#but dammit this is sarge's post

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 7- Loss

Summary: Easy Company is stuck in Bastogne and is succumbing to the cold harsh winter. Despite this, things are looking up! They are due to take the town of Foy and finally be done with the dreaded winter.  Easy returns to the front line in the forest just outside of Foy. You experience your first real loss due to a senseless accident. This sends you down spiraling into a dark place, and Joe is the only one that can pull you back. 

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Mentions of death, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish to English Translation, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚 This chapter continues from

1x6 Bastogne then transitions into 1x7 The Breaking Point

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

Adrennes Forest, Belgium 

January 2, 1945 

Easy company combed through the trees of the forest in the relentless cold near the target town of Foy.

Eventually, Easy encountered sporadic machine-gun fire causing a few casualties. After Hoobler’s kill shot of a German on horseback, he finally gets a Lugar and comes back to the guys to show it off to them.

LT Compton and Lipton are having a chat about where LT Dike has disappeared to while Malarkey and Shifty are digging a foxhole nearby.  

“-I haven’t seen him all day. I didn't see him coming through the woods, and I have to figure out how we ended up with-” 

Lipton respectfully interrupted Buck, “-Two wounded.”  

“Who?” Buck asked concerned stopping in his tracks. 

“Brown and Stevenson.”  

 “Goddam it-” Buck looked away rolling his eyes, “Where’s Dike!? Where the hell does he ever go?”  

“-I don’t know, but I wish he’d stay the hell there.”  You chime in approaching the first sergeant and LT. 

“Hey, Y/L/N.” Lipton greeted. 

“Would be nice if he took LT Shames with him, too-” Malarkey added. 

“-Shut up, guys.” Lip cautioned. 

“Shutting up, Sarge.” Malarkey acknowledged. 

You nod to Lip before addressing Buck, “Sir, Brown and Stevenson are stable. Me and Doc got them all patched up and ready for transport, they’re gonna be fine.” You report. 

Buck gave you an approving nod, obviously relieved. 

Suddenly a single gunshot sounded off too close for comfort and you all scrambled to the nearest half-dug foxhole with Malarkey, Shifty, Lip and Buck. 

“Patrol?” Malarkey asked. 

“No, we would’ve heard.” Lip replied. 

“One man...maybe a sniper.” Buck added. 

“That was no rifle.” Shifty confirmed. 

“What do you see, Shift?” Buck asked. 

“Nobody out there.” Shifty said. 

“Are you sure?” Buck questioned. 

“Uh-huh.” 

One of the guys came running up. “Ah Jesus, it’s Hoob! He’s shot!” He yelled out. 

“Sniper!?” Buck called back. 

“Nah, nah, he—he shot himself. MEDIC!”  

“Jesus Christ, I’m right here!” You shouted out over Lip’s shoulder as you leap out of the hole running. 

You get to Hoobler with Perconte kneeling over him. 

“It’s my fucking leg!” Hoobler cries out. 

“What happened!?” Lip asked. 

“What were you doing with a loaded gun in your pants!?” Buck asked Hoobler finding the Lugar next to him. 

“It just went off! I wasn’t touchin’ it or nothin’! I wasn’t touchin’ it, I swear!” Hoobler responded panicked. 

“Hoob, hold still dammit, I gotta cut the pants!” you bellowed at him as calmly as your voice allowed.  

You lift the fabric away from Hoobler’s skin where blood soaked through his right thigh and began feverishly slicing through his uniform. It was clear by the color and saturation of the blood that he hit the main artery. 

“It hurts like a son of a bitch!” Hoobler shrieked. 

“We gotta pack this to make it stop.” you think outloud more so to yourself.  

You pull off his belt in one fleeting motion and apply it above the wound as a tourniquet and start tightening it. Hoobler lets out a cry of pain and starts rocking side to side. 

“Goddam it, hold him down! I can’t get this tight enough to stop the bleeding if he’s moving around like that!” you tell the other five men present. 

You secure the belt, then dump your bag to get the sulfur and clean gauze to start packing the bullet wound. 

“Keep him warm!” you tell them as you dash the sulfur onto the thigh and start stuffing with the dressing. 

Doc rushed in sliding onto his knees next to you. 

“Let me see it.” Doc said pushing Malarkey aside, “Y/L/N, let me get in there so I can get the bullet out.” he said noticing you were becoming fatigued. 

Doc shifted over and started working Hoobler. Buck removed his coat and put it across Hoobler to keep him warm. 

The guys started talking to him to keep him from passing out. 

“How we doin’, Doc!?” Buck asked nervously. 

“I can’t see a thing. We gotta get him back to an aid station.” Doc stated. 

“Well let’s get ready to move him then!” you say with your voice shakier than you had intended. 

Doc still frantically working on the leg, the rest of the boys suddenly fell silent. 

“-Doc...Doc!” Buck barked. 

Eugene looked up to see Hoobler laying lifeless.

Lip and Doc stare in horror panting, trying to catch their breath. You stand over all of them with a blank stare, lost in your own thoughts over what had just occurred.  

“Dead...all because of his ‘treasured’ fucking Lugar...’” you thought to yourself. 

This revelation made you angry. Your emotions began to boil over as you voiced your recent thoughts outwardly. 

“All because of a precious Lugar!” you roared.  

The six men look at you startled. You met their shocked gazes with your eyes filled to the brim with tears. As they start to spill over, you continue. 

“Didn’t even need a fuckin’ Kraut to do it for him, did he!?” Your voice cracks as you ask them rhetorically, gesturing towards Hoobler. 

The men all look down at the expired soldier. 

You inhale loudly, tilting your head back and sniffling to try to keep the discharge from expelling from your nose. (Not very lady like). 

“Malarkey,” you say sharply in a motherly tone, side eyeing him.  

Don snaps his head up to look at you, jaw slightly slacked waiting for you to speak, “-if I fucking catch you risking your life looking for a Lugar after today, I will shoot you myself.” you stated harshly. 

Don nodded and looked back down as you turned on your heel and stormed off. 

~~~~~~~ 

Later, Lipton found you spaced out in a foxhole by yourself. He approached cautiously, recognizing the distant look on your face and not wanting to spook you. You sensed his presence and looked over at him with emptiness in your eyes. 

“Hey, Y/F/N.” he began. Your face remains as you looked straight ahead again. 

Lip sat on the edge of your foxhole, allowing his feet to dangle inside. 

“You ok?” His voice was gentle and worried. 

You only nod. 

“Listen, uh, when you’re ready, I need you to come with me to Captain Winters to explain what happened. Just, whenever you’re ready, k?” he waited, “You know where to find me.”  

It was only until he started to walk away you found whatever voice you had left. 

“Sarge, we can go now.” you call out as you slowly make your way out of the hole. 

As you stand before Winters and Nixon retelling the story, your voice begins to strain fighting back anger and choking down tears.  

“Hoob had so many layers on him we couldn’t tell how bad the bleeding was, sir.” you pause and look down at your boots, “He was already gone by the time we got him to the aid station. The bullet went through the artery.” you finished. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference if you had known.” Nixon tried to assure. 

You look at him perplexed; your face twisted up with that same rage beginning to rise in your chest. 

“With all due respect, that’s where you’re wrong, sir.” you raise your voice, still trying to maintain your customs and courtesies towards him. 

Winters, Nixon and Lipton shared wide eyed glances. 

“Y/F/N, maybe you should-” Lip began. 

“-No! This was avoidable. If Hoobler hadn’t had that Lugar, he’d be alive now!” you stated bitterly. The men were speechless as you continued 

“I hear the guys go around talking about what fucking trophies they’re going to bring home from this ‘Kraut’ or that ‘Jerry,’ and you know what, sir? It makes me sick to my stomach! Do you know Perconte hasover a dozen wrist watches from dead German soldiers he’s been collecting since Normandy!? At least!” you pause to look away, to shield the view of your tears. 

You release along sigh, “And now, because of a stupid German handgun that he considered a “trophy” is the reason that Hoobler is dead. No trophy or treasure is worth that.” you concluded shaking your head.  

You look back at the three men with your glossed over eyes, waiting for a tentative punishment for not asking for permission to speak freely before going off. 

Winters, Nixon and Lipton exchanged concerned glances. 

“Y/F/N,” Winters approached you, “I’ve been noticing for awhile that the weight of the war has been anchoring you down. It gets to all of us at some point, so it’s fine to get it off your chest. As long as you keep pushing forward and lean on the guys for support.”  

“Just make sure when you lose it that it’s only with us. I don’t think Sink would put up with that.” Nixon joked. 

You scoffed flashing a weak smile at him. 

“You’re doing good work with us. Nobody has any complaints.” Winters added. 

You nod, “Thank you, sir, that means a lot coming from you.” you replied. 

“In the meantime, go find Liebgott and stay with him until you’re smiling again. That kid always has something to say that makes the guys laugh.” Nixon said with a wink. 

“Yes, sir.” you respond with a slight grin before leaving the three men under the tarp overhang. 

~~~~~~~ 

You didn’t go to Joe, though. You went back to your foxhole to be alone. As the sun was setting, the air became chillier, and you found yourself uncontrollably shivering. You started to regret not finding Joe to get some extra warmth from him in his foxhole.

And as if he heard you thinking about him, Joe appears crouching over your foxhole. He remained quiet for a minute to see if it was safe to join you, but you keep your face buried in your folded arms covered by your wool blanket. Joe thought he heard you either whimpering or crying, but as he leaned in closer, he discovered you were actually humming a song to yourself.  

“Hey.” Joe said softly. 

You look up at him with tired blood shot eyes, red nose and peeling chapped lips. You had been crying silently in that hole all afternoon and you knew Joe would know. You attempt a weak smile then rest your chin on your knees.  

Joe hopped in and plopped down next to you. He studied you for a few seconds then nudged you with his elbow. You side eye him without any additional response. 

“I just talked to Lip-” he began.  

You looked down. 

“-He asked me if you had come to see me. Had to tell him no. He told me what happened, and that Nixon told you to come see me.” he continued. 

You remained quiet, shifting from your chin to your cheek looking away from Joe.  

Liebgott moved closer to you putting his arm across your shoulders. His closeness made you tremble. You wanted to lean into his chest to get warm, but you stayed put. 

Joe tilted his head, “Why didn’t you come to me, Gams?” he asked, almost sounding offended. 

His fingers gently gliding back and forth on your shoulder, he anxiously waits for you to answer him.  

“I-I don’t know...” you muttered as you sniffled. 

Joe reached for your shoulders to turn you towards him. You rotate entirely around as his hands guided your face to his. You finally look at him with tears cascading down your cheeks. Sensing how distraught you still were, he pulled you into him, embracing you tightly as he leaned against the dirt wall. You curl into him resting your head right over his chest. 

“I gotchyu, doll-” he reassured then kissed the top of your head. “I’m right here.” 

Joe held you, allowing you to soak his coat with your tears while you silently bawled as you wrap your arms around his torso, holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, so he occasionally planted a kiss on the side or top of your head while kneading your back or arms to give you any sort of relief. 

This lasted for awhile until you were drained of tears to shed. You shifted upward to lay your head into the crook of Joe’s neck to be as close to him as possible. 

“So,” Joe started, “did you really tell Malark that you’d shoot him?” he asked. 

For the first time all day, you laughed. Your laughter is music to Joe’s ears as he embraces you tighter then kisses your forehead. 

“I sure did.” you respond, your voice raspy and strained since you hardly said a complete sentence for hours. 

“Pretty sure you scared him out of looking for that Lugar for his nephew.” Joe stated. 

“Good.” you responded. 

He rested his chin on top of your head. 

“What were you singin’ anyway?” he asked. 

You sighed, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral.”  

“Tu ra what?” Joe laughed trying to look at you. 

You giggle, “By Bing Crosby? From the movie ‘Going My Way?’ You don’t know it?”  

“Ah sure, I think I’ve heard it once or twice-” he responded while pulling you in closer, “-maybe you can refresh my memory?” he added. 

“I don’t know, Joe, my voice is shit right now from crying.”  

“Sing quietly then. Come on, for me?” he urged winking at you. 

You couldn’t resist the man. You obliged him with a gentle grin. 

🎶“Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral-” you began subtly, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-li...”🎶  

You softly serenade Joe the Irish lullaby until you drift off to sleep in his arms. He stayed with you overnight in your foxhole. His steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing soothed your inner turmoil, allowing you the deepest sleep you’ve had in months. 

~~~~~~~ 

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, looking up to see Joe knocked out still holding onto you as he was before you fell asleep on him. 

You move your head up and press your lips into his neck, gently placing a kiss right over the scar left behind from the wound at crossroads. He shuddered, then woke up alarmed, looking at you with hooded droopy eyes. 

“Heeeeey now, Gams-” he cautioned flashing a half-concerned expression. “Whaddya tryin’ to do?” he said through a yawn with a nervous laugh while rubbing his neck where you had kissed him. 

“What?” you respond partially entertained by his reaction. 

He looked at you skeptically, “Come on, you know whatchyu did.” he rebuked, taking an opportunity to stretch. 

You shrug at him with a coy smirk. He smiled at you cynically.  

“You keep doing that shit and we’re going to have to find something to cover this foxhole, so nobody sees what I’d like to do you.” he stated, his voice gravelly and low.  

You gasp as you back off him, “Joseph Liebgott!”  

He chuckled, “Just giving you a fair warning, sweetheart. Don’t think I won’t.” he replied with a wink. 

You felt a wave of heat rush over your entire body as you stared at him in shock by his honesty. 

You scoffed, “Noted. I’ll be more mindful where and when I put my kisses.”  

“Mm-hm...” Joe hummed side eyeing you suspiciously. 

You feel yourself blush as you bashfully smile back at him. He pulled you back onto him. 

“Go back to sleep you little tsrus (troublemaker).” he whispered in Yiddish, then kissed your forehead.  

~~~~~~~ 

#band of brothers #ww2 #hbowar #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #ross mccall #101st airborne #easy company #carwood lipton #buck compton #donald malarkey #shifty powers #frank perconte #dick winters #lewis nixon #doc roe #eugene roe #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott sends me #joe liebgott x female reader #joe liebgott brain rot #joe liebgott x reader #medic #Spotify

[penname-artist]

I'm currently on a planes binge and I keep finding myself more and more fascinated with blade, so I was wondering, how old is he?

I always thought he was kind of middle aged like late 40s or similar, but I've read many a fic where he's 70 or at least near so👀

Ooh this is a good question!

Well, it does depend a bit on what headcanon (or lack of) you're going off of here, but the most 'accurate' way to gauge his age/age range is by counting back to the years of 'CHoPs'.

Assuming CHoPs really is a carbon copy of the real life equivalent 'CHiPs' series, the show would have been on air from 1977 up until 1983 - which is presumably at or around the time of Nick's "untimely demise" and the end of the show. It would make the most sense that Blade be of a decent age already when joining on, I'll say at least 21-22, so his date of birth would land somewhere in the mid to late 50s. And, as you might have guessed, that plus the film's release (in what I can only assume was equally their "present day" in 2014) puts him in his 60s or so, as a rough estimate.

Per my personal headcanon, his date of birth is January 19th of 1953; Joined on CHoPs at age 24 (1977) ; left at age 30 (1983) ; joined PPAA at age 33 (1986) ; Promoted to fire chief at 38 (1991) ; Started training Dusty at 61 (2014). In today's year he'd have just turned 70.

Though surprisingly, despite the age he is far, FAR from the oldest character we know of. Just off of the top of my head here, there's a few posts that have talked about all the canonical evidence that characters like Sarge, Lizzie, Skipper, even Cabbie are pushing 90 and over, and they're all surprisingly capable for their ages (especially the latter; dude you're fucking ancient, stop working, retire dammit)

Though, aging probably works different by World of Cars standards, so maybe 70 for a helicopter is like, 45-50 for a human? I'd say that's about his range, mentally, 50s or so. XP

#disney planes 2 #disneyplanes #disney planes #blade ranger

[correctrvbquotes]

Cut to the Reds.

Grif: Great idea, sir. I finally agree with you.

Donut: (walks up to Sarge and Grif) Hey, guys. We might have a problem here. Somebody, and I'm not gonna say who, might've thought that one of the cyborg parts we need for Simmons' surgery was a cupholder. And somebody, not naming any names here, might've left it, along with their favorite smooth jazz compilation CD, in the Warthog. I just don't know who would do such a thing.

Grif: Was it you?

Donut: Yeah.. uh, no! (clears throat) I mean, NO. ...Dammit.

Sarge: Grif, you and Easy Listening stroll on down and retrieve that part from the Warthog. Post Haste!

Grif: Sir, do you think it's safe to be outside the base right now? For all we know the Blues could've already fixed their tank. They could be advancing on us as we speak.

Sarge: Ahh, corny dogs! Even with Lopez helping 'em, it'll take them months to get that tank online, much less to get it movin' again.

Donut: I hope you're right, because if I see that tank headed towards me, I'm totally gonna freak out.

Camera zooms across the canyon to Tucker, Sheila, and Lopez.

Tucker: Man, I sure hope they don't totally freak out when they see us coming.

#s2 #s2e31 #donut #sarge #simmons #grif #red ensemble #tucker

[greentrickster]

The Saga of Sarge’s Pumpkin

The story of a volunteer pumpkin plant and one clone’s dedication to tracking its progress, and yes, that blossom at the beginning really is the one that the pumpkin grew from, it was such an anomaly at the time that it got photoed, and now I’m so glad it did!

#clone troopers #star wars #pumpkin #jack o lantern #elapsed #strike a pose! #sarge the trooper #technically everyone's in this #but dammit this is sarge's post #okay fine #tint the trooper #taint the trooper #smudge the trooper padawan #jax the trooper force master #figma link

[goldendiie]

um. anyways. here’s an excerpt from the christmas fic that i never posted bc i had no time to actually sit down and write it:

Sarge whirled around, jabbing one finger in Fillmore’s general direction. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, “You say I was the crazy one at parties, when you would kiss just about anyone if you were drunk enough? Seems kind of hypocritical, if you ask me.”

But Fillmore wasn’t looking at him. In fact, his eyes were glued about three feet above Sarge’s head.. “Funny you say that,” He murmured.

“What…?” Sarge followed his gaze upwards, only to be met with the dull green of mistletoe that had been hung in the doorway he was standing under. “God dammit. This is not happening.”

Fillmore laughed, and drained the rest of his mulled wine, tossing the cup unceremoniously towards a half-empty trash can. “You remember--”

“Don’t start this again.” Sarge interrupted, knowing full well that he likely remembered (in vivid detail) whatever Fillmore was about to say.

“Oh, why not?” Fillmore drew closer. “Yeah, I was kissing just about everyone at those parties, back in the day… but you refused to mention that one time--”

“Fillmore, I’m warning you--”

“Yeah, and I’m not listening.” Fillmore was only about a foot-and-a-half away, now. “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it was multiple times that we got drunk enough to--”

It was funny, really, how easily he could be persuaded into doing something when it was for the sake of getting Fillmore to shut his goddamn mouth. Sarge kissed him, strangely unhesitant and somewhat pleased by the way Fillmore melted into it. It lasted a little bit too long, as one of Fillmore’s hands caught the side of his face and pulled him closer. For a moment, all was quiet.

Noises seemed to fade back in as Sarge pulled away. Distantly, he could hear the dull chatter of festival-partiers, the clinking of champagne glasses. This time, it was Elvis who was droning on, reaching into the furthest corners of his mind, I’ll have a blueee… blue-hoo-hoo christmas…

Sarge realized that his hands were still resting on Fillmore’s shoulders (when did he do that…?), and he pulled himself free. He spoke without thinking, “Sorry, uh…”

“You’re blushing,” Fillmore interrupted. His eyes were wide.

Sarge stammered, trying to quickly think of something to say. A nervous laugh wrestled itself free from his throat, and he suddenly felt the urge to take several large steps away.

Fillmore seemed to recognize how uncomfortable the situation had grown, and mustered, “How about another drink?”

“Yes, um… good plan.”

#season 6 #sargemore #lowkey i’m definitely going to save this and just try and post it next christmas #sorry i got caught up working 35 hours a week again

[squashfolded]

idk much abt rvb ships but im curious, is there’s a ship you Do like for wash! also i get your sunny opinions 100%, i’ll rb anything that’s even an ounce of charden/charmac but it takes a lot for a macden post to interest me. love the ship but they have to work hard to earn it lol

Oh yeah there’s a couple pairings with him I really like! Sargewash (warge??) Is great and hilarious, the token war hardened dilf of each team respectively plus Sarge calls Wash hot on multiple occasions lmaoo also ! my beloveds Washnut (aka nutwash aka nuttington they’re all terrible ship names I know) I won’t get into it too much bc spoilers but they have SUCH a great and wholesome dynamic in season 17 Wash finally gives Donut the respect and appreciation he deserves god dammit!! Also Donut says he wants to kiss wash (who doesn’t)

Also this one is kinda obscure because they almost never interact but Wash and Simmons ! (Washimmons/Dickwash) Like 99% of the content for this ship was made up by my friend @cyborgblood and it’s almost all entirely fanon and kinda a crack ship honestly but. It’s so cute.

And same tbh those two pairings are criminally underrated 😭 and charmacden ofc 💔 sunny polyam agenda 😤 when I first stated watching iasip and knew nothing about the fandom I looked up charmac on tiktok because I assumed it’d be the most popular and got mostly macden stuff anyway and even some posts hating on charmac shippers? Like what is this 2012 why are there shipping wars 😭

#asks

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Sixteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: A very special shoutout to @anonymouscosmos for all of their encouragement and support! You are a god among insects. I’d also like to thank the discord chat for enduring my nonsense, as ever. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and detailed descriptions of previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Her head had been blown open, or at least it felt that way. The explosion was so close to her face that her helmet had just peeled off like it was made out of shrapnel-laden papier-mâché.

  Sergeant Shaun 'Lucky' Cathan was flat on his back hardly a foot away from her, pinned under the weight of the debris that was slowly crushing his armor. 

  She couldn't move. Her arms and legs wouldn't respond. That blow to the head had been nearly fatal. She was trapped on her stomach, inches from him.

  "Backhand-" Cathan choked, his voice wet. His gauntlet fumbled for her own, large metal fingers gripping her hand. "End of the line for me, eh Handy?"

  She gurgled something, trying to talk. One eye still worked. Barely. It felt like it was full of glass every time she forced herself to blink. It was too dark to see much anyway, even if she squinted. Her head throbbed with the beat of her heart. 

  "Save--your strength, Vega." Cathan instructed. 

  She wasn't sure what strength he was even talking about. Her armor felt like it had collapsed down on her spine. "Sir-" Vega managed to say. "S'been an honor-"

  "Don't give me that-- shit , Vega." Cathan chuckled. "I was just another dog of war. You'll get out of this. Go back to that man of yours, have a few kids, live your life." He coughed, wheezing, "my time is up, Handy."

  "No, no I'm-" Backhand tried to pull him closer, tried to get upright. Pain jolted down her back and legs and she halted, trembling. "I c-can't leave you here, Sarge." She groaned, knowing deep down that it was futile but refusing to give up .

  Cathan's grip tightened briefly. "It's alright, Handy." Her CO murmured. "It's alright. Make sure Tabitha has me buried on American soil. Or chuck my ashes in the harbor, yeah? Piss off all those Cambridge fucks." He chuckled.

  Backhand nodded as best as she could, the tears stinging painfully against the flayed skin of her face. "I will. Promise."

  The rubble overhead creaked and groaned, dust falling down on top of them. "Won't be long now." Cathan mused faintly, "Not long at all…"

  …

  Danse struggled to sit up and roll Vega onto her back. His own injuries faded to the background of his mind as she laid unresponsive, blood slowly pooling in the dirt beneath her left side. Her mouth opened and closed in a spasm; her eyes had rolled back in her skull and her fingers twitched erratically. 

  Have to hold pressure. Stop the bleeding. Danse numbly pressed his shaking hands down on her side just below her ribs, his body suddenly awash in a cold sweat as he realized just how much blood she was losing. He could almost hear Haylen rambling about the arteries, internal bleeding, penetrating damage, Worwick and Brach and Dawes and Keane and Danse felt like he was going to be sick. 

  "H... Haylen! " He yelled desperately. It was the only thing he could think to do.

  Then, against all odds, startling the everliving daylights out of him, Vega sat up . " Oh , you fuckin' asshole! " She hollered at Maxson around Danse's body while the paladin scrambled to attempt to stem the flow of fresh blood that her motion sent spurting out. "You really fuckin' shot me?! You're the worst kind of dick! " 

  Danse was flabbergasted. Her state was clearly compromised, how was she even conscious-

  "Fuck!" Vega growled in pain, dropping her forehead to rest on Danse's chest. "Oh fuck, fuck fuck you, you told me Danse was fuckin' dead, you liar! You expect me to just stand by and let you kill him in front of me?!" She continued to rant at Maxson, her voice muffled somewhat by Danse's shirt. "You dumb fuckin' prick, you stupid fuckin' dipshit motherfuck son of a cockass! This ain't exactly my first time gettin' fuckin' shot, you fuckin' fuck!"

  Danse realized that Arthur hadn't said a damn thing, possibly just as bewildered and awestruck by Elizabeth's impressive grasp of blue-streaked vernacular as he himself was.

  "Paladin Brandis, if I may…?" Haylen's voice was almost inaudible over Backhand's continued snarling. Danse jerked his attention away from Elizabeth, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes in order to determine the field scribe's location.

  "Scribe, get the hell back behind the line!" Maxson barked. 

  Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of Rhys and Haylen, the knight using his power armor like a shield to protect the scribe as if they were out in the field. Haylen was suddenly there , on her knees in the gravel next to Danse and Elizabeth. The paladin's eyes were now blinded with tears of gratitude and he huffed out a breath. "Danse, I'll get to you in a second." Haylen said softly, patting his hand. "Let me have her, okay?"

  "Haylen, I…" the large man didn't know what to say, his words failing him. He clutched pitifully at the scribe's hands, sure that he was gripping too tight.

  "I've got her, Danse. It's okay." Scribe Haylen soothed.

  "Yeah Danse, s'okay." Backhand said blearily, "s'Haylen, she's great. We love Haylen." Her head lolled back like it was too heavy for her to hold up. "Haylen made sure I got to eat and stuff."

  " What? " Danse rasped. 

  "The tactics Elder Maxson used during her incarceration…" Haylen trailed off, grimacing and then continuing in an undertone, "I made sure Rhys smuggled in something for her when he brought Brandis' meals."

  "Vega, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry." Danse apologized needlessly, resting his forehead against Elizabeth's as he supported her neck. "I didn't think anything would happen to you. I...I didn't think in general, I guess." He admitted.

  Vega smiled . "Hey, I'd say whatever shit I went through was a pretty decent tradeoff for finding out that you didn't bite it after all." She slurred. "Missed you."

  " Christ , Vega." Danse muttered in dismay, fighting to untie her hands. Haylen took over after a moment, the scribe's fingers infinitely more steady than his own.

  "I need a Stim and a bloodpack!" Haylen announced after examining Vega's abdomen, looking up worriedly. 

  Not a soul moved. The only sound was the noise of Maxson wriggling in the grip of the armored knight who finally had him secured. "Listen to the scribe!" Brandis shouted to the mute crowd. "You have a sister bleeding in front of you and you would be still and silent? Where are the brave, compassionate soldiers I once knew? Knights! Scribes! Are you not Brotherhood?"

  Two aspirants finally elbowed their way through the throng, making a wide berth around Maxson. One of them bore a large canvas bag. "Good, good work. Drop it here." Haylen instructed, unrolling her field kit. "Can I get a scribe with steady hands and another knight for the opposite side?" She called. 

  A knight thundered past Maxson, the man throwing Danse of all people a haphazard salute before he took up his post at the other end of the group. Maxson practically seethed with rage. "Knight, how dare you salute that--that thing! "

  "That thing is still Paladin Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel, Maxson." Brandis growled. "He won the trial fair and square."

  "I will not allow it to live!" Maxson shrieked hysterically, struggling against the iron hold of the knight bear-hugging him. "I don't care how many of you I have to take down, Danse dies today! "

  "Maxson!" Brandis chided. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound insane! Think about what you're saying before you do something you'll regret!"

  "Not before he dies! "

  "Which would you rather be known as, Maxson? The abuser or the synth fucker?" Maxson froze at the sound of Danse's voice. The burly paladin shot the elder a bloodied sneer, his head tilted to the side at an almost arrogant angle. "After all, you got fucked by a synth." What the hell was he saying? Danse felt unhinged , words flippant, his tired limbs barely cooperating as he forced himself up on his knees and then to his feet. "You let a synth fuck you, Arthur." 

  " Abomination -"

  "You ordered a synth to fuck you." Danse reminded him, voice grating as his words came faster. "Demanded it to fuck you. Abused it. Threatened it with a certain death mission if it didn't. Then gave it that mission anyway." Danse rubbed at some crusted blood beneath his blackened right eye, grimacing. "Does it make it better if you didn't know I was a synth? Because then , you have to justify the reality that you molested a soldier in a compromised emotional state utilizing your privileged position of authority. Can you accept that , Maxson?"

  "You...Maxson, is this true?" Brandis asked incredulously.

  "That thing is clearly lying!" Maxson scoffed, looking around at the spellbound crowd like he expected everyone to agree with him. "Dammit, I am the elder -"

  "Did you hope that I would die out here, Arthur? Or did you assume that I would come crawling back to the Capital Wasteland after my inevitable failure in the Commonwealth?" Danse cut him off bitterly. "Did you think I would be easier to break once I had lost everything , Maxson?"

  "He always fights with Danse!" A tiny squire chimed in. Danse hadn't realised that Maxson had Ingram summon the damn children to watch their trial. "We heard them fight!"

  "Silence, brat! " Maxson screamed, his face purpling with fury. "I am the elder of this chapter, last of the Maxson line, and I will be given the respect I deserve! "

  "Cade's records can verify my story!" Danse shouted hoarsely for everyone to hear, his shoulders heaving with emotion. "Every time we engaged, I did not escape unscathed. Nearly every injury was documented. The dates will align with high-stress situations, and I'll stake my life on there being a long stretch of shit mood during the absence of your preferred punching bag, Elder! "

  " Liar! "

  "Abuser!" Danse yelled in reply, "murderer! You killed Cutler, through your biased orders! You killed Knight Astlin, Scribe Farris, Knight Varham! You killed my brothers and sisters!" Danse's fists clenched tight enough to ache. "And for what, Arthur? For a synth? Or for a man that had no interest in you? Either way, I refuse to accept their blood on my hands, Maxson!"

  " You killed them and you know it!" Maxson shrieked, kicking his legs desperately. "All you had to do was obey me, Danse! Was your pride worth their lives?"

  "There was once a time in my life where I would have done damn near anything you asked of me." His anger petering out, all Danse felt now was weary and bruised. "I loved the Brotherhood, Maxson. I still do. But the path we have taken under your leadership is heinous."

  "Don't you dare to lecture me about devotion, you mechanical mockery! " Maxson retorted.

  "This body may be synthetic, but my heart and mind…" Danse paused, saluting once more. " Those belong to the Brotherhood, Maxson. To my brothers and sisters in arms. Nothing can change that. Not even the knowledge of my true identity."

  "That's what you think!" Arthur flailed in the knight's grip, trying in vain to escape. No doubt so he could pitch himself at the paladin one final time.

  "Elder Maxson, through your words and through your deeds, I deem you unfit to lead our chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel at this point in time." Brandis announced abruptly. "As the senior ranking officer, I, Paladin Brandis, will function as the interim elder until we receive proper instructions from our superiors." He removed his helmet, staring down at Arthur sternly. 

  The young man was quite the pitiful sight, bedraggled from trying to beat Danse within an inch of his life as well as from his struggling afterwards. He still looked mad enough to kill, those blue eyes almost crackling with pent-up fury. "You planned this, didn't you?!" His paranoia on full display, Maxson made no attempt to maintain any sort of composure. "Just how many synths have infiltrated our chapter? Well Brandis?! "

  "Arthur, that's enough ." The senior paladin said in reply, his tone measured. "Don't make an even bigger fool of yourself. Bow out while you still have some dignity." He sighed. "Perhaps the stress of this campaign has been too heavy of a burden to bear for you. I sympathize, but I cannot permit you to carry on in this manner, Maxson." Brandis raised his eyes, scanning the crowd. "Cade! Knight-Captain Cade, please see to Maxson. He is obviously unwell."

  …

  Vega flickered in and out of consciousness. The weeks of abuse culminating in this final (though inadvertent) attempt to end her seemed to have nearly been successful. She only barely remembered Haylen treating her wound, mumbling out an apology to the younger woman for leaning so much weight on her. She caught snippets of Danse and Maxson shouting at each other, bits of the trauma that Danse had endured coming tumbling out and making Vega wish that she wasn't half-dead so she could at least flip Maxson off.

  " Rest , Vega ." Haylen had ordered. " You need rest ."

  And really, who was Backhand to refuse? 

  When next she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a canvas ceiling overhead. Vega squinted a little at the brightness of it. How long have I been out for?

  "Welcome back, General." That familiar voice snapped her out of her staring contest with the tent above her and she rolled her head to the side, unable to help her smile at the sight of Danse. Still a little bruised and banged-up, but alive . 

  Tears streaked down her cheeks and Backhand wished that she could have stopped them, sniffling loudly and covering her face.

  "General Vega, there's no need for that." The paladin chided her softly. Something bumped against her knuckles and she realized after a second that Danse was attempting to give her glasses back. 

  Vega accepted the glasses mutely, grabbed Danse's hand and used his arm as leverage to pull herself up off the cot. 

  "Wait, Elizabeth you-" The paladin began to protest, rising to his feet to stop her. Her legs nearly gave out but Danse managed to steady her, one large hand splayed on the small of her back. "You shouldn't be upright yet, Vega." He scolded.

  I missed you. I thought you were dead. The words tangled up in her mouth and instead Backhand mumbled, "I thought I missed you." Danse's brows furrowed in confusion and she hurried to correct herself, "I mean--I...I thought you were dead!"

  "I needed some time to regroup. Straighten my head out. Heal." The paladin explained quietly. "The O'Brians nursed me back to health."

  "What happened , though?"

  "What happened to you , Vega?" Danse asked instead, gripping her elbows carefully to keep her upright. 

  Backhand shrugged weakly. "Maxson thought I knew you were a synth."

  " I didn't even know I was a synth." Danse huffed, thick eyebrows raising once again. "How on earth would you have known?"

  "Maybe he was going on a witch hunt, trying to get me to confess even though I wasn't guilty of anything." She closed her eyes as she mumbled, "I missed you."

  "I thought of you every day." Danse replied bluntly. Her head shot up and she stared at him, watching as a flush crept up his neck. "I er, I...I am not good at these sorts of things," he admitted. "But it's true. I thought of you and...and of your son. Of the life you should have had. When Preston tracked me down, we realized that something must have gone wrong. So I...came back." 

  Oh . She hated the disappointed pit that yawned open in her stomach. She should have known that he wasn't thinking of her in the same way that she had thought of him. 

  Backhand rested her forehead on his chest, willing her tears to abate. "We need to get them out of the Institute." She said thickly. "All of them. Anyone that will come, Danse."

  "I think you and I should speak to Pal-- Elder Brandis. He has expressed interest in working with the Minutemen." Danse sighed heavily, then continued, "I cannot recommend that we work exclusively with the Brotherhood. There are years of prejudice that have been beaten into these men and women. The allowance of my presence is a show of good faith, but I don't know if I trust the rank and file to storm the Institute without turning it into a massacre." He gave her a wry smile. "I cannot blame them. Even knowing what I am now, it's going to take me some time to remove my knee-jerk reaction."

  "There's always something else to do." She wasn't trying to complain , but God she was tired .

  His facial hair brushed against her forehead, scraping the skin lightly. "I know. What was it you said in the Glowing Sea? 'A run ashore'?" He queried while giving her forearms a gentle squeeze, as if to comfort her.

  "I thought you were dead." She hadn't meant to say it again, watching his eyes go dark and kicking herself for bringing it back up.

  "I suppose I was, for a time." Danse murmured, his expression troubled.

  "I... please don't do that to me again." Vega begged. Her hands fisted in his fatigues, wrinkling the worn fabric. "This is going to sound really dumb and really selfish, but please . Don't."

  "When you thought I was dead, did you..." Danse hesitated. "I mean, did you really miss me? I'm not even...well, I'm not a..." He cast his eyes around, narrowing them like he was physically searching for the word he wanted to use. "Human." He finally managed to say, the admission obviously paining him. "I'm a freak of nature, Vega. A perversion of science and an example of where mankind has gone wrong--"

  "Danse." Backhand cupped his jaw, her palms smoothing over the bristle of his stubble as she coaxed him to look at her. "No offense, but you cannot be this stupid."

  "What do you mean?" The paladin asked, his confusion endearingly evident. "I'm not...how am I being…?"

  Backhand blinked. Maybe he could be that stupid. "You're probably the most human person I've ever met, Danse. The way you care about your squadron, the way you've helped me...look, I wasn't upset about you being a synth, I was upset about you being dead ."

  "Oh." Danse breathed. "Really? You... really? Me being a synth wasn't…?" His words kept faltering, uncertainty shining through with every hitch. 

  " You , Danse. I cried about you being gone ."

  "Elizabeth…" 

  "So don't you dare scare me like that ever again, got it?" Backhand leaned forward, boldly pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

  "I--yes. Understood, Knight. Uh, General." Danse stammered, his fingers absently touching the spot she had kissed. "W-We should...go speak to Elder Brandis. If you believe you can walk a short distance? I know better than to ask you to stay put and be patient."

  "Permit me the usage of your arm to keep me upright and yes, we can absolutely go."

  ...

  Please don't do that to me again .

  She had missed him, she said. She had mourned him, even. Cried over him. Danse's head was spinning.

  How could that even be possible? How could she...he was a machine . 

  No time left to consider such weighty problems, unfortunately, as he found that far too soon the two of them were approaching what had formerly been Maxson's quarters and now served as Brandis' war room.

  "Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse and General Vega!" Elder Brandis greeted them warmly with a loose salute, gesturing around the war table afterwards. "Kells, Cade, Ingram, Quinlan, Doctor Li, I trust you all need no introductions?"

  The briefing was, as they usually were, tedious. Nothing brief about it, if he was being brutally honest. Vega held her ground though, which was all he really needed.

  "You boys aren't tyrants or fuckin' warlords. Not while I have any sort of say in the matter." She said sharply. "If you want Minutemen support, we are working as a team and the Minutemen have uninhibited access to all information as it is gathered. That means we'll need Quinlan's full cooperation." She held up a hand, staving off Quinlan's outburst. " Only in regards to the Institute. We don't want your super-secret Spec Ops sealed Brotherhood case files, so don't get those boxers in a bunch." Cade snorted and Proctor Quinlan looked absolutely scandalized, even as he grudgingly nodded. 

  "Now, General, this is all well and good but what does the Brotherhood get out of this bargain?" Kells asked pointedly. "As far as I can see, we're the integral piece in this plan."

  "' As far as you can see ' is an apt phrase, Lancer-Captain Kells." Backhand's tone was cool. This was General Vega for certain, the woman who had whipped the Minutemen back into shape. "Because what you can't see are the rest of my operations. The Minutemen aren't the only force I have at my disposal, just the most obvious." She leaned in a little, her eyes cold as ice behind the lenses of her glasses. "Do you really want to test me on my home turf, Kells? After everything that's happened?"

  "Not testing you, General Vega." The lancer-captain clarified, "simply identifying what seems to be an imbalance in the negotiations."

  "I got you Doctor Li." Vega retorted. "Without her, your Liberty Prime would still be a pile of junk. I've gotten your scribes tons of information to sift through, I've done everything the former elder asked of me."

  "Lancer-Captain Kells, if I might also interject?" Danse asked hesitantly, cringing on the inside as everyone turned to look at him like they had forgotten he was even there. Kells inclined his head after a moment. "Sir, we cannot be so quick to discredit our position. Due to our aerial location, we will be within the perfect striking distance to any sort of localized, above-ground assault."

  "I am more than aware of our position, Paladin . But that does not negate the fact that we have a much larger stake in this than anyone else-"

  "Larger than the locals who have been getting body-snatched for years?" Vega cut him off. "Let's not forget that myself and your new elder were starved and tortured for weeks , while the rest of you sat around and twiddled your thumbs out of fear and respect." She spat. "Don't fuckin' come to me with your scale-tipping bullshit . It took a synth to make you all sack up, and I don't intend to let you forget that." The woman straightened up, looking grim. "I'm not giving you anything else. You can either work with us, or you can keep pitching yourself against the Institute until they've all slipped away and you're left with nothing but an empty facility and unanswered questions."

  "She's right." Doctor Li affirmed tersely. "They won't just wait around to be pummeled. This isn't the Enclave. The board of directors will do everything in their power to avoid you and waste your resources at the same time."

  "We cannot afford to entrench ourselves in a drawn-out assault, Kells." Brandis reasoned. "When we strike, we have to do it decisively. Give it everything we've got and cut off the head."

  Kells nodded, seeming satisfied. "Understood, Elder Brandis. I meant no disrespect, General Vega."

  "None taken. I'm still recovering from getting the shit kicked out of me, so my manners aren't up to par quite yet." Vega rested her elbows on the table, steepled fingers tapping her chin. "I won't take anything from you that you're unable to give, Lancer-Captain Kells. If I can avoid using the BoS altogether, I will." She murmured, tilting her head. "I need to get in touch with some people before I can offer anything concrete, but once Lieutenant Garvey knows I'm alive I'm sure the rest will learn fast. We'll rally and plan accordingly." 

  "Well then, what are we waiting for?" Ingram asked eagerly. "C'mon Vega, let's head to the comm deck and get things squared away!"

  "Excellent plan. You two are dismissed." Brandis agreed, making a shooing gesture at the two women. Once they had departed, he turned his attention to Cade. "Do you have faith in our medical capabilities, Knight-Captain?" 

  Cade nodded. "We had been planning to attack them head on anyways, Brandis. If we're truly going in a little less 'shock and awe', we may actually tip more towards over-prepared."

  "I'm not certain how useful their teleporter will be to us once we get inside. I'm sure they'll lock it down with great expedience. However there is another possible egress." Quinlan spread the old blueprint out on the war table, fingers indicating a small service tunnel. "Now, if their measurements are accurate, power armored troops will not fit in this tunnel. But unarmored individuals most certainly will. This includes any…" he hesitated, like he was preparing himself to say it, "... refugees , or non-hostile denizens." 

  Quinlan referring to synths as anything but had Danse's head spinning. Vega was an absolute marvel .

  "It will be heavily guarded." Doctor Li warned. "They like to pretend that there's only one way in or out. Their precious molecular relay ."

  "Danse, I think you ought to take point when it comes to securing this tunnel." Kells remarked, making the paladin straighten up. "We won't be able to gauge our level of involvement until we have a full muster from Vega, but I'd like a senior-ranked soldier in the mix. And I know how much you enjoy being boots on the ground." The older man offered Danse a thin smile.

  Danse was so moved he needed to take a moment, finally choking out a ' yes sir ' with his hand over his heart. That Kells, even after all the years of growing to despise synths, would trust him with such a task-!

  Perhaps they did stand a chance, after all.

Part Seventeen

#fallout 4 #fallout four #spoilers #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #canon-typical violence #elder maxson #paladin brandis #scribe haylen #knight rhys #litany trial #brotherhood of steel #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #paladin danse imagine #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #fo4 paladin danse #slow burn #Eventual romance #forgive the delay #this year has been terrible #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic

[domesticbucky]

Summer rain in Brooklyn

Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader (Y/N)

Words: 3.6 k

Warnings! 18+ : Smut (soft smut, face sitting, praise kink, kinda sub!Bucky, handjobs, blowjobs), a hint of angst, 1940s Bucky in love 🤧

Summary: Bucky and Y/N get caught in the summer rain on their way home from work.

AU where Bucky survived the train, and went on to live in Brooklyn and work at the docks.

Notes: Hi! This is the first fic that I post online and it is entirely self-indulgent (and also my first smut!). English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes. Please give me back some form of feedback if you feel like it! Or don’t, I’ll be around anyways (hopefully). If you are not 18+, go away now!!! Go have a juicebox, idk.

Enjoy!🥰

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪☻

June 1946

The smell of rain makes Bucky pick up his pace as he walks through the familiar streets of Brooklyn. It had been an exhausting day at the docks, carrying crates and moving boxes until his shoulder ached and his soul longed to come home. Breathing out the last sea and motor-oil scented air, he turned to 7th Avenue and smiled to himself; a few more blocks and he’d finally get to see her.

Y/N had taken a part-time job at a bakery in South Slope for the summer. It had been almost a year since the war had ended but the owner’s son still hadn’t returned. Bucky admired her for her diligence and compassion, the way she never hesitated to help others, simply because she believed it was the right thing to do. Her salary was meager at best, but the old baker would always give her whatever loaves and pastries didn’t sell that day to take home with her, and she liked listening to his stories from when he first came to New York, so many decades ago. Bucky liked to think of him as a father-figure of sorts, a man that gave away his little pieces of wisdom, acquired over the years, the same way he gave away misshapen loafs of bread to soldiers too beaten up by the world to make their own.

A draft of cold air goes through his sleeve and reminds him of how beaten up he is. Carved on his left shoulder is the physical reminder of what would have surely been a deadly drop into an icy ravine in Italy, had Steve not managed to grab his arm and pull him back into the train. His left shoulder had become one with the wrecked metal casing of the train for a few moments, but he was grateful and almost happy that he had lived to tell the tale, even if it meant that he would carry those metal fragments in him forever. The slight ringing in his ears, the underlying feeling of his body feeling unusually stronger, and the nightmares were a different story, though. He would have gladly left those things back in that war-ridden continent, instead of bringing them to his home, with the rusty fire-escapes and familiar faces and the smell of freshly-baked bread…

He is just outside the low bakery door when he sees her grabbing her bag and giving the old baker a kiss on his wrinkly forehead. He briefly wonders if she will one day get to kiss him as an old man, if whatever experiments that Swiss bastard run on him will ever let him grow old and wrinkly, but his mind never finishes that thought because she is suddenly throwing herself in his arms.

”Hey Sarge, missed you”. Bucky shivers, not from the cold breeze that promises gentle summer rain, but from the feeling of her in his arms, after being apart for the day. Y/N’s hair smells of fresh bread and sugar, and for the few seconds their embrace lasts, Bucky feels like he’s home already. They pull apart to gaze into each other’s eyes lovingly. Home, he thinks again, before tugging her close again and whispering his affections into her ear. It’s Y/N’s time to shiver, and Bucky, delighted in her reaction, gives a smile and a wave to the old baker, and tugs Y/N towards the direction of their small apartment.

”C’mon Sweets, we gotta hurry or else we’ll be soaked faster than Stevie finds trouble”, he says decisively, the countless times he’s saved his little (now enormous) friend flashing through his mind as Y/N giggles. She intertwines their fingers as they walk, her palm soft in the way hands get after kneading dough and mixing sugar with spices all day, his hand ragged but invitingly warm. She lifts their intertwined hands to place a loving kiss on his worn knuckles, bruised from the day’s work, and a wave of emotions hit him in the chest. He is now even more eager to reach their little home, where the cheap curtains shield them from nosy old ladies, where the pillow cases have their initials embroidered on the side, where he can love her all he wants and the way he wants, without shame or pretended innocence. Because at this moment, he is hungry for more than fresh bread.

The first drop catches him off-guard, thoughts of how he will love her once their rickety old door closes making him tune out everything that isn’t Y/N. The second and third come in quick succession, and Y/N notices too, pausing from telling him about the little joys of her day to let her eyes follow the path of a droplet as it travels from his high cheek bone to his strong jaw, then dipping low to continue on his pretty neck, and finally disappear on the hem of his worn shirt. There’s hunger in her eyes, but it quickly turns into surprise, as the next few drops bring a myriad more, until the droplets of water running down both of them become one with their skin and clothes.

”Dammit, I thought we were gonna make it home before it started”, Bucky says in mild annoyance, as Y/N lets out a giggle.

”Laugh it up doll, but I think we are gonna be soaked before even making it past the next corner. And then you might catch a cold, and I hate seeing you sick”.

Y/N pulls them in a back alley, underneath what looks like a homemade roof extension to the balcony above them, and pulls Bucky for a hungry kiss.

”But you’ll take care of me, right baby? Give me those special kisses and love me ‘till I get better, right Barnes?”

Her voice is low and dangerous, but there’s vulnerability in it too, and Bucky can’t help biting his lip to stifle a groan.

”I’ll do anything for ya, dahlin’, feed you, bathe you, carry you and kiss you until you feel good as new, better than ever before, and then I’ll kiss ya some more ”.

It’s Bucky’s turn to lean in for a kiss, and he tastes soft summer rain and longing for more on her lips, so he gently licks along her plump flesh, silently asking for more. Y/N gladly accepts his warm tongue, gliding hers along his and softly sucking the wet muscle until Bucky lets out a sound from somewhere deep in his chest, and his hips move forward to find her figure.

He pulls away to stare into her eyes, pupils blown wide, and the rain doesn’t matter anymore.

”Honey, doll, sweetheart, let me take ya home”.

He is panting like crazy, his voice desperate as Y/N places her hand on his jaw, squeezing his chin and dropping her gaze to his lips every few seconds.

”You’re gonna be a good boy for me, kid?” she responds, her hand on his chin gripping him steadily, as her other hand moves upward to brush back a few strands of wet hair sticking to his forehead.

He manages to utter ”yes, my love” through parted, kissed-out lips, and she drops the hand previously clutching his chin to pet his sternum.

”Then take us home, Barnes”.

Bucky lifts her on previously weak knees and throws her over his right shoulder, a day’s worth of strain doing nothing to spoil the moment, as he takes off in the rain to their direction of their tiny home, with her laugh echoing off the brick buildings of Brooklyn.

----

By the time he reaches their building he is laughing too, caught up in the euphoria of sharing such a special moment with her, free of worries and anxieties, free to be playful in the gentle summer rain.

He drops her on her feet, his hand rummaging through his worn-out trousers, looking for the key. Y/N’s eyes gaze at him appreciatively, from his long legs to his broad back, his plush lips and the gentle turn of his nose, down again to his pretty neck, the curve of his waist, his thick thighs and, finally, the strain of his arousal against the fly of his work pants, the outline of it visible as Bucky searches deep in his pockets. His hand emerges with the rusty old key and he lifts his gaze from their frayed doormat to focus on the next task at hand, getting them inside as fast as possible.

Y/N pulls him from the collar of his shirt as soon as the door is locked, and drags him to their bed, repaired over the decades to provide comfort to the newest generation of Barnes’, dressed in sheets his ma’ gave him a few days after he returned from the war, embroidered by Y/N to ”make this place feel like home”.

The moment his back hits the familiar sheets, his day of labour comes crashing on him, Y/N’s warm and wet figure providing comfort and security but not quite healing his tired body. Running through the dear-old streets of Brooklyn with her in his arms had been fun, but he is afraid that standing up again is an impossibility with every press of Y/N’s lips on his collarbone.

Y/N notices his tired demeanor and the way he doesn’t respond as enthusiastically to her ministrations as she’s used to. A look to his face and the dark circles framing his still hungry eyes tells her exactly what Bucky needs tonight.

Bucky still makes an effort to sit up and meet her lips, but her hand is quick to press against his chest, his shirt wet, still, with gentle summer rain, and stops him.

”Sit back baby, let me take care of you”.

Bucky plops back down on the bed and the old thing moans with the added strain of his weight. There’s appreciation in his eyes, and they have gone glossy with all the love and adoration he feels for her. She smooths her fingers over his dark circles, before her fingers slowly card through his messy wet hair. He visibly sudders and closes his eyes, content to have her touch him, even if he craves so much more.

Slowly, Y/N sits back on his lap and starts undoing the buttons of her dress. Bucky runs his hands over the sides of her thighs, feeling the goosebumps that rise on the wake of his touch. The summer heat combined with the shortage of nylon due to the newly-over war had left even some of the most conservative ladies in the streets of Brooklyn no choice but to forego stockings, and Bucky couldn’t help but appreciate the feel of Y/N’s skin underneath his fingertips.

Y/N tugs her dress over her head, and Bucky wastes no time to move his hands higher and squeeze her hips, as he takes in her figure, glistening with the remnants of the rain that soaked through her clothes. Her undergarments are worn and plain, but Bucky thinks that she looks like a dream, the weight of her resting on his hips, her most private parts wrapped in silk.

Y/N shifts to hold on Bucky’s forearms as they explore her, while she gazes down at him from her spot on his lap. Soft wisps of light brown hair peek from the unbuttoned collar of his work shirt, and the droplets of water that hadn’t been lapped up by her mouth make his neck and collarbone glisten. She moves her gaze to his mouth, so full and plump and rosy, and as he squeezes her hips again and subtly grinds his hips up on hers, and she is overwhelmed with the need to touch him. She grabs his chin, resting her thumb on the valley between the soft muscles and rubs it between her fingertips.

”How tired are you, baby? Ok with you if I ride that pretty mouth of yours?”.

Bucky’s lips part a little more, as he lets out a responding gasp at her foul words, not quite used to the things she says in moments like this, but loving it all the same. If he was honest with himself, he loved her filthy words almost as much as he loved her praises.

”Please” he manages to blurt out desperately, the sight of his upper lip, curving as he utters his plea, making her throb in her undergarments.

Y/N shifts until her knees rest on either side of Bucky’s head, his cold, wet hair contrasted by the way his eyes stay obediently fixed on hers, and the feel of his warm breath as it hits her core with every heavy exhale.

She examines the way the late afternoon light coming from their small bedroom window catches on his glistening lips and pretty eyelashes, before she tangles her hand through his messy hair and gives him a nod of approval.

Bucky follows her silent request, and places soft kisses on her covered mound as she lowers herself on his chin. His tongue darts out to taste her through her silk underwear, and soon his kisses turn sloppy. His teeth snag on the garment, wet with rain and her arousal, and he keeps it in place as she lifts her hips upwards in order to remove it. Once she’s out of it, she takes it from Bucky’s mouth and gives him a loud and sloppy kiss on his lips, before she resumes her previous position.

”Such a good boy for me”. Her hands run through his jaw one more time before she lowers herself on his mouth again, and Bucky groans as his cock throbs in his trousers at the first real taste of her. He’s spent many times between her legs like this over the past few months that they’ve been together, but there’s always something so thrilling to him about the way she reacts to his ministrations. He loves to please her, and takes pleasure in seeing her feel good. He loves the way she tastes, the way she moves and the sounds she makes, and he loves being good for her.

Y/N tugs at his hair harder, as his mouth grows bolder. His open-mouth kisses against her core have turned into full on french kissing, and she is left breathless as she recalls all the times he has kissed her mouth that way. He proceeds to suck her clit every once in a while, but focuses his efforts into getting his tongue lower, where her taste is stronger and her moans come out lower. He is now painfully hard in his confines, and there’s an embarrassing amount of precome on his underwear.

His nose bumps against her clit with every movement of her hips. Her climax fast approaching, Y/N grinds on Bucky’s mouth harder than before, as he lays obediently on their embroidered pillows, groaning and moaning, and takes it. His enthusiastic actions have ceased, as he opts to keep his mouth and tongue in the best position for her to get herself off. With a final tug at his locks, Y/N grinds down hard on his mouth, and Bucky feels her gush her warm release on his tongue. He laps at her gently, as she comes down from her high, holding her steady as she pants above him.

He places a final kiss on her mound as she pulls herself off him, and plops down on the bed next to him, spent and satisfied. She takes another minute to catch her breath, turning her head to look at the way his chin glistens as he licks his lips.

Y/N glances at his crotch, the bulge there prominent as ever, and feels a new wave of arousal at her lower stomach at the sight. She turns to her side and straddles him once more.

Bucky lets out a grasp as she presses down on his hips again, his cock finally receiving some sort of friction after a long time, and his hands fly to her bare hips again. Y/N is busy unbuttoning his shirt, the clarity provided after receiving a release allowing her to work on the buttons much faster than he would. He shivers as the shirt is removed from his torso, the late afternoon breeze, cooled by the ongoing rain, caressing his flushed skin. Y/N’s hands are appreciatively gliding up and down his chest, making him release high-pitched whines when she passes over his nipples, hard from arousal and the cold air of the room.

”So pretty...” Y/N mumbles before she leans down to capture his right peak into her warm mouth. Bucky’s responding moans grow louder as she moves to suck and gently bite the other nipple. He whines when she lifts her face from his chest, and Y/N places a finger on his pouting lips.

”Hush, kid, let me do this for ya”, she says while gazing at his pleading eyes. Y/N knows that Bucky must have reached his limit by now, so she deftly unbuttons his pants and reaches her hand inside his boxers, finding him hot, heavy and slick.

Bucky groans loudly at the feel of her hand on him, and throws his head back as she lazily strokes him a few times.

”So hard for me” she says appreciatively, her grip a little firmer.

”It’s all for ya, dahlin’, baby-” he gasps back, the ending of the word baby choked off as she squeezes his base, and Bucky almost panics, as he feels his climax just around the corner already.

”Sweetheart, my honey, love of my life, dearest girl, please-”. Bucky is incoherent at best, but Y/N is swift to hush him once again. She takes him out of his boxers completely, and expertly twists her wrist as Bucky’s slurry words escape his parted lips, deep red and chewed raw.

”It’s ok, baby, you can let go”. She picks up her pace, her other hand leaving it’s place on his abdomen to cup his balls and tug them in time with her twists.

Bucky’s hands desperately clutch the sheets, his groans and the slick sounds of Y/N’s hands on him drowning out the sound of the rain against the half-open window. The way he’s twitching on her hand tells Y/N that he is close, so she lets the hand working on his cock move to clasp one of his hands as her mouth takes over, the hand on his balls squeezing encouragingly.

Bucky gasps as his hips move from the bed to buck in her mouth, one hand grasping the sheets and the other holding on Y/N’s for dear life. She feels his balls tighten and his cock throb violently before his release floods her mouth in spurts. She savours the taste of his release on her tongue, sucking him dry gently before moving her mouth to leave kisses all over his spent member. She gently laps at his balls and leaves a few kisses on his thighs before moving higher up, to press her lips against his left shoulder, lovingly, conveying all the sweet emotions she feels for him. She finally lifts her mouth from the scars littering his left arm to press one final soft kiss over his heart, feeling the muscle beating wildly inside his chest.

”You were so good for me, baby” she whispers in his left ear, and feels him shiver as she presses a soft kiss there as well. She leans back to look at him, finding his flushed face, his cheekbones glowing from sweat, and finally his eyes, glossed over from both the events that took place moments ago, and his love for her. Lips parted, still fighting to find his breathing, expression relaxed but unreadable.

”You okay, kid ?” she asks, concern joining on the affection evident on her own features at his lack of answer.

”You make me feel like the luckiest damn fool on this planet, sweetheart. I love you so much.” he manages, his eyes holding her gaze as she breathes out a chuckle of relief.

”Wait ‘till I make you my famous cornmeal pancakes, you can shower me with compliments then!” she says through giggles. They are both too giddy to stay serious for long, but Y/N gives Bucky a smooch on the lips before taking his chin on her hand.

”And I love you, James Barnes.” she says, kissing the tip of his nose as he smiles, and climbs out of their bed to find one of Bucky’s shirts.

----

There are syrupy giggles and the smell of pancakes in the air of their cramped apartment half an hour later. Bucky is wearing his most comfortable pair of pants, one suspender on his right shoulder while the other sits bare in the remnants of the early evening light filtering through the living area balcony door. Loose, striped socks on his feet and a smear of syrup on his chin the only other things on his body, and Y/N thinks it just might be one of his best looks. His hair had been washed and combed hastily while Y/N was making the pancakes, and finds her fingers itching to mess it up again.

Bucky catches her staring, and gives her a shy smile, her intense gaze framed by the glow of the oil lamp on their coffee table. He is sometimes self-conscious of his scarred shoulder, his changed body, himself, but Y/N keeps looking at him like he is the sun itself. He disagrees of course, but he wants to do everything in his power to make himself worthy of her love. He knows, more than anyone, that life and love are precious things that can be taken from you in the blink of an eye. He knows that he will always doubt himself, but he wants to live, and love, with you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Let me know what you think and don't hesitate to message me!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky smut #1940s!bucky #domesticbucky #bucky x reader smut #marvel #james bucky barnes #rain #summer #comfort fic #bucky x female reader #domesticbucky writes

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY LiveThoughts: V8E7

Since I finally have time for it today, lets make sure Im all caught up for the hiatus. 

Before we get fully started, an idea; Its not a war crime if they’re Grimm. Then its just self defense. So break out the napalm, the cluster bombs, the chemical weapons, the fun stuff. Make em regret it, yeah?

And we start off...on a farm. Looks like my moms old farm in South Dakota. Even on Remnant, hay is best used in bales.

Waiiiit. Thats the place the Whale set down isnt it. I see a Sayber running. Ah, and the Atlas military! Surely, the vanguard of a massive force to hold the line! Also Im glad to see a close up of the helmet for once, I want to make my own. Also, the gloves, and the rifle itself. Not sure why it doesnt have a stock, seems kind of silly...

And airships too, so they got some fire support...whats that wall behind them though?

Also it TOOK US 8 FUCKING SEASONS to get a close up of these FUCKING Weapons. 8. FUCKING. SEASONS. Okay maybe more like 5 cause they didnt first appear till 3 or so but come on. Im so picking this shit apart later. 

Pfft, bros got some nerves going on. Come on man, its just some Grimm, you’ll be FINE.

Atlas field harvesters resemble Halo’s JOTUN Farming equipment. As wel as our own. No surprise there.

Alright, bunch of Saybers, not seeing much of a threat here.

Hey, Paladins! Damn, they...look way different than I remember them to be. 

I wont lie, I dont like the Paladin design. Way to much visual noise, I cant tell where anything IS. 

Also that is the most 2D grass I have sever seen in my fucking life. What the hell are they growing here...

Huh, the whale has two sets of teeth. Wait, its just there? And its wpewing out Grimm. So...why isnt the air force firing on it? 

Yeah its not moving, its just raising its head and slamming down and vomiting out more Grimm. Im not sure what the issue is here, just...seal the mouth. 

Oh, huh. Apathys. Let me guess, RTs gonna try and tell us depression is going to kill most of Atlas. Oh for fuck sake. IM NOT IMPRESSED RT. IM REALLY NOT. IM MORE FUCKING ANNOYED THAN ANYTHING

Okay so...I see what this is. Its farm land outside of atlas proper and there’s an additional wall behind them, plus the power lines I guess? Seems like a viable place to make a stand. 

...thats it. Please tell me this is just a single detachment of the Atlas military because there is less firepower here than a NATIONAL GUARD UNIT ASSIGNED TO ONE CITY

Im fairly certain there are more people assigned to ONE UNIT attached to JBLM then I amm seeing here. 

Not to mention this is an OPEN FIELD the Grimm have to run through. This is a literall fucking TURKEY SHOOT. Running across an open field anywhere is a ticket to DYING.

Just ask the poor fucks on D-day.

Also uh...why is everyone in line formation? What is this, fuckin’ 18009s combat Napoleon style?

And did the distance suddenly change, I feel like the whale suddenly got a hell of a lot closer.

Just...I dont get this. This makes no sense. Did Ironwood learn how to deploy forces from a fairy tale book? This is legitimately some fuckin Lord of the Rings shit here.

RIP that one specific trooper hit by that Behemoth though. Dont worry friend, the thing walked next to a Paladin. Its getting its eye blasted out

And cut back to Ironwood. Doing...fuck if I know what.

Staring angrily it seems.

“Dammit, my tactical deployment by line formation and parade ground tactics isnt holding back the Grimm, curses!”

Well MAYBE IF YOUD THOUGHT TO INVEST IN SOME FUCKING AIR SUPPORT...Seriously.

I know people have told me why this is. I understand myself why this is. But it really just...does...not...jibe with me. At all. 

Okay so more details; first, apparently Atlas has a subway. Makes sense, its a big island. Inter-system transits probably a given. Second; Was that Mantis Squad Omega? Some kind of unit maybe...interesting.

 Also I love how this guy just questions Ironwood. Like, bro, if the General says do it, do it.

Hold the fuck up, why is everyone outside? It looks like fuckin’ Cali during our lockdowns...what ever happened to martial law huh?

Also “underground subway stations”. Yes, thats...kind of what a subway IS. I guess maybe they have overhead ones like New York does. Mass transit be weird like that.

I mean HELL the signs on it are almost identical to the ones in NYC too! Even with the colored circles and train cnumbers. 

According to the sign here they’re at Pickens Square Station. 

Oh boy. Ironwood just fed these poor bastards into a meat grinder. Anyone here ever played the Metro game series, or read the books?

Remember the Dark Ones? The Nosallias? Yeah. Tight corridors and monsters only work out well for angry vodka fueled Russians.

Didnt see it very well but I THINK those Mantas had some kind of wing gun. Either thats new, a separate armament setting, or RT forgot what ind of weapons they gave their ships AGAIN.

Cant get the shields back up, yeah, no shit, they DETACHED ONE OF THE FUCKING PILOTS YOU IDIOTS.

Also hah, they arrested Yang, Ren and Jaune. Not surprised.

Beta squads apperently been hitting the whale. ‘Bombs, missiles, we cant make a dent, sir.” ...while Im not surprised by this, I also hear shades of the opening of Halo 2s level Metropolis. “Where’s the rest of your platoon?” “Wasted, sarge. Blew right through us. Rockets, fifty cals, didnt do nothing.”

Honestly they could have SHOWED THAT too. Them just saying it feels like a cop out to me. Take that as you will. But if you want us to see the things hard to kill, show it. 

Not that I figure Atlas’s rockets are much more than Dust in a propellent tank. Not exactly a Hellfire or TOW.

Nice to see proper military talk for...a moment anyway.

Or what I figure RT figures is proper.

Oh so now the whales moving. Okay...huh.

Jaunes commentary is the same as mine. Though I guess the size seems to shift depending.

Ohhh. Its MANTA. As in the gunships. Alright, sure that works. And this guys making a good call. If you cant hit the big one go after the smaller. Of which there seems to be a HELL of a lot. Actually holy fuck that Grimm spew is across like...ahlf the fucking island right now. Time to fuckin torch and burn people.

Ahhhhhh and they get to the proper idea.  If you cant punch it from the outside, hit it from the inside.

I knew a crew...three madmen, names of Keegan, Lahni and Mac. The Hivebusters. Something tells me a Venom bomb would do the trick...if it can rip apart Swarm creatures as big as a Snatcher or a Swarmak and reduce them to green slime, I think it’ll work on Grimm. 

Something tells me RT isnt gonna give em a bomb though. Too obvious.

NEVER MIND. “Science team is putting together a bomb.”

Also I LOVE how Winter’s pupils expand and retract in fear as she realizes what Ironwoods asking her to do.

Awww now shes getting the shakes too.

Salem directing this shit like shes some kind of orchestra leader. I mean it FITS but...I dunno.

Ah so the command deck is directly behind the whale’s glowing nose. Basically inside where the spermacetiy organ would be in a real sperm whale.

What the fuck is Emerald doing there?

Sneaking I guess. Huh. Why’s she sneaking around the whale. Also, huh. guess seeers can get fooled by Emeralds semblance.  Is HE STILL BEATING UP ON OSCAR? Jeez dude. Take a breather.

Honestly if this was TRUE I would be okay with it. Replace the Huntsman with, I dont know, a massively overequipped military for each Kingdom, let them run rampant...stomp the Grimm out or push them back to nonexistence...everyone lives happily ever after

Lets be real here, the idea of the academies? Really really fucking dumb. Its cute. Fairy tale like.

But if theres one thing this show has taught me its that fairy tales SUCK. Reality...tends to be worse.

Ah theres one of those torture hooks they mentioned a few episodes back. Nice of the whale to have a specific interrigation room.

And at last we get some information on how Salem works. Alright so...what happens if you seperate the parts then? Sink one in the ocean, launch one into space.

Sounds like Oz/Oscars telling the fans what we’ve been saying forever, Companion Book be damned; Salem wants to die.

These mind games bore me. Its cute, but I dont like it cause I cant follow that shit. Give me a straight up fight any day, fuck this sublty backroom fuckery

No lies from them both here honestly.

Medical supplies in Atlas seem almost the same as here on earth interestngly. Also, soup. Or...coffee, tea?

Blake with the obvious here. But I mean thats not really saying much cause...well. Not hard to outfight the Atlas military it seems like.  (Long suffering sigh)

Im gonna make a seperate post about my frustrations with that and leave it there. But dont expect me to stop fully complaining about it because everyones gotta have something to bitch about with this show, and I’ll be DAMNED if I start joining the BB whiners.

Good question, Ruby. Might be that YOUR NOT LIVING IN A FAIRY TALE

I’d like to see these people dying in Mantle. I refuse to believe that there isnt SOMEONE in the nation that once brought Remnant to its heel that wont stand and fight. Unless Im wrong about that too...

May backstory? May backstory. Yeah.  Not amazingly complicated but it works. Cant tell if shes Henry though...or was. 

Dramatic lightning flash

Cute you think that Ruby. Theres sides. Always are.

Further proof honestly.

Hazels look of though is amusing. Cant tell if he doesnt believe Oscar, or if his tiny peabrain is runing full bore to think this through.

Coordination between farm boy and professor.

Oh. OHHHH. Plants the seed of doubt in Hazels tiny mind, he uses the last question for himself, sees the truth... Clever, Oscar. Clever.

Hazel peabrain go THUNK

Ah so Mercs going off to Vacuo. Guess that means everyone else is going there next too. Eat that, random Discord person, I called it.

Course, CFVYs there so...maybe we get to see Yats beat up on him.

Oh hi Tyrian. Do you just...randomly roam the halls of the whale waiting to DRAMATICALLY REVEAL YOURSELF and give violent expositon? Im very much okay with that.

Also I love how he just...accepts this. Totally fucking bonkers, totally down with it. 

Oh shit, Tyrian and Mercury going to Vacuo? Damn thats gonna be INTERESTING. I guess Tyrian’ll fit in well enough honestly.

Flying Beringal literally out of the roof. 

I remember back when this season first started and I said those weird bone platforms looked like VTOL launch bays. Guess what? They are.

Merc and Em emotion blah blah DONT CAAARRREEE

Jaune thinking tactically for ONCE IN HIS FUCKING LIFE. An I mean military tactical of course.

Also I like how the Aces say they dont let emotions cloud their shit WHEN THEYVE BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME.

This ENTIRE PLANET is emotionally run. Thats why the Grimm are such an issue! Makes small note to make Remnant Adeptus Mechanicus cult

Seriously though...

I wont lie though, Hare isnt wrong. Wonder what happened to that Tortuga guy. Tyrian, is my guess. Love how Ren interrupts the moment they almost mention Clovers name.

Expendable, yes. Replacable, no. You should have a talk with squadron leader Grey from Star Wars Squadrons Ren

ANNNNDDD SEMBLANCE EVOLUTION. Or the edibles just kicked in.

This is cool and all but its really fucking dumb and hamfisted. Explain all you want. Mention emotions all you want.

The Aces are fucking huntsmen. HUNTSMEN. FUCKING. SUCK. They always have. Its a dumb idea. Yes, lets stop the hordes of monsters invading this world BY SENDING IN SINGLE OPERATIVES WITH FUCKING MELEE WEAPONS

I’ll make this clear to you, Ren, right here and now. If you faced a REAL elites, you wouldnt have stood a chance. Nor would RWBY. Their bodies would have been three-shot from 20 meters out with a breach and clear and stacked against the wall like cords of wood, one final shot to the dome to make dead sure they were down. None of this stupid flipping and acrobatic crap, none of this clashing weapons and Dust and semblances...no. 

You’d be dead before you knew they were there and they would move on. You’d just be another body to the pile, one more faceless corpse to add to their kill count. A meatgrinder in human form. 

Professionals. Dont. Lose. AND THE ACES ARE NOT PROFESSIONALS!

Because thats not what RWBYs about, never has been.  And that is what annoys me slightly. That and the fact I cant distangle what I know of other universes and our own from RWBY’s. Its hard to hold a universe on its own when everything they make points towards it being like ours, but they change it when they see fit. 

I feel like thats bad writing.

Hehehe. Winter touched Elms boob.

Glad to know that Winters got her priorities right. Course, that bomb probably aint gonna do shit cause its Dust based.

...again, hoping its a chemical weapon...

Wait, the Atlas forces from earlier are STILL FIGHTING? Damn, these Grimm must suck if they couldnt wipe them out in that little time...

Also I cant tell if its getting dark cause of the storm or if its the dawn of the next day.  Or did...they shift time around? I lost track. I SWORE the sun was setting the last time we saw everything.

Also return of the shitty 3D grass...

Marrows gonna defect.

Awww poor Winters got emotions. HEY MAYBE DONT SEND A MENSTRATING WOMAN OUT ON A FIELD OP, ATLAS!

So according to May there’s still front lines. Cool. 

AYYY ITS KLIEN! HES BACK

Oh, I guess hes a doctor too. Oh he MAD.

Ayyy Whitleys being USEFUL for fucking once in his shitty life.

Shes gonna hug him isnt she.

CALLED IT. For fuck sake...whatever. Cute. But whatever.

Oh annnnddd now Grimmquake?

No. It stopped...Bolide?

No. PENNY.

Annnnddd shes leaking coolant. And sparking. And dead.

RIP Penny.

The concept art of the beached whale looks so fucking silly. Seriously, just...detach the whole section there. Drop the fucking thing. 

Oh well.

And thats it for almost two months! Be prepared for me to BULLSHIT MY WAY THROUGH ALL OF IT and continue on with my military fanwank because THATS HOW IM SURVIVING 2020!

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby v8 #spoilers

[buckisthatyou]

My Feelings Are Real - 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1907

Warnings: fluff and angst

Summary:  17. “So what, was it all just a joke?” - you have feelings for Bucky Barnes but he never acknowledge your existence. But why he is acting so kind to you all of sudden? 

Author notes: this is based on @stellarsebastian ‘s post which is a really cool prompt list. so check it out to get inspired. and i plan to make this story into a oneshot but this part is already 1.9k words so i guess i break it into two parts. :’) hope you’ll enjoy it and have a good day, fellas. 

Masterlist

There he is looking as perfect as ever, making you weak to the knees when he smiles. Bucky Barnes the man who managed to steal your heart is in the main room, watching cartoons. It is Peter’s idea to introduce the metal armed super soldier to cartoons and now the older man is addicted to it. You can always find Bucky sitting on the couch with a plate of pancakes on his laps, watching cartoons. Sometimes, he is being accompanied by Peter himself or Sam and even Steve.

“You are literally the heart eyes emoji” Wanda says with a smirk on her face.

“Sorry?”

“You are falling deep for him. You should tell him already. You guys are gonna be a cute couple” she suggests the most ridiculous idea you have ever heard this week.

You quickly shake your head “No! He is not into me like that. Plus, we barely talk to each other if you haven’t notice that” The last part is said with a disappointment in your voice. It is true. You have been pinning on Bucky since the first time you met him, which was a year ago when he came back from Wakanda. But the Brooklyn man never show any sign that he is interested in you. The only conversation you two have had so far is just greeting each other and smile. That’s it. Nothing special. No flirting like he always does with the people at party or no joking around like he always does with Sam and Steve. It always just a smile and a simple hi.

“Notice what?” Sam walks into the kitchen, heading to the fridge to grab an orange juice before placing himself next to you.

You turn your face to him and sigh “Nothing, Sammy. How’s the run? Beat Steve yet?” you change the topic, don’t plan to talk about your crush who is never going to reciprocate your feelings anymore.

“You know the answer y/n. Come on” he rolls his eyes, annoyed at the fact Steve always beats him at running.

You and Wanda let out a laugh but you suddenly keep your mouth close as Bucky walks into the kitchen. “He is an old man, Sam.” He smirks to Sam trying to annoy the hell out of the Falcon. He winks at Wanda next to you who is still laughing. You lower your head down.

“Shut up, man” Sam raises his voice. Bucky continues to laugh because clearly his mission to tease Sam is working perfectly.

“Excuse me” you stand up to leave the Avengers and go straight to your room. Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge your existence and it hurts. Though it is not something new between you and him but you are still a human with feelings despite you’re one of the person who fight along with badass superheroes. The three attractive people look at your odd behaviour, Bucky gives a confused look to Sam and Wanda when they both sigh.

“Is y/n okay?” Bucky asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know but I’ll check on them” Wanda says and leaves the kitchen area to check on you.

Bucky nods and about to turn his way around to the living room and continue watching TV but Sam stops him “Hey, Buck. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

After hours of convincing Wanda that you are fine, you make your way to the gym. On Saturday evening, you think that the gym is going to be empty. Plus, it is raining the other members must be relaxing at this hour. Unfortunately, you are wrong. As you step into the gym, you see Bucky is lifting weights. Your eyes fix to his arms, admiring the beauty. And when he bends his legs, you unconsciously lick your lips. You almost let out a moan but he stops his training to grab his drinks. “Dammit. Focus y/n” you curse yourself for having a really inappropriate thought about your team member.

“Oh hey. Don’t realize you were there.” He gives you his shy smile when he hears your footsteps. You return his smile with an awkward hand wave.

“You wanna work out together? Sparring maybe?” he walks out to you, offering you an invitation to work out together oh so casually. You two never been set up to be a gym partner so his offer confused the hell out of you but you accept it nonetheless. This chance is once in a lifetime. There is no way you are going to let it slip from your hands. But you wish you wear something that is more appealing, something that can show off your asset perfectly.

“Ready, doll” he asks with a bit of cockiness as his boyish smirk plastered perfectly on his face.

“I’m more ready than you are, Sarge” you reply back with the same amount of cockiness. You are flirting with your crush and you have no idea where the confidence comes from but you appreciate it.

He chuckles at your words and starts his first move, fist up, he throws a punch close to your face. You duck down, avoiding the attack. Not wasting any time, you pound at his abdomen. He moves slightly to the back, losing a bit of self-control but manage to gain his composure back immediately.

He walks forward you and grab your shoulder before turn you on your back. “Lose a bit focus there, doll?” He whispers in your ear as he kneels next to you, his metal arm is holding both of your wrists.

Eyebrows pull down together, you hiss at him “Let’s start a new round”

“Alright, tiger. Cmon”

You are laying on your back, throwing your tennis ball to the wall and catch it. A habit you tend to have when you are tired and just wanna be relaxed. You almost think about skipping dinner because you are too exhausted, sparring with the Winter Soldier. You can’t imagine how Natasha survived every sparring. The Russian woman doesn’t look like a mess at all every time, she and Bucky finished their sparring session. Unlike you, you feel like you need a whole month of healing.

“y/n?” a voice comes along with a knock on your door.

You shout a yes as a permission to whoever it is outside your room to come in. You expected Wanda or maybe Sam but it is Bucky. You quickly get up from your position and clear your throat. “Y-yes, Barnes?”

“Calling you for dinner and please, Bucky” he smiles softly at you before positioning himself next to you, sitting on your bed comfortably. “You okay?” he asks you as he turns his head to look at your face.

You can feel your face heated up, Bucky Barnes is in your room, sitting next to you, on your bed, asking you whether you are okay or not. What kind of luck you have now?

“I’m fine, Bucky” your eyes fix on your feet afraid to look at him as he might know how you feel. Even you yourself, can hear how loud and fast your heart is beating.

“If so, would you join the dinner? Everyone is waiting for you, doll” he takes your hand in his, patting it. You are tongue-tied, frozen in your sit. You only manage to nod before he walks out from you, a smile still plastered on his face, showing off his perfect teeth.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you question yourself. Is this a dream? How can Bucky Barnes who never say more than three words to you now is acting so nice? No doubt, he is a sweetheart but you two never talk to each other. You two are not friends, maybe just acquaintances. But today he has been calling you ‘doll’, spending time together. Is this a game? You splash water on your face, trying to wake yourself up.

Walking into the dining room, you see every sit is taken except for one. And of course it is next to Bucky. “Hey y/n” Sam greets you. “Come sit and have dinner”

You smile and walk slowly to sit next to Bucky. “Hi, doll. Glad you can join us” He leans down to whisper in your ear. His low and husky voice sends shiver on your body. Once again you are frozen because of him. Dammit.

After dinner, all of you are gathering in the living room, excitedly waiting for Clint to pick up a movie to watch. You have decided to call it a day but before you can speak up your mind, Bucky takes your hand and guides you to sit next to him on the loveseat. “I hope it’s Back to The Future” he states excitedly to you. You flash him a wide smile, knowing he has always been a geek since the 40s.

An hour through the movie you feel your eyelids get heavier. You turn to see Bucky who is paying his full attention to the movie despite it is not Back to The Future. You scoot yourself closer to him as his body heat is tempting you. You seek for the warmth to make you feel comfortable. You lean on his shoulder out of habit but then you feel his body tenses up. You detach yourself from him.

He turns his head to you, open his arms as an invitation for you to come and cuddle with him. As if he can see the hesitation from you, he assures you that is fine. “It’s nice to cuddle during movie times” you let out a little laugh and embrace his body. Your head on his chest and his hand plays with your soft hair. It feels too comfortable you fall asleep right away.

The next morning, you wake up finding yourself in your room. Confused as the last thing you remember is you were in the living room watching movie with your friends and cuddling Bucky. Fuck, Bucky! You need some explanation and the one and only saviour is Wanda.

You find her at the kitchen, eating pancakes. “Morning Wan” you greet your closest friend.

“Morning sweetheart” she replies back with a knowing smirk. Goddammit she knows something. Because that is her significant look of “I know things so yeah spill it before I spill it for you”

“Okay did you carry me back to my room last night?” you are so eager to know the truth that you aren’t sugar coating anything. Just ask your friend the question straight away.

“What? No! Barnes did it.” You raise your eyebrows demanding more explanation from her. “You were sleeping on his chest and he carried you back to your room. That’s it. You finally confessed to him about your feelings? That’s really good, y/n” you don’t sense any mocking tone from her but a full of proudness.

“No I don’t. In fact, I don’t talk to him about anything at all. He just happened to be so nice to me. It is weird”

“Oh” Wanda is surprised with the truth. “Maybe he finally figured out that he has feelings for you too. So he is trying to make you see it” Wanda suggests the possible reason of why Bucky suddenly acting differently to you. Not like you don’t like it but it is just confusing.

You both fall into silence and enjoy each other company, eating breakfast together. The question is left behind for you to figure it out by yourself.

Part 2

tagging : @mizz-kraziii

#angst #fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #moonwrite

[city-writes]

Wash Me

“What’s going on, guys?”

“Grif’s telling me to… to… to defame Red Team’s Warthog!”

Convinced they need to grow a mean bone or two in their bodies, Grif decides to give Doc and Donut a lazy lesson in being mean. Things don't work out quite like he hopes.

Warnings: N/A Pairings: N/A

Based off of this tumblr post.  Read it on AO3!

“Do it.”

“Grif, in all honesty, I don’t think that’s approp—“

“Do it.”

Doc Shifted uncomfortably, a single hand gesturing to the dirty warthog next to them. “But Grif, Sarge told you to cle—“

“Dammit Doc," Grif seethed through gritted teeth, "do it.”

It was then that Donut walked up, interrupting the duo's conversation. “What’s going on, guys?”

“Grif’s telling me to… to… to defame Red Team’s Warthog!” Doc cried.

Grif scoffed, folding his arms as he glared at Doc. “Writing something in the grime of this tank of shit hardly counts as defamation, Doc.”

“Writing something?" Donut cocked his head somewhat, looking to Grif curiously. "Like what?”

“Anything?" Grif replied with a shrug. "The way I see it, like it or not, you and Doc could benefit from a mean bone or two in your bodies.”

“Oh Grif, I've liked every bone thats ever been in my body!”

“What I mean is," Grif said sternly, not bothering to acknowledge Donut's unfortunate choice of words, "You two could learn to be a little less nice.”

“What about O’Malley?”

Like clockwork, the shift from Doc to O'Malley was as fluid as water, and went almost undetercted if not for O'Malley releasing a cry of “Let’s see how this orange buffoon likes waking up to a live grenade in his bed!”

Now Grif was getting pissed. “Dammit Doc, I swear to god—“

“Hey.”

All three of the soldiers looked to the owner of the voice. “Caboose?" Doc asked, "What are you—“

“I’m just taking Freckles for a walk. Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Hostiles detected.”

“Oh, Freckles! Why you are just so silly. Its Grif and Doc and Brigadier Butterscotch!”

“… Correction: Grif detected.”

“Hey!”

“No, Freckles." Caboose said insistantly, gently shaking the living gun. "Ah, geeze guys, he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today or something." He frowned and began to turn away, "I suppose we’ll just finish his walk now.”

“Wait, Caboose!”

Caboose stopped and turned back around, looking to Grif. "Yeah?"

"Maybe you could teach Donut and Doc to be a little meaner."

All eyes went to Grif then, Doc sounding unconvinced as he spoke. "Caboose? Mean? Grif, do I need to check you for head trauma?"

"Well," Grif said with a scoff as he rolled his eyes, "Caboose has at least been able to say he hates babies or some shit like that."

"Did he actually mean it though?!"

As Grif and Doc began to argue, Donut uncertaintly looked over the Warthog, and reluctantly wrote in the grime, shuddering as he finished, wiping his finger on Grif.

Wash me

There was a silence that momentarily settled amongst the four of them, before Grif spoke up. "Seriously? That's the worst you could do?" With a sigh, he mumbled under his breath, "...making me do all the goddamn work..." and added on to the 'insult' that Donut had put up.

Agent Washington is mean

"That's a start."

With a gasp, Donut put a hand to his mouth. "Grif. That's horrible!"

With a nod, Doc agreed, "Yeah, Grif, Wash could see that..."

"That's the point, idiots, its supposed to be mean." Grif folded his arms, and shook his head. "Besides, that's nothing."

As the three of them were talking, Caboose stared at the written grime, a small frown on his face as a look of determined thought came over him. After a moment, he smiled, happily writing in the grime as well, further altering Red Team's joint insult:

Agent Washington is ^ mean not

"I fixed it."

"Aww, Caboose! Come on!" Grif groaned and threw his hands down, while Doc and Donut did their best to stifle their laughter. "Whatever," he cried, storming off, "I'm done here!"

Agent Washington sighed as he left Blue Team's base, having had a long, extensive training session with Tucker, when he noticed something off about Red Team's warthog. It was dirty, as usual, but there was something scribbled through the grime... was that his name?

"Agent Washington is not mean." Wash read aloud, frowning slightly at how the 'not' was observably added in through an arrow after all the rest of the words. "Ok then, I guess." He shook his head and sighed, chalking it up to yet another of Red Team's silly antics.

#Krys Writes #RvB #Dexter Grif #Franklin Delano Donut #Frank Doc Dufresne #Michael J Caboose #David Washington #Agent Washington

[flameintheblacknight]

RvB reactions: S16 Episodes 12 to 14

Because I’ve fallen behind.

Let’s fucking go.

Episode 12:

I see we’re getting the movie version of the beginning of s15′s... episode 9, I want to say?

Wait what

jax what the fuck

OH MY GOD, THEY KNOW ABOUT CARWASH, ABORT, ABORT

what the fuck is with the shaky cam.

Hey, we finally got most of the main cast together again!  Except Doc...

OH MY GOD, THEY’RE MAKING TERRIBLE SWORD PUNS TOGETHER

MY HEART

hey, wait, where’s huggins?

hi donut

oh, so you’re on our side now, okay

oh my god, Sarge and Tucker looking into the camera like they’re on the fucking office with these innuendos.  I love it!!!

“I leave you guys alone for 5 minutes, and you piss off god.”

Wash is too tired for this shit.

Huh, interviews.  I’m seriously getting The Office vibes now.

“Fuck everything about this.  I’m supposed to be on vacation.”  And here we see that Kai was not expecting this level of bullshit.  She is still unused to the rest of the Crew’s total insanity and insane adventures.

omg

“Time for a new tactic: lying”

Wash: *dead inside*  “This is finally making sense.”

Sister:  “Cuz!  We’re all unwilling agents of some awful time god!” Wash:  “Last time I was an agent, at least I got dental.”

I am living for Wash in this episode

Jax wants the cold, hard evidence and I like that about him.  He learned well from Dylan, I think.

I’M UP FOR A TIMELINE

THAT’LL PROBABLY HELP ME GET A FUCKING IDEA OF WHAT THE FUCK’S BEEN HAPPENING IN THIS SEASON, AT LEAST!

jax oh my god

what the fuck has been happening here on this studio, anyways?

Simmons: Assistant (to the) Red Team Manager

THE VIBES I WAS GETTING WERE FUCKING RIGHT OMG

omg

OMG

“Huh.  I actually think the other hand is, well, empty.”

That’s sad.

“I’ve been using Sarge’s time machine for weeks with no negative consequences!”

uh what

jax why

rip timeline

that don’t help at all

o

oh no

not the memory issues

not nowwww

carolina why didn’t you just tell him months ago

Oh, so that’s why you’ve been using the time machine, Jax.

uh, why tho?

omg jax no

not these people

plz

and funding’s been cut

rip movie

ooooooooooo, back to the plot!

JAX NO

JAX JUST GOT FUCKING BODIED

Kalirama:  *glares* Atlus:  “...I’m sorry I smited your mortal idiot friend.”

Carolina does not seem impressed.

oh, so their relationship *is* a zeus/hera deal.  good to know.

tucker, this isn’t that surprising if you know greek mythology

wash, it’s also some greek mythology shit

...did neither of you ever read Percy Jackson growing up?

Genkins, huh... O SHIT, IT’S JENKINS FROM THE CUT CONTENT

“I love posting spoilers on Youtube!  On the end of the next one, the pink guy steals the hammer!”

...wait what

DONUT WHAT THE FUCK

guys please don’t make the jokes

guys

i’m laughing my ass off.

EXPOSITION, FINALLY!

Episode 13:

this is gonna be good.

“I ain’t talking about that!  Why’s Grif got a sword?!”

I think Tucker appreciates where Sarge’s priorities are.  “Upset the balance of the universe”, indeed.

i am not surprised that Sarge wants one too, tbh

EVERYONE WANTS ONE

Well, except Lina and Caboose.

CABOOSE WANTED THE GOLF CLUB

Oh, almighty beings apparently can’t cure a fucking headache.  i’m impressed.

back to the exposition!

wait what

Wait, Simmons, are you saying what I think you’re saying--

THEY’RE AIS!

...they...

that’s what epsilon first had as a body

oh my god

this

this changes everything

so there was enough of a leak in the order of space-time to get Loco to build a time machine, which led to... wow.  Joe really planned all this out, didn’t he.

guys don’t insult donut!  he’s been trying his best!

“Where we just fucked it all up!”

I feel like you could insert that into any description of the plots of the arcs and still be accurate.

I’m dying with these metaphors

“Master builder of the gods--” “Of the AI!” “Of the AI, okay...”

“Few have made the journey, none have survived.”

Sounds right up our alley!

...it’s a hammer.

NOBODY TRUST DONUT WITH IT

...The Hammer.  That’s a... simple name.

all of these names are catchier, tbh.

Even Atlus is in on it!

ohhhhhhhhhhh

“Counter-intuitive, but that’s magic for you”

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

oh, hey!  Grif still has his!

Caboose still has the golf club!!!

well, I think our goal is obvious:  we save the universe and get our energy swords, dammit!

or... how about we punt a hammer into a god’s face?

that sounds great to me

no more time-travel, please.

Wait... Wash, are you going into a speech?

Wash... that was beautiful.

yeah, for once in forever, this is not the fault of pfl/any associated companies

wait carolina no

NO

NOT NOWWWWWWW

YOU COULD’VE JUST TOLD HIM A FEW MONTHS AGO

LINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

full fucking minutes without oxygen

oh... oh my god

...wait

no

i

no

that’s

that’s the meta’s theme

oh god

wash...

wait donut no

donut goddammit

“Y’all need therapy.”  

...I think Kaikaina’s the luckiest one here, for having dodged all the bullets that make them need therapy.

Episode 14:

TUCKER, OH MY GOD

GROWTH!

oh?  character growth for both of yall?!

that’s great!

...Tucker’s gotten to the point where he’s comfy with someone else saying his catchphrase.  mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

fuck... I think I ship them.

Also, Tucker’s clearly got a lot of guilt over... that.

Kai knows him too well at this point.

Also guys no.

Please don’t.

Just a few details...

Tucker

have you never heard of the butterfly effect

you’re gonna fuck this shit up

GUYS NO

Carolina just... used Wash’s real name.

So I assume any revelation about Wash not being named Agent Washington was had before this.  I also assume it was comedic.

STILL, GUYS, NO

I’m like,,, 90% sure Lina’s a red by now

...oh fuck.

HUGGINS, YOU’RE MY LAST HOPE.  KNOCK SOME FUCKING SENSE INTO THEM, PLEASE

...ugh, i don’t want to watch this, i already know what happens, tumblr’s told me.  i’m just gonna skip a little bit.

GENKINS WHAT

HUGGINS

NO

no

genkins i’m going to kill you and make your death painful

where’s my fucking emp

hey, Muggins.  Seems you understand what’s happening too.

she’s really gone.  damn.

i’m... i’m fucking crying again.

this show hasn’t made me do that since epsilon, i think

guess that says something, huh?

...wait.  the fates?

they’re here?!

“All is lost.  Tonight the sun sets.  There will be no dawn.”

Well... fuck.

#rvb #rvb16 #rvb 16 #rvb16 spoilers #rvb 16 spoilers

[haven-in-writing]

It’s a date

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Language, some mild banter

I’m such a sass queen y’all ain’t ready💁🏻

This is a totally cliche enemy to lovers with a happy ending so fight me if you think I’m basic ✌🏼❤️❤️

Prompts: 1. “I’m sorry. it’s just that every time you open your mouth, you seem to get even more annoying. Does it take effort to do that?”

3. “You remember that time I asked you for your opinion?” “No” “Neither do I”

5. Please tell me he isn’t doing his victory dance behind me.”

______________________________________

It was a standard op. In and out, gather the entail, back it up, get it to HQ. But with Bucky Barnes as your partner, things never went according to plan. Let’s just say that he had a tendency to disregard your carefully detailed mission plans and go awol.

Kind of like what was happening right now.

“Barnes, answer your comm dammit! Status!” You hissed into your earpiece, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough not to alert any agents on duty.

After several minutes of no response from said party, you decided to try again. Momma didn’t raise no quitter.

“Barnes I swear to any deity, if you don’t answer your comm I will shove it up so far your ass, you’ll get word diarrhea,” you vehemently spit at him as quietly as possible to convey your ever building rage.

“I’m sorry. it’s just that every time you open your mouth, you seem to get even more annoying. Does it take effort to do that?” He sasses you after another moment of silence from his end.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of replying, you huff and take on 4 agents posted by the next entry point without a sound. In the 3 (maybe 2) minutes it took for that to happen, Barnes had arrived on time to watch you take them out on your own.

Straightening yourself, you crack your neck and turn to find Barnes watching you with an arched eyebrow.

“What?” You snap at him, annoyed with his presence.

“That was sloppy,” came his cold reply.

“You remember that time I asked you for your opinion?”

“No” he answered your rhetorical question.

“Neither do I” you sass, walking to the keypad that, once entering the code, would lead to your extraction point.

“Dammit,” you hear him sigh as you turn to ask him what he said.

Though you never get to ask him because as soon as you turn towards him, his mouth is on yours.

His hands find your hips and push you up against the wall, one hand in your hair, tugging gently but enough to make you hot and bothered.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass but I never know how to act around you cause I like you, doll, and I was gonna ask you out but I thought you hated me cause I was such an ass and—“ you cut his rambling off by pulling his face to yours again and kissing him gently this time. It was more sensual than the first, this time you were both taking the time to feel each other out.

“I would love to go out with you, but let’s finish the mission first,” You grin at him, turning back to the keypad to enter the code.

You hear a bit of shuffling behind you, and without turning to look you just ask, “Please tell me you aren’t doing your victory dance behind me?”

Not expecting an answer, you walk through the decoded and open door, Bucky trailing behind you to meet Steve on the quinjet.

“Oh come on, a beautiful dame such as yourself says yes to a date with lil ole me, I think I’m entitled to my victory dance,” he says while walking up the ramp, passing Steve.

“What the hell did I miss..?” Steve questioned himself quietly, thinking nobody heard him.

“Language,” both you and Bucky teased as soon as he said it.

“Oh gosh.. now both of ya are turning on me? I guess that’s what they mean by ‘Be careful what you wish for’,” Steve sasses back to you and Buck.

“So there’s a little pizza place in Brooklyn that I know, and yes it’s still open, what do you say doll?” Bucky whisper to you, out of earshot of Steve.

“Sounds like a plan Sarge!”

**

@this-kitty-has-claws

I know this was supposed to be posted like two days ago but work has been crazy and I haven’t had a second to breathe so here it is!! Finally

#avengers #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #love me some bucky #marvel #the avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #bucky fic #marvel fic #one shots #one shot #drabble #ask box is open #ask box #send me prompts

[my-little-yellowbird]

Eleven Questions Meme

Sorry that it seemed I was ignoring these. I was tagged by @elasticmonk, @like-an-officer-and-a-sergeant and @thatginchygal to answer their questions.  Be grateful for the “Keep Reading” thing. 

@elasticmonk asked:

1. What’s your favorite color? Blue and Yellow. I pick two. Sue me.

2. What’s your top place to travel to?  Of the places I go, I think I’d say the beach house my whole family gathers at each summer.

3. What’s your favorite mode of transportation? Train. 

4. What’s your favorite candy? M&Ms. I mean, I like to eat them and all, but three M&Ms worked miracles with my kids.

5. What’s something that holds a lot of memories and sentimental value to you? A tattered old copy of a book on my nightstand that belonged to my mother called Tregaron’s Daughter.  I found a copy online for my sister, too, so it makes me think of them both when i see it.

6. What’s your favorite game and why? We play a card game every year at the beach called PIG. My kids have to explain the rles to me every summer, but it’s so much fun.

7. What’s been your worst hair cut/style? Way back when, I had a shag haircut. In my defense, I was not the only little girl in my kindergarten class to look like David Cassidy.

8. What’s your family like? I’d say amazing, but I think you mean something else. I’m married with one girl and two boys.  I’m also the firstborn of 3, with one brother and one sister.

9. Where do you come from, in detail? Fugeddaboutit. I was born in Queens, but grew up out East on the Guyland, then went to school far away where I lost my accent.

10. What’s your favorite meal? Anything someone else cooks for me. I swear. It could be a PB&J sandwich and I’d be happy.

11. What’s your ideal pet, personality and all? Frankly, I think I’d make a good pet.

@like-an-officer-and-a-sergeant

1.  Have you ever been on a camping trip? Yes. All three chicks have been through Scouting, so I’ve camped far more than I really like. 

2. What is your favourite re-make movie (or TV-show), if a re-make is a possible favourite….?   I’m stumped on this one.  Tell you what, Sarge, at 3am I’m sure I’ll wake up and remember.  I’ll post it then. 

3. What is your extreme only-I-wish holiday destination?  A tropical beach, maybe on a mostly-deserted island, with wifi, indoor plumbing and a chef.

4. Which literary heroine you identify with?  Molly Weasley

5. Imagine you’d have to be a British royal person ( alive or deceased). Which one would you be?  Technically this may not count, but I’m a bit fond of Elinor of Aquitaine.  Except for the getting locked up part. 

6. Do you need a proper breakfast to get going? If by proper breakfast you mean two cups of coffee, then yes.

7. Name your favourite fanfic of your own writings (if you don’t write, your fav fanfic).  His Safety Net and A Mission of Hope both have a special place in my heart. (No, I am not above self-promotion. Of course I’ve included a link)

8. What is the most ridiculous thing you have done in your fandomlife? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.

9. Which three famous people, dead or alive, you’d like to have dinner with? Eleanor Roosevelt, Gloria Steinem, and my mother.

10. Do you write real letters? Sometimes, but not often enough.

11. Have you ever had an operation? Three cesarean sections.

@thatginchygal

1. What is the  “craziest”  thing you’ve done for the love  of something?  Reader, I married him.

2. What is your ultimate bucket-list travel destination? London, for about six months.

3. Cats or dogs?  I love both, but my life is better suited to having cats.

4. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?  My bed.  I’m at work, and it’s so dreadfully slow that I’ve broken my no-Tumblr rule and have gone incognito.

5. Write me a piece of advice that you’d go back and give to your younger self.  Get that Masters Degree.

6. Share one sentence of something you’ve written and tell me why you like it. From Catching His Breath: “ His arms had never known the feel of her but he was haunted by the phantom space she left behind.”  A very dear friend quoted this line back to me very early in our friendship, and in that moment I felt like a queen.

7. Can you still love/be a fan of something/someone and be critical of a choice or decision? Why or why not?  Nothing can be perfect.  Recognizing a flaw and still loving is profound.

8. Rogue One. Dead or alive?  ;)   (For non-SW fans:  Pen or pencil to write with?  – see this is why I’m letting ta-dala ask the questions!  ;) )  Pencil

9. You can only eat one food the rest of your life. What is it?  Cheese

10. Give me your Desert Island Discs list. Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody,” The Jackson Five “I Want You Back,”  Aretha Franklin, “Respect,” Adele “Someone Like You,” Otis Redding “Try a Little Tenderness,” Kelly Clarkson “Since U Been Gone,” George Michael “Faith,” and Josh Groban “O Holy Night.”

11. What is your favorite curse word? Oh, I never swear. Dammit.

So here are my questions:

1.  Do you know how to play a musical instrument? If so, which, and how long did you/have you played?

2.  Julie Andrews:  “The Sound of Music” or “Victor/Victoria?”

3.  What’s your favorite scent?

4.  When you were 5, what did you want to be when you grew up?

5.  Someone gives you $10,000 you can’t spend on bills, your family or anything practical.  What will you buy?

6.  What books do you have by your bedside for whenyou need them?

7.  If you could cook me any meal, what would it be?

8.  When do you laugh the most?

9.  Where was the best trip you ever took?

10.  Squirrels:  Cute fluffy forest creatures or Rats With Fluffy Tails and Good PR?

11.  What do you want to be the title of your obituary?

I’m going to tag @ilovemushystuff @mg-bsl381 @sincerelygeertje @awakeandwondering @miss-ute @alice1nwond3rland @flyingnonny @iam-narwhal @dullroarofspace @superfluousbananas @thatginchygal @lovetheturners @turnt4turnadette

There’s a bunch of people I’d like to tag but they hate doing these, so I hope they read this and see how self-sacrificing I am being by not tagging them.

#about me #this took me FIVEVER to finish #Oh I just heard Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah--love that song too

[onechicago-onefamily]

Vitamin pills

Fandom: Chicago PD, Marvel’s agents of SHIELD Characters: Adam Ruzek, Kim Burgess, Jay Halstead, Hank Voight, Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson Summary: Kim tries to convince Adam that he should eat more vitamins, but everything goes horribly wrong. 

A/N: Hey everyone. This fic is something I wrote a while back. I’m posting it here now because I want to show you guys that you can also request crossovers! The more crazy the better. Ask a fandom and we’ll see if we can work with it :)  “Come’on Adam. It’s fall. The weather is messy. Hasn’t your mom taught you that taking extra vitamins is good for you?”  Kim sat against Adam in the lockerroom, with a can with vitamin pills between them. Adam had been complaining about having a cold, so Kim had grabbed a can with vitamin pills from her locker.  “You take one first.”  “You are the one who is complaining about having a cold.”  “Isn’t taking vitamins something old people do?”  “Dammit Adam, you are such a big baby sometimes. Look, it isn’t that difficult.”  Kim grabbed a pill from the can and swallowed it.  “You see? I don’t get why-”  Something changed in the expression on her face.  “Kim?”  She stood up from the bench, looking at her hands. Adam gasped when he realised what was happening to her.  “Adam! Adam, please-”  Stone had covered her face. She had turned into a statue.  “I need some help over here!” Adam yelled. He knew he should not be losing his cool right now, but this- It had been all over the news.  Inhumans.  “Someone! Please-”  Jay was the first one who ran into the lockerroom.  “She friggin turned man,” Adam said. “ It’s just like on the news. She took a vitamin pill and-”  “Go to Voight and tell him what happend,” Jay told him. “Now! I’ll call Will and we’ll handle it. If you see Lindsay or Atwater, send them here.”  Will had told him a few times about inhuman cases he had handled at the hospital, so he would be the best they had. Jay was smart enough to know that if the entire district would hear what happend to Burgess, things would go from bad to worse. “Will, it’s me. Listen man, I need you to come over to the presinct. Hurry up.” Burgess her husk started to crumble. Her hand appeared, slowly, just as the rest of her body. “Jay, what-” Erin gasped when she saw a fully uncovered Burgess. She had wings. She had the greenest eyes Erin had ever seen and she had huge purple green butterfly kinda like wings. “What… What… What happend to me?” Tears started to form in the young cop her eyes. Jay was immediately alarmed. There was one thing Will had basically tatooed into his brain;the real trouble starts when they start to freak out. “Try whatever you can to keep her calm. I’m gonna go find Ruzek.” Nothing weird happend, so Jay felt okay with leaving Erin alone with her. In the hall, he ran into Ruzek. “Voight wants us to take her to the garage. He said he knew a guy.“ “Halstead, Ruzek, over here. Now.”  Desk sergeant Trudy Platt had noticed them.  “How does it come that my hallway is crawling with more intelligence people then I like?”  “Ehm, ehm, well-”  “Sarge, we-”  “Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” 

Will put foot into the district, doctors bag over his shoulder.  “Hey, good seeing you, come with me.”  Jay took Will his arrival as an excuse to show him the way to the locker room, while Sergeant Platt looked at Ruzek with a look that truly scared him.  “Ruzek, are you gonna tell me what is going on or are we gonna be a pain in the ass? You know what happens then. Then I’m gonna find out myself. Nothing happens here without me knowing.”  “Trudy, you got a minute?”  Voight came walking down the stairs. Adam knew he was saved by the bell.  “Hank, why-”  He whispered something in her ear. Her facial expression changed.  “Oh god. How is she?”  “Dunno yet, but having my entire team in there won’t be of any help to her.”  “I’ll make sure you can take her downstairs without anyone noticing you. Give me one second.”  Platt went to the back of the reception and suddenly, the fire alarm sounded.  “Everyone, time for the monthly drill! New protocol given by headquarters, I want everybody out! Out!”  “Tell Halstead Burgess can be brought downstairs, but discretely,” Voight said. Adam knew it would take a very long time before he would finally understood his boss. Inside the lockerroom, Will was taking Burgess her vitals. She'd started to freak out, so he had had no other choice then to sedate her. "You think she's gonna be okay?" "We can only hope so, but don’t jump to conclusions yet.”  The fire alarm went off, but before the brothers could say anything, Ruzek looked around the corner.  “You guys-”  “What?!” Erin asked. Ruzek was too flabbergasted by Kim her appearance to say anything. “Ehm... Ehm... Platt made the fire alarm go off. Burgess can be brought downstairs, but discretely.”  “I got her.”  It went easy because Burgess was so tiny. Jay took her in his arms, while Will followed him downstairs.  “Just... What the hell happend to her?”  “Inhumanity,” Erin answered Adam his question. “Friggin inhumanity.”  Downstairs, they found someone with Voight they didn’t knew; a young woman with short brown hair and a petite figure.  “You sedated her?” She asked the brothers while Jay put Burgess down.  “Last time I threated someone like her things started to explode,” Will explained. “Seems fair to me.”  “Suppose your right. We have a few minutes to put her in the transportation pod.”  “What?” Adam asked. “Are we gonna just- Are we gonna send Burgess with this- Who is she anyway?”  “She is someone who can help Burgess out, Ruzek,” Voight said. “She can do more for her then any of us can.”  On the ground, Kim slowly started to regain consciousness. The young woman kneeled down next to her and waited until she was fully awake. “Hello there,” she said. “I’m Daisy. Daisy Johnson. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Maybe you’re now like: “OMG this was cool,” or you’re like: “what did I just read?!” I don’t know. Anyway, now you know AU’s are possible as well :) I hope you liked the story :) 

#agents of shield #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #kim burgess #adam ruzek #daisy johnson #hank voight #phil coulson

[firingmaincannon]

all that I want is to wake up fine

(okay here’s an actual fic post with a description now that the episode is out for everyone)

Title: all that I want is to wake up fine

Rating: T

Characters: Grif

Relationships: none

Tags/warnings: depression, red team angst, trauma, suicidal ideation (kind of), drug use (also kind of)

Summary: Grif keeps himself occupied during his retirement. (spoilers for rvb15x6, “Reacts”)

(View on AO3 here!)

FYI @flame-cat made an amazing podfic of this as well! You can check it out here, please do, it’s so good, I can’t believe it

Day Zero.

Grif watches the transports take off, keeps staring until they’re blips in the distance. Sits down near the water, stares at the sun until it disappears behind the mountains across the lake. Has bright spots on his vision afterward. Doesn’t really care.

Not gonna be much to look at here anymore, anyway. No reason to keep his guard up.

He closes his eyes and lays his hands flat on the rock, feels its heat burn him. He doesn’t move, though. It’s not a big deal.

Day One.

He can’t sleep, which is bullshit. There’s nothing to do here but sleep now. He loves sleeping. Why the fuck can’t he sleep? He buries his face in the pillow and reflects. Come to think of it, it’s been years since he’s tried to sleep somewhere this quiet. There’s nobody shouting, no gunfire, no windows rattling from mortar shell testing. They fucking took his ability to sleep in regular human conditions, on top of everything else, the bastards.

He gives up on sleep, checks the fridge. Only thing left is Simmons’ meth-meth couscous. Son of a bitch didn’t even throw it away. What, was he planning to finish it?

He tosses the couscous out the nearest hole in the base wall and doesn’t think any more about Simmons. Eats ketchup out of the squeeze bottle, because there’s no one to stop him now. He’s all-powerful.

He eats too much ketchup and pukes. Decides not to eat ketchup by itself anymore, but not because other people would care.

Throwing up tires him out and he goes back to bed. He turns a fan on as loud as it goes and crawls under the sheets. Hopefully the droning will be enough for him to pass out.

Day Two.

He wakes up--late? Looks like the sun’s been up a while, but he doesn’t care to check his alarm clock. Thinks twice. Unplugs it. Goes back to sleep. When he wakes up again, it’s dark. Goes back to sleep. Still dark next time he wakes up. Goes back to sleep. Wakes up. The faintest pink light is starting to come through the window. Gets up and pulls the blinds shut. Goes back to sleep.

Day Four.

Turns out sleeping for more than a day makes you really fucking hungry. He’s almost excited about it. Been a long time since he’s slept this long. There’s not much to choose from, mostly ration bars and MREs. Same old pre-Chorus shit. Donut just had to fuck up all the fresh food that Kimball sent them, didn’t he? Motherfucker.

He finally finds instant pancake mix, and on a whim decides to mix in some coffee grounds. Maybe he’ll wake up a little. The coffee makes the pancakes a hideous color and the smell like death, but he eats them anyway, with his hands because like hell is he doing any dishes today. They’re bad. He considers if adding ketchup would make them worse or better. Decides against ketchup when his stomach reminds him with a sickly gurgle what happened a few days ago. So he just deals.

Sometimes they had eggs back at Blood Gulch. On lucky days he’d get to fry them up, supposedly for the entire base. But Lopez can’t eat and Donut is always watching his waist and Sarge says he only eats meat and Yoo-Hoos and Simmons hates runny eggs and fuck you, Simmons, he’s making his imaginary eggs so runny right now, you couldn’t eat them even if you were here.

He misses….

He misses eggs, is what he misses.

Day Eight.

Donut was right. The park’s gone, but the water’s still there. He doesn’t have a bathing suit, but there’s no one around to say shit, so he goes in naked. Sits at the bottom of the pool and closes his eyes. He’s a good swimmer. Had to be, growing up on the oceanside with a little sister who liked to get caught in undertows. He can hold his breath a long time.

He holds his breath. Keeps holding it. Keeps holding it. Keeps holding...

Day Thirteen.

He’s never had a problem rewatching Battlestar before, but all he can think about now is how much Simmons hated Starbuck. What kind of shithead hates Starbuck? The kind that’s scared of women, that’s who. Every time she’s on screen he can hear Simmons’ bitching. And she’s on screen a lot. Once he hears the whining so clearly that he snarks back out loud without thinking.

After that he snaps the DVD in half. He’ll watch Donut’s romances or Lopez’s novelas instead.

Day Eighteen.

He wakes up on the floor covered in developing bruises, yelling his fucking head off. Another dream about the old base, before Blood Gulch. His old squadron. It’s like he can still smell the blood. These have been happening a lot lately, more than they used to. For a second he wishes he wasn’t alone here, that he could tell someone about it. Simmons, maybe. But no, never mind. He woke up screaming a few times when he first got to Blood Gulch and all he got for it was shot by Sarge. Nobody ever asked why.

He picks himself up off the ground and goes to sit in the kitchen like he’s always done. No one teases him for midnight snacking. No one comes out to comfort him, either, but that’s not new.

Day Twenty-eight.

He plugs in all the stupid Christmas lights they used to communicate with Caboose when he plane-shifted (and seriously, fuck Blue Team and everything they do). Watches them flicker. Tries very hard not to read what they might be spelling out. Fails. Gives in and starts keeping track. He gets to AGNDIIVW before he decides it’s complete gibberish. There definitely aren’t any ghosts trying to communicate with him. He thinks if there was one, it’d probably be Church asking for more fucking favors. He rips the plug out of the wall and the lights go dark.

Day Forty-one, maybe.

Today he realizes that Blue Team had their own stash of Oreos hidden in Caboose’s room. And Grif’s supposed to be the selfish one? Fuck you, Tucker, he’ll show you selfish. He takes the pillows from every single bed in both bases and throws them on the floor, drops onto them as hard as he can. They’re all his now. He is the pillow dictator.

Actually the pillows smell kind of terrible by themselves and worse together. It’s awful but he can tell which one belonged to which idiot just by smelling. Donut’s is floral and overpowering. Throws that one out of the pile. The one that must be Tucker’s is fucking unspeakable. He wraps his hand in several layers of paper towel to pick it up and toss it too. Motor oil, aftershave, whatever weird organic shampoo Carolina uses, fucking bubblegum scent from Caboose (complete with the actual bubblegum stuck on the corners, the guy is a goddamn animal)…. They all fail inspection and get chucked. Eventually he’s left with just two. His own, and….

The smell isn’t unpleasant but he still wants to puke. He throws Simmons’ pillow across the room. Fuck it, he’ll stick with his own.

Day Fifty(? Fifty-one? Fifty-two?)

He settles down on top of the base (the wreckage of the base, Donut can fuck himself, he’s so glad Donut’s gone) with his guitar and an amp. Plays a little. He can’t quite get the tuning right. Might be the humidity out here.

Finally gets all the strings in tune. It sounds weird anyway. Maybe he’d just gotten used to Carolina’s caterwauling. “You can’t sing for shit,” he says out loud, because he never could say it out loud to her before. Doesn’t feel scared saying it, or thinking it, for once. He feels a little mean, though. She wasn’t that bad. Not compared to everyone else in the group. He wonders if she ever sings now, on her Freelancer adventure bullshit with Wash, or if it was something she only did when she was around the Reds and Blues. He hopes she does sing, a lot. Wash deserves it.

Day ???

It’s beautiful today, and that pisses him off. Makes it hard for him to stay inside and do nothing, which is all he wants to do most days. But on a whim he hops in the Puma—because he can call it that now, god dammit, and not get shot in the face for it—and takes off.

In his head, he goes a long way, takes a trip past the dinosaur-robot warzone, up the mountains to the east of their bases, into the plains. It’s a nice mental trip he has laid out. But the Puma shits itself an hour away from the base and he can’t get it started again for the life of him. Et tu, Puma? he thinks, and kicks the treads. So. Great. He’s stranded out here now, and it’s not like there’s anyone to come pick his ass up. Not that they probably would anyway, unless they needed the vehicle. But whatever. This is where he dies, apparently.

…Or not, because when he wanders into the shade of a nearby thicket to die in comfort, he stumbles upon more meth-meth mushrooms. With these he can probably run all the way back to the base. Or his heart might stop. Either way, at least he won’t starve to death.

They taste like shit but he feels fucking incredible. His heart might be exploding right now but who cares he is running so fast he is the fastest person on the planet and that would be true even if he wasn’t the only person on the planet can he run on water right now? he can probably run on water right now oh hey look it’s the base woops he passed it but might as well keep running anyway and maybe he’ll set a new record for how far one person can run he’s probably already set a record because he’s so, so fast and Sarge will be so mad that Grif’s the best at something and oh huh maybe he’s not going so fast anymore maybe it’s starting to wear off and oh, god dammit, he’s coming down, he hurts everywhere and now he’s an hour away from the base in the other direction. Fuck.

It takes him hours to recover, and the better half of a day to walk all the way back. He feels fuzzy for a couple days afterward but he’s pretty sure he’s not dying. Probably. But it doesn’t worry him too much.

Day ???

He’d figured they’d call, eventually. They must have found the source of the stupid message by now, right? It’s been weeks. Months maybe. He’s pretty sure all the analogue calendars burned with the bases and his HUD’s been fucked since before they left. But it can’t take them that long. The fucking reporter seemed pretty singleminded about her investigation, and she’s smarter than the rest of them put together, so she at least must have found Church by now. And he’d thought that once the others found Church they’d come back, or send a message, or something. Apologizing for everything—no, no way. Yelling at him more for not wanting to deal with Blue Team problems, more likely. Something.

Just…

He’d figured they’d call.

Day ???

He wakes up from another nightmare. It’s been so long that he doesn’t remember the faces of his old squadron, but it doesn’t matter, because tonight they’ve been replaced by newer people. Faces he doesn’t want to see here on this planet right now, yelling at him or smirking or thinking things they know nothing about. But not faces he wants to see dead either. Not that.

Day ???

He breaks his E string while playing and suddenly wants to smash the guitar so bad he can hear the wood of the neck creaking under his fingers. He doesn’t do it. Smashes Tucker’s bass instead. Smashes it to tiny pieces against the wall of their practice space. He wishes he felt like Pete Townshend while doing it, but he just feels tired. He sits down amongst the shattered chunks of wood and plastic and breathes hard for a long time.

Day ???

They’re not going to call.

Day ???

He sits by the lake, the same spot where he watched their ships leave orbit, and thinks of Kai. Wonders what she’s doing right now. If she’s in as much of a mess as he is. If she thinks about him, most days, the way he thinks about her. If he’s even a blip on her radar. If not, he doesn’t blame her. She’s always had her own life, which is exactly how he wanted it. It scares the shit out of him, every time she disappears, but he fought like hell to give her a chance to do whatever dumb shit she wants to do. And honestly, if that means she forgets about him sometimes, whatever. She knows he loves her, and she loves him back, in her own freakish way. That’s how their family has always worked.

“You gave up a lot for her,” Simmons told him once, when they were back in Blood Gulch and shitfaced and Kai had just showed up and he’d had to explain their whole deal. Grif had shrugged, because it’s just how life worked for them. It wasn’t a big deal, was it? He was never going to be a great success anyway, it wasn’t like working a shitty job or dropping out of school really hurt him any. He wasn’t giving up much.

Now he’s years older and a millennium more tired and he’s so, so angry. Not at Kai, because she doesn’t know what he did for her, and never will, because if she did she’d feel bad and he doesn’t want that. No, he’s angry at Simmons, and Sarge, and every single person he ever even thought of as something resembling a friend. They all chose the military, they all chose this, and he didn’t get a choice. None of this was ever his choice. That’s nothing new. That’s been his life since the day he got drafted. And okay, maybe he could deal with that, because that’s how his life has always been.

But he never wanted any of this, those fuckers never noticed. They never asked. They never cared.

None of them cared at all, god dammit, they just called him lazy or stupid or fat and maybe all those things are true but why would he be anything else if he hasn’t had something worth choosing or living for since he stopped being Dexter and started being Private Grif of the fucking Red Army? Why would he bother being a complex person when nobody around gave a shit about him either way? Why trust people with his private shit when nobody wants to hear it? Why care about them, after all this time he spent fighting with them and watching their backs and taking bullets for them, when the first time he tells them he can’t do this anymore, they leave him behind? Why invest a fucking second of his time in them when they’ve never asked anything about him, never wondered why he might not want to fight anymore, never questioned why he sleeps all the time and eats all the time and does his best not to care about anything?

Because that’s the problem. He’s tried so hard not to care, and he’s spent years failing, and they don’t know because what he feels doesn’t mean anything to them.

“Grif cares about his friends,” the reporter said. Yeah, no shit. They just don’t care about him.

#rvb #red vs blue #rvb15 #grif #dexter grif #rvb15x6 #fmc fic