#she also got a gunshot wound so i think i watched too much of the resident yesterday

[pilot-boi]

Pilot AUs Masterlist

Ever wondered what the fuck all my AUs are about? Well wonder no longer!

This is a list of all of my AUs (so far), or at least all of the ones I could find. They all have summaries and most have links to where fics have been posted, or to the tag on Tumblr where all the posts are about it

I will keep updating this as more AUs happen, because I am sure more AUs will happen. Also, I can’t tag all of the AUs in this post, there are literally too many

(List under the cut)

MIA

The Original AU

Jaune gets kidnapped and beat the fuck up for information

Literally just whump the entire time

BNHA

What’s on the tin

The kids but if they were in the place of BNHA characters

Fullmetal

What’s on the tin

The kids but if they were in the place of FMAB characters

Tour Group

RNJR + Qrow get lost on their way to Mistral and basically just fuck around on vaction

Very bad fashion from Jaune

VERY cracky

Sun, Neptune, and Ilia end up coming along with the plot when RNJR don’t show up

The whole plot still happens, it’s just treated VERY much for comedy

Paperwork

If Roman was told to go to hell he simply wouldn’t

After the boy dies he goes to heaven because nobody was paying attention and he snuck through the door with all the other fucking million people who died the night of the Fall

Hangs out with Summer, Pyrrha, and sometimes Penny and they watch the plot through the clouds

Stranger Things

What’s on the tin

The kids but if they were in Stranger Things

Not a straight up character replacement, actual different plots because of the different personalities

Mistral

Everyone gets to Mistral, fights at Haven, and they go no further

Buy a house and all live together while doing missions and being domestic

Jaune gets his ass kicked every other week

That’s it, that’s the plot

Army Birds

Have you ever wished Qrow Branwen could date Maes Hughes from FMAB?

Mistral AU offshoot

After the phone booth Maes is isekai’d into RWBY and is found by Qrow and Jaune

Qrow because ship, Jaune because holy shit gunshot wounds

It’s like Fairgame but if Clover wasn’t a fucking narc

Coffee Shop/College

Your classic coffee shop AU combined with a classic college AU

All the kiddos are sophomores/juniors at Beacon University

Shipping and shenanigans ensue

Seamonkeys are the coffee shop ship, but Jaune also works there

Heartwood

An AU based on a ship that HarmonyLight and I came up with between JNR+Marrow

Diverges about halfway through Volume 8 as it hadn’t finished when we came up with it

Whale dies, but who knows after that

They ride a boat to Vacuo

Daemon

What it says on the tin

They’ve all got daemons but the plot is the same

Twice the characters, twice the pain

Percy Jackson

What it says on the tin

The kids but if they were in Percy Jackson

Not a straight up character replacement

Different characters take different places as necessary for the plot

Godly parents are all different

Hanahaki

Pyrrha is really pining in this one y’all

Oof oof ouch angst she’s choking on roses for the boy

Space

Very Firefly inspired space AU with JNPR as a crew of a ship

RWBY are crew of another ship

Political nonsense and spaceship fights galore

Soulmate

Platonic and romantic and all those in between

When you get hurt, your soulmate blooms flowers in the same place

Vibrancy and size of the flowers depends on the severity of the injury

Canon events are the same

Time Travel

Oscar gets sent back in time for fix-it purposes, but not as far as you’d think

Timeline diverges during the finale of V7, when ALPN end up in the vault during the Maiden nonsense

Some doomed timeline shit happens and literally EVERYONE dies before Oscar and Jaune’s eyes

Oscar unlocks his semblance (time travel whoopee) and Jaune boosts him so he can go back and F1X TH1S

Blooming

AKA, Pyrrha lives because I miss her

Through the power of Arkos and Jaune being a soft boy who keeps giving his maybe girlfriend flowers, the girl lives and the world is saved

90% Beacon era with a VERY short epilogue

5+1 Style

Modelling

Baby’s first RWBY fic courtesy of inspiration from the OG Jaune server

Arkos are both models and both idiots

Pining, fake dating, and lots of fluff ensue

Daycare

ALMOST everyone except Weiss, Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ilia are 8-years-old or younger

Modern/realistic AU

Weiss owns a daycare center that watches all these kids, Arkos are her employees

90% fluff

10% the inevitable angst of some of the characters being orphans

Les Miserables

What it says on the tin

I wrote down like seven pages of notes without stopping to drink water

Sort of character replacement AU but with subtle things changed for to make sense

Major Character Death

Duh

Qrow Fucks Up

Least thought through honestly

Canon but if everything boiled down to being somehow because of Qrow’s bad luck

VERY cracky

LOTR

What it says on the tin

Character replacement AU but with some MAJOR things changed for to make sense

Plot is the same, but how they get there might not always be

Flying Monkeys

Sun gets kidnapped by Salem for Grimm body part experiments and all he gets are wings and a boat load of trauma

Finally one not about Jaune

Oops looks like Sun got fuckin tortured for months all so I could make a dumb pun oops

The only one of these with a whole comic done about it

WAY more stuff in my head than necessary

Fallen Angel

Jaune and MOST of the baddies are kidnapped as children and experimented on by Salem as she tries to make them into angels and become a god

Less complicated than it sounds

User/Reader influenced

Modern AU of Remnant, timeline diverges after the gods leave

Magic is taken away and EVERYONE is made into part animal part humans

Nobody is bird though, and they’re more animal than Faunus

The gang literally fistfights “god”

Wings

Canon but if everyone had bird wings

Way more lore than necessary

The plot is the same, HarmonyLight and I just did a hell of worldbuilding

CatsVDogs

V9 AU where Jaune and the Curious Cat get into a relationship during his time trapped and it’s all downhill from there

CC is hella abusive, Jaune gets hella traumatized, it’s a bad time

Jaune’s shadow is sorta sentient

CC is a twinky tumblr sexyman catboy

Jaune gets possessed by CC instead of Neo, but he gets better

Voices

After the Fall Jaune starts being able to hear voices of dead people

Mostly can hear Huntsmen because they’re Auras are stronger

Mostly thinks he’s going crazy because Ren, Nora, and Ruby can’t hear the voices

Boy is stressed, and tired, and at the end of his rope

Wolf

Werewolf AU I made because it was Spooky Season

Jaune gets mauled by a Beowolf as a child and will turn into one when he gets too emotional

He can’t control it though

Runs away after blowing up at Pyrrha and saves Cardin in wolf form at Forever Fall

Starstuff

The one where Jaune glows when he’s happy because he’s LITERALLY sunshine boy

Everyone has nature related powers that slowly awaken to show that the gods are coming back

Wrote most of it in 2021 to HarmonyLight and then forgot about it for two years

DND

Started as the gang playing DND, turned into the gang LIVING in DND

Not in Feyrun, set in a DND-ified version of Remnant

Characters are not the classes/races you’d think

Way too much thought put into it

Mando

The Arcs are similar to the Mandalorians, but that’s where the Star Wars ends

Jaune adopts Oscar and eventually Nora

Fluff ensues

Twins

“Hey, Yang and Jaune look kind of alike” taken to the extreme

Jaune is abandoned by Raven and raised by the Arcs

Parent Trap realization/angst ensues

Twins have a psychic bond

Mirror Man

Jaune retreats WAY far into the RK persona

RK “kills” Jaune to protect everyone from “a horrible killer”

Very angst much ouch

Not actually DID, just mentally protecting himself from V8 trauma

Modern Magic

That’s it, that’s the AU

Inspired by all those modern witch AUs I used to read back in 2014 MCYT

Set in “real world” and they’re all in college

Man out of Time

Jaune is a timelord, but he isn’t the Doctor, I literally can’t stress this enough

His TARDIS crashed and he was adopted by the Arcs

Regenerates way too often for how long he’s been alive

Healing Rust

Yo that boy’s got hella trauma, let’s speak on that

Set after V9 and written as a MAJOR healing fic

Oneshots inspired by asks sent in

Royalty

Obligatory royalty AU

Jaune and Weiss are the royals, Pyrrha is Jaune’s guard

Everyone is involved somehow

There’s angst in The Plot, but mostly it’s just Armoured Angel

Fusion

Jaune’s Semblance manifests as a way to fuse the souls of two people, combing their bodies

Two people can fuse, but Jaune has to have fused with both of them first

LOTS of art of different character fusions

Angst and identity issues galore

Burning Knight

When Penny is killed, Jaune inherits the powers

“Woohoo, time to repress this”

Egg cracking is pushed off until RWBY fall into the Ever After

Jaune is a girl who feels like a guy, still uses he/him pronouns

Hare’s Breadth

Jaune dies on the tower during the Fall, Pyrrha survives

Blacksmith repairs him to prevent a paradox

Juniper is used to repair since his body was dissolved by Cinder

Angst and fluff and being confused about why the hell he’s alive and a jackalope-taur

Knights in Time

Jaune and Weiss are sent back to Volume 1 by the Blacksmith

Time travel fix-it ensues

Starts with White Knight, eventual Armored Angels

[piccionethepigeon]

Helping hand part 2

Part 1:

Part 3

Simon Riley “Ghost” X fem! Medic! Reader

Summary: in the following days ghost is acting weird and when forced to go out for drinks with his teammates Ghost runs into you things get complicated

Warnings: I don’t know jack shiii about Cod I’m just horny for beefy masked men so he could be out of character and other things inaccurate, sexual content, injury and blood, pining, clueless reader, also probably bad writing and grammar as this is not even my first lenguage , size kink, obsessive! Ghosts, marking, belly bulge, lots of shit tbh, go away minors

You were pretty sure Ghost was avoiding you, he did buy you coffe as a thanks the next day but he almost threw it in your hands and with a quick “see ya” he was gone again, and whenever you ran into him while doing your duties around base he seemed to just…puff vaporize, he would not be in a room for more than 30 seconds with you and it was kind of upsetting.

He could not be angry about the pain you caused him while mending the gunshot, he had wounds way worse than that, ugh before that your relationship with Ghost could have been considered friendship, a thing he did not give freely, he talked to you more than most, never snapping at you and always being polite, with some jokes sometimes you could even make him snort and that was the closest he got to laughing, the only think he was quite uncomfortable with was touch, if you patted him on the arm or grazed his side with yours while passing in a corridor or something his whole posture demeanor would straighten and stiffed up and quickly put distance between you two…. But he seemed fine with occasiona pats on the back and playful hitting with Soap and Alejandro… even if with Soap it was often reciprocated with a punch, but that was more of a game between them than anything since Soap just smiled and punched him too.

Huh maybe he had trauma with women? Or just didn’t feel comfortable with you like that. Fuck maybe that was also the reason he was avoiding you, you touched him too much to medicate him and he was angry or upset, maybe he felt harassed .

Panic flooded you, did you harass the man?! You did maybe overdo it with the touching but that was the only thing that came to your mind to comfort him, and now you could have lost your friendship to him…. The thought gutted you.

After avoiding y/n for days Ghost would have been pretty content laying in bed all day sulking and jerking his cock till it bled but of course the others wanted to go out for drinks and just had to drag him with them.

Now he was in a crowded pub with a glass of bourbon in his hand with his skull balaclava on looking like a freak. But drinking bourbon with a straw was better than showing his face, lately it was harder for him to go out without his mask, in crowded areas more so, all fault of the PTSD and shit.

So there he was nursing a glass of bourbon with a straw watching Pierce and Alejandro cracking jokes and ordering drinks like they were free, Soap was flirting with a tall blonde girl. Ghost usually secretly loved the nights out with his team, they made him feel normal. But his mind was still buzzing with the images of y/n kneeling between his tights, and the shame that followed it, also the shame of avoiding you for days because he felt like a bastard for beating his cock at the thoughts of a woman doing her job, but it was not any woman...but y/n….and that somehow made it worse.

So he wasn’t really in the mood for jokes or watch Soap try to fuck some girl.

The Blonde got up and slapped the shit out of Soap for a comment on her tits, and it made Ghost chuckle, the same chuckle died in his throat when he saw someone walking to their table.

Out of all fucking people it could have been it was Y/n, in the tightest and shortest black dress he ever saw in his bloody fucking life, leaving nothing to the imagination, and she was waving cheerfully at them, fuck, he drank the last of his alcohol.

“Hi guys! Having a boys night out?” Why did y/n have to be so goddamn pretty and cheerful all the time.

Alejandro replied “yes bonita, want to join us for a drink?”

You looked unsure “uhm yeah why not, but only one tough, I’m waiting for a friend and she’s going to be here soon”

Ghost was relieved… relieved that you were dressed like a dream come true only fro a friendly outing and not a date, he was not the jealous type especially for a girl that was not his…. but the idea of you with another man made his hands itch.

But it was also not ideal that you were joining them and also that the only place in the boot with a free seat was next to him. You eyed him unsure and that made him gaze soften, he was acting like a dick avoiding you for something you didn’t do, he patted the seat next to him. “Come here”

You smiled happily at him and sat right down.

Having you around was sweet sweet torture, your scent, your soft voice laughing with everyone, your warmth that he could feel radiating from you as you brushed arms with him on accident, and if he looked down accidentally with you being shorter he could look right down your cleavage.

So he started drinking alcohol like water joining his friends hoping it would help numb and calm himself.

Of course it did not, it just made his desire harder to control.

Oh and his friends definitely knew.

Soap spoke to you “Y/n come on let’s go dance a bit, the music is fucking awesome and I’m a great dancer” but as he said that to you his eyes were on ghost the whole time, being met with a sharp gaze that screamed a warning.

You laughed and playfully smacked soap on the hand he offered you “I’ve seen girls falling for your charms but I’m not charmed so easily” Soap just laughed back and then full on smirked when Ghost extended his arm on the back of the boot caging your shoulder without touching you.

When you looked inquisitively he just shrugged, “starching” he muttered while finishing another glass, alcohol definitely made him bolder and making his restraint thinner than paper.

He knew so by watching the smirks on Pierce’s and Alejandro’s faces too. The only one clueless was y/n.

He was going mad, every time he shifted his good leg it brushed on yours making him suppress a shiver, and with all the alcohol flowing in his veins he even had trouble holding his head up. On top of that y/n phone flashed with a message: her friend was sick and could not make it, meaning he had to endure that for hours.

Ghost looked around, Soap was supposed to bring drinks but he was nowhere to be seen…fucking hell there he was: going out the door with a smile so big he looked like a child with candy…holding a dark skinned brunette by the hand. He was glad for his friend to get laid but that wanker was also his ride home, well not anymore.

“That fucking wanker” he slurred.

Pierce shot him a sympathetic look “he was your ride to the base wasn’t he? You can ask y/n to give you a ride her house is close to base”

You smiled “yeah sure it’s no problem”

Ghost was tense, but nodded, didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.

You were tense, still scared that Ghost was somehow upset with you, lost in tough you didn’t even notice the 6’2 man get on his feet, and trip over them to almost crash into you steading himself at the last second putting a hand in the table.

Alejandro laughed “Ghost you’re way drinker than I thought, I’m going to help y/n walk you to her car” it was almost amusing seeing such a powerful man usually so stealthy, quick and precise struggle to keep his balance while standing.

After saying your goodbyes to Price you were grateful for Alejandro’s help, him supporting ghosts right shoulder, you the left, since the man was probably more than double your weight so impossible to carry on your own, he seemed pretty unhappy to be escorted like that but didn’t complain if not with his eyes.

Alejandro made Ghost sit in the passenger’s seat of your car, and you fastened his seatbelt your cheeks heating at the closeness.

“We’ll drive save and tuck Ghost in hoping he doesn’t throw up in his mask, goodnight”

You replied “goodnight!” While Ghost just gave him the middle finger.

The drive to the base was silent and tense, once there you helped unfasten Ghosts seatbelt and tried to get him to get up witch was pretty challenging, thankfully once out he walked on his feet. “Uhm I’ll walk you to your room so I’m sure you don’t pass out in the corridors” he just glanced at you and nodded. “Are you able to clean and change the bandage to your wound in this state?” He sighed “no I’m not but I’ll be fine” “oh that’s bullshit I’ll help you, you risk getting an infection otherwise” you argued, Ghost just grunted not having any excuse, but he knew things were stepping into dangerous territory.

The walk to his barrack was fast and when he ulivi ed his door untori heart was pounding like crazy, an you felt silly, it was just to clean his would and make sure he was not feeling sick nothing alse.

He opened the door and let you in, his place was so much like him, few posters and personal items, tidy but not perfect, a king size bed with grey sheets and just one pillow. He sat on the bed just gazing at you with an unreadable look on his eyes.

“Uh take off your pants please, that way I can reach the wound” you wandered off in the bathroom to grab gauze and give him some privacy, even if eventually you had to see him in his underwear and that made your heart pound hard in your rib cage. You could admit to yourself you had kind of a crush on him… it was silly and you could not let it make him uncomfortable.

Eventually you had to get back and there he was sitting on the bed with his legs spread, his black boxers doing nothing to hide how uhm well endowed he was. Don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it, don’t stare at it. You walked over and got on your knees, Ghosts inhaled a sharp breath.

You felt guilty he was clearly uncomfortable, starting to clean the would you were carful to touch him only when necessary then spoke “Ghost… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I patched you up I really didn’t mean to, you just seem to be avoiding me” you looked up and his gaze was scorching and glued on you.

Ghost was still feeling bold from the alcohol and could not pretend anymore. “I was acting weird only because I could not stop imagining you on your knees for me, your pretty mouth on my cock” your face was burning “oh fuck off your drunk stop joking around” you squealed. He just cocked his head and just kept staring a you.

You finished changing the gauze and stood up abruptly just to find yourself still in between his legs and your tits almost to his face. “ Oh I- I have finished you can go to sleep now and I’ll leave you a-alone” “I’ll go to sleep only if you give me a kiss goodnight” his gaze was piercing, you wanted to so bad oh fuck but he was drunk he didn’t really want that… if it was over the mask it could not count right? Trembling you lowered your face and spliced your lips where his shoulder be under the mask they were so warm even under the fabric and the heat spread from your lips to your core.

“H-happy now?”

“That was a shit kiss, this is a real bloody kiss”

Before you could even comprehend the sentence a hand was on your eyes and a sound of fabric shifting before hot chapped lips smashed on yours, it was just a peck at fist but then his lips gently coaxed your mouth open and his tongue entered your mouth, it felt like e was devouring you the best way possible.

Fuck he was so good with his mouth that it made your head spin. Nonono this was wrong he was drunk he… felt so good fuck. A moan escaped your lips only making him kiss you with more fervor.

After a while his lips sadly left yours and you were pretty sure you were wet not only on your mouth.

He placed his mask back before removing his hand from your eyes. Then you felt Ghosts strong arms cage you while his heated eyes gazing straight into yours still. In less than a second he shifted and moved you like you weighted nothing, before realizing it you were on his bed under him, his huge body caging yours.

His hips flush to yours and you could feel it pressing on your core… it was hard and huge making you grind on him without meaning to and his hips bucked making you moan, his breath on your neck Ghost spoke “I want this, I want you so bad… so you want that?” His voice betrayed uncertainty.

You whimpered and nodded.

“I need you to say it? Please doll” he asked.

Your mouth was still full of his taste and you gulped. “ yes yes please, touch me Ghost”

He looked at you and something in his eyes snapped, he grabbed your dress and ripped it off you making you yelp.

“H-hey I liked that”

“I’ll buy you a new one” his voice was deeper than usual thick with his own arousal.

He discarded his shirt then making you stare in awe, he was so damn hot, he was muscled but beefier than models or people who trained for aesthetics but even more gorgeous, because those were muscles made for strength. Every scar he wore on his torso only bothered you because it was a visual reminder of all the pain he went thru.

Ghost was breathing hard “ you’re so fucking beautiful, fuck” his hands were all over your body caressing, squeezing, teasing, like he was trying to memorize the look and feel of your body.

Then out of nowhere he snapped your panties and bra off, one hand on your boobs groping them gently before giving attention to the nipples tweaking them gently between his fingers then with the other hand he began touching your folds smearing the slick “Fuck you’re so wet and soft, looking like a damn dream, and I bet you’ll feel like one too, can’t wait to have my col buried in you” the dirty talk made your face burn and your pussy clench “but I’ll have to prepare you well or this is going to hurt, I’m much bigger than you, and I want you only to feel good” you thoughts were barely coherent any only moans and his name could leave your lips “G-Ghost” your hips raising to get more friction on his fingers, he started to pet your clit and fuck he was also good at that making you moan shamelessly.

He then inserted one digit while touching your clit with his palm , then a second digit, then a third and the stretch was stinging but he moved his fingers gently and the palm on your clit was pleasurable. Meanwhile you palmed him though is underwear with one hand and the other on I’m his huge tattooed arm to keep yourself grounded. He moved his fingers faster and faster your cunt making squelching noises. “G-ghost gonna c-cum soon!” You slurred “not yet doll the first time you’ll come is going to be on my cock” he said in your ear and removed his fingers, the emptiness was unbearable for a few moments before he discarded his underwear letting you see him in all his glory, a deep v line ending a thick uncut cock that was now very hard and dripping.

The sight alone was overwhelming but existing, he grabbed it and started to rub it in your folds to slick it up then centered it to go in but stopped “i’m going in alright?” Is voice was hoarse.

“Yes yes please Simon”

He groaned “I love my name on your lips” then bottomed out in a single slow thrust.

It felt like too much and stung a bit but it was also so fucking good you could not stop mewling.

“Fuck that’s it you’re taking me so well, good girl”

His voice made you shiver and you looked down, he was stretching you to the limit and there was also a small bulge in your lower belly.

“Fuck Simon please move” and so he did slow at first to get you used to his size then harder and harder making you moan and sink your nails in his back, was groaning and occasionally swearing in your ear adding a lot to the pleasure together with the delicious friction of his pelvis on your clit every time he bottomed out, his top kissing your cervix.

“Simon i-I’m gonna cum gonna c-“ you moaned.

“Cum for me doll milk my cock” and so you did clenching and screaming his name.

But he kept on moving stretching your orgasm impossibly long turning it into overstimulation but even that was fucking delicious.

“Love I’m going to cum can I do it inside of you? Hell I want to so bad”

“Yes yes I’m on birth control please fill me up”

At that he lifted up his mask to kiss you passionately while he grunted and fucked his seed lmpossibly deep into you.

You were struggling to catch your breath and si did he after lifting his mask up again, but he was still hard inside of you.

“Doll are you up for another round?”

His soldier stamina would probably kill you but it would have been a glorious death.

“Yeah”

And he went again making you scream even louder.

After that you probably fell asleep because it was now morning, you were sore between your legs and a bit sticky even tough you were sure he cleaned you up with a towel before joining you in bed again.

His tattooed arm was draped over you squishing you a bit but it was comforting. It was the best night of your life but… what if he was only drunk and rejected you as soon as he woke up? That thought was crushing.

You didn’t even have time to think about that, work was in half an hour, I guess thankfully the barracks were so close to base.

With some struggling you slipped away from under a sleeping Ghost and took a shower, noticing in the mirror after that he left a huge hickey on your neck during the night. Uh that would be hard to hide.

With the dress ripped you had no choice but steal a shirt and hoodie to wear, and thankfully emergency leggings into your bag. The problem was the hoodie was clearly too big on you, meaning all base would know you hooked up, making all day a walk of shame, and his scent o the clothes would remind you all day of the previous night.

Slipping out the door you glanced at a Ghost once last time, what a dork he even slept with that mask, the feeling in your chest was more than a crush and you knew it.

Author note: I just wanted to to thank you all for liking the first part of the fic I never expected that many likes 💗 I never expected so many likes, that means y’all are probably mentally ill like me and spend your free time reading or writing about masked men’s dicks and I respect that, let me know if y’all wanna be tagged in part 3

(Also I know hitting the Cervix isn’t that fuck irl but it sound hot so let me be delusional)

Tags: @atlantic-sugar

[monin1ca]

Tearing at the seams (Chamber x reader)

Word count:1.7k

Warnings: Angst with comfort at the end (because I hate bad endings), suggestive-ish, cursing, mentions of wounds, google translated french

Synopsis: Being Sage's intern was challenging, and it took time to understand how to use your powers in the desired way. Your training has brought you to this stage, where you are tending to the protocol's flirt; Chamber.

Fortunately, he escaped with only one wound in his torso and one shot in his shoulder. Sage already did most of the work and tasked you to apply the antibiotics and change the bandages on Chamber. You had “history” with the gunsmith; back in high school, you developed feeling for the infamous heartthrob Vincent Fabron. Being the naive idiot, you were, you confessed to him on the last day of school. Only for him to be called by his parents to leave ‘right this instant.’ He gives you what you think was a fake smile, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go-” leaving you there- heartbroken and all alone, your beating heart tearing at the seams. 

Being Sage’s intern was a tough job; learning how to use your radiant abilities and use them for how they were intended; was a long journey. Though, now you were fully capable of controlling them. Sage’s clinic was also quite hectic, ranging from minor cuts and bruises to dead people being brought back to life. You could only imagine how stressed Sage was before she took you in, but now? Holy shit.

Some agents were chosen to partake in an infiltration mission to their mirror world; the damage to the agents was considerable. The selected ones were Sage, Omen, Jett, Fade, Sova, Reyna, Chamber, and Viper. Your mentor came home with a few gunshots- not too significant. The rest? It was a different story- Sova broke a few bones of his ribcage, Jett blacked out, Fade got substantial gunshot wounds, Omen’s shadows started leaking out of his armor, Reyna dislocated her ankle, Viper inhaled too much of her mirror’s nasty toxins and who else were you forgetting… Ah, right. The man you were tending to Chamber…

But when you were recruited into the Valorant protocol and saw the French man- You decided to pretend your silly little confession never happened, and he never brought it up. Though lately- you started falling for him again; it was idiotic. All the playful banter and flirting made your heart beat so much faster, the sweet gestures he does for you. You feel delusional because you keep thinking- ‘I dont see him doing this to other people. It makes me feel… special’ You know, you know. But you learned from your mistakes and told yourself never to confess to Chamber.

You snap out of your train of nostalgic memories and knock on the room where Sage said where she left Chamber. “Oh?” The injured man’s muffled voice reverberates through the door, “Monsieur, I’m here to tend to your injuries.” You shouted, hoping it was enough to be heard through the thick door. “Ah, Y/N? Come in; the door is unlocked.” You opened the door to be greeted with a strong scent of cologne; the room was intricately decorated with white and gold. You shuffled awkwardly into the room; you looked around the room, seeing the male in his canopy bed. The tops of the bed held a translucent curtain with gold lines coming down on it, and soft duvet sheets crumpled due to Chamber laying down lazily. Everything in this room reminds you of how poor you were compared to him. You strode to the bed and placed your materials on the nearby nightstand; you noticed his iconic glasses and gold watch that probably costs millions. Vincent wasn’t wearing his vest and tie and was only wearing his white button-down. Which told you he was already anticipating your arrival. You sigh deeply to yourself,

‘Let’s get this over with before I combust.’

“Alrighty, mister, how are you feeling right now?” You inquire, looking at everything but him. “I was doing ok, but I feel better now that you are here.” The latter winks, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “May I?” You gesture at his torso, and he smiles. “Please, knock yourself out.” Chamber pats a spot on his left, motioning for you to approach and do your work. You strolled to his side; the bed dipped at your weight when you placed your knee. Your hands slowly made their way to the buttons; you could feel his eyes on you. Even though you felt like prey being watched by its predator, you continued unbuttoning the attire. It felt like eons when you finally reached the last button, your hands dangerously close to his lower half. Once you finished, you quickly pulled your hands away to avoid the awkwardness and pulled them back up higher to remove the first plaster. ‘His torso looked like it was a frame of a greek god. Shit, what am I thinking?’ You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts and focused on removing the plaster as painlessly as possible. It was so adorable how flustered you were on Chamber’s end, The tippy top of your ears with multiple shades of red, and how you avoided eye contact with him. It was just so adorable~ You placed your left hand on his abs to have support and used your right hand to peel the plaster slowly; you heard the french man hiss and groan in pain at the action. ‘God, that sounded so hot.’ “Just a little bit more and- There.” You chirped, relieved that it was partially over. You threw the old bloody plaster in a nearby bin and got the antibiotic; you opened the medicine and squeezed it onto a soft cotton pad. “I’ll apply this special antibiotic that should sanitize, clean, and remove the scar of your wound. It might hurt, but you're a big boy, right?” You explained to him; he chuckles at the last part of your sentence. “I am a big boy, mon Cheri. Though take it slow, I’m enjoying every aspect of this.” You were stunned, “I- W-what ever… Weirdo.” You lowered your head, hoping your hair was long enough to hide your face. You slowly rub the cotton pad on the gunsmith’s skin and hear the knee-wobbling hiss again, this time caused by the shock of the cold medicine colliding against his skin. At last, you were finished; you threw the used pad and grabbed the fresh new bandages. 

“Can you sit up a ‘Lil bit? I need a little allowance to wrap this around your body.” The male complies obediently, sitting up from his pillow and waiting for your move. You go closer and start wrapping the bandages around his body, your hot breath against his chest. His breath hitches as you slowly begin your little ministrations, as you were wrapping the bandages around- You notice that he has had previous injuries before this, the faint, faint scars proving it; sure, it was normal, but you never saw him get hurt before going into the protocol.  You were so lost in your train of thought Chamber had to point out you were adding too much fabric. “Were you enjoying the view that much, Cheri?” You were not going to lie to yourself, and you were enjoying the view. “Yeah, I was.” Now it was his turn to blush; he was silent after that one. ‘As you should, Mr. Heartthrob’ You chuckled to yourself, and you moved closer to him; Placing your hand and legs over him for stability, you almost looked like you were straddling Chamber if people walked in and saw the scene. “I’m going to treat your shot in the shoulder; I’ll go a bit closer, yeah?” He gives a slight nod, his accentuated cheeks still dusted in pink. You leaned closer and slowly removed the old plaster; the slight sounds of the plaster ripping off his skin made you shudder. You can only imagine how much he went through in his past injuries; Chamber notices the sadness on your face. “What’s wrong, mon ange?”  His hand reaches your face, gentle hands caressing your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, clutching the used plaster in your hands. “I.. Just- can’t imagine what you went through before joining the protocol..” You brushed the faint scars on his body; his body hitched at your touch. You feel like the air is being sucked out due to the heavy tension between you, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Silence… 

Suddenly, Chamber drops his hands lower, grabs your waist, and pulls you closer. “You are too good for me.” You yelp at the sudden action, and his slightly dry lips meet yours. You felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest, perhaps when his lips touched yours, time stood still, but the beating in your chest only grew stronger. As your knees grew weak, you fell forward to his embrace; you could only concentrate on how smooth he was against your mouth and how completely he had taken over your senses. Chamber clouded your thoughts; all you could think of was Chamber. You moan slightly on his lips, signaling to pull away. He understood and pulled away; your head was spinning not from the lack of air but from why this was happening. You had millions of questions, but you could only muster “Why?” He laughs, “Well, the simplest explanation is; I like you too. And this tension? I could not stand it.” You wanted to pinch yourself to see if this was all real, but the loving look on his face told you this was all too real. “B-but my confession from all those years ago-” “My parents sent me home because,”  he cut you off. “I was drafted into the military; they wanted to send me far away. They’ve always thought I was incompetent and needed a so-called boost.” The truth behind his scars and why he left you behind the school amazed you. All these questions finally had answers; your eyes were filled with tears. “Ah, mon amour, don’t waste your pretty tears on me.” He says as he wipes your stray tears, “You still have to finish patching me up after all,” The male chuckles; you can’t hold back anymore, your heart tearing at the seams, not because it got broken. Now it is because your love for him is starting to overflow.

Author's note - THIS WAS INSPIRED BY ONE OF THE PROMPT THINGY I REBLOGED! HOPE YALL WILL ENJOY THIS ONE^^

[brownietown05]

Loosing Control

My first Detroit: Become Human Fanfic Hahaha

Around 1,200 words

Charakters: Sumo, Hank, Connor, Amanda

Curse Words (because... well its Hank), mentioning of two dead persons but there not important for the story

Have fun and tell me what you think :)

Summary: Just a moment where Cyberlife takes Control over Connor and Hank just wanted to watch the game

Connor got out of the elevator behind Hank into the hallway and put his coin in the pocket of his jacket.

A police officer was already waiting for them both and explained what had happened. A dead body on the balcony, a gunshot wound to the leg and chest, both of which led to death due to blood loss.

Hank listened carefully as they were led through the apartment that the balcony adjoined.

The window was in shards on the floor, some of them much smaller than others, which was not only due to the gunshots but also because the perpetrator walked over the glass to the body after shooting.

The living room showed no signs of damage or signs of a struggle. So the victim was standing on the balcony and was probably surprised.

"There's another body on the roof," the police officer informed them.

"Okay. We'll take a look right away," Hank said and looked at the crime scene.  "Did you find anything yet?" He asked Connor. Since the two of them started working together, that was one of the first questions Connor received, whereupon he listed all the clues and explained what had happened. It saved an infinite amount of time.

Hank nodded.

"Okay, then let's look upstairs."

They both went back to the elevator that took them to the roof terrace of the building.

The first thing they saw was the second victim, 42 years and male, lying on his back with his limbs outstretched and two gunshot wounds in the chest. There, too, Connor identified the body and began the analysis. Hank took a closer look at the surroundings.

"The perpetrator left the weapon over here." Hank called out and examined it. "He doesn't seem to have been particularly bright if he left it behind. Unless he was wearing gloves or was an android." He murmured.

Connor heard Hank's voice in the background as several pieces of information appeared in his vision.

Michael Harper

Male, 42 years old

Approximate time of death: 6:32....

His LED suddenly gave off a short but steady crackle, his vision became blurry and Connor twitched uncontrollably.

No, not now... Please was the last thing he thought before he was pulled into the Zen garden.

Amanda greeted him as always with her stoic and disappointed expression while she stood under a blossoming tree in fine robes. This time it was cloudy, the lanterns gave off no light and cold wind whipped around Connor.

The android approached the woman hesitantly and he knew that something else was happening while he was here.

"Connor." Amanda said as icy as the wind.

"Amanda. I'm in the middle of a case, I have to get back." Connor's teeth chattered from the increasing cold, but that was absurd. Why should he be able to feel the wind like that?

"I've warned you several times, Connor. I've tried several times to get you on the right path, to focus on the mission. But this lieutenant isn't making it easy for you." Her voice became more threatening and louder as she spoke and her look only grew angrier.

Connor feared for Hank at that moment, he didn't know what was happening to him while his body was left there uncontrolled.

"It's time we take care of this ourselves." Were Amanda's last words before she disappeared, leaving Connor with even more worries.

"Shit, why do people always have to kill someone on the weekend?" Hank muttered, cursing, and went to the railing to look down.

Connor, meanwhile, stood up next to the corpse and went to the gun that was lying a few meters away from the victim and grabbed it.

"I wanted to watch the game and drink a cold beer, but no... the people, or androids, decide to kill someone and we have to do the whole shit again because no one else can do it. What do you think Connor, we should... what the fuck are you doing with the gun Connor?"

The android, his partner and friend, pointed the gun at him and his face was as expressionless as Hank knew it from their first mission.

"Connor, what the hell is this, put the gun down!" Hank raised his hands and wanted to walk carefully towards the android, but Connor loaded the gun at the same moment and Hank decided against his idea.

"You are an obstacle to my mission, Lieutenant. Forgive me, I have to do this."

His voice was devoid of any emotion, as if Connor was just an android sent by cyberlife.

"Connor, whatever is going on, talk to me and put the thing down." Hank has never been good with words, but right now, suprisingly, he had absolutely no desire to die, especially not to be shot by Connor, while there was definitely something wrong with the boy. His LED glowed yellow and was spinning incessantly.

"As I said, you are preventing me from completing my mission. I can't let that happen any longer."

"Listen, no matter what rubbish Cyberlife has told you, they're wrong, you hear me? You're not just a machine that follows orders and I'm going to..."

"Shut up!" Connor shouted and aimed the gun at Hank's chest and Hank was a thousand percent sure that Connor would hit the center of his heart if he shot now. He saw Connor's arm tense up to pull the trigger, but at the same moment Connor pulled his other arm up to pull the arm with the gun down and the shot landed on the floor.

Hank opened his narrowed eyes and saw Connor drop the gun, standing hunched over and breathing heavily, even if the android didn't have to.

"Hey Connor.  Look at me." Hank said after a brief hesitation. Connor followed his request at a snail's pace. Hank recognized the fear behind it and he knew immediately that it was his Connor who was looking at him. His friend, who was not himself for a few minutes.

Connor was still clutching the wrist that held the gun. The lieutenant walked towards the android and put a hand on Connor's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Hank... I didn't... I didn't mean to..." the android stammered quietly. Hank pulled the boy into a hug, which was immediately returned and they both stood like that for a while until Connor's stress level dropped and his breathing and the beating of his thirium pump slowed down.

Connor pulled back again and shied away from the question that was clearly written on Hank's face. Hank wanted to know what had just happened.

"Let's go back inside, shall we?" Hank asked instead. Connor frowned in confusion, but nodded and went ahead to take the elevator down. Not just down to the floor where the other body was, but all the way to the bottom, to the exit of the building.

"But I thought..." he wanted to protest.

"Sumo suddenly felt really bad and I think he threw up his food, that really needs to be checked out, doesn't it?" Hank winked once as he said that and they both walked towards the car to drive back home and most likely watch the game.

Sumo was asleep next to Connor on the couch while Connor drunk Thirium and Hank in the armchair complained about the players' moves.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Oh.

You're dead...

Again.

Fuck.

Dying sucks, even if your deaths don't really 'stick' for long.

Mainly it's a traumatic situation for the people who love you to see you die, even briefly. Then there's the mess, the cleanup, medical attention if your death-wound doesn't fix itself properly and then all the other injuries you got along the way to your death that DON'T heal on their own because they're not fatal.

Fuck.

It's gonna be a rough week.

You sit up and quietly stare at the Grim Reaper sitting across the way from you, reading a book about self improvement.

This Reaper is named Theo and you've known him basically all your life. I mean, how couldn't you? He's YOUR death, he's the Reaper tasked with taking your soul when you finally give up the ghost for good.

It's rare that people get to meet their deaths before actually dying, but you're a necromancer who's died and almost died a whole lot so it makes sense that you're so well acquainted with Theo. He looks at you over the rims of his huge circular glasses and smiles a shark toothed smile that reminds you of Something Red.

"Long time no see kid, how are things?" He tilts his head, fluffy hair blowing in the warm breeze that always lingers in the Hereafter. "Probably not good if we're having this conversation, welp... what go you this time?"

"...stabbing." you sign wryly. You're not fully dead yet, so you can't speak in the Hereafter, but that's fine you have your loopholes.

Theo winces dramatically, snapping his book shut and setting it beside him on the soft grass. "Oof, it's always stabbings with you isn't it? Or gunshots."

"Well no, there was that one time with the chainsaw." You grin

"Speaking of! How is she?" Theo leans forward excitedly. "She's from a completely different branch y'know so it's not like we get to hang out."

"Grounded... for now." Another smile, softer this time.

Theo nods in understanding. "She's gonna flip shit when she finds out what happened."

You make a face. "Everybody will."

"...she doesn't like me very much I think... she wants to be Your Death in some silly romantic sort of way and I'm just in the way of all that." Theo shrugs and you shrug back.

"I'd rather you than her, I mean I've known you longer, and I feel like she'd try to keep me or something... which is cute but also No."

Theo chuckles, hauling himself to his feet. "Well then I guess we better get you back to her, before she comes looking for you and I end up minus more limbs." Theo draws his hand across thin air and summons his Death Scythe, a magnificent bestial sawtoothed thing.

You stand too, give Theo a hug, and watch him split the world apart at your feet with his scythe. He waves farewell as you fall down

down

down

and away.

[lyon-amore]

Mr and Mrs Liars Chapter 28

Chapter 27 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   *MC POV*  I feel like I can breathe better, although my chest still hurts from breathing in so much smoke. Phil, Jessy, Dan and Cleo join me in the room. From what I know, Jake's old team called Phil and he told the group so I wouldn't feel alone. He left me with them while he went to talk to the doctor about my situation. Luckily I had no serious injuries, I just needed to recover and clear the air from my lungs.     “You're going to beat my hospital record.” Dan laughs, trying to cheer me up.     "Don't make me laugh, my chest still hurts." I avoid laughing, but little laughs escape me. “Ugh… I have a headache from all the stress…”     "Do you want me to call the doctor to see if he can give you something?" Cleo asks me, worried.     "No, I'm fine." I keep my head from bobbing around the tubes too much when I look at Jessy. "Do you know how Jake and Charlotte are doing?"     "From what I know, the police were watching Charlotte's room, as was Mr. Schneider," she replies a little sadly “she's still in a coma and Jake…"     "Jake what, Jessy? Please tell me he's okay!" I start to get nervous at the thought that he died, I don't know how serious the shot he received was.     "Luckily the gunshot wound wasn't serious, so he only has stitches" Jessy gives me a small, friendly smile ", he's also on oxygen, but he'll recover. Right now he was with his family and with Thomas. "     "Thank God…" I put a hand to my head, trying to relax.      I'm relieved he’s not alone. So his family… That means his father is in the hospital. I'm sure he has a lot of questions about what happened.     "I never should have brought him into this... "     “He decided to jump in, boo” Dan carefully pats my shoulder “and let's face it, that guy's got some shit on for a cop.     "A cop who's a criminal." Cleo corrects him.     "And with years of experience, he could have killed him."     "Luckily it didn't," Jessy sighs. "I still can't believe that all of this happened to Aleena… It's so sad…"     "But don't forget that she was going to kill MC." Dan crosses his arms, annoyed. "One thing is her to take down on those two cops, but MC didn't do anything to deserve it."     "Yes, that's right." Jessy looks at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry MC, I guess, I can't help but think that those two men did terrible things to her, I still don't know why to take revenge on your father through you."     "Because it's not okay," I answered, being a bit harsh, "I can understand that, but I was never a threat to her."     "Well, the police will take care of her anyway." Cleo sits down on the couch, and the rest of her follow suit. Looks like they're going to stay a while longer to keep me company. That relieves me, I don't feel like being alone. "She will surely accept all the blame, the problem is Manfred, he will want to deny everything saying that it is manipulation."     "But Jake isn't going to let him," I squeeze the covers tightly "he has all the evidence and I can finally talk about everything we investigated. We won't let anyone get away with it."       At least I’m thankful that this is over. I can forget about this case forever.     <<We did it dad, I hope you feel proud of me. >> My phone rings and Jessy hands it to me. I'm surprised to see the name.I take a breath, a little nervous. He must have found out on the news. I must have worried him, perhaps.     "Long time no talk to you." I answer the call with a small smile, a little awkward. *Jake POV*  I woken up in the hospital room, with Hannah, Thomas, Nathan, and his wife. Never before have I seen so many people occupying the same space for me, to know if I'm okay.     "And MC?" It's the first thing I ask when I wake up, worried about her. "Where is she? Is she okay?" I get up so fast I get dizzy.      "Calm down, Jake," Nathan stops me, careful not to hurt me "your friend is fine, you've done a great job helping her, I'm proud of you."      A strange feeling runs through my body hearing those words. I want to hide my happiness that this man, who is my father, is proud of me. But I smile hearing that MC is fine. I can't help but do it. I dropped my head back on the pillow, relieved.     “So…” Thomas begins to speak, “you've confronted a policeman.”     “Old ways never go away.” I commented, forgetting that Hannah and Lilly's parents are in the room.     " 'The old ways'?" Mrs. Donfort asks curiously. I don't blame her.     “Mom, Dad, we'll tell you about it another time,” Hannah says, brushing my hair back lovingly, like a mother “we better let him rest for now.”      The door opens and Lilly walks in, her eyes worried.     “There's a woman here asking about Jake,” she says nervously. ”Oh, he's already awake.”     "A woman?" I ask curiously.     "Are you ever going to be still, Jake?" Mathilde walks into the room, arms folded.      She has invited herself in, furious footsteps. I don't think a scolding from my boss now is the best time.     "And you are?" Mr. Donfort looks at her somewhat confused.     “I'm this man's boss,” she waves at me furiously, “and you could say a mother figure.”     "Don't make me laugh," I replied, with a laugh. What I had to hear as soon as I woke up from almost suffocating to death.      Mathilde surprises me by hugging me. I don't think she's ever hugged someone so hard before. She quickly pulls away, pulling herself together.     "Good," she coughs as she straightens her jacket and hair. "First of all, what you have been doing has been without permission, you cannot carry out investigations illegally."     "But I'd do it again for her." I replied, giving her a hard look.     "I know, and that's what bothers me the most."      They all look at Mathilde, quite concerned.Well, my job at the CIA is over, they will surely hand me over to the police or worse: to the FBI. I'm sure they're rubbing their hands that I finally let them stop me.     “And second of all,” she sighs heavily, though pride is evident in her voice “I've assigned you to a research investigations. It's better than security. "     "What?" confused blink, I am sure the oxygen tank isn't working right?     "What you have done has been illegal, yes" she joins her hands placing them in front of her, she looks like a teacher scolding a student now ", but, you have managed to catch an abusive policeman and a murderous politician thanks to your investigations, I would be stupid if I didn't give you a position in which you collaborate with our best agents."      Everyone starts congratulating me. I don't feel honored in this position, it's all been thanks to MC, she's the one who deserves all the credit, I've only helped her.     "I don't think that-"     "Jake Miller," Mathilde cuts me off "if you're going to name that girl, please leave it." I'm surprised that she guessed what I was thinking. "I know you well. But she doesn't work with us, I can't give her that position. "     "Yes, I can't deny that..."     "So…" she looks at everyone present and offers her hand "Have a nice day everyone."     “Yeah, sure,” Nathan is the first to accept her hand “and thank you so much for taking care of my son all these years."      Mathilde looks at me and smiles.     “He may be a little rebellious about doing things his way,” she says with a sigh “but he's always done it for the good of the people."      Mathilde's words make me feel important. I can't wait to tell MC about it. I can’t wait to see her. When I am finally alone, I ask someone from nursing if I can get up to go see MC. After checking my vital signs, they decide that I can get up without any problem, but that I should come back as soon as possible if I feel dizzy, since I could still be affected by the smoke. I arrive at MC's door just at the same time as Phil. His look says it all, it's like the first meeting.     "Hey..." he nods in greeting "how are you?"     "Better," I answer and looked at the door "I was going to talk to MC-"     "No," I look at him when I hear that not so fast "I'm not going to let you see her."     "I think you shouldn't decide for her, don't you?"      He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose.     "Look, I don't want to fight with you right now," he answers, while he crosses his arms. "MC wouldn't be like this if you hadn't brought her into this."     "I just helped her."     "Yes, and look where she is now," he points to the room, furious, "whenever it's about you, she ends up in a dangerous situation: accusation of kidnapping, threats, that your own persecutors try to hack her, that a kidnapper wanted to lure her to possible death. Ever since you brought her into your life, she's had nothing but problems."     "Well, it's thanks to me that you've met her." I assert myself, clenching my fists tightly.     "And I appreciate it, but look at the one your crazy girlfriend has messed up." He places a finger on my chest, beginning to pinching me. "I want you to get away from her, to stop putting her in danger, because then, I don't think I'll be able to control myself and it might be more than a punch that I throws at you. "     "Are you threatening me?"     "It's not a threat, it's a warning." He places his hand on the doorknob, his eyes glare at me. "I don't want the next time she's with you to be killed for real."      He enters the room and I stay in the corridor thinking about his words.  Maybe... Maybe he's right and I'm the cause of him always being in danger. Maybe it's because I'm used to living that way. She does not. MC is not someone who should be put into these risks, I should have been more careful with her so that nothing bad happened to her. I was hoping to get back together with her, but if something dangerous is always going to happen every time we're together, then I'll take this bad luck away from her. She deserves to have a normal life. *MC POV*  Every time I look in the mirror, I remember all the things that have happened. This past month has been such a roller coaster of emotions that I absolutely can't shake myself off. I no longer feel that my home is my home. It's like I feel empty.Phil takes good care of me, I can't deny that, he cares about me after I get out of the hospital much more than when I got shot. The situation this time worried him more than before and I cannot deny that.  I've been trying to contact Jake, but he's not responding to my messages. I send him the last message and what I see on the screen surprises me. He has blocked me, why has he done it? What has happened? I thought that we were fine after what happened in that building, that we had to talk. I can't hear my friends conversation, I'm just lost in my thoughts. I miss Jake and haven't told Phil the truth yet, because I wanted to make sure Jake and I could talk about it together first.     "MC?" Hearing Hannah's voice, I wake up from my thoughts "are you okay? "     "Yes, I'm fine" I smile, trying to calm the atmosphere ", sorry, with everything that's happened I'm a little distracted. "     "Are you sure that's it?" Thomas asks me now "I don't know, we've all noticed that you're not well."     "If you need to talk about it, you know you can." Cleo tells me now, putting a hand on my shoulder.     "We're with you if you need it." Lilly smiles at me, taking my hands.      It's still amazing how she's changed everything between us, she's truly like a little sister to me. The one who is quiet is Jessy, who seems to be in the same state as me. She seems to want to say something, though she shuts up. I wish she did, I'm sure she knows something. I've seen this attitude before.     "Thank you all, but I'm fine," I answered, taking a sip of my coffee "I just have to go back to my normal life after being interrogated day and night." I give them a tired sigh. I haven't even been able to work because of that, but more than one already wants to interview me to get information. On the way home, I get a call from Dan.     "Yes, Jack Daniels?" I greeted him with a smile. A pity he couldn't come with us because of work.     "Hey little detective," he greets me affectionately "I hope you're not busy, but talking to Jessy on the phone now, she wants the three of us to meet up."     "The three of us? Something has happened?"     "You want the bad news over the phone?"     "To be honest, no, that never works out."      I hear Dan's laugh. Surely he has remembered the past.     "Then we'll meet at Jessy's house and… Don't be mad at her, it's my fault too."     "Are you going to tell me that you two are dating?"     "I wish," he makes an exaggerated snort. "See you there. Bye."     "See you later, Dan."      I don't know why, but it gives me a very strange feeling... Jessy's house was always a cozy house. I had slept a few nights there before I started dating Phil, it was so much better than staying in a motel with so many memories. Jessy and Dan are sitting across from me. I'm just trying to figure out what they're hiding by looking at them. I quit right away because I'm too tired to do it, I deserve a break.     "Well, what's going on?" I ask with a laugh "Are you sure it's not that you've started dating?"      Jessy and Dan look at each other, but from their looks it seems something more serious.     “It's about a conversation we overheard at the hospital, when we went to get coffee,” Dan begins, as if not to make it more difficult for Jessy "It's about Jake and Phil."      When I hear Jake's name, my alarm goes off. I worry that they have quarreled again.     "When we got back, we eavesdropped on the conversation," Jessy answers, with a sad voice, "I know it's wrong, but..."     “It's okay, Jessy,” I reply, my voice calm “you can tell me."      Jessy takes a breath, and tries to calm down.     “We heard Phil tell him to stay away from you."     "What?"     “Apparently our bar owner thinks everything that happened is Jake's fault,” Dan continues. "He has forbidden him to see you, which implies that they are not friends at all. Zero contact. Negative."     "Yes, Dan, she's got it perfectly." Jessy looks at him somewhat annoyed with her words, but he doesn't offend me. "I didn't think Phil would be one of those, I mean, he's not jealous, we've all seen that, but he even threatened to beat him up. "     “Not in those exact words, but almost.” Dan corrects.     "MC, these days you've been very strange and... Now I understand" my friend looks at me almost about to cry. The one who should cry is me, not her "I'm sorry I pushed you so much with Phil and your wedding, when in reality I've seen that you're not the same if you're not with Jake. I miss my happy friend, the one who always smiled because she knew she was complete with him."     "Oh Jessy…" I start to cry and hug her. Her words encourage me a lot. She was always saying that when I married Phil, we'd be like sisters, but actually I don't have to marry her brother to be sister. "I love you so much sister," I say with a smile "thank you so much for telling me."     "Oh, what the hell?" Dan says before giving us a big hug.      We laugh at the situation and we both give Dan a kiss on the cheeks. Our great protector. When we part ways, I manage to calm down a bit.     "Time to talk to Phil," I replied, looking at my ring. "I can't keep fooling myself like this."     "You can stay here to sleep later," Jessy proposes "at least while you move, I doubt you'll stay living in that house."     “And if you need help with the boxes, let me know.” Dan makes a forceful gesture and I laugh.     "Sure, thanks guys."      I say goodbye to both of them and leave the house, straight to Bar Aurora. It's time to end this. When I walk in, I find Phil clearing the tables. Seeing me, he smiles.     "Hello Princess." he puts down the cloth and approaches me to kiss me.      I turn my face away and see how he is surprised. I look at him quite annoyed.     "What happen? Is everything alright?      I swallow, trying to control myself. I don't want to have to yell at him.     "Did you tell Jake to stay away from me?"     "Come on MC, what are you asking-"     "Did you tell him or not?"      Phil lets out a big sigh, putting his arms on his hips.He doesn't dare look at me because he knows I would guess.     "You had no right to tell him that."     "Because of him you are always suffering" he counterattacks me "Look what has happened to you! Whenever he's around, bad things happen to you."     "My God, is that your excuse?" I reproach him, trying to make him look at me "Is Jake a guy who can put me in danger?"     "It's been like that since he came into your life."     "And what if that's it?!" I can't control myself, I need to scream "You can't decide for us if we see each other or not! You know perfectly well that you have no right to do so!"     "I have the right to do it because I'm your fiance!"      I stare at him, surprised. It was like feeling in a little box at that moment. And I wasn't going to let that happen.     "MC, I'm sorry." He grabs my hands realizing his mistake, but I push them away. "I did not mean that."     "But you said it." I bite the inside of my cheek, controlling myself. "You have never been jealous with anyone. Never." I shake my head, confused. "Jake arrives and everything seems to be wrong."     "Because everything would go wrong with him." He places his hands on my cheeks, caressing them. "MC, you have already seen that with me you can have a normal life, friends, family… You would be safe, you wouldn’t have to be in danger all the time."      I keep looking at him. Yes, it is true that several things happen around Jake, it is always like that...     "I know..." I answer with a little sadness "You're right... With Jake things are always difficult..." I look down, somewhat disappointed.     "Then let's not fight, okay?" He smiles sweetly at me, making me look at his face. "What do you say we have dinner at the Black Swan to fix it?" We deserve a good time alone."      I look at his eyes and then at the ring. I start thinking about his words. This is the moment of decision. And I already have it very clear. *Jake POV*  It had been a stressful month. I had to declare everything that had happened, along with the support of Mathilde and Malcolm, doing everything possible to avoid being arrested for getting into a computer belonging to a police chief who, no matter how much he committed a crime, I too had committed another: I did not have judicial permission to do so.  Luckily, my new position had saved me and Mathilde had lied to say that it was something ordered by the CIA. I already owe too much to that woman.  I haven't been to Duskwood for a month either, letting my family come into town to see me. They found out about everything and well… At first it was a bit tense, but when they found out that I was the one who put all those criminals in jail, the tension lessened a bit. Although I have promised not to do it illegally again this time.  I have also decided to lose all contact with MC. And this time forever.  I watch the sunset on the roof. I can't be on that apartment so quiet. It's too much for just one. At first I thought it would be perfect for MC and me. Now I just want to move from here to a smaller one. That way I wouldn't lose Gizmo everywhere.I take MC's mother's wedding ring out of my pants pocket. I was never able to gove it back. I'll have to give it to my sisters so they can give her back too. I hear Gizmo meow desperately. I have brought him up with me so that he can get some fresh air.     "What's up boy?" I ask, turning to him.      When I turn around, I see MC in front of me. She raises a hand in greeting, shyly.     "I think I'm the cause," she answers, with a small voice. "Hello."      I pocket the ring, nervous.     "Hello," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. "A lot of time has passed…"     "Yeah..."      She doesn't come closer, she keeps her distance. This is getting a bit awkward.     "I had gone to your apartment, but you didn't answer," she says, pointing to the door to the roof. "So I figured you'd be here."     "I could have gone."     "Yes, I know."      She gets a little closer.I look at her from top to bottom. It seems different.That's when I see that she doesn't have the engagement ring.     "Everything okay with Phil?" I ask curious.     "You mean the ring?" She asks me now, looking at her hand "He… We've broke up… Well, I've broke up with him."     "And what are you doing here?"     "I was going to go to Lian's and her husband's house so they would let me live with them for a while until I found an apartment."     "Aren't you staying in Duskwood?"     "No, I think I'll avoid it for a while." She comes up next to me, leaning against the ledge. "Too much tension."     "I see."      We stayed in silence looking at the city. The lights begin to set and the sky to darken. I dedicate myself to observe her side face. Her smile doesn't fade. I reached into my pocket, pulling out her mother's ring. I look at it for a few seconds before handing it to her.     "Here," MC looks at me and then at the ring, picking it up carefully. "I picked it up when we went to the warehouse.”     "Thank you," she looks at it, turning it over, and puts it on, looking at her hand to see how it fits her "you know? Canceling a wedding costs the same as making one.” She lets out a long breath, ending up resting her head on my shoulder. "My advice is never get married."     "Or maybe not getting to marry the wrong person. Oh!" She pinches my arm and I laugh at her. "You know I'm right.”     "Maybe yes…"      Finally the silence stops being uncomfortable. The heat that MC emanates begins to cover my entire body. It's nice to have her here with me. I didn't expect to see her again.     "Why don't you spend the night here?" I suggest and she looks at me "You still have your room and… I haven't moved the clothes from the closet, tomorrow you can go to your friend's house."     "Yeah, okay, I can stay tonight."     "Great..."     <<Come on Jake… Tell her. >>     "MC-"     "Jake-"   We remain silent, looking at each other.I took the hand where the ring was and traced the route with my finger. It fits her perfectly, almost like it was made for her too.   "I don't just want you to stay tonight," I finally dare to say it, looking into her eyes. The city lights are reflected in them "I want you to stay forever."    "Jake-"     "MC, I love you" I caress her cheek and she leans on my hand, tilting her head, smiling "and the thought that I could lose you that night made my life stop. I don't want to know what life is like without you, it's not in my plans."     "And what are your plans?"     "Continue where we left off."     "Mmm... No." I look at her surprised at my refusal and she laughs. "We don't have to continue something that was never left."     "I think that it was left and a lot."     "No-"     "You were going to get married"     "Well, it's a little pause-"     "A big one-"     "Just kiss me."      I accept her request and kiss her. MC puts her arms around my neck, trying to catch up with me. Her lips fit perfectly with mine, as if they had always been mine. I move my hand up her back until I place it behind her neck, deeper into her kiss. I missed kissing her. I had been wanting to do it since we met again. It's slow, causing me to start to get hot. As we pull apart, I hear her let out a moan. In her eyes I could see that she still wanted more. I missed that look of hers. She is perfect.     “I love you Jake,” she says, between each breath. ”I have always loved you.”     "I know." she lets out a laugh and buries her face in my body "Shall we go inside?"     “Sure.”      I take her hand and signal to Gizmo to leave. He follows us starting to meow.     "Know what Jake?" I notice her playful voice, happy.     ”What's the matter?”     "I don't think I'm going to need my room tonight...”     "I don't think so either." That night was the longest night of our lives. It was the night that we made up for all the lost time and in which I recovered the reason why I believed in being happy again. We became one again. Epilogue

[purity-in-blood]

My Gun Met Her Lips (well, she can take it stop throwing a fit)

This is a sequel to this request-

This is 18+ so minors don’t interact!

Notes-🥀 Anon inspired me to write a sequel to their request that wouldn’t get out of my head. Of course I also got some inspiration from the music I listen to when writing. Hopefully this isn’t too rushed. Tbh I’m not entirely sure where I was going with this.

Tate Langdon x female reader

Trigger warnings-heavy mention of school shooting, forced worship, superiority/God complex, authoritative kink, mention of religion (derogatory), religion as foreplay, non-con/rape, choking, blood kink, gun play, throat fucking. PTSD, trauma related nightmares, slight wound fucking

When I regain consciousness Kevin and Aileen are holding me upright, arms wrapped under my shoulders to support my weight. The second thing I noticed is how uncomfortable I am, my stomach feels bloated and even with support my legs are jello.

“I need to see him. Is…is Tate here?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea. You’ve already been through too much.”

Aileen’s gentle voice is a welcome contrast to Tate’s but I just couldn’t help myself. I needed that closure and despite my better judgment I searched the room, he wasn’t difficult to spot. There’s blood pooling at his head from a self-inflicted gunshot wound that wasn’t visible from my angle. He was still so close, one arm at an awkward position with fingers grasping his shotgun, facing me but this information made everything much worse. This was Tate’s plan all along during whatever fantasy’s he had of the shooting. I gasped, beginning to walk as Kevin muttered comforts I wasn’t hearing.

On our way out we passed even more victims but it was clear the worst was literally behind us.

I forced myself to stare at the lifeless bodies that litter the hall, blood smears the wall and I saw what’s left of Mark’s skull upon passing him. Others were supposedly shot in the back, chest, even the neck. The sight of it all made my stomach churn violently. I tilted my gaze upward when it became too much though it wasn’t long until we got fresh air. I’m guided toward an ambulance while Kevin slips my necklace into my hand and Aileen rubs my back.

“We’ll see you as soon as we can. I promise.”

Kevin’s words melted a bit of the tension away as I’m loaded into the back. I held both their gazes until the door shut and I’m left alone with my wildly running thoughts. My mind kept reverting back to Tate. Especially how he looked after shooting himself. There was so much blood, soaking into the carpet and his uniform. How his body is positioned in an unnatural angle made a sinking feeling form in my chest.

I stare at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, just trying to comprehen what the fuck just happened.

The movement of the vehicle must’ve rocked me to sleep because the next time I open my eyes, I’m in a hospital bed. I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. The nurse hovering near me immediately noticed my alertfullness and began asking all sorts of questions that I politely answered. But the worst of it was just beginning.

“Do you mind describing your attacker? And if you’re able to explain what exactly happened that’ll help a whole lot.”

I inhaled deeply—catching the scent of cleaning supplies and that general hospital smell in the air. I counted to 10 before releasing it once feeling calmed down enough.

I describe how I transferred to Westfield when Tate was a senior, how he took my under his wing—he was one of few who made an attempt to form a relationship anyway. After lunch we had this routine of going to bathroom so I could pleasure him. Then the examination process was completed after an hour or so. I had to fight the urge to cover myself when something’s pulled from between my legs. We soon realized it was my underwear he apparently stuffed me with after I fell unconscious and tears sting my eyes that I refuse to let fall. For a moment, I watched a mixture of blood and cum making a small puddle on the tray under me. She gently wipes the area to clean the fluid sticking to my thighs and pussy. There were indeed cuts littering my body but none life threatening. Even though this would greatly help I felt dread the entire time she was examining me and I was overcome with fatigue.

The rest of the procedure went by just as smoothly, I was given a pill, the cuts were sterilized and I was finally able to use the bathroom—getting more of Tate out of me—and changed into simple clothes I could go home in.

For the next 2 hours I’m supposed to be getting rest, sleep eludes me. I changed positions multiple times but even then I wasn’t able to get comfortable.

“Hey y/n. I know the results aren’t in yet but do you think we’re parents?”

My blood ran cold at the playful voice above me and my eyes snapped open. Of course, even in my dreams I’m haunted by Tate Langdon so why should this be any surprise? His hand cups my cheek lightly, strangely enough heat radiates through his palm and I let out a quick breath.

He’s still in the uniform I saw him in hours ago, hair slicked and I could see the faint outline of a gun under his coat. The low lighting in the room casts him in a strange glow as if he’s emitting it.

“Uh..are you ready to be a father?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. I wanted a kid in my late 20’s but plans changed. As you can tell.”

Suddenly his face is against mine, hand brushing the marks on my neck, making me flinch from such intimacy that’s so different from Tate’s actual intentions. His eyes are still almost completely black.

Tate then whispered into my lips as I tilted my head back, trying to get a better look at him.

“You’ll always have a part of me inside you. Isn’t that lovely?”

That’s when the nightmare truly begins.

We’re back in the library. He took a few steps back and I gasp upon seeing the skeletal tattoos covering his entire face and down his neck. He’s yet again holding a shotgun, arcing it over my head before firing. Each shot reverberated in my mind and only disoriented me further.

“Sir, help me. Please.”

I’m on my knees and reaching my hand out toward him, confused as to why he hasn’t helped me to my feet yet. I’m lowering it when Tate grabbed my wrist in a painfully tight grip. He’s towering over me as one would a small child, smiling as if knowing something I didn’t.

“Sure doll. I’ll help you.”

His voice is so breathy and sweet that I almost let out a whimper from the sudden heat. Unaware that heat is actually a second shotgun blast entering my body when the gun was lowered. Of course I didn’t overlook Tate baring his teeth, contradicting what he just said. The smell of blood overwhelms me and my whole body feels uncomfortably hot and numb. With furrowed brows I glanced down to examine myself only to notice blood soaking the front of my shirt.

He laughs once the realization settles as I try moving my legs. There’s a pins and needles sensation so my first thought is that they fell asleep from being in this position. Not that I’d been paralyzed. I notice the carpet under me feels wet, my clothes clinging to my body from the amount of blood I lost. He suddenly pulls me backward with little effort so I lay on my back, giving my wrist a squeeze.

“Tate…”

His name is forced off my tongue in one pained exhale. I adjusted my hand so I’m grasping the one holding onto my wrist, his fingers slipped down and smeared blood across my pale skin before joining mine. Tate glanced away, letting me go and I saw his facial expression transform back into one of seriousness. He moved in the direction of interest but only got a few steps before I caught hold of his combat boot. We made eye contact right as I’m about to lose consciousness.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re a good little Christian and you're faithful to your God. After all, this is part of the plan I was given from day one.”

He said this with such confidence it further disgusted me. How could Tate feel no remorse for killing our classmates in cold blood while trying to justify it?

Dislodging his boot from my grasp, he walked in the direction of 2 crying girls and upon seeing the shooter their sobbing got louder. Tate slammed his gun on the tabletop, making one of them scream. He then knelt down, sliding a hand downward to rest on his knee. He cocks his shotgun while making direct eye contact with them.

“I found you.“

He smiled and aimed at the girl closest to him before pulling the trigger. Her brains flew all over the floor and blood soaked the other’s shirt. The brunette grabbed at Tate, pleading with him to spare her but all he did was laugh in her face. He kicked her without a second thought and she landed backward in a pool of blood, holding her chest and making herself as small as possible. He’s enjoying himself way too much as he spins toward me, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ahh…I’m back. Are you still with me?”

“Please don’t let me die.”

I’m looking directly into Tate’s eyes once he lowered his body over mine. Apparently he didn’t mind his uniform getting dirty from the way he’s pressed into me. I didn’t bother hiding my distress. Delirious from blood loss, I slipped my arms around his neck, holding on like I’d fall without him supporting me. His shotgun rested at my chin, forcing my head back so I’m unable to look away.

“Fuck…it’s like your on your period. What type of God would I be to allow my most faithful to die?”

Somehow I’m able to feel him between my thighs, forcing his cock inside my slippery hole. His hands go under my shirt, skilled fingers lightly graze the gunshot wound in a way that makes me sigh—he’s caressing my breast while placing a finger or two in as if between my legs—getting blood all over his hand and a new reaction when brought to my lips. I cleaned each finger which only encouraged him.

“Hang in there for a bit longer doll.”

I shivered from the feeling of him inside my wound and pussy. Although the gun prevents a lot of movement, I tried repositioning my neck so it’s not stiff later. My shaking hands grip his shoulders as he thrusts over and over again. Tate’s free arm is then outstretched and I realized the shotgun is no longer applying pressure.

The next shot leaves my ears ringing and I feel his hand invading the bloody mess he created in my broken body. Like Tate wishes to fuck my insides just as intensely—which indeed he does when darkness comes over my vision.

I’m vaguely aware of liquid seeping from my aching cunt and I cried out when there’s excruciating pain in the gunshot wound. The feeling of him in a spot where there shouldn’t be a hole is sickening, he’s literally rearranging my organs with each thrust as his cock takes up the limited space. However, it seems Tate won’t last long by the way he twitched. He’s breathing heavily now.

My overheated body trembles from the force of his movements as the most perverse noises reach my ears. I’m able to hear him rocking into me—the wetness of blood soaking him and only aiding in decreasing unwanted friction—chasing release that’s fast approaching.

I’m only seconds away from passing out when I feel his cum shooting into my insides. My hands fell from his shoulders once a moan escaped.

I exhaled sharply once metal was against my head in less than a minute. Then all I feel is an indescribable pain and then nothing at all.

I awoke with a start, almost falling off the bed due to how violently I got to my feet. I rushed toward the bathroom and vomited whatever was left in me. After my body stopped regurgitating I made my way to the sink, swishing water and spit to get the acidic taste from my mouth before sitting in bed. Just when I got comfortable a doctor came in to reveal the tests were negative. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, thanked him and proceeded to get everything ready for my departure once alone.

I arrived home not long after leaving the hospital and throughout the ride my mom listened to my description of what happened. I was yet again forced to remember every shot, plea and cry that reached my ears while Tate made his rounds in the library. I could still feel his icy touch as he fondled my breasts and the warmth of his breath against my neck. Laughter ringing in my ears. It was disgusting and I refused to give Tate the satisfaction of thinking about him longer than I should.

The first thing I did when arriving at our Victorian house was climb the stairs to my room, shut the door and immediately set up a few things. I put a rosary around my neck and placed a cross on my bedside table before kneeling at the foot of my bed. My hands came together as I lowered head, beginning to pray as I always did at night.

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned. I allowed a demon to disrupt my faith in you and lead me astray. He is the work of the Devil and I’ve fallen victim to his charm before the massacre. Mary, Mother of God, I beg you to take me back into your arms as I hope your son will.”

I didn’t notice his presence until a hand grabbed for my hair and yanked my head back. I’m forced to stare into the eyes of Tate Langdon himself. I soon fought back the urge to cry out as he grabbed the rosary in his other hand, twisting it around my throat to make a crude noose. However, the tightness I feel wasn’t just because of what’s occurring. The first thing I distinguished is Tate currently in uniform. That can only mean one thing and I indeed wished he ended my life.

“What did I tell you?”

Tate gently tugs on the holy item and I slowly turned my body around to face him. For fear of it breaking if he’s too rough. I’m sitting on my heels with my neck at an uncomfortable angle due to the fistful of hair still in his grasp. His eyes almost gleam in the darkness and then I noticed—he took out a pistol from the front of his pants. The look on his face was of demented satisfaction as he raises the weapon.

“To not worship…a false God.”

I tried to keep my voice from wavering but the smile he flashed make it clear that hadn’t gone unnoticed. I slightly flinch from the cold metal pressed to my forehead, every nerve in my body screaming to pull away. But that’s what Tate wants me to do—give him a reason to hurt me more than he already has.

“I still haven’t figure out why you’re so inclined to worship someone other than me. Get on your knees and beg me for forgiveness. You can do that can’t you? Being a woman of faith and all.”

His voice is as smug as ever. The pistol digs into my skull until I reposition myself so I’m putting all my weight onto my knees. His eyes are burning into mine as I contemplate my next words. My mouth felt completely dry though what I say is of false confidence.

“Fo-forgive me, oh God, Sir—my God. Please…please forgive me…my God…for I…I have sinned and worshiped another. I need to be cleansed of such unholy desires. You’re the only one I’m able to confide in.”

I’m babbling a prayer I hope pleases Tate as he reached over my head to grab the crucifix on my nightstand. I could only watch in horror as he bought it between my shaking thighs. The gun slid across my heated cheek, against my lips but once the empty chamber vibrates throughout my teeth I knew exactly what he wanted. I unwillingly spread myself for him, with quick fingers he threw my panties aside and forced the handheld cross into my cunt without any warning. I unintentionally let out a sob which allowed him to place the muzzle past my lips.

“Mmm..that’s right, Mary. Allow your son inside you as you once birthed him. This is what He would want. Relax won’t you? I promise to make you pure again though your soul will forever remain holy. I must say, your devotion is admirable and you’re so eager to please. I forgive you for each sinful act you’ve committed. And for the ones you’ll commit in the future.”

Tate spoke with such gentle conviction. It was as if he’s a priest forgiving one of sin despite the disturbing words coming from those blasphemous lips. My tongue moved against the barrel which is being thrust at a steady pace as he works the crucifix further down. I feel it a little more than halfway inside and going further still. I gag around Tate’s pistol—his musk hung thickly on it—and tried moving back as to avoid what’s happening but he removed it, striking me in the face. Hard. Blood immediately filled my mouth and my face stung from such impact. He held a hand under my chin and in response I spit a mouthful of crimson into his palm.

“You know. There’s one bullet left and if you make another wrong move I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Understand?”

“Yes Sir. My God. I understand. It won’t happen again.”

I keep direct eye contact even though I’m more than tempted to keep my head lowered. I sucked in a breath as he parted my slit to allow my own blood aid in providing lubricant. A few droplets stain the floor as his fingers dipped inside, helping ease the pain of my crucifix buried in me. The pain had subsided after a few long moments but I couldn’t stop thinking how worse this was. It’s a weird, revolting contrast having a metal object stretching my walls.

My breathing has become noticeably heavy and a few barely audible—and unintentional—moans escaped. I wasn’t aware of his hand grasping what’s around my throat until air is forced from my lungs and I gasped. I’m on the edge of conscious when I’m allowed to properly breathe but I couldn’t totally comprehend what just happened. Maybe he tightened it at a certain angle that constricted air. 

But when another type of metal is brought to my lips once more I allowed it past. The taste of gunpowder returned and I made an attempt to suck off the gun as if he were the one fucking my throat. My tongue moved along its underside even if there wasn’t a reaction I could obtain.

“I wonder if you’d cum quicker I pull the trigger this time.”

He lowered himself on a knee to get a better survey of my body. Smirking all the while. I willed myself to not recoil as he nuzzled his face into my neck and placed gentle kisses that stopped at the collarbone. Tate’s looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and it suddenly brought up a painful recognition that he appears as he once did. The sweet, caring guy I went to prom with and who I wasted so much time on. Before he shot up our school and took away my innocence. I tried blocking out the feeling of something being thrust over and over. It doesn’t at all feel like when Tate was inside—this feels lifeless and far more perverted. It continues slipping in with ease. My body betrayed me as I felt the heat between my legs grow hotter.

Liquid seeped from my pussy and I couldn’t tell if it was my own arousal or blood. Either way this doesn’t matter because I’m allowed a glimpse—he lifted the cross to my field of vision that’s now desecrated by his filthy hands, both stained with blood and wetness. The gun is pulling from my aching throat and glistens just the same. Tate groaned from the sight and I feel him shift forward, pressing his unmistakably pulsing erecting into my leg. I whine softly from the feeling that never fails to evoke an unwanted, intense arousal. Breath tickles my face as Tate leaned closer, whispering against my ear.

“I hope you’ll remember this lesson. But if not I’ll just have to teach you again. You’d like that wouldn’t you…? Little Miss Mary.”

Tate leaned on his heels, eyes sweeping over me in a predatory way. The gentle smile on his face turned into a smirk that made a chill run down my spine. I gave a shaky nod in answer. I couldn’t understand why he got such enjoyment by using my religion against me. Maybe it contributed to the power of the uniform and gun which equally got him off.

“You’ll be seeing more of me. For now, I’ll let you think on it before taking this further. I’ve got something exciting planned.”

“Thank you for being a merciful God. I’ll make sure to not disobey you in such a way ever again.”

It felt like I had swallowed acid by the way it left a sour taste once those words left my chapped lips. Although Tate seems pleased enough by the way he brushed hair away from my face and tumbled my lips to clean them. And then his lips are on mine with such intensity that, in surprise, I took in a breath as his tongue ran over mine. We separated after 5 more minutes of one-sided kissing. It left me feeling rather conflicted and ended all too quick. And then Tate practically threw me on the bed without allowing me time to react, hand around my pale throat and tightening the holy item to where it made red indentations appear. Cutting off oxygen entirely.

I begun pulling at his hands in an effort to pry then off but clearly he’s much stronger than me. I tried using my legs to kick, get rid of his grip and knock him off my bed but no avail. Darkness quickly came over me. When I wake up I’m still halfway naked, sore from his assault but underneath sheets. My gaze immediately goes to the cross where it sat on the bedside table, alongside the rosary. Thankfully no liquid seems to stain them. It made relief and dread course through me—at the thought of what’s to follow while recovering and what Tate has planned. Had he actually cleaned them off in an act of kindness? Or was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? Time would tell I suppose.



The next night was filled with a nightmare I hadn’t thought fathomable. Perhaps it was due to Tate’s whistling I heard when trying to fall asleep. It was like a record playing in my mind which now prompts my heart to race.

I’m accompanied by Tate and we’re both in uniform—I’m wearing a more Army affiliated one where Tate’s in all black with that dark blue military coat. Both our hair is slicked and we carry shotguns as we walked through the hallway, shooting anyone who’s unfortunate enough to cross our path. But we chose the busiest hall for that reason. It was pure chaos once the first shots rang out and I waste no time in shooting at the group stampeding for the closest exit. I shot one girl in the middle of her back, a guy in the neck and another in their head. Heading away from the cafeteria I quickly realized a girl huddled under a stairwell. She looks at me while shielding her head with both arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I stood right in front of her, lowering my gun so it rested against them before firing, after, it was like her arms snapped—bing positioned at unnatural angles from the impact of the blast made bones protrude. Oddly enough I’m not distressed by my decision to join Tate in his righteous quest. I don’t feel anything besides a sense of justification that further calmed my doubts. Of course he was quick to reassure as well.

I reloaded my weapon and immediately glanced at Tate who nods in acknowledgment. A smile and dangerous gleam in his eyes told me all I needed. I started moving in the opposite direction of our destination when his voice had me looking over my shoulder.

“Come on, doll. You’re not gonna back out now are you?”

“No Sir. I’m ready to finish what’s expected of us. Give me a minute.”

I walked back the way we came to make sure no one played dead. The girl I shot in the back had grabbed for my coat, pulling on the fabric while asking for my assistance. A smile formed as I placed my combat boot onto her throat, applying pressure until her face turned red.

“You know. I’ve always wanted to further put someone in their place like this.”

I put all my weight into my foot but not enough to really do damage. She’s trying to say something while clawing at my leg as if that would harm me in some way or deter me from killing her. I just looked at her as I leveled the barrel to her skull before pulling the trigger. She’s unrecognizable after and I exhaled unevenly at the sight. It was fascinating how a gunshot can disfigure a person and the power a gun wields. My boots squeak momentarily as I stepped in some blood and the noise was sickeningly exciting, as well as what we’re doing. We made our way throughout the school. It was eerily silent but we used that to our advantage to pick off any stragglers.

When we finally arrived at the library it was, as expected, barricaded which he get rid of with a few well placed kicks. There was some noise on the other side after the door is freed of obstacle. 

Two sets of boots are heard in the library instead of one. Tate knocked off some books as we moved along the shelves, one of the cheerleaders is flat against it when he steps in front of her.

“Do you believe in God?”

I was the one to ask the question as Tate aimed at her head while she tried forming an answer between sobs. Finally there’s a “Yes” and she crumpled with half her skull still attached when the trigger is pulled. I inhaled and the sharp scent of blood fills my nose.

I turned on my heels, looking down the barrel once the sound of someone running caught my attention. A guy was brave enough to leave the safety of his hiding place, he was so close to the open door and I allowed him to get through the doorframe—and then a bullet tore through his back. He cried out but didn’t continue moving. I swept my outstretched arm to my right, shooting a girl under a table in the leg, striking the guy beside her with a second bullet that pierced his chest. 

Tate whistles as he left my side, going about the second part of our plan. The rest was a blur and half of our classmates were dead by the time we got onto our knees. I glanced at Tate and noticed blood splattering his face. It almost seemed like his hair was combed with a bloodstained hand by the way some appears crimson. Before we brought the gun to our heads we intertwined fingers so tightly our knuckles turned white. However, I was saved by my alarm that woke me before gunshots happened to ring out.

“Get out of my head Tate!”

I buried my face into my pillow after hitting snooze but I could still hear the damn, cheerful tune he whistled. Was this nightmare part of my subconscious that wished to process that trauma and try to make sense of it when asleep? Or was it Tate himself planning these disturbing thoughts into my head for whatever ‘exciting plan’ he mentioned yesterday?

Unfortunately it seems I’ll discover the truth sooner than I would like.

[philtstone]

Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”

soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s. this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u

Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.

Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things. 

Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died. 

HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT

The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947

Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.  

The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.

“You threw the weapon out.”

She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.

Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”

“James.”

James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.

“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.” 

Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste. 

“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.

Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –

“Dugan’s coming over.”

“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.

Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow. 

“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”

“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”

“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”

“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.

“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”

“I am, you mean.”

Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.

“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”

Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.

“So?”

“I’ll poke around at SSR –”

“You really do think it’s a spy –”

“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.” 

“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.

Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”

“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”

“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet. 

She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less. 

He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill. 

Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears. 

“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”

The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.

“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”

“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.

“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.

“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”

Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”

“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”

“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully. 

“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”

Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.

“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.

Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning. 

“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters. 

There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.

Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched. 

Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.

“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.

She ain’t wrong. 

The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?

Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box. 

He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters. 

“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.” 

Then he narrows his eyes. 

There.

Right there.

Someone has picked the lock. 

The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”

Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.

Inhaling sharply, he pounces.

“Oomph!”

“Shit!”

On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.

Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.

They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack. 

He really liked that knife, dammit.

“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.

“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.

Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford. 

“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled. 

Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.

“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”

“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.

“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”

“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,

“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.

“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.

He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too? 

It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.

And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.

“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.” 

But alas, there’s no kidding to be had. 

“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”

Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence? 

And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.

“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.

Then it is back to its customary scowl.

“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar. 

But Sam is still annoyed.

“Through the window?”

“There’s – a stairwell.”

“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”

“For the love of God –”

“I am just listing my options, here.”

“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”

“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”

“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.

“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.

Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.

“Fuck!”

Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans. 

“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.

“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”

“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”

“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.

Bang.

“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.

Bang.

“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.

Bang.

“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”

Bang.

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!” 

Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.

They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.

Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react. 

And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.

Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.

“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.

[starswallowingsea]

oops 11pm typing up a review for What Lies in the Woods by Kate Alice Marshall

I got this as my book of the month back in January and after reading the first chapter, kinda put it off because it felt too much like the Slenderman Stabbing case which is a bit too close to home. Picked it up again recently after my wifi went out again and I needed something to read and ended up enjoying it (although my gut feeling was kinda proven right at the end unfortunately). 4/5 stars, full review under the cut, spoilers ahead.

So first things first, this is supposed to be an adult thriller, but it very much reads like YA which doesn't bother me that much but it does for other people so just a heads up on that.

Now to the meat and potatoes. This book follows Naomi Shaw, a mid-30s woman from a middle of nowhere town in Washington state who survived a stabbing attempt when she was 11 while her two best friends watched on. It left her permanently scarred and brought the three of them closer together during the recovery process.

Our story begins when the person they accused of being the one who stabbed them and also of being a serial killer with at least 6 other victims dies in prison from cancer. Naomi gets a call and returns to her hometown for the first time in years and meets up with her two friends who survived the attack with her and one of them says she's tired of hiding their secret.

Oh yeah. When they were 11, they found a skeleton in the woods and began worshiping her as a goddess based on this bead bracelet on her wrist that read Persephone. They had 7 rituals to complete to show their dedication to the goddesses of varying degrees of severity, up to and including self mutilation. Typical 11yo things.

It's not too long after this that the friend who wants to tell their secret winds up dead in the same woods with a gunshot to the head, ruled a suicide despite no weapon being found at the scene and a lack of gun powder on her hands that would indicate self infliction of the wound.

At this point, Naomi suspects there's something going on and decides to look into it more with the help of this podcaster that's been snooping around about the case. There's a lot that begins to happen around this time in the book that gets everything going and makes it a much easier and quick read.

I will say that a lot of the ensemble cast, even the best friends of Naomi, weren't always super well defined but we do have an unreliable narrator in the first person so her biases color a lot of things with regards to the Mayor's family especially. The pieces come together pretty quickly too once you start unraveling the threads of the story and I personally wasn't really gotten by any of the twists all that much. They made logical sense when they were revealed regardless of if I had predicted them or not.

Is it the best thriller out there? No. Is it a good read for the end of summer? I think so. I've been in kind of a reading slump and needed a quick easy read like this to help pull me out and it was still pretty enjoyable. Though I'm still not sure how I feel about any potential parallels with real world cases (again, the slenderman stabbing seems awfully close to what happened here, just without the false accusation of another person as the attacker).

[theteasetwrites]

I just finished watching twd’s final episode (ya i know im so late) aaand I totally agree with you. That episode was so rushed, everything happened so fast. As expected it was a total chaos.

I literally cried when Rosita died, I really wish it was Judith or RJ just to give Michone something to be guilty abt. Yaa I’m not a fan of Michonne and her leaving the kids to find Rick.

I loved the scene between Daryl and Carol in the end, it just showed how platonic their love for each other and nothing more people!

The explosion? UGHH.

The dinner after the explosion? Major cringe and very confusing, I mean not like they celebrated after the war with the Saviors? It just didn’t make sense.

And oh Maggie, my dearest. She deserves peace and happiness but I get her, if I were her I would’ve killed Annie so atleast we’re even.

Kinda disappointed. After 11 seasons we deserved a better ending. But hey, I am excited that Rick Grimes is back.

And yes, Daryl deserves a happy ending too. And thank goodness we have you to give him that! <3

Yeah it was very rushed, messy, lazy, and insulting. I mean it could've been a lot worse, but it could've been so much better if they had actually taken the time to make a good, well thought out last season instead of throwing in so many useless storylines. I mean the whole Reaper arc should've been thrown out. They could've used that time to delve into the Commonwealth stuff earlier. Also when they spent that whole episode in 11b focusing on Eugene trying to solve that mystery with Hornsby and Stephanie and all that shit... so ridiculous just give me 45 minutes of Daryl showering and I'll be happy

Anyway, Rosita dying was horrendously sad. I mean it was a beautiful death that was at least peaceful which is what she deserves, but it was still so sad. At least she died in the very last episode instead of in the middle of the series, so we got as much Rosita content as we could get.

I WISH JUDITH HAD DIED TOO HAHA. No fr what was the point of Judith getting shot if she wasn't going to die? Just to fuck with us? And to waste time? Seriously her getting shot was such a waste of time, it's insulting. She should've died and then it would at least have some payoff. But noooo they just had to do that stupid Carl/Rick parallel with Judith and Daryl. I rolled my eyes so hard man. It was just so lazy and they thought they were being so clever like ok get over urself besties

And you're so right, Michonne should feel guilty for leaving her kids! I mean tbh if Judith and RJ were my kids I'd probably abandon them too (not really lol) but yeah.

The Carol and Daryl scene was also pointless imo. I mean I guess it was cool if you like their friendship but I don't even think their friendship is that fun to watch lol so yeah. The "I love you" was definitely platonic but it read as more caryl baiting for the carylers.

That explosion was so ridiculous. How did they pull that off in a matter of a few hours? I was baffled. It was so weird and unrealistic lol. I mean I realize I am asking for realism in a show about zombies, but at some point realism is required for the show to make sense within the context, you know?

Everything was just way too convenient in that last episode. The explosion, Daryl just so happening to have the universal donor blood type (yeah fucking right), Judith surviving that gunshot wound, barely anyone in the main cast dying, everyone celebrating after destroying half the city and a ton of Commonwealth civilians dying... SUPER WEIRD.

Yeah the dinner was so cringey I'm sorry. It just felt so unearned and wrong. I mean they just faced a tragedy. Luke died hours ago and his group went from sobbing uncontrollably to laughing as they clink glasses at the dinner table like EXCUSE ME lmao. And once again, that huge explosion must've been super devastating to the structure of the city. How can the group be celebrating at a time like this? Also don't get me started on how EXHAUSTED they would've been after all of that, and yet they made a five course Thanksgiving meal in less than 24 hours after a really bad walker invasion??? And I know for a fact it was less than 24 hours later because Rosita was still alive and you can't live more than 24 hours with that fever from the bite. So stupid I'm sorry guys I wanna like it but I just can't.

MAGGIE SHOULD DEFINITELY KILL ANNIE HAHAHAHHAHAHAH

I totally agree my friend. Sorry for ranting but you made some great points that got me thinking about how irrationally mad I am at the finale lol. I just think it could've been so much better. And then after the one year time jump, it was way too saccharine and didn't match the tone of the rest of the episode or the season. I think that they still could've given them that happy ending without it being so colorful and bright and everyone smiling super big and idk it was just way too perfect and utopian looking. They could've done a way more nuanced thing that didn't make me feel as uncomfortable as it did lol. It was almost uncanny how saccharine the ending was.

Daryl is going to get the happiest ending of anyone in the series by the time I'm done with him in my series. He is gonna grow old with his wife and kids. He will know peace <3

[reneebrxndxn]

Clinic

where Zack comes to pick up Meg and Renee orders him to rest @zackastor

Zack Astor

-he makes his way into the clinic, at least looking better after Vivy cleaned him up- Meg? -He calls out- I'm here to pick you up.

Renee Brandon

-Renee comes out from the back and quickly puts a finger to her lips- She just fell asleep. I think it's the first time she's slept in a few days.

Zack Astor

She doing okay?

Renee Brandon

-Renee nods- She's okay. I recleaned the wound and put a suture bandage on it. She had some snacks and I made an IV drip. It looks like she was on the malnourished side. She might be tired for a few days and I want her to come in every couple of days. She also has some minor burns on her hands but those will heal on their own. I've got some aloe to put on it if it gets too much for her. -she looks back before back at Zack- She asked for you and David. I think the two of you left quite an impression on her.

Zack Astor

-he listens without saying a word, just giving a quick nod- As soon as she wakes up I'm taking her home.

Renee Brandon

-she nods but she also looks over Zack as well- You look cleaned up but in the mean time, why don't I do an exam on you - y'know, just to make sure that you're not on the verge of puncturing a lung?

Zack Astor

-his eyes narrow slightly- Shouldn't you be busy with cleaning up David's heroic little gunshot wound?

Renee Brandon

Val went home with him to treat his wound. Meg is sleeping and you need medical attention as well. So sit.

Zack Astor

I already got medical attention. -he gives her a sharp look, but eventually sits down-

Renee Brandon

Oh yeah? What doctor? -she smiles victoriously inwardly as she sits across from him- Humor me and take off your shirt. Your face looks fine but the way you're holding yourself suggests your abdomen might have some issues.

Zack Astor

Vivienne. And my gut is fucking fine. -his eyes narrow at her, but he tugs off his shirt again; he is patched up, any cut stitched or otherwise bandaged-

Renee Brandon

-Renee doesn't let Zack's bitchiness get to her- I was unaware she was a doctor. -she notices the discoloration around his abdomen and she carefully puts her hand on it- Well, they're definitely broken but they're not out of place, so that's good. -she feels around while noticing the bandages- She did good work.

Zack Astor

-he holds perfectly still under the touch, gaze turned firmly towards the wall as she touches him- She knows what she's doing. -he responds gruffly; the nausea is starting to hit him again- As I said, I'm fine.

Renee Brandon

Mmmhmm, of course you are. That's why you're riddled with bruises and bandages. -she sits back and looks at his facial features- Here, follow my finger. -she holds up her finger and starts to move from side to side-

Zack Astor

I don't need your damn sarcasm. -he scoffs, but he tries following her finger, struggling with trailing it-

Renee Brandon

-Renee watches his eyes and sighs- Well, it looks like you have a concussion. Have you had any dizziness or nausea?

Zack Astor

Could've told you the same. -he grunts- Yes, have had that.

Renee Brandon

Alright, you need to lie down. You're waiting for Meg to wake up anyway and you need to give your head a rest. Too much movement and you'll start bleeding out your ears. No arguments.

Zack Astor

Not happening. -he grabs his shirt and tugs it back on- Too late for too much movement. I can rest at home.

Renee Brandon

-Renee sighs and shakes her head- I swear, you're worse than most of the raiders when they come in hurt.

Zack Astor

-he stays seated, eyeing her wearil-  I know what I can handle. I'm not gonna go fucking and jump around, Brandon.

Renee Brandon

Of course you do. But humor me. Meg is fast asleep and unless you'd rather I go wake her after what she's been through, you're going to be waiting a bit.

Zack Astor

-he stares at her for a moment, eyes narrowed before he relents and lies down- Fucking hell. -he mutters-

Renee Brandon

-Renee smirks in a smug victory as he finally lays back- I'll grab some snacks for you and let you know when she's awake and ready to go. You. Rest.

Zack Astor

-the smirk makes to want him get up again immediately- Jesus- I don't need snacks. I'm not a damn kid.

Renee Brandon

You were bleeding and there's no telling how much you lost. Not to mention you have a concussion so you need sustenance to help heal and replenish your body. -She grabs a bag of crackers, cookies and water to set next to him- In case you get dizzy.

Zack Astor

I didn't lose that much. -he crosses his arms; he doesn't feel like eating or drinking; both due to nausea and in general- Just let me know when Meg's ready.

Renee Brandon

-Renee shook her head as she headed back to Meg- I'll let you know.

Zack Astor

Good. -he gives her a quick glance- Make sure she's alright.

Renee Brandon

Of course. I'll take good care of her.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 327

Back and to the Future/Nikola Tesla’s Night if Terror

Did I mention there’s a mistake in my “final” calendar? I put the episode of dw I watched the other day on there twice 😎👍 luckily what that really means is I can skip watching one some time this weekend

“Back and to the Future”

Plot Description: Sam, Dean, and Castiel reluctantly team up with a demon inhabiting Jack’s body to battle an army of undead souls that includes some infamous killers

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: (not even started it yet and certainly not, right?) guess who was riiiiight

Cas making sure to bring Jack’s body with them to safety (even temporary safety) 😭😭😭

Vs Cas also pointing out that he wouldn’t starve to death if they stayed in this place forever

Dean’s so mad at Chuck and in such a funny way

So….not running water, just more zombies

Oh this is actually kind of fun, like when Misha gets to play evil versions of Cas

I’m not trusting that this demon was your basic pencil pusher. He just stopped the (not-)zombie horde that god himself put in our trio’s way

Yeah, MAYBE these girls are a little spoiled but that doesn’t mean this ghost has to go after them

We’re starting to see the aftermath of various ghosts who stayed true to form

This murder clown is decidedly not sexy (to me. Could be someone else’s yum, and I won’t yuck it)

How long ago was this demon last on earth??

Oh a big bag of salt and a human heart?? Is THAT all you need??

Of COURSE Sam had to go to the clown house, poor guy

I love that Rowena made Dean say please and use the descriptor “exquisite” when he first told her they needed her to move her ass

Omg we cannot be getting Michael back again (but this universe’s Michael who got———hey, what about Adam? I know we’re NEVER revisiting that plot thread but like…that’s so stupid)

And if COURSE the gunshot wound Sam has isn’t able to be healed by Cas AND he’ll hide it…

Hey, free, fresh human heart, I guess

Lizzie Borden’s here too??

Castiel sassing Sam shooting him with rock salt when he can’t help when a ghost decides it’s gonna vanish

Worst ghosts in a show ever. Why do they HAVE to run? The ghosts are running

Oh man. The bad tension between Cas and Dean continues

Thank you, Sam, from saving Dean even temporarily from a nihilistic spiral

This is unintentionally the funniest fucking show in the world. “If we win—when we win this, god’s gone” I love this stupid show so much, I can’t believe I’m in the last season

“Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror”

Plot Description: 1903. Who or what is sabotaging Nikola Tesla’s generator plant at Niagra Falls? And has this maverick inventor really received a message from Mars?

Ruh roh I’m not gonna make it before midnight. Can we blame Megumi?? And how cute she was being tonight?

Hey, did this one come out before or after Elon became obsessed with going to Mars? Because the Tesla-Mars connection seems too on the nose

Ok I can see why he believes he’s getting messages from space

Companions should get in period dress more often

These two ACTUAL geniuses in a room together and supporting each other and comforting each other, realizing they have so much in common

This dude in the cape is bad news. Wtf is happening with him??

Ok, since we’re in NYC…I’m just thinking, what if we could DO something that would have prevented what happened to Amy and Rory.

They do this to angels in spn to interrogate them, too…but these are no angels, that’s for sure. The makeup they used almost reminds me of the spider queen from the runaway bride

Voice too, actually

Graham telling off Thomas Edison is delightful

Oh but instead of spiders, it’s scorpions, and they can shoot lasers from their tails!

And what a crazy thing that they also steal tech from other places

Edison should not be allowed to be this close to the plan

Aw, she just wants a high five and he doesn’t know what that is because it hasn’t been invented yet?

The return of the goggles!! Yay!

It’s effective for getting people off the street and away from the scorpion aliens, but it also feels slanderous for Edison to be saying that shit about Tesla

Excuse me? The Doctor is typically about stopping but not killing…but kind of in the way Aang is, but…she seems pretty dead set on killing the queen. I’m not even sure how they managed to save earth this time

[whatimdoing-here]

Everyone's been in on the fun dreams I have. Last night I had a dream where I had trouble falling asleep lol. And then one where I was forced into watching my brother's friend's bird.* And I was mad at my little sister because she was going to Pittsburgh for the weekend but wouldn't tell us why.

[zbeez-outlet]

could i request an armin x reader where its like a hurt/comfort after what happened to sasha, but maybe mc got injured too? stray bullet maybe but she survives? and just armin having to deal with losing a friend and also almost losing his s/o

Red

Armin x Reader

Spoilers for Season 4 Below

Canon Universe

Established Relationship

Concept: see request above!

Summary: Sasha has collapsed at your feet, red pooling around her trembling body, shock startling the fading light in her eyes, and your chest hurts. Your heart is pulsing, disbelief clouding the ache you feel at watching your friend bleed out in front of you. It doesn't occur to you that the pain may be something else, that you'd been standing right behind her, that there was an exit wound leaking red onto the floor, but no other indication of where the bullet has gone. None of that occurs to you, not until you meet Armin's devastated stare.

Warnings: angst, description of injuries, blood, canonical character death, dissociation, panic (If I missed anything, please let me know)

A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I still have a list of requests to get to (mostly Levi), but I loved working with Armin for the first time. If you're interested in making a request, check out my submission guidelines for more info!

Losing comrades is hardly a foreign concept at this point in your career. Now with years of experience in the Survey Corps, you've watched the untimely ends of dozens of friends and fighters in this war. Devastating and violent deaths that haunt you at night and leak into the corners of an idle mind on slower days when you're left to think. You're disturbingly used to picking up the severed limbs of your fellow soldiers, to the heartbreaking cries of a widow or tragedy stricken parents or an orphaned child, to the empty caskets at funerals. Pools of blood hardly require a second glance anymore.

But this...this is different. Wrong and impossible in a way those other losses hadn't been.

Sasha is at your feet. Kind, smiling, always craving a snack Sasha with her wild hair and wilder attitude, is spilling red across your boots.

Nothing makes sense. She'd been standing, just a second ago, she'd been standing right in front of you, grinning and asking about dinner. There'd been a commotion at the back of the airship, a loud popping sound you know was a gunshot, and then your world fell apart.

Death by bullet is a strange concept to you. Something so small, so opposite of the larger than life cannibals you're used to, ripping through the plush of Sasha's abdomen and exploding in a mist of red out her back. Agony erupts between your ribs at the sight, lungs filling with anguish. You don't quite understand bullets, without motives or morals or orders to follow, just tiny metal beads at the mercy of their maker.

There's screaming all around you, and in some far off corner of your mind you register the battalion of soldiers stomping on the child that pulled the trigger. You can't bring yourself to look away from the blood speckling your hands, just as sticky and wet and warm on your cheeks like tears. Jean and Connie are screaming too, calling for bandages, putting pressure on the bubbling wound you know is spilling far too much red to be any kind of okay. Your chest aches as you look down at Sasha, your friend for nearly a decade now, your sister in every way that counts. Heart stuttering in your chest, you think you might be choking on a sob or an apology or your own lungs, and there's metal stinging on your tongue. All you can do is stand there and watch as your brothers in arms try to save one of the only people that can still make you laugh on even your hardest days.

You're only vaguely aware of Jean's panicked sprint down the airship behind you after the medic replaces his hands with her own, Connie's whimpering pleas falling on nearly deaf ears. It's like water is rushing behind your eyes, drowning any thoughts beyond the echoing sound of Sasha's body thudding against the ground.

There's a burning sensation in your chest, as if your grief has already settled camp behind your ribs and all you can do is grasp at your sides with sticky red hands in some vein attempt at holding yourself together. You drop to your knees when Connie's pleas stop, when the medic's compressing hands stop, when Sasha's breathing stops. Your ears are ringing, knees aching, and there's a scream lodged in the recesses of your throat, eyes locked on the puddle of red still growing even though Sasha's already dead...

Dead. She's dead.

Connie trundles passed your frozen kneeling form, shoulders hunched and tears flowing, following the same path as Jean towards the front of the airship to tell the others. To tell Commander Hange they've just lost their best sniper. To tell Captain Levi he's lost another member of his squad. To tell Eren that his little disappearing act cost them all more than it should have.

To tell Jean and Mikasa and Armin they lost another friend.

Armin. Walls, you need him next to you. His fingers tracing your cheek, his whispers assuring you everything will be okay even though you know it never will be again. His too blue eyes swimming with love and grief and hope you don't remember how to feel. Air is suddenly too thick, clogging the path to your singed lungs like oil.

You flinch when Mikasa slides to the floor in front of you, sobs and denial spilling from her lips as she grips Sasha's far too still shoulders, shaking her as if she's simply stuck in a dream. You've never seen Mikasa like this, rippled with loss and anguish, but all you can think about is the red soaking into her knees. Part of you wants to reach out to her, to console the desolation in her eyes and the shaking in her hands, but the idea of moving feels like you'll risk spilling what composure you still have in your chest across the floor.

There are hands grasping your shoulders. You feel them and you don't at the same time, as if your sense of touch as become as blurry with sorrow and pain as your vision. But you know these hands.

Armin says your name, you think, but it's broken in your ears. Stuttering between grief stricken teeth, and you don't remember how to speak without sobbing first.

"You need to breathe," you think he pleads, somewhere close to your ear, and it's funny because you never stopped breathing. Sasha did, she stopped breathing. Maybe you can give her some of the air in your lungs. Somehow you manage to swallow a breath or too, but the taste is bitter and sticky down your throat.

"Sh-she's dead, Armin," you whimper, reaching out for him, for anything to keep you from plummeting into despair. "It hurts, Armin, it hurts so bad." And it does. It burns along your skin like fire, settling deep in the marrow of your bones that no matter what becomes of this war, you've already lost. Your soul bleeds for the shattered pieces left behind by Sasha's last booming breath. You meet shimmering ocean blue with a trembling gaze. "How do we make it stop?"

Armin swallows, tear tracks shinning and dripping off the soft curve of his jaw. "I don't know," he trembles. Eyes flicking between you and Sasha's body - her body because she's not in there anymore, gone and without breath or heart or dinner - you know Armin is just as shattered as you, as Mikasa and her withering wails.

You slump, forehead pressing into the curve of his neck, suddenly feeling far too tired. "There's so much blood." Armin stiffens beneath you, fingers suddenly roving over you in a panic you don't understand.

"You're right," he murmurs under his breath, "there's too much blood." He chokes on the sound of your name again, though less devastated and far more hysterical this time. "Wh-where were you standing? Were you hit?! Mikasa, get a medic!"

Dizziness wavers in your foggy mind, trying to remember, trying to tell him. "I was...I was right behind her - behind Sasha. Everything went r-red," you stammer, trying to take a breath through the sharp pain between your ribs you thought was grief but may now also be a bullet.

"No no no, not you, please not you." His voice is disconcertingly frightened as he lowers you onto the floor of the airship, pulling your arms away from where they protectively wrap your middle. You resist with what small amount of strength you still have, scared to see, scared to know, scared of the wayward thought that you may see Sasha again. "You're going to be okay. You - you have to...just breathe, keep breathing. Please sweetheart, just keep breathing."

And you do, because he asked and because you're scared to stop. More hands join his as they search through the stains of red across your abdomen, searing pain igniting under your skin. Someone is hold you down by your shoulders, another at your hips when you arch to escape the agony.

"What the hell?! Was there another shot fired?!" Jean, that's Jean. You know because he's loud and angry and a brother to you in every way that matters.

"The - the bullet...she was standing right behind..." Armin offers between aggravated sobs and sniffles and kind little reassurances as if you could hear them. But you feel them in the whisper of his breath and gentle touch of his fingers, eyes still locked on the blue of his own. "It went through Sasha and into her, no exit wound."

Someone presses down a wad of gauze onto your left side to staunch the flow of blood, and you gasp, trying to curl away from the offensive pressure to no avail. "Stop, it hurts, it hurts - please make it stop." Your face is wet with fear, chest pulsing erratically through the onslaught of pain.

Armin's palm warms your cheek, his thumb brushing under your eye in a loving caress that only makes you cry harder. "I know, sweetheart, I know." His voice is shaking, mouth bent all wrong in a devastated frown. It makes him look older, war-beaten and tired without the hope you know him to have. You mirror him, managing to place your own palm against his cheek, trying to smooth away the harsh lines you know don't belong on his so often kind face. You offer what you hope is a reassuring smile despite the thunders of of jilting pain you feel, and it must have come across just enough as his own lips curve up the tiniest beautiful bit.

They're wrapping you up now, white cloths only speckled with a few dots of red instead of the weeping mess Sasha's bandages had been only minutes ago.

"We've stemmed the flow, she shouldn't bleed out before we get back to Paradis. The bullet's still in there," the medic explains moreso to Armin than you, but you try to listen through the warped rushing sound in your ears. "It's probably the only thing keeping her alive right now. She'll need surgery the second we land, but we've done all we can for now."

You feel Armin's lips on your forehead, warm and familiar. "You're going to be okay," he whispers, and you actually believe him despite everything. "I love you," he says, and you know it won't be the last time you hear it. You refuse to let it be the last.

"I love you too." You can't actually say the words between the ache of your throat and the stickiness pasting your tongue to your lips, but you know he hears them by the loving slope of his smile.

[marshmallows2345]

Jay halstead x female reader

The girl Jay has been pinning over who he works with leaving Kim’s and getting shot while not even on duty an Kim calls a ambulance and void because she was bleeding quickly an Jay gets there before anyone seeing Kim pressing near her heart telling her to stay awake an the reader just grabbed Kim’s hand seeing her panicking trying to tell her everything will be okay

An she ends up being okay but they get really close to loosing her from how much blood she lost till she got to the hospital

the thought of losing you (jay halstead x reader)

content warning: angst(happy ending), guns, canon typical violence, and alcohol

a/n: i really hope you like this !! this was really fun to write and i hope it fits your vision!

friday nights were always reserved for drunk karaoke, booze, and workplace gossip with kim. she was your best friend; you told her almost everything(except for a few embarrassing incidents with jay). the two of you meshed together effortlessly; she matched your vibe perfectly. it was like she was your long lost sister; she was your shopping buddy, drinking buddy, everything buddy.

“we still on for tonight?” kim asked, perching on your desk, holding a mug of coffee. “i got the bacardi..”

“hell yeah, burgess! what makes you think i wouldn’t?”

“great! i’ll also order takeout.”

“you’re reading my mind, and i’m so here for it.”

she laughed before walking to her desk, sitting down and starting to fill out some paperwork. jay came over to your desk, and he also had coffee, but he had a second mug.

“what’s up, halstead? long night?”

“uh, no, actually,” he said, putting one of the mugs on your desk. “one was for you.”

“aw, you’re so sweet!” you exclaimed, taking a drink of the coffee. “it’s perfect. thank you so much.”

“no problem, anytime,” he said before walking off.

you were too busy being focused on jay to notice kim watching the two of you. once jay was out of sight, she came over to you and said,

“he likes you.”

“he does not! he’s just being nice. you bring me coffee all the time.”

“true, but halstead never brings anybody coffee. except you. and he even put milk and sugar in, the way you like it. none of us do that.”

“like i said, kim, he’s just being nice.”

she rolled her eyes at your defense and went back to her desk. kim knew; she saw the way jay looked at you, the way he’d go above and beyond to make sure you were okay. jay had feelings for you, and it was obvious to everyone except you. he was protective of you, not just because you and him worked closely together but also because he never wanted to see you hurt. you were priceless to him.

that night, you drove to kim’s house, excited for the upcoming festivities. music blasted in the car, pumping you up for the fun-filled night ahead. you had bought a case of beer, coronas to be exact, and you were walking up to kim’s door. the only light came from the streetlamps on the sidewalk and the light above kim’s door. standing outside her house, you turned your attention to your phone and sent kim a text.

“hey, i’m outside, let me in?”

as you pressed send, you heard the ear-piercing screech of tires and the signature scent of burnt rubber. turning around, you were met with the sound you dreaded most.

BANG.

BANG.

two gunshots rang out from a car before it drove away. the bullets went through your shoulder and stomach. you slumped against kim’s door, your dark blood smearing all over the mahogany wood. your body collapsed on the stoop, your hand covering the wound in your abdomen. blood pooled over your hand, filling the crevices with the warm red liquid. kim ran down in a frenzy, gun in hand. she threw open the door and screamed your name out.

“no! no!”

she pulled off her hoodie and started applying pressure to your wound. she then called an ambulance and requested police, tears streaming down her face.

“no, no, why? why you…stay with me, y/n. stay with me, please.”

there was so much blood, spilling onto the door, the concrete, and your clothes. your blue shirt was drenched with red, and so was kim’s hoodie. your cheast heaved with effort, your heart pumping blood rapidly to try and keep you alive. kim called voight as your eyes flicked up to her.

“k-kim….”

“sh, sh. don’t speak. sh…i got you.”

when voight got the call from kim, his face paled. not only because you were one of his, but you were jay’s partner. there would be hell to pay when jay got ahold of the perpetrator. he lept into action, grabbing his leather jacket and gun before quickly heading out.

“voight, what’s going on?”

“y/n’s been shot. she’s at kim’s; lost a lot of blood,” voight said, trying to keep his composure. “we gotta go, now.”

jay grabbed his jacket and hurried down with voight. he was consumed with rage. someone shot the woman he was in love with, and he was determined to make them pay. but that would be at a later date. right now, his only concern was you. were you going to be okay?

the bright lights of the ambulance were the only thing you remembered clearly. blue, red, then bright white. the pain was searing, consuming your whole body with fire and heat. you assumed the white was you being inside the ambulance. the last thing that you remembered was an oxygen mask being placed over your face as a paramedic soothingly said,

“you’re gonna be okay, don’t worry.”

when jay got to the scene, he found kim sobbing on the stairs. you had been whisked away in the ambulance, but kim was too distraught to follow. jay sat down next to kim and he asked,

“what happened?”

“i heard shots, and i-i-i came down, she was there, and the blood, and, and, she was down, i couldn’t-“ kim sobbed, wiping her tears away.

“it’s okay, kim, it’s okay. she’ll pull through. she’s strong,” jay said, more to reassure himself. “she’ll be okay.”

“she’s going to med, they took her like just before you got here, i gave the state-“

“we’re going to med,” jay stated. “get in the truck.”

you were in surgery for hours; you had lost a lot of blood and the damage done was extensive. the doctors worked tirelessly to repair your abdomen and shoulder. the shoulder wound wasn’t bad, and that would be a fairly easy recovery. the stomach wound, however, posed more issues. the recovery would be difficult, tedious, and long. it would be a very, very long time before you would be off of desk duty.

the Intelligence unit kept vigil until you were allowed visitors, each person rotating. but one person stayed, constantly: jay. jay stayed in the hospital waiting room every day, waiting. he stayed there for three days until will came out and said,

“you can see her now.”

jay practically lept out of his seat, alogn with the others. but they let jay go in first, knowing how he felt about you. he walked with will to your room, but was stopped before he could go in.

“jay, she lost a lot of blood. she’s weak, and she may not respond. she’ll make a full recovery, but it’s going to be difficult and long. she’s gonna need a lot of support and patience. i’ll go back out and tell the others, it’ll be short, one person only visits until her discharge.”

“that’s fine. i just need to see her.”

“you can go in.”

jay quietly crept into your room, pulling up a chair to sit next to your bed. he took your hand just to feel your warmth. you were alive, safe, protected. his thumb gently ran over your knuckles as he watched over you.

“i’m sorry, y/n. you-you weren’t supposed to go through this. i’m your partner, supposed to protect you. and-and seeing you like this? it just made me realize something.”

you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away at the bright light of the sterile hospital room.

“what…” you muttered.

jay stood up and he leaned over, making sure his ears were working correctly.

“it made me realize that i care a lot about you. i, when you’re better, i want to take you out.”

you blinked up into the lights, disoriented. it was so bright. so bright and white. looking over, you saw jay, hovering over you and giving you a small smile.

“hey, hey,” he softly said. “you’re up.”

“jay..”

“sh, sh…”

you closed your mouth, opting to just smile up at him.

“i heard,” you said. “everything.”

his face paled and you let out the smallest, strained chuckle.

“once you’re better, y/n. once you’re better.”

he placed a kiss to your forehead, and you flushed slightly. the heart rate monitor started beeping more rapidly and jay said,

“woah, woah, okay…i’ll take that as a yes. i’ll send the other guys in, okay?”

you nodded, settling back into the pillows as jay left, only to come back a moment later with voight. you smiled as voight and jay came in, even if it was mostly because of your feelings for jay.

[cjsinkythoughts]

It’s All in the Perspective

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4491

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Gun Violence, Minor Character Injury, A Peek at Angry Bucky, Explosions (if that’s a warning), Mentions of Stevie (I really miss him, guys)

A/N: So! Here it is! Part 4.3! After long hours of laboring and slaving away - kidding, kidding. I had a bit of trouble with this part, not gonna lie, because there’s a lot of feelings I wanted to try explaining. To do that, there’s a little sort of twist at the end that, once I decided to put in, made the chapter much smoother to write. I wasn’t happy with it at first, but now I’m satisfied.

There’s a lot of things happening in this one; it’s longer than I had anticipated because of the little snippet at the end I added. It’s got a few scene-for-scene things, but I kinda blew past it just to get to the characters’ emotions and stuff. Plus writing action like the shipping yard scene is hard when you’re not focusing entirely on that scene, which I wasn’t.

You’ll notice that the last little bit with Ayo (the Wakandan) isn’t in this. That’s because I couldn’t really find a way to fit it in and I’m assuming it will fit in better with next week’s episode.

Not beta’d, so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you wonderful people for reading and commenting! I enjoy hearing your opinions and what you like about the show and the series! Enjoy the final Part for Episode 3 and stay tuned for an announcement tomorrow about the One Shots I’ll be doing in relation to this series!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

You and Bucky kept sneaking glances at each other as you walked through the dock, weaving between the different colored shipping containers with Sharon leading the way. Every time you caught his eye, his ears turned red and he looked away, scanning your surroundings. Not that you were any better, immediately turning away when he turned your way.

You almost kissed him. Fuck. You couldn’t let that happen. He was your friend. Your teammate. He was the best friend to the man you fell in love with, who just so happened to be your best friend. Your best friend who left you. Your best friend who you promised you would watch out for Bucky. 

Bucky…who you also fell in love with. Whether or not it was because of Steve, the fact of the matter was: you loved him. You loved both of them. And you’d never loved anyone like that before. And one left. And the other was trying to navigate through his shitty life. And you weren’t any better. Which is why, you decided in that moment, that no matter how much you wanted to - and holy shit did you want to - you wouldn’t pursue. 

Yet. Maybe. Ugh! When did feelings become so complicated?!

When you started having them.

You silently grumbled to yourself, shaking your head clear. You had to focus and be in the moment. Now was not the time to sort out what to do about the suddenly rising emotions towards the cerulean eyed brunette currently burning with you with a gaze you refused to return.

“Alright.” Sharon stopped, making the group stop as well. “He’s in there. Container 4261. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry; we’re on borrowed time.”

You each grabbed one of the earpieces she held in her palm, slipping it comfortably in your ear. “I’ll stay back with you.” Sharon went to talk, but you cut her off. “I’d feel better knowing it’s not just you out here.”

She pursed her lips, before nodding. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“Doll-”

“I’ll be fine, Buck.” You insisted, checking your gun to make sure it was loaded. Bucky stayed quiet, nodding in begrudging acceptance.

You and Sharon headed off as the boys went towards the storage unit. “Just like old times, huh?” Sharon raised an eyebrow at you.

You grinned, shoving your gun in the thigh holster she let you borrow. “Let the good times roll, babe.”

“Absolutely.” Sharon winked, before you two split up to cover more ground. It wasn’t long before Sharon announced company and you took off sprinting in her direction.

You got to her just as more thugs approached her from behind, immediately lunging into action.

“Hey, so, we never finished that conversation!”

You grunted as you roundhouse kicked a guy, hooking your knee over his shoulder and pulling him to the ground by the neck “Really?! You wanna do that now?!”

“Sure! I’m not too busy!”

You rolled your eyes at her reply, seeing her knock a guy unconscious before she turned around to knee another one in the face. “What were we talking about?”

“Why’re you holding back?”

“It’s complicated!” You elbowed a guy in the ribs, flipping him over your shoulder and twisting his arm till a sickening crack sounded.

“Because of Steve?!”

“Yes - no! Kind of!” 

Sharon was on the floor choking a guy out as you slammed a guy’s head into a shipping container, pushing him at another guy. “You loved him didn’t you?! And I mean, like in love with him!”

“Who?!” You laced your fingers around the back of his head and brought his face down onto his knee.

“Director Fury!” You gave her a look which she snorted at. “Steve, you dumbass! Who else?!”

“Yeah! No shit I was in love with him!” You ran up the side of a storage unit to do a backflip and land on some guy’s shoulders, choking him out. Before he fell, you rolled off, tripping a guy in the process and elbowing his throat.

“Well at least you’re admitting it now!”

You were hit in the back of the head, thrown into a wrestle with another guy on the ground. You bit his hand, making him cry out, before you headbutted him. 

“You couldn’t even hear his name without having to remind people you were ‘just friends’!”

“We were just friends, Share! You know that!”

You heard her shoot of a gun a few times as you smacked someone in the back of the head with the butt of your gun, trying to save ammo. “You really never did anything about it?!”

“No!”

She glanced at you incredulously from across the way, bodies now littering the ground. “And you don’t regret that?”

“No.” You sighed at her look, relenting. “Yes. Kind of. I dunno. I mean…he’s happy with his decision, and for me that’s enough.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell. But-”

“But you still have him so it’s all good.”

You bit your lip, shrugging. “Something like that.”

Sharon tilted her head, confused. “So why don’t you tell him?”

“I dunno. I don’t think either of us is ready.”

“C’mon. I saw you two earlier. You should’ve just kissed him.”

Rolling your eyes, you frowned when you noticed something missing. “Ah shit. My ear piece. It must’ve fallen out earlier.” You looked around, but Sharon stopped you, nodding her head between a couple shipping containers. 

“Don’t worry about it. Mine broke a little while ago, too. Let’s go get the guys. Tell them we need to leave.”

You nodded and started running with her to the unit Nagel’s lab was in. You followed her around the corner, only to widen your eyes and shove her out of the way. Two gunshots rang out, Sharon catching the guy right between the eyes, while the man’s bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Ow, fuck.” You hissed, hand immediately going up to clamp your wound.

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have done that, you idiot!”

You gave her a look. “You’re welcome.”

Rolling her eyes, she quickly tore off part of your shirt. “Hey!”

“First off, this is my shirt. Second, I’m just making it more of a crop top. Third, it’s your own fault, so quit your whining.”

“Touchy touchy.” You grumbled, wincing when she tied it around your arm.

“Just come on. And hey,” she turned to you as she sprinted with your wrist in her hold. “My advice? Don’t wait. Seriously. I know it must be weird, the whole he’s his best friend, he was your best friend, now he’s your best friend, thing you’ve got going on, but there’s nothing else stopping you. Steve made his choice. And he’d be fine with whatever you choose as long as you’re happy.”

You shook your head. “But Bucky’s still healing-”

“So? He’s already been on dates. I think you’re just using that as an excuse to protect your heart from hurting again. Trust me; Barnes isn’t going anywhere.”

Not able to respond since you were making your way to the guys in Nagel’s lab, you bit your lip, hating that she got the last say in the conversation. She definitely planned it so she would. “We’re outta time, fellas.”

As if things couldn’t get worse Zemo - that fucking snake, you knew he was gonna do something stupid - took out a gun he got from who knows where. You sure as hell didn’t let him have a gun. Before you could stop him, he shot Nagel, your best, your only, lead.

“Goddammit!” You growled as Sam and Sharon restrained him. “You fucking-”

The explosion came next, again happening faster than you could react. Bucky grabbed you and pulled you underneath him, covering you with his body as glass and metal flew around you. With ringing ears, you groaned, squinting your eyes open.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You were vaguely aware of the alarms going off, a red light blinking behind Bucky’s head. You nodded, his worried eyes softening just slightly at your response. “We gotta get out-”

“I know, I know. C’mon.” He helped you up, eyes catching sight of the makeshift bandage on your arm. “Dammit, what did you do?”

“I’m fine.” You pushed his hands off. “Go help Sharon. We’ve gotta move. Now.” He huffed, but nodded and moved over to get Sharon. You tried to see where Zemo went through the smoke, but he was already gone.

You four made it just before the whole thing combusted due to the chemicals in the lab. So much for any evidence or leads.

The moment you got out, you were thrust into a gunfight, rolling your eyes as Bucky and Sam, once again, did their own thing.

“Are they always like this?”

“Usually it’s worse. Wait until they start arguing about who was right.” Sharon gave you an unamused look to which you nodded at, ducking when a bullet whizzed by you. “I know. It’s so annoying.”

Sure enough, when Bucky ran out of bullets, the bickering commenced, making you huff and Sharon shout at them. “Are they serious?”

You shot a few more bullets before your gun started clicking. “Dammit. Unfortunately.”

“I’m out!”

“Me too!”

Another explosion and a person you couldn’t see clearly through the haze caused a distraction for you guys to get away, Sam practically shoving you and Sharon into an open shipping container as Bucky took care of a couple more bounty hunters.

“What happened? Both of your comms went out.” Bucky growled once he came in behind you, grabbing your forearm to study your wound.

“It’s just a graze. Chill your ass down. I lost my earpiece and Sharon’s broke.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his voice low with warning. “What. Happened.”

“We rounded a corner, the guy was there. I shoved Sharon, he shot, she shot, I got hit, he’s now dead. Happy?”

“You promised.” He snapped, finger tightening on your arm. “You said you’d save yourself first.”

“Buck, let go.” Grabbing his wrist, you tugged a bit, wincing slightly. “Seriously. Stop. That hurts.”

He blinked, his features slacking and his fingers immediately dropping your arm. “Doll, I-I…fuck.” He turned to go punch through the back wall to get out of the unit you were in.

Before you could respond and tell him it was fine, the Baron himself drove up in a slick blue convertible. You groaned at Bucky’s response to Zemo. “We need him.” God, you were getting tired of hearing that.

“You’re lucky I don’t bash your head in.” You growled at him. 

“If you try that shit again-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow when Bucky got into the passenger’s seat with no hesitation, looking at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you shrugged and slipped into the back with Sam. Bucky and you always took the back seat. You had ever since the dumb little blue car Steve got.

You hugged Sharon in parting, knowing she couldn’t come with. “Hey.” She looked at you sternly. “Take a leap.”

“We’ll see.” You told her, sitting down and buckling.

“Do better than that, Y/L/N. And get me that pardon you promised me.” She told Sam, pointing at him..

“Thanks for everything.” She nodded, before jogging off in the opposite direction you’d be heading. Sam turned back to the front, an annoyed expression crossing his face. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.”

You snickered as Sam shot you a glare, Zemo starting to drive the car out of the shipping yard, away from the chaos.

****************

You collapsed onto the seat in front of Bucky, leaning onto the knee he had propped up against the back. He glanced up at you, face blank, before looking back down at his metal hand he was cleaning.

“Here. Let me see-”

“I got it.” He grumbled, shifting away from where your hands reached for his.

Your eyes widened, stunned at his reaction. “Bucky, just let me-”

“I said no, Y/N.” Your name. Again. You can’t remember him calling you ‘doll’ since before the shipping yard explosion.

“Are you okay?” He merely grunted. You straightened off his leg, swatting his knees with the back of your hand. “Hey.”

He shifted again, planting his feet on the floor. “Stop.”

“No.”

He shot you a warning glare. “Y/N-”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“What is wrong with you?” You scrunched up your features in confusion and concern. “Is this about my arm? I told you it’s fine.” You got no response except his eye flickering to your now properly bandaged shoulder. “Why are you acting so weird?”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

You scoffed in disbelief, jaw dropping. “You’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” You stood up, brushing your legs off, the bare skin having splotches and smears of dirt and dust. “If you wanna be like that, go ahead. Brood. Be a child. When you’re ready to talk to me about whatever the hell is bothering you, like an adult, I’ll be in the back room.”

You only took two steps before he called out for you. “Doll.” You turned around, an expectant look on your features as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot. He looked up at you nervously, before looking down and picking at the metal plates of his hand. “I got scared.”

Your features softened, your head tilting gently. “Scared?”

“When you stopped talking. You and Sharon…you were talking. But both of your comms went down around the same time and I…it scared me. I-I don’t get scared anymore. Not the way I did when your voice stopped. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” His voice got quieter at the last sentence, his eyes looking to the purple handprint on your forearm.

“It was an accident, Buck.” You reassured him, settling back down in front of him. “It’s fine. You were still reeling it in from the bar. I know it’s hard for you to judge your strength like that. Steve had problems like that too.” You looked down at the rag he was holding, putting your hand out.

He licked his lips, before handing you the rag. You got off the couch to shift so you were sitting between his legs, his chest to your back. Holding his metallic hand between both of yours, you set to work, gingerly wiping away the grime, picking at the filth that wedged itself between the plates.

“He,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the moment you were remembering. “He accidentally gave me a concussion once when we were sparring. At first it was awesome; he got me my favorite take out and took me to the movies and all that. But then he just started getting annoying. Wouldn’t even let me reach for the TV remote on the coffee table a yard away.”

“Can I ask you something?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly when you felt his chin hooking on your shoulder, giving him more room. “How long did you love him?”

Freezing, you raised an eyebrow and turned to face him. “What?”

“You and Sharon. When you were talking…your comms were on.”

“How-” You swallowed thickly, a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Yours went out right after you admitted you were in love with him. Hers went out after you said you were just friends.”

Holding in a sigh of relief, you went back to cleaning his hand. “I don’t really know exactly when it happened. After the Battle of New York, maybe. So 2012, I guess? I dunno. I was getting up from falling for him, though. A few years later.”

“Was?”

“I - yeah. I kind of…fell again.”

He hummed, leaning back, taking his chin off your shoulder and unwinding his arm from your waist. “He’s an easy person to fall for. Hell, I’m pretty sure I had a crush on him once upon a time.”

You chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder at him. “I never said I fell for him again. But, yeah. You’re right.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You like someone else?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Oh…” He cleared his throat as you went back to his hand. “Uh…so you don’t still love him? Steve, I mean?”

“He was the first person I really loved, Bucky. A part of me will always love him.”

Bucky fingers twitched in your hold, the fingers on his other hand tapping against his thigh. “You know…he loved you too.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s true-”

“He left, James. If he loved me, why would he leave?”

You could feel his hesitation as his next words left his lips. “I-I dunno.” That was a lie. You could hear it in his voice. If there was one person Steve trusted more than you, it was Bucky. Of course he knew.

“Listen, I really don’t want to talk about this-”

“It’s in the notebook.” You bit your lip as Bucky shifted, pulling out the little notebook from his pocket. “He made lists - he liked lists. He made lists of things you said that made him laugh. Songs that reminded him of you. Little quirks you do that he noticed over the years. He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

“James, please-”

“He didn’t want me to let you know. But I had to tell you. You have to know. He loved you.”

You let out a shaky breath as he placed the book on your thigh. You stared at it for a moment, before grabbing it and placing it in his left hand, closing his fingers around it and standing up. “I think…I’m gonna go rest for a bit in the back room. Holler if you need me.”

You didn’t wait for a response, moving quickly to the small back room of the plane which you got dressed in only a couple days ago. It only had one arm chair and instead of a door there was a curtain, but you were fine with that, plopping down in the chair and reclining.

Why? Why would he bring that up? Did he hear more than he said? Was he trying to let you down easy before you could even tell him how you felt? Did he get spooked after dancing? After the almost-kiss?

You never thought of Steve in the wrong. After all he’d done for the world in his life, he deserved to be selfish - to be happy. And Peggy gave him that. But why? Why would he leave if he loved you so dearly? If he really did what Bucky said? He wouldn’t. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t up and leave, without even saying goodbye, knowing how deeply you loved him and feeling the same about you. This was Steven Grant Rogers for crying out loud! He wouldn’t…right?

But Bucky…he wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t tell you that, especially knowing how much you missed the lovable blonde. And you knew his words held at least some truth. Actions spoke louder than words, and as something Bucky said repeated itself in your mind, you started slipping into a memory, your eyes shutting and your breaths evening out.

“He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

~

The incessant knocking made you groan, shouting that you were coming and mumbling curses. You barely threw open the door before his worried voice hit your ears. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“Stevie.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes and looking over at the clock on the wall. “Bubs…it’s two in the morning. I just got back, like, an hour ago.”

He shuffled, pink lips in a pout, eyes round and distressed. “I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry. But I heard you got hurt-”

You shook your head, a small giggle of amusement leaving your lips and you lifted your right hand, letting him see the black split holding your ring and pinky fingers. “I jammed my fingers in a door. The doc said I’ll be fully healed in a month at most.”

His eyes darted across your face and down your body, scanning for any more injuries. After glancing at your hands again, they finally landed on your eyes once more. Next thing you knew, you were being held against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck. You hummed softly, running your fingers down his spine, moving the two of you deeper into your apartment so you could shut the door.

“Don’t ever do that again. I gotta have faith in something and if you come home hurt, it’ll be crushed.”

Your eyebrows knit together. At his strange wording. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you have to promise me you’ll stay safe, honey.” He pulled back and held your face between his hands. “Please.”

“I can promise I’ll try my best.” You teased lightly, smiling at him and booping his nose, making him grin, although it was strained. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We’ll turn on some TV in my room and you can keep me safe while I get much needed sleep.”

That made his grin relax into a real one, his head nodding in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”

“C’mon, bubs.” You took his hand, leading him to your room. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll catch some zzzz’s too.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“What the hell was that?”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was gaping at him in utter disbelief, looking from the assassin to the doorway Y/N just walked through. “She needed to know.”

“Buck, she’s been dealing with some shit. And we both know something’s going on that she isn’t telling us. Her “zoning out” isn’t just zoning out, and we know that. She doesn’t need you confusing her even more.”

“Confusing her?”

Sam blinked, his troubled expression falling into a deadpan. “Are you fucking with me? No. There’s no way you’re that naive. Seriously?! Man, c’mon!”

Bucky scrunched up his face. “What?”

“She likes you, man! Everyone knows it!”

The brunette shook his head, forehead creased. “No. No, you heard her, Sam. She’s in love with Steve.”

“Was in love. As in past tense.”

“But-but she said- she likes someone else-”

“Barnes!” Sam threw his hands up, exasperated. “You are someone else!”

“I thought you two were already-”

Bucky pointed warningly at Zemo. “Watch it. Wait, wait-” He turned back to Sam. “But I heard her-”

“Bucky…man…” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I can’t tell you everything. I’m not about to break my girl’s trust like that. But you gotta hear me when I tell you she likes you. What do you think almost happened at the party?”

“She - I - it was…an accident?”

Sam spluttered, eyes wide. “An accident? You two grinding and nearly making out was an accident?!”

“Woah! We were not…grinding-”

Zemo hummed. “Hmm…you kind of were.”

Bucky glared at him. “Thin. Fucking. Ice.” He whipped back to Sam. “I just remind her of him.”

“What?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You remind her of Steve? Yes, granted your both dumbasses, but she knows both of you enough to know there’s quite a few big differences.”

“Wilson-”

Sam held up his hand, shutting Bucky up. “You like her. Yes or no.”

Bucky huffed, looking down at the hand she was holding only minutes ago. “Yes.” He finally relented. “Since the first couple months in Wakanda.”

“Steve liked her. Yes or no.”

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding his head. “Yes. Yes he liked her. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“So explain something to me.” Sam crossed his arms. “Why is it that Steve isn’t here, and you are?”

Bucky crossed his arms, brooding - although he’d never admit it - while staring out the window. “Steve…knew. I liked her. And, yes, he loved her, but he also loved Peggy. So he…”

“He told you to take your chance with Y/N, and he went back to be with his first love.”

HYDRA’s former fist nodded with a sigh. “Something like that.”

“You need to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Sam groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because!” Bucky took a breath, trying not to shout and alert the sleeping girl in the room over, his ears tuning into her slowed heartbeat to make sure she was okay. “Because Steve has her heart, Sam. The whole thing just…I’m jealous of him. Because he got her first. And then I get mad because he didn’t do shit about it. And then I feel guilty because all the shit he put up with for me and here I am complaining…and then I just get…depressed because he’s not here. I used to be the one who fixed his problems. But after I got out…he’s been the one fixing mine. And I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I get it. That’s valid. But stop whining and moping around about it. It happened. And you need to get your shit together. If not for your sake, for hers. Because she lost him too. And she’s probably feeling those exact same feelings.”

“But…she’s his girl-”

“No. She’s not. He made his choice.” Sam nodded towards Bucky. “Now you gotta make yours,  Buckaroo.”

He shot him a glare. “You can’t call me that.”

“Why not? Y/N calls you that.”

“Y/N has a plan.”

“We both know that’s not true, Buckaroo. Hey! That one rhymed!”

Bucky shook his head with a scowl. “I will beat your ass, Wilson.”

Sam scoffed, shoving Bucky’s head playfully. “Stop being a dumbass and tell her. Buckaroo.”

“That’s it!”

Bucky tackled Sam to the ground, Zemo giving them an amused expression before leaving to talk to Oeznik. They were so wrapped up in their wrestling session, they didn’t notice the woman leaning against the wall, tired eyes barely opened as her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

“Are you fellas done?’

They both stopped, shooting up when they noticed her. “Doll, I-”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Buck. Not right now. I’m just really tired.”

“Did we wake you?” Sam winced.

She shook her head again, yawning. “No. I just needed to use the restroom.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile as she rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms overhead, making that ripped crop top ride higher up. She was too cute. And she didn’t even realize it.

“Sleep well, doll. We’ll try to keep it down.”

She nodded, turning and waving over her shoulder. “You two try getting sleep, too, alright? Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Night, cher.”

“Sweetheart?” She peeked through the curtain, tilting her head slightly. “You know I love you, right?”

A small smile quirked up her lips, but it was sadder than the ones his question usually elicited. “As long as you know I love you.”

He nodded, returning the half-smile. “G’night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Buckaroo.”