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mikhailwrites · 6 months

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MWIII Campaign thoughts&opinion

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD (OBVIOUSLY)⚠️

Alright, here we go. Modern Warfare III. Disclaimer: I've been part-timing as videogame journalist (not in EN, obviously) for the past 10 years so this might read a bit like a review which this is not.

It's been a year since we watched the 141 sit in the bar in Chicago and look at the photo of one Vladimir Makarov. And the day of reckoning is finally here, at least for those of us with eaely access to the campaign.

The game opens, surprisingly, from the Konni perspective. As one of Konni soldiers, you infiltrate the prison to free your boss. First look at Makarov is menacing and leaves an impression.

Speaking of Makarov, however, I can't but feel like the writers had dropped the ball. It's obvious they were trying to go for the unhinged psychopath vibe but honestly, so many Makarov's lines borders on ridiculous, oftentimes crossing the line entirely. At times, I felt like I'm watching an old 007 villain and I don't mean it in the good way.

Most glaring example was in the Flashpoint mission. As Price and Soap capture Makarov after bombing the stadium in Verdansk, the terrorist then taunts and mocks them, revealing to know their names and threatening them with a revenge. The dialogue is, frankly, on a bad side and Makarov in that scene sounded to me more like a spoiled, rich teenager than much feared leader of a private army with ambition to start another World War.

It also contrasted wildly with the continuation of the scene where we see Soap almost lose it, tackling Makarov and pressing a gun to his head while Price tries to dissuade him from killing the criminal on the spot. That bit was well executed and I really liked it.

What I also liked was the Passenger mission and the very unique perspective we got as players, feeling the helplessness of the victim as it's forced to play role of a terrorist, solely based on their ethnicity. The "You're not a terrorist, but you look like one," line felt very powerful, especially in the context of current affairs.

The whole campaign felt very rushed and, in my opinion, the total commitment to the "race against the clock" hurt the narration a lot. There is not a moment of respite and every piece of the puzzle is delivered in a manner so hurried, I sometimes had trouble following it.

Especially in the Danger Close mission as we, similarly to MWII, operate Shadow Company gunship to provide air support, and out of nowhere, we get a shout that there's a helo nearby and Makarov's in it.

We then proceed to shoot the helicopter down and Makarov is seemingly KIA. Well, he's obviously not but the whole scene is delivered in such a luckluster manner that I was wondering if I perhaps missed some cutscene or debrief (I didn't) and was asking myself if the developers are even serious.

The overall pacing is off, especially compared to MWII and this leads to the lack of impact and emotional response.

Which brings us to the more sensitive part of this post. Being a Ghost/Soap shipper, I was happy to see the two interact and to pick up the rapport established in the previous game. Like many others, I, too, would appreciate more time with them, but I would appreciate more missions and longer campaign rather than cut other characters' screen time.

When they are on the screen, banter is usually quick to follow. Soap and Ghost interact easily with each other, hinting at a natural progress of their relationship. The Milena interrogation is especially great in this regard.

And then there's that ending. Honestly, I knew someone would die. I think it was pretty much given. Still, I had my bets on Ghost, thinking that Soap was way too fresh and had his whole career ahead of him to be sacrificed. Well, I was wrong.

In the confines of the story, it makes sense it's him. There is major foreshadowing happening in the Verdansk mission and when Soap ends up going with Price at the end, well, it was clear. Soap almost killed Makarov years prior, Price stopped him, and now Makarov comes and kills Soap right in front of Price. The choices and consequences. It makes sense.

But.

But it serves no purpose. It's literally the last mission, so what could've served as the major catalyst for the big finale - rest of 141 coming for Makarov for some good old revenge - just ends up rather sour. Especially since Johnny, during his last struggle, as he saves Price's life, doesn't even manage to kill Makarov, only injuring him, albeit badly.

It gets worse when you realise that during both games, Soap didn't get any justice at all. In MWII, he seemingly kills Graves, taking a revenge for the betrayal and the Alone mission. Only for Graves to casually reappear later, stating he wasn't in the tank that the game clearly stated he was in.

And now he loses his life without taking Makarov with him. It's... beyond sad for the character to get treated this badly by the narration.

The team's response to his death is a bit mild as well. It starts well, with Ghost scrambling to him as soon as he spots him, feeling for vitals even though it has to be clear to him that he's gone, that felt gutwrenching. But after that? It's... lacking some stronger emotional response. They say their farewells to Johnny, a single sentence each (and, my god, did they truly think the "he was the best of us" clichè would work on any level whatsoever?), scattering his ashes, and that, too, as great as the animation was, just... felt a bit hollow and artificial.

There are ways to kill a beloved character to make it feel truly heartbreaking and meaningful. The scriptwriters here should've taken notes from Destiny 2's Forsaken DLC for example. They could've used Soap's death in a myriad of ways, including making player to choose between, say, saving Soap and letting Makarov escape. Or between saving Soap and defusing the bomb. Or just about dozen other narrative choices that would make Soap's death more meaningful and would have much bigger impact on the player.

As it is, I cannot help but say my own farewell words: Johnny died, but what for?

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #modern warfare iii #cod mw3 #mw3 spoilers

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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hiii! i don’t know if you have done this but can you do a hotch x reader where they get kidnapped by tobias instead of reid? xx

4 Months

Warning: Criminal Minds level violence, drugs, torture, rabid dogs

Word Count: 3562

a/n: I decided to switch up some of the specifics, just to make it a bit more fun to read. I hope you like it :) Also, we're pretending Rossi was there bc he is really the father of the group and it fit better than having Gideon 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

"JJ, we have to split up." You barely looked back at her, missing the nervous expression on her face as you ran toward the cornfield. "I'll take the field, you take the barn."

You slowed to a brisk walk as you neared the cornfield, raising your gun in front of you. You couldn't help but think about how pissed Hotch would be if he knew what you were doing.

You shook off the thought, knowing he would do the same if the roles were reversed.

Spotting movement, you moved farther into the corn, trying to spot any signs indicating which way Tobias went. A bent corn husk was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

"He's not a witness. He's the unsub." Hotch's eyes went wide as he realized you and JJ were there without backup. "Call JJ, now." He instructed Morgan, taking out his own phone to call you.

Hotch's eyes met Morgan's as both calls went unanswered. No words were exchanged as everyone ran out to the SUVS, putting on bulletproof vests as they went.

Hotch was nervously tapping the steering wheel the entire drive to Hankel's house. He couldn't stop replaying your last conversation.

"Y/N, you and JJ go talk to Hankel. Find out if he saw anything." Despite his stern expression, you could tell his eyes were smiling at you.

"Sure thing." You nodded, mouthing 'I love you' before turning to JJ.

That's it. He didn't even have the chance to mouth it back. JJ would've seen, and even though the team has theories about your relationship, you haven't confirmed anything yet.

He pulled into the driveway, running up to the house, gun out before anyone could stop him.

Prentiss followed Hotch, Morgan and Reid took the left, Rossi and a local cop took the right.

They tore through the house, clearing it with fierce determination, but came up empty.

"It's clear." Rossi called, joining Hotch and Prentiss in the living room. "Where are Morgan and Reid?"

Hotch spared a glance out the window, discovering the barn likely being cleared by the missing agents.

Everyone ran out of the house, arriving outside the barn just as Morgan and Reid lead a distressed JJ outside.

"What happened?" Hotch questioned, glancing over JJ's shoulder into the barn. Clearly you weren't there, but he needed to hope.

"We split up. Y/N went into the cornfield... I had- I had to shoot them." Her voice was detached, eyes glazed over.

"The dogs." Morgan clarified, leading JJ to a paramedic.

"Dammit. The house is clear. No sign of Y/N or Hankel." Hotch ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind. The worry was nearly overpowering, but it wouldn't help find you.

The sheriff approached, removing his hat. "A deputy two towns over gave directions to a man matching Hankel's description. He's headed for a hunting lodge."

Morgan nodded to Prentiss. "We'll check it out."

Your head was pounding. A vile scent reached your nose, causing your eyes to flicker open. You flinched at the closeness of the man in front of you.

"Tobias..." The name slipped out in a whisper.

"They're not here. It's just me now." He stated, calmer than you would've expected.

"Who are you?" You asked, trying to portray a fake sense of calm.

"I'm Rafael." He pulled out a revolver, adding a single bullet to the six chambers.

"No. You don't have to do this." Your heart ached, fear gripping your body as he aimed the gun at you.

"It is my duty to enact God's will." He said, right before pulling the trigger.

Hotch pulled back into the driveway, leading Garcia into the house.

"His computer setup is in there. If there's even a hint of where they might've gone, I need you to find it." Hotch gestured to the back room.

Penelope nodded. Carrying her own computer bags, she followed Derek into the depths of the house.

"What've we got?" Hotch questioned those remaining around the table.

"He knew he could throw us off, pretend to be looking for a hunting lodge." Emily spoke quickly.

"We've got piles of information, journals, notebooks. We're still sifting through it all." JJ added, shirt still bloody from yesterday.

Just then, Reid rushed in from another room. "The walls in the bedroom, they are covered in the latin phrase 'honora patrem tuum', honor thy father."

"Garcia, look for anything you can find about his father." Hotch gave out orders, but his focus was elsewhere. What was happening to you?

"Over here!" Morgan called from outside.

The team ran around the house to see Morgan opening a cellar door. Nodding slightly, Hotch and Morgan made there way inside.

"Tobias Hankel, FBI." Morgan shouted, receiving no answer.

They quickly found the dead body of none other than Hankel's father. Even the new information did little to calm the worry brewing inside of Hotch.

"Confess your sins." He ordered.

"My sins? I don't have any sins." You did your best to hold back the tears, trying to figure out who you were talking to.

"Everyone has sins. Confess, and you will be forgiven." He stared you down, waiting for a response.

You simply shook your head, mouth slightly agape. The smell was getting to you. You couldn't think straight with the pain in your head.

"I- I don't know what-"

"YES YOU DO. CONFESS." He hit you, whipping your head to the left.

"Hotch, he took drugs to escape. Dilaudid cut with a psychedelic." Emily relayed the information her and JJ got from Tobias's sponsor.

"We've got something too. The dates in his journals don't add up. He was talking about his father as if he was alive months after he killed him."

"His father beat him, preached about sin." Emily replied, putting the pieces together alongside Hotch.

"Split personality. Profile the father. He could be the key to finding Y/N." Even just saying your name he felt his heart clench.

"Who are you?" You questioned him as soon as he walked through the door, trying to figure out who you were dealing with this time.

"Tobias." He moved about the cabin almost nervously.

"Who was here before?" You knew Rafael, but the other personality was a mystery.

"My father." Definitely the most violent. He was who you had to look out for. "I'm sorry if he hurt you."

Tobias looked over you newly forming bruises before pulling off his belt.

"No. No what are you doing?" You felt your heart rate increase as he wrapped the belt around your arm. You could barely register the words he was saying, something about escaping from the pain.

"Please. I don't want it. I'm fine." You begged, tears brimming your eyes. He ignored your pleas, injecting the drug into your bloodstream.

Despite how much you hated it, you felt the relief he was talking about. The pain was gone, even if just briefly. You thought about your time spent with Hotch. It didn't feel like long enough. You wanted more. You had so much you wanted to do with him.

"Aaron..." You mumbled his name between kisses. "They could see us." You did little to stop him, despite your words.

"We should tell them." He whispered against your mouth, holding you close. "They would be happy for us."

You sighed blissfully, forehead pressed against his. "Really? You know they've got a pool going to see when we'd finally get together. Who do you think had money on 4 months ago?" You laughed into his neck, pulling him closer.

"My bet's on Rossi. He knows us both too well." Aaron smiled, a full genuine smile.

"You're probably right, but just to make it interesting, I'm betting Reid. He's too observant not to have noticed." You squinted at the window, knowing Reid was staring at the closed blinds on the other side.

That earned a laugh, one you could feel in his chest pressed tightly to your own.

"I love you." He kissed your head, content to hold you for a little while longer.

"I love you too." You leaned ever farther into him. "We can tell them when we get back from this next case."

"Deal."

"Get in here!" Reid called from the computer room, pointing to a screen where you were being broadcast. You were handcuffed and tied to a chair, clearly beaten.

"Pick one to die." The voice of Tobias could be heard, despite him not being visible on the screen.

You shook your head, staring into the camera. You wanted to plead for Hotch to save you, but you knew it wouldn't be fair. He didn't need that on his conscience.

"Choose one, and I will free another."

You shook your head again, trying to think of a clue you could give the team. "I won't let you hunt them like a poacher."

"Now. Or I will kill them all." He threatened, lifting you from the ground.

"I'll pick who lives." You stuttered, breaths coming fast and short. "The right screen."

You were forced to watch as he turned off the camera, leaving the screens to show the heinous murders he was about to commit.

Suddenly, Rossi was talking to you through the screen. The sight of him nearly brought you to tears.

"Y/N. This isn't your fault. None of it. You can't blame yourself. We will find you, but I need you to be there when we do."

You knew exactly what he meant. You were already blaming yourself, despite Rossi's father like relationship with you, it was hard to believe him.

It did give you the strength to remember the team though. You needed to see them, all of them, again.

"He's back!" Morgan called everyone in to view the screens again.

"Confess your sins." They watched as he beat you.

You cried. You begged him to stop. You begged Tobias for help, but nothing worked.

Hotch felt his heart break even more with every word.

Suddenly, you were on the ground, still tied to the chair. You were seizing, Charles Hankel watching as it happened.

The screen went dark, causing Hotch to punch the desk.

"Dammit." He shouted. He didn't care if his worry was beginning to poke through the surface. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now.

"The timestamp." Emily's voice drew him out of his head. "There's only a few minutes between the time of death and when it was posted. He's got to be close to the crime scene."

Finally. Something that felt like progress.

They watched the screen as you appeared again.

"Choose one to die." It was Rafael this time.

"I can't. I can't do it." Your face betrayed every emotion you were feeling inside.

"Pick one." He stated again.

"Me. Kill me." You nearly begged.

"You said you weren't one of them. Your team has 7 other members. Choose one of them to die."

You shook your head, fear gripping you once again as he pulled out the revolver.

"Choose." He connected the gone to your forehead, resting it there.

"No." He pulled the trigger, watching as you flinched.

"Choose." You shook your head, tensing as he pulled the trigger again.

Hotch felt his heart in his stomach, internally begging you to just say a name. He couldn't watch you die, not like this.

"Choose." He pulled the trigger yet again at your silence.

"I won't do it." You held firm, knowing you had limited chances.

"Choose one to die."

You opened your mouth, panting as an idea came to you.

"I choose... Aaron Hotchner." Your heart ached even saying it, but you needed to give him a clue. "He's a classic narcissist. Thinks he's better than everyone. He'd go to his grave knowing he was wrong." You winced internally, trying not to give away your plan.

Hotch left the room, trying to understand your words. The two of you had just argued about the definition of classic narcissism.

"I think you're wrong." You laughed at his amused expression.

"Yeah? Or do you just like making me exasperated?" He questioned your motives, pulling you closer as you laid in bed together.

"Maybe a little bit of both." You shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. "Promise me something?" You asked, a nervous expression on your face.

"What?" He looked at you with so much concern, you felt your heart beat a little faster.

"If... If I die, you can't blame yourself." He opened his mouth to protest, but you kept going. "I know you Aaron. You'd take it to grave thinking it was your fault. I can't let you do that. Not when I know you blame yourself for Haley's death." You felt your heart break for him and the pain he had been through. "Promise me." You were nearly begging.

"I promise." He whispered, his throat tight at the idea of losing you.

He was brought back to the present by the sound of Rossi's voice.

"Hotch, you know Y/N didn't mean any of that." Rossi tried gently, unsure of how Hotch was coping with your situation.

"I'm not a narcissist. What's my worst quality?" He looked at the apprehensive looks everyone was giving him. "I'll start, I have no sense of humor."

He nodded along as his team listed his faults.

"None of you said I ever put myself above the team, because I don't. Y/N and I just argued about the definition of classic narcissism." He paced, trying to put it together. "I'd take it to my grave... Grave was a hint."

"What? How do you know?" Reid shook his head, trying to understand the logic.

"I made a promise. It's a long story." He shook his head, trying to clear the memory so he could focus. "Y/N knew I would remember it."

"A cemetary. It's got to be a cemetary." Morgan added.

"No cemeteries on the map." Garcia was typing away on the computer.

"Like a poacher." Reid whispered, staring at the screen.

"Reid?" Hotch looked at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

"That's what Y/N said in the first video. 'I won't let you hunt them like a poacher.'" He said it louder, more excited than before.

"Garcia, any reports of poaching in the area?" Hotch asked, the idea of finding you causing hope to erupt in his chest.

"Yes, at Marshall Parrish... and there's a cemetery on the grounds." She gave them the address, watching as they ran out to the SUVs.

"I'm sorry." Tobias said it so softly, you were almost certain you didn't hear it at all.

"Wh- why?" Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, trying to make sense of it.

"He'll win. In the end, he always does." He rose from the crouched position, slowly injecting you with more drugs.

"Hotch!" You screamed, feeling arms restraining you from behind.

You watched as he went into the hostage situation, unarmed and without a vest.

"Derek. Let me go!" You struggled in his grasp, straining to get free.

"There's nothing you can do, he's already inside." He stated the truth, although it did little to calm your nerves.

You settled down, throat tight with worry. You bit your lip, eyes flitting between the door and windows. You just needed a sign, anything to say he was alright.

The sound of a gun firing stunned you. You were frozen in place, fear consuming you. You had just told him you loved him for the first time this morning. What if you never get to say it again? What if that's all the time you got.

You stared in horror as everyone ran toward the house, only to freeze when a voice shouted everything was fine.

"It's fine." He huffed, carrying the small child out of the house toward a waiting EMT. "Baxter is dead."

"Aaron..." You whispered the name, realizing how powerless you felt when he was in danger. The two of you made eye contact across the yard, a reassuring look in his eye.

"Aaron..." You whispered, blinking rapidly as you slowly came to.

"What about Aaron." Charles. Tobias's dad was back.

"I couldn't stop him. I couldn't keep him safe." You muttered to yourself, not fully understanding the situation.

"Is that a confession?" He asked, voice hard.

"Yes." It was more of a breath of air than a word, but it was all he needed to condemn you.

He unlocked your handcuffs, forcing a shovel into your newly freed arms before dragging you outside.

"Dig." he instructed plainly, watching over you as stray tears wet the ground beneath you.

"Clear." Morgan called from one side of the shed.

"Clear" Hotch replied from the other. With the whole team in the small space, it wasn't exactly necessary but it was habit.

Hotch could feel his nerves picking up again as he realized this meant you were still with Tobias. He paced back and forth, feeling powerless.

"Spread out. They have to be on foot." He left without waiting for a response, turning left with JJ to look for you.

You did your best to stall, but Charles wasn't the most patient.

"Dig faster."

"I'm trying. I'm trying." You whimpered, movements speeding up ever so slightly. The massive knife in his hands causing your own to shake.

"You're weak. Move." He huffed, throwing his jacket to the ground before ripping the shovel from your hands.

A flash of light in the trees caught your eye. Flashlights. Your team. Aaron.

Your eyes flickered between the man in front of you and the trees, causing him to turn.

You took the split second he wasn't looking to grab the gun from his jacket, swiftly aiming it as he turned back to you knife raised.

"Only one bullet in that gun." He lunged for you, falling backwards after you pulled the trigger.

You dropped the gun, quickly tossing the knife away.

"Tobias?" You cried, moving back toward him.

"You killed me." He seemed surprised, but grateful at the same time.

You felt the tears pouring down your face as you apologized.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." You grabbed his hand, watching the light fade from his eyes as he asked one final question.

"You think I'll get to see my mom again?"

You barely registered the arms around you, pulling you to your feet. You couldn't take your eyes off of Tobias. He wasn't the one who hurt you. He helped you, or at least tried.

"I killed him." Your breathing picked up, vision blurring.

"Y/N, look at me." You turned to the voice, blinking rapidly to stop the tears.

"Aaron?" You took a stuttering breath, trying to make sure this was real.

"I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now." His words were just as reassuring to himself as they were to you. You caught JJ's eye over Hotch's shoulder, quickly moving to hug her.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never should've-" You cut her off.

"None of this was your fault. It was my idea to split up. I'm so sorry." You cried into her shoulder, knowing how guilty she must've felt.

She hugged you back, tears brimming her own eyes at seeing you alive again.

She lead you to the EMT, not commenting on the look you threw over your shoulder at Aaron. He quickly followed you to the ambulance. JJ left you to talk to Hotch, who stayed beside you the entire time the medics looked you over.

"I didn't mean it." You said when you were finally alone, sitting between the open doors of the ambulance.

"What?" Aaron questioned, his mind not following your own train of thought.

"When... When I had to choose. I didn't mean any of it." You could feel the tears coming, but this time you did nothing to hold them back.

"I know. I knew the whole time." You brushed your tears away, looking you in the eye. "I love you so much." He whispered, his own eyes feeling watery.

"I love you too." You leaned into him, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you. You couldn't help but look over at the team, all of whom quickly pretended not to be watching. You huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I think they're going to have some questions." Hotch smiled, glad to see you happy even if just for a second.

"After this case, right?" You looked back at him, confirming you still wanted to share your relationship with the team.

"Deal." He smiled, arm tightening around your shoulders to pull you closer.

You couldn't help but bring it up on the jet ride home.

"So, who had money on four months ago?" You questioned, tucked into Aaron's side on the couch.

"What?" Emily raised a brow at your sudden statement.

"That's when we started dating." You grinned at her shocked expression.

"Dammit Reid." Morgan huffed, handing over the money.

"Don't forget Rossi!" Reid high fived the older man, the two grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Looks like we were both right." Hotch smiled into your hair, trying to hide his laugh.

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team." You smiled, leaning into his touch.

"I love you." He murmured, face still in your hair. You turned your face into his chest before responding.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

#aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch xy/n #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fic #hotch fluff #hotch one shot #hotch angst

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animymind · 3 years

Text

Little tbb fanfic (Crosshair, Hunter, Omega)

"I don't know what you see in her."

Crosshair looks at the now sleeping Omega, curled under the blanket Hunter gave her, peacefully just breathing in and out. A feeling of warmth grows in Hunter, and he's tempted to smile, but he doesn't.

"Have you never felt the urge to protect someone?"

"I've felt the urge to protect you", said Crosshair, bitter, staring at his brother, curious for his reaction.

Hunter stares back. Does he really think I don't love him anymore? Words flood his head, words he prepared and thought of in endless sleepless nights on their ship, thinking about Crosshair, about Omega, about their future. Hunter never wanted Crosshair to leave. Just how can he convince him to see it through his eyes?

"Crosshair", began Hunter. "There is nothing I wouldn't do in order to protect you. But there is not just you around. I have to think for everyone."

"And you choose to do the most dangerous thing for all of you. To leave Camino and to disobey the order. You're all just prey now." Crosshair take a step in Hunters direction, now just inches away from his brothers face, but Hunter doesn't step back. "If you really wanted to protect everyone, you would have stayed, and not made you criminals."

"They were after Omega, Crosshair. They brainwashed us. When the chip influenced Wrecker, he almost killed us. How can you obey a system that just wants to control everyone?" He stops. Another thought comes into his mind. "If you would have come with us, you would know what I mean."

"I highly doubt that."

"What is life for you, Crosshair? Is it just being a soldier? Is it just obedience and betting on the faster horse?"

Crosshair lowers his eyes. Pain is all over his face. Hunter can see it.

"You were my life", Crosshair whispered.

Hunter relaxes. This is the Crosshair he knows. He knows he's brother since they were children. Crosshair always was the tough, the cold one, but deep inside, Hunter knows that he carries a heavy burden. He need safety and stability and control more than every other soldier from his squad. Change is not for him, he's sensitive in a different way than Tech is, but he is sensitive to it.

Hunter was anxious about him from the point order 66 happened. Things changed, and Hunter knew that they had to change with them. But the decision to separate the two things in their life that were especially Crosshairs safe spot; the army and the squad - Hunter knew that would have consequences. He knew Crosshair would be a nervous wreck, that he would be rude and aggressive and hard to control because that's how nervosity shows in Crosshair.

But never would Hunter have thought that between those to things, the army and the squad, Crosshair would not choose the squad. He stayed with the army. The new army, the imperial army.

"If you would have come with us", Hunter says, "I would have done everything in my power to make sure you're okay, Crosshair. Because that's my job." He sighs. "But I can not help you if you keep running away."

"On Omega." Hunter steps forward and moves the blanket so it covers her entirely. She sighs cutely in her sleep. He finally smiles, but just shortly. "You know, Crosshair, I didn't replace you with her, even if it might feel like it."

"Then what. You didn't even knew her."

"She needed protection. So I took her with us. And I would have done the same with you, if you would have chosen to stay." He looks down on her. "She's full of love, you know? So thankful for every single little thing. And I think she showed me what life really is about, Crosshair." He looks up to make sure his brother looks him in the eyes.

"Love. Not the army. It's about the people you love, Crosshair. It's about protecting what you have. And if you love your ideals more than you loved us, than I'm okay with that. Then go and keep hunting us and obeying whatever the Empire wants you to do."

In a last attempt of getting close to his brother and fighting the urge to just pull him into his arms, Hunter lays a hand on Crosshairs shoulder. "But if you think that you can love us and even our sister, who loves you so unconditionally even though you can't do that back, then, please Crosshair, come back to us. I don't think there is even just one bit of something evil in your heart. I think it's just fear."

Crosshairs eyes search the ground. He can't look at Hunters face no more. And as his brother picks up the little blonde girl who shares his blood and sleeps so peacefully in his arms and slowly walks away, he doesn't even think of going after them or aiming his weapon at them, as he should do at this point.

Love?

And as Hunters words haunts his mind, another thought follows the odd one worded question.

What am I more afraid of? That the things will change in an inevitable way or that I will die alone?

And suddenly it comes to his mind that he would never be able to raise his weapon and shoot his brother. Not Hunter, not anyone else. Did he forget the relieve he felt when he knew that his mission was just to hunt Hunter down, not kill him?

What would he have done if his mission would have been exactly that?

Crosshair knows that he's standing somewhere dangerously in between the love for his brothers and his obedience to the army. He tries to balance the two things that his life was about and he will eventually fall into the abyss between both of it if he does not choose a side. And oh, he did not do that yet. He thought he did, he thought he chose the Empire, because Hunter choose Omega. But he didn't. Both if them didn't. Because for Hunter, Crosshair is now sure, this is not what it is about.

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

They were fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia casually leans on the desk next to Brainy, who is currently hunched over some screen.

“It appears so,” He answers, not really paying attention. In the distance you can hear yelling and the tell-tale woosh of a cape.

Nia had removed her comms the moment Supergirl spotted Lena Luthor on the field. She’s pretty sure half of the agents did the same. They all knew what was coming.

And well, if the approaching bickering were any indication...

“I had it covered!”

“Yes, because an on-coming missile with your name on it was you having it covered, clearly.”

“I saved ten lives today, Supergirl. Jealous you only saved three?”

“It isn’t about that and you know it.”

Nia sees Alex stride in, obviously going in for an attempt to pacify Supergirl.

And also because it was partly Alex’s idea to send Lena with the Alpha team, in her defense Lena was the only person she could trust enough not to tamper with the device.

“Come on, Supergirl, Lena is more than capable in the field and she volunteered. She saved the day, you kno—”

“Butt out of this, Alex.” Supergirl grits out, too busy staring Lena down to even spare her sister a glance.

“Sorry?” Alex scoffs, shocked at how easy she was brushed aside. She was tempted to pull rank and use the ‘I’m the Director, here.’ card, if she was being honest.

“No, Alex is right,” Lena points out, “I did save the day. Time for you to acknowledge that the both of us are just as capable as the other. And if saving the day means getting in the line of fire, then so be it.”

“This isn’t about you being incapable-”

“Then tell me what exactly is it about?”

Supergirl licks her lips, swallows and Lena braces herself for another retort but instead she fixes her with a stare that only Supergirl reserves for the bad guys and coolly states, “You are not to go out in the field and that’s final.”

She turns to walk out but Lena’s temper just skyrocketed tenfold.

“Wow. You did not just say that to my face.” There was something in the way that Lena Luthor’s voice dropped that made Supergirl turn around. DEO agents are openly watching on now, not even bothering at subtlety anymore. The two women fighting in front of the whole agency certainly haven’t tried subtle at all.

“Let’s make something clear here, Supergirl,” Lena fumed, “This is my life and I get to call the shots. You don’t get a say in what I decide to do or not to do. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t have a say? Rao, sorry my mistake! Forgive me for thinking that my sharing a last name with you means a cent to you as much as it does to me. You’re right, who the hell am I anyway? Sorry for wanting to keep you alive.”

Supergirl is breathing heavily two inches away from Lena’s face. Heat and anger rolling off the both of them in waves. They’re in a world of their own now. A world in which Lena is having trouble deciding on whether she should scream some more or pull Supergirl’s lips into her own.

“Im sorry- Last name?”

The voice wakes them to reality. A reality that makes both of them sober up and realize they’re in the middle of a very exposed DEO headquarters; makes them aware of the collective gasp that has just happened.

Supergirl backs away.

“Please, fucking tell me that I heard you wrong. Or I swear to God-”

Alex heads straight for Supergirl and Lena quickly realizes the implications of what Supergirl had just said. She essentially confirmed to the entire place that they’re—

“Alex, I can—”

“Yes or no, are you or are you not married?”

So, this is how Alex Danvers makes criminals confess. Lena had never seen Supergirl cower before, but by the looks of it, if Lena had been the one in the hero’s boots she’d also be shaking.

“Yes.”

Oh, no.

“Alex, listen,” Lena starts and Supergirl looks at her—no, not Supergirl, Kara—Kara looks at her and Lena sends her a reassuring gaze that screams, ‘I’m with you.’

In that instant it must’ve looked like a switch had been flipped. From Lena attacking Kara to Lena defending Kara in a split second.

“Listen, we were going to tell you. It isn’t like what you think—“

“Oh, no no,” Alex quickly dismisses Lena, “I’m not going to listen to you. This is between me and you,” Alex hissed not even looking at her, directly glaring at Supergirl instead.

“Alex, just—” Lena tries but she does the mistake of moving her shoulder in an attempt to put an arm on Alex and she cuts off with a, “Fuck.”

The Danvers sisters look up at her yelp of pain, concern flickering through their faces. Supergirl swiftly speeding to her side, and the shoulder wound she was so trying so hard to keep Kara from seeing, is now out in the open, bleeding profusely.

“You’re hurt.”

“Fuck,” Lena says again as she tries to take in a breath, pain shooting down her entire right side.

“Take her to the Med Bay,” Alex orders, eyes briefly tracing Lena’s shoulder before turning to Supergirl again, “If you think this discussion is over, you’re sorely mistaken. You and I have a lot to talk about. And I fucking mean it.”

Lena watches as Supergirl swallows in fear at the sight of the DEO director walking out.

“Everybody, back to work! Show’s over, morons!”

As if somebody had hit the play button, a buzz resumes almost exaggeratedly; DEO agents immediately flailing to get back to work, embarrassed at being called out so blatantly.

Lena tunes back in to Kara, “C’mon, hold on to me,” she mumbles, quickly bending down to put an arm around Lena’s knees and pulls her to a bridal carry.

She doesn’t point out that it’s her shoulder that was injured, not her legs; doesn’t point out that she can walk absolutely fine. Lena can clearly see how Supergirl needs to be as close to her as possible right now.

So, she clings tightly and presses harder back against her chest.

***

Lena’s mind is running a mile a minute right now, she needs to know what’s going in her wife’s mind and she needs a plan on how the both of them are going to do damage control.

Kara lays her down softly on a Med bed and without a word Lena strips herself off.

Both of them silent as Kara gets supplies on a nearby table. She sits behind Lena and cleans the wound wordlessly. She’s patched Nia up in secret, way too many times, to know how many stitches Lena needs.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Are the first words that Kara utters.

“Good. I’m still mad at you too.”

She hears Kara sigh and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Kara’s face is scrunched up in a pout and a crinkle.

“But...that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you against Alex.”

“I don’t need protection from Alex.”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine she scared me a bit.”

Before Lena can reply she hisses in pain and Kara brings her lips near the wound and “Sorry,” she whispers.

“We have to talk about this don’t we?” Kara sighs out, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes, darling, we do.”

“We also have to reach a compromise about this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Kara, yeah we do.”

Lena hears another sigh and she can guess what Kara would say next.

“Just so you know, I hate this. I hate this very much. If I could have my way, we’re not having this discussion and you’re staying put and staying safe and not running off to danger. Hell if I can have it my way you won’t even be stepping inside the DEO. But...I can’t have my way can’t I?”

“No, darling, I’m sorry.”

Kara sounds so helpless and Lena just wants to make all the complications in their relationship go away. But that’s not how real life relationships work. Relationships are hard and messy and work. God, they are so much work, but being with Kara is worth all the work in the world. They’ve come a long, long way for this.

If this had happened two years ago, the both of them would not even think about compromise. Kara would just push through with what she believes is the best way to keep Lena safe and would have insisted on keeping Lena locked in a safe house somewhere. And she guesses past Lena wouldn’t even consider the merits of communication with Kara, either.

“I just want you safe.”

“I know.”

“Never want to see you hurt.”

“I know, baby. But Kara you can’t always keep me safe, do you understand that?” Lena says carefully, she wishes she could turn around right now and cup Kara’s face.

“I know it’s hard for you, but this is what the both of us signed up for. Do you think I’m happy whenever you fly off to God knows where, when I see getting shot at in the news, when you leave in the middle of the night? I’m just as scared as you are, Kara.”

But that’s the price the both of them have to pay for falling in love when one is a super hero and the other is a world saving genius.

Kara bandages her neatly and Lena turns around to face her, moving a bit up in the bed and pulls gently at Kara’s wrist to join her.

“I know,” Kara breathes into Lena’s hair as she positions herself, “I’m sorry. For fighting, for yelling, for...accidentally telling everyone that we’re married.”

Lena tries not to laugh at how Kara pouts at the last one.

“Forgiven already. I’m sorry too.”

“I love you, you know that?”

She feels more that hears as she fits herself underneath Kara’s chin, tucked tight beside her.

“I love you too, so, so much. So much that I agreed to a secret wedding,” Lena tells her, “And as much as I would love to continue our little heart to heart, I really think you should go to your sister now.”

“Nooo, Lena noo,” Kara groans out, “Come on, we can just stay here and cuddle and I can kiss your shoulder better and maybe you can give me a kiss too and I don’t have to talk to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Have I mentioned I also hate when you’re right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mmph. Fine. But half an hour of cuddles first and then I go talk to Alex, deal?”

“Deal.”

Lena agrees, greedy for Kara’s warmth and also thinking that Alex certainly needs more than half an hour to cool off. Kara certainly needs more than that to think about the words she’s going to tell her sister. She’ll probably die by the end of their conversation but at least she died knowing that the whole world knows Lena Luthor is her wife, right?

***

“Alex, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I’m livid, Kara. Livid.”

Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to Alex in an empty DEO training room where her sister could easily turn on red sunlamps and deck her for keeping things secret.

“What, did it not occur to that, oh I don’t know? ‘Oh I’m having a wedding maybe I should text my sister an update? Leave her a note maybe? Dear Alex I’m getting married today!’” Alex roars and Kara flinches. Rao how could she be this stupid?

“Anything would have been fucking nice, than to hear about it in the middle of a heated fight. Tell me, if you didn’t slip up just now were you even going to tell me?” Alex tries to coat the words in anger but she doesn’t miss the way it wavers on fear and insecurity.

“Rao, yes of course I was going to Alex! I- we-” Kara tries.

“Save it.”

“Alex please,” She begs her to listen as she steps in front of her and reaches to hold Alex’s hands.

“When?” Alex snarls and Kara gulps because her sister definitely would not like the answer.

“Remember that time that Lena and I broke up? Then we ran to each other in the rain, made up? And then two weeks later she got assassinated by those CADMUS wanna-be’s and we had to use the Fortress’s tech to track her down?”

Alex remembers that one so clearly. It was funny at the time, how Jess had caught them making out in the middle of an ‘interview’. How Kara was so happy that she won Lena back.

“Yes and?” Alex quips, eager to know the answer.

“And well, remember how I asked to have some time alone with Lena once we rescued her? And made all of you guys leave?” Kara croaks out, fear apparent and Alex just stares at her clearly impatient at how Kara rambles.

“Well, I uh-kinda suggested we get married on the spot because I didn’t want to spend another day not being married to her when people want to kill both of us, every day.”

Alex lets out a heavy, shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“You know this is the part where I say, ‘Not even surprised.’” She states dryly, “Of fucking course you’re the kind of people who would pull this kind of shit.”

Kara tries to get a word in but, “You fucking owe me a wedding and Mom and J’onn and Alura-”

“Oh my god! Kara! Your Mom deserves to see the daughter she whisked off to another planet, get married! You fucking owe Clark a wedding-”

“Actually…” Kara starts off sheepishly, knowing full well Alex will explode from what she’s about to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Clark knows doesn’t he?!”

Kara flinches again. Good thing her superhearing is dampened here.

“Well, uh,” Kara wrings her fingers when she realizes there are no glasses to fiddle with.

“Lena said she wanted a Kryptonian wedding so we had Kelex call Kal and uhm he officiated…”

Alex doesn’t say anything to that, just clenches and unclenches fists at her side.

“I’m sorry!! Okay! I was going to tell you immediately but we kinda got carried away sneaking around and then it just completely slipped my mind because you guys keep pointing out how we’re an old married couple anyway! And and and—“ Kara is grasping for words, anything just to make this all better.

“Damn it, I messed up haven’t I?” She whispers, realizing now that the only thing to make this better would be them admitting their mistake and going for amends.

“Yeah, you did, Kara.”

Kara feels shame course through her.

“I am so mad at you right now for denying me the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle. You know I don’t even want that, I just wanted to see you have your dreams come true and see you have what I have with Kelly, god damn it Kara, I love you and I wanted to be there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate your pout. I hate your stupid pouty face. Your billionaire wife better pay for a grand wedding for all of us.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Mom’s not going to let you down easy though.”

Her sister doesn’t really need to point out the obvious.

“I know. Could you maybe be the-”

“Nuh-uh. No. You tell her yourself or have Lena tell her. I’m not doing that shit for you.”

“Fine.”

Kara will take what she can get.

“I love you, Alex.” She breathes in relief when she sees Alex affectionately roll her eyes at her.

“I love you too, you stupid alien.”

***

“It’s official then? We guys get to call you Moms now?”

Lena never really expected that to be the first words Nia says to her when she enters the Med Bay.

“Yes, Nia. And also, yes, you’re a bridesmaid,” She answers immediately knowing that Nia was going to ask.

Nia lights up and Lena shakes her head at how similar she and Kara beams.

Yeah, ‘Moms’ really is a fitting term.

“Alex making you do another wedding huh?”

“Yes, she is.”

Nia snorts, “You say that as if you don’t want the world to know Kara Danvers is wholly and solely yours.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, not that Lena is ever going to admit that though.

“Can I please plan your wedding? I have prophetic dreams. I can totally tell you what would look perfect on that day oh, oh, oh! I can even tell you if it’s going to rain, if you want an outdoor wedding that is. Oooh, maybe I could even see who’d catch your bouquet— “

“Nia, slow down,” Lena mutters before Nia plans out the whole wedding then and there.

“Kara and I will talk about it, but I think she’ll agree, you don’t really need to convince us.”

“Yes-yeah uh right sorry, you should definitely do that. Sorry it’s just I’ve been shipping you and oh my this is so exciting!”

Trust Nia to say ship is now endgame in regards to their marriage.

Nia jabbers on as Kara walks in and gives the both of them a big grin, Alex trailing behind her.

“I guess, congratulations are in order, Danvers.” Alex rolls her eyes and it takes Lena a moment to realize that she was referring to her.

She tries to calm down the happy flutter in her heart and the emotions bubbling out of her as she utters a weak, “Th-thank you, Alex.”

“Actually, Luthor-Danvers, we hyphenated,” Kara clarifies, which really doesn’t help the happy flutter at all, just adds to it.

Alex just sighs and mumbles an ‘Of course you did.’

Before walking towards the bed and surprising Lena with a tight embrace.

“You do know, now you have two Danvers worrying for you every time you walk out in the field now, right?”

And Lena just laughs. Because for the first time in forever she’s got people genuinely wanting her to exist. To the point that they’d do anything to keep her safe.

She’s got family now and if it means overprotective Kryptonians and fierce blaster wielding older sisters, she really wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

They’re fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia doesn’t really know why she keeps asking, this is like a daily occurrence now. Agents don’t even bat an eye when bickering echoes off the halls, nowadays. Apparently, this is what happens in the CatCo bullpen and L-Corp offices too.

Alex appears next to her.

“You know you really should stop calling them that, especially since—“

“WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR KID, POTSTICKERS!”

#the idea of them secretly getting married is just so funny to me #and kara accidentally telling everyone is even funnier #i guess to those people asking for a follow up to the magazine story uh this is it guys...#they get married in secret and then they get married again and they bicker a lot but they love each other a lot too #hope u guys liked that #happy valentines!#supercorp endgame!#the reckless writer writes #a supercorp fic #of sorts #rcklss writes

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump day 20 - Betrayal

Summary: “How bad?” Tony asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

Or, Peter just wanted a coffee.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72739866

------

It’s not everyday that Peter is pistol whipped in the face by a Starbucks customer.

Today, however, is that day.

He’s at the front of the line, finally, and just as the cashier hands him his change a man wearing a crudely cut ski mask shoots two bullets into the ceiling. Everyone screams, ducks, and through the mass panic Peter hears his handful of change roll across the floor.

“Are you kidding me-”

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!”

Peter listens, trying his best to keep calm as he assesses his surroundings. The store has six customers and two employees. Another masked individual joins the first, also holding a gun.

That they’re not afraid to use, apparently.

Slowly and praying not to draw attention, Peter’s fingers close around the watch Tony had given him for his birthday and presses the side button three times. He’s only used the distress signal once before, and Tony had been at his side to help within a matter of minutes.

These idiots won’t even know what hit them.

The first man crosses behind the counter and shoves his gun into the barista’s face. “Open the register.”

For a minute, Peter thinks she’s going to refuse, her eyes set with anger and fear. As if getting the same sense, the man with the gun presses the barrel hard against her cheek and she whimpers. “Now,” he repeats, and she obeys with shaking hands.

Even though she complies, the man steps closer, his trigger finger tensing as the first inch of the barrel practically disappears into her face. Spidey sense screaming, Peter stands carefully, hands outstretched, “hey, hey. Come on man. Ease up. She’s doing what you asked-”

“On the ground,” the second criminal yells at him, spit flying from his mask. Peter freezes on the spot, eyes glued on the trembling barista. For one terrible moment, he’s brought back to a dark alley, his hands pressing down desperately on Ben’s chest.

“The register’s open,” Peter reasons, “let her go.”

“Looks like someone’s trying to play hero,” the first robber sneers. He pushes the barista aside and she falls onto the floor with a strangled yelp. “Grab him.”

Peter doesn’t flinch as the man’s accomplice obeys, digging strong fingers into his bicep and dragging him out of line. His back is brought against the man’s chest and the gun is pressed into his throat. He swallows at the pressure and keeps his eyes trained on the first man, who’s stuffing a duffel with cash.

Outside, there’s sirens.

“Damn it!”

The first man slams the empty drawer closed, throwing his gun out widely, “which one of you called the police?”

Peter almost laughs. Almost. “Are you kidding? You would’ve heard it if someone called. It’s a small room, buddy-”

A sharp pain in his face nearly sends him crashing to his knees. Blood pools onto his tongue but he keeps it there, not wanting to scare the other customers. Through the aching pulse in his head he hears a couple of them gasp.

“Not the time to be smart, kid.”

“Well you’re the ones who decided to rob a Starbucks of all places.”

Before Peter can even suck in a breath, he’s hit three more times, all where the first blow had landed. This time he does fall, and the man kicks him in the ribs for good measure when he’s down. The force of it has him gasping and somewhere in the distance Peter hears a kid crying.

Don’t think about Ben, don’t think about Ben.

“Police are here. Damn it. What do we do?”

Peter hears shuffling as he tries to reorient himself, his head spinning like a top. He only makes it to his elbows before his jacket is grabbed at its shoulder and he’s manhandled to his feet. He sways but stands his ground, wiping the blood off his chin with his sleeve.

“We take him with us.”

Peter doesn’t have the energy to argue as he’s dragged to the entrance by his neck. Through the glass and a rapidly swelling eye, Peter sees a semi circle of police, completely closing off an escape. He thinks he sees a flash of red and gold, too, but he can’t be sure.

“Walk, kid. No funny business.”

And he does, grateful, above everything else, that no one got hurt.

With a forceful shove, Peter is thrown out of the store, the grip on his neck still strong. He knows it’ll bruise in the shape of fingers, that he’ll stare at it in the mirror later and shudder at the memory of the touch.

“Drop your weapons!”

Peter yelps as the back of his knee is kicked in, forcing him to the ground. One of the men grabs his hair, forcing his head back, and sticks his gun underneath his chin. “Make another move and the kid gets it!”

It’s only now that Peter realizes his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him. Tony is here, standing on the sidelines of officers, his eyes blown wide with panic before his expression is cut off by his helmet.

He feels too dazed to be relieved.

“Let the kid go!” he hears one of the officers yell.

“Let us go!”

Peter chuckles again, and he’s not sure why. He feels warm blood dribble down his chin, and the grip tightens in his hair until he’s sure it’s going to be pulled right out of his scalp.

Whatever the men holding him had thought this was going to go, it must not be working, because one of the hisses a “get up” in his ear. Peter tries to listen, but he feels shaky and weak, and mostly just lets himself be dragged. He ends up back against the man’s chest, the gun pressed so forcefully into his temple that the opposite side of his head nearly touches his shoulder.

Only now does he let himself be afraid.

He could die.

Not as Spider-Man, not as a hero, but as himself. Right now. At Starbucks, of all places.

In front of Tony.

His mentor would never forgive himself.

“Walk,” the man hisses in his ear, and Peter stumbles obediently along with them as they step away from the door. The police follow them with their guns but otherwise don’t move.

“Where are you going to run?” Peter chokes. “It’s already too late.”

“Shut up.”

“There’s no way out of this.”

“I said shut up!”

Peter gasps when his head is hit again, his vision whitening at its edges. He must slump because the man struggles to keep him vertical. Somewhere in his fall Peter hears a familiar blast of repulsors and the hostile touch leaves him instantly. He falls to the cement, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows.

There’s a sudden rush of movement and Peter winces at the sheer loudness of it all. He hears muffled curses, boots hitting the pavement, the hostages inside the store cheering-

“Peter?”

And then there’s Iron Man, crouched down beside him and lifting up his chin gently with a metal-clad hand. Peter blinks away his double vision and musters a weak smile. “Hey man,” he wheezes, “coffee break?”

Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter hoped he would. Instead, he feels the armour shift under his arms and he’s lifted up, up and away. He jams his eyes closed at the sudden vertigo and lets out a tense breath when they land together on a nearby rooftop. In a second Tony is out of the suit and sitting beside Peter, his hands ghosting over the blood and bruises on his face.

“Concussion?”

“Look at my face. What do you think?”

“Cut that sass, kid. I have enough for the both of us. Anything else hurt?”

“Uh, my pride?”

“Ha. Funny. Now tell me the real answer.”

Peter sighs, and somewhere in the middle chokes on the blood in his throat. It makes his ribs flare and the wince he makes must be enough for Tony to piece two and two together.

“How bad?” he asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

He sighs again and this time it’s easier. He lays down against the pavement in hopes it’ll stop the world from spinning while Tony hovers beside him like a worried mother hen. “Didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“So let me guess,” Tony says, “you smart mouthed them.”

“Yep.”

“Course you did.”

Peter groans, poking gingerly at his swelling eye. He can barely see out of it anymore, which is highly unfortunate. “I lost my change. And I didn’t even get my drink.”

“Well, you’re alive, so that’s something.”

“Starbucks is expensive, Tony. I was treating myself.”

“I’ll buy you the whole damn Starbucks company if it’ll stop you from getting your face smashed in.”

Peter laughs at this. It makes his ribs burn. “Deal.”

Tony is quiet for a minute. “Feel up for a flight back home?”

Home.

He smiles.

“Only if we can pick up a coffee on the way.”

“Good God, kid. Look at these grey hairs. No seriously, I want you to look at them.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, head lolling slightly as Tony pulls him back up by his arms. Before they lift off, Peter is surprised when Tony wraps him in a hug. He blinks, then relaxes into it. It feels as if some of his pain is leaking into Tony.

He feels better.

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

Tony pulls away, ruffling his hair softly, his scalp still sore. “How couldn’t I? You were smart for once in your life and actually used the panic button I gave you-”

“Smart enough for a coffee?” Peter smirks, a cut on his lip stinging.

Tony looks at him solemnly and shakes his head.

“Grey hairs, Pete. Grey hairs.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday20 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #hostage situations #hurt peter parker #gun violene #protective tony stark #protective peter parker #peter parker whump #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #hope you enjoy! <3

176 notes · View notes

jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Blüdhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.

#dick grayson #nightwing #batman #whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #pushed #near death tw #fanfiction #jin writes

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nebraska-is-a-myth · 4 years

Text

Dream Team - crime AU

Bare with me okay:

I also have an idea to continue this if you want more

Imagine somewhere in the world, a city, so full of corruption and violence and death, riddled with dirt and grime and poverty. A city that's run by no one, full of chaos and crime. Where the rich con the poor into believing they are good people who want them to thrive and work amongst them, when in reality the poor stay poor and the rich stay rich.

The local police force are drowning trying to keep the criminals at bay, robberies and murders left and right, more and more young naïve police officers die on duty every year thinking they can be the one to save the city from the shambles it has become.

Then a new type of chaos comes to town

At first the police think it's the return of the long dormant gang member techno

But then they spot a large spray painted smiley face on the wall in the warehouse of one of the largest drug trafficking rings in the city, every single worker slaughtered

The police think it's a one off when no trace of a new smiley face or even any indication that this mystery murderer exists until a new one is drawn on every single crime scene the police investigate for the next two weeks

Some thought he was a vigilante, a hero in disguise who came to the city to save them, to do what the police never could

That was, until a mysterious man walks into the local police station with a loaded gun ,wearing a white mask that is strangely similar to the ones that have been cropping up all over the city

Some officers actually lower their weapons with the belief that he’s here to turn in another wanted criminal

Oh how wrong they were

He fires without mercy and efficiently, every single shot hits its target

He waits, only for a moment, he stands in the middle of the room, corpses around him and footsteps approaching

He swiftly draws his pistol, taking out 3 of the 4 cameras in the room, and he turns to face the last, a smile drawn on his face

“We haven't formally met. My names Dream”

He talks to the camera like he's performing for it, for the viewers that aren't even watching. He talks with passion and emotion, like he's doing this whole thing to entertain. He continues without pausing, almost as if this whole thing was scripted to give the perfect performance.

“Although, most of you were delusional enough to call me a vigilante. Look, I get it, no hard feelings. But you have to understand, I can't just let this slide. I've got a reputation to uphold here, and I'm clearly not getting the recognition that I deserve!”

He seems like he's filled with genuine anger, he waves his loaded pistol around as he talks with his hands. Good thing everyone else was already dead, he could accidentally shoot someone with the way he aimed it around like it wasn't even there.

“You think these pigs could have taken down those vermin, I accomplished in a week what they haven't been able to do in almost a decade! I should be feared! Not praised for murder! But no, instead I get compared to these disgusting things! And I'm afraid I just can't stay silent anymore. So today I've prepared a little something for you all to enjoy, all with a little help from my pals.”

He knows that nobody's watching, not yet. It would have been easy enough to broadcast the event live, but there were too many risks that higher forms of law enforcement would get involved too quickly. Not that he wouldn't be able to get away from all the hassle, but being interrupted wasn't something the man was fond of. Despite the lack of a current audience, he knew he had to put on the theatrics, he needed a little something to liven up the 10 o'clock news.

He steps back from the overhead camera, and allows another masked man come into frame.

He's dressed in all black, a panda face mask covering the bottom half of his face, revealing his wide eyes, contrasting the covering of dreams mask. And an orange bandana around his hairline, keeping his brown locks out of his line of sight. He also wore a large gun strapped to his back and knife holsters scattered across his frame.

Dream introduces him to the camera as Sapnap, the man who has been killing corrupt businessmen all over the city, leaving a little card with a pandas face at the scene of every crime. He knows everyone knows who he is. He's the reason the rich are so afraid of one another.

Sapnap eyes the camera, twiddling a knife between his fingers. He doesn't say anything, his menacing glare says enough.

Dream laughs to the camera like it's a comedy show, before another man steps into frame, he's not as light footed as sapnap was, not quite as intimidating either. He's dressed in bright colours that don't quite seem to match. He waves at the camera with a big toothy grin and you can see the tiny ceiling camera in the reflection of what appears to be coloured sunglasses. You could most definitely identify him, even with the terrible quality of the camera his features would still stand out enough for officials to figure out who this guy was. But then again, it didn't really seem like these guys were going for stealth.

Dream then takes note of the device the other man was holding and holds it up for the camera to see like he was doing them a favor by letting them get a closer look.

“My good friend George here has made a little device that allows us to control which cameras are on, and which, are completely useless. It's like having our own personal studio isn't that right guys.”

Sapnap doesn't react, just stands there and continues playing with the knife in his hands. But you can see his face creased in ways that look like a smile beneath the mask. Maybe the cold faced killer act is really just that, an act.

George however smiles like dream had just given him a million dollars. He looks manic in the way it reaches his eyes with such pure joy. And he wines with a laugh trying to get the device out of the masked man's hand, telling him to be careful. Dream too smiles and carefully hands back the device to George as if this wasn't a crime scene at all.

Dream suddenly takes note of the furious banging at the metal doors just out of view of the camera and his eyes wander to them for just a moment, almost as if the noise had startled him, even though it had been there all along.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He reaches behind his back and lifts the larger gun from his shoulders, aiming it at the door on the left, while sapnap finally holsters the knife and aims his loaded gun at the right. Dream then looks back at the camera, a smile still ever present on his masked face. “It can also lock doors. I mean come on guys, it's what you get for building everything on something that can be hacked. Who really needs electric doors anyway, not these guys that's for sure. They're about to be dead in just a second. Come on let's count it down shall we. You ready George.”

George bounces excitedly as dream moves to stand in front of him, gun still aimed at the barricaded officers, he clutches the device in his hands and beams with an ecstatic tone “Ready dream!”

“Sapnap, you ready.”

Sapnap makes a sharp exhale of breath come out his nose, almost as if he was laughing at the statement. Dream takes the small snicker as an affirmative to continue and the masked man starts counting

Five untold secrets

Four already dead

Three fearless killers

Two rival gangs

One dream team

Part 2 , Masterlist

#dream team #dreamwastaken #dream #dreamteam #georgenotfound #sapnap #mcyters #mcyt #crime #let me know if you want more of this #skeppy #badboyhalo #sorry if its bad #tubbo #wilbur soot #dream team smp #dream smp war #youtube #tommyinnit

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much-obliged-timothy · 3 years

Text

Whumptober #6

Red Hood - #6 - Bruises

Jason Todd wasn’t surprised when someone landed on the roof next to him.

He’d been waiting for this for hours. Ever since he’d first heard the reports of the death going out. It was almost a relief to hear the footsteps heading towards him. He’d rather get this over with already.

He was, however, surprised when he turned and saw who was actually there.

“Well,” he said after a beat of silence. “That explains why I haven’t heard righteous yelling yet.”

“I may have misled him.” Tim sat next to Jason. “What happened, Jason?”

“I killed a man. Thought the news report summed it up pretty nicely,” Jason said.

Tim shook his head. “There’s always more to it. You don’t just kill for the hell of it.”

“Does it matter? Guy could’ve been strangling a baby and Bruce will still tell me I’m wrong,” Jason said.

Tim shot him a look. The mask covered his eyes, but Jason had been on the receiving end of this look enough times to mentally picture the way his eyes were narrowed right now.

“I’m not Bruce,” he said, a little sharply. “I’m not judging you when I don’t even know what happened, Jason.”

Jason wanted to pull his helmet back on, but he knew that would be too obvious. Tim didn’t need to see his face to read his emotions, anyway. He knew Jason too well.

Instead, Jason looked out over Gotham. “He took a hostage while he was robbing the jewelry store.”

“That’s what the news report said,” Tim said. “The hostage hasn’t been identified, though.”

“Probably because she was just a little kid,” Jason said, tensing up at the memory of those big, scared eyes filling with tears as a gun was pressed to her head. “I’m guessing it was traumatic enough without the press hounding the family.”

“You’ve rescued hostages without killing before,” Tim said.

“Yea, well, I know a panicked man when I see one. I distracted him long enough for the cops to arrive. I could tell, Tim. I knew he was going to shoot her. He knew he wasn’t getting out of there, hostage or no hostage. So I shot him first.” He could still hear the little girl’s screams echoing in his ears as blood had splattered against her from her captor.

But he’d saved her life. He knew he had. He’d seen the look in that thief’s eyes. The look of a man ready to take out everyone he could, because he refused to go down alone. The girl might not have even been the only victim if Jason hadn’t acted.

He wasn’t some cold-blooded killer. He took in the dark sight of Gotham and grit his teeth. This city needed more than the fear of Batman. Fear wasn’t stopping them. Fear wouldn’t have saved that little girl’s life. Hell, fear is what put it in danger in the first place.

He heard someone else land on the roof. Tim blew out a breath beside him.

“Red Robin. You lied to me.”

“It’s me you’re after. Leave him alone,” Jason said without turning to the low, angry voice behind him.

His arm was grabbed. Jason allowed himself to be yanked to his feet, if only because he knew struggling would be pointless.

“Hear him out first, Batman,” Tim insisted.

No. Jason knew the righteous Batman wouldn’t hear him out. He’d just let Jason clean up problems around Gotham and then chide him for it when it went public.

“You murdered someone,” Bruce said, his grip tight on Jason’s arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“‘Stop this thief from shooting up innocents’ mostly,” Jason said.

Bruce shook him roughly. “This isn’t funny, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Could be the lingering trauma from the whole being tortured and murdered thing,” Jason offered.

Bruce’s grip was tight enough now to make Jason wince. “I want you out of Gotham.”

“Until the next bad guy you want off the streets comes around, right?” Jason shot back. “Then I’ll be welcome with open arms. Or, well, you’ll at least look the other way until the media makes that impossible.”

“He was trying to protect a child,” Tim said, taking a cautious step towards the two of them. “He’s not some unhinged killer, Batman. You know that.”

“Do I?” Bruce snarled.

Jason tensed in his grip. “Yea, guess that would be a hard call to make when you’re constantly kicking me out of the family, huh? You know what? Gotham’s all yours, Bruce. Murderers and all. You can look the next little girl’s parents in the eyes and tell them she had to die for your fucking sketchy moral code.”

He hissed in pain at Bruce’s grip, trying to yank his arm free. Bruce fixed him with an all too familiar glare.

“Jason-”

“I’m not better than this, Bruce. I know what I am. And I know I’m better than what you think I am. But I don’t regret putting a bullet in that guy’s head. Rather him than the kid,” Jason said. “I’ll be gone by the morning. Go back to tossing criminals in Arkham so they can be back on the streets by next week.”

Bruce finally released his arm. He regarded Jason for a moment before turning his back on him.

Jason clenched his fists, so tired of that sight. But he kept his mouth shut as Bruce left him and Tim alone on the roof. Bruce would never accept what Jason did, even when it benefitted him.

Tim stepped up to Jason and took his arm, pushing his sleeve up. He grimaced.

Jason looked down at his own arm. Bruises in the shape of Bruce’s fingers were already forming on his arm.

“Hell of a parting gift,” he muttered, pushing Tim away and tugging his sleeve down. “Well, I’ve got to head out before Gotham’s caped crusader throws me out by force. I’ve got enough bruises for one night.”

Tim opened his mouth like he was going to try and offer comfort. Jason was grateful when he just shut his mouth and nodded.

“Jason?” he said as Jason turned away from him. “I trust your call.”

“Too bad you don’t call the shots around here, Drake,” Jason said, pulling his helmet on. “I’m sure I’ll be running the gutters here again before you know it. Keep an eye on the obituaries so you know when I’m back in town, since I’m obviously so bloodthirsty.”

He bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.

“Let me know when you’re somewhere safe.”

Jason didn’t trust himself to speak again at those words. He leapt to a lower roof and began to make his way across the city, cast out from the streets he’d only ever tried to protect.

Jason touched his arm, wincing at how tender it was. He wrapped his fingers around the spot Bruce had left the bruises, squeezing until a little jolt of pain ran along his arm.

Jason looked out at the city as he heard police sirens wailing in the distance. He turned his head away, applying pressure to the bruises again to get himself moving.

He wasn’t wanted here. For now, the Red Hood would leave Batman to rule these streets. And when he was needed, he’d come back. He’d pay the price of coming back again and again, be it bruises or death, because regardless of what Batman thought, Jason cared about the fate of Gotham.

Anyways I’m really frustrated with the way DC writes Jason and Bruce the past decade so have this

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #bruises #fandom #fic #red hood #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #My writing #jtdoeswhumptober

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hxney-lemcn · 3 years

Text

Seven Stages (Pt. 4)

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Warning: Season 2 spoilers, death, violence

Main Master List | TUA Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

╔═.✾. ═════════════

Once we got to Sissy’s house I couldn’t help but stare in awe at the unnatural weather. Snow littered the yard and a tunnel of energy formed into the sky coming from the barn. The trees bared no leaves showing how this must’ve been happening for a while now.

“You think what ever is inside is causing the cold front?” Diego asked as we all exited the car. I mean it was obvious whatever was happening in the barn was causing the strange weather.

“Well the correlation is high,” Five stated. I feel like sometimes he says bigger words just to make himself seem smart. I mean don’t get me wrong, he is the smartest person I’ve ever met, but still. He could’ve said something simpler than that.

“Sissy!” Vanya shouted out. “Sissy!”

Sissy cocked her gun and pointed it at us, “Get back!” I mean a shotgun won’t do much to us but I understand where she’s coming from. “All of you, just get the hell back!”

“Sissy!” Vanya shouted once again holding a hand out. Klaus raised his hands up making me laugh to myself silently. Five was ready to do something if need be and so was Allison. I had my hand over my pistol which was strapped to my thigh. “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?” Vanya asked with genuine concern.

Carl,” Sissy replied, looking over all of us nervously.

“What did he do?” Vanya asked.

“He’s...” Sissy said shakily. “He’s dead. Harlan tossed him aside like a rag doll, same way you sent those policemen flyin’. What did you do?”

“No,” Vanya said breathlessly.

“What the hell did you do to my son?” Sissy asked, I could tell she was really scared, and someone who is scared with a gun never mixes well.

Lightning hit the barn and Diego started to walk forward, “We don’t have time for this.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sissy asked aiming her gun at him.

“To help your son,” He responded holding out a hand like Vanya did earlier.

“Look Sissy,” Vanya said trying to calm her. “I found my family. These are my brothers and my sister, and our family friend.” Sissy looked at us all, slowly lowering her gun.

“Ma’am,” Luther said with an awkward wave and smile.

“Where you lyin’ to me the whole time?” Sissy asked.

“Of course not,” Vanya said honestly. “Look, I didn’t know who I was. But now I do. And we’re not the monsters that they say we are. We did not kill the president. We are not terrorists. We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Then...” Sissy panted lightly. “Who are you?”

“The only one who can help Harlan.”

Sissy finally trusted us and let us into the barn. Inside was a kid who was stuck in a ball of energy that he seemed to be creating. He wasn’t seem to be responding to anything Vanya said. So she stepped into the spinning energy ball. I stood next to Five who was standing in a defensive stance, ready to help his sister if need be. Poor man never relaxes. On the other side stood Klaus who...where did he...?

“Uh...guys?” Klaus asked, standing on the other side of the barn looking out at the field.

“What?” I asked out already making my way over to him.

“Oh fuck me,” I whispered noticing the handler and another person standing next to her.

“What, who are they?” Klaus asked.

“One’s the handler,” I started.

“And the other’s Diego’s girlfriend,” Five finished for me. Diego has a girlfriend?

“Lila,” Diego said. “That’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“What?” Klaus asked genuinely surprised.

“You know what? Doesn’t matter now,” He said still staring at the two.

“They both look angry,” I spoke out rocking on my feet slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Our brother has that effect on people.”

“We’re going to go out there and find out what they want,” Five said motioning me and him. “You guys stay with Vanya and the kid.”

“I’m going with you too,” Diego said. “Come on.” With that the three of us walked out to the Handler and Lila.

“I love that smell of fresh country air,” The Handler spoke up with a chuckle. “Don’t you darling?”

“It makes me want to vomit,” Lila replied grouchily.

“What do you want?” Five asked, wanting to get this over with.

“To watch you suffer,” Lila spouted making me stand in a more defensive position. Over my dead body will Five suffer any more than he already has.

“What about me?” Diego asked like a puppy and it was clear he still liked her.

“You’re not even worth my wrath,” She responded like that was the stupidest question asked. I would’ve high fived her for being strong but right now she was my enemy and I’m sure she also did something to Diego.

“Easy,” The Handler smiled with a warning tone. “We’re here on official business.”

“What business is that?” I asked keeping my hand over my pistol once more.

“As head of the commission, I’ve decided to eradicate the criminals responsible for the assassination of the former head of directors,” The handler said calmly. I looked at Five who looked even more on edge now which answered my question on what the fuck happened there.

“Yeah right,” Diego said. “We didn’t kill the board.” Diego obviously hasn’t realized that Five did yet.

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Five said nervously.

“You didn’t tell them?” The handler asked, she seemed to be having too much fun with this. Five shrugged and she continued, “Oh Five.”

“Five what the hell did you do?” Diego asked. Is...is he really this dumb?

“What I had to do to get my family home,” Five replied and I felt my heart break a little. “Until someone regened on our deal.” He had to kill again, and the deal obviously didn’t work out or they would be in 2019 at the moment. The handler probably had something to do with it and at that moment I wanted to tear her to shreds even more than I did before.

“Somebody wouldn’t have regened if somebody could’ve met a simple deadline,” The Handler countered, making it seem like Five was at fault.

“You set him up to fail,” I spoke up with a glare.

“He set himself up to fail, friend,” She smiled condescendingly and I almost launched myself at her if I didn’t know any better. “You and your brothers and sisters,” The Handler faced Five once more. “Kinda a running theme of your little life, isn’t it?” She had the gull to laugh.

“He didn’t fail in finding me,” I said crossing my arms.

“It won’t matter in the end,” She shrugged.

“Dude, I can’t believe you killed the board of directors,” Diego whispered to Five. “You have no idea how messed up the commission is right now.”

“Messed up?” The Handler asked. “Who’s saying that?”

“Everybody,” Diego glared. “Christ even the janitors think it’s going to shit!”

“That’s not all he killed,” Lila chimed in. “Her too.” She looked at Five and I with a glare.

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused. I haven’t killed anyone since I left the Commission.

“Don’t play dumb you prepubescent piece of shit,” She growled and Five stood slightly in front of me.

“Enough,” The Handler said. “The point is that you all are going to die today.”

“Oh, well I don’t like your chances,” Diego stated. “Eight of us, two of you.”

“You know? You’re right,” The handler agreed, clearly something up her sleeve. “Let’s change that.”

With a snap of her fingers people from the commission started showing up. Hundreds of people all surrounding her and pointing their weapons at us. Five staggered back slightly, clearly fearful of what will happen to us all. My heart started beating rapidly and the hold on my pistol tightened.

“What should we do now?” Diego asked.

“Fight and die now, or run and die later,” I breathed out shakily.

“Either way we’re food for the worms,” Five agreed.

“Preference?” Diego asked looking at the both of us.

“Wouldn’t mind breathing air for a few more minutes through the old wind bags,” Five shrugged and I let out a strangled chuckle of agreement.

“Let’s get this over with shall we?” The Handler asked looking at her wrist, did she even have a watch? She lifted a red flag and I shouted out ‘run’ while we slightly tripped backwards.

We all ran towards the barn and the sounds of people shouting followed us. They started to shoot while we were running for our lives. Five grabbed me and Diego and blinked us towards a red tractor. We took cover behind the big wheel.

“What now?” Five shouted over the sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal.

“We blink into the house man!” Diego shouted back.

“Okay,” Five mumbled softly and tried to blink us into the house, but it wasn’t working.

“What?” Diego asked.

“He’s out of fuel!” I replied, joining the conversation. “He’s too tired.”

“Go, I’ll...” Diego trailed off. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Diego what are you...?” Five asked as Diego stood up.

“Just go!” Diego shouted stopping the bullets from moving. Five grabbed my hand and dashed towards the house, taking one last look at Diego. Opening the house door he let me enter before following. I went under the table, Five joining me. He held me to his chest in a protective manner as something outside blew up. Bullets were nonstop firing into the house, the only safe spot being where we resided. All I could hear was bullets and Five’s heavy breathing. I felt tears prick my eyes, ‘This is it’.

The sound of energy bursting emitted and suddenly the firing stopped. Five lifted his head from my neck and looked around, as did I. We hesitantly looked out the widow to see everyone dead...besides the Handler, Lila, and his family. Vanya was floating in the air, a bright beam of energy showing from her chest. Suddenly Lila floated up in the same manner, same glowing energy, and I brought Five with me back under the table.

Luther crash landed in the living room. Five and I stared wide eyed at him for a second before rushing over.

“Luther, you alright?” Five asked worriedly.

“Oh, I think I swallowed my tongue,” Luther muttered out.

Five rolled his eyes, “Luther, if you swallowed your tongue you wouldn’t be talking, you big moron.” I rolled my eyes at how Five’s demeanor changed so quickly.

“Come on, to your feet,” I said gently grabbing his hand and helping him up. He stumbled back slightly dragging me with him, Five right behind me just in case.

“Hey what the hell was that?” Luther asked. “What was that?” Luther held onto Five’s shoulders to stabilize himself.

“She must’ve redirected,” I responded as Five looked back out the window. “Vanya’s energy wave.” I clarified.

“Yeah I know,” Luther said. “But how?”

Some bricks started to fall and Five looked up with wide eyes, “Watch out!” Five pushed me and Luther out of the way as bricks fell on top of him. I felt my stomach drop and the world around me seemingly blurred. I fell to my knees in front of the pile and started brushing away the bricks. Luther helping me.

Lila blinked into the house and I glared up at her, tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

“What are you?” Luther asked.

“A bitch,” I choked out. My throat felt like it was closing, but I had to keep my emotions under control.

“Someone who want’s to kill your brother and his little girlfriend,” She replied nonchalantly. I grabbed my pistol and aimed it at her.

“Well that’s understandable,” Luther said with a shrug. “Diego can be a lot to handle.”

“She’s talking about Five,” I grumbled, keeping my weapon trained on her as she made her way to Luther.

“Him too,” Luther agreed. “But unfortunately, they’re family, so you’re shit out of luck.”

Luther went to punch her and she held his fist. I analyzed what she was doing like a Hawk. I couldn’t shoot because that would endanger Luther and I only have six bullets to spare.

“How is this possible?” Luther grunted out.

“Gotta believe in yourself big boy,” Lila mocked as she threw him out of the house. Lila glanced at me but decided she needed to deal with the super family before taking on normal me. I let out a breath as I realized what is going on with her. She’s super, she can use people’s powers against them. I went back to the brick pile and started digging for Five once again.

He can’t be dead, I mean he’s Five. Five the smart mouthed bastard who just couldn’t die. He couldn’t. He won’t. Not under my watch. I found blue in the pile and kept moving bricks. Suddenly Five sat up looking around. He looked at me and looked over my entire, for the most part, unhurt being. I helped move more bricks so it would be easier for him to get up.

“Don’t do that again shit-heel,” I muttered out, once again almost crying.

He brushed a stray tear away, “I’ll try not to.” We walked over to the opening that Luther left.

“Looking for us?” Five asked shrugging his shoulders slightly. I quickly wiped some blood from his lip as she called him a turd. “Let’s dance.”

Five blinked and Lila did too. Shit I didn’t tell him that she has powers too. I ran into the house where they started to fight.

“Five don’t blink!” I shouted but he ignored me as he continued. I fought where I could. Landing a few square punches, her doing the same. She grabbed a pan as Five was still trying to figure out how Lila could do what she could do. Five blinked out of the house, as did Lila and I ran out try and find them. I saw the rest of the Hargreeves out by the red tractor and ran over to them.

“Where’s Five?” Diego asked as I panted.

“I don’t know,” I breathed out. We all decided to go to the barn then, since that could be the only place left. When we got there they were talking about some kill order. Yet all I could focus on was the knife she aimed towards Five. I was about to go in there, or better yet shoot the bitch, but Diego stopped me.

“She never cared about your parents,” I chimed in entering the barn after getting Diego off of me. “She was looking for you. I was also confused on why she came on that mission with us.”

Lila looked back at me, confusion and hurt showed on her face, “Why?”

“Cause you’re one of us,” Diego spoke up behind me, patting my shoulder, glad I didn’t immediately kill her. “The Handler stole you Lila, just like our asshole father took all of us.”

“No,” Lila denied. “It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right,” Diego agreed. “Because he didn’t have our parents murdered. Listen to me Lila. You were born October 1st, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

“Stay back!” Lila threated as we all were circling her. We backed up defensively as Diego continued to try and calm her down. Luther even joined in to try and gain her trust but she just faked gag.

“All right I tried,” Luther said rolling his eyes.

“You’re right, we have to kill her,” Five said wildly. I can tell all this stress was going to snap him. Yet I kind of agreed with Five, having someone this unstable with those type of powers was dangerous on the loose. Five and I got closer to her but Diego stopped us.

“Five! Hey Five, (y/n)! Stop,” Diego shouted making us look at him. “I got it.” Five stopped and so did I, and once again Diego tried to get her to trust us. She looked at us all and I smiled gently, hoping it would ease her into the right decision. Right as it seem like she was going to agree the world seemed to stop.

Bullets shot into us all and I felt myself gasp as I felt my body become riddled with them. I fell backwards as I continued to gasp for air. My only thought at the moment was Five. I turned my head slowly to look at him and if I could at that moment I would’ve let out a sob. Seeing him riddled with bullets made the pain 10x worse.

I grabbed his hand weakly as my last thought ran through my head, ‘I love you’.

╚═════════════.✾. ═

#tua #the umbrella academy #five #five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #fivehargreeves #fivehargreevesxreader #tua x reader #x reader #xreader #the umbrella academy x reader #five imagine #five hargreeves imagine

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suite43 · 3 years

Text

"Shadow Striker! C’mon, get a move on!" Flamewar called, promptly jumping off the roof as she finished speaking.

Shadow Striker smirked, standing over the blue and white autobot, who in turn was staring up at her with a little bit of fear and a little bit of awe in her wide blue eyes. Shadow Striker leaned down close to the autobots audial fin, whispering.

"Better luck next time, I suppose."

Strongarm did not have time to process a response as the back end of the Riser's massive gun slammed into the side of her head and left her unconcious on the rooftop.

She woke up to Sideswipe kicking her in the side, not hard enough to break anything that wasn't already broken but hard enough to hurt goddamnit. She rolled over with a groan, finding one wrist cuffed to some structure or other, and her weapon missing, almost definetly taken by those brutes from the night before. Damn.

"-ngarm! Primus, Strongarm, did they knock your brain out or something? Helloooooooo?" Sideswipes annoying-ass voice faded in as her audial systems rebooted and she pulled herself up as much as she could.

"When did you get here?" She grumbled.

"Oh, like an hour or so ago."

"And I'm still cuffed because?"

"I thought it'd be funny," he said. "Got bored of waiting for you to wake up, though."

"Right. Where's Prowl?"

"Had, uh, 'more important concerns'. Bumper's with him, they're trying to track these Rise chicks. Javelin's downstairs, though, taking stock."

"And you're on babysitting? Figures."

"I know, right? When is that asshole gonna let me do something cool?"

"'Cool' isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Wanna trade? I'd love to get my ass kicked by some Risers."

"Tell that to my broken ribs," Strongarm muttered. "Now untie me, idiot."

///

Strongarm did not leave her shift early on account of any injuries. She would never dream of it. No, she was dismissed by her senior officer after giving an adequate description of the prior evening's events, and sent to a medic for minor repairs, who in turn insisted that she spend the next few days on bedrest. It was orders. She didn't have a choice.

That didn't make the hours upon hours of sitting around with nothing to do any less agonizing. Playing with her cat and idly switching between the three TV channels she got could only keep her busy for so long, and her mind kept drifting back to the night before.

It was circumstance that Strongarm had been there at all, really. She'd been in the area following up on something or other when alarms started blaring and the call was made. She pursued, and found a group of (presumably) Risers bickering over which of them was stupid enough to trip the alarm (Strongarm's money is on the two-wheeler. She seemed twitchy.). Among them was the known Riser and scary as hell Shadow Striker, brandishing a massive blaster, presumably from the weapons cache that had been broken into a few weeks prior.

Strongarm had no intentions to engage with a group of four incredibly well-armed and dangerous criminals, with only her small, non-lethal pistol, her lacking hand-to-hand combat skills and absolutely no knowledge of what backup, if any, was coming.

Unfortunately, Strongarm is not built for stealth, and Shadow Striker was very perceptive.

Strongarm plays the fight in her mind over and over. Shadow Striker had notoriously impressive marksmanship. She could've just shot Strongarm and been done with it. But she didn't. The more she replayed it, the wide shots and simple mockery, drawing Strongarm closer and closer, an incredibly powerful kick to the side of the chest, the shoving and running and chasing drawing them up to the roof where Shadow Striker finally seemed to stop playing with her food and go for the kill, it all seemed like it had been a game.

She had had Strongarm disarmed and completely overwhelmed. She had dug her heel into the plating of her chest, pointed the barrel of the gun right between her eyes, a small, satisfied smile on the stoic brute's face. Strongarm felt absolutely certain she was going to die.

And yet, she hadn't pulled the trigger. Non-lethal head injury only.

Better luck next time, I suppose.

Better luck next time.

Strongarm couldn't get the sound of it out of her head. The low rumble, almost like a purr. The slight brush of the exhaled breath against her fins. The absolute satisfaction that dripped from Shadow Striker's every word.

What the hell did that mean?

///

"You left her alive?" Flamewar said incredously.

"Killing Autobots in the city streets isn't exactly low-profile," Shadow Striker responded flatly.

"Yeah, neither is tripping the alarms," Hyperdrive chimed in. Flamewar shoved him.

"It wasn't my fault!"

Shadow Striker rolled her eyes and let them get to their bickering, sitting back in her usual spot to get to work dissasembling, cleaning, and reassembling her favourite gun.

She took a deep breath, letting herself fall into the familiar rythm of her work, the soft shuffling sounds of moving parts. She could do this with her eyes closed. She often did, in fact. Gathers the mind.

That Autobot. She could've killed her. Wouldn't have felt too bad about it. But when was the last time anyone had put up such a fight? Shadow's reputation preceded her, just a mention of her name got most rational 'bots running the other direction. Absolutely nobody smart would try to fight Shadow Striker alone, much less with three others there. And absolutely nobody landed a punch.

It wasn't for any skill the Autobot had had. It was wild, determined flailing that got her one good, solid hit across the jaw and a trickle of blood from Shadow Striker's nose. She'd laughed, despite herself. Knowing what the autobot was capable of made the rest of it much more fun. And she supposed that meant she owed the bot something of a reward. If, y'know, not killing someone counted as a suitable reward for... well, for anything, really.

Shadow wasn't quite sure about that. But she was certain, if the dull ache in her jaw was any indication, that she was looking forward to next time.

///

Strongarm found herself leaping at every mention of Rise activity for the next few weeks. She spent all of her downtime sparring with Sideswipe (who talked a big game but whined like a newlyforged at every dent he got) or Javelin (who never tried all that hard and usually lost within five seconds). She was determined that she would not be outmatched again.

Sideswipe told her it was a case of bruised ego. Strongarm told herself it was a desire to bring the Riser to justice. But she couldn't help but wonder if it was something else that made her stomach flip and her spark skip a beat every time she thought about her.

Perhaps it was fear? Disgust? Anger? Frustration?

Something like that. Surely.

Regardless, despite her best efforts, Shadow Striker always managed to outpace her. Always one step ahead, whip-smart, adaptable, experienced, and all around incredibly skilled. Strongarm had no chance.

She was stubborn, though, and she didn't quit. And, every time she saw Shadow Striker, she got her ass royally kicked.

Something was different this time, though. For starters, Shadow Striker was alone. The big warehouse out on the fringes of the city only had the one life sign, and a quick scan confirmed that there were no other visible mechs. Shadow sat casually atop a big metal crate of goods, idly examing her weapon, miming shooting it at things with a bored expression. Strongarm kept close to the shadows, behind a stack of boxes, determined to get the element of surprise.

"Oh, good, I was beginning to think you hadn't found the little clues I left you." That was different, too.

"Oh, come on!" Strongarm rolled her eyes. "You can't tell me your hearing is just that good. It's not possible."

"I set a tripwire around the perimeter. I was pinged as soon as you came in. You should pay more attention, Autobot."

"Pay attention to this!" Strongarm chucked the blade in her hand at Shadow Striker, who smirked as it grazed just past the side of her helmet, clattering to the ground. She set the gun aside and cracked her knuckles, getting ready.

"Right to it then?"

"Why, you have somewhere you'd rather be?" Strongarm threw a punch, Shadow sidestepping her without even trying.

"Mmm, no, I don't think so." She slammed her elbow into Strongarm's back. "Trust me, this is the most exciting part of my week."

"I could say the same," Strongarm said. "Can't take too long, though, I'm going to have a lot of paperwork to fill out when I bring you in."

Shadow Striker huffed out a laugh as she stepped out of the way of another blow. "You'll have to catch me, first."

The two continued in their fight, until Strongarm was on her back, pinned by Shadow Striker's weight holding her arms above her head.

"You're getting better," Shadow Striker muttered between breaths, voice low and close to Strongarm's audial. "You're strong. You have potential. Why not use it for something worthwhile? You'd make such a pretty Riser, you know."

Strongarm paused for a moment, her processer stalling on that last bit. Had she just been called pretty?

She shoved it out of her mind and jerked her head up as hard as she could, crashing her forehead into Shadow Striker's nose, the purple mech pulling away with a hiss of pain as a small trickle of energon dripped out, and Strongarm used the moment of weakness to flip the two of them over, pinning the slender warrior under her own weight.

"Don't get too comfortable. Arrogance makes you stupid," Strongarm grinned, just a little smug.

"Agreed." Before Strongarm could even blink Shadow Striker had pulled her arms free from Strongarm's grip and shoved the autobot off of her, stepping on Strongarm's chest to jump back up on her crate, grab her weapon, and climb up the pile of crates and shelves to one of the large windows near the top of the wall. "See you next time."

And then she was gone. Strongarm cursed, slamming one fist against the ground, hand clutching her side. God damn.

///

They saw each other again a few times, the banter and routine becoming familiar, Strongarm getting better and better at predicting where Shadow Striker would be and what she would do.

She did not ever predict that she'd see the Riser climbing through the window into her kitchen in the middle of the night.

"What the hell?! What are you doing here?"

"Didn't know where else to go," Shadow Striker muttered through clenched teeth. "Couldn't make it back. Too many eyes."

It was then that Strongarm noticed Shadow was clutching at a wound on her side, a cloth pressed up against it, absolutely soaked with energon. Her eyes widened as she tried to figure out what the fuck she was supposed to do. This was a criminal, in her apartment, where she had no right to be and how had she even found it in the first place and how long had she known the address? But it was also an injured Cybertronian, in need of help, and Strongarm felt like she had a duty. Shadow Striker needed to go to a hospital. Strongarm wasn't a doctor. But if she went to a hospital, well, she'd almost certainly be arrested. Which was... Strongarm wasn't sure how she felt about that. That was a bad sign.

"Do you have a clean towel?" Shadow Striker asked, snapping Strongarm out of her dumbstruck silence. "And a first aid kit. I can do the rest."

"I... Yeah. Yeah, I do." She went and gathered supplies, bringing them back to the kitchen, where Shadow Striker was peeling the old rag off of the wound, revealing a huge gash on the side of her stomach.

Shadow waved her over, taking the first aid kit from her hands. She was giving herself something of a patch job, but Strongarm couldn't take her eyes off the way her hands shook and the way her face twisted in a wince at every motion, jerky movements doing a rather shit job of fixing anything.

"Give it to me," Strongarm said. Shadow Striker gave her whatever passed for a skeptical look at the moment. "Just tell me what I need to do. I'm a quick learner."

Shadow sighed, handed over the tool she'd been using, and talked Strongarm through getting her to a point where she wasn't dripping blood and everything seemed more or less stable.

"This'll do. We have medics, when I get back they can do something properly."

"Where's 'back', exactly?"

"Ha, you're not getting anything out of me that easily," Shadow Striker muttered, still holding her side, voice exhausted.

"Well, it was worth a try." Shadow hummed in agreement, eyes closed, leaning back against the wall, still sitting on Strongarm's countertop. "Are... when are you leaving?" Strongarm asked.

"Whenever the heat dies down a bit."

"You know I'm technically 'the heat', right?" Shadow shrugged.

"Go ahead. Call your boss. I'll be halfway out of the city faster than Prowl can flip a table." Strongarm rolled her eyes.

"Eat something before you go, you sound exhausted."

"No. M'not taking your rations. Sentinel keeps you low enough on fuel as it is."

"You lost a lot of blood. If you leave like this, now, you'll probably pass out before you can get anywhere." Shadow Striker just huffed.

"Suppose I'm staying the night, then."

"What?"

"Kidding," Shadow laughed weakly. "My boss'd kill me if I spent the evening at an autobot's. Unneccessary risk and all."

"And I'd almost certainly be fired, or worse, if anyone found out about this."

"So it's our little secret then."

"So it is. And so's this," Strongarm said, handing her a small cube of energon. Shadow looked like she was going to protest, but evidently thought better of it, and took the cube.

They stayed there, talked for a bit, and eventually Strongarm was able to coax Shadow Striker into moving to the couch, which honestly wasn't a huge improvement from the countertop but it's the thought that counts, she supposed. Strongarm didn't intend for Shadow Striker to fall asleep there, and she guessed Shadow didn't intend for it either, but she looked strangely serene and Strongarm couldn't bring herself to disturb her. She left the lean purple mech there, trying not to stare too much at the way her strong features looked so delicate like this, her lips parted just so as puffs of breath slipped in and out, her red eyes shut softly, twitching and muttering as she dreamt.

Strongarm tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in her chest, and went to bed. Sleep was fitful, but when she heard the soft tread of someone sliding through her bedroom door quietly, she did her best to pretend to be deep in recharge. A hand traced delicately over the plating of her arm, across her inner wrist, tracing delicate cableing up her forearm and to the bulky armor of her shoulders, and she tried to stay still, even when that hand reached back down and intertwined slender fingers with Strongarm's own and a figure bent down to press a kiss to Strongarm's cheek, the ridge of her nose nuzzling softly against the warm plating as Strongarm tried so, so hard not to move and scare Shadow away, even as her spark was beating out of her chest.

After a long moment, Shadow Striker pulled away, letting out a long sigh, muttering a quiet what have I gotten myself into? under her breath, and Strongarm couldn't help but feel the same as Shadow Striker walked away.

When Strongarm got up for work, Shadow was long gone. When she came home from her shift, there was a cube of energon on the coffee table, labelled with a note.

Let's call it even. - SS

#red.doc #strongarm #shadow striker #idw2 #strongshadow #oooooh you wanna read my dykey idw2 au so bad

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Guerrerita, Part 3

<- Part 2

Summary: The first time you met Nevada Ramirez was also in a dark alley.

1,577 words

“You owe me.”

“What?” you hissed, whipping around to face the threatening voice. You kept your face hard, showing no sign of weakness, even as you saw the three intimidating men who had followed you into the alley outside a shady, semi-legal MMA tournament.

“I had a lot of money riding on that fight,” said the shortest of the three, tsk-tsking. His shoes were shiny black leather—expensive, but tacky. He held a cigarette between his teeth when he wasn’t speaking and wore all black except for the gold cross flashing around his neck, pendant resting in a bed of dark chest hair. The two flanking him were bulky heavyweights, over six feet, at least two hundred-fifty pounds a piece, which meant you probably couldn’t take them. Not both at once. They dwarfed the center guy, but they were waiting on his signal to do anything. The small one was the brains. The boss. He was the one you had to keep your eyes on.

“So what? Not my problem.”

You shrugged your gym bag over you shoulder and turned to leave, but his goons stepped forward sharply, ready to grab you, and you thought better of it. As much as you’d rather not show them you were scared, this was the kind of dangerous you didn’t turn your back on.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I’m playing? You come into my town, looking like a nervous mousy little rookie. Oh, pobrecita bebita, que tierna,” he mocked baby-talk at you, pouting his lips. “Get everyone betting against you, then the bell rings and you turn into a wild fucking animal. You run a hustle on my turf? Way I see it, that is your problem.”

Your left nostril began to twitch and the corner of your mouth curled into a snarl. “Then get some fucking glasses.” A small voice inside begged frantically, don’t do this now, calm down, but it was already drowned out by a dark, reckless pulsing in your ears. You didn’t like being threatened. Somewhere along the line your stubborn refusal to take any more shit from assholes turned into a fury you couldn’t control, that overrode your own self-preservation. Your bruised fists curled for another fight.

The boss just laughed, a harsh, barking, sarcastic show of power. His men stayed put, for now. “What a dirty mouth. Little warrior here, huh? I like that, I like that.” He prowled toward you, a crooked smirk without teeth bending his neatly trimmed stubble. If he wasn’t such a scumbag you would have called him handsome. Maybe that was what kept you at bay, apart from the knowledge that the second you launched yourself at him in a hail of fists, the two big guys would kill you—because his face was too pretty to bloody up. “Guerrerita, you don’t know who you’re fucking with.”

“You want money, go after the bookies. They’re the ones making bank,” you challenged, taking a few backwards steps to keep distance from him. “I don’t know what kind of hustle you think I’m running, but I bet my last fifty bucks on myself and I’ll still be lucky to make rent. I am not giving a cut to some wannabe gangsters.” You planted your feet at the spot where the alley curved and some old shipping crates created a pinch-point where your smaller size might afford some advantage, and refused to back off another inch.

He stopped, keeping several feet of distance, too. Taking one last drag, he threw his cigarette butt down and crushed it out.

“I’m the King of the Heights, sweetheart,” he explained, as if that should mean anything to you. “Nevada Ramirez.” He extended a hand to shake, and you dropped into a defensive stance. You didn’t like the way he looked you up and down, scrutinizing you with a gaze that made goosebumps rise along your arms. Your muscles twitched in anger and terror, and you tried to balance the two emotions so you could maybe get home in one piece.

“Alright, Mr. Ramirez. Why don’t you and your boys back the fuck off and let me go home. Because you try to follow me, rough me up? I promise it won’t be worth your time. You watched me fight. Before your boys back there can take me down, I’ll have your balls shoved down your goddamn throat. And yeah, you can have your boys shoot me dead.” You noticed the muscle had reached for concealed weapons the moment their boss got within range of your fists. “But what a waste. I’ve never done anything to you. I’m not a threat to your… kingdom? Not unless you attack me first. So why don’t we both just go about our merry ways in peace?”

He laughed again. Dry. Harsh. Your defiance entertained him, but he was growing impatient.

“What makes you think you can tell me how to run this town?” The hard edge to his voice raised the hairs on the back of your neck. As much as you liked to think you’d hit rock bottom and didn’t give a damn anymore, you’d never been murdered. As many impulsive fights as you’d gotten yourself into, you had never been so sure that losing would result in your body in a bag. He smiled when you had no more snappy comebacks, relishing the growing fear in your eyes. His posture opened up, suddenly all friendly. “You’ve got me all wrong. No one’s gonna kill you, guerrerita.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to know what’s a high-class broad like you doing here?” He raised his eyebrows. His knowing grin sent a jolt down your spine, and he looked satisfied by your reaction, which confirmed his assumption.

Nevada could read people, and he could smell suburbs on you. Nice house. Good family. Educated. White picket fence and a dog. Apparently he couldn’t smell the trauma or the failed stint in the Marines thanks to your occasional but fun penchant for sucker punching assholes without thought to rank.

“What’s it to you?” Your teeth ground together. Like hell you’d ever tell him that story.

“You owe me for that stunt in there. And I know how you can pay me back.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Good luck if you think my family will pay you ransom. You think I’d be here if—”

“Work for me.”

Your mind went blank. For several seconds you stared, wondering if you’d heard him right. Finally you blurted incredulously, “What?”

“Come work for me, and we call your debt even.” He looked you up and down again with a smirk. “Bet you clean up into some nice arm candy, classy girl like you.”

You took another step back despite yourself, stomach turning. “No fucking way. I don’t need a pimp, and if you even think of touching me I swear to fucking god...” Your voice turned into a threatening snarl as disgust turned to rage. Your muscles twitched, ready to do as much damage to his handsome, jeering face as possible before being killed. You would rather die than go through that again.

“Whoah, easy,” Nevada laughed, putting his hands up in surrender, but with enough dripping mockery to make it a power move. “Nothing like that. Security.”

“Security?”

“You get knocked in the head too many times?” he raised his eyebrows over his shoulder back at his guys, and they laughed along like trained seals. “Think about where you are. You just won a contest for beating the shit outta people. Security.”

“You want me to be a bodyguard?”

“Now she gets it,” he smiled, and it was pure delight. “Enforcers that look the part are a dime a dozen—face full of scars, covered in macho tats. They send a certain message, don’t they? Usually the intimidating shit is what you want. But some situations call for a bit more… nuance than these pendejos.” He jerked his thumb toward the giant brawlers still lurking behind him. One of them sulked. “You could be subtle. When business requires I don’t advertise I brought muscle. Imagine it,” his tongue darted over his lower lip. “Put you in a dress two sizes too small, and nobody sees you coming until your fist is through their skull. I bet folks underestimate you all the time.”

You almost laughed that the idea of protecting him when he must have known you’d just as soon put a fist through his skull. Working with criminals didn’t sit well with you. Though your life had been one downhill spiral since all the shit that kicked you off your shining life trajectory, you had never done anything illegal. If you didn’t count misdemeanor battery. Which you didn’t. You only punched assholes who deserved it. And you were fairly sure this Nevada Ramirez character deserved it. You didn’t trust him, and you did not take well to being shaken down.

But then he said people underestimated you. His eyes were the color of the sky before thunder: bright, ominous, and flashing dangerously. And when he said it, his bright eyes locked straight onto yours, like he knew. For the first time in your life, it felt like someone was seeing you, the deepest parts of you, and actually liked what he saw.

You didn’t have much of a choice, anyway. It was either accept the job, or have some drug kingpin sic his enforcers on you for your last dollar.

“What do you need me to do?”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020 @mrsrafaelbarba @da-po

#nevada ramirez x reader #Nevada ramirez #Raúl Esparza #Trouble in the Heights #my writing

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 10- The End of Something Part 1

Summary: After the painful battle to get Vanya back, you then watched as Diego attempted to save the president. Failing in the process. Now here you are, facing the forces of evil, just trying to find a way home.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch

You sit on the bottom steps inside of Elliot’s place, listening to the tv reporter drawl on and on about the dealings and names of you and the other Hargreeves. Raising your eyebrows when he called you, a former bartender who had a reputation for purposefully injuring customers. Yeah, when they were harassing random people who just wanted to have a good time in peace, you think angrily to yourself.

You sit back, listening in amusement to the six of them bicker about letting Kennedy die, being wanted criminals, and where all of you should go. Klaus adding input about some weird place with friendly but strange people. And Five promptly turning it down, explaining how the Commission will never stop hunting all of you down, no matter where we all go. Diego cutting in with his own understanding of how they will, in fact do just that. Five giving him a confused face, “I’m sorry, since when are you an expert on the Commission?” Questions Five, intently staring at Diego.

“Since I got back from there.” He answers turning to look at Five’s even more bewildered face, giving Diego a short, “What?”

“Yeah, they headhunted me and Y/N, she wasn’t there for the briefing, but they offered us a job. Full time with benefits, which I had to turn down.” He explains casually to Five.

Five’s eyebrows raise in suspicion, “They headhunted you, the village idiot.” Five quips, chuckling in puzzled amusement.

Diego looks at him, offended by his smaller brothers disbelief in him achieving something for once, “What, am I not allowed to be headhunted? Only the almighty Five needs to be in demand?” Diego growls at him, annoyed that Five seriously can’t fathom him in charge of anything.

Five shakes his head, “Diego, you’re not Commission material, all right? Got an obstinate nature to ya.” He says matter-of-factly, earning an offended look from Diego.

Five then points out, turning to you, “Now, Y/N on the other hand. I can see why they would recruit her. She’s got a strong will in the face of danger, and never compromises a well thought out plan. Also she can’t die, so that’s a loaded benefit.” He adds, nodding to you, then looking up smartly at Diego. You turn to Diego, giving him a wink with a delighted smirk. He rolls his eyes, presumably at the both of you.

“Who do you think it was that figured out Vanya was the one that causes doomsday and stopped it? Me. That’s who.” Diego snaps.

“Hey!” Klaus says in defense of Vanya, a hand sassily on his slender hip.

“I figured it all out on the Infinite Switchboard.” He says while smiling and leaning in closer to a confused Five. “You were on the Infine Switchboard?” Five questions.

“Hell yeah. I made that machine my bitch.” He says smiling excitedly while looking at you first and then the others. “Y’all need to recognize I got shit going on y’all don’t even know about.” He snaps back, starting to sound like he’s spent too much time in Texas.

Allison’s head snaps up from her own seated position higher up on the staircase, “Oh, sorry. You’ve got things going on?” She asks him, wide eyed.

“This isn’t helpful.” Mutters Luther while looking at the ground, tired of everyone’s nonsense.

Vanya silently turns to walk up the stairs, passing by a laughing Klaus, amused by Five and Diego’s heated squabbling about the Commission.

You get up off the bottom steps, stepping between Diego and Five, walking yourself over to where Luther is standing. As Diego continues to sass Five, “Look, I met the Résistence in their secret lair. All right? I went through orientation and I passed and stopped doomsday.” Huh, did he now? If you weren’t to busy blacking out from getting electrocuted then maybe you could have joined him. Oh, well.

——

You and the others start bickering back and forth about where to go or what to do next. Calling each other out for stupid shit and just genuinely being disagreeable. You hear the sound of keys jingle and the familiar pattern of Vanya’s footsteps, as she runs down the stairs opposite of the rest of you. All standing in your various spots around the middle of the room, you look up at her. She makes eye contact with you for a split second, a worried expression clear on her bright features. “I’m leaving.” She says quickly, looking to each of you expectantly.

“What? To go where?” Announces Allison loudly, confused as to why her sister suddenly wants to leave their temporarily only safe place.

“Sissy’s farm. Something’s wrong with Harlan, and I need to help him.” She replies, anxiously.

Luther speaks up, stepping in closer to your tiny group of 5, all staring at Vanya wondering why of all times would she need to visit someone right now, “Vanya, we need to stick together, okay? Now more then ever.” He assures her. You can’t disagree there.

She steps up closer to the rest of you a pleading look in her eyes, “That’s why I’m telling you this. Whatever’s going on with Harlan, I think I might have caused it” she tells you all, jeesh no wonder she looks so worried.

You shake your head, furrowing your brows, “How’s that even possible?” You ask her.

Sighing she continues her explanation, “He drowned, and, uh, somehow I was able to bring him back to life. And now it’s like we’re connected.” Her face a greater mix of fear and uncertainty.

“Wh... What does that even mean?” Wonders Luther, equally as perplexed as the rest of you.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain, but... I know that he needs my help.” She pauses for a moment before sighing softly, “I need your help, too. I’m scared. And for the first time in my life, I don’t wanna do it alone. I want my family by my side.” She ends with, looking pleadingly at the rest of you, hoping that she won’t get turned down again.

Diego walks up to Vanya, “Look, I’m sorry. We have other priorities right now.” He tells her softly, not trying to be unkind about her request.

“Diego’s right. For once.” Five adds, looking sadly at Vanya. “We need to make our stand here and now.” He whispers.

She looks to each of you dismally for a brief second, as she mutters a small, “Okay. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” Turning to walk out the door, without another word. The rest of you stand in somber silence. You suddenly look up at Klaus, making eye contact. He nods at you with a small smile, before turning and walking out the door after Vanya.

You quickly walk over to the door about to follow after Klaus when you turn to face the rest of the Hargreeves, “Well come on, we’re Team Zero. Remember?” Smiling at them, giving Diego a quick wink. You then swiftly walk out the door, heading straight for Vanya’s car.

Opening up the side door and shuffling your way to the middle seat, as Diego trails in after you, Allison opening up the left door and jumping in next to you as well. “Got room for three more?” Allison asks her, a big grin on her face.

Vanya looks at the three of you in confusion, “What about the Commission?”

“Well, might as well do some good before we die horribly.” Says Diego as you lightly punch his shoulder, Klaus giving a small “Whoo-hoo.” from the front seat. Five randomly appears next to Klaus, opening his door and briefly scaring him in the process. “Five, you... you don’t have to..” Vanya starts, incredibly surprised that everyone suddenly decided they wanted to join her. “I know. You owe me one, sis.” He smiles at her, suddenly turning to face Klaus, “Children ride in the back.” In his I’m-not-gonna-ask-again voice. “Okay.” Klaus answers by turning around and walking over the seat. Shoving his way, in between you and Allison.

“Move over fatass.” You jokingly growl at Diego, who does his best to scoot as close to the door as he can. Giving you almost no room, that now your right arm and shoulder are pressed tightly against Diego’s chest. You look up at him, trying to hold in a smile, he breaks by giving you a toothy grin in return. “Come here often?” He asks you, smirking. “Hilarious.” You deadpan.

“Guys, I don’t know what to say.” Vanya says astonished, while looking back at her packed car. The back hatch is suddenly pulled open, as Luther begrudgingly does his best to fit into the tiny cargo area. “If anyone makes a fat joke, I’m outta here.” He pauses for a second as all of you smile at him. “Y/N, don’t even look in my direction.” He sarcastically warns you, knowing too well how you’re not one to hold back on anything you find funny. Diego wraps his arm around you, trying to get more comfortable for the 15 minute ride to Sissy’s farm.

——

You look up out the window, noticing how the sky seems to be turning grey. Snow falls gently down into the grass as Vanya pulls into the driveway, “What the hell.” You mutter.

All of you hastily get out of the car Diego being the first to question the huge anomaly, “You think whatever’s going on inside is causing the cold front?” Wonders Diego, to no one in particular.

“Well, the correlation is high.” Answers Five, shutting the door behind him and looking up at the cyclone of energy coming out of the barn roof.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and say it is.” You add, getting an amused glance from Diego.

Abruptly a blonde woman holding up a gun and looking very terrified runs out of the barn and straight to the seven of you. Vanya reacts quickly, seeming to know what to do. As she runs to the woman raising her arms up, “Sissy! Sissy!” She calls to her. Trying to divert, Sissy, from shooting anyone.

“Get back! All of you, just get the hell back!” She screams, holding up her shotgun higher.

“Sissy! Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?” Vanya asks her calmly.

Sissy glances at the rest of you for a quick second before she speaks to Vanya, “Carl.”

“What did he do to you?” Vanya rasps out, terrified as to what she might say next.

Sissy shakes her head, breathing shakily, “He’s... He’s dead. Harlan tossed him aside like a rag doll, same way you sent those policemen flyin’. What did you do to him?” She demands.

“No..” Vanya tries to explain, Sissy cutting her off sharply, “What the hell you do to my son?”

Diego begins to step forward, you’re right next to him so you place yourself between him and Sissy before he can say anything else, just incase she decided to use that gun, “We don’t have time for this.” You tell her honestly.

She whips her shotgun in both you and Diego’s direction, barrel aimed right for your head. “Where you think you two’re goin?” She hisses, ready to strike at a moments notice.

Diego puts his hand on your left forearm, stopping you from snatching the gun out of her trembling hands, “To help your son.” He tells her.

“Look, Sissy, I found my family. These are my brothers, my sister, and Y/N, who I’ve know since I was a child.” She rapidly clarifies to Sissy, who doesn’t really know who any of you are.

A snap of crackling energy is heard through the cold air, she turns to the rest of you with furrowed brows. Luther gives her a tight lipped smile, awkwardly waving at her in a friendly manner, “Ma’am.”

She looks back to Vanya, “Where you lyin’ to me the whole time?” She says hurt. “Of course not. Look I didn’t know who I was. But I do now.” She pauses for a moment to glance at the rest of you, “And we are not the monsters that they say we are. We did not kill the president. We are not terrorists. We’re not here to hurt anyone.” Vanya reasons with her, trying to help her understand a little bit better. “Then....who are you?” Sissy doubts, a baffled expression clear on her face. “The only one who can help Harlan.” Vanya tells her confidently.

——

All of you follow behind Sissy and Vanya, as they lead you into the incredibly loud and windy barn. Vanya screams for Harlan to focus on her and calm down. You watch as this Harlan kid is suspended in the air, arching is back in an odd convulsion. You smirk as an annoyingly humorous intrusive thought pops into your head, “This is more like Harlan and the no good, terrible, very bad, day.” You shut your eyes and shake your head coming back to your senses, now is not the time for this, Y/N, you internally yell at yourself.

Your ears unexpectedly pick up the familiar whooshing sound of someone teleporting. Five’s right here, so who was that? You follow the sound, walking towards the other barn door that leads to the back field. Klaus noticing this, he follows your lead curiously. Your eagle eye vision spots two people, one you’d rather not ever see again. “Uh, Y/N?” Wonders Klaus, you ignore him, staring daggers at Lila and an eccentrically dressed silver haired woman. “Okay, um guys!” Shouts Klaus, catching the attention of Diego, Allison, Five, and Luther.

“Ah, shit.” Diego says walking up next to you, having also caught site of Lila.

“Who are they?” Marvels Klaus, is face scrunched up in confusion at the random people who just bleeped into the field.

Five answers that question without hesitation, “One’s the Handler, and the other’s Y/N and Diego’s friend.” Giving a sour face, not pleased with the surprise visit by either of them.

“Lila. That fucking bitch.” You growl, Klaus looking back at you in awe, astonished that the both of you managed to make a friend. Only for them to turn out to be working for the Commission.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. They both look angry.” Luther adds bluntly.

“Yeah.” Adds Klaus.

“Y/N has that effect on people.” Allison says quickly, not in a joking way either. You turn to her in mock offense, “Okay. I can’t really argue with that.”

“I’m gonna find out what they want. You guys stay with Vanya and the kid.” Five tells the five of you rushed.

“I’m coming with you.” Diego replies, you cutting in after him, “Me too, I got beef with Kill Bill over there.” You look at Five nodding in Lila and the Handler’s direction. He gives you the flash of a smile in acknowledgment. Both you and Diego turn to follow Five out the door.

——

“I love the smell of that fresh country air, don’t you darling.” States the Handler at Lila, looking at you up and down in curiosity.

“Makes me want to vomit.” Lila replies bluntly, standing as still as a statue while avoiding your gaze.

“What do you want.” Snaps Five, studying the Handler for any suspicious movement.

“What about me?” Diego asks Lila, dreading the possible consequences for fleeing the Commission without her knowledge.

“You’re not even worth my wrath.” She retorts sharply back at him.

You tilt your head in an annoyed manner whilst clenching your fists, “Unfortunately you’re worth mine.” You hiss angrily before continuing, “You electrocute me to death and then take Diego with you, without another real explanation? If we weren’t here to make negotiations I’d gut you before you’d even be able to scream.” The Handler gives you a surprised laugh, “Easy.” She states, glancing to the side at Lila. Who looks at you with a poker face, desperately trying to conceal her slight fear. Ever grateful for the current circumstances, involving more then just her and you.

“We’re on official business.” Explains the Handler to Five.

“And what business is that?” He snaps back with restrained anger.

“As the head of the Commission, I’ve decided to eliminate the criminals responsible for the assassination of the former board of directors.” She says matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly at the three of you.

“Yeah right. We didn’t kill the board.” Replies Diego before Five interrupts him from speaking further, “Uh, actually, Diego, that’s not entirely accurate.” He says pursing his lips.

The Handler turns to Five with a smirk, “You didn’t tell them? Oh, Five.” She says while giving him a fake pout.

You lean in close to Five, “Five what the fuck didn’t you tell us?” You whisper, great what did the little shit forget to mention now?

He gives you a hard look, “What I had to do to get my family home. Until somebody reneged on our deal.” He ends, glaring at the Handler.

You stand back, folding your arms as you listen to Five and the Handler argue back and forth about their deal going sour. Then how shit the Commission has gotten, Diego adding in his own input much to the Handlers surprised offense. Then Lila speaks up, angry at Five for something he did. Done with everyone’s rambling, you turn to the Handler when she sets the black briefcase down. “Enough. The point is, all of you are going to die today. Hmm?” She states, so sure of herself.

“Oh, really now?” You raise an eyebrow at her before continuing, “There’s eight of us, and two of you. If you haven’t noticed.” Telling her bluntly, ready just to finally be done with all this shit.

She gives you a knowing smile, “You know, you’re right. Let’s change that.” With a snap of her fingers, an army of Commission assassins zap into the field, ready to kill.

You, Diego, and Five look on in shock and a healthy amount of fear, “So, what do we do now?” Diego whispers to the two of you.

“Well, we got two choices: fight and die now, or run and die later. Either way, we’re food for worms.” Five replies nervously.

“Preference.” Diego questions.

“Wouldn’t mind a few more minutes breathing through the old windpipes.” Retorts Five.

“I can’t get captured, and turned into a weapon for the Commission.” You panic, turning to them with pure dread in your eyes.

“All right. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Says the Handler while checking her watch. A moment later she pulls out a red silk handkerchief, dangling it in the air.

“Come on!” Yells Five as he, You, and Diego start booking it back to the barn. Fuck.

“And why are we all wearing black? Like who’s funeral is it?” You randomly blurt out.

“Ours if we don’t run faster!” Diego shouts back at you.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #number two #falcor the luck dragon stories #what a time to be alive fic #five hargreeves

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Bullets, Ch 2: License to Kill

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3300

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: sexual themes (literally a woman named Pussy), violence, death

Featured Song: Licence to Kill by Gladys Knight from Licence to Kill (1989)

~ “Got a licence to kill and you know I’m going straight for your heart”

~~~

“Touch the stereo one more time and I’ll shoot you in the dick.”

Your grumbling threat seemed to resonate with Harrison as he dropped his hand from reaching to change your music again. He let out a long sigh; this drive from the Monaco airport to the hotel felt like such a long one. He hated old music, and yet all you seemed to want to listen to in the car was Nancy Sinatra- it’s like you only knew songs from the 1960’s. If it wasn’t for the urgency of this mission and the fact that he was in such an incredible car, he probably would have jumped out by now.

“You are awfully fascinated with my dick.” Harrison stated, a small smirk playing on his lips. You adjusted your white retro sunglasses on your face, shaking your head at him.

“Hardly.” You scoffed, “It’s your biggest weakness, so it’s quite easy to threaten, especially when shooting your dick off means I can hurt that delicate ego of yours.”

“Ouch, darling, you might actually hurt me there.” He feigned offense at your words. “If my biggest weakness is my dick, then what’s yours, sweetheart?”

“How many times must I tell you not to call me darling or sweetheart or angel or doll or any other pet name that rolls off your tongue?” You replied, ignoring his question completely.

“Not enough, angel. It’s so easy to get you bothered by a simple pet name.”

“I’m an agent. I’m not your pet.”

“Ah, but according to the hotel room, you’re my wife, Y/N.” Harrison teased. He watched as your jaw clenched, hearing your real name fall from his mouth for the first time. “Did you think I wouldn’t know your real name? Don’t act like you didn’t do any digging on me.”

“I didn’t need to. All of MI6 knows how much of an arrogant ass you are.” You stated, pulling the car into the hotel’s parking lot. “Your list of women extends much farther than your list of kills.”

“I bet you’d love to be added to the first list.” He smirked, placing a hand on your knee. You glared at him as you removed his hand.

“In your dreams, Osterfield.” You said lowly before getting out of the car, smiling at the valet. Harrison exited the DB10 after you, straightening out his suit as he did so.

“Let me get the bags, love.” Harrison told you, opening the trunk of the car to get out all of the luggage, which most of it consisted of weapons and money from MI6. As the two of you stood in the lobby, waiting to check in to the new room, you cuddled into Harrison’s figure, wrapping a hand around his neck as you spoke quietly in his ear.

“You’ll be added to my list, too if you’re not more careful with that tongue.” You threatened, voice just above a whisper. Your perfectly manicured fingers traced over the breast pocket on his suit, and you felt his heart race under you. Your threat was a very real one, but Harrison couldn’t help the shiver that made its way down his spine at the sultriness of your voice.

Still, he put on his charm as he looked at you in his arms. Just as smoothly as you had spoken, he answered, “I hope that’s your first list, Y/N.”

~~~

“Martini. Shaken, not stirred.” Harrison told the bartender at the Monte Carlo casino that night. He adjusted his suit jacket as he leaned against the bar, waiting on his drink.

Ever since you two arrived at the hotel, you managed to ignore his presence completely. The hotel room had two queen size beds, extravagantly decorated and fit for two of Britain’s best agents. You were an incredibly curious case to him, you were an enigma. Something about you made him want to know everything about you. He found your resistance to his flirtatious advances especially alluring. He was starting to understand how you were an infamous seductress- you put the womanizer himself to shame.

“If you’re going to drink while working, you might as well go for something better than a martini.” You stated, your voice echoing in the comms piece in his ear. Harrison smirked to himself a little.

“Finally joining the party, princess?” He joked as his drink arrived. Since your task tonight was to flirt your way into Sciarra’s world, you had decided it’d be best for you and Harrison to arrive alone, which meant he had to have a chauffeur in a BMW while you drove the Aston Martin.

“Why, yes, I am.” You replied. Harrison lifted his martini glass to his lips and he casually looked around the busy casino. His eyes instantly caught on your figure as you wore a floor-length silk dress. The red material clung to you in all the right places with a slit that ran up to your upper thigh; your cleavage on view just enough to keep him wondering where you hid your weapons. He already knew your sleek black stilettos were made of steel and, most likely, had knife compartments- one of Q’s specialities for non-technology based weapons. You smirked, seeing Harrison’s blue eyes scanning over your dress, and you turned to place a gamble on a game, giving him the optimal view of the backless feature of the dress, the cut out dipping dangerously low.

“I don’t think that dress is inconspicuous enough.” He said after a moment. He slowly sipped on his martini, his throat feeling dry as his eyes couldn’t leave your figure.

“As if I care about what you think of my dress.” You answered, “Besides, the plan is to get Sciarra alone. Just watch my back, and stay focused.”

“Trust me, with you looking like that, beautiful, I’ll have no problem watching your back.” It was his turn to smirk, as you gave him the side-eye across the casino.

“Keep it in your pants, Osterfield.”

Spotting Sciarra at a craps table, you casually made your way over. You stood opposite of him, peering at the table below you. You gently leaned against it, allowing for your dress to shift slightly- and just like that, Sciarra made his way over to you. M was right- he was nothing short of a sleazy adulterer.

“Give me a blow?” He asked, holding up the die to you. You smiled, blowing on them for good luck. His eyes stayed on you as he rolled the die, far more invested in you now than his gambling. “Do you play?”

“No, but I enjoy-” You paused, your eyes trailing him up and down, “the views much more than the game itself.”

Across the casino, Harrison got himself a second martini and stood from his seat. He made his way over to the craps table to watch the game in progress while still keeping an eye on you as you flirted with Sciarra. His fingers trailed along the glass, looking around the table. Almost every single man had eyes on you, but your eyes stayed firmly on Sciarra, giving him your undivided attention. Something twisted in Harrison as he watched Sciarra run a hand down your bare arm before resting the hand on your bare back and, by the looks of it, his hand was far too low for Harrison’s liking. And not only did he have to watch that, but also heard each word passed between you and Sciarra through the mic.

“Casinos really bring out the sleaziness of some men.” Harrison heard a velvety voice speak teasingly from behind him. His blue eyes left your figure, and he looked at the woman now standing beside him. You were definitely the most attractive woman here, but this woman was a close second in an incredibly fitting gold dress. Her blond hair framed her face perfectly and, with the casino lights in the room, it almost looked golden.

“Hope I’m not included in that.” He chuckled, watching as her eyes flickered between each of the men around the table before landing on him.

“I said some.” The woman said with a soft laugh, showing off her pearly white teeth. “I noticed you when you walked in. You came alone, and with no wedding ring print on your finger- you must be a good one.”

“You’re observant, miss-?” Harrison trailed off, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“My name is Pussy Galore.” She replied, and Harrison could’ve sworn he saw you hold back a snicker across the table.

“I must be dreaming.” He smirked.

“And you, handsome?” She asked, a hand trailing along the buttons of his white shirt. His eyes flickered over to you, seeing you and Sciarra move to a reserved table for drinks; you were close to getting him alone, and that meant you’d need Harrison’s help soon. You discreetly removed the mic from your ear, not wanting to hear Harrison talk to the other woman any longer.

“The name’s Osterfield. Harrison Osterfield.”

He continued to flirt with the gorgeous woman as the casino bustled on around them. Miss Galore, as he respectfully mentally referred to her, spoke up after a few minutes, “Excuse me while I go freshen up.”

Before he could say anything else to her, she left. His eyes wandered back over to you and he noticed how close Sciarra was to your side as the dealer talked to his henchman across the table, but you weren’t flirting; no, Harrison could see the familiar fear in your eyes, the fear of a gun being held against your skin.

Out of instinct, he reached for his gun in his suit jacket. His fingers came in contact with the cool metal, and he watched as you quickly slammed your heel into Sciarra’s foot, just as you had done to Harrison in the parking lot, and kicked up the table, smacking his henchman in the face with the hardwood. Harrison drew his gun as you snatched Sciarra’s. The two of you ducked for cover behind a couple of turned tables from his henchmen’s bullets. The crowd at the casino screamed, everyone running in their expensive suits and designer dresses out of the casino.

“We can’t let Sciarra get away.” You told Harrison.

“Yeah, working on it.” He replied, getting up from his spot to fight one of the other men since he was now out of bullets. But the other man was ridiculously built, definitely used for the muscle, and he easily flipped Harrison onto a table, shattering the wood as he groaned. Picking up a couple large pieces of wood, he did his best to fight the bigger man, even stabbing him the leg to gain a little leverage.

Meanwhile, you ripped off your shoes, activating the knife part of the stiletto. Expertly, you threw one at Sciarra as he tried to escape, pinning his arm to the wall with the knife caught on his suit sleeve. You threw your other stiletto at the bigger man fighting Harrison, the knife landing mere inches from your partner’s face and in the opponent’s heart.

“Thanks for the head’s up.” Harrison stated in disbelief that you had gotten that close to hitting him with a knife.

“I just saved you from ruining another table. Are you happy?” You questioned, shooting another guard down with the golden gun you stole from Sciarra.

Harrison dove into fighting with another henchman, and you watched as a couple of men led Sciarra from the scene. Before you could step out from behind your table, someone came up behind you, grabbing your hands in his, effectively making you drop your gun. You cursed your barefootedness, unable to get a good grip to fight the taller man. As you attempted to kick his legs, he swiftly grabbed your throat, and a bullet went whizzing by your head, hitting him dead in the eye. You looked over at Harrison while he went running for the casino door.

“You can give me shit for almost shooting you later. He’s getting away.” Harrison urged you. You abandoned your gun and chased after him, just mere steps behind him.

“No, no-“ You started to shout as Harrison jumped into the driver’s seat of the Aston Martin.

“C’mon, love, no time to argue.” He said, but he was grinning like a little kid. You groaned in frustration, getting into the passenger’s seat and the car took off, speeding after Sciarra’s car. Harrison kept his eyes trained on the black Jaguar while you dug through the glove compartment. You smiled, finding an extra mag in there.

“How are you going to shoot bullets without a gun? And why is that mag so small?” Harrison asked. You laughed, slipping a hand under the slit in your dress to your inner thigh and pulling out a small gun from your hidden thigh holster that fit the mag perfectly. It wasn’t the ideal place for you to hide it, but the dress was so revealing, you really had no other choice. His eyes went wide, and the car swerved a bit.

“What? Did you think I didn’t have a gun on me?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, loading the gun and cocking it proudly. You didn’t want to hide your gun there, but seeing Harrison momentarily flustered by it was definitely a plus.

“Have I ever told you I’ll do anything for a girl in a gun?” He smirked, recovering smoothly, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Well you’re pretty awful at following my orders, so I don’t believe you.” You replied, rolling down the window, “Keep her steady.”

“That’s the plan.” Harrison replied, keeping his focus on the car as you shot at Sciarra’s Jaguar. You would’ve hit the tire, but Harrison swerved the car and Sciarra’s men started to fire back at you two.

Cursing, you sat back in the car, rolling up the bulletproof window. You pressed a couple buttons on the center console, accessing the DB10’s machine gun controls. As Harrison attempted to dodge the oncoming cars and maneuver a way closer to the Jaguar, you aimed for the tires.

“You’re an awful driver.” You stated, missing a couple shots from Harrison’s unsteady.

“I’d like to see you do better.” He chuckled, taking a sharp turn to follow the black car ahead. Finally on a straight, you took the shot, clipping the Jaguar’s tire and sending the car flipping. Harrison haphazardly pulled the DB10 to a stop beside the wrecked car. You kept your gun at the ready as he went to drag Sciarra out of the wreck. One of the surviving henchmen shot at you and, instinctively, you fired back while Harrison tugged the weak Sciarra from the car.

“Where’s Goldfinger?” Harrison questioned, holding up the dealer by his blood-spattered collar. You took the opportunity to look in the car quickly. Spotting a gold flash drive on the floor, you snatched it up and returned to your partner’s side.

“I don’t know!” Sciarra shouted, seething in anger.

“Osterfield, not here.” You said. He looked at you, his blue eyes instantly catching your warning look. The sirens in the distance told you cops were approaching and having Sciarra so vulnerable and out in the open like this would definitely entice the sniper, whoever she was.

“How do we get to Goldfinger? This?” Harrison lifted up Sciarra’s hand to draw attention to the flashy silver ring on his finger. You held your gun steady as your partner walked, more so dragged, Sciarra back to your car.

“I don’t know him. He just pays me in bullions whenever I ship him weapons. I’ve never met the guy!” Sciarra attempted to defend himself as you opened the car door. “He’s only trying to kill me because-“

A loud gunshot went off and Sciarra fell limp in Harrison’s hand, blood spattering as the sniper shot him in the head. You and Harrison quickly moved to get in the car.

“Fucking snipers.” Harrison grumbled, throwing open the driver door and hopping inside. You were just a moment too slow, the sniper clipping your left arm as you got into the car. You applied pressure to your arm, trying to remain calm until you got back to the hotel room, where you knew you had the supplies to dig out the bullet. It wasn’t the first time you’d been shot before, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Did you get shot?” Harrison almost sounded worried as he raced the DB10 down the street, trying to create an untraceable path back to the hotel.

“No, my left arm is just cold.” You sarcastically said. “Yes, I got shot.”

“You can’t walk through a hotel with a bullet hole.”

“I know, genius.” You rolled your eyes, and he pulled up to the hotel. It was nice that Q had made the car bulletproof or else there would be plenty of evidence of the car chase you both were just a part of. Before the valet could come out to retrieve the car, Harrison shook off his suit jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, and the two of you got out of the car. You kept your hand underneath the jacket and over your wound, and Harrison wrapped an arm around your shoulder, acting like he was just being a good guy helping out the cold girl.

Silently, you two made your way to the elevator, taking it up to your floor. Harrison held the hotel room door open for you, and you immediately went to the medical bag, fumbling through it to find the right supplies.

“Let me help.” He said, stepping beside you and helping you get out what Q so kindly named “the bullet hole kit” complete with the proper supplies for disinfecting and stitching. You sat on the bathroom counter as Harrison quietly worked on your arm.

“Ow!” You shouted, tensing while he tried to get the bullet out. “That hurts!”

“Stop moving, and it’ll hurt less.” He replied as if it was obvious. “Have you never been shot before?”

“Once. In the hip, but it was four years ago.” The room fell quiet as you waited for him to respond.

“I’ve never.” Harrison’s voice was just barely above a whisper. You inhaled a sharp breath as he finally removed the bullet. “What happened with yours?”

“I missed a

shot.” You said, and Harrison stepped back to look at you fully. His eyes filled with an unreadable emotion for you, perhaps pity that the best agent had missed.

“Well, did you shoot the bastard back?” He asked, bringing out the wipes to clean the bullet-free wound.

“Yeah.” And there was the silence again. You knew he wanted to ask what happened, why you had missed the shot, but the question never came.

That comfortable silence, save for a few grunts of pain on your part, lasted until after Harrison had stitched up your arm. His fingers gently traced over the pained area, “There.”

It wasn’t until he raised his head, his eyes reaching yours, that you realized just how intimately close you two were. Your lips parted as you tried to steady your breathing, feeling his hand fall to yours. His fingers lightly tapping against your own. You cleared your throat, leaning back away from him, “I should get some rest.”

“Right.” Harrison stepped back away from you and turned to clean up the rest of the medical supplies. You got off the counter and left to grab a change of clothes from your suitcase.

“Bathroom’s free.” He announced, exiting the en suite bathroom with the medical bag. You quietly excused yourself to go get changed out of your fashionable red dress.

As you looked at your arm in the mirror, you let out a small sigh. That was definitely going to scar, but maybe it’d add to the seductress mystery.

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield x y/n

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dweetwise · 3 years

Note

Pre Entity Evan gets taken by the Entity as a survivor. Ends up having the hots for David.

this is the oldest ask in my inbox and i’ve been working on it on and off for months. it’s much shorter than i’d planned but i really struggled writing evan. i hope you’ll find something you like in it nonetheless!

ship: evan x david warnings: descriptions of violence and blood word count: 2060

Survivor!Evan X David: Tooth and nail

Evan wakes up in the woods next to the estate in the middle of the night. He feels strange; not hungover like he expected after apparently blacking out, but like there's a fog surrounding his brain. Kind of like he was dreaming.

Evan usually doesn't have dreams, and he sure as hell doesn't lucid dream. This feels strangely realistic for a dream, even though most of the specifics are… off. There's remnants of destroyed structures that don't exist, and an unnatural fog surrounding the trees. Something tells him he needs to be careful, dream or not.

Evan spots movement between some rocks. He can barely make out the figure of a man, a scrawny one dressed in mining clothes and darting his eyes around as if keeping a lookout for someone.

Why is there a worker milling about the woods at night? Did he drug Evan? Is he planning to rob the estate?

The man spots him and his eyes widen before he takes off in a sprint.

“Thief! Get back here!” Evan yells, running after the scoundrel.

It’s hard to track the man in the middle of the night, darting between rocks and trees and almost causing Evan to lose him several times. Why does it feel like the thief knows Evan’s home better than him?

At least, after a merry chase ending in one of the estate’s toolsheds, the man finally seems to stop. Evan approaches from an angle he doesn’t expect and the scoundrel doesn’t spot him, pressing himself up against the shack wall to peek around a corner in the opposite direction.

Evan’s heart starts beating louder from adrenaline as he carefully approaches the lowlife, readying to tackle him to the ground—

And promptly screaming out in pain at a sharp sting in his back. Shit, looks like he walked right into a trap!

He whips around to face the perpetrator, a short man wearing a skull mask and dressed in all black, calmly wiping his bloodied knife on his sleeve after stabbing Evan.

“You’ll regret that," Evan snarls, hands balling into fists as he readies to strike—

And promptly falls on his face with a scream as his assailant’s knife slashes him in the chest.

Evan lays on the damp grass in shock, bringing a shaking hand to touch the wound, feeling a worrying amount of blood gushing out of it. How is it bleeding so heavily? Did he hit an artery? Why can’t he get back up?

His shock turns further into confusion as he feels himself being hoisted up on the scrawny man’s shoulder like he weighs nothing.

“Unhand me!” he demands, regaining some of his strength to kick and punch at the attacker carrying him away without even so much as a grunt of effort. “When my father hears about this, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

The criminal has the audacity to snort, like the humiliation of getting overpowered and carried around like a sack of potatoes by a man half his size wasn’t enough of a hit to Evan’s pride.

Before he can give the brat a piece of his mind, he’s suddenly lifted upright, yelping out a curse from the sudden vertigo—

And then screaming until it feels like his lungs are giving out, because something sharp pierces through his shoulder with a wet squelch and sickening crunch, and Evan thinks he might actually die because it burns like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

He thinks his body goes into some sort of shock, because when he comes to, he’s limply hanging from what looks to be a hook in his shoulder, like a pig left to bleed out in a slaughterhouse. The blood gushing out from the gaping wound has stained the entirety of his left side red, his shirt clinging wetly to his torso.

Evan grits his teeth against his quickening, panicked breaths, new determination coursing through him. He’s not about to die like an animal without even fighting back.

With no sign of either the criminal who stabbed him or the thief who lured him into the trap, Evan raises his arms behind him to grip the hook’s base with shaking hands. He starts lifting himself up, choking on a pained gasp as the rusty hook drags through the wound in his shoulder. Just a little more—

The blood on his hands causes his grip to slip and Evan wails as gravity makes him sink right back down on the hook, the pain feeling somehow even worse than before, irritating the raw, angry wound.

He takes a couple of shallow breaths, blinking the blurriness from his vision. He knows he doesn’t have long, the blood loss starting to hit him in full force. His entire body protests the movement as he lifts his hands back up to grab the hook—

“Oi, knock it out!”

This time, Evan’s grip slips before he can even try to dislodge himself from the crude torture stand, the surprise of hearing an unfamiliar voice enough to make him lose focus. Shit, did his assailant return to finish the job?

Instead of a masked hooligan, Evan makes out the frame of another man in working clothes, approaching him with an urgency in his step despite glaring daggers at Evan.

“Ya lookin’ ta get yerself killed with a stunt like ‘at?” the man spits, but before Evan has a chance to reply he’s reaching up and effortlessly lifting him off of the hook. Evan hisses from the sting of the rusty metal sliding through his injury, but it’s nothing compared to the elation he feels to be free from the awful contraption.

“Yer new, right?” the stranger grunts, seeming awfully hostile for someone who just saved his life, chewing on the butt of an unlit cigarette. “’M gonna patch ya up, just this once.”

Without waiting for his reply, the man pulls out a roll of bandages and starts applying them over the heavily bleeding gash in his shoulder. He’s a little rough but Evan doesn’t care, the uncomfortable treatment much preferable to dying.

There’s a million questions running through Evan’s mind. Where is his attacker? What do the criminals want? Why does the estate look different? Why was he unable to fight back against a man half his size?

“Who are you?” Evan asks instead.

His reluctant helper snorts, seeming amused by his question.

“Bleedin’ out from a meathook an’ that’s what ya ask?” the man huffs, his mustache quirking up in a half-smile. “Ya can call me King.”

‘King’? Evan almost wants to snort in amusement and disbelief. This man he’s never seen before, in common working clothes and trespassing on Evan’s family’s property, would call himself something so arrogant?

“What an unfitting name,” Evan says.

Immediately, the bandages are tightened almost painfully around his shoulder.

“Wha’ was ‘at?” the man, “King”, grits out through clenched teeth, anger laced in his words.

Maybe Evan shouldn’t pick a fight with the man who just saved his life and who is the only thing currently stopping him from bleeding out.

“Do you know where the attacker is?” Evan asks instead, barely able to swallow his pride in exchange for living to see another day.

The bandages loosen just the tiniest bit as the man gets back to work.

“Dunno,” King spits, clearly not happy with the situation but not getting up to leave him for dead, either. “E’ll be back, though. They always come back.”

“Good,” Evan says, something dark bubbling up in his chest. Revenge. “This time he’s not taking me by surprise.”

“You wot—” King exclaims in surprise, before sighing angrily. “Yer not takin’ ‘im!”

“I didn’t even get a chance to fight back before,” Evan argues. “He’s a runt, I can easily win, knife or not.”

“Mate, I’m tellin’ ya!” King argues. “Ya can’t win against none of these.”

“Then help me,” Evan challenges, looking over his shoulder at the man. He’s seen King’s type before, tense and angry but more than enough capable of holding his own in a fight. He looks to be in good shape, biceps flexing while he secures the last of the bandages around Evan’s shoulder.

“It don’t work ‘at way,” King says, anger finally giving way to something more pensive. “No matter how many o’ us, they always win.”

“Then I’m going alone,” Evan decides, breaking the eye contact to try to hide the sudden feeling of rejection.

“What the—!" King grunts in frustration. “Ya deaf or somethin’!? I just told ya—”

“Thanks for the help,” Evan interrupts, brushing off the angry concerns and getting up on his feet. “Now get the fuck off my property.”

“Like hell I’m lettin’ ya walk to yer death!” King yells, ignoring the command and coming to stand before Evan to scream right in his face. “Yer comin’ with me, end o’ story!”

“I don’t take orders,” Evan shoots right back, glaring at the man. There’s only one person on this Earth who has the ability to boss him around like a dog, and it sure as hell isn’t this obnoxious—and annoyingly attractive—loudmouth.

King lets out a sound that can only be described at unbridled rage at his uncooperativeness. The man clearly isn’t used to being challenged like this, most people probably content to cower under his demanding aura, the hostile stare and muscular arms shaking from barely contained fury not painting the most welcoming picture.

Luckily, Evan is not like most people, and the threat of a fist fight doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Fine,” King finally says and Evan fails to mask the surprise on his features.

“What?”

“I said fine,” King spits, growing annoyed again. “Just try ta in a few good punches on the wanker before ‘e kills us.”

“Try to have a little more faith in me,” Evan scoffs, offended that the man thinks he would lose two fights in a row.

It turns out, King had much more faith in Evan than he should have, because even between the two of them they barely get a punch each on Evan’s assailant before they’re both bleeding on the ground in agony and the perpetrator is still completely unscathed.

Evan’s fear of dying is partly replaced by annoyance when King just grumbles an obnoxious “told ya” while being carried to a meat hook. But it’s the man’s complete nonchalance over their impending doom, along with the muttered “see ya soon, mate” that throws Evan for a loop. Even as the rusty metal reopens the wound in his shoulder and has his screaming in agony, he can’t help but adapt some of King’s indifferent attitude, not fighting it when his vision fades to black

Eventually, the darkness gives way to light, as the dim orange glow of a fire emerges in Evan’s field of view. He’s never believed in the afterlife, but something is telling him to approach the light and his feet carry him forward unconsciously.

As he gets closer, he sees there’s people at the fire; men and women, young and old, dressed in clothing Evan has never seen before. Some are laughing and others are arguing, Evan not knowing whether he should make his presence known or not, standing in the shadows.

And then he sees the thief from the estate who lured him into the trap.

“You got scared of a survivor?” one of the women is laughing.

“I didn’t say that!” the thief protests.

“Now now, he could have been like… a really scary survivor!” a boy grins.

“G-guys…” a young woman’s eyes meet Evans, approaching the perimeter of the campfire, glaring daggers at the group.

“Holy shit! He’s huge!” someone gasps.

“See? You would’ve ran too!” the thief argues, pointing a finger at Evan.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy breaking that finger to teach the bastard a lesson—

“Oi!”

A voice Evan recognizes carries through the small campsite, snapping him out of his plot for vengeance. King is strolling up to join the commotion, ignoring the hesitant eyes from the rest of the group flitting between him and Evan.

“Glad’ta see ya back, newbie,” King says, offering Evan a smug smirk, before gesturing to the rest of the small campsite. “Welcome to hell.”

“It’s Evan,” Evan corrects, not dignifying the rest of his claims with a response. His day just keeps getting stranger by the minute, but at least there’s a familiar face proving he’s not among the enemy.

King extends a hand toward him, the smirk never leaving his face.

“David.”

#dbd fanfic #evan macmillan #david king #dbd trapper #kingmillan #that's a ship name now #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #request #blood tw #violence cw

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 years

Text

Sucker for Pain ( Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has demons, some louder than others and some, like yourself, who use blades to silence them. Before the world died, you were an assassin and thought you were better off alone, until you kept running into the same blue eyed archer who changed your mind.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Assassin!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm and physical and sexual assault

A/N- This is honestly the darkest fic I have ever written as you can probably tell with the trigger warning. Self harm and cutting is a fairly big part of this fic for the reader, so please if this triggers you then don’t read it. Take care of yourself first, but I promise there are sweet fluffy moments in this fic too.

Chapter 1-

It was just meant to be a simple supply run into town, but of course things were never that easy. When have they ever been that easy for a Dixon? His whole life had just been a streak of bad luck and nothing had changed since the world fell apart.

"Daryl!" Glenn shouted, above the loud groans of the walkers surrounding them and he quickly spun around just in time to slam the end of his crossbow against the walker behind him. He ran out of bolts for his crossbow like 20 walkers ago, but they just kept coming.

"Down here!" Glenn yelled pointing down an alleyway in the town and they both quickly ducked down the alley between two buildings as the herd of walkers followed them.

"Shit." Daryl muttered as another group of walkers came out from the other end of the alley, cutting them off completely.

They both quickly turned around, hoping they could get out through the way they came in, but the other herd had already staggered into the alleyway and they were surrounded. The two of them were stuck in a small alleyway with walkers blocking their only exits and they had run out of ammo. They were fucked.

Daryl glanced back towards Glenn who was already staring at him in pure panic, clearly coming to same conclusion as him. There was no point trying to lie to the guy and say that he'll think of a way out, because there was no way out. So, he just nodded towards the walkers and Glenn seemed to understand what he was thinking as they both stood back to back with their knifes out. No way were they going down without a fight.

Before either of them had a chance to take down the first walker a sudden gunshot echoed through the air and the walker a few metres in front of Daryl dropped to the ground with a bullet hole through it's eye.

"Thought ya said ya were out of bullets?" Daryl questioned, glancing over at Glenn only to realise the man was holding his knife and not a gun.

"That wasn't me, it was the person on the roof over there." Glenn responded pointing towards a tall brick building in the distance where he could just spot the outline of a person lying on the edge of the roof top with a sniper rifle. The person continued firing the sniper taking down the walkers around them causing Glenn to turn back towards him in confusion.

"Is the sniper helping us?" He questioned in disbelief, but Daryl just stared at the person for a few seconds before looking back towards the walkers realising the person was trying to clear a path for them to escape.

"Seems like it, c'mon." Daryl responded, grabbing Glenn's arm as he pulled the man with him down the alleyway. They took down a few walkers with their knives as they ran, but the sniper had taken most of them down before they even got the chance. Within a few seconds the two of them were out the alleyway and running down the street towards their car.

They could still hear the loud echoing shots of the persons sniper in the distance before they quickly got into the car. Daryl climbed into the drivers side as Glenn practically jumped into the passenger side, slamming the door shut before the walkers could get them as Daryl started the engine and sped off.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as they caught their breath and tried to process everything that had just happened. They both thought they were going to die and then this sniper comes out of nowhere and helps them escape... that's never happened before.

"Where did that sniper come from? Why would they help us?" Glenn questioned once they were a few miles out of town and began heading back to the prison, but Daryl just shrugged his shoulders because he had no idea. He thought the town was abandon, but apparently walkers weren't the only things in the town.

"Did you ever see those news reports or articles in the paper about that Shadow Assassin? That woman with a sniper who assassinated all those people? I think it was like 50 people she killed, well that the cops knew about. Everyone either admired her for what she did or hated her for it. She was a murderer, but everyone she killed were bad people. She was like Americas very own vigilante." Glenn explained, his tone sounding almost excited as he spoke.

"Why ya tellin' me all this?" Daryl asked, glancing over at the man beside him before focusing back on the road. Of course he had heard of the Shadow Assassin before, he might have lived in a shit-hole, but he still heard the news. Merle hated the assassin, saying that she was just trying to copy an older assassin who had been around before his time. Apparently, they had the same style, taking out only bad people with a bullet through their eye from a sniper, but the original assassin was a man and he suddenly disappeared one day and had never been seen again.

When this new assassin got on the cops radar 20 years later everyone thought that he had come back, but someone got a photo of the man, but it wasn't a man, it was a woman. She was dressed in black, a hoodie and bandanna covering her face like the original assassin, even had the same model sniper. Merle had been pissed when he found out, but Daryl knew he was just annoyed that it was a woman doing all of this because she was more badass than him and it hurt his ego.

"What if that sniper was her? You saw how the bullets hit the walkers in the eyes, just like how she did." Glenn responded, but Daryl shook his head. The Shadow Assassin was dead, she died in a car crash trying to get away from the cops a few months before the dead started to rise. But, for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it was her. Glenn was right about the bullets through the eyes and not many people could shoot that accurately from that distance. It could be her, but he didn't want to tell Glenn that because the guy couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it and he didn't want Rick worrying about it.

"Nah, was just a coincidence. The Shadow Assassin died before all this, why'd ya know so much 'bout her?" He asked curiously, keeping his attention on the road. He didn't know anyone who liked the Assassin, although that was probably because he lived in a town full of drunks and criminals who probably feared she might show up and kill them. But he knew some people liked her, liked how she was killing rapists and paedophiles whereas the cops just put them in jail for five years and they usually got out on good behaviour or something stupid which was just bullshit. Most people either loved or hated the assassin, but he didn't really care unless she was actually still alive and decided she wanted to start killing more than just bad guys, but he doubted she would.

"My cousin was obsessed with her, every family gathering he'd tell me all the latest news and gossip about the assassin. He had so many theories for years about who the assassin was, but she died in that car explosion before the cops could ID her." Glenn explained, with a small smile on his face no doubt thinking back to the days with his cousin and Daryl nodded.

Glenn continued to talk about the assassin the entire drive back to the prison, but Daryl suspected that the man was just rambling because he was still in shock with how close they came to being walker food. If that sniper hadn't been there and decided to help them then they would have been goners.

Rick and the others were all sitting around a few of the picnic tables in the main room beside the cell block eating some kind of stew that Carol no doubt cooked up. Him and Glenn immediately sat down with them, eating their own bowls while Glenn explained why the supply run was a bust.

"There's a sniper out there? If that person finds this place they could easily kill us from the woods the second we step outside." Rick responded, looking between the two of them as he ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Nah, she ain't gonna hurt us." Daryl said, speaking up for the first time since they got back as he placed his spoon in his now empty bowl and looked over at Rick.

"She? The person was so far away, how could you tell?" Glenn asked curiously from the seat beside him.

"Reckon it was the same woman with a sniper who helped Maggie 'n I back when we went on that first run for baby formula just after everything happened." Daryl explained, glancing over Maggie causing her eyes to go wide in surprise.

They got swarmed by walkers and a woman with Y/H/L Y/H/C hair and a sniper showed up out of nowhere and saved them. They had tried to ask if she wanted to come back with them, but for some reason the woman said that she was better off alone and disappeared off into the woods. He hadn't seen her since, but he was pretty sure the sniper who was helping them today was her.

"What? You didn't tell me that." Rick responded in confusion, but Maggie answered before he could even figure out how to word a response.

"You weren't exactly in the right state of mind that day, we didn't think you needed to worry about it. That woman saved us from walkers and overheard us talking about needing baby formula. She told us about a daycare centre in the next town over that was stacked full of supplies. If it wasn't for her, Judith probably wouldn't be here." Maggie explained and Daryl nodded in agreement.

"Alright, but what if she has a group? Would they try to take this place?" Rick asked worriedly, but Daryl shook his head. He understood why Rick was being cautious about this, he was too when he first saw her, but there was just something about her that made him trust her and he had no idea why.

"Nah, reckon she's alone. If she wanted to kill us she would've done it already, she ain't no threat." He reassured and Rick nodded, although he still seemed a bit sceptical about the woman and he'd hate to see how Rick would react if he knew about Daryl's suspicions that she was actually that assassin, but he'll keep that information to himself for now.

You had been on your own long before the dead started to rise, but unlike most people, you were actually relived when it happened. For you it seemed like the world was giving you a second chance, a chance to help people and do something good because before it all started, you weren't a good person.

You had spent most of your life killing people, granted none of them were innocent, they were rapists, drug dealers, murders, child abusers, and the list goes on. They were all bad people, but that didn't make killing them okay, well that's what the cops always said anyway.

Your father used to be an assassin, but once you were born he stopped. You never wanted the life your father had, you hated the idea of killing a person and he never talked about the stuff he used to do because he knew you didn't like it. But he did teach you how to fight, how to shoot and how to look after yourself. You never understood why you needed to learn that stuff, but once your parents died you were glad he taught you everything.

The day your world ended wasn't when the dead came back to life, it was the day you watched your parents get murdered. You were only 12 years old when your mother stuffed you inside a closet and told you stay inside and stay quiet no matter what. You could see everything through the small gap between the doors and watched helplessly as masked men stormed into the room and slaughtered your parents before your very eyes.

After that day everything changed. You found your fathers old gear from back in the day, the black hooded jumper, the black bandanna, his ammunition belt that was just full of high calibre sniper bullets his black backpack, his Barrett M95 bolt-action sniper rifle that he taught you how to use and his small black note book that you knew was his hit-list. It had four whole pages full of names, most of them crossed out, but a few weren't and you knew it was highly likely that the men who killed your parents had to be on the list and that was how it started.

You lived in the cabin by yourself for the next few years as you trained to become better. Better at shooting, better at hand to hand combat, better in every way because once you were older you were going to finish what your father started and kill the people remaining on his list.

It took years, but you eventually did it. You managed to track down every last man on the list and finish them, wearing your fathers old gear that you had altered to fit your body shape. But, after you finished the list you didn't know what to do, until you came across a man raping a young girl in the back of an alley and you killed him. After that you began to hunt out other bad people and did what the cops couldn't.

Nobody knew who you were, everyone thought you were your father for the first few years until one sneaky news photographer managed to get a blurry photo of you which shook the country because you could clearly tell you were a woman and not a man by your body shape.

The cops could never catch you, you were gone before they even knew you had taken another life, they didn't even know your name because technically Y/N Y/L/N didn't exist. You never had a public record, you never went to school because you were home schooled by your mother, you never had a drivers licence, hell, you didn't even have a gun license. All you had were a bunch of fake ID's to keep any cops happy if they happen to pull you over for speeding or something.

However, years later the police started getting smarter and you knew it was only a matter of time before you were caught. So, you put a plan into motion and faked your own death and to your shock it actually worked. You ended up back at your families old cabin and then a few months later the dead started to rise and your world ended for the second time, except this time you were happy that it did. The world gave you a second chance.

You tried to help any survivors you came across which is what you did today when two idiots came into town and unleashed a herd of walkers upon themselves when the Asian man opened a car door and set it's alarm off. You were camping on the roof of a double story building and watched the entire thing unfold. It was as quite entertaining since they were the first people you had seen for weeks, but then you recognised the familiar angel winged vest on the other man.

You had met that man before, months ago. He was with a woman and they were looking for baby food or formula or something and got attacked by walkers before you stepped in and helped them. They had offered you to join their group, but you refused. You weren't good with groups, you were better on your own, had been for most your life so you didn't mind. But, you appreciated their offer and a few weeks later you came across a prison and while you were checking it out through the scope of your sniper you saw that same man with the angel wings walking around with a bunch of other people and you knew that was the group they were talking about.

You watched them for a while before disappearing back into the woods and kept your distance from the place, you didn't want to scare the people or make them think that you were a threat to them. They were safe and happy in their little community and you were fine out on your own.

You watched as the two men got themselves trapped in an alleyway between two buildings, so you grabbed your sniper and laid down on the edge of the building and began taking down the walkers to clear a path for the men. The two of them stood there frozen for a few seconds when you began to shoot, but to your relief they quickly snapped into action and managed to get out of there and into their car before they sped off and you figured they were going back to that prison community.

"That was a close one." You commented to yourself, watching the car disappear out the town as you sat back up and screwed the silencer back on the end of the barrel. Usually you'd leave the silencer on, but you figured with the loud gunshots it might distract the walkers from the two men.

Once you reconnected the silencer you rested your sniper on the side of the roof beside you as you moved into a sitting position, letting your legs dangle off the edge of the roof while you watched the walkers stagger mindlessly around the streets of the small town below you.

You sat there for a while scanning the abandon town as the sun slowly began to set along the horizon. Your hand absently rubbed against the scars and cuts over your left wrist from under the sleeve of your jacket.

Carefully you pulled up the sleeve of your hunting camo jacket exposing the cuts along your wrist. Some were fresh, others had mostly healed while the others were just white and pink scars scattered over your wrist and lower arm. You weren't sure when you had started using self-harm to deal with your issues, it was probably around the time your parents died. You weren't exactly sure how you even thought of the idea to begin with, but it helped.

Whether it was cutting with a knife, burning with a cigarette lighter or anything else that could cause pain, it somehow helped. If someone asked you to explain it you wouldn't be able to, but it just helped, because for those few minutes the only thing your mind is focused on is the pain. The only thing your mind can comprehend is the pain and suddenly everything else around you, everything bad going on in your life just disappears.

For most people physical pain was bad and they tried to avoid it at all cost, but you knew something was wrong when you practically welcomed the pain. When you wished for the blade of your knife to slice your skin, not enough to bleed heavily, but enough for you to feel it for the next few days, enough for you to feel something other than emotional pain and guilt for everything you had done in the old world because that is all you could feel these days and you were sick of it.

You were bad person, you killed people and it didn't matter that they were criminals, you still killed people and you deserved the pain you were giving yourself. At least this way you could control what you felt, you could control the pain and that was enough.

You stared at the cuts and scars over your inner arm before you pulled your Bowie knife out that was strapped to your belt as you pressed the edge of the blade against your skin, drawing a thin line of blood and watched the crimson blood slowly trickle down your wrist and off the edge of the roof, hitting the ground below you.

NEXT CHAPTER

A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon Tag List, if you want to be added to the list, just comment below.

Well, that’s the first chapter and it’s mainly just setting up the story and getting you used to the characters so please bare with me because i promise it will get more interesting. Anyway, I have never written something like this before, so i hope you guys enjoy it, i would love to hear your thoughts below.

Until next time, stay safe everyone especially with everything going on in the world at the moment, be careful and look after yourselves xx

#Daryl Dixon #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #twd #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #Norman Reedus

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