed because he closed the rest of the distance and crushed their lips together.

The teeth clanked, and Connor let out a hiss, tilting his head for a better angle. He still didn't let go of Markus's hand even as the kiss turned into more. Nines nipped and bit his way down Connor's neck, not trying to be gentle at all.

"Oh god, that feels good," Connor babbled, his head rolling to the side to give him better access. Markus took the chance to press his own lips against Connor's, drowning out the little sounds he was making.

He hadn't meant to spread his legs, but then hands were running up his exposed thighs, scrapping over the soft skin. "You're such a fucking slut; look how easily you let another man touch you." Nines rumbled, pulling away from his bites.

Connor whimpered, breaking his kiss with Markus to stare at Nines. "I'm sorry?" He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that, but damn if it wasn't hot as hell.

He saw the hit coming before he felt the sting on his cheek. The sound of Nines's hand hitting his cheek filled the air and everything seemed to still as if waiting for Connor's reaction. That weight low in his belly seemed to get heavier as his skin tingled. "I'm sorry, sir." He amended. His hands twitched to go down and rub at his nub, but he somehow knew Nines wouldn't approve.

Nines's smile was praise enough, but Markus's whispered words about how he was good made it all the better.

What would Nines do if he really acted up? He didn't mind putting up a fight and he was pretty curious. Yet he also wanted to be what Markus said he was, a good boy. He wanted to be used and fucked until he couldn't move, he wanted to feel Nines's powerful hands on him while Markus's were soft.

"Sir, could I please have more?" He needed more now that Nines had shown him he was completely willing, and the tent in his pants let Connor know exactly how much Nines was enjoying it too.

Nines carded a hand through his hair before taking a fistful and dragging him up. Connor yelped, eyes tearing up from the sudden pain before Nines had taken his spot on the bed and put him across his legs.

The hand went down to his neck and held him there; the other pulled down Connor's shorts without any ceremony. The sudden cold was jarring but not unwelcome.

"Look at you, you're fucking dripping you want it so bad. You like getting tossed around like a toy? I'd bet you'd let anyone fuck you." Nines said. His hand slid down Connor's back and down his ass, feeling the hot wetness there.

Markus's hands went to message Connor's scalp as he trembled with anticipation. "You liking this, baby?"

"Yes sir! Yes, Mar-ah! Markus, yes I love it. Please don't stop, please." He squirmed in Nines's lap, but the hand on his neck tightened enough to make him go completely still.

"Stay still." Nines ordered, his hand sliding back up to Connor's ass. He didn't have the best ass but Markus loved it and it seemed Nines did as well.

"Yes sir." Connor choked out. Nines lightened his hold and Connor let out a small whine.

"There we go baby, how's your color?" Markus cooed, his hands in Connor's hair helping to ground him.

"Blue." He didn't even have to think, he just knew he was good to keep going. He was loving every second of this.

"Let's continue. You will count for me after each strike." Nines patted his ass to make sure he was listening.

Connor nodded as much as he could in Nines's grip, waiting for what was to come next. Nines massaged his ass for a second before pulling his hand back. The sting that follows makes Connor whimper and squeeze his eyes closed. "One."

"Good boy, how does that feel baby?" Markus asks. It's such a wide contrast between the two that it has his head spinning to try and keep up.

"He likes it, look how desperate he is. He likes being our good little fucktoy." Nines rubbed his hand over where he spanked, pleased at the redness.

Connor bit down on his tongue, trying desperately to not rock his hips back. "I am, I want it, sirs."

The second slap had his whole body jolting forward to try to get away before pushing back, looking for more. "Ah! Shit, two." He cried out, tears prickling his eyes again.

The next two strikes came together, and he could hardly get out the numbers as he panted. Markus pulled his head up so he could kiss those slightly puffy lips until he was dying for more.

"You're just so fun to play with, you can't help but make those little sounds. You want the whole world to know you're getting fucked. Isn't that right?" Nines asked.

"Yes, sir. I–ah, please! Please sir, please keep going." It felt too good and that bit inside him got stronger and heavier with every slap. He didn't think he could come like this but it would be really fucking close.

"I control what you get, but since you asked so nicely…" Nines trailed off but his hand came down, and the slap seemed to echo around the room.

Connor gasped, moaning out the number five, feeling his tears break free and roll down his face.

Markus gently brushed the tears away, kissing his damp cheeks. "Shhh, it's ok. Do you want more, or do you want to move on? What's your color at?"

His words and hands were so soft, he couldn't help but lean into him. His hands had found purchase on the edge of the bed, but he kept one to hold onto Markus. "One more? I'm still blue."

Markus looked up at Nines and gave a single nod. His hand came down one last time over the raw skin, hard enough to make Connor scream out in pain. "Oh you did so well, look at you. You're beautiful."

Connor whimpered, hiccuping over his tears. "Really?" He wanted to be good and he had stayed still as much as he could.

"Really. Isn't that right Nines?" Markus pressed their foreheads together, letting an interface open between the two to send affection and pride.

Nines's hands turned gentle as he soothed over Connor's back and neck in a light massage. "You are, Connor. You did very well."

Connor's whole body quivered as he took in deep shaky breaths, trying to cool his systems down. Every inch of his programming had told him to run or fight back, to protect himself. Even if he wanted to, Nines would beat him and that knowledge was what made it all the better.

Nines's hand slowly slid down between his thighs, teasing at his boycunt. "Aw, his little cock wants some attention. Should we give it to him?"

Nines carefully moved Connor so he was laying in the middle of the bed on his back. He watched as Markus and Ninee lent in and kissed each other, his hands clawing at the bedsheets. He wanted to touch himself so bad, just let his hand slide down as he watched the two.

They pulled apart slowly, both smirking like they'd won something. Whatever it was they didn't seem ready to share as they made their way over to Connor.

He openly stared as Nines stripped himself of his clothes, folding them perfectly before setting it down. His eyes only got wider when he saw Nines's length. It wasn't inhumanely big, but it was damn close.

He was flipped around and his ass was pulled up to face Markus. "Alright, if you need to stop tap Nines's leg three times."

Connor could do that, though he doubted he'd need to. He didn't have a gag reflex but he kind of wished he did. "Ok." He nodded, staring at the length in front of him.

It didn't burn or sting at all when Markus pushed in, he did feel that wonderful stretch that he'd grown to love and beg for. He let his mouth hang open, tongue lolling out for Nines to use.

Nines hummed, staring down at him as Markus bottomed out. "You're just pretty holes for us to fuck. You want my cock?"

"Yes, sir!" He reached forward, watching for any sign to stop, but when he found none he wrapped his hand around him.

Markus didn't seem up for waiting too much longer, so Connor licked over the head before taking him into his mouth.

"Shit! Fuck, that feels so good. You're starving for it." Nines groaned, his hands going to Connor's hair.

Connor's whole body rocked in time with Markus's fast, brutal pace that he started up as soon as Connor's mouth was occupied. His head bobbed, licking the underside and sucking on the tip like it was the best-tasting thing in the world.

His eyes rolled back in his head as Markus rubbed at his boycunt, smearing his wetness all around. It was almost too much, being filled from both sides at once, but he wouldn't stop.

He never imagined how good Nines would sound or how amazingly hot it was to know he and Markus were sharing kisses over him like he really was just a toy.

"Fuck! I'm gonna come soon." Markus panted out, his hips snapping forward as fast as he could. Connor whined around Nines, feeling his touch and fucking push down the back of his throat.

"Good, I am too. Connor, you may come only–ah shit–only once we are done." Nines gripped Connor's hair even harder, using it to fuck into his mouth.

Connor couldn't breathe as the two kept going, pushing deeper and deeper into him with each thrust. He wanted–no needed–to come so bad, but he had to be good. He had to be the perfect boy for Markus and Nines.

Markus came with a shout, but his hands and hips didn't stop as Nines came down Connor's throat, fucking it raw. He took it all, eyes closed in absolute ecstasy. He didn't even need to come, this was perfection, but Markus's insistent hand pushed him over, and the coil finally snapped.

His mind went completely white as his body fell limp. He couldn't feel the bed or how the two softly cradled him in their arms. It just felt like he was drifting, the ground nowhere in sight.

"-eah, there we go. Will you let me see those pretty eyes?" Markus asked, his words pulling Connor back. He still felt lightheaded and like he was floating, but now his systems were all back online.

He blinked open his eyes he didn't know we're closed and saw Nines and Markus hovering over him. "Wow." He croaked out, voice scratchy and staticy.

Both smiled down at him, eyes shining with pride. "You did very well Connor. Would you like me to stay or leave you two alone?"

"Stay! Please stay." He didn't want either to leave right now. He wanted to talk about it too, not that anything had gone wrong or he was regretting it. He just needed to ask a few things about what the future could hold.

He really hoped it held more of this because this was everything he wanted.

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dreamydarkblue · 3 years

Text

from a daybed to a forest

|litg, carl x mc|

rating: T

word count: 967

tagging: @lasswithumor (let me know if you'd like to be tagged)

notes: hi, it's me again. this one is about one of my favourite characters from litg. i was always scared of writing already established characters, and honestly i still am. but after @lasswithumor encouraged me, i thought i'd give it a try. i hope you like it! Oh, and for music suggestion, probably something that resonates with Carl in your head.

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Stupid.

He was stupid.

What did he think, that she was going to jump into his arms and never let go? Maybe the part that actually made him feel stupid was him wanting to do that.

It hurt. It hurt and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't be like the other guys, he couldn't be as straightforward, couldn't be as poetic, couldn't be as dashing. Honest would have to suffice if she would accept it, but he couldn't even manage to do that.

Honest would be taking her hand in his and telling her how she felt like the sunrise after a long night. It would be telling her that she sounds like all of his favorite songs combined, telling her that she looked like the beauty everyone talked about in the books. Telling her that sitting on a chair with a small table next to it to entertain people and talking with her even for the smallest amount sounded like a dream come true.

That's why he decided to fill the form in and attend the show. Maybe he could tempt fate and maybe she would be the same. Melting under a gaze that wasn't even meant for him.

He needed to ask her. This was not the time to doubt himself when the future could look so bright.

But he hated how sweaty his hands got. He hated how he fiddled with his fingers. He hated how uncontrollable it felt. He hated how he was going to probably share a bed with someone other than her.

Laying down on the daybeds, he actually wanted to cry because all of his efforts were going to waste. She was probably out there getting swept away by the other dudes while he was sulking here.

Then he heard the sound of high heels approaching him. Wait, who was it? Could it be her? How? Did God take pity on him finally?

"Hey..." oh, okay he definitely wasn't dreaming. Huh. Alright. That's good. It was marvelous, spectacular, amazing even. Wonderful, he just needed to slow down his thoughts, and his heartbeat, and speak as if he didn't spend the last hour thinking about her. And everything would be under control.

"Carl?... Am I interrupting something? Should I go?..."

Oh no, he was just staring at her for the last minute or so. Ok Carl, don't mess this up. Breathe in and breathe out.

"H-hey, sorry, was in my head a bit there."

"It's okay," she said as she smiled, making his "already a mess" nerves become a dumpster fire." I wanted to talk a bit, can I sit?" She gestured next to him. "Of course... what, um, what did you want to talk about?" Thousand questions swirling in his head and making him dizzy. It really couldn't be what he thought, right?

"Well, Hope and I were talking. You know, about tonight. So, I wanted to ask you if you'd like to share a bed with me."...

...Oh god, he must be looking so stupid right now. Say something, please.

"I would love that. Yeah. Thank you. Actually... I-". Was he really going to do this?

He always knew what to do when the codes didn't work. He could always go on steady and confident when he collected data and did some research. But when it came to relationships -or more specifically her- his mind would stop functioning properly. Should he break the silence he just created? Or leave it be and hope for her to understand him. God, she was going to think he was really dumb and maybe she would be right.

"I actually wanted to ask you something too." Oh, he was doing this.

"Oh really, what were you gonna ask?" Yeah, what was he going to ask? He couldn't dump his feelings on her the moment she got a little close. Maybe simple and easy was his best option.

"What do you think about us? Or sorry, actually, do you think there is something here, between us?"

Did you dream too?

Did you get lost in my eyes?

Did you think about my lips and how they would taste?

"It's still early days but... I feel like there is something between us that I can't quite put a name on. It feels electrifying and exciting. I am willing to give that a chance and see how it turns out"

Would you fall down the rabbit hole with me?

Could you wander carelessly and just take a chance?

If things didn't turn out the way they were supposed to, would you still be there?

They looked into each other's eyes. A mysterious forest and the trees inside it. Were their feelings too fast, too deep, too soon? Would they regret bearing their souls out in the open? He averted his eyes away. Now he was scared. How could he not be? She looked into his eyes with a promise and he didn't know how to feel. When things were out of the daydream phase and it got serious, he would just want to run away. This was a mistake, he shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have thought of fairytales and believed them to be true.

And then her hand on his. So warm and calming. As if she knew what was going on in his head and wanted to help.

Without a care, she went in. Making the moment a memory to hold on to. He wrote little notes on the back of the photo. Printed out, in an album. Tucked away in a box that held his favorites. She was tattooing it on his heart.

Foreheads against each other, hands intertwined, blushing like teenagers again. Who would have thought the city boy would be found next to the trees in the forest?

#from a daybed to a forest #litg #carlxmc #heey would you look at that #i wrote something that is longer than 300 words #go me i guess #on a serious note #thank you to everyone who decides to read it #i hope i could do the character justice and didn't dissapoint #let me know your thoughts if you want to #litg carl

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escxpedes · 4 years

Text

loopholes (cont.)

I literally can’t even begin to tell you how much everyone’s support meant to me on the last chapter. All your comments and tags were so sweet, it was seriously the highlight of my day. I’m sorry for the delay, I meant to get this out a couple of days ago, but I’ve come down with a bad cold. This part, while fun, was so hard to get right. Angus Macgyver is a genius, his mind goes a mile a minute, and I wanted to do my best to replicate that. This part is a little slow in getting to the Macriley stuff, but I wanted to show how much he really thinks about things. He’s such a complex character, that if I didn’t do him justice, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. Also, there’s dialogue in this one! Sadly, Jack isn’t mentioned in this chapter, but he’s there in spirit. Clearly, we all love and miss him. I hope you guys enjoy, the last part will be out soon! x

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system

Riley finally moves into her new apartment, but struggles to adjust after the events of Codex and the realization of her feelings for Mac. When Mac finds her passed out over her keyboard after a late night of coding at Phoenix, he decides a talk is long overdue. Just some slightly angsty soft!macriley to help you cope with this season 5 hiatus.

of lips that i am yet to kiss (and eyes not met my own.)

It's highly unlikely that you'll find Mac walking down the halls of the Phoenix Foundation so late at night. Without the bustling energy of his coworkers fetching important documents or discussing the best way to break down one of the many mysteries the foundation deals with, the darkened hallways and quiet atmosphere can be unnerving.

Sure, he spends nearly every waking hour employed there, but he'd rather be outside the office in different countries, doing hands-on work and saving lives. When you work in his profession, It can be difficult to separate business and pleasure, but that only makes it more important—if only to conserve what mental health he has left.

However, in the haste of putting together last-minute preparations for yet another meeting with the Department of Justice and trying to make it back to his house in time for something Desi whipped up, he managed to forget his cellphone.

It's funny, mainly because of how little the small device truly matters to Mac.

It only goes to show how insignificant material objects, or even human beings in general, are. The idea that something so meaningless can affect someone's life so much when, if they just looked past that obsession and considered its part in the profound scope of the universe, another perspective would take shape.

It's fascinating stuff, really.

There's a concept essential to understanding Japanese aesthetics, otherwise known as an ancient set of ideals important to Japanese society, called Yūgen. When applied in the right context, Yūgen underlines this deep awareness of the universe and the experiences we have within it. It's often the feeling interpreted when you gaze at the stars late at night or watch the sunset dip behind a hill.

Mac wouldn't think twice before breaking his phone, or rather, breaking the phone of his nearest friend, open for an obscure part that might make one of his many homemade devices come together. However, when he's the only person able to communicate the scientific specifications of an unheard-of-until-recently base plan for saving the planet, he's practically on call 24/7.

He remembers having it in the labs earlier that day when he stopped by before his meeting to remind Bozer to come by his house on Friday for the team's new weekly attempt in group-bonding.

After the betrayals that surfaced during the climax of taking down Codex, the team collectively decided to spend more time as a group in hopes of eliminating any lingering doubts.

They used to hang out all the time before the government dismantled the Phoenix Foundation.

Mac still can't believe that, after everything they had been through, he allowed his friendships to dissipate over the year they had been separate.

Bozer is his childhood best friend, and Riley had become a solid foundation in his life. He didn't have anyone outside his team at Phoenix, and while he deeply cared for Desi, their first relationship was proof that too much time—and too little communication—with each other can do severe damage to one's sanity.

If Russ hadn't brought them back together, would they have tried to reconnect at some point?

Mac wants to say they would have but wouldn't blame them if they didn't; they all lost something they cared about, and each served as a constant reminder of it.

It would've been hard, but part of him feels like living without them is a lot harder.

When he manages to access the lab, flipping his shiny new I.D. card over his fingers and into its place in his wallet, his eyes scan the room. It's empty, which isn't unusual at this time, but years of military training have rewired his brain to notify him of threats, even if there aren't any.

Just like he thought it would be, the device sits untouched a few tables behind Bozer's workspace where Mac had been sitting.

Quickly, because he left the house in a hurry and forgot to leave a note, he scoops up his phone and makes his way towards the exit. There's a couple of missed calls, but it doesn't seem like he missed anything too important.

Not that they would let him.

At any rate, they would probably show up on his doorstep if they couldn't get a hold of him. With days off so few and far between, that's the kind of interaction he's hoping to avoid. Hence, why he came to pick up his phone when he realized it was missing instead of waiting until the next day.

He's nearly made it to the end of the hall when a light flashes in his peripheral vision, coming from the I.T. department.

His body is tense with apprehension; his mind races with several different kinds of possibilities and outcomes. He slows his pace, his movements fluid, silent, and controlled from years of stealth practice.

The light is soft, he notices, as if only one or two monitors are in use.

When he gets to the doorway and nudges open the door, hands at the ready, his entire body sags in relief to see the dark wavy hair he's come to associate with one of his closest friends.

"Riles?"

The nickname falls from his mouth before he can stop it, and even though the light from the monitor creates a halo above her head, shadowing her features, it's unmistakably her.

She doesn't move.

It becomes abundantly clear why as Mac moves towards her and notices the monitor's screen filling up with a sequence of letters that look nothing like coding despite his lack of knowledge in programming languages.

Her elbow balances precariously on the edge of the table, her arms creating a makeshift pillow for her head. The weight of her forearm bears down on the keyboard, causing the side of her hand to press down multiple keys at once.

He shakes his head a little, amused by the situation unfolding.

Her cheek rests comfortably on her hand, a serene expression masking the signs of exhaustion that showed on her face.

Mac's lips curved into a soft smile, seeing Riley in any state that wasn't cloaked in layers of worry or anxious determination always washed away any doubts he might have about working in such a stressful field.

The scars that covered his body, the secrets he has to keep, and the pain he has to endure are so unbelievably worth it as long as she out of harm's way and able to sleep peacefully.

Of course, he couldn't imagine anyone else by his side on a mission, knowing they share the same love and passion for kicking ass and saving lives.

However, he also knows that more lies underneath the surface.

He wouldn't wish the hardships of this job on anyone. Seeing it affect someone he cares about, watching it break them down slowly pulls at his heartstrings and fills him with a knowing sadness.

When a piece of hair falls into her face, his fingers don't hesitate to gently brush it behind her ear, lightly tracing her cheekbone and caressing her cheek.

Kneeling, his hand drops to her shoulder in an attempt to gently wake her.

After a couple of shakes, the expressive brown eyes he's come to look forward to seeing begin to flutter open and nearly render him speechless.

She blinks a couple of times, inhaling slowly, "Macgyver."

Her voice is full of sleep and breaks from misuse, but the way she says his name—like there's nobody else she'd expect to see when she wakes up —has him grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Rising from her position on the table, she scans the room before meeting his eyes and scoffing, "It's hardly the morning."

He laughs softly, holding back the urge to mention that technically it is morning considering its past twelve. Instead, he focuses on the matter at hand, or more likely, the question at hand.

"What are you doing here so late?"

She's more alert now, sitting back in her chair and lifting her arms to stretch out the muscles that stiffened while she slept, glancing at her work on the monitor.

Her face drops into a grimace when she notices her mistake, "Matty and I were talking about updating the foundation's firewall and spyware," she yawns, "I must have been more tired than I realized."

Mac's eyebrows scrunch in thought, remembering something Bozer said earlier about Riley spending quite a few nights this week working late.

Between going over his mother's scientific data, trying to patch up whatever relationship he had left with Desi, and making sure he didn't go off the rails with grief, his effort to check in on everyone decreased significantly.

"Yeah, you've been doing that a lot lately," his hand returned to her shoulder to emphasize his point, "Everything okay?"

She waves him off, "There's too much work that needs to be done around here before we can get things running the way they used to."

Riley doesn't lie to him—if you overlook the whole situation with her ex, Aubrey, that is, but the movements she's making indicate otherwise.

Her eyes refuse to meet his, flickering down and to the right. When she talks, her head shakes lightly, and she purses her lips in an attempt to give off a careless impression. Maybe someone who doesn't know her or didn't train to pick up on it would believe her, but he knew better.

She was definitely hiding something from him.

Part of him understands that if she wanted to talk about it, she would. However, his instincts urge him to press harder, locate the problem, and bring back her contagious smile that always seems to fill him with warmth.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, you can't patch some things together by sheer will and sellotape, so instead, he stands up and drops his hand from her shoulder.

"Let's get you home."

#macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis #i really hope you like this

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amythedvdhoarder · 4 years

Text

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard

8th of June prompt: A bloody knife

Summary: Your romantic dinner plans don’t quite go to plan

Warnings: Minor injury detail, swearing and fluff

Word count: 1.3K

Authors note: GIF not mine. The writing challenge continues so does the Bucky fluff. Please let me know what you think! If you want tagging you know what to do. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Your hips swayed to the music blasting through your headphones. The communal kitchen was empty so you really went for it, signing along with the song loudly without the fear of being overheard. The whole team was out on a mission; you were a data analyst for Tony which left you alone in this part of the compound. So, you kept yourself occupied preparing dinner for when your boyfriend, Bucky, returned. He had text you a couple of hours ago with an ETA. You had immediately sprung into action; planning a nice evening in for when he returned. Bucky liked to unwind when he got back from missions. This usually consisted of some dinner with you away from the rest of the team and chatting about what you had been up to whilst he was away. Followed by an evening in bed, curled up against Bucky’s chest. More often than not, the black and white movie you had put on, would be forgotten about as hands would begin to roam as you became reacquainted with each other.

You and Bucky had been together for 18 months now and you couldn’t remember ever being happier. When he joined the team, you had been tasked with taking him through all the files Tony had collected on the winter soldier over the years. It had been difficult for Bucky to look back over these, he wanted to learn as much as he could but it was painful for him to fill in the blanks of the last 70 years of his life. You had supported him through the anger, disgust, guilt and self-loathing he felt as his uncovered his past. By the end of the few weeks Bucky felt as if you knew him better than anyone, except Steve of course. In those few short weeks he had opened up, and exposed you to the true Bucky Barnes. At first, he only spoke when he needed help but after seeing that you weren’t repulsed by him, by who he had been, by what he had done, he softened; asking you about your day, bringing you a latte in the morning and eventually asking you on a date.

Bucky thought of himself as one of the luckiest people alive. Sure, he had been through a lot but now he had you. The kind, bright and intelligent woman who saw past his time as the winter soldier, to the man he was. He spent every morning when he woke looking at your sleeping form, still not quite believing you were real or that someone like you loved him. When he went away on a mission he missed you. He missed you so much that it felt as if there was a weight in his chest, which only eased on the journey back to you. He could feel the weight leaving him now as the compound came into view from the quinjet. Excitement bubbled within him, he pictured you smile when you saw him, a grin forming on his own lips. He couldn’t wait to wrap you in his arms pulling you close and not letting go until he had kissed every perfect inch of your face. He practically ran off the jet towards to living quarters, earning a chuckle from his best friend. Steve had seen Bucky infatuated with many women over the years, but he had never seen his friend in love.

Bucky headed to the apartment first, hoping to find you but you weren’t there. So, he quickly showered and changed before heading off in search for you. He heard your singing before spotting you in the corner of the kitchen, your attention on something he couldn’t see. He stood for a minute, enjoying the view of your jean clad ass swinging side to side to a rhythm he couldn’t here. A grin plastered to his face as he crept up behind and grabbed your waist.

You screamed as a pair of strong hands grabbed your waist from behind. A bloody knife clattered to the floor. Ripping your headphones from your ears you turned around to find your attacker. A sharp stinging pain in your hand made you look down at it. Warm blood was trickling from the wound on your hand. You blinked a couple of times and then the world went black “Shit, doll. It’s me, I’m sorry. Y/N?.” Your eyes fluttered open to find concerned blue eyes searching yours. You realised you were on the floor, resting in Bucky’s arms. The sight of blood made you faint, he must have caught you before you hit the floor. You tried to sit up but Bucky held you down. “Whoa, take it easy Y/N. Let me look at that hand. His fingers lifted your hand towards him for inspection, you shut your eyes tight not wanting to catch a glimpse of the blood. “I’m going to have to stitch this up.” Panic filled your chest “No, no, it’ll be fine. Just need a bandage or something” your voice wobbled as you tried to protest, you turned to look at him shaking your head. “Not going to argue about it doll, need to close it up to stop you getting an infection.” He placed a gentle kiss to your head then shifted behind you and pulled his t-shirt off, wrapping it tightly around your hand. He hooked his metal arm behind your knees and lifted you up to his bare chest, carrying you out of the kitchen towards your ensuite. “I could have walked you know?” you mumbled against his chest. “Y/N, you just fainted. Not taking any more chances.” You rolled your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

Bucky sat you on the sat you on the vanity unit next to the sink and grabbed the first aid box he had stored for himself after missions. He swiped his thumb over your cheek and kissed your forehead before unwrapped the t-shirt from your hand. You looked away as he started cleaning the gash on your hand. “I’m going to give you something to numb it a little bit now, Ok?” Words wouldn’t come out of your mouth so you nodded slightly. A sharp scratch later and with the pain lessoned, Bucky got to work stitching up the cut. “All done” he said triumphantly. You looked down and saw the delicate stitches on your hand. You swayed slightly at the sight. Bucky immediately had his arms on your shoulders holding you upright “Maybe don’t look at that Y/N” he chuckled softly. He picked you up and took you though to the bedroom, laying you on the bed. He pulled a clean t-shirt on a turned to you “back in a minute”.

Five minutes later he returned with two cups of hot chocolate and some biscuits. As you sipped at the drink you started to feel normal again. “Not quite the dinner plans I had.” Bucky turned to look at you, you could tell by his face that he felt guilty. “Y/N” he put his drink down and took your injured hand in his, carefully avoiding the stiches. “I didn’t realise you would be chopping something, I am so sorry. I just wanted to surprise you. I missed you.” He looked down at the covers and let go of your hand. “Bucky, it’s ok. Accidents happen.” He didn’t move. You turned to put your drink down and shifted over so you were pressed up against him, your hand running through his short hair. His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. As you placed a kiss on his cheek, he turned to captured yours in a delicate kiss. “I missed you too” you whispered against his lips.

#flex your writing muscles challenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfics #marvel #avengers #writing challenge

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Nice Serve • Haikyuu x Reader • Series

Chapter 1 — Something that you wanted to have was a great bond between teammates, that someday would grow to be one big family.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. NICE SERVE MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Moving to a new school in the middle of the ongoing terms was weird. That was what you thought before you decided to walk away from your old school. A sound of volleyball spiked could be heard when you were near the gymnasium.

Before you opened the door, you made a silent wish that everything would turn out alright. The second you walked inside, luck decided to test you—a ball bounced hard to your direction. Something that somehow seems so familiar,

Wham!

You let out a sigh after you stopped the ball with your right hand. It was silence for a second before storms of questions and worried glance threw toward you. But one of the voice immediately perked your attention,

"BOKE! HINATA, BOKE!"

There in the background, your ex-teammates—that now you could be called as your new teammates—ran to catch someone with orange hair colour. It was such a pitiful sight actually, to see such a giant towering over him.

"Everyone give her some space!" Ukai Keishin, the coach, shouted to your direction so the boys would stop bombarding you with questions. You gave them a low bow and a smile, making some of them blushed.

You walked to stand beside Ukai and Kiyoko, the chief manager from the boy's volleyball team. The tablet in your hand clenched tightly to your left side while you fixed your posture and showed your professional profile.

"Gather around for a minute! I want to introduce someone!" A tall guy with blonde hair stood right in front of you. What you noticed from him was how he tried to intimidate the hell out of you. Knowing that, you gave him a dead stare.

Don't mess around with me, you lamppost. It was like your eyes could emit the unspoken words as he darted your eyes to the wall all of a sudden—you smiled. At least your gaze still worked.

"Oi! Kageyama, Hinata! Stop running around and make a line here!" Watching him brought you to some nostalgic feelings. He punched Hinata's arm until they stood on the line. His dark blue eyes widened a little when he spotted you.

"Alright, should I introduce you or will you introduce yourself?" Ukai turned to look at you, and you stepped one foot ahead. The coach understood your intention. Before you speak, you set out to take a look at the member one by one.

"My name is (L/n) (F/n) I am going to be Shimizu Kiyoko's partner from now on." You bowed to all of them, "I hope we could get along." You straightened your pose and smiled at them.

"OF COURSE WE CAN GET A-" "Another goddess!!!" "S-sorry they are kinda-"

You blinked, didn't know what you should do now after the encounter. The coach told them to introduce themselves, and you actually had written down their names and position. But knowing they saw you as a member warmed your heart.

The third years introduced themselves shyly while the second year seems to be enthusiastic when they tell you their names. You could only chuckle at their antics. Now, your eyes darted to the first year.

You smiled differently when Kageyama introduced himself in front of you. After that, Ukai told them to be back to their practice. Everyone came back to the court except your middle school friend.

He walked towards you and just stood there, leaving one man's gap between the two of you. At this point, you tried hard to keep your professional composure.

But hell, you couldn't resist the urge to do it.

"TOBIO-CHAAANNN!!!" You squealed and jumped to his figure. Both of your hands were hooked to his neck, and he didn't expect you to do it in mere seconds after he walked up to you.

Careful so the tablet in your left hand wouldn't get intact, both of you fell to the ground since he didn't prepare for your outburst. Some things weren't changed even after months of never seeing each other.

"(Y/n), not cool." He said it with a stern look, but he put his hand on your waist nevertheless.

"E-eh?! Does Kageyama acquainted with the new goddess?!" Nishinoya shouted, and you immediately stood up, followed by Kageyama.

"Well, I went to the same middle school as him, so..."

"WHAT?!" "Whoa, Kitagawa Daiichi, huh?" "So you must know the Grand King too?"

You could feel Kageyama twitch his eyes flickered his gaze towards you, trying to see your reaction. Your hands immediately patted his back, didn't care for the sweat that covered his clothes.

"Of course, I know Tooru." You smiled mysteriously at the memories that lingered on your mind for a second, "I've become their manager for three years after all."

"Wait—" Sugawara, the setter of Karasuno Volleyball Club walked up to you, "Then, you are the famous Goddess of Support, right?" You blushed at the nickname and nodded.

"So that's why you seem familiar." The captain turned to look at his grey-haired friend, "Sugawara is a fan of yours."

"R-really?"

"Daichi you couldn't just say it out of the blue like that!"

"Please go back to the practice everyone!" You bowed and set back to your professional profile, "I need to take a closer look for your everyday habits since I wanted to know what's best for all of you."

"Yoshhh!"

You walked around and asked them one by one about what they eat every day and what time they usually felt tired. Kageyama stats were mostly the same. His addiction for milk was still uncanny.

After you collected the data from everyone, Shimizu asked you what you were going to do with all of the answers from the players.

"Oh, I need to know what food could boost their stamina since it was different for everyone." You closed your tablet and turned your head to look at the court.

Each of the players had their own personalities and uniqueness. The passion in their eyes burns every time they serve, spike, block, and everything related to their game.

You smiled at this since it will be a long journey ahead. Moving to Karasuno was the best choice you could ever make. They completed each other and worked not just as a team, but also a family.

»»————-　♔　————-««

It was late right now, and everyone practised hard after losing from Aoba Johsai in the Inter High tournament. You were happy to know that the third years will participate in the next Spring Tournament.

You grabbed your backpack after you cleaned up the gymnasium with Shimizu. The first day of becoming Karasuno manager went smoothly. Not even once they asked what were you doing moving to a new school in the middle of terms, and you were glad for that—you were not ready to tell them.

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Your phone that you kept in your pocket vibrates, you decided to peek into it for a second. Only to see your old teammates messaged you, and he was one of the people you couldn't bear the most to say goodbye to.

Are you happy there? It was from him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Fanfiction:

@muffins-puffins @nanashinanashi @vlovers-world @kashika @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @for-ests @giyuwu-san @mochi-poof @miyatsunami @iwaixiumi @hihiq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @rintarhoe @verbluehte @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @daiseukis @fitriiaw @mistypoison @aquariarose @gyubit17 @aristatrois @akaritheyeetus @akaaaashit @pocket-puddingg

#kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Unsaid”- Bane x reader [Requested] (Part 1)

Hi everyone, this is for the anon that requested a Bane x reader imagine based on the robbery at the bank. I know that it took me ages to write this but as I’ve said in a previous post, this is going to be a multichapter of probably 3 parts.

I know that it’s Saturday night and most of you are out and about so this probably flop big time, or maybe you’re not given this coronavirus situation we’re all dealing with. Anyway, whenever you read this I hope you like it! Can’t wait to hear your thoughts.

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog, @br0ck-eddie, @shadow-of-wonder, @evelynshelby (let me know if you wanna be added)

To an outsider, your workplace seemed like the most eventful ad exciting, probably because of all the buzz and fuss around it. And they were right in a sense, the only thing was that after the first few days, it had been void of any positive connotations in your eyes. It was rather eventful, thanks to all the shouting of the men talking on the phones, at the same time though it was exactly the reason why you had grown to hate the place. Loud, frantic. Those were the words you would use to describe your workplace if anyone asked. Nothing special about it but the work you were doing was too important to you to give in and quit.

You were an intern at the Gotham Stock Exchange. You weren't there for the obvious reason, finance wasn't your major, psychology is. Through this internship, you were allowed to study human behaviour in different situations, mostly stressful ones. You were also there to offer counsel and support if needed but your main focus was to observe these men and see what made them successful. Did extroversion and introversion play a role in their career? If so, in what way? This was the focus of your work and your thesis, which you had to discuss not in a long time. The stakes were so high for you that you somehow managed to thrive in such an uncomfortable situation. You were adaptable but the fact that you could do your job while listening to music helped a great deal.

Few months had passed since your first day, that meaning that you had collected a fair amount of data already. So some mornings were just spent in organizing your notes and attempting to write the first draft of your thesis. Not having an office, just a desk in the main room, meant that you could still observe. Without the distraction of loud chatting and angry shouting that was buffed by the music in your ears, you would notice things that would slip through the cracks otherwise. The way some men talked to the phone like they were ready to fight or men that talked so much that you wondered if they were having a monologue, compared to others that would listen carefully to the person at the end of the receiver strategically deciding when to speak and what to say. This proved to be gold for your research and made your morning more productive than you'd thought it'd be when you first walked in.

Immersed in putting in black and white your incohesive thoughts, you didn't notice the chaos that had erupted. The upbeat rhythm of "Back in black" coming from your earphones filled you with energy but at the same time it isolated you from the outside world, which was what you wanted, but in the midst of a heist it didn't turn out in your favour. You weren't aware of what was happening around you until you felt a tap on your shoulder. Without lifting your head, you help up a finger asking to wait for a second to whoever it was, adamant to finish your sentence at least. When you did end up to lift your head from your notebook, you noticed a man you had never seen before. You certainly would have remembered that black menacing mask and those eyes.

"You don't work here." That was rather stupid and obvious but those were the words that left your mouth.

"An acute observation. Would you be so kind as to hold this for me?" He asked handling you his helmet. This whole situation was absurd but you took it without saying anything before looking around and noticing all your co-workers cramped at the end of the room shivering in fear. Those were the same men that could sell ice to the Icelandic, interesting. After a quick scan of the room, you noticed that there were a couple of armed men guarding the people in the room. The man that had tapped you was towering over a guy you recognized as the computer technician who was muttering something about some issue over the wi-fi connection. Knowing the problem he was talking about and that the guy probably wouldn't make it if he kept blabbering without finding a solution, you made your way towards them. Tapping on his shoulder like he did to you a few moments before, he just turned his face in your direction looking up and down at you quizically.

"If you connect to the public wi-fi, you'll be here 'till Christmas. I know how to connect to a faster router." You explained looking straight in his eyes but didn't move forward waiting for his approval. Better safe than sorry. Studying you for a while, the man eventually nodded and gestured for the guy to get out of the way and to keep hold of his helmet that he had previously given to you.

"They have a hidden wi-fi that's so fast you can find whatever you want in less than half a second. Of course, they don't talk about it." You didn't know why you were trying to make conversation with him, he wasn't exactly warm and friendly. It was to try and make the situation less tense, you told yourself.

"So how did you find out?" he asked much to your surprise. You couldn't figure out his tone, barely his words, but the fact that he was engaging you was good. He couldn't kill someone while talking to you, right?

"It was their mistake to underestimate me just because I'm a woman." You sent a smirk his way, briefly turning towards him and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was smirking too.

Neither of you said anything after that but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. When you had successfully connected the computer to the wi-fi, you took a step back. You didn't want to know what his plan was and you didn't want to so you just made space for him to do what he had to. He went ahead and plunged a USB to the side of the computer and asked you to make sure that everything was running smoothly. Hw was downloading stuff from the database and even though you were completely clueless about computer stuff, you didn't bother to tell him. You valued your life after all. He was roaming around the room when the sound of sirens was heard. The man looked unfazed by it but he asked you how was the downloading proceeding.

"There's still a 20% left, these files are pretty big." You told him fearing his reaction. He didn't acknowledge you though.

He nodded to his men that began shooting in the air while he retrieved his helmet and held you with the other hand. Up until this moment, you hadn't feared him. Maybe stupidly so but you thought that as long as you helped him, he wouldn't hurt you. Now that he was urging you outside the building and putting you on a motorcycle, you weren't so sure anymore. As a reflex, you tightly held to him and when you noticed that the people grabbed by his men were being unceremoniously thrown off into the streets, your hold tightened even more. But you weren't sitting in front of him and his hands never reached behind to pull you down. You didn't realize that he had spared you until ou entered in some tunnels under the city where he stopped. You were too afraid and slightly panicking, just a little. Why didn't he throw you off? Why did he take you in the first place? Does he think that you can help him with breaking into a server or stuff? Omg, what is going to happen when he learns that you're no computer geek?

These questions all swirled into your mind and didn't let it process the fact that not only he had stopped but he had also killed the engine and was probably waiting for you to go down. Your arms were still pretty tightly wrapped around his waist but it didn't occur to you that it was the thing that was preventing him to mount off the bike. Not until he spoke.

"You can let go of me. If you haven't noticed we're not moving anymore." His breathy voice registered in your head and for the first time, you lift your head and look around. These tunnels were huge, they were more like a maze really. Still, you didn't let go of him. Not even when he wraps his hand around yours.

"If I let go, will you turn around and kill me?" stupid thing to ask, sure, but he had engaged you before so you hoped he'd do it now too.

"I'm not going to kill you." He answered. His hand on yours wasn't even pressing on them, you realized when he could easily pull them apart and get away. So why was he being so gentle with you? Convinced that he had no reason to hurt you and never showed the intention to, you relaxed and pulled your arms away from him. He got off without a word, then turned around to look at you. Maybe he was asking himself what to do with you or he was wondering why you hadn't got off yet. It's true that you were observing him to see what his next move will be but it was also true that this bike was beastly tall and let's just say you're not. You'd probably break your leg or ankle or both if you attempted to climb off alone. Maybe he noticed that or maybe he was just manhandling you but after a little stare off, he got closer to you and without batting an eyelid, he literally lifted you up and of the bike like you weighted nothing. But then again, this man was huge and his muscles were even bigger so no wonder that lifting you was such an easy task. He put you down and with a gesture of his head, he urged you to follow him. And you did.

It was the perfect opportunity to look around and try to memorize the place so that you could eventually plan an escape, but the muscles of his neck were so distracting. He must have taken some kind of drug to be this burly, it wasn't possible to naturally be this fit. You usually despised men that were obsessed with the gym and proteins and stuff like that but there was something about this man that was calling to you. You just couldn't put your finger on it. He had led you to a room, it wasn't empty as you had presumed but filled with a bed, a wardrobe and a desk full of papers. This must be his room. He entered after you and shut the door behind him. Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and just stared at you.

"What's your name?" he asked after a while without breaking eye contact.

"Y/N and yours?" If he wasn't surprised he didn't let it show, the only indicator the twinkle in his eyes.

"Why did you help me if you didn't even know my name?"

"Should I have asked you first? Seems inappropriate and time-consuming, don't you think?" you joked and he let out a noise that because of the mask you didn't know whether it was a chuckle or a heavy sigh.

"Why did you help me?" This time his tone was more serious, firmer.

"Thought you would hurt fewer people if I did and because I could." you simply said shrugging. With his eyes studying you, he just nodded, deep in his thoughts, trying to figure you out. Having everything that he needed so far, he went to get out of the room when your voice stopped him.

"Why did you take me?" The question that was eating you inside. He didn't even turn around but with a cheeky tone, he answered you before finally leaving.

"Because I could."

#bane #bane imagine #bane imagines #bane x reader #bane dcu #the dark knigth rises #batman #bane fanfiction #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader #unsaid

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intersex-ionality · 5 years

Note

Normally I'd just go to google but I haven't been able to really find anything other than vague references to it, but is there someplace to go for about information on PCOS being an intersex condition? Or a tag that you or someone else has on it? I just got diagnosed and the idea that I could be considered intersex because of it is weirdly relieving and reassuring to me? But I feel awkward about just claiming it bc i don't have a lot of the more obvious visual stuff like hair growth.

PCOS is recognized on a research level as being in the same category as all other DSDs, regularly appearing in research about any and all hyperandrogenic disorders. However, there is a vested societal interest in limiting the number of “intersex people” to an absolute minimum.

This means taking people who are demonstrably intersex–that is to say, people whose anatomy, including their internal anatomy like hormone balances, does not match the traditional expectations of their assigned gender–and telling them that they are not intersex. This is explicitly because it benefits particular classing systems in our culture.

One common example of this fuckery is the constant debate about who gets to participate in women’s athletics. Because the population of people with PCOS is so massive, acknowledging PCOS as intersex–which it is–would mean acknowledging all intersex variations as welcome in women’s sports. This would make it more difficult to gatekeep exceptional athletes who are disliked by their supervisory bodies, such as black and brown women like Caster Semenya and Dutee Chand or trans women like Tia Thomson and Tiffany Abreu.

In short, people don’t want to admit PCOS is intersex, because it would mean weakening the overall hold the gender binary has on a lot of systems. The current definition of a woman for a great many classifications, for example, is “someone with free testosterone of below 3.0ng/dl.” About a third of people with PCOS fit that limit.

Roughly 3% of the human population has PCOS. Roughly 2% of all human beings on earth have a hormonal condition that plants them firmly outside the current definition of perisex women. Admitting that PCOS is (usually, at least) an intersex condition means admitting that the intersex population isn’t 2% of the world, it’s actually 4%.

That’s a massive increase. And that kind of massive increase in a population of marginalized people recognizing their marginalization is a risk. Even if only a minute fraction of them decide to revolt, to demand better rights and better treatment, that’s a fucking threat.

This sounds very conspiratorial, so let me just ease it up a little.

There’s no secret organization trying to hold down intersex people.

But there is a persistent desire from medical and political groups to gatekeep the definition of intersex or to eliminate the intersex identity entirely. To get rid of a unifying term for us all, and treat us instead as a fractured, disparate collection of unrelated diagnoses who just so ~happen~ to have eerily similar political and social experiences by coincidence.

The primary way this is done is by treating “intersex” as a disgusting or archaic term that should be removed from the popular consciousness. If that disgust cannot be instilled, then the backup methodology is to make intersex a dangerous term that only people who have sufficiently proven their worthiness can approach.

But there is no proof, there’s no way to show that you “count.”

In the words of ISNA, “nature doesn’t decide where the category of “male” ends and the category of “intersex” begins, or where the category of “intersex” ends and the category of “female” begins. Humans decide.”

And it benefits the structural inequalities we all operate under, for humans to decide that PCOS doesn’t count, even while deciding that numerically it must. Socially it must. But if we just say, over and over, “but it doesn’t count, though” then that will make it rational.

Of course, there is also the fact that most people with PCOS are women, and there’s a persistent problem with recognizing women’s identities, particularly when there’s a medical tie-in.

But it’s not a problem unique to things associated with women. For example, getting hypospadias recognized as an intersex variation has been a similar uphill battle.

It’s actually interesting to compare these two most common intersex variations–hypospadias and PCOS–because they are in many ways inverse.

Hypospadias is usually limited to genital development, whereas PCOS usually impacts only hormone and gonadal development. Yet, people will say hypospadies isn’t intersex because there’s no hormonal or secondary sexual element, and that PCOS is not intersex because there is “only” a hormonal and secondary sexual element.

In comparison, my diagnosis of OT-DSD/”true hermaphroditism” can quite easily present with neither genital nor hormonal differences, only gonadal. The same can be said of a great many intersex variations.

The only reason it’s hard to find data about PCOS’s patently obvious state as an intersex variation is because there is a political agenda preventing such. However, if you set aside the specific term “intersex” and instead focus on less politically charged terms like “hyperandrogenism,” you can find a fair bit of academic research into the fact that PCOS has all the same social and physical hallmarks in common with other conditions recognized as intersex.

God, this really didn’t answer your question at all, and I’m very sorry about that.

Also, please don’t google “is pcos intersex” or anything like that, because literally all you will get is TERFs. They’ve latched onto that line of thought and are using it to prove that trans people are delusional. The popularized it a couple of years ago, and now searching “intersex” and “PCOS” in combination just absolutely buries you in TERF shit.

#Anonymous #My Words

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missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

The Color of You || Part IV

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Action

NOTE: Y’all know the drill. Drop a comment to be added to tag list! Also, I wrote this while I was sick, so please ignore any glaringly obvious mistakes LOL

PART I || PART II || PART III

PART IV of X

Count: 2420

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The morning before Natasha was to meet William, she decided to stop by to see you again. Natasha’s not exactly sure what compelled her to do so, but it didn’t settle well with her how things ended last night.

The maid let Natasha right in, stating once more that William was already gone to work.

Now, Natasha stood before your studio door again, looking through the glass at your back once more.

You were painting, working on the same piece you were last time. Whatever it was, you were intensely focusing on it.

Natasha let out a slight huff of breath as she tapped her knuckle lightly against the door.

You jumped slightly and genuinely.

“Come in,” you said, turning your attention to the door. You seemed surprised to see Natasha entered, but your face showed no memories of last night--to Natasha anyways.

“Natanya,” you greeted quietly, and it was then that Natasha finally got a better look at you.

There were streaks of paint on you again, shades of yellow on your arm and even a stripe on your cheek.

Your hair was in a tied up messy bun, strands falling out and framing your face as you demurely tucked a stray strand behind your ear.

Natasha missed this look of you. Rather than the fancy dresses and strains of politicians around you, she wanted you to always look like this.

But when she looked at the oversized men’s shirt on you, she couldn’t help but shirk a little.

And you noticed.

“Is that William’s?” It’s hardly words of greeting, and Natasha feels she might regret hearing the answer, but she can’t help it.

You’re ruining her.

You look down at your shirt and chuckle lightly.

“No,” you tell her, and Natasha feels the tension in her stomach relax, and it annoys her a little.

“I end up ruining a lot of shirts when I’m painting, so I buy shirts in bulk for cheap,” you explain further, tugging slightly at the hem of your shirt.

Natasha only smiled, eyes flitting over to your painting.

“Yellow today?” Natasha asks even though it’s clear with the streaks of paint on you.

You nod, looking at your work in progress as well.

“Tell me something about the color yellow,” Natasha says, falling into habits.

“Other than the obvious things?” You tease her and tilt your head when she chuckles.

“Well,” you start, thinking of what to tell Natasha. “Yellow is actually a very difficult color to read. Since it reflects so much light, it’s straining to the eyes. I can’t help but feel happy when I see the color, though.”

“Why?” Natasha asks softly.

You look up to the ceiling, and Natasha wonders what you see.

“It reminds me of my childhood,” you reveal to her. “In my parent’s summer cabin they used to own by a lake. Many yellow flowers grew there, and my mother used to bake sweets while my father fished. I would draw in my sketchbook, and nothing mattered then.”

“What did you want to not matter?”

“The future,” you say quietly.

The way you said it was so soft and sad that Natasha might’ve missed it if she weren’t hung up on your every word. But then the moment was gone when you looked back down and quirked your lip at Natasha.

“What else do you see about the color yellow?” Natasha asks you, not sure what else she can say but she doesn’t want the moment to end.

“It’s a complex color,” you tell her. “But it’s also the color for friendship.”

There it was.

Acknowledgment of last night.

Words that Natasha didn’t want to hear.

And so she crosses the threshold, invading your space as her hand touches the bottom of your back, dragging it’s way up until it’s between your shoulder blades.

“How are you so different from William?” Natasha asks quietly in your ear.

This was exactly what you had asked Natasha not to do, but she can’t help herself. She doesn’t want to pull away.

“How can you tell me to just be your friend?” It was a quiet hiss in your ear. Natasha lined her shoulder up to yours, her right hand covering your left.

“How can I only be your friend?” She asks you, her lips just brushing the tip of your ear and you bite your tongue.

“When I’m begging you like this?” Her forehead momentarily rests against yours as if in defeat and Natasha feels a wet spot against her wrist.

She pulls back to see a bright shade of yellow against her black sleeve. Your eyes pull down, and you frown.

“Sorry--I’m always getting paint on you,” you tell her, turning away to grab a cloth but Natasha grabs your hand.

“No,” she tells you. “I don’t want you to wipe it away.”

Her hand slowly slips from yours, and Natasha turns away to walks off, adjusting her coat in her arms.

“Natanya, wait--”

Natasha stops and turns her head back at your call.

“Tell...tell me something interesting too,” you ask her softly.

Natasha purses her lips tightly before sighing as she gives you a half-hearted smile.

“It’s getting harder to pretend you exist only here to me.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

She’s distracted.

How immature of her, she thought.

The entire afternoon, Natasha had been working on looking through the files and following up with Tony to see if he had anything.

The entire time, she couldn’t get you out of her head.

A part of her--the dark park, whispered about how it was a weakness. You were a weakness, an infection that was making her inefficient.

But after years of being with Clint, it was easier to silence the voice.

She heard a car drive up to her front porch and checked the time.

New plan, Natasha thought.

If she could find out tonight what William’s plans were, and in addition, secure all the microchips, she could be done with this all.

William would be put away, the microchips wouldn’t be released, and you?

You...

Natasha released a heavy sigh from her nose before she opened the door to see the driver.

“Miss Rovinski,” he greeted before gesturing to the car.

One step at a time, Natasha reminded herself.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The drive was shorter than Natasha thought was normal.

The driver wasn’t taking her to the warehouse that Natasha had seen Emilio load off the microchips at.

In fact, she ended up on the Cain’s estate once more, but instead of the main house, she was being led to the right-wing that was detached.

“Natanya, glad to see you made it okay,” William greeted her as she stepped in. She was the last to arrive, seeing many familiar faces of politicians and CEOs of companies that were supporting William’s campaign.

There was one face that Natasha didn’t recognize.

A woman with very sharp facial features, blonde hair, and in a tight pencil skirt stood a little further away with her hands behind her back.

Natasha took a seat as William started his presentation.

“I’m glad you all could make it. As you know, I’ve promised for my campaign something revolutionary...and I’m here to provide just that.” William grinned, throwing his palm out to the blonde in the back. She placed something in his hand and William brought it back, placing it delicately on the table.

“What this? A phone chip?” One of the CEOs asked as he leaned closer to take a look.

William chuckled and shook his head.

“Not even close. This, everyone, is our future. It’s a bio nanochip, meant to be inserted just right behind your ear. It’s a data collector. Anything about yourself will be put onto this microchip. Health, genetics, personal preferences, all of it.”

“Why would anyone want to have that?” Another person asked, William just grinning further.

“Think of it like this. Your family has a history of heart problem, the nanochip picks up on that. You’re constantly making unhealthy choices--not exercising, eating junk food, not visiting the doctor. The nanochip is picking all this up, by the way. Maybe you need a heart transplant--what would you do?”

The men and women looked at each other around the room, perplexed by the hypothetic situation.

“I would go to the best doctor available,” one woman said.

“What if you can’t afford it?” William countered.

“I--” She stuttered.

“What if you’re a student wanting to go to the best university there is, and you didn’t get any scholarships--what would you do?”

“Get student loans from the bank or government,” a CEO offered.

“You didn’t qualify, or maybe you don’t want to pay the insane interest rates for the rest of your life. What then?”

Everyone is silent. Natasha is confused about what exactly William wants to do.

He pushes the nanochip forward.

“This nanochip collects all your data on you, gives you the information via an app. As stakeholders, you’ve all purchased your share into the company I’ve started up to provide this technology to the public. The chip is free itself but to get it, people must sign an agreement with our company that it can collect, use, or sell their data.” William lifted his finger off of the nanochip, looking at everyone.

“In situations where maybe people are looking to get a little...help, stakeholder and other companies who purchased into the company can reach out to this individual and set up a side contract with them. Be it their services or whatever they can offer in exchange for the financial help, connections, or whatever it is.”

Natasha felt her stomach dropping more and more as William spoke.

She was going to vomit, she’s sure of it.

William was going to turn poor people into...into slaves to the rich and to companies.

Poor people who can’t afford healthcare, education, a job, or even a home. They wouldn’t even realize what selling their information would do.

Who is to say a company or person using a someone’s information wouldn’t do things like make them unemployable--forcing them to turn to rich people and companies for help?

The worst part is many people wouldn’t even see a problem with it. They would be stuck in a cycle, relying on the rich to stay alive or achieve anything. The rich would have complete control over people who’ve signed their life away.

“Amazing,” A CEO said, looking at the chip. The potential for free employment was outstanding, and he was already increasing his profits for the upcoming year.

Sure, they may be shelling out thousands of dollars, but whatever they were shelling out would be made back on interest and their services. A trade of equal or higher value.

After all, humans are the best resource there is.

“How do you know if companies will want to be involved?” A woman asked.

William grinned throwing a stack on paper on the table. “On average, 70% of businesses in each state has already invested in this. Even some internationally. The funding for everything is already secured.”

“When is it set to roll out?” Natasha asked, plastering a smile even though she felt sick.

“It’s already rolling out,” William told her, “it’s been going in batches. The last batch will be shipped out tomorrow night.”

The first thing in Natasha’s head was panic.

The second was that she needed to call Tony and Steve immediately.

The third was that she needed to get a hold of the last batch.

There was a small celebration happening, and Natasha stayed as she felt the group was too small for her to sneak out unnoticed.

When it came to an end, Natasha made sure William watch her leave in her vehicle.

Halfway through, Natasha got her driver to stop, drop her in the middle nowhere, send him off on his merry way as she turned around and made her way to the warehouse on foot.

The warehouse was quiet, quieter than Natasha expected. No guards standing outside, but maybe because that would seem suspicious. Using her intel from last time, she slips through a window, landing gracefully and moves behind a pillar when she sees a guard standing inside at the door instead.

She makes her way quickly to where the crates were last time which was the back of the warehouse, but there’s nothing.

No crates.

It was all gone.

Suddenly, alarms were going off, and Natasha found herself in flashing red lights, guards were screaming, and there were footsteps quickly rushing towards her.

Natasha didn’t have time to make it back to the window where she came in from and quickly left the through the nearest back door that led outside.

Red flashing lights were on the outside too as the alarms continued to ring and Natasha was running into the trees and bushes outback.

She could hear the footsteps running after her and Natasha thought she would have to take out the guards.

If she did that, it would alert William for sure someone was onto him.

Just as Natasha debated on what her next move should be, an arm shot out from behind a tree, pulling her roughly in before shoving her down and underneath a bush to hide.

Natasha was about to attack whoever was on top of her, her body tensing up but when she found herself staring into your wide eyes, fingers to your lip as you signaled her to be quiet, she did as she was told.

Time seemed to stop as the silence shrouded the two of you, the footsteps in the distance.

The two of you didn’t dare move.

It was an awful time to notice how warm your body was and how much it fitted against hers, but Natasha had always been acute to noticing everything around her.

It wasn’t until the footsteps and voices passed the bush the two of you hid in without incident, the voices fading further and further away until there was nothing but silence again.

You let out the breath you were holding in, eyes closing in relief, shoulders sagging, and Natasha felt all the tension leave your body.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask you what in God’s name were you doing out here and how the hell you knew she was here.

But you opened your mouth first as you turned your head towards Natasha, eyes ablaze with fury.

“What in the hell were you thinking?!”

PART V

#mm: my fics #series: the color of you #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x ofc #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #marvel mcu #Modern Avengers AU #marvel imagine

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buckyreaderrecs · 4 years

Text

Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power: Chapter 2/?

Summary: Nobody knows about your power. You’ve never really wanted to use it, let alone hurt someone with it. But, someone has figured you out, and now they’re following you. There’s only one place you can go for help - The Avengers. Good news is they’re good people. Bad news is your power is entirely relevant to soft, sad, recovering, broody Bucky Barnes. Chapter 1.

Chapter 2: Bucky checks in on you while you're in limbo, waiting for a decision from The Avengers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, possible future smut (who knows, not me), mutual pining, reader has powers, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters

Bucky Barnes and the Girl With Too Much Power Chapter 2/?

It wasn't a prison cell, that's for sure. It was almost a small hotel suite, only a touch more clinical. Compared to your own bedroom though, it wasn't home. It wasn't comfortable, nor comforting. The room served to detain you while you sat in a background check, moral compass limbo. Somewhere else in the building, deep in the secret spaces of Stark Tower, a group of heroes sat discussing your fate. All you could do was pace from window to ensuite and back again.

Everybody was in agreeance that your story was worth a test of validity. If what you said was true, then someone had a method of seeking out powered people. And, not just those with abilities and faces splashed across the news like themselves, Jessica Jones or Luke Cage. Someone found you. That alone was just the tip of the hypothetical iceberg. It also begged the question… What did they want with you?

As good as they were, it was only one in the group of six that thought all of this only after being concerned for your wellbeing. It took Wanda a good minute to catch up to the others' conspiracy theories and climbing heartrates. She had been the one to walk you to the detention suite, softly spoken and apologetic about the circumstances. When you were locked in, you could hear her on the other side of the door hesitate for a moment before leaving to join the others.

When Wanda sat down at the table, she pulled a tablet close and began to read through the data already being collected on you. The room felt off somehow. Her friends were on edge. Steve, in particular, seemed… something… Wanda couldn't read him. That's when she noticed the absence of Bucky.

Only Steve, Sam, and Natasha were seated around the oval table. Tony was pacing, talking to F.R.I.D.A.Y. about you. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, and his other waved around. Wanda put it together then; whatever Bucky said or did to leave the party, it had unsettled Steve. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing - Steve wasn't sad or angry or worried - but it must have been a rare thing.

Wanda stopped analysing the room and started to flick through digital files. "What was the point?" she asked then. Everybody looked up from their work to Wanda. "Locking her up. What was the point?"

…

You wondered what the point of locking you in a room was. Did The Avengers feel safer that way? Maybe they felt more in control. Really, all that stood between you and getting out was a phone call, getting redirected to Stark Tower and hey presto - magic - bam - confetti - you'd have someone there within minutes.

They'd seen it in your face though. There was abject fear and a lack of options. Each and every one of them had been there, in one way or another. They knew you weren't going anyway.

But someone was coming to you.

The rapping of knuckles on the door startled you. When you squeaked you felt stupid for it. Hopefully, the knocker didn't hear.

He did. He bit back a smile too.

"Uh… Come in," you called, again confused at the point of the locked door.

As the door opened, you stood up, bringing with you a throw pillow from the bed you'd been sitting on between perimeter paces. Hugging it to your chest was a completely unconscious action. It wasn't until Bucky Barnes stepped into the room and you saw his eyes flick from your face to the pillow and back again that you even realised you were holding it. Putting it down now seemed like an even more awkward course of action, so you let yourself keep it.

Bucky left the door ajar, then came to stand in front of you. He knew the exact distance to leave to not be threatening, but not be eerie either. He'd learnt that lingering on the edges unnerved people. It was a habit he'd formed to keep himself safe or unseen, but Steve and Sam were constantly reminding him that he was safe now.

"I'm sorry!" you blurted out before Bucky could say anything. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but the floodgates had been opened and you weren't really watching him for a reaction. "I'm so, so fuckin' sorry. I said-I said, like, if I got this far and I got to… show you, that it wouldn't be you, you know? Because… Fuck. I'm just…"

When you waltzed your way in to see The Avengers, you knew you'd have to show them your power. Over and over, you'd made yourself promise that it wouldn't be Bucky or Clint Barton. Honestly, none of them were great options. Their sense of independence and autonomy was paramount to them being… stable… okay… alive. It just seemed cruel to take that away, even for a second. All the way over to the tower you'd had your fingers crossed, repeating over and over, 'don't let Bucky be there, don't let Bucky be there, don't let Bucky be there.'

He let you speak, let you say what you thought you needed to. There were only so many times you could apologise though.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, voice cracking. You threw the pillow aside, frustrated.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time someone was so considerate of his very specific history. The others treated him with semi-hostile gentleness. It was weird. He was a war hero, the longest-serving P.O.W. in fact. But he was also The Winter Solider. Even The Avengers found it hard to reconcile that into one normal approach to his presence. "It will take time," Steve assured him, "But they'll get there."

"It's alright," Bucky spoke. You watched him watch you. "I… insisted," he reasoned with a shrug of his left shoulder. "And, you weren't in the position to be makin' demands."

He looked sorry for you.

"Have you's decided?" you asked after a few beats of nothing.

"Ah... no, well, maybe. I don't know. I didn’t go with them."

You expected him to explain, but he didn't, so you just nodded.

The world had co-existed with powered people and superheroes for a while now, definitely for your lifetime. You grew up with stories about Captain America, and a dozen other myths and legends. In 2008 Tony Stark outed himself, and from there society just had to get used to the fact humans weren't top of the pecking order anymore. You had turned 18 that year and had finally been granted some relief to the painful alienation you felt. You weren't the only one. Now, you wondered if Bucky had got that moment.

When he came out of brainwashing, when Steve pulled him back into the light, did Bucky finally get to feel like he wasn't entirely alone? Did he look around at the kid spider and talking raccoons in absolute wonder? Or did he still feel that cold isolation?

Another few beats of nothing had gone by. He looked like he was moving to leave, his body turning only slightly but enough to prompt more words from your mouth. "You on babysitting duty then?"

He smiled. His whole fucking face lit up when he smiled.

With a sly tilt of the head, Bucky said so casually, "Don't think I'd be much use against you."

A joke! You grinned and shrugged with a little too much ego.

"Nobody here is really used to that… Feelin' powerless doesn't go down to well," Bucky said.

"I'm not…" but you couldn't find the right word; they all seemed a little too cliché.

"Evil? Tryna' kill us, take over the world and all that?" he offered, serving the exact cliché up on a platter. When you nodded, he mirrored your action. "I know. They do too. Can't always trust your gut though,"

"What does your gut say about me?" you asked, the words slipping straight out of your head from where they had popped into your head. The environment was too foreign, the situation too peculiar for you to be self-conscious. That saved you from being embarrassed.

"That you're dangerous," Bucky answered as quickly as you had asked the question. "But… you're tellin' the truth. You're scared."

Hearing the words out loud forced you into some sort of confrontation with the emotion. You were scared. So, so fucking scared. Tears began to roll down your face and your teeth gnawed at the inside of your cheeks.

He hesitated, but Bucky stepped closer and carefully held your shoulders. The pressure was grounding, even on each side. You looked up at him, sniffling. His expression was soft, neutral, warm.

"You're safe here," he told you. "I know how you feel… Trust me."

You tried to start your sentence, but it kept halting between tears. "I don't know what I'm meant to do now," you finally got out.

Bucky sighed, offered a small lopsided smile, and nodded. "I know, darlin'," he whispered, then pulled you into a hug.

Folding your arms up between your chest and his, you felt enclosed. Safe in a bubble. It didn't occur to you to think about how strange it all was. It didn't even occur to Bucky to think about how out of character he was being. Maybe it was because it wasn't really, not if you were judging him by pre-WWII Bucky standards. This was who he used to be, before it all.

Chapter 3.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes / You #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Bucky Barnes / Y/N #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fic #mine #BB and the Girl w Too Much Power

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