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prince-septimus · 3 years

Text

the run-in

pairing : jason todd x detective!reader

summary : 3 times you run into the red hood, and the one time it’s jason todd

word count : 1.8k

warnings : mention of blood & violence

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?”

You spin around quickly, your gun pointed at the chest of a man you had never met but had heard all too much about.

The Red Hood.

“Sounds more like something the Commissioner would tell me,” you speak calmly, but don’t move the gun away.

There are bodies lying around you – some brought down by your own hand and the others brought down by his. Groans of pain fill the air, but you know some of the men are dead.

“Commissioner Gordon—” his voice is mechanical, any real traces of what he sounds like hidden by the mask he wears, “—how is he doing these days?”

Your gaze turns into a glare. “He’s fine. Would you like me to call him up? I bet he’d love to talk to you.”

Under the dim streetlights of Gotham, the Red Hood is a startling figure. He’s almost terrifying as he stands in front of you, but in a city full of heroes and villains alike, you don’t let his imposing structure intimidate you.

“I’ve actually got places to be,” he quips, before turning his attention to one of the men lying on the ground.

They were all members of a local drug ring you had recently been trying to bust. You know the names of a few, recognized them from photos you had found, but now they were just bodies to fill the jail cells, or for some, the morgue. You had been on a stakeout, trying to find some last bits of evidence you would need to finally make the bust, but you were ambushed.

The Red Hood had appeared out of nowhere.

He kicks at the body closest to him. There’s no groan of pain. Letting out a huff of air, it’s almost masked by the static of his mask. “Looks like you have a lot of paperwork to do.”

“No thanks to you.”

His head turns. You briefly wonder what he looks like under that mask, wonder what he sounds like.

“I’ll make sure to leave a few for you next time.”

You can practically hear the smile hidden away underneath the false voice he carries with him. Finally, you drop your gun. “I’ll let the Commissioner know you say ‘hello’.”

“It’s not like you to sit up on roofs. That’s more of my kind of thing.”

You sigh, bringing your camera away from your face to look at the man who’s saddled up next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“What? Can’t stop by to see how my favorite detective is doing?”

“You hate the police,” you reply flatly.

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen the Red Hood. He had popped up occasionally, always when you were working alone. You figured he had found some sort of trust in you, helping you out on the occasional case by offering information if you turned a blind eye to his criminal activities. You had a sort of trust in him too, you had decided, trusting him to never lead you on a wrong turn when it came to the leads he gave you.

You still bickered with him, though, almost treating him like an old friend rather than a deadly vigilante.

“I only hate the police that don’t do their job.” He leans against the concrete barrier surrounding the roof, the one you had been hiding behind as you spied on the gangsters in the window across the street. “That doesn’t include you.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be here if it did.” You scroll through the photos you had taken so far on your camera, making sure you have what you need before turning to the man standing next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“Heard your name from some of the men you’ve been scouting.” He nods toward the building. “I think you need to be a little more careful.”

“Isn’t that what I keep you around for?”

This is one of the moments where you wish you could see the face beneath the mask. You want to be able to read him, be able to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Instead, you’re forced to look at the masked man in front of you and be completely unaware as to who sits beneath it all.

“Just be careful. Keep someone with you when you’re out here doing these kinds of things.”

You shake your head, turning to bend down and grab your equipment from where it’s spread out on the roof. “I’ll be alright, Red. Now, how about you walk me home, hm?”

You stand back up, but he’s nowhere to be found, almost as if he was never there.

A bullet flies past your head, planting itself into the man who had been pointing his gun at you.

You don’t need to turn around to know who the bullet belongs to. Instead, you let your arms fall to your side as a huff of air falls past your lips. “I had it.”

“Sure, you did.”

He appears next to you, sliding his gun back into the holster strapped to his hip. You feel the anger rise up in you as you turn to look at him, and without thinking, you’re shoving at his chest.

“I had it!”

“I told you not to do stakeouts alone anymore—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot do.” You lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “This is my job. I shouldn’t even be talking to you—”

“But you need my help.”

You rub your hands across your face. “I don’t need your help unless I ask for it, and I didn’t ask for it this time.”

A mechanic scoff. “You could’ve died.”

“I needed more information out of the guy.”

“You could’ve died. Do I need to keep repeating it?”

“Well, I’m fine. And now I have to find an explanation of why this guy is dead.”

“Better than finding you dead.”

Sirens sound in the distance. Someone must’ve called the cops before you ever got the chance to call it in.

“Go,” you say quickly, “get out of here so I don’t have to explain to my coworkers why I’m talking to a man they’re actively hunting.”

By the time the patrol cars arrive, spotting you with your hands raised in the air, the Red Hood is long gone.

The lights above you hurt your eyes. You try to lift yourself off the ground, but the pain stops you. You’re not sure where it stems from, but it’s spreading like a wildfire. Your whole body burns. It hurts to turn your head, but you manage to do so and almost let out a sob at the sight of your partner laid out on the ground.

Blood drips out of his nose, and his eyes are lifeless.

You cough, suddenly feeling like you can’t catch your breath at the realization of everything that had just happened. You had convinced your newest partner – a newer recruit, almost 30 – to do a stakeout with you. It was supposed to be a simple watch, one to get more information on one of the newer crime families in Gotham.

Instead, the two of you had been ambushed and laid out. Your partner was dead and you were close enough to it.

You don’t hear the footsteps or the panicked shout of your name until there’s a man standing over you. It’s hard to see anything but his shadow under the streetlight, but you would recognize the voice hidden beneath that mask anywhere.

“Red,” you manage to get out softly before your throat begins to burn and you’re coughing out any next words you have.

“Stay still,” he orders. He reaches for your side, his gloved hand covered in blood when he pulls it back before immediately pressing it back against your side in order to stop some of the bleeding. "You've been shot.”

You hiss at the pain that shoots through you, your eyes shutting . “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Hey, hey,” he pats at your cheek, “keep your eyes open for me.”

“At least I didn’t come alone.”

He looks over at the fallen body of your partner, letting out a sigh. “Look at how well that worked out for you. Where’s your phone?”

“Don’t know. Car maybe.”

“Fuck it,” he spits out, keeping one hand pressed against your gunshot wound while the other digs his own phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

You watch through blurry vision as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Commissioner,” he speaks into the phone, quickly explaining what’s happened and where to find you. When the call ends, he looks back down at you. “Help is on its way.”

Beneath his mask, the Red Hood has a confused expression etched onto his face as he listens to the soft laugh you let out. “What are you laughing at? You’re bleeding out in an alley and you’re laughing.”

“You called the Commissioner to help me.” Your voice is broken, breathy words falling from your lips. “You’re risking the police finding you here in order to get me help. You’re doing all this, and I don’t even know your name or what you look like.”

A turn of his head towards the end of the alley, looking to see if there’s anyone watching. There’s sirens in the distance. He only has a few minutes.

With a click, he removes the helmet and tosses it next to him. His black and white streaked hair falls onto his forehead, and his face is still partially covered by the domino mask he always wore underneath, but he’s all-too-familiar even without revealing everything.

You smile. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And Jim knows?”

“Yes.”

You try to sit up again, attempting to ignore the pain, but Jason’s free hand finds your shoulder and holds you down.

“Don’t move. It could make it worse.”

“What’s next? Is Nightwing about to appear from the rooftop?”

Jason laughs. “We’re not exactly speaking at the moment, so I assume no.”

You shake your head as best you can. “Jason fuckin’ Todd. Back from the dead. Can’t believe I made friends with a zombie.”

“Real original.”

The sirens are closer now, too close.

Jason lets out a sigh when he hears a car door slam shut. There’s blood on your face and he reaches up to smear some of it away with his glove. “I guess that’s my cue.”

Gordon appears first, clearly keeping the other officers away to give Jason time.

You watch the two nod at each other before Jason grabs one of your hands.

“Almost there,” he tells you softly, removing his hand and placing yours over the gunshot wound in your side. “Keep pressure there, help is here.”

Jason reaches for his helmet, slipping it back on before taking off into the shadows.

You realize he never said goodbye, but as the Commissioner and the EMTs reach you, you know that you’ll see him again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #3+1 #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #my fics #recently got back into my batman phase and im having a grand time #also lemme know if you like the new format #i have another writing blog where i use this format and i just happen to like it better

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achilleanwizard · 2 years

Text

“I Know You”

Fandom: Fallen Hero, Chargestep

Word Count: 1552 (AO3)

Warnings: Cursing, Mild violence

Notes: I wanted to try my hand at writing a fight scene. From a randomly generated prompt (x) : “I know you. I know where you live.”

——

You made a mistake. You got too cocky. Too impatient.

There must be some sort of silent alarm you missed. Or the plans you’d plucked from that security guard’s mind were faulty. You should know by now not to pry sensitive information from the new guy.

Can’t think about ‘what-if’s’ now though. Not while you’re busy weaving through marble statues, gaining some much needed distance before you slide behind a large sculpture, narrowly missing the next bolt of lightning.

It’s more to catch your breath than anything. Your armor is specifically made to handle Ortega’s electricity, and you’ve had plenty of time to get used to how it handles. This light show of her’s is little more than static shock to you.

“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting, you know.” Her voice bounces off the high ceiling. Not trying to hide then, but if she’s the distraction, then where are the rest of the Rangers?

A quick scan tells you they’re not in the building, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. The Ratking can keep an eye out for any other threats, while you deal with the menace in front of you. Her mind might be an invisible void, but you’ve had a lifetime of practice. Another telepath might not be able to trace the exact path she’s taking to get to you, but then again, you’re no ordinary telepath. Not anymore.

Patience. You can’t afford to mess this up again. Just wait a few more moments and— there!

Sidestep as she throws a punch. Counter with one of your own, right in the ribs. It’s not nearly enough to stop her, but it gives you a second to jump back. Reassess. Start sliding to the left, trying to lure her right where you want her.

“Not much of an art enthusiast, are you?” You tease, but it doesn’t have the same effect with your voice distorter. Sounds more like a threat than light banter.

“I didn’t know you were.” She frowns. It’s almost imperceivable, but you know her too well not to recognize the slight confusion written on her face. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

You scoff. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” As if you’d reveal your motivation to her like this. Or at all.

“I would.” She’s starting to smile now. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“In your dreams, Charge.”

“No, if this was a dream, you’d have the armor off.”

…What?…

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ !!! The Rat King chitters in your ear, and you’re barely able to duck and avoid that right hook. Parry the next. Take advantage of that opening and— Shit!

The kick to your chest would’ve sent most other people flying. Lucky for you, your armor cushions it just enough to give you some distance. Just enough space to maneuver around her.

She turns with you, of course. This dance between you has always been too evenly matched.

“What’s the matter?” Her fists are raised, and she’s still circling the floor with that smug smile. It almost looks like she’s waiting for something.

Stalling for time, maybe?

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve barely scratched me.” But the insult falls flat. It always was a challenge to get under her skin the same way she far too easily gets under your’s. Time for a different approach. “Are you waiting for your little friends to come save you?”

That can’t be true. If Herald knows about this then he’d already be here. He’s definitely fast enough, even if he stops to change into the suit. As if he ever takes the damn thing off. And if this is a planned ambush, you’re certain at least Argent would be here as well. You don’t like being in the dark like this.

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself this time.” She sends a wink in your direction, still not bothered by your words. You, on the other hand, are paying close attention to her footwork.

“You never were very good at sharing.” …Shit. That was a little too personal. Better pull back a bit. “Don’t you think it’s time to retire and give someone else a chance to hog the spotlight?”

She’s laughing now. Not the fake laugh she sometimes uses to throw the enemy off either. It’s genuine. And unnerving because of it. “Maybe you don’t know me that well after all. Not like I know you.”

“You know nothing about me.” You spit out, willing your voice to be harder.

“But I do.” Her hands lower slightly. Another trick to let your guard down? “I know where you live. It’s down by the pier, right? Fancy place with a nice view of the ocean? Now I know how you got the money to afford it.”

You take the opportunity to press the attack instead of answering. Throwing punches where you think her suit is weakest. Where it would cause the most damage. Or at least enough to get her down.

Because it’s impossible, right? She can’t know where you live. You’ve been so careful, haven’t you? She’s bluffing, that’s all this is. Pure coincidence.

It feels good to drop the banter. Let your fists do the talking. Punches like a kiss to her cheek. A desperate grapple that both of you are too stubborn to submit too. A heavy hit to your solar plexus that leaves you just as breathless as the night you spent in her bed.

You’ve kept up with your training, and unsurprisingly, so has she.

All you need is a second. Fake right, and go left. Take a swing at her jaw to distract her from the kick that shortly follows. You aren’t expecting her to grab your leg and twist until you’re forced down. Hard.

Oh, you’re definitely going to feel that in the morning, but you can’t focus on the pain right now. You have just enough time to activate the jump jets before she can really pin you down. You can only win this fight if you’re still standing.

But she doesn’t advance. Just stands there and looks at you with those deep brown eyes.

“Please, let me help you.” And your name is soft as honey on her lips. Gentler than it has any right to be. Not after everything you’ve done to her.

But you can’t let it affect you. Can’t let her confirm that it’s you. Not yet. You still have plans.

A stuttering laugh erupts from you as you rise from the floor, vocal distorters making sure the nervousness you feel doesn’t bleed over. “Is that who you think I am?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I followed you here.”

Shit. That explains a few things. It wasn’t any alarm or security guard, it was that god damn van you brought along for the bigger art pieces. Shit!

Was that why the rest of the Rangers weren’t here? Were they at your apartment looking for clues? Ransacking your base? Was Ortega only here for distraction after all?

You’re both tired, but you still send another flurry of blows her way, not caring how desperate it makes you look. You’re screwed no matter what, but at least you can end this. Quickly.

All it takes is a single mistake. A pause just a few seconds too long, and you hear a crack! as the final kick hits home. Broken bones, if you’re lucky. Whatever it is has her falling to the floor, but you can’t be sure for how long.

She’s still breathing. Still conscious enough to move into a more protective position, in case you decide to start kicking again, you assume. Unfortunately for her, you have another plan in mind.

It’s almost second nature now, reaching out towards the nearest statue, planting your hand on a marble ankle, and willing the nanovores to eat through the already weakened structure. You don’t look when it comes crashing down.

You can hear her though. Heavy breathing and the sound of rock scraping against tile. Sounds like you were right, it was just heavy enough to pin her down, but not enough for it to be lethal. As much as getting her out of the way would help your plans… you still can’t do it. Still can’t deal that finishing blow. Still can’t stand to see the damage your own two hands have caused.

But you can look at her. One last time. You owe her that much.

“You should’ve trusted me.” She says. You try to ignore the fresh blood on the corner of her mouth as she speaks.

“Trusted you?” You take a step closer. And then another. She’s usually taller, but not now. Not when you have her on the ground like this. “I gave you everything, and look where that landed me.”

Everything that mattered. Your body. Your heart, if such a wretched thing ever existed inside of you. Even if it had, it’s long since broken. Fractured like the crumbling sculpture on top of her.

“Don’t bother following me. I promise you, you’ll never find me again.”

The last thing she sees of you is the corner of your cape. Not your face, not your back, nor any piece of armor. A frail, fluttering thing, gone as easy as an ocean breeze.

You’re very good at keeping your promises.

#posting this here too because my hubris knows no bounds I guess #also because I told myself I would finish something in February #so here’s my proof!#fhr #fallen hero #chargestep #kinda #x. you’re going to break her heart #oc: alexander valente #yeah I know I don’t use any names or pronouns #but he’s the bastard I had in mind when I wrote this lol #wizard writing

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memryse · 3 years

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Third Life Duos Edition Three: C(r)astle But No Monarchy?

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS i have been very busy with uni and i want to give them the justice they deserve. so here we are!! i’d also like to preface this by saying i have only watched cleo’s pov from this duo, not bdubs’ yet, so i can’t comment on him in quite as much detail and i also haven’t seen the crastle’s session five since cleo’s footage got messed up for it (i think bdubs is next on my list? i’ve been more preoccupied with empires lately though so i haven’t gotten around to it)

the first thing that always stands out to me about the crastle people is that they get lumped in as a red/green life duo, but they really never were that, because bdubs turned red right at the end of session five and then wasn’t in session six, which is when cleo turned yellow. they’re a very iconic duo, but i would consider them much more equals than the red/green life duos.

and they always were equals, together right from the very beginning. it wasn’t an alliance of convenience or mutual benefit or anything of the sort - just two friends, who spawned with each other and stuck with each other. while it might seem like they’re opposites - tired babysitter cleo and excitable red life bdubs, the same kind of formula that grian and scar are often slotted into - cleo and bdubs are more like two idiots who possess one (1) braincell between them, which is used exclusively for plotting various dastardly acts.

they’re actually a hilarious duo to me because they had great ideas with the building of the crastle. fortified with a moat + magma blocks, only one point of entry, the archer slits in the walls? but then with literally... anything else their brains just go out of the windows. and i love that.

but back to talking about their relationship and development, what stuck out to me the most about them was bdubs’ attitude towards losing his lives. green life? everything’s great, they’re friends having a great time and building their tiny castle. yellow life? suddenly, the paranoia sets in. bdubs is instantly suspicious of cleo trying to get bdubs to turn red - he says he’s scared that she wants him to die so that she can “use [him] as a tool” and order him to kill people. and that is incredibly interesting to me, because red lives do not have to be bound by alliances if they don’t want to be. if bdubs were to turn red, he doesn’t have to listen to her orders. if anything it’s the exact reverse, the red life would be able to order around a green life, as we saw with both the desert duo and renchanting duo. which suggests to me that even in the midst of the paranoia of suddenly being a fresh yellow life, bdubs never even considered the possibility of betraying cleo. their alliance to one another was that strong.

this loyalty holds strong for the entire rest of the series. but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t develop! firstly, we see bdubs lose that paranoia towards cleo - in fact he grows to relish the idea of becoming cleo’s weapon. he’s happy about it! which i think stems from two places: first, he’s practically frothing at the mouth for revenge against the sand people, and he absolutely needs cleo’s direction on what to do with all of this anger he suddenly has. secondly, there’s a server-wide perception that the crastle is one of the weaker factions on the server (or at least bdubs wasn’t being taken seriously, everyone was definitely rightfully scared of cleo). the crastle needed a red life to pose a proper threat - what good are harming arrow crossbows if they have to wait for someone to attack them first? so bdubs is happy to make the sacrifice and turn red.

cleo, on the other hand, remains fairly static in terms of her regard for life (hers and others’). she’s impulsive. she starts off her series stealing a llama and hiding it just because she can, the middle of her series she’s doing arson, she ends her series attempting to take ren out in an ambush. losing her life was more of an “if it happens, it happens” deal. what changes is her attitude to other people. she’s friendly to everyone at first. then becomes more closed-off, more distrustful - presumably stemming from things like etho just showing up and attacking their castle. she doesn’t trust impulse (...does anyone?). but eventually, she develops a real fondness for tango, for scott, and she’ll put her life on the line for more than just bdubs eventually. but not quite as willingly.

like i said, the crastle people’s dynamic doesn’t change all that much throughout the series - it’s their individual actions that are fun to analyse; just look at how cleo acts during the session where bdubs isn’t there, for example, and how they bicker about it the next session. if anything, these solo actions complement their dynamic as a duo, and really highlight how it was the two of them against the world, from the very beginning. nobody else was afforded this loyalty. look how easily bdubs betrayed impulse. bdubs and cleo’s loyalty to one another was unmatched.

“bdubs is my ride or die. that’s it. if he kills me, then i will go out as an honest person.”

and i will leave you with that.

----

bonus fun fact: everyone knows about the zombie siege of dogwarts the night cleo died but i want to talk about it anyway because it is like. definitely a top 5 3rd life moment. potentially even top 3

bonus fun fact 2: in bdubs’ first episode, he talks about everyone being on good terms and not being against each other yet whilst stood directly on the hill above the lake where scar took his final life. somebody on twitter pointed this out but i did go and check this specific moment myself

bonus fun fact 3 cause i gotta add one every time i guess: that lake? yeah that one where scar also asked grian to kill him? it is directly next to grian’s original base, the one he abandoned to join scar. it is also on the other side of a hill from the day one alliance base, you know, the one involving scar and bdubs. oh 3rd life. you make me so very sad.

#3rd life #3rd life smp #trafficblr #zombiecleo #bdoubleo100 #team crastle #mae analyses #ask #grian #scott smajor #impulsesv #tangotek #goodtimeswithscar #<-- tagged bc they are mentioned in the post occasionally

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fictionalfics · 3 years

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I had an idea. Could you do a crossover thingy where Aizawa has a daughter and she goes missing and he comes in the next day looking worse than normal and then the broadcast gets sent out and Aizawa sees his daughter in it and he gets either happy she’s alive or sad because she’s in a war?

This is s great idea! I’ve never written a parent fic before, so this is quite a challenge. Hope it came out okay!

Title: Not This Time

Pairing: Dad!Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

!TW: VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF K*LLING, LIGHT ALCOHOL USE!

(Gifs not mine)

“Aizawa-sensei’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, have you noticed Iida-kun?” Midoriya looks at his classmate expectantly as they make their way to the dining hall.

It was true, their rugged teacher had been sleeping in class a lot more lately. He had barely greeted his class before the yellow sleeping bag made its appearance.

“I’m sure its nothing, Deku,” Ochako chimes in, “This is the first time in a while he’s taught a full class. Besides, you know who he has to deal with.“

Midoriya chuckles as his friend gestures to Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima - they didn’t mean to be, but they were one of the main sources of trouble in class 1-A.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

--------

Back kick. Block. Jump, kick, dodge. Bend the knees, feet to the floor. Breathe, start again.

The thick material of your scarf is tight around your palms as you dodge attack after attack. You hold your hand out and erase the enemy’s quirk, before landing a swift chop to the neck. Another one down. You handcuff them as fast as you can before dodging a beam of light. It just catches you ear, the scent of burnt hair becoming more intense as you roll to the side.

A stakeout operation gone wrong. A local gang that turned out to be something much bigger. You were fighting a war that had nearly run its course, and this mission was meant to be one of the last. That was, until your stakeout partner revealed she was working for the other team, a double agent.

That left you in this mess. You wished your dad was there with you right now, but he wasn’t. He’d taught you to cope on your own, you told yourself. You’d manage.

Smack!

-------

Three days. No text, no call, no you. Shouta had waited in the living room all night, sipping coffee to stay awake. It had been three days since you walked out the door with a great big smile on your face, saying goodbye as you left for work.

Ten years ago, the seemingly heartless man had taken you into his care after saving you from your burning orphanage. The hero saw himself in you, especially since your quirks were so similar. He trained you himself, teaching how to use the capture rope alongside your fists.

You had enrolled in Shiketsu High, in order to separate yourself from your dad, and started your work studies with a mid-ranked but successful pro in your second year.

Shouta was extremely proud of you, and made sure you knew it every single day.

But it was unlike you to stay out for days at a time without contact. The first night wasn’t so bad - maybe she’s at the bar with friends, I’ll see her in the morning, he thought to himself.

You weren’t there in the morning. He put it down to you staying over a friend’s house - he was up pretty early after all, so you’d be home later.

Nope. Nothing. He continued to make excuses up for you all night, and all the way into the morning too, only grabbing an hour’s sleep before leaving for work.

When he came home to an empty house for the third day in a row, he started to panic for real. Texted you every hour, on the hour. Called a couple of times. Called your workplace, to no avail.

6:30 on the clock. Shouta chugged the rest of his coffee and slung his work bag over his shoulder as he noted it was day four now. Work was going to be a long one.

------

Your ears rang as your former partner delivered another slap to your face.

“This would be over so much quicker if you told me where the boss is being held hostage, Y/N. You’re making this so hard for yourself!”

“Go to hell.”

Wack!

A scream held back in your throat, your teeth grind together as you fight through the pain. The edges of your vision began to go black, and you almost considered telling the gang everything.

------

Shouta’s thumb was over the send button when he heard your name on the local news.

Y/N Aizawa missing in action. Something about a fight against a gang, an ambush they said. No other details could be released for citizen safety.

The hero didn’t even realise he’d slid off the couch to kneel in front of the TV. Missing in action. He rested his forehead on the box, his hair sticking to the screen due to static.

Missing. You were missing.

His legs carried him to the agency you worked with. His voice demanded to see your boss, begged for the details of your whereabouts.

They wouldn’t tell him. “We cannot release details to the public, its for her safety as well as theirs,” your boss told him.

Shouta argued that he wasn’t the public, that he was a hero like you.

“There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

-------

The ropes had begun to bite into your wrists as you hung from the ceiling. After deciding the initial interrogation was obsolete, the gang had taken you to a new building and strung you up. Your feet could almost touch the floor, but had given up trying to get free an hour ago. Possibly. You didn’t know how long you’d been there. You were sure you’d stayed awake, but even blinking felt like it took days in that dark room.

You strained your ears from information.

Move........found.....kill her.......risk? No......stupid.....

There wasn’t enough for you to piece together the crumbs of information. You were sure you were going to die at this point. So much potential, a great future ahead of you.

No, you can’t think like that! What would Dad do in this situation?

You couldn’t answer that one. Instead, you hummed a lullaby to yourself - your favourite that he used to sing to you if you’d had a nightmare. This entire situation was a bit of a nightmare, so you thought it was appropriate.

The door opened before you, the bright light bringing tears to your eyes.

-----

“She’s gotta be alright Shou, she’s tough! Besides, didn’t you go MIA all the time?”

Hizashi did his best to comfort his friend, handing him a small glass of whiskey, which Shouta drank in one. He slammed the glass to the table with a dull thud.

“That’s different Yamada. I knew where I was, and I was never gone for long. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been nearly a week.”

The blond runs his palm down his face, not wanting to admit the he feared the worst too.

“She’s a hero Shou, bad things happen. You know the dangers and she does too, she’s not dumb.”

“Another whiskey please.”

Hizashi refilled Shouta’s glass, and the liquid disappeared as quickly as he’d poured it.

“She’ll be okay Shou.”

------

Your arms were freed of their painful restraints as your friends occupied the gang and, summoning as much strength as you could, dragged yourself to your feet, using your peer as a crutch. Your head turned to watch your team take on the four or five people that had taken you hostage, silently celebrating as you limped to the exit.

“Sorry we took so long Y/N, it took us a while to figure out where they’d taken ya!”

A tired chuckle escaped you as your co-worker apologised. “At least you’re here now.” Your response wasn’t completely a joke, but you couldn’t blame them. This gang was good at hiding.

“The whole operation is gonna be extended, thanks to the newbie. We had no idea she was a double agent- it’s gonna set us back to square one!”

Double agent. You scolded yourself for not catching on in time. “I’m sorry, I should have figured out sooner. Now the entire mission’s been compromised.”

Your peer sat you in the back of an ambulance that had come along with the police.

“Don’t beat yourself up silly! Even us pros didn’t know, there was no way a student could have guessed!”

The fight was over relatively quickly, thankfully. After the criminals were handed over to the police for interrogation, you were escorted back to the agency to be patched up, and report to the higher-ups.

------

Eraser didn’t immediately jump up when the front door creaked open. He was a hundred miles away, trying to convince you to take a day off instead of going to work. You’d be home with him that way, smiling as you cooked your favourite meal in the kitchen. That smile... How badly he missed it.

He felt the couch sink next to him.

“Sorry I’m late Dad, I had one hell of a day at work!”

Dad? He snapped back to reality as the words sunk in. He looked to where the voice came from - his eyes traced it back to you. Covered in cuts and bruises, dark circles adorning your eyes, but you all the same.

“Y/N!” The dark haired man jumped up and lifted you into his arms. You giggled and squeezed him back, giddy with relief.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are grounded forever! What the hell happened to you?”

He set you down on the couch as you began to explain as much as you could, without giving away classified information.

“But I’m here now! I’ve got about a week to recover, because I wasn’t injured too badly, plus they did hold me in the recovery room for a day.”

“A week?” His shoulders slumped at the thought of you fighting. “They’re sending you back out there?”

“Yeah. The mission isn’t over yet, we have to dismantle them completely.”

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Promise me you won’t go missing again.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know that.”

“Humour me.”

Breaking eye contact, you sighed, before looking back at your father and smiling as wide as you could. “I won’t go missing this time Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Shouta patted your head before standing up and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You’re still grounded forever.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts!”

“Even if I make you some coffee? Maybe cook some yakitori?”

“I may reconsider,” he chuckled. You always knew your way to his heart.

He loved his daughter so damn much.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

I’m Always Curious Part Thirty Seven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕 This one is uh... Long-ish

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; angst; fluff Summary: “Couldn’t unearth that eight hundredth notebook?” Una asked dryly.

I’d given up on trying to find my old translations by the time we reached Catalpa.

Paledore commed that he was making headway with some of the translations, anyway, though he didn't have anything he was fully confident in sharing with the team. As soon as we dropped out of warp, a shuttle with a few of our engineering officers was on its way over to the Hutton to lend a hand. With transporter and warp capabilities down, as well as limited transmission capacity, their team was spread thin.

“Have we got a fix on the crew’s location?” I asked Number One as we strode toward the transporter bay.

“Not yet. We have the coordinates of their last transmission, but whether or not they’re still there is a but of a gamble.”

“Any breakthroughs on the translation?” Pike asked, looking over his shoulder at the two of us.

“Not yet, but Paledore’s on it.”

“Couldn’t unearth that eight hundredth notebook?” Una asked dryly, and I shot her a look.

“Notebook?” Pike asked as we all approached the transporter pads.

“One of the runes looked familiar from a class at the Academy. Couldn’t find where I took the note down,” I explained before stepping onto the transporter pad beside Watson. I caught sight of the Captain glancing back at me, seemingly poised to say something before he turned to face forward again. My brow furrowed, curious, but I didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was before we were beaming down.

Catalpa’s surface was arid and bright. It took a few moments to adjust to the light that the three suns in the sky shone down on us. I looked around at my fellow crew members before I turned, searching for any other signs of life, or any other Starfleet crew members. “Alright,” Pike said, looking around, “Let’s split up— teams of two.” I had assumed Una and Spock would pair off, but Spock moved to go with Watson, his junior officer, and Una with the Captain. That left myself and Thira— but that was more than alright with me. We’d be looking for the crashed shuttle that the crew of the Hutton had taken down. There was a chance that there would be crew members within the surrounding area, and even if there weren’t, if Thira could patch the vessel, we could get it off of the ground and use it to scout for the landing party. Pike glanced around at the groupings of us, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he nodded firmly, glancing away and issuing a stern, “Be careful,” To the group.

“Sidhu here.” “Anything?” Una’s voice was nearly unrecognizable through the thick crackling of the static. “Nothing,” Thira answered. I glanced over as we waited for an answer, for further instruction, but none came— just the crackling hiss. I shook my head a little bit, raising my hand to swipe at my brow. “How long have we been down here?” Thira muttered, tucking her communicator away again. “Couple of hours at least.” “I need— I need to sit,” Thira huffed tiredly, lowering herself onto the ground and opening her jacket a little. She waved her hand at her face, trying to cool off. I looked around. Where we were looked no different from where we’d beamed down, but I knew for a fact that we hadn’t gone in circles. I huffed, walked around to stand in front of Thira, offering her some shade, and she sighed, smiling. “Thank you.” “No problem,” I smiled a little in turn before glancing around. I could feel a breeze, picking up a little. “...You feel that?” I asked, looking in the direction it was coming from. “Yes, finally,” Thira muttered. I frowned at the sight of what seemed to be a shadow moving in the distance. “Thira.” “Mm?” “What’s that?” She turned to look at it, frowning, and pushed herself to her feet, trying to get a better look. I lowered my hand to my communicator as I heard it trill. Before I could get out my greeting, Paledore’s voice crackled through: “Commander! — Ambushed crew — translated — runes of — Folmarian—!” My stomach twisted at what did come through, as the shape of the shadow became clearer and clearer still. It was a vessel, a large sand-skimmer outfitted with fore and aft guns. “Thira, move,” I pushed her arm behind me, “Run.” “Folmarian what?” She asked, taking a couple of steps back as I urged her. “Pirates.”

The bad news was, we could not outrun the sand-skimmer. A planet as barren as Catalpa was, there was nowhere to hide. In addition to the unforgiving landscape, we’d been walking for two hours; we were tired, we were thirsty. The good news was that we found the crew of the Hutton. Of course, they’d had their communicators taken away, as Thira and I had, as well as their phasers before having their hands bound, but, you know. You take what you can get, really. There were seven members of the Hutton crew on that sand-skimmer. I watched, dismayed, as one of the skimmer crew members smashed our communicators to pieces before flashing me a toothy grin. “Won’t need that where we’re going,” He rasped. His fellow crewmates had chuckled; I felt Thira tense beside me, and I’d simply lowered my eyes. There was no way for me to track where we were going. Whatever this ship-type, it had some cloaking device that kept it hidden from the Enterprise’s sensors. “What are we going to do?” Thira mumbled. “Don’t panic,” I reassured softly, “They’ll find us.”

“Shouldn’t we fight them off?” I frowned at one of the crew members of the Hutton that had scooched up beside me when our captors were occupied. I glanced around at the surrounding ship before asking, “With what?” “I cannot stand to just waiting,” They hissed. “I understand that, but anything we do will be risky. We have no weapons— no way to free our hands.” I hesitated before admitting, “During the Klingon war, I was taken hostage, briefly. It was terrifying, but I knew that my crew was coming. We’re here because your crew reached out as soon as they realized something was wrong, something bigger than your vessel could handle. They’re going to find us. We just have to wait.” The Hutton crew member went silent beside me, shifting moodily. “...When were you captured?” I nearly didn’t hear Thira’s question about the rush of wind around the sand-skimmer. I shook my head a little. “Let’s just say we stopped using a tether on Tag and Runs after that.”

Waking up to Christopher’s voice had been the sweetest sound in the world, once. This particular instance, however, was… More than a little imposing. “Attention: this is Captain Christopher Pike of the U.S.S. Enterprise.” I wasn’t sure when I’d drifted off, but now Thira was nudging her shoulders against mine, forcing me awake. “It has come to my attention that several Starfleet members, including two of my crew, are aboard your...Vessel.” I had to fight a grin off at the pause, looking around and trying to locate the source of his voice. It was too low in the atmosphere to be coming from the Bridge of the Enterprise— he had to be close. “If you halt now, return our crew members to us unharmed, we promise you that we will let you go. If, however, you choose to engage us in combat...I cannot speak for the condition you will leave in.” I had to huff out a soft laugh, unable to help it. The crew of the skimmer were rushing this way and that, doing their best to locate the source of the threats, to man their guns, to raise their shields. They didn’t do it quickly enough, however, because within seconds, members of the Hutton and the Enterprise alike were being beamed aboard. “Beam us out!” The member of the Hutton beside me snapped, even as Phaser fire began whizzing over our heads. “I’m sure they would if they could,” I gritted, trying to shrink myself down against the rail of the ship. “That’s not good enough!” They yelled, “If I’m ever aboard a starship again—” I was hardly listening— I was watching Una cover Spock’s six as he worked at an imposing-looking control panel. She caught my eye and I gave her a quick nod, letting her know that I was okay before the two of us averted our gazes again. Questions and answers could come later, when there was time. “Are you listening to m—?” The Hutton crew member yelled, but before they could complete their irate tirade, they were beamed out. “Shit!” I hissed, glancing up after them. “Clear, Captain!” I heard Una yell. Captain? But— “Copy, Number One. Five to beam up—” Why wasn’t he on the Bridge? He should’ve stayed on the Bridge— I saw Thira beamed out before I saw Christopher just in front of me— And then the ship dropped away. -- I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to be sitting on the floor of the transporter bay with my hands bound. I glanced over to see Spock already working to untie Thira’s hands, and I glanced behind me as I felt Una’s nimble fingers working at my own restraints. “How’d you find us?” The words were thick in my mouth, my tongue heavy and dry. “Paledore got some help, worked out the runes. We did a fine-tuned scan of the planet, there’s a map carved into its crust, and a deeper magnetic mantle. It was interfering with our communications and initial scans.” I glanced up as Una helped me to my feet, and I caught sight of Christopher leaving the transporter bay. He glanced behind himself, but he didn’t turn, didn’t meet my eye— he just hesitated for a half-step before going on his way. “Med-bay, both of you,” Una tacked on before I could say a thing. -- The dehydration was an easy fix. The sleep deprivation, that was fine, I was used to that. Boyce had given myself and Thira the day, and while she was taking it to rest, I couldn’t get my head to settle. It was the worry I couldn’t get out of my mind— the half-looks that Christopher had been giving me, before I beamed off of the ship and when I’d been beamed back on. I needed to speak with him. He didn’t seem surprised to find me standing beside the Captain’s chair, expectant and quiet. He just glanced up, told Number One that she had the conn, and led the way to his ready room. The door slid shut behind us, and I folded my arms around myself, looking around. “You’re alright?” “Yes, Captain.” “Then what is it that you need to discuss, Commander?” I couldn’t help my sharp glance, the furrow in my brow. His tone was so austere; his eyes were guarded, and a little cold. “...The mission on Catalpa. Before we beamed down, you seemed like you were going to say something—” “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean—” “And when we beamed back aboard,” I spoke up a little bit, speaking over him— I wouldn’t let him hurry me out of the room, no matter this discomfort, “You also seemed to hesitate.” Pike shook his head a little bit, lips pressing into a thin line. “That sounds like a matter of your perception, Commander.” “...Don’t do this,” I pleaded softly, “We’re just getting back to… Something normal, and Catalpa’s a hiccup, but—” “A hiccup,” He scoffed, “A hiccup doesn’t almost get you killed.” “Captain—” “I had it.” “...Had what?” It took him a long moment, but— “The notebook that you were looking for, I… It was in my quarters. Several of your notebooks still are. I’ve been… I have been meaning to give them back to you.” I considered this for a moment before I managed, “Then how did Paledore—” “Once I realized that you couldn’t find it, that it was likely my error, I beamed back aboard and gave Ensign Paledore the materials he needed. But it was clearly too late.” I watched Christopher turn away from me, walking over to the window. “I see,” I finally said, “Well...The point is, we made it off of the planet—” “No, the point, Commander,” Christopher turned back to me, “Is that you were nearly killed because I can’t let go of you!” I was stunned into a surprised silence, my mouth falling open a little as Christopher lowered himself onto his couch and put his head in his hands. My heart had ticked up in my chest. Christopher and I had been toeing this line for so long, but for him to simply dive headfirst into this conversation— my mouth was as dry as it had been when I’d been beamed off of the planet. “I almost lost you again,” He said quietly, “And it would’ve been my fault.” I took slow, careful steps over to him before I hesitantly knelt down in front of him. I reached up, lightly gripping his wrists and tugging his hands away from his face. “...Technically it’s mine for not digitizing my notes, right?” I tried to tease, to bring a smile to his face, but Christopher’s lips barely twitched. “I should’ve given them back a long time ago,” He mumbled, defeated and tired as he said so. I settled back onto my heels, brow furrowing in confusion. “Why didn’t you?” Christopher’s face shifted, his eyes flashing, his hands leaving my grip as they cupped my face. “How?” He asked lowly, “How can you still not know what you do to me?” In that moment, I felt more joy and more fear than I had the moment I’d seen him aboard the sand-skimmer. “Christopher,” I mumbled weakly, shaking my head a little. He didn’t give me a moment to falter or to shy away. He just drew me in, pressing his lips firmly to mine. I leaned into him, bracing my hands on his thighs. We took our time, indulging in each other’s little shifts and pauses, the feeling of our lips slipping together, heady and sweet. I teased my tongue along the seam of his lips and thrilled in the soft groan that emanated from his throat. When Christopher leaned away, it was only long enough to draw me off of the floor and onto the couch. I settled into his side, his arm curling around my shoulders as mine wrapped around his middle. He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed as he drew in a deep breath. I leaned in, pecking his lips gently, trying to soothe the hurt that was lingering over him. “I’m sorry,” He murmured plaintively against my lips. I nodded, smoothing my hand over his side. “It’s alright.” The words were hardly out of my mouth before he was kissing me again. -- Number One had the conn for...Quite a while. Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner ; @tardis-23 ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel ; @blueeyesatnight ; @hotchswifey ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lunadegitana

#I'm Always Curious #Captain Pike x Reader #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike/you #Captain Pike fic #Captain Pike Imagine #Christopher Pike/Reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Christopher Pike fic #Christopher Pike Imagine

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?

I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: You're Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rung

·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.

·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.

·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.

·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.

·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.

·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.

·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...

·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.

·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.

·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.

·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?

·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.

·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.

·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.

·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #rung #rung x reader #human reader #self insert #requests

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allteacher · 3 years

Text

Eris has been thinking about Oryx.

This is what she tells the Vanguard, but it feels wholly inadequate. She feels half-consumed, again, burying herself in Toland’s letters and in the shorthand notes she’d carved into her armor down in the pit, contrasting her scraps of arcane knowledge with newly-classified Hidden reports of some alien brightness emitting from the depths of the Shrine of Oryx. All the information she has points her unerringly to that same place, that same desolate object in orbit.

She still has not been back to the Moon.

Ikora has not leashed her, but all of her missions have been strictly planetside, no more dangerous than the assignments of civilian intelligence agents. Eris knows this is because she is a civilian, now, no matter what Hunter-instincts still guide her. But she still feels stifled, trapped in the Tower, despite what the other agents whisper about healing and recuperation and trial periods.

Despite the hopes and fears of the Vanguard, she does not want to rush headlong into her final death; there is a reason she directed the Guardian like a blade across the surface of the Moon to hunt Crota’s brood. But something is stirring in the nearest seat of Oryx’s power, and she needs to see it for herself. They must learn more about the King before he sweeps into their little corner of the universe and kills them all.

After Crota there had been scarcely a night to celebrate, to sit quietly with her grief, before her work had continued. She can accept this if she can be of use once again, if she can follow her chain of vengeance up the royal lineage of the Hive until there is nothing left, no trace of the Hive left to burn.

The Guardian comes to retrieve bounties every morning, bringing Eris what scarce information she can find in the field. The Wolves are freshly escaped from their prison, and the Tower is in a frenzy. Crota is dead with his father a million lightyears away. They are of no importance, now.

“You destroyed the Shrine of Oryx,” Eris says over a handful of sticky idols. It is not a question: she has read the after-action report.

“Yes,” the Guardian says, her black hair hanging over her eyes. “Well— we did.” Her voice, always quiet, sinks lower. “I don’t understand why the Speaker had us chasing Osiris’ prophecies, after everything I’ve heard about the exile…” She is still newly-risen, but already she knows the value of a secret.

Eris leans in at that, curious. “Osiris?” There had been no mention of him in any of the mission data, though she can already guess that the Speaker had a hand in this. Few remembered Osiris’ prophecies about the Hive; they did not need reminding of their truth with Oryx hanging on the horizon.

The Guardian leaves shortly after, bond gleaming on her arm, promising to send her a recording of the mission in full. Eris suspects she has all the information she needs. There is, at least, one person she can trust as a traveling-partner.

She needs to get to the Shrine. The Vanguard are still fighting among themselves as to Oryx’s existence and importance, the Speaker furtively seeking information from the same man he exiled, so Eris considers her mission a Hidden matter. She sends Ikora a message and departs before she can ask too many questions.

It is still early enough in the day, so she takes her ship out of the hangar and flies it into the wilderness, somewhere she can sit without being bothered by any well-meaning Guardians passing by. She adjusts her radio until she finds the channel spitting out static cut through with the trill of a harpy. She hears numbers occasionally, two two seven…

Eris waits, but she is used to it. Eventually the static cuts, the harpy-song violently ended.

“Osiris,” comes the voice on the other end, brisk, like he’s still Vanguard Commander, fielding calls. As if anyone else could be on the other end, as if anyone else could be reaching out through the heavy curtain of exile to seek him out.

“Eris Morn,” she replies, then, “I have news of Oryx.” She is still newly-returned, still refiguring herself in the wake of her own personal catastrophe. Talking to Osiris is at least easier, because he leaves no space for anything but what is necessary.

She thinks maybe he has forgotten how to do anything but question, too, in an exile less excruciating but no less lonely. Here they both are, grasping at the edges of something.

“Oh!” Sagira gasps on the other end of the line, excited. Something in Eris, at the very back of her mind, shutters— not completely alone, she forgets. The emptiness over her shoulder aches in tandem with the ever-present burning in her eyes. Some things will always be only her burden to bear.

“Yes,” Eris says, pushing forward despite the feeling, because that is what she does. “The Shrine is awake again.” She suspects he already knows, may be watching it even now. “I want to know what we can learn from it.”

She knows they will find something. She also knows that there is more to this bone-deep desire for shared action, when she has been alone in her hunt since she and Eriana and the rest first sought Crota’s realm and died in the seeking. She is certain she would die before telling anyone. Some gnawing uncertainty of what may happen to her if she was completely, devastatingly alone in those tunnels again. All that blank terror and wordless desperation, still hiding somewhere in her mind.

Eris knows she is not mad, regardless of the whispers from the young Guardians burning shockingly bright. But her wounds are still seeping, not six months since she crawled out of the Moon. She still has nightmares of finding bodies in the dust, of being stripped of her Light, of being split open that first horrific night of the Great Disaster. These, she suspects, will never stop.

The thought makes Eris feel ridiculous, like a child that cannot take care of herself. But for this, for the fate of humanity, she is willing to submit to her own self-doubt. There is work yet to be done.

“The Shrine!” Sagira squawks over the line. “I told you it wouldn’t stay closed forever! That Guardian, what, shot at it? Eris, we’ll meet you in orbit. The signal!”

Osiris sighs, irritated. “Yes, we will. Bring any information you have.” The line cuts. Because no one can see her, Eris allows herself to think of Brya.

—

Sagira transmats Eris aboard their ship once she arrives. It is remarkable how utterly alien it appears, as if the Vex had terraformed it from the inside out. She has met with them a few times, in the search for Crota’s court, but never anywhere Eris could begin to grasp the full scope of Osiris’ obsession.

Osiris huffs something at her by way of greeting, splitting his attention between a terminal screen and an ancient book. Eris occupies herself with spreading her materials out on a little card table, conspicuous, next to the navigation controls: scrolls, notes and their translations, runes, her Ahamkara joint.

After a few minutes Osiris stands, tips his head toward her. “Toland’s things?” He asks, moving to sort through the Hive-lore Eris has managed to accumulate.

“Some of it,” she says, reaching for the book Osiris had been examining. It’s one she’s never seen before, a rambling theory about Hive communication logics. She digs through it in silence while Osiris and Sagira examine her own theories, Sagira occasionally making comments as she draws comparisons.

Eris tries to keep herself from growing too comfortable, too complacent, but in the dim light and the ship’s low static hum she finds it far easier to think. Especially in comparison to her place in the Tower, where even in the shadows she feels exposed, on display.

In time they go down to the surface of the Moon, the harsh architecture of the Hive looming over their heads. Eris expects herself to be more nervous, some paranoia still buzzing in her skull. Now, though, there’s only a sort of anticipation. Clarity in action, just as it had been hunting Crota.

Osiris enters the underground first, Sagira buzzing around his head. There are a few Thrall lingering around the moldering stonework of the entrance, all neatly dispatched.

“What do you expect?” Eris asks as they make their way down the long corridor to the entrance of the Gatehouse. It’s suspiciously empty, no acolytes making their rounds, no thrall kicking up rocks to search for worms.

“If the shrine is active again, it’s worth protecting,” Osiris says, stopping at the edge of the harsh cliff-face to glance at the stars above, the darkness below. “It would explain the lack of Hive on the surface levels.”

They continue, cautious, Eris stepping lightly enough that she doesn’t break the bones littered across the steps. There’s nothing as they creep ever downward, as the yellow glare of the lamps turns to the icy blue-green of the Circle of Bones.

Eris remembers such names from her first journey to the Moon, from when she and her fireteam were first racing screaming through these corridors. She wonders if they were translated or if Toland had made them up as he saw fit.

She almost startles as she sees a lone acolyte peering off its balcony, though she throws her dagger at it before Osiris can move to kill it himself. It drops silently; she goes to observe it, crouching down to retrieve her knife. The motion makes her knees ache.

Osiris comes up behind her, nudges its cleaved skull with his boot. “Not so graceful as the Vex,” he comments.

“But much more ravenous.” It has been months since she has killed any Hive, she realizes. In the tunnels, again, she feels almost as if she’d never left.

“The Vex devour entire planets without thought. They are less visceral, but no less dangerous.”

Eris stands, looks out into the dark hallways of the Hive to ensure they are not being ambushed. “And yet you live among them willingly.”

“Not so willingly as one may think,” he says, and then he’s moving again, trailing sparks, leading them both.

Some part of her wants to know what keeps him there, if it is anything like what draws her back to the Moon, again, after so much death and pain. But he has not questioned her motives, has not pitied her. She will not seek information she would not give.

The great tunnels of the Hall of Wisdom echo as they move through them, the sound distorting as it passes down the lengths of not-quite-stone. The answering echo sounds like something screaming.

When the shrine-room opens up around them, Eris expects something grandiose in its terror. But there is no immense shadow of Oryx looking down on them, only the simple cruelties of the Hive’s existence.

At the base of the shrine is a small coven of Wizards, all hovering above a lovingly-drawn spell circle. A half-dead Ogre, larger than any Eris had seen in the pits, lays bleeding oil within it. The room is, Eris notices, completely silent. The animal part of her brain, the part that kept her alive in the tunnels, wants her to run until she can see the stars again.

She drops to a crouch, scrabbling backwards to hide more fully in the empty tunnel. Osiris’ ambient Light goes out like a match as he joins her, surveying the ritual around a jut of stone. He looks at her, head tilted, a question. She shakes her head, presses herself flat against the wall.

After a moment, the chanting starts.

It’s not the overwhelming scream of the Deathsingers, but Eris wants to scream back, to chant the names of her fireteam again, to not lose herself in the dark. She grips the handle of her knife hard enough that her hand goes numb.

The wizards sing in turns, the shrine moving under the will of their voices. The ogre shudders as it dies, the circle glowing a sickly green underneath its hulking form.

Eventually, the wizards go quiet. Osiris reaches back against Eris’ shoulder, taps in Hidden shorthand: first opening wait for transmission. She doesn’t dare to move, to acknowledge.

They wait for a few minutes, still and silent in the half-dark of the tunnels. Then the great orb begins spinning, a low drone filling all the gaps in the room.

“Oryx,” Eris whispers, listening to the discordant hum and, through it, the great deep voice of the king of the Hive.

—

They spend the next four hours translating the message. The bulk is an edict on the new chain of tithes, now that Crota is dead.

The ending, though, is what she at once expected and feared: a declaration that Crota’s death will be avenged.

“We knew he would come,” Eris says, trying to stay composed. All the blood Crota spilled, a newborn in the eyes of the Hive, and now his father coming to rain devastation. “I’ve warned the Vanguard.”

Osiris scratches something out on the pad in front of him. “The Vanguard never listens in time. You know that.” It would be barbed, coming from anyone else.

“We have proof now. That might convince them that we are right.” She sighs. She had not expected to feel so drained, so completely bloodless, after such a short journey. “They are still focused on eliminating the rest of Crota’s brood, the Wolves. It will be a struggle.”

“This is not a battle that can be won alone. The Vanguard cannot ignore the Darkness to chase Fallen forever.”

“We may not need to fight alone,” Eris says. “The Queen of the Reef has opened their gates.”

Osiris snorts. “If you think she will listen.”

“Oryx is not just a threat to Earth,” she replies, too exhausted to bristle. She is learning the shape of Osiris’ knowledge, which lies in his challenges. “And we do not know where their knowledge lies. They may yet be able to help us.”

“It is an idea worth pursuing,” Osiris replies after a long few moments, “but it will be difficult to achieve an audience. First we must prepare.”

Eris has been preparing for disaster for as long as she can remember, has spent years guarding against some future ruin. She knows the shape of it, what is at stake if they fail.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Osiris card through Hive dictionaries and Eriana’s blood-stained research notes. She had given everything to make it out of the Hellmouth, had become something monstrous to carry her warning back to the City, had destroyed Crota through the stares and the whispers and the doubt.

But she is out of the Hellmouth, now. The City may not trust her, but she has allies beyond its walls, those that can understand this drive to step into the Dark to understand it, destroy it so completely that there is no memory of it left. She will not live to see the end of this war, but the mantle of her vengeance will.

“Tell me about the Vex,” Eris says, arranging her own papers. It is only fair to take on this mantle in turn.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #my fic #tumblr stop eating my posts

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stusbunker · 3 years

Text

BGDC: Stay Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Female Hunter!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck and Jack

Written for: @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo

Summary: Everything comes to a head. Can she do better this time? Is there anything worth salvaging? Chuck has his own thoughts.

Square filled: In Vino Veritas

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: THIS HURTS, Flashbacks in italics, canon-ish, verbal arguments, that pesky motherfucker HOPE, Chuck is still a dick.

Series Masterlist

Inherit the Earth con’t

It had taken Sam two weeks to get out of Dean what happened, why she left. It was not his proudest moment, but the thought of her in their home made him sick. So, he had shown her the door. He thought he was her hero, he’d never imagined she’d treat him like a piece of meat.

There were some lines that you shouldn’t cross and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her that.

The drive to Sam and Jack feels like an eternity, even ignoring all traffic laws. The day is bright, but the impala rumbles garishly, a black omen. The static hiss of unmanned radio stations gives her something to do. She diligently sorts the tapes, finds something to fill the void.

Melody as white noise. A band aid on a bullet wound. Dean can’t fix what’s been broken. But she never even tried.

Sam cries at the sight of her. She runs into his arms and he squeezes until he can’t any longer. An ounce of redemption in the ocean of guilt. Sam glances over her head to his brother, he feels the other shoe drop.

“Where’s Cas?” Jack’s obvious question echoes the shame in the new arrivals’ eyes. She holds her breath as Dean explains, like she’s waiting for his story before she can move on. Like he didn’t tell her either.

Sam aches with what he’s allowed to happen. The old internal rage gnashing at his gut as he screams in an abandoned restaurant. They’re what was left behind. All they have left to do is give Chuck what he wants.

His ending, at last.

Dean didn’t tell her what he and Sam were doing. Didn’t need an outside opinion on this one. Instead he asked her to keep an eye on Jack, knowing she’d say yes. He guessed he wasn’t done asking for things. The sight of Chuck makes him see red. But this was it, he’d die with his brother beside him. For the world.

When Chuck blows off their offer, he can’t say that he’s surprised. Disgusted, angry, regretful maybe, but Dean’s not surprised.

The house always wins.

They crash at a motel for the night, everyone gets their own rooms for a change. She knocks on his door just after midnight with a bottled peace offering and her ratty sleep clothes. Dean doesn’t need this right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be cruel.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean holds the amber liquid up to the light to read the label.

“Liquor store down the street. Don’t even feel bad for taking the five finger discount anymore,” she sighs and drops on the spare bed. “You gonna tell me about your little side mission or do I just get to guess at the outcome?”

Dean cracks the bottle open and sighs. “Bupkis. So, nothing to tell, really.”

She’s watching him for signs of lies, at least she’s not overtly antagonistic with her appraisal.

He offers her the bottle and she shakes her head. ‘Maybe she learned her lesson,’ he thinks and then takes a long pull off the glass rim.

“So, the Empty, huh?” Dean grimaces as she closes her eyes, taken aback.

“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” Her faces pinches and he is just too fucking tired.

“Because you always want to talk about it. It was kind of a thing.” Dean shrugs.

“I came to check on you, dumbass,” she mutters. He sits on his bed, leaves the bottle between them on the nightstand.

He doesn’t stop the sour hum that claws up his throat. He was trying to play nice, but she just had to keep on being the tough guy. “Funny, didn’t think you cared much what happened to me anymore, or how I feel about things at least.”

She has the gall to look surprised, but underneath it he sees she’s almost as tired as he is. “I did not come here looking for a fight. If you’ve got something to say to me--- Maybe you should remember who called who. And who dropped everything to help.”

“And I don’t seem to remember you doing too much of that,” Dean snaps back, turning his head only.

She pauses and Dean feels a little smug that he’s getting to her. But not nearly as much as he should. He cocks his eyebrows, waiting for her obvious answer.

She shoves him back on his proverbial heels instead. “We both know you were just keeping tabs on me. There wasn’t anything for me to do. And then I became a fucking bargaining chip. So screw you, Dean. I’m not here for a performance review.”

“I think we already established, no one is screwing anyone here,” Dean mutters, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“Is that what this is about?! You are honestly bringing that shit up now?!”

“So what if I am? Better than acting like it never happened. Playing the fucking martyr,” Dean bites back. “I, at least, own my shit. Maybe you should try it some time.”

“You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do, wait on a damn cross until you finished your case?!” She still doesn’t get it. Dean’s chest is writhing with all the things they never buried.

“It doesn’t matter. We were family. And you threw it all away,” Dean lays it out.

“ME?!”

“Yes, you!” Dean’s standing, hunching over her, unleashing. “You had to make it about your feelings and the crush you had on me when we were kids. Don’t you see? It was more than that. We WERE more than that. But you were lonely, or horny or needed to drown your feelings. And you cheapened everything. And now---- we can’t even have a real conversation.”

It’s like he’s looking at a completely different person. He doesn’t even know her anymore.

“Dean, I---” He cuts her off, this was entirely pointless.

“Don’t, okay? Just--- leave it. I’m gonna get some air.” Dean starts towards the door and slumps, half turned he continues, “Look, I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the Empty. But Cas did---- And to be clear, this wasn’t ever about rebuilding bridges, it was about stopping Chuck. And we couldn’t manage that.--- But we can’t just go back to the way things were just because we’re all that’s left. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be--- for everybody.”

The heaviness of wasted effort sinks into his shoulders. Dean closes the door behind him with a gentle click. They both know she’ll be gone before he gets back.

No one left in the entire world and one of my oldest friends still doesn’t want me around. This wasn’t humble pie, it was a goddamn humility infused vat of pie filling. Not a spoon in sight.

Fuck him. Fucking pie metaphors even. Fucking brain.

I leave the damn whiskey, but I really want to throw it against the wall. Dump it in his boots. Bath in it. But I don’t. I give him his twenty paces and I duck out, bypass my room, Jack’s, and head back towards the liquor store. There was a pick-up I might be able to hot wire, if I remember where I saw it.

I mash my lips together to stop their quake, but everything keeps clawing its way up, centering itself in my way. I did this. The one person I needed to believe in me and I fucking ruined it. It was never about Amara, or Cas or him being too good for me. I just wanted what wasn’t there.

The dirtiness slides down and clings to me, like a wet coat. An unwashable stain, that’s all my presence is anymore. I don’t want to be where I am unwanted, unneeded, unuseful. Well, useless really. But, I can’t lose Sam too. Not again and definitely not now. I stop when I spot the truck.

Running isn’t going to mend what running severed.

Know better, do better.

I creep back to the motel and pretend to sleep. There are salt lines dried across my skin when Jack knocks on my door.

The sun still rises. Dean tosses his things in his bag, even the whiskey. Waste not want not. They’re heading home to regroup or to hide or just for something to do. He doesn’t care, but being out in the open feels like he’s leaving them open for an ambush, or Chuck’s prying eyes at the very least.

He knows they’re not safe from that anywhere. It just feels safer somehow.

Dean feels good in motion. Sam’s at his side, while she and Jack sit in their own quiet corners in the back. The looming reality of an empty planet unnoticeable on the backroads. Denial is a helluva drug.

So is hope. Good thing he kicked that one.

When they pull into the garage, he doesn’t even bother grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Dean bee lines for the hard stuff and no one even bats an eye.

Maybe he has always been that predictable. Maybe he no longer cares.

I’m sitting on my bed, flipping through an old photo album when Sam finds me. It’s been three days and the bunker just keeps getting hollower the longer we stay inside. It’s like Chuck is slowly strangling the oxygen from the air.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one to break.

Dean’s too far into a pity party at the bottom of a bottle to be pushed off any one edge and Sam’s too good at keeping on. Of course, Jack is getting by on sheer purity of spirit.

“How you holding up?” Sam’s voice is scratchy, but familiar, I don’t know the last time we actually spoke. I don’t really make eye contact, but shrug all the same.

“You?” I ask, unnecessarily.

He sits down beside me, looking over my shoulder. He huffs out a laugh at one of the pictures.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep all of these,” Sam says as he reaches over and slides his finger tips over the poorly taped Polaroids.

“They were at Bobby’s for a while, but I dug them out of a storage unit after--- well, after I fucked things up with your brother. Figured they were all I had left after that.”

Sam inhales at my bluntness, cocks his head because it hurts to hear, but also doesn’t sit right. What a doof.

“Spit it out, Legs, I know you wanna say something,” I goad.

“I guess I don’t really--- what happened?” Sam’s eternal need to know things going for my weak spot. “I mean, Dean said you tried to put the moves on him, but I guess, why was it so horrible?”

“Well, I actually have some new information on that front,” I offer, turning to face him and placing the memories on the far side of the bed.

Sam’s brows pitch.

“Apparently, I--- cheapened everything. Dean thought whatever our relationship was, was more important than hooking up. And I made it all about me.”

“He said that?” Sam asks in a hush.

“Yup,” I huff out. “And a very firm, ‘there is no rebuilding bridges’,” I say in my best/worst Dean voice.

“Wow.” Sam looks to the ceiling then scratches the back of his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I mean, I did kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had psyched myself up that entire night, misread everything. I’ve never been the one guys willingly go home with. I shouldn’t have forced it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had---,” Sam breaks off when he thinks about my asshole ex.

“I’ve had a couple of real winners,” I finish for him. “But it’s okay. Because now we’re the last people on Earth. No one left to break my heart.”

I slap the edge of the mattress and lurch to my feet, ignoring the pain in Sam’s eyes. He just lost Eileen and here I am moping about something that happened over two years ago. Once a shitty friend, always a shitty friend.

“You can keep looking through that if you want. I’m gonna start dinner,” I add at the door.

Sam nods, but he doesn’t reach for the album. He just sits on my bed and chews the inside of his lips.

Jack’s feeling things and Sam’s looking at Dean with insistence, but Dean’s hungover-leeched brain is not putting things together.

“What?!”

Sam grimaces, heavy on the bitch factor. “I think you should be the one to tell her we’ve got a lead. Meanwhile, I’ll start packing the car.”

“Great. Sure.” Dean does little to hide his disdain. Sam doesn’t budge.

He grunts through an explanation as she cleans her gun. Luckily, she doesn’t ask too many questions because the vibrations of his own voice are adding to the throbbing at the base of his skull.

She slips him a bottle of painkillers before ducking into the back seat next to Jack. He doesn’t say thank you, but he knows she knows he’s grateful. They used to be able to do that, not as easily as he and Sam, but silent communication was possible, once.

He gets them on the road before noon, the familiar feel of the wheel in his hands steadies Dean until the pain starts to subside. The soft, yet urgent Jack-P-S guiding their way.

They stop for an inevitable pitstop and Dean gets hit with a pure dose of that damning hope. A white, shaggy dog is laying outside the men’s room and his face breaks into a smile for the first time in weeks. It’s the proof he needed aside from Jack’s fuzzy radar.

Chuck didn’t get everything.

He scoops the dog up and shows him off to Sam, forgetting entirely about his need to pee. He sets the sudden miracle in the backseat, promises there’ll be enough room for him.

That’s when Dean spots Chuck in the field, menacing and knowing. Dean straightens on instinct, facing the threat. As Chuck raises his hand to snap, a gushing voice rushes to Dean’s side.

“Oh, who’s a good boy?!” She doesn’t see their destructive creator waiting in the wings and Dean moves to shield her from Chuck’s gaze.

It’s too late.

Suddenly Chuck is standing beside the impala’s trunk.

“Now, how exactly did I miss you?” Chuck gapes, the disbelief and rage shifting across his once amiable face.

She chokes on her breath, freezes on the spot. Dean sees the power trip flash in Chuck’s piercing blue gaze. He likes when people are fearful, he likes to see them squirm.

“She wasn’t here when you iced everybody, Chuck. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s still just us,” Dean reasons, downplaying her worth.

“Nah, I don’t like it. It’s supposed to be you and Sam. Jack, fine. He’s just a pet anyway. But her? You guys get over your crap and suddenly there’s a whole new generation of thorns in my side. Sorry,” Chuck huffs and snaps his fingers. She disappears faster than Dean could take it in. “Not sorry.”

“What the hell?!” Dean barks. Panic, rage, and overwhelming sadness shoot through him as he dives towards Chuck. But he’s gone before Dean can get there. Falling to the gravel, gracelessly, Dean spins on his knees to see if Sam or Jack are still alive and accounted for. He spots their silhouettes through the convenience store windows. With that little platitude, Dean staggers over to soothe the dog’s sudden whimper. And then it vanishes too.

Maybe Dean never made it out of Hell after all.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @peridottea91 @fookinghelljensensthighs @cosicas-cuquis @flamencodiva @akshi8278 @dontshootmespence @smi727 @ericaprice2008 @crashdevlin @dolphincliffs @spnfamily-j2

Read On: Free Will

#bgdc #dean winchester fanfiction #tell me a story bingo #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean angst #s15 fic #platonic!reader #plussized!reader #reader insert #spn angst #the dog gets dusted #no beta I die on my own sword

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fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

Feral for each other

This was prompted by the amazing @smolandangry001! This was fun to write but prepare for angst!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: unpunished police brutality if you think about it, violence)

[Part2]

‘Gavin, I don’t feel good about this.’ ‘I know, babe’, Gavin whispered sitting next to him in the car, watching the others already mill about busy making last preparations. He turned towards the android and tried to smile at him as reassuringly as he could. ‘I’m here, okay? I will look out for you. If you need me, I’ll be there.’ ‘This will be just another Ferndale incident’, Nines disagreed. ‘It was mere luck I didn’t...’ The android looked at his hands contorted to claws and there was horror evident on his face as if he could still see it. Very gently, Gavin took his hands, looked out of the front window and kissed Nines fingers as he was sure no one was looking. ‘Then we’ll be lucky again.’ He pushed Nines fingers close and gifted him yet another smile. ‘We will get this over with, we will both return home tonight. I promise.’ Nines closed his eyes, LED still settled on red when he finally nodded and waited for Gavin to step out of the car. He took his pistol, checked the magazine for the hundredth time and followed Gavin over to their meeting point with SWAT and the FBI team.

‘Any news?’, Gavin asked one of his colleagues, who just pointed to Agent Perkins, who was listening intently to his ear-piece. ‘Captain Allen and Sixty have already met and our favourite RK800 is currently passing through the intel. I bet we are clear to storm in a moment.’ Gavin nodded and watched the building in front of them. He knew why he hated undercover operations: If they went wrong, they went to hell immediately. They were lucky the gang thought they could get their hands on police information. It was the only reason Allen was still alive and they had someone to rescue. Sixty had successfully infiltrated the building and already incapacitated some of the gang-members, but soon it was time for the whole team to go in. And from Perkins’ body language, that moment wasn’t so far away now.

The man nodded and looked over at them. Gavin had never liked the self-righteous asshole, but he had to respect him for his competence in the field. ‘RK900, I want you with my men in the front’, he began to bark. ‘We went over this a hundred times, I won’t repeat myself. Stay with your teams, be careful and stick to the damn plan! We will get this man out alive and well!’ Nines already moved and Gavin fell in step next to him. ‘Reed! On your position!’ The Detective sighed and turned to Perkins. ‘Listen, my position is next to Nines.’ ‘We don’t have time for your rebellious body-cop act. Don’t make me regret agreeing to have you on this mission.’ Gavin clenched his teeth and looked at Nines, who gave him a barely perceivable nod. ‘Alright, listen here Perkins. You might have heard about the Ferndale incident?’ ‘I have, that’s why I want the RK900 on the team.’ ‘Then you might not know I was there too and was the only reason Nines didn’t kill his colleagues, too. So, I guess you would agree that the position I am most useful in is right at his side.’ Perkins watched him with narrowed eyes, but reluctantly nodded. ‘Fine. Stay with him. Don’t cause any problems.’

They joined the first team to enter and Nines sheepishly looked around, avoiding their eyes. ‘Hey, it won’t happen again’, Gavin mumbled under his breath, knowing only the android would be able to hear him. ‘It’s okay, I’m here.’ He couldn’t take his hand out here in the open and hold him, so his soft words had to suffice. The android’s LED turned from red to yellow at least, so that might have been a good sign. He wouldn’t have much time to do anything else anyways as they got the order to move out.

It was a short jog up the hill and down the other side to the building’s main entrance. Nines was in the very front taking the lead, Gavin right behind him and the rest of the team surrounding him. He was a good shot and well-trained, but he was seldom in the situation to actually pull it on people except maybe as an intimidation tactic. He really was mainly here because of Nines. He hoped his own words would prove themselves true and he wasn’t needed.

They breached the doors and were almost immediately met with gunfire they returned. With mechanical efficiency, Nines took out the more difficult targets, incapacitating them with shots in the legs or arms. He rushed in as soon as someone lost their pistol and took care of them with a well placed punch. Then the whole team hurried onwards before anyone could alarm someone, potentially making them harm or kill Allen in their panic.

They ran along the hallway, the sounds of their boots echoing back from the wall. Gavin saw Nines look back at him at least once and they both seemed to relax a little at that. But it wasn’t over yet. They entered yet another big room, Sixty’s intel helping them navigate. They turned right and ran on, only to be stopped once again. Maybe they had already discovered them rushing in or the sound of gunshots had alerted them. Gavin let himself fall back and covered their backs, only to be snatched, when he least expected it: An arm snaked itself around his neck and someone kicked the pistol from his hand. He began to struggle against the hold only to have the barrel of a gun pressed against his head. ‘Everyone drop their weapons and leave!’, the man holding Gavin demanded, but all that entailed was the SWATs to aim back at them. Gavin knew the statistics of a hostage surviving something like this, but somehow hoped they would change in his favour, when his eyes met Nines’. Oh no.

Nines stared at him, but only in the first moment he looked adequately panicked and afraid. Then a look of robotic indifference washed over his face as his body dropped processes active only to integrate with humans: His breathing and blinking stopped, and his stance changed to better supply the full strength and agility of a machine. Gavin swallowed hard and tried to calm himself down ignoring his surroundings. ‘Nines. Nines, it’s okay, calm down. They won’t harm me.’ ‘Shut up! We will!’ Gavin jolted his head and hissed: ‘Listen buddy, you don’t know what’s coming for y-‘ The pressure of the arm around his throat rose and let his words die in his throat. He still tried to look at Nines and contorted his face to something that should have been a calm smile. But he couldn’t control his heart beating in his chest and throat and his laboured breath.

And that action seemed to finally enable Nines’ protocols fully. The android smashed his shoulder into the side of one of the SWAT-members and ripped his weapons off his body to shoot them into the ambushing gang-members. With cold precision, one bullet after the next, the people fell to the ground, dead. RK900 had fired while running up to the man that held Gavin hostage. Now he stood in front of them and punched him in the face while at the same time forcing the gun out of his hand. The man fell to the ground, but the machine wasn’t finished yet, punching him again and again as blood already streamed from his nose. Gavin fell to his knees too, as the arm around his neck had vanished and gasped for air. He allowed himself just a second, before turning to the rest of the SWAT-team and signalling them to get the fuck out of here and continue with the mission.

They didn’t hesitate fleeing, seeing the android still punching the lifeless body of the man who had threatened Gavin. At the sound of their feet, the machine turned around, uniform splattered with blood and seemed ready to run after them not distinguishing between enemy and ally anymore but only analysing threats. As Gavin realised the android was moments away from sprinting off, he pushed himself in his way and held him by the shoulders, knowing there was no way he could actually prevent him from slaughtering his co-workers in this state.

‘RK900, stand down. That’s an order’, he said with stern voice, although he couldn’t hide his panting. ‘All enemies obliterated, disengage soldier protocols.’ The android blinked once, looking at Gavin, but still having that distant look on his face. It wasn’t over yet. ‘You did well, RK900, your target is safe’, Gavin tried to get through to Nines. And that made him blink once again, his LED turning red in an instant. Gavin immediately let go of his shoulders and took his hands. ‘Nines, Nines, look. I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry, I wasn’t hurt. I’m not in danger anymore, I am fine. I am fine. I’m okay. You understand?’ ‘Gavin’, Nines answered, voice loaded with static. ‘Gavin, I saw you… You had a gun against your head and someone held you hostage and-‘ Nines lifted his hands to his head, but Gavin forced them to stay down and instead lifted his own up to make him focus on him. ‘Nines, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m safe. That happened, but it’s over now. You saved me.’ ‘I… saved you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did I…’ He tried to move his head, but Gavin shook his head telling him not to. ‘Yes. You did. Like Ferndale.’ ‘Is… Did I hurt many?’ ‘You killed the ambushing gang-members. The rest of the team is safe. They are off to save Allen.’ ‘How many?’ Gavin looked around and grimaced. ‘Shit, I don’t know. Ten? It looks like more than ten.’ It made the android press his eyes together in pain.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault, okay?’, Gavin tried softly. ‘You were programmed like this. You can’t do anything about it.’ ‘I’m not programmed like this. It’s a malfunction because I…’ ‘There is no one around, Nines, it’s okay. You can say it. I love you too. We will get out of this. I will tell Fowler what happened, that it was self-defence. He will likely give us a pass. Perkins will be pissed, but the guy has zero authority and Fowler hates him. We will be fine, okay?’ Nines shook his head. ‘It won’t. I killed, Gavin.’ ‘You did and so did I on the job. Let’s just say that we will never, ever take a mission like this again.’ ‘I can’t Gavin, Sixty-‘ ‘Sixty’s feelings are his problem. They’ll just send more people. Also, I highly doubt your psycho little brother wouldn’t get Allen out on his own. Only you are important at the moment. And you will be fine. Come on now, let’s get out of here.’

They had barely made it back to the precinct and got Nines’ hands clean of blood and a new change of clothes, as shit hit the fan: Perkins marched up to Fowler’s office, who Gavin had already warned and informed of the situation. It didn’t take long for Fowler to stand up from his chair, so his table was the only barrier between him and the Federal Agent. Soon after the windows were frosted and all that was left was the muffled screaming coming from within.

Nines sunk deeper into his chair as Gavin tended to him, cleaning the joints of his fingers from blood. He had hit the asshole that had held Gavin hard enough to deactivate his artificial skin. Gavin should have been afraid, seeing Nines’ raw strength and fury, but all he could feel was worry. Yes, Nines could be shoved in the backseat by mindless programming that made him go full terminator, forcing him to fight until either everyone was dead, or he couldn’t function anymore. But when he was back in control, he was soft and polite and everything Gavin wasn’t. On their very first occasion the android had caught Gavin off-guard by reacting to his curses by apologising. He was the very first person that managed to make the precinct’s asshole feel sorry and ever since they had been the perfect team. More than that, actually, but they hadn’t told anyone they actually were in a relationship. Not yet, or maybe never.

It broke Gavin’s heart, he had forgotten for the longest time, seeing Nines like this. Ashamed of what he had done, full of regret and worrying for his future. Gavin couldn’t help but set the pipe cleaner aside and brush over his exposed knuckles. ‘It’s okay, Nines. It’s not your fault.’ ‘I know’, the android returned quietly. ‘But I should have known better.’ ‘We will next time’, the Detective reassured him. ‘If there is a-‘

‘There he is!’ The door of Fowler’s office opened, and Perkins hurried down the stairs, face red as a tomato. ‘There is the fucking killerbot you lunatics still let run free! What the fuck is wrong with you? Something malfunctioning? Some mis-wired connection? Or did you just finally decided to turn against humans, huh?’ Nines head dropped, and he pulled his hand out of Gavin’s. ‘I thought you were competent as they told me of Ferndale. But now I realised your damn precinct is just conspiring to keep a cold-blooded murderer in their midst!’ Perkins looked around the precinct that had fallen awfully quiet. ‘I guess it is convenient to have a tool to use when everything went to shit. Send the RK900, it will clear out an entire building, regardless of whether the people inside are criminals or civilians. We can always call on self-defence.’ He shook his head and leaned forwards, looking Nines straight in the eyes. ‘You know what? I think some of you would really have been better off being dismantled at the camps.’

Gavin had watched the whole conversation going down in shock. For once in his life he was missing the words to tell Perkins to fuck off. Because there were no words that would accurately describe what cold hatred he was feeling at that very moment. Silence stretched and with horror, Gavin saw how Nines nodded and hid his hands against his body.

That was it.

‘Perkins, you lousy excuse of a human being!’, he whispered, but in the dead silence of the precinct it was more effective than a scream. ‘You. Goddamn… Phck, I don’t have words for it. What is your twisted mind like that you think you can just say something like this? This android saved my life. And I specifically told you not to take him with you on the mission. But surprise: You cocksure bastard thought I was just some idiot that can be ignored. This is entirely on your poor judgement and you can’t weasel your way out of that!’ Gavin had to take a break to breath as the tension inside his body had made him talk a lot faster than healthy. Perkins used it to open his mouth, but before a word left his throat, Gavin was already back at it: ‘I don’t phcking care what the hell you have to say. You won’t get another chance at insulting my boyfriend, who just went through an event that was traumatic. But you didn’t think of that, right? Not even for a minute, you wasted a thought on putting yourself in his shoes. How do you think it feels to be shoved out of your own body because some asshole thought it would be fun to design a killing machine? You don’t know the first thing about the love of my life, this precinct or our past. So, I would greatly advise you to shut up, leave this precinct and go eat a double decker dick sandwich!’

Once again silence fell, and Gavin knew everyone including Fowler was looking at him. He didn’t care. Not one bit. He could only stare at Perkins unblinking, challenging him to back off. But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. ‘Or what?’, he asked with a sly grin. ‘You gonna let your rabid dog off the leash?’ Gavin didn’t hesitate. He had planned this for a while now and he really, really didn’t care anymore. He stepped back and took a swing at Perkins, landing his fist perfectly against his brow and nose to make him stumble back and holding his laceration at the temple. ‘Believe me, that you already did by insulting him. You shouldn’t fear Nines. I am the one that will kick your ass out of here if you are not leaving in the next five seconds.’ ‘You can’t be serious-‘ Gavin hit him again. The fact that no one had yet dared to stand up and intervene meant that most were on his side here. The Detective leaned down to him and whispered once again: ‘Five seconds. Leave. Now.’

Perkins snarled at him, but Gavin’s already lifted fist was enough to convince him in the end and he ran towards the exit, shouting something like: ‘This isn’t over yet!’

Gavin couldn’t keep himself upright any longer and slumped against his table, slowly sinking to the ground. ‘Phck. I just punched a Federal Agent. I’m so damn screwed.’ He let his head fall into his hands. Then there was another one in front of his face, offering to help him up. It was Hank, Connor next to him. Nines was standing at his side too but looked more worried than comforting. ‘Don’t worry, Reed’, Hank laughed. ‘I did that too, once. Was actually quite satisfying as you might know now.’ ‘Yeah. I can still prepare to get my stuff and search for a new job now.’ ‘Don’t think so. You should have seen Fowler’s face. Don’t worry.’

Gavin turned around and looked Nines up and down, who in the end just stepped forwards and pulled Gavin in a strong hug. ‘Wanted to congratulate you two’, Gavin heard Connor’s distant voice. ‘Didn’t know you two were together.’ Both Nines and Gavin froze and looked at each other. ‘What?’ ‘You said he was your boyfriend.’ ‘I… did?’ ‘Yep.’

Gavin looked at Nines face that just pleaded him to go home and hold each other in the safety of their bedroom. It made him smile in contentment, because honestly, he would love to do that. ‘Yeah. I love him more than anything.’

[>next part]

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #God I loved writing this #I honestly thought I forgot to write but it worked out in the end #I want to write so much more #I have no idea how I will survive this hiatus but oh well...#I guess this counts as #the feels

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mimosaeyes · 4 years

Text

Post-176. Jon, Martin, and Basira regroup before continuing the search for Daisy. (Or: everyone is allowed to feel their feelings.) 2.1k, hurt/comfort.

I wrote a few lines of this fic after listening to the episode, but I wasn't going to finish it until I read @dathen's post about how 176 is basically "emotionally repress or die". Then I thought, oh wait, do people actually want the self-indulgent emotional catharsis? So, with @emberidzae's enabling and beta-ing, here we are.

It takes Martin longer than it should to realise that Basira is leading them out of the domain, not farther into it. Because of the way she’d begun hurrying them along, he assumed they were only a few steps behind Daisy, about to catch up with her at any moment.

Instead, the trees begin to thin out around them. Soon there’s enough space between the trunks to render them ineffective camouflage, and Martin stops feeling the urge to check his surroundings for the silhouettes of wolves waiting in ambush. There’s still a tight feeling in his throat, but at least the prickle on the back of his neck has disappeared.

He can still feel where Trevor had pressed the knife, the sharp edge of it right up against his jugular. The man’s voice had been shaking, but never his hand. No, that had been Martin’s own pulse, throbbing sickeningly beneath the blade and rushing loud in his ears.

Lost in the memory, Martin doesn’t notice the root sticking out of the ground until he’s already tripping over it. He has a split-second to think how stupid that is, how this has probably been the downfall of many people being chased by the Hunt — then his elbow is snagged by a familiar, scarred hand.

Jon doesn’t spare him a glance even as he releases his arm to clasp Martin’s hand instead. He just pulls him along, his pace brisk but not overtly hurried by fear or panic. Martin falls into step beside him, gradually regaining his rhythm and composure.

When they finally stumble into open space, Martin senses the difference at once. It’s not that he instantly relaxes; all things considered, he’d managed to remain relatively unfazed. But suddenly it takes much less effort to breathe normally. Suddenly, tension he hadn’t been aware of dissipates from his shoulders and chest.

He looks up to find Basira watching him closely. “Good job,” she says, making no effort to deny her scrutiny. “You’ll need full control over your emotions if you’re planning on following me back in there.”

Ah. There’s the rub. Of course they’re not done with this domain yet; this is only a pit-stop for Basira to make sure she hasn’t taken on liabilities.

“So you’re sure Daisy’s here?” Martin asks, managing to sound far more businesslike than he really feels about the thought of returning to the forest. “You’ve seen her?”

A muscle jumps in Basira’s cheek. Not quite a flinch, but the shadow of one. “I’m sure.”

She turns away from them and starts fiddling with her gun, checking the mechanism even though it had clearly worked fine on Trevor. Perhaps she wants a reason to keep her hands busy. Perhaps she wants to hide her face.

Martin leaves her to it and turns to Jon. He’s about to say something at random, anything to afford Basira the illusion of privacy, but the words die on his lips as Jon lets go of his hand and throws his arms around Martin.

He’s hugging back before he has time to fully register what’s happening. “Jon?” His voice squeaks from how tightly Jon is squeezing. “What’s wrong?”

Jon mumbles something against the crook of his neck. He can’t quite make out what it is. He catches sorry and couldn’t and so scared. Jon is trembling, he realises. It makes his heart lurch. He rubs a hand over his back in what he hopes is a soothing way.

After a long moment, Jon pulls back, gripping his arm with one hand while the other goes to the side of Martin’s face. “Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

Martin shakes his head. “I, I don’t think so.” But Jon checks anyway, running his fingers lightly over his neck to check for the smallest nick. Martin shivers at the gentle touch.

Then Jon tugs his long sleeve down over his knuckles and starts dabbing at Martin’s cheek and chin, which is when it hits Martin that the damp feeling there isn’t nervous sweat, but the spray of Trevor’s blood from the gunshot that had killed him.

He reels away from Jon — or he tries to, but Jon holds him steady. “Don’t look,” he says softly. “It’s okay, just look at me. It’s okay.” There’s something quietly insistent in his tone that makes Martin go still. Let me do this for you, it seems to say. Let me spare you this.

So he does. Instead of thinking about what happened, instead of peering at the red on Jon’s sleeve in his peripheral vision, Martin watches his face. Part of him is braced for the slightest wrinkling of his nose, indicating revulsion at his task. Mostly, he expects to see regret. They’d come to this domain hoping to find their friends and save Daisy, and instead another person has died because of them. It had happened indirectly, in that Basira had been the one to pull the trigger, but Jon had engineered the situation and Martin had participated in it, and... and it feels different, like this. Martin’s been calling it smiting when Jon turns the Ceaseless Watcher on an avatar, vaporising them. But there was nothing righteous about this, nothing neat and sterile. There is only the visceral, ignominious reality of a body left on the ground, and some of the gore still smeared over Martin’s skin.

Yet he looks, and finds only tenderness in Jon’s expression. All throughout the encounter with Trevor, he had kept his face impassive, his voice calm and in control. Only now is Martin seeing the depth of his fear for him.

Jon finishes cleaning off the blood and without further ado, rips the end of his sleeve off entirely, stuffing it in a pocket so it’s out of sight.

Half-jokingly, Martin laments, “Aww. I liked that shirt.” It’s one of his own, hence the excessively long sleeves on Jon. He’d stolen it a few days into their stay in the safehouse. Martin had teased him about it at the time, but never really minded.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says sombrely. Martin’s about to clarify that he was kidding, but then Jon continues, “I thought Trevor would go for me. I was nearly sure of it, else I would’ve told you more. I thought the worst I was asking of you was to stay calm while he threatened me, and you know nothing can really hurt me, so.”

“It’s alright,” Martin tells him. “I mean, it’s not alright, obviously; that was messed up to have to go through, but.” He offers him a slightly lopsided smile. “I trust you.”

Jon doesn’t return the smile, though. He just looks preoccupied; cagey. Like before, like he’s not telling him something. Martin frowns. “Why did you think he’d pick you? You’re not exactly without defences.” He glances pointedly at the eyes staring down at them from the sky.

“Because...” Jon sighs, shrugs, runs one hand roughly through his hair. “Because I’m the one who’d be prey in this domain. Fear of your friends turning on you? After Jane Prentiss, I staked out Tim’s house, I went through the belongings you’d left at the Institute. I was so easily made to feel paranoid, to dread betrayal. Besides—” He cuts himself off abruptly.

Martin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What?”

Jon hesitates, reluctant. “And, well. Trevor’s a monster hunter.”

He seems about to elaborate, but then just makes a vague gesture, encompassing all of himself.

“Oh, Jon...”

But before Martin can tell him he’s not a monster, smack him, or possibly pull him in for another hug, Basira interjects. “You two do know I can still hear you, right? Honestly, you have definitely been wandering around with no other company for too long.”

Startled and sheepish, they both turn to her. She’s re-holstered her gun and is smirking at them with one hand on her hip. Martin sees the moment when her mirth reverts to steely resolve. “Enough blubbering. Daisy’s after Trevor. If we want to catch her here, we’ll have to move fast. Are you coming with, and can you handle yourselves?”

“Of course,” Jon replies, nodding and stepping out of Martin’s embrace. “Let’s go.”

Even though Martin hadn’t been around at the time, he imagines this is exactly how it went before these two ran off to Ny-Ålesund together. “Wait! Do you even have a plan?”

“Find Daisy,” Jon and Basira say in unison.

Martin resists the urge to slap his forehead. “And then what?” he asks, softening his tone from exasperated to reasonable. He addresses Basira specifically: “You promised to kill Daisy. Is that your first option, or do you have another plan?”

Judging from the way she stiffens ever so slightly at the word kill, there’s at least some doubt in her mind. Basira glances at Jon. “You wouldn’t happen to have any convenient Beholding powers to get through to her, would you?”

Jon winces. “We need a key to a lock in this situation, and I have... the equivalent of a nuclear warhead.”

Basira stares. “I don’t even want to know.”

“What about how we’re finding her, then?” Martin wonders aloud, hastily changing the topic. “If Trevor’s, uh, no longer with us, then we don’t have anyone to follow. Unless we can find Daisy’s tracks.”

“Unlikely,” Basira says. “She’s too good a Hunter to be hunted herself. I’ve been relying on Trevor, mostly.”

“So why’d you kill him?” Martin asks thoughtlessly.

Almost before he’s finished the sentence, he anticipates Basira’s raised eyebrow and sarcastic, “He had you at knifepoint. You’re welcome.”

“And the other reason?” Jon asks quietly.

Immediately, Basira snaps, “Don’t compel me. Do not look in my head.”

“I didn’t, and I won’t,” Jon says, holding up both hands placatingly. He’s telling the truth; there had been no telltale buzz of static. “But you could have shot him without killing him. You could have lamed him and waited for Daisy to come end it. So I know there’s another reason.”

Basira is glaring askance, but Martin can still feel the ferocity of that look. Then, haltingly but with more sincerity than he would have expected, she actually answers. “I found Julia’s body. Trevor is older than her, slower. Which means Daisy let him go on purpose. She — she’s relishing this too much. Trying to prolong the chase. I could’ve kept it going. Could’ve followed him for days, or what used to be days. But the longer that goes on, the longer she gets to toy with him... the less likely she comes back to me as Daisy. So. It’s better this way, with his blood on my hands.”

She takes a deep breath. Then she punches Jon in the arm — not hard, but not very lightly either. “I blame you for all this touchy-feely stuff. It must be contagious.”

Jon has the cheek to smugly say, “You’re welcome.”

Martin barely hears it, though. Basira’s words are echoing through his mind: his blood on my hands, his blood on my hands.

“I know how we can find Daisy,” he says. “Jon. That strip of sleeve? Give it to Basira.”

To Basira’s credit, she barely reacts as Jon uneasily extracts the bloodied cloth from his pocket and helps her tie it around one wrist. “This is Trevor’s blood?” is all she says.

“And now it also smells like me, Jon, and you.” Martin’s eyes flick briefly to the forest. “Daisy might’ve already found Trevor’s body. She’ll be looking for something else worth hunting.”

“It could work,” Jon says slowly. Martin doesn’t miss the worried look he gives him.

Basira holds her arm aloft on the breeze for a few seconds, letting the wind carry the scent into the trees. “Are you sure about this?” she asks them both. “You do understand that we’re making ourselves bait.”

The forest looms before them. Does it look darker than before? It never gets any later in the apocalypse, so it must be his imagination. Or his mind, already being drawn into the mentality of prey. Martin gulps. He tries to sound confident about his plan as he says, “The best bait is friendship?”

“Now I know why we never hung out,” Basira tells him, but without much heat.

As they begin walking, Martin reaches for Jon’s hand. “Hey,” he says quietly. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got this.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Jon’s eyes. “Apparently so,” he murmurs, giving Martin’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

They hold on for a couple more seconds while ignoring Basira’s eye-roll. Then Martin lets go and sets about pulling his emotions into order. They only want one wolf to come after them.

At the edge of the forest, Basira checks her gun in its holster, glances at Jon and Martin in turn. Then she raises her arm again. “Alright, Daisy,” she murmurs, more to herself than to them. “Hunt this. Hunt me.”

[also available on AO3 here]

[my TMA fic on AO3]

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #dasira #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #mimofic

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marvelsdc22 · 4 years

Text

Let You Go

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good day/night!! This was requested by an anon, hope you enjoy!! :)

Note: Y/N is an Avenger with the powers of ice, when she first met Natasha she was absolutely smitten, finally she gained the courage to tell Natasha how she felt, only for it to all be ruined when some guy called the Winter Soldier showed up, how much will it change things?

Word Count: 1374

Hi, can I please request a nat x reader where reader witnessed what happened during CAWS when nat kissed steve? She got jealous because she likes nat. Preferably angst as an ending lol

You had been an Avenger for about two months before Natasha showed up, you were absolutely smitten when you first met her, to the point you were sure you made a fool of yourself, although at the same time she didn’t seem to react much to anything so you were probably safe.

You tried for a good few months to try and get the courage to speak to her, she was rather intimidating to say the least and you didn’t want to piss her off, but you did notice she tended to sit by you when she had to choose, that could’ve easily been because you were the only other female in the group so she felt more comfortable near you.

“Any plans for today?” You asked her one day, you finally gaining the courage to ask her out and feeling your face burn when she gave you a small smile “Not really, aside from training” Natasha said, looking at you as she leaned back against her chair “Well, would you-“ getting cut off by her phone ringing “I gotta go” she said, standing up and rushing out, Steve not far behind her, making you furrow your brows but you stopped yourself from questioning it too long.

A bit after Steve and Natasha received the message, you got the same from Fury, him wanting you to join them and just have you as backup in case things went south “You can freeze them in place and give them time to escape” he had told you, causing you to roll your eyes but you agreed, which is why you were currently sitting at a random table in the main area of the mall you guys were at.

“You in position, Y/L/N?” Steve asked, glancing at you as him and Natasha went up the escalator “Yup, just get what we came for so we can leave… I don’t like the looks I’m getting” you said, glancing at some teenage boys that kept staring at you “Horny boys will be horny boys” Natasha chimed in, catching a glimpse of the boys looking at you “Well maybe their parents should do a better job at teaching them that staring isn’t nice” you said, saying the last part loud enough for them to hear and watching as they ducked their heads before turning back towards each other, you rolling your eyes as you settled back in your seat.

After about twenty minutes, you noticed something was off “You guys good there?” You asked, receiving no response and looking up when a certain redhead caught your eye on the escalator, you starting to stand and freezing when you saw her and Steve kiss, feeling your heart break, but you fought back your feelings long enough to get out of the mall with them.

The whole ride to the Triskelion you said nothing, Natasha glancing at you throughout the ride but you did nothing to acknowledge it as you sat there, when you got there, you waited for Natasha outside of the office, needing to make sure everything went smoothly “Ready?” She asked when she came out, you nodding and following her, only to be pulled into an empty room by her “What’s going on with you?” She asked, sounding off as she asked you that.

“Nothing” you said, pulling your arm out of her grip and turning to walk out of the room, only to be grabbed by her again and pinned to the wall, this usually being when you felt yourself blush but at the moment you were too upset to react properly with it “Bullshit, you aren’t leaving this room until you tell me” Natasha said, that just angering you more to the point where you forced her back with a blast of frost “Nothing, now back off” you said, storming out of the room, not even waiting for her to catch up.

“Did you really see him?” You asked when Steve explained this so called ‘Winter Soldier’, glancing at him as you guys stood there “I did… He was fast, strong-“ “A killer” you interrupted, receiving a glare from Steve but you ignored it, feeling Natasha’s gaze on the back of your head as you looked out the window “How do we go about catching him?” She asked, looking at Steve who sighed and shook his head “I don’t know” leaving you to scoff, shaking your head as you walked off, going to talk with Maria about what needed to be done.

When you walked out of the room, you nearly ran into a strong and tall looking man “Sorry” you apologized, looking at him and hearing him chuckle “No harm no foul… Sam Wilson” he introduced, holding his hand out for you to shake which you took “Y/N Y/L/N” you said, giving him a smile as you shook his hand, finding him rather handsome but you said nothing “So, you’re the one Steve brought in” you said, slipping your hands into your jean pockets “That’s me, hope that’s not an issue” he said, looking at you with a bright smile “Not at all”.

Later on, you, Natasha, Steve, and Sam were out to get the H.Y.D.R.A mole, Jasper Sitwell, only to be ambushed by the Winter Soldier “We’re cornered!” You shouted into your comms, receiving nothing but static from Maria “We’re on our own” you said, cold air swarming around you guys since you were trying to build up a shield for you guys before he attacked, you and Natasha ending up being thrown to the side, her landing on top of you while Steve tried to hold him off, Natasha locking eyes with you for a moment before she stood up, helping you up before going to help Steve.

“Bucky?” You had heard Steve say during the fight, so when you guys got to the safe house, thanks to Maria, you went over to him as he paced “You knew him?” You asked, glancing at him as he looked at you “Old friend… I thought he had died” he said, looking at you and you nodded “But he was captured and changed into that?” You guessed, looking at him and watching as he nodded “We’ll catch him and do what we can” you promised, giving his arm a small squeeze before leaving him to think.

On your way towards the living area of the safe house, you felt a hand on your wrist, making you stop and look at the person “Can we talk?” Natasha asked, things having been awkward between the two of you since the day of the kiss “Sure” you said, knowing you guys needed to talk since you didn’t want things to remain awkward and following her to a more secluded area “About the mall” she said, looking at you and trying to find the right words “Don’t worry about it, I’m not upset by it anymore” you said, looking at her.

“What?” Natasha asked, looking at you with a confused expression and not sure what you meant by that “I’ve come to realize that what I felt for you was just a crush” you said, fairly certain this wouldn’t hurt her since she didn’t seem like the type to catch feelings “I see” she said, returning her expression to a neutral one to hide the hurt “I didn’t want to affect our friendship… I’m glad we talked this out” you said, reaching over and giving her arm a small squeeze along with a smile “Me too” she said, struggling to return the smile before she watched you walk out, waiting until you shut the door before she let the tears fall, scolding herself for falling for you in the first place.

When she walked out of the corner the two of you were talking, she saw you sitting with Sam and Maria, the three of you laughing at something, watching as you rested your hand on Sam’s leg to which he responded by wrapping an arm around you, it hurting Natasha to watch, but she reminded herself that she had lost her chance with you as soon as she decided kissing Steve that day was a good idea, she still wanted you, but for now, she would let you go.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates / @natasha-danvers / @youngandwildx7 / @stewie-castle / @hopingforbarnes

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! And that it was angsty enough!! If you want to be added to a Taglist, shoot me an Ask!! It’ll be answered when I return!! :)

Requests Closed

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #Natasha x reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam x reader #Natasha Romanoff imagine #sam wilson imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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whatzaoverwatch · 3 years

Text

Be My Valentine (Ko-fi request)

Hi love! Your writing is a m a z I n g and I just *had* to do this. I mean??? Support you AND get writing??? Heck yes??? So yeah, Reaper x Reader (Name: Valentine) angst-to-fluff where neither of them knew that the other survived the Fall but meet again? Maybe??? Please?

I am??? In tears??? That people still want to support me. You guys are the goat and I love each and everyone of you! I am so SO sorry this took eons to make I feel like garbage for sending it as late as it is. Hopefully it is to your liking. I would promote my Ko-fi to open for more but I don’t want to make you wait several months for the result.

“Intruders have been spotted in sector A. Take your assigned positions!”

Your earpiece shouted commands left and right every five minutes. It was a hassle to make it to your assigned mark without the sounds of gunfire in your path. The troops armed themselves for the sudden ambush that invaded the night. No one saw it coming, the base had been compromised from the inside and out. You could already hear disconnecting communicators over the gunfire. Everyone was falling one by one. All falling to the hands of Talon.

You knew nothing good would come out of that distress signal that Overwatch sent out. A message from one of the strike teams remaining scientists. What he wasn’t aware of was the danger he put former agents would be in if their locations got into the wrong hands. Days prior you had received word that some of your former comrades had been killed. All slaughtered one by one by their exposed locations. It was devastating, to say the least. So, it was no surprise that they would be coming after you next.

The legacy of your old team was being torn apart by the hands of the enemy. What would the other commanders think to see their most beloved agents die by these conditions. You knew Reyes would be disappointed to find out you were being cornered like a rat in a maze. But he wasn’t around anymore to lecture you now, was he?

Starting off as just a rookie agent, you managed to have a place in the Blackwatch Commanders heart overtime. No matter the arguments or the bickering, he could depend on you to get the job done. You were one the few remaining agents from his team. Having no clue as to where McCree or Shimada ended up after the suspension, you were relocated away from the Swiss base before hell really broke loose.

No farewell was provided from Reyes that morning. Just a silent flight to a whole new operation. When you discovered that Overwatch was destroyed, you felt empty for weeks. All that you once were, was gone. Five years of silence since Overwatch fell; five years you grieved from the loss of the only home you knew. But those tears have long been shed. Right now, you had to fight against an old enemy from the ties that bit you in the back.

“Valentine?! Snap out of it! We’ve got company!”

Your thoughts down memory lane were diminished by the shouts and explosions. Hearing the cracks of a shotgun go off in the distance. They sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Grabbing your weapon, you aligned yourself against the barrier that kept you and a few comrades safe. You had no idea what was coming, but you damn well knew you were going to fight till the bitter end. Peeking out for a shot, you found that nothing was coming towards your formation. The shots all fell silent around you. It became quiet, almost too quiet.

The barricade was holding you and a few other soldiers in. Some were injured with blood staining their uniforms. You could only hear your steady breath from the cold night air. Awaiting the target that had trapped your comrades. Focusing, easing your beating heart that rang in your ears. You noticed a faded smoke start to form against the floor, cloaking the metallic ground with a sense of dread. Was your mind playing tricks on your adrenaline state? Your train of thought was gripped by the sound of a gravely voice.

“Death comes for all.”

Snapping your gaze over to find your allies were at gunpoint. A man dressed in a hooded black cloak loomed over your remaining friends. His hollow eyes from his white mask showing no mercy to the fear and terror in their expression. Motionless as the large shotgun pointed right at their faces. Why weren’t they moving? You questioned, seeing their bodies shake as if they were renouncing every prayer they ever knew. If they don’t act quickly, they will fall just like everyone else.

“NO!” Your shout hesitated the first shot. Opening yourself to push the figures line of fire just away from his targets position. The group trembled as you struggled against the hooded mans strength. Ignoring the masks fixation upon your face to cry out to your allies, “RUN!”

The troops took off, not having to be ordered twice by your sudden courage. Escaping while they could as you kept the man from taking his shots. You could hear a sinister growl rumble from the figure. His prey was now gone, and you were next on the list.

“You will regret that.” The man hissed through his mask.

He swung his arm to toss you onto the floor. A grunt escaped you upon impact. You struggled to prop yourself up before he could direct his aim at his new target. It was no wonder your comrades trembled before him, he reeked of death from his aura. From the mask, to the guns, to that raspy voice that reminded you all too much of your fallen commander. As if he mocked you from the grave, if only he could see you now. No, this isn’t where you fall, you thought, it’s time to stand and fight!

Getting up from your feet, you aimed your weapon directly at the figure. He didn’t seem to flinch at your stance, he didn’t even raise his own weapon. Was he testing you? Calling your bluff? Pulling the trigger, the fire landed to his shoulder. That is, it would’ve if his shoulder didn’t form into smoke. A chuckle suddenly escaped the figure as he stepped forward.

“Is that all you got?” He questioned, brushing his clawed hand against his collarbone as if dust coated his armour. Stepping forward, you aligned the shot again.

“Back off!” You barked between every fire.

One. Two. Three. Four. You lost count on how many times you pulled that trigger. But no matter where you aimed, smoke would just let it go through his form. Soon you could only hear the clicking of your empty gun. Eyes wide as the masked man was just a foot away from you. Not phased and possibly bored of your sudden barrage.

“Is it sinking in yet, Val?” You felt your heart sink the moment he spewed out that familiar nickname.

The infliction, the tone of it, it was the one thing that stuck to you from your former commander. The wave of powerless drive you felt every time he pinned you during combat. That glare he gave when he was disappointed in your performance. When he would tease you during missions and when to cheer you up. It was all coming back to you. The question was: why the hell was this man saying your nickname? Only he called you that, much to your dismay. But he was dead…or was he?

“Who the hell are you?” You demanded, a waver of fear etching your tone.

Your question was only met with his forearm pinning you against the wall. Weapons dropped as you struggled against his strength. Gasping for air from the knock back as you are met with the darkness in the figure’s eyes. You could hear his breath against the mask as he kept you still. Struggling to escape, you felt his body shake from a deep laugh.

“Just a ghost from your past. Here I thought all this time that you were dead. Now look at you,” He hissed, pressing you up further against the wall to keep you from squirming, “Hiding away like a shadow in a storm. I knew it was bullshit when Jack told me you went MIA.”

“…Gabe?” You managed to croak out, feeling his body stiffen at the name. Pulling back away from you, you watched him avoid your eyes of disbelief.

There was no denying it, this was your old commander. The one you had mourned five years ago for. Hiding away in a form of death and despair. Your body felt heavy, shaking as you caught your breath. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but the sting of the tears upon your cheeks was aching your heart.

“Val…I’m not your commander anymore. I’m-“He was clearly having a hard time responding, but any of his words were cut short by your hands pushing him away. Hitting him again and again out of fury.

“YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH HOW DARE YOU!” You screamed, cursing him out with all the energy you had, “HOW DARE YOU COME BACK ALL THIS TIME. I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, I thought…DAMMIT!”

The anger built from so long suddenly coming to fruition. He didn’t move nor kept you from lashing out at him, knowing he was just as guilty on his part. The strikes becoming weaker overtime until you could feel your weight. Vision completely blurred from the tears that puffed your face. Choked sobs met with silence, the stoic facade you built in shambles from the face of your past. After a moment, you felt him pull you gently away, feeling a cold claw brush away the tears that rolled down your cheek. The same comfort he would once give all those years ago.

“You have every right to be angry with me Val, and I don’t expect your forgiveness. I’m not who I used to be,” He confessed, a tone of sadness in his voice that almost sounded foreign to hear again, “When I heard Talon was targeting you next, I almost couldn’t believe it. I needed to see you for myself before they would find you.”

“Talon?” You finished wiping away the tears, collecting yourself as he spoke. Turning to face him at what he could be implying, “Gabe, what have you been doing?”

Before he could answer, the sound of static could be heard from your earpiece. The sound of footsteps and commands echoed in the distance. Turning to the sounds, you felt the smoke around Gabriel's form beginning to stir. By the sound of the voices, he didn’t come alone.

“You need to go, now,” He informed you, giving you no time to ask him anything else, “The cleanup crew hardly ever picks up after me, but I’m sure as hell not letting them see you.”

“Reyes wait!” Trying to stop him from pushing you away again. You couldn’t help but straighten up when he faced you once again.

“Come on Valentine, I taught you how to escape situations like this. Don’t tell me you forget all of that in the past five years,” The faintness of his old self could be heard behind that mask. Beginning the vanish before you in a cloud of smoke, “I’ll find you and I won’t take another five years to do it.”

Watching as he faded away from you once more, you were left with a heap of questions waiting to be answered. But now wasn’t the time to reminisce or figure that out. Right now, you needed to show him that you were the same Valentine as before. Picking up your weapon, you began to run. In hopes that everyone else was safe, your escape was priority. Running through the night as the hooded Reaper watched you leave from the shadows.

#Overwatch #overwatch scenarios #overwatch x reader #Reaper #gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #reaper x reader #overwatch imagines

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overwatchworks · 4 years

Text

That Pretty Face:

Inspired by art done by a good pal, they always draw the Blackwatch boys for me and it keeps my sanity.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks and Jesse had not truly thought about him since they had picked him up in pieces back in Hanamura. He had been busy. Mind occupied with other things. Genji Shimada was not the only thing being built from the ground up again.

Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

"Your life in return for your services". Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk.

Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

Guard duty was taking up his time now. Protecting Dr. Liao while she worked tirelessly on the AI that would, as she said, save the world where she could not. Jesse had seen enough of the world to know it could not be saved, but he was not about to tell her that. This was her life’s work, and who was he to dissuade a little bit of good in a world so riddled with evil. A world where people murdered their brothers in cold blood, left them shattered, left them for dead.

Just a few perks of the job.

The only reason Genji Shimada was back on his radar was because he was standing with them for training. Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

Your life in return for your services. Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk. Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

He was a cyborg now, wires hanging off the back of his head and whirring with each movement. The only parts of him that were obviously human being his left arm and what little of his face was still showing. Even that was mutilated with scars and marred by tubing. But he was a sight to behold when training. Fast, unbelievably agile. Ruthless. Violent. Every movement calculated and striking to kill.

It was beautiful, in a terrible sense. Clearly, Genji was skilled, but clearly, he was also unhinged. Pushing his body to the breaking point, steam coming up from odd places and eyes gaining dark circles as he overworked the human parts past their limits.

The weeks passed like that, training and missions going the same way. Genji liked to rip things apart. Genji liked to rip himself apart. Coming back with sparking wires sticking out of his arm and chest, blood that was too dark and glistening dribbling from holes in his armour. Covered in it. Some of it was his. Most of it wasn’t.

Jesse was generally assigned to missions with him, and generally they went well. Genji was quiet, the comms hardly ever going off on his end besides to give a general warning or a check in. He knew Jesse’s name, though, which surprised him the first time he used it. They had been caught in a crossfire, Talon ambushing their escape route and bringing in a sniper. Jesse had heard her rifle winding up, saw the laser sight flash to his chest. A single spot of red.

“She’s on you, McCree!” Genji had called, voice sharp and accented. Concerned, even. And then, of course, he had been shot. The bullet was armour piercing, but he had managed to move out of the way enough for it to not hit anything vital. Something he could survive, something Dr. Deorain had healed fairly quickly on the ride back to base. Genji had watched her work on him for a while, gaze boring into Jesse every time he looked up at the ninja.

For the first time, he wondered what was under that mask. If anything even was under the mask.

His eyes were expressive. They were pretty, all long lashes and dark intensity. They could be soft, at times. It was rare, but it happened. Mostly when Genji thought no one was looking, when he thought no one would notice the human parts of him anymore. Jesse did. But he did not let on just yet. They were not quite close enough for that. He didn’t know if they ever could be. Not in this line of work, not with what they had to do and the promise of death at every corner, a mission always a hairsbreadth away from going in the wrong direction, a bullet always missing them by the skin of their teeth.

Jesse loved it.

Jesse hated it.

Genji did too, he had learned, was born and bred for it. Made for it when he was born a second time, unable to escape the fate of a warrior, an assassin. Jesse wondered if he was bothered by that. The fact that his life was nothing but war and blood and death. Had asked him about it when they were stuck in the med bay together, drugs in his system making his lips looser than they already were.

Surprisingly, Genji had answered.

No, I am not bothered by it. I grew up knowing it was my fate, my duty. But I do resent it, and what it has done to me. What I have lost and had stolen away from me.

Jesse had listened raptly, the sound of Genji’s voice soothing in a way. Robotic, accented. Soft. His eyes were soft in that moment too. Lost in memory, perhaps. Jesse did not look too far into it.

Genji had gone quiet again after that, shifting where he could with the wires attached to his neck linked up to a computer behind him, something pumping modified biotics into the tubes in his arms, on the ports of his stomach. Uncomfortable, but not because of everything he was hooked up to.

I don’t know if I quite understand your situation, but never bein’ a normal kid? I get that. Nothin’ was ever normal for us except a weapon in hand and aimin’ it at someone else. Bein’ told to shoot. I guess in the grand scheme of it all, makes us no better than the bad guys, huh?

Genji looked back at him, assessing for a long moment.

We are not bad, we are just doing what we have to in order to survive. Kill or be killed. Join us or die.

I wish it wasn’t like that.

Another long moment passed, Genji gripping the edge of the examination table, eyes downcast.

Me too.

It was a long time before they spoke like that again. Missions kept them busy, and then training when they were not scheduled for them, Jesse occasionally going to meetings with Reyes while Genji went to the med bay with Dr. Ziegler to continue his modifications. They would pass one another in the halls. Jesse gave a tip of his hat and then added a wink until Genji finally began to acknowledge him back with a slight nod or raise of his brows. He liked to imagine there was at least a bemused smile under that faceplate when his eyes scrunched just a bit. Maybe.

They sparred together, started to train together after Reyes saw how well they worked as a team. Genji was good at quick, agile attacks up close while Jesse took on the long distance and range targets. Genji protected Jesse, and Jesse protected Genji in return. They got closer. Near death calls tended to do that to folks.

Genji talked to him more. Jesse told him stories and would get a few in return on the rooftops where the air was crisp and the sky was clear. Genji tried on his hat. Genji laughed. Just a small, quiet chuckle, but it left Jesse staring for a little too long. Genji noticed, Jesse tried to pretend his red cheeks were attributed to the cold as he snatched his hat back and drew it low over his eyes. He did not see the way Genji’s had softened again.

The next morning had them sitting in an airship, waiting to be dropped into a volatile zone overrun by null sector forces. They started out okay, but slowly, everyone got tired. They were only human, they made mistakes, slipped up. Null sector did not.

Genji did not.

Jesse was shouting into the comms for evac after he had to watch their third agent get shot down by a bastion unit, gunfire and static the only thing he was hearing in return. Jammed signals, bad luck. He dragged the corpse of a friend behind a building and had to leave it there, or they would all be one by the end of the day.

“We gotta get to higher ground where these things can’t jam our comms!” he called, Genji turning to him and nodding once before taking off towards the highest building. Jesse did not need an explanation, not between them. He motioned to what was left of their drop team.

“Move outta this hot spot! Stay behind cover, don’t leave one another’s backs unguarded. Get down that alleyway and take the first left, it’ll take you behind that main square, got it? We can find a place to hide out there, there’s just too many of these damn things here when we don’t have a shield!”

Jesse ordered, wishing not for the first time that he had someone like Reinhardt with him. Or at least a fully outfitted team like Overwatch always sent in. That would have been nice.

As it was, they had to run, Jesse getting everyone accounted for that was left before following up on the rear, eyes peeled for any sight of Genji.

He turned, gun spinning in hand and resting at his side as he counted the omnics marching towards him. Fifteen. He could do it. Six shots went of in tandem, six perfect bullet holes steaming through the first line of omnics. Jesse reloaded and did it again. Finished off the last two and ran down the alleyway, catching up with the rest of his team, ignoring the throbbing starting up behind his eyes.

“Bought us a little time. Come on, keep movin’.”

“McCree, we need more medical personnel,” Martinez urged, setting an agent down against the wall.

“Where’d Frazier go?”

“Dead.”

“Dammit.”

“There’s too many wounded right now if we need to make a quick getaway. Did Shimada not make it...?”

“Nah, he’s callin’ in evac for us. Stay here and do your best to patch everyone up, can you do that for me?”

Martinez nodded shakily, pulling out her med kit and going to the worst of the wounded in the group. Jesse made to check on the others, then saw a flash of red above them in his periphery. Genji landed in front of him not a moment later, the sound heavy, blood dripping down his shoulder. He did not seem to notice.

“It was all static, but I was able to find what was jamming them,” he reported, pointing to a building further into the hot spot. “I can get in there and take it out.”

“You ain’t goin’ back in there alone, that’s not how we do things around here. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you slowing me down,” Genji bit out.

“How about we not think about it like that and instead say, ‘wow, thanks McCree for havin’ my back for me in case I get in over my head like I always do’, yeah?”

“I can do this by myself, you will only get hurt following me!”

“And what happens if you get hurt alone and then we all get killed ‘cause you couldn’t stand havin’ to take help from someone?!”

“Hey, boys, how about instead of arguing about it, you both hurry up and get us out of here. McCree’s right about one thing; if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re all toast, alright? We have people dying!” Martinez interrupted, glaring at the two of them as Jesse sighed.

“Come on,” he grumbled, moving in the direction of the building Genji had pointed out. Genji fell in stride with him after a moment, eyes shifting to him. Crimson narrowed darkly.

“If you die, I won’t let you rest peacefully.”

Jesse snorted, gaining a devilish grin.

“Darlin’, I ain’t ever planned on anythin’ but another spot deep in Hell when I die. Peace wasn’t even on the radar.”

Genji did not offer him a reply, simply quickened his pace and took off, leaving Jesse to follow behind with a sharp eye. They slipped past the rows of null sector stationed in the plaza in front of the building quietly, Genji motioning to a window just outside of their surveillance. He climbed into it, leaning over the edge with a hand outstretched. Jesse took it. Hauled himself inside and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Genji waited. Static was running through the comms this close to the jammer, giving Jesse a headache. It was a large structure, pulses of blue light that shimmered leaving it in intervals.

“Damn...How’re we gonna take that thing out?”

“A detonator,” Genji offered, Jesse frowning.

“You wanna lure one of them in here?”

“It’s the best option we have. I cannot get near that thing, it interferes with my cybernetics.”

“And you were plannin’ on doin’ this alone?”

Genji merely glared, then pointed again. “There are three posted just outside the entrance. It should not be hard getting them inside.”

“But this signal will jam them too, right?”

“Not if we move them manually.”

Jesse stared at the ninja, sitting back on his thighs and pushing his hat up as he faced him fully.

“Lemme get this straight. You wanna shove one of them in here, somehow push them close enough to the jammer so that when they explode, it takes it out, all the while not letting the massive amount of null sector troopers out front know that we’re here?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking we let null sector do it for us. They have more fire power than we do, and if we stay behind the detonator, they will shoot it. They are programmed to neutralize enemies, no matter what is in front of them. We can take advantage of that.”

Jesse blinked. Frowned and ran a hand over his beard, chewing on his lip.

“Is it bad that I think that might actually somehow work?”

“Only if we do it right.”

“Alright. Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

It took some finagling. Genji’s steps were stuttering as if his limbs were not synching with the rest of him when he got too close to the jammer. It was just the two of them. Jesse was sweating. But they got the detonator inside the door, and it was hell unleashed as soon as they did. Genji knocked it in with a kick, Jesse shooting at the null sector omnics running in after him.

“Go! Get behind it now!” he shouted, Jesse ducking towards the jammer. Genji deflected, stumbled, found his feet again. It was close. A lot of cover fire from Jesse’s end needed just to get him behind a wall. He was shaking his head, blinking hard. They needed to get out of there.

Jesse was taking most of the attention from the null sector troops, staying just close enough to the detonator to ensure it was being pushed towards the jammer. And it was working. The detonator’s armour was falling, bright, fiery oranges and reds being revealed, the whole thing starting to shake. Jesse ran from it, back towards the window they entered through.

“Genji! Come on, it’s gonna blow any second!”

Genji looked up, eyes widening a bit, the red in them flickering. He tried to take a step, flesh hand going to his head when his leg buckled.

“Shit...” Jesse muttered, glancing at the detonator. He had time. He could make it. Peacekeeper sang as he ran. Ran for his life, ran to Genji. There was another window by him, they could go out that way. It lasted a lifetime. It lasted a second. Jesse grabbed Genji when he got to him, tugging him back up to stand.

“Come on! Just focus for me a little longer, alright? I need you to get up to that window and help me up, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The stutter was not intentional, Genji’s voice sounding more robotic than usual. Voicebox glitching. He blinked some more, then climbed the wall, reaching down for Jesse. His hand was taken, and they jumped from the window. Jesse jumped from the window.

Genji was not behind him.

“Genji? Genji!”

The detonator went off. Rubble flying, chunks of concrete, dust, fire. Jesse was blown back, arms up to cover his face. He felt debris hit him, his armour bending and cracking. Hit the ground and curled up, covering his head, eyes squeezed shut. When the rumbling stopped and the world was no longer shattering, Jesse finally glanced up. Ears ringing, dust in his lungs. He picked up his hat, blinking hard, coughing. Shook his head and ran into the rubble, calling for Genji but not hearing himself say it. Sound slowly started to come back to him, though, it was eerily quiet. Just the crackling of flames and debris falling.

“Genji! Come on, Shimada, where are you?!”

Jesse paused when he saw Genji’s sword laying toward the centre of the blast and he ran to it. Stumbled a bit, grabbed it from the ground. And there was Genji, lying just ahead of it, cybernetics sparking, blood running off his arm. From his nose. From his lips.

Jesse stared.

Genji’s faceplate was nowhere to be seen, scars littering his cheeks and around where synthetic met human. The bottom half of his jaw was black synthskin and mesh. A bruise was forming around one eye, cuts above it bleeding down his temple. With his eyes closed like this, he could almost be sleeping. Jesse stepped closer, kneeling beside him. Rolled him over and tilted his chin to the side, shaking him gently.

Pretty. Gods, he was so pretty.

“Genji? Hey, come on, do me one last favour and don’t be dead...Come on, bud...”

Genji’s eyelids fluttered, taking a shuddering breath in.

“Oh thank god. Alright, alright I got’cha. I’ll get us outta here.”

Jesse took his arm and hauled him over his shoulders, grabbing his katana once more and standing. Genji was heavier than he looked deadweight. Limp.

“You’ll be alright, we just gotta get back to the team, okay? Just hold on.”

Jesse did not even notice his limp until he was back in the alleyway, ducking behind cover and keeping one arm over Genji’s legs so he would not fall. Eyes peeled for any sign of danger. Three detonators going off all at once, destroying a building and the jammer within it was bound to draw in swarms of null sector. They needed to get out, and fast. Jesse tapped his comm.

“This is Agent McCree callin’ for immediate evac to Blackwatch team A-1207. We got lots of wounded and this place is about to get real hot. Does anyone copy?” Static was his only answer. Genji groaned softly, Jesse glancing at him.

Head hanging just off his shoulder. So close Jesse could see the veins under his eyes, the way his cuts were beginning to tack up. How long his lashes were, the little white scars by his temple that looked too old to be something he got from his brother or the cybernetics. Jesse’s comm crackled, drawing his focus back to the present.

“McCree, this is Fio, I copy. Commander sent me in to pick you all up when comms went down, said it was too risky leaving you like that. Been having to fight my way around null sector’s anti-aircraft weapons. I’ve got your coordinates, ETA five minutes.”

“Fio! You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice, sweetheart,” Jesse laughed breathlessly, Fio giving a chuckle back.

“Glad to hear you’re not dead, cowboy.”

“Don’t jinx me, now, I still got five minutes to survive.”

“I think you’ll manage. Hang in there.”

Jesse grinned, making it back to the team and setting Genji down gently. Something felt off about letting anyone else see his face, though, so he wrapped his scarf around Genji’s shoulders and neck, his head hanging down into it and covering what normally was hidden. It felt like a violation of privacy, in an odd way. Jesse didn’t think Genji would have wanted to be seen by anyone, not even him.

Fio landed on time as promised, taking what was left of the team back to base. Jesse’s body was beginning to hurt, adrenaline wearing off and leaving him exhausted and throbbing. His foot was messed up, and his shoulder. His armour was torn in some places, but it had done its job for the most part. Bruises were all he would be left with instead of bullet holes and a punctured lung. His nose was bleeding. It took Martinez coming over to him to tilt his head back and press some gauze beneath it for him to notice.

Jesse was too busy looking at Genji to notice much else.

He was patched up, made Martinez move on to someone else after insisting he was alright, that everything else could wait until they got back to the med bay. The ride home was long, and Jesse slept through most of it.

His scarf was returned folded neatly, Genji presenting it to him without a word. His faceplate was back, eyes shifting to look at anything but Jesse. Jesse, who grinned and took it back, leaning against the doorframe when Genji did not immediately run off.

“Lookin’ all shiny and new there, bud. Good to see you up and movin’ again. You saved us back there with that idea of yours, you know.”

Genji stood there for a moment, nodding after another.

“I could not have done it alone. I know I said otherwise, but. I needed you there.”

Jesse tisked and waved his hand goodnaturedly.

“Aw, shucks. Makin’ me feel all special now.”

“Do not get used to it,” Genji huffed, his eyes crinkling just a bit. Jesse could imagine a smile on his face now. How good it would look, how pretty he would be with it.

“But thank you. For pulling me out of there. And for that,” Genji motioned to the scarf, arms settling across his chest.

“Anytime. We’re a team, yeah? I got your back when you need me, alright?” Jesse hesitated only a moment, reaching out and placing a hand on Genji’s bicep, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Genji watched his hand drop. Eyes flicking up to his, stance shifting. He set his shoulders and nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you at trainin’, then.”

“Yes, see you then.”

Jesse slipped back into his room when Genji turned to leave. Ran a hand over the scarf. Set it on the foot of his bed and went to finish typing up a report, Genji on his mind. Jesse smiled.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #blackwatch era #as if you have not been force fed enough of this already #WhiskeyWrites #that's all the tagging I'm doing I'm tired #enjoy my friends

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kriffingunlucky · 4 years

Note

you know we love crosshair, maybe some fluffy crosshair x reader content ?? or whatever you feel like doing :)

We love us some soft Crosshair, for sure! ;) Sorry if it’s out of character, or,,, odd. I just kind of liked this idea and spent a lot of time on it ahahahaha,,, haha,,, ha,,, yeah okay. Enjoy! <3

-----

Landing the Havoc Marauder on this horrid icy planet was already nerve wracking enough for you, but no, there was always more too add onto your plate. Onto your list of worries.

You watch as three out of four of your group of sadistic boys walk off of the platform, and into the snow storm. Wrecker waving at you with a big grin before he pulled his helmet farther down on his head. Vanishing from your vision.

They didn’t want you to get ambushed by whatever, or whoever, might live here. So they volunteered one of the members to stay.

And that was Crosshair. Unfortunately.

It’s not that you didn’t like the sniper, no. You liked him a lot! That might be part of the problem, actually. But you were nearly certain that he despised your very existence. Although it seems brash, you couldn’t help but worry that the tall man didn’t like you at all. And definitely not as much as you admired him.

The cold wind whipped at your face, making you hair fly around with the snow that was breezing in as well, you’d zoned out so hard you didn’t even think about closing the door and pulling in the ramp.

Crosshair was standing on the other side of the door, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed. Expert eyes flicking over you as he rolled his toothpick between his teeth, letting out a sigh, walking to the front of the ship wordlessly.

You blink a couple times when you hear his footsteps, knocking you back into reality. Fumbling with the buttons you close the entrance and walk towards the main room. Cross was seated in a chair, cleaning his rifle, out of habit.

Sitting down on the floor and opening your toolbox, you start tinkering with the hologame that had been broken the last time Tech beat Wrecker at Dejarik. Trying to get your mind off of the sick, scared feeling you had in the pit of your stomach. You were worried about the boys out there in that weather. Badly.

“Let’s hope this weather passes soon.” You awkwardly state.

“Yeah.” He replies shortly.

You weren’t sure what to say after that, he obviously didn’t want to chat either, so you kept quiet.

Not long passed when you heard something start beeping, loudly, standing and brushing yourself off your eyes widen when you see what it was. The radar showed a large storm incoming, and it was bowling towards your position fast. You scramble to mash multiple buttons, trying to lock everything down as quickly as you could. Trying to choose the essentials first.

But you could only manage to set the emergency grounding gear out before the harsh wind knocked against the shuttle. Howling loudly. You looked up, face laced in horror as you saw sparks, flickering lights and the whole damn system shut down.

“No no no!” You panicked as you tried dozens of different combinations to start the power back up, but every attempt failed. The systems were frozen solid.

Crosshair was standing near the console, his eyes carefully watching you and the buttons you were pressing. “You can’t do anything?” He almost sneers.

“I,, I could only secure the ship to make sure we didn’t tumble over. It came too fast. I couldn't save the power systems before they instantly froze under the mist and snow from the storm,, I-”

“Well ain’t this lovely.” The angry sniper huffs out, his breath visible now.

You frown, guilt flooding your mind. You suck in your bottom lip, chewing on it and trying to avoid his eyes. You knew he was angry and the tears that brim your lashes probably wouldn’t help anything.

Pulling out your holo communicator, you try to contact the other batchers. To see if they’re alright and had reached the village yet. But all you got was static. Swallowing hard, you try again and again, but you would have needed the ship to boost your signal. The planets stormy atmosphere making weak signals get lost in transition.

Your hands begin to shake.

“Did you hear from them before this? At all?” You whispered, (e/c) eyes meeting his golden ones. You were terrified.

“No.” Crosshair snapped, “But they’re fine.”

You weren’t so sure, and the look in his eye said that he wasn’t either. You looked down again, playing with your hands as the cold nipped at your skin. You didn’t know what to say. Were you supposed to apologize? Ask him what he thinks you should do? Were you supposed to ask him if he’s okay? You had no idea, and frankly, weren’t sure you could do it even if you were.

“I’m going to survey the ship.” The white haired male hisses and stalks away.

Then you broke, shaking and crying, falling down and leaning against the console. Pulling your knees to your chest, tears streaming down your face. Your shoulders shook, small frame trembling from the sobs that escape your thin lips. You press them together and tuck your face between your knees, wrapping your arms around your legs. Mind spiraling.

It’s my fault.

I got us stuck here.

We could die because of me.

The other boys have no escape now.

I wasn’t fast enough.

I killed us all.

You quickly lift your head when you hear footsteps approach you, watery eyes tracing up the armored body of Crosshair. Ending on his face.

You hide your face from him, feeling stupid, but mostly afraid of his reaction.

His eyes watch you carefully, again, watching as you shook. Seeing the chill bumps on your soft skin. He saw the tears on your face. The fear in your eyes.

He couldn’t bare to leave you like this.

You’d been hoping that he walked away, or at least just ignored you and isn’t going to say anything. But you feel a soft blanket drape around your shoulders, then him sit beside you, which surprised you in the highest level.

You lift your head to look at him, and his gaze was gentle, fixated on you like usual. Something in his expression was comforting though. He looked,, soft.

Laying a hand on yours that rests on top of your knee, he barely smiles. Speaking to you slowly, his voice much different than his usual tone. “You’re alright, (Y/n).”

Eyes tearing up again, you sniffle and scoot closer to him. Lips blue at this point. Your hands clammy and cold, but they felt good with his over them.

He shifts, hesitantly, but pulls you to him. Closer than you’d planned on coming. You were leaning into him, cuddling into his side, but that wasn’t enough to warm you completely.

After a bit, he gave in and picked you up. Cradling you in his lap. Your legs off of one of his legs, your lower back resting against his other. His arms wrapped around your small frame securely. His face nuzzled into your neck.

It was so nice. It felt warm and, bold or not for you to think so, it felt right. His arms around you, your head against his chest, his breath on your neck. Your body heat combining and keeping you both warm and comfortable.

“The storm will pass soon, it’s already letting up somewhat. And then we can worry about getting everything online, okay?.” He sighs softly.

You nod, a smile on your lips. In the back of your mind you were silently wishing that the storm would last a little bit longer. Just so this closeness would last.

You crane your neck and kiss the edge of his ear. It was a loving, firm press of your lips. Face gaining heat as you tuck your face back into his chest, heart thumping against your rib cage.

He could feel this.

But he smiled at your sweet show of affection, you not catching the smile.

Lucky for him and his already broken reputation.

#crosshair x reader #reader #fluff #comfort #bad batch #clone force 99 #crosshair #cuddles #requests #hunter #wrecker #tech

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