#never have I thought someone should be arrested for something they just said

[weaponizedhorse]

Okay the title of this article in the sun made me feel actually nauseous and I am not being hyperbolic in the slightest, but since I had to see this so do all of you

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |9|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Blood, Fighting

Word Count: 2.5K+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you. You couldn’t believe them, you weren’t surprised by Amber, that was actually completely expected, but the others, that hurt. You weren’t the biggest fan of them, they weren’t the biggest fan of you, you didn’t ever think they’d actually think you’d hurt Tara, that you were capable of something like that. 

Mindy was the movie expert, that was her thing, but she didn’t hesitate to back Amber up. The second Amber accused you, Mindy was right there, giving her accusation logic, even if it was all bullshit. Then the others just sat there silently, letting them accuse you, not a single one of them stood up for you, none of them even tried to argue in your defense.

You got to your car, slamming the door closed and aggressively turning the key. You pulled out your phone, quickly calling Tara before peeling out of the driveway. You sped down the street, not bothering to pay attention to how fast you were driving. 

“That was quick,” Tara said, answering after only two rings. 

“I never should have come,” you said, coming to a hard stop at a stop sign. “This was pointless and a mistake,” you hit the gas, speeding down the street again. 

“What?” Tara asked, concern clearly in her voice. “What happened?” 

“They think I’m the fucking killer!” 

“What?” Tara whispered in disbelief. 

“Fucking Amber!” you smacked the steering wheel. You were sure Tara wanted to say something, but she stayed quiet. “No one disagreed! Actually, Mindy, gave them all a fucking reason!” 

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, still as calm as ever. 

“No one defended me,” you whispered. “Not a single one of them. They all just listened to Amber and Mindy. They actually think I’m the fucking killer,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “Even fucking Dewey!” 

“Dewey?” Tara questioned. Tara didn’t know Dewey personally, but you had told her about him. It took some time to open up, but you didn’t have secrets, she knew all about the shit you got up to when you were younger. You told her all about your run ins with Dewey. 

“Guess Sam brought him in for advice,” you shrugged. 

You unclenched your jaw. It wasn’t a bad idea, Dewey used to be the sheriff, he had been involved in all the previous attacks. It made complete and perfect sense that he’d be the best person to bring in. You couldn’t believe he actually questioned you though. After all the years, you figured he’d know you well enough by now. He knew all the shit you got up to, he was the one that always brought you in, he never arrested you though. He was too much of a good guy, you always got a slap on the wrist and a warning. 

You were pretty sure he pitied you. He thought you were some broken, abandoned kid, someone who needed saving. You guessed eventually something stuck because your junior year is when you started to turn everything around. You hadn’t talked to him since the last time, the summer before junior year, you only saw him some nights at the bar, and he’d just give you a little nod, then usually a decent tip when he left. You assumed he saw the progress you made, that you were trying, that you were doing better. Out of everyone, you didn’t think he’d look at you like that, he wouldn’t hesitate to question you. You guessed you really couldn’t trust anyone though, that when it came to Ghostface everyone was the enemy. 

“Every last one of them,” you said, shaking her head. “They all think I’d actually hurt you.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Tara whispered. “I know you’re not the killer and that you’d never hurt me.” 

You gave a small smile, that’s all that mattered to you. It didn’t matter if her friends, her sister, the police, or the entire fucking world, none of it mattered if they were against you, as long as Tara still believed in you. “Thanks,” you whispered, much calmer than before. “I’m going to stop home, shower,” you looked down, wrinkling your nose, “and change. Then I’ll be right back by your side.” 

“Okay.” You could practically hear Tara smiling through the phone. “See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Almost as soon as you hung up with Tara you were arriving at your apartment. As soon as you parked you ran into the apartment. Your apartment was small, it was cheap, but you could afford it. The only real downside to the place was that it was across town, meaning you had to shower quick so you could get back to Tara sooner. 

Despite just getting off the phone with her you shot Tara a quick text, telling her you arrived at your place. You unlocked your door, mindlessly tossing your keys onto the coffee table like you always did and kicking the door closed behind you. 

You made your way to the kitchen, tossing your phone on the small kitchen island, and opening the fridge to see it practically empty. You sighed then grabbed a bottle of water. You always told Tara to eat properly, you used to make sure she always had dinner and didn’t rely on snacks, and yet you couldn’t even keep your own fridge stocked. You let the fridge door swing closed, then brought the water bottle to your lips. 

You quickly took the bottle away from your mouth when you heard your phone begin to vibrate, figuring it was probably Tara. You furrowed your brow when you saw it wasn’t Tara but a number you didn’t recognize, with a different area code. Your finger rested over the screen, you knew Ghostface’s thing was calling people, but it wasn’t an unknown number, and it wasn’t Amber, or anyone else you knew, like it had been with both Tara and Sam. You shook your head then quickly tapped the red ignore button. 

You finished off the water and tossed it in the trash. You froze when you heard a slight creak, then you slowly turned around, your eyes scanning across the small room, your keys were still on the coffee table, but your front door was slightly ajar. You grabbed your phone and slowly began inching your way towards the door. You stopped when you passed the small hallway that led to the bathroom and your bedroom, narrowing your eyes but nothing looked out of place, your bedroom door was open, like always. 

You gripped your phone tight as you got closer to the front door. You strained your ears, listening for anything or anyone who might be on the other side. You held your breath as you reached for the door, then you whipped it open, being met with an empty hallway. You peeked your head out, looking left and right, seeing the same dimly lit empty hallway as always. You let out a shaky breath, shaking your head as you closed the door, making sure to lock it this time. You were clearly getting too paranoid. 

 You turned to walk back to the kitchen, but your eyes widened as Ghostface stepped out of the hall, tilting his head as he looked at you. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that Ghostface got into your apartment and hid down the hall while you were just in the kitchen, you heard the door creak yet didn’t hear someone moving through your apartment. 

You backed up, instantly hitting the door. Your hands fumbled, feeling around for the lock but Ghostface was on you before you could unlock the door. You dove out of the way just as Ghostface brought their knife down, impaling it in the door. 

You nearly tripped over the coffee table as you made your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t much space, so you turned around, putting your back to the sink and cabinets, facing Ghostface head on. Ghostface ripped their knife out of the door, quickly closing the space between the door and the kitchen. You knew your apartment was small, but Ghostface was standing before you in seconds. 

Ghostface swung his knife, which you instantly dodged. You reached across the stove, grabbing a pan, it wasn’t ideal, but you needed something to defend yourself with. Just as quickly as you grabbed the pan, you dropped it when Ghostface brought his knife down, slashing down your arm. 

You lifted your arm up, hissing as you watched the blood pour out of the wound. You put your other hand over the cut, trying to stop the bleeding a bit, if you survived you were sure you would need stitches. You couldn’t focus on your injury too long though because next thing you knew you were ducking, just as Ghostface’s knife swooshed over your head. 

You jumped back as Ghostface swung their knife at your stomach. 

They swiped at you again and again, each time you just barely dodged the knife. 

Ghostface raised their knife high but as they brought the knife down you instinctively raised your hands, catching their arm as they tried to stab you. 

You held their arm back, using all your strength to keep the knife as far away from you as possible. Ghostface used your distraction at trying not to be stabbed to push you back until your back hit the sink. 

Despite being pinned against the sink you continued to fight back. With the two of you pushing back against each other you eventually both fell to the floor. Ghostface ended up on top of you and began pushing the knife further towards your chest. 

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning in your arms and the way blood continued to drip from your cut as you kept the knife up with your hands. You began kicking with your feet, hoping to get lucky, you needed just one good kick to get the upper hand. 

You couldn’t get enough force to kick Ghostface hard enough, but you ended up getting your legs tangled up with theirs, allowing you to flip them over. During the sudden change of position Ghostface lost their grip on the knife, allowing you to rip it out of their hand. 

With all your strength you took their knife and began pushing it towards their chest, exactly as they had done to you. You were much more aware of them now that they were underneath you, they were much smaller than you imagined. 

In all the stories, in the interviews, in the movies, in literally anything you had ever seen or heard, Ghostface was always talked up as this large dark figure that loomed over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghostface was always tall or if the terror and their mere presence made them seem larger. Ghostface always seemed to tower over people, no matter who it was, the victim always seemed small against Ghostface. 

You narrowed your eyes as you stared down at the white mask, you could just barely make out eyes behind the mask. You couldn’t tell who it was, you couldn’t even make out an eye color, but there was a familiarity, you knew the person behind the mask. 

You gritted your teeth, using both hands you shoved the knife down harder. Ghostface was holding you back, both of their hands wrapped around your arms, the one thing preventing you from shoving the knife into their heart. Ghostface suddenly let go with one of their hands, allowing you to push the knife closer to their chest. Out of the corner of your eye you saw them slapping their hand around like they were reaching for something, but you couldn’t pull your focus away from the knife in your hands. You were so close, just a little more and the knife would be in their chest. 

The knife had just touched their cloak, you could feel the blade catching on the fabric. Before the blade could go further and pierce their chest something hard hit you on the side of the head. Your vision suddenly went blurry, you shook your head trying to clear the haziness, then you felt something under you move, Ghostface had wiggled free just enough, allowing them to use all their strength to shoved you, slamming you into the cabinets. 

You blinked a few times, shaking your head slightly, trying to stop the ringing in your ears. Your vision slowly started to clear up, you looked to the side, seeing the frying pan you had been trying to grab when Ghostface first appeared, you figured that must have been what Ghostface smacked you on the head with. 

You were on your hands and knees, trying to recover. The first thing you saw when your vision finally started to clear was black boots. You lifted your head, blinking a few times, when you finally saw clearly you saw Ghostface was already standing tall, waiting to attack again. 

You pushed your hands off the floor and sat there, kneeling in front of Ghostface. They just tilted their head, watching as you tried to stand, your knees wobbling in the process, as if they were about to buckle from under you. Your legs did actually give out, taking you down to one knee, you reached to the side, blindly searching for the counter to grab onto. Ghostface tilted their head to the other side, then without warning they brought their knee up, nailing you in the face, sending you back to the floor and sliding you into the cabinets, again. 

Ghostface began slowly walking towards you, keeping his arm low as he comfortably twisted the knife in his hand. Ghostface stopped in his tracks, his head snapping to the front door. You furrowed your brow, you didn’t hear anything, but your ears were still ringing and everything was blurry once again. 

You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the blurriness. You could just barely make out Ghostface standing over you, twisting their knife in their hands, tilting their head as they looked down at you. They crouched down, staring at you through the empty black eyes of the mask, holding their knife up so you could see it clearly, see your blood from where he had sliced you the first time dripping from the blade. 

“Did you think Samantha was the only one with a family secret?” Ghostface asked, tilting their head, as they gently ran the blade of the knife down the side of your face without cutting you. Despite the voice changer and the mask, you could practically hear the taunting in their voice, you could picture the sadistic smile on their face. 

You scrunched your eyebrows, watching as Ghostface abruptly took the knife away from your face and stood up, looking down at you. You didn’t have time to process what any of that could mean before Ghostface kneed you in the face again. Your head snapped back, hitting the cabinets again, then everything went black. 

[piastrirots]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ not ready to make nice !

pairing: armando aretas x howard!reader summary: all you’ve ever dreamed about since your granddad being killed was the son of a bitch who did it sharing the same fate. what you never expected was to have to work with your granddads killer to rescue your sister and especially not that you’d take a liking to him. word count: 3.7k warnings: typical bad boys violence (guns, blood, death...) read at your own caution <3 notes: thank you for my first request, i had so much fun writing it! feel free to comment down your thoughts, things you want to see etc.

YOU FELT SO HELPLESS AS YOU REPLAYED THE SCREAMS OF YOUR SISTER CALLIE, but it was nothing to what your sister must have been feeling. You felt so stupid - your mother entrusted you to look after your sister whilst she hunted down your grandads killer and like a fool you left her alone at the house when you got a message to go to Dorn's you just could not ignore.

You would have disregarded the message like you did the millions of texts of pity that people from the station have sent following your indefinite suspension. It was unfair, but since your granddad was under investigation for working with the cartel (which was absolutely bullshit), it was only procedure to have his protégé and granddaughter on leave until everything was cleared up.

Following this, your mother had you and your younger sister on house arrest. You understood your mothers concern and admired her grit and ability to separate her personal feelings from her work. You couldn't begin to imagine how she must be feeling and certainly wonder how she copes with everything.

You didn't really see much of your granddad growing up since he was always working and just like him, your mother followed in his footsteps. It only made sense to everyone when you joined the police academy straight out of high school and worked at the station your grandfather did.

You fiddled with the necklace clasped to your neck nervously as you watched the drone footage of the men who had captured Mike's wife and your sister from the safety of the AMMO van. You didn't deserve to be here - it should be your sister. The same Callie who was being held hostage by dangerous people she had no business being entwined with.

Kelly squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and you give her a forced smile she could see right through. "It's going to be alright," Kelly said, piercing through the silence that enveloped the trio that was Kelly, yourself and Dorn.

You wished you could be in the thick of the action, but knew you would be no help to anyone in your distressed state. Your eyes flickered from your sister and briefly landed on the man who arguably was the reason you were all here.

Armando Aretas. The man that had cursed her family and the name that once made your stomach churn. As you observed him in the water, gun poised, you couldn't summon hatred, only a detached indifference.

She couldn't stop reliving their first meeting, each detail etched in her mind like a broken record. She knew everything about his case: Armando, Mike's son, tied to the cartel, infamous for his role in her grandfather's and other officials' deaths, and locked away in maximum security for the past few years.

Her empathy, seen by her mother as a weakness in their line of work, blurred her objectivity. She resisted this notion, yet felt a pang of sympathy for Armando.

His life story was a tragedy in itself: manipulated by his mother, misled into dark deeds, and shattered by the revelation that his beloved father was actually the cop his mother had him hunt down. It was a complex web that stirred sympathy despite his crimes. The nature versus nurture debate, something she'd studied in school, fascinated her. She pondered how upbringing and genetics influenced choices, even in someone as troubled as Armando.

Despite his past, she sensed a glimmer of remorse in Armando, especially in his recent efforts to clear her grandfather's tainted name.

Urgency had drove her to burst into Dorn's house upon receiving a cryptic message warning of Mike, Marcus, and Armando's presence, and urging her not to call the police. She remembered her eyes scanning the room, and then her eyes met his: emerging from a file, unmistakable even dressed in a bud light shirt and a truckie cap.

His expression faltered briefly, something flickering in his eyes—recognition, perhaps regret? She swiftly looked away, her mind racing. She was quick to make a beeline for Dorn, who sat at his desk, scrutinizing security footage.

The sound of gunshots shattered her focus. "Shit, shit, shit," Dorn muttered as the footage flickered and went out.

Panic surged through her. They had been warned not to intervene, but with the situation unclear and no backup in sight, the three of them impulsively decided to join the action, Dorn pressing hard on the accelerator.

They arrived too slowly for her liking, but she was the first to kick open the van door and grab a gun, rushing towards the crumbling ruins where her sister and others were held. Dorn and Kelly followed closely, but soon they had to split up due to the overwhelming number of men on the other side.

Her sole focus was on rescuing her sister, ensuring she returned home safe and sound. The thought of anything happening to her sister was unbearable, a burden she couldn't bear to carry.

She moved through the abandoned building with caution, every sense on high alert for any sign of her sister or anyone really. The eerie silence enveloped her; the absence of gunshots and screams left a chilling void that unsettled her deeply.

Just as she was about to give up and retreat to regroup with Kelly and Dorn, she spotted her. A glimpse of straight brown hair caught her eye, unmistakably her sister. And she seemed to be alone as well.

"Callie!" she called out, quickly holstering her gun. In that moment, the danger and the looming threat of the hostile environment faded into insignificance. The girl turned around, and you couldn't help but release a laugh of relief, running her hands through her hair.

Callie spun around at the sound of her name, initially startled but then relieved when she realized it was only her sister. A smile broke across her face, and she rushed forward for a warm embrace. They held each other tightly, and she felt herself finally let go of the tension.

"I can't believe it's really you," she said, pulling back slightly to grip Callie's shoulders and study her face, as if fearing she might vanish into thin air.

For a moment, they were enveloped in their own little world, a bubble that felt impenetrable. It was just the two of them.

But then Callie's screams shattered the moment, snapping you back to reality. You whirled around, but it was already too late.

A stranger had grabbed Callie, and instinct took over as you lunged forward, gripping the man's arms to pry him away from your sister. In his other hand, a knife sliced into your shoulder. Adrenaline dulled the worst of the pain, but you winced as he withdrew the blade.

Positioning yourself between the man and your sister, you shielded Callie instinctively. You swore you wouldn't let anything happen to your sister again, not on your watch.

Preparing to confront the assailant, you adopted a fighter's stance, your shoulder throbbing but ignored in the heat of the moment.

Before the man could strike again, you glimpsed Armando over his shoulder, gun trained on the back of the man's head.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, they shared an unspoken understanding. She saw trust in his gaze—at least for this crucial moment.

Wrapping her arms protectively around Callie, they both dropped to the ground just as Armando squeezed the trigger. The deafening silence that followed was broken only by the thud of the man's body hitting the ground.

Your eyes remained fixed on Armando as he swiftly approached. There was a hesitation in his movement, a conflict evident in his expression, before he went against his instincts and extended his hand towards you. Part of you wanted to rebuff the gesture, to stand on your own, but you couldn't deny that he had just saved both you and Callie's lives. Reluctantly, you reached out and grasped his hand, allowing him to help you up.

As they stood face to face, you realized just how much taller he was, which added to the lingering tension between them.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange—yours clouded with confusion and a whirlwind of thoughts, his dark and intense. You cleared your throat, breaking the moment that felt like it stretched on for an eternity.

Helping Callie to her feet, you felt your sister's arm wrap around your waist, a comforting embrace amidst the chaos. Together, the three of them navigated through the abandoned building, searching for an exit. It took some time, but finally, Callie spotted a glimmer of light cutting through the darkness—a way out.

You felt a brief surge of relief, quickly snuffed out by the sudden emergence of danger. Three assailants descended upon Armando with lethal intent, their knives flashing in the dim light. Despite taking a few hits, Armando fought back with fierce determination. His movements were swift and calculated, deflecting blows and retaliating with precision.

Beside you, Callie clung to you in fear, her wide eyes darting between the unfolding violence and your uncertain face. Should you intervene? Part of you wanted to let justice play out, to see if these men would finally meet their comeuppance. But Callie's presence reminded you of innocence untouched by the darkness that surrounded Armando.

"Run!" Armando's command pierced through the chaos, directed at both you and Callie. Callie wasted no time, obeying without question as she sought safety. You hesitated for a moment longer, torn between curiosity and caution. In the end, the instinct to protect prevailed, and you guided Callie to a secluded spot, instructing her to hide and close her eyes until it was safe.

Returning to the fray, you joined Armando just as another assailant attempted a sneak attack. With swift reflexes, you seized the attacker by the neck, swiftly incapacitating him with a forceful chokehold. As he slumped unconscious, you brushed off the dirt and debris, refocusing on the ongoing struggle.

Armando had managed to evade most of their attacks and had already neutralized one of the attackers. But the sudden, deafening blast shattered the night, signaling the arrival of an unexpected adversary. A helicopter descended violently from above, crashing through the glass roof of the building. Smoke billowed, obscuring vision as its menacing blades sliced through the air with deadly intent.

Caught off guard, one of Armando's assailants faltered, his footing lost in the confusion. The helicopter's blades found their mark, hurling him away with a sickening thud.

"Let's go," Armando's urgent voice cut through the chaos, and he extended his hand towards you. Without hesitation, you grasped it tightly, knowing that in this moment, trusting him was your only option. He started to move in one direction, but you tugged gently on his hand, indicating the opposite direction. Confusion flickered across his face, silently questioning your choice.

"My sister," you explained quietly, nodding towards where you had left Callie. Understanding immediately, his expression softening, You hurried towards where Callie was hiding, Armando following your lead without protest.

When you reached Callie, you gently released Armando's hand and cupped your sister's face, relieved to find her unharmed but visibly shaken. Her eyes, wide with fear, met yours briefly before you focused on reassuring her.

"Let's get out of here, Callie," you murmured softly, helping her to her feet. Armando remained close by, a silent pillar of strength amidst the chaos. With Callie beside you, you navigated through the debris-strewn building, every step a cautious move towards safety.

The sound of sirens grew louder, their wail promising help and rescue drawing nearer by the moment. But as the cacophony echoed through the shattered building, Armando's presence beside you felt heavy with unspoken tension. The sirens, usually a beacon of hope, now cast a shadow of unease.

You glanced at Armando, catching the furrow of his brow and the distant look in his eyes. The sirens weren't a comfort to him; they were a haunting echo of the prison cell waiting for him when this was finished.

They had found themselves deep in the forest, the uncertainty of their surroundings providing a little more safety than the building they had just left.

Armando, who had been their steadfast protector through the chaos, now showed signs of weariness that had gone unnoticed in the heat of the escape. As he slowed to a stop and slumped against a nearby tree, it became painfully clear just how dire his situation was.

You had been laser-focused on guiding Callie to safety, shielding her from the danger that had threatened their lives moments before. Now, as you turned your attention to Armando, your heart sank at the sight of him clutching his shoulder, his face contorted with pain. The urgency of the escape had overshadowed his injuries, and guilt gnawed at you for not noticing sooner.

"Hey," you murmured softly, your voice laced with concern and regret. Crouching beside him, you carefully inspected the wound, your eyes tracing every line of pain etched across his features.

Callie hovered nearby, her own worry mirrored in her eyes as she watched silently.

With gentle hands, you lifted his hand to examine the injury. The sight made you wince; it was clear this was no ordinary cut or scrape. Blood seeped through torn fabric, evidence of the violence that had unfolded only moments ago.

His eyes followed your every movement, studying your reaction with a hint of amusement. Despite the pain etched on his face, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed your subtle grimace.

"You squeamish?" His voice, husky with pain yet laced with a hint of playful teasing, caught you off guard. His ability to crack a joke in such a dire situation surprised you, momentarily breaking the tension that hung heavily in the air.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. "That obvious?" you replied softly.

With practiced efficiency, you tore a strip of fabric from your shirt and began to wrap it tightly around his arm, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by a combination of urgency and careful precision, your focus unwavering despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Armando watched you work in silence, his eyes hooded with a mix of pain and something else—something you couldn't quite decipher. The forest around you seemed to fade into the background as you tended to him, the rustling leaves and distant sounds of wildlife a distant backdrop to the moment.

As you worked to stabilize his condition, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze upon you, the weight of his silent observation palpable. The atmosphere between you shifted subtly, a current of unspoken emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Armando's breathing was shallow, his complexion growing paler beneath the layer of sweat that glistened on his brow. You noticed the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the signs of light-headedness and erratic heartbeat becoming more apparent.

"Stay with me, Armando," you murmured softly, your voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty. Your fingers continued their careful work, applying pressure and adjusting the makeshift bandage as needed. Each touch was gentle yet purposeful.

The forest around you seemed to hold its breath as you worked, the rustling of leaves serving as a stark reminder of the isolation that surrounded you. But then, the snap of a branch shattered the fragile calm, jolting you back to the present.

Armando stirred beside you, a reflexive movement to rise, but you placed a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder, commanding Callie to keep him still. Instinct took over as you swiftly drew your gun from its holster, your training kicking in as you flicked off the safety and aimed towards the source of the sound.

Tension coiled in the air as seconds stretched into eternity, your senses heightened and focused on the approaching threat. Then, emerging from the shadows with an air of nonchalance that belied the danger of the situation, was Mike.

"Woah," Mike exclaimed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I've had way too many of those pointed at me today."

Relief flooded through you, dissipating the tension like a punctured balloon. You rolled your eyes at Mike's antics, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the moment. Slowly, you returned your gun to its holster.

"Nice to see you too, Mike," you replied, your voice laced with a mix of gratitude and amusement. The bond between you and Mike was one forged through shared dangers and trust, a connection that transcended the chaos that had brought the two of them together in the first place.

Callie, sensing the shift in atmosphere, dashed towards Mike and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I missed you too, kiddo," Mike chuckled warmly, ruffling Callie's hair affectionately. His gaze shifted beyond her, settling on Armando who now seemed to be regaining some color despite his injuries.

Mike wasted no time after his affectionate exchange with Callie. With a sense of urgency, he made his way to Armando's side, offering him a steadying hand and helping him to his feet. You followed closely behind, observing with a mix of relief and concern as Mike scanned Armando's body, his brow furrowed with worry.

"You alright, man?" Mike's voice was filled with genuine concern as he assessed Armando's condition. Armando managed a silent nod in response, his exhaustion evident in every line of his face and posture.

The moment of quiet reassurance was abruptly shattered by the distinct click of a gun being cocked. Instinctively, all four of you spun around, eyes scanning the shadows and underbrush that surrounded you. The forest, once serene and tranquil, now seemed to bristle with unseen threats.

Your hand instinctively went to your holster, fingers curling around the grip of your weapon. Mike's stance shifted subtly, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he positioned himself between you, Callie, and the direction of the ominous sound. Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharpening your senses and heightening your awareness.

"Who's there?" Mike's voice rang out, firm and commanding. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement or threat. Your grip tightened on your weapon, prepared for whatever might emerge from the shadows.

Minutes stretched into eternity before a figure finally emerged from the dense foliage.

The tension in the forest thickened to a suffocating level as my mother emerged from the shadows, a gun leveled directly at Armando. My initial shock at seeing her dissolved into confusion and concern as her serious expression betrayed no hint of recognition or relief.

"Mum?" I managed to utter, my voice wavering with a mix of emotions. I instinctively released my grip on my own gun, hopeful that her appearance meant salvation rather than further danger. But her unwavering aim at Armando shattered any illusions of safety.

My gaze followed hers to where Mike stood defensively in front of Armando, his posture protective yet tense. Callie's distress was palpable as she clung to Mike, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. You stood frozen, torn between the desire to protect Armando and the urge to comfort your mother.

Mike attempted to reason with her, his voice calm yet urgent, but the anger and betrayal radiating from my mother were unmistakable. It was clear that words alone would not sway her resolve. As the standoff intensified, I knew there was only one path forward.

With hesitant steps, you moved to stand between your mother and the trio —Mike, Armando, and Callie. Your hand stretched out in a silent plea, a gesture laden with unspoken desperation and determination.

"Mum, please," You implored softly, my voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a plea for reason. "Put the gun down."

My mother's gaze flickered between me and the men behind me, emotions warring within her. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of rustling leaves and sirens fading into insignificance. 

"Move away from him," your mother commanded, placing emphasis on every word, gripping her gun tightly. "And take your sister with you."

Callie ran towards you and with a burst of bravery, challenged her mother. "He saved my life," she let out, looking between Armando who was watching the scene unfold, unsure of his fate and her mother who stood rock solid. 

"He saved our lives," you joined in, turning to Armando with a look of determination.

For a moment that stretched agonizingly, she hesitated. The gun trembled imperceptibly in her grip, her resolve faltering under the weight of you and your sisters plea and the truth that stood before her. 

Finally, with a shuddering exhale, she lowered the gun. With the gun lowered, the confrontation over, you should be happy, and yet a new wave of unease washed over you. Your mother's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Go, before I change my mind," she finally uttered, her voice strained but resolute. Callie wasted no time, rushing to envelop your mother in a tight, reassuring hug. You stood apart, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, wondering if you should go to your mother and Callie, or help Mike and Armando.

Turning away from the tender moment between mother and daughter, you approached Armando and Mike at the edge of the dock. Together, you helped guide Armando onto the boat, Mike offering last-minute fatherly advice that echoed softly against the backdrop of the lapping waves.

Watching them, you couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for Mike—a man who had spent so little time with his son now bidding him farewell under such dire circumstances. It was a scene that tugged at your heartstrings and made you glance away, the ache in your chest growing more palpable by the second.

Instinctively, you reached for your necklace, fingers searching for the familiar weight against your skin. Panic fluttered as your touch met empty space. Looking down, you realized with a sinking feeling that the chain must have snapped during the chaos. It was a simple necklace, a gift from Callie—a token of your bond, adorned with the initial of your first name.

Before the full weight of loss could settle in, a voice cut through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the boat now drifting further into the horizon. Armando's smirk was unmistakable as he held up the shimmering necklace in his hand.

"Thanks for the necklace," he called out, his tone carrying a mix of mockery and triumph. "Until next time cariño."

The engine roared to life, drowning out everything around it as Armando steered the boat away, disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

"Callie is going to kill me."

the request:: Y/n attend Armando wounded as they was against the tree. Y/n were much more hurt than him didn't tell anyone your breathing was heavy but well y/n didn't care, he was the only thing that mattered. She stopped her mother from killing him.

[bloodyjuls-blog]

Im gonna fight for both of us

P4

So here we go with part 4, sorry it takes me too long but I'm working and hate work haha...

When Alexia entered the hospital she had no idea what she would find there, in one hand, she could find y/n awake but with some tiny injuries (it was what she wished) but what she found was a nurse informing her that they needed someone to give consent to perform an emergency surgery because y/n's accident is a serious life threatening emergency and Alexia knew well, the only person who could do that was your sister, she had the obligation to call her and inform her, she didn't bother to call your parents because she knew that you were not the most beloved daughter in that family, moreover, she knew that they wouldn't even miss you if you died, because she heard many conversations with them in which they clearly told you that you were a failure.

While Lilah, your sister, gave the authorization over the phone, the doctors explained to Alexia what had happened to y/n. First, when they arrived at the hospital y/n went into cardiac arrest due to the impact, then doing a general sweep they found cervical and spinal injuries that compromise her mobility, hence the emergency surgery. What worries them the most is the injury of her brain, apparently it has a severe inflammation and they are concerned that when she wakes up (if she does) she will have compromised her cognitive functions such as speaking, moving, remembering things, most likely she will have memory loss.

When her sister arrived at the hospital she was furious, how was it possible that y/n was drinking again and doing these things as irresponsible. Alexia got angry and said a few things to her.

"Look, I don't think that looking for blames is the solution, what I think is that we should support each other without blaming in favor of y/n not dying, because I swear that if she dies I am going with her, you don't understand the things she was going through, and being honest neither did I, and if looking for blames then blame me because I was the one insisting" Alexia said. "Insist on what, what did you say Alexia" says y/n's sister "I insisted so much on the idea of starting a family, having children, that without those things I couldn't continue with her, that all this time was lost, but I swear it's not like that, it hurts me a lot to know that probably the only thing she heard from me was that while she's always being the loveliest person she is told me that for her the family was me and she didn't need children while she was with me, you don't know how much I regret it." Says Alexia crying and Lilah just approached and hugged her. At the end of the day their relationship is very close. "Ale calm down a little and come let's sit down, I think I understand why y/n is like this with the family thing and maybe when y/n wakes up it will kill me because it's something she didn't want you to know" lilah says calmly. They settled into the waiting room chairs.

"Since she was very little, my sister has always been the black sheep, the daughter that nobody wanted, the girl that when she had the opportunity to left home she did and never came back, you know Alexia when my sister left I was very sad but as an older sister I always saw the mistreatment and never said anything, she stopped going to so many events, so many Christmas reunions, so many birthdays or things like that because she simply knew that they didn't want her, they didn't show it love of support, the only thing that accompanied her in her gray days and well not so gray, was her bottle of whiskey, what can you ask from a teenager who has social pressure for what she does and no support or family that can tuck her in and tell her that everything will be okay" says the sister between soft tears. "I didn't know that, I thought that since she was also getting along with you..." Ale said remembering the phone calls from your parents.

"Of course Ale, you more than anyone knows that she is not one of those people who scream her problems and plead for help, she didn't want you to see her as something weird, that's why she gets along so well with your family, she found love in you, to feel loved, tucked in by someone, valued, no matter what and luckily your family is just like you, if you see the relationship my parents have with me and have with her you would surely get angry because you and I know what is y/n and how important it is to have her in our lives, Ale I'm not going to lie to you, a while ago I also thought that my sister wanted to be a mother because you know mate, look at how she treats the children, they have a very special relationship, very nice, she is a pure soul, but all her life she has seen examples of how not to be parents, how my mother ignored her and her things, Alexia the fact that my parents are not here is not new, when that 17 year old girl in her peak career broke her cruciate ligament, nobody was there for her, not even to give her a bottle of water, and because of that and more things is that y/n is super strong and every thing she sets in her mind to do she achieves it. For many years it was just her against the world and she has lived many blows without saying a word, so if she gets out of here you will understand that it will be very difficult, she will need a lot of support because according to what I have been told, her injuries are serious, probably the only thing that keeps her alive is football and she won't can do that anymore" says Lilah calmer. "I swear Lilah when y/n gets out of here things will be different, I would have liked to have this same talk but with her and avoid this bump in our road but life gives some people a lot and others very little, I swear I will be in her way as long as she lets me, that girl deserves nothing but good things and I believe that all the people she has given her love have let her down in a certain way, but just like you, I also want to do well, did you know that at home I have the ring to propose to her? I swear that without it I can't live" says Alexia more calm and confident. "I'm glad to hear that Ale, you two do each other good, please don't lose that, you're all would be miserable for life and that's not what you're all deserve." Lilah said as she gave Alexia a hug.

Hours later

"Relatives of y/n y/l" says the receptionist on the OR floor. "We are" say Lilah and Alexia at the same time. "The doctor is cleaning up but he's on his way here to report his relative" says the girl stoically. "Thank you very much" they both say in unison.

Once in the study room with the doctor....

"Well, I must say that it was a very complicated surgery because we found internal injuries that we couldn't see in the x-ray and that compromised her health, I am not lying when I say that she went into cardiac arrest at least three times and that worries us a lot because it means that her heart is weak. About her cervical injuries I am afraid that only when she wakes up we will be able to know if she has sensitivity in her legs and if she will be able to walk again, but I must admit that because of the blows her spinal cord has been affected, I want to be very realistic with you, if we manage to have a satisfactory recovery it will be very difficult for her to return to her profession, because the high impact can cause definitive injuries, now my colleagues are monitoring her brain signals because in the resonance we saw very few but we can guarantee that there is no brain death, but any sequels will be determined once she wakes up, at the moment she is not in coma but she was not awake either, we have implemented a method of sedation a little strong but I insist she is not in coma, so now later when the entrance to her relatives is authorized you're all can talk to her, in this state she can listen hope so. Of course, the view that you are going to find is very strong, because she is connected to many tubes and intravenous lines, also her external injuries are a little strong and her foot has an external fixator because there was a fracture of the tibia and fibula". Says the doctor super calm but forceful.

"thank you very much doctor, the fact that she is still alive is because of your effort, let's hope that the evolution is positive, sure it is" says Lilah calm and Alexia super scared because she doesn't understand anything. "Well Ale, y/n is not well and there are strong changes coming in her life and the only thing we have left to do is be by her side to make it as bearable as possible, I am not so much worried about her physical injuries but mental then we must make sure that when she gets out of here she gets psychological attention, and have faith that she will get out of this because she is a super strong person, she always has been and this will be just a very fat bump for her, are you ready to see her" Lilah says optimistic. "I don't know, I just know that if I will always be even if she doesn't want me to, it will be hard for me to see her like this but that's okay" Alexia says forcefully. Alexia's phone starts ringing, it's Ana and Leah on joint call.

"Hi girls."

"Hi Alexia, what happened to y/n, did you find her" says Ana worried.

"Girls, y/n was involved in an accident and it's serious" says Alexia with her voice cracking remembering the anguish experienced a few hours ago.

"How???? What do you mean accident and serious????, my goodness" says Leah in dismay.

"Yes girls, apparently her car overturned at high speed on Tibidabo and her injuries are serious, she probably won't be able to play football anymore" "if you want to come I'm sure y/n would really appreciate it" says Ale sadly.

"I'm already looking at flights to Barcelona, I just can't believe it, what a downer girls, I'm so sad" says Leah in tears.

"Ale tells me which hospital you are, I'm on my way" says Ana in a hurry.

"We are in the one near Tibidabo" "now I'm sending you the location, I'm going to hang up, I'm going to go in to see my baby" and Alexia hung up.

Before entering the room Alexia calls the team managers to discuss what happened and they tell her not to worry that everything is going to be fine and that she can take all the time in the world to be with y/n.

Lilah takes Alexia's hand and asks her if she is ready to go in to which Ale nods not so sure....

When they enter the first thing they see is y/n lying on the bed with many tubes everywhere, one coming out of her mouth, IV in her arms, one in her leg and the fixator in her ankle adding the bandage on her head (because nothing can be seen from her spine but that's where her surgery was) a tube coming out of her side, Alexia's heart breaks in little pieces to see her like this, the love of her life lying on a bed fighting for her life....

"Ale, talk to her and hold her hand, so she could feel you are here, with her, while I go make some calls" "Ok" alexia says.

"Hello my love, I know that the last time I spoke to you I didn't say very nice things but I want you to know that they're not true, I was very angry with you, it is that you are a stubborn honey, why don't you tell me your things, my life you are going to be very well. You are going to recover and although everything will be very different I am going to be with your sister and you all the way, you are going to be well, healthy, strong and laughing at life as always, I am sad to see you like this, I don't like to see that you are having a bad time, I only ask you to fight and stay here with me, don't go without me, I love you so much, all the girls are worried, even Leah is coming from London later and Ana is on her way, I'm sure that when they see me they will want to tear my head off for being stubborn, and you should know that I don't mind not having children but as long as I have you, nothing happens. .. We will buy the little house on the beach that we want so much and we will be very happy my love, I cannot do without you, you are my life, you have always been my life, I love you, very much and I will not leave here and go home without you. I love you too much, you can't imagine how much..." Alexia says through tears as she comes over and gives you a little kiss on your uninjured cheek. She arranges the chair next to you and doesn't let go of your hand, trying to give you some human warmth in that cold room. And she falls asleep for a while to the sound of the monitors lulling her to sleep.

[scar-lie]

No One's Savior [Natasha]

Summary : Life is cruel, God gives you the life you wonder if you deserve, a life were you have no one and have to stand up by your own feet

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Being tortured, blood, death, crying

World Count : 2,777

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Please, Nat, let's go play around,” you beg her while following her down the stairs. Their mom adopted you a year ago, seeing you in the street trying to make amends to feed yourself and survive another day in the street.

“Your mom said we could play or bike around, please? ”You give her puppy eyes that you know she can't say no to.

"Fine, fine,” she groans, but you jump on happiness and quickly drag her to the garage to get yours and her bike around the neighborhood.

You smile while biking side by side; you never imagine your life will be like this. I mean, you grow up on the street with no one, stealing people’s food, money, clothes, or anything else you can use to exchange for some money.

You were 6 years old when you learned how to steal things, but when you reach the age of 9, you steal something from Melina, but she catches you. She's hesitant at first to get you arrested or put you in the system, but you beg her to let you go, and that's when she decided to adopt you right there and then, and now it's been a year since that day.

Sure, you try to run away after a few days of staying with them, but after a few days away from them, you realize that it's much better to live with them and their strict rules, and you push yourself to adapt to their lifestyle. 

At first, Melina's daughters disagree, but with the command of their father, they don't have a choice but to accept it, so they try to get to know you until they accept you and become friends with them.

Even though Melina didn't get the papers for you to be their legal daughter by law, they still treat you like family, and you're happy to be a part of their family.

But Yelena’s sister, Natalia, is the one who makes you stay with them; she's kind, caring, and looking out for you, even if she tries to hide it.

She also catches your eyes, which makes you want to look at those emerald eyes forever. It's mesmerizing you where you sometimes zone out.

But the happy life quickly washed away when Melina and Alexei took the three of you to the Red Room. You thought it would be fine, but once they took you away, you knew that the happy life you had was now over.

“I don't want to be here, Nat,” you whisper, whimpering in the middle of the night, where only you and Nat are awake. Yelena, beside your bed, is sound asleep.

“It's ok, shh,” Nat whispers to you and reaches out to touch your face and wipe your tears. She wants to hug you and cradle you, but the handcuffs on her right hand are preventing her from doing it.

“We will get out, I promise. I’ll get you out of here. Now stop crying,” she whispered, and you nodded and made yourself comfortable.

“Promise? ”She nodded, smiling at you while she squeezed your hand.

“I promise,” she whispers, then kisses the back of your hand.

You sigh in relief, finding a safe place and comfort in the Red Room after everything you've been through for over 9 years. She still provides you comfort and a safe place, and you already fall for her, and so does she. Even though she won't admit it, she still loves you deep inside.

As long as she's here with you, you'll be okay at the end of the day. Even if your foot will bleed again from ballet, you killed someone, or they give you a punishment, you know you will be okay, and you've been holding on to Nat’s promise over the years that someday you three will be free.

But again, you should have learned the first time that not everything will stay the way it is and that promises—as someone says—are meant to be broken, and they are right.

Promise really meant to be broken, like how Natalia broke hers, how she just left you behind those bars, locked up, begging her to let you come with her.

"Natalia, please don't…don't leave me here.” You begged her when she turned around to leave this place and start her new life.

"Nat, please, I don't want to be here anymore. Please let me come with you, please.” You cry out for her, so she turns around again and puts her hands on your cheeks while she tries not to cry like you, and she smiles at you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise... I will be back, ok? ”She whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“No, no, please, Nat.” You grip her wrist, not letting her go, but she forces herself to get her wrist back and turns around.

“NAT NO…PLEASE….YOU PROMISED…NATALIA,” you scream, bagging the metal bars and watching her walk away from your sight until she's gone, so you drop on your knees and cry to yourself.

You just wish that you didn't make a little mistake on your ballet so you wouldn't be here in this cell alone, that maybe you're now with Natasha getting out of here.

But you still hold on to another promise, the promise she didn't—again—fulfill, and you're so stupid to believe that she will come back for you.

If you have a thought past in the RedRoom, now your life in there is hell. Since Natalia escaped, they put more security, they doubled the training, and you—your life has become hell.

Why? Since she escaped, you've become the target of everyone. When you were sleeping, they tried to suffocate you. Since the handcuffs are now gone, they can do whatever they want.

They even beat you up, and for the high staff of the Red Room, gosh, they also give you a hard time. They believe that you know the whereabouts of Natalia, so they tortured you.

Drown you, beat you up, hand you up with your hands tied up on your back, and do everything they can to break you, but since you didn't say anything, they turned you into one of the greatest black widows on your program.

And since then, you hate Natalia; you blame her for everything that had happened to you, so you become, though, a cold-hearted person and a killer machine. Dreykov wants

“Uhuh…you're ready! ”He smirked, standing on his chair behind his long table, where you were standing in front of him, emotionless. 

“You've become the greatest widow I can imagine! ”He then lights up his tobacco and goes around his table and to your back, whispering in your ear.

“One of my pride and joy,” he giggled to himself, then went in front of you and sat on his table. 

“What do you think about a mission—a highly top mission, huh? ”He then took a folder, looking inside to see if it's the file he's talking about.

“I’m gladly accepting whatever mission needs to be done, sir,” you said in monotone, so he gave you the folder, and you took it.

“That's what I wanted about you; no second guessing,” he says, smirking and urging you to open up and take a look at the mission he's given you.

When you read what it is, your heart stops for a few seconds, a feeling you didn't know you would be feeling again, but thanks to the training you had, you cover it up pretty well, and then you close the folder and look at Dreykov.

“I will not let you down, sir.” 

“That's what I wanted to do here; no, go and prepare.” With that, you get out of his office and go get the things you need for the mission, to kill Natalia.

“Update to everybody? ”Steve said on the coms while he brought down four guards of the Red Room.

“Clint, east wing”

“Tony, east sky.”

“Thor, at the Helipad.”

“Lower ground in the north, Wanda.”

“Top south, Clint.”

Everybody took their update, but Nat and Steve's hearing nothing makes him worried about the redhead—not that he didn't trust her and her abilities, but still, that's his teammates in the field, fighting. 

“Nat, update? ”He reminded her, and after a few minutes, she replied.

"Underground.” Then Steve nodded to himself and went back to fighting the enemy.

“Augh! ”Natasha then coughs up the dust when she tries to open the locked gate of one of the cells in the underground. 

“I think there's no one here,” she mumbles to herself, and when she turns around and walks a few steps to go back up, there's a sound, coming to the end of the hallway, a cough. It's not audible since she's far from the source, but she's a spy, and her senses are highly activated every time.

So she quickly took her gun out, pointed to the hallway in case someone suddenly jumped on her, and slowly and carefully walked towards the sound.

Then she pointed her gun inside when she finally got to the last cell at the end of the hallway, seeing a woman tied up in the chair, blood and deep, superficial wounds littering all over her body.

She quickly put her gun down and slowly but surely walked closer, but once she's close enough to see her body up close, she freezes, seeing the birthmark on her shoulder. 

“Y/N? ”You then scoff, recognizing her voice—the same voice you've despise the most, the same voice you wanted to get revenge on.

"Natalia,” you look up at her eyes—the same eyes you've adored for years, the same eyes that gave you comfort and a safe place before, but now? Now all you see and feel is her broken promises and the betrayal she has done.

When you look into those eyes for the past few months, all you see is you being tortured over and over again. You wanted her to feel the same way you felt.

You wanted to kill her with your bare hands, but every time you tried to, she dodged it. She always fought back. She will always be greater than you.

That's why you're here now, bleeding to death because you can't kill her, so Dreykov chooses to slowly kill you, making sure to make you feel how unworthy and a failure you are that you couldn't kill the black widow herself.

“What are you waiting for, huh? ...You can now kill me,” you snarl at her. Your left eye is blurry because of the swelling and bruise, and your eyes are bleeding, making it harder to open your eye.

“No, don't say that…” Natasha quickly put her gun to her holster and kneeled in front of you, inspecting every inch of your body, making her shudder in horror.

“What have they done to you? ”She looks up at your eyes; her eyes are glistening with tears, not wanting to cry in front of you, but once you see the pity in her eyes, you scoff.

“Don’t act like you don't like what you're seeing.” You then cough up blood, making you feel even weaker than before.

“Wh-what? What are you talking about? ”She's worried that seeing coughing up blood makes her blood run cold.

“It breaks me seeing you like this,” she then proceeds to untie you while, deep inside her, she's panicking.

“You don't have to pretend like you fucking care! ”You weakly growl, getting angry at the moment.

“I do, I do care, my love, I do,” she firmly said, looking up at you. Her eyes say it all, and now tears run down her cheek, but you don't have anything in you to believe her, maybe because you already learned your lesson and don't want to be fooled once again.

“Really? Then why did you leave me here? Huh? ”Natasha, swallow the lump on her throat and go back, untying you to avoid the question.

“Why didn't you come back like you promised? ”And since your body weight is all forward, Natasha caught you when your limp body got freed from the restraint.

“I waited for you, like a fucking dog waiting for their master to come back! You betrayed me! ”She then put you down, taking you on her lap.

“And don't you fucking dare call me'my love'? I’m not the same person you once knew! ”You spat; you wanted to push her or get out of her arm—the same arms that calm you down—but now it feels like burning.

“Shhh…. You'll be OK. I promise. I’m here now…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sniffs and wipes away her tears while she caresses your cheek, and then again you cough more blood.

“No, you're not fucking sorry, and we both know your promise meant nothing! If it's not, you should have gotten me out of here the first time, like you promised! ”She hugged you while tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry,” she keeps chanting while your breathing is shallow and you're slowly losing consciousness, and Natasha notices it.

“No, Y/N, don't close your eyes... Please...” She quickly taps her intercoms to send someone to her.

“Wanda, Tony, Steve, anybody, I need back up ASAP.” She then keeps tapping your cheeks to keep you awake.

“Hang on, my love... You're going to be okay; just keep your eyes open, please. I'm not going to leave you. Again, just please...keep your eyes open,” she whispered, beg caressing your cheek like she did before.

“You know that I fucking hate you?”She gasped, hearing it from your own mouth.

“I fucking want to hurt you…..I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I want to make you feel what they have done to me! ”You look up at her eyes, tears streaming down both sides of your faces.

“Because you fucking left me here alone! ....I begged you…I called out for you. I even waited for you to come back…but you never came…you didn't fulfill your promises. Instead, you turned your back on me. You left and left me here alone, suffering.” You put your hand on top of her cheek and squeezed it the best you could.

“I was scared, Natalia. I’m scared, and you're not there anymore…I’m always scared” You put all of your strength on your hand to take her hand, move it to your lips, kiss her palm, and put it back on your cheek, squeezing it.

“I know… I know, and I’m sorry, my love….I’m sorry I left you behind….I’m sorry. I didn't mean to leave you, I didn't mean to.” She cries out, and you smile at her, a genuine smile you never did for over a year, but Natasha quickly panics when you close your eyes and your hand drops.

“No…no no no…please dekta…open your eyes…please I’m begging you…open your eyes” she tried…she tried to wake you up but you didn't show any sign of waking up, and now every second the warmth of your body is fading and thinking of them makes her wanna die too, instead she hugged and rocked you back and forth while she cried, savoring the warmth of your body that she knows she'll never feel again.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers, putting her cheek on yours, and that's when Wanda barges into the room, worried.

“Nat? ”Wanda stopped on her track, hearing and seeing Nat cry.

“What happened? ”She slowly walks towards her and keeps a distance to give Natasha some space.

It broke Wanda seeing her like this; she knows her as a tough, wise, and smart woman who never shows any weaknesses or lowers her ground, but now that Wanda sees her at her lowest, it breaks her.

“She's gone,” Natasha chokes at her own words. It hurts to admit it and get it out of her own mouth that you're gone. She knows she has to accept it whether she likes it or not

A.N : guys I made a video of this one shot, anyone wants to see it?

[thepenultimateword]

Your stuff is so good!! You should write a villain x weapon designer civilian snippet :0

Thank you, thank you, friend! Also, I’m loving the idea of that dynamic, so here you go!

CW: Weapons, unconsciousness, knockout gas

...

“Move and I’ll blow your head off.”

The ridges on the gun's metal barrel dug sharply into Civilian's hand, but they managed to keep their aim and voice steady as they pointed both at the villain in front of them. The criminal was currently backed up against the train doors, hands in the air, gas mask dangling nonchalantly off two fingers.

The villain raised their brow. "What are you some sort of hero?"

"No talking."

"I've never seen you before. I thought I'd met all of the agency's sentinals in white. Though you're not exactly dressed for the position. Maybe you're not--"

"I said no talking!" Civilian barked, taking a step forward and jerking the gun forward menacingly.

"Ok! Ok!" Villain said. They raised their hands higher. “Touch-y.”

On any other day, Civilian would have been like the other passengers, huddled up together in the far corners of the train or pressed back tight in their seats, as if they could disappear by mere force of will. But today, Civilian had been tasked with transporting their newest prototype to the agency for a demonstration. An electro-pulse gun that they’d tested on no less than five watermelons the night before. They were well acquainted with the damage it could do. They’d ripped the thing from its protective case without even thinking.

“I’ve already alerted the heroes to your location,” Civilian said. “So there’s no point in fighting anymore. Stay still until the next station and you’ll be arrested in one piece.”

“You alerted the heroes?” The villain raised both brows high. “How? I jammed the cell signals over the next twenty miles. Unless…” They grinned. “You have some other form of contact. You do work for the agency, don’t you?”

“Have you listened to a thing I've said? No more questions!"

“You’re the one who keeps chatting, darling. What? Nervous?”

Yes. And no. Their body was alight with adrenaline, every nerve a buzzing, quivering charge, and yet at the same time, they were surreally confident, gut numb and mind blank.

Villain pushed lightly off the doors with their elbows, taking a small, probing step forward. “Would you even really shoot?”

“You really want to try me?"

“You heroes make a lot of talk but not much action. What, don’t you have a code? 'Do no harm' or something like that? Besides, you're so cute." Another step forward. "I don't think you've ever been in a fight, let alone killed someone, so why don't you just--"

Civilian aimed the gun at the ceiling and squeezed the trigger. The energy projectile punched through the metal with ear-splitting BANG! The passengers shrieked. Villain knocked back against the doors with a thud.

The wind whistled loudly overhead as the air whooshed over the new gap in the roof, and after that shot, their ears might as well have been stuffed full of cotton, but even if they couldn't quite measure their own volume, they fixed the gun back on Villain's head and drove their point home.

“I’m really trying not to traumatize all these lovely people with the visual of your head exploding, and honestly, I’d really rather not kill you. But if you press me…if you doubt me, you’ll be dead faster than you can question me again.”

Villain gripped their mask abit tighter but their expression remained smooth and their posture loose. They whistled a long low note. “You’re something else, gunslinger. When this is all over, feel free to look me up anytime.”

“Fortunately, I don’t frequent prisons.”

“Me neither." Villain flashed a broader grin, full of white teeth and pocked with a dimple on one side. "Looks like we have something in common.”

The train screeched, the deceleration sending everyone lurching a bit to the right. In that exact moment, when Civilian's gun swayed a few centimeters off target, the villain's free hand shot to their belt.

"Hey!" Civilian shouted, stumbling a little as the train came to a complete stop. Villain tossed something small and round to the floor. Ping! Ping! It bounced twice, rolled a little into the aisle, and exploded in a cloud of cool fog. No not fog. Gas.

Civilian immediately turned their face into their shoulder, tipping the gun even further off target. The whole train car shrieked while Villain calmly pulled the gas mask over their head, obscuring the beginnings of an infuriating grin. Civilian opened their mouth to launch another threat but immediately choked on the sickly sweet gas. It raised around them so rapidly, they could barely see the nose of the weapon let alone, Villain. Not to mention...everything was getting sorta...slanty...

"S-sleepin'gas?" they slurred.

"I was never here to harm any of you." Villain's muffled voice seemed to come from all directions, echoey and distorted.

Civilian fell to one knee. Was it normal to feel like their head was buzzing?

"You made a really cute gunslinger, though. Like a western sheriff. Or an outlaw. Bet you'd be good in a holdup."

The train doors hissed as they opened. As some of the gas slipped free, they caught a glimpse of the Villain's shoulder as they darted out onto the platform.

The gun suddenly felt so heavy in their arms but they forced it up anyway. The barrel tipped to and fro, and their finger trembled on the trigger. They wanted to risk a blind shot, but there could be dozens of people standing outside on that platform. If they hit anyone else...

Their vision blurred, then blackened. They barely managed to set the gun down on the metal floor before passing out over top of it.

When they awoke, they were in the agency medical wing. They recognized it immediately by its obnoxious orange bedsheets and, well, Keith. Sort of hard to miss a giant, shining man in hero-white scrubs.

Civilian slowly pushed themselves upright. Their head throbbed with the movement, and they let out a rogue groan.

Keith turned away from the figure two beds down, covered from head to toe in bruises and now enveloped in their own cocoon of white luminescence.

"Civilian!" Keith beamed, light glimmering off his teeth. "You've regained consciousness! Any pain?"

Civilian rubbed the bridge of their nose. "Just my head... Was I hurt?"

"Not necessarily." Keith pressed both large hands to the sides of Civilian's skull. Civilian closed their eyes as they healer's glow wrapped around their head. Warmth trickled over their face and under their skin, ebbing the pain away little by little. "Just a very large dose of some sort of gaseous anesthesia. Luckily, there have been no long-term consequences so far. The ventilation created by the hole in the roof probably lessened some of the potency. Your handiwork?"

The events on the train rushed back all at once. They pulled out of Keith's grasp.

"Did we get them?" They looked rapidly around their bedside. "Where's my pulse gun?"

Keith stepped back and leaned against the empty bed beside Civilian's. "The gun is in weapons testing, I think."

"And the villain?"

"No. They escaped. We arrived just moments too late before they must have blended with the crowd.

Civlian threw themself back against their pillows with a heavy sigh. "Great."

"You still helped. You stopped Villain from completing whatever they originally planned and provided many citizens with immediate medical treatment by calling us in."

"Oh yeeeeah, I'm sure the whole team was just dazzled by my competence and quick-thinking. Especially when I couldn't hold Villain in place on anything but a moving train."

Keith frowned. "You don't need the title to be a hero."

"Thanks, Keith, that's really nice and heartfelt, and I'm sure you believe it, but seeing how you do have the title, and no one in power here thinks the same, it doesn't really mean that much to me."

Keith frowned but luckily didn't argue any further. Civilian knew they were being rude, but they really didn't need anyone else telling them that they were special the way they were. That they could do good their own way. That being a hero didn't even matter that much. It mattered a whole lot to them. And now they'd practically proven the entire agency right.

"What were they even doing on that train?"

"Robbery?" Keith shrugged. "Knock out the passengers and loot all their valuables."

"Alone?" Civilian traced the lines of the ceiling panels with their eyes. "They didn't even have a bag. How much could they have gathered if they planned on knocking out an entire train?"

"We don't know they were alone. They could have easily had accomplices posing as civilians throughout the train."

"True... Does the agency have a file on them? Tall, skinny, long black coat, annoyingly perfect eyebrows. Didn't show a power."

"I could look...but I'm not supposed to share that sort of info outside of other heroes..."

"Come on! What was that whole, 'you don't need a title' nonsense?"

"It wasn't nonsense! You are a hero! Just...not a legally sanctioned one."

Civilian sat back up and lowered their voice. "Come on, Keith. I'm not going to do anything; I'm just curious. You don't even have to give me the whole file. Just take a couple pictures of anything you think might also be on the news."

Keith grimaced.

"Please? I was so close today. So close to being what I always planned to be... Just let me chase that high a little longer. Then I'll go back to the weapons lab and never mention it again. Promise."

Keith inhaled a long breath, letting it out in a loud, irritated sigh. "Ok, fine. But don't bring it up to anyone. Ever. And I'm only giving you the first page."

Civilian's insides sank a little; they weren't sure what a first page of a villain file looked like, but they could assume it wasn't much. But they couldn't really be picky, so... "That's fine. Just the first page is perfect."

Keith looked like they had hoped that detail would deter them, but he continued on. "It might take awhile. I'm a hero, but I'm a healer, so no one is expecting me to march into the files room and request info on villains."

"That's ok, I can be patient. I work in weapons, remember? That's like the ultimate test in being patient."

Keith slid a hand over his face. "Ok. I'm also going to need more detail than 'annoyingly perfect eyebrows.'"

[theygotlost]

good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming. 

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent]. 

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language]  and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW). 

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

[adnauseum11]

Point of Contact (John Price x Reader)

John reaches out to Kate for a favour.

850 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

It is the absolute crack of dawn when Kate gets the call she’s been expecting for the last few hours. She’s up, mainlining coffee and checking her emails relentlessly when her cell vibrates across the desk.

“John?”

“Kate.”

Kate’s initial impression is that John sounds tired. Immediately she wonders if she’ll get the full story from him or have to rely on Gaz’ version.

“Gaz said you were going to have a name for me to run? What’s happened?” Her concern is unmistakable down the line.

Of course, Kyle told her what happened, but she wants to hear it from John himself. Their past squabble is sidelined immediately without discussion. John sighs and Kate can picture her friend pacing and pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Her place got broken in to yesterday. Guy didn’t touch obvious jewellery, or cash, seemed to be looking for information. Not sure what type of information or to what end just yet. Dislocated his shoulder before the police picked him up so he’ll be with medical for a little bit. Could be something, could be nothing. I’m hoping we can use their detour through medical to do a little information gathering of our own.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a B&E gone bad, John?” Kate tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Worst B&E I’ve ever seen if that’s the case. Man was empty handed after a sizable head start. Odd time of day too, right when people are getting home from work.”

“You think he meant to do more than rob her?”

“Don’t know. Scared the hell out of her at the least. But he wasn’t doing any talking and I’m no good to her arrested so I didn’t force the issue. He’s booked on B&E but he didn’t technically steal anything. He’ll get a slap on the wrist at best. Never hated being a fucking civilian more in my life.”

Kate can hear the frustration in his voice. For a man like John, used to making things happen and getting answers by any means necessary, being beholden to the laws and skills of the local police force was particularly infuriating.

“What’s the name?”

John gives her the name from the police report, spelling it out for her.

“I’ll owe you if we can get this put to rest sooner than later. I’m hoping it’s nothing and just some tweaker, her place isn’t in the best part of town but something’s just not sitting right for me. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts where there’s nothing, but I want to be sure.”

“You really should move her out of there John, either way.” Kate can’t help but prod him about it, finding it out of character for John to be lax about security.

“You think I’m unaware? I thought I was going to have to drag her out of there last night. I’m going to have to pick my moment with that topic.” John’s cranky, making Kate smile to herself.

“At least it sounds like you know what you’re up against.”

John’s huff of amusement is weak, even over the staticky line.

“This favour, would it have limitations?”

Kate switches topics easily, only half teasing. She isn’t above making her own life easier down the road, even if it temporarily complicates John’s. That give and take has been a natural part of their friendship for years.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.” John defers, and Laswell decides to take pity on the man and let him get away with it for the moment.

“Gaz said she seemed nice. When do I get an introduction?” Kate tacitly accepts the terms of his offer, moving on to personal interest.

“After I get some answers. We’ll have dinner, my treat.” John sweetens the deal further, a peace offering for their last interaction.

“Alright, I’m going to hold you to that. It’s not every day I get the chance to meet someone who can order a Captain around in his own home.”

Kate can’t help taking a swipe at the man, Gaz’ report including just as much detail on the state of John and his woman as anything else to Kate’s delight.

“Unbelievable, fucking Gaz, listen she was not having a good time of it yesterday–“

John’s trying to explain but Kate cuts him off before he can get very far.

“Knowing you, I’m sure not. I’m also sure that after you were asked to keep it down so she could sleep, you did, you big softie. Certainly, you two left an impression on Kyle.”

Kate’s smile bleeds through the line and the corner of John’s mouth quirks up finally at her gentle teasing despite his concern over how yesterday shook out.

“Bloody hell. Don’t make me regret agreeing to dinner, Kate.” He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll update you after I do some digging John, keep your phone handy.”

"Thanks, Laswell."

John's gratitude is palpable. The knot of tension in his chest relaxes infinitesimally, and he disconnects the call and leaves the kitchen to rejoin you, still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 2: Her Touch

Summary: Wednesday did not think she would ever attend someone's wedding in her life, but here she was.

Warnings: EmotionallyConfusedWednesday! Fluff! WednesdayKnockingDownADoctor???

Previous Chapter Masterlist

“Remind me, are you the one who’s insane, or is it the person we’re kidnapping?” You let out a half-laugh, though it was more nervous than amused. “Neither of us is crazy. No one really is, if you think about it. They’re just... a little different from what society considers ‘normal.' " your eyes fixed on Wednesday as if expecting her to hang onto your every word. “Anyway, here is the plan. There isn't much CCTV there, the security sucks, so won't be much problem for you to get in. From 2 to 3 p.m., the patients are always gathered in one of the rooms to watch movies. Our kidnapee is gonna be there.” Wednesday glanced at you, her expression unimpressed. "'Kidnapee'? That’s not even a real word." "Whatever, you get the point. She's always there at that time." Wednesday sighed, her patience already wearing thin. "What's her name?" You hesitated, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Never asked her name. She goes by Little Cupcake." Wednesday rolled her eyes. "Little Cupcake? What is she, some sort of code name enthusiast?" She stared at you, skeptical. "And what did she do to you?" You glanced out the window, your face suddenly serious. "I can't say that right now. But I will show you after we get her." Wednesday huffed, crossing her arms. "Ugh, why did I even agree to this?" She should have turned back at the quad, abandoned this absurd scheme before it went too far. But then again, her curiosity and the thrill of doing something reckless had already hooked her in.

The taxi pulled up in front of the asylum gate. You paid the driver, your movements quick and jittery. "Come on, We don't have much time." You hurried and Wednesday followed. Without a second thought, you ran toward the gate, attempting to climb it in a flurry of clumsy movements. Wednesday watched you struggle and rolled her eyes, how did you even manage to last this long with this iq? Once you managed to perch precariously at the top, you looked down at Wednesday. "Why are you still down there? Come on!" Wednesday sighed, rubbing her temple. She calmly walked to the gate and simply pushed it open. It creaked as it swung wide, and she stepped through without another word. “Oh,” you muttered, embarrassed as you climbed back down. “Right. The gate was unlocked.” "Try not to make this more of a circus than it already is," Wednesday said, her voice flat as ever.

Right outside the door, you turned to Wednesday with a determined look. “Come on, do your thing.” Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you. “What thing?” “You know,” you said, waving your hand vaguely. “Your thing.” “Be more specific,” Wednesday deadpanned. “Come on, you know how you, like, detach your hand and send it off to do stuff for you? Like Mr. Potato Head.” Wednesday’s brow furrowed deeply, her expression darkening. “Detach my hand? Are you talking about Thing?” You blinked, genuinely confused. “Isn’t that... you?” I think it's cool. You know, that… hand thing.” With an exasperated groan, Wednesday shook her head. “Thing is sentient. He’s not a part of my body, and he’s not here right now. I have no such power to detach my own hand.” “Oh…” You trailed off, looking genuinely embarrassed. “So… now what? How do we get in?” “Stay here,” Wednesday commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “With your survival instincts, you’d be captured within thirty seconds.”

Before you could protest, she had already slipped away. She moved like a shadow blending into the dark corners of the building. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, taking note of the security cameras and guards positioned at the main doors.

She needed to be quick and careful. The last thing she wanted was to get arrested again.

Wednesday spotted an open window just to the left of the entrance, likely leading into one of the administrative offices. She snuck closer feeling the adrenaline she hadn’t felt in ages. Though it is annoying to do it for someone else, it isn't any less exciting.

She moved swiftly through the halls, avoiding the nurses and guards, each step calculated and quiet. As she reached the office, she glanced at the files on the desk, quickly locating a schedule that listed which room the movie session was held in. With the room number memorized, she slipped out of the office, narrowly avoiding detection as a guard walked past.

The room where the patients gathered was up ahead, the faint sounds of movie dialogue echoing down the hallway. Wednesday crept closer, peering inside through a crack in the door. She spotted the patients sitting in rows, all of them fixated on the screen.

Unfortunately, a doctor was still present, overseeing the session.

Wednesday sighed, picking up a steel tray from a nearby table. She crept up behind the doctor,

“Apologies,” she muttered just before she swung the tray, knocking the doctor out cold. The doctor slumped forward, unconscious, as Wednesday tossed the tray aside with a clatter.

She turned to the patients, who were now all staring at her, some with curiosity, others with mild confusion, and some even cheering.

“Which one of you is Little Cupcake?” she asked, her tone flat.

Several patients pointed to a frail old lady sitting in the back, her hair a wild mess of white curls. She had to be in her eighties, her body hunched over as she hugged a worn-out teddy bear. Wednesday stared with utter disbelief.

“Really?” she deadpanned. “Little Cupcake is an eighty-year-old lady?”

The old woman stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes, her fingers clutching the teddy bear tightly. Wednesday sighed, resigning herself to the absurdity of the situation. She had sneaked past guards, knocked out a doctor, and all for this.

The old woman moved slowly, shuffling her feet with every step. Each second felt like an eternity as Wednesday helped her toward the exit, irritation bubbling under her calm exterior. The old lady smiled at her sweetly, completely oblivious to Wednesday's internal fuming.

Finally, they made it outside to where you were anxiously waiting by the gate with a taxi.

Before Wednesday could unleash her wrath on you, the old lady broke away from her grip and hurried as fast as her old bones would allow, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug.

"Y/n, my dear," the old lady said softly, her voice tinged with relief and affection. It was clear now that this wasn’t some random old lady to you; she meant something more.

Wednesday’s anger simmered down, replaced by a confused curiosity. But before she could process this new information, the sharp sound of guards shouting caught her attention. They had been spotted.

“Shit!” you cursed under your breath, grabbing the old lady’s hand and bolting towards the taxi. Wednesday ran behind. She practically shoved you and the old lady inside before diving in herself, slamming the door shut.

“Drive,” she snapped at the taxi driver, her voice sharp and commanding.

“But—”

“Drive,” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. The driver hesitated only for a moment before slamming his foot on the gas, the car lurching forward as it sped away from the hospital. Wednesday glanced back to see the guards falling behind, their shouts fading into the distance.

You were laughing beside Cupcake as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You looked over at Wednesday, your eyes shining with gratitude.

For a moment, Wednesday felt an unfamiliar warmth in her chest, a strange sensation that caught her off guard. It was unpleasant. She quickly brushed the feeling aside, refocusing her attention on you with a frown.

“Why did I just break an old lady out of an asylum?” she demanded, her voice edged with frustration.

“She’s right here!” you chided with a playful smile. “And patience! You’ll find out soon enough. But first, we’re headed to the church.”

The church? Huh... Well, Wednesday wouldn't mind if the lady she just kidnapped is part of some sacrificial ritual.

As soon as the taxi pulled up to the old church, you and Wednesday stepped out. The taxi driver gave Wednesday a cautious glance, still shaken from her earlier threat, and Wednesday rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath about people being so easily scared. But then she noticed Little Cupcake was still inside, sitting serenely as if she had all the time in the world.

Before Wednesday could grill you about the bizarre turn of events, a small group of women in light pink dresses appeared, their faces lighting up as they saw you. They greeted you warmly, thanking you profusely for bringing Cupcake on time. A few words were exchanged about a dress, and the women disappeared into the shed beside the church taking Cupcake with them, leaving Wednesday in a swirl of confusion beside you. None of this was adding up.

“Are we going to continue with this lunacy, or will you explain yourself?” Wednesday asked, her voice cutting like a blade. She didn’t like feeling out of control, and she especially didn’t like being left in the dark.

You just smiled, grabbing her hand before she could pull away. The sudden contact startled her. Normally, anyone foolish enough to touch her without permission would find themselves on the receiving end of a twisted wrist or worse. Yet, her hand remained in yours, a fact that bewildered her more than the absurdity of the entire situation. Why was she tolerating this? Why you? It was disconcerting, unsettling even, the way you seemed to bypass all her carefully built walls as if they were nothing more than sheer fabric.

Inside the church, you led Wednesday towards the pews, still holding onto her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Lucky for you, you’re already wearing black,” you said with a playful smirk. “You’ll blend in nicely on the groom’s side.” Wednesday stopped dead in her tracks, her dark eyes narrowing at your cryptic statement. “What the hell are you talking about?” You didn’t answer. Instead, you slipped your hand from hers, turning to hurry off down the aisle. “If anyone asks, just tell them you’re with the maid of honor,” you called back over your shoulder before disappearing into the back of the church. Wednesday stood there, feeling utterly displaced. This was clearly some sort of wedding, and Little Cupcake must be a guest of some significance. That much was obvious. But why bring her here? Why involve her in this madness at all? She had agreed to assist with a kidnapping, not a wedding. As more guests began to trickle in, Wednesday took a seat near the back, watching as the pews filled with elderly attendees, each one dressed in their best. She felt strangely out of place amidst the soft colors and gentle chatter, yet not entirely unwelcome. It was a peculiar sensation, feeling both an intruder and a tolerated presence. She was used to being the odd one out, but here, she was a part of something without really belonging, and for once, it didn’t immediately grate on her nerves. Maybe her distaste for weddings wasn't entirely justified. She still hates them tho....

She noticed a few of the guests glancing her way, some whispering behind gloved hands, but she paid them no mind. She was more focused on piecing together this bizarre puzzle. Everything felt so absurd, like she was in the middle of some twisted dream orchestrated by you. And then you walked in, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to slow.

You were wearing a dark purple dress that clung to your figure in all the right places, the deep hue making your eyes look even more striking than usual. Wednesday froze, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight of you. She wasn’t used to feeling this… unsettled by someone’s appearance. It was almost as if the air had thickened, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room the moment you walked in.

There was no other way to put it, and the thought made Wednesday’s stomach twist uncomfortably. She quickly dismissed it. She wasn’t here to admire you. She was here because—because you dragged her into this lunacy. So what is stopping her from leaving? She couldn't find any. Her eyes drifted from you to the figure standing beside you—Little Cupcake, dressed in an ornate wedding gown. The old woman beamed, her joy evident in the way she clutched her bouquet of faded flowers. Wednesday’s eyebrows shot up, and she felt a mix of disbelief and exasperation wash over her.

Little Cupcake was the bride?

Wednesday shook her head, the absurdity of the situation hitting her full force. Of all the things she expected when she got into that taxi, breaking an octogenarian bride out of an asylum was nowhere on the list.

As she stood there, observing, she felt a presence beside her. A man, probably in his late fifties, with a warm smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners. "So, you helped Y/N break Cupcake out of the asylum?" he asked, his voice tinged with both amusement and approval.

Wednesday turned to him, giving a curt nod. The man chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to you and Cupcake at the altar. You glanced back at them with a small smile.

"My daughter really is something else, Pretty sure she kidnapped the groom too." he said, pride evident in his tone.

Your dad huh? He approves of this madness? It must've been where your insanity came from. The ceremony began, and Wednesday was forced to take her place among the guests, still trying to piece together the odd emotions swirling within her. She will talk to you about her part of the deal once the ceremony was done, for now, she is gonna let you enjoy your lunacy. She glanced over at you once more, catching the way you wiped a tear from your eye discreetly.

“Idiot,” she muttered to herself, though she wasn’t sure if she was speaking about you or herself.

Next Chapter

[rewrittenmha]

Hero Killer Stain Arc

As far as arcs in MHA go, this is the only one I would call almost perfect.

This was the arc that (should have) set the tone for the rest of the series. It was dark enough to show us the severity of being a hero, laid out the flaws of hero society, and tells us why Izuku (our main character) is different and has the power to change things.

I hesitate to change much about it.

I think there's something to be said about Izuku's reaction to Stain. As far as people who call out society, Stain is the only one who gets through Izuku's ideals if only a little bit. No one else- not even Lady Nagant, who had the most valid argument- made him stop and think.

I do have to wonder if this was because of Stain's admiration for All Might. And that... isn't a great look for Izuku in all honesty.

So instead, I want Stain's words to really affect Izuku. I want him- as someone who's studied heroes all his life- to really think on the things he's seen. Thing he might have justified in his head at the time. I want him to reflect on what Todoroki told him about Endeavor and Quirk Marriages. I want his idealization of heroes and the societies heroes protect to be challenged.

This will be the start in deconstructing not only Izuku's blind hero worship, but also the circumstances in which he grew up in. What allowed Bakugou to torment him all those years? What was it that decided that he wasn't equal to his peers?

I mentioned this before on my main, but the one thing I always thought would benefit the Stain arc was also breaking Tenya's idolization of Tensei.

Stain brings up great points in canon, but they're undercut by the fact that Tensei- as far as we know- is a good hero. So Stain targeting him really undermines his actions and goals. Sure, you can make the argument that it's all heroes other than All Might that he sees as the problem, but it just makes Stain look like a hypocrite because we have no proof of that either.

So, Tensei won't be as innocent here.

It happened when he was just starting out as a hero. Tensei Iida had just graduated from UA and became the hero Ingenium. He was dedicated to upholding his family's ideals: noble, honest, and good.

But as a rookie, he came across something he wasn't supposed to see. He was investigating an underground drug ring where he witnessed Lady Nagant- one of the top 10 heroes at the time- kill another hero, albeit one a lot less known.

Tensei panicked and demanded to know what she was doing. But her eyes were so haunted and empty that he couldn't bring himself to move. When she answered him, her voice was hollow. She told him that this was the society they were tasked with upholding as heroes. And that if he had a problem with it, he could take it up with the HPSC. And then she left, like nothing had happened.

She was arrested just a few months later.

Tensei never said a word about it. And the guilt has been haunting him ever since.

He confesses all of this to Tenya after Tenya's confrontation with Stain. Tenya is confused and upset; all his life he has been taught that standing up for what's right is the foundation of the Iida family. He doesn't know how to feel about this information...

But then he remembers how Izuku had rushed in to help him without hesitation. How he always stood up for others, no matter what. How he never gave up.

Izuku... inspired him. Izuku made him want to be a better hero. A hero who always did the right thing, regardless of if it followed all the rules or not.

Shoto has never had friends before. He was never allowed to. He was told he was better than everyone else, including his brothers and sister. But being there for Izuku and Tenya felt... good. Like others relied on him, and he could rely on them too.

He's been sheltered all his life so outside of Endeavor he doesn't really understand what Stain is talking about. Heroes are usually good, like All Might, right?

But what if... more of them were like his father than he had previously believed?

Meanwhile, Yaoyorozu- upon learning that Uraraka is interning with Gunhead- decides to take the invitation from him that was also offered to her. She wants to know how Uraraka held off so well against Tokoyami when she couldn't. Uraraka thrives under Gunhead's tutelage, but Yaoyorozu struggles. She, no matter how hard she tries, can't seem to learn how to think on her feet.

Yaoyorozu comes off as cold at first which intimidates Uraraka, but then she realizes "Oh, this rich kid has never had a normal social interaction in her life." She makes the effort to be kind to Yaoyorozu, who has never had a real friend in her life and doesn't know how to respond to this compassion.

Uraraka helps her to stop overthinking. Tells her to stop thinking about what her opponent will do so much and look at what they're actually doing. It improves Yaoyorozu's already decent combat ability, which she's grateful for. She sincerely thanks Uraraka and confides in how she felt like she failed at the Sports Festival. Uraraka sympathizes; it's hard to be overlooked and cast aside when you know you're capable of doing so much more. For the first time in her life, Yaoyorozu feels understood

(They're besties, your honor)

Notes:

This one's more of a summary because there really aren't many changes to this arc other than Tensei's flashback. I was thinking of making him an HPSC assassin too, but a) I thought it would be more meaningful if he just happened to be in a place where he made the wrong choice and b) I like to think that the Iida family is descended from some of the first heroes. I feel like the HPSC couldn't sink their claws in them

The "main trio" as of the moment will be Izuku, Tenya, and Shoto as was (presumably) intended. I loved their chemistry in this arc and I feel like the three of them balance each other out really well

I almost forgot to take Momo out of that terrible internship. Having her work with Gunhead along with Uraraka was a great opportunity for Momo to actually connect with another girl. I feel like Horikoshi had all the girls like each other and get along for no other reason than they're all girls. Even MomoJirou and TsuChako are like that to an extent

To add to that, I also felt like Horikoshi focused way too much on Momo becoming an even better planner instead of being able to think on her feet. Her and Izuku are kind of opposites that way and it would have made for some great parallels between them

Do you guys think Best Jeanist would still take an interest in Bakugou? He lost pretty early and didn't have the chance to throw his tantrum at the awards ceremony. He definitely wouldn't get nearly as many offers in canon. I feel like him being mentored by Jeanist or not is an indication of whether or not he'll be redeemed idk it just feels that way

[fuumiku]

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

[itsnotbird]

Orphic ~ File 3

Abience (n) ; the strong urge to avoid someone or something

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Find previous part here

Masterlist

An entire month passes since the strange incident. A complete month fades before you’re even mentioned again amongst the Avengers, and that’s only because Nick Fury turns back up with a thick looking file.

It’s all hushed whispers, and he and Tony spend an hour and thirty minutes in a conference room, discussing just what was in the file.

“I still can’t believe I missed something as big as this.” Nat says, trying to listen in on the conversation. Her ear pressed to the locked door, Steve, Wanda, and Sam wait behind her, all curious too.

“Yeah, it was certainly interesting.” Steve adds, arms crossed over his chest. His morals say not to eavesdrop, but he’s only human after all and he’s completely curious.

Inside the room, Tony rubs his head, trying to process the information.

“It’s a brand new case that opened up, all because Barnes pulled her from the street. I wouldn’t be here if I thought she couldn’t be trusted.” Fury states in a serious manner, watching Tony pick up a few more photos.

He aches, knowing how bad he treated you. Now, your life is spread out in front of him, showing him exactly why you acted the way you did.

“You really want us to take this on? To take her on?” He asks, pushing the evidence photos out of his sight, not baring to look at your marks and the brand on the back of your neck any longer.

Fury gathers the multitude of papers and sorts them back into the correct places. “She’s smart, really smart.” He says. “She was monitored, observed, we learned her habits, her behavior. She’s perfectly in control of her power, we made immense progress…”

Tony cocks his head. “But?”

“But, she’s just a little odd. She told us everything she knew, then went completely silent. Her therapist said it’s normal, it’s how she copes. If you ask her to do a task, she’ll do it, she knows the importance of her cooperation…she just needs to work on her people skills. That’s why I want her here.”

His jaw sets, then he groans at Fury’s request. “Fine. We’ll put her here.”

Fury smirks, closing his brief case up. “Good, she’ll be moved here in an hour.”

Tony glares. “How did you know I’d agree?”

Fury simple chuckles. “Because you never turn away strays anymore, even if it makes you grumpy.”

What the group waiting outside doesn’t expect is for the door to open so suddenly, making them earn a displeased look from Fury as he walks past them.

“Oh, good, some of you are already here.” Tony states, motioning them in. “Team meeting.”

- - - -

“How are the nightmares?”

Bucky stays silent, then looks at the clock to see if his mandatory hour is up yet.

It isn’t.

“I don’t have them.” He half lies, looking back to Dr. Raynor.

She gives him a look. “I don’t believe that.”

He fights his urge to groan. “Well, maybe you should, Doc.”

She sighs, then clicks her pen and pulls her notebook to her.

“Oh, don’t start with the damn notebook.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m talking, aren’t I? That was the deal? I talk, you don’t write.”

The woman shakes her head. “You’re talking but giving no real answers.”

“I told you I’m not having the same nightmares.” He reasons, not realizing he just lead on to more questions.

“So you’re having different ones?” She asks, putting her pen down and giving him her full attention.

“I guess, yeah.” He shrugs, grinding his back molars.

“Are they better or worse?”

He wanted to storm out of the room, and he would if he wouldn’t get arrested. She had a way of poking and prodding at him, it made him twitch. Or maybe he was still feeling the side effects of the strange girl that shocked his nervous system.

“I don’t know…they’re different.” He states, a curt tone.

“What’s different about them?”

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m not…killing people. Guess that’s progress, huh?” He attempts to joke, but she doesn’t smile, she just urges him to continue. So he looks down at his knee bouncing up and down.

“There’s someone else in them…this person.”

She’s interested in this. “A different person? Do you know them?”

I pulled her from the rain.

“No, not really.”

Raynor nods. “This is good, this is change. What is this person doing in the dreams?”

His fists clench, he bites his tongue for a moment too long. “She’s not doing anything except for just being there-”

“She?”

Crap. Now he’s said too much.

“Can we just talk about something else?” He grumbles, blinking hard in hopes of pushing the vision of your grey eyes out of his mind.

“You want to talk about something else?” She sighs. “Okay, how about other small changes you’re making? Have you been talking to your friends? Steve, Sam?”

Bucky sneers. “Sam isn’t my friend.”

Raynor rolls her eyes. “You get my point. Have you been talking to them?”

“Yeah, we chat over tea.” He says in a dry sarcastic tone.

The woman shakes her head. “We talked about this, you can’t push people completely away. When I suggested the apartment, I told you it was to heal on your own time, with no negative influences. That didn’t mean stop talking to the people who care about you.”

She had no clue what she was talking about, it made him agitated. When Raynor determined that he wasn’t going to discuss this either, she lets out a long sigh, then looks at him in question.

“You gonna get a haircut?” She asks.

He throws his hands up. “Now my hair’s the problem? You’re extra passive aggressive today, Doc.”

“You say that every session, James. I’m just asking a question because it’s getting a little long.”

He rubs his temple where he feels a headache coming on. “If I get a haircut, will you stop being so harsh?”

“No.”

What is he doing with his life?

- - - -

The team would have been more welcoming to you if they could find you.

Simply, you find a very quiet corner and sit there, listening and observing. Not necessarily hiding, but people tend to pass by without even noticing.

“Where is she?” Nat asks the guys who stand in the dining room, waiting for the meal to be done.

They all sort of shrug, it’s Steve that motions in a direction.

“I think she’s in the west hallway, by the ficus plant.” He says.

Natasha scoffs. “Did anyone tell her we are going to eat dinner?” She asks, looking between the group of them.

They all share a look of ‘did we?’

The answer is no.

“Maybe you guys should work on your people skills.” She says before walking off to retrieve you.

It even takes her a second to find you, but when she does, she smiles softly. Crouching to your level, she reaches for the phone in your hands that has about ten contacts and a music app. You search the music library, clicking on songs you’ve never heard before. They play through your headphones, a gift from Fury himself when your therapist expressed your love for music.

As Natasha lowers the phone from your face, you gently jump in surprise, then take the headphones off.

“Hi.” She says. “We’re going to be eating dinner, I’m sorry if people ignored you.”

You don’t respond, just nod.

“I’m Natasha.” She introduces as you stand from your corner, and she looks you over.

Your shoes were not laced up, you had knee high socks on that the hem of your dress dusted. A much too large sweater hung over your frame to help keep your body temperature warm, though it doesn’t help too much.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to sneak you out and we’re going to the mall. Okay?” She tells you, feeling bad that you’re wearing clothes S.H.E.I.L.D pieced together from a donation bin.

You look at your outfit and then nod, enjoying the idea of wearing pants.

You trail behind this sudden new friend, still intimidated by the large size of the facility. Soon, you enter the more comforting area of the compound and the full table of faces greet you with unsure smiles.

“Sit here.” Natasha says, pointing to the empty chair between her and Steve.

You do just that, but what you don’t expect is for the face across from you to be so…tense.

Bucky came to dinner after Raynor said all the right words to piss him off. He needed to prove her wrong, needed to prove that he could socialize…he just chose not to…and he had to be here for the new project plan in the morning. But what he didn’t think was going to happen was the girl that’s been tormenting him for a month to come and sit across from him. Your outfit was strange and pieced together, your long hair was in a braid that laid on your shoulder, you sat there with confusion and unsureness as everyone began to eat and talk.

You stayed completely silent.

“You don’t need permission to eat.” Steve softly whispers as a reminder as he sees your hesitation.

Right.

Free will.

You had that now.

Utensils scraped on plates, people joked and laughed, you just ate in the most polite way possible.

Bucky stared.

And most get uncomfortable by it, but you just stare back. It’s not a glare, there’s no meaning of anger behind it, it’s just a shared expression that catches the attention of the ones around you.

“Oh great, we got another one that stares.” Sam exclaims.

Steve clears his throat. “That’s James, or Bucky, whatever you want to call him.” He tells you, and of course you don’t respond, just hold the strange eye contact.

Bucky’s the first to break, he talks a gulp of water and looks away.

Tony breaks up the awkwardness. “Alright, Five? Is that what they’re calling you? Your room is next to Nat’s, remember? So that’s where you go after your infusion.”

You nod, and it raised confusion.

“Infusion?” Steve asks as you stare at your spoonful of mashed potatoes before taking the bite.

Tony looks at you, almost expecting you to answer the Captains question. You’re distracted though with finishing your meal to show you are appreciative of their kindness.

So Tony continues. “There’s just some things she needs until we can ween her off of it.”

You hate the way he says it, with pity like you’re a sick animal. A junky.

Your plate is clean now, you put your dirty utensils on it and then finish your water.

No one notices this habit except for Bucky.

Because he remembers doing that. He remembers completing tasks so carefully and waiting for either approval or a slap in the face. It makes him feel odd, makes him want to reach across the table and knock your neat work over.

You pull the sleeves of the chunky sweater over your hands, feeling a wave of tiredness sweep through you as well as that almost violent shiver of coldness. Everyone is lost in conversation about what the plan was for tomorrow, but you feel that teasing heat source radiate beside you and can’t help the way you lull towards it.

“Is this normal?” Steve asks as he feels the way you lean into his side, like a reptile to a heat lamp.

You’re asleep in an instance.

Bruce frowns. “The place she came from had her on a lot of bad stuff…the doctors who were assigned to her at SHEILD say her nerves are kind of shot. That’s why she’s always cold. As far as the falling asleep thing…well, she’s kind of traumatized so that tends to make people exhausted.”

Everyone gets very quiet, and Bucky knows that look on his best friend’s face. His brows are creased, eyes a little sad as he looks down at you. That means one thing only, that he was going to go full Captain America mode and try and save you.

“Is that what the team meeting is about in the morning?” Natasha asks. “Her situation?”

Tony nods. “Looks like you and Sleepy the dwarf have some things in common.”

- - - -

Everyone left the dining room, but Bucky lingered momentarily.

He stared at that damn plate.

Steve had woken you up and sent you to the MedBay, you made sure things looked perfect before you went.

Now, he reaches out and messes the whole thing up before Wanda - who’s on dish duty because she could clean everything up in two seconds- catches him.

“Buck, hey.” Steve says as he finds his friend heading to his spare room that he stays in when there’s things to do early in the morning.

The two super soldiers walk in silence for a moment before Steve speaks up.

“She scares you, doesn’t she?” He asks.

Bucky lies. “Why would she scare me?”

“Because she’s in the same position you were in.”

Bucky clenches his teeth, cursing his friend’s intuition.

What was he supposed to say? That he wanted to stay far away from you for some unknown reason? That part of him wishes he wasn’t the one to rescue you? Or that he wants to ask you every question he has and try to figure out the way your brain works?

He can’t say any of that.

So he just avoids the statement all together. “Yeah, well you’re gonna tuck her under your wing just because she’s needy, so you shouldn’t be asking me about her, Pal.” He jokes with a smile.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Oh come on, give me a break, alright?”

As they stop in front of Bucky’s room, Sam happens to pass them.

“You gonna get a haircut?” He asks Bucky.

The soldier glares. “Does my hair just offend everyone now?”

File 4

[joansiefics]

Bucky -

could you write something about Bucky's daughter getting in a car accident with friends and shes the only one that makes it and she calls bucky because she's scared and hurt...so bucky and steve come to the scene and helps/

Everyone makes mistakes:

DAD!BUCKY X DAUGHTER!READER

WARNINGS: Underaged drinking, car accident, death. Please let me know if I missed anything :)

A/N: Alright, so if you have seen my last post (like a year ago), I said that I will be solemnly posting stories on Wattpad. It went great, but kinda went downhill after a while - I became busy with school and when I had the time I just couldn't get myself to write something. But then like a week ago, I logged into my Tumblr account, and I missed the feeling of writing something down and being creative (because all I do now is study math and physics and that's not really being creative), so I thought why not start writing the requests that I never wrote?? So yeah, here is the first one in a while :)

MARVEL MASTERLIST || BUCKY MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are now OPEN

ADD yourself to my TAGLIST

I didn’t want to get into the car. I told them that like 20 times already, but do you expect drunk-out-of-their-mind people to listen to you - the “deadbeat” of the group, because you don’t like alcohol?

I used to like alcohol. LOVED it in fact. Until my dad had to come bail me out of jail, after a party had gone wrong. It wasn’t entirely my fault – I didn’t know the house wasn’t really the host’s house, but rather someone’s who was on vacation. The neighbors heard the music and yelling as our team won bear pong and called the police. When the police arrived, I was too drunk to register anything going on and some friends, my friends were – ran away without me and left me to be the only one to get arrested.

A few hours in jail can really help you sober up quickly, trying to gather your thoughts, because what are you going to tell your dad? Not even an hour later, my dad came to bail me out and I swore (while resting my head on the toilet seat and my dad holding my hair back) to never drink a sip of alcohol again if I could help it. Now I know most people say that, and the following night they’re at the new bar drinking like there’s no tomorrow – that wasn’t me: I declined the parties my “friends” invited me to and started spending more time with my dad – he is actually a really cool guy. This continued for a few weeks until my “friends” told me they didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, because I’ve changed. I have to say, I was truly happy with their decision.

I made new friends and was able to stick to my “no-drinking-promise” – but it became difficult because apparently you can’t have friends that don’t drink, leading to the predicament I find myself in at this very moment.

“Y/N will you just get in the freaking car?! We don’t have all night”.

“I’ve told you 20 times, now 21, I’m not getting into the car with you. You can’t even walk in a straight line!”

“Just GET IN!” My dad might be a super-soldier, but that doesn’t mean I inherited the strong gene, so it was rather easy for John (one of my friends) to man handle me into the back, squashing me against the left side window, as the rest of our friends piled in next to us. I prayed, I really prayed that I’d get home safe.

“Wouldn’t it be better if I drive? I know I only have my learners license, but you guys are accompanying me, so it’s not like I’m breaking the law. It’s better than all of us dying because you were drunk and driving”.

“I am fully capable of driving this car, Y/N” Melany said from the driver’s seat. I decided to shut my mouth and let her focus on the road, she didn’t need me and the alcohol distracting her.

“Turn up the music!!” Ethan yelled and everyone thought to cheer him on, as if he had said the coolest thing on earth.

“Don’t you think we should let Melany focus on the road, and maybe be quiet?” I suggested.

“Will you stop being such a deadbeat for once in your life, Y/N?” This time it was Sarah who spoke. She was the perfect student that everyone looked up to – perfect grades, happy family, rich parents, beach houses… you name it; but only we knew that it was all a façade – she studied day and night as an escape from her mom being permanently drunk and her dad permanently working. I guess that’s why her comment didn’t bother me as much as it should have, she is merely living out the life that was presented to her as an example.

“I’m sorry” I apologized.

We haven’t even been driving for more than five minutes, when Melany spoke again. “What is that bright light? It’s hurting my eyes, make it stop” she whined. Apparently drunk people are like insects attracted to light, because all my friends stared at the light in awe.

At first I wasn’t interested, I just rolled my eyes and stared out the window.

“Oh look, the light is moving towards us” Melany squealed, earning another eye roll from me, but I have to admit the curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see what was so fascinating about a stupid light.

I wish I never looked – with the looking came the honking of a truck’s horn – a signal to move out of the way. But have you ever Googled what happens when people drink too much? My dad made me Google it the night he came to bail me out of jail; he forced me to read all the bad things that could happen to you when drinking irresponsibly – slowed reflexes, no filter for words spewing out of your mouth and sometimes even alcohol poisoning.

Right now, not even a horn could quicken Melany’s reflexes. Before I could even think of a plan to get her to swerve out of the way, the truck collided with us. Head on. We were flipping. Rolling. Flipping. Rolling. And flipping some more. When we finally came to a stop, I couldn’t see for a few seconds – everything was dark and blurry. It probably took me a few minutes to come to a realization of what just occurred.

“Okay Y/N. What would dad do in this situation?” I didn’t know what he would do and even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to accomplish it. “Guys?” Silence. “Guys!” More silence. I didn’t like the silence – it made me hear my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. We were on a deserted road, little to no lampposts and no one ever driving down this road at this hour. I didn’t even know if the truck driver was alive, called the ambulance or just… drove away.

I slowly moved my arm, feeling pain shoot up into my shoulder, but I had to get a hold of my phone. Feeling my phone in my pocket, I just prayed it would still work. Slowly pulling it out, trying not to cause more pain to my shoulder, I saw the screen light up, and I could have cried tears of joy.

I didn’t want to call the police or the ambulance – I only wanted my dad. I pressed speed dial and not even 5 seconds later I heard my dad’s voice.

“Hey doll, where are you? I thought you would be home by eleven?”

“I-“ I didn’t know what to tell him. “I- uhm”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, you promised never to call me Y/N unless I was in trouble” I tried to joke, maybe let out a laugh to let him know that I was okay and not busy bleeding somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Of course he heard the airy laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear my heart beating like I could.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“In trouble?”

“Have a little faith in me dad. I told you I’m not going to drink, and I stuck to my promise” I rasped out.

I heard some laughing in the background. “I’m sorry, am I disrupting you?”

“No, not at all, doll. Steve just came to hang out for a bit. But stop changing the subject, if you’re not in trouble, why are you calling me when you should have been home already?” I probably had to speed up the conversation, because I could feel myself getting dizzy, there was something wet dripping down my shoulder and forehead and no one was making a noise – I just hoped they’d be alive.

“Well, you see… uhm”.

“Spit it out. Do I have to come bail you out again? Because I swear Y/N I will…”

“I need you to come get me” I tried to stop the wobble in my voice, but it was useless. “I promise dad… I told them I didn’t want to, but they forced me and they were drunk and – and they’re not waking up and - “ a big sob escaped my mouth and I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“What did they force you to do, Y/N?”  I could hear the panic in my dad’s voice. I heard him call Steve and I heard Steve’s worried voice ask what was wrong.

“Y/N, you need to breathe and tell me where you are so we can come get you” I focused on my breathing, trying to get myself to keep calm and get as comfortable as possible. I tried wiping the wetness of my forehead, that kept bugging me, but I caught the sight of crimson smudged on my hand. Stupidly, I smacked the same hand over my mouth to stop the scream from pouring out, but my dad heard the muffled scream.

“Doll, breathe. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me”.

“I – there’s blood!” I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Y/N, answer me damnit! Where are you?”

“I don’t know” I was trying so hard to get air into my lungs. “We were driving back home from the party – “

“We… I… we’re on an abandoned road, there are almost no lampposts, there are no houses, there…” That’s all I know” I cried out, because how were they going to find me if I didn’t even know where I was.

Dad’s voice came from the other side. “We’ll search in the perimeters of the party’s address.”

“Please don’t hang up!”

“I’m going to hand the phone over to Steve, I have to focus on the road. Just keep talking to him, sweetheart.”

“We’ll be there soon, honey. Ten minutes, tops” Steve tried to ease my nerves.

I didn’t speak to any one of them after that, but it comforted me, knowing that they were there, just a call away and maybe just a few minutes away.

Eight minutes later, Steve said he was going to hang up and I cried and pleaded with him not to but got interrupted by the “end call” button. Before I could even think about cursing him out, or being mad at him and my dad, I heard my name being called.

“Here!” Was all I could seem to manage, but luckily they heard me. “Steve come help me get her out!” Soon Steve was forcing the door open and holding it as my dad, gently pulled me out of the wreck and into his chest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re alive.” My dad whispered in my ear, gently swaying me side-to-side. Sobs wracked my chest and the tears couldn’t stop flowing – my dad didn’t seem to care that his shirt was a mess of blood and tears.

“My – my friends”

My dad and Steve surreptitiously looked at each other until my dad nodded for Steve to get them out of the car. I think they knew something I didn’t, because when they were all safely outside the wreck, Steve had a confirmed look on his face as he searched for a pulse at each of them but didn’t find a single one.

“No! They’re fine, feel again!” I yelled at Steve. He wasn’t a doctor; he couldn’t call time of death.

“Y/N, doll, listen to me, Steve already checked – “

“ – Well he should check again! He’s wrong!”

To settle my mind, Steve searched for a pulse at each of them and once again turned to look at me with a sad smile.

“No. NO! No, no, no…” My “no’s” were getting quieter and my knees were getting weaker. “no, no…no” the last “no” came out chocked, and my dad caught me as my knees finally buckled and we sank to the floor. I couldn’t take the weight of their death. They were my friends, and even though they made some stupid decisions tonight, they didn’t deserve this. Everyone makes mistakes every once in a while. My dad ran his hand up and down my back, trying to ease some warmth and calmness into my skin and bones.

“Doll, I’m gently going to pick you up and take you to my car”.

“My shoulder. My friends” I kept seeming to forget my friends were dead.

“I’ll be careful of your shoulder. We’ll get it checked out and fixed at home. Right now, I just need you need to breathe with me. Focus on my breathing and everything will be sorted out. You don’t need to worry your head about anything right now, except breathing”

“My friends”

“We’ll get someone to come and get them. I promise”

My dad gently laid me down on the backseat of his car and a few moments later he got into the driver’s side and Steve got in next to me. Unfortunately, when my dad started the car, I was panicking. “No, I don’t want to be in a car. Please! Dad, don’t drive, I’m begging you!”

Steve gently scooted closer to me and enveloped me into a hug, I didn’t even realize we were driving, until we got home. Steve carried me out of the car as my dad ran ahead of us, opening the front door, grabbing blankets, and throwing them onto the couch. Steve gently put me down on the couch, but told me to keep sitting up, because they needed me to stay awake. Apparently, I can’t do that when I’m laying down.

My dad already called one of the doctors (while we were driving) from the infirmary to come check on me and do everything that he deemed necessary. My dad plopped himself down next to me, getting ready to keep me awake until the doctor gave orders that I could close my eyes.

After five minutes of the doctor’s presence, I decided that I didn’t like him. He kept telling me to “keep those eyes open” and “don’t fall asleep on me now”, while prodding at my injuries. Then he decided that pulling out the glass in my shoulder and stitching the wound up, was absolutely necessary and then he thought that shining the brightest light of all time in my eyes, would make me happy. My dad held my hand the entire time – gave it a squeeze when I winced or rubbed his thumb up and down when I squeezed my eyes shut due to the pain.

When the doctor finally left, my dad used a washcloth to wipe some sweat and dirt from me and handed me my pyjamas. He didn’t want to leave me alone for in case I felt dizzy (because the doctor said that’s what concussions can do), so he just turned around and kept his hand outstretched towards me, so I’d have something to grab onto if I felt like falling.

Afterwards, he helped me lay down under the covers and gently tucked me in as Steve brought me some biscuits, water and painkillers. It was difficult to fall asleep after everything that had happened tonight, but my dad reassured me that we’d take it day-by-day, one step at a time.

He would be there when I had to attend my friends’ funerals. He’d be there when I had to go for my check-up appointment at the doctor that wouldn’t let me sleep. And he’d be there when the terrible nightmares woke me up from my slumber.

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

TAGLIST:

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus @yliumy

[night-dazai]

requesting an ango x reader where reader gets hostage and ango just flips the hell out because he hasn't realize his s/o has been kidnapped for 2 days and his ass is so overworked he didn't know 😭

In the end he gets back to his s/o safe and sound 💕

Note: Sorry took a lot longer almost a month, was not feeling so good for the past weeks.

Let's Go Home :

Tags: angst, kidnapping, comfort and fluff

Heavy eye bags, dead eyes, messy hair sweating in an air-conditioned room. Ango stood staring at the big screen in front of him, people near him froze seeing the hacked screen where you lay on the floor beaten and bruised. Dress torn, bleeding from your lips and a little from the head and unconscious your body lay while someone angled the camera to your puffy face strained with tears and blood “Release him, Jay whom you arrested a week ago if not she is done for good “ a voice said showing your face and chuckling another voice spoke .” Hey hey she is such a beauty lets not let it go to waste “ hearing that voice few more voices broken into laughter as the screen went black.

Coughing and wheezing you slowly open your eyes, which hurt. Your entire body hurt but your head hurt even more and so did your hands which were tied behind your back as you sat in the chair trying to look up at the men looking at you. “Your bf sure loves you I think he looked so horrified, “ one said. Words were heard but it was hard to process “Ango….” you thought “Sa….me” you mumbled before fainting once again recalling that night ……………………………….

“It is my fault …it is my fault “ he mumbled to himself holding his head and almost tearing his hair out. Ranpo was looking at the files he had shown about Jay while the director of ADA was talking with Mori “It has been 2 days, it is very risky now but since they showed she is alive …we can try I guess” he said while the director just listened staring at Ango.

His heart was beating fast, very fast for the past few hours and all he could imagine were the worst possible things those men could do to someone like you. A normal person who has no idea what about the cruel underground world.”If only I took her calls, if only…..I was there …”

“I should have never fought, even if I did I should have gone and said sorry. I should have not left her alone … She is not involved in this world at all ……” he thought his nails scrapping his scalp when a bandaged hand yanked it from his hair “Enough we found a location if Ranpo’s guess is the right its to best to go fast, “ he said.

Ango could hardly process what was happening, he tried searching for you for hours but had no clue but the moment the mafia and ADA joined hands it was in 4 hours they found your location, was he too tired to search, was he angry at himself for not taking your calls ? he did not know but he knew one thing “ they are going to regret it “ he said following Dazai and Ranpo out.

“Please take it I am sorry “ you kept thinking clutching the phone as if it were your life you kept calling your lover “Please ango I am sorry “ you mumbled keeping it close to your ear as the ring went and went and said the person had not taken the call. Tears ran down your face, you both fought yesterday night when he came home late for the 1000th time according to you “I was forced to work okay “ he said rubbing his temples indicating he was annoyed “If you do not want me in the house.... fine “ he said in a low tone and before you could react he had left the house and did not come home in the morning also.

In the morning when the doorbell rang, you ran to it thinking about how to say sorry, but something told you to take a look at the window near it and there stood 5 men one with a gun talking to the others.

Running inside you hid in your closet and called your lover but he did not take the phone, and it did not take long for the kidnappers to find you and here you were fainted all bloody and beaten up thinking how you shouted at your already overworked boyfriend “ I am sorry …” was all you could think.

“No more ..it hurts ….” when your whole body pain was felt again as you slowly started to gain conciseness you just wanted to rest. But no people were screaming and shouting, there were some harsh words “What was…was it…..” you paid a little closer attention “ Chuuya!” said a loud voice “she is in that room “.

The voice sounded familiar but you could not place it on anyone and instant gunshots were heard, but you could not move or do anything and at this point, your body was on the verge of collapse “ Ango…..be safe….” you thought and fainted as you a bright light in front of you.

The room door which burst open had Ango rushing into you while destruction and chaos were behind him. His hands skilled but trembling untied you from the chair, and he slapped your face gently “Wake up…wake up…y/n….” he said but you did not wake up.

Ranpo came in and stood at the entrance, he knew Ango for reasons and many knew him for various reasons but none were good. They have seen him smile and laugh but not one person has seen him this devastated. Dazai smiled a little standing next to Ranpo “ he found some he truly loves I guess “ he said.

Ango was rocking your cold body mumbling “You are safe …please see me y/n ..open your eyes please” his eyes were wet with tears “Let's take her to the office and get her treated “ Dazai said placing a hand on hso shoulder .

Your head had a sharp sting “Again….” you thought “Voice…just voc-Ango ?” you mumbled slowly opening your eyes. The room was brightly lit it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust but once it did you saw your lover.

Ango was talking to the director or ADA and Mori while the doctor lady from ADA was adjusting your IV “Ango..” you mumbled again a bit louder gaining all their attention.

He rushed to you, holding your hand “Y/n..yes me I am here ….i am here “ he said. His voice broke as he kept saying sorry, his hands were trembling. You have never seen your boyfriend like this and you also did not like this. You wanted to tell him it's okay and it's not this fault, you wanted to comfort him but your throat hurt at the thought of speaking loud.

Collecting any strength you had you pulled him closer by his shirt, hugging his neck you kissed his cheek “ I love you …” cough ..” home.. let's go home “you said. Your words made the man lose all kind of control and sob in your weak little arms but it felt so strong and warm as everyone left the room.

[muzaktomyears]

Mimi and Paul

I immediately wrote Mimi of the news [of John leaving Yoko]. “If your news re: Y. is sound, well that’ll please me I can tell you. It’s his only hope of getting on an even keel again,” she responded.

Someone had sent her recently taken pictures of John and they made her sad. She thought he looked lost somehow and might be wishing The Beatles would get back together. It was those times she thought he missed all the happy times the group had together. He began phoning her again and had told her that Paul was coming over and that he would be seeing him. She hoped that happier times would be coming out of their meeting.

Mimi seemed to hear from John on a somewhat regular basis again while he was separated from Yoko. If he didn’t phone, he wrote and she was always pleased when she heard from him. He seemed much more like his old self, she thought, and he had continued hopes that he and Paul might get back together again.

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Mimi had talked to John (before the Paul [getting arrested in Japan] news had broken) and determined that he would never tour again. He and Paul had just spoken on the phone and Paul had been complaining “how hard the tour was”. So John had asked him “why the hell do you do it then?” The honest answer, according to Mimi, was that he simply could not give up the publicity.

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“…I was talking to Neil Aspinall – Apple. He too is furious about the book ‘Shout’, such a pathetic liar for money. I had a good ‘shout’ about Paul too. Behold! A couple of hours later a phone call from Paul! He was nervous of me… I told you… many excuses. Thought I was annoyed with him. And so I was. Also Paul seriously thinking of going after Philip Norman over ‘Shout’. If ever I see Philip Norman I’ll pitch into him. Paul advised me not to do it myself. It is monstrous that this scandal monger can write such things.”

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[re: Paul ringing in April] Mimi had truly been upset that he’d not called her before then and she had bent Neil Aspinall’s ear one Sunday afternoon. Two hours later all was forgiven with a phone call from Paul. She said she scolded him, telling him he should have known she wasn’t thinking of any ridiculous slight he might have been worried about. It had been John who had been killed and Paul should have known she was thinking of nothing else. I don’t know what he said but they both cried, she said, and any resentment was gone.

She said she could hear children in the background and asked him if all those were his. “Yeah, we’re like rabbits around here.”

They discussed the book Shout! by Philip Norman and how they resented parts of it. He told her not to get involved and that he would handle it, though what he intended on doing or what he actually did, I have no idea. Since Norman is now writing a biography on Paul and claims to have received a rather conceptual OK, I would assume all is forgiven there as well.

Before ringing off, Paul said he would be down to visit her one day; something she was still waiting to see happen.

The Guitar’s All Right as a Hobby, John, Kathy Burns (2014)