#what do you mean I can just about scrape one gif out of each scene??

[lilcathsmith]

Greg in every episode of CSI (51/328) • Recipe For Murder •

[inklore]

impetuous

premise: the little games you and joel like to play become risky when you almost get caught.

pairing: joel miller x smuggler!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected piv, established enemies with benefits, dirty talk, a certain clothing item being used as a gag, small mention of masturbation and bjs, hints of angst.

note: episode eight changed me as a person, the integration scene rewired my brain chemistry and i just needed to get this out before i collapsed from being in heat. the gif was made by me so don't steal pretty please.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

“Shh, shh,” Joel silences you, just as a hard thrust of his cock has your mouth falling open, a moan filling the air of the damp shed. The crunch of sticks and gravel outside makes your already thumping heart beat faster against your rib cage.

Brows drawn together, the hands gripping onto Joel’s flannel digging into his sides. The thumb that was just pressed to the column of your throat—dirty palm squeezing your airway just enough to lower your moans, enough to make you wetter and less coherent—now moves down to where you’re bare and his cock is fucking into you. The rough pad of his thumb moving along your clit, “focus right here.” 

Ignore the noises outside. 

Ignore the possibility of getting caught by someone out after dark and up to no good. 

Ignore the possibility of getting thrown in a cell by FEDRA because you two were out after dark and up to no good. 

“Fuc-Joel,” you whine. Clench your eyes shut until all you can see is little white dots behind them. Try to focus on those, on the burn you feel from the tears that are now prickling at your lash line from how hard you’re trying to focus. 

From how hard you’re trying to keep your mouth shut, to not getting caught—at least not before you’ve come. 

Joel’s words “focus right here” mocking and blaring in your head like a song you can’t stop humming, a song stuck in your head, a song you want to bodily remove from your brain stem; your focus on the footsteps outside no longer the issue; your attentions shifting to the head of his cock, hitting every spot inside of you that makes your legs tighten around his hips more, on the burning pleasure he’s delivering to your clit right now. 

You couldn’t focus on anything but him if you tried, and you’re trying really hard to focus that attention on staying quiet. 

Which the two of you know is not your forte, in and out of this situation. 

The countless times when Joel’s not fucking you come to the forefront of your mind of him complaining about your need to argue, to talk talk talk, instead of the two of you doing a trade, or making the other come. 

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?” 

"Well, one of us has to do the talking, Mr. Resting Grump Face. Besides, you’d be bored if I didn’t make you work for what you came for.” 

“That what you call it? Workin’ for it? You mean until I give you what you want because you can’t seem to ask for it unless you’re deliverin’ me bad news,” he had smirked. Wiped the grin from your face and covered it with his mouth seconds later as he backed you into the wall, groin grinding against your front. “I got better uses for that mouth.” 

The scrape of the metal table your ass is on moves each time Joel thrusts, each time his cock drags against your sensitive walls over and over. If it weren’t for his jeans still covering half of him, the sounds of your skin moving against each other—and your wetness that was more than likely staining the front of his jeans, the small window in the back doing little to help light anything but his face and neck—would cover up the mewls and cries making your throat hoarse and raw each time they slip out when you fight to swallow them down. 

“The only way you know how to be quiet is with my cock in your mouth.” There’s humor in his tone; his heavy breaths add more heat to your face. You feel his free hand run along your leg, moving it from his hip for half a second as he pulls your underwear from your calf and over your ankle until it’s in his palm and he’s pushing the material into your mouth. 

You can taste the remnants of your arousal on the cotton, from even before the two of you started your little game. When it was still just a simple trade of stolen items and things your boss was too cowardly to hand off to the big bad grump. When he had just been scowling at you, listening to your bullshit story, and bidding the time until one of you cracked. Before both of you threw the items to the side and Joel’s hands were bending you over the nearest surface or pushing you to your knees. 

You swallow around the material, your whimpers caught by the fabric and barely audible. His lips press against the material, barely touching your lips; the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own as he presses it against yours. “Focus on comin’ for me, take what you came for. C’mon. Come with me,” he grunts. Moves his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling back and your teeth biting the salvia-soaked cotton. 

The hand not rubbing fast circles on your clit, cups the back of your skull. His dirty fingers wrapped in your hair, keeping you in place. Keeping you bent at the perfect angle so your hips can meet his. So his thumb has access to that nerve that’s making your toes curl—to push his cock further and further into you so the tip hits something pleasurably painful. 

When you’re coming, when his name is muffled against your underwear and your nails are clinging and digging into his skin from the searing heat that has your body convulsing against him—"That's it, that's it, take it” murmured against your forehead—you feel him finish seconds later. Your walls clenching and spasming around his cock. A deep grunt breathed against your skin. 

Your insides feel warm, like jell-o left out in the sun. Like if Joel never moved from between your legs and the two of you stayed connected forever, you wouldn’t mind. 

And after he’s pulled out and his warmth is gone from your body, you quickly shoot down the disappointment rising up inside of you that he didn’t stay between your legs longer. That this part of the night is over, and now you’re back to the game. 

To the reason you snuck out after dark to begin with. 

Completely denying yourself any opposing thought that could put that reason into question. The two of you have been doing this for too long for your mind to think it’s something it isn’t. 

Even when he doesn’t just take what he came for and leave or shoot you a scowl when he helps you find your pants, the way you expect him to. 

Or how he doesn’t let you go first no matter how much arguing you do against it—how he makes sure the coast is clear before signaling it’s safe. Him hanging behind to—cover his ass, you’re sure—make sure when you slip down the dark alleyway, no one is there to catch you sneaking away into the night. 

And later, when you’re laying in bed, you’ll chalk up the pounding need you feel again as you remember Joel’s rough fingers against you—your jaw, your neck, digging into your sides, your shoulder to keep you from moving anywhere but against him, anywhere but where he wouldn’t be inside of you—and his words still playing in your head “focus right here, come with me”, your heart will pick up, and you’ll have no choice but to sedate the ache you feel by making yourself come. Joel’s name on your tongue and bit into your bottom lip; you’ll blame it on his stupid mouth and your lack of options for sexual partners in this hell hole. 

It won’t be because of an attachment or attraction of any kind. 

Fuck that. 

And tomorrow, when you tell Robert to do his own fucking deliveries, it won’t be because of your feelings but instead because you almost got caught last night. This little game becoming more of a risk than entertainment for you, and you’ll be damned if you get in the mix with FEDRA over Joel and the underlying need the both of you have to pick each other apart and pull the hatred you harbor inside out with teeth, tongues, and fingers that make you see stars. 

But Robert is spineless, and you’re not convincing enough to make yourself believe you want to end anything with Joel. 

[sarahowritesostucky]

im craving some steve/bucky/reader!

will you ever add to Worth The Wait? pleeese??🌷or maybe write a mfm fic that's set in the mcu? I'm dying for a good stucky/reader endgame fix it, and you write the best m/f sex scenes! 😳

Hi! I will add to Worth the Wait, one day. I have a lot of rotating projects and I'll admit that one isn't at the top of the list.

And I was brainstorming some kind of Endgame fix-it fic idea with an ofc/reader x Stucky pairing, and here's what I came up with:

I wanted to write a fic with more canon elements of the MCU (as I realized that I write very few canon-set fics and almost exclusively AUs). I wanted to write an ofc/reader with a super unique backstory, and hoo-boy, did I ever! I took a lot of inspiration from the galaxy as depicted in the Guardians of the Galaxy movies. This fic will be posted as a one-shot fic, whenever I get around to writing it.

A Stucky x Reader fic, set in the MCU during and after the events of Endgame:

Reader is from another planet - yes, literally.

You're a refugee from a planet that didn't want you (The Sovereign--Aka "the gold people" from Guardians 2.)

Long story short, those people disdain sexual (aka uncontrolled) reproduction. Your Mother was banished for becoming naturally pregnant by an inferior genetic (a Xandarian)

You have mixed genes: slightly gold skin from your Sovereign genes, and blue eyes and brown hair from your Xandarian father. (And since the Sovereign control reproduction strictly, there are no other mixed race Sovereign people like you in existance)

You narrowly escape Thanos' destruction of Xandar, and wind up hitching a ride, post-blip, with Nebula and rocket on the Milano. They take you to Terra to meet their friends after completing one of their post-blip scouting missions.

There you meet Steve, a Terran, and the two of you become friends. He suggests that you consider staying, as you have no real homeworld. You accept.

Eventually, you develop romantic feelings for each other. You decide to be brave and you walk up to him one day, asking if he wants to mate.

"Uh ... do you mean date?" he stutters. Then when you repeat yourself, the two of you proceed to have a long conversation about male-female relationships in Terran culture.

There's a lot to learn about the differences between Terrans and your own kind. For instance: Terrans don't have genders! ("gender" means something completely different on Terra).

Steve has to learn all about what it means for him, as the boyfriend of an omega-gendered woman. (update: he's a fast learner😉)

Steve loves that you're omega. Your nesting and scenting and purring instincts always make him smile. He loves how submissive and touch-focused you are with him, that he can make you melt into a puddle just by gripping your neck.

And he loves your heats. He's fascinated by the way your body changes and the way you start behaving. You can tell it turns him on, to see you getting needy and aroused, and he is very good at helping you through your heat.

He doesn't have a knot, but aside from that part of anatomy, his genitals are a very pleasing size compared to the Xandarian males you've been with in the past. Plus: he has the serum, so he's able to keep pace with the demands of your heat!

When you were at the peak of your heat that first time, half-delirious and begging for a knot, Steve got creative and tried the only thing he could think of: his hand! (fun fact: it's bigger than a knot😉). You now joke that you're a "size queen" in every sense of the word

Your romance with Steve is going well, when Steve and the others figure out a way to potentially reverse the blip: time travel.

You're conflicted, because it's all very dangerous and you're scared of losing Steve and the family and home you've found on Terra. But you know they have to try.

It works. And after the final battle, after you've been scraped out of the wreckage and laid Tony Stark to rest, you finally get to meet the man you've heard so much about: Bucky Barnes.

You can see the change in Steve, with his best friend back. He's happier, lighter, his full self in a way he wasn't before.

Over the course of a few months, you become close friends with Bucky as well. You and Steve don't even have to have a discussion about where Bucky will be staying: It's with you.

The three of you decide to go to Wakanda for a time. You're excited because you hear that the African Terrans' culture is very different from the Terrans in New York.

In Wakanda, you grow even closer with Bucky, and you decide to bring up the idea of partnering with Bucky at dinner one night.

Bucky just about spits his mouthful of wine across the table.

Apparently, three-way relationships are not the norm in Terran culture. Bucky and Steve get very pink in the cheeks at first about it (something you've learned means they are aroused, embarrassed, or both).

Steve splutters and stumbles a lot, but once Bucky shrugs and suggests that the three of you spend a night in bed together, Steve gets very quiet and won't stop looking at Bucky for a long time. (You grin, because you think he looks at Bucky like he want to mate him😉)

Later, after the three of you spend your first (amazing) night together, Bucky privately explains to you that he and Steve have never been intimate before, and that back in "their time" two males weren't allowed to be together like that.

You're astounded by these things about Terran culture and history that you're constantly learning, but you have two very good teachers in your mates boyfriends Bucky and Steve.

Terrans can't bond, but they do hold ceremonies to commit to life partners. So, after a year of living in Wakanda together, you, Steve and Bucky decide to have a "wedding." You are mated married on the palace's grand terrace, under the Wakandan sunset.

That night, you consummate the marriage, and that's the first time that you take both Bucky and Steve inside of your body at the same time. (spoiler: it's amazing😉)

You've already told them about bonding. They don't have glands in their neck like you do, but they've agreed to honor your traditions as well, and they both bite you that night.

You thought it would be purely symbolic, since they're both Terran, but it turns out that Terrans do have pheromones to some degree, and so shockingly, you can feel a euphoric rush when it happens.

You experience that intense closeness and intimacy of a bond with them, and even though it's not the same for them, over time, both Bucky and Steve confide that they feel a change as well.

Maybe it's a bond, and maybe it isn't. Who knows? Who cares? It's love, of that much you're certain. And that's all you need to know.

Yeah, so. This'll get written somewhere down the line. Hope it wasn't too far out there for ya 😆

[blackacre13]

Debbie lap dance pt 2

Part One Linked above! Here's part two!

“Go ahead,” Debbie panted. “You can touch me. I know you want to.”

“God, yes,” Lou nodded, her nails digging into Debbie’s hips as she pushed her down further against her thigh, encouraging her to grind against her more, Debbie’s breathing starting to get short.

“Keep the money,” Debbie whispered suddenly, her tongue darting out to lick Lou’s earlobe as the blonde cursed. “I want you inside me. Come around back?”

“Debbie,” Lou chuckled, shaking her head, only to be interrupted by Debbie’s hand ghosting along the crotch of her pants as Debbie let out a gasp.

“Are you…packing?” Debbie whispered, licking her lips as her eyes grew darker.

“One way to find out.”

Lou didn’t know what the hell she was doing or how she’d ended up at this club.

She couldn’t lie. It was a club she had frequented a few times before, but lurking around strip joints on a Friday night wasn’t her typical scene. Although the “ladies drink for free” was a typical perk. Hadn’t any of these club owners heard about lesbians?

She’d worked a smooth week. Wallet full of cash. Jobs all running like clockwork. But that meant she was bored. She didn’t need to scrape together random cons this weekend to make ends meet. Her time was her own. And that often led her into dipping into her vices: liquor, cigarettes…sex.

There were the usual suspects she practically had on call and of course, the instant regret of a go-to ex or three that could be fun for the night but only end badly in the morning, but she didn’t want to tread down that road.

So here she was. A place where she knew she could tease herself. Practically edge herself. Let herself be flirted with and danced upon, but she could only look. Not touch. And there was a limit. A bill. And an expectation that she would go home satisfied in a way, but most definitely alone.

So she couldn’t believe that she was standing in the alleyway behind the club with her boot against the wall and a cigarette between her lips, eyes closed as deep, brown ones seemed to bore into her soul.

Debbie, Debbie, Debbie.

Who was she? And why could she read Lou so well, even in an instant?

They didn’t need words or hints or instructions. Their bodies were practically calling out to each other. A siren song.

Lou had been nervous. She shouldn’t have been this drawn to a dancer, but she’d caught sight of her across the bar and knew she had to be the one. And when Debbie asked her what she wanted, Lou had to stop herself from saying “for you to take my last name” and settle for a lap dance instead.

It was intoxicating. Lou thought she should be mortified. Doing this. Paying for this. Letting Debbie tease her professionally. But there was something on Debbie’s face that told Lou she wasn’t alone in this. And when Debbie’s hips started rolling and her position switched to very, truly riding Lou’s thigh and moaning like they were holed away in a bedroom just the two of them and not in a corner of a club, Lou knew it wasn’t just her. And she hoped against all hope that Debbie would want something real. No strings or singles attached.

Lou’s fingers had found their place on Debbie’s hips as if they’d settled there dozens of times before, Debbie whimpering as the tips of her fingers ghosted against hot skin.

Debbie whispering “keep the money” was like a dream. She had to be sure she hadn’t made it up and when Debbie’s hand had found the strap Lou had decided to wear this evening—for some BDE and extra confidence—Lou knew she needed to Fuck this woman. Right then. Right now.

“Coming?” A voice asked suddenly, a metal door near Lou opening and swinging shut heavily before Debbie emerged, a wicked grin on her face, wrapping a trench coat around her barely there outfit and swinging her hair out of her face.

“I was hoping that would be your job tonight, actually,” Lou smirked.

[keelt9]

Cap. 3

Part 2

Masterlist

“What are you talking about? A masterpiece!” Matias and Enzo were talking about the scene their friends just finished recording, when they hear in the distance a familiar voice talking enthusiastically.

Matias observes warily the expression of Enzo, after a hard session of persuasion with Mar, he just gets warning of her, if she sees this start to turn messier, she will cut it out, from the root.

“Be honest with me.” Matias gets Enzo's attention, he’s seeing him but his mind is immersed in something else. “That girl just caught your eye or is something more insanely complicated.” He didn’t get any answer.

“Because…come on Enzo, just see this girl, what? 4 times, talk maybe 2 and look at you, acting weird. I mean, yeah, find a pretty girl and catch your eyes, it’s ok, who didn’t do that? But since you talked with her from time to time you have a weird smile on your face and after what Agustin called “a short talk” you looked fresh?” Enzo seems confused enough to move his hand trying to rest importance and keeps walking. 

“You… Ok, ok, ok! It’s been a long year, and exhausting d…” In a useless attempt for resting importance Enzo tried to find an excuse as he started to talk. Matias takes a deep breath before dropping the boom.

“That girl will leave in two weeks, if this insanely complicated “thing” means something to you do something, in case it doesn’t I think we should just go back to our routine and stop this rare talkings.” Ready, the boom was off and Matias walked away not wanting to know if something blew out or it was just an empty one.

-

“Oh shit! Hey, Mar must be already waiting for me, I’ll text you ok?” Moises was about to protest when she continued. “I SWEAR, JESUS!” Both of them laugh as she rushes to put all the things she can in her pockets.

“Before I forget it! I already have the package, which arrived two days ago.” He mentioned but she barely caught his words before she ended the call, a few seconds later she crashed with someone and fell on the cold ground. 

“Sorry, sorry I…” She raised her sight and saw Matias already helping her to pick up her things.

“You know how to make entrance.” __ laughs and stands up when the sting sensation makes her look at her hands, both of them have deep scrapes in the palms. 

“Yeah, this one doesn’t seem to be smooth.” She opens and closes her hands trying to make the sting sensation fade away.

“Oh, am, we have a first-aid kid on the set.” __ was about to say it’s ok but the cold air and the open wound made her palms burn.

When Mar saw __ walking inside but with her fist tight and walking beside Matias with her things in his hands, giving her the indications for something happened, she rushed asking what happened when she saw the scrapes in her hands, both of them explaining what happened and that made her feel relaxed. 

Mar knows __ is well protected by her siblings, after knowing the hard times they had when Mr. Ovalle died; being the younger sister behind twins who were in the last years of their childhood, while two months ago just blew the candle of your 3rd birthday, making the following years not so friendly. Later than the beginning with Caro, she lost count of the time where Mrs. Mendienta and her went to pick her up after school and she was just sitting there sharing a bag of frituras with all kinds of salsas, no talking, just eating and keeping in company of each other.

“How long does she remain waiting?” One day Mar asked her little sister, she observed the eyes of Caro focus on __. “Carolina.” Her little sister shook her head. 

“Just a few minutes more, until one of her siblings came to pick her.” Mar looked at her mother and she just smiled with a press of the lips.

That night her mother will tell Mar the tragic events Lucia confesses to her the day they have to go to school for the little fight between the girls. 

Just one afternoon of doing homework in Mendiatas house was enough for Mar to make a strong bond with __, Mar found a new little sister to take care of. A few months later with the immersion of Enrique in the Ovalle family they were able to see how everything turned into something better.

“You should be careful, the cold ground and the fact there isn’t pavement makes it easier to get deep bruises than usual.” One of the paramedics told __ after treating the bruises.

The three of them thank him before he leaves. 

“Well, it seems it’s my turn to drive after all.” Mar adds but before she could pick the key, __ took a step ahead and grabbed it first.

“It’s scratch Mar, it’s not even a cut.” __ stands for they leave. “Thanks Matias you shouldn't stay, you look tired.” Matias refuses with his head and follows them to the exit. 

They talked about their plans for Christasm and just to make sure Matias got the message of __ departure, it was the first time __ mentioned out loud.

-

Enzo stayed a few seconds out, watching the stars above him, but eventually tried to rest importance to the chatting with Matias consequently the topic of __, so he went to the truck to change his clothes and enjoy the two weeks of rest.

He grabs his things but the voices coming from the entrance stop on his way to the exit.

“It's a shame!” He hears Matias with a cover sound, he’s giving __ a goodbye hug. “But it was a pleasure to meet you.” 

Mar felt relieved that all points to the imminent surrender of the ridiculous idea of Matias, she felt someone take a heavy bag from her back.

“However, if you ever come back it will be a joy to meet you again.” __ response to the hug.

“If you ever go to Mexico, give me a call and it will be a pleasure to receive you there.” A few seconds ago, they exchanged numbers.

“Wow, wow, dangerous offer.” Mar says, making __ smile. The tree of them wish each other merry Christmas before parting ways.

<It’s a shame> Was the thought of Matias, she’s a nice girl, really n…

“HOLY SHIT!” __ was right that they are incredibly skinny, and in the dark made them look like ghosts. “ENZO!” Matias recovered his breath. 

“Are you leaving? Go back safe, goodnight.” 

“Yeah, goodnight.”Enzo responds, it seems the boom was actually a useless firecracker.

After arriving home and preparing a small dinner, Enzo remains observing the T.V not even bothering to pay attention, Ada and Uma remain sleeping next to him. 

“I’m crazy.” His expiration radiating strong out of him.

-

“THAT IS NOT TRUE!” Caro, Mar and __ sitting in the living room with hot chocolate and a bunch of cookies and pancakes, playing true or dare.

“Yeah, right! You even bought a ridiculous teddy bear!” Caro is being exposed about the first time she confessed to a boy in fourth grade and he rejected her, with a horrible and dry <No way> Who got the last laugh? Before she left the school to move to Uruguay, that boy was like a puppy after her.

“Oh! I remember! Diego Vazquez.” Mar fakes a shiver. “Ugh, awful.” The three of them laughed so hard that it was hard to recover their breathings. “What about you __? Any guy who deserved to be a piece of your heart.”

“HA! The legend says, <Just the immortals will have the privilege to see.>” __ smiles bigger before sending her to bring more chocolate.

“No one, huh?” Mar insisted  and __ instead of feeling uncomfortable she just relaxed.

“Not even a scrap.” Mar phones start to buzz, she covers her face with her hands making __ giggles. “I’ll go to help her before the kitchen floor is covered in a brown liquid.”

Mar smiles before seeing the name on her screen making her eyes almost fall, she stands up quickly and walks to the stairs.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

⚡ What We Made: What We Made

What We Made: Penelope Wright has dated Harrison Wells for a whopping five and a half years. She isn’t in a hurry to further along their relationship, yet she is head over heels in love with her other half. After finding out that Harrison Wells, isn’t, in fact, Harrison Wells, and that she is now carrying a meta baby that just might kill her, Pen doesn’t know what will kill her, a broken heart, or a child that shouldn’t even exist.

Warnings: Language, Explicit Scenes (Unprotected Sex Is A No No), Graphic Imagery, It Is Designed In Segments.

To Note: Eowells x NAMED!Reader.

Word Count: ~4.4k

Masterlist | Next

Your hands bury themselves in Harrison’s neatly brown hair as your lips lock together in a very open, very passionate kiss that would have Cisco a blushing mess. Teeth occasionally click together, biting at each other's lips and tugging, your tongues teasing and begging for more, and your hands wandering.

Well, Harrison’s hands are wandering, yours are perfectly content to weave into his immaculate locks and ruffle them up from their brushed and coifed position. But back to those sinful hands, Harrison lets them wander all over your body as you straddle his lap, your knees digging into the mattress.

This isn’t an unusual position for you to be in or one that bothers you. Harrison is paralyzed from the waist down and only has a little feeling after his accident. But that doesn’t make him any less of a lover. He knows exactly how to work your body, what areas to caress, to touch, to pinch, and to kiss. His hands are magical.

Said magic hands are currently sliding up your back to where your bra band rests, his fingers tugging at the little hooks. In a few smooth moments, he has them undone and is pulling the straps forwards, making the fabric fall down your arms.

Dragging your lips apart, you detach your hands from his hair and raise them to allow him to pull your bra free from your arms. With the lacy cream fabric free from your body, Harrison tosses it to the side before rewrapping his arms around your body and pulling your naked torsos against each other.

His mouth goes straight for your neck, landing on your skin and sucking at it, clearly meaning to leave a sizable mark. Moaning underneath his touch, your head drops back as you snake an arm around his neck with one hand and hold the back of his head with the other, pressing his mouth further into your skin.

You don’t care that he has lost motor control of his legs, you love this man like you have loved no other. Unbelievably intense love blinds you to any hindrances other women might point out. Who cares that the only position that works has you on top? It means you get to tease him as much as you want to, and he can’t do a thing about it.

Well, you usually pay for your teasing afterward, but you aren’t going to complain. He has a special way with his hands and mouth that no other man can compete with.

Teeth lightly scrape across your skin before he licks a tantalizing stripe up your neck and starts to press open-mouthed kisses along your jaw that make tingles erupt everywhere he touches. With a sated groan from his mouth torture, you wiggle your hips, grinding your underwear-covered clit against his growing erection.

It has been a long day, full of worrying about Barry, his progress with his speed, and whether or not someone in the city is using their powers for nefarious reasons. You both have a lot of pent-up stress and are happy to burn it off in a way that both of you enjoy.

“You have no idea what that skirt did to me today,” Harrison rumbles against your skin, your lips curve into a smile as you chuckle. “Especially when you bent over to collect the papers Barry sent flying.”

“Oh, you poor boy,” you giggle, your fingers playing with his hair. “Got a little excited, did you?”

“A little? More like I had to go to my office to avoid Cisco asking an indecent question,” he growls, his fingertips pressing into your skin and skimming the ridges of your spine. Laughing at his unfortunate biological mishap earlier today, you pull yourself from his mouth’s reach and gaze into his eyes with yours sparkling.

“Not to worry, you may have me as much as you’d like tonight, Dr. Wells,” you purr out, brushing your fingers along his jawline. “You have me all to yourself for the night.”

“And it better stay that way,” he decrees, his blue eyes staring intently down at you as one of his hands trails down your spine and dips underneath the band of your underwear. You feel his large hand gently slide over your ass, coming to rest on the curve.

“Oh, possessive Harrison makes an appearance,” you say as you trace shapes on the back of his neck. “You going to show me just how possessive you are?”

He doesn’t need any more words of reassurance, his other hand dives for your underwear and in seconds you’re wiggling them off, flicking them to the floor with your foot. Your own hands dive for his underwear and yank, whipping them off his body in record time. You stare up at him, a smirking smile tugging at the edges of your mouth, prepared to torture him some more.

“Not tonight,” Harrison says, taking your face in one of his hands. “I’ve been waiting patiently to be in you, and I refuse to wait a second longer.”

“If that’s what the doctor wants,” you breathe back before crawling up and raising yourself. Harrison’s hands go to your hips as you line yourself up with his cock, and feeling a little streak of naughtiness, you make sure to sink as slowly as you possibly can.

The feeling of him slowly sliding up into your body is euphoric as always, stretching your body most deliciously. Your legs burn from straining to keep yourself from just plopping down, control beating out desire. Harrison quickly catches on to your actions and with a growl and a grunt, the hands that had been resting on your hips tighten and yank you down.

A small yelp leaves your lips as your legs fold and you drop down, lurching forwards to wrap your arms around his neck. The tip of his cock hits you hard and deep, sending a zing of pleasure up through your body and the burn from the hurried invasion clings to your walls, your body slowly adjusting. As a soft groan leaves your lips, Harrison brushes his lips against your ear.

“That didn’t mean you could tease me more, Penelope. I am a patient man, but even my patience runs out.”

“Well damn,” you chuckle, catching your breath from the sudden stretching. “And here I was hoping to torment you to my heart's content.”

“You are a little vixen,”

“Only for you,” you respond before turning your head and connecting your lips once more.

Hope is hard to find these days. You've been beaten down to the point where you don’t think you'll be able to get back up or have the strength to even try. You're so lost after years of trust, stability, and love have been shattered with a few sentences. You've denied their words, refused to believe them. They have proof. You've tried to come up with an excuse for his actions, that this was just a big misunderstanding, and he hadn’t been lying to you. It wasn’t. And when Eddie shot himself and died, erasing his existence, you cried silently. Tears rolled down your face like rain on a windshield as you tried to remain strong and not go rushing to his side as he was erased from existence. That wasn’t what brought you to your knees, and ultimately sent you crashing down. Caitlin said that you were probably between eight and nine weeks and that you were lucky that we had caught the fluctuations in your metabolism before it ultimately shut down your body and killed you. Severe hypoglycemia Caitlin had called it, the worst she had ever seen aside from Barry. You were pregnant with a baby whose father didn’t even exist anymore.

16 Weeks Pregnant

“How’s our little nugget doing this morning?” Cisco asked as you walked into the Cortex, Iris in tow. Without looking down at your stomach, you gave it a light pat.

“Feeling feisty,” you quietly returned, a brief flashback of praying to the porcelain throne all morning flashing in your eyes. “And rebellious. You have any more of those calorie bars, Caitlin? I can’t keep anything down…”

“Yeah, let me go grab a couple,” Caitlin said as she stood up from her desk and headed out of the room.

“In the meantime,” Cisco said, trotting over to you and taking your elbow. “Sit down while I hook you up for Caitlin.”

You slowly walked over to the chair you had been occupying for the last few weeks and sat down, pulling up your shirt to reveal your slightly pooched stomach. Reaching down, you gently placed your fingers along your stomach. Little red flickers of light flashed across your skin as the baby reacted to your touch.

He or she always did, the lighting just underneath your skin happened with a stimulus, or according to Caitlin, when the baby was happy. How your baby was even that far developed at this point was beyond you. Caitlin theorized that it had to do with the metagenes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to know what gender it is?” Cisco asked, carefully putting the probes on your stomach and connecting them up to the fancy machine he had built to monitor both your and your baby’s health along with caloric consumption, how fast your metabolisms were, and if you were having any adverse effects from carrying a baby with such high demands.

You shrugged at Cisco, trying to act as nonchalant as you possibly could. You still had a hard time wrapping your mind around the fact that the baby didn’t just disappear after he was erased from existence, and finding out the gender was like solidifying the fact that you were going to be a single mother. If you even survived.

“I just—“ You spoke out quietly, your fingers weathering together while you tried to remain as calm as possible. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Well, if you change your mind, Caitlin and Iris want to combine a gender reveal party with a baby shower, I want to make this super cool…” Cisco started blabbing about things he wanted to make that would make your life easier.

Caitlin came clicking back into the room, several calorie bars in hand. She hurried up to you, handing them over before grabbing her tablet.

“I’ll run our usual scans, but I’m still worried about your health, you’ve dropped eight pounds since last week,” Caitlin spoke up as her eyes scanned the tablet in her hands.

“It’s not like I can’t afford to shed a few pounds, Cait,” you muttered tiredly. You had about a good forty pounds you could lose before your weight would become a problem. Caitlin thought differently; she scowled at you.

“If my predictions and current data are accurate, which they are, your body won’t be able to keep up with the demand for calories, and your body will shut down. You’ll die, and so will the fetus,” Caitlin lectured, making Cisco’s eyes go wide, Iris, who had been on her phone, probably texting Barry, looked up, fear now in her eyes.

“Wait, what?” Iris blurted out. “No one said anything about Penelope dying from trying to carrying this baby to term.”

“She might if we can’t figure out a way to get the needed calories and proper nutrition into her body. The fetus is sucking her dry right now; her bone density has already decreased because of calcium loss,” Caitlin answered, waving an arm at your stomach. “We could lose both of them.”

“So not only is Pen carrying miracle evil baby—”

“It’s not evil, Fransisco,” you interjected, leaning your head into your hand.

“Miracle baby is also potentially killing them both, great,” Cisco finished, clapping his hands together. “I’m gonna go hyperventilate in a corner for five minutes and then we’ll figure this out.”

With that, Cisco walked out of the Cortex, most likely to do exactly what he had said he was going to do.

“So, anyone watch the latest Game of Thrones episode?” You asked, trying to steer the topic away from your possible impending death.

25 Weeks Pregnant

“I don’t see the purpose of this,” you muttered quietly as Caitlin and Iris puttered around the baby shop, looking at the cribs available. There was a multitude of colors, along with different types of material, fabrics, prints, and even shapes.

“The purpose is to make your life as normal as possible,” Iris spoke up as she looked at the tag of a darker colored crib. It was made of wood and had vertical slats so you could see through it, room for storage underneath, and striped fabric covering the bedding.

You huffed at Iris’s words and ran your fingers over a light grey set, it was made of wood, looked sturdy, but had the style as the rest of the furniture in the apartment you now lived in.

“My point is why spend the money when I might just die anyway?” Caitlin shot you a dirty look as Iris rolled her eyes. Your view on life had turned quite cynical lately, and the words that came out of your mouth were harsh, pessimistic, and uncaring.

You spent nearly half of your waking hours hooked up to an iv that pumped a steady stream of vitamins, minerals, calories, and other compounds in Caitlin’s effort to counteract the effects of carrying a meta child with the metabolism of Barry. You had already dropped several dress sizes, much to Caitlin’s dismay, and it was nearly impossible to get any weight back on your body.

“The point, Pen,” Iris replied, turning to look at you. “Is that we are not going to let you, or the baby die, and it’s not like Harrison Wells of this earth is going to need his money.”

You flinched at the name, wrapping your arms around your baby bump before looking down. Cisco had gotten access to his bank account with Felicity’s help and had set up child support payments that were going into your account. Everyone had said it was the least he could do since he no longer existed, but a part of you wondered what the real Harrison Wells would think.

Having money like this wasn’t something you had ever experienced before. The amount in your bank accounts was absurd and had made your jaw drop when you first realized just exactly how much Felicity and Cisco had set up to be transferred every month.

You had a brand new apartment, three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a nice kitchen and dining room, and a living room with a view people would kill for. It was over the top, more than you needed, and you felt like you were living in a mansion. But you hadn’t exactly gotten a chance to say no since everyone had decided to start making decisions for you.

“What about this set?” Caitlin asked, walking over to where you stood and pointing at the rib you had been running your fingers over. “It’s neutral, but looks nice, and would fit with either a boy or a girl scheme.”

You went with that set just to get out of the baby shop, and to escape the psychological pressures of reality.

33 Weeks Pregnant

It was amazing how tired you could get just by sitting in a chair. Iris and Caitlin had pulled together a baby shower/gender reveal party, inviting everyone you knew from Team Flash along with Team Arrow. Even Grumpy Harry from Earth-2 had come.

Somehow, Iris had convinced you to wear a pink dress with flutter sleeves and a slight high-low hemline. You couldn’t hide your baby bump wearing an oversized sweatshirt to this party; Iris had made sure of that. Instead, you looked like a well-put-together pregnant woman in the throes of happiness. Well, maybe not in the throes of happiness; you were scared shitless and barely managed to keep your head above the metaphorical water that continually tried to pull you back under.

Your face held fatigue like fat clung to hips, your ribs were almost at the point of being visible, and your complexion could have you mistaken for a vampire. Not only was your physical appearance terrible, but exhaustion had taken up a permanent residence in your body. You felt like you were dragging two hundred-pound weights on your body every time you moved.

“Alright, it’s time to reveal what everyone has been wondering these last few weeks!” Iris called, alerting the chatting guests that it was time for Cisco’s little party bombs (completely safe, he had assured you) to be set off.

Caitlin, Iris, Felicity, Cecile, and Thea all came over as Cisco’s little bombs were passed out, and you internally screamed. Your baby was currently it, but after this, it would become a he or she, and that would only strengthen the reality of what you faced.

“You okay, Pen?” Thea asked as she walked over to the chair you were sitting in. You blinked at her before giving her a strained smile.

“Of course, I just don’t want to get blasted in the face by Cisco’s creation,” you replied. Thea laughed before nodding in agreement.

“I’ll agree with you there. I don’t know what’s in those little explosives, but I certainly don’t want to take one to the face,” Thea responded before going to retrieve one of the party bombs. Once they were passed out, everyone held the bombs out and away from their bodies.

“Alright!” Cisco called, excitement on his face. “On three! One… two...”

Right as he said three, your eyes unconsciously connected with the sulking Harry. Those blue eyes that mirrored once you used to stare into for hours connected. You were unlucky enough that the baby chose this moment to have a power flare, and time momentarily slowed down around you like it had since the power fluctuations started.

With trembling lips, you found you could not look away from Harry as the bombs exploded in the room, spreading sparkling powder everywhere. Your eyes soaked in the color, and instantly tears were gathering. You blinked once, and time returned to normal, your eyes still connected with Harry’s.

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch at your now teary face before you tore your eyes away from his and wiped at your eyes. Cheers outweighed the complaints of the gender reveal, and soon Caitlin was walking up to you with a big smile.

“You have no idea how hard it was to not blurt out that you’re having a little boy, Pen, no idea,” she said, her face bright with happiness. You wished you could be as happy as everyone else, but the only thing on your mind was concentration. You would not cry in front of them.

40 Weeks Pregnant

You were gripping Barry’s hand so hard you were pretty sure you had broken a few fingers as a gut-wrenching scream tore from your lips. He was currently on the phone with Caitlin, trying to figure out what the hell to do since contractions had hit you out of nowhere.

“I know, I know!” Barry yelled, anxiety in his voice. “But it’s the middle of the night, and I can’t get one!”

Did you forget to mention it was the middle of the night and there were zero Lyfts or Ubers around to take? And forget about taxis; there was no way you’d get one in time. You had been staying with Barry and Iris for the last two weeks as your due date got closer, and your body was pretty much rendered almost unusable, nearly all your strength going to the baby.

Iris came crashing back into the room, her phone in her hand along with some towels and a water bottle. You gasped for air as you were given a small break from the blistering pain. Red electricity rippled through your veins, flashing brightly underneath your skin.

You could feel the energy wanting to burst out of your body in any means possible, even if it had to rip its way out. Breathing like Caitlin had coached you, you clutched at your rippling stomach as Iris hurried over.

“I called my dad, he’s going to try and see if he can get an ambulance here to take you to the lab…” You could hear a "but" in her voice.

“But…?” you rasped out, curling your fingers against your stomach.

“It’s a busy night, and he doesn’t know when one will become available,” Iris rushed out, her eyes filled with worry. “We’ll figure this out, but for now, you’re stuck with us.”

“It’s— it’s okay,” you heaved before hunching over and groaning as your uterus once again felt like it was twisting around, the baby trying to claw its way out. You felt more liquid drip down your inner thighs. Iris dropped the water bottle and towels on the bed you had been using.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she breathed before turning to Barry, who was still trying to get instructions from Caitlin. “Barry, she’s bleeding!”

“No wonder it feels like he’s trying to claw his way out,” you breathed out, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Your grip on Barry’s hand went slack as you felt your body flopping to the side, all energy in your body gone.

Barry was running as fast as he could carrying Penelope’s limp, bloody, and who knows what, body. All conventional options of getting her to the lab had failed, leaving one very unconventional, yet entirely necessary one if Penelope and her baby were to survive.

Zipping into the lab medical area, Barry came to a stop in front of the prepared gurney. Caitlin was already there with a nervous-looking Cisco peeking over her shoulder, and Harry standing off to the side, looking grumpy and aloof as usual.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Cisco breathed out, instantly freaking out at the shape Penelope was in. “Oh my god is she dead!?”

“Not yet but she will be if we don’t fix her!” Barry answered as he quickly set Penelope on the gurney. Caitlin jumped forwards and was instantly putting all sorts of electrodes and monitors on her clammy skin. “Please tell me you can save them.”

Caitlin flashed her eyes up to Barry’s.

“I don’t know if I can,” She answered honestly. “But I will try.”

Caitlin jumped right in, whipping out all the supplies she might need. Just as Cisco was leaning over Penelope to check a wire connection, her eyes flicked open and she let out a wrenching gasp. Cisco let out a little scream, jumping back as Penelope jerked on the bed and clutched at her stomach.

“Pen, Pen?” Barry asked, zipping up to her and grabbing one of her hands. “You’re with us, right?”

Pain filled blue eyes turned to Barry.

“Barry?” She gasped out, her chest heaving as the red lightning traveled up her neck and flashed across her face.

“You’re at the lab, Pen, Caitlin’s going to take care of you,” Barry said as Caitlin got an I.v. going. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“I’m going to die, Barry, I’m— I’m going to die,” She wheezed out, her face screwing up in pain.

“No you're not, I won’t allow it,” Barry responded as Caitlin finished getting things set up.

“We need to get this baby out right now,” Caitlin said, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. “I gave you oxytocin to speed things up, so when you feel the need to push, do it.”

“Got it,” Penelope rasped before another contraction hit and she was screaming, her back arching off the gurney. Cisco was once again flailing around, Barry had no idea what to do, and Caitlin was letting out a growl of frustration as she helped Penelope move her body so she could push the baby out.

“If all you are going to do is scream along with her, get out!” Caitlin yelled at Cisco. Harry let out one of his famous stressed sighs before rolling his chair over to the bedside and taking Penelope’s hand.

“Obviously none of you have watched birthing videos.” He grunted at them before looking down at Penelope. “Focus on your breathing and ignore the idiots.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, Penelope nodded weakly, curling her fingers around his. It was exactly like his, the same shape, the same size, fit perfectly in hers, and at that moment, she didn’t care if it brought back the painful memories.

From that point on, Harry was her anchor, helping her through the worst of it, being unusually kind, letting her squeeze his hand to her heart's content, and only when Caitlin finally managed to get the squirming baby in her hands, Penelope finally relaxed.

“I’ll be bright back with your son, Pen,” Caitlin called as she did a quick check. Penelope didn’t answer, choosing to stare at Harry.

“You’re a good man, Harrison Wells,” She whispered out. “And your daughter loves you very much, don’t let your relationship go to ruin.”

Harry found himself at a loss for words, since meeting Penelope Wright, things had been strained for obvious reasons, she was pregnant by the man who had pretended to be his doppelgänger. She avoided him, steered clear of his presence, hell they barely knew each other. But Penelope saw good in him he had been struggling to find.

Harry finally opened his mouth to reply, but before he could the machines monitoring Penelope’s vitals started going haywire.

“Shit!” Caitlin cried, quickly wrapping up the baby and setting her in the waiting incubator. “We’re losing her!”

The hand in Harry’s went limp as Penelope’s eyes fluttered shut.

“What’s going on!?” Cisco asked, his eyes scanning the machines beeping like crazy.

“Her body is shutting down!” Caitlin replied as she grabbed several vials on the tray next to her and rolled to the I.v. “Now that the baby is out, her body is exhausted and giving out, now add the internal bleeding, rips in her uterus, and unequalized chemical balance, her body just can’t handle it anymore.”

“So how do we fix that!?” Caitlin looked up at Barry.

“I don’t know.”

Date Published: No Idea

Last Edit: 4/29/24

Masterlist | Next

[sacredsorceress]

Distraction || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

request: “bucky x reader where reader is really attracted to bucky’s fighting side while he’s defeating the bad guys?”

a/n: moved this request to the top because hello last episodes fight scenes were so good??

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of guns, getting shot, fighting, not really angsty, fluff

masterlist || request

“This feels like a bad idea.” You called to the two men as you followed them into the abandoned factory. 

“Trust me, Y/n. It’s going to be fine.” Sam assured you. “And when have I ever been wrong?”

As soon as the sentence escaped his mouth, both you and Bucky stopped in your tracks, turning to face Sam while quirking your eyebrows.

“Would you like a list?” You asked.

“I can think of a few-”

“You know what? Forget it. You two suck. It’s not important.” Sam said, cutting Bucky off, continuing his pace into the building. “What is important is that we catch these guys before they can do anything else, okay?”

Not inclined to argue, you continued to follow Sam’s lead with Bucky by your side. As you climbed up a rotted staircase, you couldn’t help but turn to stare at the super soldier by your side, gun ready in his hands. 

“Nervous?” He asked, not even turning to face you, but seeing the smirk playing on his lips, you knew he caught you staring out of the corner of his eye.

Embarrassed, you quickly turned away and faced the path in front of you.

“W-what? No.” You cleared your throat, attempting to mask how flustered he made you.

In the short time that you had known James “Bucky” Barnes, you had learned that he was expertly skilled in making you a flustered mess. The fact that he asked you if you were nervous was almost comical considering the most nervous you ever were was when you were with him- not because he was the winter soldier or because he had a vibranium arm or because he could end you in a second- but because he made your heart fill a little more every time he looked at you and you would melt every time you shared more than two words.

“Good. You shouldn’t.” He told you, finally turning to face you. When you felt his hand land on your arm, you met his eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked. “Why shouldn’t I? Fighting super soldiers isn’t really my area of expertise.”

He knew you were right.

Although you had spent nearly five years alongside the likes of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff during the blip, you weren’t nearly as experienced in truly fighting as the rest of them and you were especially amateur at hand-to-hand combat compared to the man in front of you.

You discovered during the blip that you had powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff. When you did, you sought the help of the remaining Avengers. Though you trained among the best, you were never truly taken to physical combat, instead expanding your knowledge on your power- magic- to use to your advantage.

Although Bucky Barnes was utterly fascinated by your abilities- unbeknownst to you- you still grew nervous in situations such as the one you were in now where someone could easily attack you before you had the chance to act.

“Sam already told you that they don’t have the serum.” He reminded you.

“Oh yeah, because Sam’s always right.” You laughed. “What happens if he’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll handle it.”

Before you could even say anything back, you watched as he quickly went still before shoving you against the wall.

“Wha-” You attempted to whisper before he quickly shushed you.

His face inches from yours, you watched as he focused on the wall behind you, attempting to listen to what was going on around the both of you. Both you and Sam turned to face each other, questioning what was going on before you turned to face Bucky.

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn’t racing from the feeling of his hands on your arms, face inches from yours, so close you could make the details out on his face.

Before you could allow yourself to fall any deeper into the hole of your own thoughts, his eyes met yours, speaking to both you and Sam.

“I can hear them downstairs.” He whispered.

Before anyone could say anything else you watched as Sam deployed redwing from his own suit, the drone flying over the open room below.

“How many are there?” You asked.

“Ten.”

“What’s the plan?” You asked, looking between the two men.

Bucky pulled away from you finally and gestured for you and Sam to follow him up the remainder of the staircase. When you met them at the top of the steps, you found yourself on a balcony overlooking the large, open room of the factory below. When you hit the last step, Bucky pulled you into a crouch in between him and Sam as they scanned the room through the bannister.

“I think we should just go in now.” Bucky whispered and you were once again realizing how close you were to the man, feeling his breath on your face.

“I think we should wait.” Sam said.

“For what?” Bucky shook his head. “So they can realize we’re here? I have a vibraniu-”

“-vibranium arm.” You and Sam finished his sentence for him in unison.

Bucky scoffed.

“We know, man.” Sam said.

Bucky pulled himself up from his crouching position beside you. “I’m not going to wait up here for them to find us.” He told Sam, then turning to you. “You stay up here and make sure none of them leave. Keep an eye on them. Sam, you get the stuff and I’ll handle them.”

Both you and Sam turned to each other before looking back to Bucky.

“Are you sure about this, Buck?” You asked.

Bucky reached out his hand to you, pulling you to your feet. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Y/n. I got this.”

How could you say no when he said your name? Or anything at all?

Before another word could slip out of your mouth you watched as he ran down the steps you had just climbed a minute before to apprehend the men in the room below. Turning back to observe the area, you felt Sam stand besides you, the makeshift wings extending from his suit.

“When we see him, block off the room and I’ll go get the stuff, okay?”

“You’ve got it boss.” You told him, grinning.

He chuckled, placing the goggles over his eyes. “Good to know that cyborg hasn’t changed you too much.”

“Wait what-”

Before he could even reply, he took off and you leaned over the bannister, and your eyes immediately landed on Bucky, watching as he snuck up behind one of the men carrying a gun. He placed his vibranium hand on his shoulder, yanking him backwards and when he did, he pulled the gun out of his grasp with his other hand. As soon as he did, a gunshot rang from the gun, prompting the other men in the room to turn their attention towards Bucky. As they did, you snapped out of your own thoughts, stretching out your hands to create a forcefield around the room, blocking the men from escaping through any exits.

Although Sam used the distraction of the gunshot to his advantage, stealing the information he needed without any intervention, you watched as Bucky essentially took on ten men across the room.

With your arms still holding the forcefield in place, you couldn’t help but watch as the super soldier grabbed the wrist of a man coming after him with a knife, twisting his wrist in the opposite direction until it fell from the man’s hands onto the floor. At the sound of the clatter of the knife, he pulled the man towards him, kneeing him in the stomach and flipping him onto the floor, knocking him unconscious.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart begin to race in your chest- not because you were worried for Bucky, but because as much as you hated to admit it- it was hot. Although you struggled with hand-to-hand combat, Bucky made it look easy, taking on each man with giving any hint that it was strenuous.

Your job was simple- keep the forcefield up and make sure no one leaves. All you had to do was keep your arms up. What you weren’t anticipating, however, was for one of the men that should have been going after Bucky, to notice you standing on top of the bannister.

Just as Bucky noticed the man across the room, raising a gun to you, it was already too late.

You heard the shot sound from the gun and immediately after, a searing pain shoot throughout your upper arm. You immediately dropped your arms, your hand gripping the wound. The forcefield fell around you as you yelped in pain, falling against the bannister and onto the floor.

The next thing you knew you heard Bucky’s footsteps, stomping up the stairs as Sam landed in front of you. Pushing Sam out of the way, Bucky dropped to his knees besides you.

“Fuck.” He cursed, moving his hands to your arm. “Are you okay? I’m gonna go back down there and kill that guy, Y/n, I swear.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Buck. We got what we needed, right?”

Sam nodded, slipping a hard drive into his pocket. “Yeah. Are you sure you’re alright though? You just got shot.”

Prompted by his question, you finally pulled your hand away from your arm, noticing the tear in your sleeve where the bullet scraped through your arm. As you moved your trembling hands, you finally noticed the blood coating your palms. Bucky was quick to take hold of your bloodstained hand and examine the wound.

“Shit. I should’ve been paying attention.” He told you, shaking his head.

You shook your head, placing your hand on his shoulder. When he finally met your eyes you spoke.

“Don’t blame yourself, Buck. It was my fault.” You sighed. “I should’ve been paying attention. I’m sorry. I was... distracted.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

When you opened your mouth to speak, Sam- who was still standing to the side- cleared his throat. “Well... you guys seem to have this covered so I’m going to go ahead and meet Torres outside. I’ll leave you guys to... whatever this... is.”

And with that he left, this time making his way down the staircase.

An awkward silence existed between you and Bucky with his departure until Bucky finally spoke.

“What distracted you?” He asked again, still kneeling at your side.

You knew he wouldn’t let this go and you began hoping to whatever higher power there was above that he wouldn’t completely judge you and that your partnership wouldn’t completely fall apart.

“You.” You told him, shyly, refusing to meet his eyes.

You felt him shuffle closer to you, gripping your hand that was still in his.

“Me?” He asked. “What about me?”

Maybe it was the loss of blood or just the situation in general, but you couldn’t help but laugh. It only made the man beside you more confused.

“You know,” You began, finally meeting his eyes. “For someone over a century old, you can be really naive.”

What you didn’t know was that Bucky- along with his fascination for your powers- was infatuated with you. As much as the stubborn super soldier tried to hide it the best he could, he could feel his heart racing trying to piece together the situation.

“I’m not naive.” He told you, pretending to be offended. “You’re the one who just got shot when you could see the whole room in front of you. Some lookout.”

“Shut up!” You laughed shoving his arm. “I literally just got shot!”

Bucky laughed back before squeezing your hand.

“I’m serious. Just tell me. What was it?” He asked.

You looked up, met his eyes and smiled. You allowed yourself to take in his face, still a hint of a smile gracing his lips, trying to memorize the moment incase you were never able to experience it again.

“It was you, Buck.” You told him, sighing. “I was distracted... by you.”

“What-”

“I was distracted by you fighting.” You chuckled, now realizing you just got shot because you found Bucky Barnes knocking a man unconscious attractive. “And I know what you’re thinking, but I have to be honest- it wasn’t because I was worried about you. I didn't have to worry for a second.”

“Then why?” He asked.

You shrugged, feeling yourself grow flustered again. You could basically feel his eyes on you- he really stared a lot didn't he?

“Because... I thought you looked... hot.” You told him, physically cringing as the last word slipped out of your mouth.

In that moment, Bucky realized for the first time in eighty years that he had lost his “charm”. Although a part of him was so filled with confidence in knowing that you found him not only attractive, but hot while he was fighting, he had no idea what to say in a way that wouldn’t make him a stuttering mess which was the last thing he wanted to come across as in this moment.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that-”

“You like seeing me fight?” He asked finally.

You paused. 

“Yeah.”

Finally you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief when you watched as a grin stretched across his face.

“I think you lost a lot of blood.” He laughed.

You swat him again. “Shut up! I’m being serious, Buck.”

“I just can’t believe you got shot because you liked the way I kicked some guy’s ass.” He teased.

“I always like the way you look.”

As soon as it slipped out of your mouth, you regret it, focusing your eyes on anywhere besides Bucky. Your undeniable feelings for James “Bucky” Barnes had really come to torment you today.

You began running through all of the ways to escape from the situation when he finally spoke up.

“I... like you too.” He told you, finally pushing himself off of his knees and onto his feet, looking down at you.

It took you a minute for your brain to register the information.

“You like me?” You asked, staring up at him.

“And I’m the naive one?” He asked, reaching out his hand to pull you up.

You gladly took his hand with your good arm, pulling yourself to your feet.

“I don’t believe you.” You told him, standing only inches apart.

He sighed, chuckling to himself before facing you.

“Remember two weeks ago when I got that bad gash in my side?” He asked and you nodded. “I was checking you out.”

Your mouth dropped, not even sure how to respond. You could barely even believe that after all this time of you getting flustered over every little thing that he did, he was feeling the exact same way about you. 

“No way!” You finally said, taking a step closer to him.

“Yeah um,” He chuckled, scratching where the chain of the dog tag met the back of his neck. “You looked... good.”

When your faces were only inches apart, you placed your hand against his chest, planting a kiss on his cheek before pulling away, smiling.

“No more getting ugly scars for each other, okay?”

He smiled.

“No promises.”

[thighs-of-betrayal-blog]

Here’s My Blessing

Request: May I request for Anthony Mackie x Reader? She is RDJ's sister and she come to the set to visit him. Anthony fall in love with her and try so hard to ask her for a date (bcs RDJ may give him a hard time to pursue his sister 🤣).Is it okay if they finally be a couple but keep it a secret from the cast and they were caught kissing when she come to the set? (bonus if Robert give Anthony brother's talk 🤣)

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, @wanniiieeee​! I always love seeing a request from you because I know it’s going to be Anthony haha. I don’t receive many requests for him, but every time I do, it makes my entire day. Thank you again, love!!

I hope you all enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated :)

Pairing: Anthony Mackie x fem! Reader 

Warnings: Fluff (that is all)

“There she is!”

Walking further onto the set, you let Robert run up and wrap his arms around you, swinging you around. 

“Hey there, bro,” you manage to say while laughing. When he finally lets you back down, you’re surrounded by the rest of the Avengers cast. “Hey everyone.” 

To your right, Anthony is completely still, his eyes boring into you. When you look over at him, you can’t help but stare back, getting lost in his eyes. 

“She’s visiting for a while, so you’ll all need to get used to her.” 

The sound of Robert’s voice pulls you from your stare down and you quickly look back at your brother, who’s smiling at you. 

“Nobody has to get used to me, Rob. Don’t scare them into liking me.” 

“No need for scare tactics. We already like you. At least I do.” 

Your knees grow weak at the deep tone of Anthony’s voice and when you look back over at him, he has a knowing smirk on his face. 

Cheeky bastard. 

Two can play that game. Batting your eyelashes, you smirk back at him. “How fortunate for me.” 

On the sidelines, Robert is watching your exchange intensely. He’s always been very protective of you. 

Placing his hands on your shoulders, Robert directs you away from Anthony. “I’ll show you to my trailer, so you can put your stuff down.” 

Knowing what your brother is doing, you let him guide you away from his friends. “I’ll see you all soon!” You yell to them while waving goodbye. 

“See you soon, beautiful!” Anthony yells back to you. 

You smile at his words. Hopefully Robert won’t interfere with your plan to learn more about him. 

---

The rest of the week has included many failed attempts at being alone with Anthony. Every time you think it’s just the two of you, Robert appears out of nowhere and of course, this time is no exception. 

“Hey, Anthony!” 

You catch him sitting in a corner on set, scrolling through his phone as he’s waiting for his next scene. When you speak, he looks up at you and smiles. 

“Y/N! Always a pleasure to see you.” He pulls out the chair next to him. “Sit down with me?” 

“Of course!” 

Once you’re seated, Anthony pulls your chair closer to his, your leg rubbing against his. 

“Where’s RDJ?” He asks. 

“He’s shooting a scene. I’m waiting to get lunch with him.” 

Anthony takes a quick look around before grinning at you. “Good. That means I can finally get a chance to talk to you.” 

“My brother has been kind of a cockblock, hasn’t he?” 

He chuckles. “Just a little bit. But, while he’s not here, I was wondering-” 

“Wondering what?” Robert asks as he walks up to you, two donuts in his hands. He holds one out for you. “Here, this one’s for you.” 

Grabbing the donut, you give Robert a look before directing your attention back to Anthony. “What were you going to ask me?” 

“Yeah, Anthony, what were you going to ask my sister?” 

Robert and Anthony stare at each other for a couple seconds before Anthony looks away, clearing his throat. “It was nothing.” He stands up, the chair scraping across the floor behind him. “I’ll see you guys around.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glare at Robert. “What was that?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Beats me. It was weird though.” He takes a bite of his donut and walks off. “C’mon, I made reservations!” 

---

After yet another three weeks of being interrupted by your brother, you and Anthony finally found the time to hang out… alone. You’ve been sneaking away to his trailer as much as possible throughout the past weeks, talking about anything and everything. Turns out, you both have a lot in common. So much so, that Anthony asked you on a date, which led to the two of you becoming a couple. No one knows yet, nor do they suspect a thing. 

Today, you walk onto set and see Anthony across the room. He smiles lazily at you and waves, your heart bursting at the sight. 

Glancing around, you notice no one else in your vicinity, so you decide to do something a little scandalous. Running up to him, you grab his shirt and smash your lips onto his, savoring the taste of him. He groans into your mouth, pulling you tighter against his body. 

“What’s going on here?” 

You and Anthony quickly pull apart at the sound of Robert’s voice. 

Anthony starts to nervously scratch the back of his neck. “We, uh, we were just-” 

“Were you just kissing RDJ’s sister?” Sebastian asks, coming out of nowhere. 

“Well, I was uh-” 

Scarlett walks up to the rest of you. “You’re so screwed.” 

“Anthony, can I talk to you for a second?” Robert asks, staring at Anthony intensely. 

You cringe, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. Poor Anthony’s going to be subjected to the brother speech. You just hope he still wants you at the end of it. 

As the two of them walk away, you watch as Robert slings his arm over Anthony’s shoulder. 

“So, you know I love you. Very much.” 

Anthony nervously chuckles. “I love you too, man.” 

“But, I’ll always love my sister more. So in short, you hurt her and I’ll break your legs.” 

“Got it.” Anthony places his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “But look, the last thing I want to do is hurt her. I really like your sister. I’m not gonna fuck this up.” 

“I know. I trust you. Now come here.” He pulls Anthony into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “If I were to pick anyone to date her, it would be you, so I’m happy.” 

“Thanks, man. That means a lot.” 

And with that, the two of them head back towards you. Anthony walks right up to you, sliding his arm around your waist and kissing the side of your head. “Hey, beautiful.” 

“How’d the talk go?” 

“Your brother gave me his blessing. We’re in the clear, baby.” 

“Oh, thank God.” You grab his shirt and pull his face closer towards you. “Now, we can do this.” You lean up to kiss him. 

He smiles against your lips and bites down on your lower lip. 

“Oh no! You might have my blessing, but I refuse to be subjected to this all the time,” Robert says, interrupting your intimate moment. 

You pull away from Anthony, but keep your hands resting on his chest. “Sorry. We’ll make sure to do this only in private.” 

Robert shakes his head in disgust. “I don’t want to hear that.” 

You all start to laugh at Robert and you take the moment to stare up at Anthony, admiring all his features. Anthony notices and rests his head onto yours. 

“I’m the luckiest man alive,” he whispers into your hair. 

You sigh and wrap your arms around his waist. This man will be the death of you, but you couldn’t be more excited.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Heart-Shaped Box💟9/End

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), forced pregnancy, some violence, intimidation, some elements untagged for sake of plot.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister Series: Get Your Fix

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Finally finishing this one up. Sorry it took me ages but I’m doing my best to go back and wrap up whatever I can.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Bucky pulled out of you as he held your head down, bouncing the bed beneath you as he pushed himself onto his back. You panted as your sweat dampened the sheet beneath you and he leaked between your thighs. You winced as you rolled onto your side and slowly sat up. 

He had you whining loud enough that you had no doubt your guests heard it all. It only seemed to encourage his partner-in-crime as you soon heard a similar scene on the other side of the wall. You were sickened by that noise and stood warily as you cupped your hand over your cunt and scooped up his cum before it could drip onto the floor.

“I told you to keep it down,” he snickered and sat up, his muscled back to you as he stretched his arms above him, “get the shower started, I’ll be in shortly. You girls have a lot of work to do today.”

You grumbled and dragged your feet to the attached bathroom. The low buzz of the pipes filled the silence and you stepped under the steamy water. The moment of calm broke sharply as Bucky appeared from the other side of the curtain and stepped in behind you. He had you clean him with a lathered loofah and you bore it only for the eventuality of time away from him.

The other woman meant you wouldn’t be trapped with just him. It was little help or hope but it was better than your former solitary torture.

You dressed in black dress with daisies and made yourself look like his perfect housewife. You couldn’t hold the smile and make him believe it all the way but he wouldn’t anyway. He flicked your chin and clicked his tongue.

“Mmm, you’re getting there,” he mused as he dropped his hand and reached around to slap your ass, “better go get breakfast on. I’ll check in on our guests.” He squeezed and winked, “be a good girl.”

Those words made your insides curdled but you swallowed your disgust and nodded, “yes, sir.”

He stepped out behind you and watched you go down the hall to the stairs and you heard him knock on the door as you descended. You went to the kitchen and pulled out the frying pan and the coconut oil. You lined up the ingredients for crepes on the counter and took two bananas from the yellow bunch. Your mother used to make the oversweet delicacy and you needed a reminder that you were still that girl.

You stopped as you searched for something to keep the crepes warm after you assembled them, a lid that could fit over the plate or something akin to it. The lower cupboards you rarely opened. Bucky left the cleaning supplies on the counter with your chore list every day and you never bothered to look for anything else.

You stopped and stared at the drain cleaner and the can of toxic oven spray. Well, that wouldn’t be subtle enough, would it? They’d smell either of those a mile away. Anything under the counter would be easily discovered but it did give you an idea.

You closed the wooden door and went back to your task. You heard the voices in the next room and the scrape of the chairs on the floor. Steve’s girl appeared in the doorway, rubbing her stomach as her face contorted.

“Smells sweet,” she said as you simmered the bananas with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a little butter, “almost too sweet.”

“Morning sickness?” you asked innocently.

“All the time sickness,” she sighed, “anything I can help with?”

“Do you know how to make crepes?” you asked as you whisked the batter.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “but I can learn.”

“It’s easy. Takes less than a minute,” you waved her over and tested the temperature of the pan with a flick of water, “so you wanna put just a little batter in…” you ladled in a careful dollop and lifted the pan, “you spread it like this,” you tilted it so the batter spread all around, “you just use the spatula a little on the edges to make sure they don’t stick and you flip.”

It was like second nature and she nodded quietly as she watched. The crepe cooked quickly and you threw it onto a plate and put the pan back to the burner.

“You think you can handle that?” you covered the plate with the lid of a pat to keep it warm. “Then we put some of the bananas and wrap them, bit of cream on top and some icing sugar…”

“You like to cook?” she wondered as she added batter to the hot pan.

“Not particularly, but my mother taught me,” you shrugged, “she can cook anything.”

“Oh,” she flipped the crepe and glanced at the door, “I suppose… it keeps him happy.”

“He’s never happy,” you murmured and cleared your throat, “so, you must be excited to move in!”

“I guess,” she slid the crepe onto the plate as you lifted the foggy lid, “you know how it is.”

You smiled and she tilted her head as she squinted at you. You went to the drawer where there was a box of blank recipe cards and continued speaking as you fished out a pencil from another.

“It’s always nice to get settled,” you said as you wrote, ‘they can hear us’.

“I suppose, nice to be in one place,” she replied stiffly as her features relaxed.

‘I have a plan,’ you wrote and raised your voice just slightly, “oh, you know, we didn’t even get you a housewarming gift. I’ll have to remind James.”

You went to the burner and held out the card under the coil until it caught. You threw it into the sink and watched it burn and curl. You ran water over it as it turned to ash and washed it away. You nudged the bowl towards her and leaned on the counter, “need help with that?”

“No,” she said as she started again, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

💟

You looked around the front room of the house next door. Steve’s girl opened one of the stacked boxes. For once, the men were gone and you could just enjoy their absence. 

Bucky agreed that a gift was in order and Steve had mentioned wanting to explore their new hometown. You tried not to seem eager but even the small walk across the lawns enlivened you. How long had it been since you’d been outside?

You started with the pictures. You left the frames in a stack as she assured you Steve would put the nails in and hang them. Then you moved onto the kitchenware and you kept her from lifting the heavy box of dishes. She seemed to forget about her condition and the reminder made her frown.

You stood behind the counter and set the dishes in the cupboards one at a time, the plates clacking one on top of each other. She watched from the other side as she arranged the silverware in the plastic tray.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked as you kept on.

“What?” she asked as she dropped a butter knife with the rest.

“I know they’ve locked us in but can you check the garage door? Can we get in there?” you asked evenly.

“What?” she blinked and pushed herself straight, “even if we can, they won’t have been stupid enough--”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know we can’t get out that way either. It’s the same at our house. Everything is bolted up tight.” You assured her, “just go and check while I get these sorted.”

She left you and you snapped shut the door and finished with the utensils. You slid the tray into the drawer as she returned, rubbing her stomach.

“Yeah, we can get in but it’s mostly empty,” she said, “so…”

“Mostly empty?”

“Yeah, just the car--”

“The car,” you rounded the counter and curled two fingers for her to follow you.

You headed for the plain white door that led to the garage. You hopped down the steps as she remained at the top and watched you tentatively. You went to the car as she crossed her arms.

“He took the keys,” she said.

You tried the handle and the door opened. “I know,” you said as you put a knee in the front seat and peered into the back. Nothing. 

You felt around under the dash and found the lever for the trunk. You pulled it and it popped. You shut the door and went around the back of the car. You felt around the spare tire and your hand felt something plastic. You grabbed the handle of the half-filled jug and pulled it out.

“Hey,” you held up the bright blue anti-freeze, “do you wanna cook dinner here tonight? A housewarming dinner?”

Her brows knitted and she gave a long blink. Her lips parted then curved.

“You can’t mean--” she let out a scoff.

“It’s sweet. Hopefully they won’t notice if I add enough sugar to the cake,” you breathed, “we can’t let them settle. This is our chance.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re still in the same boat,” you turned your free hand out, “that man has drugged me for months. I think it’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

She swallowed and looked down at her stomach. She inhaled and cradled her bump. “It can’t get worse than this, can it?”

💟

You spent the day unpacking, the distraction not much of one as you thought of the bottle you hid at the back of the cupboard. By the time the men returned, you were ready to move onto the second floor. 

Bucky offered a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and basket of expensive macarons as your gift to your new neighbours. He forced a kiss from you before he let you follow Steve’s girl upstairs.

You sat in the bedroom and heard the men ascend shortly after. You peeked in on them as you opened the linen closet to shove in the spare sheets. They were hammering together a crib. You knocked lightly on the doorframe as you watched them.

“Huh, what’s going on?” Bucky looked up from the directions.

“Um, we were just… thinking, we could have dinner here tonight? A little housewarmer? I could grab some ingredients from ours--”

“Give me a list, I’ll grab it,” Bucky puffed as he bent to help hold the rail in place for Steve, “that sound okay?”

“Fine by me,” Steve smiled, “it’ll be nice to have our feet on solid ground.”

You left them and returned to your only ally as she sat on the bed and stared at a packet of pills. She crushed it in her grasp and huffed. She flicked away tears with her knuckles. She tossed them over her shoulder.

“He kept them,” she snarled, “it’s like he’s mocking me.”

“What?” you neared her and sat carefully beside her.

“I never… I worked with him, you know? He brought me these drinks and I didn’t realise he was dosing them. The stuff, it made me itchy… it made me so hot and I just needed anything. I hopped on him I was so desperate and-- I told him to stay away. I realised what he’d done and I told him to leave me alone and you know what he did,” she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“No, I--” you touched her elbow.

“He broke into my apartment and replaced my pills. And he didn’t leave me alone,” she spat, “he did this all and he still has the goddamn pills like they’re some sort of trophy.”

She hung her head and grunted in frustration. You leaned against her and put your arm over her shoulders. She let you and the tension drained from her body.

“Even if we get out…” she whispered, “I’ll always have this piece of him.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach and you frowned. There was nothing you could do or say. You’d been lucky so far, even if it only fed your suffering. You didn’t have another life to worry about.

“We don’t have to if--”

“I want to,” she hissed lowly, “I want him dead.”

💟

Usually, you tasted the icing and licked the spoon. Not that night. The blue shade of the frosting was anything but suspicious as you spread it over the fluffy cake. It was a perfect disguise. You topped it with blueberries to add to the theme and dusted on a few coloured sprinkles. You stood back and admired your work as the smell of garlic filled the kitchen.

“I know it’s not much,” Steve’s girl said as she stirred the sauce, “but it’s what I can manage.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you said as you took the meatballs of the burner and tested the spaghetti, “noodles are perfect.”

You strained the pasta and helped pour the meatballs into the sauce. You mixed it up and poured it into a large glass dish and the noodles into another. You brought them out to the table and called the men to dinner before you fetched the wine, both alcoholic and not.

Steve’s girl sat as you poured a glass for each of you and the men sat. You set the bottle down and nestled in next to Bucky as he served himself. When the plates were full, the other woman nudged Steve and whispered in his ear.

He cleared his throat and stood, “um, I know it’s just us but I guess I should say thank you for all the help and we’re excited to be neighbours… can’t wait for the kids to be running around these halls together.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his glass, “hopefully…” he muttered doubtfully and looked at you, “that better be what she’s having,” he nodded to your glass.

You held it out for him to sniff and he gave you a sour look. He tutted and sat back to twirl noodles around his fork as he set aside his glass. You took a sip of the gutless wine and speared a meatball on your tines. You chewed and looked at Steve’s girl. She let Steve rub her thigh under the table and forced a smile.

She was playing it well and you felt as if you would fall apart. You felt as if Bucky would see right through you the minute you walked in with the cake. What would he do then? Steve couldn’t hurt his girl, she had the baby, but you, Bucky could replace you still. Maybe that was for the best but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared shitless.

You cleared the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Just you. You’d gone over it, you didn’t want them to catch on. You didn’t get too close with them around, you acted like strangers, you really were after all.

You sliced the cake into careful portions and came out with two plates at a time. You put them in front of each chair and sat. As you did, Steve’s girl covered her mouth and gagged. She pushed herself up unsteadily.

“Honey?” Steve asked as he rubbed her lower back.

“It’s the baby I--” she gulped sickeningly, “I gotta--”

She rushed out and Steve gave a look, “nausea. It’s been like this for weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” you stood, “go ahead and start without us.”

You went down the hall and as you neared the bathroom, Steve’s girl opened the door and pulled you inside. She looked genuinely sick and you smelled vomit on her breath. She turned and rinsed her mouth and shuddered. 

“I didn’t actually feel sick until I got in here,” she wiped her face with the hand cloth, “when I realised--”

“Everything’s in the trunk,” you assured her, “once they’re out, we get the keys and go.”

“How do we know--”

“Retch,” you hissed, “we wait until we’re sure.”

She gave an exaggerated hurl and you heard the clink of porcelain and silver and the drone of voices. You listened through the door as she watched you in the tight space of the half-bath.

“I’m thinking about getting her an… exam,” Bucky’s deep tone carried, “maybe she can’t…”

You let out the breath you were holding and closed your eyes. Just a little longer. 

When you heard a sudden lull, your eyes rounded and you turned the handle and let yourself out into the hall. She crept close behind as you peered through the open archway. Both men had their faces on their plates in the crumbs of vanilla cake and smears of blue icing.

“Let’s go,” you went to Steve and shoved your hand into his pocket, “shit, they’re not here.”

“Here!” she pulled her hand from his jacket hung on the rack, “you think they’re dead?”

You looked from one to the other and shakily felt along Steve’s neck. “Still a pulse. I think maybe… they’re only knocked out.”

“The serum,” she shook her head, “means we have to go quick.”

You hurried after her and followed her down into the garage. She climbed into the driver’s seat and moved it back as her stomach pressed to the wheel. You got in the other side as your body trembled with adrenaline. She hit the button attached to the keys and the door slowly raised behind her.

As she reversed, you felt a sudden shock around your neck and yiped. You’d forgotten entirely about the necklace. She stopped suddenly and watched you writhe in agony.

“Shit, shit,” you leaned forward until the shock stopped, “the necklace.”

“Fuck,” she reached for it and you batted her away.

“No, you’ll get zapped,” you gasped as you pulled on it desperately. It was too tight to get past your chin but too strong to snap. 

She took the keys out and tossed them in your lap. You lifted them and twisted the necklace around the house key but there was no give. You sobbed and dropped your hand.

“I can’t,” you looked at the bent key, “you gotta go without me.”

“What? No, I can’t--”

“You have a baby,” you said as tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, “go, please.” You dropped the keys on the dash and opened the door. “I can’t--”

“No, you have to come with me,” she begged.

“No, you have to go before they wake up,” you got out as you grasped your neck, the searing pain still hot on your flesh, “I’ll… I’ll survive. I have this far.”

“N--”

“Shut up!” you slammed the door and hit the hood, “go!”

She stared at you and her lip quivered. She gave you one last sad look and grabbed the keys. She sniffed as she gripped the wheel and backed out down the drive. 

You fell to your knees and sat back on your ass as you watched her drive away. You shook your head and held it in your hands as you sat behind the invisible wall of your prison.

The tires screamed at the end of the street and the noise of the engine faded into the distance. You laid on your back across the concrete and covered your face with your arm. At least you could live with knowing you got her out. Well, you couldn’t really say you’d be living. You’d be alive but little more than that. 

But you’d survive knowing that you kept one person from that pitiful fate. Even if it wasn’t you. Even if you knew that you would pay for it in the end. Even when those men woke up and found you laying in the garage, the sweet flavour of antifreeze on their tongues as the bile of their anger overflowed and drowned you. 

You couldn’t do anything but wait. If you were lucky, they might just kill you and that in itself would be freedom.

💟 💟 💟

END

[moonbaby26]

Title: What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others are finally homeward bound, flying back to the U.S. from the events in Egypt and Greece. You get to hear a little more about Peter’s eastern European roots while passing time on the plane together.

Warnings: None, just fluff and Peter being Peter.

Notes: I know where some things I’m referencing don’t match the comics. Blend of comic canon and the movie version going on here.

Chapters: Previous Chapter Here

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

The morning sun was still low and red on the horizon as you’d stepped back out into the open air of the flight deck. But seagulls were already calling from somewhere up above as men milled around, checking and readying a set of helicopters that you knew would soon be taking you ashore.

You wouldn’t miss this boat itself of course, none of you belonged here after all. But you’d be lying to say it’d been easy to let go of Peter when morning had come. You’d woken up far more tangled than you remembered going to sleep as, chest to chest, his good leg wrapped over you and one of his hands somehow far up the back of your shirt.

The longest part of getting ready had been the procrastination of leaving that bed. After that, it only seemed like minutes before you were all awkwardly standing up here now, waiting on next instructions. It wasn’t as if you’d had anything you could pack after all. Besides that somewhat silly polaroid picture you’d seen Peter carefully stowaway in one pocket of his shorts, you had no possessions to speak of here. Even the shoes they’d given you were some poorly fit military boot. The tops of them scraped against your ankles as you walked and you’d be glad to be rid of them whenever possible.

The Professor and Moira approached after another moment, Moira hurrying a little more as one of the helicopters began to fire up, followed by the other soon after. She had to speak louder over the rising noise of the blades rotating faster and faster.

“Keep these on you!” She called, going to each of you in turn, handing over a U.S. passport with a driver’s license closed separately inside. She only opened them briefly to check that she was matching each to the correct person. “The flight we’ll be taking is just a commercial plane. The government has contracted them and dictated the pickup and landing points, but it’s civilian pilots and flight crew. Normal security still applies, but only those with U.S. citizenship are allowed aboard.”

As she’d gotten to you and Peter, she’d handed both passports to you as you’d had your hand outstretched, and he’d still been holding on to his crutches. You quickly opened one just to see which was yours, so you could pocket only your own. The first one opened was his however, but even in the low light of early sunrise, your brain hitched on something unexpected.

The picture looking back at you was clearly him, albeit a little younger, and with slightly longer hair than the way he wore it currently. But that wasn’t the issue. You reread the name printed in front of you more than once, before glancing up to him as if to confirm.

It said Pietro Django Maximoff.

“Your real name isn’t Peter?” You asked, even over the helicopter noise before you could stop yourself. But the realization was already dawning on you almost before that last word left your mouth that so many people were called one name by friends and family even if their legal name may still be another. You felt a bit stupid then for your reaction, instantly wishing you could take the question back.

But thankfully he only leaned in with a smile, taking his passport and license from you even as he spoke right against your ear. “Define real.” He pocketed them, before continuing. The helicopters were at their full ready now. “But it’s a bit loud here, babe. I’ll tell you all you want to know about my sexy alter ego later, deal?”

—————————

By the time you’d gotten to the airstrip on shore, it was full morning sun now. And just as Moira had said, there was already a large U.S. commercial jet waiting there. You also found out you weren’t alone, as you’d had to join a line of people already waiting to board. They were checking credentials as people moved up one by one onto a mobile stairway that had been rolled up flush with the plane’s open door.

Looking around you, most of the would be passengers still looked like military of various branches though. Army, Navy, Air Force, they still had on their uniforms. But there were others too, likely diplomats being evacuated you thought. Men, women, even a few children as you’d seen the curious eyes peeking out from behind their parents’ legs as you all had also moved through the line.

“It had to be damn stairs,” Peter mumbled as the two of you neared closer to the plane. Without any actual terminal here, boarding straight from the tarmac was the only option.

“If Hank can help carry the Professor up them, wheelchair and all, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” You responded, only meaning to give him a little grief.

But he just spun things right back on you of course. “Oh, you can handle me any time.”

And when your stare said you didn’t seem to find that quite as funny as he did, he only shrugged, still smiling. “Sorry, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I did.” You admitted. “But I still want to hear the story of that driver’s license. And why did you even have one to begin with? Seems a little unecessary.” You said, still moving up every few moments as you neared the bottom of the stairs.

Yet he just kept smirking at you, almost a seeming delight in his eyes then, realizing that you were that curious about it. “Now who’s impatient?” He taunted, just before turning back to flash said documents to one of the workers now checking them.

“Do you have anything to declare?” The woman asked him.

With the way he paused, you knew his brain was churning then to select whatever he would deem the funniest or wittiest response. But as odd of looks as you were all already getting, mostly from Hank and Kurt’s vivid blue skin as usual, it probably would be best not to test the waters any further. You did want to get home after all.

“We don’t,” You answered before he could, relieved when she seemed to want to hurry you all aboard and away from her as much as you did. She handed Peter’s passport back to him, then took your own in quick succession to glance it over as well before seeming satisfied enough as she handed it back to you.

After you were past her, it was the issue of the stairs however. Obviously they expected Peter to just figure it out, but you knew you could lend a hand. The trick was going to be in trying to keep that act of levitation a little more subtle though, still being in mixed company here.

“You should have let me have a little more fun with her,” Peter said, though glancing back with some curiosity as you moved behind him.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you responded quietly. Really, referring to her just as much as what you were about to attempt. “Pretend you’re going up the stairs anyway. Move a little like you’re walking.”

The person in front of him on the stairs wasn’t looking back, and only more of your friends were directly behind you. With the sidewalls of the stairway also going up about waist high, the people still on the ground couldn’t see the little glow that went around his legs as you willed him to levitate just high enough that his cast didn’t drag the steps as you both continued towards the plane’s door.

“Woah, hey at least give a warning.” He responded, lifting his good leg up enough for it to also miss the now passing steps even as his crutches hit once or twice.”

“I did.” You answered, though still trying to look past him the whole time to make sure no one was looking back from the plane’s doorway. Once you’d gotten nearly to the top, you set him back down to do the last couple steps on his own and enter the plane normally.

Once inside though, the aisle really was too narrow to use his crutches properly. Maybe on a more normal flight more measures would have been taken to assist the disabled, but there sure wasn’t anyone offering anything today.

Kurt was behind you, and offered to take the crutches while Peter put one arm over your shoulders and you both half hobbled, half shimmied awkwardly down the aisle until you reached the first open seating.

Being a larger jet meant for transoceanic travel, there were seats in groups of three on both the left and right side of the plane, but a row of four in the center as well. You ended up in one of the rows of three on the side, letting Peter take the aisle seat to have more room for his leg, while you sat in the middle, and Kurt beside you at the window as he’d laid Peter’s crutches down on the floor underneath the seats.

You finally felt like maybe you could relax a little then, just glancing around a bit. There were some old magazines in the seatback in front of you, but probably not much of anything else any of you could really do now in however many hours it’d take to get stateside. You were pretty sure a passenger jet like this would be a good deal slower than the high tech military one you’d gone to Egypt in.

You were only looking up at the light and air vent controls above your seat next as a sudden movement and curse surprised you as your eyes darted back to the aisle.

“Goddamnit.” A man said.

His soft sided suitcase had just burst open, spilling most of his clothing onto the floor as he then paused to shove it back in as best he could. He struggled with the zipper a moment, but it only slid back and forth uselessly, no longer sealing the bag back. “Cheap ass government issue,” He added, finally just picking up the whole thing and holding it closed against his chest as he walked on.

And that random event would have been nothing more to you, except for the way you saw Peter move his head back then, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he gripped the armrest between you.

Kurt noticed too, leaning forward as he asked, “Are you alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” He grunted.

But as you glanced down to see Peter’s other hand now clutching his broken leg, you also saw a newly materialized pair of sunglasses pressed between his fingertips and the cast. As well as a military jacket now folded messily under his seat.

“That was you.” You spoke abruptly, yet low enough just for the three of you. “You took those out of that man’s suitcase!”

“Well I didn’t think the stupid zipper was going to break when I tried to close it back! He’s right, that was a cheap zipper.” Peter admitted.

“And you hurt yourself trying to get back into the chair didn’t you?” You chided a little more, not quite sure what was worse, the thievery or the recklessness.

“I hit my foot on that damn bracket, and the vibration went through the bone.” He motioned to the metal bracing that bolted the seat in front of him to the floor.

“Thou shalt not steal,” Kurt said, not judgmentally, but just as if this should be an inherent truth as he still looked to Peter with concern.

“Oh man, so I get like twelve hours of flight time to look forward to, trapped next to you two goody two shoes then? Awesome.” He joked back, though already looking back down then at the sunglasses in his hand with a little admiration. They had a mirror finish as he spun them over in his fingers. “And hey, you guys are the ones who burned up my last jacket back in Egypt, remember? I’m not going home empty handed. I’d been wanting one of those army looking deals since we got here. Buzzcut there seemed like he’d have one.”

“Mama look!”

All three of you paused your talk then to see a small boy now standing in the aisle as the movement of people had slowed once more with passengers stopping to put their luggage in the overhead bins. But his mother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind as he continued to point. She was talking to the man in front of her as that man fought with an oversized suitcase.

The boy continued staring though, likely at Kurt. But it wasn’t really a fearful gaze, more excited than anything.

“Guten tag,” Kurt said cheerfully regardless, just waving in return.

And at that the boy’s eyes really went wide. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” The boy stammered a little, yet with the biggest grin.

“Ja, ich komme aus Bayern.” Kurt replied.

And that spontaneous connection over a surprise shared language would have been truly adorable too if Peter wasn’t suddenly leaning right over you to interrupt it.

“Yo, Kurt, ask him if I can borrow some of his markers!” Peter pleaded abruptly.

“What?” You and Kurt both said almost simultaneously.

“The markers, he doesn’t need the whole box. I only need like three colors, tops.” Peter answered, motioning back to the boy. And when still neither you or Kurt seemed to understand this sudden sense of urgency, Peter actually put his hands together like making a little prayer. “You told me you didn’t want me to steal, so I’m trying not to. Come on, at least a red one?”

Kurt really was confused then, but he did lean forward, saying something else in German to the boy.

At that request the boy did look down at the coloring book rolled in one of his hands, and the small pack of markers sticking out of his pocket that evidently Peter had somehow put a target lock on.

But he really did like Kurt apparently as after only a couple moments of thought, the little boy opened the marker box to pull three out.

“Sweet!” Peter said as the child handed over red, black, and blue to him. “I’ll give them back in a bit, right?” Peter added though, smirking at him. “Thanks, little dude.”

And it was all just the oddest thing to you as the boy only happily waved bye to Kurt after, the movement of people starting again as he and his mother continued on to go sit a few rows further back.

“I don’t even know what just happened,” you said after they were gone.

“That was world class negotiating, babe. I mean Kurt literally just smooth talked some colors from a kid with a coloring book in his hand on a twelve hour flight.” Peter responded.

“You are actually going to give them back though aren’t you? You told him you would.” Kurt replied with a little concern.

Peter kind of shrugged, “I mean yeah, I guess so.”

“He’ll give them back,” You added for him. “Or I will.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Yes, it’s not going to take me hours to do anything. Ever. I’ll have this baby gussied up in no time.” Peter responded, patting his cast gently. “You can’t leave a blank canvas to a guy like me. Especially if I have to stare at this thing for weeks.”

And he was right, you weren’t even in the air yet before he just started doodling away.

————————————

Thankfully the plane only stopped one more time, at an air base in France to pickup more U.S. government evacuees, before at last the wings were over water and you were finally pointed home.

By now Peter’s cast looked more like those advertisements or example sheets on the walls of any tattoo parlor. Yet when you made a comment as such, the sly grin you got in return made you instantly wish you’d thought that through a little better.

“Ah, so you’ve been in a tattoo parlor then?” Oh he was so interested in this topic now. You could see that wolfish look coming into his eyes. “You’ve got some ink somewhere?”

“I don’t.” You’d thought of doing it though, quite a bit actually. But it was such a commitment. You’d probably keep that tidbit to yourself for a while though, lest he try to drag you immediately to a tattoo shop on the drive to D.C.

“I’m not totally sure I believe you.” He answered, though leaning in to whisper in your ear after, “Think you’ll let me check some time?”

The fact that he was still so bold with Kurt literally right beside you, made you wonder if you really should be making sure whatever rental car you ended up with later was just some sort of bucket seat tiny two door thing. If it was a boat like sedan with a full bench back seat, you might actually be in trouble tonight.

“We’ll see,” Is all you answered back though. At least for a moment before you realized now was as good a time as any to flip the conversation back on him.

“So when do I get to hear the Pietro story?” You asked, relaxed into your seat as much as the small space would allow. “Kurt and I have nothing else to do. Let’s hear it.”

“The who?” Peter teased back, just working on giving one of the pin up girls he’d drawn a little better shading.

“Or Django. Either Pietro or Django, they both sound pretty interesting I think.” You replied playfully.

Peter glanced at you, but smiled a little. “You’re just going to be disappointed actually. I was just hyping it up, there’s really nothing to it.”

“Then go on, it’ll be a quick story then.” You still wanted to know more about him of course, and every piece was just another part of the whole picture.

“Django was my grandfather. Mom’s dad back in the old country.” Peter replied, still just finding more and more little details to add to his drawings. “I didn’t really know him. Mom never liked to take us back there much to visit. I mean it makes more sense now of course. She didn’t want my Dad to know where she was. But back then I just figured she thought that place was creepy.”

“What place?” Kurt asked innocently enough. You both were actually equally curious to whatever Peter might say about his family. Like he’d said before, Kurt wasn’t used to having friends his own age. And learning more about each other now was all part of growing those bonds.

“Wundagore Mountain,” Peter replied. “And trust me, as much as it sounds like the newest ride at some amusement park, it’s totally not. I remember being like five and going back there thinking Dracula himself was going to yank me out of that freaking soviet tin can Mom was driving us around in. Wanda still swears she heard voices up there. I mean I don’t know, we stayed with Mom’s aunt one time and she tells us this thing so creatively called Man-Beast was going to come down off the mountain for us if we didn’t behave.”

Peter glanced over to the both of you, further clarifying, “Not like Hank or anything though, it was basically just a werewolf I think. But if it’s a werewolf, call it that you know? What the hell is a Man-Beast? They had so many weird things that could take children. I feel like every story was, oh but don’t do that or Porga will get you. Oops, you talked back to your mother? Guess Tagar is coming tonight. Darn, forgot to brush your teeth? Nice knowing you, kid, Bova’s going to take you to live in the woods forever now.”

You were sort of just staring and listening, but out the corner of your eye you saw Kurt only nodding as if in complete understanding. You would hazard a guess that parts of Bavaria evidently had very similar folklore. Between the two of them, they could likely trade stories like this the whole flight.

But Peter just continued, “But yeah, Django was my gramps, just met him a couple times. And Pietro...well that’s just me. Like I said, nothing special. I was Pietro all the way until Mom started us in kindergarten.” He smirked a little. “Guess she figured the dorky little Jewish kid with the curly brown hair needed all the help he could get fitting in with all the John’s, Mark’s, and Scott’s of the world. And yeah, feel free to tell Summers I said that later.”

So she’d Americanized his name. It wasn’t unheard of with first or second generation immigrants, but still there was something a little sad about that. Yet you smiled softly, that image of the kindergarten age Peter frankly adorable in your mind. “You were a baby brunette?”

“Until the old X-gene flared at 12 or whenever that was yeah,” But he paused, a little surprised, just then realizing what look that was on your face. “Oh stop, you’re picturing it now aren’t you? I was a total dork, don’t do that. Seriously, no! I swear I will never let you find those pictures.”

But you just kept grinning. “No need. I can imagine this forever.”

“Hell, where is Jean?” Peter looked around in a little show of dramatics. “Memory wipe needed on aisle 3, Red.”

It was just too funny though, and honestly it made all the sense in the world. The physical resemblance between Peter and Erik would have been a lot more noticeable had they both still shared similar hair color and texture. Yes, you would bet Peter’s hair had even had that bit of auburn in it too back then.

“But I do have a question,” You spoke then, your tone sincere. “What do you actually want to be called?”

“Sexy?” He answered at once.

But you didn’t let him off the hook that easily, still waiting patiently for the real answer as you just watched him.

Finally he relented, but still seeming a bit non committal. “I mean I’ve heard both for so long, I answer to either. Really, I do. But if the Django comes out though, that’s Defcon 1. It means I’ve done something catastrophically wrong and Mom is about to go full on nuclear on my ass.”

You considered this for a moment, before trying it. “Pietro,” you said, looking for any difference in his expression.

He did grin at you, eyebrows going up a little.

“Peter?” You asked then.

And to that he just continued to smile. “Babe, it’s like you’re trying to pick the name of the new dog.” He raised the pitch of his voice a little, imitating a generic wife you guessed. “Honey, which one does he like better? Did his ears go up at that one?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure things out,” you defended. “Guess I’ll just go back to imagining all that curly brown hair now.”

“Noooo.” He whined.

———————————

The three of you had joked and talked for quite a while. But somewhere, maybe about two thirds through the flight, things did quiet back down. Eventually you decided to try and sleep some if you could. You weren’t tired yet, but you knew you would be by the time you landed.

With the difference in timezones, even though you’d left early in the morning Greek time, it would likely only be around lunch time in the U.S. after landing. While you already would have been traveling for almost twelve hours.

It was as if you’d get to repeat the day all over again. You had all that time still ahead of you, including having to convince the Professor to let you drive Peter home.

You closed your eyes for a bit, thinking of all the hypotheticals of what you could say. What you would argue if needed, and what Xavier may say in response. But as you tried to let your thoughts drift further, you realized you’d crossed your arms, little chill bumps on them as you opened your eyes to look up at the air vent above you.

Was it stuck open? You fiddled with it a moment, but felt no difference. Shifting to sit back up a little, you looked at the seatback in front of you again as well, in the pouch there with the old magazines.

“They don’t have any blankets,” Peter said quietly, easily interpreting the reasoning for your search.

You’d thought he’d already been asleep just as Kurt was though. You were surprised as Peter reached out, smoothly laying that jacket over your chest and arms. The one he’d taken earlier.

“See.” He added. “Crime does pay sometimes.”

You gave him a skeptical look still, but the jacket really did make the difference as you leaned back again in the seat, snuggling into it. “Thank you, thief.” You answered softly.

“Any time.” He smiled a little, before reaching down to click the button on the armrest between your seats. He moved the armrest up and out of the way, then running a warm hand under the jacket to find one of your own.

You grasped his hand when they met, intertwining your fingers together.

“Have a nice nap, see you in Jersey.” He said, yet closing his own eyes as well.

“See you in Jersey, Pietro.”

You felt him squeeze your hand more at that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 15

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 4800+

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, fighting

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

“Okay, girl. Let’s move onto your two-three combo, and then you are going to come at me with a right hook as if it was your ex’s face,” Val instructed, holding up her mitts.

You dropped your hands, looking at her. “I’m not doing this because I want to kick his abusive ass. I am doing this for me. To build up my confidence and get stronger.”

“Yeah, yeah. You just want to look good naked for Rogers.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and you started punching the mitts. “Thata girl, I knew I could hit a nerve,” she chuckled to herself. 

You completed a few more rounds, then Val decided it was time for a cool down. You nodded, breathing heavy, and stepped out of the ring. You wiped the sweat from your brow with your forearm while Val came over to help get you out of the gloves. 

“You’re killing it, YN. Like, if someone ever decided to jump you, well, I think they would lose a hand.”

You chuckled at Val’s compliment. “Thanks, I do feel more confident in my movements, and my punches feel like they have more power behind them.”

“They do,” she agreed, “but it’s not hard enough to make me need to ice my hands or anything, like some of the coaches have to do when M’Baku is practicing.” She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. “Men always have to be the strongest, but they’re not always the smartest.” She let out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes. “How are things with Rogers?”

You smiled as she started to untie your other glove. “He’s good. I think we’re good. Why, what’s the gossip at the station?”

“There’s not much. He tends to keep to himself about you, but there are times when he does get all flustered, blushy, and red when we pick on him about you. It’s cute,” Val smirked, eyeing you over, feeling yourself have the same reaction as him. “Have you two kindled the flame yet?” She wiggled her eyebrows, making your face heat up even more. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Don’t tell me then,” she winked. “When Carol and I talk about you two, we think you two look good together, and from what you both have been through, you both deserve a win, and I’m happy you two found each other.”

You smiled, undoing the hand wraps. “Thanks, Val. Speaking of Carol--” you peeked up at her, watching her closely “--how are things? Have you told the crew yet?”

“Not yet, but I am sure most of them already suspect something is going on?” Val shrugged, taking a sip out of her water bottle. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I mean, they’re men,” you chuckled, rotating your wrists back and forth.

“Good point,” she laughed, tilting her water bottle at you. “They can be a little slower at picking up hints.”

____________

You sat on the couch folding laundry, following a developing armed robbery happening downtown at the Ideal Federal Saving Bank. 

“Christine, how are things looking there? Have any of the robbers been identified?” Megan Henderson asked from the KTLA studio to Christine Everheart at the scene. 

“Yes, Megan. We know two of the assailants at this time, Jack Rollins and Jasper Sitwell. They are two notorious criminals who have been involved in numerous robberies throughout the state of California, Nevada, and Arizona. We are still unsure about the three other associates assisting with this robbery at this time…”

The monitor by the front door started buzzing, pulling you away from the screen to see who was there. You smiled at the screen, seeing Thor waving at the camera with his hands full of groceries, and you buzzed him in. 

You walked over to grab the remote, seeing the film crew circling the bank in a helicopter, and switched off the tv. You would need Thor's full attention when he helps you make your mom's chocolate chip cookies for fire safety at the station tomorrow. 

“Sister, I come bearing gifts,” Thor shouted, somehow being able to open the front door with his hands full. “And did you see that robbery hostage situation--” he pointed in the direction to downtown LA “--Nat and Clint have their hands full with this one.”

“Yeah, they do,” you agreed, leading Thor to the kitchen to drop off the bags on the counter. You furrowed your brows at the multiple bags of groceries. “What did you all get? All I needed was flour, chocolate chips, and eggs.”

“They were having a sale, and I couldn’t resist.” He lifted up a six-pack of beer, smiling like a child on their birthday.

“Well, that’s not going to take you long to finish,” you smirked at him, pulling groceries from the bags.

“No, I got this for us to drink while we bake mom’s cookies,” Thor added with a sincere smile, scratching his beard. “You know brother-sister bonding. I also grabbed snacks, so we are less tempted to eat all the cookies.” 

You grinned, staring at him in awe. “Sounds like fun, let’s get these cookies started.”

“And I’ll open a beer for you and supervise,” Thor added, going into the drawer to get the bottle opener, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

___________

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Thor watched over your shoulders while you started creaming the butter and sugar together. “I don’t remember mom using one of these fancy mixers. She did it with one of those hand mixer thingies.”

“It just makes it go quicker,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And you can do a bigger batch.”

“They’re not going to taste the same.”

“This is how I’ve always made them. You have literally watched me make these cookies with this machine before.”

“Oh well, I noticed they tasted different.”

“You’re insufferable, Thor,” you stated, turning around and pushing him to the other side of the counter. He laughed, taking a seat on the stool across from you.  “Do you want to find my cookie scoop? You’re scooping once I have everything mixed.”

“Finnneee,” he dragged out, complaining. He went over to the drawer and pulled out the scoop, and returned to the stool. “How have things been going with Steve?”

“It’s been fun,” you smiled, adding the eggs to the mixer bowl and turning it on.

“I’m glad. I’m the one who told Steve he could date you.”

“Wait,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “did he ask for permission?”

“No, I just told him that if I had to choose someone from the station to date you, I’d pick him.”

“Oooooh, so you picked him for me?” You scoffed, eyeing him while you added the dries in a little at a time.

“No, no, nothing like that. You can make your own decisions, but you’re a good person, and I wanted you to be with a good man. Besides, Steve is an old fashion guy, and with Dad not around anymore to ask, I figured I was the next best choice since I am the eldest.”

“And Loki was okay with your decision.” You scraped the bowl, adding in the chocolate chips and turning the mixer back on. 

“Well...I didn't ask him per se, but I think he would agree with me on this,” Thor stated, taking a sip of his beer.

“But, when have either of you agreed on anything...ever?” You turned off the machine, taking the bowl off, and started scraping the dough off the paddle. “Besides, you know I can make my own decisions right. I’m an adult.”

“Yes, of course,” he chuckled, playing around with the cookie scoop until it flew out of his hand and skimmed across the kitchen island. “Of course.” He nodded. 

“Says the man child, playing with a cookie scoop,” you snorted, shaking your head.

The last batch of cookies was in the oven, and the rest were cooling on sheets of newspaper. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get a few stares when you made cookies with an audience, but every time you made them with your mom, she’d use a spatula to get them off the pan and then place them on newspaper. You didn’t want to break that little tradition you got from her. 

Thor plopped down on a stool at your small island. “Why did I have to scoop them all?” Thor asked, taking a sip of his beer. 

“They’re for your job, I’m not going to do all the work,” you sassed, shaking your head, forcing him to crack a side smile. “Now you wash, and I’ll dry.”

“Do I have to? I just sat down,” he asked with a slight frown.

“Yes,” you stated as he groaned, standing up and making his way to the sink. 

He let out a loud sigh, turning on the faucet, and narrowing his eyes in your direction. You stuck out your tongue at him while you continued to put ingredients away. He sighed loudly again, and you gave him the side-eye as he leaned against the counter, watching the suds magically appear in the water. “I’m happy for you.”

“Okay?” You replied more in a question than a statement. You narrowed your eyes at him, not knowing where that came from. 

“It’s nice to see you smiling and having fun again. You know, putting yourself out there. It’s nice having the sister I grew up with back. I’ve missed her.” He stood up straight, cracking a child-like smile at you. 

“Me too,” you smirked, leaning against the counter. 

He turned back to the sink, placing a few dishes in, and started washing them before placing them on the drying rack. It was weird to watch him do civilized things because he never did them when he was younger. When he left New York, the annoying older brother you grew up with started taking responsibility for his actions. While most actions not involving his nightly escapades. You take a sip of your beer, grabbing a clean cloth to dry, and start putting the dishes away. 

“I filed for divorce yesterday,” you mentioned, hearing Thor drop what he was washing into the sink.

He placed his hands on the edge of the sink, clenching his jaw at the sudsy sink. 

“He’s going to know where you are. Are you okay with taking that risk?” He inquired, scratching at the short beard on his face, turning to you.

“I know it’s a risk, but the only way I am ever gonna feel free of him…is to be free of him.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Are you going to feel safe here? Cause I can take the couch and stay for a few days. I can take work off and…”

“Thor, Thor,” you interrupted, placing your hand on his upper arm. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know, I just… I want… I want to make sure you’re safe.” 

“I know, and I will be,” you smiled at him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Steve gonna come and stay with you?” 

“I don’t know, maybe.” You shrugged, keeping a close eye on your brother; his bottom lip trembled as his eyes darted in all directions. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded his head aggressively. “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine,” he stated in a high-pitched voice, laughing it off.  “But um…I think it would be better if someone stayed here with you, so I know… so we--we all know you’re safe,” he stumbled over his words, wringing his hands together. “Have you at least talked to Loki? What does he think? Does he want me to stay with you?” He asked, rambling on in one breath. 

“I was going to call him tonight and let him know,” you informed softly, trying to calm him down. “Thor--” his worried-filled eyes connected with yours “--I’ll be okay. Okay?” You gave him a reassuring nod. “I know after what happened before...that you blame yourself or you feel like you failed, but you didn’t. I don’t blame you for what happened because it wasn’t any of your doing. I put myself in that situation, and I continued to go back.”

“But, I could have gotten you out of that situation. I am the eldest, and I should’ve done a better job at protecting you, or at the very least, listening to you. I shouldn’t have taken Billy’s side, and for that, I blame myself,” he sniffled, clearing his throat. 

“Thor--” you rubbed his arm, making him look at you “--Billy is and will always be a master manipulator. We all fell for it…”

“Loki didn’t. He saw right through the man,” Thor tried to reason, raising his eyebrows. 

“But he didn’t stop me from going back to Billy. I mean, he tried, but Billy already had me wrapped around his finger.” You paused, biting your lip. “There is no sense in playing the blame game when the only person we should be blaming is Billy.” Thor opened his mouth to say something, but you continued. “You’ve helped me more these last few months than you will ever realize. Don’t think about the past and how you could’ve helped me, but think about right now, and how you did help me. I still don’t know how to thank you for it.”

“You can thank me by letting someone stay with you for a couple of weeks.”

“Wow...we’re still on that,” you scoffed, forcing a trembling chuckle out of him. “I know open communication was never our family's forte, but I love you, brother.”

“Love you, too, sis,” he smiled, leaning towards you and pulling you into a hug. 

___________

You walked into the station through the open garage doors, noticing the spotless, shiny red trucks glistening in the sun, bringing a sense of ease over you and a smile to your face. This place felt like a second home that came with a family that you didn’t know you needed. You spotted Steve helping a few guys set up chairs in front of a portable tv while others set up tables for interactive activities for the kids to participate in. There were even goody bags with plastic red firemen hats and the treat table that continued to grow. 

“YN, I see you got talked into making something, too?” You looked over to see Nat, holding a pan of brownies, and you lifted your two containers of cookies. “I swear these boys wouldn't survive without us. I mean, Val and Carol would be safe, but the boys.” She shot you a tight smile, shaking her head. 

“Agreed,” you chuckled.

“And there is my nerd now, I’ll be back,” she winked, walking over to Bucky. She handed him the brownies, and he leaned down and kissed her ever so gently. 

“It’s disgusting, isn't it?” You looked to your right to see Sam with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes. 

“I think it’s kind of sweet,” You chuckled, rubbing your lips together and glancing at them one more time. Steve caught your eye, and a sweet smile broke across his face. “You’ll find someone, Sam. You’re such a catch.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted.

“Would some cookies help?” You offered, handing him the containers. 

“Yes.” Sam grinned his gap-tooth smile, taking the container. “Thank you, YN. This is why you’re my favorite.” He took a bite out of one of the cookies, walking away, holding it up in the air. “The best batch yet.” 

Steve shook his head at a grinning Sam, walking over to you, and pulled you into a hug. You giggled into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist, and he started swaying back and forth. You rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him. He leaned down, giving you a quick peck on the lips. 

“How did Bucky and Steve get girls like that?” Sam asked Val at the treat table.

“I guess some people just get lucky.” Val shrugged, and Sam angrily took a bite out of another cookie.  

“Want some ice cream?”

“Yes, I want all the ice cream,” Sam added, following Val to the break room. 

“Question--” Steve stopped swaying and pulled away from you “--do you have any plans for tonight?” 

“No, why do you have something planned,” he teased, shooting you his signature smirk.

“Maybe.”

“What are we doing?”

“I’m afraid that is classified, but I have something for you.” You reached into your purse, pulling out a manila folder, handing it to him. 

Steve narrowed his eyes in curiosity. He opened the folder, his eyes scanning it over. “Divorce papers. This is a big step, YN,” He smiled at you, but it quickly dropped to concern. “Billy is going to know where you are.”

“I know, but I feel like it is time to put the past behind me and move on with my life.”

“Okay, as long as you’re ready, then I’m here for you with whatever you need.” 

“I know,” you smiled shyly.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Thor clasped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m proud of her,” Steve winked, making your smile spread wider.

“As am I,” Thor smiled, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. 

You shake your head at them. “I better get to my shift, but Sam has the cookies, and I want my containers back ASAP, or I am going to hurt you, Thor.” You stated, walking backwards.

“I’ll make sure they are in your possession tonight.” Thor saluted, making you shake your head.

“Have a good shift, YN. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Just know this, Steve, if you hurt my little sister, we will have more than words,” Thor stated, squeezing Steve’s shoulder a little harder watching you walk out of the station with Nat by your side.

Steve nodded, turning to him. “I don’t intend to.”

“Good man.” Thor patted him on the shoulder, giving him a closed-mouth smile. “Before she met you, she was lost in her own little world. Fighting the beast, invading her dreams, and trying to tackle her own troubles. She thought she could only rely on herself to make the important choices but soon realized she had supporters, like you and me. So, thank you, Steve, for helping bring my sister back.” 

Steve nodded to Thor as the tall man went back to help the group set up.

“Did he threaten you?” Bucky asked with a breathy laugh, coming over to him.

“Ahh…yeah…sort of….I think.” Steve's eyebrows knit together, trying to figure out what exactly just happened. “But, I’m gonna make a quick call.”

“Do your thing, pal?” Bucky patted him on the shoulder and went over to help the group finish up.

Steve took out his phone until he found the name he was looking for; He brought it to his ear as soon as it started to ring. 

“Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”

“I’m good. Listen, I’m not going to be able to play pool tonight. I got a...I  got a date,” Steve smiled at his own words, scratching at his beard.

“Oh, is this the one you have been kind of seeing?”

“Yeah, YN.”

“Good for you, man.”

“Thanks, but I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

“I have a feeling we’ll see each other soon. Have a good night, Steve.”

“Bye, Jig,” Steve smiled, sliding the phone back into his pocket, and headed over to finish getting everything ready for fire safety.  

__________

The team stood by one of the open garage doors in anticipation for the first group of young students and their teachers to arrive. The workout room was transformed into a small teaching area, complete with fold-out chairs and a roll-away tv. Snacks and goody bags were also waiting for them with a welcoming banner hanging from the second-story loft. 

Steve let out a deep breath with his hands on his hips, eyeing at what they were able to accomplish.  It looked very welcoming, but he didn’t know what was going to happen. He liked kids but wasn’t always great at talking to them, but Carol reassured them that the first group of students might not go as planned, but they had another six to make up for it. 

“First group approaching,” Sam shouted, going over to the door to greet them. Sam shook the teacher's hand, flashing her his famous gap-tooth smile. 

Bucky scoffed beside Steve, gripping his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, pal. Just avoid swearing or talking about anything too scary. Kids think we are badasses, and they look up to us. We are heroes to them.”

Steve swallowed, nodding at him. He rubbed his hands together, taking in the twenty little kids, grabbing snacks, and taking their seats while Carol stood in front of them with a huge smile.

“How’s everyone doing today?” Carol asked, earning a group of students shouting while others remained silent. “I’m glad to hear it. My name is Captain Carol Danvers, but you can call me Ace, and I am in charge of Station 107. Those wearing the dark blue shirts around you are my teammates.” She pointed to Sam, who then introduced himself as they went around the room. “Now that you know my team, what are your names?”

The teachers introduced themselves before the kids went around the room saying their names. Steve stood off to the side, nodding his head, trying to remember every kid’s name. His eyes stopped on one familiar little girl, Morgan Stark. She caught his eye, and she waved with an exciting smile on her face. He nodded at her, mimicking her expression on his face. Steve noticed she also waved at Sam. Seeing her brought back the memory of his first encounter with YN and losing his dispatcher cherry while saving Morgan from the electrified pool in the process. 

“Do any of you know the number to call in case someone needs help?” Danvers asked, bringing Steve's attention back to the present. Hands flew into the air, including Morgans. Danvers pointed to one of the students, and he replied with 911. 

Steve zoned out as Danvers continued to talk with the young kids. His eyes traveled around the room, noticing how some of the teachers would catch his eye but then quickly look away. He smirked, realizing Thor and YN weren’t kidding when they said the teachers would flirt with them. Thor winked at one of them, and she blushed, unable to keep the smile off her face. Steve shook his head at them, returning his attention to Danvers.

“....when you dial 911, your call gets directed to a dispatcher, and they use a system called CAD, which is a computer-aided dispatch. They punch the address you give them in, and the dispatcher can figure out what unit is closest for them to send help. Now, how many of you know your address?” A few hands shot up, and Carol nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t just go home and talk to your parents about it. They love to watch you learn and would be more than willing to help.” She nodded, clasping her hands together. “We are going to watch a quick safety video and then break off into groups and do a few different activities and see some cool things. How’s that sound?” She got a few cheers from the students while the others kept quiet. Danvers smiled, switching the tv on and pushing play on the DVD player, before stepping off to the side. 

The kids broke off into four smaller groups; Bucky and Steve took their group around, showing them different trucks, and explained their purpose. Steve couldn’t help but smile when the kids’ faces brightened up upon seeing the inside of the trucks. They did their best to explain what some of the equipment inside was, but most of the kids seemed too excited to listen. According to Bucky, kids like seeing the trucks and could care less about the other activities they had set up.

The first group's time was coming to an end, and the team could see the next class approaching in the distance. The team handed out gift bags, and all the kids were smiling and putting on their red plastic hats. The teachers told the students to say thank you, and they did so in unison before they retreated towards the door.

Steve stood by the entrance waving goodbye to the previous class, awaiting to greet the next class. He felt a tug on his pants, and he looked down to see Morgan smiling up at him.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be up there with your partner?” He leaned down to her eye level, resting a knee on the ground.

“She is waiting,” she pointed to her, and Steve smirked, seeing her waiting impatiently. “Besides, my teacher is still talking to the tall one.”

He glanced over to see the tall one was Thor, and he was doing the thing he always did. “Look at that, you’re right.” He nodded. “What can I do for you, Morgan?”

“I wanted to give you this--” she handed him a homemade card “--the tall one helped me make it at the coloring table.” She rocked back and forth on her feet and blushed.

“Aww, thank you.” He opened the card, reading: Thank you, Fireman Steve, for saving me, and it was an image of her in a pool with him on one side and Sam was on the other. “You’re welcome. I like it. You are quite the artist.”

She smiled. “I gave one to Fireman Sam, too.” She pointed at him with a smile.

“I’m sure he loved it, too.” Steve smiled at it. “I'm going to have to put this on my fridge at home.” He chuckled, and in an instance, the little girl wrapped her little arms around her neck and pulled him close. He patted her on the back and pulled away. “Stay out of trouble, and don’t get into any more electrified pools.” 

She shot him a funny look. “You too,” she smiled, running over to her partner.

Her teacher passed by him, folding a piece of paper and sliding it into her pocket, which Steve could only assume to be Thor's number. He shook his head, looking back at Thor to see him staring at her retreating figure. 

Thor caught Steve's eye, and he shrugged. “What? I like women, but you know, not in a creepy way.”

After the first class came through, the rest of the groups were easy; having got the lay-of-the-land and knowing what to say. Although towards the end of the day, the older kids, the 2nd graders, asked more daring questions, in which Steve tried to keep it G or PG.

“And with that, class is dismissed,” Danvers stated, plopping down in one of the fold-up chairs, sighing loudly. 

“Hear, hear,” Sam nodded, plopping down next to her. “It’s the repetition that gets me. I could go home and fall asleep right now. Who knew kids could be so exhausting. I praise the teachers cause I know I couldn’t put up with their shit all the time.” Everyone murmured in agreement.

“How are you all tired?” Thor asked with his hands on his hips.

“We weren’t at the coloring station. We were explaining and answering questions trying to keep things kid-friendly.”

“Well, you should’ve been. In my opinion, it’s the best station.”

“No, the trucks are, the arts and crafts station is the boring table. The kids were talking about it,” Bucky added, folding up a few chairs. 

“Doesn’t matter, I got a few numbers. And...” he walked over to the snack table, taking the last of YN cookies “--I got the last cookie,” he chuckled, taking a bite.

“Let’s quit complaining about what activity was better and remember it was about teaching the kids,” Danvers stated. “Now, let’s get this cleaned up, so the crew can do their job tonight.” Everyone mumbled, nodding in agreement. 

Thor snapped the container to your Tupperware shut, shoving the last bite of cookie in his mouth. “I could drop off the Tupperware tonight if you’d like. I’m meeting up with her after her shift,” Steve offered, packing up the leftover snacks. 

“Yes, I suppose you could, but if they go missing and she doesn’t get them. This all comes back to me, and I don’t need that on my conscience right now.” 

“Probably a good idea you do it then,” Steve chuckled. 

____________

Standing in front of the mirror, you try to get your hair to do a thing, but it isn’t doing the thing, so you decide to leave it as is. A buzzing sound at the front door brings an excited smile to your face. You trotted down the stairs, seeing Steve and Cosmo at the gate. You buzzed them in and went into the kitchen to grab two wine glasses and a bottle from your stash. You set them on the kitchen island, hearing Cosmo barking on the other side of the door. You smirked to yourself, walking over to the front door, remembering Steve mentioning how much Cosmo missed you. It was utter nonsense, but you couldn’t help but smile. You opened the front door, and your smile quickly disappeared.

“Billy.”

“Hi, honey. Did you miss me?”

_________

AN: Thanks for reading part 15! Those pesky cliffhangers! Where did Billy come from? Has he been watching her this whole time? Hmmmm....any theories?! And of course, all of this had to happen when things between her and Steve were finally going forward. It's almost like I planned it! Muwahaha! And speaking of Steve...what could’ve happened to him and Cosmo? Besides the ending, did you like Thor and her little chitchat, the brother-sister bonding sesh. We did learn that Thor clearly still blames himself for what happened way back then, but maybe now after their little chat, he will finally start forgiving himself, but who knows with the current revelation happening! 😬 And Val and Carol, did anyone guess that happening?! Also, did you enjoy fire safety day?! I thought it would be a good throwback to the first chapter and bring Morgan back, and I thought it would just be cute seeing the team trying to keep things G/PG when talking about their job. Haha! Better prepare yourself for the next couple chapters, cause things are going get deep! As always thanks for reading, comments always welcome! 

[shutupanddance]

Bones / Reader — Remember Me

Hey my fellow fan fiction people, I have MAJOR writer’s block, and I really want to get these requests done, so I’m hoping that this will snap me out of it.

Warning: this is angst!!

How would Bones react to your death?

Normal text is present time, and blocks of italic text are memories!

Enjoy ;)

Dr. Leonard McCoy is experiencing a “slow day” in medbay. Not that there isn’t the occasional ensign coming in with a scrape or broken bone, but it’s nothing like when the away missions come back.

Speaking of away missions, you were on one now. You weren’t scheduled to come back for a week, though. You were a microbiologist, so your missions were usually much longer, and consisted of more time going back and forth between your lab on the Enterprise and the planet you were stationed on. 

The personnel staff realized pretty quickly that very little got done when you and McCoy were on a mission together. The doctor was so worried for his fiancé that he spent more time making sure you were safe than doing his job. So, it was a rare thing nowadays that you’d be put on a mission together.

Spock is suddenly in medbay.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

When Spock doesn’t respond immediately, he turns. Something is wrong, Leonard can tell. But whether Spock has a common cold or the ship is about to explode, he can’t tell.

“Captain Kirk requires your assistance on the bridge.” Spock states coolly. Odd.

“Are you sure? Can’t he just ask me through a holopad like everyone else-”

“Please come with me, doctor.”

Doctor McCoy follows, but he grumbles the whole way.

As soon as he’s in the elevator, another team rushes into medbay. They’re surrounding a gurney. And attached to that gurney is a heart monitor, which is beeping slow. Dangerously slow.

You’re not really sure why you got picked for the Enterprise. I mean, it’s Starfleet’s flagship, for crying out loud! But here you are, working away in one of the most advanced labs you’ve ever seen, floating many many miles from home.

You’re still processing all this when a beaker slips out of your hands, and shatters violently on the floor.

Luckily, no one else is in your lab right now. You stay calm, walking on careful feet, and retrieve a broom. As you’re sweeping, though, you realize blood is running down your fingers.

One of the shards of glass must have flown up and cut me, you realize.

You carefully wrap the small wound and apply pressure, then begin walking to medbay. 

The nurses don’t immediately notice you, probably because you’re just standing there looking like you’re out for an evening stroll, but soon enough one happens to glance directly at the gauze you have wrapped around your forearm.

“Oh, dear!” She says, guiding you to a bed. “Dr! Dr. McCoy!”

Out from a nearby office walks Dr. Leonard McCoy. He’s got dark hair, the most alert eyes you’ve ever seen, and damn he’s hot.

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“Beaker broke. Shard of glass flew up and cut me. No other injuries, and there’s no glass in the wound. I was able to stop most of the bleeding, but I think I’ll need stitches.”

An eyebrow goes up.

“Alright, why don’t you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

You didn’t know it, but in that moment, Leonard McCoy nearly fell head over heels for you. And all he showed for it was a raised eyebrow.

The Captain will not stop insisting that he needs a plan for contagious diseases on the Enterprise.

“We already have one,” Leonard reminds him.

“But will it work? Do we have one for different situations? For instance, if we’re docked on a hostile planet-”

“Are you trying to keep me from my job!?” Leonard asks, more as a pointed jab, but when the room grows uncomfortably silent, he realizes he’s right on the money.

What else does he realize? That every face in the room looks forlorn. And a bit defeated.

“What’s got everyone so depressed?” He asks, swiveling to see the entire bridge crew. No one answers.

Finally, Spock clears his throat.

“We wanted to keep you away from medbay while the doctor’s worked on Y/N.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where Leonard’s brain stops working. And he’s paralyzed with fear. But, it doesn’t last for long.

“WHAT!?!”

Jim steps in.

“She was injured on the away mission. Some animal we’ve never seen before came out of nowhere and attacked.”

Bones is trying to get away.

“She saved everyone else’s lives by luring the beast away, doc,” one of the crew is saying, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to you-

The door to the bridge rolls open. M’Benga is standing there.

And Leonard has never seen the man look so guilty, so distressed, so sad.

“Watch the Coreolis Anjankus!” You say, pulling a red shirt away from a very poisonous plant. You pass him to Dr. McCoy, who pushes him even farther away.

“I thought you were a microbiologist?” He chuckles.

“With a minor in botany!” You smile.

You were one of the few scientists Leonard found to be cool under pressure, and the only one with real common sense. Still, despite all you knew about the dangers of every planet, you were always completely relaxed. If he was being honest, the doctor envied you (just a little bit).

“Tell, me, how did you get stuck with this motley crew?” He asks, eyes trained on the Captain, watching for any dangers.

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. “They just sent me a message one day asking if I wanted to join.”

“And you said yes.”

“Of course I did! Have you seen the labs on the ship?!”

Leonard laughs.

“I’m a nerd, I know, but this assignment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dr. McCoy finds himself staring at you, suddenly. He doesn’t really remember how he got here. All he can think of is the fact that your heart’s not beating. That your body is mangled and bloody and despite M’Benga attempting to close the wounds, you look horrible.

It seems ironic, almost, in that instant. The woman who never worried about anything is lying mauled in a biobed. Dead.

The medical idea of death has settled in Leonard’s mind. No beating heart, no brain activity. But what he can’t wrap his head around is you being gone. You’ve  always been there. And, for a moment, he’s convinced that if he sniffles too loud, you’ll hand him a tissue. If he mentions he’s hungry, you’ll wake back up, dig through your duffel bag, and pull some food out.

But you’re not moving.

“Where’s her duffel bag?” He asks, voice as loud and cranky as ever.

Kirk hands your bag over.

Bones reaches in, and digs around until he feels something soft. A teddy bear. He places it on your chest, and lifts your arms to hug it. The soft fur stains with blood.

It’s a horrific scene, the one in front of them.

A village destroyed by a massive storm system. Houses leveled, fields of crops uprooted, and hundreds of people injured or dying or dead.

But you’re standing there, cool and calm as ever, handing out blankets. You smile gently at each villager who steps up, and ask them in one of their native languages what else they need. You direct them to different crew members who can help.

One kid walks up, so young you have to crouch to be eye-level with them. He’s alone. And he looks so terrified, so empty, that you immediately wrap him in a hug. He clings on for dear life.

When he finally let’s go, you begin to explain to him that he needs to see the doctor. He shakes his head so hard you’re afraid his neck will snap. You say some more words in his language, and reach into your duffel bag.

You pull out a teddy bear. The boy smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately gives it a tight hug.

You speak encouragement at him, something about bravery, and the little boy makes his way over to the medical tent with his head held high.

All this Leonard watches. You look at him. He looks at you. And for a while, an unspoken respect passes between the two of you.

He asks you later why you had the teddy bear.

“I always have one on me,” you smile sadly. “You never know when you might need one.”

The ship docks at Command, and the usual celebratory revelries aren’t being heard. The crew is somber.

Your body, encased in a beautiful casket, is loaded onto a small carrier vehicle. Jim, Leonard, and Spock follow it as it weaves its way through the halls.

Your parents are there, and the funeral is quick. No one can really find the strength to say what they want to. No one can choke through their tears long enough to tell your story.

Bones is the last to leave. He watches your casket for hours, almost as if he’s waiting for you to spring out and laugh and kiss him, promising it’ll never happen again, promising you’ll never leave him…

He smiles. A memory-

The town of traders on this new small planet offered the Enterprise crew a place to stay overnight, and Kirk had agreed.

Their houses stood on stilts overlooking an ocean, and there were beautiful torches that burnt blue everywhere to light the paths. Bird-like creatures swooped through the town, twittering and squeaking.

You’re watching them silently through a window, a soft smile on your face. Leonard is sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your shoulder.

Two of the bird things get into a fight, and screeching is heard. Feathers fly.

You laugh, loud and unapologetic, as they tussle. Leonard laughs too. He’s smiling at you as you watch them, so completely wrapped up in how beautiful you are.

You fall back onto the bed, hair flying everywhere. You’re still giggling.

You look at your fiancé, enjoying watching him watch you. You feel comfortable. The house is warm and the blue firelight traces his face. The face of your love.

Leonard is wondering how on earth he landed you. How he convinced you to love him. But he truly has no idea. You’re lying there, eyes locked with his, gazing with so much love he feels he’s going to burst.

You lying there like that, hair spread out on the bed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes sparkling with the reflection of torches… he locks that picture in his mind.

And Leonard thinks that he’ll always remember you this way.

[shotofire]

Adjusting

Jean Kirstein x F!Reader

I got a few Jean requests which i’m super happy about :)) so I decided to sorta combine them, enjoy! (I had SO much fun writing this)

Overview: How you and Jeans lives are going in Marley

Warnings: Cursing, slight nsfw, anxiety

Season: 4

-

Things are different, to say the least. Marley seems more like ‘Paradise Island’ than your home did. There’s no constant fear of death here, no scraping for food, it seems like everything your people wanted and deserved. Yet you were still considered a devil, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. It’s nice here but you still can’t help but envy it, and long to wipe the smile off these heartless people’s faces.

The time you’ve been here has completely lost tract, you can’t even recall the first day. Jean has been by your side since the beginning, helping you remain calm. There are many moments where you want to yell or call out someone disrespecting your home, but you’ve had to hold back. It really pissed you off more than anything else you’ve ever dealt with.

“Don’t let their ignorance get to you, doll,” he’d said as tears built in your orbs. It was earlier on since you two had gotten there, and you had to hear the harsh words for the first time. The person wasn’t even talking to you, but the terms were technically still about you and everyone you cared for. “How can so many be so oblivious?” His lips traced your neck from behind, leaving soft kisses that had your body melting. “Remember you’re better than them.”

You long to go back home, but you know your time here has not yet received a due date. There’s no telling how prolonged this mission will be. The little town home you and Jean are staying at is pure filth, you wish Levi could be here to make it spotless. Thankfully most of your days together were spent moving around Marley gathering as much information as possible. You’d seen Reiner a few times, which scared the shit out of you.

Today was a somewhat normal day, and it’s beautiful outside. Your fingers are looped with Jeans as he buys a news paper. Not much has happened so far but it is still earlier on in the day. You enjoyed days like this, they were more calm and enjoyable. At this point you weren’t sure what else you and Jean could possible find out, the rest was basically left to Eren. The only thing you loathed about being here is your daily attire.

You constantly have to wear a skirt or a dress, which is totally not comfortable in this heat. “I’m hungry,” you mumble as you two walk away from the news paper stand. Jean’s hand gives yours a squeeze, “We will eat in a bit, okay?” You couldn’t help but let out a groan, you were starving from all the walking.

Jean doesn’t know who’s genius idea it was to send you two together. Sure you’d basically been a thing since you were teens but you still annoy each other like an old married couple. Then again he wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else, he just wishes you could be a little less whiny. “Doll, we’re going to get food. I just need to give a letter to Eren first, he has someone who can send them back home without it being checked.”

Your arms wrap around his waist and you lean into his side as your walk continues. “I just want to lay in bed all day, is that too much to ask for?” He chuckes while observing the cute pout on your face. “Sadly it is too much to ask for.” His arm comes to swing around your shoulders down to your middle, and he pats your hip with the newspaper. Anyone watching your current state would think you’re brand new lovers in the honeymoon stage, but this has been going on for years.

“I heard there’s a festival in a couple days, are we going?” He’d already heard about it and knew you’d be dying to go. But the thought of going was so overwhelming for him, he wasn’t even sure if he could handle it. That many people, so many unfamiliar faces, there’s no telling what could happen. “We’ll talk about it.” That always means no, and you can’t help but let out a groan.

The day goes on and you finally get food, which was better than anything you’ve ever had. Jean didn’t dig in like you however, he seems to have a lot on his mind. “Whats up with you?” You ask through a mouthful of rice, any other day he’d scold you for your bad manners but he wasn’t in the mood. Together you sat at a table for two at a eatery that is rather empty, only a few workers and even less customers. “Do you ever think someone else should be doing my job?”

You should’ve known he would be doubting himself by now. Your love always fails to see his potential and strength, and it breaks your heart. He eyes are fixed on the bowl in front of him, his appetite quickly vanishing. The man felt sick and disappointed in himself. So far he hadn’t found out or accomplished as much as he had hoped for, and is afraid that he’s letting his friends down. Afraid he’s letting you down.

“That’s a stupid question,” you scold him with a scrunched face, “of course not! You were sent here for a reason, we all believe in you. Hell, they believe in me!” Jean doesn’t say anything, only lets out a soft laugh at your words. “What are you thinking about?” You reach across the table to grab his fidgeting hands, “tell me, please.”

Brown eyes finally land on you. He finds comfort in your touch and soft voice. “Uh, I’ve just been doubting myself lately. I feel like there’s never much to write back about, like everything is just a repeat from the letters before. There’s just something telling me that I can do more, but I just haven’t figured it out yet.” In all honesty, you felt the same about yourself. This move was all so hectic and a lot to take in, and sometimes it felt like you could be doing more.

“I understand, you know I do. This was a lot for the both of us and you can always talk to me. Personally, and you know I don’t lie to you, I think you’re doing a damn good job. Our circumstances are shit and you’re doing better than expected under all the pressure, give yourself more credit!” Your hands are waving in the air wildly as you rant with pure love.

Jean’s teeth are sunk into his bottom lip trying to suppress his smile. Somehow you always know what to say, and he admires that so much about you. “I love you so much.” A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you show a big smile, “I love you more, idiot.” He gets up from his seat across from you, quick to find his way to your side. Strong arms swoop to pick up your frame, as if his new bride, and you let out fits of giggles.

“What are you doing?” You ask with bright eyes. The small amount of people inside are watching the scene with crazy looks on their faces, but neither of you give a shit. He carries you out of the place as you continue to laugh, and reach up to ruffle his locks a few times. The man manages to carry you all the way home, setting you on your feet infront of the door way. “You should do that more often, be my personal carriage.” “Wouldn’t you just love that?” Sarcasm laced in his voice.

He opens the door with a key, that never works the first time, before kicking the door open and grabbing onto you once again. Your body is thrown over his shoulder as he enters your temporary home, then closing the door behind him. “Put me down, you dummy!” He does as you ask, dropping you onto your shared mattress. The light of the moon shines through the window onto your smiling face, and Jean thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. An even better sight than the ocean.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that right?” His compliment sends butterflies to your stomach. Before you can answer his lips are connecting to yours in a loving kiss. Hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to his frame. You two stay like that for a moment, kissing and grabbing at one another like hungry hormonal teens who’ve never had physical touch.

Once his lips move to your neck your eyes open, and a small whimper slips from you at the feeling of his soft mouth. “Did my words cheer you up that much?” You ask with a smirk, and you’re answered with a bite to your nape causing you to yelp. His hands have moved under your long skirt now, palming at your thighs. This man will forever know how to make you feel good, it’s as if he has a magic touch. Scratch that, he does have a magic touch.

“Isn’t Eren-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as he sucks at your collar bone, “Isn’t Eren supposed to be coming by?” Jean smiles against your skin, and he feels a shiver run through your body. “I guess we’ll just have to get started now, huh?”

-

A knock echos through the small home and you two scramble for your clothes. “Hold on!” You yell, and then accidentally fall over as you step into your skirt. Jean let’s out a snort at the scene, and you narrow your eyes at him, “I’m having trouble walking right now thanks to someone.” He smirks while buttoning up his shirt, “You weren’t complaining while I was doing it. I recall hearing a, ‘More Jean, please more!’” He mocks your words, in a high pitched voice, from the earlier events and you blush, but try to hide it with an annoyed look.

“Shut your trap and open the door.” He laughs and buttons the last of his shirt before opening the door. There stood Eren with a very knowing look on his face. The long haired man observes you two, and it’s very telling. Each of your manes are sticking in every direction, not to mention the room has that smell to it. “You knew I’d be here and you still couldn’t keep your hands off of each other?”

Jean’s face goes blank and so does yours, but it’s short lived before you’re letting out strings of laughter. He can’t help but smile as well, but his gaze is set on the floor to keep from further annoying Eren. “Oh cmon Eren, it’s a little funny.” He completely doesn’t agree with you, but you continue to giggle.

This has been a very long mission for Eren with the two of you. Atleast you both didn’t give a shit.

[thatshithurted8]

Out Of Character

Summary: In which JJ and the Pogues are left confused as to why you ran off with Barry’s money, but their worry only increases when they find you in a brand new hot tub at John B’s. 

Hey! I have another idea for a Jj imagine. What if the reader and jj are dating and instead of jj in the hot tub scene it’s the reader because her mom is abusing her. Requested by: @joshy-obx

Word Count: 2.1k 

Warnings: Mention of physical/verbal abuse, panic attack and injuries. 

Every member of the Pogues had their own respective roles, which made the group click so well. Kie was the mom of the group, always scolding the boys for doing something stupid while simultaneously giving out amazing advice. Pope was the smart and logical one, and despite him being the only one out of the group with a promising future he would do anything for his friends. John B was seemingly the leader of the five teenagers and he was known as being strong willed. He could get things done no matter what the risks were. JJ was the smart ass, but also the one who always got the group into trouble. No one could really relax around JJ as he was always causing trouble. And lastly there was you. Your role in the group was being the strong and optimistic one. When things got rough you were always the first one to look at the bright side, in fact none of the Pogues have ever seen you cry. 

So when you seemingly acted on pure impulse and adrenaline the rest of the Pogues were shocked and at a lack of words seeing you get defensive for stealing Barry’s money, causing you to ultimately run off with it. It wouldn’t be until later that night that they would understand the reasoning behind your actions. 

When you ran off naturally the Pogues searched for you since you were acting so out of character. However, JJ was the most worried. You two have been dating for the past year and have been friends for the last five. Over the years you and JJ have gotten extremely close so it alarmed him to see you act out. 

The four remaining Pogues plus Sarah all split up to look for you. Sarah and John B went together while Pope and Kie went off on their own as well. JJ went off by himself, making sure to check every spot he knew you would go to like where you guys went on your first date or where JJ would find you after you had a rough day at home and you needed to clear your head. Despite the groups efforts they couldn’t find you. 

Obviously JJ wasn’t going to give up on looking for you, but he hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning so he found himself walking up to the chateau. As he steps foot on the property the whole yard is illuminated by fairy lights strung throughout the trees. 

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, none of that stuff was there when they left this morning. The blonde rounds the corner and his heart drops when he sees you sitting in a brand new hot tub. 

“Y/N?” He calls out while walking over to you, his hunger being completely forgotten. 

“Yoo I’ve been waiting for you to get here!” You exclaim as your eyes fall onto your boyfriends figure. 

“What is all this?” The blonde asks reaching the hot tub while looking around at his surroundings. 

“I decided to get something nice for my family for once.” You slur. JJ looks around the hot tub and notices beer cans in the cup holders and some were even floating in the warm water. 

“Y/N you can’t be serious right? You stole money from a drug dealer and spent it on a fucking hot tub! He’s going to kill you.” JJ stresses, but you simply roll your eyes. 

Just as JJ was about to open his mouth to give you another lecture your attention moves to find the sound of a car door being shut. A smile appears on your face when you see your best friends Kie and Pope start to walk over to you two after Kie locked the car. 

“Hey what’s up guys!” You exclaim raising your arms above your head like a referee calling a field goal. 

“What the hell Y/N?” Kie asks as her and Pope make it over to JJ’s side who had his arms crossed over his chest and a furrow deep in his brow. Pope and Kie looked at JJ confused, but he only answered with a shrug, he was out of the loop as much as they were.

“I was hoping you guys would be coming! Hey look at this.” You say pressing a few buttons causing a disco ball above you that none of the Pogues noticed before to start spinning and the jets in the hot tub to splash upwards. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion when your friends don’t look amazed by the cool features in front of them. With that being said you really wanted to impress them and have them join you so with a swig of your beer you start to press random buttons hoping something cool would happen. 

“What the hell did she do?” Pope asks turning to JJ. 

“I don’t know man it was like this when I got here.” 

Kiara turns around to try and convince you to get out of the hot tub so they can understand what the hell happened and why you seemingly had a breakdown, but the sound of the screen door opening and closing causes you all to look over at the chateau. Your younger brother and sister run down the steps of the porch and race each other to the hot tub. This only causes JJ, Pope and Kie to become even more confused. It was a known fact that you didn’t allow the two kids to be out this late. After all you’ve been practically raising them since you were ten. 

“Y/N our movie finished can we come in?” Your brother Braxton asks dipping his hand into the warm water while your sister, Moira gave you puppy dog eyes.  

“Of course!” You exclaim while giggling, causing your siblings to turn around and race back into the chateau giggling, to get changed into their bathing suits. 

“Uh Y/N shouldn’t they be in bed?” Kie asks once the rambunctious kids were back inside and out of ear shot. 

“Who cares? My mom and step dad don’t and my dad doesn’t either so why should I?”

“What do you mean your dad doesn’t care?” JJ asks, the last time he checked your dad was living on the main land with your step mom and you guys were welcome to stay with him when ever. 

You simply roll your eyes and take another gulp of beer before throwing the now empty can somewhere in the yard. “I was going to ship Brax and Mo off to see my dad.” You slur while saying your siblings nicknames. 

“But when I called him all I got was voice mail. He says that we can come and visit when ever, but he doesn’t mean it. He’s too happy with his new family and we’d just ruin everything.” You recall sitting back into the warmth and jets of the tub while allowing your legs to float up, your toes poking out of the water. 

“Who cares right? Now we have this sick hot tub!” 

“You could’ve still got them plane tickets!” JJ exclaims, Kie cutting him off right after, “Or you could’ve donated the money to literally any charity!” 

“Or even give Barry the money back, he’s going to kill us you guys!” Pope stresses looking at everyone in the group. 

Annoyed with your boyfriend’s and best friends critiques to your actions you stand up quickly, water falling off of your body. “Well I didn’t okay! I spent the money on something my friends - no something my family can enjoy so if you guys are going to keep on judging me and my fucking decisions then leave!” 

Chills run up JJ’s spine at your speech and how your torso looked when you finally stood up. Along your stomach, especially around your rib cage were dark bruises and a few cuts. As Kie and Pope realize the damage done to your body as well, the yard falls silent except for the sound of crickets and the hot tubs jets. 

“Y/N.” JJ says softly stepping closer to the edge of the hot tub. He was filled with anger, knowing exactly who did this to you, but all he wanted to do was comfort you the same way you do when he endures a beating. 

Neither you or JJ notice Kie and Pope scurrying to the chateau’s porch to bring Braxton and Moira back inside who just came back out, clad in their swim suits. 

“It’s fine J.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. 

Your boyfriend kicks off his boots and socks before stepping into the hot tub, not caring that his cargo shorts and the contents in the pockets were now wet. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards your chest. Once your cheek makes contact with his shirt you let the emotions that you have held in for so long out. 

JJ knew your home life wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t know it was this bad. You have always been so strong. Even when he would meet you at your special spot in the boneyard when you were having a rough night you never even implied that you were getting physically abused. Yes, he knew your coked up mom and step dad were both verbally abusive which was still horrible he had no idea things have gotten physical. A part of JJ felt as if he let you down since he had no inkling as to what was happening to you when you were at home, causing a part of his heart to break especially knowing you have been there bandaging up his cuts and scrapes from his father while your own bruises and injuries were healing themselves. 

“I just wanted to be a good sister for once and get them out of there, but it didn’t work nothing ever works.” 

“Hey hey look at me.” JJ says pulling back and holding your face in his large hands. “You are a great sister to Braxton and Moira. Without you they would have nothing. You are the best thing that has happened to them and they love you so much.” 

You simply look into your boyfriends eyes with tears falling down your face. Seeing you like this made JJ’s heartache. “You know that right?” He asks to make sure since you didn’t look too convinced from what he said. 

In all honesty you knew how much your siblings valued and loved you, but life was tough. You never signed up to be Moira’s and Braxton’s primary caregiver, especially at such a young age. Nonetheless you had to do what you had to do, you had to play with the cards you were dealt. However, at this point you were so tired. So tired of playing mom, balancing school, searching for the gold and being the brunt of the physical and verbal abuse from your mom and step dad. You wanted to give up, but the way JJ looked at you made you realize that you couldn’t.

Nodding your head yes you let out another sob before pulling JJ closer to you. 

- 

JJ walks out of his bedroom where you were currently sleeping, and he makes sure to close the door behind him quietly. He walks down the hallway into the living room where he found Kie, Pope, John B and Sarah. The rooms atmosphere felt tense as all the teenagers were concerned and worried for you. 

The blonde was successful in calming you down and getting you out of the hot tub after your emotional moment. He ran you a bath and bathed you while your body continued to tremor from the after shock of your panic attack. While he dried you off and bandaged your injuries John B and Sarah returned, confused as the other Pogues just an hour before. Kie explained to the couple what happened as Pope tiptoed out of John B’s room where Braxton and Moira were sleeping, he just got them to fall asleep. 

“How is she?” Sarah asks quietly, worry evident all over her face once she see’s JJ walk into the room. The rest of the Pogues look up at the blonde expectantly. 

“She’s as good as she can be right now.” JJ says quietly while walking over to the screen door where his boots were. The four teenagers watch him as he slips them on. 

“Where are you going?” John B asks.

“If Y/N wakes up tell her I’ll be back soon.” JJ says ignoring John B’s question before opening the door and walking down the steps of the front porch. 

JJ was going to make sure that your step dad and mom never laid a finger on you or your siblings ever again. 

- 

Question of the day: What is your “role” in your friend group? 

[swan-of-sunrise]

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers:  None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent​ @momc95​ @brooke0297​ @kinda-c0nfused​ @outoftheregular

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (02)

word count; 10,121

summary; after getting out to a rough call with newt, resulting in some unpleasant injuries, thomas jumps to a few conclusions.

notes; i don’t have anything to say here.

warnings; reference to violence, reference to gang activity, reference to injury.

“Can I have a cookie?” You motioned to the plate before you, and Fry never looked up from where he was working, nodding his head as he danced to the music in the kitchen, singing loudly to the song on the radio as he prepared everyone a lunch.

Picking up one of the biscuits, you smiled to yourself, before a hand was slapping on yours roughly, the biscuit falling to the floor, and you yelped, rubbing at the stinging skin of your hand as you looked up.

“Hey!” Brenda was cringing a little, seemingly feeling bad for her action, and you stared at the broken biscuit at your feet, before looking back to her. “What was that for?”

“They’re not real Oreos.” Your brows furrowed, looking at the pile once again as you picked up the abandoned one from the floor, walking around her to dump it in the bin, and she shrugged a little. “I filled them with toothpaste, to mess with Chuck. He always wants a snack after he finishes the chores, and Gally has him cleaning the bathroom.”

“So, why does he get messed up Oreos for that?” You questioned, following her to the couch as she grabbed her coffee and wandered away, and you settled in beside her.

“Because every candidate that comes through this house has to be pranked by everyone, it’s tradition. He won’t graduate until he has.”

You grinned, shaking your head fondly at those antics. “Okay, so what has everyone else done so far?”

A wicked look passed over her face, the room crowding with people and it seemed that everybody as gathering discreetly, seeming to know that there was going to be a prank going down. “Gally and Newt teamed up, they had Gally pretend to fall on a wet floor that he didn’t put a sign out on, and Newt faked the injury to be worse than it was. Poor kid freaked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your laughter, and she shrugged.

“Thomas got a bag of dark brown dog hair from the groomers and tipped it over the shower door while Chuck was showering, he thought he was losing his hair, and he smelt like wet dog for days. He screamed like a little girl.” You laughed loudly at that one, unable to contain it, even if it was done by someone you hated because there was no denying that it was creative as hell. “Minho put slime in his locker, Frypan put bubble wrap in his boots right before a call, and he was popping with every step, hilarious. I don’t remember the rest.”

She waved a hand, sipping her coffee, and the room went quiet as an exhausted-looking Chuck entered the room, red cheeks from the exertion and sweating a little. The room went quiet, everybody’s gaze falling to Chuck discreetly as he crossed the room, and Fry kept singing.

“Oh, cool, Oreos. Can I have one?”

“Sure, kiddo.” Brenda piped up, and Chuck beamed, picking one up, bringing it t his mouth, before pulling it away, squinting slightly and frowning, and every breath in the room was held. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re kinda’ soft. Do you not know how to sore cookies?” He waited, before a smirk spread over his face. “Are these old? Like, really old? This is a prank, isn’t it?”

Her jaw dropped, and speechless for a moment as she fumbled for an excuse, and you cleared your throat. “They’re all good, I just had one. Probably just the steam from the kitchen.”

“Oh, okay.” He took you at your word, placing the whole cookie into his mouth and biting down, perfectly content for a moment, a few chews in, before his face was screwing up, and he was gagging, spitting the handful back out. “God damn it!”

The room broke out on raucous laughter, almost deafeningly so, and Brenda held her hand up to you, offering a high five for your contribution to the prank, coffee almost slopping over the edge of her mug form the ferocity with which she was cracking up in amusement.

“You all suck!” He spun around, fake anger in his tone as he grinned, pointing at you. “Especially you! I expected more!”

That only made everyone crack up a little more, and while it was still funny, it made you realise that he hadn't expected it form you, because you weren’t a real part of the team yet. You were still an outsider, you weren’t one who was expected to make pranks and join in with team activities, and your laughter dulled a tad. You weren’t angry or bitter about it, just a little disappointed at the flicker you found burning in your chest as you realised Newt had given you hope, and inspiration, his speech from only a week ago still tinging clearly in your mind, and you didn’t like that feeling, because getting connected to a team only made it that much harder when you were inevitably rejected.

He shook his hand off over the trash, a scowl on his face at the half-chewed snack that was scraped away, and Thomas came over, a smile larger than you’d ever seen him wear before, to lock his arm around the younger boy’s neck affectionately, knuckles ruffling his hair as he squirmed.

“Hey, Chuck, keep up this kind of morale and you’ll do great on squad.”

“Maybe he’ll choose to stay with truck!” Gally voiced, the room splitting wit amusement once again as an easy and lighthearted argument broke out, all in joked, about which team was better. Feeling a nudge on your thigh, you looked back to the woman facing you, her brows raised a little, sipping at her drink once again.

“What’s with the look on your face?”

“What do you mean?” You shifted to face her more fully, the crowds dissipating now the excitement was over, all going about their determined tasks, and she shrugged a little.

“You just have this look on your face. Like you’re happy but sad, nostalgic but bittersweet. You get it sometimes, when you’re looking at us all.” You sighed, not realising she was able to read you so well she was just like Newt, smart and intuitive, and you nibbled on your lower lip as you thought about your next words.

“It’s just nice to see you all like this. Happy and confident with each other, you’re a family.” You looked around, finding Newt, his attention focused on a conversation with Minho, and you remembered what he said, sighing a little as your mind was spinning and confused. “Maybe one day I’ll be part of that too, y’know?”

“You’re already a part of this family! You got a shirt with the logo on and everything.” You rolled your eyes at her joke, lips twisted into a gentle smile.

“No, I’m not.” She looked like she wanted or argue, but the look on your face silenced her, clearly not finished speaking. “I haven’t earned my way into this family, you don’t really know me, you don’t know if you want to welcome me yet. I’ll know when I am, if I deserve to be, I’ll know it.”

“You know, that's kind of poetic.” You scoffed at her claim, punching at her arm softly. “I think you’ll fit in perfectly, when that moment comes.”

You grinned, jaw dropping to thank her for her faith in you, before the alarm overhead was going off, and you were silenced, the room flailing to the same state, as you listened for what was happening. Only ambulance was called for, everybody else seeming t let out a sigh of relief, except for your friend across the room, who groaned loudly, before his chair was scraping across the floor as he stood.

“Up and at it, girly, let’s go!” He clapped his hands, and you struggled to unfold your legs to match his pace, his long strides already taking him to the door as you fumbled to follow him, his next words thrown over his shoulder; “I’ll start driving away without you if you don’t hurry up!”

“I’m coming, just wait!” You yelled, pushing through the doors as you grabbed your jacket, pulling the lightweight blue material up your arms, spinning around from backing out backwards, and crashing right into a solid wall. You groaned, stumbling a little, before a sneer was thrown in your direction.

“Watch where you’re going, would you?” The words were growled out lowly, Thomas stepping around you to continue on without waiting, and you huffed at his actions.

“It was clearly an accident!” He didn’t react, continuing to walk away from you, and your eyes were rolling before you could stop yourself. “Oh, get over yourself.”

He still didn’t reply, head held high, and that only irritated you more, as though you weren’t even worth his time, continuing towards the vehicle, engine already running from the second that your door slammed shut, Newt was putting the van into action. Strapping yourself in as he spun out of the firehouse courtyard.

Grabbing the monitor in front of you, the device was pinging with notifications, reading off every update that was coming in from the public and the police about what it was that the two of you were about to head into. It was a mess, you could tell straight from the off as reports continued to come in about what you were facing, skipping through it all to find details on what was actually calling you to the scene.

“Okay, we got a stab wound, it seems. A street fight, started between two guys, friends got involved, pedestrians got involved.”

“Probably some kind of gang activity.” Newt sighed, already seeming to prepare himself for the situation, and you weren’t unfamiliar with that kind of groups around this area, the rougher the neighbourhood got, the more vicious the groups became, and it certainly wasn’t a surprise as you began to pull through the harder-going roads.

There were blue lights flashing through the air before you’d even pulled up, crowds in the street, and Newt hit the brakes as he avoided hitting anybody, fighting to get through the scene. “What the fuck?”

The streets were blocked, you couldn’t even see the centre of the commotion yet, and a set of police officers came fighting through the crowds to find you. “I guess the fight spilled into the street, and cars got blocked.”

The second your window was rolled down, the noise became unimaginably high, screaming and shouting, the sirens of the cars going off and megaphones over the commotion as the police tried to break it all up. “There’s no way you’re getting through here, we can clear you a pathway, but it’ll take a few minutes, and I wouldn't recommend leaving your van in this area.”

You turned to look at Newt, his brow raising as you tried to work out what to do. Spinning your gaze back out across the crowds, you assessed the situation, barely even able to see the centre, and nobody was parting for the cars to get through, trying to create a pathway to get to the centre. The stabbing victim was undoubtedly going to be going to the hospital, and was likely going to be too injured to fight back through the crowds, and so the likelihood and needing the stretcher was raised high.

“You stay with the truck, I’ll go and do an initial assessment, drive up and meet me.”

“There is no way I’m letting you out alone in that. You’ll never make it out.” You huffed, but your lips flicked up a little at the edges form his concern, unbuckling yourself from your seat and edging yourself through the centre console to the back of the vehicle. “Come and sit back down, right now!”

“Someone’s gotta’ go out there, Newt, or we’re going to be answering questions on why we let someone die of a stab wound.” Lifting your bag onto your shoulder, you secured both straps over your arms, tight enough not to fall, and unlocking the back doors from the inside. “I’m already up now, you wanna’ stop me, you’ll have to catch me first.”

Hopping out and into the edges of the crowds you’d pulled up to, you made sure the latch was on, that the doors couldn't be opened unless it was by Newt himself, slamming them closed, and rounding the vehicle find the police officer who’d come to talk to you both in the first place. The blond was glaring at you from the driver's seat, shaking his head at your actions, even though you both knew it was the only way, and somebody’s life was on the line.

The crowds weren’t all that tough to get through at first, following the man in front of you, but as the crowds got rougher and the shouting got louder, you lost sight of him, trying to pick out the colour of his shirt or the hat atop his head, but it was impossible. Jostled from side to side, it got harder to fight your way through the hoards, and you were beginning to use your elbows to nudge people out of the way, fighting your way through.

An elbow, maybe a fist, you weren’t sure, but something solid collided with your side, a grunt leaving you as pain flared up, and you clamped your own arm down over the spot, pushing through the people. It was the first of many, your jaw clenches to deal with it as more spots across your body sparked with patches that would become dull aches in hours, the rioting growing stronger and more intense as the circle of people around you became a more personal addition to the aggressions. You’d have bruises on your shoulders later in the day, the abuse they were receiving as you tried to push through, one hand covering your face, and just like that, you were finding the eye of the storm, the battering you’d been receiving coming to a halt as you broke into the middle.

There was a man on the floor, everybody else being held back by police officers around the small scene, and you swallowed thickly, the barriers looking like they would break at any moment. You couldn't tell who was who, which of the men gathered here were friends of the man, and which ones wanted to kill him, and you were sure that the man who’d down the stabbing was probably in the crowds watching.

Kneeling beside him, you took in the scene, grimacing a little as your knee became sticky, the fabric covering it sticking to your skin with a growing stain as the pool of blood the man had released began to soak into your trousers. “Hi there, I’m a paramedic, and I need you to let me look, okay?”

His head turned to you, a snake on his lips, spitting blood at the ground by your body, and you sighed. Not a surprise, the gangs didn’t often take kindly to groups like firemen and the police, or the paramedics, being that they were mostly going against the law and the public interest, their own form of rebellion, and you did not serve those interests well.

“Alright, listen, you have two choices here.” He huffed, rolling his eyes as his head lay back against the concrete, blood seeping between his fingers from the wound as he coughed and your timer seemed to kick up a notch. “The police are holding these guys back, but I bet you can see at least one person out there who doesn’t want you to get better, am I right? Now, you’ve removed the knife, so you’re bleeding out, and nothing is stopping that, your hands aren’t even in the right place for putting pressure one it. So, either you get your hands out of the way and let me look, or you hope that you bleed to death before that wall breaks and someone comes to finish you off. Which is it going to be?”

He groaned, his body jerking and a cry leaving his lips as his hands fell away, and you nodded your head, a pair of rubber gloves being pulled onto your hands, trying to take a look. It was bleeding far too quickly for you to get any idea about what was happening, thick and dark blood, not the best sign, and you dragged a finger along his skin gently until you found the tear, the shrill cry he made signalling your location, and you measured it as best you could with your finger.

“Well, the good news is, your wound is only about a half-inch across, and it feels pretty clean, there’s no tearing. Smaller knife, huh?”

“Didn’t feel like such a small knife when I was being fucking stabbed.” He hissed, your brow raising, and you let out a light laugh.

“Oh, deadman’s got jokes, huh? That’s good, you’re holding on. for now.”

“If I’m a deadman, then you’re not very good at your job, are you?” His words were wheezed out, and you grinned, lifting his hand to place over the right place, pushing down on it roughly, and he cursed you in another language under his breath, gurgling a little as he did but holding the pressure.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll have you fixed up real quick. You’re going to have to go to the hospital, but I’ll keep you alive ‘til then.” Slipping your bag down your arms, you opened it up, the first set you opened being a leather foldout of tools, unwrapping the knot and letting it fall open, filled with different instruments. With fingers hovering over them, bloody digits picking up a pair of scissors. Lining them up at the edge of his shirt, you looked back up to him, noting the way his eyes were rolling a little. “Hope you weren’t too attached to this shirt, because it’s not going to make it.”

He only grumbled, his hand barely flinching when you lifted it to place on the ground, and the speed at which blood was bubbling up from the gash across his flesh was slowing down, concerningly so. Cutting away his shirt, tanned skin was smeared with drying blood, a frown on your lips, and you hummed to yourself under your breath.

“You still with me there?”

He groaned again, and you hurried your work as much as you could. Grabbing at a handful of bandaging, you left it scattered across your lap, the first package being torn open and beginning to wipe up the blood that was seeping from his injury the rags becoming soaked as you worked, and as you cleared at the darker blood staining his skin, you began to reach the fresh red, lesser as you want, his skin paling around the sever in his flesh. Picking up his wrist, the veins were fading, no longer visible directly under the skin, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as panic set in.

“Hey, c’mon, now. I need you to hold on for me, alright?” He twitched a finger, the hand laying on the concrete became a fist, and you picked up an antibacterial wipe, fingers shaking a little as you tried to open the packet, and it felt like the screaming around you was getting louder, everything going into overdrive. “Look, my partner will be here in one second, and we’ll get you on the stretcher, and get you to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay.” His words were raspy, laboured through the liquid building in his throat as he tried to speak, but you were relieved to hear anything at all.

“This is going to hurt, alright?” He didn’t respond to that, but he made what you assumed was supposed to be a scream as you wiped over the cut, apologising quietly as he thrashed with what energy he had left, and the movements caused a surge more blood to spew from the wound. Looking up, you found the front of the white van, your ambulance number printed in dark blue lettering across the front, a relieved sigh making itself known from your throat as the driver’s seat was empty, and Newt would be here in a moment. “Alright, we’re going to get you on a stretcher now, alright?”

“‘Bout time.”

You laughed breathily, his head twisting toward you, and a pang of guilt shot through you as you really took a moment to observe him. He couldn't be any older than fifteen, he was still just a kid, and you tried to suppress the nausea that was twisting in your gut at the idea of a kid dying on your watch. “When we do, we’re going to roll you onto your side, just for a split second. When we do, I want you to cough. Hard as you can. It’ll hurt, but we can get some blood out of your throat. Can you do that?”

His hand twitched again, wet breaths as he loved the fist to sit on its side thumb raising weakly to conform he understood in what was the most pitiful and depressing use of a ‘thumbs up’ that you had ever seen. Using one hand to put pressure on the wound, you tried to pack up your kit with the other, cries leaving him as he finally let his youth show through, not enough strength to hide it anymore and clean tears were being left along the dirt and blood on his cheeks from the tears that were rolling free, gasping for breath as he struggled to even breathe.

The shouting took up again, loudly, a sudden combustion of violent and terrified screams, you twisted your head to glance over your shoulder, catching a flash of movement, before a solid hand landed on your shoulder and you were being torn backwards, a yelp on your lips. You were steady, for only a moment, legs flexing underneath you s you were partially lifted from the flood in the grip, before you were landing on your side, your arm crossed under you and the bruised side of your ribs was battered even more, a pained scream, before it was cut off as the side of your head hit the ground to follow.

Your ears were ringing, head pounding from the collision with the pavement and eyes a little blurry as you watched the man who’d dashed forward be tackled by two sides of blue, pinned to the floor by officers as the crowd roared in a combination of thrilled and angered hollers. You groaned, every muscle in your body feeling weak for a moment, and your eyes watered at the burn along your side increased tenfold, now a throbbing agony.

A gentler hand now, rolling you over, and you blinked up at whoever it was, managing to decipher Newt as your vision cleared. His mouth was moving, and you could somewhat understand him, your hands finding the floor again as you pushed yourself to sit up, his hand smoothing around to your back as he helped you.

“Newt, get the kid.”

“Are you okay?” He persisted, the stretcher long abandoned, and you nodded your head, despite the pain it caused.

“It’s a kid, Newt! Get the kid, I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look so convinced, shaking his head a little, before you were pushing him away, taking a moment to catch your breath as it had been forced from your lungs, and he did as told. You heard the cough, and the velcro-sounds of the neck brace being put on him, the young boy groaning as he was moved, and you decided that if he still had the energy, then you did too.

Making a fist, you braced yourself for support, pushing up from the ground and staggering to your feet, feeling a little weak as the pain travelled your body, but you could handle it, and as the kid was adjusted on the strong yellow blackboard for the stretcher, you made your way to the other side. Taking a hold of one handle, and Newt stared up at you. His jaw dropped to argue, a slight shake of your head silencing him, and he frowned again.

“You ready?”

“Are you?” He retorted, and you locked your hands over the other handle, watching as he mirrored your stance, bent at the knees and ready to halt him up onto the trolley.

“Lift on three, alright?” He did the count down, and you bit on your tongue to keep your complaints and pain to yourself, lifting the board with the boy up and securing it onto the folding trolley, trying not to jerk him too much as you strapped him down.

“You know, it’s going to be worse getting out then it was getting in. Lotta’ them don’t want him to leave.”

You had already braced yourself for that, the back of the ambulance only ten metres away, and you had to reach it, strap him in, and get the doors closed, before you were safe and could get to the hospital. Pushing the vehicle along together, you were grabbed at, ducking fists and avoiding kicks as you struggled through. Newt moved first, unlocking the back of the van and rolling down the ramp again, grabbing the front of the truck while you pushed from the back, pulling him up until the wheels locked into their place.

He moved to the front, the engine starting up as you retrieved the ramp and pulled the doors closed, watching as hands were snapped out of the way when you showed no regards for trapping or breaking fingers. The second they were shut, you locked them, jerking a little and trying to catch yourself as the van went into motion.

Leaning over the boy before you, a hand on the top of the vehicle to hold yourself steady, you let out a relieved breath as he blinked, eyes turning to look at you. Your first move was getting a heart rate band on his arm pushing up his sleeve as the shredded material of his shirt hung open, and he didn’t even move as the cuff was placed around his upper arm, squeezing tightly. The machine above you clicked into life as it gained date, a steady and alarmingly relaxed heart rate ringing out, and you were determined to do something about that. Lifting down an oxygen mask and twisting the tank on, you lifted his head, securing the band around his skull and ignoring the throbbing within your own as the mask settled over his mouth.

Now, you could move to the wound. Barely patched up, the quickest job either of you could do in the middle of the riot, you had time to focus now, trying to hold yourself steady as your body trembled angrily and the vehicle swung around corners, sirens blaring as you rushed to the hospital. “Jeez, Newt, can you hold us steady?”

“Sorry! I’m trying!”

You only huffed, meeting his eye in the mirror as he looked back to you, a slight twinkle in them despite it all, raised at the edges to show a smile you couldn't see. Focusing back on the injured kid before you, the wrapping on his stomach was carefully removed, the bleeding somewhat under control, but you were putting that down to a worrying amount of blood loss, his sin going pale, eyelid drooping as he barely clung to consciousness, and you began to try and keep it as well closed as you possibly could while you approached where he could get real care.

Plastic stitches, strong enough to attach to either side of the wound and pull it shit, sticky and resilient on the hold, and they sealed it up enough to stop the copious amounts of blood that had been coming through, narrowing it down to small beads. Grabbing for a larger, cleaner patch of gauze to cover the injury, for now, you doused it with an antibacterial, the product being just wet enough to soak into his wound, before pressing it over his cut and sealing down to his skin, the paper tape fastened it and you let out a sigh of relief.

His heart rate was stabilising, it wasn’t ideal but he was at least reaching a level he could hold, and you slumped down into the seat as you felt newt begin to slow down, picking up the radio on his dashboard to call it in as the roads narrowed and became a little more calm, approaching the hospital. Newt was talking in the front, reciting everything that he could about the boy’s injury, and he wasn’t in much of a state to tell you much about his blood type or allergies right now.

A hand reached out, locking onto your wrist, and your eyes snapped up to find the young boy, his head rolled to the side to look at you, it was a weak grip, a somewhat distant look in his eyes, and you shook your head as you watched him reach up to try and remove the mask. Doing it for him, you removed it carefully, placing it over his chin, and he coughed a little with the sudden change in air consistencies, but it was a healthier and dryer sounding cough than it had been.

“Thank you.” You barely caught the words, your brows furrowing as you took a minute to decipher what he’d said, still not believing it when you worked it out, but the earnest look in his eyes said it all. Brushing some of the sweat and grime matted hair back out of his face, you sighed, placing the mask back over his mouth gently, and trying to offer him the most reassuring smile you could.

“You gotta’ get out of this lifestyle, kid. You’re young enough to change everything, still. You could still get good grades, go to college, do something great.” He stared at you, confusing flittering through dull eyes as you spoke. “You don’t have to still be doing this in ten years, you can stop.”

He shook his head, looking as though he attempted to speak again, and you didn’t allow it, knowing he needed to just rest for the final few moments.

“I know you feel like there’s no way out, and that the other boys in the gang are your family. You need a healthy family, a supportive family, not a family who let you get stabbed. I know a thing or two about taking any family you can get, but you have to find the right one, okay?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, looking away from you, and you were certain that you’d hit a brick wall, but his hand slipped down from your wrist to your own, squeezing tightly as he nodded his head, eyes sliding closed, and you could feel Newt’s gaze flicking back and forth to you as he pulled up to the front of the hospital, clearly having heard your words, but you never looked at him, keeping your eyes on the kid whose life you were saving.

The second that the vehicle stopped, you were out of it, like a flash, unlocking the doors and unrolling the ramp, freeing the stretcher wheels from their locks. Uncuffing the band on his arm and oxygen mask from around his head, it was left to dangle uselessly, cleaned for later so that you could roll him into the hospital. Two nurses met you at the door, taking the stretcher and walking him away, letting you spew off any extra facts you could think of, his eyes sticking to yours for a final moment, before he was disappearing behind a curtain that was dragging shut, and you could finally feel yourself breathe easy again as he fell into expert hands.

You let out a long sigh, turning to face Newt, who was in much the same position as you were; a little battered and bruised, totally frazzled, and in desperate need of a rest now.

“You ready to go?”

“Not ‘til you get checked out yourself.” He motioned a hand along your body, and you looked down at yourself, arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re going to say something like ‘they’re only bruises, Newt’ or ‘it’s not that big of a deal’, well, maybe they are and maybe it’s not, but we’re not leaving until you get it checked. I have this worry you, like, broke a rib, or something.”

You gaped at him, hating how well he knew you, and he smirked as he stared back, raising a challenging brow and crossing his own arms, completing the stare down, the battle of wills, that you were both having. He was just as stubborn as you were, unwilling to back down, and you gave in, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slumped. “Fine, I’ll get my ribs checked, but only if you get that ankle checked.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me ank-”

“So, you didn't get kicked in your bag leg while loading the ambulance? And, you haven’t been favouring the other since we left?” He scowled, throwing an arm over your shoulders and letting the slight limp show as the two of you walked over to the nurses’ desk.

“I don’t like how you turned that one me.”

“What are friends for, huh?” He turned to you, leaning against the counter as you aired for assistance, and he beamed.

“Oh, so you admit that we’re friends, now? You know, that’s one step closer to wanting to stay.” There were more words on his tongue, you could practically already hear them, something about a ‘family’ no doubt, a joke about the conversation he’d overheard between you and the patient, but he was interrupted before he could get the chance. A nurse he knew, sweet eyes and a name tag with ‘Allison’ written on, and she guided you both to separate beds, only a curtain to separate you, and yet as you rested against the cushions, you already felt like you could fall asleep right there, relieved just to get off of your feet.

Your head was hanging, eyes slipping shut a little, and you startled when the curtain was dragged back open, the metal hooks scraping over the bar holding it up, and you jumped, looking up at the doctor before you. Dark hair, tanned skin, and a sweet smile on his lips as he held his hand out to you to shake. His name followed, introducing himself as a ‘Doctor McCall’, and he pulled up a chair, the wheels rolling over the floor as he took a seat before you to let you explain what happened.

Undoing the buttons on your shirt, he shook his head with a bashful smile and a falsely judgemental eyes as he took in the extent of the damage, and as you looked down at the dark purple bruising beginning to spread over your skin, and the swelling taking lace, you realised you may have underestimated the damage. Perhaps it was a good thing to have Newt looking out for you. You weren’t used to that.

He pressed along your skin gently, the rubber gloves on his hands cold and making your twitch, silence going by for a few seconds as he tested your breathing, listened into your chest, and watched you raised and move your arms, trying to be honest about your pain when he asked, and when it flared up.

He decided you didn't have a broken rib, a diagnosis you were grateful for, because the longer it took, the more it felt like Newt may actually have been right. It was simply bad swelling, a collection that would take at least two weeks to start truly dying down, but you were cleared for duty as long as you tried to take it easy. He cleaned the cut along your hairline, paper stitches standing out in a stark contrast to your skin that you soon covered with your hair, and with a few painkillers in you and a schedule for more, as well as a prescription for some bruise cream, you were sent on your way.

Newt was already waiting, staring disdainfully at the contraption on his foot, and regardless of the pain it caused, you laughed loudly as he turned the glare and scowl on you. “I have to wear this bloody thing for a week, thanks to you!”

“I think you look stylish.” You teased, and he scoffed.

“It’s annoying already, and it makes my foot itch. I hate it.” You only rolled your eyes, but even at the awkward steps he was taking with the pressure-holding and padded velcro boot he wore, he was no longer limping, and that was a good thing.

“You know, I’m going to have to drive. You’ll press all the pedals at once with that thing on.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but could clearly tell you were right, and his shoulders slumped even further as you held out your hand, watching him fish through his pockets to find the keys, and handing them over reluctantly.

The ride back to the station was filled with music and quiet chatter, you telling Newt all about this kid and his sense of humour, and the great thing you thought he could one day do, and he was happy to listen, telling you about some of the other patients he'd worked on himself, as the current chart-toppers played quietly in the background, keeping your moods high and upbeat.

You couldn't deny that it was nice, to have someone to consider a friend, someone you could rely on, and with every case you worked - today’s in particular - you were finding yourself trusting Newt more and more. He was someone who made you laugh, he had a sharp sense of humour but gave you the harsh truths you needed, even when you didn’t want to hear them, and yet he still cared about you, that much was clear, and you were finding yourself starting to care about him, too.

You both groaned as you pulled into the driveway, watching the delivery truck for pharmaceutical supplies arrive, and it wasn’t a lot of boxes, but you still had paperwork and the cleaning of the truck to do, as well as unpack all the new supplies into the station medical kits and the van, and you stared at one another for a second. He offered his hands in a battle of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ for it, and yet you knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

“You go inside, and put some ice on your ankle. Do all the paperwork, and I’ll sort the supplies and the van out.”

“Yeah?” He perked up a little at the offer, sitting up in his seat as you parked the van properly and handed him his keys back, both of you hopping out of the car, and walking around together to the front of the vehicle.

“Yes, I’ll go sign for everything and get them to bring it inside, you go find ice.”

He grinned, ruffling your hair with one hand, and you sighed, rolling your head from side to side to loosen the knots forming, before heading over to where the delivery man was waiting. As he began unloading the boxes inside of the garage doors, you checked over the list, ticking off in your head everything that had been gathered, and what they hadn't been able to get a hold of, signing your name at the bottom of several pieces of paper, and handing it back to him. He tipped his cap at you, a sweet older man that always made you laugh, and you waved him off as he left, hands falling to your hips as you stared at the boxes.

You were left with your thoughts, trying to come up with a game plan, and your body was desperately screaming out for a shower, when a loud shout of your name echoed around the bay, loud enough that you’d have been able to hear it from the other end of the station, your head snapping up.

Thomas was staring at you, pure fire in his eyes, that made you gulp, and he stormed toward you with determination, stopping a few feet away. “What the fuck is that?”

“Uh, supplies?”

“Not the fucking boxes, the boot on Newt’s leg.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and everyone in the room who had been working on the trucks and the tables around fell quiet, the silence so tense you swore you’d be able to hear a pin drop. “He has a bad leg, you already knew that, and yet you let him get injured. What kind of fucking partner are you?”

“That’s not fair! We-”

“That’s not fair? No, what’s not fair is knowing that Newt has done everything he can to make you feel welcome here, to try and drag you kicking and screaming into a house you don’t want to be in, and at which you're not wanted, and this is how you repay him?” That stung, your jaw snapping shut as you swallowed thickly, eyes flicking over the other people who had all gone stock still, hoping if they just observed and didn’t get noticed, they wouldn't fall victim to Thomas’ sudden wrath too.

You got it, you truly did. Thomas and Newt were the best of friends, ever since they were kids. Newt had told you the story of how they'd practically been ‘friends since the sandbox’, and you did feel awful for what happened to him, but it wasn't your fault.

“You want to be a part of this team? You want to make it here? Then you need to start acting like a member of a team, and start looking out for people other than yourself.”

He stormed away, spinning on his heel, and your nails were digging into your palms from how tightly your fists were clenched. You weren’t going to make a scene, or breakdown and give him the satisfaction. Instead, you held your head high, making your way to the showers to be alone with your thoughts and wash up, to try and soothe the aching pains along your body, and the aching pain in your chest from his harsh words.

Turning on the hot water, your eyes squeezed shut, letting out a long and shaky breath as you tried to let go of your emotions. You were trembling slightly, unsure whether it was from the way you’d been spoken to, the events of the day, or simply the pain in your body, but dipping your head under the water, you breathed out happily at the hot water beating down against you.

You were tense, muscles stiff and joints practically locked as you tried to relax, and you could have dozed off from the very second that your eyes closed. It was a struggle to simply find the motivation to wash yourself off, water dripping from the tip of your nose and your shin as you looked down, eyelashes feeling heavy and clumpy as you stared at your feet, a tint to the water as the dirt often day washed off.

There was a cut on your knee, brushing along your thigh and your knuckles were torn from your collision with the ground, but luckily, they were all small cuts that would heal very quickly. The bruises would take longer, your side littered with them now, one big bruise that was stretching from your hips to under your arms, fanning around your stomach and as far as your bak in all different shades of splotchy severity.

It hurt to lift your arms and wash your hair, and it hurt even more to scrub your body, stretching muscles gourd and cleaning at the skin. When you finally got out, trying to rub some simple cream into you face and comb your hair, the edge of your t-shirt held between your teeth to keep it up as you stared at the markings in the mirror, a patch wiped in the steam on the glass to be able to see, a tube of cream from your personal medkit open in your hand, and you weren’t sure you even had enough left to cover a patch this large.

You gave it your best go, starting in the middle where it hurt the most and working out toward the edges, eyes lined with tears as your fingers pressed to the skin, rubbing the cream until it was warm and could distribute more evenly across your skin, pain flaring up with each patch you touched. It felt as though it was on fire, even as you lowered your shirt. That pain took a while to rescind, you had pulled on your boots and tied back what you could of the still slightly damp hair, knowing that you’d never be able to hold up a hairdryer long enough to get it dry anyway.

The speakers overhead chirped twice, a melody that was different to the alarm that asked you to go to call, but this one was something that always brought joy, telling you that it was time for you to go home. The end of the day, the next shift coming in, your team leaving as House ‘21’s Team Two came in to take over. You grabbed your hoodie from your locker, no longer needing to look as professional, but knowing that you still weren’t going home anytime soon, you needed to at least be wrapped up warm.

You still had supplies to unpack, and a van to clean, blood dripped on the floor and equipment to be sterilised, and as you left the locker room, you swung by the cleaning cupboard, a bucket of supplies under your arm as you went. A lot of your team were still hanging around as you exited, getting ready to leave as the first of the other team began to trickle in, making sure there were always enough people left here to hand over in case there was a poorly timed call.

The fire teams had it reasonably lucky, each team shared the same squad or truck vehicles, but the ambulances were separate, and so you’d only loathe yourself if you didn’t do it now, and had to come in early before your next shift to sort it.

Unlocking the back doors, you opened it up, unfolding the ramp and lifting each individual bottle out of the bucket to line them up along the back of the truck. The mop bucket was left empty, and you knew you’d have to clean the floors, but you wanted to get everything else done first. Stripping the sheets from the stretcher, still stained with blood, and the plastic sheet underneath too, you grabbed a new wrapping from the hatch over the bed, covering the simple mattress that was laid over the metal bars.

Dropping the dirty rags onto the cold stone floor outside of the van, you grabbed at a bottle of disinfectant spray, shaking it as you went, and popping the top off of it. You sprayed everything, covering the inside of the mask and the outside, every surrounding piece of equipment, anything the man may have touched, or that you might have while wearing bloodied gloves, all the way to the handles on the insides of the doors.

You sprayed the seats, too, knowing that you’d had blood on yourself as you’d sat there, and the smell of bleach and chemicals was making your eyes sting and your throat feel itchy and blocked, but at least it was clean. Dropping that back down, you found some cloth and glass cleaner next, the windows and the mirrors dirty and dusty from the commotion, and you knew they needed to stay clean, so your guidance when driving was never impaired. It was all squeaky clean when you were finishing with it, only the floss left to be mopped down, and then the supplies unstacked, and you placed your hands on your hips as you stared at it all, feeling proud despite the protesting your body was giving up.

You still needed to mop, blood stains and dirt on the floors of the truck, but that was arguably the easiest part of your job, and so you scanned your eyes around for the mop bucket once again. There were several buckets still lay out, disinfectant, bleach, different germ killers, and some that you’d simply selected for their nice smell, and you added a splash of each to the bucket, a concoction you’d been using for years in many different formations from house to house.

Grabbing it by the handle, you held it in both arms, heading through to the rec-room, and dipping your head in a nod with a smile as you watched Newt and Minho head out, the former of who’s hand raised up in a wave as he continued to walk out with his friend, never stopping his chatter.

Placing the mop bucket under the hot water canteen, it rested of its own free will on the counter, and you leaned back a little, taking a small break. Fry was still looking through the fridge, grabbing the tupperwares of food he’d made but never had a chance to eat, his dinner for the night most likely, before nudging it shut with his foot and offering you a bright grin as he left. Brenda was singing loudly from the locker room, the new team beginning to filter in, and fill the space, and as you heard the cupboard door behind you open, you jumped, snapping back to attention and unsure of when your eyes had even closed.

Taller than you, a good free inches on your height, you turned to look up at the curly-haired boy standing beside you, watching as he retreated from within with a cereal bar, unwrapping it as he nudged it closed, peeling it open and turning to face you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a little tired, ready to head home. Not much left to do, now.” It was a small lie, only brief, because you’d probably still be here for a couple of hours with the pace at which you were moving and the workload that was left, and you turned to flip the tab on the hot water, deeming it to be enough as the sweet smell of the floral mix you’d added to the bleach drifted around the room.

“I meant, how are you doing.” His gaze dropped down to your side, the side you were holding a somewhat limp arm at, before coming back up to meet your gaze, and taking a bite of the snack in his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m a candidate. Ninety percent of my time is spent schlepping around doing all the chores. I saw you cleaning the trucks while I was going through some paperwork, you’ve been favouring your right side. You must’ve gotten the other side beat up pretty bad.” You raised a brow at his observations, impressed by how much he’d managed to deduce, but he dipped his head, a small smile on his face. “Also, after Thomas yelled at you, Newt chewed his ear off for, like, five minutes in front of everyone and said you got hurt too.”

“And here I was thinking you were just that observant.” You tutted, leaning down to pick up the bucket, and Chuck jumped in, taking it for you, instead, and you mumbled a thank you, walking along beside him.

“You know, you could have come and asked me for help. I didn’t think you’d still be around cleaning this late.”

“Well, someone has to do it, right? It’s best to just get it done, and then I can go home and relax.” He placed the bucket down at your feet as the two of you came to stand before the opened truck, and you grabbed for the mop, dunking it into the hot water and swishing it around a little.

“Yeah, but, you’re hurt. I could have helped.”

“It's my job, Chuck. Not yours. You already have enough on your plate.” You walked up the ramp, beginning to swipe the wet end across the floor, stains and muck smearing as you went to reveal the polished metal underneath. He tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders rising and falling a little.

“It feels like you can’t ask anyone to help, right?” You paused, looking up at him, and his face was painted neutral, but an understanding look shone in his eyes. “I get it. When you feel like you’re more just colleagues than friends, everyone is nice to you but asking a favour of them still seems more like it’d be a burden on them. An inconvenience. You’re on the team, but you’re not on the team. That’s how you feel right?”

“Did you talk to Newt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, the young boy’s curls bouncing as he did. “No, he wouldn't get it. Newt is great, but he’s on the team. I’m just a candidate, they still worry I might drop out, or have my experience and transfer to another house instead. They don’t trust me yet. Not fully. I think you feel that way, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You paused, rinsing the mop and ringing it clean to wipe at the floors again, pausing to lean on the handle a little. “They like you more than me, though.”

“Maybe, but I still have more in common with you right now than I do any of the others. We can be in this together.” That brought a smile to your face, your heart warming a little bit, because it did feel nice to finally have someone else to relate to, and so you found yourself smiling, figuring you might as well add a nod in agreement at this point.

“Alright, Chuck. We’re in it together.”

He laughed a little, reaching out one hand to smack against yours in a high five, your giggles mixing with his at the simple action, before he stepped back once again. “I’d stay with you and help out, but I have dinner plans with my mom. I can call and rearrange, if you do want some help, though? I feel like that’s what I should do.”

“Go to dinner, Chuck.”

“But, friends don’t leave other friends to clean alone when they’re hurt.” He sighed, a puppy-dog look crossing over his features.

“I will be fine, I swear. Go enjoy your family time, if it gets too much, I’ll just stop and leave it.” He made you promise to do so, his pinky held out in a way that made you laugh as you sealed the bond by wrapping your finger with his.

He took a few steps backwards, waving as he went, before facing the right way once again. You were left to watch him take his few steps toward the door, and you turned back to the job at hand, you kept up with the mopping, trying to make sure the floor was spotless, and using your foot to push the head of the mop along as you did, trying to ease the ache on your arms.

A knock against the edge of the ambulance, the metal ringing loudly, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you set the mop back down. “Thought I told you to go home, Chuck?”

Spinning around, your smile quickly dropped, the person looking up at you not being Chuck, and you tried not to frown as Thomas stared up at you. “It’s, uh, not Chuck.”

“I see that.”

He pursed his lips, a look more like a grimace on his face as he stepped back, letting you walk down the ramp slowly to stand before him, and he rolled on the balls on his feet a little as the space between you died with awkward tension. As the moment dragged out, you felt even more on edge than usual, watching as he let his eyes flick over the rest of the open space, avoiding you entirely.

“So, what do you need?”

“I wanted to apologise for shouting at you.” His gaze finally returned to you, an honest look on his face as he did, and you sighed trying not to seem quite too aggressive in your stance as he offered the first apology between you both. “Newt said you got hurt too, and that I shouldn’t have gone off at you, so, I’m sorry.”

“Right.” You hummed, not sure of what to say now that he had, and you lifted an arm, holding on the elbow on the other side, slightly defensive as you tried to steady your own anxiety. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Can I see?”

“What?” Your eyes narrowed on him, and he sighed with a slight hint of irritation in his voice.

“The bruises. Can I see how bad it is?”

“I’m a paramedic, Lieutenant. I know how to diagnose bruises, and I had it checked out at the hospital, I’m perfectly fine.” You turned away from him, taking barely a step before his hand was wrapping around upper-arm, and turning you to face him again. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was on your bad side, and it hurt a little bit as you spun. He seemed to sense the pain, maybe it was the wince on your face, but he let go.

“Can you stop making it so hard to extend an olive branch, or whatever? It’s my job to know how badly injured you are so I can try and make your workload lighter. I’m just trying to be nice.” He growled, the word coming out through gritted teeth, and you swallowed a little, a single jolt of guilt running through you.

Turning to your side, you lifted the edge of your jumper and shirt, shivering a little at the cool breeze that had brushed over your skin as you did. He hissed under his breath, reaching out a little but never touching you as he took it in, before nodding his head. He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning up from your eyes to your hairline, squinting a little at the mark there.

A hand landed on your cheek, high enough that his thumb could push almost-dry strands out of the way, turning your head to the side, and your jaw dropped as he did, feeling his thumb smoothing over your skin lightly. Pulling your head away from him, he dropped his hand back to his side, caring his throat, and that same awkward tension rose between you again. “They’re pretty bad.”

“Well, they’re not sunshine and flowers.”

You swore you almost saw amusement flicker across the blank look on his face for just a second, but you'd never be sure, and so you simply folded your arms and tried not to clench too much. “You want some help carrying it all inside? You can finish mopping, and then we can put the stuff away together.”

“That’s really not n-” He raised a brow at you, challenging the refusal of the help and hidden olive branch he was offering you. “Fine, yeah. That would be nice.”

He only dipped his head, moving to the boxes in the corner, he opened up the first, lifting out rolls of bandages and bringing them back over as you inched the bucket down the ramp once again. He brought them over, stepping up alongside you and resting the box on the gurney as he began to unpack the contents quietly.

“Oh, the gauze! That goes in t-”

“I know where it goes.” He muttered, your jaw snapping shut, and you huffed a little. He never cast you a glance. “I’ve worked here a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

You only hummed, bending enough to pick up the blood soaked sheets from the floor and take them to the washers. He didn’t spare you a glance as you informed him of your plans, letting you walk away in silence as he unpacked boxes.

It wasn’t ideal, it certainly wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was something. It was the longest the two of you had ever been in one another’s company without it becoming a screaming match, and so it was a step beyond simply despising one another, finding some kind of common ground.