#England is obviously buttercup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.

It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off.

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded.

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.

“I’m sorry about your family, man.”

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!

239 notes · View notes

sweetfirebird · 2 years

Text

tw for racism and homophobia and ignorance

Glad I no longer work with nerd coworker guy, who was constantly explaining to me how English comedy is about "being able to say anything" and so Ricky Gervais is funny, and how he personally is not sexist but new Ghostbusters/Who were bad for unrelated reasons and how putting POC actors into roles traditionally white or thought of as white was an insult to them despite how I didn't ask about any of this and also had made it more than clear several times that I was for all the things mentioned--except for Gervais, that guy sucks. Now I don't have to listen to him try to rationalize Jimmy Carr or the new LOTR stuff* or the Wheel of Time or whatever.

*the books do in fact have brown people in them, and yeah Tolkien did not write them in the best way possible, at all, but they are there. So that argument against them is wrong in that respect, but even if they weren't, like, all the white supremacists crying about Black hands on a Tolkien poster are pathetic.

Me, when Gervais or whoever came up again: Maybe white English men are not the people who should be telling the rest of the world how to feel and what is or is not allowed to be funny considering, you know, the whole history of England...?

Him: People should be allowed to joke about whatever they want!

Me: No one is stopping them? We just don't think they are funny or even especially edgy.

Him: Both sides always go too far

Me: wtf both sides???

Anyway. I am sure the roots of this were always there with coworker, but as his personal life fell apart, and he got older and poorer and hated his job more, it sure was interesting how the outrage over this shit started to become more obvious. Like this was also being "taken" from him.

He complained about Aquaman SO MUCH. Like Jason Momoa becoming Aquaman wasn't the most interesting thing they could do with that.

omg just also remembered, before I had ever watched the Witcher, I mentioned how the video game had Jaskier as a romantic option or whatever, and guessed that any American-made series would not do that and you could tell by them never calling Jaskier Buttercup or whatever his name means, Dandelion? And he got all bent out of shape about how UK TV is better because it just has gay characters and how America always has to make a big deal out of someone being gay, and also stop making people realize later in life that they're gay!! And I was like O_O the fuck that isn't what I was talking about???

Also him, later, about a regular customer: "why does he feel the need to hide it. we all know he's gay, it's not a big deal."

........

He really got worse about it as his life turned to shit. Which is not an excuse, just something I noticed. All those things suddenly became very threatening to him. Or more obviously so, I suppose.

#glad i am not there anymore #between him with this and always having a personal disaster happening #and the liar know it all lazy girl #and the manager who could not manage #and then covid i was so fucking done

8 notes · View notes

writingandmore · 4 years

Note

Ok! I watched the Princess Bride a little while ago and suddenly realized how hilariously well England would do in the role of Westley. Assuming Buttercup is played by like a (Y/N) or even an OC, who else could we cast in these roles? France would be Humperdink obviously, and I kinda think Russia would make a good Fessik. Who would play Vicini and Inigo tho? And Count Rugen for that matter? Any ideas? (I've been thinking about this too much and needed to get it off my chest lol)

Okay I thought about this for a while and I *think* the characters that best suit these roles are as follows:

Vicini: Romano???? I can’t think of anyone that tries to be cunning and also could be an antagonist besides him. Also I think it would be funny imagining him in that role.

Inigo: I can’t see him as anyone but Antonio (APH Spain)? I think that fits fairly well personally since they are both courageous and just generally have a similar vibe.

Count Rugen: Hm. Are any of them evil enough for this?? I *guess* I could see him being played by Ludwig (APH Germany) if I had to pick someone, just because of his serious nature.

#Anonymous #hetalia

5 notes · View notes

crvelsovls · 4 years

Text

—

ophelia tate has been walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the thirty-one year old hunter. she is aware of the supernatural residents in town. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the librarian can be vehement yet still be reticent. let’s just hope things in town can settle down. + delicate fingers adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across peach-tinted lips and a slender form shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue.

s’up buttercups ?? ‘tis me again, here with my second gal ; ophelia. she’s my clever lil huntress who’s loosely based on various past muses of mine. she’s a lot more... innocent that delphine but she’s still quite fiery and sarcastic dkjsdsh anyways, i’ll save you all from my pointless babbles but as usual, pls flick that lil grey heart n i’ll shimmy my irish butt into your ims for plots !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. ophelia penelope tate.

nicknames. o, phe, & effie.

current age. thirty-one.

birthday. january thirty-first.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. human.

nationality. british.

religion. raised a catholic but no longer practices.

birthplace. london, england.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. english literature degree.

occupation. librarian at hazelgrove public library.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. natalie tate. †

birth father. alexander tate. †

full blood siblings. astrid tate. †

maternal grandmother. katherine reynolds.

maternal grandfather. marcus reynolds. †

paternal grandmother. anika tate.

paternal grandfather. edward tate. †

maternal aunts. odette reynolds.

maternal uncles. none.

paternal aunts. sophia tate.

paternal uncles. duncan tate. †

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, french, & latin.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, & caustic.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, & poised.

strengths. etiquette, bold, rational, practical, original, perceptive, direct, & sociable.

weaknesses. dramatic, impulsive, quick-tempered, insensitive, impatient, risk-prone, unstructured, misses the bigger picture, & defiant.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, hand-to-hand combat, perception, persuasiveness, good judgment, & able to use initiative.

talents. retaining information, memory recall, knife throwing, & quick thinking.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. blue.

hair colour. blonde.

height. five feet, four inches.

weight. 52 kg.

build. she is of quite a petite stature, and slender with mild curves.

scars. a long, silvery one running along half her spine.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. yes, but usually wears contacts.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. estp-t.

alignment. neutral good.

enneagram. type seven.

temperament. sanguine

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, & suicidal tendencies.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. nicotine.

vices. wrath, envy, & pride.

virtues. temperance, charity, & diligence.

allergies. penicillin.

diet. vegetarian.

dominant hand. left.

accent. mostly english with a mild twang of notable american.

blood type. b negative.

vehicle. bottle green 2015 volkswagen beetle.

BACKGROUND.

trigger(s). mention of exorcism, mentions of murder, & mentions of death.

born and raised in london, the tate family seemed picture-perfect. though, underneath, the story was very different from how it seemed. while ophelia and her younger sister were showered with love and affection, their parents remained mostly absent albeit for fleeting moments in time. it wasn’t until ophelia grew older that she became more curious about what led her parents astray for weeks at a time. under the illusion that her parents were simply important figures, perhaps lawyers or detectives, a childish ophelia had never considered that their lives had been tainted by a much more corrupt presence.

eventually, it transpired that her parents were hunters. more specifically, people who hunted down supernatural creatures and put an end to their existence. or, tried, at least. how ophelia stumbled across this fact was by pure chance. her grandfather had been visiting and she had walked into the basement where she witnessed her father and his father attempting to exorcise what she then described as a ‘man with black eyes.’ nowadays, she’d refer to said man and his kind as demonic bastards.

of course, with their sights elsewhere, the demon managed to free himself only to murder her father and grandfather in the process. if it hadn’t been for her mother, ophelia would have ceased to exist that night also. it was that night that her mother shipped them off to live with their aunt for a while but eventually, after a week or so, her mother returned.

seemingly, everything had been fine until one night when their home was attacked by a pair of vampires. these vampires having been survivors of their mothers attack on their nest, thus they tailed her and laid low until the most opportune moment where they attacked. how ophelia managed to escape that night was anybody’s guess. though the rest of the household hadn’t been so lucky.

having lost her parents, sister and aunt to supernatural creatures, ophelia grew up with a deep rooted hatred for every creature of the night. it had taken her many years to learn of each creature, their weaknesses, strengths and, most importantly, how to kill them. but once she had mastered the art, she set out on a mission to hunt like her parents before her. admittedly, in the beginning, she’d had some near misses, brushing with death many times. but with more hunts under her belt, the better she became.

eventually, ophelia decided to leave london behind in search of the states where she was certain there would be ample supernatural beings endangering the lives of innocents. she moved around for a few years until she settled in hazelgrove where she soon learned that the town harboured an abundance of things that went bump in the night. it was this fact alone that she opted for staying put where she also works as a librarian; constantly researching and reading up on various creatures.

becoming a hunter hadn’t been something that had ever crossed her mind until she’d lost everything. in fact, it had been a path that she should have never stumbled across if it hadn’t been for her witnessing the demon that night. still, nevertheless, it was the road she’d travelled down now and with resentment deep in her bones, there would be no stopping her.

PERSONALITY.

to all who encounter her, ophelia can appear on the surface an extremely reckless and careless woman with a huge tendency to adopt a sardonic tongue during almost all occasions. given her demeanour and attitude, it would be fair to assess that all the blonde is, is a satirical mouthpiece with a permanent simper corroded into the corner of her lips. despite this all, the shell of ophelia does contain much more substance. regardless of her blasé attitude, a passionate, whimsical girl remains deep within the high walls of her persona. it’s almost safe to say that the facade she paints over herself every day is nothing more than a basic ruse; a temporary fixture to aid in slowly but permanently fixing the broken fractions of her mind. it goes without saying that ophelia is constantly shrouded in mystery, concealing her true emotions and feigning any feelings whatsoever. although a sensitive, vulnerable aspect of her persona remains, it seldom prevails against her impulsive, sarcastic, intelligent nature. the problem with being clever is already knowing the things others try so desperately to hide from you. ophelia knows how others view her, she sees how they look at her. everybody assumes she’s too difficult to reason with and believe she’s even tougher to understand. it is this that enables ophelia to flirt with danger, use her words as a weapon and also a bargaining chip. it is this that gives ophelia an overwhelming sense of adrenaline, swimming through her veins and fuelling the fire that lies within the pit of her stomach.

QUICK FACTS.

can drink any man under the table.

smol but fierce.

one of those people who just excels at everything they try their hand at.

has a very high pain tolerance. seriously, it’s kinda freaky.

the only thing she’s truly terrified of is spiders. those eight-legged cretins have her shaking like a leaf.

absolutely adores animals. much prefers them to humans.

was raised a catholic and went to an all-girls catholic school but she no longer practices.

doesn’t drink much as she doesn’t like to be out of control even in the slightest.

she quite likes being a hunter and she does the job very well. attention to detail is key when she’s working.

is a very reckless driver, it’s a surprise she hasn’t been in an accident yet.

looks innocent but really isn’t in every sense of the word.

she’s that bitch that loves reading and has a thing for poetry.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her blood.

doesn’t take herself or her life too seriously.

a bit meddlesome and a troublemaker.

always up for a good time and is usually the life of the party.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to just about anything so feel free to hmu for connections or any plots you can think of !! some i’d really love are :

best friend ( pls give my girl a bff she can tell everything to and can party with and just do best pal stuff with like platonic soul mates pls. )

childhood friend ( they maybe drifted apart ? )

an on off relationship ( pretty much like a fwb type situation or casual hookup situation that could develop into feelings or just remain casual. )

a potential love interest ( bonus points if it’s angsty. )

exes / past flings / one night stands.

enemies and rivals.

drinking / party buddies.

and obviously connections with fellow hunters and the supernatural oOoOoOo.

#mystichq:intro #exorcism /#murder /#death /#hmu for those plots yo!

4 notes · View notes

lutes-and-dandelions · 4 years

Text

RULES: answer 20 questions (+6) and then tag 20 people you wanna know better! << I WANNA KNOW YOU GUYS

Thank you so much to the lovely @the-winter-witcher for tagging me, soz it took so long to actually get round to doing it, haha

1. NAME: Emily

2. NICKNAME(S): Em and Emz are the main two tbh

3. ZODIAC: Scorpio, very obviously so, lol

4. HEIGHT: 5’7, 168cm

5. LANGUAGES: English

6. NATIONALITY: English

7. FAVORITE SEASON: Spring!

8. FAVORITE FLOWER: Anything pink and forget-me-nots

9. FAVORITE SCENT: Rose, and I have a very tasty smelling Wild Fig candle

10. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Squirrels

11: FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER: wa boi Jaskier

12: COFFEE, TEA or HOT COCOA: All of them

13: AVERAGE AMOUNT OF SLEEP: 7-9 hours

14. FAVORITE COLOR: PINK!

15: DOG OR CAT PERSON?: Both

16: NUMBER OF BLANKETS: A duvet and a big blanket

17: DREAM TRIP: New Orleans!!!

18: BLOG ESTABLISHED: It’s like nine years old

19: FOLLOWER COUNT: 1,027!!! WTF!!!!!

20: RANDOM FACT ABOUT ME: I’ve got a fuck tonne of tattoos and I want a fuck tonne more

Extra 6;

21: GENDER: Female

22: SEXUALITY: Bi of Sexual

23: HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin, it goes hand in hand with my Scorpio-ness tbh

24: WHERE ARE YOU FROM?: England

25: WHY DID YOU START THIS BLOG?: If I’m remembering correctly, as it was almost ten years a go, I’m pretty sure irl forever bestie @dearsophieee made one first and then introduced me to this wonderful hell site, I’ve never left.

26: MOST RECENTLY PLAYED ALBUM: I literally listen to The Horror and The Wild like twice a day at the moment.

Tagging the delightful @suck-too-hard-on-your-jaskier @songaboutpirates @yappingjaskier @buttercup-bard @buttercuppedwitchers @weakforjaskier and just anyone else who fancies doing this set yourself away <3

#things about me

8 notes · View notes

0poole · 5 years

Text

First Impressions of Gen 8 so far

People care about my opinions, right? Either way, here I am shouting them out to the world anyway.

The Region: Galar

This one’s relatively special for me, because the half of my family on my dad’s side is all British, and we always take a trip over to visit his family every other year (since we’ve lived in Florida basically all my life), so I hope to see a lot of familiar sights in this region. Obviously Big Ben and all that, but the town most of his family lives in is super tiny and cute, I hope the starting towns are going to be very similar to that. There’s even this little walk to a cavern very close to there that we always go to, so it would be super cool if something like that were in the games (although, they’d have to omit all the swearing and swastikas that were spray painted onto there)

Apart from that, obviously people are worried about these games being super linear because the region just looks that way, but honestly... if you’ve been playing Pokemon at all, you know that the shape of the region doesn’t make it linear. It will probably always be linear, and personally I’m okay with that. I remember playing through Firered, and getting annoyed at either not knowing where to go and having to look it up, or doing things slightly out of order, meaning my Pokemon would be either over or underleveled for the thing I had to do. I do sometimes just want to coast along, training and battling Pokemon. Maybe they’ll make an open world spinoff one day, but as it stands I can enjoy the usual formula.

Speaking of usual, Gyms are back! I did enjoy Trials, but I think Gyms can scratch the same itch with just a little bit of tweaking. That is, maybe the Leaders can all be a two-on-one battle, so they can more intricate strategies. Also, maybe the Gyms themselves can involve subsequent battles, so you can’t just knock out one trainer, heal, and easily knock out the next one. I mean, here I am just trying to adhere to what other people probably want. Honestly, I’m okay with how it was, and wouldn’t be mad at it staying that way. It was slightly more engaging when the Totem Pokemon had a more special strategy, such as the Chlorophyll Lurantis with Solar Blade and a Sunny Day Castform. THAT was one hell of a challenge. Of course, the Trials themselves were all total cakewalks, but the challenge with the Totem fights sort of balanced that out.

As for the graphics, they look amazing. The only thing I’m a little iffy about it all is that they’re using the same models over again, but I think they’ll have different animations, because of the Minccino in the trailer? Honestly I don’t know, because I’ve pretty much never seen a Minccino in action in model form. I just hope Pokemon like Xatu, Salamence, and others finally stand on the floor now instead of constantly flying all the time. If that alone is solved, I will be completely fine with it. They just don’t look like they should be doing that... Overall, though, the way they’re lighting and shading them all at least will make it seem different enough where I won’t care too much.

The female protag is a total cutie, as you’d expect, so that’s great. I love how much p̶o̶r̶n̶ fanart there is of her already. I’m also loving all the memes of her having an over-the-top British/Scottish accent, and shouting super British insults at the Lass she fought in the trailer...

The Starters:

I feel like they’re going to grow on me, because the initial reaction to the Alolan starters was a bit iffy at first, but once I started to see them in action, I started to like them. Obviously these Pokemon are so big that you just hope they’re going to fit with everything. Also, I definitely think part of it is me worrying that other people won’t like them, as opposed to just thinking about whether I like them. I definitely have a problem with that, especially when it comes to Pokemon. I do like them all, but I don’t feel it on the surface just because of all that...

Scorbunny:

Not really into the name, but I am 100% going to pick him. I’ll probably just nickname him Flambino, or Orville (after my rabbit toon in Toontown~). I was initially a bit put off by his giant, cartoony rabbit feet, but as I saw more and more fanart of him, I seriously started to love every part of him. The little patches/bandaids on him were a really nice touch.

As for what he may turn into, my hopes are for him to turn into some kind of Soccer (or Football, since this is England) player. The clues are there, since he’s a fast runner and there’s a lot of exaggeration on his feet. But, there is that one leak where he may turn into some kind of rocket rabbit? The idea is pretty cool, but the thing looks a little too much like Lopunny in my opinion to be reliably real... I love Lopunny to death, mind you, but I would rather have a rabbit with a slightly different look to it. It matches up with the idea that the way they’re introduced in the trailer hints at what types they’ll be, since Scorbunny was running up a steel watermill(?) and jumped really high, referencing how it’d become an airborne steel type. I’m really only considering this leak because of the leak of Incineroar, Primarina, and Decidueye last gen. That really caught me off guard, and the artstyle of Rabbirocket (name pending) really does seem to match the concept art artstyle...

It’s funny, though, because I’ve always favored either the water type or to a lesser extent the grass type of a generation, but this is the first time where the fire type is my first choice. I guess we’ll just have to wait to see what they turn into, though, before I decide for sure.

Grookey:

Honestly, I think Grookey has the most potential of the three. He seems reminiscent of Braixen, since he has a little stick as a weapon/tool, and people really seem divided on what he’ll turn into. On one hand, people think he might turn into a drummer whose music makes plants grow, since that’s essentially how he did it in the trailer. But, he might also be like a witchdoctor, and has plant-growing magic. The last idea plays into the idea that the starters are based off of sports, like where Scorbunny is Football, making Grookey either Baseball, Hockey, or Cricket. I don’t know what sport Sobble would be, but chances are it’ll become more clear as they evolve. The last interesting idea is that he’ll represent the evolution of the human race, starting with an ape, turning into some sort of Neanderthal/Caveman, and then into a normal human. Either way, the trailer suggests he’ll turn into a rock type. Really, He’s my second choice for sure.

Sobble:

Currently in last place, but obviously that can change in time. I’m just not as into his proportions as much, but obviously they’ll change as he evolves. It would be cool to have a true iguana Pokemon, since Keckleon is a little off of the norm. He definitely seems like he’s going to turn into a ghost type, since he can turn invisible, and it plays into the idea that he’s shy (ala. the Boos from Mario)

One really funny thing that people noticed about the starters is how they’re sort of similar in some design aspects to the Powerpuff girls, with Scorbunny’s ears looking like Blossom’s bow, Grookey’s ears (horns?) looking like Buttercup’s hair, and the pattern on Sobble’s face looking like Bubbles’ hair. I wouldn’t have instantly dismissed it if the colors didn’t also match up. Whether or not it’s true, it is a funny coincidence.

#pokemon #gen 8 #sword #shield #galar #scorbunny #sobble #grookey #poole #opinions #thoughts #first impression

5 notes · View notes