#no. 29

[bts-trans]

No. 29 by BTS

Translators’ Notes:

The bell heard in this track is the Sacred Bell of King Seongdeok, officially designated the 29th National Treasure of Korea. RM mentioned in BTS’ livestream STUDIO NOTES | ‘ARIRANG’ that the track is 1:37 long as that is the length of time needed for the sound to die out completely after the bell has been struck. 

Note by: Faith @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 29

Good Yonji x GN!Reader

Hi! So guess who fell in love with @orange-artist version of Yonji? That's right, me! I did! And I anon asked (2 years ago, they may have forgotten but I haven't :D) if the creator of @good-yonji-au was chill with x reader of him (yes it belongs to @orange-artist ), I got the green light and here it is! Ignore the fact it's 2 years later

Warning: Heavy topics in conversation (they are only mentioned), read at your own risk

"You're the new tailor?"

"Hm?" The man looked up from his work, meeting your eyes. "Ah, yes! Yes, I am."

You watched him stand up from his desk and make his way over to you. You hold up your hand. "I'm [Y/n]."

"Yonji." He smiles as he shakes your hand.

"Yonji, it's nice to have another fashion designer in the Army. I love Iva, but their fashion is a bit too flashy for my aesthetic."

"I've only heard stories about 'em from Sabo, I've yet to meet them, but I'm sure I'll like them."

The workshop settles into a cozy atmosphere, both of you basking in the warm smiles. You may have only just met, yet you find yourself at ease. You wonder where the rev found someone as wholesome as him.

"How can I help you, [Y/n]?"

"Oh, um, I do apologize if I'm interrupting your work." You glance over at the pin project Yonji was working on.

"Don't worry about that," Yonji reassures you, waving his hand. "It's a suit I'm working on for my brother, but it'll be a bit before I see him again."

"Right then, you're good at suits, could you possibly make me a standard servant suit?"

"Sure thing, I can start it now if you want."

"That'd be great." You smile.

"I'll just need to take your measurements." Yonji holds up the yellow tape, then gestures over to an open corner with a stand circle by a couple of mirrors. "If you could stand there."

"If possible, could you make me look more square with the suit?" you request as you take your position on the stand.

"Square?"

You hear it in his tone, he's confused, amusing you. "I figured a square shape, as common as it is, would make it plan, draws less attention. People shaped like an upside-down triangle with their broad shoulders or an hourglass with their assets draw more attention, especially when they're emphasized."

Yonji hums in acknowledgement as he takes your measurements. "I'm guessing this is for an undercover operation, then?"

"Yes, I'll be infiltrating a royal banquet, I need to go in unnoticed."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you."

The conversation fissles out, Yonji finished all your measurements and moved on to sketch out the cuts he needs to make on some fabric. Curiously, you watch him do his job, mesmerized seeing him in his natural element. The way his hands glide over the fabric as if he has a sixth sense before drawing the precise lines is fascinating.

"You septacular talent."

"Uh- thank you." Yonji, a little bashful from your comment, glows with pride.

"How did you come to join us?"

"Well-" Yonji sets aside the chalk and grabs scissors, hands steady and careful as he begins to cut the fabric. "I owned a tailor shop in one of the island located in the Paradise side of the Grand Line. One day, Sabo entered my shop, I didn't know at the time he was on an undercover mission. One thing lead to another, I got caught up in a Revolution fight, and when it was over, I was in too deep and had the skills to hold my own, so Sabo let me join the Army."

"Fascinating." You pondered for a moment. "Do you prefer it here, making clothes and disguises for us over being on the front lines?"

Yonji paused at the final cut of the fabric. "You could say that." He picked up his pin cushion and the newly cut fabrics, walking over to you. "Hold still."

"Right." You had your arms out and held still for him.

"What about you, why did you join the army?" Yonji asks as he carefully pins the cloth around your figure.

"A common reason really," you said, shrugging the question off. It seemed pointless to answer when you found the majority of your companions to share the same motive.

"Well, aside from Sabo and Koala, I've yet to get to know more people here and their story."

You hum, you supposed you could indulenge him. "I was under oppression. Back then... I was a servant of a royal family. No... servant's not right. I was a slave under their order."

Yonji held up a poker face, trying to stay focused on the suit while you continued.

"The king demanded perfection, not one spec of dust or wrinkle in the laundry, and every time something went wrong, I had to beg for forgiveness, plead for mercy." You spoke of the memory, each word clicking with distaste. "His children were worse."

Yonji stiffened his shoulders, kept his face out of sight.

"Make messes on purpose, throw food in my face, had me kneel before them and kiss their boots in act of begging for mercy only to kick my face." Your hand touched the side of your face, feeling the phantom sting of those brusies. "Always simmering with manic joy at my expense."

"It only grew worse as we grew up." Your stomach dropped and you felt ill, yet you can't seem to break out of the memories. "My appearance was dazzling to their eyes, and they'd dress up me up and make me dance to their tune, a puppet for their amusement. The envious ones took out their anger on me, angry they could never fully disenchant my face."

It didn't occur Yonji ceased pinning.

"The Revolution came, I played a big part in the resistance. We over threw the royals and now the island is a republic. I stayed with Revolutionary Army because I know there are more people out there who were like me, some even worse, and I want help free those people."

Yonji had his head low and quiet.

"Oh- Sorry, was I rambling too long?" You tilt your head.

"No, no," Yonji chuckled awkwardly. "At least you got out of there, right?"

"I supposed I was lucky. I knew a few servants who got executed, usually because one of the children framed them for one reason or another. I guess that's why I prefer to blend in and go unnoticed, I knew my head would be next in line if did something to purposely grab their attention."

"Do you hate them?"

"Pardon?" You didn't quite catch Yonji's words with his low tone.

Yonji hesitated, "The royals, ones like them, do you hate them all?"

Silence sat down between you. There seemed to be a heavy weight in Yonji's words, and you weren't sure what clouded his mind to prompt his question. You knew to be honest, yet needed time to give a proper response.

"To hate all would be wrong. I do not know the depth of who each one is, and I do believe some only do so because it is all they know. Do I hate their ignorance, yes. However, if they understood what it is like to live in our shoes, the commoners, to understand our pain and struggles, it is then their actions they choose that will decide their character."

"And what action is that?"

"If they choose to grow better or to grow bitter."

[the-belldam]

(x)

I'm gonna go insane this fucking rules

[papayabrain]

caught in a bad dream

an F1 RPF Landoscar Omegaverse whump collection by papayabrain

For Whumptober 2025

No.29: Fainting/Broken Dishes

Summary: Lando’s just come out of heat and he’s feeling good. Until he faints on the kitchen floor…

Rating: T

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fainting, blood, and injury.

Read on AO3 | or read below 👇🏼

~

He woke surrounded by warmth, the fresh sheets wrapping him up in a therapeutic mix of lavender detergent and lingering chocolate.

As he stirred further, he found he was alone in the nest. Not uncommon for his heat breaks. His alpha would be busy replenishing snacks and hydration packs, washing sheets and cleaning up.

Lando took a quick assessment – he was lucid, well-rested, and satiated. It had been enough days now for his heat to be over. The lingering aftereffects of general fatigue and low-grade fever would leave him over the coming hours.

As he rolled over to search for his phone, a new enticing smell summoned him.

Osc must have been cooking a full meal. His body thrummed with pleasure, chirping in content knowing his alpha was taking perfect care of him.

Slipping out of the nest, he grabbed one of Oscar’s zip hoodies from the edge, as well as a clean pair of boxers from his drawers. He used the bathroom, foregoing brushing his teeth if they were going to be eating soon, before exiting the room and padding down the hallway. The food smelled ten times better out here, and he sighed with a smile as he made his way to the kitchen.

He braced himself against the doorway as he watched Osc work his magic. They were in their London flat, not far from Max’s and Harrods, and the layout meant he could stand here unnoticed as his alpha had his back to him. In Monaco, he’d have the side view from the door, and Osc would notice him immediately.

He’d been sent home from work five days ago, his heat symptoms hitting during a simulator session. Jon had taken him for tests, and Max had looked after him until Oscar could fly over to be here with him. They hadn’t had much of a chance to figure out why he’d gone into heat outside of summer or winter break. However, they were lucky that it was during their impromptu month free with two races cancelled.

Bodies were weird, so maybe it just knew. Oscar’s rut hadn’t triggered yet, though, so they’d have to see if they’d be staying here longer.

Osc turned from retrieving a can from the cupboard, placed it down once he saw him and immediately headed over. One hand to his forehead, the other against his hip, possessive but gentle. He gave a soft rumble as the omega purred.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake yet, darling. You should still be resting.”

Lando kissed him before they scented each other, his mating bite on his neck throbbing deliciously. “I’m fine, babe. I wanna help you finish. Smells fucking mint.”

“Thought we could have something more substantial. You smell like you’re close to being out of it.”

“Mm-hm. Reckon we might already be done. See how I feel later on.”

Oscar kissed him before heading back to the stove. “Jon’ll wanna clear you before you’re allowed back at the MTC.”

“Urghhhh,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t believe that happened at work. Could you imagine if it was at a freaking race? I’d never live it down.” He pouted, trudging into the kitchen.

There was an array of boards across the counter, Osc chopping vegetables to add to whatever he was making. He took a gander at the stove, which had a pan full of seasoned sweet potatoes. A bag of rice sat on the counter next to it.

“Vegan chilli, okay? We’re out of meat, and I didn’t wanna leave you alone or bring anyone here with some. I found a recipe that uses avocados.”

Lando melted, wrapping his arms around his alpha as he chirped again. “You’re the best!” Once he let go, he washed his hands at the sink, drying them on a tea towel. “Right, what am I doing first?”

They worked in tandem, Lando chopping up the rest of the veg, Osc manning the stove. Music blasted from the speakers, and they fried and stirred and talked and laughed while they assembled the meal. He was glad his cramps were gone, replaced by growls of hunger. His alpha made him drink water, and he purred, exchanging sips for kisses.

They were almost done, Lando going to retrieve the plates for dishing up, when Oscar hugged him from behind, kissing his neck. He smelled divine, and he shivered.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered.

Lando rubbed his eyes, relaxing back into his hold. “Mmm, what more could you possibly spoil me with? It’s not even either of our birthdays!”

“Call it a heat finish treat then, I don’t know! Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Best alpha ever, you romantic sap,” Lando grinned as he turned around to kiss him.

Osc left the kitchen, and Lando got out the plates. He must have stood up too fast, though, as he instantly felt…weird. Black spots erupted in his vision. He clung to the counter for dear life, whispering his alpha’s name.

The music muffled.

His legs buckled.

The room spun.

The last thing he remembered was trying not to touch the plates.

And then nothing.

~

Oscar was in the bedroom, digging out the box from their chest of drawers, when he heard it.

Something shattering. A loud clatter, and a crash.

“Lando? Everything alright?” he yelled out, waiting for the stream of apologies or maybe for his omega to burst into tears. There was something sharp in the air, like something was wrong. And when he didn’t get an immediate answer, he was sprinting back to the kitchen, box still in hand.

It was empty.

“Lan?”

Silence other than the music.

Leaving the box on the nearest counter, he took a step before something hit his nose. Metallic. Unmistakable.

Blood.

His legs moved before his brain caught up, his alpha instincts taking over to protect his omega. Rounding the side of the island, his stomach dropped as he gazed upon Lando’s limp body. His eyes were closed, pieces of shattered plates lying all around him. And the blood. He was hurt. He’d passed out. He was bleeding.

Grabbing the phone, he switched off the hobs and the music to immediately call emergency services, grabbing any dry tea towels and even using his own t-shirt to stem the flow of blood from one of his legs.

He relayed the information. Lando was just about coming out of his heat cycle. He’d felt and seemed fine, perfectly normal. Right now, though, he was unconscious but breathing, with three lacerations to his bare legs from taking the dishes with him. Nothing was stuck in him, but Oscar was alone stemming the bleeding.

Lando gasped and whimpered when he’d been on the phone for just under forty-five seconds. He wept in relief, gently hushing him and letting him know help was on the way. When he tried to move, Oscar placed a blood-covered hand on his chest, alpha rumbling in some effort to comfort him.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. Does your head hurt?”

“Dunno,” he muttered. He reached a clumsy, shaking hand up to his head and gingerly probed at it. When he whined as he touched his left side, Oscar relayed it to the dispatcher, who instructed him to keep Lando awake and calm and that he was doing a great job.

When the paramedics arrived, he almost growled at them despite knowing they were there to help. They didn’t seem fazed, however, especially as they knew Lando was at the end of his heat. He was being a good alpha by protecting him. It was their turn to take care of him. He should do that.

One of them took him aside and gently prompted him to wash up, put on some comfy clothes, and gather any supplies he and Lando would need for the next day or so. Glad for something to do, he washed his hands in the bathroom before retrieving a new t-shirt and changes of clothes for them both. He almost forgot to include some shoes.

Grabbing Lando’s phone from the bedside table, he sent off a quick message to his parents and Jon, letting them know where to meet them. He’d have called, but it would have been too distracting. He could do so later if he got any updates before they joined him.

As he packed the bag, he added some of Lando’s favourite snacks and his papaya dinosaur, before getting the box back from the kitchen. It was a new keyring for his backpack. Well, there were actually two in the box, as it meant they’d both have one and match.

He tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at him as he shoved on his trainers. If he’d left the surprise until after dinner, he would’ve been in the kitchen and could have caught Lando, stopped him from being injured.

The woman paramedic who’d spoken to him earlier approached him again. Lando was strapped to the gurney ready to be taken to the ambulance. He was sitting up and awake, but he looked like he was struggling with the brightness of the flat. Oscar turned off the lights and delighted in hearing him purr.

“You did everything right. He’s in good hands.” She rubbed his back with a soft smile. “These things happen sometimes, alright? It’s nobody’s fault.”

He blinked back tears, nodding. “Thanks.”

Lando was asking for him, and he was fast by his side, squeezing his hand and kissing his forehead. “I’m coming too, baby, don’t worry.”

“What about my surprise? I ruined it!” He pouted, and Oscar couldn’t help but laugh.

He stroked a hand through his hair, on the good side so he didn’t touch the sore part. “It’s in my bag. It’s coming with us to the hospital. I’ll give it to you later, promise.”

As they moved him outside, Oscar did a quick sweep of the flat to check everything was off that needed to be off, dropping some kitchen roll on the floor to soak up the remnants of Lando’s blood, before making sure he had their keys and then leaving.

When he caught up with them, Lando was whining.

“Is he in pain?” Oscar demanded. “Can you give him something?”

The paramedic shook her head. “He wants something with your scent on it.”

They’d taken off the hoodie he’d been wearing, no doubt to make sure there were no more cuts from the broken dishes Oscar might have missed.

“Oh! Fuck, sorry, yes.” He rummaged inside his bag while they loaded him up into the ambulance. Finding what he was looking for, he joined them, sitting in one of the seats next to the gurney. Holding out the stuffed dinosaur, his alpha rumbled at seeing Lando’s eyes light up.

“Bruce!”

~

<< No.28 Constellation | No.30 Mirror >>

[katyawriteswhump]

Lost bunny (part 1/2)

Inspired by the loveliness and genius of @hawkinsbnbg and… For @whumptober day 29, ‘fainting,’ @steddie-spooktober, week 5 prompts, ‘really, that’s what you got?’, hunt, goosebumps, twilight, and (a bit late!) @strangerthingskinktober, day 27, ‘blood’ and day 2, ‘pet play.’ This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I got carried away with the worldbuilding, so it’s going to be two parts (no way could I edit it all by the end of the week!)

Words: 2378; Rating: M; Tags: omega!steve, bunny boy steve, alpha!eddie, angst and hurt/comfort, lots of whump, scent-mates/soul mates, animal instincts, it’s all going to end happily 😊

Summary: Bunny boy Steve passes out on Halloween and is taken to the stray Omega shelter where A!Eddie volunteers. Soulmate/scentmate shenanigans ensue.

Read chapter 1 on AO3

Excerpt: Eddie filled his lungs with the sleeping bunny’s delicate nutty-choc-orange scent, and his heart heaved with it. He’d never tasted anything so delicious, and his tongue didn’t tingle, it sparkled. Within moments, he battled an overwhelming urge to scoop bunny up into his arms, to wake him with a lingering kiss, to tell him he never needed to worry about being lost and scared again.

But nope… Gareth was NOT gonna be right about that insta-love bull, and Eddie wasn’t gonna surrender to any kneejerk insta-lust either.

Despite that flash of creamy tummy and soft hair, revealed between bunny’s low-slung pants and diminutive top, and which made Eddie want to lick him like a juicy twizzler. Oh, and that delectable tiny waist, that shallow swell of hips, and, last but not least, those bedazzling, sequin-studded bunny ears.

Eddie swiped more saliva from his lips. Whoops.

He gently tried to wake the bunny, cooing and stroking his soft, springy hair. Bunny didn’t even slightly stir, so he grabbed a warm fuzzy blanket to cover him up, in a shade of pastel pink to match those slightly flopping ears. As he tucked it at the Omega’s chin, a growl rolled from his core. Nope, he could not abide the sight of that fake collar any longer, and he ought to take it off anyhow, in case it impeded the Omega’s breathing. As he fumbled to unbuckle it without jostling the bunny awake, however, he noticed a teeny red surgical scar at the fleshy scruff of his shoulder.

Ooookay. Time to pursue a more practical hunch? After discarding the collar, he grabbed a scanner, gently pulled down one of the straps of the bunny’s top, and ran it above the little scar.

Bleeeeep!

Eddie yelped and jumped an inch in the air. “Wow! Really? That’s what you got?”

This bunny had a microchip.

Read chapter 1 on AO3

Other whumptober prompts used: lamb to the slaughter (1), don’t be scared, I’ve done this before (4), secrets (10) insignia (13), ignoring and illness, (14), permanent marker (16), “you’re on your own, lost in the wild,’ (19), collar (22), surgical scars, (27), constellation and creative restraints (28), “I’m putting my trust in an entire half-empty glass,” (30), “Even with the smallest cuts, you can still lose so much blood,” (31) and alternates, ‘jealousy’, ‘yearning’, ‘zip-tie’ and ‘hold my hand.’ I’ve used a lot of these before, and in the 7 (out of 9 written) fics I’ve posted, and NOT including the few that turn up in chapter 2 of this… I think I’ve just about scraped my first completionist whumptober. Wohoooo!

[quietlyimplode]

Everything in Transit

An accident leaves Natasha without her memories, without anyone to guide her, and the Red Room chasing after her, the odds are not in her favour… unless those that love her find her first.

Whumptober 2025: Day 29 - Fainting

Warnings: fainting, grief etc

Word Count:

Summary: caught in a web of her own making, the widow is familiar to Natasha, Clint checks on Yelena and Steve worries about Tony.

Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3

.

LONDON / OCTOBER 6 / 12:21PM

The next five minutes pass in a blur.

Somehow, Fury is around them, calling for back up. The place is cordoned off with Tony and Steve running interference with whoever is around.

Just what kind of back up Fury is calling, Clint doesn’t know.

What he does know is that Yelena holds pressure on wound of the widow that was holding onto her, her movements sluggish and drugged, as Natasha runs to the older widow who just said she defected.

He stands in shock, unsure who to cover and what to next.

There’s no protocol for this.

“I want to go home,” he growls so softly to himself that he doesn’t think anyone hears.

Yelena sits back on her hands, the widow now dead.

In the last six days, she’s killed a widow, freed a widow and tried to save one.

Clint looks at her and watches as she closes her eyes, blood on her arms and hands, and feels just immensely sorry for her.

He looks to Natasha who’s talking to the widow, now on her knees and deems that she’s good enough for now.

He goes to Yelena, lifting her up and moving her away.

It’s a triage.

Yelena needs help more.

“Breathe,” he tells her, sitting her on a curb.

She tries but it’s shaky and effortful.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Natasha?”

Clint looks over his shoulder.

Fury and Steve are around her, talking to the defected widow, with her, their guns trained on her; standing in a way that feels protective of Natasha.

“She’s fine,” Clint assures.

“Are you hurt?” he repeats, worried about whatever they drugged her with.

“I… think so.”

“What happened?” he asks, wondering if she went with them voluntarily or was forced with drugs. He needs to know where she’s hurt but equally what they gave her.

“They… injected me with something. I think… I’m seeing double, I can’t… my eyes are blurry and I…” she stares for a minute, opening and closing her eyes. She looks at Clint, eyes hazy and eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean I remember you so couldn’t be with whatever it was they gave to Natasha, right?”

He nods, watching her eyes focus and unfocus on him.

“Are you dizzy?”

She shakes her head.

“No… yes? no…. Just…. Slow. I knew her. Clint. I knew…. She was a friend. No. Maybe not a friend. But Clint… I.” she stares at her hands, the blood, and starts to wipe at it.

He watches as it become more vigorous and tries to stop the movement.

“Yelena, stop, it’s not…” he looks around, no water; but the shop on his right has juice.

He shakes his head and leaves her for a moment, grabbing an orange juice and opening it, squatting next to her and washing her hands and arms with it.

“I know,” he tries to reassure, “I know.”

“My head hurts,” she tells him, doe eyes looking up, searching for reassurance.

“Okay,” he tells her, “I’m going to touch it to check it.”

He does it as he says it and there’s no resistance.

The side of her temple is weeping and as he pulls his hand away, there’s blood.

.

Natasha watches Clint cover Yelena, and she stares at the woman in front of her.

She kicks her gun away, making sure that there’s no way she could hurt any of them.

“What’s your name?” she asks, the woman morphing from a teenager to adult in front of her.

Blurring of lines makes her head pound, she wants to throw up, the disorientation overwhelming.

The woman cocks her head, chin up as she smiles.

Natasha wants to hit her, but refrains.

“Tell me something, anything to help you,” she offers.

“I defect,” she says again.

“I know,” Natasha replies.

“What is your name?”

It’s stupid, she thinks, but then tries to remember what she was like when she defected, and tries to be more patient.

“Ysabel,” the woman replies, watching Steve and Fury walk towards them.

Natasha sits back on her heels, flashback taking hold as she stares at her.

The red room halls seemed so big when they were young, but as teenagers, the compound was easily smaller than the world.

“Nat,” Ysabel smiles, her black eye swollen, and knuckles bloody.

“I got this for you.”

She hands over half the chocolate bar.

“Share it with me?”

Natasha feels herself nodding.

“I haven’t been doing nothing either,” she tells her, “I found a passageway, that leads out!”

She says it with pride.

“Come with me,” Natasha tells her, leading the way.

The little passage through the kitchen and out the chimney onto the roof.

Ysabel laughs.

“Up the chimney?”

Natasha climbs onto the roof and into the snow.

“It’s warm too, because it’s where the heat comes out. I came one morning before they made the bread. Don’t worry, it’s not our exit, I put a rope there-“ she points, “so we could get down.”

She thinks.

“And up I supposed but I like throwing it back up onto the roof so no one comes up here.”

Ysabel nods.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it secret.”

Natasha laughs.

“Keep it safe?”

Ysabel smiles in understanding and bites her chocolate bar.

The flashback ends.

Natasha stares, her head pounds.

“The chocolate bar. The roof,” she breathes.

Ysabel isn’t afforded an answer before Fury is on her.

The slap is hard and sends her to the floor.

He follows it up with handcuffs around her wrists and stands over her.

Natasha stands, swaying slightly, then steadied by Steve.

“I’m okay,” she tells him, “thanks.”

“I defect,” Ysabel tells the two men, and spits to the side, it tinged in red.

Fury growls.

“And I want to go home,” he rolls his eyes.

“Stay here, we have to wait for exfil.”

Natasha looks around.

“I’ll stay with her,” she announces, and they nod.

Natasha doesn’t know what she’s done for this level of trust, but she’ll take it.

.

Tony growls.

He hates that they’ve endangered civilians.

Hates even more that they came so close to taking Natasha again.

He shouldn’t be doing anything, he should be on bed rest.

Pepper told him not to come, and the nightmares from the last twenty minutes will haunt him for the rest of his life.

People, fire, all of that just compounds in the pain radiating from his body.

He sighs heavily.

He needs to sit down.

He spots Natasha standing over a widow he doesn’t know, a dead body near them and Clint squatting next to Yelena.

He liked her, the twenty minutes in which he met her; her sarcasm kept in line with his.

Tony steps forward, seeing Fury heading towards him.

Steve not too far behind.

“It’s time to go home,” Fury grumbles, when he’s in ear shot.

Tony takes his faceplate off and nods.

He has no quippy comeback, nothing to say as his vision blurs and he faints into the director of shield’s arms.

.

Steve sprints to Tony, his body dropping and he panics for his friend.

Fury doesn’t even flinch as he catches Tony, lowering him to the ground.

Steve stands over them, worry at all that’s going on around him.

Clint looks over to the commotion and stands in worry.

Yelena doesn’t even look up.

Natasha looks to Clint and across to Steve who squats and manages to rouse him.

“Tony,” he tries, rubbing his chest, standing over him.

Fury helps him to sit up.

They wait and stare at him as he holds up a hand.

He looks pale.

“Leg?” Steve asks.

Tony nods.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Tony shakes his head.

“It was my fault,” he whispers, looking over to Natasha.

“How could I not?”

.

[collectivelycreative]

i love our new headmates they’re so fucking stupid lol (4/20/26)

PT under cut

i love our new headmates they’re so fucking stupid lol (4/20/26)