#safehouse records

[yourbuckies]

— Charles Bukowski, A Vote for the Gentle Light

[flowersforbucky]

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, 18+ only, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending

word count: 4.9k

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

Random Plot Points

A little about me as a writer, I love daydreaming about adventure stories. I usually know the general set up and larger plot points but oftentimes struggle with the how, how do characters get from point A to point B. 

So, I made a list of random challenges for my characters that I look at when I'm stuck.

Sharing in case helpful to others! (intended for adventure, sci-fi, fantasy stories) 

characters are delayed/blocked/experience a natural disaster (storm, fire, flood, avalanche, earthquake, epidemic, etc) (BONUS and forced to take a detour from the original path)

character(s) is trapped (quick sand, fall through ice, in room filling with poison, on sinking ship, in a trash compactor on the Death Star, etc) (BONUS- fall into hidden room and discover something) 

characters go to a festival/ball/party/political summit (where inevitably it all goes wrong)

character(s) overhears a secret (at bar, at party, from a whispered conversation below them in a stairway, etc) 

characters are attacked by an animal or mysterious force 

characters(s) caught in a mob/riot

character wins/loses something in a bet

character is brainwashed or possessed 

character is stranded/lost

character is poisoned 

character succumbs to injury or illness 

characters are chased/ attacked by antagonists 

character is captured or arrested (and needs to be rescued)

character is kidnapped and kidnappers make a demand for their release (financial ransom, exchange of information, prisoner exchange, etc) 

character(s) go undercover to retrieve information

characters decide to steal something they need for their quest (weapon, magical object, money, information, etc). (BONUS- time for a well-planned heist!) 

characters need to protect/ retrieve/ destroy something 

characters uncover a network of spies (up to you if they're unexpected allies or antagonists)  

characters discover hidden passageway, room, ruins etc that leads to an important clue

characters forced to hide from someone/something

characters need to escape 

characters lured into trap set by villain (BONUS if the villain doesn't even care who wins but only goaded them to learn how a magical object works, the extent of heroes powers, emergency response system of a government, etc) 

characters set trap for villain (BONUS- use someone or something important as bait) (if in Act 2, they fail) 

characters reveal critical information to villain in disguise 

a character is mistaken for someone else (and then is wrongfully arrested, receives information not intended for them, etc) 

characters receive help (hitch a ride, get help hiding from captors, get help escaping somewhere, etc) from an unlikely new ally 

characters forced to team up with an unlikely ally/ morally grey character, etc

characters learn something from simple library research (an oldie but a goodie)

characters just literally just stumble upon or witness something important (secret weapon, secret society etc) 

characters uncover a secret map/ coded message on the back of an old unassuming document (time for a classic treasure hunt!) 

someone escapes from prison (an old villain or an old ally) that changes the quest 

someone is being blackmailed (or otherwise forced to act against the protagonists)

someone is discredited (rumor, disinformation campaign etc) 

something stolen from your characters 

something (document, magical object, money) turns out to be fake

OR, something unassuming turns out to have special powers or meaning  

something is hacked (defense system, infrastructure, bank, private records, etc)

something critical is attacked (important bridge, port, bank/ financial system, safehouse, capitol building, character's familial home, etc.)

a computer virus is unleashed 

a biological weapon is unleashed 

a piece of information the characters believed was true, is false 

an ancient myth turns out to be true 

a secret is made public 

A law is changed or a vote on a critical piece of legislation loses/wins 

a political opponent wins an election/ a political ally loses an election 

character(s) help a passerby (from raiders, local tyrant, beast, mystical force, etc) 

characters "follow the money" and realize someone who was thought to be their ally is actually working for... (crime syndicate, villain, local tyrant etc) 

[wttcsms]

turn on the flash and hit record ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 1.5k synopsis simon misses you on one of his missions. good thing he has a collection of movies the two of you filmed to keep him company. content contains male masturbation, possessive!ghost, obsessed!ghost, filmed sex, vaginal fingering, brief gunplay (towards the end), he whimpers in this fic btw, slight size kink/size difference

Everything about you seems to have been made specifically for him, from the way your eyes seem to always catch his to how easily he can manhandle you, flipping you into different positions as he very well pleases.

You indulge with his every whim, eager to follow his commands and so when he asks you love, can I record you just this once? you agree with little to no hesitation. After all, it’s Simon, your Simon — you know he’s possessive almost to a fault, and the man rarely shows his face unless he truly trusts the person he’s baring himself to. There’s no chance someone else will be able to get their hands on the footage.

His missions last too long, and the weeks he spends separated from you are nothing short of pure agony. Before you, he didn’t feel the constant need for release, but after you? He craves it. You only realize you’re starving after having a taste of what you’ve been deprived of for so long.

Which is how he finds himself here, tucked safely away in the darkness of a room in a safehouse that’s seen better days, the front of his military-issued pants and briefs pulled down just enough to free his cock.

The tip is flushed red, already leaking with pre, and he spits into the palm of his hand before wrapping it around his length, practically hissing at the contact. Propped up on the nightstand and located in his direct line of sight is his private phone containing only your number and an album full of photos and videos of you in different positions and various states of undress.

Recording you just once turns into a second time which leads to him recording the two of you going at it for a third time until eventually, he’s built up quite the collection. The video playing on his phone is one of his favorites; it’s one of the first he’s ever filmed, proven by the shyness still evident on your face and body as you blush when the camera lands on you.

You’re lying on the bed he shares with you, completely bare and entirely vulnerable. Scattered across your skin are various lovebites, all varying in depth depending on whether he wanted to give you just a playful nip or true mark to remember him by when he’s gone.

You look so pretty right now, love. Let’s hope the camera can catch that beauty, huh?

He can hear the familiar sound of his chuckle coming from the video; you’re the only person left in this world to ever see him with such a playful demeanor, but his laugh might be the last thing on your mind. He’s certainly not thinking too hard when the camera angles downward to showcase your dripping cunt.

Simon takes a sharp inhale as he watches the way your folds are practically glistening with your slick arousal.

Wonder if your pussy’s so wet, I’ll be able to hear it in the video. What do you think, darling?

He tightens his grip on his cock as he watches himself enter three fingers, your tiny hole struggling to adjust to the abrupt intrusion. The shlick sound that accompanies every thrust is picked up by his phone camera, and Simon groans as the room he’s currently in gets enveloped in the sounds of him playing with your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, watching the precum bead from the tip of his cock, some of it slowly dribbling down, running along the veins on his dick. The extra lubrication makes his movements smoother, and soon, there’s a subtle clicking sound as he tries to stroke his dick in tandem with the thrusts he’s doing on the screen.

“Simon!” Your sweet voice moans out his name in the recording. He’s watched this video so many times already; he knows that right about now, you’re going to start lifting your pretty hips in an attempt to get his fingers to penetrate you even deeper. He remembers the night he filmed this video; he’s going to curl his fingers right up against that special spot of yours that’ll have you cumming all over his hand.

He struggles to keep his lidded eyes from closing all the way, desperate to watch your tiny hole fluttering around his fingers, squeezing him so tight. In turn, the grip on his dick only tightens as he watches you writhe on top of the sheets, slender fingers curling against the bedsheets as you scream out his name. The camera catches the way you cream all over his fingers, effectively coating his skin in it all the way down to his knuckles. It’s practically dripping all the way to his wrist.

The sight has him practically drooling, his strokes now even rougher. He imagines his rough, calloused hands are your smaller, soft ones. The girth of his dick makes you unable to wrap your whole entire hand, the tips of your fingers unable to touch due to his massive width. He tosses his head back, bucking into his hand as the audio from your little film still plays in the background.

Such a good girl for me. Always so needy, aren’t you?

He doesn’t need to see the video to know you’re nodding in reply. He watches through hazy vision as the him in the video takes his thumb and traces your bottom lip. Without him even needing to ask, you part those pretty lips of yours and take his thumb in your mouth, sucking.

Fuck, what he would do to have you here by his side right now.

He’ll have to make do with these videos, though. It’s not like these little films aren’t enough to bring him to release. The idea of his sweet love being his own personal pornstar does something to him, and he shuts his eyes, still working his cock as other memories of passionate nights beforehand flood his mind.

There was that one night where the two of you played one of the videos of him fucking you to the point where tears were brimming in your eyes due to overstimulation. He made a vow that for every time you came in that video, he would make you cum even harder. (He had done well in keeping that promise.) He thinks of the way your flesh feels underneath his fingers, and he relishes in the memory of how it feels to squeeze your thighs as he spreads you apart so he can savor the taste of you on his tongue. He could eat your little pussy out for hours, and after this mission, he makes a promise to do so.

He’s nearing the end of the video; he knows so because his favorite line is about to come up and at the perfect time, too.

Simon, I-I want your cum. Please come for me, please?

He doesn’t need to look at his screen to know you’re pouting up at him, knowing just the right thing to have him groaning. His breaths are coming in short pants, and your sweet, dulcet tone makes him want to come right then and there.

Please, Simon.  

Your little pleas for him to reach the height of pleasure is music to his ears. He’s practically whimpering now, forcing himself to stroke himself even more rapidly despite the fact that the stimulation on his already sensitive cock is blending pain into his pleasure.

“Gonna do it for you, love.” He weakly moans out in this empty room. He can feel himself about to fall off the edge, his release so close that it’s just about palpable. With a low groan of your name mixed with a string of curses, he finds himself ejaculating all over his hand. The amount of cum is so much that it’s not enough for it to just coat the entire length of his cock and fingers — no, there are strings of white splattered on his abdomen, effectively staining his uniform.

He’s panting, the video now over, but before he can shut off the phone, a text notification appears.

My Love [One Video Attachment]

He clicks on it, curious as to what you could possibly be sending him.

It’s a new video, one you must have just now filmed. You’ve got one of his guns, the magazine lying on the nightstand. He knows it’s unloaded and basically a toy at that point, but he doesn’t understand what’s going on until he watches you strip yourself, leaving your beautiful figure on display. He can see you dripping for him already, and he watches with bated breaths as you take the barrel of his handgun and tease your soaking entrance with it.

I need you so badly, Simon. When will you come back home?

His cock is already hardening again, and he palms himself, fumbling with his phone to call you.

Everything about you is perfect to him.

[anawrites3]

Dick getting turned into a bunny and taking the opportunity to annoy the hell out of Slade. Slade knows its Dick, but not anyone else. So you see this big mean merc with a bunny perched on his shoulder.

Extended version on ao3

"I'm going to kill Constantine." Slade muttered to himself, dragging a hand down his face.

Dick – excuse him, Dick in a body of a fucking bunny – flicked one of his ears at him. He kept crunching happily at the carrot Slade gave him, giving Slade a blissful break from him running all over his safehouse. Of course Grayson's ADHD only intensified after getting turned into a fucking bunny.

It's been four days. Four fucking days and they still didn't have a way to turn Dick back into a human. So, what it meant was that for the past four days Dick had been annoying the hell out of Slade while having the time of his life himself. At this point Slade considered throwing him out onto the streets or just simply giving him away to the Bat but he didn't feel like bothering with the consequences of it (read: dealing with annoyed Grayson).

That still didn't mean he had to be happy about the whole thing.

"I hope you're aware that I'll make you pay for all of this when you're back to normal." Slade promised. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. "I'm going to fuck stupid ideas out of you."

Dick dropped the carrot, his little nose twitching.

------

Slade had a job to do. He had a job to do that he couldn't put off any longer but he also had his boyfriend turned into a bunny that didn't want to stay in the safehouse like a good boy (that he very much wasn't). Dick actually bit him when he tried to lock him up in the bedroom so Slade didn't have any other option than take Dick with him.

"Behave." Slade growled out when Dick began running around the rooftop they were placed on, two buildings away from where his mark was sitting. "I will let you fall if you decide to jump off."

Dick sent him a look that ever in a bunny body Slade was able to recognize as No, you won't but he did calmed down just a bit. Slade sighed again but trusted him to not die and came back to preparing his rifle. It was a simple work, just scaring his target a little which was the only reason why he allowed Dick to come.

He was able to put up with a lot of things but he didn't think he'd be able to survive Nightwing trying to mess up his contract as a fucking bunny.

Thankfully, Dick didn't try anything stupid this time. He ran around the rooftop a few more times, obnoxiously happy just to be outside after a few days of being forced to stay in the safehouse and then he jumped onto Slade's back and curled there for a nap.

"That's a really awful place to be right now." Slade told him, aiming.

Dick ignored him. So, Slade pulled the trigger and didn't even feel bad when Dick fell off of his back from the recoil force.

------

"Fuck! Fuck, that's Deathstro-"

The thug cut off sharply, his gaze focusing on the bunny perched on Deathstroke's shoulder. His friends stopped, alarmed by the way he froze and looked towards Slade as well.

One of them began to laugh.

"Shut the fuck up!" The first one hissed, punching him strongly in the arm.

Slade watched it all happen in a bored fashion, though he was beginning to get annoyed really fast. Dick nosed at his cheek through the mask.

"Sorry, sorry, I can't-!" He covered his lips with a hand though he continued laughing, so hard that he threw his head back. "I just-! Look at him!"

"I-I would prefer not to..." The second one mumbled, subtly moving back.

Slade lifted a hand, the one without a gun, to stroke lightly Dick's fur. The move only made the thug cackle more heavily.

"He has a fucking bunny on his shoulder! That's so cute!"

"Um, for the record, Mister Deathstroke..." The second one spoke up again. He lifted his hands in the air, body tensing all over when Slade focused his gaze on him. "I think you can do whatever you want to do and that- that your bunny is very cute!"

"Thank you." Slade said.

And then he shot the laughing thug right in the head.

------

"Deathstroke! Stop right there!"

Slade sighed. He did it a lot since Dick got turned into a fucking pet and he knew that if Dick were able to speak he would be pointing it out for him every time. But he wasn't. He was sitting silently on Slade's shoulder, like he did everytime they went out now, and for how little he was he attracted a lot of attention.

So of course Batman's little sidekick had to notice him as well.

"Run along, Robin." Slade advised, pulling out his sword. Dick nibbled at his mask in warning. "This late kids should be already in bed."

Robin scoffed but before he came up with any answer, he noticed the bunny on his shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

"Where is that bunny from?" He demanded.

"None of your business, kid."

"Give him to me!"

Slade blinked. That one he didn't expect, though he supposed it wasn't that surprising. Dick told him how much of an animal person young Wayne was and about the little zoo he's keeping at the back of Wayne manor.

"No."

Damian's face twisted, as if he actually expected Slade to just hand over the bunny.

"Give him to me!" He repeated, as if that would somehow change Slade's mind. Really, the only thing that was missing from the picture was him stomping his feet like a child he was.

Slade huffed. "Why would I do that? I'm not letting you steal my bunny."

"Steal?!" Damian echoed, agitated. "I'm not-"

That's when Batman decided to show up as well. He jumped down onto the rooftop next to Damian, his boots making a soft thud as they hit the concrete and Dick's ears flicked at the sight of him.

"Deathstroke." He growled out before taking him in properly. He blinked a few times. "Is that a bunny on your shoulder?"

Slade could just sigh again.

[lexkent]

Why Lionel Luthor is the True Villain of Smallville:

Threatened to expose Clark's fake adoption records unless Jonathan Kent persuaded Pete Ross’s family to sell their factory to him.

Kidnapped Clark and put him in a vat of kryptonite solution to be studied in an attempt to discover his secrets.

Kept Clark trapped in a cage made of kryptonite in a separate incident.

Impregnated his dying wife's nurse while he was in a position of power over her as her boss, denied he was responsible, and had her locked away in a psychiatric ward for 7 years after taking her baby away from her. Lionel insured the child, Lucas, remained in poverty in the foster care system and prevented him from ever being adopted.

Forced the second woman he impregnated while married to Lillian, while in a position of power over her as her boss, to give their child to an orphanage where she was tortured. He soon found another home for Tess where she grew up in poverty and extreme physical abuse.

Forced his wife to have another baby despite her objections and was then dismissive of her postpartum depression. "I told you I didn't want any more children. I see how you treat Alexander, chipping away at his spirit."

Found a child, Davis Bloome, in a cornfield and believing him to be The Traveler, ran experiments on the boy until he realized he wasn't who he wanted and proceeded to dump him off alone on a dark Metropolis street.

Created a clone from a dead little girl, Emily Dinsmore, and locked her away in a lab, refusing to let her father ever see her again. "You can't take her away from me. She's my daughter." "She's the property of Luthorcorp."

Was such a terrible father to Lex that Lillian Luthor killed her infant son to spare him from the cruel and twisted parenting Lex endured from Lionel. Was such a horrible husband to Lillan that Lex took the blame for his baby brother's death knowing Lionel would have murdered her in retaliation.

Lied and told Lex that Lucas died in infancy, like Julian, knowing how much it would hurt Lex to hear.

Paid someone to kill Lucas once he became a potential threat to his power. Clark stopped the bullets, and Lionel had the shooter killed in police custody before he could talk.

Forced Lex's mother figure, Pamela Jenkins, out of Lex's life following the death of Lex's mother because he didn't want her to make Lex soft. Convinced Lex that Pamela never loved him and was only ever interested in their money. 

Blew up Chloe and Gabe Sullivan's safehouse in an attempt to kill them and prevent her from testifying against him at his murder trial. Hired a mutant hitman to kidnap and kill Chloe after she escaped the explosion.

Had Oliver Queen's parents killed in a plane crash leaving him orphaned at the age of 5.

Ordered the murder of Andrea Rojas’s mother who was an activist who worked for an organization that fought back against gangs, dealers, and large business corporations. In addition to losing her mother, Andrea was stabbed in the heart during the attack.

Resurrected a teenager, Adam Knight, to get close to Lana Lang and spy on Clark Kent. When Adam failed to retrieve useful information, Lionel refused to give him any more of the serum he required to stay live. As a result, Adam suffered immensely before dying of organ failure.

Resurrected Vince Davis who lived for a short, painful period of time before his body deteriorated without access to Lionel's serum.

Poisoned Lex with a lethal dosage that would've killed 99.9% of people.

Told Lex he loved him in prison only to persuade him into accepting his hand so he could use a Kryptonian stone to body swap them, leaving Lex to rot and die in prison in his place while Lionel escaped with Lex's body. Instead, Clark intervened and Lionel escaped inside of Clark's body, leaving Clark trapped to die in prison. Shortly after the bodyswap occured, Lionel looked down the front inside of his(Clark's) waistband while smiling to himself. While in Clark Kent's body, Lionel initiated a hug with Martha Kent where he was turned on to the point of shooting heat vision from his eyes. Lionel-in-Clark's body flirted with Chloe, a teenager, and was centimeters away from kissing her. And when Lionel-in-Clark's body encountered Lana, a teenager, he said to her, "A man would travel around the world to pluck your succulent fruit," and forced a kiss onto her, smiling to himself after she slapped him and ran away. Lionel proceeded to attack Lex, choking him, slamming his head against a desk, and demanding 57 million dollars using Clark's super strength. He then went to the Kent Farm and threw Jonathan across the room into the kitchen cabinets. Lionel told Clark he would murder Lex if he didn't cooperate with his demands.

Pretended to be blind. "Playing the handicapped card is low, even for you." "But I was able to see more clearly than ever. It's amazing what people try and get away with right in front of your eyes when they think you can't see."

Fired 2,500 Smallville citizens to force his son back under his control. When Lex attempted to organize an employee buyout of the factory, Lionel bought the Smallville Savings and Loan and threatened to foreclose on every employee's mortgage. When Lex continued to organize and fight to save everyone's jobs, Lionel threatened, "I'll bury you and everyone in Smallville who takes your side."

Blackmailed Smallville sheriff Ethan Millar into digging up dirt on every Lexcorp shareholder(Smallville factory workers), so Lionel could blackmail each one into selling their shares to him in order to take over Lex's fledgling company. In addition, Lionel threatened to expose the sheriff if he didn't do him various favors.

Once again tried blackmailing Jonathan Kent leading to a physical altercation between the two. Lionel fled the scene as Jonathan suffered a fatal heart attack.

Installed hidden cameras and microphones throughout Lex's office, so he could sabotage him and steal his business deals.

Took over Lex's company, which Lex had invested everything he had into, leaving him with nothing and immediately kicking him out of his home.

Insisted an ill-advised, life-threatening surgery be performed on Lex after he had been shot and wasn't stable enough for further surgery, making it clear he'd prefer a dead son over a physically disabled one.

Set Lex up for the murders of Dr. Teng and her entire team at Metron Labs after Lex refused to work for him.

Had sex with Lex's lover, Victoria Hardwick, while they were still sleeping together. 

Hired Dr. Helen Bryce to seduce and spy on Lex for him. Helen later attempted to murder Lex on their honeymoon.

Gave Martha Kent a watch engraved, "To Martha, with deep affection. L.L." while she was his employee and happily married to Jonathan Kent.

Refused to come clean about his past sexual involvement with Rachel Dunleavy and the existence of their son, Lucas, despite Lex being held hostage and his survival depending on Lionel telling the truth.

Refused to come clean about Level 3 when it would have saved the lives of a group of teenagers and his own son. 

Ignored and denied any care to his employee, Earl Jenkins, who was poisoned by kryptonite on the job which led to uncontrollable, dangerous seizures.

Created a deadly fear toxin for the military that leaked into Smallville.

Drugged, gaslit, attacked, and framed his son, orchestrating a scenario where everyone would believe Lex to be crazy after Lex discovered Lionel had his parents murdered for insurance money. Lionel had Lex committed to Belle Reve Sanitarium where he had Lex further drugged and put through electroshock therapy, forcing 600 volts of electricity through Lex's brain. When the doctor insisted they pause the procedure for Lex's safety, Lionel ignored the warning and demanded they continue. This brain frying could have easily destroyed Lex's mind, as it did for others who endured it, and ultimately wiped away months of Lex's memories, allowing Lionel to be off the hook for his parent's murders. Everyone involved in Lionel's plot, all loose ends, met untimely deaths.

Threatened, manipulated, controlled, hyper criticized, denied affection, and lied to Lex constantly. Lionel mentally, emotionally, and physically abused his child throughout his entire life, raising him to become a monster and then denying any accountability for what Lex became in the end.

This list is far from complete, so feel free to add more!

[fox-guardian]

I am still thinking so hard about artist Jon.

Like. It's a hobby for him, purely, he doesn't plan to make money off of it. It's just for fun. He doodled a bit in his free time and then took life drawing classes in uni because Georgie insisted he needed to get out and do something more than studying so he. Kept studying. But just art this time.

He would describe his style as a kind of realism, but its definitely stylized in colors at least, as he's impatient and goes for bolder colors for lighting pretty early in his process so he doesn't lose the feeling of the piece, especially if it never gets finished. He wants to keep the vibes, just in case he wants to go back to it, so he doesn't forget.

He kinda falls of drawing after he starts at the institute, but I think during season 4 he picks it up again to cope with. Everything. He's not using his fancy drawing supplies since he doesn't have them anymore, just office pens and pencils. It's a lot of Martin, of course. But also Tim. He wishes he could ask Melanie to describe Sasha for him so he could try to draw her too, but he figures that wouldn't go down very well. Besides, telling his coworkers he draws is too much vulnerability anyway. Sometimes he even draws The Admiral, but he doesn't often draw animals so it never does him justice in his eyes.

Then at the safehouse, he works up the nerve and asks if Martin could sit for him for a bit. He doesn't need to pose or anything, just stay right there, Martin, keep reading that book, just don't move too much for a while, the lighting is perfect, he needs to capture it. He needs to map it with pen and paper. His phone camera could never catch the golden light on Martin's hair, and besides, the photo could lie to him later. But muscle memory and scratches in paper are harder to change, surely. He needs to record the moment like this. Hold it to his heart. Feel it in his wrist as he swipes strands of hair across the page, in his shoulder as his arm arcs down the curve of Martin's stomach, in his fingertips as he smudges the pigment he bought from the local craft supply shop to form a reddened cheek.

And Martin's cheeks are red. After everything that's happened, all the distance, his heart wasn't prepared for the intimacy of sitting before the man he loves being lovingly analyzed and having his likeness put to paper. It's exciting and agonizing at the same time, feeling eyes on him for hours as Jon stares down every curve, maps out every freckle, mole, and blemish. And when Martin sees the final image as Jon sheepishly presents it to him, he cries. He remembers feeling the fear of statement givers as he read their stories, living it through the words written. It was kind of like that, only instead of fear, he felt the overwhelming love pressed into every line on the page. Every stroke, every smudge, even tucked into the negative space, filling him up until it couldn't be contained, and he burst into tears. (Which worried Jon greatly until Martin reassured him with a hug and a kiss.)

He doesn't ask Jon to stop drawing him. How could he, when it was always with such love behind it? Not to mention Jon was getting back in the swing of it, oiling his rusty skills, and he was so happy doing it. But he will admit it was mildly mortifying seeing their home fill up with so many portraits of him, steadily increasing in their flattering composition. Jon was drawing from his imagination now that he had memorized most of Martin's form, and it was getting out of hand. He once caught a glimpse of a work in progress of Martin lounging and being fed grapes by cherubs. Good lord.

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 4

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, virgin reader, first kiss

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s time to head to the safehouse that Ghost set up for the both of you. Before you leave though, Ghost introduces you to some new experiences in your own country. While he takes care of you, you find yourself falling for him even more to the point where you want to test curiosity of yours. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

“Has the duke spilled his guts yet?” Ghost asked Soap, making the last minute arrangements for the safehouse as quick as he could. While he would’ve liked to have been the one to interrogate the bastard in his own special way, he didn’t want to leave you alone for too long. Luckily, Soap arrived quickly to take care of the interrogation for him. He was glad that his sergeant didn’t mind talking with his fists too. 

“Bits and pieces. Not much though. At least, nothing that will really bolster our investigation. He seems like he genuinely doesn’t know much about the organization he decided to trust. They just made him safety and financial promises which he took without question.” Soap revealed, wiping stray specks of blood on his arms with a warm, moist cloth provided by a maid.

Ghost hummed in annoyance. An idiot like the duke, who was so willing to sell out your life along with your country, wasn’t worth breathing the same air as you. He would kill him if he could. It would be doing the world a favor. “What about the servant?”

Soap shrugged and shook his head. “Still working on that one, Lt. He’s been asleep.”

“Asleep?” Ghost repeated, hardly believing what his sergeant just told him.

“According to the guards, when the man was taken in for custody, he just dropped dead asleep. Coma-level sleep. We can’t get him to wake up. I’ve contacted the team about it and Kate is going to send an expert to test for drugs. We think that he might’ve taken something before being taken into custody. Capsule in the teeth kind of shit.” Soap explained carefully, making sure he covered everything that he needed to cover.

“What about guest statements? Anything useful?” Ghost continues, his patience wearing thin. He needed a win. They all did. This was no longer just a concerned parental request. A whole country was truly at stake of being taken over by terrorists. 

Once again, Soap shook his head. “Sorry, Lt. Everything is on record so you’re free to read through everything just in case I missed something, but the only thing we can do is continue our investigation and wait for the servant to wake up.”

Little did they know that you were just outside the doors, listening to their whole conversation. You were finished packing what you thought you needed with the help from your maid staff. So, you ended up leaving the room in search of Ghost to let him know that you were ready to go. 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You only meant to wait patiently for their conversation to wrap up. But you couldn’t unhear what was being discussed. It scared you that they haven’t been able to uncover much regarding these terrorists that were after your country and life. It was even scarier to know that there wasn’t much you could do except trust in Ghost and his team. 

Finally, you mustered up your courage and gave the door a light knock before coming in. “Pardon me. I’m all set to go to the safehouse.”

Soap’s expression lit up at the sight of you, his lighthearted, playful side coming through immediately. You were fascinated with how different he appeared compared to Ghost. A little shorter, stylish faux mohawk, and a smile that brought life to the prim and proper room. A part of you was expecting Ghost’s teammate to be more like him. Was the 141 actually quite diverse? What was the rest of his team like?

“Well hello, Princess Y/n! I’m Sergeant Mactavish, but people call me Soap. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after all the things Ghost has said about you.” He greeted you warmly, holding out his hand for a casual handshake. Without thinking, you took it, your own eyes brightening up along with your cheeks.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Sergeant Mactavish. Ghost talks about me?” You couldn’t help but clarify, your eyes meeting Ghost’s who just averted his gaze. God damn it, Soap!

“He-”

“That’s enough, Sergeant! Get back to work.” Ghost shut him down swiftly, the word of the lieutenant being final. It didn’t hurt Soap though. In fact, he was used to Ghost reacting this way which he thought was hilarious. 

With a chuckle, Soap took his leave out of the room. “Aw well, maybe next time! See you later, Princess.” 

As he walked out, you smiled, feeling uplifted by the interaction. Meeting Soap was like meeting an old friend. You hoped that you would be able to meet him again, especially to hear the kinds of things Ghost said about you. For now, you redirected your attention back to Ghost who looked more tired than usual.

“Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant Ghost? You look like you need some rest.” You gently pointed out, your brows furrowing in concern. Ghost’s soul warmed up like a fireplace being started at your consideration.

“I’ll be alright. No need to worry about me. You said that you were all ready to go?” He switched topics quickly, not wanting you to worry too much about him. He would catch up on rest later. The most important thing was getting you to a safer place. That would be his safe space to rest too.

You gave a sheepish smile as he redirected the attention onto you. “Indeed. I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later. I hope that me being ready does not rush you.”

He wanted to shower you with praise over you being such a good girl. Ghost was incredibly grateful that you weren’t fussy whatsoever. “No, that’s perfect. We should be getting out of here now.”

An armored car was waiting right outside the palace to take you to the safehouse, already loaded up with just a few suitcases. You weren’t sure how long you were going to be at the safehouse, but you only packed necessities. No formal wear, no jewelry. Nothing that would take up too much space. As you stood on the palace steps, you took a deep breath of fresh air. Birds were chirping excitedly, a slight breeze cut through the would-be heat. It was a perfect day to finally leave your marble prison. Not without protests from your parents, though.

“Are you absolutely sure that this is necessary? I mean, how else will we know that the princess is safe if she is so far away?” Your father nervously blurted, his eyes shifting from Ghost to you to the car in an anxious cycle. 

Your mother wasn’t too happy either, though for different reasons that almost had Ghost snap. “How will we know that she is keeping up with her studies?!”

Before Ghost could combat their nerves, you huffed and faced your parents for the first time in your life. This new courage was found in knowing that there was really nothing your parents could do to stop this from happening. “Mother, father, I will be perfectly safe. I will continue to study as usual. However, this will also be a great chance for me to learn what the world is really like outside of the palace. We won’t do anything unsafe, so please, just let me learn what I need to learn.”

For a moment, there was pure silence between everyone. No one was expecting you to stand up for yourself, even if it was about time that you did. Then, your father places his hands on your shoulders, his gaze softening. “Y/n, when did you become such a wonderful young woman? It was only yesterday that I was holding you in my arms for the first time.”

Your eyes widened for a second, not expecting your father to become so affectionate all of a sudden. He was certainly more affectionate than your mother, though, you couldn’t remember the last time your father told you that he loved you. You blinked back tears he pulled you in for a sweet hug as if you were leaving forever.

As Ghost watched, he felt his anger begin to melt. As much as he hated the decisions your parents made regarding your life, at least he knew that it came from a place of love. At least for the case of your father. Your mother, on the other hand, still had a sour look on her face. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut in a tight line.

“Lieutenant, keep my daughter safe.” The king ordered to which Ghost gave a firm nod to. He would rather lose his life than have you in danger again. 

After you pulled away and said your final goodbyes, you got into the armored car. Ghost got into the driver’s seat and started it up, eager to help you see the world outside of the palace walls. As you looked out the window, seeing your parents get smaller and smaller with the distance, you felt a surge of excitement run through you. 

Ghost noticed how your demeanor changed. Now without the pressures of royal conformity, you were free to be yourself. More courageous. It seemed like you had some bark and bite in you as well after all. He wanted to know you even more. “You wanna choose the music for the ride?”

You perked up at his offer, eagerly nodding your head as he handed you his phone that was already connected to the car’s bluetooth system. After perusing some options, you settled on a playlist that surprised Ghost. Even under the mask, you could tell that he was questioning your choice. “I want to hear all kinds of music. I want to hear every single song that was banned for me.”

He gave a chuckle for the first time that you’ve been together. The sound had your heart skip a beat. You didn’t even know that he was capable of laughing with how serious he looked all the time. “Very well. I’ll make sure you get your chance to experience anything you want that you normally wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the utter joy you felt, completely forgetting that your life was in danger just for the moment. 

~

It was a long drive to the safehouse in the deep countryside. Your eyes were trained on the views through the window like it was television. You never knew how pretty your country looked. The architecture was classic with plenty of brick buildings and natural curvatures. There were plenty of sidewalks to cater to pedestrian travel rather than cars. Ivy vines with flowers crawled on the side of buildings, the natural beauty of nature colliding with man-made structures. 

There were plenty of open-air markets as well. Produce stands, custom art pieces, coffee trucks. Everything was conveniently available, no matter if you were heading home from work or just taking a stroll. As you passed a farmer’s market, you noticed how busy it seemed with families. Kids running around, parents picking out ingredients, business owners offering samples to treat the good children. 

Ghost noticed how you looked out the window, longing to join the streets to really experience what life was like. He debated if it would be safe to allow a little time for you to explore. He wasn’t keen on the idea of so many people around you. However, if he stuck close to you, then it should be fine, right? Besides, how could he deny the pretty little look you gave as you yearned for a little adventure. 

Before you knew it, Ghost found somewhere to park and got out of the car. Then, he opened your door and held his hand out for you to take. “Just for a little while, okay? Stick close to me.”

The smile you gave was so big and bright that it almost hurt your cheeks. You couldn’t help it, though. Ghost was granting you one of your biggest wishes. You took his hand and stepped out of the car, taking in the sounds of the city. People conversing, bike bells ringing, dogs barking. It was unlike anything you have ever heard. 

Obeying his orders, you did stick close to Ghost, your arm naturally looping around his without much thought. This was the usual hold for an escort that you have performed many times. It was a natural instinct as Ghost led the way to the farmer’s market. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t notice how strong his muscles felt underneath his shirt. You definitely felt how hard your heart pounded as he held you just as securely to his side.

When he paused to swap out his balaclava for the skeleton face mask that he wore at the party, you nearly tripped over yourself. In the natural light of the sun, his blonde hair seemed brighter like sunshine itself. His eyes seemed more open as well. Warmer. You blushed and stared down at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to catch your breath that he ended up stealing from you.

“Everything alright? Having second thoughts?” He wondered, compassion present in his voice as you all of a sudden seemed shy. 

With a shake of your head and a smile, you reassured him. “I’m fine. Just eager is all.”

With that, he led you into the market that was flooding with people. Ghost kept a careful eye out on everyone that passed by. His arm also tightened just a little more firmly to ensure that you didn’t get separated from him. As you walked, your eyes scanned over all of the products up for sale. Baked goods, ripe fruit, crocheted clothes, beautiful art. Before you knew it, you were dragging Ghost from stall to stall to ensure that you could see everything that the market had to offer.

Ghost found it amusing. He noticed the way your eyes lit up when you tasted a free sample of fresh cheese or juicy apple slices. He noticed the way the corners of your mouth lifted into a grin as you admired the craftsmanship of art. He also noticed when your eyes lingered on a particular homemade hair claw clip that was decorated with pearls, thin gold chains, and delicate flowers. 

“You want it.” He pointed out as more of a statement rather than a question. Your cheeks flushed pink, feeling a little embarrassed by your obvious infatuation. The truth was that most of your clothes and jewelry were chosen for you. You were allowed to mix-and-match with what you were given, but you have never really chosen out anything yourself. 

“I’m just impressed with the details. It is quite a beautiful hair clip.” You danced around the topic, wanting to seem more humble. However, Ghost didn’t really buy it. With a swift motion, he fished out his wallet from his pocket and took out some bills. 

Your mouth opened in shock. “Lieutenant, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine. Consider it a souvenir for your first real outing.” Ghost dismissed you with ease, handing over the money to the seller. He picked up the hair clip and handed it to you to try on, happy to indulge in your wants.

For a moment, you separated your arm from Ghost to put your hair up, loose tendrils naturally falling to frame your face. You let them be as the rest of your hair was fashioned up with the clip. The seller handed you a small mirror to see your reflection. You almost cried when you saw yourself. You never imagined that your bodyguard would buy you such a wonderful gift. “Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost.”

Ghost found his heart skipping a beat as he took in your new appearance. The clip matched your princess personality perfectly. The delicate chains that dangled down pearl and flower beads guided his eyes to the smooth nape of your neck. 

The thought that he wanted to kiss that nape crossed his mind. 

Clearing his throat, he took your arm again. “It suits you. Wouldn’t look better on anybody else.”

It was hard not to fall even deeper for him when he complimented you like that. Your heart pounded as you walked beside him again, your steps feeling lighter than air. Nothing else at the market caught your eye as his compliment kept echoing in your head, turning your feelings into goo. 

As the market neared closing time, the amount of people began to dwindle down. Ghost felt his shoulders fall, feeling more at ease with less people around. Circling back around, he led you back to the produce stalls, wondering what ingredients he should pick up for the safehouse. 

The safehouse would be stocked with food, but not with a lot of fresh ingredients. He wanted to continue making this a good day for you with a homemade dinner rather than whatever TV dinners were waiting in the freezer. He wasn’t a chef by any means, having spent most of his life eating MREs and military canteen food. At the very least, he could make you something simple yet good. 

Remembering the cheese you seemed to enjoy as a sample and how it was tomato season, Ghost picked out all the necessary ingredients to make homemade tomato soup and grilled cheeses for tonight. You watched him curiously as he picked everything out before something in the distance caught your attention. 

“What kind of bread do you like?” He asked you, holding two different loaves of bread in his hands while he considered the options. When he looked to you for an answer though, he could tell that your gaze was trained far into the distance. He turned to look around, trying to find what you were staring at. 

In the distance was a person with a dark hoodie and a bandana covering their face. Bright paint brought color to their sleeves and jeans. The figure was walking away, but it was obvious what they were just up to with what was close to him. 

“Shit.” Ghost cursed as he pulled out his phone with Captain Price on speed dial. 

The other line was picked up quickly. “Lieutenant?”

“Tagger going east on Clover Street. Black hoodie, blue jeans, red bandana, covered in paint.” He informed, his voice low as he kept an eye on the distant figure. He observed how they walked down the street, waiting for them to change directions if they were planning on it.

“Getting a hold of local cameras now. You’re with the princess?” Captain Price inquired, his hands moving fast to find this figure through the city cameras. Finally, he found the person that Ghost described.

“Affirmative.” 

“Sending Gaz to pursue. I recommend that you two get to the safehouse pronto. I didn’t think they would be out in broad daylight.” Price advised, already contacting Gaz to give him his new assignment. Once Gaz accepted the orders, the captain hung up. Ghost knew that his captain needed to focus on this immediately, so he wasn’t offended by the sudden hang-up.

He bought the groceries, now in a bit more of a rush. Securing your arm around his once more, he began to lead you back to the car. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Your face fell as the day seemed to be ruined by another case of danger. However, there was something that was bothering you. You noticed the paint on the person’s clothes and a strike of color against one of the brick walls he was near. Curiosity was getting the better of you. 

“Wait!” You paused, your stance suddenly strong and pulling back from Ghost. 

His bold brows rose as you defied him for the first time. Surely you had a good reason to. “What is it? Something wrong?”

You all of a sudden grew a little shy as his intense eyes bored into you, waiting for your explanation. Despite how bashful you grew, you persisted. “I want to see the graffiti they were making. Can we? Please?

“Oh, Princess, it wasn’t a piece of art they were making.” Ghost said knowingly, flashes of the pictures he’d seen crossing his mind. Tags of revolution. War. 

“I still want to see. Please, Lieutenant?” You pleaded, trying to follow your instincts as closely as you could. 

With the way you looked at him, it was hard to say no. He wasn’t sure if you knew that there were tags around the whole city calling for your head. Probably not since your parents didn’t tell you the truth about your life being in serious danger. But. . . he supposed that you deserved to see them just this one time. This was your country after all. “As long as we’re quick. You have to stay close to me too. Got it?”

You eagerly nodded and latched onto his arm, letting him swiftly guide you to the spots of paint on brick in the distance. As you got closer, you could make out specific shapes and color switches. Getting even closer proved Ghost wrong.

This was art.

You stared in awe at the giant mural before you. A crow with a golden crown in its ebony beak. Feathers wrapped in fire and barbed wire. The crow was about to drop the crown into a pit of hell below it, filled with skulls, demons, hellfire, and sharp blades. Ghost was surprised as well. The pictures he saw depicted small tags here and there of the crows. Here, this was a full blown work of art. 

Your free hand drifted up to touch the now colorful bricks. The paint was still a little tacky, but nothing that would stain you. As you looked up, drinking in every detail, Ghost watched you. He was nervous about what you were going to say. 

What you did say startled him. “Crows are a symbol of transformations, prophecies, and death.”

“Your mother said the opposite, save for death.”

“For her, death is an inescapable darkness. Evil. In reality, crows can bring fortune during bad times. Death is good fortune since it is a new beginning. This message isn’t a threat. It’s hope.” You concluded, tracing the swooping beak with your fingers. The shadows and highlights made the crow look almost three-dimensional.

Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond. He normally had an answer for any situation, yet what you said stumped him. How could he respond to something so poetically profound? 

You did give him something new to look into though. He would find the time to talk to his team about it later. For now, he had to finally take you to the safe house. “Come on, we gotta get moving.”

~

The drive through the countryside was long and soothing. Ghost took control of the music once you began to doze off. Something light at a low volume was played so you could continue sleeping peacefully. You had a long day out. You probably burned a lot more energy than what you were used to as well.

Once the car hit the dirt road, you stirred awake. The stars were beginning to come out, having driven for hours. You were surrounded by endless fields of local wildflowers with only the occasional tree. While you did love the looks of the city, there was something to love about the countryside too. The land that felt infinite made you feel like you could do anything. You were eager to see what the land looked like during a beautiful sunrise. 

Soon, the car pulled up at a rustic cottage with a large shed beside it. Ghost stepped out of the car for a second to open it up, turning it into a garage that would just barely fit the vehicle. Once the car was parked, you were led into the house.

A thin layer of dust hung in the air along with the fresh scent of nearby wildflowers. The cottage contained the essentials as far as you could tell. A living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Generically decorated, yet cozy compared to the sterile fanciness of the palace. 

Ghost brought the luggage in, setting yours in the bedroom of your choosing. He gave you some time to unpack and settle in while he got started on dinner. 

As you placed some of your clothes in one of the empty dressers, the fact that you would be living with your bodyguard for who knew how long began to hit you. Your heart picked up speed along with your breath. Not that you expected anything to happen or develop between the two of you, a part of you still had a sense of hope that your relationship would grow stronger at the very least. 

Before heading back out towards the kitchen, you caught your reflection in a bedroom mirror. The hair clip was still fastened to your hair, giving you butterflies. It was still hard to believe that he had bought you a gift so easily like it costed him nothing. You could’ve sworn that he seemed a little stunned when it was in your hair too. In a good way. 

Ghost was a gentleman. He was just being kind. He wouldn’t do anything that could be considered unprofessional or unfriendly. 

Bodyguard protecting a princess. That’s all your relationship will ever be. Right?

-

Tag List: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess @cum-tea-and-towels @littleghostbride @meowzerzstuff @izziyuwh @literaturewh0r3things @bi-witch-bxtch @victoriareadsbooks

[peachesofteal]

Heartbeat / Chapter 1

Same pairing as I got you and Picture.

Simon Riley/female reader 3.6k words - part of the Sassy series - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, pregnancy, anxiety, vomiting, PTSD, panic attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, Protective Simon, Possessive Simon, oral sex - female receiving, explicit sex, breeding kink, praise kink. Mentions of violence. Trauma. Blood. Angst. Hurt/Injured reader. Simon made up his mind.

“But not the thick crust kind. The thin kind, well done. Tell them-“ He shut the truck door with a firm push and pressed the phone back up to his ear.

“I know, Sass. I know.”

“that I want it with black spots top and bottom. And extra cheese! Last time they forgot it and-“

“Sass.”

“Yeah?”

“I got it.”

“Erm, right.”

It’s been a month since Simon showed up on your doorstep. A month, since he took his mask off in front of you, showed you who he was. A month since he started to try to earn your trust back. It was slow, and you were wary of him, and he tried not to hold it against you, even though it frustrated him to no end. Some days, you still slip away from him. Distrusting, and angry. Hurt. He rides it out with you, as patient as possible, no matter how rough it is. He has no other options.

The first week was the worst. You fought him tooth and nail. Ferociously. Viciously. True to your spirit. The morning after he had showed up on your front step at night, you didn’t let him in your house for almost two hours. You spoke to him through the crack in the door until he convinced you to open up, and then once you did, you spent three hours putting him through his paces. Pushing him about why he had you put on leave, why he disappeared on you, why he ran from you at every turn.

“You put an intimate relationship with a superior down on my record.” You hissed at him, spitting poison with every word.

“I didn’t. Price and I, we talked. It wasn’t on record.” He was surprised when he watched tears gather in your eyes, his mouth moving but no words coming out except; “Sass, please, I-“ 

“You and Price decided to get rid of me!” you screamed at him, and he stood there and took it from you. Took everything you threw at him because you were right. In the end, that is what happened. He implored Price to put you on leave or transfer you out because he couldn’t handle it.

He’d never been a coward before that moment. Not a day in his life. But you, you had reduced him to rubble and ash. Left him helpless in your wake.

That night, he drank a bottle of bourbon in the emptiness of his hotel room. Who was he kidding? He didn’t have a clue. He didn’t know how to do this, navigate this situation, or you. He didn’t know how to be a father. He couldn’t tell you the first thing about what a healthy father-son relationship looked like, or how to be a good dad. What was he going to do? Stay with you? Play house? Mow the lawn and drink beers on Friday nights, change diapers and wash baby clothes covered in puke?

“I can do this. I have it all handled.” The words twisted in his gut, and he turned them over and over in his mind. Did he want you to have to do it alone? Did he want his kid to grow up without him?

Maybe you both would be better off. He could watch, from the shadows. Keep the two of you safe. Succeed where he failed before.

“You’re off the hook.” You had told him, and he was surprised at how much he didn’t like the sound of that. Or how it felt.

A memory, the sound of your laughter, tugged at him. He remembered watching you play a round of cards with Soap, nestled in a safehouse the night before a particularly difficult op. He can still hear the exact tone of your voice, the chime of your amusement. When you looked up from across the table, your eyes found his immediately. He wasn’t surprised, you always knew where he was. The two of you always found each other, in a crowded room, in a fire fight, in the dark of night. At first it had unsettled him, but then it just turned into… home.

The last of the liquor burned when he swallowed it.

He made up his mind. He had to try.

The next day when he showed up, you weren’t there. Eight in the morning and your car was already gone. His heart hammered in his chest as he sat in his truck and ran through every worst-case scenario he could think of. Someone had forced you into the car earlier this morning, and then ditched it once they got you far enough away. Someone had killed you in the house, and then pushed your car off a bridge or a cliff with your body inside. Someone had stolen your car and you had tried to chase after them, resulting in them kidnapping you as well. You went somewhere earlier, and were in a car accident but he sure as hell wasn’t listed as your emergency contact so he would have no idea… The list went on and on, and his pulse thundered in his ears until you pulled into your driveway an hour later, trunk full of groceries. You had tensed when his driver’s side door closed, turning in a panic with a carton of eggs in your hand.

“Jesus, Simon. You can’t sneak up on me like that.” You pressed your hand over your heart, and he frowned. He hadn’t been trying to be stealthy. He was even parked in front of your house, just on the other side of the street. You moved to grab another bag, but he reached for it first.

“Let me help you.” The resigned sigh was all he got out of you in response.

He came back later that night, at your request. You’d make him dinner, you said, the two of you could talk.

“What do I have to do to get rid of you?” you asked him outright, over a plate of pasta that you were pushing around. He ate most of his. You hardly got three bites in.

“You can’t.” He told you simply, watching your face shift from stress to irritation, confusion and then to wariness, concern. “I’m on leave. Extended holiday.” 

“You… you’re what? You never take leave.” 

“I do now.” 

“For how long?” ‘For as long as you’ll have me’ got stuck in his throat so he went with,

“Awhile.” You groaned his name, ready to launch into a full diatribe of protest when he held his hand up to stop you. “Sass, I know. I’m not too dense to realize I broke your trust. I know I hurt you. But I’m here, I want to be here for you, with you, now. As much as I can, as much as you’ll let me. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. But I want to try.” He held his breath as you stared down into your plate, knuckles white around your fork. When you spoke next, your voice was different. Small. Broken.

“I’m scared.” You whispered to your lap. “That last bomb, when Soap almost died, it…took a piece of my brain, I think. It all caught up to me Simon, and now I, I’m going to have this baby, this thing that needs me and it’s been hard already and I don’t know-“ He watched you break apart until he couldn’t, pulling you from the chair and into his chest, lowering the two of you to the floor so his back rested against the wall.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.” He hushed you while you wet his shirt with your tears and mumbled incoherently into him. He held you there for hours, until you were limp with exhaustion, eyelids slipping shut.

It didn’t get easier after that though. Whatever headway he thought he made with you was gone by the next day, and you were back to fighting him, dragging him through the mud as much as you could. He sat in your driveway for two days straight, until the third, when you finally opened your front door and let him in because ‘you didn’t want your neighbors to talk’. You steeled yourself against him, telling him your breakdown the other night was a moment of weakness, and that you were fine. You didn’t want him around; you didn’t need him.

You weren’t fine. He knew it, and he knew you knew it. But even if you were, he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving.

“I have a scan, today. In an hour.” You announced one morning almost two weeks after he showed up. A scan? You looked up at him, eyes a little nervous, like you were unsure.

It was a strange thing for Simon to see, considering how you worked. You were always confident in the field, strong and assured. You knew bombs, you had told him, knew them like the back of your hand. You even taught Soap a thing or two.

“Where the hell’d you learn to do that, lass? That’s not military spec.” Johnny asked you, practically amazed, and you laughed at him, nodding in agreement.

“Family tradition.” You had quipped with a grimace and left it at that.

“To see the baby… do you want to come?” He blinked in surprise before quickly agreeing, offering to drive.

“When’s the last time you were in a doctor’s office?” you asked him quietly.

“Been awhile.” Since Tommy got clean. When Joseph was born. His fist tightened on the wheel unconsciously. “You?”

“Like two weeks ago.” Oh, right. You shifted in the seat and winced, rubbing your belly placatingly.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. He’s just… moving around, kicking me.” You surprised Simon by reaching for him, cupping his palm over the swell of your belly, letting him feel the little vibrations inside moving under his hand.

The office had been hell, at least until you got in the room. He stood beside you while you checked in, the stares of everyone in the waiting room burning into his back. He was too exposed, in unfamiliar territory, blind to any threats. Even with the face mask, ‘the civilian one’, as you called it, he still felt extremely uncomfortable. He sat next to you in the pink pleather chairs, back stiff, fingers curled over his knees, body practically vibrating with stress until you put your hand on his.

“Hey.” You leaned over with a whisper. “Everything’s okay.” Your thumb rubbed a pattern into the skin of his wrist. “We’re going to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” You had said gently, giving him a squeeze. The heartbeat. He turned to look at you, and you were smiling at him, tenderly. He could see the fear and nervousness that was wracking his own body reflecting in your gaze, but you had pushed it down, forced it away to give him comfort. His throat had felt tight with emotion in that moment.

When they finally called your name, brought you back, he relaxed slightly. The room you were in was dark, and it calmed him to the point where he felt in control again, his posture relaxed slightly as he watched the technician closely while they squirted some clear gel onto your skin.

“Wow!” they had commented brightly, “That’s a big baby!” and you had groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second while you took a deep breath. They showed you images of hands, feet, a little nose, technician moving the probe around your belly, and Simon stared at the screen, terrified to pull his eyes away in case he missed anything. Then they turned on the audio, and he heard it.

The heartbeat. A soft swoosh of a sound, steady and strong. He reached for your hand without even realizing, holding your fingers between his and bringing your palm to his face. He heard you laugh, a teary, watery thing, and he pressed his lips from behind the mask to your skin and closed his eyes. Swoosh swoosh swoosh.

Things changed, after that. You started to soften towards him more, letting your guard down bit by bit. You let him massage your feet at night and hold your hair back in the mornings when you spit bile into the toilet. He was a light sleeper, like you, and always knew the moment you rolled out of bed, stumbling for the bathroom, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“This is your fault.” You’d gasp as you vomited, face dotted with a light sheen of sweat.

“You’re right.” He’d console you and rub your back until you finished, little pieces of guilt burning in the pit of his stomach. He would press a damp washcloth to your face while you coughed and sputtered, murmuring to you softly until you rocked back, slumping against the tub and pulling his hand against your belly.

“Tell him. To knock it off.” He’d laugh, but oblige you, pulling you into his arms while you rested your face against the cool tile. He didn’t mind taking care of you. He secretly cherished it. Taking care of you allowed him some semblance of control, some ability to plan and execute in a way that was familiar to him. He thinks you knew that though.

“I’m nervous.” You gulped one night, toes tucked under your thighs on the couch. “You’re so… big. And so is he, already. It’s going to suck so bad.” You giggled a little, apprehensive smile on your face, and he did his best to reassure you.

“They’ll give ya good drugs. And I’ll be there. You can scream at me all you want, until you feel better.” You turned towards him on the couch in surprise, lips parted, eyebrows raised.

“You’ll be there? You want to be there?” 

“I’ll be there, Sass. I promise.” 

He feels like he’s in a dream sometimes, when he looks at you. Like this all can’t be real, that he’s going to wake up any moment in a tent somewhere, or a safehouse, listening to Johnny snore and Price whistle. He can’t stop himself from staring at you, eyes tracing the curves of your body, the swell of your belly the proof that you’re his, that he’s got you, now and forever. He realizes he likes you like this. He liked you before too, just as much, when you were lithe, fast and lethal. When you were easily foldable under him, ready for anything at a moment’s notice. He liked you when your nimble fingers would plug and pull wires, when your strong legs would creep silently down dimly lit hallways. You had the body of someone who killed, someone who watched him kill, someone who killed beside him. Now though, in these moments, when you’re heavy with his son growing inside of you, soft and tender, your edges softened, he has a hard time believing he’s not actually dreaming.

It was a few nights ago, when you rolled over in the dark, hands snaking across his stomach to reach in his sweatpants for his cock, that he finally tasted you again. He laid you on your back in the dim light of your bedside lamp, running his hands over your body, pressing his mouth to your belly. He couldn’t get enough of you like this; body spread open for him, sleeping in his t-shirt, having his baby. He’d keep you here forever if he could, keep you safe. Keep you both safe.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, spreading your folds to press a thumb to your clit.

“I’m a whale.” You whined with a gasp. His cock was painfully hard against the bed, dripping into your sheets, your whimpers and moans filling his ears.

“No, you’re not.” You were so wet, soaked, he slipped a finger inside you easily, stroking against the sponge like-spot in your cunt. “You’re having my baby, Sass.” He lowered his mouth to your clit, raising its hood with a thumb so he could lick your swollen nub over and over, until you were clenching around him and crying his name.

“Fuck, Simon. Shit-“ 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Come on.” He felt the muscles in your legs tense, and your body pressed against his face, seeking more friction. “Come for me. I know you can do it.” And you did, hard, straining against the bed while your thighs closed around his head. He pulled you on top after, guiding your hips gently to sink downwards, your face pained from the stretch. It had been a while, since you’d taken him, and you were slow to work your way onto his cock. “Take your time.” He told you through a gnashed jaw, the feeling of your hot cunt gripping him nearly sending him hurtling over the edge before he was even all the way inside.

“Look at you, my good girl. Sittin’ on my cock, carrying my baby.” He curled forward, teeth grazing your nipple, the sensitive peak hard between his lips. “Wanna keep you like this.” He wrapped his arms around you as you rode him, body moving up and down on his cock lazily. “Fuck you full of my come, give you another.” You tightened, liquid heat dousing him, and he stroked your clit again, fingers moving in time with your hips until you became frantic, hurried, and he knew you were close.

“Come on my cock like a good girl, Sass. Let me feel it.” You squeezed him when you came again, and he followed you shortly after, filling you so much it was dripping out of you while you panted on top of him.

Afterwards, you looked over at him suspiciously.

“Since when has that been a thing?” 

“Since now.”

“I double checked the amount of cheese for ya before I paid.” He says, depositing the two boxes onto the kitchen table. The house is silent in response. “Sass?” He calls louder. Nothing. His stomach flips. Maybe you’re asleep. You have been sleeping more, taking cat naps on the couch, or crawling into bed earlier than usual. He takes the stairs two at a time and calls your name again when he gets to the top. “Sass!” The light is on in the bedroom, and he relaxes slightly. Definitely fell asleep.

When he pushes the door open, the metallic, tangy smell is the first thing that hits him. It floods his senses and his heart drops into his stomach when he sees you.

You’re on your side, on the floor, in one of his t-shirts and little cotton shorts that sit snugly on your hips. You’re lying in a pool of bright red blood that is coming from between your legs, your color off, almost dull, and your cellphone lying face down five feet from your outstretched fingers. He says something, or shouts something, but they’re not words. They’re sounds. Hoarse, horrified, panicked sounds that echo in the dead silence of the room.

“No no no-“ He rolls you on your back, pushing your hair away from your face and cradling your cheeks between his palms. “Sass. Sass, wake up. Wake up Sass, come on.” Then he tries your real name, over and over to no avail. Your chest is moving, just barely, breaths rough and shallow and he swallows the scream that’s threatening to erupt from inside his diaphragm. Your head rests limply in his hands and feels darkness ebbing around the sides of his vision. This can’t- This isn’t- He can’t breathe. The fear spreads through him like an infection, threatening to immobilize him. “Come on sweet girl. Wake up for me.” He shakes you, just a little, but you don’t respond, and he actually screams this time. Shouts at the top of his lungs, hands fumbling in his pocket for his cellphone.

The next ten minutes pass in a blur. He keeps a hand on the side of your neck to count your too slow pulse as he talks to the operator on the other end of the phone. They try to give him instructions, but his head is buzzing so loud he can hardly concentrate. The smell of your blood is too strong, and it makes him think of Belize, makes him remember that time he almost lost you before he even had you, the day that guy shot you in the ribs. He nearly killed you right in front of him and he remembers holding your body against his in the truck, his hand pressing hard, so hard, to your wound as red ichor ran beneath his fingers. You were in so much pain, so confused, and all he could do was sit there with you, running his fingers through your hair as Price drove like a madman through the streets.

He didn’t lose you then. He couldn’t lose you now. Couldn’t lose either of you.

He’s still counting the beats of your heart when he hears commotion downstairs and he yells, desperation bleeding into the crackling of his voice. “You’re alright.” He tells you. Says the same thing he told you again and again that day. “You’ll be fine. You’ll both be fine.” He sees the flash of yellow, a backboard, at the top of the stairs and somewhere beneath his panic there’s a tiny feeling of relief that help is here. “I’m here. I’ve got you, Sass.” He murmurs before forcing himself to step away so they can take his place, a portable monitor counting the beats of your heart now instead of him. He stares at it the whole time, all the way down the steps, while they load you into the back of the ambulance, and then he watches two monitors, the baby’s, and yours, while the ambulance speeds down the road. He presses his hands against the metal bench he’s sitting on, gripping it tight and trying to breathe, the images of you unconscious and bleeding burning into his memory.

He can’t lose you. He can’t lose either of you.

He closes his eyes, and clings to the steady beep of the heartbeats on the monitor.

The next work in this series is here.

[buckrecs]

Reader gets hurt badly but with happy/fluff ending☺️

Injured / Sick Reader

masterlist | req masterlist

I combined these asks! so this is going to be an injured / sick!reader rec

Without You by @winter-soldier-vibes

You take a lot of risks on missions and one time, you get hit too hard and Bucky isn’t able to cope not knowing if you’re going to be okay. 

Haze by @pellucid-constellations

Separated on a mission gone wrong, Bucky found you disoriented and bruised. Things seemed to be looking up when he located the safehouse and got you settled. Until they didn’t.

Be Still, My Indelible Love by @pellucid-constellations

Bucky’s in love with you. You’re in love with the warmth of him, even as it stings and aches in the cold.

Back to Bourbon Street by @wkemeup

When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough. 

Why Are You At The Wake? by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.

Necessary Evil by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

when you end up hurt after a mission, Bucky is tasked with taking care of you. But you’ve never experienced pain like this before.

Put My Mind At Ease by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

You return home from a successful mission with plans to have a pizza night with Bucky- but things go awry when an injury rears it’s head.

Safe With Me by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

A mission goes sideways, putting you in the hands of a notorious Hydra arms dealer. Upon returning home, your well-being takes a turn for the worst, but Bucky is there for you.

The World Stopped Moving by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

A mission gone wrong leaves you and Bucky both gravely injured.

Seam Ripper by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

After getting injured on a mission, you decide to keep your condition a secret from Bucky, knowing full well that he won’t sleep with you if you’re hurt.

Never Stop Searching by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

When the jet returns from a mission without you, Bucky is fiercely determined to find you.

For You by @fandoms-writings

Bucky is in love with you, but that will have to wait until after he saves you.

Confessions in a Coma by @subwaysurf45

When you find Hydra now has wolves as their first line of defense you pay the price, but not entirely.

as long as you’re with me (you’ll be just fine) by @maivolpe

you neglect an injury to be able to see your boyfriend. he, however, sees right through your charade.

.

[ghostlythunderbird]

Omegaverse ~ Task Force 141+ Alejandro, Rodolfo, König

Warnings: Mostly SFW with a dash of NSFW (MINORS BEGONE)

Author Notes: These are gonna be short and I apologize for it but YALL THE WRITING JUICE IS DRYING UP, so once again I'm sorry. These are also my own interpretations of these characters but feel free to add on top of them. I also wanna thank @l-lend and @kelpiesummer for helping me with these, your honor I love them both.

Before we begin I would like to go over some baseline stuff to this:

In Military pack dynamics there is a Lead Alpha and a Lead Beta, and if the Alpha isn't present it is the Beta’s duty to oversee the safety of the pack.

Apex Alphas do exist here but they only make up 10% of the population, and are often ridiculed due to them being able to control a vast majority of Alphas. They are also much stronger and much bigger than regular Alphas with much stronger instincts. In modern society it's often damning should one be born an Apex because they often have to wear muzzles in public because of their unpredictability.

An Apex’s muzzle is only taken off when they are alone, mated, or receive immunity by extended military service to prove they are not a danger to anyone.

To add on about an Apex, their Ruts become stronger the longer they don't relieve built up tension over time. It has even been recorded that Apexes with no outlet have often become feral and cannot be helped out of a feral state. All Apexes MUST have a physical outlet to reduce built up tension.

All dynamics are able to become Feral, and in this universe there is not enough data to help an individual out of said feral state and will have to be sent to a designated center for proper care.

Apexes, Alphas, and Omegas are able to control themselves decently should a Rut or Heat arrive. Should one help out with these times, consent must be given beforehand and with a trusted individual. Not everyone here is driven to wackiness because of hormones

In the Military, there are often teams that are used for Ruts and Heats of all calibers, they are made up of trained Betas and are the only ones allowed to handle single Apex, Alpha, and Omega dynamics who are in a Heat or Rut.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon I feel like would be an Alpha, simply because of his size and his ability to lead soldiers like a well oiled machine. He didn't start feeding into his alpha nature until he joined the Royal Army after the attacks on 9/11, mostly because his father would punish him and his family should anyone try to stand up to him. Once Simon completed his training he shows his father what a true Alpha is and acts like, and ends up kicking him out of the house before assuming the role as the protector of his family.

After losing his family and “Simon Riley” being now pronounced dead he started to hide his true nature and his scent. While his scent is practically nonexistent it didn't stop him from the commanding and somewhat protective nature of his inner Alpha. In the Ghost’s mind, no scent and repressing that inner Alpha, is the best way to begin a nonexistent life; to become nothing more but a living shadow.

In a Rut:

To describe Simon in a rut would be a very self protective Alpha, not wanting anyone with a 5 mile radius near him to ensure no one discovers his identity. And in order to safeguard that fact he ends up going to a secluded safehouse far from base to ensure not a single person can find him in such a vulnerable state. During this time he does believe it's better for him to be alone as the worry of losing himself after being pent up for so long could only cause him more trouble on top of someone finding out Simon Riley isn't as dead as they claim.

But to say he's a virgin would be a complete lie, he’s been with omegas before and many were in heat so he understands a little about omegas but nothing really outside a heat. With that being said he often craves an omega during his ruts, but after becoming the Ghost he doesn't actively seek them anymore. But if he did have an omega (maybe even you) helping him out he would definitely be very dominant, constantly on lookout after having sated both his needs and whoever is helping him. If you're close with him, he begins to show a more doting characteristic that he claims isn't there such as getting you what snack you're craving or bringing in more blankets for your heat nest.

John “Soap” MacTavish 

Now this Scott probably doesn't strike you as an Alpha, but I assure you he is 100% Alpha blood though and through. Johnny is definitely a more playful alpha compared to the rest of his team but that doesn't stop him from trying to get them to loosen up and have fun. He's even been told many didn't think he was an Alpha at their first introduction, with his fun and very caring personality he's been more mistaken as an Omega rather than an Alpha.

But that never once hurt his feelings, and has even offered to show he’s the real deal if you catch my drift. It also means he loves to show off to whoever might be watching whether they are Male, Female, Omega, Alpha, or even a Beta. His only hard NO would be an Apex of any gender, he may not have met any but there is definitely a stereotype amongst Apexes.

In a Rut:

Before anyone starts to make assumptions that he's pretty dominant in bed and during a rut that's only a half truth. While yes his body is telling him to dominate during that time he isn't fully into it, he is actually more of a switch and can be pretty needy during this time. He wants to cuddle about 90% of the time because the skin on skin helps bring his brain back to a safe place where hormones don't dictate his every move.

Johnny definitely isn't a virgin and has actually had many partners of all second genders besides apexes in his bed at least once. He can definitely say he knows his way around anybody that decides to help him in a rut but once he's sated it's straight pampering for his partner. Once you get to know him better he actually wants to play fight with you more after you're both satiated for a bit, Johnny claims it's to help build a bond between the two for you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

Before anyone yells at me for making Gaz a Beta hear me out. In a pack like Task Force 141 there needs to be a Lead Alpha and a Lead Beta that takes up for the Lead Alpha should they not be present in a situation. But our sweet Kyle definitely is the voice of reason between the original four, should the Alpha’s hormones and instincts cloud one's judgment Kyle would help set the record straight and see both sides to the coin. He’s definitely the more laid back one of the group but he can get a little wild should he need to, I mean the guy was hanging upside down under a helicopter while going down an active highway.

While he might be the more laid back one, that doesn't exactly mean he isn't a little trickster. He likes to rile Soap up before he gets told to stop which often leads to someone getting sent to the medbay, while he does mess with Ghost and Price he doesn't take it too far because not only are they Alphas they also happen to be higher in the chain of command. Kyle has stated before that it's just easier to pick on Johnny because they are both the same rank, and that Soap is the one who actually wants to up the intensity or stakes to whatever they are doing.

I'm just gonna add this in on this part to say since Betas don’t have Heats or Ruts I won't have a Rut part for Gaz. But that doesn't mean that this man doesn't get any. To anyone who has ever met him, they can say he’s super helpful during those times and has even offered to help should they need it. But that is only to a select few, he mostly just makes sure you don't die from starvation or dehydration and will even run messages and updates back and forth on whatever you want to know or need during that time.

John Price

Our captain in tight fitting camo is not just an Alpha he's The Alpha of Task Force 141, his presence is calm yet demanding attention from anyone who crosses his path. That being said, he isn't one to outright snap at anyone who gets on his nerves, but rather lets them make a fool of themselves. He will only ever step in if his team or his own safety starts being questioned around an individual or in a certain area. He is always aware of everyone under his charge and does the best he can to ensure they all make it back home safe, although they aren't scratch less sometimes but alive nonetheless.

While John is a leader and an officer he makes sure he has an end time to the mountains of paperwork on his desk. Should he have someone at home waiting for him, he makes sure to keep them updated on his whereabouts but once he's in the security of his own four walls his top priority is only them. John has been known to go off the radar sometimes while at home, but it's mostly because when he's home he doesn't want work knocking at his door when he's got other priorities. Overall this man is sweet as he can be, in his own rough way, and all he ever really wants to do is just love and pamper his mate like it might be the last time.

In a Rut:

Right off the bat he tells you he might be a bit much during this time of the year, but it's much more different than what you'd expect from an Alpha of his standing. While most of the time he's peachy with being the dominant one in bed, if the Rut is strong and he just came home all he wants is for you to take control. He will mostly complain that it's because he's “Getting old as crap” but you set that aside and simply say it's ok to let someone else take control. John just wants to be pampered in his Ruts mostly because every other time he has to be taking care of someone else.

Now if he goes into Rut while he's on extended leave and has the energy of a young buck, better buckle up then honey cause you're just gonna have to ride it out. The easiest way to say what he is in bed would be a switch but personally it isn't that simple. Personally I do believe that John can be dominant but with his line of work and his responsibilities it takes it out of him even with a rut, he wants to be dominant but simply put the man is tired most of the time. So in order to make up for it he is very caring of his partner, he wants to provide and protect his partner. John is by far one of the sweetest Alphas out there but don't tell anyone that, he has a reputation to uphold back on base.

Alejandro Vargas

This FINE Latino man is without a doubt an Alpha, with his ability to be both cunning and devious in his line of work he can make sure the job is done. While he might be unforgiving to his enemies, anyone that is a previous lover or his mate can say that he is a hopeless romantic. He showers and pampers his lovers with anything they could ever desire, Alex wants to show that he is a perfect caregiver and provider to their needs.

While he might not be a stereotypical Alpha, he can still effectively protect his mate and his pack should some catch the wrong side of him. He’s a protector and has even said that he “Will fight to his very last breath as long as it means you are all protected in the end.'' With that it's easy to say Alejandro is a very selfless person to those he trusts and will ensure all are properly protected and provided for should they come under his protection and care as the Lead Alpha.

In a Rut:

Imma say it now, Alejandro actually feeds into that inner Alpha during this time. He wants to release all that built up tension into the form of rough sex should anyone help him out. He only ever has someone with him if he knows it's bad and has no mate or anyone special, but if he does have a mate they are gonna be covered in bruises and love bites and probably bred after it. Also without a doubt he's bound to become more aggressive than normal, but again he is simply acting on instincts. However that aggression will never be used against you that could potentially hurt you.

Maybe after a few rounds Alejandro does feel like he's able enough to check on his partner, he goes to town should they need aftercare, snacks, or a shower. He kisses on deep bruises he's left along your skin, helps wash your hair and body, even makes sure you're properly fed even if he's the one who is in Rut.

Rodolfo Parra

Once again please no one yell at me for this decision, but I do feel like Rudy would also be a Beta as he works closely with Colonel Vargas as his second in command. After growing up with Alejandro, they both decided to stay together after their basic training and fight for justice in Las Almas. Wherever you see Alejandro, Rodolfo is never far behind updating the Lead Alpha should news come up over the radios from their team.

Rudy is also more alongside the more nurturing nature, he wants his team safe and will do anything to protect them. His team is his Pack and without them Rudy has nothing left, that being said he tries to improve whatever he can as the Lead Beta for Los Vaqueros. I can also say without a doubt Rudy is also the most loving person to whoever is his mate, but this isn't one sided as he also wants all the love and adoration from his mate just as much. He is a lover by nature but he also wants to be bathed and be told that he is doing a good job and a lover and a mate.

And while again Rudy may be a Beta and doesn't have a Rut it doesn't mean he is inexperienced, He chooses to wait and is actually very selective of potential partners that he shares such intimate moments with. But if you ask Alejandro he can tell you Rudy has had some drunken one night stands that makes the Beta beat red at just their mentioning.

König

Our lorge Austrian man here is one of the lesser known dynamics that makes up only 10% of the world's population; An Apex. Truly it's no surprise that this man right here would be anything less, but in König’s personal opinion it's nothing but a curse. Ever since he presented he was mocked and shamed for his second gender, it was much worse when the government sent his family a muzzle for him to wear in public. It was nothing short of humiliating, it even was something else for him to be bullied for. The bullying was also the reason why  König has deep scars around his face from the muzzle digging in, some of them because his bullies often pulled on the straps to where it was too tight.

Over the years König became more and more anxious around others, there were very limited times the large man would go out into public because he knew people would turn him away simply for his second gender. And due to the large amount of prejudice it was hard to find both a pack and a mate that would accept him, that was until you barreled into his life (literally) that he felt like someone would love him. He's a very caring Apex that goes above and beyond for his mate, there were often times he would stay on his knees and would hardly make eye contact with you. His worst fear is you realizing you don't want an Apex as a mate and leaving, he honestly thinks his heart would stop beating if you did.

In a Rut:

Now this is where he really fears himself most of all. His ruts were strong and they only continued to grow the longer he kept denying himself release with someone else. But when he was assigned to KorTac they allowed him an alternative way to help him during ruts, by sending him on solo operations to let loose on the supposed targets. But again all this was before you showed up.

After you started to share Ruts and Heats together you realized that an Apex was really just a bigger Alpha, and one who wanted nothing more to provide for you. Now while I love König being an absolute sweetheart, that's not how he is during a Rut. König is demanding and can often be rough the first few times but it's only because he never had someone to spend it with, he does end up becoming much softer and sweeter after a while. You thought König was a big soft boi during this time for your first few couplings, nope his brain is empty besides the words Mate, Breed, and Protect for an entire week (good luck walking after that). And if anyone thinks otherwise y'all meet me in the Burger King parking lot at midnight.

[youssefguedira]

@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

[crow-aeris]

star gazing

Tim kicked his legs up, taking in a deep breath as the stars glimmered above him. It was a rare for gotham to have clear skies, and rarer still for it to be dark enough that stars appear. Usually, with a view like this, he'd have his camera in hand to record the memories forever... but that wasn't the case- at least not for tonight, that is.

He'd been benched due to an injury a few days ago that still left his bones and muscles alike aching.

"What's a birdie like you doin' all alone?" a rough voice rumbled above him.

Despite the gravel digging into his back, Tim leaned forward to see Red Hood approach.

"Hey, Jason," he greeted with a subdued tone, "shouldn't you be on patrol?"

"Shouldnt you be at home?" the older huffed, disengaging his helmets safety before taking a seat beside him.

"Mm," Tim hummed disinterestedly, the night quiet and still.

"Okay, what crawled up your ass and died?"

He rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes fixed on Altair, the star glittering peacefully from its perch as Aquilla's eyes, "It's nothing, okay? Just leave it. If I go back to the manor, will you finally leave me alone?"

"Whatever," Jason scoffed, but the two lapsed into an easy silence.

Eventually, dawn creeps in on little cat feet, and Tim is reminded of a poem.

""Fog creeps comes on little cat feet-""

"Fog, by Sandburg," Jason replies instantaneously, twisting his head to pin Tim with his turquoise eyes tinged with intrigue, "never took you to be a poetry buff, birdie."

"Never took you to be such an annoying asshole, Hood," he huffed back, though his words lacked any substantial heat, "but no, I'm not a poetry buff, or whatever. I just remember snippets from what my mom used to read me, but never the entire thing."

"..."It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches, and then moves on"."

"...What?"

"It's the rest of the poem," Jason keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the skyline, both the buildings and sky alike were steadily being repainted with the gentle apricots and peachy hues of the rising sun. Both knew that the sun wouldn't make it past a few more hours, and will soon be once more obscured by gotham's near-perpetual smog.

"If you want help finding the names of those poems, you already break into my safehouses anyway, so how about we make your visits productive, hm?"

Tim allowed the silence to fill the air once more, both mournful of the vanishing sun yet appreciative that he could witness Gotham painted as the beauty it was. After a few seconds, he replies, "Since I already do it, might as well."

So when on nights where the nightmares seemed a little too real, and the terrors seemed a little closer than they were, Tim would scurry to Jason's place under the guise of a little poetry lesson.

And bathed in the warm glow of Jason's lamp, listening as his childhood hero gently read from the well worn pages of "The Tale of Beowulf", Tim could not help but to be delivered to sleep.

[ringleader-inky]

Lily Orchard is stupid but what else is new?

So recently Lily has made a challenge that is as follows:

(Keep these rules in mind)

And AntGr and CrimsonEnder made a list of 50 of those charcters. Which Lily responded to and hoo boy is it bad.

Now I'm only going to be doing several characters from this list because 1. I don't know some of these characters and 2. I can only handle so much of Lily's stupidity. So with that out of the way let's get this show on the road.

Of course you'd put N here because you didn't understand his story to begin with. N definitely does fall under number 2 because he was raised by Ghetsis. You know... THE LEADER OF TEAM PLASMA! I've said this before, but I'll say it again N essentially grew up in a cult. That's not even mentioning that in black and white 2 they show that some of Team Plasma really did think they were freeing pokemon. You see part of Team Plasma split because some followed N's ideologies and others followed Ghetsis. They have a whole safehouse in Driftveil City where they protect pokemon separated from their trainers. But yeah N's ideology was totally swept under the rug guys.

First of all, Donkey Kong was actually a villain. It was in his very first game where he kidnapped Pauleen. You know.... this one. You were probably around when it came out Lily.:

So technically Donkey Kong is qualified for this list believe it or not.

As for Dedede and Meta Knight their case is quite simple.

In Dedede's case in the game Kirby's Nightmare In Dreamland. Dedede literally breaks the Star Rod that powers the Fountain of Dreams. Which allows the people of dreamland to have dreams, but since the Star Rod no longer powers it there's no dreams. However Dedede did this because he was trying to keep Nightmare from absorbing the Fountain Of Dream's power and taking over the world. Nightmare is cosmic deity that's evil will destroy Dreamland if he got out. So in that instance Dedede does have a point. After all if the Star Rod isn't in the fountain then Nightmare won't come out and kill everyone.

As for Meta Knight's case. Well... just look at fucking Meta Knightmare. The reason why Meta Knight wants to conquer Dreamland is because Dreamland is lazy. While that might not seem like a good point, consider that Dedede is stealing food from the people and how there's some sort of cosmic threat every year or so. You kinda start to see his point a little bit. But if that doesn't work then how about in Squeak Squad where he steals the chest from Kirby and Daroach. The chest had Dark Nebula inside of it and was sealed away. Therefore having someone try and open it would be a big fucking problem.

Last but not least... Edgeworth:

Before we get into why this point is bullshit I'd like to bring up this ask:

I bring this up because it proves that Lily doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about. You see Edgeworth isn't just a state prosecutor. HE'S A CHIEF PROSECUTOR! He's not just some joe shmo. Also really, prosecutor can't be evil? May I call Manfred Von Karma to the stand:

In case you don't know. This man is a prosecutor that had a perfect record. All of his defendants were served the guilty sentence. However the only reason why they were found guilty was because he forged evidence. Meaning Manfred is responsible for putting people innocent in prison. He even went so far as to murder Edgeworth's father. And guess who was his protege?

That's right none other than Miles Edgeworth himself!

Meaning that up till Phoenix had arrived Edgeworth was doing the exact same thing Von Karma did. Granted not forging evidence, but still putting innocent people in jail because of he wanted to keep his reputation and he didn't care for justice. Therefore in the first game Edgeworth was the villain. Whether you like it or not. And because Lily never specified that the villain had to be redeemed or not Edgeworth is viable enough to be on this list. So check fucking mate Lily.

[brokenpieces-72]

Older arctic fox reader, a good friend of Nikolai's, helps the 141 with a mission in Russian territory, and meeting our little wendigo as well.

Do what you want with this.

The reader is male, since I don’t usually do male readers. I’m definitely not imagining this guy looking like the anime KFC guy with fox ears and a bomber jacket…definitely not. Also lets access a different branch of the military with Special Investigations unit.

Fäks

You and Nik go back, and pretty far back. You served together in Russia and when he started working more “freelance” you got him whatever he needed to get whatever he needed. How did you two meet well funny story…he flirted with you. In his defence this was some time ago. Nik wasn't exactly sober either. Your hair was longer then and your body shape was slimmer than most. You’d been called beautiful by more than a few men before they noticed you were male. You started hitting on him back to see if he would pick up on your masculinity, before just asking Nik if he had figured it out yet. Nikolai saying you were very foxy for man is what cemented your relationship.

Nik didn’t tell you everything, but he kept in touch even after you parted ways. When a mission came up, and your commanding officer told you to stand down or to let it go, you reached out to Nik. Off the record wasn't uncommon for you, to the point you'd acquired a few safehouses for your own safety. You contacted Nik to see if you could get some help with your business trip, and he could deliver. When he told you the hybrids he could invite to your vacation home, your tail flicked. A wendigo, a dragon, a werewolf. You had to keep the list a little short but Nik wasn't about to just chauffer.

You stood outside the small base as the chopper landed, a smile on your face, under your scarf. Ice flecks whipped up around you, forcing you to raise your arm to protect your eyes. You didn’t approach until the rotors stopped. The rest shuffled out while Nik wasted no time coming to greet you.

“My brother.” Nik said, clasping your hand and providing a bear hug, which you return with a grin.

“Good to see you again comrade. This must be your friends.” You said, turning your attention to the newcomers.

“Captain.” Nikolai said, inviting Price over. “Meet Fäks. A good friend of mine.”

The dragon hybrid came over and shook your hand. He was bloody big, his horns making it difficult to keep a beanie on his head. You smiled, regardless of being a little intimidated.

“Welcome to Russia captain. It’s a pleasure.” You says.

“Pleasure is mine, Private Fäks.” Price said, nodding. All business this one. You were introduced to each one as friends. If there was a human who could bring hybrids together, it was Nik. Sure any human could arrange a meeting but Nik was special, looking past the hybrid while showing respect to it as well. As the soldiers filed out you noted each one. Gaz came up behind Price, shaking your hand in respect. Another human, Rudy greeted you next before going with Gaz towards the safe house. The final two exited the helicopter. A werewolf with his tail sticking out, saying to call him Soap. Behind him was a smaller soldier, with antlers and rabbit ears, calling herself Spirit. As the wolf and jackelope hurried inside, you took note of how Spirit was tagging along after Soap.

“Recruiting rather young.” You commented. Price nodded, his expression tells you it wasn't exactly his idea.

"Those two are a vision in the field." Price assured you. You looked forward to it.

Once inside and rooms sorted you wandered about, being as good of a host as you could. Nik would be sticking around to assist with extraction for this mission. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see the men with their jackets, scarves and toques off. The next day would be plenty of planning and decision making, figuring out how to break into a facility that was extracting various illegal materials and bi products from hybrids. This was a little personal for you, as you’d nearly had your own tail cut off or someone shave it for some sick mink.

There is a small lounge that could pass as a living room and you see the men have made themselves at home. You smiled reclining in a seat and immediately being asked by the harpy, about how you and Nik met. Nik loudly groaned, and buried his face in his hands, as you leaned forward ready to embarrass the shit out of him. Kyle already had a grin on his face.

“I was minding my own business whe-how old are you?” You said, interrupting yourself when Spirit walked in. She had a book in her hands, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Uh…haven’t looked.” Spirit said. You looked at Nik.

“Not my idea.” Nik said shrugging.

“Apologies malen'kiy. Not used to such a young soldier.” You said. Didn’t mean to startle her.

“Come in Spirit, you’ll want to hear this story.” Gaz called to her. Spirit’s eyes went from wide to bright as she hurried to sit with Kyle. It’s cute how cozy she looked, with Gaz letting her snuggle up. Reminded you of someone else. You needed to focus on what was before you. Mission first, personal stuff later.

“Where was I…right I had a drink. Was enjoying some water, when Nik comes up and sits down like any old stranger.” You continued.

Originally Nik sent you a few files for the mission, since you would be leading it. Turns out he neglected to tell you what the wendigo was supposed to be. You were expecting a lanky humanoid, and when you were planning the mission that image remained.

“Wall here is pretty weak. I can find a hole nearby I’m sure.” You suggested when going over the plans. You looked up at Soap. “Unless a werewolf can?”

“I could do it.” Spirit suggested. “Wait, how much do I need to break it?”

You stood there for a moment, and looked up at the team. None of them said anything. The little jackalope just gave an expectant look. Were you missing something? You decided to take her at her word, but breaking the wall wasn't exactly what you were going for.

“On the other side is a lab. Not sure what’s in it but based on some of the cargo and shipments I’ve seen going in and out there’s a chance of explosives.” You continued.

“Door access might be easier.” Price suggested. Spirit looked a little disappointed.

“My thoughts as well.” You said.

“So breaking in from the outside is a no go?” Kyle asked. Certainly seemed more risky. So far breaking in with what access points you could reach would be more complicated with others but you couldn’t do this mission alone.

“I hate to suggest it, but could we slip in undetected?” Price asked. You considered that but didn’t like the idea.

“It would involve cages, some good acting, and a prayer.” You said. “Nik could drive a vehicle in with us in the back as cargo but the downside is we would need to either be drugged or knocked out. They won’t take “subjects” that are too active, and don’t want anyone knowing their way around in or out of the facility. Every stake out, all I could hear was breathing, no calls or cries. Overheard some drivers talkings about it with the guards.”

“Can we play dead?” Spirit suggested before looking at Soap. “No offence.”

Kyle snickered at Soap’s rolling eyes. You continued, “No, they test to ensure the hybrids are drugged. Guards will enter the truck for inspection before any of them go through.”

The young soldier seemed to shift from foot to foot. You could hear her heart picking up. When Soap put an arm over her shoulders she seemed to relax. The thought of cages made you a little uneasy as well, but it was easiest way.

“I don’t mean to devalue anyone, I have great respect for your work truly, but is bringing someone so young along a good idea?” You asked aloud.

“I’ll be fine.” Spirit said. You could hear her let out a huff, eyes firmly on the map. A strong malen’kiy.

Day before the mission you found yourself in the living space again, with Spirit sitting and drawing in her sketchbook. You had brought a sort of peace offering in the form of a muffin. She accepted it politely.

“Apologies for any offence I may have given you. It was not my intention.” You said. Spirit looked up a friendly expression on her face.

“I wasn’t offended.” Spirit said. You nodded and sat down, eyeing what she was working on. An arctic fox.

“Nik tells me you are a part of a program?” You asked. She nodded but fidgeted a bit. “Bad memories?”

“A bit.” She said, more focused on the sketch. You smiled.

“Do you need me to pose?” You teased. She looked at you smiling and shaking her head.

“I noticed you looking uneasy. While we were briefing.” You asked. When cages were brought up Spirit seemed to shift from foot to foot. Rudy would be a driver, along with Nikolai. You, Spirit, Price and Soap would be in cages and drugged. Gaz would provide overwatch. “If you don’t feel comfortable, you could always go in a cage with someone else, if it makes you feel safe.”

“You’re sure the drugs will be a lower dose?” She asked. You checked and double checked almost every hour, the doses were specific and precise, so they’d wake when they needed to, and wouldn’t be out any longer. You put a hand over your heart looking the young hybrid in the eyes.

“On my honour."

The truck is chilly but cold doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother Soap. Spirit had opted for staying in the same cage as Price who seemed a little chilly. Before the doses were administered, she curled up closer. Spirit also insisted on having her poncho. Soap was also adamant on this.

“You have a little comrade captain.” You commented. Price nodded while Spirit gave a proud and smug look.

“Always.” Price said, his wing covering Spirit. You hear a small laugh, and quiet words from Price. Gaz went to each of you, injecting the dose. It would put you all to sleep. When you woke it was go time. You and Soap would be in one part of the lab, while Spirit and Price would be in another. Horns and antlers were valuable, as were scales. Furs had value but only so much. You notice Spirit getting nervous, can hear her breathing becoming unsteady. Price was there to keep her calm.

“You got this milan’kiy.” You told her. The needle goes in, she winced and then leaned back against Price. Price adjusted her to keep her from falling before Nik injected him. Soap was fidgeting in his own box as Rudy put the needle in him next.

Then it was your turn…and you…fall……asleep.

When you awoke you were close by to Soap who was already assessing the cage. He was focused, and ready. There was an extraction team on the way, but getting the other hybrids to safety was top priority. You started to pick the lock when you heard the horrible screech of bending metal. Soap was half shifted.

“That works.” You said and hurried out leading him to some more cages to assess the situation and get some files. Import records, profiles, transactions, whatever you could do to get to the root. You lift blankets on cages to check and see plenty of younger hybrids. The program was about to have a long week. Soap was getting the security system turned off. You were a “late shipment” which meant you had some time. No one would come to assess you for testing or anything like that which made for a perfect opportunity to get as many out as you could.

“How are those cameras?” You asked.

“What cameras?” Soap responded. You gave him a chuckle as he joined you, peeking under a blanket. Another fox hybrid, shivering, and looking newly shaved. Seeing soap, fhe fox cowered. Soap backed off, as you hushed the young kid.

“Не волнуйся. Мы здесь, чтобы помочь вам. Просто держись крепче.” You said. The kid nodded, eyes a little brighter. The blanket goes back down, and you stand up.

“Aye, Fäks. Found some shipments.” Soap called over. You came up to him, seeing the crates with smaller containers. The labels were going to a few high end companies. Disgusting, all of it. There was a barking sound. The two of them turned and saw the white Cadejo. Rudy had returned, which meant the guards wouldn’t be an issue. Soap got to the door and knocked, getting a response from Rudy immediately and letting him in.

"Find everything?" He asked.

"Downloading now." You informed him seeing the loading bar come up. Of course their tech was old and slow.

"Nikolai is on the other end." Rudy mentioned standing next to you, to see the progress himself.

"How is fairing?" You asked. There was a loud bang which told you something wasn't going right.

"Soap, Rudy, stay here." You instructed immediately. If there was one thing you didn't like it was sitting and waiting, and right now there was a chance a good friend of yours was in danger. You don't wait for their response as you leave the room and see a couple guys in lab coats rushing out. You drew a knife from your boot, shanking them both with quick and simple agility. You can hear odd noises and when you get the chance to look inside, you see Spirit's wendigo form, roaring and growling at whatever guards decided to poke her with a stick. Or cattle prod. Clearly they'd taken her out of the cage, intending to do some last minute assessment or maybe to get her antlers off. Price was taking out any guards that tried to go for him while Spirit tried clawing at them. Nik still had a weapon from his disguise, firing from whatever cover he could find from the tables and empty cages.

You don't hesitate to get more primtive, your blade doing only so much when it comes to armoured gear. You claw and bite, yes you have teeth, and you aren't afraid to dive into smaller space to remove anyone wanting to use the element of surprise. Thankfully, the fighting doesn't last long and you don't have too much blood in your mouth.

"Anyone broken?" Price called, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Good here." You said.

"Fine here captain." Nik called, as you gave him a hand up.

Spirit made a cooing sound, shuffling from foot to foot. You approached her and she looked down at you tilting her head. A jackelope wendigo hybrid. Certainly a new one. Seeing the scraps of her clothes, you understand why she wore the poncho. Spirit shifted back to her more human state, retrieving a weapon from one of the guards. Still seemed a little shaken, but ready and at attention.

"Files should be finishing up. We have plenty of hybrids to extract." You said.

"Let get to it." Price said.

Plenty of reports and paperwork to write and sign for this side mission. The hybrids were either put into a program like Spirit's or were waiting for their family to retrieve them. You checked up on Nikolai, and as always he was still holding strong. After completing your last signature for the day, you got up to go find him. Knowing him, he'd likely have a drink, and you could use one.

"Figured you'd need one." Nik said, offering you a poured glass. As always, he'd thought of everything. You took off your jacket, letting it rest on your shoulders as you sat with him at the table. "Long day."

"Indeed." You said taking a long sip. The two of you nursed your glasses.

"How are you?" Nik asked you.

"That's your best pick-up line?" You asked, recalling the night you two had met. Nik laughed. "I'll be fine."

"You see your little one at all these days?" He asked.

"I avoid it." You admitted. Nik shook his head, pouring you another.

"You should see them. Wait a little, but go see them." Nik said. You could never turn him down. Even when you two first met. He was right though. You should go see your little one. Spirit had reminded you of them, and they deserved to have you around even if you didn't think so.

"I will. They're still reading, and I've started doing it too. Plenty to talk about I'm sure." You said. Nik nodded, and you spent the rest of the evening, catching up, inviting the others to join, and remembering the good times.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[chiefdirector]

Discovering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tim could feel the blood pounding through his veins, the sound reverberated through him. Each pump seemed to get louder and louder. Each thud was felt in his chest. He looked down only to find his hands were shaking beyond his control. If he hadn't drawn his attention away from his heartbeat, he wouldn't have noticed the tremors, or the people rushing around him as he stayed frozen to his spot.

Harper and West were getting equipment. Nolan and Chen were to one side, discussing something that Tim couldn't hear. Grey and the Captain whose name Bradford hadn't bothered to learn were to the other side of the room, silently watching the rest of the station prepare to go into the unknown.

The files that had been given out in the briefing yesterday had instructed each team on what their assignment was. Harper would be going with Nolan to check out the safehouse that was assigned to (Y/N)’s operation to see if there was anything that could hint to her current location. Lopez was to head back to interrogation to attempt to get Williamson to give up any more information. Chen was staying behind with him to review everything from the beginning. 

“Hey,” Chen said, bringing Tim’s mind back to him, “Grey is waiting for us in the conference room. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, lead the way.”

-----

“So, from the beginning, Detective Bradford started her undercover operation two years ago on the 5th of May. She last checked in with us on the 17th of May, and was declared legally M.I.A on the 23rd of May.” Sargent Grey said, sticking a post-it note to the left side of the board at the top of the room. He continued sticking post-its as he spoke. “The initial investigation turned up little but her gun was found in the assigned safehouse alongside a bottle of her medication.”

“According to Williamson, he saw her for the last time shortly after that. He turned on her a few days after they went M.I.A. But she didn't know, or she wanted to play it cool because she kept in contact via burner phone semi-regularly.” Chen said, looking down at the notes in front of her.

Tim’s head snapped to face his rookie “Was that when you spoke to him privately, or was this in interrogation?”

“When we were alone.”

“Text Lopez, get him to confess to it on record. If not, it's not solid enough to go from.”

“Tim’s right, Chen, but it's helpful nonetheless.” Grey sighed, “From then on it's pretty rocky. We have a few civilian sightings but nothing concrete. She stayed away from CCTV and any heavily policed areas. She knew to stay hidden. Which doesn’t help us, but we now know that it was intentional. WIlliamson said he spoke to her less than two weeks ago, she was near the Mexican border in Arizona.”

“Does the border patrol know to look out for her?”

“The Captain is alerting them now, as well as local police departments. The FBI has also been told of this development due to the crossing of state lines. They have agreed to give manpower as needed but let’s hope we can keep this in house.”

“So what now? We have barely anything to go from?” Chen tentatively said, trying not to provoke any reaction from her T.O with her words.

“We wait for Lopez to finish her interview with Williamson and then we will make a plan.”

-----

“He seemed to realise he was in a lot of trouble and asked for a lawyer pretty quickly.” Lopez said as she walked into the room, “I did, however, manage to get him to reveal the names of his employers in a trade for a letter from the Watch Commander stating his cooperation to whatever judge he gets assigned.”

Grey nodded his head before prompting Angela to continue.

“I had another Detective look up the names he gave. As expected they are tied to all sorts of crimes; drug distribution, embezzlement, fraud, unlawful use of a lethal weapon. And those are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. However, there is also good news, none of them seem to have a history with kidnapping or anything more extreme, or at least anything that has been reported.”

“And we want to keep it that way, so we will have to be extremely careful with what we do next.” Grey said, moving towards the door to go brief the Captain about their discovery and to start to make a plan of action 

“Yeah, but there is one more thing he said before lawyering up.”

“What is it?”

“That we shouldn't waste the manpower on finding (Y/N). He said that she wasn’t the one they wanted to hurt but she was used to punish other people. Her vanishing was only a means to an end.”

Tim could hear his heart begin to pound in his ears once again. He breathed in, then out, then in again. If she wasn't their target, then who was? And if she was only a pawn in their game to hurt somebody else, then what else would they do to ensure their target would suffer. How many more lives had been ruined by these monsters, and how many more would suffer a similar fate to the ones that had gone before them?

“Who were they trying to hurt?” Tim ran his hands through his hair as the question unintentionally tumbled out from him. “Did he give a name?”

“Yeah, that's the thing…” Angela let the words trail off as she tried to compose herself. Tim watched as she took a deep breath. “Williamson claimed that the cartel they were hunting threatened (Y/N) into silence with photos of her loved ones to make you vulnerable.”

“I dont… I dont understand.”

“You were the one they wanted to punish, Tim. This is about you, it always has been.”

Part Three | Part Five

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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