#gun shot mention//

[whyissupernaturaltrending]

a former US president gets shot at and rather than trend himself he causes supernatural to trend instead because everyone is sharing the news via the destiel meme. unparalleled

[grinchwrapsupreme]

shawn's deep trust of lassiter keeps catching me so off-guard like when he's held captive and lassie and henry both turn up he tries to yell "carlton" not "dad" and when he sees a guy with a gun come into the restaurant he goes straight for lassie and keeps trying to get his attention instead of literally any of the other dozens of cops in the room with them and when he's telling someone to call the police he tells them to ask for lassiter, not jules, not vick, lassiter. like he spends all his time provoking lassie but the second there's danger there's literally no one else he trusts more

[starfish-spencer]

Just wanted to bring attention to Lassie's list of Do's and Don'ts for shark-fishing because it's really funny:

Don't foul language the shark

@iceeericeee @arrowheadedbitch @therealstonks

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Mafia AU, Stray Kids one shot

𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍?

Synopsis: When his enemies strike during a family visit, the truth shatters their world; Chris is a mafia Capo. Forced to leave him for your safety, you tried to avoid him, but Chris convinces you to stay. You built a happy life together, until Christmas brings a devastating loss. Leaving Chris to exact the only gift he can give in return.

Warnings: Reader's death (the idea was voted yes in this poll). Mention of blood, guns, violence, explosions, tears(LOTS of it), angst. OC!enemy. Dad Chris. Reader is a doctor and is called 'Dove'. Might have overused some words. Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This is my first writing outside soft, contemporary romance. It's probably not my best work, but I wanted to write it while the motivation was lingering. The story is HEAVILY inspired from a south Indian movie, it's basically in that universe but switched to Mafia.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 7.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Shoot! Bang!

The gunshot vibrated through the air, the echoes ricocheting off the cold, concrete walls. For a moment, time stood still, then the heavy thud of a lifeless body hitting the floor shattered the silence. 

Blood spilled out in thick, crimson waves, pooling beneath the corpse, the metallic scent tainting the air. No one dares to step in his territory. 

Chris stood over it, his chest rising and falling with steady control, the barrel of his gun still smoking, though his eyes burned with something dark and cruel.

Around him, the others shifted in the dimly lit room. Jisung exhaled, while I.N knelt to check the pulse—unnecessary, but instinctive. "It's done," he muttered, wiping his hand on his jeans, the stain spreading like ink.

Hyunjin leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “They’re getting too close.” His voice was low, laced with tension.

Chris didn’t respond. His grip tightened around the gun, the weight of it familiar, grounding. He had made his decision long ago. This life came with taking blood and brutality. 

There was no other way.

Then Chris’s phone tinged, a sharp contrast to the suffocating silence.

He pulled it out, and the moment his eyes landed on the screen, his heart faltered when he saw your name. 

Dove: Can we meet? There's something I need to tell you. Cafe at 5?

For a second, he forgot where he was—forgot the blood, the bodies, the weight of the life he led. His thumb hovered over the screen, the tension in his chest was unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable.

“Who is it?” Changbin asked, arching a brow and walking towards Chris.

He hesitated before slipping the phone back into his pocket. "No one.” He shrugged nonchalantly, straightening his leather jacket. “No trace of him should be found,” Chris pointed the gun at the corpse, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Changbin knew better than to push Chris with more questions, he nodded and walked toward the body. Chris turned around, walking into a changing room and changed to an entire different outfit that hid his true identity perfectly. 

After a while Chris reached the location you had texted him, you waited outside, nervousness crawling across your skin. He was always punctual, but today he was just a teensie bit, five minutes late. 

You spotted him walking towards you, removing his sunglasses, the hoop hearings glinting under the shining sun, a dimple grin that made your heart flutter.

“You’re late,” you huffed, crossing your arms, a pout forming on your face. “Five whole minutes, Chris. I was starting to think you stood me up.”

Chris sighed dramatically, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he leaned down, pressing his lips on yours. “Sorry, love,” he murmured against you. “Traffic was hell.”

You rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile betrayed your irritation. “You always say that. But anyways, I'm nervous. Come fast.” You hand wrapped around his wrist as you pushed the door open and pulled him inside.

“What happened?” Chris asked, his brows furrowing as you walked inside the huge restaurant cafe. 

“You're going to meet my father.” You said nervously as you kept walking. Chris stood on his feed, as if he was chained, making you stop. 

“Baby you could have told me earlier, I would have prepared something.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is this an exam? For you to prepare?” You bit your lip, nerves building in your stomach. 

“At least give me a clue about him, Dove.” His fingers lingered across your cheek. 

“The word he despises the most in the English language…” 

You started walking again. “Is it sorry?” He asked jokingly. 

You eyed him head to toe. “Police.” 

Chris’s heart skipped a beat at your words, remembering that you never knew about what he truly does, but he quickly masked his reaction with a small chuckle, slipping his hand into yours as you led him deeper into the bustling restaurant café. 

“I see,” he said smoothly, offering you a reassuring smile despite the unease simmering beneath the surface. “So, no cop jokes, then?”

You shot him a nervous glare, your fingers squeezing him. “Chris, I’m serious. He’s… intimidating. Just be yourself, okay? My dad’s really protective.”

You finally reached the table where your family sat, and Chris instantly felt the scrutiny in your father’s gaze. He was a tall man with a sharp jawline, streaks of silver in his dark hair, and eyes that seemed to pierce right through him. 

Your mother, on the other hand, was warm and welcoming, a kind smile tugging at her lips as she observed Chris. And then there was your younger sister, who looked at him with curiosity.

“Mom, Dad… this is Chris,” you introduced, gesturing toward him with a small, hopeful smile.

Chris stepped forward, extending his hand confidently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said, maintaining steady eye contact with your father.

Your father didn’t immediately take his hand. Instead, he studied Chris with a hard gaze before finally shaking it, his grip firm and unyielding and gestured to him to take a seat. 

You sat next to Chris, taking a deep breath, waiting for one of them to start a conversation. Right when Chris cleared his throat to say something, your father interrupted.

“I have no intention of seeing my daughter with you.” He cut straight to the chase, his tone sharp leaving your heart to sink like a stone thrown in an ocean.

“Dad—” you spoke but his icy gaze pinned you down and Chris held your hand tightly beneath the table. 

He felt you tremble slightly in his grasp but he gave it a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. He could sense the tension in the air thickening, pressing down on both of you like an invisible weight. 

His jaw clenched, but he kept his expression calm, composed—even though your father’s words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“I understand your concern, sir,” Chris said, his voice steady but gentle, careful to show respect without backing down. “I know how much she means to you.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, a storm brewing in their depths. “You think you do.” His words were cold, slicing through the air like a blade. “She’s my daughter. My responsibility. And I won’t hand her over to just anyone, especially someone who arrives five minutes late.”

You stiffened beside Chris, your cheeks burning with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. “Dad, please…” you pleaded softly, but Chris gently squeezed your hand again, signaling that he had this under control.

“I apologize for being late,” he said sincerely, looking your father in the eye. “It wasn’t intentional. But with all due respect, sir, my commitment to her goes beyond being on time for dinner. Now it’s my responsibility to protect her, to cherish her.” 

His voice was firm, yet there was an underlying warmth to it that made your heart ache in the best way.

Your father leaned back in his chair, studying Chris with an expression that held skepticism, like a man weighing the worth of the person before him. 

“You say you’re in law enforcement,” he said finally. “That’s a dangerous job. You’re putting yourself in harm’s way every day. What happens when that danger follows you home?”

Chris met his gaze head-on, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. If only your father knew just how deep that danger already ran. That he was beyond just a loyal cop. That his job was with violence, guns and blood. 

But instead, he answered with practiced ease. “Sir, danger exists everywhere. My job is to keep it as far away from her as possible. I would never put her in harm’s way.”

Your mother, sensing the rising tension, placed a gentle hand on your father’s arm. “Let the boy speak, dear,” she said softly, offering Chris a kind smile. “He’s here because he cares about our daughter.”

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “Care isn’t enough,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “What happens when things get hard? When work comes before family?” He leaned forward, his sharp gaze piercing. “Because I’ve seen men who thought they could handle it, and they ended up failing their families.”

Chris nodded, his grip on your hand firm but comforting. “I won’t fail her, sir,” he said without hesitation. “Your daughter means the world to me. I know my job isn’t easy, but I assure you, her happiness, her safety, our life together will always come first. I’m not here to make empty promises. I’m here to prove to you that I’m worthy of her.”

You glanced at Chris, your heart swelling with emotion. The conviction in his words, the way he spoke with such quiet confidence, made you fall for him all over again.

Your father’s gaze softened. Just a fraction. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Big words,” he muttered. “We’ll see if you can back them up.”

Your little sister leaned forward with curious eyes. “So, you’re really a cop? Like… badge and everything?”

Chris chuckled, leaning in conspiratorially. “Top secret, but yeah. Badge and everything.”

You laughed, nudging your sister. “Leave him alone, will you?”

As the evening went on, Chris found himself slipping into the conversation effortlessly. He complimented your mother’s cooking, shared amusing stories that he carefully crafted to fit his “police officer” persona, and even managed to get a small chuckle out of your father. Slowly but surely, he was winning them over.

But just as those smiles were about to last a bit longer, Chris caught a reflection of a masked man walking behind him from the mirror hanging from the wall in front of him. 

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand flying to the gun resting on the waistband of his pants and before you could register what was happening, he screamed.

“ON THE FLOOR!”

The restaurant, once filled with warm chatter and clinking silverware, was now a battleground of panic and confusion. The masked men charged forward, their heavy boots pounding against the tiled floor.

“Get the Capo!” one of them roared, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade.

Capo? The word echoed in your head. Isn't that the term used in the Mafia?

Your father stood frozen, eyes wide in shock as Chris drew his gun with precision and fired. The sharp crack of the shot echoed through the room, sending one of the masked assailants crumpling to the ground. 

A second later, Chris was moving. Swift, calculated. He overturned a table, using it as temporary cover while bullets whizzed past, shattering glass and porcelain.

Screams filled the air, people scrambling for the exits, but Chris stayed rooted to the spot, shielding you with his own body. “Behind that door!” he shouted, motioning toward the back exit.

You hesitated, your eyes locked onto him, filled with fear and confusion. “Chris—”

“GO!” His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a fleeting second.

Your father finally snapped out of his daze, grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. Your mother and sister stumbled behind, clinging to each other. Chris fired another shot, buying time as he watched you disappear behind the door. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived.

More men stormed in, their weapons raised. Chris’s muscles tensed as he ducked behind a column, swiftly reloading. “So it’s you lot?” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “You picked the wrong fucking night.”

He lunged forward, taking down another man with a precise shot to the leg before slamming his elbow into another’s jaw. The fight was brutal, relentless. Fury and sweat soaked the air. Chris was outnumbered, but years of experience and instinct guided him. 

Fists flew, gunfire rang out, and blood stained his knuckles, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

You watched Chris through the glass window, not missing a single move and breaking the arms of anyone who came in his way. The banging sounds of the guns made you shake, cover your ears and close your eyes. 

Finally, the last man fell, groaning in pain on the floor. Chris wiped the back of his hand across his brow, chest heaving. His ears still rang from the gunshots, but the only thing he could focus on now was you. He turned sharply, heading towards the door you had escaped through.

But his heart sank when he saw it.

Through the shattered window, he spotted your father pulling you away, your eyes wide, pleading, your lips forming silent protests. “Dad, please! Christopher—”

But your father’s grip was firm, his face set in grim determination. “You’re done with him!” he shouted, dragging you away.

Chris’s chest tightened. He took a step forward, but the weight of the moment crushed him. Your father’s eyes met his. Full of fear, anger, and something he couldn’t quite place.

And then, just like that, you were gone.

The weight of what just happened settled over him like a suffocating fog. His cover was blown, and worse. He had dragged you into his world of blood and violence.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, sliding his gun back into the waistband of his pants.

But one thing was clear. He wasn’t letting you go that easily.

~

It’s been 3 weeks. Chris’s calls and texts were unanswered. He went to the hospital you were working at, but they refused to give your details. He wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he had swallowed his pride more times than he cared to count.

Tonight, he was done waiting.

Chris leaned against his black car parked discreetly across the street, watching the entrance of the hospital with sharp, dark eyes. The hood of his jacket was drawn low, shielding his face from prying eyes, but there was no mistaking the tension in his stance. His fingers twitched at his side, itching for something. 

For you.

And then, finally, you appeared.

Chris straightened the moment he saw you step out of the hospital doors, the soft glow of the entrance lights framing you in a way that made his chest ache. You looked exhausted, the white coat hanging on your arms, your hair hastily pulled back. The familiar warmth he once found in your eyes was absent, replaced by something colder and distant.

He pulled his phone out and dialed your number, your phone rang in your hands but when you saw the name on the screen, you pressed the volume button, silencing his call. 

Anger and rejection fueled his chest, you hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy rummaging through your bag as you made your way towards the street. Then unintentionally your eyes landed on a familiar pair of dark eyes.

Chris took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed off the car and stepped into your path. “Dove.”

You looked at him and then turned away, as if you didn't hear him. Frustration took over him, you halted frozen when he called you by your name. 

You turned back around, your gaze on the ground, heart in your throat. You couldn't look at him the same anymore. How could you? He wasn't who he told you he was.

His identity was revealed that evening, surrounded by chaos and danger. Your father was right.

But you weren't mad at him for hiding that he's a Capo. If anything you were scared. Scared of what dangers and threats that would follow him.

Chris walked towards you until his figure enveloped you, the strong scent of mint and leather engulfing your senses.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was tired, but sharp.

His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours desperately. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

You hugged your bag closer to your chest, stepping back instinctively. “I thought that was pretty clear.”

Chris exhaled sharply, taking a cautious step forward. “You can’t just shut me out, Dove. Not like this.” His voice softened.

“It doesn't matter Chris, I don't think this isn't going to work out.” 

“What honey?”

“OUR LIFE!” Your voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. Chris's breath was clogged in his throat, unable to see the fear and pain etched across your face.

Your chest rose and fell with the weight of emotions you had tried so hard to suppress.

Chris stared at you, his jaw tightening, his eyes dark with unspoken emotions. "Dove..." he reached out, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

"I love you," you choked, your fingers clutching the strap of your bag so tightly that your knuckles turned white. "But love isn't enough when I'm scared every second of what might happen to you! When— when those men came at you, almost shot you, I—"

His hands gripped your shoulders, making you calm down, his index on his lips asking you not to shout.

Your gaze locked with his, pleading. "I can't afford to lose you, Chris. And if you love me too... you'll find a way out of this.”

Chris swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he took a hesitant step toward you. "Alright, then tell me what you want me to do." His voice was soft but laced with desperation, his fingers brushing away the cold tears streaming down your face. 

"You give me a solution for this.”

You looked at him, hope flickering in your eyes despite the pain. "Leave it all, Chris."

He blinked at you.

"Whatever you're doing, whatever mess you're tangled in, just leave it behind. We can go somewhere far away, where no one can find us. We’ll get married, start over... just you and me." 

Your voice broke, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Please... if you can’t do that, then…”

Your voice wavered as you took a deep breath. "If you can't, then hail me a taxi. And we'll end this right here, right now.”

He watched you, his heart pounding violently against his ribcage. He wanted to say no. He wanted to promise you a life far from the blood, the danger, the lies. But deep down, he knew, there was no walking away from this world.

Silence fell between you like a heavy storm cloud, suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Chris's lips parted, his hands twitching at his sides. The war in his eyes was painfully clear, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might choose you.

But then, without a word, Chris lifted his hand and flagged down a passing taxi.

Your breath hitched in your throat as the yellow cab slowed to a stop in front of you. The cold night air felt heavier, suffocating. You blinked up at him, disbelief washing over your features.

His jaw clenched, his eyes filled with unspoken regret, sorrow, love. He reached for the door handle and opened it for you, your heart shattered into shards. 

Right as you were about to get in, he said, “Won't you give me one last goodbye hug?” 

His sense of humour at this situation made you rage, your bloodshot eyes stung as you got inside the taxi without sparing another glance at him and closing the door shut. 

“Okay, I'm sorry.” He raised his hands up in surrender and turned to his back, not wishing to watch the cab pull away. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes, swallowing the hard lump in his throat when he heard the breaks behind him, that made him chuckle.

You got out of the car, running to him, slapping your coat against his body.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?! Huh?” Another hit and Chris laughed in response. “Are you trying to chase me away?!”

Chris let out a chuckle, catching your wrist mid-air before you could land another hit.

“Silly girl, I knew you would come back,” his fake laugh was uncontrollable, “But I didn't think you'd come back this fast.” 

You slapped your hand against his arm, your chin wobbling. 

His fingers curled gently around your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. "Dove," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions. "You know how much I love you.”

"And I love what I'm doing now as Capo as well," he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. "But I will never give up or lose you for it. Okay?"

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling in time with his, then you wrapped your hands around his body, burying your face against his heart.

His arms wrapped you tightly, his heartbeat thundered beneath your ear, steady and strong, but the warmth of his embrace did little to soothe the fear still clinging to your heart.

You looked up at him, your breath warm against his skin. “You will never leave me right?” You asked, your voice shaking.

Chris’s fingers sank in your hair, pressing your face flush against him. 

“I promise… I will always be with you sweetheart.” 

The warmth of his body, the way his arms caged you in so securely, made you want to believe in his words, made you want to trust that he could protect you from the cruel world that kept trying to tear you apart.

You sighed, the tension in your body slowly melting under his touch. "Okay," you whispered, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "But if you ever get a bullet wound, I swear I’ll kill you myself."

Chris laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek. "Noted," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead and taking your lips in his, erasing away your fears and doubts as the world blurred around you. 

~ 

1 year later. On the night of Christmas Eve.

One whole year passed by in peace. You and Chris built a beautiful life together, you got married a few weeks later, Chris managed to convince your father who in the end only wished for his daughter's happiness.

You moved into his mansion, a strangely comforting place that slowly began to feel like home. It was far from the chaos you once feared, tucked away in a quiet part of the city where you could pretend, for just a little while, that Chris wasn’t who he really was.

Each morning, you woke up wrapped in his arms, sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting golden hues over his face. He looked so peaceful when he slept, his guard down, his breathing slow and steady.

He came home every night, exhausted but safe, his arms always reaching for you, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his life. And you were. Every night he made love to you, sometimes fast, rough and hard, other times long, sweet and slow. 

But there were moments when the illusion cracked. When you caught glimpses of the weight he carried in his quiet stares out the window, or when he’d disappear into his office for hours, his voice low and serious on phone calls you pretended not to hear. 

You never pushed. Because deep down, you knew the truth. The world he came from, the one he tried so hard to keep you away from, could never truly disappear.

When you surprised him with a small box that contained a pregnancy test, he was overjoyed. You brought light into his dark world, and from that moment on, Chris changed in subtle ways. 

He became softer, more attentive, and even more careful. He pulled away from some of his more dangerous work, delegating tasks to his most trusted men, ensuring that his time at home with you was sacred.

Tonight, on Christmas Eve as you were stacking away the presents for your family to open tomorrow morning, Chris came downstairs, exhausted but a smile spread across his face after putting your baby to sleep. 

He spotted you in the living room, fixing the lights on the huge Christmas tree, he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Sweetheart…you seem very happy,” he murmured between the kisses he kept brushing on your neck.

You turned to him, his gaze piercing with yours, you could count each lash that was brimming his whiskey eyes. 

“I feel complete.” you said lowly. 

“Hmm?” He tilted his head to the side. “Give me details Dove.” 

“I have a loving husband. A beautiful home. An angel as a daughter. What else would I need?” You smiled. 

“So I feel complete.” You pecked his nose sweetly and he playfully scratched it.

Chris’s hands tightened on your waist when he kissed you, murmuring against your lips, “I'm over here about to tell you that our angel might want a baby brother to play with…”

Pink crept your cheeks but you turned away nudging him with your elbow. “Honey, not interested. Our angel is more than enough for me.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Our angel is more than enough.”

“But I wanna know something sweetheart,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know that you still dislike what I do…” you chuckled and he continued.

“That you accepted this life for me and you made a lot of sacrifices for me…” The lights on the Christmas tree sparkled in his eyes as he spoke and you watched him carefully.

“What is your dream, Dove?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree before returning to his gaze.

“My dream?” you echoed softly, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “You can't fulfil it.” You joked, innocently tapping his face. 

His brows furrowed slightly, the faintest hint of sadness crossing his face but not noticeable enough. “At least tell me,” he said, encouraging you to speak about the life you always dreamt of. 

You leaned into him, your fingers tracing over his black t-shirt. 

“Mm, in a long far away land, in a small village, we're living in a cozy cottage. I wanna hear the chirping of the birds every morning, with a beautiful climate that's sunny but also rainy.” 

Chris watched you, patiently listening. 

“Hubby should have a boring job that requires you to go late and arrive early.” He couldn't help but chuckle softly.

“And a small cat!” You jumped, “and his name should be… Simba,” you couldn't stop smiling as you kept speaking.

Chris’s lips curled into a soft smile, his eyes never leaving your face as you painted your dream with such innocent delight. He could see the longing in your eyes, the sparkle of hope despite the life you were already living with him.

“And what about our little angel?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back.

You grinned, your eyes lighting up. “She’ll grow up surrounded by fields of flowers, climbing trees, and chasing butterflies.” Your voice grew softer, more wistful. “She won’t have to know about fear, or danger, or the shadows that lurk in the corners of this world.”

You sighed, the smile never leaving your face. “I want a simple life, just the three of us in a world with no threats, no danger… no worries.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You had it all planned out, didn't you?”

You shrugged playfully. “A girl can dream.”

Chris held you closer, his chin resting atop your head. His voice was thick with emotion when he whispered, “I wish I could give you that, Dove.”

You pulled back to look into his eyes, your heart twisting at the conflict in them. “I know, Chris,” you said gently. 

“But tell me this,” you pecked his chin. 

“How do you feel about me as your wife?” 

His dimple deepened when your arms rested on his shoulder, his hands cradling your sweet face. 

“I feel…that you are…”

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the house, followed by a deafening silence that sent chills down his spine.

You gasped, a sharp intake of breath, your body slipping from his hands onto the floor before he could react. His heart seized, eyes widening in horror as a pool of blood gathered from beneath you. 

"Baby?" His voice was a strangled whisper, barely audible over the ringing in his ears. He pressed his trembling hands over the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but the warm, sticky crimson seeped between his fingers.

Before he could process the nightmare unfolding in his arms, another gunshot cracked through the air. Instinct took over. Chris whipped around, shielding your limp form with his body as his eyes locked onto the figure stepping through the broken glass.

A figure dressed in black, his face partially obscured by the shadows, strode inside with chilling composure. Chris recognized him immediately—Damian Voss, the younger brother of the man Chris had killed a year ago.

“You thought you could just walk away, Capo?” Damian sneered, lowering his gun slightly, his eyes dark with vengeance. "Did you think I’d let you live a fairy tale while my brother rots in the ground?"

Chris's chest heaved with rage, his arms trembling as he carefully laid you down on the floor. Your face was pale, too pale, and your shallow breaths tore at his heart. He had to end this, fast.

He surged to his feet, a deadly glare replacing his fear. “You son of a—”

But before he could do anything, a sharp brutal force of an iron rod slammed the side of Chris’s head. A blinding pain exploded in his skull as he staggered back, his vision blurring.

He hit the floor hard, the taste of blood filling his mouth. The room spun, distorted voices echoing in his ears.

Damian crouched beside him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, yanking him up so their faces were inches apart. "You took my brother from me, so I'm taking everything from you," he hissed.

Blood trickled down from the corner of Chris's mouth as Damian dragged his body and layed him on his back against the couch. 

His foot landed on Chris’s chest, the force of it made him gasp your name, you could hear the tortures he was going through as a tear leaked from the corner of your eye but you were unable to move at all. 

“You know killing you right away won't make me satisfied Chris…you should die slow. So…fucking…slow…” Damian sneered as he fired the gun upwards, calling out his soldiers. 

“Plant that bomb. The explosion should erase every last evidence of this fucker’s existence.” Damian ordered his men and walked out of the door. 

As the soldiers fixed the countdown of your lives and filed out of the house, their heavy footsteps fading into the night, the silence that followed was deafening. 

Until a ragged gasp tore through the air.

Pain shot through your body like a thousand knives piercing your skin. You took deep breaths and with trembling arms, you made yourself get up, holding your wound and dragging your weak body across the cold floor, pain flaring with every inch you gained.

Metallic red liquid smeared all over your dress as you crawled, inch by inch, toward Chris who was drenched in blood, his back pressed against the couch.

“Chris,” you shook his shoulder, your voice was barely audible, tears streaking your face as you reached him.

Chris's head lolled to the side, his face pale, his half-lidded eyes blinked sluggishly, trying to focus on you. "D-Dove..." he coughed, his voice rasping with pain and despair.

The blinking red light of the bomb timer flashed in the corner of your vision, a cruel reminder of how little time you had left.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you pushed yourself up, biting down a scream as pain shot through you. Gritting your teeth, you crawled upstairs, gripping the railing to keep yourself steady.

Reaching the nursery, you flung the door open with trembling hands, your eyes locking onto your daughter’s sleeping form in her crib. Relief flooded through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by fear.

You gathered her into your arms, biting back the renewed scream that threatened to escape your throat as fresh pain shot through your side. Her tiny weight pressed against you, grounding you, forcing you to keep moving.

Descending the stairs with careful, painful steps, you fell and knelt beside Chris, tears streaking your face as you cradled your daughter close and shook him, trying to get him up.

“Christopher!” You hand cupped his chin, jolting him awake. 

“Chris, please get out of here—,” you choked fisting his shirt. “please get out…take the baby and go…and leave me back…” your hand fell from his shoulder, breaths began growing slow and shallow, "...I won't survive..." he gripped your arm, his head falling back. 

“...there's no point.” 

The taste of pennies coated his tongue as he swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he reached to hold your daughter, before you hugged her close to your chest.

“Even…after this,” your voice broke, “you wish to be Capo…” You said through gritted teeth. “leave her with me.”

Your voice wavered, but your resolve was firm, fisting his shirt tighter. “But if you love me… if you ever loved me, vow to me—right here, right now, you will be a good father to her. That you will protect her, raise her away from this hell.”

Chris felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He shook hard as his head fell back, his cries bouncing against you. His world was crumbling right in front of him, slipping through his fingers, and he was powerless to stop it. 

His jaw clenched, tears pooling in his eyes as he swallowed hard. “I swear,” he whispered, his voice thick and rough. “I swear, I’ll keep her safe. I promise…”

A faint, tearful smile touched your lips as you gazed at him, your eyes clouding with exhaustion. “Thank you…” you breathed, your head resting against his chest, handing the swaddled baby over to him.

His eyes, heavy with pain and exhaustion, searched yours desperately, his breath ragged as he clutched at your weakening form. Chris pulled you closer, his body trembling with sobs he could no longer hold back. 

“Dove, please stay with me,” he begged, pressing desperate kisses to your temple, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. “Just… just hold on a little longer, baby. Please.”

Your breath hitched, your lips parting slightly. “Hubby…”

“How do you feel about me as your wife…?” you asked him one last time.

“You are the reason for breathing my love.” He cried, burying your face in his neck, his voice so painfully loud, it could shred diamonds.

“You're my peace, my home, my whole life. I didn’t deserve you, but you loved me anyway. You saw the man I tried to be, not the monster I was.”

Tears streamed down your face as his words wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing the ache in your heart. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to stay just a little longer in the warmth of his embrace.

Your eyelids fluttered, and with the last shreds of your fading consciousness, you whispered, "I love you, Chris…” and your eyes closed, your last breath fanning over his blood stained skin.

The moment your breath stilled, a ragged scream tore from his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He held you tighter, rocking your lifeless body in his arms, his sobs raw and unrestrained.

And then, a tiny cry pierced through.

His daughter.

Chris blinked through his tears, his chest heaving. He looked down at the fragile, innocent life cradled in his arms, her tiny hands clutching weakly at your dress.

He pressed his lips to your temple, his body trembling violently. “I love you,” he whispered, voice broken beyond repair. “Forever.” 

He gently laid you down on the marble floor and staggered towards the door, his legs barely holding him up. 

The blinking red light of the bomb ticked down, a cruel reminder of the life he was leaving behind.

You had given him a new life and took his death along with you.

~

2 years later.

Capo Christopher Bang’s death was the biggest talk of the underworld. The news spread like wildfire, whispered in hushed voices across darkened alleyways and smoke-filled clubs. Some called it a tragedy, others a long-overdue fall from power. But no one knew the truth.

In a quiet, picturesque village far from the city's chaos, Chris was living the dream you once painted for him. He resigned as Capo, living in a quaint cottage surrounded by endless greenery, birds chirping in the mornings, and a peaceful routine that revolved around his daughter, the last piece of you he had left. 

She believed her father had a simple job, working as a librarian and returning home just in time to tuck her into bed, reading fairy tales under the soft glow of the lamp. She knew nothing of the weight he carried in his heart, the life he left behind, or the silent war brewing in his eyes.

Chris’s men were still in the underworld but were loyal to him, played along, treating this quiet life as their own, shielding your daughter from the darkness that still lurked beyond their haven.

But tonight, on Christmas Eve two years later, the past came knocking once again.

Chris was laying next to his daughter who was drifting into a deep sleep, he bent down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of baby lotion and warmth.

“Daddy?” her sleepy voice murmured.

“Shh, angel,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “Go back to sleep or else Santa won't come home.”

She blinked up at him drowsily, a soft smile playing on her lips, her small hands touching his face. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

His chest tightened. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Once your daughter was in her slumber, Chris straightened, his eyes hardening as he turned to the two tall figures guarding the doorway. 

“She’s your responsibility tonight.” 

Felix gave a firm nod. “You don't need to worry.”

Seungmin placed a reassuring hand on Chris’s shoulder. “She’s safe with us. Go finish this.”

Chris exhaled deeply and walked to the front door, where Minho and Hyunjin were waiting. Both were dressed in black, three bikes parked in front, their eyes sharp and filled with the same rage that had festered in him for two long years.

“Are we doing this tonight?” Hyunjin asked, flexing his fingers and cracking his knuckles as he slipped on the gloves. 

Chris’s jaw tightened, his voice cold and unwavering. “That bastard took my wife from me and I'm not stopping until I feel his blood in my hands.”

Minho smirked, the glint of a blade visible beneath his coat. “Let’s make it count.”

As they stepped out into the bitter night, three beast engines roaring to life, Chris took one last glance at the small, warm house behind him. It was a life he swore to protect, a life you had dreamed for him.

But tonight, he was stepping back into the shadows—one. last. time.

For revenge.

Silence fogged the air when the club's lights went off, leaving the room in dread darkness. Damian reached for his gun on his waistband but found his pocket empty. 

He turned around fast, cracking his neck as he felt something crawl up skin and before he could breath, a ragged cloth closed around his head, blocking his airway.

Outside the bar Hyunjin shot and fought Damian's guards until he was standing on a pile of men with broken limbs and cracked necks.

Damian kept fighting until he was pushed against a chair, Minho standing behind him as he removed the cloth off his head, revealing a deadly, wrath fueled Chris standing before him. 

“You fucker…you're still alive.” He hissed and shot forward, aiming his fist at Chris who whipped a thick, iron bar resting on his shoulder, slamming the side of Damian's head in a brutal force. 

Blood splattered out of his mouth, a harsh, loud, strangled scream ripped from Damian’s throat echoing off the walls, as he fell on the ground, feeling his brain vibrate. 

Chris landed a kick with the same force Damian kicked him in the chest two years ago, his hand gripped the bar tightly before swinging it back again at his head, shoving another slam on the other side his face, cracking his skull, blood gushing out Damian's nose. 

The metallic smell soaked the air, each breath he took sharp and bitter. Relentless torture was aimed at the man who took Chris's life away from him, until there was nothing left for him to break. 

Chris stood still, the bar in his hand trembling slightly from the force of his previous blows, dripping with blood, his knuckles were raw, bruised from the reckless pounding, but it was the anger that still coursed through him that made him feel alive. 

“Christopher…”  he croaked, his eyes bloodshot and wide with fear.

Hyunjin and Minho tied Damian on the chair, injecting injecting pure adrenaline into his failing body. He trembled violently, the sudden rush of chemicals forcing him to consciousness despite the overwhelming pain consuming him.

He was unrecognisable because of the destruction Chris had made on his face. 

"You don’t deserve a quick death." Chris whispered, his voice eerily calm. And that was all he said.

Hyunjin tied a time bomb around Damian’s torso, the almost unconscious man looked up at Chris, his eyes begging for mercy. 

His gaze searched Chris’s face, as if trying to find a sliver of mercy in his hard, unforgiving eyes. But there was nothing there.

Hyunjin stepped backward after fixing the time bomb, twisting it to its final setting. “Time’s up,” he said, his tone emotionless.

Damian's desperate, pleading eyes met Chris's one last time. “Please… don’t do this,” he croaked, his voice barely audible.

But before he could finish, the bomb clicked into place, its red LED countdown flashing ominously.

Chris straightened up, taking one last long look at the man who had ruined his life. He could feel the weight of his actions settle on his shoulders, the finality of what he was about to do.

This was it. The end of the road.

With one last deep breath, Chris turned away, his hands stained red, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hyunjin, Minho, and he walked out of the room without a single word, the sound of Damian’s desperate, agonizing cries of pain fading into the silence behind them.

The building was swallowed by the night, a hollow shell of destruction as the countdown echoed through the walls. 

Once the time reached zero, the loud explosion made the birds resting in the nearby trees fly away flapping their wings in terror.

Chris pulled his phone out, the wallpaper of you and him on your first date appearing on his screen.

"finché non ti rivedrò, amore mio." He whispered to himself.

until I see you again, my love

***

The next morning, your daughter came out her bedroom, rubbing her eyes and spotted her father on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate sitting next to him.

“Daddy!” She squealed, running towards him, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Chris hugged her back tightly, pressing his lips on her hair and she nestled close to his chest.

“Where did you go last night daddy?” She asked, her eyes wide and curious, her voice innocent, unaware of the darkness her father went through.

“I didn't go anywhere baby,” Chris said, kissing her cheek that made her giggle. “I will be with you always.” 

She grinned up at him, her eyes filled with wonder, and without warning, she slipped her little hands into his, pulling him onto the floor and began opening her presents. 

Lavish toys, clothes and books her Mafia uncles spoiled her with. 

After a while, her tiny hand wrapped around Chris’s huge arm. “Daddy, can we go outside?” 

His smile deepened as he nodded. “Of course, darling.” 

Lifting her with ease, he carried her in his arms as they stepped out into the crisp morning air, the golden light spilling across their quiet little yard, a fluffy orange cat following behind them.

Your daughter's head rested against Chris's shoulder, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying their steps. 

The weight of the night’s events still hung in his chest, but he focused on the feeling of her small body in his arms, the steady rhythm of her breath, the calmness that had returned to his world since she had been born.

As they reached the center of the garden, Chris followed her eyes which was glued to a bird gliding gracefully down from the sky, landing softly on the lush green grass. 

Its wings beat gently as it settled, its pure white feathers standing out against the vibrant colors of the morning.

“What bird is that, Daddy?” she pointed at it, her gaze full of wonder.

Chris smiled, his heart swelling with love and a deep, unspoken sadness. “That’s a dove, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and tender as he spoke. 

“It’s so pwetty,” she murmured, her hand reaching out toward the bird as if she could touch its serenity. 

“Do you think it’s here for us?”

Chris’s smile faltered just a fraction, his heart heavy with memories of the past and the promise he had made to you. 

He looked at his daughter, the only living hope of his life you gifted to him. He nodded, though his voice was thick with emotion.

“I think it is,” he whispered. "I think it's here to remind us that even after all the darkness... there’s still light.”

She rested her head back on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she watched the dove slowly strut across the grass, the little cat's bushy tail brushing Chris's leg.

The dove took flight again, its wings stretching wide as it soared into the morning sky, leaving Chris, his daughter and Simba standing beneath it, in a world that had both healed and broken him in ways his daughter will never fully understand.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[front-facing-pokemon]

[badninken]

The Rescue Trafalgar Law operation has begun! I'm sure the Straw Hats will be swift and efficient as usual <3

He was only defeated because he dropped his hat somewhere. He's pretty much powerless without it. #LawFacts

[onlytiktoks]

This is the ID he used

[icewindandboringhorror]

The "average" person on facebook is so scary lol.. I’ve just seen someone post a status earnestly being like “whew thank god, SO happy to see there are armed security in front of my local Target store now! finally all those nasty thieves can be dealt with! <3” with nothing but complete agreement in the comments, plus people wishing anyone who shoplifts gets shot like "hopefully they're actually allowed to use their guns LOL! ;)" and that getting positive likes and reactions... ??? The whole attitude of "Oh noooo! :( Not someone taking like $40 of stuff from target! :( This is definitely not part of a larger systemic problem and could clearly all be solved if only I were just able to watch them be violently assaulted, which I am REALLY looking forward to because I am very normal and healthy :) God I wish so desperately that I could watch a poor person get gunned down in front of me, I dream everyday about seeing other human beings maimed!! Which again, is a completely normal healthy thing to wish for! :) Thank god I'm not some immoral thieving barbarian! And thank god for Target! :) <3" and that it's normalized enough that nobody in all the hundred comments finds it bizarre at all like.. hewwo..

[frogaroundandfindout]

Bruce you make me so ill (Batman #416)

[frankiebirds]

I've always been a little thrown off by the way the characters (the team and the passengers) react to Reid trying to talk down Ted, and I've never liked that the episode ends with Ted being shot (although I appreciate that he survives).

I'm not saying this to be critical of the characters: the team doesn't have audio, and the passengers (save for Elle and the incapacitated psychologist) don't have the knowledge to see Reid getting through to him, but:

I don't know. Look at Ted's face. I'm bad at reading expressions, but at the very least, this doesn't seem like the expression of someone unaffected by what's being said to him, or the face of a man who's about to start shooting people. During the conversation, Ted stops aiming the gun at Reid, and yells at Leo to shut up when he tells him to shoot Reid.

I really think that Reid was on his way to talking Ted down, and I wish he'd gotten to do it. I don't think Elle hitting Ted while Reid is talking him down makes a lot of sense*. She's one of the few passengers who can understand that Ted is calming down, and I think she's at the right angle to see his changing expression. I wish Reid had gotten the chance to keep talking, because I do think he was close to ending it without anyone else getting shot.

One other thing I noticed while watching this episode—throughout the episode, Leo has always been onscreen while he speaks, either in the same frame as Ted, or the camera cuts to him while he speaks. However, if you rewatch the scene, notice that whenever Leo speaks during it, not only is he always offscreen, but his voice has an echo to it that wasn't there before. I don't think most of the analysis I post is reflective of the writer's intent, but that seems very intentional to me, symbolizing that Leo is becoming less real to Ted and therefore losing his grip on him.

*this is a criticism of the writing, not the character. yes, elle is impulsive, but the choice to hit ted while he's being talked down and is no longer aiming the gun at anyone seems like a strange and risky choice.

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

Uh, Guys?

My Masterlist

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: There Was Only One Bed, no smut (i know, rare for me these days), idiots in love. bi!reader, bc both bucky and natasha are hot and i’m so fucking gay. implied bi!natasha bc she also likes bucky. mentions of guns, shooting, blood, and medical supplies. nervous!reader. best friends to lovers x2. it’s just pretty fluffy

Word Count: 2417

Summary: You get put on a mission with both the infamous Winter Soldier and Black Widow to take down a Hydra base. You get shot and the extraction plan goes haywire but Tony knows a safe house. The only issue? There’s only one bed and you have a massive crush on both assassins.

**

“Okay, HYDRA missions are officially the worst.” You said into your comms, running through the halls, away from gunfire, towards the computer terminal. You threw the door closed behind you and quickly looked around for any agents or doors that could be used to attack you. Seeing that you were leaning against the only door, you grabbed a chair and shoved it under the doorknob.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asked through the comms.

You nodded before remembering she couldn’t see you. “Ah, yea-um, maybe.” You said, plugging the USB in. “I’m in the room with the computer, but I’m pretty sure I got shot.”

“I’m on my way to you, Y/N.” Bucky said, jogging towards where he knew the terminal was.

“Don’t bother, I shoved a chair under the door so nobody can get in and I’m not moving it just for you to carry me out of here. I’m fine, I’m still standing, and- oh, okay, I’m bleeding more than I thought, but I’m fine.” You replied, downloading all of the files on the computer for Tony and FRIDAY to sort through later.

Bucky sighed audibly through the door, “Really, N/N? Let me in please, just so you don’t accidentally bleed out alone?” 

You checked the files to make sure they were downloading properly and moved the chair enough so you could open the door to make sure Bucky wasn’t being impersonated by a HYDRA agent. “What’s the password?” You asked, knowing that everyone on the team had a secret password with the other in case of something like this.

Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes and leaning in the doorway slightly. “Monopoly.” You sighed dramatically and moved the chair out of the way, letting Bucky in. “You didn’t believe it was truly me?” He asked, dramatically offended.

“Buck, with the way technology is these days, they could probably clone you. Hell, the clone could know the code word and you’re not actually here with me, it’s an agent that’s gonna kill me.” You sat back down, continuously downloading their files and deleting them off the computer once you had them.

“Well, doll, you know that’s not it.” He said, leaning in the doorway to be able to watch you and the hallway.

You chuckled, watching the last of the files download. “Yeah, I know, but it could be.”

Bucky watched drops of blood continuously drip onto the floor. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re bleeding a lot.”

“I’m fine, Buck. This is not the first time I’ve been shot. It’s not important.” You said, pulling the USB out and turning to him.

“Where is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My bicep is going to be fine.” You replied calmly, walking out of the room and jogging back towards where the three of you landed after parachuting out of the quinjet.

“Did you just try to convince me that your arm wasn’t important?!” Bucky shouted after you, jogging to catch up, the both of you running out of the building and to Natasha.

She raised an eyebrow at you and Bucky, motioning around to the empty clearing. “First of all, your arm is extremely important. Secondly, apparently, they booked more missions than extractions, so we have no way of getting home for the immediate future. Third, Tony has a safe house about 3 miles northeast of here, and he sent me the coordinates. Apparently we’re stuck together until at least morning.”

Bucky nodded at Natasha’s words and started walking northeast, you and Natasha following behind. You quickly fell into a rhythm of just following their footsteps as you got lost in your own head. It wasn’t that you were scared of Natasha or Bucky, not at all. You and Nat had been best friends for years, and Bucky was one of the only other people you would go to when you were feeling out of it. Your current issue was that you had feelings for them both, which had ruined your last relationship, since your ex-girlfriend figured out that she was not your priority. Cradling your arm to your chest, Natasha and Bucky finally realized you weren’t contributing to the conversation and turned to look at you.

“N/N?” Bucky asked softly, snapping you out of your trance. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You said, sighing. “This just hurts a little more than I thought. How much further do you think it is?”

Nat smiled, laughing at you a little. “Darling, it’s been 10 minutes. We have a while to go.”

“It’s not still bleeding, is it?” Bucky asked again.

“No, the bullet lodged in my shoulder, so it’s not bleeding. Let’s just go, please? I’d really like to sit down.” You replied, walking past them in the direction you had all started in.

Natasha and Bucky gave each other a look before Bucky jogged over to you, picked you up bridal style, and kept jogging. Nat was jogging after the two of you, figuring that Bucky would want to get you to the safe house, stitched up and bulletless as soon as possible before your injury got any worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes of light jogging and your complaining that you could walk perfectly fine and Bucky didn’t need to carry you anywhere passed the time quickly, and before you knew it, the three of you were standing on the porch of the safe house. Natasha opened the door and allowed Bucky to take you inside. 

“Uh, guys? I may be hallucinating from blood loss, but there’s only one bed.” You said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder.

Natasha and Bucky shared a look, Bucky setting you down on the bed. “Tony did this on purpose.” She said, sitting next to you. “You know we’re gonna have to take your tac suit off to dress the wound, right?” 

“Yeah, I know.” You said, wincing. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, cradling your arm as he slid it out of your sleeve.

“I’m just in a bit of pain, and I’m not wearing a shirt underneath this.” Bucky’s eyes widened. “It’s comfier without the shirt and the fabric crinkles weirdly, but I’m wearing a bra.” You reassured him. “You aren’t gonna see everything, Buck.”

“I’ll still feel better if Nat does it.” He said, shifting his weight between his feet.

Nat glanced between the two of you. “I can’t do that. I can’t stitch wounds, Buck. It has to be you, especially because that’s Y/N’s dominant arm.”

“Yeah, I can’t pull the bullet out and stitch my own wound shut this time, unfortunately.” You said, shrugging with your unwounded arm. “But if it would make you feel better, Nat can help me out of my suit. I’m wearing a pair of shorts and I’m sure that there’s an extra shirt around here somewhere that I can wear.”

“I can absolutely help you out of your suit, honey.” Nat said, reaching for the zipper.

Bucky averted his eyes, blushing, as Nat helped you out of the mission-necessary tactical suit. “I’m gonna go find the medical kit I know Tony must have in here, shout when you’re ready for me.” 

“Okay, Buck. Sure.” You said softly, wincing as your shot arm came out of the sleeve.

“Don’t mind his nervousness.” Nat said, moving towards the other shoulder. “He hasn’t really been with anyone since waking up from HYDRA and getting the trigger words taken out of his head. And I know he likes you, so that doesn’t probably make things better.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky likes me?”

Natasha nodded quickly, “He’s not the only one. Do you have feelings for anyone?”

“I- um, yes? I just don’t want to say anything.” You said, averting your eyes from where Natasha was sliding your tac suit down your body.

“Why’s that?” She asked.

“I have feelings for more than one person. And I’m friends with them both and they’re friends.” You blurted out, feeling her hands skim over the band of your bra.

She nodded in response, slipping a finger in the band. “This is cute. Where’d you get it?”

“Ardene, you’d like it. I get a lot of stuff from there.” You breathed a sigh of relief that she was going to let this topic slide.

“Do I know either of them?” She asked, sliding your suit down further.

You nodded. “Both of them. Quite close, actually.”

“Am I?” You shivered slightly as you felt her breath ghost over your stomach. “You know it’s okay to talk about feelings, honey.” You hummed in agreement, mulling over in your head whether or not to tell her. “Buck or I won’t judge you.” Nat pulled your suit off and ran her hands up and down your calves a few times in a soothing motion.

Bucky popped his head back into the room. “What aren’t we judging?”

“Y/N has a crush on two people she’s friends with, they’re friends, and I’m apparently quite close to both of them.” Nat explained, keeping eye contact with you and slightly raising one eyebrow to make sure she got the facts right. You nodded once, sharply, fighting the urge to crawl under the covers and curl in on yourself.

“Oh, baby doll.” Bucky said, coming to sit next to you on the bed. “You know you can tell us anything.” He wrapped an arm around you and you burrowed your face into his chest. “Oh shit, this is something you’re really nervous about, isn’t it, doll?”

You nodded, knowing now you were going to have to tell both of them the truth. “I like you.” You said softly, knowing Bucky’s super-soldier hearing would pick it up.

“You like me, baby doll?” He asked, rubbing your back as Nat came to sit on your other side. You nodded again, attempting to burrow further into his chest. “Hey, that’s okay, sweet pea. I like you too.”

“Nat told me that.” You said softly, feeling the glare from your best friend burn into your back.

“Who’s the other one, N/N?” She asked sharply.

“You.” You said into Bucky’s chest, knowing he pointed at Nat when he heard you say it.

“Me?” Nat asked, surprised. 

You nodded, pulling your head out of Bucky’s chest, but not willing to meet either of their eyes. “Of course it’s you guys. It’s always been the two of you there for me.” You paused, letting them mull over what you just said. “It’s why Meg and I split.”

Bucky turned you to face him so he could start pulling the bullet out of your shoulder. “How so, baby doll?” Nat rested her chin on your other shoulder, holding out a hand for you to squeeze.

“Well, she didn’t like the fact that I was constantly on missions, which is literally my job, so that didn’t help matters. But the other thing is that she said I looked at you guys differently than her, treated the two of you better.” You said, looking down and squeezing Nat’s hand.

Nat rubbed your back, knowing that if you hadn’t told the two of them this, you hadn’t told anyone. “She broke up with you because she could tell you liked us?”

You nodded. “She said that if she wasn’t my first priority then we weren’t meant to be. And work is always my priority.”

“But then it’s us?” Bucky asked softly, stopping the bleeding of the removal from the bullet before he stitched you shut again.

“Yeah.” You said softly. “She didn’t like that much.”

Bucky stitched you up, and as he had changed out of his suit while finding the medical kit, pulled his shirt off for you to wear. “Here, sweetheart. You’re all stitched up.”

“Oh, thank you, Buck.” You said, putting on his shirt, the nickname and his scent lighting your insides on fire. You sighed softly, curling up under the covers and rolling away from both of them, not knowing what to say to your two closest friends now that you had spilled your heart to them and they didn’t say anything.

Nat knelt next to you on the bed, gently placing a hand on your busted shoulder. “N/N, please don’t pout. Buck and I have talked, because we both like each other, and you. We want to try to make this work.”

Bucky knelt on the floor, cupping your face in his hands. “We don’t have to move quickly, baby doll, we just wanna be with you, if that’s something you’d be okay with.”

“Yeah.” You said softly. “I’d be okay with that. But how does something like this even work?”

“Baby, this is like any relationship, we’ll figure it out as we go. Communication and comprehension is key. And we’re pretty good at that.” Nat said, gently rolling you onto your back. “So why don’t we just start with cuddles? And we can go from there later.”

You nodded, moving over to the middle of the bed so they could both crawl in with you. “Is this okay? Or did you guys want to be closer to each other?”

“This is perfect, baby doll.” Bucky said, reaching across you to throw his arm over both you and Nat.

“Yeah, perfect.” Nat said, snuggling further into your side.

“Yeah, this is everything I’ve ever wanted.” You said, leaning your head against Nat’s while curling further into Bucky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Quick take a picture!” You heard somebody exclaim to wake you up. You were still very disoriented, having just woken up and you hadn’t even blinked your eyes open when light flashed behind them. 

“What the fuck is that?” Nat mumbled into your shoulder, eyes closed still.

“I dunno.” You mumbled, wrapping an extra arm around her. “Don’ really care either.”

Bucky pulled you both closer. “It’s Sam and Steve here to pick us up.” 

“But ‘m comfy ‘n sleepy.” You mumbled into Nat’s hair.

“I know you are, baby doll.” He said, beginning to untangle himself from the cuddle pile the three of you were in. “How about we all go for a nap back at the compound after we let your bullet wound actually get checked out?” Once untangled, Bucky picked you up in one arm and Nat in the other to carry you back onto the quinjet.

You nuzzled into his shoulder. “That sounds good.”

“So how did this all happen, punk?” Steve asked, taking you carefully from Bucky so neither you or Nat were dropped.

Bucky glanced between you and Nat fondly. “We’re all idiots.”

**

Taglist: @chrisevansdaughter, @buckybarnesandmarvel, @sarahrogersevans, @nana1000night

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Yall I am so sorry that it’s been so long since I posted, but this is finished now and I hope you like it. I hope to get a lot more fics out by the end of August bc then I’ll be moving and starting at a new school and it’s gonna be a whole thing.

[chickenstrangers]

NOT ME (2021) || EPISODE 12

[garbomode]

HOLD ON i can't stop thinking about a take i keep seeing that's like "kraken ed wasn't really that bad, he only hurt izzy and izzy deserved it." because like, even putting aside the izzy apologist in me, it's still just objectively wrong. he pushed lucius off the ship! as far as anyone knew he killed him!! that seems kind of like hurting someone to me!!

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Jesus fucking christ I hate the US south

[rebootgrimm]

CHAT??? DONALD TRUMP GOT FUCKING SHOT IN THE EAR AT A RALLY

I bet Twitter is going wild rn

Update: I think the news said it was a firearm, but it sounded like a BB gun

Update 2: It is confirmed that other people were wounded and that there were 7-8 shots. The gun is nearly confirmed to be a firearm. The only way we’ll know is if someone gets caught.

Update 3: The shooter is reported to be dead, but no one knows how since it hasn’t been released. We also know that a rally attendee is dead. Once the story is over on the news (specifically Fox News), I’ll post one large post about everything we know.